S^ ^ ^ * / ^^o^ .[^'^ .,# i-O- » » " » f ,.# v^ .^ °- % 0-. ^^ n..^^ ....... - x> C^ ,^ #' ^^ j?t°^ o ,.% '^^L ,„....,.,^ -n^ V";;;; - ..• ■'• . r^i LECTU RES ON SOME SUBJECTS OF Modern History mid Biography : DELIVERED AT THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF IRELAND, i860 TO 1864. By J. B. ROBERTSON, Esq., PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY, TRANSLATOR OF SCHLEGEL's "PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY," MOEHLER's "SYMBOLISM AND AUTHOR OF THE POEM, " THE PROPHET ENOCH." DUBLIN: WIIJ.IAM BERNARD KELLY, 8 GRAFTON STREET. ;.;. LONDON: MESSRS BURNS AND LAMiBERT^, PORTMAN ST.^, PORTMAN S a. ' ~ AND SIMPKIN, MARSHALL;, AND CO., STATIONERs' HALL COURT. 1864. \Tke right of translation is reserved, 'X V DiMin : Printed by William Bernard Kelly. CONTENTS. ?3 Mi Prefatory Address, ...... vii History of Spain in the Eighteenth Cen- tury — Lecture I. — Spain from the War of Succession to the War of Independence, ...... I Lectl re II. — Religious and Political Institutions of Spain in the Eighteenth Century. — Causes of the Spanish Revolution. — Parallel between the Revolu- tions of Spain and of France, .... 96 Remarks on some Passages in Buckle's Essay on Spain, in his " History of Civilization :" A Supplement to the foregoing Lectures, 164 Life, Writings, and Times of M. de Cha- teaubriand — Lecture I., , 218 Lecture II., 260 Lecture III., . . , 323 Lecture IV., 364 Two Lectures on the Secret Societies of Modern Times — Lecture I, — Freemasonry — Sketch of its Origin and Early Progress — Its Moral and Political Tendency, 405 Lecture II, — The Illuminati — the Jacobins — the Car- bonari — and the Socialists, . . . . . 464 Appendix. — Brief Exposition of the Principal Headset Papal Legislation on Secret Societies, . . . 522 TO f^is (Ktace tfje MoQi IBleb. Pattfdt ILeaJg, 19,29. LORD ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL AND EMLY, ETC., ETC. PREFATORY ADDRESS. My dear Lord Archbishop, In dedicating to your Grace this volume of Lectures, I wish to express my grateful sense of the personal kindness you have ever evinced towards me, and of the encourage- ment you have given to my humble labours, as well as to testify the gratitude which all friends of the University must feel for the warm interest and zealous patronage you have shown in be- half of our Institution. These Lectures may perhaps recall to your Grace the happy days when you were more closely connected with our University, prior to your elevation to your present exalted position, whence you look down with interest upon the Institution, in which you once took so active a part Those happy days none of us can have forgotten, when your Grace used to deliver most interesting lectures, that attracted a crowded and distinguished auditory ; and when our illustrious Rector, Dr Newman, used to expound the principles and practice of university education, with a philosophy and an eloquence never surpassed. Both have, alas ! been taken from us ; but the one still assists us by his prayers, and the other by his active patronage and support. The following Lectures may at first sight ap- viii Prefatory Address. pear very desultory and unconnected. What possible connexion can exist between Spain in the Eighteenth Century, the Life and Writings of Chateaubriand, and Secret Societies ? Yet a nearer inspection will shew the closest union. First, it must be observed that this volume is a sequel to one published a few years ago, in which the history of Spain in the sixteenth cen- tury was reviewed, and the causes, moral and political, of the French Revolution were con- sidered,* In the present work, the history and the institutions of Spain in the eighteenth cen- tury are set forth, the causes of her revolution traced, and a comparison with that of France instituted. Chateaubriand and his ministerial colleagues and political supporters exerted in 1823 a most decided influence on the destinies of Spain, broke the first furious onset of her Re- volution, enabled the great Catholic and Con- servative majority to rally its strength, and which, though the Revolution for a time revived and desolated the country once more, yet, finally overthrew it. Lastly, Secret Societies were in a greater or less degree the bane of France and Spain, and a potent element of moral and political disorder in both countries. Thus we see Spain, Chateaubriand, and Secret Societies are closely connected ; and with much diversity of matter, there is still a thread of unity running through these Lectures. The history of Spain and the history of Secret Societies rest on published documents ; but my account of Chateaubriand is drawn from oral communications and personal reminiscences, as * Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern History. London : Dolman, 1859. Prefatory Address. - ix well as from published documents and literary works. The biography of that eminent writer and statesman, coupled with notices of the dis- tinguished personages with whom he w^as con- nected, and of the great events in which he took a part, was indeed to me a labour of love. It recalled to mind the happiest period of my life, when the world as yet was all before me, when I followed lectures at the University of Paris, and was admitted to those brilliant circles of the Faubourg St Germain, which I have never since forgotten. In the last year of the reign of Louis XVIII. I attended occasionally the able lectures of M. Lacretelle on French history, and of M. Ville- main, on general literature. But my chief instruc- tion was drawn partly from private reading, partly from the conversation of the very distinguished men whom it was my happiness to have become acquainted with. My family had known in Eng- land several of the emigrant nobility of France ; and on my arrival in Paris I was introduced to others to whom I had taken letters of introduc- tion. I can never forget the great kindness and hospitality with which a near relative and myself were treated by the amiable Marquis de Mont- morency-Laval, the brother of the nobleman who was long ambassador at Rome. At his house I used to meet the most distinguished members of the clergy, and of the Cote Droit. There I saw the venerable Bishop of Troyes, who, as Abbe Boulogne, had filled so important a place in the literature and ecclesiastical affairs of France in the early part of this century. At the age of seventy-five he retained all the vigour and viva- city of his genius, was an eloquent preacher, and X Prefatory Address. still wrote Pastorals in the brilliant, antithetical style of the eighteenth century. He had, as a young abbe, preached before the Court of Louis XV., and he recounted to me interesting anecdotes of the olden time. At the same house I met the Marquis de Bouille, an eminent orator of the Right side, and M. Laurentie, the wisest of French journal- ists. The Marquis de Montmorency introduced me to his cousin, the Due Mathieu de Mont- morency, the friend, and for a time the rival, of M. de Chateaubriand, and of whose public life I have had occasion to speak in my account of the last-named statesman. The interview of ten minutes I was honoured with by him, I can never forget. A countenance so full of benig- nity and of nobleness, manners so pleasing and so dignified, fascinated all who approached him, while his virtues and talents commanded uni- versal respect. It was, however, at the house of Count de Senftt-Pilsach, a German nobleman, who had been ambassador of Saxony at the Court of France, but was then living in retirement, I passed the most agreeable hours during my year's abode at Paris. The Count and his wife and daughter were converts, and of the most fervent cast. He was, indeed, a man of angelic piety, and of the most active benevolence. The Abbe de la Mennais has more than once told me, *' he was the most perfect man he ever knew." He was also possessed of great talents and acquirements, and having afterwards entered into the service of Austria, there discharged the duties of the most important embassies, and was regarded as one of the most accomplished of Prefatory Address. xi Austrian diplomatists. The ladies of his family- were extremely intellectual ; and, like the County spoke with facility several languages, and among others, English. While in London, I might call half-a-dozen times and never meet an acquaintance at home, I was sure every evening, from eight till half- past ten o'clock, to find at the house of this excellent nobleman a circle as intellectual as it was amiable. Thither used to resort the illustrious philosopher, the Viscount de Bonald, (though unfortunately he was not at Paris dur- ing the year of my visit ;) the Abbe de la Men- nais, then in the zenith of his fame ; the Abbe Gerbet, now Bishop of Perpignan ; M. de Saint- Victor, the learned historian ; the celebrated publicist, Baron de Haller ; Count Kergolay ; and Peers and Deputies of great distinction. There I used to hear the most agreeable and in- structive conversation, especially on ecclesiastical and political affairs. At this period of my life, I thought religion and politics the only studies worthy of attention. Poetry, which had been a passion with me in boyhood, was now laid aside, and was only at a later period taken up as a diversion from other literary pursuits. Though I had never the happiness of knowing the Vis- count de Bonald, I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of his amiable and accomplished son, M. Henri de Bonald, who has now succeeded to the title and the estates. From him I learned much respecting the views and objects of the Royalist party. The conduct of that party was ever noble, generous, and dis- interested ; their religious principles were excel- lent ; and as to their political views, though one xii Prefatory Address, or two sections of the party might fairly be taxed with exaggeration, yet the doctrines of the great bulk were, on the whole, sound and temperate, and such as would have received the sanction of our illustrious Burke. The salons of the pious Abbe Due de Rohan I used also to frequent. After a domestic be- reavement which had occurred under the most tragic circumstances, he had taken orders in the Church, and used to pass his time in works of charity. His rooms used to be filled with young men, nobles, literati, students of law and of medicine, who came in the evening to discuss among themselves literary and scientific ques- tions, or to concert measures of charity. It was from those drawing-rooms sprang the great society of St Vincent de Paul, which gjome years afterwards was established at Paris, and has thence spread over the whole Church. With Chateaubriand himself, I had not the honour of becoming acquainted ; but I had the pleasure of seeing him preside over a literary Catholic Society, called '^ La Sociite des bonnes Etudes!' But there was one illustrious member of that brilliant society I have been describing, that ex- erted the greatest fascination over me, and with whom I was afterwards united in the bonds of the closest friendship. This was the celebrated Abbe de la Mennais. His hours of reception were from eight till ten o'clock in the morning, and at that early hour his ante-room was filled with visitors, each waiting to have his five minutes' talk with the great man. I was re- minded of the crowded parlours of the great ■London physicians. Thither used to repair the Prefatory Address. xiii men who have since become so celebrated in the world. There would be seen, among others, the learned and intellectual Baron d' Eckstein, the ablest disciple of the two Schlegels ; the Abbe Gerbet, now Bishop of Perpignan, who, in the vigour of his dialectics, nearly vied with his great master; the witty Count O'Mahony ; M. La- cordaire, about to leave the bar for the pulpit, where he was to obtain so transcendent a fame, and to win so many souls to Christ ; and M. Lamartine, who then drew from religion those sublime inspirations, which his fantastic pan- theism has never since supplied. When I first saw the Abbe de la Mennais, I was reminded of Barry's portrait of Pascal in his great picture in the Adelphi. Nothing could exceed the interest of his conversation, and the rapid, brilliant flow of his ideas. I felt like one raised from the ground by the spell of a potent magician ; and henceforward, until his sad seces- sion from the Church, I was fascinated by his genius, no less than touched by his kindness. The Pere Lacordaire has well observed that "the first volume of the 'Essai sur I'lndifiference en Matiere de Religion' had given him the autho- rity of Bossuet in the Church of France." This is true ; and I will add, that, had he possessed the strong sense, and the moderation of character which distinguished the great Bishop of Meaux, he would have retained that ascendency. From 1817 till 1823 his influence was enormous. His rooms, as a French nobleman once assured me, were then crowded with visitors, among whom bishops, canons, peers, deputies, academicians, and eminent literati were to be found. But when I first became acquainted with him, his authority xiv Prefatory Address. began to decline. This decline was to be traced to his tone of asperity towards political opponents, to his attitude of hostility towards the Ministry of M. de Vill^le and M. de Chateaubriand, and which displeased the bulk of the Royalist party ; and to his rupture with friends for differences on mere questions of philosophy. Henceforward his influence was confined chiefly to the young, whether among the clergy or the laity. And if too exclusive and too little tolerant to be able to preserve that political and ecclesiastical power which his genius and learning, as well as his piety and zeal, long entitled him to, he yet was a most warm, affectionate friend. And as I have introduced him as one of the authorities from which I derived information on the eccle- siastical, political, and literary affairs of the Re- storation, I must here record my lasting grati- tude to him for his many proofs of friendship, as well as for examples of piety, and for lessons in religion, philosophy, and literature, which have been of invaluable service to me through life. And if, in the long delirium of the last twenty years of his life he was severed from me, as from so many of his friends, he was rarely absent from my thoughts, and formed the subject of many a supplication to Heaven. In the Lectures on Chateaubriand, I have spoken of the Abb^ de la Mennais as a writer, and as an ecclesiastical and political leader during the days of his orthodoxy. Here I speak of him in his private capacity only.* * His early and orthodox writings, like those of Tertullian, will always be esteemed, and hold their place in the Church. First, he made more conversions from Protestantism and Deism than any other writer of the age. Secondly, he and Count de Maistre have helped to banish the GaUican opinions from the Prefatory Address. xv Some time after my return from my first visit to Paris, I had the honour of meeting in a large company in London, where were many of the EngHsh and Irish CathoHc political leaders, the illustrious O'Connell, and of being introduced to him. I said, ^' Mr O'Connell, I am happy to inform you that, having been lately in Paris, I found the French Catholics and Royalists taking a warm interest in the struggles of their English and Irish brethren for the acquirement of their political rights." "So I perceive," replied Mr O'Connell, "from the Afni de la Religion, which I am in the habit of reading. But I see also that the tmguillotined Jacobins are as great ene- mies as ever to Catholicism and to Ireland." O'Connell here showed how he perfectly under- stood the irreligious spirit of the modern French Liberalism. It was a singular coincidence, (and which I mention as a coincidence only,) that shortly after I had the honour of holding this conversa- tion with Mr O'Connell, Mr Shiel proceeded to Paris, and there was introduced to M. de Genoude, the secretary of that Due Mathieu de Mont- morency I have already spoken of, and who was also editor of the Etoile, afterwards the Gazette de France. This gentleman warmly took up the Church of France. Thirdly, his works of piety, especially his "Notes to the Following of Christ," are very much admired. Fourthly, he and his party have been chiefly instrumental in pro- curing for France the freedom of the Church and the freedom of education. For the discussion of high constitutional questions he was less fitted by the cast of his mind and character. As a young man, I used to dissent from some of his exaggerated opinions in politics. His philosophic system, never approved, was tolerated by the Holy See as long as he applied it to the defence of Re- ligion. But when, after his sad apostasy, he turned it against the Church, it was then censured by the Sovereign Pontiff. xvi Prefatory Address. cause of English and Irish Catholics, brought their grievances before the eyes of Continental Europe, and had no little share in accelerating the great measure of Catholic emancipation.* Thus, those feelings of estrangement and distrust which, through the influence of the Foxite Whigs, many English and Irish CathoHcs had enter- tained towards the French Royalists, gradually disappeared. After the period I have spoken of I never had the pleasure of again meeting your great Liberator. But he afterwards did me the honour to encourage by his approval my first literary undertaking ; and on the establishment of the Dublin Review, he and my illustrious friend. Cardinal Wiseman, solicited my co-operation in that journal. There, as in. all my other humble labours, I devoted my feeble powers to the defence of God and His holy Church against unbelief and mis- belief, and of social order and liberty against the principles of Revolution, which are but Impiety in a political form. That I may long have health and strength to prosecute this holy warfare, I crave the favour of your Grace's prayers. Begging your Grace's blessing, I remain, my dear Lord Archbishop, with many thanks, your Grace's most obedient and devoted Servant, Df^BLiN, >/j/2i, 1864. THE AUTHOR. N.B. — The author here begs to renew his thanks to the eminent divine, who has kindly furnished him with the valuable notes contained in the Appendix. * Mr Canning sometimes complained to Prince Polignac, the French Ambassador in London, of the extreme vivacity of the articles in the Etoile, LECTURE I. SPAIN FROM THE WAR OF SUCCESSION TO THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE. Ladies and Gentlemen, /^N a former occasion I delivered, in this hall, a lecture on Spain under Ferdinand and Isabella, Charles V., and Philip 11.""' I purpose, to-night, to speak of that country from the War of Succession to the close of the last War of Independence ; and here, as in the former lecture, I shall confine myself to the internal history of Spain. In the second lecture, I shall briefly describe her religious and poHtical institu- tions, the characteristics of the different classes that composed her society, her general moral and intel- lectual condition in the last century, and, lastly, I shall examine the causes of her Revolution, and its moral and political effects. Without compromising in any degree my religious convictions and my politi- cal principles, I have, in the treatment of this subject, * See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modem History: Lecture V. London: Dolman, 1859. A 2 Spain. aimed at the strictest historical fidelity. Hence I have been careful to use foreign rather than Spanish authorities ; and the statements of Catholic historians and travellers as to the religion, the government, the character, and the intellectual culture of the Span- iards, I have carefully confronted with the testimonies of Protestant, and, in some cases, infidel writers.* * In the composition of these two lectures on Spain, I have consulted the following works : — 1. Coxe's Memoirs of the Bourbon Kings of Spain. 5 vols. London, 1815. 2. Dunham's History of Spain. 5 vols. London, 1832. 3. Memoires pour servir a I'Histoire ecclesiastique du dixhui- ti^me Siecle, par M. Picot. Paris, 181 5. 4. L'Histoire Universelle, par Cesar Cantu. Trad. Franc. 10 vols. Bruxelles, 1850. 5. Lehrbuch der allgemeinen Geschichte, (Manual of Univer- sal History.) By Dr Constantine Hofler. 3 vols. Ratisbon, 1853- 6. Die Spanische Monarchic im sechszehnten und im sieb- zehnten Jahrhundert, (The Spanish Monarchy in the Sixteenth and the Seventeenth Centuries.) By L. Ranke. Berlin, 1837. 7. Prescott's History of Ferdinand and Isabella. London : Bentley, 1857. 8. Prescott's History of Philip II. London : Bentley, 1857. 9. Cardinal Ximenes and his Times, with special reference to the Inquisition. By Professor Hefele. Translated from the German by Rev. Mr Dalton. London: Dolman, 1 861. N.B. — This is the best work on the Spanish Inquisition. 10. Lord Mahon's Spain under Charles II. London, 184O. 11. Lord Mahon's History of the War of the Spanish Succes- sion. London, 1837. 12. Churton's Gongoi-a ; or Historical and Critical Essay on the Times of Philip III. and Philip IV. of Spain. 2 vols. Lon- don : Murray, 1862. War of Succession. 3 Before we enter on the period that is chiefly to engage our attention, perhaps it were well to cast a glance on the age preceding it. The century that 13. History of European Civilization. By Balmez. Trans- lated from the Spanish by C. Handford, Esq. London : Bums, 1861. 14. Melanges religieux, philosophiques, politiques, et lit- t^raires. Par J. Balmez, Trad. Franc. 3 vols. Paris, 1854. 15. CEuvres de Donoso Cortes. Trad. Franc. 3 vols. Paris, 1862. 16. Dr Soutliey's History of the Peninsular War. 3 vols. London, 1823. 17. Sir A. Alison's History of Europe from the French Revolution. 10 vols. Edinburgh, 1848. 18. Memoirs of Godoy, (Prince of the Peace,) vi^ritten by himself. Eng. trans. 2 vols. London, 1836. 19. Chateaubriand's History of the Congress of Verona. I vol. Paris, 1836. 20. Michaud's Biographie universelle. Paris, 1820. 21. Encyclopaedia Metropolitana. London, 1838. 22. The Journey of Townsend in Spain in 1787-8. 3 vols. London, 1792. 23. Tableau de I'Espagne moderne. Par M. Bourgoing. 3 \^ols. Paris, 1803. 24. Itineraire en Espagne. Par M. De La Borde. 5 vols. Paris, 1809. 25. Lady Louisa Tennyson's Andalusia and Castile, i vol. London, 1856. 26. L'Espagne en 1822. Par M. Clausel de Coussergues. Paris, 1822. 27. Cardinal Wiseman's Essay on Spain in 1845. Reprinted from the Dublin Review. 28. L'Espagne en i860. Par M. Vidal. Paris, i860. 29. Notices on Spain in the Quarterly, Edinburgh, zxA Dublin Reviews, during the last forty years. 30. Observaciones sobre el Presente y el Porvenir de la Iglesia en Espana. (Remarks on the Present State and Future 4 Spain. intervenes between the death of Philip II. and the accession of PhiHp V. to the throne of Spain, is one that marks the rapid pohtical dechne of that country. Yet, if it cannot cope with the intellectual and politi- cal energy of the age preceding, nor with the reform- ing activity of the age following, it was not without a* peculiar lustre of its own. It witnessed the setting glory of Cervantes, and the noonday splendour of the poet Calderon, and of the artists Murillo, Velasquez, and Zurbaran. Quevedo then displayed the old rich- ness of the Spanish humour, and De SoHs maintained the dignity of his country's historic Muse. In the field, Spinola and other great generals upheld the old renown of the Spanish arms. Yet under this briUiant show the work of decay went on. All this military and literary glory was like the hectic flush on the cheek of a beautiful consumptive. Prospects of the Church in Spain.) By the Right Rev. Dr Costa y Borras, Bishop of Barcelona. Second edition. Bar- celona, 1857. 31. Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature. 3 vols. Lon- don, 1S49. 32. Ford's Hand-Book for Spain. London : Murray, 1 847. 33. Buckle's History of Civilization. 2 vols., 8vo. London : Parker, 1861. N.B. — In a supplement appended to these Lectures, will be found strictures on many passages in the first chapter on Spain in the second volume of the last-named work. Independently of these books, I have received valuable oral communications relative to the intellectual, moral, and political condition of the Peninsula during the last forty years, from a learned friend, who has long resided in that country. War of Succession. 5 Philip III. reigned from 1598 to 1621. He was a pious, amiable, and gentle-spirited prince. The most important measure in his reign was the expulsion of the Moriscoes. Had this people been treated with greater lenity and kindness in the preceding reigns — had their conversion to Christianity been regarded as sincere — and had the Spaniards, in their relations with them, been guided by the large benevolent spirit of religion, and not by the narrow bigotry of national feelings — there is every probability that a great por- tion, at least, of the nation would have heartily em- braced the creed of their conquerors. But the harsh pohcy of the latter made this people secretly cling, for the most part, to their old religious errors, and enter into conspiracies against the state. This was the opinion of several Spanish churchmen of that age, and, among others, of the Canon Navarrete. The Moriscoes carried on secret negotiations against the Spanish government with the Ottoman Porte and the pirate states of Barbary. And when we consider that so many of these disguised disciples of Mohammed were settled on the coasts of Valencia, Murcia, and Andalusia ; that at this period the Moslem power was still formidable ; and that Spain was every year shewing symptoms of greater weakness and exhaus- tion, — ^it is impossible not to see what formidable perils then encompassed that country. These con- siderations rendered, indeed, the utmost vigilance and precaution necessary, as also the chastisement of the 6 Spain. ringleaders implicated in culpable conspiracies. But never could they justify the sweeping, indiscriminate banishment of a whole people, and still less the cruel manner in which it was carried out. This expulsion of the Moriscoes was a fatal blow to agriculture, as well as to several branches of industry, in the southern provinces of Spain. The reforms proposed by his council to Philip were, says a late historian, " the alleviation of the burdens which weighed on the agriculturists, the for- cible residence of the senores with their tenants and vassals, the dismissal of a whole army of placemen, the resumption of improvident grants to favourites, the enforcement of the old sumptuary laws, and the gradual diminution of monastic houses." * The Cor- tes, too, though for seventy years reduced to the third estate, and possessing only the power of re- monstrance, urged these reforms on a benevolent, but too inactive prince. He admitted the wisdom of these measures, but had not the energy of character to carry them into effect. The statesm-an to whom Philip almost entirely abandoned the reins of government, was the Duke de Lerma, and, later, Don Rodrigo Calderon, originally a page in the service of that minister. The duke was a well-meaning minister, but without the talents equal to his arduous office. Calderon, on the other hand, was an able, but reckless and ambitious man. * Dunham, Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p, 90. War of Succession. 7 Philip III. was followed by his son, Philip IV., who succeeded to the throne when he was only in his seventeenth year, and reigned from 162 1 to 1665. This king, in his long reign, wholly gave himself up to amusements and festivities, utterly neglected the affairs of the state, and abandoned the reins of go- vernment to an unworthy favourite, the Count-Duke Olivares. The chief events in this reign are the recognition of the independence of the seven united provinces ; the insurrection of the Catalans, provoked by a violation of their ancient privileges ; the revolt of the Portu- guese, who, by a unanimous rising of all orders of the state, threw off the yoke of Spanish domination, by which they had been for sixty years oppressed; the loss of Cerdagne, Roussillon, and a considerable portion of the Netherlands, to the French, and of the island of Jamaica, to the English. In the internal administration, Olivares made some judicious reforms; but most of his measures were characterised by levity, rashness, and violence. He followed no steady, consistent line of policy ; while his rapacity and haughtiness, by making so many his personal enemies, raised up great obstacles to the execution of his projects. Agriculture languished, commerce declined, manufactures were decaying, population was dwindling away ; yet amid the gene- ral poverty of the nation, the court during this long, reign continued to be the scene of banquets, revels. 8 Spain. and very beautiful, but too costly theatrical entertain- ments. Abroad, the arms of Spain — in Italy and the Low- Countries — met with frequent reverses. Her galleons, laden with the treasures of America, were sometimes intercepted; and the vessels of even smaller states sometimes insulted her coasts with impunity. The chief command of the royal armies frequently devolved on a natural son of the king's, Don Juan of Austria, who on many occasions displayed in the field considerable prowess and skill His failure in the conduct of the campaign in Portugal was, in a great degree^ to be ascribed to the enmity borne him by the queen, who, out of envy, diverted the supplies in- tended for his army. This mutual hostility was one of the causes of the weakness and the distraction that, in the following reign, brought dishonour on the public counsels. Philip IV. dying in the year 1665, left the vast heritage of the Spanish monarchy to a weakly boy, then only in his fourth year. Tliis child was pro- claimed king, under the name of Charles II. ; and in his long inglorious reign of thirty-five years, Spain sank to the lowest degree of political weakness. During his minority, the queen-dowager and her con- fessor, father Nitard, a German Jesuit, were at the head of affairs ', but they were in open conflict with Don Juan, who was the favourite of the people. In the field the Spaniards were very unsuccessful ; War of Succession. 9 for after the treacherous conduct of the court during the campaign in Portugal, Don Juan of Austria was unwilling to take the command of the troops in the Netherlands. The important province of Franche Comte, with which the emperor Charles V. had en- riched the Spanish heritage, was now irretrievably lost ; and but for the timely interference of England, Holland, and Sweden, the Netherlands would have shared the same fate. At home the council was composed of a junto of most incompetent nobles ; and an alternation of crude, precipitate, and sometimes fatal measures, revoked soon after they were passed, alarmed and disgusted the nation. Factious contests at court, the decay of agriculture and industry, the stagnation of trade, and the growing impoverishment of the people, were aggra- vated by physical calamities, like hurricanes, inunda- tions, and fires. The king, on attaining his majority, called Don Juan to the helm of affairs, but his administration was as bad as that of the queen-dowager's, which by fraud and force he had supplanted. The ill success of the Spanish arms, the arrogance of mien displayed by the new minister, the severe persecutions he car- ried on against all whom he regarded as his rivals or his foes, and the neglect of all the great interests of the state, rendered him extremely unpopular. His opponents were plotting his downfall, when chagrin and disappointment put an end to his days. The lo Spain. queen-dowager then returned to court, to resume the web of intrigue. The king, Charles II., as he advanced in Ufe, became more infirm in body, and more imbecile in mind. The feeble, palsied monarch well represented, according to the remark of Lord Macaulay, the state of impotence to which the once powerful Spanish monarchy was then reduced. But under that out- ward debility this historian failed to discern the latent energies of character, which the War of Succession soon called forth in every province of the Peninsula, and which became more and more apparent in the whole history of the eighteenth century, as well as of the present age. This truth did not escape the obser- vation of Lord Mahon, now Earl of Stanhope, who, though devoid of the brilhant rhetorical powers of Lord Macaulay, yet^ possesses a much larger fund of good sense, as well as a more impartial spirit. The king was twice married, but had no issue by either of his queens. At the age of thirty-five his wrinkled brow and bald head gave him the aspect of extreme old age. In consequence of his increasing infirmities of body and mind, the courts of Europe, in 1698, began to concert measures in regard to the succession of the Spanish monarchy ; for disputes as to the possession of so vast an empire could not fail to endanger the peace of nations. The three claim- ants to the throne of Spain were, — first, the Dauphin of France, as the eldest son of Queen Maria Theresa, War of Succession. 1 1 eldest daughter of Philip IV. ; the second was the Emperor Leopold of Germany, who was not only- descended from the Emperor Ferdinand I., brother of Charles V., but whose mother was a daughter of Philip III. j and the third was the Prince-Elector of Bavaria, whose mother was the only daughter of the Infanta Margarita, a younger daughter of Philip IV. Of these three claimants, the Prince-Elector of Bavaria died before the throne of Spain became vacant. Of the two surviving claimants, the right of the Dauphin of France seemed the best established. Charles II. naturally inclined to the Austrian dynasty, and secretly favoured the pretensions of the archduke. His claims were of course supported by Charles's second spouse, who was an Austrian prin- cess, as well as by most of the courtiers. But the pretensions of the Dauphin were backed by the powerful influence of the able and intriguing Cardinal Portocarrero, archbishop of Toledo ; his views were shared by many Castilian nobles, who thought that justice and poHcy alike commended the French prince to the choice of the Spanish people, while the gold and intrigues of the French court brought over others to the same side. The Austrian party were desirous that the Cortes should decide the question of succession; while the advocates of the Dauphin seemed to dread their convocation. A junto of divines, called by Cardinal Portocarrero, decided in favour of Philip Duke of Anjou, to whom his father 1 2 Spain. the Dauphin had resigned his rights ; and this deci- sion was ratified by Pope Innocent XII. At length Charles, after long hesitation, and with a heavy heart, appoints the grandson of Louis XIV., Philip Duke of Anjou, his successor on the Spanish throne. At the same time he names a regency, headed by the Archbishop of Toledo, the Cardinal Porto- carrero, to govern Spain until the arrival of the Duke of Anjou. Charles 11., who had been for a long time in a state of the greatest mental debility and bodily weak- ness, closed his disastrous reign on the first day of November 1700. In the following year Philip Duke of Anjou made his public entry into Madrid, and was warmly received by the inhabitants. His grave and even melancholy deportment, and his religious character, made a most favourable impression on the Spaniards. But his indolence and apathy of temper, rare even among princes, rendered him an easy tool in the hands of any who sought to obtain an influence over him. Hence the extraordinary sway which Louis XIV., and the ministers and court favourites that succes- sively won his favour, exerted over his mind. The Cardinal Portocarrero, who had been long devoted to the interests of the French court, was, through the influence of Louis XIV., made head of the administration. The same influence was also evinced in the selection of the Princess Maria Theresa War of Stcccesszon. i^ of Savoy for the bride of the young king. This prin- cess was, however, deprived of all her native house- hold ; and the only lady of her suite that was allowed to accompany her to Madrid, was the Princess Orsini, who was made her camerara mayor, or lady of the bed-chamber. The Princess Orsini was a French- woman by birth, belonging to the illustrious house of La Tremouille, and had been twice married, first to a Talleyrand, the Prince of Chalais, and afterwards to a Spanish grandee, Flavio d'Orsini, Duke of Bracciano. She was remarkable for acuteness of mind, consider- able knowledge of the world, and was well acquainted with the language and the manners of Spain, where for several years she had resided. Her intimacy with Mdme. de Maintenon, combined with feehngs of patriotism on the one hand, and with a sense of gra- titude towards her patron, Louis XIV., on the other, rendered her of course entirely devoted to the interests of France. Her address, her insinuating manners, and superior intellect, soon insured her an unbounded sway over the queen, and through her, over her royal consort. The young French prince was crowned king of Spain under the title of Philip V. He and his queen opened, in Barcelona, the Cortes of Catalonia ; and after making some concessions to that long ill-treated province, they obtained some subsidies. The king having been called away into Italy to repress dis- turbances in the Neapolitan and the Milanese terri- 14 Spain. tories, the queen, by his direction, opened at Sara- gossa the Cortes of Aragon. They granted a con- siderable subsidy of 100,000 crowns ; but the question as to the confirmation of certain privileges demanded by the Cortes, was put off until the return of the king from Italy. Meantime the prime minister. Cardinal Portocar- rero, finding his country in so impoverished and dila- pidated a condition, exerted his utmost efforts to retrieve her fortunes. He abolished useless offices, reduced the expenses of the royal household, and revoked various pensions and grants. His retrench- ments were, however, in some instances injudicious j while the haughtiness of his deportment, and his severe persecution of the nobles who were favour- able to the Austrian archduke, provoked much dis- content and hostility. Finding the finances of the country in so deplor- able a state, he procured from Louis XIV. the assist- ance of an able French financier, Jean Orri, to whom he committed this department of the administration. The low birth of this official provoked the contempt of many of the Spanish nobles ; the feeling of alien- ation was increased by the arrogance of his manners ; and the discontent of those who suffered by his finan- cial reforms augmented the number of his enemies. But Orri has the great merit of having commenced those fiscal and commercial improvements, which were afterwards carried to such perfection by La War of Succession. 15 Ensenada and the other distinguished statesmen of the following reigns. The growth of French influence at the court, and the influx of a number of French adventurers into the country, added to the public discontent. The image of the ancient Cortes rose again before the Spanish mind ; and the nobles, in demanding them, declared that without their convocation the financial reforms of Orri could not obtain the force of law. To a demand so just and reasonable Philip gave a decided refusal. While engaged in hostilities with Prince Eugene in Lombardy, the king was, by a sudden turn in public affairs, called back to Spain. Some measures adopted by Louis XIV. against the commerce of the Dutch and English, as well as his imprudent recognition of the Pretender to the British throne, the son of James II., drew those two powers into a close alliance with Austria. The chief objects of this alliance were to prevent the annexation of Spain to the crown of France, to place the Austrian Archduke Charles on the throne of the former country, to rescue the Netherlands from the grasp of France, and to exclude the subjects of the latter from all trade with Spanish America. Here commences the long war of the Spanish Succession. WiUiam III., king of England, so long the soul of the anti-Gallic, league, died during the preparations 1 6 Spain. for this contest; but under his successor, Queen Anne, it was prosecuted with vigour. Over Ger- many, the Low Countries, Italy, and Spain did the flame of hostihties spread. But it is the operations of the war in the last-named country, that will alone engage our attention. For twelve long years (1702-14) a sanguinary con- flict, that partook of the nature as well of civil as of foreign warfare, ravaged the fertile plains, and desol- ated the fair cities of the Peninsula. The fortunes of the war were singularly various, and victory alter- nately crowned the arms of the rival aspirants to the Spanish throne. In 1702 an expedition of thirty English and twenty Dutch vessels, carrying 1 1,000 men, under the com- mand of the Duke of Ormond, was sent against Cadiz. The English and Dutch, proclaiming the Austrian Archduke Charles, encountered, to their sur- prise, from the inhabitants of Cadiz, the most ener- getic resistance. The expedition of the allies ended in the most disastrous failure. The Admiral of Castile, who in the reign of Charles II. had been possessed of considerable influence at court, now having become jealous of the great power of Cardinal Portocarrero, entered into secret corre- spondence with the cabinet of Vienna. Suspected of hostile intrigues by the government, he was sent on an embassy to France ; but fearing he might be imprisoned by Louis XIV., he, after three days' War of Succession, 1 7 journey towards the French frontier, suddenly turned aside from his route, and fled to Lisbon. Here the admiral succeeded in inducing the king of Portugal, Pedro II., to join in the confederacy against PhiHp V. He signed a treaty with the Portuguese king, whereby the latter, on condition of his furnishing an army of 15,000 men at his own expense, and another of 13,000 at the charge of the alHes, should by way of indemnity receive some of the frontier fortresses and cities of Spain. This disgraceful treaty was sanc- tioned by the Austrian archduke, who thus consented to dismember the kingdom over which he was seek- ing to reign, and whose integrity, if successful in his efforts, he would be bound by oath to uphold. Philip, on his return from Italy, found the court a focus of intrigues. The Princess Orsini, through her influence with Louis XIV., had brought about the recall of a succession of French ambassadors. Dis- gusted with these incessant changes. Cardinal Porto- carrero had, in the meantime, retired from the helm of affairs. The Abbe d'Estrees, a French envoy, happened by his presumption to incur the displeasure of the king and queen j but by charges he alleged against the Princess Orsini, he involved her in his own disgrace, and brought about her removal from court. The queen, indignant at the removal of her friend, made a point to thwart all the proposals and the projects of Louis XIV., till the latter found it more conducive to 1 8 Spain. his interests to recommend the recall of the favourite to court. The talents of the Princess Orsini have been much extolled; but to me they appear better adapted for petty intrigues, than for the steady prosecution of great schemes of policy. Under her sway, at least, the cabinet of Madrid evinced little energy and little spirit of union. In the midst of these court cabals, in pursuance of the treaty concluded by the Admiral of Castile, twelve thousand EngHsh and Dutch troops, under the com- mand of the Duke de Schomberg, landed in 1704 on the Portuguese shores. They were soon joined by the Archduke Charles in person. To this army the combined Spanish and French forces, commanded by the Duke of Berwick, an illegitimate son of our James II., were opposed. Accompanied by Philip V. in person, they marched in three divisions into Portugal, and successively besieged and took the border for- tresses of that country. In despite of the energetic opposition of the Portuguese peasantry, the dis- tinguished commander, the Duke of Berwick, ad- vanced to a position not far from Lisbon. The mis- conduct of a Spanish general alone prevented him from marching directly on that city. He was now forced to retreat ; and the able Portuguese com- mander. Das Minas, defeated the Spanish general, Ronquillo, and retook some of the fortresses reduced by Berwick. At last the Spanish and French troops, War of Succession. 1 9 in despite of their recent brilliant successes, were compelled to recross the frontier. After the summer heats had passed away, hostili- ties were resumed. But the army of Berwick, thinned by disease, and thwarted in its operations by con- tradictory orders from the court of Madrid, was un- able to achieve any victory over the allied troops. Towards the close of the campaign, the general him- self, who had scorned to conciliate the good graces of the reigning favourite, was recalled from his post. While the fortunes of the war remained thus un- decided in Portugal, an expedition, under the Prince of Darmstadt, and the English admiral. Sir George Rooke, sailed for Barcelona. But after an ineffectual attempt to raise that city in behalf of the Austrian archduke, the expedition returned to Portugal. On their passage, however, they were fortunate enough to take the strong fortress of Gibraltar. In the following year, 1705, fortune was far more propitious to the arms of England and of her allies. Emboldened by the splendid victories of Marlborough in Germany and the Low Countries, our government sent an army of 15,000 men, under Lord Peter- borough, to the banks of the Tagus. The Prince of Darmstadt, who had served in the Catalan army during the former insurrection of that province, and therefore well understood the spirit of its inhabitants, persuaded the Archduke Charles to direct his forces to Barcelona, and there to erect his standard. His 20 Spain, counsel was followed. The allied troops embarked for the eastern coasts of Spain, were welcomed by many in the seaports of Valencia, and at last were landed near Barcelona. Here Lord Peterborough, by a very bold stratagem, gained the fortress of Montjuich, which commanded that city; and it was not long ere, thanks to his skill and courage, the city itself fell into his hands. This conquest was the sig- nal for almost all the Catalonian cities to proclaim the Archduke Charles ; and the contagion of enthu- siasm spread to the neighbouring provinces of Aragon, Valencia, and Murcia, bound as they were together by a community of language, customs, and institutions. Having obtained a considerable reinforcement from his grandfather, the king of France, Philip intrusted the command of the army on the Portu- guese frontier to the Duke of Berwick, and, attended by Marshal Tesse, proceeded himself, with his main force, towards the east of Spain, in order to invest Barcelona. Here he encountered the most strenuous resistance from every class of the inhabitants. But that city was about to surrender to the superior forces brought against it, when suddenly a British squadron hove in sight. The French fleet, without firing a gun, shamefully sailed away to the coast of France; and Philip in the night hastily withdrew his army from its entrenchments, but in his retreat was much harassed by the pursuit of the active Peterborough. War of Succession. 2 1 To avoid Aragon, which was rising up in arms against him, he was compelled to take refuge on the Frencfe territory. Thence, without escort, he repaired to Pampeluna, and at last made his way to the capital. Gloomy, indeed, were his prospects at this period. In the Low Countries Marlborough had won signal victories; a French army had been nearly annihilated in the north of Italy ; while in the west of Spain the small force under Berwick was unable to cope with the much superior numbers of the confederates. The court was advised to leave the capital for Burgos; and scarcely had Philip gone out of its gates, when the combined English and Portuguese armies, under Galway and Das Minas, amounting to 30,000 men, made their triumphal entry into Madrid. This event occurred in 1706. Philip bore his reverses with admirable fortitude. His reliance on the valour and fidelity of the Span- iards was unshaken ; and well did the sequel justify his confidence. In every part of central, southern, and western Spain, the people rose up in his cause. Estremadura alone furnished and equipped 12,000 men; and Salamanca, as soon as the confederates quitted its walls, erected the standard of Philip, and intercepted the enemy's supphes and communications from Portugal. Charles had tarried too long in Aragon, and so had allowed Berwick time greatly to augment his forces. The capital was anxiously awaiting a detach- 22 Spain. ment from that general's army, in order openly to ' declare its adhesion to the cause of Philip. The archduke, thus prevented from marching on the capi- tal, found, at the same time, his communications cut off with Portugal, with Aragon, and with Andalusia, where the inhabitants had risen up in arms, and pro- claimed his rival. Reduced to these straits by the strategic operations of the able Berwick, the Arch- duke Charles was compelled to retreat into the king- dom of Valencia. His retreat was, however, harassed by the attacks of the French general; and in this pursuit Philip himself joined, as far as the confines of Murcia. Thence he returned to Madrid, where, amid the enthusiastic acclamations of the inhabitants, he made his solemn entry. Meantime Berwick, after reducing important for- tresses in Valencia and Murcia, advanced into the plains of Almanza in the latter province, and there gained a signal victory over the allied troops, com- manded by Gal way and Das Minas. This victory, which was won in the year 1707, eventually secured the triumph of the Bourbon dynasty. The war, it is true, was for several years prolonged, and with alter- nate success to both parties engaged ; but, after this defeat, the alhes lost for ever their prestige in Spain. PhiHp, though as regards persons he evinced great forbearance towards the partisans of the house of Austria, yet, by depriving the province of Aragon of her ancient fueros, inflicted a deadly wound, not on War of Succession. 23 her prosperity only, but on the general wellbeing of the whole kingdom. The same fatal measure he meditates against Catalonia, too, when she shall fall under his dominion. The old rivalry between the kingdom of Castile on the one hand, and that of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia on the other, was yet far from extinct, and came out very strongly in this War of Succession. It is singular that the in- habitants of the same country, bound by the ties of rehgion, blood, and language, (though with strong dialectic differences,) and for more than two cen- turies united under the same government, should, on such a secondary question as the choice of a Bourbon or of a Hapsburg for a ruler, (when, too, the titles and the merits of the two claimants were so nearly balanced,) have engaged in such a bloody and pro- tracted conflict. Let it be remembered, also, that the abolition of the Cortes and of the fueros was not the cause, but the effect of the resistance made by the Aragonese, the Catalans, and the Valencians to the claims of Philip V. to the throne. Perhaps from the first they suspected despotic designs in a grandson of Louis XIV. On the other hand, the opposition of the Castilians to the Austrian archduke seems to have been chiefly inspired by the dread that he would con- sent to a dismemberment of that empire, which was their glory and their pride — the noble heritage of their heroic fathers. In the campaign of 17 10 the arms of Philip were 24 Spain. rarely favoured by fortune. He failed in an attempt on the town of Balaguer ; and at Almenara, and near Saragossa, was successively defeated by the distin- guished Austrian general. Stahremberg. Then he was compelled to retreat to Madrid, but shortly afterwards was under the necessity of again transferring his resi- dence from that capital to a provincial city. On this occasion he selected Valladohd. At the same time his finances were in a most disordered condition ; and, what w^as still w^orse, Louis XIV. intimated to him that, from his sad military reverses, he might be compelled by his enemies to sacrifice the interests of his own grandson. But no disasters could shake the loyalty of the noble Castihans. The excesses of the English troops under general Stanhope, and their indecent outrages on Catholic worship, exasperated to the highest pitch the feelings of the inhabitants of Madrid, Toledo, and other cities, and tended to alienate them still more from their ally, the Austrian archduke. Disgusted with his reception in the capital, this prince again abruptly quitted it, and for the last time. Meanw^hile the troops of Philip obtained various advantages on the w^estem frontier; and Marshal Vendome, having succeeded in the command of the army to the Duke of Orleans, who had been recalled, resolved to prosecute the war with the greatest vigour. Accompanied by Philip, Vendome overtook General Stanhope, at the head of 5000 men, near Brihuega in War of Succession. 2 5 Aragon. These troops were mostly English, and, under the greatest disadvantages, made a most des- perate resistance against superior force. The Austrian general, Stahremberg, coming to the aid of his ally, an engagement took place, which was carried on with alternate success on both sides, and which, on the whole, might be considered a drawn battle. The advantage, however, was on the side of the French ; for before daybreak the alHes, pursued by Vendome, made a hasty and disastrous retreat to Barcelona. These disasters, and the constant drain of English blood and treasure, made our people disinclined to the continuance of the war. At this time, too, an event occurred, which served to confirm this feeling. In April 1 7 1 1 died the German emperor, Joseph I. \ and his brother, the Archduke Charles, succeeded him on the throne of Austria, and was shortly after- wards elected to the imperial crown. By this occur- rence the prosecution of the war was rendered utterly futile; for henceforth the so-dreaded preponderance of power would lie not on the side of the French, but of the Austrian, aspirant to the throne of Spain. This view of the matter was taken by the new Tory ministry of Queen Anne, who made to Louis XIV. secret overtures, that were gladly accepted by the French monarch. At length preliminaries to a secret treaty between England and France were signed ; and it was agreed that in the following year conferences should be opened at Utrecht for the 26 Spain, general pacification of Europe. At last, in despite of the opposition of the German emperor to these ne- gotiations, and after Louis XIV. had sworn that the crowns of France and of Spain should never be united on the same head, and after Philip V. had renounced for himself and his successors all claims to the French throne, the great Treaty of Utrecht was signed, on nth April 17 13, by the ambassadors of all the sove- reigns, except the German emperor. Its main provisions were as follows : — The Duke of Anjou, under the title of Phihp V., was acknow- ledged king of Spain and the Indies ; Sicily, with the regal title, was ceded to the Duke of Savoy; and Milan, Naples, Sardinia,* and the Netherlands to the German emperor; Gibraltar, Minorca, St Chris- topher's, with the monopoly of the asiento^ or supply of slaves to the Spanish colonies, were confirmed to the English ; while a general amnesty was guaran- teed to the Catalans, without, however, any stipula- tion for the maintenance of their ancient fueros. Thus, with the loss of many of her most valuable European possessions, Spain saw the long and san- guinary War of Succession ended. On the part of England and Holland, the war had been clearly as unjust in its origin, as it was unsuccessful in its re- sult. Under the pretext of a remote contingency of danger, of the possible disturbance of the balance of * In 1720 the king of Sicily exchanged that island for Sar- dinia with the German emperor. Philip V. 27 power by the future union of the French and Spanish crowns on the same head, the aUies arbitrarily inter- fered in the internal concerns of Spain, and sought to impose on the reluctant majority of her people a sovereign of their own choice. It was natural for Austria to strive to place on the Spanish throne one of her own archdukes, supported, as his pretensions were, by a considerable portion of the nation. Her interests, her glory, the remembrance of her old con- nexion with Spain, rendered her intervention in the War of Succession a measure at once natural and reasonable. -But as concerns the allies, surely they might have seen that, in the event of the archduke's success in the war, the union of Spain and of Austria was far more probable, and scarcely less formidable to Europe, than the union of France and of Spain. Then, with respect to the noble Catalans, the con- duct of the allies, and especially of England, which had drawn them into the war, and then in the treaty of peace had neglected to stipulate for the maintenance of their ancient privileges, was most discreditable. A faint representation made by the English ministry to the court of Madrid was not sufficient to redeem, on this point, the national honour. Philip, indeed, proffered to the Catalans a full, unconditional am- nesty \ but he declined to guarantee the preservation of their Cortes and of their fueros. Abandoned by Austria, abandoned by England, this brave people yet made a most noble defence in behalf of their 28 Spain. ancient liberties. An overwhelming army, with a large train of artillery, was sent into the province, and with much difficulty succeeded in reducing all the fortresses, except Cardena and Barcelona. This city defended itself with all the energy of despair ; every order of citizens vied with the other in acts of heroic courage ; the priest led on the combatants by example, as well as by word ; and patriotism nerved the arm even of woman. For months did this siege endure ) the assaults of the mihtary were constantly repelled by the people; the breaches made by the artillery in the walls were immediately filled up ; and in the martial unanimity of the inhabitants — in the unflinching tenacity of resistance — in the sublime desperation of undisciplined courage — the siege of Barcelona is matched only by the heroic death- struggle of the Saragossa of our times. Before the last stronghold of Catalonian freedom could be stormed, the genius of Berwick and the reinforce- ment of 24,000 Frenchmen were needed. On the 1 2th September 17 14 the noble city ca- pitulated. " Twenty-four of the ringleaders/' says Dunham, " were committed to a perpetual imprison- ment; a bishop, with two hundred of the clergy, banished to Italy; the inhabitants of Catalonia, be- low the rank of nobles, were disarmed; and the fueros were rigorously abohshed." * * History of Spain, vol. v., p. 145. Philip V. 29 On the impolicy, as well as the injustice of this abolition, I shall have occasion to speak later. In the year 17 14 died the queen, who had so long upheld the spirit and courage of her royal con- sort in the arduous, protracted contest that had just ended. This amiable princess was, after an agitated career, not permitted to enjoy the blessings of peace. She left two sons, the infantes, Luis and Fernando. After her decease, the Princess Orsini continued to enjoy the same, and even greater influence at court. She became now more than ever necessary to Philip ; but her ambitious and intriguing spirit rendered her more and more unpopular. Convinced that the king would not long remain unmarried, she resolved to select some princess, whose easy and pliant disposi- tion would render her, like the late queen, subser- vient to her views. It was at this time she first became acquainted with an individual who described to her a princess possessed of exactly the same quali- ties which she was looking for, and who offered him- self as a medium for negotiating the royal alliance. This was the abate, afterwards the famous Cardinal Alberoni j and here is the fitting place to introduce this historical personage to your notice. Alberoni was born in the environs of Parma in the year 1664, and was the son of a gardener. After the due course of preparatory studies, he was ordained priest. He was exercising the sacred ministry when, during the War of the Spanish Succession, he hap- 30 Spain. pened to be introduced to the Duke de Vendome, the general of the French troops in Italy. The general was so pleased with his manners and conver- sation, that he immediately took him into his service. The abate accompanied the duke to Paris, and on the latter being appointed to the embassy of Madrid, followed him to that capital. There Alberoni was presented at court, where he made a most favourable impression on the mind of the Spanish monarch. His own sovereign, the Duke of Parma, now ap- pointed him his agent to the Spanish court. At this time Alberoni, who was more and more ingratiating himself in the favour of Philip and of the Princess Orsini, conceived the bold design of negotiating a marriage between this prince and the niece of the Duke of Parma, Elizabeth Farnese. By such a measure he hoped to lay a solid foundation for his future fortunes; for ties of gratitude, as well as of country, would, in all probability, bind the future queen of Spain to him, and render him, in a manner, necessary to her counsels. By representing Elizabeth Farnese as of a gentle, flexible temper, he easily obtained the concurrence of the Princess Orsini; and then, having received the formal assent of Philip to the proposed alliance, he proceeded to Parma with the greatest expedition. There he perfectly succeeded in the object of his mission, and conducted the affair with such secrecy, that the whole court was kept in utter ignorance of Philip V. 31 the transaction. The Princess Orsini having learned the true character of EHzabeth Farnese, despatched a trusty messenger to Parma to prevent the nuptials by proxy. He arrived the very day the nuptials were to be celebrated ; but as the object of his mission was suspected, he was not admitted within the walls of the city till the ceremony was concluded. Albe- roni then brought back the royal bride to Spain. The king went ta Alcala to meet her ; but no sooner had the favourite been presented to her, than she received peremptory orders to quit the Spanish territory. The exile, which was counselled by Alberoni, removed every obstacle to his ambitious projects. Not long after her arrival at Madrid, the new queen appointed him to be her private secretary. He was then, through her influence, made prime minister, and grandee of Spain ; and some time afterwards the king procured from the Pope the cardinal's hat for the favoured minister. "Alberoni," says a modern historian, "worked eighteen hours a day. He re-established order in the finances \ he encouraged industry \ he founded a cloth manufactory at Guadalaxara, inviting thither dyers from England, and five thousand famihes of artisans, with their utensils, from Holland. The native wool could thus be wrought in the country, and the army clothed with the products of national industry. Table- linen could thus be manufactured at Madrid. Four hundred nuns were taught to spin as in Holland, and 32 Spain. all foundlings brought up to that sort of work. Fac- tories of crystal were opened, husbandry flourished, and many large desert tracts of Spain teemed with population. The expenses of the administration were reduced, and numberless places in the royal house- hold suppressed. The trade with the colonies was protected; the clergy forced to contribute to the public burdens ; the wealthier classes were taxed ; government offices sold ; and the smugglers of Ara- gon enlisted into the army. By these measures Spain soon acquired an army of 65,000 men, a powerful navy, a well-appointed artillery j and the city of Bar- celona could shew one of the best citadels." * " To lessen," says Coxe, " the introduction of foreign manufactures, which had hitherto filled the markets, to the detriment of those of Spain, Alberoni formed a new tariff of duties, abrogated many indul- gences, and established superintendents in different parts to prevent abuses. He aboHshed one of the last remnants of the ancient division into separate kingdoms, by removing most of the inland custom- houses to the frontier, and restoring to full liberty the interior communications and traffic, "t Had Alberoni confined his attention to reforms in the internal administration of Spain, he would have been a great benefactor to that country, and have deserved her eternal gratitude. But the wild, ex- * Cesar Cantu, Hist. Univ., t. ix., p. 171-2. + The Bourbons in Spain, vol. ii., p. 377. Philip V, 33 travagant schemes of foreign policy in which he embarked, involved in hostilities a country which so much needed repose, and brought about his own ruin. He must needs, after the bloody, protracted War of Succession which had ravaged Spain, waste her reviving energies in a fruitless struggle with the great powers of Europe. He must needs strive to place his own sovereign on the throne of France, which he had renounced, to re-establish the Stuarts in England, and, with the view of restoring the Spanish domination, drive out the Austrians from Italy. And all these grand projects are to be accomplished, not successively, but almost simultaneously, and with the aid of the mad Charles of Sweden, and of the decrepit Ottoman Porte. These wild projects, which arrayed against enervated, exhausted Spain the hostility of the three most powerful states in Europe, — Great Britain, France, and Austria, — backed, too, by the Dutch republic, prove that if Alberoni were an able, energetic administrator, as well as a dexterous diplo- matist and a supple courtier, he was not a statesman of the highest order. In the same way an orator, however he may dazzle by his wit and his fancy, yet if he often runs into turgid declamation, shews a want of intellectual strength. The plot against the Duke of Orleans, regent of France, in which the Duchess of Maine and several of the Breton nobility were impHcated, was discovered and suppressed by the French government. That 34 Spain. government, backed in their demand by the British and the Austrian courts, required of PhiUp V. the immediate dismissal of the minister who had ren- dered himself so obnoxious. The king, and even his former protectress, the queen, hesitated not to aban- don a statesman who had abused their confidence, and had so seriously compromised the interests of the monarchy. The disgraced minister could hardly find an asylum anywhere, till at last the republic of Genoa threw open her portals to him. He had in- curred the displeasure of the reigning Pope ; his con- duct underwent a juridical inquiry; but after being sentenced to confinement in a convent for some time, he was liberated and restored to the favour of the Pontiff. Philip now gave in his adhesion to the quadruple aUiance between England, Holland, France, and Austria ; was acknow^ledged by his former rival, the German emperor, to be king of Spain and the Indies ; and on his ratifying his assent to the dismemberment of his European provinces, as determined by the Treaty of Utrecht, received the reversion of two Italian prin- cipalities for the issue of his present marriage, on the condition that they should not be annexed to the crown of Spain. Philip humbled the Moors of Africa, who had long sought to wrest Ceuta from the Spanish rule, and demanded the restitution of the fortress of Gibraltar, which, on the authority of the English government. Philip V. 35 the Duke of Orleans had promised him, as the reward of his accession to the quadruple alliance. The English government, dreading the unpopularity of the measure, evaded the fulfilment of its promise. This evasion alienated Philip henceforth from the English alliance ; and so, down to the present day, this fortress has remained a bone of contention between the two countries. The marriage of his cousin, Louis XV., king of France, with the Polish Princess Leczinska, having dissipated the dream he had sometimes entertained of succeeding to the French crown, Philip suddenly resolved, in 1724, to abdicate the throne in favour of his eldest son, Don Luis. To this resolve, which had been ratified by a vow, he had been impelled partly by religious scruples, partly by weariness of the cares of government. He and his queen were bent on securing an Italian principality for their son, the Infante Don Carlos, whom they lived to see succes- sively Duke of Parma and King of Naples. But, like Charles V. from his soHtude of St Just, Philip, in his retirement of San Ildefonso, controlled and directed the counsels of his son. The court was filled with men attached to his interests, and devoted to his views. He soon began to long again for the exercise of royal power. At this time the death of the young king, Don Luis, from small-pox, opened again to Philip the path to the throne. In despite of the dis- approval of the Council of Castile, he persisted in his 36 Spain. desire for the resumption of power; and having obtained from the Papal legate the absolution from his vow, he mounted again on the throne. To secure the interests of the Infante Don Carlos, Philip, disgusted with the conduct of England, France, and Holland, resolved to negotiate a treaty of alli- ance with the court of Vienna. The individual intrusted with this mission was the Baron de Eip- perda j and here is the fitting place to speak of this celebrated adventurer. John William, Baron de Rip- perda, was of an old Spanish family ; but he himself was born in the province of Groningen in Holland, towards the close of the seventeenth century. He was brought up in the Catholic faith, but for the sake of advancing his temporal interests in his native land, he conformed to the Protestant religion. In his youth he embraced the profession of arms, and attained to the rank of colonel in an infantry regi- ment. In 17 15 he was charged by the Dutch government with a diplomatic mission to the court of Madrid, and there acquitted himself of his task with great distinction. This first success awakened his ambition; and accordingly, in "the hope of obtaining some public employment, he resolved to settle in Spain. With the view to further his ambitious designs, and, as the sequel shews, without any very sincere intentions, he abjured Protestantism, and embraced the CathoHc faith. He ingratiated himself with Phifip, and communi- Philip V. 2>7 cated to that monarch various projects for promoting the material prosperity of his dominions. He ob- tained permission to establish several manufactories in Spain ; and, moreover, won to such an. extent the confidence of the king, that he consulted him on the most important affairs of state. In 1725 Ripperda was intrusted with an important mission to Vienna, for the purpose of concluding with the German emperor a treaty of commerce and of alliance. His success in this negotiation was rewarded with the dignity of grandee, and even with a dukedom ; and he was appointed ambassador extraordinary at the court of Vienna. Obliged to yield to French ascen- dancy at that court, he returned to Madrid in 1725, and was immediately nominated Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Soon he was allowed to annex to this department the Ministry of War, and that of Finance. But the grandees were naturally indignant at seeing the government of the country in the hands of a foreign adventurer, and one, too, who had failed in realising the splendid promises he had made. Even Philip, too, began to see through the charlatanism of his minister. Yielding at length to his own mis- givings, as well as to the remonstrances of the nobles, he removed Ripperda from his high posts ; but he did not deprive him of his titles, and even promised him a considerable pension. Ripperda, however, on retiring from the ministry, 38 Spain. had the imprudence to seek an asylum at the house of the British ambassador, Mr Stanhope. This step was construed into an act of conspiracy ; and the ex- minister was for two years confined within the castle of Segovia. Thence he contrived to escape, and fled in 1728 into Portugal. From Portugal he returned to Holland, and there, it is said, resumed the profession of Calvinism. Having been demanded by the Span- ish government as a state criminal, he thought it safer to escape from Holland, and flying to Morocco, entered into the service of its emperor. Here it is confidently stated he embraced the faith of Islam, and received the rite of circumcision. For several years he was admitted to the councils of Muley Abdallah, and commanded his armies ; but on the dethronement of that Moorish prince, he took refuge in Istria, and there, in the year 1737, died in the open profession of the CathoHc faith. Philip V. was a prince possessed of respectable talents, but devoid of energy of character. He was devout j but his devotion was of a timorous kind, and sometimes took a wrong direction. Strongly inclined by nature to melancholy, he loved retirement, and found little pleasure in society. Sometimes, for six months together, he would, though in good health, remain confined to his bed, and there sign ordinances, and transact business. A prince so weak in character, and of such indolent habits, was always dependent on the counsel of others. Philip V, 39 Hence he was successively ruled by his grandfather, Louis XIV., by the governess of the young Prince of the Asturias, the Princess Orsini, and by his second wife, Elizabeth Farnese. In despite of this weak and irresolute character, he sincerely loved justice, and was zealous for the in- terests and the happiness of his people. * . . . His reign is marked by many wise and judicious measures ; and he laid the foundations for those im- provements in the internal government of Spain, which his successors happily followed out. He restored the navy, which the later princes of the Austrian line had so shamefully neglected. He remodelled mihtary discipline, he encouraged manufactures, and invited foreigners to settle in his dominions. He estabhshed the Royal Library of Madrid, and a college for the education of young nobles ; and founded the Spanish Academy for the improvement of the native tongue, and the Academy of History for the prosecution of researches into the national annals. Of those institutions Dr Southey, who, from his knowledge of Spanish and Portuguese history and literature, is a most competent witness, thus speaks : "Few similar institutions," says he, "have equahed the Royal Academies of Madrid and Lisbon in the zeal and ability with which they have brought to hght their ancient records, and elucidated the history and antiquities of their respective countries."* Another * History of the Peninsular War, vol. i., p. lo. 40 Spain. French imitation was the introduction of the SaUc law in the order of royal succession ; — a change which, as it affected the fundamental laws of the monarchy, was accomplished only with the consent of Cortes. The most unwise, as well as most culpable measure of Philip v., was the abrogation of the Cortes of Ara- gon, Catalonia, and Valencia, on the pretext that those provinces had espoused the cause of his rival, the Archduke Charles. What, indeed, could be more futile and unjust than this pretext? For as Philip himself had occasional scruples as to the validity of the testament of Charles II., on which his claims to the throne of Spain were founded, how could he with any consistency punish Spaniards for entertaining the like doubts? Ought he not to have respected the fidelity of the Catalans and the Aragonese to their sense of duty — their devotedness to the prince, whom they considered their rightful sovereign % And, as a French prince, ought he not to have been especially chary of those pohtical rights and privileges, which all Spaniards, and more particularly those of the northern provinces, clung to so tenaciously % But unfortunately the monarchs of that day, and more especially the Bourbon kings, little perceived that popular freedom was the best rampart and defence of regal prerogatives. The eighteenth century was the era of absolutism. And what distinguishes the history of Spain in that age, was the growth in material prosperity on the one hand, and the decUne of popular freedom on the Philip V. 41 other. For a hundred years the Spanish Bourbons carried on a secret, but incessant war against the re- maining fueros or privileges of Aragon and Catalonia, and against the Cortes of Biscay and of Navarre. Yet it was those provinces, precisely, which in our times have made so heroic a defence of the throne against the anarchical efforts of revolution. Order and liberty aid and support each other, and they who strive to separate them are the enemies of both. It is now time to speak of Philip's queen. Eliza- beth Farnese was a princess of Parma who, through the jealousy of her mother, had been brought up in the strictest seclusion. Those hours of privacy she had employed in the careful cultivation of her mind. She had studied several modern languages, which she spoke with fluency, and had acquired an elegant taste for the fine arts. History and politics were her fa- vourite pursuits, and in these matters she was better versed than most women of her time. This know- ledge she knew how to turn to account when Philip V. made her the partner of his throne. Though with no great pretensions to beauty, she had a graceful figure, and the most fascinating man- ners. Ambitious of power, she was yet cautious in making a display of it. She never thwarted her royal husband — never contradicted him ; flattered his tastes, and complied with his humours ; and while she seemed to be a passive tool in his hands, she exercised the 42 Spain. most absolute sway over his mind. The better to insure that dominion, she encouraged Phihp's indina- tion to soHtude, and spent in the company of an un- social, hypochondriacal husband the hours she might have felt disposed to pass in the brilliant entertain- ments of the court. The foreign transactions of this reign enter not into the plan of this lecture ', but I may say, in con- clusion, that Philip V. was twice engaged in hostilities with Austria, and twice with England. His naval and military forces were often successful in their warlike operations. In the year 1746 Philip V. was carried off by a stroke of apoplexy, and was succeeded by his son,- Ferdinand VI. Ferdinand VL Ferdinand VL ascended the throne of Spain in the year 1746. He was of a delicate constitution, and much disposed to melancholy; and so was doomed to have a shorter reign than the love of his subjects would have fain desired. In private life he was distinguished for piety, virtue, the love of justice, frugality, and bounteous charity. In public life he evinced the greatest zeal in furthering the happiness of his people. He encouraged agriculture, commerce, and manufactures; he introduced greater economy into the administration ; he suppressed useless offices ; abrogated onerous taxes j placed the naval forces on a Ferdinand VI. 43 satisfactory footing ; and resisting the allurements of ambition, the example of neighbouring states, and the bias of family affections, he insured to his country the blessings of peace, the longest peace she had known since the death of Philip II. A circumstance most honourable to Ferdinand VI. and his ministers was the fact, that his many useful reforms in the public administration were unaccom- panied with any encroachments on the rights of the church, of the nobles, and of the municipal corpora- tions. When we consider the false pohtical prin- ciples so rife in the eighteenth century, and when we compare the policy of this prince with that pursued by some of the advisers of the succeeding monarch, as well as with the fatal counsels so soon afterwards fol- lowed by the governments of Austria, Tuscany, Parma, Naples, and Portugal, we cannot too highly commend his prudence. What a critical period in the life of nations is the era of political reforms ! Reforms are needful ; but in what spirit shall they be conceived ? Reforms are needful j but who shall carry them out % Reforms are needful ; but what are to be their con- comitants % Reforms are needful j but what purpose are they to subserve % Such are the questions which press themselves on our minds, when we examine the political reforms of the last age — reforms in which the elements of good and of evil were often so strangely intermixed. The action of the Christian religion on human 44 Spain. society had been slow and gradual. It did not enter into the designs of Divine Providence, that Christi- anity should bring about a total, immediate change in the temporal order of things. Social as well as moral renovation depended on the spontaneous co-operation of nations — on the character of races — on the course of events — on the growth of piety — on the action of emi- nent rulers, spiritual and temporal, as well as of great characters, who leave their impress on society — and on the gradual working out of all those influences by time itself In the Middle Ages the process of social regeneration had, indeed, reached a high point ; but much still remained to be accomplished, when the work of civilization was retarded by the religious dis- putes and the religious wars of the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. Civilization, arrested on some points, was yet advanced on others ; and therefore, in the eighteenth century, many improvements in law and in administration, in political economy and in physical science occurred, which the false philo- sophy of that age attributed to itself Yet these reforms were but the late fruits of that Christian civiHzati_on, the seeds whereof had been sown at the very origin of modem society. The most distinguished minister at the court of Ferdinand VI. was the Marquis la Ensenada — a statesman who, following out the reforming plans of Orri, introduced order in the finances, and achieved more for the agriculture, commerce, and manufac Ferdinand VI. 45 tures of his country than any preceding minister. He cultivated peace with England and France, and all the neighbouring states j and this pacific pohcy, in which he was so well supported by his sovereign, was, in an age so full of political intrigue and national quarrels as the eighteenth century, especially laudable. This steady adherence to the system of peace on the one hand, and a spirit of prudent economy on the other, enabled Ferdinand to leave at his demise sixty million francs in the public treasury. Among the special measures that marked the ad- ministration of La Ensenada, I may notice the ordi- nance for facilitating the transport of corn from one province to another — the causeway between the two Castiles, and the canal of Campos between Old Castile and the sea. He simplified the collection of the taxes ; sought to abohsh the onerous impost of the millones, an excise duty; and was the first, by allowing register-ships for America, besides the flota and the galleons, to open the trade between Spain and her colonies. This minister spared no exertion to raise up for his country an efficient navy, neglected as that branch of the service had been since the time of Charles II.; and for this purpose he invited shipbuilders and en- gineers from foreign countries. " On the whole, a considerable increase in the population, four hundred and thirty vessels of war of various size, and a surplus revenue of fifty million francs : — such," says a writer 46 Spain. in the " Biographic Universelle," " were the fruits of economy, and of the judicious measures pursued by an able, zealous, and honest minister." * Let us now turn our eyes to the other members of the court; and no one there claims our attention more than Ferdinand's amiable queen. Theresa Bar- bara was the daughter of John V., king of Portugal, and had been married to Ferdinand VL when he was still Prince of the Asturias. Though not distinguished for personal charms, she was a woman of sprightly wit and engaging manners. If she possessed not the great talents of Elizabeth Farnese, she was remark- able for good sense and an exquisite tact, that enabled her to exert great influence over the mind of her royal consort. Cheerful as she was in public, and passion- ately fond of music and the dance, she yet, like her husband, laboured under a constitutional melancholy. By complying with the tastes and dispositions of Fer- dinand, she exercised a sway which she never suffered to be felt. By never taking a direct part in great affairs of state, and by confining her influence to a recommendation of the chief ministers, she was never involved in the disgrace of a statesman, or in the down- fall of a party. This prudence was sustained and rendered successful by her extreme gentleness of manner, and her kindliness of nature. The only alloy in this beautiful character was an excessive desire for amassing wealth. She laboured * Biograph. Univ., t. xiii., p. 167. Paris, 1817. Ferdinand VI. 47 under the apprehension that, hke many of the Spanish queens, she might, on the demise of her royal consort, be subject to many wants and privations. Like EHzabeth Farnese, Queen Barbara had to soothe and dispel the morbid melancholy of a hypo- chondriac husband. Hence she resorted to all the expedients which affection could suggest. The un- happy monarch would at times decline all society, shut himself up in his chamber, not let himself be shaved, and refuse almost all nourishment. These morbid attacks were particularly prevalent in the early part of his reign. Here the queen, like her prede- cessor, resorted to the soothing strains of the great Italian singer, Farinelli, And here is the proper place to speak of that remarkable personage. Broschi, called Farinelli, was a native of the city of Naples. He had a voice of extraordinary power and sweetness, and, if we are to credit the marvellous tales told of him, has not been equalled by any of his suc- cessors in the art. At the operas of Vienna and Naples, Paris and London, he had acquired a brilliant reputation, and amassed a considerable fortune. In the zenith of his fame, he was invited over to the court of Madrid to exert the tranquillizing power of his art on the distempered mind of Philip V. His efforts were crowned with signal success. At this court he obtained the good graces of the Prince and Princess of Asturias, who were struck with his amiable charac- ter, as well as with his wonderful musical powers. 48 Spain. When the Prince of Asturias mounted on the throne, under the name of Ferdinand VI., FarinelH rose in high favour at court, and gradually acquired great political influence. When he delivered the king from the attacks of his distressing malady, and diffused gladness over his mind, it was impossible for the monarch to resist any application in his favour, made by the queen. Since the days of Orpheus and of Linus, music had never exerted so imperious a sway. She became once more the mistress of Nature, and the arbitress of right j and by chasing away mental and bodily distempers, and suggesting wise laws, she restored harmony in the state, as well as in the royal mind. Different from most men raised suddenly to power, FarinelH bore his good fortune with the utmost meek- ness, behaving to his superiors with respect, and to his inferiors with gentleness and kindness. He was often made the channel of communication between public men or private individuals and the queen ; and so was often instrumental in performing deeds of justice or of mercy, and in recommending wise measures of foreign or of domestic policy. He was grateful to his early friends and patrons, displayed no inordinate ambition, and, content with the fortune he had acquired, sought not to aggrandise it by new pensions or places. He was on terms of intimate friendship with the minister La Ensenada, to whom he lent all the weight Ferdinand VI. 49 of his influence, and whom he supported in all his wise and beneficial measures. . Singular fate, indeed, of that proud Spanish aris- tocracy, which had once shone alike in war and in diplomacy, and which was now set aside, and doomed to see its political functions usurped by foreign up- starts and adventurers. A poor priest of Parma, who rose to be Cardinal Alberonij the Dutch charlatan Ripperda, who for a while strutted on the stage of political life ; and now an Italian musician, Farinelli, (the wisest of the three,) successively held the post, or exercised the influence, which belonged to the Medina- Celis, the Infantados, the Laras, and the Guzmans. Yet such is absolute power ! By excluding nobility from its proper sphere of action, by making it lose the knowledge and the habit of public affairs, it enervates it ; it renders it helpless and ignorant ; it undermines its existence ; it deranges the whole social hierarchy ; and so prepares the way for the slow decline of nations, to be followed in due time bj^ those social paroxysms which we call revolutions. Truly, says Mr Townsend, in alluding to the extinc- tion of the ancient Cortes, "The whole nation has suffered by this change in the constitution of their government; but no order in the state has lost so much as the nobility." * Ferdinand VI. made an important concordat with Pope Benedict XIV., by which the latter, on receiv- * Journey through Spain, vol. i., p, 321. D 50 Spain. ing a certain fixed annual sum, conferred on the monarch the right of nomination to those benefices hitherto reserved to the Holy See. This conven- tion was attended with mutual advantages to the heads of Church and state. About the year 1759 died Queen Barbara, to whom the king had been most tenderly attached. His grief became inconsolable, and all the syinptoms of his former malady returned. He refused to take nourishment, to dress, or to shave himself, and re- mained shut up in his bedroom, till he at last followed his amiable consort to the tomb. Thus died an excellent prince, whose reign —too short, alas ! for the happiness of his people — was blessed with peace abroad and ^vith improvements at home. Charles III. Ferdinand VI. was succeeded by his brother, Charles III., who in the government of Naples had displayed considerable talents. Charles III. was a prince of irreproachable morals, and sincerely de- voted to religion. Good abilities he certainly pos- sessed, but they had not been cultivated with sufficient care. Yet French and Itafian, as well as his own language, he spoke with correctness and fluency. Exemplary in the domestic relations, he was withal conscientious in the discharge of all his public duties. Charles III. 51 His chief fault was an excessive love for the chase, to which all the Bourbons, whether of the French or of the Spanish lines, are strongly addicted. This passion led him to an occasional neglect of pubhc affairs, and into too implicit a reliance on the coun- sels of his ministers. He called men of great abihty to his councils ; but, as we shall see, he often failed to discern the tendency of their principles. He was a generous patron of letters and of science.* * Mr Buckle (Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 96) quotes Towns- end as saying, " The science and practice of medicine are at the lowest ebb in Spain, but more especially in the Asturias." He cites also another passage, where the same writer, after observ- ing that the medical students now had access to the works of foreign authors of repute, yet adds, " They were obliged to take such instruction on trust, for in their medical classes they had no dissections," He then quotes Godoi, who, speaking of the three colleges of surgery in Madrid, Barcelona, and Cadiz, says that until his administration in 1793, "in the capital, even that of San Carlos had not a lecture-room for practical instruction." Mr Buckle corroborates these statements by Clarke's Letters con- cerning the Spanish nation in 1 763, and even by the far more recent book, entitled "Spain," by an American, in 1831. In thus making out a strong case of medical ignorance against Spain, did not equity command Mr Buckle to state the following testimony as to medical reforms in the renovated university of Valencia, which he might have found, if it had suited his pur- pose, in the pages of the same Townsend ? — " For medicine with chemistry," says this traveller, " they (the rector and professors of Valencia, according to a plan of studies approved by the government of Charles III. in December 1786) have eleven professors — six permanent, the other five changed at the end of three years. In this science they have adopted the best modem authors, such as Beaume, Macquer, Murray, Heister, Boerhaave, Home, Van Swieten, and ' Cullen's Prac- tice ; ' but, unfortunately, they have overlooked his best perform- 52 Spain. The Benedictine Father Feyjoo, the author of a sort of Hterary Encyclopsedia ; Florez, the author of the " Espana Sagrada;" the clever satirist, the Jesuit Father Isla; the statesman and pohtical economist Campomanes ; the fabuHst Yriarte \ and the dramatic poet the elder Moratin, adorned the reign of this monarch. Scholars like Casiri, so versed in Arabic literature, and the elder Yriarte, and many men of science, arose to vindicate Spain from the charge of intellectual torpor. Charles III. imitated, and even surpassed his two predecessors, Philip V. and Ferdinand VI., in the fostering patronage of letters, arts, and science. His father, as we have seen, founded the Spanish Aca- demy, for the improvement of the national language and literature, as well as the Academy of History, for researches into the annals of Spain. Charles III., in ance, which, without a question, is the ' Synopsis Nosologise Methodicse ;' and they appear not to be acquainted with the works of Haller and of Gaubius. Like the medical school at Edinburgh, they have a clinical ward, visited daily by the students, and clinical lectures given by the professors. Besides these, with a singular liberality of sentiment, they permit the professors to take what bodies they think proper from the hospital, to be dissected by their surgeons." TowQsend adds, " In medicine, to be what they call opositor — that is, to be admitted into the class of those who may be here- after candidates for a vacant chair, whether permanent or tem- porary — a man must have obtained two matriculas in Greek, two in mathematics, and one in the mechanics ; he must defend a thesis, and be examined in every branch of medicine, by thi-ee censors at least, both in public and in private." — Townsend^s Journey through Spain^ vol. iii., pp. 244, 247. Charles III. 53 his turn, established the Academy of Painting, the Cabinet of Natural History, and the University of Valencia, celebrated for the cultivation of the physi- cal sciences. He arranged the botanical garden \ he set on foot voyages of discovery in the Pacific Ocean ; and Gonzales, De Monte, Ayala, and Maurelle ex- plored the northern, western, southerly and south- eastern coasts of America. '' If," says Archdeacon Coxe, " the names of those navigators have not at- tained the same celebrity as those of Anson, Cook, and Vancouver, Bougainville and La Peyrouse, it was not owing to their deficiency of merit, but to the jealous policy of their government in every trans- action connected with the American possessions." * If such was the zeal displayed by Charles III. in the patronage of the fine arts, letters, and natural sciences, his active encouragement of the industrial arts, and of all that could conduce to the material well- being of his subjects, was still more remarkable. " It is to Charles III.," says Lady Louisa Tenison, in her interesting " Travels through Andalusia and Castile," " Spain owes most of its magnificent roads, bridges, and canals. He planted trees to adorn the Prado, and to him Madrid owes the museum, the fine gate of Alcala, the noble buildings of the custom-house, and sundry others too numerous to be mentioned here." t It was the good fortune of this monarch to * Memoirs of Spanish Bourbons, vol. v., p. 218. t Castile and Andalusia, p. 311. 54 Spain. have found most capable ministers, who, if on some points they committed great errors, yet introduced most salutary improvements in the internal adminis- tration of Spain. A succession of able statesmen, like Grimaldi, Squilace, Campomanes, and Florida Blanca arose, to carry out useful reforms in the finan- cial, industrial, commercial, and colonial policy of their country. Let us fix our attention on the last of these statesmen, Florida Blanca, who achieved more for the material improvement of Spain than any other minister of the last century, and whose administrative reforms were unalloyed by the irreligious principles of D'Aranda or the unecclesiastical notions of Cam- pomanes. Florida Blanca was born in the year 1729, and was the son of a provincial lawyer. He discharged for some time, with great distinction, the functions of ambassador at Rome, and was then raised to the dignity of prime minister by Charles III. This minister followed out and brought to maturity the system of internal policy first begun by Orri, and more vigorously prosecuted by La Ensenada. The tendency of this system was to relieve husbandry, commerce, and manufactures from the shackles im- posed by self-interest or by ignorance. The odious imposts of the alcavala and the millones were abolished. The alcavala was a tax of ten or four- teen per cent, on the value of all property, whether real or personal, agricultural or manufactured, that Charles III. 55 might be sold. The millones was a very heavy excise duty on wine, vinegar, soap, fruits, and other commodities. The home manufactures were encouraged by heavier duties laid on articles of foreign industry; by facilities afforded for the importation of raw goods from other countries ; by the procuring of foreign machinery, and the introduction of artisans from abroad. Odious or oppressive imposts were reduced, and a moderate income-tax substituted in their stead. Great attention was also now paid by the govern- ment to the internal communications of the country. Old roads were improved, new ones constructed, and canals dug for facilitating intercourse between the different provinces of Spain. A permanent fund for such improvements was established by the duty on salt, and by the produce of the post-office. The canals not only facilitated the operations of trade, but improved the agriculture of the country. From the means of irrigation which the canal of Tudela afforded, 100,000 acres of ground were brought into culture, and land rose in value from ;^i, IOJ-. to ^£"50 per acre. The same remark will apply to the canal from Madrid to the Tagus, and to the canal of Guadarrama in New Castile. Florida Blanca was also the first to establish dih- gences between Barcelona, Madrid, and Cadiz. He did much to embellish the capital and the provincial 56 Spain. cities, as well as to improve their sanitary condition. Societies, under the name of patriotic, were set on foot by the nobles and the burgesses, for the improve- ment of agriculture and manufactures, the amelioration of the condition of the industrial classes, and the extension of popular education. A national bank, that of St Charles, was established at Madrid for aiding the operations of commerce. In fine, " Spain," says M. Cesar Cantu, "which under Philip V. scarcely reckoned seven millions and a-half of inhabitants, had eleven at the close of the century; and the products of its industry and its agriculture had been tripled."* In his general financial and commercial regulations, Florida Blanca was assisted by the counsels of the Frenchman Cabarrus, and more especially by the political economist Campo- manes. In his reforms in the administration of the colonies, the minister received the valuable co-opera- tion of Don Jose Galvez, who had passed many years in America. Seven of the chief ports in Spain, and ultimately all its seaports, were allowed to trade with the American colonies, save and except Mexico. In consequence of these important concessions, the ex- portation of foreign goods was tripled, that of home produce quintupled, and the returns from America * Hist. Univ., trad. Franc, t, ix., p. 408. According to the last census, the population of Spain was rather more than 15,000,000. — Vide Quarteidy Review^ Jan. 2, 1862, p. 162. Charles III. 57 were augmented in the astonishing proportion of nine to one. The produce of the customs increased with equal rapidity. In 1786, these advantages were par- tially extended to Mexico. The colonies themselves felt the renovating influ- ence of this liberal policy. In the reign of our monarch, the navy which La Ensenada had created was considerably increased;* the militia was improved ; and the army fashioned on the Prussian model. A colony of foreign settlers, consisting for the most part of German and Swiss Protestants, was established in the Sierra Morena, under the direction of Count Pablo Olavide. This nobleman was a native of America, and had travelled in France, and had there, by his intercourse with the encyclopaedists, imbibed the irreligious doc- trines then so prevalent. He was denounced to the Inquisition, found guilty of having given utter- ance to irreligious sentiments, and condemned by the sacred Office to several years' confinement within a convent. He made, after some time, his escape into France, where he lived down to the Revolution of * By a comparative table of the naval forces of Spain in the years 1776 and 1788, Mr Townsend shews that in "the course of twelve years the Spanish navy had been nearly doubled, con- sidering merely the guns ; but when," he says, "we take into con- sideration the number of their leading ships in point of respect- ability, it will appear to be much more than doubled." — Vol. ii., P- 399- 5 8 Spain. 1789. Thrown into a dungeon during the Reign of Terror, he learned in the hour of misfortune to appre- ciate the blessings of Christianity, whose triumphs he has celebrated in a remarkable work, and which, even in our times, the Pere Desgeiiettes was in the habit of placing in the hands of French infidels who apphed to him for rehgious instruction. I now proceed to give a short account of the iniquitous suppression of the Society of Jesus in Spain ; and in so doing will use the words of a living Catholic historian of great celebrity. "On the eve of Palm Sunday, 1766," says he, "the people of Madrid rose in tumult, demanding pro- visions at a lower price, and the redress of various grievances. Neither the king, nor the ambassadors, nor the soldiers could allay the commotion, till the Jesuits, rushing into the midst of the multitude, appeased their rage, when the mutineers dispersed, crying out, ' Long live the Jesuits ! ' This was enough to enable the Duke de Choiseul to persuade King Charles III. that they were the instigators of the tumult, and to inspire him with sentiments of hatred and dread of the order. Charles III., a religious and clear-sighted prince, had given the Jesuits assurances of his protection ; but deceived by his minister. Count d'Aranda,'^ an adept of the French infidels, he thought * This minister, whom the infidel Buckle has lately so highly commended, meets with the following characteristic eulogy from another kindred spirit. "The Count d'Aranda," says the Mar- Charles III. 59 his life imperilled by their machinations. A supposi- titious letter from the general of the order, Father Ricci, (fabricated, it is said, by the Duke de Choi- seul himself,) and in which the writer affirmed that he had in his hands documents proving that Charles III. was the offspring of an adulterous connexion j-^a supposititious letter was presented to the king. A secret inquiry was instituted into this matter; and then, with the greatest possible precautions, as if the safety of the whole realm were at stake, sealed orders were despatched to the alcaldes of all the cantons of Spain, with the intimation that, under pain of death, each should open these orders on the same day, and at the same hour. The purport of these orders was the expulsion of the Jesuits. In consequence of this mandate, six thousand of these rehgious, old, young, infirm, learned or noble, without any distinction what- soever, were in one instant arrested ; an inventory was taken of their goods ; and after each member was permitted to take for his use a breviary, a bag, and his apparel, they were thrown together into the hold of vessels, and transported to Civita Vecchia. quis de Langle, "is the only Spaniard of our day whose name posterity will inscribe on its tablets. It is he who wished to in- scribe on the frontispiece of all temples, and to unite in the same escutcheon the names of Luther, of Calvin, of Mohammed, of William Penn, and of Christ It is he who wished to sell the wardrobe of the saints, the furniture of the virgins, and to commute the crosses, the candelabra, and the patens into posts, inns, and high-roads." — Travels in Spain in 1785, t. i., p. 127. French edition. 6o Spain. " The reigning Pontiff, deeming it most unjust that, without any given intimation, strangers to his states should thus be cast on his shores, dedined to receive the rehgious. Genoa and Leghorn did the same. At last, after six months, they were driven on the coast of Corsica, where they had to endure the pangs of famine, and every species of privation. At last the Pope, on condition that Spain should insure them a small pecuniary allowance, consented to receive them. In all the Spanish colonies in America, in Asia, and in Africa, the like treatment befell these religious. " Soon an edict appeared, announcing that the safety of the state, and other motives which the king kept in petto ^ ' shut up within his royal breast,' not to speak of a conspiracy formed to take away his life, and to dismember the monarchy, had determined him to expel the order of the Jesuits, and to confiscate their property. The king at the same time bestowed eulogies on the other religious orders, which did not meddle with temporal affairs; and without granting anything to the novices, allotted yearly to each Jesuit a hundred piastres, and to each lay-brother ninety. But strange enough, the monarch added, that if, by way of apology, any writing contrary to this royal edict should be published, then the whole Society would forfeit all rights to a pension. He subjoined, that * whereas it did not belong to individuals to judge or to interpret the decisions of the sovereign, it would be a crime of high treason to speak either for or Charles III. 6 1 against the royal ordinance.' Having issued this manifesto, Charles III. then exclaimed, '■ I have con- quered a kingdom.' "The Pope keenly felt these arbitrary acts. He addressed to the King of Spain a brief couched in terms of the deepest affliction. 'And thou, too, riiy son,' he exclaimed; and he then unfolded to his Majesty the eminent services rendered by a Society so devoted to the interests of the state, as well as of the Church, and called God and men to witness that if any of its members had disturbed the government of Spain, the order was not only innocent in its insti- tute and in its spirit, but was, moreover, pious, useful, holy in its purpose, in its laws, in its maxims. He then adjured the monarch, as he prized the salvation of his own soul, to revoke or to suspend his decree, till such time as an impartial inquiry should cause truth and justice to prevail. But all the efforts of the Pontiff were unavailing. " The King of Naples, complying with the sugges- tions of Spain, and the counsels of his minister, Tanucci, passed also a decree of expulsion against the Jesuits." So far the ItaHan historian.* Let us now hear how a Protestant historian has characterised this atrocious persecution of a religious order: — "On considering this transaction with im- partiality," says Archdeacon Coxe, "it is impossible to deny that, however necessary the expulsion of the * L'Histoire Universelle, t. ix,, pp. 271, 272. Trad. Franc. 62 Spain. Jesuits might be deemed, yet the execution itself was the most arbitrary and cruel measure ever held out to the indignation of mankind. The members of a great religious order were suddenly arrested, as if guilty of enormous crimes, banished from their native land without trial, exposed to the most dreadful hardships,^ and finally compelled to remain in the Papal do- minions, under the pain of losing the pittance allotted for their subsistence."* Another Protestant historian pays a far juster and nobler tribute to this illustrious, but much persecuted order. ■ " If we divest ourselves of prejudice," says Mr Dunham, " in weighing the conduct and character of the Jesuits ; still more, if we contrast them with those of their persecutors, we cannot shut our eyes to the facts, that their lives were generally, not merely blameless, but useful ; that they were the victims of a systematic conspiracy, more selfish in its object and more atrocious in its execution than any which was ever held up to the execration of mankind. With a refinement of cruelty which we should not have ex- pected from the court of Carlos, they were forbidden even to complain, under the penalty of losing the annual pittance assigned them; nay, the Spaniard who presumed to speak or write in their defence was declared guilty of high treason. But these venerable men were resigned to their fate : so far from uttering * Coxe's Bourbons in Spain, vol. v., p. 361. Charles III. 63 one word of complaint, they soothed their irritated flocks, whom they calmly exhorted to obey the civil powers. 'I cannot conclude the just encomium of these men,' says an eye-witness to their expulsion from the Philippine islands, 'without observing that in a situation where the extreme attachment of the natives to their pastors might with little encourage- ment have given occasion to all the evils of violence and insurrection, I saw them meet the edict for the abolition of their order with the deference due to civil authority, but, at the same time, with a strength and firmness of mind truly manly and heroic' " * Now, what is the moral we are to draw from this arbitrary and cruel edict against an illustrious order, whom the enemies of religion and of society justly regarded as a formidable obstacle to their de- signs % First, as this matter has been often elucidated, it is scarcely necessary to point out the active concert on this occasion between the ministers of different Catholic states. Secondly, in the same way, as the Lollard and Hussite heresies have frequently been termed the Reformatio ante Reformationem^ so the de- structive policy of Choiseul, D'Aranda, Pombal, and Tanucci in France, Spain, Portugal, and Naples may well be called the Revolutio ante Revolutionem.\ In- * Dunham's Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p. 179. See also Page's Voyages, quoted by Coxe, vol. iv., p. 361. f The suppression of the Society of Jesus w^as in these countries accompanied or followed by other violent encroachments on the spiritual and temporal rights of the Church. 64 Spain. fatuated governments, stricken with a judicial blind- ness, helped in this act of policy, as in so many others, to dig a pit for their own destruction. Thirdly, the next consideration which this expul- sion of the Jesuits suggests, is that if Spain had had the happiness of retaining her ancient Cortes, such an act of t)n-anny, according to the just observation of a French writer,* would have been utterly impossible. A vast majority in the three estates of the Cortes would have condemned the project, or rescinded the royal edict. Of all persons. Catholics should be most attached to- a well-regulated parliamentary system^ for they have the most to lose by absolutism. But a well-regulated system cannot be a government where the king is a mere puppet — where the clergy, as an order, or even in their heads, are excluded from a share in legislation —where the aristocracy has little weight — where numerous classes of the commonalty are neither directly nor indirectly represented — where a section of the community, the slave of secret so- cieties, has exclusive sway. Such a system is a hideous caricature of parhamentary institutions. Lastly, while reUgious unity might have been up- held in Spain, as in Italy, without the aid of the In- quisition, the latter tribunal, cramped by a vexatious interference, frequently evinced towards the most orthodox writers of the last century, the vigour and * M. Clausel de Coussergues, in his pamphlet on Spain, Paris, 1S23. Charles III, 65 activity of the Spanish mind. The legitimate Cortes, on the other hand, would have given a far more effec- tual protection to the spiritual and the temporal in- terests of the Church, and at the same time would have called forth all the intellectual powers of the nation, and infused energy into every department of the state. Charles III. died in the year 1788. He was a prince exemplary in all the relations of private life, an affec- tionate husband and father, remarkably pure in his conduct, and attentive to his religious duties. His talents were most respectable, and had been tolerably well cultivated. By his rule in Naples he had been early initiated in the conduct of public affairs, and thus he brought to the throne of Spain an active mind, matured by experience, a liberal temper, and a heart glowing with zeal for the welfare and happiness of his subjects. His love of justice was so strong, and so universally acknowledged, that foreign princes chose him for an arbiter in their disputes. What services he rendered to his country during the long period he ruled over it — how much he promoted the material prosperity, and advanced the intellectual cultivation of Spain — I have, I think, sufficiently shewn. This well-intentioned, and in many respects able monarch seems not to have possessed the gift of dis- cerning characters. Some men holding the most detestable principles in religion were admitted to his councils. His excessive love for the chase drew off" at times his attention from affairs of state, while a 66 Spain. certain obstinacy of temper made him adhere to dangerous measures that guilty ministers had ad- vised. The expulsion of the Jesuits, and the cruel, arbitrary manner in which it was carried out, has fixed a stain on his memory. Very reprehensible, too, were the encroachments of his government on the spiritual rights of the Holy See, and of the Spanish Episcopate. Among other usurpations, I need only refer to the introduction of the Placet, or Exequatur of the Government on all Papal bulls. Not only the Church, but even the state, enjoyed less liberty than under most of the princes of the Austrian dynasty ; for under them the Cortes still sub- sisted in a mutilated form, and with rights abridged. And though the work of intellectual reform that had marked the reigns of Philip V. and of Ferdinand VI. was vigorously carried on under Charles III., yet the brilhant literature that had adorned the sixteenth century, and the first half of the following age, was wanting here. Nor could those reigns display the very remarkable intellectual movement that has characterised the last twenty years — the period that has succeeded to the civil wars. The eighteenth century was to Spain what the fifteenth had been to Italy. It was a period of educational reform — of the foundation of libraries and academies, of philological studies, and of historical investigation. And as in Italy, the age of preparatory studies paved the way for the exercise of creative genius ; the same will be Charles III, 67 the case in Spain, and already has partly been so. Within the last thirty years a number of distinguished writers have there arisen j and three may be named, who in their respective departments have attained to the highest order of excellence. These are the great theologian, metaphysician, and publicist, Bal- mez; the very eminent parliamentary orator and moralist, Donoso Cortes; and Fernan Caballero, a delightful author of romances and novels. By the pure Catholic spirit which informs their writings, as well as by the creative power of genius, they have not only been at once an ornament and a blessing to their country, but have inaugujrated a new epoch. But I must not anticipate. Though an examination of the foreign policy of this prince does not enter into the plan of these lectures j yet I cannot forbear observing that his alliance with France in the Seven Years' War was not justifiable, for he had received no sufficient pro- vocation from Great Britain ; and next, that it was in a financial and commercial point of view, most ad- verse to the wellbeing of Spain. The alHance which this sovereign, in common with the infatuated court of Versailles, later formed with our revolted colonies of America, was not more un- just and perfidious, than it was insane and suicidal. To have dragged his country into this unnatural war, is the greatest stigma on the memory of Count Florida Blanca; a statesman who in other respects 6S Spain. has so many claims to the respect and gratitude of his country. What to France and to Spain has been the fruit of their share in the War of American Independence, it is surely needless to remind you. Charles IV. The Prince of Asturias, under the name of Charles IV., succeeded to the throne in the year 1788. He was a very weak, incapable prince, but not devoid of good qualities of heart, nor of a taste for literature and the fine arts, which he liberally encouraged. He was extremely fond of athletic exercises, in which he excelled. His temper was violent and irascible ; and on one occasion, when Prince of Asturias, he, for some imaginary slight, pursued with a drawn sword his father's minister, the Marquis Squillace. On coming to the throne, he was ruled by his im- perious consort, Maria Louisa, and her guilty favou- rite, Don Manuel Godoi, Duke of Alcudia, and Prince of the Peace. How neglectful he was of the high duties of his station, and how utterly he gave up the reins of power into the hands of this worthless minister, the monarch himself confessed on a memorable occasion. During his stay at Bayonne in 1808, he thus de- scribed to the Emperor Napoleon I. his mode of life in Spain : — -' Winter, as well as summer, I went every day to the chase up to twelve o'clock ; I then Charles IV. 69 dined, and afterwards resumed the sport of hunting until evening. God 01 then made to me a report on government affairs ; and then I retired to bed, to resume the same kind of hfe the next day, unless I were prevented by some important ceremonial." * Thus the love for the chase, which in his father had been excessive, was carried by this monarch to a degree of the most culpable folly. His queen, Maria Louisa, a daughter of the Duke of Parma, was a clever, intriguing, imperious, and profligate woman. She early evinced her domineering spirit. An anecdote is told of her, that when in her thirteenth year, she had been betrothed to the Prince of Asturias, and had happened to have one day some dispute with her brother, the heir-apparent to the Duchy of Parma, she petulantly said to him, " Re- member, you will be but a petty duke; but I am destined to be the Queen of Spain and the Indies." She married in the year 1765 Charles IV., then Prince of Asturias, and soon obtained an ascendant over the feeble mind of her husband. On that * Charles IV., though he abandoned to Godoi the reins of civil government, never consulted him on the nomination to bishoprics and high ecclesiastical dignities. On these matters he took the advice of his confessor and of prudent ecclesiastics. This prince, though too fond of the pleasures of the chase, was virtuous and conscientious; and the expression, "swinish in- dulgence," lately applied to him by the Edinburgh Review, is highly unjust. Vide Edinbtirgh Review, July 1861, p. 197. The fact stated in the first part of this note rests on the au- thority of a learned friend, who has passed many years in Spain. 70 Spain. prince's accession to the throne in the year 1788, this influence became most disastrous ; for thereby the unworthy favourite I just now spoke of was raised to power. And here is the place to give the history of this too famous personage. Don Manuel Godoi was bom at Badajoz in the year 1765, of a family noble but reduced. He came with his brother to Madrid, and soon was admitted as a private into the royal body-guard. His personal graces, his address, his powers of conversation, and especially his musical talents, soon rendered him a favourite in society. His brother also played well on the lute ; and, having been by a maid of honour intro- duced into the presence of the queen, and played before her majesty, she expressed her admiration for his musical skill. Hereupon he exclaimed, "Oh, could you hear my brother Manuel play ! " On the queen's expressing her desire to witness the musical performances of one she had already heard much spoken of in other quarters, Don Manuel Godoi was admitted into the presence of her Majesty. And here sprang up that guilty attachment, which brought dis- grace on the royal family, shocked the feelings of the Spanish nation, gave rise to venaUty and corruption in the administration, made Spain an ignoble hand- maid to republican and imperial France, and was the proximate cause of all the disasters and misfortunes she went through in the first forty years of this century. Truly has it been said, we must seek in the Mussul- Charles IV, 71 man east for a parallel to the history of this adven- turer. From a private in the body-guard, he rose to the rank of captain, then was made colonel, afterwards created a privy councillor, then prime minister, later made Lord High Admiral and generaHssimo of the forces, was loaded with pensions and orders, and re- ceived the titles successively of Duke of Alcudia and of Prince of the Peace. And as if the fatuity of the king knew no bounds, he was married to his niece, the daughter of the queen of Etruria ; and in the pro- jected partition of Portugal concerted between the emperor Napoleon I. and himself in the secret treaty of Fontainebleau, this wretched adventurer had hoped to carve out an independent principality for himself But mark the moral of that tale. A career, apparently so brilhant and prosperous, begun in guilt, and per- petuated by guilt, suddenly terminated in the darkest reverses. One who, sprung from obscurity, had risen to such a pinnacle of greatness, who, loaded with wealth and honours, had for fifteen years disposed of the destinies of Spain and of the Indies, was of a sudden precipitated from his bad eminence, rescued by his greatest enemy from the hands of an infuriated populace, banished for ever from the land which he had betrayed, and after living to witness the long series of misfortunes he had helped to entail upon his country, died eight years ago at Paris in a state bor- dering on poverty I ! Before speaking of his foreign policy, it will be well 72 Spain. to contemplate the domestic administration of Spain during the period of his sway. Dr Southey, who in his " History of the Peninsular War" judges with ex- cessive severity the government of Charles IV., admits that Godoi patronised the arts and sciences. And Sir Archibald Alison, after passing very just strictures on his general administration, acknowledges that many public improvements signalised it also. " The impulse given by the Bourbons," says he, " to the sciences and arts was continued and increased; greater benefits were conferred on public industry during the fifteen years of his government, than during the three preceding reigns. Schools were established for the encouragement of agriculture, the spread of medical information, and the diffusion of knowledge in the mechanical arts." * And it is impossible for any one to read the "Memoirs" which, after a silence of twenty-seven years, this minister published in 1836, and not to confess that, for the intellectual and mate- rial improvement of Spain, much was achieved by the obnoxious statesman. He encouraged translations of the best foreign scientific works, set on foot or patronised periodical pubhcations of science, appointed the most distin- guished professors to the mathematical and the physi- cal chairs, introduced the best models of machinery into the country, despatched at government expense able geographers, statists, engineers, and naturalists, * Hist, of Europe, vol. xi., p. 296. Charles IV. 73 to explore and survey the provinces of Spain and her transatlantic colonies, and equipped vessels to carry vaccination to the Philippine islands and the South American colonies. Nor was his patronage of letters and philosophy less active and generous. Under his fostering care, new and cheaper editions of the old classical writers of Spain were brought out ; many of the Greek and Roman authors were edited with care, and illustrated by valuable comments ; a more assidu- ous cultivation of Greek literature was strongly re- commended to the universities; the translation and elucidation of the Arabic manuscripts of the Escurial, begun under Charles III., was continued; the philo- sophies of Bacon, Descartes, Malebranche, and Leib- nitz were introduced into the universities, too long habituated to the routine of the old scholasticism ; and though such a movement of ideas was the result of the scientific impulse given in the preceding reign, yet we must praise the government which seconded it. Distinguished poets, like Moratin, Mellendez, and Quin- tana, were pensioned and patronised by the court.* * The statements in the text are founded, indeed, on the autho- rity of Godoi ; but they are corroborated by M. De La Borde. Writing of the years just prior to the War of Independence, that able traveller says, " The government has multiplied the schools of rhetoric ; established lectures on Greek and the oriental lan- guages in the universities of Salamanca and' Valencia, in the college of St Isidore in Madrid, and in the seminary of nobles in the same city ; and founded lectures on foreign languages in the same college and seminary ; and poetical lectures in them and at the university of Valencia. In the school established at Ver- 74 Spain. If from the encouragement given to letters and science we turn to the efforts made to promote the material prosperity of the country, we shall find that many of the reforms begun by Ferdinand VI. and Charles III. were steadily carried out. Let us hear the Prince of the Peace justify the measures of his own administration. " The constant expenses of the war," says he in his Memoirs, " did not permit me to attend, as much as I could have wished, to the subject of roads and canals ; neverthe- less, whatever remained to be done in the reign of Charles III. was eagerly followed up. The high road from Yrun to Madrid, and from Madrid to Cadiz, was completed, as well as the road from Madrid to Valencia. Immense sums were invested in the water- works of the Grao, where it was necessary to contend with the elements. In Catalonia, the rising city of San Carlos (the Alfaques) received considerable aug- mentations ; fortifications were added to it ; subse- quently the port of Tarragona was completely restored. The working of the American mines was the subject of my anxious solicitude ; this branch of industry was improved in these possessions, as well as in Spain. .... The lead mines of the Alpuj arras and of Granada proved highly prosperous \ they are now the wealth of the country." ^ gara by the Patriotic Society of Biscay, the same improvements in the studies were carried out." — La Borde, t. v., pp. i8i, 182. * Memoirs of the Prince of the Peace, vol. ii., pp. 269, 270. London, 1836. Charles IV. 75 The minister then proceeds to speak of the various measures he introduced for continuing and developing the commercial and manufacturing policy adopted in the two preceding reigns ; and claims especial merit for the ordinance of 1794, which settled the respective rights of the farmers of Estremadura, and the privi- leges of pasturage possessed by the great sheep-owners. The latter were associated in a company called the Mesfa, whose migratory flocks of sheep descended in the winter into the plains of Estremadura, and in the summer returned to the mountains. The frequent passage of so many thousand flocks of sheep, and their pasturage, gave rise to perpetual law-suits between the farmers of the adjoining districts and the great sheep- owners, among whom were some of the most illustri- ous families. This litigation the ordinance of 1794, according to the Prince, happily terminated. Those economical societies I have already spoken of as set on foot during the late reign, for the pro- motion of husbandry and manufactures, continued to receive support from the government, as well as from all orders of society. Industrial, as well as ele- mentary schools, were multipHed ; and on the whole, at the close of the eighteenth century popular educa- tion was on a very satisfactory footing in Spain. The people at this day are remarkably well instructed in their Catechism. Such are the better parts of Godoi's administra- tion, and the portrait he has given is evidently over- 76 Spain. coloured. He takes care not to shew us the other side of the picture. He, of course, tells us nothing of the scandals which disgraced the court, and in which he had so great a share. He speaks not of the profligate waste of the public money, when some years the annual expenses of the royal household amounted to two or three millions sterling; nor of the general venality and corruption which pervaded the different branches of the administration : nor of the system of favouritism which, by the appointment of incompetent men, led to the deterioration of the public services. Hence the state of disorganisation in which our officers found the Spanish troops in the first years of the Peninsular war. Let us now turn to the foreign policy of Spain when guided by the counsels of this minister. Charles IV. made repeated but vain efforts to rescue his cousin Louis XVI. from the scaffold. When that tragic event occurred, he declared war against the French republic. The Spanish armies in three different corps entered into the French territory, and gained some signal successes over the enemy. Here the Marquis de la Romana won his first laurels. The French at last drove back the Spaniards from their territory, and in turn in- vaded some districts of their country. Peace was concluded between the King of Spain and the French Republic by the treaty of Basle in 1795, whereby, among other provisions, the Spanish por- Charles IV. 11 tion of Hispaniola was ceded to the French. This cession of the oldest transatlantic colony of the Spaniards deeply mortified the national pride, and increased the unpopularity of Godoif. This treaty was followed by the still more disastrous one of Ilde- fonso, in which an alliance, offensive and defensive, between France and Spain was entered into. These treaties called down the indignant reprobation of our great Burke, in his last immortal production, " Let- ters on a Regicide Peace." Not to speak of the dangerous consequences to the moral condition of Spain, which such a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with the godless and regicide republic was calculated to lead to, the political advantages were all on the side of France. For hereby Spain was dragged into all the aggressive wars of that state, whether republican or imperial ; and from 1795 ^P "^^ 1808, her blood and her trea- sures were perforce expended to gratify French am- bition. Of what use were all the measures Godoi had introduced for the improvement of Spanish com- merce and manufactures, when by a perverse system of foreign policy he jeopardised the trade and the industry of his country. The commerce between Spain and her colonies was interrupted by British cruisers; and the fine navy which Charles III. had left her — the finest, says Dr Southey, she had pos- sessed since the Armada — was nearly annihilated at the battle of Trafalgar. The flower of her army. 78 Spain. consisting of about 20,000 men, under one of her best generals, the Marquis Romana, was sent off to the north of Germany to fight the battles of Napoleon. Another Spanish army had been sent into Portugal to support Junot in an attack on a people that had given no offence whatsoever to Spain. So when the French in 1808 entered into that country, they found it absolutely denuded of troops. If now we turn our attention to the ecclesiastical affairs of Spain, we find that the Jansenistical party was favoured by Godoi.* This party ever since the * A few examples may be given of the influence exercised by the Jansenists and the Regalists under the administration of this statesman. The Regalists of Spain corresponded to the Ultra- Gallicans of France, and the Josephist Bureaucrats of Austria. These two parties, which had been growing up in the reign of Charles HI. , and had already given sufficient evidence of their power, were instrumental in obtaining a royal ordinance in 1 798 to the following effect. This was for the sale of the property of all hospitals, houses of mercy and of retreat, foundling establish- ments, chantries, pious works, &c., the products of such sales being deposited in the mortmain fund, at an interest of three per cent. " Histoiy tells us, and experience teaches," says the learned Bishop of Barcelona, " that this measure dealt a deadly blow to institutions of this kind, since the conditions were not fulfilled, and the security was soon in default. " + Again, under the same administration the great Papal dog- matic bull, Auctore77i Jidei, which gave the death-blow to Jan- senism, though issued in 1 794, was not allowed to be pubhshed in Spain till the year 1800, and under circumstances I shall presently explain. It was thus the Protestant government of Prussia prevented, for two years, the publication of the Bull con- t Observaciones sobre el Presente y el Porvenir de la Iglesia en Espana, p. 79. Barcelona, 1857. Charles IV. n expulsion of the Jesuits, ha4 been gaining influence, and possessed some men of considerable talent. Among those thus favoured by the minister, was Dr demning the errors of Hermes, and which was issued in 1835. Both in Spain and in Prussia, this conduct was clearly contrary- even to the unjust law of the Placet; for thereby it was for the publication of disciplinary, and not dogmatic Bulls, the sanction of the civil power was required. A still more audacious encroachment on the rights of the Church was perpetrated by the Spanish government in the year 1800. On the 5th day of September of that year, a royal de- cree appeared, in which, after the announcement of the death of the most holy father, Pope Pius VI., the king addresses the prelates as follows : — "I have resolved that, until I shall make known to you the nomination of a new Pope, the archbishops and the bishops shall exercise all the plenitude of their faculties., conformably to the ancient discipline of the Church, in respect to matrimonial dispensations and other things within their compe- tency.'''' This decree was more than a gross usurpation of ecclesi- astical rights by the civil power ; it was a formal declaration of schism ; and this even without the intervention of any prelate of the Church. Thus in that awful crisis of the Church, when, to use the words of the Bishop of Barcelona, all her sons should have gathered up their strength, and been of one heart and one soul to fight her battle against triumphant unbelief, a wretched ministry threw the brand of religious discord into Spain, and sought to shake her loyalty to that See which had so long con- firmed her, like every other Catholic land, in the true faith of Christ. This decree of the 5th of September 1800, which had filled all good Catholics with dismay, called forth the most ener- getic remonstrances from the Papal nuncio, and from the Span- ish prelates, and lastly from the new Pope himself. The king seeing the fearful error into which he had been led, threatened to inflict exemplary punishment on those who had so culpably abused his confidence. The Prince of the Peace here stepped in, and made some verbal apologies for what had occurred to the Papal nuncio, and sought for the time to make a hollow truce with the Church. As a sort of satisfaction to the sovereign 8o Spain, Villanueva, who was a member of the revolutionary Cortes, who emigrated to London in 1823, was there suspended by the ecclesiastical authorities, came over Pontiff, the minister suffered the Bull Attctorem fidd to be now- published, after having been retained for six years in his office. In the royal edict authorising its publication, his majesty ex- pressed his great displeasure with those who, under the pretext of enlightenment, entertained the Pistoian doctrines condemned in the Bull referred to, and threatened them with the severest penalties should they persist in maintaining them. The regency that, in the name of Ferdinand VII. , governed Spain, issued in 1 810, during the captivity of Pope Pius VII., an ordinance of a tenor similar to the one that, on the death of Pope Pius VI., Charles, as we have seen, had passed and then revoked. The Bishop of Barcelona, in the interesting work already cited, shews how, in the last years of Charles IV., the govern- ment officials and their organs carried on a secret war against religious orders. Suggestions were thrown out that the members of the mendicant orders should be employed in parochial duties, or sent out on foreign missions, or made to serve in prisons and penitential houses, and that their convents themselves should be transformed into jails and penitentiaries. In other monastic orders the members were to be reduced in number, and their establishments converted into institutes of education, of agricul- ture, the mechanical arts, &c. These schemes thinly disguised the project of spoliation. Reforms were doubtless needed in some of the rehgious orders ; but the only authorities competent to carry them out were the sovereign Pontiff and the bishops of Spain. And as these were the parties most interested in the well-being of the Church, we may be sure that all real abuses would (as far at least as human infirmity permits) be reformed with vigour, dis- cernment, and prudence. To shew how liberal at this very time was the Pope to the Spanish government, I may state that in the successive years 1800, 1801, and 1805, his Holiness relieved its wants by granting to it considerable subsidies out of the tithes and lands of the clergy of Spain. These various acts in the reign of Charles IV., coupled with Charles IV. 8i to this city, was by the charitable efforts of the late venerable Archbishop Murray reconciled to the Church, and here died penitent. During the War of Independence, the majority of the Jansenists joined the revolutionary party; the minority connected themselves with the Afrances- ados, or those who, like Llorente, espoused the cause of French usurpation. The Afrancesados had at bottom the same reli- gious principles with the revolutionary Liberals. The priests in both parties were Jansenists, the lay leaders deists. I say the leaders, for it would be most unphilosophic, as well as unjust, to suppose those already spoken of, as committed by the government of his predecessor, contain the germs of all the wrongs, oppressions, violence, tyranny exercised by the revolutionary Cortes in the first quarter of this century. They prepared the way for the later violation of episcopal rights ; the confiscation of church pro- perty; the suppression of religious orders; the exile, the im- prisonment, and the massacre of priests and bishops; the deso- lation of the sanctuary; the open menace of religious schism;* the noonday revel of impiety ! Those great social maladies, which we call revolutions, never come of a sudden, but are long preceded by various premonitory symptoms, and by partial derangements in the functions of the body politic. The facts stated in this note rest not only on the authority of the able Bishop of Barcelona, but on the testimony of a learned friend who has resided a great many years in Spain, * SeSor Alonso in 1842 proposed in Cortes the separation of the Churcih of Spain from the Holy See ; but even in that revolutionary assembly the motion found no support. Arguelles, the fanatical patriarch of the Revolu- tion, once said from the tribune, " I am a Catholic, but not a Roman Catholic." F 82 Spain. that many, who from ignorance, inexperience, force of example, family influence, irritation at real abuses, had joined the revolutionary banner, were systematic infidels. The political principles of both these sections of the revolutionary party, between whom there reigned a deadly war, were very similar ; and this similarity was but natural, for both owned a common parent. In the patriotic section, however, the views were far more honourable and generous; but the minister Godoi, with his frivolous impiety, his shallow political views, his servility to France, was the genuine type of an Afrancesado. The literary men patronised by him during his administration, like the younger Moratin, Mellendez, Quintana, and others, were deistical in their opinions. Many of the officials of this period were infected with the same sentiments. The bad hterature of France on the one hand, and irritation at the severe pressure of the Inquisition on the other, tended to ahenate some minds from the Christian religion. This tri- bunal, by too rigid a censorship on the press, and too great a system of espionage, though mild and equit- able in its judicial proceedings, embittered, as I said on a former occasion, many spirits, and exercised a dangerous compression on the human intellect. The great bulk, however, of all orders of society still clung with pertinacity to their ancient faith; while the more enlightened among them evidently Charles IV. 83 desired the reform of political abuses, and sighed for the restoration of their ancient Cortes.* Such was the state of Spain, when the revolution of Aranjuez broke out. By the Treaty of Fontainebleau, Portugal was to be divided between France and Spain; and a principality in the province of the Algarves was to be allotted to the Prince of the Peace. To carry this treaty into effect, a French army, under the command of Mar- shal Junot, was despatched into Portugal. Shortly afterwards a more powerful army, headed by Murat, amounting to ninety-five thousand men, advanced, under the pretext of supporting Junot's army, into the northern provinces of Spain. The northern fortresses, such as Figueras, Barcelona, Pampeluna, and St Sebastian, were, by surprise or fraud, taken possession of by the French. The wretched court of Charles IV. became alarmed at the extraordinary number of foreign troops that had, contrary to the express words of the treaty, marched into the country, as well as at the seizure of the fortresses. Their eyes at last * The venerable Canon Vinuessa, who in 1822 was mur- dered in prison, at Madrid, by the revolutionary band, called the Martilkros, or the men of the hammer, had published a tract, in which he said, ' ' Let us not have either the despotism of the Camarilla, or the anarchy of the revolutionary Cortes ; but let us have our own true, legitimate Cortes of the three estates." He here gave expression to those sentiments which, at the first outbreak of the War of Independence, the eminent publi- cist, Jovellanos, had defended. 84 Spain. became opened to the perfidious designs of Napoleon. Governors of provinces addressed urgent letters to the prime minister, imploring him not to give up the fortresses to the French, and to protest against the introduction of a large foreign force into Spain. But the reckless, guilty minister was deaf to all remon- strances, and blind to the fate impending over his country. Dr Southey justly acquits Godoi of bribery; for what bribe did he need, who had the treasures of Spain and of America at his disposal? But bad men have coward consciences. The minister knew that when the Prince of the Asturias came to the throne, he would be dismissed from the royal councils, and most probably called on to give a strict account of his stewardship ; and so he was anxious to secure for himself an independent principality in Portugal. On the other hand, he was conscious of having carried on an unjust war against a neutral, unoffending ally, and of having plotted the iniquitous partition of his do- minions. So stricken with fear and anguish, he was spell-bound by the superior genius of Napoleon, and let his country sink helpless into his grasp. Per- plexed with anxiety and dread, Charles IV. resolves to betake himself with his family to America, and with this view makes preparations for a journey to Seville. The French ambassador at Madrid, Beau- harnais, endeavours to ^dissuade the monarch from such a step ; yet the hostile intentions of Napoleon i Charles IV. 85 are too palpable not to strike even that infatuated king, and Godoi himself encourages his master to imitate the regent of Portugal, and to embark for the New World. On the 17th day of March 1807, the carriages drew up to convey the royal family to Seville. The Prince of the Asturias had previously declared that though the court was prepared to set out on that very day for that city, he would not accompany it on the jour- ney. These words got abroad, and as soon as the people saw the preparations for the royal journey, they rose up in tumult, cut the traces of the horses, and declared their resolution not to permit the depar- ture of their sovereign and his family. Another band of rioters surrounded the mansion of the Prince of the Peace, crying out, " Death to Godoi ! death to Godoi !" and, bursting open the portals, ransacked every apartment in search of the obnoxious minister, committing the furniture and many valuable ornaments to the flames. But nothing did they pilfer ; and, far from offering any molestation to the prince's wife and daughter, they conducted them in safety to the palace. Meanwhile Godoi had, by a back passage, escaped to some garret, where he hid himself under a heap of mats. There, for thirty-four hours, he remained in the utmost anguish, till intolerable thirst forced him to leave his hiding-place. On descending the stair- case, he is recognised by a sentinel, who cruelly gives the alarm; the multitude seize him with violence. 86 Spain. beat him, and would have instantly put him to death, had he not implored them to allow him to have a confessor. His brother, Don Diego Godoi, brings lip his regiment to his rescue ; but the soldiers refuse to fire on the people. Some horse-guardsmen now snatch the minister from the infuriated populace, gallop off with him, and deposit him in the prison. The Prince of Asturias, at the entreaty of the king and queen, appears on the balcony of the palace to assuage the fury of the multitude, and to assure them that Godoi*, whom the king had the day before by a decree deprived of all his offices and dignities, was now in safe custody, and would in due time be brought to trial for his offences. Charles IV., to whom the crown had always been a heavy burden, trembling now not only for his king- dom, but for his own personal safety and that of his queen, freely, as he said, abdicated the throne in favour of his eldest son, the Prince of the Asturias. Accordingly this prince, under the title of Ferdinand VII., was, on the 19th of March 1808, proclaimed king of all Spain and the Indies. Such was that celebrated popular rising of Aranjuez — a rising which was happily unattended with bloodshed, and which most assuredly sprang out of the purest feelings of loyalty and patriotism. But this insurrection was like a tempestuous night, that broke up the long deep calm of the eighteenth century, and was the prelude to that series of terrific storms, which now, Ferdinand VI L 87 with some brief intervals of repose, were for more than thirty years to desolate this devoted land. The new monarch enters Madrid, followed by an immense multitude of two hundred thousand persons of all ranks; and the joy which animates them is soon communicated to the inhabitants of the pro- vinces. The universal gladness of the nation at the downfall of the Prince of the Peace makes them inattentive to the movements of the French army, which, in considerable force, is now advancing on Madrid. Marshal Murat, who has by this time reached the capital, refuses to acknowledge the new king. Savary, sent by Napoleon, plies every art to engage Ferdinand VII. to meet the emperor on his entry into Spain. The former hesitates, and sends his younger brother, Don Carlos, in his stead. The infante not finding Napoleon on the frontiers, is in- duced to proceed to Bayonne ; but Ferdinand VII. not having, through the treachery of a Spaniard of rank, received an important letter, which Don Carlos had written to him from Bayonne, remained in utter ignorance of the dark machinations which the French emperor had formed against him and his country. In this state of ignorance the young king, contrary to the advice of Don Pedro Cevallos, and other honest counsellors, yields to the perfidious suggestions of Savary, and commences his journey to the northern frontier. When the royal carriage had arrived at Burgos, the people, with a sagacious instinct, sur- 88 Spain, rounded it, and implored the king not to proceed. Not hearing any tidings of Napoleon's arrival, the fears and anxieties of Ferdinand redoubled ; but the crafty Savary knew how to dispel his apprehensions. But when the royal equipages reach Vittoria, the people indignantly stop the king's carriage, cut the traces, and insist on the monarch suspending his journey. At this moment the Spanish minister, Urquijo, arrives at Vittoria, reveals to the king all the turpitude of Na;poleon's designs on Spain and her royal family, implores him not to proceed, and suggests the means for insuring the safety of his flight to the southern provinces. Had Ferdinand, now following this advice, thrown himself upon his people, the war which ensued would have been more speedily terminated, and, at the same time, been attended with more beneficial results. His evil genius prevails. He prosecutes his journey amid the murmurs of the people, till, with a heart full of fear and misgivings, he sets his foot on the French territory. No sooner has he reached Bayonne than Savary announces to him, on the part of the French emperor, that he must abdicate the throne of Spain. The insolent demand Ferdinand scornfully rejects. Meanwhile, the emperor Napoleon invites over to France the ex-king Charles IV. and his queen, as well as their unworthy favourite, whom Murat had released from prison. The imbecile monarch, at the bidding of the French emperor, resigns into his hands, under Ferdinand VI L 89 certain stipulations for the maintenance of himself and the other members of the royal family, on the part of himself and all future successors to the crown, all right and title to the kingdom of Spain and to her colonies. The Prince of the Peace was of course not forgotten in this convention ; and, having secured the restoration of his titles and estates, he appended his name to this infamous document, and so crowned his profligate administration with the betrayal of his king and country. Ferdinand is summoned into the presence of the emperor, of his father, and of the Prince of the Peace. Supported by his faithful followers, — the Canon Escoi- quiz, his former tutor, and Don Pedro Cevallos, — the young king pertinaciously refuses, except conditionally, and before the full Cortes of Spain, to resign his crown. The old ex-king, indignant at this refusal, threatens his son with personal castigation; and the French emperor throws out mysterious menaces of a trial for some events which have recently occurred, and for which he holds the young king responsible. At this moment the queen rushes into the apartment, and pours forth against her unfortunate son a torrent of passionate reproaches, so violent that Don Pedro Cevallos has declined to transcribe them in his Memoirs. Under moral compulsion and physical restraint, the unfortunate Ferdinand makes an unconditional sur- render of his crown to the French emperor. The 90 Spain. chateau of Prince Talleyrand at Valencay is then assigned to him for his abode; and here he is doomed to pass a long captivity of six years. The chateau of Compiegne, with its fine woods abounding in game, is allotted to the ex-king and queen. They afterwards repair to Marseilles, and subsequently to Rome ; but, though they live to see the restoration of their son to his throne, and are at last reconciled with him, they never tread again the soil of Spain. Charles IV. died in 1819. This king, though deeply responsible for his gross neglect of pubUc duties, — duties which a love of ease had led him to abandon, — was yet a prince commendable for piety and many private virtues. Thus were the machinations of Napoleon laid bare before the world ; and seldom has history had to record acts of more flagitious perfidy. Not only as respects Ferdinand VI I. , the infantes, and the whole Spanish nation, were the laws of hospitality, which a Bedouin would have respected, been grossly violated ; but the ex-king and his minister were equally duped ; for never had the French emperor entertained the sHghtest intention of fulfilling in th^ir regard the stipulations made in the Treaty of Fontainebleau. But let us hurry back to Madrid, where, in the ab- sence of the king, some heart-stirring scenes have been enacted. The agitation of all ranks had been extreme since the departure of Ferdinand VII.; and tumults and Ferdinand VII. 91 bloody collisions between the populace and the French troops had in many places occurred. Gn the 2d of May 1808, the royal carriages draw up before the palace ; and the people are now convinced that, as reported, the last remaining members of the royal family — the queen of Etruria, the Infante Don Fran- cisco, and the representative of the king, the Infante Don Antonio — are about to be taken from them. Large groups gather around the palace. It is reported that the Infante Don Francisco, a lad of fourteen, is weeping bitterly at the thought of leaving his country ; and an aide-de-camp of Murat, who has been sent by him to know the cause of the tumult, is, on attempting to enter the palace, very roughly handled by the populace. The French marshal then sends this offi- cer with a picket of troops, and with two pieces of cannon. Blood flows on both sides. Instantly the whole city is in a flame. The people fly to arms, surround detachments of the French, and in some instances cut them to pieces. The Spanish troops, who, by order of the provisional government, have been shut up in their barracks, are now attacked ^by the French. The people fly for protection to their own soldiers; and the Spanish artillerymen, headed by two heroic young officers, Daoiz and Velarde, one thirty, the other twenty-five years old, plant a twenty-pounder before the arsenal, which the French are preparing to attack. As their ti'oops advance up a narrow street, they are swept 92 ^ Spain, down by the Spanish cannon ; and twenty times they are repulsed. At last they make a tremendous rush, and by their superior numbers overcome the Spaniards, and slay at the cannon the two brave officers I have named. These are the first martyrs of national independence, and their blood becomes the seed of heroes. Though the strife is over, and both parties have consented to a mutual amnesty, the French general exercises fearful vengeance for the consequences of a tumult, which by his arrogance he had himself pro- voked. A court-martial is established, and for three days the military executions continue, whereby hun- dreds of individuals, of every rank and age, who had taken no part in the conflict, are brought to a summary trial, and shot without being allowed the last consola- tions of religion. A rush is made by the French at the noblemen's houses ; and touching anecdotes are told of the fidelity of the Spanish servants, who, rather than betray the hiding-places of their masters, let themselves be slain. General Foy, in his history of the Peninsular campaigns, has reprobated in the strongest terms the barbarity of his j:ountrymen on this occasion. There were, doubtless, many religious and humane men in the French army at this time ; but, taken as a whole, their officers and soldiers dis- played a spirit of rapacity, lust, cruelty, and sacrilege, that in no foe, since their Saracen invaders, had the Spaniards ever encountered. War of Independence. g 3 The cry, ^' Let us die for the just cause ! let us die for the just cause !" resounds through the length and breadth of Spain. This subHme cry of a martyr- people mounts up to heaven, and in dying, that people wins the palm of victory. Indignant patriot- ism flashes from every eye; armed men spring up from every brake ; the plains bristle with spears ; the watch-fires blaze on every mountain-height ; the soil trembles beneath the tramp of encountering hosts ; the rustic leaves his plough for the fight ; the artisan his loom, the tradesman his counter, the student the university-hall, the monk his cloister, the nobleman his mansion j and sometimes even Beauty herself, (as in the case of the Countess Burita, and of Antonia Zaragoza,) casting aside her lyre, grasps the spear, puts on the breastplate and helmet of Minerva, and waxes terrible in her wrath. The wild guerillas and their chiefs dart down, like falcons, from the rocky fastnesses on the unsuspecting foe, break his lines, cut off his communications, strike him with dread, and then disperse ; again unite, — now recede, now advance — hover now upon his rear, now upon his van, — and pursue his squadrons with untiring wing. Castafios, a hero worthy of Spain's olden times, gains the glorious victory 6f Baylen over the French. Saragossa, in a siege the most memorable since that of the ancient Saguntum, opposes to disciplined skill the sublime energy of despair ; and though she at last falls, her death-song sounds like the paean of victory. 94 Spain. The Irish bard has said, ** Sublime was the warning which hberty spoke, And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke." The latent energies of a great people, foolishly thought to be extinct, were aroused by a great occa- sion ; and the warning which liberty here spoke was sublime, for it was a wise, and a pure, and a holy freedom. It was the hberty of the altar — ^the liberty of the throne — the liberty of the domestic hearth — the liberty of all orders in the state — the liberty of the individual — the liberty of national independence. How after the drunken, bloody Saturnalia of the god- less, anarchic France of 1792, this glorious national outburst of rehgious patriotism, cheers and consoles the Christian ! Mr Pitt had declared that it was the high-minded people of Spain, which was destined to strike the first blow at the gigantic military tyranny, which then weighed on the nations of Europe ; and long after- wards the prophetic words of that great statesman were ratified by Napoleon himself. " That unfortu- nate war in Spain," said he, in his exile at St Helena, " was the cause of my destruction." The policy which Pitt did not live to realise, was carried out by his able and eloquent friend, Mr Can- ning, and his sagacious colleague, the Marquis of Wellesley. British forces were despatched to Spain, and considerable subsidies furnished to her patriots, who now, under the guidance of their juntas, had every- War of Independence. 95 where risen up against the French domination. I need not tell you how the English, Scotch, and Irish troops, headed by an illustrious captain, whose genius for consummate prudence, forethought, and power of combination, bears much resemblance to that of the great Turenne, nobly sustained the efforts of a gener- ous people. I need not remind you of those glorious campaigns, unsurpassed, perhaps, in history, nor point out that long line of glory, which stretches from the plains of Albuera to the walls of Toulouse. I need not tell you how, after stupendous efforts, and a series of the most splendid victories, the alhed armies at length liberated the entire Peninsula, Here my task ends. I have completed the history of Spain in the eighteenth century. LECTURE II. RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS OF SPAIN IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. — CAUSES OF THE SPANISH REVOLUTION. PARALLEL BETWEEN THE REVOLUTIONS OF SPAIN AND OF FRANCE. T N this lecture I propose to speak of the rehgious and poHtical institutions of Spain, and of the various classes of her population. I shall then pro- ceed to consider the causes, moral and political, of her Revolution, and the points both of resemblance and of difference it presents to that of France. My remarks apply to the institutions and the classes as they existed in the last century and the earlier portion of the present; but the changes wrought by the Revolution will of course be noticed in the fitting place. I begin with the Episcopate. The Spanish bishops, according to the testimony of friend and foe, have ever been distinguished for their learning and piety. Even under the worst administrations, like that of Godoy, for example, the appointments to sees were excellent ; for here the king, Charles IV., al- lowed not the interference of the favourite, but fol- The Clergy, 97 lowed the recommendations of his confessor, sub- ject to the control of the council of Castile. The following account of the Spanish prelates is given by the learned M. Picot, the French historian of the Church in the last century : " These bishops," says he, " are, in general, models for their flocks. They are selected from among the most virtuous and the most learned ecclesiastics. These qualities, irrespec- tive of any distinction from birth, usually lead to the episcopate."* The statement of the Catholic historian is corrob- orated by the testimony of a very fair and judicious Enghsh Protestant clergyman, the Rev. Mr Towns- end, who travelled through Spain in the years 1786 and 1787. Speaking of the Spanish bishops, he says : *^ Indeed, these venerable men, from all I could hear, and from what I saw in the near approach to which they graciously admitted me, for purity, for piety, for zeal, can never be sufficiently admired.^' t Again he says : ^' The meeting of two prelates is a phenomenon in Spain ; because the moment a minister of the altar accepts a mitre, he devotes his life wholly to the duties of his office, confines himself altogether to his diocess, and is lost both to his friends and to his family." ^: * Picot, Mem. eccl6s. du iSeme Siecle, t. i., c. xx. In trod, t A Journey through Spain in the Years 1786-87, vol. ii., p. 150. London, 1789. X Ibid., vol. iii., p. 321. G 98 Spain, The Edinburgh Review^ a journal so hostile to the Catholic Church, observed, shortly after the breaking out of the Spanish Revolution of 1820, "that the people of Spain had not quarrelled with their clergy, and deservedly, on account of the great learning and piety of their prelates, and the virtuous and laborious lives led by the parochial clergy." Let us now hear the testimony of the infidel, M. Bourgoing, who, as French ambassador, resided in Spain during the last decade of the eighteenth cen- tury. "And although," says he, "among this class [the prelates] there still exist some fanatics, they are, however, all eminent for their charity, and for the austerity of their manners. Their constant residence in their sees obliges them to spend all their revenues in the country whence they are derived. They all appropriate a large portion to charitable purposes. Some of them devote a part to the encouragement of industry ; and this is not the only way in which the wealth of the clergy is conducive to the welfare of the state. We shall see, under the head of taxes, that ample contributions are derived from the clergy."* Still more explicit and remarkable is the testimony borne, more than thirty years ago, by the London Quarterly Review to the piety and the patriotism of all ranks and orders of the Spanish priesthood. " But in Spain," says the reviewer, "even the regular clergy, although the system cannot be too strongly repro- * Tableau d'Espagne, t. i., pp. 360, 361. The Clergy, 99 bated, were individually, in many instances,, eminent for piety and virtue, not less than for the patriotism and courage they displayed during the war." With respect to the secular clergy, M. de la Borde,* in his elaborate work upon Spain, tells us that they were, in proportion, less numerous than the clergy of France had been; that their riches were less con- siderable, but better administered j and that a much larger portion of their revenues went to the state. He adds, that an irreproachable life was the most certain road to preferment; that no rank, however high in the Church, exempted from residence ; that the incomes of the wealthy were expended in the support of various useful establishments, and in acts of individual benevolence ; and as to the bishops in particular, after alluding to their general liberality in regard to works of public utility in their respective dioceses, ever since the time of the recovery of the country from the Moors, he mentions several recent instances of most splendid munificence. These state- ments of M. de la Borde are in perfect accordance, too, with the account given ia the " History of the Pen- * I will cite in the original a part of this passage referred to by the reviewer: — *'Quelque partialit'6 que Ton ait apportde jusqu'k present dans I'examen de cette question, (la conduite du clerge espagnol,) on n'a jamais trouve que des eloges a donner au haut clerge espagnol, exempt en general de ces dereglemens que I'on reproche avec quelque raison au clerg^ des autres na- tions. La nomination aux places eminentes n'est point accordee a la naissance ou a la richesse," etc. — Itiniraire en Espagne^ tome vi., pp. 53, 54. lOO Spain, insular War/^ begun by General Foy, but which, un- happily, that distinguished French officer did not live to bring to a conclusion. General Foy says, (and I beg to observe that he belonged to the revolutionary party,) ^' The bishops were rich, but commendable for the use which they made of their riches. The people were accustomed to reverence them, and they deserved it, both by their virtues and their learning. The monarchy being dissolved, the bishops are the natural heads of the people.^' * Of the Bishop of Orense he says, ^^He was a prelate, the honour of the Spanish clergy by his learning, and exemplary by his virtues." Of the Bishop of San- tander he says, " He was a man, holy, severe to him- self, and reverenced by all." t Of the Archbishop of Valencia in 1787, Mr Towns- end gives the following pleasing portrait : — "When we arrived at the archbishop's homely habitation, he re- ceived us with politeness, and I was delighted to find in the good old man all that ease and affability, that mildness and gentleness of manner, which became his dignity and age. Far from being morose, he was cheerful and engaging in his conversation, uncom- monly sensible and well-informed. Being fond of study, he avoided the interruptions inevitable in such a city as Valeiicia ; and as a man of uncommon piety, he courted solitude, yet he was attentive to all the * Foy, vol. ii., p. 275. t Quarterly Review, vol. Ivi., pp. 134, 135. The Clergy, loi duties of his office, and occasionally entertained his friends. In a word, he appeared to me precisely what a bishop ought to heP * His accounts of other bishops he met with are equally gratifying. Cardinal Loren- zana, archbishop of Toledo, was eminent for his piety and charity, and reminds us in his munificence of some of the great prelates of the Middle Ages. He used for some time to entertain two thousand emi- grant French priests at his table in Toledo. In the conclave of cardinals which, at the commencement of this century, sat at Venice, and raised Pius VII. to the Papal dignity, it was this prelate who, at that period of persecution, supplied his confreres the car- dinals with their equipages, and, indeed, defrayed most of their expenses on this occasion. According to the census of 1788, there were then in Spain 60,240 members of the secular clergy, 49,270 monks, and 22,237 friars and nuns, making a total of 131,740 members of the religious body.t The total population of the country at that period amounted to ten millions one hundred and forty-three thousand and odd souls. There were five orders of monks, properly so called, such as Benedictines, Bernardines, Cistercians, Pre- monstratensians, and Carthusians, with two hundred and four houses of men, and one hundred and twelve houses of women. * Journey through Spain, t. iii., pp. 274, 275. f La Borde, t. iv., p. 25. I02 Spain. There were various mendicant orders, such as Dominicans, the many families of Franciscans, Car- mehtes, Augustinian hermits, and the rest. They had one thousand six hundred and eight houses of men, and eight hundred and eleven houses of women. There were sixteen orders of regulars, properly so called, with two hundred and seventy-eight houses of men, and thirty-three houses of women. Of these orders and congregations, the most eminent were the Jesuits, (who, after 1767, were not allowed to hold col- leges, but could act as secular priests,) the Oratorians of St Philip Neri, the Barnabites, the Lazarists, and the Piarists, founded by the Spaniard, St Calasanzio. The military orders, of which the chief were those of Calatrava, San lago di Compostella, Alcantara, and Malta, possessed fourteen houses of men, and twenty houses of women. The lay brethren were mostly exempted from the monastic vows ; but there were commanders, priors, and vicars exercising cleri- cal functions. They were all under the jurisdiction of a chapter, called " the Council of Orders,^' com- posed of ecclesiastical and lay representatives of each, and who had formerly received from the sovereign Pontiffs and the kings of Spain the most extensive powers — ecclesiastical, civil, and municipal. Not less than 1,200,000 Spaniards were, in one way or another, subject to this Council of Orders ; and from their total exemption from all episcopal control, they were nicknamed by the Spaniards the Greek Church, The Clergy. 1^3 Now, in characterizing the different members of the Spanish Church, it is most satisfactory that I should be able to pass on the female convents the same unqualified praise which, on a former occasion, I could pronounce on those of France/^ Their spot- less reputation has been unsullied by the breath of scandal; and this is the more remarkable, as many of the nunneries in Spain were extremely rich, and their inmates were taken (not, as in ancient and in modern France, or in England and in Ireland of the present day, from the higher classes,) but more fre- quently from the middle and humbler ranks of life, to whom such wealth was a stronger inducement to quit the world. As to the several orders of recluses, the well-known English rationalist and utilitarian, Dr Bowring,t with all his antipathy to the Catholic Church, cannot refrain from expressing his wonder at the sanctity of the austerer orders. The apostate priest, the noto- rious Blanco White, has in his Memoirs paid a touching tribute to the zeal and charity of the Ora- torians of Seville, i The Jesuits, before and after * See Lectures on some subjects of Ancient and Modern His- tory : Lect. VII. f See his Journey to Spain in 1814. X In the Rev. Mr Townsend we must naturally look for the usual prejudices of a Protestant clergyman against monastic orders; yet he commends the Capuchins, and pays the following hand- some tribute to the Oratorians, not only of Malaga, but of all Spain: "Among these Franciscan monks," says he, "the Capu- chins appear to be the only useful members of society, giving I04 Spain. their suppression, were here, what they were in all other countries, a pure, zealous, active, and learned body of men. The Dominicans were then what they had ever been, by their virtues and learning, the pride and glory of Spain. The Carmelites were true to the spirit of their second foundress, the wonder of her sex, and the ornament of her country. The Benedictines here, as elsewhere, were remarkable for their theological and historical learning, as well as for their monastic virtues and the noble simplicity of their manners. Among the Franciscans were often to be found examples of great self-denial and austere virtue, and a successful pursuit of sacred literature ; but as this order was divided into various branches, and its members were far more numerous than those of any other, there were of course more frequent instances of scandal. Far greater laxity was to be met with among the ecclesiastical commanders and priors of the military orders I jtist spoke of These dignities were often bestowed on the younger sons of the nobility, without any regard to a true ecclesiastical vocation ; and while the functions were discharged by themselves up to the service of the poor ; yet even they might be dispensed with, and their places supplied with more advantage to the public by the Fathers of the Oratory, or Congregation of St Philip Neri, who, although not bound by vows, are more laborious and more extensively useful than all the regulars of the monastic tribes." — yourney through Spain, vol. iii., p. 13. The institute of the Capuchins has, in many respects, an end totally different from that of the Oratorians. The two cannot be compared. The Clergy, 105 vicars, the ample revenues of the benefice were not un- frequently squandered away in frivolous amusements. Of the parochial clergy of Spain, I should like to speak at greater length ; but the Hmits prescribed to a lecture will not allow me to do more than cite the following testimony in their behalf from an EngUsh Protestant writer. Adverting to the persecution of the Spanish Church by the revolutionary party, a writer in the Quarterly Review of 1823, writes as follows: — ^^To the feelings of a bigoted people like the Spaniards," says he, '' the treatment experienced by the ecclesiastics in general, at the hands of the new government, was in the highest degree repugnant, and abstractedly it was tyrannical and unjust; for the country pastors of Spain, like those of France, have always been of the most respectable character."* To the Spanish clergy, secular and regular, considered in their twofold capacity, as pastors and as landlords, the following *■ Quarterly Review, January 1823, p. 554. The Protestant historian, Mr Dunham, who is so very severe on the friars of Spain, says, of her secular priests especially, "They are so far from being ignorant, that they v^^ould honourably sustain a com- parison with the clergy of the Established Church of England ; and so far from being slaves, that they have generally been among the foremost defenders of popular rights ; in fact, no Church has a nobler body." — Hist, of Spain^ vol. v., p. 286. Longman : London. To the high theological acquirements of the present clergy of Spain, Cardinal Wiseman renders full justice, in his essay on that country, in the Dublin Review of 1845. The period of their theological course usually extends to twelve years. io6 Spain. generous tribute has been paid by Sir A. Alison : — " The influence of this great body,'' says he, " was immense. Independently of their spiritual ascen- dancy in a country more strongly attached than any in Europe to the Romish Church, they possessed, as temporal proprietors, an unbounded sway over their flocks. As in all other countries, it had long been felt that the Church was the best and most indulgent landlord; the ecclesiastical estates, which were very numerous and extensive, were much better cultivated in general than any in the hands of lay proprietors, and the tenantry held their possessions under them for such moderate rents, and by so secure a tenure, that they had long enjoyed almost the advantages and consideration of actual landholders. Nor was this all ; the charity and beneficence of the monks had set on foot, in every part of the country, extensive institutions, through which, more than any others by which they could be affected, the distresses of the poor had been relieved. They partook, in a great degree, of the character of the hospice^ particularly in the northern provinces. To the peasant they often served as banking establishments, where none other existed in the province, and, as such, essentially contributed to agricultural improvement. The friars acted as schoolmasters, advocates, physicians, and apothecaries. Besides feeding and clothing the poor, and visiting the sick, they afforded spiritual consola- tion. They were considerate landlords and indulgent 1 The Nobility. 107 masters ; peacemakers in domestic broils ; a prop of support in family misfortune ; they provided periodi- cal amusements and festivities for the peasants ; advanced them funds, if assailed with misfortune j furnished them with seed, if their harvest had failed. Most of the convents \\2,^fundaciones^ or endowments for professors, who taught rhetoric and philosophy, besides keeping schools open for the use of the poor ; they also supplied parochial ministers, when wanted, and their preachers were considered the best in Spain/^* The Spanish clergy, whether secular or regular, were at this period too numerous and too wealthy ; and, under these circumstances, it was not possible that abuses and scandals should not, from time to time, arise. Yet we have seen, from the avowal of even Protestant writers, how singularly pure and vir- tuous on the whole was this body of men. I pass to the Nobihty. The Spanish nobility was divided into two classes — that of the grandees^ consisting of about one hun- dred famihes; and that of the second class, the titolos, which was very numerous. Lord Byron has been exceedingly unjust to these classes, when in his " Childe Harold," speaking of Spain, he says — " Here all were noble, save nobility ; None hugg'd a conqueror's chain, save fallen chivalry." * Hist, of Europe, vol. vi., pp. 627, 628. io8 Spain, In the War of Independence many members of this class honourably distinguished themselves by their energy and patriotism, by their valour and their wisdom, whether in council or on the battle-field. And during the last century we see them, and some- times with the same distinction, conducting the armies and navies of their country, governing its distant colonies, exercising the functions of the magistracy, and in the cabinet guiding the destinies of Spain. The frank-hearted probity, and the stainless honour of the Portuguese fidalgos^ was 9, subject on which a late English Catholic prelate, the Right Rev. Dr Bramstone, who passed ten years of his life in Portu- gal, during the last century, loved to descant. And the same praise may be assigned, on the best authori- ty, to the Spanish hidalgos of the same period. "Her nobility and gentry,^' says the historian Dunham, "are not more distinguished for illustrious descent, than for unsuUied honour and boundless generosity."^' Mr Buckle says, " The bravery of the people has never been disputed ; and as to the upper classes, the punc- tilious honour of a Spanish gentleman has passed into a byeword, and circulated through the world.^'t After observing that the excessive number of do- mestics and dependents of all kinds is a heavy burden on the finances of the noble houses of Spain, M. Bourgoing says that, in despite of this onerous expen- * Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p. 286. f Hist, of Civil., vol. ii., p. 145. The Nobility, 109 diture, ^^ there are much fewer great families ruined in Spain than in other countries. The simpUcity of their manners, their distaste for habitual ostentation, the paucity of sumptuous repasts, serve as a safe- guard to their fortunes. But when they wish to model themselves on the example of great personages in other courts, they yield to none in splendour. . . . Until our times, they evinced little inclination to shine in the different spheres of activity open to their ambition."* After excepting the period of the War of Succession, when, the grandees on both sides dis- played ^^ efforts, and even talents, w^hich proved that the last reigns of the Austrian dynasty had not quite benumbed their faculties," M. Bourgoing remarks, that for half a century they relapsed into their former state of inertness. " But under Charles III.," says he, " they aroused themselves, and sought to shew that subjects the most distinguished by birth were not always the most useless. They began to embrace with eagerness the profession of arms, which hitherto had possessed few attractions for them, and which in Spain is indeed much more irksome for men of the court than it was in France. At this moment, out of a hundred lieutenant-generals, there are about twenty who are grandees of Spain; and that general, the Count of Union, who after many defeats, yet fighting against us, perished at last gloriously on the field of battle, was of their class. In the career of diplomacy, * Tableau de I'Espagne moderne, t. L, p. 164. no Spain, they could, in the reign of Charles III., point to dis- tinguished men of their order — a Count d^Aranda, whom we still regret; a Count de Fernan Nunez, whom death carried off at the moment when the re- establishment of peace was about to bring him once more amongst us ; a Duke of Villahermosa," &c. * Again, speaking of the Spanish grandees in general, this writer observes, ^^ That however lofty their pre- tensions may be, they are far the most affable and engaging. They are far from that supercilious mien which people in Europe attribute to them. Many, on the contrary, instead of that repulsive dignity which the great lords of other courts assume, are most kindly in their deportment." t Of the old nobility of Spain of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Mr Churton says, there were certainly among them men who entitled themselves to the praise of the son of Sirach, as " leaders of the people by their counsels \ " and many more who were " rich men furnished with abiUty, living peaceably in their habitations." Those who had been to Salamanca, were usually good Latin scholars, and sometimes picked up a little Greek. (" Don Quixote," part ii., c. 1 6.) To easy composition in verse, they some- times added the art of music. :{: It is true that from the reign of Philip II., the * Tableau de I'Espagne moderne, t. i., pp. 164, 165. t Ibid., p. 162. X Churton's Gongora, vol. i., p. III. The Nobility. 1 1 1 nobles, by the false and fatal policy of the court, have been drawn away from their estates to spend their for- tunes in the capital, and sometimes to contract habits of dissipation. It is true that their ample domains have much suffered from their absence, that they have lost the taste for rural pursuits and rural pastimes, and, what is worse, that their hold on the affections of their tenantry has been weakened.* It is true, * ** Throughout the whole of Spain," says the old sagacious traveller Townsend, *' I cannot recollect to have seen a single country residence like those which everywhere abound in Eng- land : the great nobility surround the sovereign, and are attracted by the court ; the nobles of inferior rank or fortune are either assembled at Madrid, or establish themselves in the great cities of the distant provinces. This desertion of the country has arisen, not as in other kingdoms, from the oppression of the great barons, and from the franchises enjoyed by the cities, but from two other causes more extensive in their operation. The first of these was the distracted condition of the empire till the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, divided into separate kingdoms of small extent, all engaged in never-ceasing wars against each other, which drew men of property into the cities ; the second was the jealousy of the court, which soon followed the expulsion of the Moors, a jealousy which for more than a century and a half was merely political^ lest the grandees^ supported by the people^ should e7ideavoitr to regain their consequence. To this fear, at the accession of the present family , succeeded one of a m^ore alarm- ing nature, from the attachment which many of the great families had discovered to the house of Austria. For this reason they were assembled round the throne, and kept constantly in sight. The condition of the French is certainly better, and some inhabited castles are to be found in every province. * But in this respect * This observation was made three years before the great Revolution of 1789. 112 Spain. too, that their exclusion as a body from the legislative councils of their country, the indolence and the igno- rance which such exclusion is too apt to engender, and last, not least, the perpetual intermarriages of the higher nobility or grandeza, — intermarriages brought about, not (as in some countries has sometimes been the case) from religious motives, but through a spirit of exclusive and fastidious arrogance, — all these causes have produced in this aristocracy physical debility and mental degeneracy.* The nobility, compared with the clergy on the one hand and the peasantry on the other, are certainly degenerate; but this no country can be compared to England."* — ** Some of the Spanish grandees," says M. Bourgoing, *'are established in provincial capitals. I know none who reside habitually on their estates."— 7^^/m2/ de V Espagne moderne^ i., p. 1 68. * The grandees are generally small in stature, of limited in- tellectual capacity, and are possessed of little political influence. ** It must be striking to an Englishman," says Mr Townsend, *' to see all the most important offices occupied by men who have been taken from the lowest ranks, and not to find amongst them one man of fashion, not one grandee of Spain. These are all precisely where they ought to be : lords of the bedchamber, grooms of the stole, masters of the horse, all near the throne, partaking of its splendour; whilst the drudgery and responsi- bility of office is left to others who are better qualified to bear that burden. In England it is far otherwise : our men of fashion are from their infancy trained to higher pursuits. ... In Spain, on the contrary, in the higher ranks all is torpid. " — Journey through Spain, vol. ii., pp. 246, 247. * Journey through Spain, vol. i., pp. 231-233. How superior is the plain good sense of this old traveller to the cynical bigotry of Ford, or to the monstrous theories of the infidel Buckle 1 The Merchants, 1 1 3 degeneracy does not justify the sweeping denuncia- tions of the cynical bard of '-' Childe Harold." As to the merchants of Spain, they have ever been distinguished for the strictest probity in their dealings. "Spanish probity," says La Borde,* "is proverbial, and it conspicuously shines in commercial relations." And of the frugality which still characterises the mode of living of this class, as well as of their great charities, Cardinal Wiseman has, in an interesting essay on Spain, given some striking examples, t His testimony is corroborated' by that of Mr Townsend, as he saw Spain more than seventy years ago. The cardinal had alluded especially to the merchants of Seville. Of those of Malaga, during his visit in 1787, the Protestant traveller thus speaks : *' Besides these general benefactors," says he, " many of the merchants are exceedingly liberal in their do- nations to the poor ; and among them no one is more distinguished than Don Joseph Martinis, a gentleman equally celebrated for the extent of his information, the hospitality of his table, and the bountiful assist- ance which he never fails to give to objects of dis- tress. The poor are at all times welcome to his doors, where money is daily distributed \ and for them every day his caldron boils." % * La Borde's Spain, vol. iv., p. 423. Trans. London: 180Q. + Dublin Review^ anno 1845. X Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 16. H 114 Spain, Spanish Peasants. I come to the peasantry, and here let me cite the words of the same well-informed writer in the Quar- terly Review before quoted, and who evidently speaks as an eye-witness. ^^ If,'^ he says, ^^ we look into their well-stored granaries, their stables filled with oxen or mules of the finest description ; if we examine the comfortable materials of which their dress is com- posed, and witness the cheerful and light-hearted mode in which they pass their days in their country retreats, their cordial welcome of strangers, the per- fect honesty of their dealings, and their exemplary and almost incredible temperance, we shall then be compelled to acknowledge that a more virtuous, loyal, and contented people are nowhere to be found.''* The sagacious and diligent historian, Sir A. Alison, confirms this statement. ^' Notwithstanding all the internal defects of their government and institutions," says he, '' the shepherds and cultivators of the soil enjoyed a most remarkable degree of prosperity : their dress, their houses, their habits of life demon- strated the long-established comfort which had for ages prevailed among them ; vast tracts, particularly in the mountainous regions of the north, were the property of the cultivators ; a state of things of all others the most favourable to social happiness, when accompanied with a tolerable degree of mildness in * Quarterly Review , 1823, p. 545. 1 The Peasantry, 1 1 5 the practical administration of government ; and even in those districts where they were merely tenants of the nobility, the cities, or the Church, their condition demonstrated that they were permitted to retain an ample share of the fruits of their toil." "^ This picture of the wellbeing and contentment of the Spanish peasantry is true in regard to the largest part of Spain ; but in provinces like La Mancha, Murcia, and parts of Andalusia, suffering from the neglect of an absen- tee proprietary, we must not look for the same mate- rial comforts in the rural population. Their virtues, indeed, and their piety are nearly everywhere the same. The following tribute to their worth, from the pen of Dr Southey, is also very remarkable j for though he knew and loved Spain and her people * Hist, of Europe, vol. vi., p. 626. This historian has well perceived how \k\.^fueros and local Cortes of the Biscayan pro- vinces, of Navarre, Aragon, and Catalonia have promoted the wellbeing of the peasantry. * * The general comfort of the Spanish peasantry," says he, *' especially in the northern and mountain- ous provinces, is easily explained by the number of them who were owners of the soil, coupled with the vigour and efficacy of the provincial immunities and privileges, which in Catalonia, Navarre, the Basque provinces, Asturias, Aragon, and Galicia, effectually restrained the power of the executive, and gave to the inhabitants of those districts the practical enjoyment of almost complete personal freedom. So extensive were their privileges, so little did government venture to disregard them, that in many cases they were rather to be considered as democratic common- wealths inserted into that extraordinary assemblage of separate states which formed the Spanish monarchy, than subjects of a despotic government." — Hist, of Europe^ vol. vi., p. 626. 1 1 6 Spain. well/ he was noted for an anti-Catholic bigotry, rare among the learned Anglicans of modern times. " Travellers/' says he, in his '^ History of the Pen- insular War," " forming their hasty estimate from the inhabitants of seaports and great cities, have too generally agreed in reviling the Portuguese and Span- iards; but if they, whose acquaintance with these nations was merely superficial, have been disposed to depreciate and despise them, others who dwelt among them always became attached to the people, and bore willing and honourable testimony to the virtues of the national character. It was, indeed, remarkable how little this had partaken of the national decay. The meanest peasant knew that his country had once been prosperous and powerful, he was familiar with the names of its heroes, and he spoke of the days that were past with a feeling which was the best omen for those that were to come.'^^ So far Dr Southey. I myself caught occasional glimpses of these noble peasants during the year I once passed in the Pyre- nees for the recovery of my health. I well remember the manly bearing of the tall, stalwart Navarrese mountaineers, when they came to purchase mules in the fairs of the city of Pau. Their black sashes with knives hanging from them, their motley-coloured garters, their dark gaiters, are still as vividly im- pressed on my memory, as if I had seen them but yesterday, * Penins. War, vol. i., p. ii. The Peasantry. 117 The charge of indolence is one frequently preferred against the Spanish people. Let us hear the Protes- tant traveller, the Rev. Mr Townsend, who visited Spain in the latter years of the last century. " No one," he says, "who has seen the Spaniards on the sea-coast can think them lazy.'^ And again he remarks, " We must not inoagine that the Spaniards are naturally indolent; they are remarkable for ac- tivity, capable of strenuous exertions, and patient of fatigue. If therefore unemployed, this must be attributed to other causes, of which respecting some occupations, national prejudice is one."^ These statements of the English traveller are amply confirmed by the testimony of a German professor, Dr Link, who visited Spain a few years afterwards. "It is indeed surprising,^' he says, "what fatigue the Spaniards and Portuguese can bear ; how temperately they live, and what heat and cold they can endure." t This may be the proper place to cite the strong encomiums which that experienced traveller, M. de la Borde bestows on the valour, endurance, and steady discipline of the Spanish soldier, when under the command of intelligent officers. "The Spanish soldier," says he, "is still one of the * Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 268. Speaking of Ca- talonia, Townsend says, * ' Industry climbs among these rocks, and every spot where the plough can go, or the vine can fix its roots, is made productive, and abounds with either corn, or wine, or oil." — P. 317. t Travels through Spain and Portugal in 1797. 1 1 8 Spain. best in Europe, when placed under an experienced general, and brave and intelligent officers. He is possessed of a cool and steady valour ; he long resists fatigue, and easily inures himself to labour ; lives on a little, endures hunger without complaining, executes the orders of his superiors without hesitation, and never suffers a murmur to escape him." * I shall conclude this account of the different classes of Spain with the following tribute to the many high moral qualities of the nation generally, as recorded by a very bitter enemy of their creed, as well as of all re- ligion. This tribute the author substantiates by the numerous testimonies of enlightened travellers within the last one hundred and fifty years. "The bravery of the Spanish people," says Mr Buckle, "has never been disputed; while as to the upper classes the punctiHous honour of a Spanish gentleman has passed into a by-word, and circulated through the world. Of the nation generally, the best observers pronounce them to be high-minded, gene- rous, truthful, full of integrity, warm and zealous friends, affectionate in all the private relations of life, frank, charitable, and humane. Their sincerity in religious matters is unquestionable; they are, more- over, eminently temperate and frugal." t * La Borde's Travels in Spain. English Trans., vol. v., p. 276. London, 1809. f History of Civilization. By T. H. Buckle, Esq. Vol. ii., p. 1 45. The following are the valuable testimonies cited by Mr Buckle as to the high moral qualities of Spaniards : * * Las National Character. 1 1 9 A finer national character it were utterly impossible to depict ; and even a wise heathen philosopher would have said that such a people must needs have a great Espagnols sont fort charitables, tant a cause du merite que I'on s'acquiert par les aum6nes, que par rinclination naturelle qu'ils ont a donner, et la peine effective qu'ils souffrent lors- qu'ils sont obliges, soit par leur pauvret^, soit par quelqu'autre raison, de refuser ce qu'on leur demande. lis ont encore la bonne qualite de ne point abandonner leurs amis pendant qu'ils sont malades De mani^re que des personnes qui ne voient point quatre fois en un an, se voient tous les jours deux ou trois fois, des qu'ils souffrent." — D' Aulnoy, Re- lation dtc Voyage d^ Espagne, vol. ii., p. 374. 1693. — '*The Spaniards are grave, temperate, and sober ; firm and warm in their friendships, though cautious and slow in contracting them." — A Tour through Spain^ p. 3. By Udal ap Rhys. London, 1763. — **When they have once professed it, none are more faithful friends. They have great probity and integrity of prin- ciple." — Clarke's Letters concerning the Spanish Nation^ p. 334. London, 1763. — *'To express all that I feel on the recol- lection of their goodness, would appear like adulation ; but I may venture at least to say, that simplicity, sincerity, generosity, a high sense of dignity, and strong principles of honour, are the most prominent and striking features of the Spanish character." — Townsend^s Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 353. — **The Spaniards, though naturally deep and artful politicians, have still something so nobly frank and honest in their disposition." — Letters from Spain by an English Officer^ vol. ii., p. 171. London, 1788, — *'The Spaniards have fewer bad qualities than any other people that I have had the opportunity to know." — Croker''s Travels through Spain, pp. 237, 238. London, 1799. — *' Certainly, if it be taken in the mass, no people are more humane than the Spaniards, or more compassionate and kind in their feelings to others. They probably excel other nations, rather than fall below them in this respect." — Cook^s Spain, vol. i., p. 189. London, 1834. — '*The Spaniards are kind-hearted in all the relations of life." — Hoskin's Spain, vol. ii., p. 58. 1 20 Spain. fear of the Gods. But our materialist sage has dis- covered that the Church which did, and alone could have moulded such noble qualities of the will and of the heart, was "a cruel and persecuting Church," *' stained with every sort of crime ; ^' and he blames this' people for bestowing on it increased marks of their affection. Of the intellectual qualities and achievements of the Spaniards, this author, as we shall later see, forms an estimate scarcely less favour- able. The Inquisition. Having considered the principal classes in Spanish society, I now wish to speak of its institutions at the period under investigation. '^ The Inquisition," according to M. Picot, "is a tribunal exclusively dependent on the government, and acting only under its influence. Its offices are filled with secular priests. Far from being an object of terror to the innocent, the Inquisition is rather a refuge for the guilty, who elsewhere would not escape the rigour of the laws. Torture, which had long been out of use, was for- London, *i85i.— Finally, I will adduce the testimony of two professional politicians, both of whom were well acquainted with the Spaniards. In 1770, Mr Harris, afterwards Lord Malmes- bury, writes: "They are brave, honest, and generous." — Diaries and Correspondence of the Earl of Malmesbury, vol. i. , p. 48. London, 1844. — And Lord Holland, according to Moore, deemed '■'that the Spaniards altogether are among the best people of Europe." — Moore's Memoirs, edited by Lord John Russell, vol. iii., p. 253. London, 1853. The Inquisition. 121 mally abolished in 181 6. Its prisons have nothing terrible about them; and the penalties to which it condemns, are imprisonment or the galleys. Its autos-da-fe have been for a long time but the execution of judgments, which are anything but sanguinary. "Impartial travellers," continues the same writer, " all who have any knowledge of the affairs of Spain, know that the Inquisition is no longer formidable but from its name. Its office is chiefly confined to the prohibition once a year of certain books, which any one, however, who provides himself with a ticket, stating that he has the intention of sending them to the Inquisition, can keep at home. With this for- mahty, books can for ever be retained."* Of this tribunal thus wrote M. Bourgoing, who was for many years the envoy of the French Republic at the court of Madrid, and was himself quite imbued with the irreligious spirit of his age. " But I should likewise confess," he says, " from a regard to truth, not in order to deprecate the anger of the tribunal, that the Inquisition, if we could possibly be prevailed upon to pardon its constitu- tional forms and the object of its institution, might even, in our days, be adduced as a pattern of equity. It takes all the precautions proper to ascertain the accuracy of the evidence it receives. Let it not be * M^m. eccles. du i8eme Si^cle. Par M. Picot. Introd. cxviii., t. i. Paris, 1815. T22 Spain. said, on the contrary, that the resentment of an enemy- lurking in ambush will suffice to provoke its ven- geance. It never condemns any person on the sole evidence of an accuser, or without investigating the proofs of the accusation. Offences must be aggra- vated by frequent commission; they must be what are styled by bigots grievous offences, in order to incur its censure ; and, after a residence of ten years, my observations teach me that, with some circum- spection in conversation in such particulars as re- gard religion, any one may elude the grasp of this tribunal, and live as perfectly at his ease in Spain as in any other country of Europe." * Thus spoke this French diplomatist at the close of the last century. And his countryman, M. de la Borde, who pub- lished his travels in Spain a few years later, thus describes the Inquisition. '^ Another tribunal estabhshed," says he, " for the purpose of watching over the purity of the Christian faith, is the Inquisition — the name of which alone excites in most minds the involuntary sense of pro- found dread. But this tribunal is no longer what it was formerly; its sentences are at present dictated by sentiments of mildness and peace ; the spirit of toleration influences its decrees ; and those crimes, which elsewhere would be punished with death, are seldom visited by the Inquisition with heavier * Bourgoing's State of Spain. Eng. Trans, vol. i., p. 372. The Inquisition. 123 chastisement than imprisonment, whipping, or the galleys. This tribunal is at present rather an engine of police, than subservient to ecclesiastical purposes ; it is in the hands of government, by which its opera- tions are called forth, directed, and controlled, and by which they may afterwards be modified or an- nulled. No change has taken place in the form and manner of its proceedings, which are always covered with impenetrable secrecy; but the objects of its notice are at present rather political principles than religious opinions; moreover, it seldom acts except in cases of open and public scandal, and never till after private notice and advice have been had re- course to ineffectually. ^^ It is now more than a century since the people of Spain have beheld an auto-da-fe^ the last having taken place in the year 1680, under the reign of Charles 11.""^ On this last passage from the writer just cited, I wish to make a few comments. M. de la Borde here uses the word auto-da-fe in the vulgar sense of a capital execution. But every sentence pronounced by the Inquisition, whether it were a slight penance — the recital of certain prayers — the walking in a pro- cession with a lighted taper in one's hand — confine- ment to prison for a certain number of years — or the extreme punishment of death executed by the secular * Travels in Spain, vol. v., pp. 20, 21. Eng. Trans. Lon- don, 1809. 124 Spain, power, to which the Inquisition handed over the cul- prit, — all these several sentences w^ere termed autos- da-fe!^ That after the date assigned by M. de la Borde, — ^namely, 1680, — no capital punishments were inflicted in Spain for heresy or apostasy, is, with one soHtary exception, true ; for it appears that in the reign of Philip V. some relapsed Jews and Moors were burned. Sacrilege must not be confounded with religious misbelief; and the former crime, in its aggravated shape, was in almost all Catholic countries visited with the penalty of death. Sorcery, witchcraft, bigamy, and other still more heinous transgressions, were sometimes punished in the like manner; but these punishments were not severer than those inflicted by the tribunals of other countries. I shall now state some facts illustrative of the his- tory of the Spanish Inquisition in the eighteenth century. In the reign of Philip V. the French attendants of that prince introduced into Spain the order of Free- masons. One of them, M. Tournon, was convicted of perverting the workmen of his button manufactory at Madrid. He was arraigned before the Inquisition, and condemned to a year's confinement, and to read works of piety in his prison, and then was expelled * On this subject see an elaborate disquisition in Hefele's ** Life of Ximenes." Trans, by Rev. Mr Dalton. London, 1861. The Inquisition, 125 the kingdom. The French lodges received him as a martyr. In this reign there were some beatas or devotees punished for feigning false miracles; the two most famous ones were in Valencia and Cuenga. A still more famous case was that of the nuns of Carella, in Navarre, who were prosecuted and punished with severe imprisonment as being guilty of Molinos's heresy of quietism. They had been seduced into this dangerous heresy by a wicked lay-brother, called John Longas. , The case of Don Pablo Olavide, already noticed, is a very remarkable one. He was a native of Lima, in Peru ; was brought forward by the minister. Count Aranda ; accompanied his patron in his travels in France, and there, like him, became tainted with those irreligious principles, which were the moral epidemic of the day. His knowledge in political economy pointed him out as a fit person to direct the labours of the Swiss and German colonists, whom Charles III. had invited into Spain, in order to cultivate the sterile tracts of the Sierra Morena. And accordingly, on his return to Spain, he was, through the powerful influence of Aranda and other friends, appointed the head of the colony of La Carolina, consisting of the foreign husbandmen and artisans above mentioned. There he evinced his hostility to the regulars, op- posing their spiritual ministrations within the pre- cincts of his colony, while he, at the same time, gave 126 Spain. free expression to his irreligious opinions. He was denounced to the Inquisition in 1776, was arrested, and stood a trial, which lasted two years. Besides other civil penalties which he incurred, he was condemned to eight years' confinement, and to the perusal of Lewis of Granada's "Symbol of the Faith,'' and of Segneri's work, entitled " The Infidel without Excuse." With the connivance of the court, Olavide, after two years' imprisonment, escaped into France, where he was warmly welcomed by the Ency- clopaedic party. He lived to taste the bitter fruits of irreligion ; for in the Reign of Terror, mainly brought about by the doctrines of his former friends, Voltaire and Rousseau, he was thrown into the dungeons of the Convention, and there, on the very threshold of death, he was, like La Harpe, touched by the influ- ences of Divine grace, and brought back to the faith of his fathers. The sincerity of his conversion was evinced in a noble work, entitled " The Triumph of the Gospel," which has been the instrument of re- claiming many an infidel to religion. In 1798, through the intervention of Cardinal Lo- renzana, Olavide was allowed to return to Spain, where he composed the book just mentioned, and which, to clearness and solidity of argument, is said to unite the charms of a pleasing style. The Holy Ofiice arraigned Charles IIL's ministers, Campomanes, Roda, Aranda, and even the good Florida Blanca on the charges of Jansenism and The Council of Castile, 127 Philosophism. Two or three bishops, also, who had sat on the extraordinary council of 1767, which had expelled the Jesuits, and sanctioned the encroach- ments of the Duke of Parma on the territorial rights of the Holy See, were cited at the bar of the same tribunal. But a royal decree commanded the Inqui- sition to respect the king's ministers, and to confine its cognizance solely to the crimes of apostasy and contumacious heresy. By the same decree, the crimes of bigamy, witchcraft, sorcery, and other very heinous offences, were reserved exclusively to the competence of the secular tribunals. Again, in 1784, the Holy Office was inhibited by Charles III. from molesting all men of title, ministers of the crown, officers of the army and navy, and judges of the civil and criminal courts, until the king himself had revised the process. Thus the Spanish Inquisition, which, from its very origin under Ferdinand and Isabella, had been (as I formerly shewed) far more a political than an ecclesi- astical institute, became, in the last period of its exist- ence, almost entirely dependent on the civil power. The Council of Castile. From a tribunal, partly ecclesiastical, partly politi- cal, like the Inquisition, let us pass to the purely secular judicatures of the country. The first that meets our view is the Council of Castile, the supreme tribunal in Spain, and one whose magistrates, as 128 Spain. Count de Maistre well observes, were ever distin- guished for their learning and integrity. At the period under review, the whole political authority centred in the king and his ministers ; the national affairs were conducted by the different coun- cils appointed by the crown, and which were fixed in the capital. Some of these possessed both legislative and judicial power, and exercised the twofold func- tion of advising and remonstrating with the crown, as well as of administering justice. In this distribution of power, the Council of Castile was paramount ; its decrees being decisive in the courts, though its judg- ments were under the control of the king. The reso- lutions were transmitted to the monarch by a certain number of members, bearing the title of the Chamber of Castile^ whose influence was very great. To give an instance of the check which this coun- cil sometimes put upon arbitrary power, — a point in which it bore some resemblance to the French par- liaments, — I may mention a case which occurred in the reign of Charles IV., and during the administra- tion of Godoy. The minister, Urquijo, was anxious to promote the views of the Jansenistical party, by procuring a Spanish translation of the works of the Portuguese Jansenist, the notorious Pereira. But in this design he was frustrated by the fiscal, or attor- ney-general of the Council of Castile, who moved an interdiction of the work. This fact proves the power which this supreme Council of Castile. 129 Council could at times exercise. In the absence of the Cortes, these grave magistrates opposed to the capricious mandates of the servants of the crown the authority of law.* In his history of the Congress of Verona, Chateaubriand notices the salutary influ- ence of this and of other Councils in Spain ; and how, in order to become members of the Councils of Cas- tile and of the Indies, the highest nobles were ever ready to give up the viceroyalties of Milan, Naples, Sicily, and of Mexico and Peru. The Council of the Indies was modelled on the first, and was invested with the same powers, and * There is a passage in Bourgoing's work which bears out, to some extent, the observations in the text. **The old form of government," says he, **set many limits to the regal power. That old' constitution has been by degrees changed, and with- out any convulsion. The intermediate corporations have now scarcely a nominal existence. The Supreme Councils — that of Castile, for example, the chief of all — sometimes attempt to pre- sent remonstrances when they apprehend measures either dis- astrous in themselves, or contrary to the laws ; but we must remember that all their members are nominated by the king, and may be dismissed by him. From him only they expect their advancement in the career of the magistracy ; and as the record, which those Councils insert in the registers of the royal decrees, which bear on the jurisdiction of their several depart- ments, is a mere formality, which they have no legal means of refusing, they have not even, like the ancient Parliaments of France, a vis inertice to oppose to the will of the sovereign. Very recently, however, the Council of Castile was consulted on a question of very great importance. It has given its opinion, they say, with courage ; and it appears this judgment was not unattended with success." — Tableau deVEspagne moderne, vol. i-, pp. 175, 176. I 130 Spain. exercised the like functions for the American and Asiatic colonies, as the Castilian Council did in the affairs of the mother-country, and of her Italian and Flemish provinces. This Council of the Indies was established by ^Ferdinand the Catholic, in the year 15 1 1, and received its definitive constitution from the Emperor Charles V. The 'formula used by the Council of Castile, when it remonstrated against a royal edict, had an irony quite characteristic of the Spaniards. It was as fol- lows : " We obey; but do not carry out^ As to the Cortes of Spain, I shewed on a former occasion,* that when in the latter part of the reign of Charles V. they had been s,uppressed, the House of Procuradores, or the Commons, was still convoked by the crown, and, after voting the supplies, it freely indulged in the right of petition and remonstrance against all abuses of government. This practice con- tinued under Philip IL, and the later princes of the Austrian dynasty. Philip V. gave the last blow to the old free institutions of Spain, by putting down the Cortes of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia. The only surviving monument of those institutions was to be found in Navarre and the three Biscayan provinces. But on the accession of every new monarch to the throne, the Cortes of the three estates were duly assembled, in order to take the oath of fealty to the * See *' Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern History." Lecture the Fifth. Dolman, 1858. Ancient Cortes. 131 sovereign. They were now, indeed, the mere unsub- stantial shadow of their former greatness ; but still the forms of Spain's ancient constitution were thus preserved, and kept alive in the memory of her people. And here was the great advantage she pos- sessed over France, where, except in some provinces, the last vestige of the states-constitution had disap- peared, and where, in the long interval from 16 14 to 1789, the states-general had never once been con- voked. Under the Bourbons, there was a feeble image of the third estate of the Cortes in a body, which resided constantly at Madrid, under the name of Dipiitados de los Reynos, or deputies of the kingdoms. When this third estate was about to separate in 17 13, it was enacted that it should be represented by a perma- nent committee, whose function it was to superin- tend the administration of that part of the revenue, known by the name of the Millones. The municipal system of Spain was excellent. Every city, town, and village had its ayuntamiento or corporation. From a consideration of the institutions of that country, I proceed to inquire into the causes, moral and political, of the Revolution, that in our time has there wrought such fearful ravages. Under the cover of that noble struggle of religious patriotism, the spirit of licentiousness, which I de- scribed in my last lecture, had been at work. In the very midst of a conflict, in which a nation was con- 132 Spain. tending for its very existence, and for all that renders that existence valuable, a wretched band of revolu- tionary sophists assembled within the walls of Cadiz, not to restore the ancient laws and liberties of their country, but to undermine its religion, and overthrow its political institutions. But how did these elements of disorder penetrate into Spain? What form did they there assume? What was the resistance they were destined to encounter % What were their pros- pects of success % A careful consideration of the period I reviewed in the last lecture will enable us to answer these ques- tions. I remember the words which fell some years ago from the lips of the illustrious German Catholic, Professor Gorres, one of the greatest publicists that ever lived, in a conversation I had with him one summer evening in his garden at Munich. I spoke of the civil conflict then raging in Spain between the Carlists and the Christinos ; and he rephed, '^ The evils of the Revolution have come from the court ; and the bad stuif must be burnt out before things can be righted." What a significant comment these words contain on the history of Spain in the last century ! Was it not some of the ministers, and courtiers, and am- bassadors of Charles III. that introduced the irre- ligious doctrines of the French Encyclopaedists into Spain? Was it not they who, themselves members of foreign ^secret societies, fostered those societies in The Revolution, 133 their own country'? Was it not they who leagued with the Jansenist and the infidel statesmen of other countries in the war against the Church % Was it not they who were ever encroaching on the rights of the Papacy and the Episcopate, who suppressed religious orders, and, among others, the great Society of Jesus, — a suppression which left such a void in the sacred ministry and in public education in Europe, and struck at the missions in South America a blow which is felt to this day % Was it not the ministers of Spain, Portugal, Naples, Parma, and other Italian states that, in utter defiance of the religious spirit of the great bulk of the inhabitants, sought with more or less boldness to fetter the spiritual action of the priest- hood, to despoil it of its property, to lessen its con- sideration, and, wherever they dared, to encourage the circulation of bad books % Did not the legisla- tion of Naples, under Tanucci, divest marriage of its august, sacramental character, and degrade it into a mere civil contract? Was not a war made on en- tails, and on the proprietary and the political rights of nobility % Was not municipal freedom everywhere assailed, and administrative centraUsation systemati- cally introduced % In Spain, indeed, where there has ever reigned such a diversity of provincial customs, these changes could not be so successfully carried out as in Portugal under Pombal's administration, or as in Parma, Tuscany, and Naples. But even in Spain what attempts were made in the 1 34 Spain. reign of Charles IV. to defraud the Basque provinces and Navarre of their ancient Cortes, as, at the com- mencement of the last century, Philip V. had deprived Aragon and Valencia of theirs % Thus in that country, as in France, it was the despotic, irreligious policy of absolute governments, that prepared the way for the more daring assaults of revolutionary assemblies ; and the latter only brought to maturity the germs of evil laid in an anterior legis- lation. Thus have I answered the first question, how did the revolutionary malady penetrate into Spain % The next questions, what form did it there assume, and what course did it take ? shall now be considered. The Spanish Revolution of 1812, renewed in 1820 by a military revolt, had not, like that of France, been preceded by a century of irreligion, and a hundred and fifty years of Jansenism, which partly corrupted the Galilean Church, partly oppressed it. The Revo- lution encountered much fewer abuses in the Church of Spain ; — it found a court which, with the solitary exception of Queen Maria Louisa, had for ages been free from scandals ; nor could the wasteful adminis- tration of Godoi be compared to the financial dis- orders in the times of the regency, and of the latter part of the reign of Louis XV. Above all, the Span- ish Revolution found a nation in its great majority devoted to its religious and pohtical institutions ; and at the very moment when it burst out, that nation The Revolution, 135 was performing prodigies of valour in defence of those very institutions. Hence the timidity of this Revolu- tion in its course; — hence the secrecy of its operations, when compared with the Revolution of 1789. Hence, while it wars against the Papacy and the Episcopate, suppresses religious orders, and confiscates Church property, it enacts that the holy Roman Catholic and apostolic religion is the religion of the state, and no other is to be tolerated in Spain. Hence, while, like the Constituent Assembly of France, it degrades the royal prerogative to a mere suspensive veto; while it excludes the two first orders — the Church and the aristocracy — from all direct share in the representa- tion; it decorates its anarchic conventions with the venerable historic title of the Cortes. Yet, except in the name, those Assemblies had nothing in common with the ancient Parliaments of Spain. The old French monarchy fell suddenly to the ground, for its foundations had long been undermined. The Spanish stood on a much firmer basis ; hence it had to endure an obstinate siege ; hence the history of its Revolution presents us with the spectacle of a system of mining and counter-mining, in which its defenders and its enemies were engaged. The Revo- lution of 1789 sprang, indeed, out of secret socie- ties ; but these, on its triumph, were soon transformed into open, furious clubs, which disdained the veil of secrecy. The Spanish Revolution, even after its triumph in 1820, yet in the presence of a people emi- 136 Spain, nently catholic and monarchical, found it necessary to shroud its plans in secret societies. The army, which, by a revolt, first established this Revolution, remained its principal agent, and has ever played the chief part in the modern commotions of the Penin- sula. On the other hand, the main instruments of the French Revolution (though that event was origi- nally brought about by the corrupt portion of the aristocracy and of the literati,) were, after its triumph, the lowxr members of the trading and the professional classes. In France, where for a century the bureau- cratic centralisation had attained to such a formidable development, the Revolution made the capital the centre and the seat of its operations. In Spain, on the . other hand, which had retained much greater municipal freedom, the capital never exercised the same influence as Paris; and therefore it was here the periphery^ and not the centre^ of the circle which the Revolution usually selected for the basis of its movements. . In both Revolutions, the French and the Spanish — Jansenism and Irreligion — play a most important part. This remarkable concurrence of the two has led some to suppose that an express compact had been entered into between them for effecting the overthrow of the Christian religion. Such a supposition is absurd j for no sect was ever hypocritical on system ; and, with all its errors, there are too many Catholic elements in Jansenism to countenance such a hypothesis. But The Revolution. 137 this wild supposition is one of those myths, which embody a great truth, and are devised to explain a great historical phenomenon. The Jansenist and the Deist go a part of their way together. The former wishes to remodel the Papacy and the Episcopate, and to bring about a radical change in the discipline of the Church ; the latter, in the vain hope that such radical changes may lead to the total subversion of the Catholic Church, and the destruction of the Chris- tian religion, seconds the efforts of the Jansenist with the utmost zeal. In the incipient stages of these Revolutions, it is not easy to discriminate between the acts and the tendencies of these two parties in regard to religious matters ; and more especially as in politics, there is often much agreement between them ; and next, be- cause in the Catholic South, Deism was compelled, even in revolutionary times, to observe great circum- spection. Jansenism, though it possessed in Spain some men of considerable learning and talent, was far from acquiring the same religious and political influence that it attained to in France, and even in Portugal. As to Spanish Deism, it never produced a single original writer, and subsisted only on wretched trans- cripts from the French infidel literature. I well re- member when I was in Paris, under the Restoration, that Spanish translations from the writings of Vol- taire, Rousseau, Volney, Raynal, and other infidels. 138 Spain. were frequently transported in immense bales by the revolutionary Propaganda to the Peninsula and the South American States. Now comes the last question, how could this Revolution have been averted, and if it triumphed, was its triumph likely to be of the same sweeping and desolating character as the Revolution of 1789] I have endeavoured to furnish you with the data for answering this question. Many of the causes which produced tHe Revolution of 1789, existed in Spain in a mitigated form, and therefore the effects must needs be of the same miti- gated character. The party which brought about this Revolution was, indeed, numerically speaking, a feeble minority, but a minority energetic and turbu- lent, having its roots in those classes which, as I observed on a former occasion, represent the active, progressive forces in human society ; — a minority hold- ing the most subversive opinions in politics, and often the most impious doctrines in religion, and seeking by violence the redress of real and admitted griev- ances. Political revolutions, (and I speak not of defensive but of destructive revolutions,) poHtical re- volutions are like heresies in religion; they are the rash, insane attempts to reform real abuses ; — the false, perverted anticipations of some principle, true in itself, instinctively felt, but not yet defined. Hence the power of seduction which, in different ways, both exercise on the human mind. The Restoration. 139 But how was this Revolution to have been averted % Its more immediate causes we saw at work in the course of the eighteenth century, but the remoter are to be traced to a far more distant period. Spain, in- deed, happily escaped the religious convulsions of the sixteenth century, preserving her faith amid the gene- ral shipwreck; and so, with the grace of God, she kept the one thing necessary. But, as was shewn on a former occasion, she underwent, in the reigns of Charles V. and of Philip II., important political changes, whereby, to the detriment of the aristocratic and the popular elements in her constitution, the monarchical was unduly developed. This irregular, unhealthy expansion of one political organ, joined to other causes, helped to bring on an extreme languor and inertness in the body politic. For in history the divine Nemesis never sleeps. Errors committed and wrongs perpetrated long ages ago she corrects and chastises at the appointed time, and after her own mysterious fashion. So true is what the German poet says — " Welt-geschichte ist welt-gericht." *' The history of the world is the judgment on the world." But how, I repeat, was the Spanish Revolution to have been averted % When, after his long captivity at Valengay, the prison-doors of Ferdinand VII. were unbarred, and he who, at the popular rising of Aranjuez, had been 140 Spain, proclaimed the national deliverer, was restored to his country and his throne, what glorious prospects opened upon Spain ! The national mind had been stirred to its inmost depths, and in the terrible ordeal through which it had passed, this people had renewed its strength like the eagle. There was, however, a party, small in numbers but energetic of purpose, that was labouring to turn that new-born strength to mischief. On his arrival in Spain in 18 14, seventy members of the Cortes called on the King to abolish the revolu- tionary constitution of 181 2, which had inflicted such mischief on Church and State ; and Ferdinand VII. in so doing, declared that the sovereigns of Spain never wished to be despots, and promised to convoke the legitimate Cortes of the three estates. The period for a true national regeneration was now arrived. The social antitheses, if I may so speak, were now to be reconciled, and all the various powers and ele- ments in the political body to be brought into har- monious equipoise. The faith of the people was not to be tampered with, and the Church was to be pro- tected from outrage ; but the rigid surveillance of the Inquisition, which experience had shewn to have been not conducive to the interests of religion, was to be removed. Church property was to be maintained intact and inviolate ; and, though the clergy largely contributed to the burthens of the State, yet the rigour of mortmain might, with advantage to society at large, have been relaxed. If ecclesiastical property The Restoration, 141 was thus, in a certain sense, to be mobilized, theo- logical science, too, ought to be mobiHzed ; that is to say, theology ought to emerge from the school, where in Spain she had been too long confined, and deck- ing herself with the graces of literature, and arming herself with the weapons of modern science, step forth into the arena of letters, and so exercise a more immediate and more potent action on the secular mind. The Grandees were to be roused from their apathy and inaction ; they were no longer to be mere puppets to gild the pageant of a court, but were to stand up in the national councils as the defenders of the royal prerogative, as well as of popular rights. Primogeni- ture — that fundamental law of, the agricultural family — was to be maintained ; but at the same time entails were no longer to be upheld in their feudal strict- ness.* The stirring energy of the middle classes was to find an adequate scope ; but that energy was to be directed, moderated, and confined within its legiti- mate channel. * "Not merely in Andalusia, but in the other provinces,'' says Mr Townsend, *'the great estates being strictly entailed, and administered on the proprietor's account, little land is to be rented by the farmer, less can be purchased by the moneyed man, and for want of floating property industry is left to languish. In Catalonia it is totally the reverse of this. . . That which con- tributes most to the wealth and prosperity of Catalonia, is the power which gentlemen of landed property have over their estates to grant a particular species of lease, called Establishment by Emfiteutic Contracts. — Journey^ vol. iii. pp. 328, 329. 142 Spain. The peasantry — ^but no, that incomparable pea- santry needed no reform ! Lastly, Royalty itself was to preserve its veto un- fettered, and its domains intact, but was to levy no tax, and pass no law without the concurrence of the three estates in Cortes. So all the great social interests would have been satisfied j — the claims of religion a^nd of science, of the crown and of the clergy," of the aristocracy and of the commons, of agriculture and of industry, of commerce and of the colonies, would have been happily ad- justed. Alas, how cruelly were all such expectations deceived ! But Ferdinand VII., though neither in character nor in talents so contemptible as the vulgar Liberalism represents him, was yet faithless and fickle, indolent and violent, without elevated views or generous senti- ments, and so was unequal to the glorious task which Divine Providence had assigned him. In his long captivity at Valengay, the chateau of Prince Talley- rand, that most profligate of all politicians must have sought to imbue the mind of the young monarch with his own Machiavellian maxims of policy. And it is well known that he strove to enervate his character, and to corrupt his virtue, by throwing dangerous temptations in his way.* * Before his departure for France, his private conduct had been exemplary. This I state on the authority of one who re- sided for a great many years in Spain. The Restoration, 143 After he had been re-established on his throne, and, amid the acclamations of the immense majority of the nation, had put down the revolutionary Cortes, what policy did the youthful sovereign pursue % An alternation of violence and of weakness — an ex- cessive severity towards the Liberales, many of them more deluded than guilty, and whose services during the War of Independence ought to have pleaded for indulgence — a perpetual change of ministers, till the secrets of government became widely known — no settled system of policy, — ^such was Ferdinand's government of six years, from 1814 to 1820, when the mihtary revolt in the Isle of Leon abruptly ter- minated it.^ This revolt of the troops, destined to * After writing this passage, it was extremely gratifying to me to find the same sentiments corroborated by the illustrious Bal- mez, one who so well understood the moral, social, and political condition of his country. After combating the doctrines and the proceedings of the Revolutionis-ts of 1 812, this eminent publicist says : — ** In putting forth these opinions, we beg leave to observe that we by no means intend to approve the faults committed by the Govern- ment of that period, (18 14,) nor the sterile persecution which it indulged in. We are convinced that, at that time, a most favourable opportunity was lost of founding a national govern- ment, of closing the volcano of revolutions, and of finally taking every pretext from intrigue, as well as from insurrection, and of preventing the fatal oscillations which we have gone through, which we still go through, and whereof God only knows the end. But in acknowledging the blindness of one party, we pre- tend not to conceal that of the other : we must ever observe, that the provocation came from the revolutionary doctrines^ from the mad attempts to implant among us principles whose conse- 144 Spain. subdue the rebels in South America, while it dis- tracted and disorganized the mother-country, con- summated the triumph of the Revolution in the transatlantic colonies. The constitution of 1812, a wretched transcript of the French Constitution of 1790, was extorted from the reluctant monarch by a mutinous soldiery. The army and the clubs dispute for ascendancy; the single legislative chamber is often their obsequious slave ; the sacred rights of the Church are violated ; religious orders are suppressed \ tithes abolished ; Church lands confiscated \ impious publications freely circulated ; royalty is treated with quences had been repelled and conquered on the field of battle." — Melanges riligieux, pkilosophiques, politiques, et litter aires, Tra- duitde Phpagnol, par J. Bareille, t iii., pp. 48, 49. Again, the il- lustrious writer admirably observes ; — *' The cause of our misfor- tunes is, that in the favourable opportunities that have offered we have never had a man that understood the Spanish nation, nor the age in which we live ; it is that the monarch, brought up in the court of Charles IV., and soon after led away captive into a foreign land, never comprehended his position, never knew the force of which he disposed, and placed himself at the head of parties, instead of placing himself at the head of the nation. The cause of our evils is, that that same monarch, without a fixed system of government, the sad sport of a weakness and a vacillation that have become hereditary among us, followed unresistingly the course of events, satisfied with overturning the Revolution, and never thinking of preventing its further enter- prises." — MSlanges, &c., t. iii., p. 51. These "Melanges" are translated from articles written by Balmez in two journals, La Civilizacion and El Fe7tsamiento de la Nacion^ edited at Barce- lona and at Madrid, between the years 1841 and 1848^ the year of his death. Alas ! that career was too brief for Spain and for the Church ! French Intervention. 145 every species of contumely; the devoted friends of the altar and the throne are outraged and oppressed; while frightful political assassinations, as in the case of the venerable Canon Vinuessa, or more appalling judicial murders, hke that of the brave and devoted Elio, shock and afflict the Spanish people. "The year 1792,^^ said an eminent French writer, "re- appears with its crimes and its laws, which are but other sorts of crimes." The Revolution was happily arrested in its destruc- tive career by the arm of France. A hundred thou- sand Frenchmen, commanded by the Duke d^Angou- leme, cross the Spanish frontier to succour the Royahst bands, to rescue the people from the revolutionary yoke, and deliver the king from his captivity in Cadiz. The people, for three years trampled under foot by a tyrannical minority, which had the military force and all the financial resources of the country at its dis- posal, now went forth in vast multitudes to greet its generous deliverers. The clergy, the nobles, and the burgesses of the different cities sent forth their depu- tations to express thanks to the French commander ; the peasants raised rustic arches on his way ; and the towns hailed his arrival with illuminations. How widely different was this reception of the French from the one I described on a late occasion ! Thanks to the French expedition, as well as to the energetic rising of large portions of the Spanish na- tion, a second restoration of the monarchy now took K 146 Spain. place. But the exasperation of minds in 1823 ren- dered the work of poUtical regeneration far more arduous than in 1814. The monarch in some re- spects, indeed, had learned wisdom from misfortune. He pursued a steady, consistent policy, retained able ministers in his councils, kept the Revolution at bay, and (as the Duke of Welhngton acknowledged) ad- vanced to a high degree the material prosperity of his dommions. But his policy, though firm, wanted largeness and generosity. His excessive rigour towards the Liberales, popular as it was with the bulk of the people, yet perpetuated animosity and dissension. His refusal to acknowledge the debt contracted by the revolutionary Cortes of 1820, im- paired the public credit of Spain. His non-acqui- escence in the sage advice given him by Chateau- briand, the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, to restore the ancient Cortes at home, and to send out to South America some of the Spanish Infantes for the independent government of the colonies, (which could not possibly be resubjugated by force,) led, on one hand, to the total, irrevocable separation of those colonies ; and, on the other hand, prevented the final establishment of order and liberty in the mother- country. In rejecting the counsel tendered by the French minister in regard to America, Ferdinand was but too well seconded by the national feelings and prejudices of his subjects. Spain could not bring herself to give Ferdinand VII. 147 up, wfthout a renewed struggle, the vast and opulent regions which she had discovered, conquered, and civilized ; on which she had planted the standard of the cross, and the banners of her kings ; and which for so many ages she had regarded as among the brightest jewels of her crown. But at the period I have now arrived at, the reconquest of these colonies was all but impossible. How, in the exhausted state of its finances, with so many elements of danger and distraction at home, after the defeats its armies had sustained, and the total expulsion of the Spanish families from the American continent ; amid the com- bined opposition of the white Creoles and the mulatto population, and with the at best precarious aUiance of the Indians; — how could the Spanish Government, with any probabiHty of success, undertake another transatlantic expedition ? But the recognition of the independence of the South American colonies, on the condition of their receiving the Spanish Infantes for their princes, and of adopting certain institutions to guarantee the sta- bility of their rule, would have rescued those great countries from all the evils of anarchy, and have in- sured to them, as well as to Spain, all the advantages of a lucrative trade. To the ties of blood, of lan- guage, and of religion, which bound the mother- country and her ancient colonies together, the bond of a kindred dynasty would now have been added. And then what calamities would those vast transat- 148 Spain. lantic regions have been spared ! Spain had, doubt- less, committed enormous faults in the government of her colonies ; she had many wrongs to repair — many ameliorations to introduce, before she could make them free and flourishing communities. But, as I shewed on a former occasion, the odious restric- tions on their commercial intercourse with the parent state had been in latter years removed; and those countries, according to Humboldt, were making steady progress in civilisation. But what a spectacle have they exhibited since their separation ! The antagonism of parties envenomed by the antagonism of races ; ignoble republics, without a past and with- out a future, springing up into ephemeral existence, and then disappearing ; ambitious military chiefs con- tending for the mastery; justice, order, freedom, the Church, too frequently the victim of lawless factions ; the decrees which, as Dante says of his own Florence, were passed on the Wednesday reversed on the Satur- day ; and the different states, like their own volcanic mountain of Cotopaxi, ever torn, convulsed, and shattered by the unintermitting fires of intestine com- motion; — such, for the last forty years, has been the history of the South American Republics. The other point urged by Chateaubriand on the Spanish monarch, — namely, the convocation of the ancient Cortes, — was one long desired and recom- mended by the Catholic and monarchical leaders in Spain. A French deputy, M. Clausel de Coussergues, Ferdinand VII. 149 who, from the year 1820 to 1823, had ample oppor- tunities of conversing, in the south of France, with the most distinguished Spanish refugee RoyaUsts, clerical and lay, declares that on this point he found them of one accord.* The testimony of this French magistrate, who had paid great attention to Spanish politics, is confirmed by that of a gentleman who has resided many years in Spain itself, and who has declared to me that he found the same view entertained by the abler members of the Royalist party. He added, however, that the less discerning and the more timorous expressed apprehensions as to the working of such a system in the critical juncture of Spanish affairs. Its adoption was advised by the French minister only when tranquillity had been perfectly restored, and every department of the public adminis- tration fully organized. Had Ferdinand VII., in 1824, followed this coun- sel, which was but in perfect unison with the solemn promise he had given in the Ordinance of 18 14, as well as with the sentiments of his wisest and most devoted adherents, he would have conciliated most of the Moderados, or moderate Liberals, whom disgust with real abuses had led to give ear to false theories of government. By this means he would have suc- ceeded in dividing, and thereby weakening the revo- lutionary party. But to the more decided enemies of * See his pamphlet, entitled " Les Affaires d'Espagne." Paris, 1823. 150 Spain. the throne and of the altar, what could be more wel- come than a system of absolutism, which, by denying to the middle classes a full scope for their political activity, kept them dissatisfied and irritated ; which, by debarring the nobility from a participation in public affairs, perpetuated their ignorance and incapacity; by depriving the clergy of their full weight of political power, left them unprotected against the encroach- ments of the crown on their temporal privileges and possessions, and on their spiritual jurisdiction; and lastly, by isolating royalty itself from the other con- stituent bodies in the state, often abandoned it to the counsels of incapable or profligate adventurers % Let us not suppose that this admiration for the constitution of the three estates is a mere antiquarian predilection- This constitution, as I have already shewn,* is rooted in the very nature of things, and is intertwined with the very existence of modern European society. Those social elements, which elsewhere are depressed, or inverted, or brought into fierce collision, are here all in their fitting place, and in a state of harmonious equipoise. The absolutism which, two hundred years ago, superseded this temperate monarchy, and which had no small share in bringing about the Revolution of 1789 and its various imitations, has proved itself as impracticable in the nineteenth century, as it was dangerous in the seventeenth and the eighteenth. * See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern His- tory: Lecture V. London; Dolman, 1858. Ferdinand VI I, 151 The modern representative system, which grew out of those revolutions, and which left powerless and un- represented some of the most important members of human society, has failed to take root in any country, except in the small state of Belgium. The Catholic nations, that have so deeply suffered from absolutism, as well as from revolution, feel an instinctive yearn- ing for the old temperate monarchy. They long to revert to an order of things where the Church shall be free, where she shall hold at the same time a dig- nified position ; where the aristocracy shall be able effectually to defend the prerogatives of the crown, and the liberties of the people ; where the middle classes shall find a fitting scope for their political energies j where the provincial assemblies and the municipal corporations shall enjoy their autonomy; and where royalty, though limited, shall yet exercise a real and effective power. But to revert to Spain. Ferdinand VIL, who had now, since his second restoration, ruled Spain with considerable skill, though a skill devoid of generosity, and elevation of views, now suddenly reversed his policy, and let loose on his country the Revolution, which he had so long bridled. In 1828 he had married Maria Christina, a Nea- politan princess, the sister of the Duchess de Berri, by whom he had a daughter, Isabella, the now reign- ing queen of Spain. This princess, who was Ferdi- nand's fourth queen, by her beauty, her fascinating 152 Spain. manners, as well as her spirit of intrigue, soon ob- tained an undue ascendency over the mind of her husband. She induced him (and he was but too willing to comply with her suggestion,) to alter the law of succession in favour of his young daughter. The Salic law, as we have seen, was passed by the Cortes at the accession of the Bourbon dynasty to the throne of Spain ; and by this law, as you are aware, females are excluded from the royal succes- sion. Ferdinand did not of course invoke the decree rescinding the Salic law, which was passed by the revolutionary Cortes of 1812; for all its acts he had in 1 8 14 solemnly annulled; and it could no more claim the authority of a legitimate Cortes, than the Conciliabulum of Ephesus could arrogate that of a General Council. The king pretended he had discovered in a secret chest a decree of the Cortes of 1789, ratified by his father, Charles IV., and which repealed the Salic law, and restored the old order of succession to the throne. This, it must be owned, had been always the more popular in Spain. But such a decree, even if it had been really made, had no force ; for a law not pro- mulgated is null and void. Had the king now con- vened the legitimate Cortes of the three estates, and obtained their consent to the abohtion of the Salic law, (harsh as such a proceeding would have been to his excellent brother, Don Carlos,) he yet might have established on a secure basis the rights of his daughter Death of Ferdinand VII. 153 to the throne. Instead of this course, which wisdom and equity prescribed, the monarch summons to Cortes such members only of the three orders as were in his interest, and requires them to swear allegiance to his daughter, Isabella. To this effect he makes his last will ; but in a severe fit of illness which afterwards ensues, his conscience smites him, and he alters his will in behalf of his brother, Don Carlos. On his recovery, the intrigues of the queen and of one of the princesses of the royal family in- duce the monarch to make a second alteration in his last testament in favour of his daughter. He hereby reverses the whole policy of his life j and dying shortly afterwards, in 1833, bequeaths civil war and revolu- tion to his country. The queen, Maria Christina, whom Ferdinand by his will had appointed regent of the kingdom, en- deavoured at first to govern according to the princi- ples of the late king. Yet, though a portion of the Conservatives espoused the cause of Isabella, the great bulk of the party took the side of Don Carlos. This prince appealed to arms in defence of his rights, and the regent, to counterbalance his force, threw herself in desperation into the arms of the Revolution. A bloody, protracted civil war of seven years ensued, which brought Spain to the very verge of destruction. Had the life of the heroic Zumalcarregui been spared, there is every probability that the queen-regent, though possessed of all the resources of government, 154 Spain. the military forces, and the treasury, and though sup- ported, too, by a portion of the Conservatives and the whole revolutionary party, and by not only the moral countenance, but the active aid of Great Britain, France, and Portugal, the queen-mother, I say, would yet have succumbed, and her rival, Don Carlos, have entered the capital in triumph. That this prince should have raised* the standard of civil war, is a circumstance deeply to be deplored. In such a desperate game, he risked the very existence of the prize he was contending for. Valuable as is dynastic legitimacy, its claims must yield to the superior interests of religion, of social order, of freedom, and of the wellbeing of all classes of society. After the dreadful calamities of the War of Independence, after the convulsions of the Revolution of 1820, peace — peace was the first want of Spain, maimed and lacer- ated as she still was. To open her wounds afresh, was to expose her to certain ruin. Prudence, justice, humanity, suggested the necessity of a compromise between the rival claimants to the throne ; and a pro- ject of matrimonial alliance between the eldest son of Don Carlos and the young queen, on both attaining to their majority, would, if proposed and ratified at this time, have spared the country the horrors of civil war, and have protected the interests of the Church, of the monarchy, and of all classes of the nation. But it was otherwise ordained. The demon of An- archy now stalked abroad through the land, followed The Civil War. 155 by his satellites, Rapine, Sacrilege, and Slaughter. The Revolution, after a bloody struggle, at last tri- umphed ; and that triumph was marked by the sup- pression of the religious orders of both sexes, the cruel banishment of the consecrated inmates from their loved abodes, the total spoHation of the Church, and every species of outrage and oppression heaped on the episcopate and the clergy. The bishoprics left vacant ; the parochial clergy kept in arrears of their small pittance j the holy virgins of the cloister daily menaced with famine ; the offices of religion stripped of their splendour, and sometimes even rudely inter- rupted j the remonstrances and menaces of the Holy See despised ; and an insensate government vainly striving to precipitate a faithful people into the abyss of religious schism ; — such was the sad spectacle Spain then offered to the world. The queen-mother, who had sacrificed so many sacred rights and interests on the altar of her ambition, is compelled to flee the country, and leave her infant daughter to the tender mercies of the Revolution. Black, indeed, seemed now the prospects of Spain ; and the avenging angel se^ed about to pour out another vial on this devoted land, when his wrath was stayed by the uplifted arms of the great Pontiff, Gregory XVI. In 1842 he ordained prayers and processions throughout the whole Catholic world in behalf of Spain, and for the deliverance of her Church from a cruel bondage. And lo ! the waves of anarchy 156 Spain, immediately subside ; the calm and sunshine of order return by degrees to the tempest-beaten land. The violent chiefs of the Revolution are overturned ; the counsels of wisdom and moderation prevail; religion is once more held up to veneration ; the Church re- gains some of her more indispensable rights, and the possession of others is promised. Statesmen, too, who thirty or thirty-five years ago were infidel and revolu- tionary, have been taught wisdom in the rude school of adversity, and have found in religion not only a light for the conscience, but a beacon for the state also. If the ruined churches, the tenantless and mouldering abbeys which now disfigure Spain, tell too truly of the recent triumph of irreligion — a spectacle that produced so painful an impression on the Pro- testant traveller. Lady Louisa Tennyson;- — if the irre- ligious tone prevalent in certain circles excited her disgust; there are, on the other hand, many symptoms of religious improvement. The tenacity with which the immense majority of all classes of Spaniards have clung to the Church amid all her disasters ; the re- newed zeal of the clergy ; the alacrity with which, since the prohibition has. been removed, novices have flocked to the convents ;* the discredit into which, * " Since the late suppression of the convents," says a recent Protestant author of a very interesting work, ** the government has left the poor sisterhoods a few of their homes, in the capital and elsewhere ; and there were, a few years ago, about five hun- dred nuns or other professed religious women in Madrid, of whom forty-five belonged to the family of Teresa, But there is The Religious Revival. 157 among the higher classes and the literati, irreligion has fallen ; the zeal and piety of the queen, Isabella II. ; the excellent prelates that adorn the Church; the increased number and efficiency of the ecclesiastical seminaries ; the more devout spirit of the laity, mani- fested, among other things, in the wide spread, among the upper and middle classes, of the pious and chari- table confraternity of St Vincent of Paul ; lastly, the very distinguished writers and orators that have sprung up to defend religion and society, and some of whom have attained to the highest order of excellence; — these are surely signs that a better day has dawned upon Spain. Writing of that country, in 1843, ^^ eminent Spanish divine and philosopher, whom I have already had occasion to quote, says : ^^ In these latter times the religious sentiment has revived and expanded in the most consoling manner ; the spirit of irreligion has lost much of its force ; the antipathy against the clergy has so declined, that there is more than half a century between the year 1843 ^^d the year 1834; but still the misery of the clergy increases every day," &c.* This was before the new settlement of eccle- siastical affairs. The same statement was made by an illustrious English CathoHc dignitary, who visited an increasing number of sisters of charity at Madrid and in other places ; and it may be hoped that the charitable labours of these good persons may prove a beneficial substitute for what is now vanishing away." — Gongora and his Times. By E. Churton. London: Murray, 1862. * Melanges de Balmez, t. i., p. 269. 158 Spain. Spain in 1845. Cardinal Wiseman was informed by persons of weight and authority, that the infideUty which twenty years before had been so rife in certain quarters, had now lost its force and prestige. " There is," says his Eminence, " too much good preserved, too much evil well endured, for us not to hope ; there is too much faith and too much charity in the people, too much zeal and confessor-like patience in her clergy, too much holiness in her cloistered virgins, too much apostolic firmness in her episcopacy, for us to fear that the Spirit of God has passed away from poor Spain, or that she has been chastened with other than with the rod of children, the forerunner ever of a more paternal care.* The hopes then expressed by his * Dublin Review^ vol. xviii., p. 485. Anno 1845. The interest- ing paper in the same periodical for last July, (1863,) entitled ** Popular Devotion in Spain," proves how happily the auguries of his Eminence have been fulfilled. The writer, on the testi- mony of grave and well-informed persons, with whom he had conversed during his recent visit to Spain, affirms that such is the fervent piety of the people, that if the monasteries, like the female convents, were reopened, they would, like the latter, be refilled with the same alacrity and zeal. I may observe that the Piarists, or disciples of St Calasanzio, intrusted with the educa- tion of boys of all classes, have not been disturbed by the Revolu- tion. The mother-house of Loyola has been, with the sanction of government, reopened, but only for the supply of missionaries to the Philippine Islands. The writer notices many happy symptoms of a religious revival in Spain. Among others, the most important is the great improvement in the higher classes. *^ A generation or two ago," says he, *'the ideas of the Ency- clopaedia were a passport to society ; they are now an absolute bar to an entrance into it." The Political Revival. 159 Eminence have now, thanks to that Providence who watches over His Church, been happily reahzed. With the progress of rehgion, we see also the elements of political disorder gradually disappear ; a growing conciliation of parties ; a very considerable improve- ment in agriculture, commerce, and internal com- munications, in the naval and military forces of the country, as well as a new life and energy infused into literature and science.* The revolutionary move- ments, that from time to time within the last twenty years have arisen, have been less violent and more transient, and are like the last undulations of a deeply- agitated sea. The two peculiarities of the Spanish Revolution, and which contradistinguish it from the French, — viz., the divisions in the royal family, and the predomi- nance of the mihtary class, — are not yet quite effaced. In regard to the first point, I remarked, on the last occasion I had the honour of addressing you, the unhappy dissensions fomented by the minister Godoi between Charles IV. and his queen on the one hand, and the Prince of Asturias, afterwards Ferdinand VII., * See, for the revival of material prosperity in Spain, **L'Es- pagne en i860," par M. Vidal; and an article in the Quarterly Review^ January 1862, pp. 147-175. See, too, the **Anuario Estadistico de EspaiSa," 1858. Vide Edinbtcrgh Review, vol. cxiv., p. 199. Both the Reviews, however, overlook the moral and intellectual revival that has accompanied the return of pro- sperity in Spain. For the intellectual revival, see *' Etudes Litt^raires sur I'Espagne contemporaine." Par M. de Latour. Paris, 1864. 1 6o Spain. on the other — dissensions which so fearfully aggra- vated the calamities of Spain. The pretensions of Don Carlos to the throne were, in the last years of Ferdinand, the source of fresh discord in the royal family ; and on the death of that monarch, the do- mestic disputes, as we have seen, exploded in a long, disastrous civil war. A marriage-treaty made in time, if accompanied with wise political measures, would have certainly prevented the outbreak of this enor- mous evil. Twice has the golden opportunity been lost of restoring concord in the palace, and of binding the hearts of all Spaniards to the throne. Once be- fore the civil war, and once after its termination, in the year 1847, when a wise and healing policy was frustrated by the selfish craftiness of the then French monarch, who, in the alUance in question, substituted for the Spanish princes members of his own family. The recent attempt, which has met with no response in Spain, to disturb the reigning dynasty, will prob- ably be the last ever hazarded from the same quarter; and I should say that the final reconciliation between the two branches of the royal family, if not actually accomplished, is on the eve of its accomplishment* The other abuse — the predominance of the military class — would, if continued, be fatal to order and liberty in Spain. The elegant authoress whom I just * Since this Lecture was delivered, this reconciliation has taken place. All the Carlist leaders, too, have paid their homage to the reigning queen, Isabella II. Conchtsion. 1 6 1 now quoted, was struck, on entering into the palace of the Cortes, with the numerical preponderance of the military in the Senate or Upper House. Even within the comparatively tranquil period of the last twenty years we have seen generals place themselves at the head of mutinous regiments, set aside a ministry that displeased them, dictate to the Crown and the Cortes, and usurp the reins of power. This practice, in a far more aggravated form, is the curse of the South American republics. But this abuse will disappear in proportion as the priesthood recovers its pohtical rights; as the aristocracy, roused from an ignoble sloth by the stirring events of the last forty years, takes its due position in society; in proportion as the bulk of the people gains faith in popular institutions ; and as Royalty, emancipated from ministerial tutelage, resumes its free, independent veto. In other words, the present system of government is, in my opinion, a mere point of transition to those Cortes of the three Estates, under which Spain in former ages obtained so much freedom and glory. "^ * That this is no fanciful theory the following incident will shew. It was but a very short time ago a Madrid journal, the organ of Marshal O'Donnell — whom all true friends of Spain must regret not to see still at the helm of government — threw out a hint of a military revolt. It was only the assurance of two friends of the Marshal that, however dissatisfied with the pre- sent administration, he would never sanction an appeal to arms, that allayed the apprehensions of the queen. If Marshal L 1 62 Spain, But how can I conclude my account of this in- teresting nation, without an allusion to the ties of affinity and friendship that have ever bound it to the generous people I am now addressing 1 Both were closely connected in their origin; both, at a later period, had frequent commercial intercourse ; and, in their hour of sorrow and oppression, what a generous hospitahty did not the sons of Erin find on the shores of Iberia ! Then, as your exquisite lyric poet sings, then were intertwined " the shamrock of Erin and the olive of Spain f then, in family alHances, both have intertwined their affections, and on many a glori- ous battle-field have intertwined their laurels. Both have ever been distinguished for the same military ardour, the same love of romantic adventure, the same rich and almost Oriental glow of fancy. And both, O'Donnell were not so loyal and patriotic a man, he might upset the government, or at least throw it into the most serious embarrassments. But had Ferdinand VII., in 1 814, fulfilled his pledge of restoring the Cortes of the three Estates, the dangerous ascendancy of military chiefs, which, among so many other calamities, the Revolution has produced, would not have been possible. The present system, however, with all its shortcom- ings and defects, is a great improvement on Absolutism. The two men who, under God, have saved Spain are Marshals Narvaez and O'Donnell. The energy of the first overthrew the impious tyranny of Espartero ; the wisdom of the second has consolidated order, prosperity, and freedom in Spain. The third element of stability has been the submission of the Carlist chiefs — a submission that has rallied the whole Spanish family round the throne of Isabella II. Conclusion. 163 too — one in the languor of political decline, the other under severe religious persecution — have evinced the same elastic energy of character, the same unswerving devotion to the principles of monarchy and of well- regulated freedom, the same unconquerable love for the Catholic Church. REMARKS ON SOME PASSAGES IN BUCKLE'S ESSAY ON SPAIN, IN HIS HISTORY OF CIVILI- ZATION. A SUPPLEMENT TO THE FOREGOING LECTURES. CINCE these Lectures were first delivered, an elaborate Essay has been written on Spain. Mr Buckle in his notorious work, the '' History of Civili- zation," has attempted, with much ingenuity and very considerable research, to explain the history of the Church and the Monarchy of Spain. For a man re- jecting all supernatural revelation, and holding even a sort of materiahstic Pantheism, the attempt, as may be supposed, was utterly preposterous. An explana- tion of the doctrines and rites of Holy Mass by a Turk, or even a commentary on the Gospel of St John by a professed Atheist, could scarcely be more absurd and incongruous. On the whole, this " His- tory of CiviHzation," with all the ability and learning it displays, is not only an impious, but a portentously absurd work. To gauge the State, and especially the Church in Spain, Mr Buckle's measures are not only defective, but are of a kind essentially inadequate. Essay on Spain. 165 The very objects, too, to which those measures are to be apphed often elude his grasp. ^The Edinburgh Review has, according to the mea- sure of its light, given an able refutation of the more gross and palpable errors of this author in regard to the Spanish Church and State \ and for this service it is, I think, entitled to the thanks of the Christian world. It will now be my duty to endeavour, accord- ing to the best of my abihty, to supply the short- comings, and to correct the mistakes, into which a Protestant in the execution of such a task would naturally fall. The reviewer well confutes the statement of Mr Buckle as to the frequency of earthquakes in Spain, which that author had absurdly alleged as the chief cause of Spanish superstition. He shews, from the published Report of Professor Mallet, that from the eleventh century earthquakes have been less frequent in Spain than in any other European country, not excepting the British isles ; and that the existence of many very ancient edifices in Spain proves that the shocks have not been of a violent kind. He next shews that, contrary to the assertion of Mr Buckle as to the dryness of the soil of southern Spain, it is pre- cisely there that the most ancient and most perfect systems of irrigation in Europe are to be seen. Then Mr Buckle's theory of physical causes utterly fails, as the reviewer well observes, to account for such momentous phenomena as the Moorish invasion, 1 66 Remarks on Buckle'' s and the discovery of America. The gross misrepre- sentation of the state of poHtical freedom and of political knowledge among the Spaniards of the me- diaeval times, as committed by this paradoxical writer, is also well pointed out by his critic. So far the Edinburgh reviewer. I shall now proceed briefly to notice the statements of Mr Buckle as to the relations between faith and science, next as to the relations between the clergy and the laity, and then as to the alleged tendency of physical science to promote scepticism. After this preliminary inquiry, I will examine with more detail his assertions as to the influence of the Spanish Church on the political freedom, and the economical and intellectual condition of Spain in the various ages of her history, and more particularly in the period that has been the subject of the foregoing Lectures. I. " In Spain, as in all countries. Catholic or Pro- testant," says Mr Buckle, " the clergy, considered as a body, inculcate belief instead of inquiry, and, by a sort of conservative instinct, discourage that boldness of investigation, without which there can be no real knowledge, although there may be much erudition and mere book-learning.'^ ^' This passage embraces the whole important subject of the relations between faith and science. The assertion is utterly false in regard to the Protestant as well as the CathoHc clergy; but as it is in the * Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p, 147. Note. Essay on Spain. 167 true Church alone the relations between faith and science are clearly and accurately defined, I will con- fine myself in this matter to a defence of the Catholic Church. Faith is, indeed, a divine gift — faith is the testimony of things unseen — faith reposes on a revelation graciously vouchsafed by God ; but the motives to belief, under the grace of God, lie within the sphere of human reason. The Catholic clergy- man, any more than the Catholic layman, does not require the unbeliever or the misbeliever, as the case may be, blindly to submit to the teachings of the Church. He will tell him to invoke by earnest prayer the grace of God, but at the same time to weigh and examine the evidences of revealed re- ligion, or the proofs of the one true Church. But when once the blessed light of faith has illumined the soul of the Neophyte, then the door is for ever closed against doubt, but not against inquiry. The Neophyte must study the Scriptures, for ''they bear witness to Christ,'' and, as the holy apostle saith, he must '' be ever ready to answer for the faith that is in him f he must, according to his ability or his profession, intrench that faith with the outworks of human science. / Henceforth he will no longer grope as in the dark ; but round about his path of inquiry wall shine the steady light of divine truth. Theology comes more or less in contact with every science, and so far from cramping the human mind, calls forth its every faculty, and gives to each a wondrous energy. 1 68 Remarks on Buckle s Had they, then, but "mere book-learnmg " those giant intellects of the early Church — those mighty speculatists as well as practical teachers, from Clemens Alexandrinus and his disciple Origen, down to St Augustine, who closes the illustrious line of the ancient fathers % Had they " no boldness of investiga- tion " those subtle dialecticians and deep thinkers — a St Anselm, a St Thomas Aquinas, a St Bonaven- tura, an Alexander Hales, and other great doctors of the mediaeval times % And since the revival of letters, what a wondrous combination of learning, eloquence, acuteness, and depth of thought in a Suarez, a Pas- cal, a Bossuet, a Fenelon, a Malebranche, and a Leibnitz, Ivho, without entering into the CathoHc Church, subscribed to all her doctrines !* And in our own age, what great thinkers and writers have adorned the Church in France and in Germany, while Italy and Spain have furnished a most remark- able contingent ! The catalogue of illustrious divines and philosophers fostered by Catholicism would swell these remarks to too great a length. It is remarkable, too, that the most powerful minds of Protestantism, when imbued with piety, have ever evinced a strong leaning towards our Church. Such were Bishop Butler, Johnson, and Burke in England ; Grotius in Holland, and the physiologist Haller in Switzerland. The evidences of religion address themselves not * See his " Systema Theologicum," in which he expresses his entire concurrence with the doctrines of the Council of Trent. Essay on Spain, 169 only to the cultivated mind, but to the unlearned also. The unlettered peasant, who has the same faith with Bossuet and Pascal, cannot of course " answer for that faith which is within him " with the same precision, and the same fulness, and the same force, as those great masters of human thought and eloquence. But are we to suppose that he is without rehgious evidences of any kind % Are we to suppose that, while carrying within him a heavenly fire, he neither sees its hght, nor feels its warmth? In the order of Nature, — in the vicissitudes of the seasons — in the shower, which fertihzes his field — in the sun, which calls forth its flowers — in the diseases that afflict his cattle, — he feels the chastening or the soothing or the controlling hand of Divine providence. In the pangs of remorse, in the joy of a good conscience, in the inward illumination which the Word of God pro- duces, in the cleansing and the renovating power of the divine Sacraments, he feels the awful presence of the Deity. How strongly, too, does that Power prove itself in the hours of sickness or of misfortune ! How weak, how unstable is morality without religion, and how conducive is virtue even to worldly success, the unlettered man cannot help seeing ! Nor is he bhnd to those terrible retributions >vhich from time to time follow on wickedness, and especially on impiety. I pass over in silence those extraordinary interpo- sitions of Divine grace that, directly or indirectly, may come to his knowledge. 1 70 Remarks on Buckle s So in matters of religion, even the uncultivated mind is not wholly passive; but a merciful God wonderfully adapts the proofs of His revelation to the humblest capacity. II. The relations between the Catholic clergy and laity will require but a few observations. Mr Buckle draws a line of demarcation between them which does not exist in fact. The laity are bound to be- lieve in the same doctrines, practise the same virtues, and are regulated by the same general code of dis- cipline with the clergy. The clergy, in the teaching of letters, arts, science, and philosophy, adopt not different methods, nor inculcate principles different from the laity. This author was, perhaps, misled by the example of the Anglican Church, where, as a very eminent divine'^* has recently remarked, the majority of laymen, since the Revolution of 1688, have never held the hierarchical and sacramental doctrines embraced by a large portion of the clergy. This reminds one of the Enghsh Deists of the seventeenth century, who, knowing Christianity only through the distorted medium of the sect in which they had been bred, charged the former with neglect- ing good works, and insisting only on the necessity of faith ! Mr Buckle seems, indeed, to consider the laity as necessarily anti-theological, (to use one of his favourite phrases,) and to confound the great Chris- * Dr Manning. Essay on Spain. 171 tian philosophers of former ages with those of his own miserable school. Let us hear how he speaks of the illustrious Bacon and Descartes. ^^In Europe generally," says he, ^^the seventeenth century was distinguished by the rise of a secular literature, in which ecclesiastical theories were disregarded \ the most influential writers, such as Bacon and Descartes, being laymen, rather hostile to the Church than friendly to it, and composing their works with views purely temporal. But in Spain no change of this sort occurred. In that country the Church retained her hold over the highest as well as the lowest intellects.''"^ Whatever might be the grave faults in the moral character of our illustrious Bacon, none, save Vol- taire and his colleagues, the French encyclopaedists, ever questioned his sincere belief in Divine revelation. To expose the calumnies of his irreligious country- men against the great English Christian philosopher, the learned and pious abbe Emery composed his work, entitled " Le Christianisme de Bacon.'' As to Descartes, he expressly stated that his me- thodical doubt applied not to the truths of revelation, but to matters of human knowledge. I remember long ago reading in some number of the Edinburgh Review^ "that Descartes, the boldest innovator in philosophy, was the most submissive of Catholics." In the last years of his life this great philosopher be- came practically devout also. * Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 48, 49. 172 Remarks on Buckle s It is truly amusing to hear Mr Buckle talk of the secular literature of the seventeenth century, "in which ecclesiastical theories were disregarded/^ If we except Descartes, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, La Bruyere, and D'Aguesseau, we find that all the great French writers and orators of that age were members of the priesthood. It is surely needless to cite the great names of Bossuet, Fenelon, Huet, Male- branche, Bourdaloue, Massillon, Arnauld, Nicole, Flechier. If Pascal was a layman, he was still a religious recluse. The layman, Fontenelle, was the connecting link between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. And as regards England in the seventeenth century, what would become of her literature, if we were to strike out the works of the eminent dignitaries of her Protestant Church, — a Hooker, an Andrewes, a Hall, a Jeremy Taylor, a Pearson, a Barrow, a South? As to Spain, her literary men of that age seem fairly enough divided between the Church and the army. Had her ancient Cortes been preserved, and had her trade and in- dustry not been languishing, her laity, doubtless, would have been at once more wealthy, and more intellectual. A body of secular literati^ independent of any profession, is doubtless a sign of advanced civilization ; for it shews the diffusion of wealth, the subdivision of classes, the spread of intellectual cul- tivation and refinement. And when that body of secular literati is devoted to the Church, then great Essay on Spain. 173 blessings flow to society. It is the glory of this age that so many noble works in defence of religion, in France and in Catholic Germany especially, should have come from the pens of laymen. III. But we are told that the great moral and in- tellectual quahties of the Spaniards avail them nothing so long as they remain ignorant ^^The sole course," says Mr Buckle, "is to weaken the super- stition of the people ; and this can only be done by that march of physical science, which, familiarizing men with conceptions of order and of regularity, gradually encroaches on the old notions of perturba- tion, of prodigy, and of miracle, and by this means aqcustoms the mind to explain the vicissitudes of affairs by natural considerations, instead of, as hereto- fore, by those which are purely supernatural."'^ Strange that physical science should be so inimical to religion, which, in the vocabulary of Mr Buckle, is synonymous with superstition, since from the earliest ages it was precisely at the altar the torch of know- ledge was kindled ! The truths of physical science, which the ancient nations possessed, had been derived from primitive tradition, confirmed and amplified by observation. But even among the most enlightened nations of heathen antiquity, the progress of natural philosophy encountered the most serious obstacles, and this for important reasons. Firsts The philo- sophical schools were exclusively engaged in the in- * Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 146. 1 74 Remarks on Buckle s vestigation of the fundamental truths of moral and social life. Secondly^ The heathens, for the most part, looked on Nature with a sort of mysterious awe and dread, and, considering her more or less as a sort of portion of the Divinity, were loth to subject her to close investigation. But Christianity, by emancipat- ing man from the bondage of external nature, by con- firming old truths and revealing new doctrines, by accurately defining the boundaries between matters of faith and matters of opinion, and thus presenting to the human mind at once a starting-point, a stadium, and a goal for its inquiries, gave an immense impetus to physical as well as to metaphysical researches. Unless a solid and profound system of moral philosophy predominates, natural science will not make any considerable progress. Accordingly, after the early Fathers of the Church, and the mediaeval doctors had brought theological and metaphysical science to a high state of perfection, physics began to be cultivated by Christians. To cite but a few emi- nent names, Gerbert, afterwards Pope Sylvester II., in the tenth century ; Albert the Great, the teacher of St Thomas Aquinas, and Roger Bacon in the thirteenth century; Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa and Regiomontanus in the fifteenth ; and the Canon Co- pernicus and Tycho Brahe in the sixteenth, may be named among the early and successful votaries of physical science. After the discoveries of Coperni- cus, natural philosophy makes the most rapid and Essay on Spain. 175 gigantic strides. A noble emulation in the pursuit of science springs up between Catholics and Protestants in the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- turies. And it is pleasing to think that the great naturalists of those ages, whether belonging to the Catholic or the Protestant Churches, and whose genius far transcended not only all who had preceded, but all, or nearly all, who have followed them in their investigations, were men sincerely attached to re- ligion, and that many were even remarkable for practical piety. In confirmation of this statement, I need but cite the illustrious names of Columbus, D'Acosta, Herrera, Clavius, Galileo, Borelli, Torricelli, Cavalieri, D. Cassini, and Ricci, in Italy; Kepler and Leibnitz, in Germany ; Descartes, Gassendi, Pas- cal, Huyghens, in France ; Napier, Harvey, Barrow, Boyle, Wallis, Newton, in Great Britain, to illustrate the happy harmony of faith and science. In the eighteenth century, an age when, unfortunately, among literati as well as among scientific men, unbelief was so widely spread, we find among others the great mathematicians Jacquier and Boscovich ; the physi- cian Morgagni, Spallanzani, the physiologist Haller, Bonnet, Boerhaave, Linnaeus, Hunter, the mathema- tician Euler, and the abbe Haiiy,as distinguished for their devotion to religion, as for eminent services to science. That age cultivated natural philosophy with extraordinary ardour ; but it was pilscisely its frivolous unbelief and gross materialism that dimmed the intui- 1 76 Remarks on Buckle s tions, and fettered the flight of genius. Compared ^dth its predecessor, it could boast of few great dis- coveries; and it did little more than improve and enlarge the magnificent domain bequeathed to it by the age of Newton and of Leibnitz. In the present century, which may be characterized as one of struggle between faith and scepticism, it is delightful to see even in France, where physics had been so deeply corrupted, Ampere, the great mathematician Baron Cauchy, the eminent me- chanician M. Binel, the abbe La Treille, and M. Margerin, among other men of science that could be named, so devoted to the Church. Nor must the attachment of the illustrious Cuvier to Revela- tion be passed over in silence. In Italy we meet with the distinguished names of the Jesuit astrono- mers De Vico and Secchi, and the chemist Pianci- ani. In England, the late illustrious Sir Humphrey Davy, Sir John Herschel, Faraday, and Professor Owen present a very pleasing picture of the union of Christian philosophy with physical researches. In Germany, during the present age, some very eminent philosophers and naturalists. Catholic and Protestant, like Schubert, Steffens, Baader, Pfaff, Gorres, Ring- seis, have sought to bring about a Christian regenera- tion of physical science. The celebrated Schelling, whose philosophy at the commencement of this cen- tury gave a great Impulse to those sciences, long ago renounced the subtle Spinozism of his youth, openly Essay on Spain. 177 professed his belief in the divine inspiration of the Bible, and in the sacred dogmas of the Trinity and of the Incarnation, and approximated to the Catholic Church. It is, indeed, only by the light of revelation we can decipher the mysterious inscriptions of Nature. Sometimes a word in them, ill-interpreted, will seem to contradict the Bible ; but further observation sooner or later removes the apparent contradiction, and displays the perfect agreement between the two Books, which both came from the hand of God. So, I trust, I have satisfactorily disposed by ex- amples, as well as by reasoning, of Mr Buckle's groundless assertion, that "the march of physical science tends to weaken the religion," or, as he is pleased to term it, " the superstition of the people." After these preliminary observations, I proceed to discuss, and with more advantage, the main topics in Mr Buckle's Essay. IV. Now let us consider the influence of the Spanish Church on the intellectual condition of the country. Mr Buckle's glowing panegyric on the many vir- tues which characterize the Spaniards, has been already cited. It is evident that such a people must, as I before observed, even according to a heathen sage, have been blessed with sound principles of rehgion. Virtues so superior to corrupt Nature must have a celestial origin. A false and debasing super- M 178 Remarks on Buckle s stition never did, and never could produce such admirable fruits. The spectacle of virtues, which this author could not deny, should have made him more calmly and more closely investigate the re- ligious tenets of this nation, and reconsider the prin- ciples of his own miserable philosophy. It is evident that a people so high-minded and generous, so truthful and frank, so brave and humane, must possess corresponding intellectual qualities, and must, at a certain period of its civihzation, bring forth a noble literature. Accordingly, we are told by this writer that the Spaniards "speak a beautiful, sono- rous, and flexible language, and that their literature is not unworthy of their language^' We are further told that they have cultivated the fine arts with eminent success; "their noble and exquisite paintings, and their magnificent churches, being justly ranked among the most wonderful efforts of the human hand."* Nor was it in literature and the fine arts only the Spanish people excelled. We are further told t " that they had rich and flourishing towns, abundant manu- factures, and skilful artizans, whose choice produc- tions could secure a ready sale in every market in the world." Surely, then, nothing has been wanting to rank that country, in her flourishing periods, among the most civilized of the world. But no ; this para- doxical writer assures us that all these high moral * Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 143. + Ibid. Essay on Spain. 1 79 qualities, and splendid intellectual achievements, " have availed the Spaniards nothing, and will avail them nothing so long as they remain ignorant/'* Again he says, "they have had everything except knowledge." t One would have thought that a nation that had produced such skilful artizans, such exquisite painters, sculptors, and architects, such original poets in every branch of the art, such elegant and sagacious his- torians, such eminent divines, such sublime mystics, might have laid fair claims to knowledge. Was she, then, deficient in civil wisdom and military science % No ; for the same authority assures us that the Span- iards have had their " full share of great statesmen, great kings, great magistrates, and great legislators." Where, then, was the great intellectual deficiency] Ah ! the unpardonable crime of Spain is, that she was, and still is Christian ; that, further, she was, and still is Catholic. She believes in a supernatural revelation — she believes in a ruhng Providence — she beheves in the occasional interposition of the Deity to carry out His beneficent designs, to check the abuses of human free-will, and to counteract the agency of those apostate angels bent on man's destruction. Our materialist prescribes, for the complete intel- lectual regeneration of that country, " to weaken the superstition of the people; and this can only be * Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 146. t Ibid., p. 142. 1 8o Remarks on Buckle s done by that march of physical science, which, fa- miharizing men with conceptions of order and of regularity, gradually encroaches on the old notions of perturbation, of prodigy, and of miracle, and by this means accustoms the mind to explain the vicissitudes of affairs by natural considerations, instead of, as heretofore, by those which are purely supernatural. ''* The fruits of this philosophy the world already knows too well. It knows that it produced the chaotic confusion and the bloody terrorism of 1793. The noble civilization of Spain, moral and intel- lectual, in its origin, its growth, its maturity, its decay, and its revival, though sometimes checked by adverse circumstances, was the offspring of that Divine reli- gion, which renovated the face of the earth. The charge of unvarying ignorance brought against a people whom Mr Buckle admits to have, at certain periods of its existence, attained to a very high degree of intellectual culture, is most absurd and incon- sistent The greatest literary critics and historians have admitted that, from the middle of the fifteenth century to the close of the sixteenth, Spain and Italy were the two European countries most advanced in mental cultivation. And it is remarkable that the testimonies as to the ignorance of the Spaniards brought forward by Mr Buckle, never relate to the flourishing periods of their history and of their litera- ture. The physical sciences first vigorously flourished * Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 146. Essay on Spain, i8i in the seventeenth century, when, after the impulse communicated to them in the preceding age by- Copernicus and his friends, they made in CathoUc Italy and France, and in Protestant Germany, Den- mark, and England, such giant strides. While Tycho Brahe, Galileo, Borelli, Torricelli, Descartes, Gas- sendi, Pascal, Huyghens, Kepler, Leibnitz, Boyle, Harvey, and Newton, were astonishing the world by their stupendous discoveries in the exact and the natural sciences, Spain, unmindful of the scientific movement around her, could not be drawn away from the regions of poetry and romance. Over the feeble, sickly governments of the third and fourth Philips, literature still shed a glory; but any one- sided direction of the human mind is faulty, and will not endure. Letters, art, and science in every nation will be influenced, among other things, by that na- tion's political institutions and economical condition. The pernicious effects of the overthrow of the ancient constitution at first concealed, amid the glories of the reign of Charles V., and of the earlier portion of his son's, became more apparent in the last years of Philip II., and fearfully palpable under the last princes of the House of Austria. Under the Bourbon dynasty, thanks to their more enlightened policy, Spain was roused from her torpor. Early in the eighteenth century, an intellectual move- ment, animated with the purest spirit, was commenced by Father Feyjoo — a movement which, though after- 1 82 Remarks on Buckle s wards in some cases perverted, and though interrupted by the War of Independence, and the fury of civil conflict, has in our times been rapidly accelerated. Let us hear on this subject the honest and sensible observations of a traveller, who, imbued as he was with the principles of a false philosophy, had little sympathy with the religious feelings and convictions of the Spaniards. "Doubtless," says M. Bourgoing, "there are in Spain, and far more than is commonly thought, scientific men, who in silence cultivate the exact sciences — men of erudition, thoroughly versed in the history and the laws of their country — distin- guished literati and poets, remarkable for warmth of feeling, and a brilliant and fertile imagination. But according to the avowal of impartial Spaniards themselves, the present state of letters and of science in their country is far indeed from what it was in the age of Mendoza, Ambrosio Morales, Herrera, Saa- vedra, Quevedo, Garcilasso, Calderon, Lope de Vega, Villegas, Cervantes, Mariana, Sepulveda, and De Solis and others. The Spanish universities have no longer the same reputation as formerly. " Industry and population are not nearly what they were in the reigns of Ferdinand the Catholic, and of his two successors. The three last monarchs, Philip V., Ferdinand VI., and Charles III., have endeavoured to revive those ages of glory. But frequent wars, the disorders in the finances, and other more active causes, have not permitted more than feeble encour- Essay on Spain. 183 agements, and a progress by no means rapid. The reign of Charles III. can shew men distinguished in the various departments of literature and of science."* The author then proceeds to give a short account of the more distinguished Spanish literati and men of science, from the commencement of the eighteenth century, down to the first years of this age, when he composed his work. The names of the more eminent have been already cited in the preceding lecture. The testimony of M. Bourgoing on this subject is corroborated by that of M. de la Borde already adduced, and who visited Spain in the first years of this century. Nor is the judgment of Sir A. AHson, as we have seen, less favourable to that country. But how very different a picture does the Spain of the present day exhibit ! How far superior is her intellectual condition to that in which Townsend and Bourgoing and La Borde found her sixty and seventy years ago ! Her intellectual progress has been nearly as striking as her material improvement. In despite of foreign and domestic warfare, and of civil convul- sions, — of anarchic assemblies, and of violent monar- chical reactions, — popular education has been widely extended, the universities rendered more efficient, the periodical press become more able, and writers of the highest order of excellence have succeeded to the men of learning and merit that adorned the eighteenth century. And what is far more gratifying, while the * Tableau de I'Espagne, vol. i., pp. 313, 314. 1 84 Remarks on Buckle 's vast majority of the people have retained their faith in all its integrity, unbeUef has lost its hold on very many in the upper classes. Mr Buckle, in order to shew that enlightenment in Spain is a plant of artificial growth, that it has no root in the soil, and owes its existence solely to the fostering care of the government, passes over some remarkable phenomena in her ancient and her more recent history. For example, the writer who draws so dark a picture of the Spanish Court in the seven- teenth century, throws into the background the men of eminent genius who at that period adorned the Peninsula. But, on the other hand, as the Bourbon monarchs in the last century encouraged learning, as well as commerce and industry, he places in a more prominent position the men of letters that Spain then produced. For the same reason he wilfully, as would seem, closes his eyes against the rapid progress, intel- lectual as well as material, that within the last twenty years Spain has been making, because such a state of things clashes with his own perverse theories. But his gross misrepresentations on this point have been well exposed in the able paper in the Edinburgh Review^ which I have already had occasion to cite.* The drawbacks on Spanish literature and science * Vol. cxiv., p. 199. The Quarterly Review i^o, 222, p. 147) gives an equally favourable account of the revival of material prosperity in Spain. Essay on Spain. 185 in former ages have been candidly stated in the pre- ceding lectures. V. I pass now to the influence of the Spanish Church on the poHtical freedom of the country. Mr Buckle contends that the Spaniards, though they early possessed the forms of freedom, never pos- sessed its spirit. "What makes these failures the more worthy of observation is/^ says he, " that the Spaniards did possess, at a very early period, munici- pal privileges and franchises, similar to those which we had in England, and to which our greatness is often ascribed. But such institutions, though they preserve freedom, can never create it. Spain had the form of liberty without its spirit ; hence the form, promising as it was, soon died away. In England the spirit preceded the form, and therefore the form was dur- able. . . . The fact, however, is, that in Spain these institutions, instead of growing out of the wants of the people, originated in a stroke of policy on the part of their rulers.''^' How supremely absurd is it to oppose one to the other two nations, like the Spaniards and the English in the Middle Ages, when their religious institutions were identical, their poli- tical constitution very similar, and the degree of intel- lectual culture, though the advantage was then rather on the side of Spain, nearly the same ! The physical sciences, which, according to Mr Buckle, are the source of all intellectual freedom, and thence of poli- * Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 135. i86 Remarks 07i Buckle s tical liberty, were then in their childhood. From their contact with the Arabs, who had derived niuch of their knowledge from the Byzantines, the Spaniards were somewhat better versed in those sciences than the contemporary English. How unutterably absurd, too, to assert that a na- tion like the Spaniards should have for three or four centuries possessed, used, and enjoyed municipal and representative institutions, " the marks and forms of freedom," as Mr Buckle avows, and yet have been without the '^ spirit" of that freedom ! Nations are not machines ; they are composed of intelligent beings, endowed with free-will; and when they use institutions, value them and guard them with jealous care, they must needs possess and feel their spirit. A philosophical analysis of these institutions is a matter for the privileged few, and then only in a more advanced period of society ; but in their infancy nations still possess an instinctive love and admiration for them. How pleasant it is to turn from these ineptice to the pages of a sagacious historian like Prescott ! "Thus,'* says he, "while the inhabitants of the great towns in other parts of Europe were languishing in feudal servitude, the members of the Castilian Cor- porations, living under the protection of their own laws and magistrates in time of peace, and com- manded by their own officers in war, were in full enjoyment of all the essential eights and privileges of freemen^ . . . Again he says, " But with all this, Essay on Spain. 187 long after similar immunities in the free cities of other countries, as Italy for example, had been sacrificed to the violence of faction, or the lust of power, those of the Castilian cities not only remained unimpaired, but seemed to acquire additional stability with age. This circumstance is chiefly imputable to the constancy of the national legislature^ which, until the voice of liberty was stifled by a military despotism, was ever ready to inter- pose its protecting arm in defence of constitutional rights r Again, the historian, speaking of the times when the rights of the people were invaded by the attacks of the privileged orders, or by the usurpations of the crown, writes as follows : " But far from being inti- midated by such acts, the [popular] representatives in Cortes were ever ready to stand forward as the intrepid advocates of constitutional freedom ; and the unqualified boldness of their language on such occasions, and the consequent concessions of the sovereign, are satisfac- tory evidence of the real extent of their power, and shew how cordially they must have been supported by public opinion,^' '^ Similar is the language of Robertson in the passage cited by the Edinburgh Review. Speaking of the early part of the reign of Charles V., that historian observes : ^'But the Spaniards had already acquired ideas of their own liberty and independence; had formed bold and gene- rous sentiments concerning government^ and discovered an * Hist, of Isabella and Ferdinand, by Prescott. Introd., pp. 8, 10. London, 1854. 1 88 Remarks on Buckle s extent of political knowledge to which the English did not attain till more than a century afterwards.^^'^ The causes of the overthrow of the old free Consti- tution of Spain have been admirably traced by the illustrious Balmez, and it is to this overthrow we are mainly to ascribe the decline of the Spanish Mon- archy. " The causes of the ruin of the old free institutions of Spain are/' says he, ^' firsts their premature and immoderately extensive development ; secondly^ the formation of the Spanish nation out of a successive reunion of very heterogeneous parts, all possessing institutions extremely popular ; thirdly^ the establish- ment of the centre of power in the middle of the pro- vinces where these forms were most restricted, and where the authority of the Crown was the greatest ; fourthly^ the extreme abundance of wealth, the power and the splendour which the Spanish people saw everywhere around them, and which lulled them to sleep in the arms of prosperity ; fifthly^ the exclu- sively military position of the Spanish monarchs, whose armies were everywhere victorious, their mili- tary power and prestige being at their height pre- cisely at the critical time when the quarrel had to be decided/' t The author then proceeds with great ability to en- * Charles V., book iii., p. i68. f Balmez, European Civilization, p. 363. Eng. trans. Burns, 1861. Essay on Spain, 189 force the truth of these observations ; but my limits will not allow me to follow him in this discussion. To these causes of the subversion of the old Con- stitution it were well to add the jealousy of the two privileged orders towards the Third Estate, because of its extraordinary power. Again, the practice of frequently summoning to Cortes only the procura- dores of the cities, and passing by the clergy and the nobles, took from the latter their due share of influ- ence, and gave to the former an excessive preponder- ance. This was the more dangerous, as the deputies of the Third Estate represented exclusively the in- habitants of the cities, and not those of the country. " Whatever may have been the right of the nobility and clergy," says Prescott, ^^to attend in Cortes, their sanction was not deemed essential to the validity of legislative acts \ for their presence was not even re- quired in many assemblies of the nation which oc- curred in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The extraordinary power thus committed to the Commons was, on the whole, unfavourable to their liberties. It deprived them of the sympathy and co-operation of the great orders of the State, whose authority alone could have enabled them to withstand the encroach- ments of arbitrary power, and who, in fact, did event- ually desert them in their utmost need.'^* Balmez, after observing that the division of Spain * "During the famous war of the Comunidades, under Charles V." — Prescotfs Hist, of Queen Isabella^ p. 9. IQO Remarks on Buckle s into so many distinct kingdoms and principalities was unfavourable to a compact, united resistance of her people to the arbitrary encroachments of the Crown under Charles V., goes on to say — " True, the Cortes of 1538 boldly gave Charles a severe lecture instead of the aids he demanded. But it was already too late; the clergy and the nobility were expelled froni the Cortes, and the representation of Castile was restricted for the future to the procuradores alone — that is, it was doomed to be no more than the shadow of what it had been, a mere instrument of the royal will."* The distinguished author then goes on to remark that even in the reign of Philip II., '^we must not imagine that absolute power was so fully and completely established as to leave not a vestige of ancient liberty. . . . Whatever proba- bilities of success they (the kings of Spain) had. in the vast means at their disposal, they were very careful not to make the attempt, [of crushing all opposition to their power,] but left the inhabitants of Navarre and the subjects of the crown of Aragon in the tran- quil enjoyment of their franchises, rights, and privi- leges.'^ t Balmez then shews that it was by partial, indirect attacks those monarchs succeeded by degrees in undermining the surviving liberties in Aragon, Cata- lonia, and Valencia. Under Charles V., Philip II., Philip III., and * Europ. Civ., p. 367. t Ibid., p. 368. Essay on Spain. 19 r Philip IV., the Cortes, now Hmited to the Third Estate alone, put forth a series of most energetic remonstrances as to abuses in various departments of government. The revenue, the taxation, the different branches of administration, the state of the law, the proceedings of the courts of justice, the interests of agriculture, trade, and industry, the condition of the humbler classes, the state of the cities, the expenses of the court — in fact, every department of the public ser- vice, came under their searching inquiries. In proof of this assertion, I may refer the reader to Professor Ranke's very interesting work, entitled the "Spanish Monarchy of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Cen- turies.^'* Though the Cortes, mutilated as they were, possessed no longer legislative power, yet were their remonstrances frequently attended to. "I cannot say," says Ranke, '^ that the Cortes had now become useless. Representative institutions, when they have struck roots in a nation, evince, even in a condition of less independence, a vital energy that is attended with the most salutary effects. The Castihan Cortes had, indeed, no other surviving right but that of ad- dressing petitions, on the fulfilment whereof they could not insist. But this right they made use of in a way that it would be hard to find in any parliamen- tary deliberations of that age more good-will or more * Die Spanische Monarchic, von L. Ranke. The work has been translated into English. 192 Remarks on Buckle s manifold political foresight, than in these acts of Cortes." * So here we see, with an evidence as clear as day, the very reverse of what Mr Buckle attempts to estab- lish. So far from possessing the mere forms of free- dom without its spirit, the Spaniards, on the contrary, preserved, even amid the decay of those forms, the active spirit of liberty — the spirit of energetic self- government — the spirit of bold remonstrance with power — the spirit of keen, critical investigation, that embraced every department of government, from the palace to the town-council. Mr Buckle will not pre- tend that the Portuguese were more free-spirited than the Spaniards. Yet, where does history shew a more magnificent rising of a people to achieve its independ- ence than that of the Portuguese, when in 1641 they overthrew the Spanish domination that had lasted sixty years, and restored their rightful monarch and their rightful constitution, which Philip II., when he had usurped the throne of Portugal, put down"? Witness, again, the valour and the energy with which the Catalans about the same time defended, against Philip IV., their ancient rights and liberties \ and again, when in behalf of the same object, in the year after the treaty of Utrecht, they contended single- handed against the united forces of France and of Castile. * Die Spanische Monarchic, von L. Ranke, p. ' 230. Ger- man edition. Essay on Spain. 193 Coming now to the War of Succession, which has already been shortly described in the preceding pages, it cannot be denied that during that long and desolat- ing conflict — a conflict which was half civil, half foreign — the Castilians on one side, and the Ara- gonese, Catalans, and Valencians on the other, dis- played extraordinary courage and constancy. In this protracted struggle, the French pretender to the crown of Spain triumphed, as we have seen, over his Aus- trian rival ; and with the Prince of Anjou, under the title of Philip V., the Bourbon dynasty was seated on the throne of that country. With that dynasty a new era of financial, commercial, industrial, and, in a less degree, intellectual reform begins in Spain. To the measures adopted by the new line of mon- archs and by their ministers for the amelioration of Spain's material well-being, Mr Buckle, on the whole, renders full justice. But he maintains that all these improvements were thrown away on the Spanish people, because they were opposed to their inclina- tions and habits; and that, though the means of knowledge and of progress were lavishly supphed to them, they utterly disregarded them. I shall quote but one passage to that effect. Speaking of what he calls the Anti-theological Movement of the last cen- tury, he says : ^' The effects of that movement were seen in the Government of Spain^ but not in the people. This was because the government for many years was wielded by foreigners, or by natives imbued with a N 194 Remarks on Buckle s foreign spirit. Hence we find that during the greater part of the eighteenth century the poUticians of Spain formed a class more isolated, and, if I may so say, more living on their own intellectual resources than the politicians of any other country during the same period. That this indicated a state of disease, and that no political improvement can produce real good, un- less it is desired by the 'people before being conferred on them, will be admitted by whoever has mastered the lessons which history contains. The results actually * produced in Spain we shall presently see. But it will first be advisable that I should give some further evidence of the extent to which the influence of the Church had prostrated the national intellect, and by discouraging all inquiry, and fettering all freedom of thought, had at length reduced the country to such a plight that the faculties of men, rusted by disuse, were no longer equal to fulfil the functions required from them, so that in every department, whether of political life or of speculative philosophy, or even of mechanical i?tdustry, it was necessary that foreigners should be called in to do that work which the natives had become unable to perform'''^ Many passages of this kind abound in Mr Buckle's work. That the Spanish nation never resisted, but gladly accepted, the salutary measures passed by the Bourbon dynasty, whether for the promotion of husbandry, trade, and manufactures, or the advancement of let- * Hist of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 89, 90. Essay on Spain, 195 ters, arts, and science, must be clear to all who have read the preceding lectures. What they sorely dis- trusted, and very rightly so, was the irreligion, more or less avowed, of some statesmen at the Courts of Charles III. and of Charles IV., of a Count d'Aranda, a Don Pablo Olavide, prior to his conversion in the Reign of Terror, and of the Frenchman Cabarrus, and a few others. What they looked upon with sus- picion were the encroachments on the spiritual rights of the Church recommended by Cathohc statesmen, in other respects so estimable, as Campomanes and Florida Blanca. I have expressly said in my first lec- ture, that in the eighteenth century ^^ the elements of good and of evil were often strangely intermixed." Another cause of latent dissatisfaction on the part of many Spaniards with the Bourbon monarchs was the severe blows which Philip V. had inflicted on the franchises and liberties of Aragon, Catalonia, Valencia, and the Balearic Isles. In the seventeenth century, represented by Mr Buckle under such dark and odious traits, the Frocuradores, or the Third Estate, regularly met in Cortes, as we have seen, to present petitions and remonstrances to the Crown on public affairs. But in the whole course of the eighteenth century the voice of the Cortes was mute. It was only at the accession of a new sovereign to the throne, the three Orders were convoked to swear fealty to his person. The Biscayan provinces and Navarre alone retained their old political assemblies. 196 Remarks on Buckle s But that all classes of Spaniards approved and warmly encouraged and supported the beneficent measures of the Bourbon dynasty for promoting the material well-being of their country, is proved by the active part they took in the formation and working of the economical societies. In these the most perfect equality reigned ; and M. Bourgoing tells us that in them an artizan or a farmer might be seen sitting by the side of the Archbishop of Toledo, or of the Duke of Medina-Celi. So far from the Spanish people remain- ing inert, passive spectators of Royal Reforms, which our sapient philosopher tells us were forced upon a reluctant nation, those measures of amelioration ad- verted to were often suggested to the Government by these popular associations, " They called forth, '^ says the French Ambassador, who so closely watched their proceedings, ^^ various encouragements to industry. Enlightened by them^ the Government put in force laws that had fallen into disuse '^'^ Yet, if any associations expressed the national opinion, it was surely these societies, composed of the representatives of every class. The first was estabhshed in the industrious province of Biscay; and in the year 1775 the example was imitated t by the capital. In the year 1804, the num- * Bourgoing, Tableau de I'Espagne, vol. i., p. 335. t Speaking of this Society at Madrid, which still subsists, and has gone through the vicissitudes of near a century, M. Vidal, in i860, writes as follows : — " Elle a compris parmi ses membres les hommes les plus honorables et les plus distingues du pays ; elle a foumi au gouvernement des renseignemens utiles et prepare Essay on Spain, 197 ber of these societies throughout all Spain amounted to sixty-four. They were at first supported by volun- tary donations, till the Government, seeing their vast utility, added to their funds by pecuniary sub- sidies. In these associations, all matters relating to agriculture, trade, industry, and the mechanical arts were discussed ; valuable papers on these subjects were published by them ; and schools, industrial as well as elementary, were established out of their funds. So far from a few official men being the sole authors of the social improvements in the country, as Mr Buckle so frequently asserts, we know that the Bishops and Abbots founded in the last century not only churches and hospitals, but elementary and industrial schools, as well as colleges for a liberal education, and even professorships in the universities. Nay, more, they built bridges, and constructed roads, and advanced funds for various pubhc works. This fact is attested by all the English and French travellers of the last century. How can it be said that the people were backward in following the impulse given by the Government, when as soon as trade was opened with the American colonies, we find the Spanish merchants equipping vessels, and bringing back from the Indies rich cargoes to their mother country, and trebling and even quintupHng her exports and her imports % How de nombreuses et importantes ameliorations. Les memoires et les ouvrages qu'elle a publics sont pleins d'interet. Elle a fond^ dcs chaires d'enseignement, etc." — VEspagneen i860, p. 118. 198 Remarks on B tickle's can it be said that the industrial movement was not spontaneous, when, to give a single example, the city of Valencia, which in the year 17 18 possessed but eight hundred looms for the silk manufacture, could shew in 1769 (according to the estimate of Don Antonio Ponz) no fewer than three thousand one hundred and ninety-five looms, which in the year 1787 were increased to five thousand?* The progress of agriculture in Spain during the last century and the present proves the activity of the people, as well as the enlightened care of the Govern- ment. The different condition, too, of husbandry in different provinces proves that here, as in everything else, success depended on the co-operation of the people, as well as on the action of the Government. If the latter had been the sole agent in the national prosperity, then its influence would have produced uniform results ; but we know the contrary to have been the case ; and that, in this respect, the Spanish provinces exhibited great diversity — a diversity to be ascribed not only to the differences in soil, in climate, and other local peculiarities, but to the force of cir- cumstances, as well as to the special physical, moral, and intellectual qualities of their respective inhabitants. The theory of Mr Buckle is as absurd in itself, as the statements on which he grounds it are false. The steady growth of population is another safe index of national well-being. Now the population of * See Townsend, vol. iii., pp. 154, 155. Essay on Spain, 199 Spain, which had been reduced as low as seven milHons and a-half in 1715,* rose to twelve milHons in i797,t and now amounts, by the last census, to sixteen millions, j When we consider the ravages of the War of Independence, the agitations of the Revo- lution, and the bloody civil war that grew out of it, this increase of population within the last sixty years is most striking. Passing from the material to the intellectual order of things, the number of elementary schools founded by individuals, as well as by the Government, before and since the Revolution, and the improvements in- troduced into the universities, shew that here, as in the progress of agriculture, trade, and industry, there were two agents at work.§ Mr Buckle tells us, that in every department of intellectual and political life foreigners alone achieved anything in Spain. Were the members of the acade- mies of Spanish literature, and of Spanish history, whose labours are so highly appreciated in Europe, foreigners? Was the Benedictine Feyjoo, who in his long life so zealously combated popular prejudices and superstitions, who introduced the literature, phi- * Ticknor, Hist, of Spanish Literature, vol. iii., p. 238. t La Borde, t. iv., p. 25. % L'Espagne en i860, par Vidal, p. 18. § "At the commencement of 1859, the number of children frequenting public and private elementary schools was one million one thousand nine hundred and seventy -four. " — V Es- pagne en i860, par M. Vidal, p. 156. 200 Remarks on Buckle s losophy, and physics of the more advanced nations into Spain, and who sought to combine with a spirit of piety a taste for elegant literature and profound science, was he a foreigner? Was the Jesuit La Isla, who, by caustic wit and enlightened criticism, strove to reform the pulpit preaching of Spain, a foreigner, too % Were those eminent economists and political writers, a Campomanes and a Jovellanos, foreigners'? Were the distinguished literati of the eighteenth century, from Ferreras to the younger Moratin, foreigners'? It was in science only, and not in the Belles Lettres, we see foreigners associated with the natives of Spain. In the intellectual decline which two centuries ago had followed on her political declension, it was but natural that foreigners should be called in to take the lead in those departments where she was most deficient ; but the impulse they gave was responded to with zeal and energy by her own sons. The same phenomenon has been wit- nessed in other countries and at other times. If, as we have seen, she was ruled in the early part of the last century chiefly by foreign ministers, yet she after- wards produced (to name but the most eminent) very distinguished statesmen, like the Marquess La En- senada. Count Florida Blanca, and Jovellanos. The cause of the influence of foreigners in the govern- ment of Spain during the early part of the last cen- tury has been sufficiently explained in the foregoing Lectures. Essay on Spain. 201 The last point I shall briefly touch upon is the Inquisition-. Though Protestant^ as well as Catholic writers, like Ranke, Prescott, Balmez, and Hefele, had clearly demonstrated the gross exaggerations, the glaring misstatements, and the palpable contradic- tions into which the historian of that tribunal, Llorente, had fallen, Mr Buckle has the hardihood to call him an accurate and honest historian. I beg leave to refer the reader to Professor Hefele's " Life and Times of Cardinal Ximenes," where he will find the best account of the rise, constitution, and pro- ceedings of the Spanish Inquisition.* This writer shews on what loose, uncertain data Llorente forms his calculations of the numbers who suffered capital and minor punishments from the sen- tences of the Inquisition. He shews how he confines to a city, the executions which occurred in a province, and to a single province those of the whole kingdom. He proves how he utterly disregards the circumstances of time and place, and of personal character, and en- deavours to apply to the tribunals of the Spanish Inquisition in all the provinces, and in all the years of the sixteenth century, the same uniform standard of penal severity.t Hence the absurd blunders and * See my critique of this work in the Dublin Review, October 1852. The Rev. Canon Dalton has since given an able transla- tion of it, accompanied with an interesting preface. London : Dolman, 1859. f The judgment of Dr Hefele is ratified by that of two emi- nent Protestant historians, Prescott and Ranke. **The late 202 Remarks on Buckle s gross exaggerations into which, on this point, the Spanish historian falls. Professor Hefele shews that in the Inquisition the secretary of the Inquisition," says Prescott, *^has made an elaborate computation of the number of its victims. According to him, thirteen thousand were publicly burned by the several tribunals of Castile and Aragon, and one hundred and ninety- one thousand four hundred and thirteen suffered other punish- ments between 1481, the date of the commencement of the modern institution, and 15 18." Llorente appears to have come to these appalling results by a very plausible process of calcula- tion, and without any design to exaggerate. Nevertheless, his data are exceedingly imperfect ; and he has himself, on a re- vision, considerably reduced, in his fourth volume, the original estimates in the first. I find good grounds for reducing them still further, i. He quotes Mariana for the fact that two thou- sand suffered martyrdom at Seville in 148 1, and makes this the basis of his calculations for the other tribunals of the kingdom. Marineo, a contemporary, on the other hand, states, '* that in the course of a few years they burned nearly two thousand heretics ; " thus not only diffusing this amount over a greater period oftime^ but embracing all the tribunals then existing in the country, 2. Bernaldez states, "that five-sixths of the Jews re- sided in the kingdom of Castile." — Prescotfs Ferdinand and Isabella^ p. 579. London, 1854. The German historian, Ranke, contradicts, though in the most guarded and even flattering terms, Llorente as to his asser- tions about the constitution of the Spanish Inquisition. *' We have," he says, "upon the Inquisition a celebrated book by Llorente ; and if, after such a predecessor, I should say any- thing in contradiction of his opinion, I may find my excuse in the fact that this well-informed author wrote in the interest of the Afrancesados, of the government of king Joseph. It was in this interest that he disputed the liberties of the Biscayan provinces, incontestably well-founded as they were. In the same interest, he looked upon the Inquisition as an usurpation of spiritual authority on the civil power. Yet, if I mistake not, Essay on Spain, 203 prisoners were kindly treated, well fed, and well lodged ; that the rooms in which they were confined were spa- cious and airy ; and that it was only in rare cases, when there was danger of suicide, fetters were laid on them. He proves that here torture for eliciting the truth was applied less frequently, with more humanity, and the very facts he adduces prove that the Inquisition was a royal tribunal, armed only with spiritual weapons. **In \he, first place, the Inquisitors were royal functionaries. The king had the right to appoint and to dismiss them." Here the historian gives proofs of this statement. ''''Secondly. All profits arising from the confiscations of this tribunal escheated to the king." Here also various proofs of this assertion are brought forward. ** Thirdly, By this tribunal, the civil power was completely consolidated For it was not only on open heresy it had to decide. Already Ferdinand the Catholic, convinced of the advantages it presented, had much enlarged the sphere of its jurisdiction. Under Philip II., the Inquisition interfered in niatters of commerce and of art, of taxes and of the navy. What matter was beyond the competence of this judicature, when to sell horses or ammunition to the French was declared an heretical offence ? " — Die Spanische Monarchie, pp. 242, 244. So far Professor Ranke. Hence we see Frederick Schlegel had reason to say, ''that the Spanish Inquisition was far more a political than an ecclesiastical institute." — Philosophy of His- tory, Eng. Trans., by J. B. Robertson, Esq., p. 396. Seventh Edition. London: Bohn, 1859. A similar observation I have read in Guizot, but cannot recall to mind the work where it is to be found. The intelligent Protestant American traveller, Mr Wailis, observes, "That the Inquisition was, in fact, a political engine quite as much as a religious Institution, there is now, I believe, no doubt ; and much of the odium which it has thrown upon the Church will, one of these days, I am sure, be transferred to the State, which deserves it." — Wailis'' s Spain, p. 271. 204 Remarks on Buckle s under greater restrictions than in the secular tri- bunals of the time ; that the heads of accusation were always communicated to the culprits \ and that, though the names of their accusers were not made known to them, every possible precaution was taken to protect the accused against the machinations of hatred, envy, or revenge. Dr Hefele then remarks, that the jurisdiction of the Holy Office was not confined to heresy and un- belief, but extended to the grosser transgressions of the moral law, such as blasphemy, sacrilege, sorcery, religious frauds, polygamy, nameless crimes, and other most heinous offences. Insults and outrages against its officers, and even smuggling, came under. its cog- nizance. Hence the various punishments awarded by this tribunal, whether they affected life, freedom, or property, were not, as is so often falsely repre- sented, visited only on the crime of heresy, or of relapse into Judaism and Mohammedanism. The new Inquisition, very different from the old one, that had been established against the secret sect of the Albigenses, and which had become extinct, was, at the urgent entreaty of Ferdinand and Isabella, reluctantly founded by Pope Sixtus IV. in the year 1 48 1. Professor Hefele shews how, from the very origin of that tribunal, the Holy See sought to miti- gate its severity; how its sentences were frequently modified or quashed by the sovereign Pontiff; and how many, condemned to imprisonment, or heavy Essay on Spain, 205 fines, or even handed over to the secular arm for capital punishment, were, on an appeal to Rome, sentenced to some trifling penance, and then absolved, and restored to the communion of the Church, and to the enjoyment of civil rights. Not unfrequently did the Spanish Inquisition repudiate the interven- tion of the Holy See — resist its mandates of mercy — strive to enforce, in despite of higher authority, its own decrees ; while the Government forbade appeals to Rome, or banished for ever from its territory those who had been there absolved from all ecclesiastical censures. "Moreover," says Balmez, "it is not to be sup- posed that the appeals admitted at Rome, and by virtue of which the lot of the accused was improved, were founded on errors of form, and on injustice com- mitted in the application of the law. If the accused had recourse to Rome, it was not always to demand reparation for an injustice, but because they were sure of finding indulgence. We have a proof of this in the considerable number of Spanish refugees con- victed at Rome of having fallen into Judaism. Two hundred and fifty of them were found at one time j yet there was not one capital execution. Some pen- ances were imposed on them ; and when they were absolved, they were free to return home without the least mark of ignominy. This took place at Rome in 1498."^ * European Civilization, Eng. Trans., p. 189. 2o6 Remarks on Buckle'' s Again, the illustrious writer says, " In truth, what is there in common between Catholicity and the ex- cessive severity employed in this place or that, in the extraordinary situation in which many rival races were placed in the presence of danger, which menaced one of them, or in the interest which kings had in maintaining the tranquillity of their states, and secur- ing their conquests from all danger % I will not enter into a detailed examination of the conduct of the Spanish Inquisition with respect to Judaizing Chris- tians ; and I am far from thinking that the rigour which it employed against them was preferable to the mildness recommended and displayed by the Popes. What I wish to shew here is, that rigour was the result of extraordinary circumstances, — the effect of the national spirit, and of the severity of customs in Europe at that time. Catholicity cannot be re- proached with excesses committed for these different reasons. Still more, if we pay attention to the spirit which prevails in all the instructions of the Popes relating to the Inquisition ; if we observe their mani- fest inclination to range themselves on the side of mildness, and to suppress the marks of ignominy with which the guilty, as well as their families, were stig- matized ; we have a right to suppose that, if the Popes had not feared to displease the kings too much, and to excite divisions which might have been fatal, their measures would have been carried still further.^' * * European Civilization, Eng. Trans., pp. 189, 190. Essay on Spain. 207 I pass now to the Moriscoes. Mr Buckle, who uses such language of unmeasured vituperation towards the king, the statesmen, and the churchmen engaged in the deliberations that pre- ceded the expulsion of the Moriscoes, and towards all the modern Spanish writers who point out the provocations given by that people, and the formid- able dangers which, by their conspiracies, beset the monarchy, ought to have calmly weighed the reasons for this act, as assigned in the royal decree of Philip III., — reasons which, if they do not justify, certainly extenuate the rigorous measure. " There can be no doubt,'' says Mr Churton,* '^ that there was con- tinual danger from the Moriscoes to the internal peace of the realm ; and they were often in secret correspondence with their piratical kinsmen in Bar- bary." This author has some other pertinent obser- vations on this subject, which I regret my limits will not allow me to cite. Forty-two years before Philip III. issued the decree of expulsion against the Moriscoes, his father, Philip II. had been obliged to prohibit his subjects, under severe penalties, from abetting or encouraging in any way the hostile enterprises of Turks, Jews, and Moors out of the realm. In his edict, dated Madrid, loth December 1567, the king declares that '^he had been informed that, in despite of all his precautions, the Turks, Moors, and Corsairs had committed, and * Gongora, vol. i., p. 45. 2o8 Remarks on Buckle s were committing, on the coasts of his kingdom divers robberies, misdeeds, injuries, and seizures of Chris- tians ; and that, moreover, these evils had, it was said, been committed with ease and security, by favour of the intercourse and understanding which the Corsairs had, and continued to have, with some in- habit afits of the country, who gave them intellige7tce, guided them^ received them, hid them, a7id lent them favour aiid assistance; some of them having gone away with the Moors and Turks, and carried away with them their wives, their children, their goods. Christian cap- tives, and the things which they had been able to ravish from the Christians P The edict then proceeds to pass various penalties for such offences. Now let us hear Philip III. alleging the reasons for so severe a measure as the expulsion of this people from his dominions. After stating that numerous edicts of mercy had been granted in favour of the Moriscoes; that no means nor diligence had been spared to instruct them in the Catholic faith \ but that, in despite of all these efforts, they had been guilty of outrages against the Christian religion, and had proved themselves apos- tates from the faith, and traitors to their sovereign ; the king proceeds to state the guilty practices which, he says, forced from him the edict of expulsion. "Although," says His Majesty, "it would have been allowable to proceed against the Moriscoes with Essay on Spain. 209 the rigour which their offences deserve, nevertheless, desiring to bring them back by means of mildness and mercy, I ordained in the city and kingdom of Valencia an assembly of the patriarchs, and other prelates and wise men, in order to ascertain what could be resolved upon and settled; but having learned that at the very time they were engaged in remedying the evil, the Moriscoes of the said king- dom of Valencia and of our other domains, continued to urge forward their pernicious projects : Knowing, moreover, from correct and certain intelligence, that they had sent to treat at Constantinople with the Turks, and at Morocco with the king, Muley Fidon, in order that there might be sent into the kingdom of Spain the greatest number of forces possible to aid and assist them ; being sure that there would be found in our kingdom more than one hundred and fifty thousand men, as good Moors as those from the coasts of Barbary, all ready to assist them with their lives and fortunes, whereby they were persuaded of the facility of the enterprize : Knowing that the same treaties have been attempted with heretics and other princes our enemies : ^^ the king, from these considera- tions, and from his obligation to maintain the holy Catholic faith in his kingdoms, and to preserve their security and peace, with the counsel of learned men, decrees the expulsion of the Moriscoes. Such is the purport of the famous edict of 1609.* * See Balmez, Europ. Civ., p. 453, note. Eng. trans. O 2IO Remarks on Buckle s It is easy for those who cannot, or rather will not reahze the position and the feelings of Spanish Chris- tians at this period, haunted as they were by the dark reminiscences of the first Moorish invasion, and of the fearful spiritual and temporal calamities which it entailed — the subjugation of their country — the ruin of their state — the ruin of their property — the ruin of their families — and, worse than all, the overthrow of their altars ; — it is easy for those who will not bear in mind the horrors of eight centuries of warfare — the formidable power of the Turks at the commencement of the seventeenth century — -the comparative weak- ness of Spain at that period — a weakness aggravated by the presence of a secret domestic foe ; — -it is easy for such men to indulge in violent declamations against the intolerance of the Spanish government and of the Spanish people. "The Moors and the Moriscoes," says Balmez, " no less occupied the attention of the Inquisition at that time \ and all that has been said on the subject of the Jews may be applied to them with some modi- fications. They wxre also an abhorred race — a race which had been contended with for eight centuries. When they retained their religion, the Moors inspired hatred; when they abjured it, mistrust; the Popes interested themselves in their favour also in a peculiar manner. We ought to remark a bull issued in 1530, which is expressed in language quite evangelical ; it is there said, that the ignorance of these nations is Essay on Spain. 211 one of the principal causes of their faults and errors \ the first thing to be done to render their conversion soHd and sincere was, according to the recommenda- tion contained in this bull, to endeavour to enlighten their minds with sound doctrine."* I shall now conclude these remarks with two ex- amples of the spirit of candour, and the spirit of tolerance, that characterized Mr Buckle. " In Spain,'' says he, " the clergy are stronger than in any other country ; therefore in Spain they display this tendency more fearlessly. A good instance of this may be seen in a work lately published by the Bishop of Barcelona, in which a violent attack upon all physical and philosophical knowledge is concluded in the following terms : — t 'I do not intend,' says he, ^ to blame any CathoHcs for adhering to the new * European Civilization, p. 190. f Mr Buckle cites the original of the passage, but does not translate it. It is as follows; *'No intento recriminar ^ nin- gun Catolico de los que se asocian al nuevo systema de filosofar y de extender indefinidamente el imperio de esta ciencia, pero deseo que fijen toda su atencion en los puntos que no hare sino indicar. Frzmero, Que las escuelas de Holanda, Alemania, Inglaterra y Francia desafectas al Catolicismo, han iniciado y promovido con el mayor empefio ciertas discusiones filosoficas, presentandolas como un triunfo de la razon sobre la religion, de la filosofla sobre la teologla, del materialismo sobre el espiritual- ismo. Segtcndo, Que sus maximas no son en gran parte, mas que reproduciones 6 nuevas evoluciones de errores mil veces refutados y condenados por la sana filosofia y por la Iglesia ; bajo cujo concepto no tienen por que felicitarse en razon de su progreso, sino mas bien avergonzarse por su retroceso." — Costa y Borras, Iglesia en Espana, p. 150. Barcelona, 1857. 212 Remarks on Buckle s system of philosophy, and for extending indefinitely the empire of that science ; but I desire that they fix all their attention on the points, which I shall do nothing more than indicate. In the first place, That the schools of Holland, Germany, England, and France hostile to Catholicism have initiated and pro- moted with the greatest zeal certain philosophic in- quiries^ by presenting them as a triumph of reason over religion, of philosophy over theology, of mate- rialism over spiritualism. Secondly^ That the maxims of this philosophy are nothing more than reproduc- tions, or new evolutions of errors, a thousand times refuted and condemned by sound philosophy and by the Church. Its low conceptions should make its followers not congratulate themselves on their pro- gress, but rather be ashamed of their retrogressions.' " Had Mr Buckle translated the passage, which he gives in the original, all his readers would have per- ceived that it told against himself, and that his charge against the Bishop of Barcelona was utterly ground- less. So far '^from making a violent attack upon all physical and philosophical knowledge," the prelate warns Catholics against only certain philosophical opinions set on foot by schools hostile to the Catholic Church; opinions which, he says, "have been a thousand times refuted by sound philosophy^ as well as condemned by the Church." With quite as much justice Mr Buckle might have represented the Edin- burgh Review^ because it repudiates his monstrous Essay on Spain. 213 philosophy, as an enemy to all physical and philo- sophical knowledge. Another instance of signal bad faith in this writer is his description of the present state of Spain. One so conversant in Spanish literature must have known full well the extraordinary progress which, within the last twenty years, since the termination of the civil war, Spain has made, not only in material prosperity, but in mental cultivation also. The extraordinary growth of material prosperity has been proved by the already cited work of M. Vidal, as well as by the essay in the Quarterly Review^ to which reference has before been made. On the present state of intel- lectual culture in Spain, an interesting little volume, published this year at Paris, entitled, "Etudes Litte- raires sur TEspagne Contemporaine," par M. Antoine de Latour, throws considerable light. The intellec- tual movement, inaugurated by Balmez and Donoso Cortes, is there perpetuated, and is mostly informed with a true Catholic spirit. The most brilliant orna- ments of the Spanish literature of the day are the learned and elegant historians. La Fuente and Ca- vanilles ; the able literary critic and historian, Ama- dor de Rios ; and the romancers, Antonio de Trueba and Ayala, besides the renowned Fernan Caballero. And now as to the spirit of tolerance exhibited by Mr Buckle, the following passage, containing, besides, a gross misstatement of facts, may serve as a speci- men. Speaking of the Jesuits, he says, " That once 214 Remarks on Buckle s useful but now troublesome body was during the eighteenth century what it is in the nineteenth — the obstinate enemy of progress and of tolera- tion. The rulers of Spain, observing that it opposed all their schemes of reform, resolved to get rid of an obstacle which met them at every turn. In France the Jesuits had just been treated as a public nuisance, and suppressed at a blow, and without difficulty. The advisers of Charles III. saw no reason why so salu- tary a measure should not be imitated in their coun- try, and in 1767 they, following the example which had been set by the French in 1764, abolished this great mainstay of the Church. ^^ Then after describ- ing the unanimous demand of the people of Madrid, loudly expressed before the king, Charles III. him- self, for the restoration of this religious order, the author indignantly exclaims, ^' What can you do with a nation like this % " Then he goes on to upbraid the Spanish nation with continuing to bestow marks of increasing affection on ^' that cruel and persecuting Churchy stained as it is with every sort of crimed * I question whether a more audacious and blasphemous outrage on the Catholic Church was ever put forth by the Jacobin clubs of 1793, than is contained in the words underlined. Firsts It is utterly untrue that the Jesuits were opposed to political reforms in Spain. The Jesuit confessor of Ferdinand VI., Padre Ravago, was the * Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 139, 140. Essay on Spain, 215 friend of the Marquis la Ensenada, the great re- forming minister."^ Secondly, the Jesuits, like all other good Catholics, naturally looked with great distrust on an infidel minister like D'Aranda; nor could some of the opinions of Campomanes himself, tainted as he was with regalism, find favour in their eyes. Mr Buckle resembled his masters, the French En- cyclopaedists, in his honeyed professions of toleration, and in his practical intolerance. If the Jesuits, be- cause they oppose certain favourite projects, are to be abated as a nuisance, why should the episcopate and the inferior clergy, that approved and defended them in France and in Spain, meet with a better fate % Nay, why should the whole Catholic Church, which this author stigmatizes with even greater severity than he does the Society of Jesus, be entitled to tolera- tion? The opprobrious language heaped on that venerable parent of all piety, and all virtue, and all happiness, and all civiHzation — the revered object of the enthusiastic love of so many millions in all the ages of redemption — this opprobrious language, " that she is stained with every sort of crime," is a call upon all governments and peoples to put her down. The English infidels, if they had the power, would necessarily, and by virtue of their prin- ciples, display the same fierce intolerance, the same * See Coxe's Bourbon Kings of Spain^ vol. iii. On the fall ot that minister, he interceded in his favour. — Ibid,^ p. i68. 2 1 6 Remarks on Buckle s fanatical tyranny that was exercised seventy years ago by their French cousins, the sons of the Ency- clopaedists. Mr Buckle's work is only one among many signs of the extraordinary boldness and energy which this party has recently evinced. And what lover of his country can contemplate those signs without dismay and trembling ! What lover of his country can con- template with indifference the spiritual desolation, and the social havoc and confusion that must attend the triumph of irreligion ! * We should, indeed, despair of our own dear England if, while such dark, tem- pestuous clouds are overhanging a part of her horizon, there were not bright gleams of sunshine in an oppo- site quarter! The storm of persecution would, in- deed, first burst on the Catholic Church; but those respectable Protestant communions, the Church of England and the Kirk of Scotland, that have pre- served so many fragments of Gospel truth and Gospel * It may be objected, that the German Rationalism has not been attended with the same social calamities as the French In- fidelity of the eighteenth century. To this I reply, that in cer- tain times, and in certain places, evil may be of slower growth than in others. Secondly, That Protestant Germany is united to a living body — a body which, for the last forty years, has been growing in moral strength and in intellectual power, Thirdfyy That in Germany, in the year 1848, the bloody and anarchic scenes of 1792 were begun, but that the fatal prelude was checked only by the noble attitude of the Catholic Bavarians, Tyrolese, and Croats, aided by the loyal armies of Austria and Prussia. Essay on Spain. 217 morality, would, in their turn, be overwhelmed by the sweeping of the whirlwind. Even those who, alas ! are indifferent to the reali- ties of an unseen world, ought to respect and cherish a Divine Institution, like Christianity, that so strenu- ously inculcates virtue, checks the commission of crime, upholds justice, inspires brotherly love, main- tains social order, guarantees the rights of property, protects the operations of trade, and encourages every useful and liberal pursuit. It is sad to see such a culpable abuse of great talents and acquirements as the work of Mr Buckle exhibits ! May he, before he was summoned to the bar of Divine justice, have repented of the errors of his course ! LECTURE I. LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAU- BRIAND. Ladies and Gentlemen, T PURPOSE this evening to draw your attention to the Hfe and principal writings of an eminent French writer and statesman, as well as to the coun- try and the times in which he played so important a part Though I had not the honour of M. de Cha- teaubriand^s personal acquaintance, yet was I intimate with some of his earlier and later friends, who have furnished me with various particulars respecting him. It is therefore with a peculiar interest I approach the subject I have undertaken to speak of My chief authorities, however, for the facts brought forward in these Lectures are as follows : — 1. The Autobiography of Chateaubriand himself. 6 vols. 2. The Panegyric pronounced on him by his Successor in the Academy, the Duke de Noailles. 3. The Notice of him in the *'Nouvelle Biographic univer- selle." Paris, 1856. 4. The Biographical Sketch in the " Dictionnaire de Conver- sation," par M. de Carne. Paris, 1834. 5. Articles in Le Correspondant for 1861-2 upon his Life. His Early Years, 219 6. The Review of his Memoirs in the Revue des deux Mondes. 7. M. Villemain's recent work, entitled, *' Life and Writings of M. de Chateaubriand." 2 vols. Paris, 1863. Frangois-Rene, Viscount de Chateaubriand, was born at St Malo, in Brittany, in the year 1768. He was one of ten children, and was of a noble and ancient family, dating from the tenth century. Diana de Chateaubriand is said to have played too con- spicuous a part at the court of Francis I. In the very interesting picture which, in his posthumous memoirs, Chateaubriand has traced of his family and of his early years, he describes his father, the Count de Chateaubriand, as a nobleman of high hon- our and integrity, but far too stern in the treatment of his children. His mother, on the other hand, was a woman of the most affectionate heart, and of the gentlest manners. His sisters, and especially Lucile, whose mind and character were in singular unison with his own, joined the mother in consoling him under the harsh treatment he sometimes experienced from his father. I learned from a Breton lady a fact, not stated by Chateaubriand in his autobiography — namely, that up to his fifteenth year he used to be called by his mother, la bete de la famille^ the block- head of the family. This fact must not surprise us ; for vigorous, and especially versatile minds, are gene- rally of slow development — one faculty stifling, as it were, the other in its growth. Where, as in the case of the great Pascal, the contrary is the case, there 2 20 M. de Chateaubriand. either genius does not reach its full maturity, or life is abruptly terminated. The young Chateaubriand pursued his studies first at the college of D61, and then at that of Rennes ; and, at the instigation of his mother, turned his thoughts for some time towards the ecclesiastical state. This project, which was more suggested than spontaneous, he soon abandoned, and now passed two years at the patrimonial castle of Combourg, near Dinan. This old feudal castle I visited in my youth ; but the Revolution had then long shorn it of the beautiful woods where Chateaubriand used to wander, where he felt the first promptings of the Muse, where he had the anticipations of his long, chequered career, where he traced the first rude outlines of those crea- tions that were to shed immortality on his name. At this period of his life he gave full rein to his imagination, abandoned study, and led an idle, dreamy existence, building, as we say, castles in the air, or as the French term them, chateaux d'Espagne. This state of feeling, which in Chateaubriand was soon carried to the most morbid and dangerous excess, is well worthy of analysis ; for its roots are good, and denote and prove our immortal destinies. Fallen as we are from our once high estate, we feel the lowli- ness of our present condition, — we sigh for an immor- tal home, — and even in this life we seek for the ideal in the affections, in poetry, in art, in philosophy, in government, in all the relations of life. This dreamy His Early Years, 221 disposition is most potent in the men of the poeti- cal temperament. Alas ! when, at the age which our author had now arrived at, they have to choose a profession for themselves, how arduous is the task ! What a cruel conflict then ensues between the outer world and their inner feelings — between the claims of family and the duties of life on the one hand, and the high aspirings of imagination on the other ! This is the crisis which those sons of fancy have to go through; but which religion alone can enable them happily and successfully to go through ! Imagination is, indeed, among the most splendid faculties — it is the parent of inspiration, not only in poetry and in art, but to a great extent in philosophy and science also. But as much at least, perhaps more than any other faculty, it requires the most vigilant control. This control, however, it was precisely which in France, at the period I am speaking of, was so much wanting. The false philosophy of the eighteenth century had, even among believing Catholics, un- hinged the feelings, and relaxed the moral ties. It created a moral miasma, which even the most health- ful could not entirely escape from. Then the perverted eloquence of Rousseau threw an enchantment over vice and error, corrupted the feelings, led the imagination astray, inspired a disgust for the social duties, a morbid misanthropy, a con- tempt for the institutions and the arts of civihzed life, and an absurd admiration for the savage state. 222 M, de Chateaubriand. Those crude, unsound, diseased fantasies I have spoken of, and to which the exact fulfilment of re- ligious duties, accompanied with vigorous mental and bodily exercise, forms the best corrective, found, unfortunately, a dangerous nurture in the reigning philosophy. From an act of despair he records of himself, I should infer that the spirit of this philosophy, if not its positive teaching, was at this early period working in the mind of the young Chateaubriand. It is certain that, religiously as he had been brought up, he fell some time after into unbelief; and his power- ful mind remained for several years trammelled in the meshes of irreligious sophistry, till misfortune, under the grace of God, served to extricate it. So, then, our young enthusiast, feeding his fancy on a thousand chimeras, loved to wander alone in the woods and on the moors of Brittany, telling his sorrows to the moaning winds, or to the sympathetic waves of the angry ocean. With the fair creatures of his teeming fancy, he would at times mount on the wings of the wind, and visit the temples of Athens, the sacred walls of Jerusalem, the pyramids of Memphis, the ruins of Carthage, and the voluptuous shores of Baiae, or speeding his flight over the vast Atlantic, would wander in the solitudes of the New World. What a singular forecast did his fancy take of all the wanderings of his future life ! He has himself described how incensed was his father at the sort of strange, unreal existence he was His Early Years. 223 leading. He would walk a long distance to escape that father's scowling glance ; and when he joined the family repasts, he would sit abashed and taciturn in the presence of his parents. On one occasion, while on a visit with some relatives at St Malo, he received a sudden summons to return to the Chateau of Com- bourg. He arrived at supper-time. His father was unusually stern; his mother was sad and dejected; Lucile and his other sisters frequently wept. Surely some disaster was impending. The next morning at ten o'clock the servant brought a message, that he should meet his father in his private apartment. On his entering into the room his father, the count, thus addressed him : ^' Monsieur le Chevaher, it is high time that you should give up your follies. Your brother has obtained for you an ensigncy in the regi- ment of Navarre. You are now to start for Rennes, and thence for Cambrai. Here are a hundred louis d'ors ; you must husband them. I am old and infirm, and have not long to live. Conduct yourself as an upright man, and never dishonour the name you bear.'' His father then embraced him, and Chateaubriand says, he felt that stern and furrowed visage press against his own with tenderness. This was the last paternal embrace he was ever destined to receive.* The Count de Chateaubriand immediately con- ducted his son to a carriage which was waiting at the door. His mother and sisters stood weeping on the * M^m. d'Outre-tombe, p. 128. 2 24 M. de Chateaubriand. outside steps. The youth could only wave them a farewell with his hand. So was the young Chateau- briand now fairly launched on the stormy ocean of the world. Alas ! poor dreamy youthful enthusiast ! what sad realities he is soon to wake to ! That father, whose affection, hid under a rugged exterior, he had so keenly felt in that last adieu, was soon to be carried to the tomb. That tomb itself was ere long to be rifled by the hand of revolutionary violence, and its ashes scattered to the winds. The paternal domain was to be dilapidated; his mothet and sisters were to be doomed to penury and imprisonment; his brothers and nearest kinsmen to perish under the guillotine, the victims of honour and fidelity ; royalty itself, in the person of the virtuous monarch to whom he had just engaged his sword, to be immolated on the scaffold; the monarchy of fourteen hundred years to be levelled with the dust — the churches to be plundered and profaned — their ministers imprisoned and murdered ; and (a thing unknown in the whole history of mankind !) religion herself to be outlawed and proscribed, and in the person of the most de- graded of the sex, impiety itself exalted on the altars of the Most High! And he, the moody, fantastic youth, now burning with the love of glory, was to become a wanderer on land and sea, was to cull in the solitudes of America the seeds of immortal fame, was to shed over her wild savannas a halo of poetic Presentation at Court, 225 splendour, and was to people her forests with the bright creations of his fancy. Then, listening to the voice of honour and of duty, he flies back to the de- fence of religion, monarchy, and freedom, fights the battles of his king, and then, wounded and destitute, finds a refuge on the English soil. There he drags on eight long years in exile, and want, and sorrow, with nothing but the consciousness of undying genius to sustain him, and the healing balm of returning faith to soothe him. Such was the severe ordeal through which Chateau- briand had to pass before he reached the heights of fame; such the dread probation Divine Providence reserved for him, who was to inaugurate in France the great Catholic re-action of the nineteenth century. But I must not anticipate the course of events. The young Chateaubriand, on joining his regiment, is fixed at Paris, where he resides during the last years of the reign of Louis XVI. Soon after his arrival at the capital, he was presented to the king, and saw the sunset glory of that Court of Versailles which was still the most splendid in the world. Like all admitted to the levee, he had to wait for the passage of the queen from the royal chapel to the hall of audience ; and then, as he paid his respects to her majesty, she graciously smiled, and passed on in all that light of grace and beauty, which had twelve years before enchanted our great Burke. He was then invited to the royal hunt; but though he had been cautioned 226 M, de Chateaubriand. not to be in at the death before the king, (as that was displeasing to his majesty,) he unfortunately was unable to manage his restive horse, and was thus brought in at the death before the king had come up. This was an image of Chateaubriand's political career ; for though a great defender of royalty, he never, either in the good or the bad sense of the term, could play the part of a courtier. ^^ Your horse has held out well," exclaimed the king on coming up. These were the first and the last words Chateaubriand ever heard from this unfortunate monarch, who six years after- wards met with his tragic fate. No young nobleman had ever more brilliant pros- pects of military advancement, than the subject ot this memoir at the period I am speaking of His married sister, the Countess de Farcy, moved in the highest circles, and his eldest brother had married the granddaughter of the late distinguished minister, Malesherbes. But, instead of pushing his fortune at court, Chateaubriand, to the great disappointment of his family, never appeared again at the levees of Versailles. His manners were at this time shy and awkward ; and so, after repeated remonstrances, his brother declined to introduce him into the high society of the capital. In the meantime he was diligently prosecuting the study of Greek literature, and culti- vating the acquaintance of literary men, and among others, that of the eminent critics, M. de la Harpe and M. de Fontanes. Our young Heutenant was Breaking out of the Revolution. 227 seeking not to advance his promotion in the army, but to obtain the patronage of men of letters for the productions of his infant Muse. Through such patron- age he got inserted in the Almanack des Muses, in the year 1790, some Hnes of pastoral poetry. This first literary effusion appeared with his initials. Meanwhile the great Revolution, which had burst out in the year preceding, was pursuing its wild, destructive career. The first scenes of this fearful drama Chateaubriand has described in his posthum- ous memoirs with his usual graphic skill. Having already, on a former occasion, treated of the moral and political causes of that social catastrophe, I shall not again tread over that ground ; but when I come to describe the Restoration and its religious and political parties, I shall recur to the subject, in as far at least as it may serve to elucidate that period. As one anxious for the reform of abuses, as a Breton indisposed towards the court for its encroach- ments on the constitutional rights of his province, and as a young believer in the delusive promises of the sophists of the eighteenth century, Chateaubriand entertained sanguine hopes as to the favourable issue of this Revolution. But the excesses and crimes which stained it at the outset soon disgusted his generous soul. The soldiers of his regiment having like the rest revolted, he was soon disengaged from the public service, and thought to employ his leisure in travelling. He is possessed with the idea of ex- 2 28 M. de Chateaubriand. amining the polar seas and coasts of America, and of discovering the north-west passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean — a discovery which, after so many- unsuccessful and even disastrous attempts, it was reserved for a great Irish navigator of our own day to accomplish. Chateaubriand submitted his project to the mature judgment of M. de Malesherbes. This eminent magistrate and scholar approved of his undertaking, and declared that, were he younger, he would join in it ; for, disgusted as he was with the state of public affairs in France, he would, if his years permitted it, willingly leave the country. He added, that he would recommend the scheme to the support of the govern- ment. Hereupon the subject of this memoir bids adieu to his friends and relatives in Paris, proceeds to Brittany, takes a last look of the old family chateau of Combourg, where his father was no more ; and, after an affectionate farewell to his venerable mother and to his sisters, embarks on an ocean less tempestuous than the land he was leaving, and proceeds to the wild solitudes of the New World, whose inhabitants he found less savage than the impious and bloody men that were so soon to plague and to pollute his own country. On his arrival at Baltimore, Chateaubriand pro- ceeds to Philadelphia, and thence to Washington, where he pays his first visit to General Washington, to whom the Marquis de Rouairie, who had served in the American war, had given him letters of introduc- Travels in America, 229 tion. The illustrious general, of whom he has given an interesting account in his memoirs, received him most courteously; and when Chateaubriand explained the object of his visit to America, he pointed out the vast difficulties of the undertaking, and strove to dis- suade him from its prosecution. Hereupon Chateau- briand replied, " It is surely less difficult to discover the north-west passage, than to found a new state." ^^Well said, well said, my young man,'^ replied Washington, tapping him on the shoulder. Chateaubriand now embarked for New York, and thence proceeded to Albany, whence he pursued his route to the Falls of Niagara. The spectacle of the United States, then in the first spring-tide of their prosperity, — their agriculture, com- merce, industry, the manners and customs reigning in the different cities — the political institutions, and re- ligious doctrines and practices of their inhabitants, did not escape the notice of our young traveller. And we shall see how useful to the future pubhcist were the observations and the experiences he gathered from these early travels. But the young poet was panting to behold the virgin forests, and the sea-like rivers, and the tremendous cataracts of the New World. The youthful disciple of Rousseau was more anxious to contemplate the manners of savage Hfe than the arts and institutions of civilized nations. With a Dutch guide, whom he procured at Albany, he threaded his way through the American forests 230 M. de Chateaubriand. up to the lakes of Canada. There his boyish dreams seem reaHsed. There, far from the abodes of men, he can contemplate that wild, primeval Nature, as she came fresh from the hands of God. There, in the mysterious harmonies of those solitudes, the Deity Himself seems to speak to him, and awaken the religious feelings of earlier days. Sometimes he thought to hear that voice in the gentle whisper of the topmost leaves of the trees, sometimes in the organ-peal that resounded from the depths of the forest. In those wildernesses there often reigns an unbroken, death-like stillness ; and then suddenly, when the traveller stirs a step, a thousand voices seem to rush forth from the bosom of the solitude, as if the genii of the woods were forbidding his advance. And what an endless variety of tints to charm the eye ! How strange and fantastic are the forms of those primeval trees 1 Most commonly they rise up with a long, lank, tapering stem, and silvery bark, putting forth boughs only at their top. Sometimes they spread out like a fan; sometimes they are rolled up like a ball; at times they mount up in a conical shape ; at other times they assume a pyramidal form. Then what shall I say of the Falls of Niagara? Does nature present a more sublime spectacle % The River Niagara issues from Lake Erie, and empties itself into the Lake Ontario. The river, when it leaves the former lake, descends in a rapid slope for eighteen miles j and, as it approaches the falls, darts Travels in A merica. 231 with the silent swiftness of an arrow. Dividing itself into two branches, it then, in a perpendicular of one hundred and forty-four feet, and in the frighful breadth of half a mile, rolls down its mountain-volume of waters into the abyss, overclouds the heavens with its giant spray, and shakes the rocks around with its tremendous crash; while the fearful reverberation is carried from solitude to solitude, from forest to forest, to the distance of sixty English miles. This glorious spectacle, so well calculated to exalt the imagination of the poet, was never effaced from the mind of him whose life I am tracing. Now with his guide he threads the thick-tangled forest ; now he sails in his canoe over the Canadian lakes. There in their transparent mirror he beholds, to a depth of thirty or forty feet, the granite masses of submarine mountains ; or admires the beautiful shores, sometimes curtained round with a thick forest, sometimes through the thinly-scattered trees, present- ing lovely vistas to the eye. At last he hails in the remote distance the Hyperborean Mountains, that look on the Polar Sea. Then, apparently entranced by American scenery, the young poet forgets the north-west passage, turns his course southwards, and descends the Mississippi. On the western side of that mighty river he beholds those wonderful prairies, vast, interminable as the ocean, and where the blade of grass serves, like a compass, to direct the traveller's steps. Naught in 232 M. de Chateaubriand, that sea of verdure can arrest the eye, save the troops of wild buffaloes. On the opposite or eastern bank of the Mississippi he beholds, on the other hand, all the rich variety of vegetable and animal life. If on one side a dead silence and monotony reign, all on the other is full of stir and variety. He now reaches the Floridas, which he has made the scene of his early, beautiful romances, "Atala," and "Rene," and the "Natchez." So he has come to the land of the firefly, and the humming-bird, and is on the verge of the tropics. Here I can sympathize more warmly with Chateau- briand ; for if it were not given to me to behold the majestic forests, and mountains, and cataracts of the American mainland, I yet passed, though born in England, my early childhood not far from the Flo- ridas, in one of those lovely islands* which, like a necklace of pearls, the hand of nature has set on the bosom of the Mexican Gulf And though I have never revisited the scenes of infancy, yet through the long vista of years they rise up before the eye of memory. Well I remember the brilliant plumage of the birds — the luxuriant foliage of the woods— the gaudy-coloured flowers — the trembling leaves of the tapering bamboo — the cocoa-nut-tree, that loves the sea- shore — the tall, wide-branching cashew-nut-tree, that overshadowed my paternal roof— the orange-leaved myrtle, that blossomed right before the veranda — the * The Island of Grenada. Impressions of America, 233 fireflies, that, like falling stars, flashed through the dark — and the transparent brilliancy of those magical nights. Chateaubriand had now been wandering for a year through the forests and the savannas of America, when it chanced that one evening, while in the Floridas, he came to the farm of an Anglo-American. He demanded hospitality, and it was accorded to him. While the hostess was preparing his supper, he took up an EngHsh newspaper, and there read in large letters, ^'Flight of the King of France." There he saw the full account of the flight of the unfortu- nate Louis XVI., and of his arrest at Varennes. The journal related, also, the progress of the emigration, and the gathering at Coblenz of almost all the French oflicers under the command of the Prince de Conde. Chateaubriand, deeply moved by these sad ac- counts, felt that honour called him to the standard of his king ; and that was a call which his generous soul could not but respond to. He resolved imme- diately to return to Europe, and join his brethren in arms. This was in 1792. The year he had passed in America was indeed memorable, for it exercised the greatest influence on his future life ; and this is the reason why I have so long dwelt on it. America was, indeed, the seed-plat of his genius. In the solitudes of the New World his poetic imagination was expanded and invigorated. There, too, those religious feelings gradually revived which, seconded by the dying prayer of a mother, 2 34 ^* ^^ Chateaubriand. and by an affectionate letter from a sister, were des- tined to bring him back to the faith of his fathers. There, also, he laid the scene of his early, beautiful romances, and composed portions of them. Nor was it only his imagination that the spectacle of a grand, primeval nature enkindled; but the close attention he bestowed on vegetable and animal or- ganization enlarged his understanding also. He has justly called himself the last historian of the American Indians ; and, indeed, as a distinguished colleague of my own once said in this place, that Sir Walter Scott had appeared at the right time to depict the old Celtic manners and customs of the Scotch High- landers, which, through emigration and other causes, were fast fading away; the same remark will hold good of Chateaubriand in respect to the red men of the New World. Seventy years ago their population was considerably greater than at present, and their manners, customs, laws, and religious and political institutions were in a state of comparative vigour. The happy influence of the old French Catholic missions could then, also, be better appreciated than at the present day. Indian life has, indeed, receded before the advances of European refinement; and where, in 1791, our author had to thread his way through the trackless forest, flourishing plantations, hamlets, -towns, and even cities, have since sprung up. But under the influence of those missions the savage, who has been so often corrupted and degraded by his His Return and His Marriage, 235 contact with the colonists^ would have been made a virtuous, happy, and civihzed being. The journal written at this time by Chateaubriand, replete as it is with observations on a variety of topics, displays the amazing vigour and versatility of his youthful mind. He now proceeded to Baltimore, and there em- barked. After a stormy passage of eighteen days, in which he was nearly shipwrecked between the Isles of Guernsey and Origny, he landed safely at Havre. Shortly after his return to France, Chateaubriand's mother, foreseeing the extreme probability of her son's emigrating, was anxious that he should marry. She introduced him, therefore, to a great friend of his sister Lucile, a lady of ancient family, and of very good fortune. She possessed, moreover, personal attractions, and a cultivated mind, and was a woman of remarkable piety and virtue. It is to be lamented, however, that, with all her excellences, her character was not congenial to her husband's, and that she never possessed over him the influence which her talents and virtues justly entitled her to. Through all the vicissitudes of Chateaubriand's chequered ex- istence she proved a most devoted wife. He appre- ciated her virtues, and in his memoirs has paid, as we shall see, a most touching tribute to her memory. The marriage was celebrated at St Malo's in 1792, and shortly afterwards Chateaubriand and his consort repaired to Paris. It was pecuharly unfortunate that, 236 M. de Chateaubriand. just on the eve of their emigration from France, it was found that the first troubles of the Revolution had very considerably reduced the lady's fortune. In the month of July 1792, Chateaubriand, in com- pany with his brother, leaves France for the royal camp at Coblenz. There he enlists in one of the Breton companies. He carries in his knapsack, to- gether with some other provisions and ammunition, the first pages of his romance of ^' Atala." His corps advances with the Austrian army : he takes part in the siege of Thionville, and is there severely wounded. The French Royalists are obliged to retreat with the Austrian army ; and Chateaubriand, with some pe- cuniary aid from his relatives, contrives to drag his way on to Ostend. Thence he embarks for the Isle of Jersey, where he lands sick and destitute. His uncle, De Bedee and family, who had been driven thither by the Revolution, bestow on him during his illness the most affectionate care. On his feeling himself somewhat better and stronger, he embarks for London, where for eight long years he ekes out a most precarious subsistence, often struggling with sickness, want, and privations of every kind. It was by giving lessons in the French language, and by translating for a bookseller, he was enabled to pro- cure a livelihood. But such at times was his desti- tution, that he was unable on some occasions to pur- chase even writing materials for the purpose of com- position, and has even gone days together without a His Sufferings in the Emigration, 237 meal. Yet the goodness of Providence tempered his afflictions, and at the seasonable moment sent him succour from quarters the most unexpected. Counsel and consolation, too, did he receive from his com- panions in misfortune — his exiled fellow-countrymen. In the year 1797, he published in London his first work, entitled, " Essai historique sur les Revolutions anciennes et modernes dans leurs Rapports avec la Revolution Frangaise.^' This book was written under the inspiration of those irreligious sentiments which he had imbibed in Paris, and had not yet shaken off. This essay I have never read ; but able and Catholic critics have declared that, amid many false and dan- gerous views, and incoherent ideas, the author evinced an independence of spirit with regard to the infidel writers of the last century — a striving after impar- tiality, and a vigour of thought and diction which, when his spirit should take a better direction, augured well for his success. This book was in direct oppo- sition to all the principles, religious and political, of the French emigration. About this time our author received a letter from his sister Julie, the Countess de Farcy, informing him of the death of his venerable mother, teUing him of her deep sorrow at his abandonment of his reli- gion, and conveying her dying request that he should return to the holy Catholic faith, in which he had been brought up. '^ On reading," he says, " the dying ad- monitions of my venerated parent, I wept, and be- 238 M. de Chateaubriand. came again a Christian." Holy, precious tears, in- deed, the fountains of so many graces to himself and to countless souls ! With the zeal of a neophyte, he resolved to defend the faith which, while it brought balm to his wounded heart, gave light to his understanding ; and he con- ceived the plan of his great work, the "Genius of Christianity." Yet it was not only from penury, and sickness, and the absence from home, from friends, and from kins- folk, the poor exile had to suffer ; but family afflictions also of the most grievous kind came to overpower him. The venerable magistrate Malesherbes, at the age of seventy-three, — his daughter, Madame de Rosambo, — his granddaughter and her husband, Chateaubriand's eldest brother, were all immolated together on the same day, at the same hour, and on the same scaffold. This dreadful intelligence was conveyed to Chateau- briand by the public newspapers. " I learned later," he tells us in his memoirs, " the fate experienced by other members of my family. My aged and incom- parable mother was put into a cart, and brought from the depths of Brittany to the jails of Paris, to share the fate of the son, whom she had so tenderly loved. My wife and my sister Lucile awaited in the dun- geons of Rennes their sentence of execution. There was even a question of shutting them up in the family chateau of Combourg, which had been transformed into a state-fortress ; and, innocent as they were, they The Counsels of Fontanes. 239 were accused of the crime of my emigration. What were our troubles in a foreign land compared with those of our countrymen who had remained in France ] And yet, what a misfortune, amid the sufferings of exile, to know that that very exile had been made the pretext for the persecution of our kindred/' "^ In the year 1797, the proscriptions of the Directory forced M. de Fontanes, whom, prior to the Revolu- tion, Chateaubriand had known in Paris, to emigrate to England. He soon found out his old acquaint- ance j and this elegant critic, and exquisite lyric poet henceforward proved an invaluable friend to Chateau- briand, and became his literary Mentor. When the latter read to him portions of his romance of " Atala," he expressed his warm approval, and gave him great encouragement. Still stronger was his admiration for those chapters of the "Genie du Christianisme,'' which its author laid before him. M. de Fontanes said to his friend, "Travaillez, travaillez, mon ami, devenez illustre; vous le pouvez ; Tavenir est a vous." " Work, work, my friend; become illustrious ; you can become so ; the future is yours." Towards the close of his exile, Chateaubriand be- came acquainted with some of the leading personages of the emigration ; and as the essay had given him some sort of literary reputation, his society was now sought after. He became acquainted with M. De- lille, the elegant translator of VirgiFs Georgics, and * M6m. d'Outre-tombe, vol. ii. 240 M. de Chateaubriand. the author of some excellent poems. The saintly- Abbe Carron, whom the same M. Delille had de- scribed ^' as the living providence of all exiled French- men," — *' Des Francais exiles la providence vivante," — and who, in his " Memoirs of the Revolution," had ranked Chateaubriand's sister Julie, the Countess de Farcy, among its Christian heroines and confessors, was also added to the number of our author's ac- quaintances. At the Catholic college of Kensington, founded chiefly through the instrumentality of our great Burke, for the education of the sons of the emigrant French nobility, he had the happiness of being introduced to that illustrious statesman, and of witnessing the affectionate interest he took in the education of the children. It was his good fortune, too, to assist at those great parhamentary debates on the Revolution of his own country, — debates of such intense interest to himself, and of such vast moment to all Europe, and in which the three greatest political orators of modern times — Burke, Pitt, and Fox — took a prominent part. Often did he catch the eye of Mr Pitt, he tells us, as he was walking through St James's Park. The great minister little dreamed that the poor emigrant gentle- man on whom he cast a glance was one day destined to be an illustrious writer, to be the representative of his sovereign at the British Court, and to hold in his own country the same high office as himself. His Return to France. 241 I need not say that, during his abode in England, Chateaubriand paid great attention to English litera- ture. How serviceable was that study to himself and to his country, I shall have occasion to shew when I come to speak of his works. M. de Fontanes, on leaving England for Germany, promised his friend that he would, on the first oppor- tunity which offered, promote his interests. That opportunity soon came. By the Revolution of the 1 8th Brumaire year eight, or the 9th November 1799, the Directory was overturned, and Napoleon made First Consul. M. de Fontanes returned to France, and as he had interest with the Buonaparte family, he immediately obtained the favour, that Chateaubriand's name should be struck off the list of proscribed emi- grants. Chateaubriand still thought it more prudent to re-enter France under the disguise of a Swiss name, as M. Lassagne. He accordingly quits the land of banishment, where he had endured such in- tense suffering, but where, also, he had received pecuniary succour from the literary fund for foreign- ers, and where, too, he had recovered the priceless gift of faith. He reaches Paris in May 1800. He presents his passport to the police, and is ordered to shew himself every month at the municipality. Fie soon after boldly assumes his own name j for the First Consul had now thrown open the gates of France to all emigrants desirous of returning, and by a just and Q 242 M. de Chateaubriand. wise policy facilitated the re-acquisition of their con- fiscated property. What a change France presented to the eye of our author can better be imagined than described. Dur- ing the whole route from Calais to Paris, the spec- tacle of ruined chateaux, dilapidated churches, de- molished monasteries and convents, women with haggard faces labouring in the fields in room of their husbands and brothers engaged in foreign warfare, met his eye. And when he entered within the walls of the capital, what havoc, what desolation on every side ! What sacrilegious spoliations ! what smoking ruins ! what bloody reminiscences ! No church or convent bell was to be heard within the godless city. To find an adequate representation of this state of things, I must refer you to the posthumous memoirs. Chateaubriand now took lodgings in a street in the Faubourg St Germain, and was immediately visited by M. de Fontanes, M. Joubert, and other friends. Madame de Chateaubriand, and his sister Lucile, after a long and cruel separation, now rejoined him. Through the mediation of his friends, he made an arrangement with a Paris bookseller, whereby the latter agreed to make certain pecuniary advances to him, till he should complete his great work, the ^^ Genie du Christianisme.^' Meantime M. de Fon- tanes founded his hterary journal, Le Mercure^ and solicited the co-operation of his friend. They were joined by distinguished critics, like M. Joubert, M. His Romance of Atala, 243 Dussault, and the Vicomte de Bonaldj whose first work, "La The'orie du Pouvoir civil et religieux," published in 1797, had already marked him out as one of the most illustrious metaphysicians and pub- licists of his age. Of this great writer and thinker, the glory of religion and of letters, I shall have occa- sion to speak later. It was in the Mercure^ in 1801, Chateaubriand first published his romance, entitled "Atala ; or. The Loves of Two Savages in the Desert.^^ This romance is a beautiful wild-flower which the author had brought with him from the woods of America. It is a vivid dehneation of Indian manners, and of the magnificent scenery of the New World. It is the first blossoming of spring-tide sentiment. The struggle between passion and duty is most powerfully por- trayed. And if, like our great dramatic poet, Cha- teaubriand began his career with describing the transports and the anguish of love, yet the wild wail of despair which pervades the "Romeo and Juliet" gives gradually place in "Atala'^ to the hymn of divine resignation and hope. The character of the missionary priest, the Pere Aubry, who soothes the last hours of Atala, dispels her doubts, and converts her despair into religious hope and joy, while he pours balm into the heart of her surviving lover, and imparts an instruction that ultimately leads him to the Christian faith, — this character, I say, is exquisitely drawn. Nowhere can 244 "^- de Chateaubriand. a more attractive picture be found of sacerdotal zeal, piety, mildness, enlightenment, and love. Religion was nobly avenged, when she could point to this character as a faithful representative of the many holy ministers of God whom France in her frenzy had slain or proscribed. The success of ^^Atala" was prodigious. It ran through multiplied editions in France, and was re- printed and translated in most European countries. It established the fame of its author, and made the world eager for the publication of his ^^ Genie du Christianisme." Another romance, called ^^Rene,'' composed by him at this time, but which did not see the light till 1807, was originally destined, like ^' Atala," to be an episode of his great work. " Rene " was designed to portray that malady of the soul which, as we have seen, had to a great extent preyed on the early years of Chateaubriand. It is, in fact, a skilful anatomy of a morbid affection and of a distempered imagination. The subject on which the tale turns, though treated with tact and delicacy, is too revolting for poetry or for fiction of any kind. Though poetical justice- is upheld, since the being who has fostered in idea a guilty passion expiates in the seclusion and the peni- tence of a convent culpable imaginings; yet the whole story leaves a most painful impression on the mind. The author tells us himself, that could he have foreseen the abuse which has been made of His Romance of Rene. 245 " Rene," and the monstrous imitations which it has led to, he never would have written it.* He meant to describe not a normal and healthful, but a passing and diseased condition of the soul. But all that need have been said on the subject is contained in the beautiful chapter, entitled, "A certain Vagueness of the Passions," in the '^ Genie du Christianisme." This vagueness of the passions is the result of the premature growth of feelings and aifections without a definite object; it is the recoil of a distempered soul upon itself, and the consequent void and weariness produced by desires unsatisfied, and by an aimless existence. ^'Rene," the merits of which, I think, have been overrated, perhaps suggested to Lord Byron, together with Gothe's " Faust," the conception of his powerful drama, or rather poem, of '' Manfred." But the mis- anthropy of ''Manfred" — his weariness and disgust of life — can be accounted for by his impiety. Nor does the British bard confine himself to a psychological *■ On the moral tendency of ^^Rene," the judgments pro- nounced are either too lenient or too severe. I have in the text endeavoured to avoid either extreme. First, As the tale was written in the first fervour of the author's conversion, and was designed by him to be appended to his " Genie du Chris- tianisme," it is clear that he had no bad intention in composing it. Secondly, The tale is, I think, calculated more to disorder the imagination, than to inflame the senses. Lastly, The author himself regretted its publication ; and, for my part, I can only repeat what I have said in the text, that it is much to be lamented that the work was ever given to the world. 246 M, de Chateaubriand, analysis of distempered feelings ; but represents his hero as thirsting for forbidden science, entering into a league with the spirits of darkness, holding converse with supernatural beings, and feasting his eyes on the grandeur of Alpine scenery. There too, as in the French tale, a guilty passion, like a dark, distant cloud, overhangs, if I may so speak, the horizon of the drama. The diction in " Rene," as well as in ^'Atala,'' is exquisite — free, flexible, graceful, and harmonious. It was in a country-house, in the neighbourhood of Paris, belonging to his kind friend, the Marchioness de Beaumont, and to which she had invited him, and his wife, and sister, Chateaubriand put the last hand to his great work, the " Genie du Christianisme.'^ This was one of the happiest periods of his life ; for, in a retired spot in the midst of beautiful woods and meadows, and frequently entertained with the society of his literary friends, M. de Fontanes, M. Joubert, and M. de Bonald, he was enjoying, with a sort of tremulous hope, the anticipations of a great renown. The " Genie du Christianisme '^ had been recast three times. It at length saw the day in May 1802. Of its success you may judge by the fact, that a work of so serious a nature, and extending to four volumes octavo, passed in France alone through six editions in one year, not including the many reprints and translations in foreign parts. The pent-up feel- ings of Catholic France, so long outraged, and His ''Genie du Chris tianisme.^' 247 wounded' and crushed by the mockeries of Voltaire, the sophisms of Rousseau, the wild atheistic ravings of Diderot, the bloody orgies of the Convention, here found the long-sought utterance. Minds distracted and desolated by scepticism, here found light. Hearts withered up by penury, by sorrow, by bereave- ments of every kind, (and what family-hearth in France was not then covered with mourning '?) found here a divine balm of consolation. The young as- piring fancy, disabused of the illusions of a false philosophy, here saw opened before it a new ideal world of endless beauty. It was celestial music after the visions of an appalling dream ; it was the hymn of thanksgiving which the shipwrecked mariner in- tones on the sea-shore ; it was the first glimmering of morn on the mountain-top, after the long tempestuous night ! The " Genie du Christianisme " was a work of uni- versal sympathy. Every class of readers, from the bishop and the grave magistrate, to the young lady of cultivated mind, was equally attracted by a book which based the evidences of religion not only on the voice of reason, and the testimonies of universal tradition, but on the aspirings of imagination, the intimations of feeling, the marvels of external nature, the realities of life, the avowal of enemies. For the eighty years which had followed on the death of the illustrious Massillon, the Church of France, as if exhausted by the great men she had 248 M. de Chateaubriand, brought forth in the preceding age, could shew no men of genius either among her clerical or lay chil- dren. Wit, imagination, eloquence, originality of thought — genius, in a word, were on the side of her anti-Christian foes. Learning, and solidity, and acuteness of reasoning, with the single exception of the witty Abbe Guenee, were all her defenders dis- played. How, then, must not Catholic France rejoice to behold her cause defended by a layman, who to great and varied learning, clearness of state- ment, and cogency of reasoning, united such bril- liancy of fancy, such depth of sensibility, such charms of eloquence. There is but another religious work, written about eighteen years later, by a countryman of Chateau- briand's, and indeed a genius in some respects greater than himself, which could at all vie in the popularity obtained by the " Gdnie du Christianisme." In that work our author first proves the great doctrines of primitive revelation, the existence of God, the spirituahty and the immortality of the soul, and a state of future rewards and punishments. He dwells especially on the wonders of creation, as shew- ing the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of the Infinite Maker. And here personal research, as well as the works of professed naturalists, supplied him with many forcible arguments and happy illustrations. Then come under consideration the evidences of the Christian dispensation. The minute fulfilment of His ^' Gtnie du Chris tianismer 249 prophecy, the overpowering evidence of miracles, the unapproachable character of our Divine Lord, the superhuman zeal and fortitude of the apostles and the martyrs, the miraculous propagation of the Gospel, in despite of every obstacle which man and hell could oppose, the beauty of the Christian morality and the incomparable depth and sublimity of the sacred writings are here set forth. The indestructible- ness of the CathoHc Church, her unity, her perpetuity, her universality, her sanctity are there examined and proved. Her dogmas, their close, mutual connexion, their eminent conformity with the analogies of reason, and the aspirations of the human heart, are next pointed out. Afterwards the whole sacramental system of the Church, her worship, her ceremonial, her devotional practices, are considered and vindi- cated. The aesthetical influences of the Catholic religion, as compared with those of Paganism, form another and v^ry original portion of the ^' Genie du Christi- anisme.^' The action of the Christian religion, and of the Cathohc Church more especially, on poetry, on eloquence, philosophy, history, and the fine arts, forms the subject of many ingenious and eloquent dissertations. The organization of the Cathohc Hierarchy, the monastic orders, missions, foreign and domestic, then engage the author's attention. The work concludes with a general review of the 250 M, de Chatemtbriand. manifold blessings — domestic, social, and political — which the Catholic Church has conferred on mankind. Such is a rapid analysis of this beautiful book, in which, without following the precise arrangement of the author, I have stated its subject-matter. The infidel party, then so powerful and numerous in France, were infuriated at the appearance of this work. One of their leaders, the Abbe Morellet, declared that it was not destined to live beyond a few months. Their journals sought in every way to decry its merits. But Catholic opinion was unanimous in its favour. Bishops, priests, literati, nobles, loudly commended it. Many a congratulatory sonnet was addressed to its author by fair hands ; many a garland of flowers, woven by delicate fingers, was showered on the poet, who had now become the idol of his country. It was a triumph too intoxicating for genius. The good old cure of Combourg, when told that his former pupil was the author of the "Genie du Christianisme," replied, '^ Not possible, not possible ! What ! you tell me, that that little idle urchin, whom I taught the catechism, has written this beautiful book ! No, no ; you are trifling with me.^' When convinced of the truth, the good old cur^ from the pulpit often quoted to his parishioners, while his face streamed with tears, long passages out of the work of his former pupil. Contemporaneously with the great work that brought so many minds and hearts back to Christi- His First Interview with Napoleon, 251 anity, the First Consul had reopened the long-closed portals of the Temple ; and, by a concordat with the Holy See, had solemnly restored in France the public exercise of the Catholic faith. The Sovereign Pon- tiff had, by a great act of spiritual power, made a new circumscription of diocesses, and, confirming the nominations of Napoleon, had instituted some of the old prelates, and some new ones, to the several sees. It was a great and auspicious day for France ! After the adoption of this concordat by the legis- lative body in 1802, Lucien Buonaparte, then Minister of the Home Department, gave a grand entertain- ment to his brother, the First Consul, and among other guests, invited M. de Chateaubriand. Though the lattter had never been presented to Napoleon, he recognised him immediately, and directed his steps towards him. As the First Consul advanced, Chateaubriand strove to conceal himself in the throng. But as the former raised his voice, and exclaimed, " M. de Chateaubriand," the latter was of course obliged to advance, and conversation ensued between the two. With admirable tact. Napoleon offered our author no compHments on the great work which was then exciting so much sensation in France, but spoke of the countries, Syria and Egypt, from which he had just returned. He then went on to say, " I have often been struck, while in Egypt, with the prac- tice of the sheiks of turning their heads at sunrise towards the east, and offering up their prayers to the 252 M, de Chateaubriand. Eternal." Then alluding to the insane theory of Du- puis, that Christianity was a mere astronomical system, and that the twelve apostles represented the twelve signs of the zodiac, the First Consul, in a strain of fine irony, proceeded to say, '^ The ideologists wished to make the Christian religion, forsooth, a mere system of astronomy. So with all their hatred of her, they were obliged to make her a religion of the spheres ! Even, according to their own shewing, she would still be something grand ! " These remarkable words, coupled with those two splendid passages on the divinity of our Lord, addressed by Napoleon to his generals, and cited by the Pere Lacordaire and by M. Nicholas, the distinguished apologist, prove, I think, that the faith was never utterly extinct in the breast of this remarkable man. The impression which, on this occasion, the First Consul made on the mind of Chateaubriand, he has himself recorded in his memoirs. " His smile," he says, ^^ was winning and beautiful ; his eye admirable, espe- cially by the manner in which it was set within his eyebrows. He had, as yet, nothing of the charlatan in his look; nothing theatrical and affected."* It is curious to compare this description of Napoleon with the one given about the same period by the illustrious German publicist, Gorres, who, twelve years later, proved a more formidable literary adversary of Na- poleon than even Chateaubriand. From his wonder- * Mem., vol. ii., p. 246. His Mission to Rome. 253 ful success in raising the Germans to throw off the yoke of French domination, he was styled by that emperor, " a fifth European power/^ After the revo- lution of November 1799, Gorres, then a young man, was one of a deputation from the Rhenish province, sent to complain to the First Consul of the abuses in the French administration of that country. Writing to a friend, Gorres thus describes Napoleon. " I have just seen,^^ says he, ^Hhe First Consul. He has a staring bull's eye, and a zigzag walk, like that of a beast of prey. His aspect makes me augur ill for the peace of Europe." The two descriptions are, how- ever, perfectly reconcilable, if we consider them to represent different moods of the same personage. Napoleon now appointed his uncle. Cardinal Fesch, ambassador to the Holy See, and offered Chateaubriand the secretaryship to that embassy. After some hesitation he, at the urgent advice of his friends, accepted the offer. The place, in every point of view, was well suited to his tastes and feel- ings. He proceeded to Rome with Madame de Chateaubriand; and there they enjoyed the society of their friend, the Marchioness de Beaumont, who had repaired to that capital for her health. From Rome M. de Chateaubriand wrote to M. de Fontanes those beautiful letters on Italy, which are among the most charming productions of his pen. After some time, from causes which he has not, I think, satisfactorily explained in his memoirs, he dis- 254 ^' d^ Chateaubriand, agreed with Cardinal Fesch, abruptly tendered the resignation of his place, and returned to France. I fear that in this instance, also, he evinced that want of pliancy of temper, which was ever so fatal to his permanent success in life. Napoleon, though displeased with his conduct on this occasion, yet, much to his honour, nominated him French charge d'affaires in the Swiss Catholic canton of La Vallais. The magistrates of that canton publicly recorded their gratification at this appointment, and wrote to Chateaubriand to say how honoured they would feel to receive within the walls of their chief town — Sion — the representative of France in the person of the illustrious author of the ^' Genie du Christianisme." While M. de Chateaubriand was making prepara- tions for his departure for Switzerland, he heard one evening a street-crier calling out, "Sentence and military execution of Louis-Antoine-Henri de Bour- bon, Due d'Enghien." A friend immediately arrived, and confirmed the fatal intelligence, and shewed him the journal containing it. That very evening he ad- dressed a spirited letter to M. de Talleyrand, the Minister for Foreign Afiairs, tendering the resignation of his new diplomatic appointment, and declaring that, after the sad occurrence of that day, it was im- possible for him any longer to serve under the Im- perial government. His friends for several weeks apprehended that he would be arrested; but owing Execution of the Duke d'Enghien. 255 to the influence of M. de Fontanes with Napoleon's sister, Madame Bajocchi, he was not molested. The judicial murder of this fine, gallant young prince, the last descendant of the illustrious Conde, seized under the most frivolous pretexts on a neutral territory, hastily tried by a military tribunal, and sen- tenced and executed within twenty-four hours after his arrival at Paris, is, according to the confession of Napoleon's most devoted partisans, one of the great- est stains on his memory. It was with this crime the Imperial regime was inaugurated. And this crying violation of all the laws of justice and international right was but the natural prelude to the reign of violence and tyranny that now ensued. What a con- trast does that Imperial regime form with the Consul- ate ! The First Consul returning from that expedition to Egypt, so fruitful in its results to science, puts down anarchy with a vigorous hand, throws open the temples of religion, recalls the exiled clergy and nobility to their native land, concludes a concordat with the Holy See, endeavours to conciliate the Catholics and the Royahsts, and lays the foundations of a new jurisprudence. Then compare that state of things with the one that succeeded it. Enmities between different parties revived — the old mon- archical party, so powerful in the western and the southern provinces, and still (in despite of sweeping confiscations) numbering in its ranks the largest landed proprietors, for ever alienated from the Im- 256 M. de Chateaubriand. perial dynasty — bureaucratic centralization, one of the worst abuses of the hundred years preceding 1789, aggravated with, treble rigour — a vexatious police espionage invading the sanctuary of home, and cramping personal freedom — exceptional mihtary tribunals and military executions — an insatiable thirst of conquest, unparalleled since the times of the Sara- cen caliphs — the families of the people decimated by the conscription — the independence and liberties of nations trampled under foot — an unholy crusade, as in the case of Spain and Portugal, carried on against religion and her ministers, and the most cherished institutions and rights of nations — an empress di- vorced — the venerable Head of the Church robbed of his dominions, and dragged into captivity — and the supremacy of the state in matters of religion all but openly avowed ; — such, amid many material ser- vices, and a blaze of military glory, was the French Government from 1804 to 18 14. And observe, all those forms and institutions that, even in the de- cline of the old monarchy, had served as checks and limitations to arbitrary power, were swept away by the Revolution. The local legislatures, however mutilated — the provincial franchises — the rights of the various municipal corporations — the parliaments, where the magistracy often uttered so courageous a language — an aristocracy which, though divested of direct political power, still exerted that great influ- ence which intellectual cultivation, large property. The ' ' Martyrs " Projected, 257 and hereditary rank never fail to confer — an opulent and influential clergy that, in its stated periodical meetings, boldly remonstrated against abuses in Church and State — lastly, the written laws, imme- morial customs, and practices and habitudes of ages : — such, even in the reigns of Louis XIV. and of Louis XV., were the surviving, though defective, bul- warks of freedom. The fate of the last of the Condes opened an im- passable abyss between the Emperor Napoleon and the illustrious man whose biography I have been tracing. Henceforth he devoted himself almost ex- clusively to literature. He now conceived the project of writing an epic poem, in which he might realize his own theories of art. The subject he selects is the deadly struggle between nascent Christianity and expiring Paganism in the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. He was re- solved that the new poem should bear the same local colouring, the same fidelity of costume, as his Ameri- can tales. Hence he resolves to visit the great scenes of primitive Christianity — Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. Leaving France, M. de Chateaubriand visits Italy again, embarks at Venice for Greece, and lands in the Morea. He repairs to the ruins of Sparta, and evokes from the river Eurotas the shade of Leonidas. He visits the city of Minerva, admires her wonderful Parthenon, and from the summit of the Areopagus R 258 M. de Chateaubriand. looks down on her majestic ruins. He then repairs to Corinth, where so many recollections, sacred and profane, crowd upon his mind. Thence taking ship- ping, he hails the promontory of Sigeum, and the tomb of Achilles, and abides for a time in Constan- tinople. Thence embarking, he pays a short visit to Smyrna, passes by the white clustering Cyclades, which he compares to " a flight of swans,'^ lands at Rhodes with its antique towers, visits the vine-clad Cyprus, and then, hailing Mount Carmel in the dis- tance, lands at Jaffa. Here, like a devout pilgrim, he treads with awe those plains — '* Trodden by those feet, Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nail'd For our redemption on the bitter cross." He visits wdth devotion all the scenes of our divine Lord^s life, ministry, and death, the grotto of Beth- lehem, the city of Nazareth, the lake Tiberias, and, like another Godfrey, falls on his knees as he descries from afar the Holy City. In the desolate region around, teeming with the recollections of four thou- sand years, he sees how the land hath been scathed and riven by the lightnings of Almighty vengeance. He enters within the walls of the city of David, and finds it sad and silent as a sepulchre. He looks for the ancient temple, and gropes in its foundations, and finds the stones scattered and dispersed, like the people whom that temple symbolized. He crosses the brook Cedron, enters into the garden of Olives, Travels in Holy Land, 259 and there counts but six or seven olive-trees of that group, which had once witnessed the blood-sweat of an agonizing God. He ascends the Mount of Cal- vary, and kisses the footprints of his Saviour. He is smitten with terror in the valley of Jehosha- phat. Thence he follows the turbid stream of Jor- dan, views the Dead Sea, a fearful monument of Divine wrath, an object of mysterious dread alike to the Jew, the Christian, and the Mussulman. Here he hsts to the wandering Arabs' tales, and depicts their aspect and manners with the incomparable magic of his own eloquence. Then he visits Alexandria, ascends the Nile, and views those marvellous pyramids of Memphis which, like mountains, overshadow the sandy plains. He leaves these pyramids covered with inscriptions, once as mysterious as the sources of their own Nile, and returns to Alexandria. Thence departing, he hails the yellow shores of the once-flourishing Cyrene, visits the ruins of Carthage, and then lands in Spain. He sees the Alcazar of Seville, and the palace of Alhambra, and under the wretched rule of an un- worthy favourite,* discerns those latent national ener- gies that were soon to burst forth in the great War of Independence. He returns to Paris, and publishes the results of his travels in his ^^ Itineraire," which a great Catholic French writer once told me, he re- garded as the most perfect of his works. * The Prince of the Peace; LECTURE II. LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND — Continued, COON after his return from the Holy Land, M. de Chateaubriand bought a small property in the neighbourhood of Paris, called La Vallee aux Loups^ and which he has rendered so celebrated. About the same time he purchased from M. de Fontanes the journal Le Mercure^ hoping that in the straitened con- dition of his pecuniary affairs, this might prove a profitable speculation. These hopes were, however, soon to be blighted by an untoward event. Having occasion to review in that journal M. de la Borde's "Travels in Spain," he inserted in the critique some very stinging, though covert allusions to Napoleon's military despotism. The following passage, which I shall now cite, breathes, indeed, the burning, compressed indigna- tion of a Tacitus. "When in the silence of abject fear,'' says he, " we hear only resound the chain of the slave, and the voice of the informer; when all tremble before the tyrant, and when it is as danger- ous to incur his favour as to merit his disgrace ; — the historian appears charged with the vengeance of na- The Suppression of the ''Mercure!' 261 tions. It is in vain Nero prospers ; Tacitus is al- ready born within his empire ; he grows up unknown near the ashes of Germanicus ; and already a just Providence hath abandoned to an obscure child the glory of the master of the world. If the part of an historian is glorious, it is often dangerous \ but there are altars, like that of honour, which, though aban- doned, still demand sacrifices. The god is not annihilated because the temple is deserted. Where- ever there is a chance for fortune, there is no heroism in attempting it. Magnanimous actions are those whereof the result foreseen is misfortune and death. After all, what matter reverses, if our name pro- nounced by posterity, shall, two thousand years after our death, make one generous heart beat with emo- tion ! '' This article led to the suppression of the Mercure, The subject of the epic, in which Chateaubriand endeavoured to realize his own theory of art, was, as I said on a former occasion, the mortal conflict be- tween nascent Christianity and expiring Paganism in ' the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. The object of the author is to oppose the pure worship of the Chris- tians to the voluptuous, and often cruel festivals of the Pagans. The religious zeal, the piety, the purity, the inexhaustible charity, the unshaken loyalty to their ^ temporal rulers, the rigid fidelity in all the relations of life, and the heroic fortitude under the bitterest trials and the bloodiest persecutions, which* distin- 262 M. de Chateaubriand, guished the first followers of Christ, are contrasted with the selfishness, the pride, the sensuality, the in- difference to human suffering, evinced by even the better heathens. And I put out of comparison the impiety, the cruelty, and the debaucheries which stained the worse description of Pagans, especially in the last ages of declining Rome. This work, entitled the "Martyrs,^' possesses all the elements which, according to the best critics, constitute the epic. Its subject is important, indeed one of the most important that can be conceived ; and it is also complex and varied, and remote in time. The incidents are, many of them, founded on real history, and all bear the marks of historical probability. Then if we regard the execution, the characters are cast in that mould of ideal grandeur becoming the Epos, and where we must not look for a clear, sharp outline of portraiture, as in dramatic poetry, nor for that minute delineation that belongs to the novel of real life. The passion of love, which in "Atala^' displayed a tumultuous vehemence, which in "Rene" took a false and fatal direction, is in the " Martyrs " at once more mild and more exalted, influencing both the imagination and the feelings ; is animated by piety, tried by persecution, and at last illumined with the halo of Christian martyrdom. The interest of the plot is well sustained, though the introductory matter is too long, and the episodes The Tale of the '' Martyrs!' 263 are too many. The main personages in this poem are the hero Eudorus, the heroine Cymodice, and her father Demodocus, the sophist Hierocles, and the emperors Diocletian and Galerius. The hero Eudorus is a Christian, who by his skill and valour has obtained high rank in the Roman army, and rendered most important services to the state. The gratitude of the Emperor Diocletian re- wards him with the highest military honours and ap- pointments. Having been brought back by various circumstances and events to a sense of religion and virtue, he resigns his mihtary dignities, presents him- self to the holy Pontiff, Marcellinus, who then rules the Church of God, and is directed by him to go through a prescribed course of penance. He retires to his parents in Arcadia ; and here the proper story of the epic commences. The heroine Cymodice is the daughter of Demodocus, a descendant of Homer, and a priest in the temple of Ithom^ in Messenia. The sophist Hierocles, who was governor of Messenia, and for his pride and impiety was detested alike by Christians and by Pagans, has conceived a violent passion for the beautiful maiden. She abhors any alliance with so detestable a wretch; and the father, to rescue her from such a disgrace, consecrates her, in the temple of Ithome, to the service of the Muses. One night after assisting at a festival of Diana, she bends her steps homewards ; but lost in admiration of the resplendent heavens, and of the beautiful scenery 264 M. de Chateaicbriand. around her, she misses her way. She suddenly dis- covers a youth slumbering, like Endymion, beside a fountain ; and the dog at his side, startled by the ap- proach of the virgin, rouses by its barking his master from his slumbers. She begs him to direct her course, as she has gone astray. The young man rises, and con- ducts her steps towards the home of her sire. His beautiful brow, and noble port, and frank, ingenuous manner, and lofty discourse, lead the maiden to take him for one of those benign divinities which sometimes assume a mortal guise. Any allusions she makes to her false deities the stranger checks and represses, by pointing to the great God who created, and who rules the heavens and the earth. He casts his mantle over a poor slave he finds lying by the wayside ; and on the priestess asking him whether this man were his kinsman, he tells her that all men are brethren. It is thus that, with great skill, Chateaubriand at the very outset of his poem points out the moral an- tagonism existing between Christianity and Paganism — a moral antagonism that was the source of the out- ward conflict raging between the two religions, and which forms the subject of the work. The stranger conducts the maiden to her home ; but before he bids her farewell, he gives his name — it is Eudorus, the son of Lasthenes. Cymodice follows him with her eyes, doubting whether, from his laconic answers, he be not a Spartan ; or whether, from his acts and sentiments, some benign divinity in human The Tale of the ^''Martyrs!' 265 shape. Her father, with tears in his eyes, rushes for- ward to embrace her ; for, thinking she might have been carried off by the impious Hierocles, he had been for many hours in a state of agonizing suspense. Demodocus informs his daughter that I.asthenes is the head of an ancient and opulent house in Arcadia, and that his son Eudorus is a vaHant general, who, though young, has achieved great exploits in war, and ob- tained high military honours and distinction in the Roman state. Demodocus resolves to repair with his daughter to the abode of Lasthenes, in order to return to him and Eudorus their heartfelt thanks for the signal service which the latter had rendered to Cymodice. The parent and daughter leave the banks of the Pamisus, and, coming into Arcadia, cross the Alpheus, and reach the abode of Lasthenes. Here he and his family hospitably entertain them, and are soon dis- covered by their guests to belong to the much hated and persecuted sect of Christians. The domestic life of the early disciples of Christ is here charmingly described. At the evening repast, Eudorus is bidden by Cyril, the Christian bishop, to recount the history of his life. He complies with the request; and in detaihng his military successes, and the distinctions and honours which rewarded them, he shews an in- genuous modesty. He recounts with sorrow the irregularities of his youth, his neglect of all religious exercises, and his consequent exclusion from the c 266 M, de Chateaubriand. Church. Then he describes his deep repentance — his submission to the ecclesiastical authorities — and the course of penance they had prescribed. The Pagan priest and his daughter are struck with the apparition of virtues hitherto unknown to them ; and Cymodice, especially, is at a loss which most to ad- mire, the heroism of Eudorus, or the noble candour which breathes in all his words. The light of Chris- tianity gradually dawns upon her mind, and dispels the mists and the motley phantoms of Paganism. The ethical grandeur of the new religion overpowers her with amazement, and throws into insignificance all the mere human virtues, which had hitherto been the objects of her admiration. Love, no doubt, points her steps to the new creed; but reason and conscience prompt her to obey the call. The manly beauty of Eudorus, his heroic courage, his ingenuous manners, his lofty virtues, and the sublime religion which has inspired them, alternately fill her with admiration. But, on the other hand, how can she forsake her aged father whom she so fondly loves, or that temple of Ithome where he ministers, and where her own lyre is still suspended % How can a daughter of the family of Homer give up at once that grace- ful mythology, interwoven with her very existence? How can she give up those religious festivals in which she intoned the paeans to her gods, or those sacred dances in which she bore so graceful a part % Her mind yet lingers on those spots dear to memory, and The Tale of the '' Marty rsT 267 sacred to the Muses — on the laurel groves of her own Messenia — on the beautiful woods haunted by the Dryades, and on the streams where the Naiads lave their luxuriant tresses. The time, too, in which Cymodice is invited to embrace the Christian religion, is the eve of the tenth sanguinary persecution. How can the Pagan priest consent to his daughter's forming an alliance with a Christian under circumstances so perilous to both? It is difficult for us, indeed^ whose existence is, comparatively speaking, so serene, so undisturbed, to realize the afflicted state of the early Church. Truly, as the Scripture saith, we were bought with a great price. The ransom of our redemption was not only paid for in the blood of an Incarnate God ; but that ransom was also transmitted to us through the tears, the anguish, the sufferings, the martyrdoms of our fathers in the faith. How precarious, how unstable was the condition of those first Christians ! What base denunciations were they not exposed to ! What unjust sentences, what cruel confiscations, what out- rages and sufferings of every kind were their lot ! What strange vicissitudes in their destiny ! What frequent disrupture of the family ties! How often did exile, or the prison, or the mines, or death, sever the husband and the wife, the father and the child ! How often was the torch of Hymen kindled in one month to be extinguished in the next ; and how often 268 M. de Chateaubriand. was the bridal wreath dragged in the blood-stained dust of the Roman arena ! Such was the period of trial in which the poet has placed his epic story. My limits will not allow me to give an analysis of this poem ; and I can do no more than direct your attention to a few remarkable passages. I may point to the vivid descriptions of the " Christian Mysteries in the Catacombs/' as well as of the voluptuous festivals and tumultuous proces- sions of Paganism at Rome. The speech of Eu- dorus in behalf of his persecuted brethren before the Roman Senate is admirable, and of itself shews the great oratorical talents of Chateaubriand. I may again cite that beautiful description of Athens at sunset. In the portico of the temple of Minerva, on the Areopagus, while the festival of the Panathenaea is being celebrated, — while the noble strains of Sophocles are rising up from the theatre of Bacchus below, and while the temples, porticoes, palaces, theatres, and olive-groves of the city, Mount Hymettus, the Piraeus, the sea, and the distant ^gina are glowing in the rays of the setting sun, — the poet represents Eudorus and Cymodice as reiterating in the presence of her aged sire their vows of mutual afifection. Again, how beautiful is that apostrophe to her native Greece, which Cymodice makes, when she believes that the life of Eudorus has been spared, The Tale of the ''Martyrs!' 269 and that she will once more be united to him. The Christian wife of her jailer is a weak and timid Chris- tian. She had conveyed to the prisoner under her husband's charge an idle report, that all the Chris- tian prisoners were to receive a pardon, and be dis- charged. This hope, which some had entertained, was soon to vanish ; and now the cruel Pagan jailer bids his Christian wife convey to Cymodice the martyr's dress destined for the women who were to perish in the amphitheatre. This consisted of a blue tunic, a black girdle, buskins, and a mantle of the same colour, and a white veil. The poor, timid woman, amid sobs and tears, enters the prison, but dares not undeceive her orphan charge, and acquaint her with her fate. " Behold," said she, '' my dear sister, the dress that I have brought thee. May the peace of the Lord be with thee ! '' " What vesture is thisT' cries Cymodice; ^'is it my nuptial robe'Z Doth it come from the hands of my dear Eudorus % " " It is on his account,'' replies Blanche, " that you must accept it." " Oh ! " exclaims Cymodice in a tone of joy, ''my bridegroom hath then received his pardon, and we shall yet be united in happiness and love ! " Blanche in tears retires from the prison. Cymodice then arrays herself in the martyr's garb, under the delusion that she is to celebrate an earthly hymeneal, and not a celestial union. She reclines her head gracefully on her hand, and 270 M. de Chateaubriand. breathes forth those beautiful strains, which M. de Fontanes was never tired of admiring, and which are certainly among the most harmonious in French literature : — " Ye rapid vessels of Ausonia, haste and cleave the calm and brilliant surface of the deep ! Ye votaries of Neptune, spread the canvas to the amorous breath of the breeze, and ply the vigorous oar ! Waft me back to the happy banks of Pamisus, and restore me to the arms of my sire, and of my spouse. Fly, thou bird of Libya, whose neck bends with such graceful ease ; fly to the summits of Ithome, and tell them that the daughter of Homer is coming to revisit the laurel groves of Messenia ! " When shall I again behold my couch of ivory, the cheering radiance of my native skies, those meadows which are enamelled with flowers, watered by the most limpid of rills, and cherished by the breath of purity itself! "I was compared to the tender roe, which goes forth from her sylvan grotto, wanders without fear upon the mountains, and is led forth to pasture by the music of the rustic pipe. Now how changed the scene, confined as I am to a solitary prison, stretched on a bed of straw ! " Whence comes it, that while I endeavour to imi- tate the lively warblings of the sylvan choir, I can only sigh like the lute that pours out its wailings over the dead] I, who am clothed in the nuptial garment, The Tale of the ''Martyrs!' 271 whose heart shall feel every maternal joy and dis- quietude, and who shall one day behold a son cling- ing to my robe, hke the timid bird that seeks refuge under its mother's wing. Ah, I am myself a tender bird that hath been torn from the parent-nest! O my sire and my spouse, whence this delay 1 there was a time when I should have implored the Graces and the Muses to restore me to your arms ; when from the entrails of the slain victim, I should have interrogated the will of Heaven : but now I should offend that God, whose worship I have lately em- braced : I will lay my sorrows at the foot of the cross. " In the episode of Velleda, the author treads, I think, on ground dangerous for the Christian moralist, and which appears to me somewhat incongruous with the tone of his sacred epic. But it cannot be denied, that the character of the Gaulish priestess — her pride — her hatred of the Roman rule — her as- cendancy over her countrymen — her wild, fantastic deportment — and her passionate love are powerfully portrayed. Among the other episodical personages, St Jerome, St Augustine, and the Prince, afterwards emperor, Constantine, while the three were yet the votaries of unlawful pleasure, are depicted in brief, but charac- teristic traits. By a strange, though intentional anachronism, the * Martyrs, vol. ii., pp. 259, 260. Eng. Trans. London, 1809. 272 M. de Chateaubriand. two fathers of the Church, who were born long after Constantine, are made contemporary with him. It may be objected, indeed, that though the poem of the ^^ Martyrs," from the nature and the length of the story, the variety of the incidents, and the im- portance of the personages engaged, may fairly be ranked among epics ; yet, from the fact of its being written in prose, it must lose much of its epical pre- tensions. To this objection I may reply, that Aris- totle and other ancient critics have declared, that an epic poem might be written in prose ; and that their judgment has been ratified by the moderns. The " Telemaque,'^ from the time of its publication down to the present day, has by English as well as by French critics, ever been entitled 2.p(Tem. And if we look to the " Martyrs," we shall find that it has an equal right to the same designation. The exquisite delicacy and brilHance of the diction — the studied cadence of the periods — the frequent and lengthy similitudes — the elaborate descriptions of scenery — the introduction of the marvellous in the machinery of the work — all prove that its place is in the region of poetry, and not of prose. Both works, indeed, the ''Telemachus^' and the "Martyrs" are written in what the French call poetical prose. There is no doubt, however, that had Fenelon and Chateaubriand been Englishmen, they would have composed, the one the " Telemachus," and the other the "Mar- tyrs," in blank verse. This poetical prose — a non- Critique on the ''Martyrs!' 273 descript — uncongenial to our taste and our literature — is indeed for long works preferable to the monoto- nous French Alexandrine, and is, on the whole, suitable to the more rhetorical cast of the French mind, which can rarely soar into the highest regions of poetry. Yet there is no question that it evinces the metrical poverty of the French language \ and as there is a very close connexion between sentiment and versification, this sort of hybrid style must ex- ercise a depressing influence on the French imagina- tion. Taking a general review of Chateaubriand's work, we must allow that, as was before observed, the char- acters are finely drawn. The piety and heroism of Eudorus ; the beauty, gentleness, religious constancy, filial affection, and devotedness to the bridegroom which distinguish Cymodice, the most charming crea- tion of the author's genius ; and the parental tender- ness of her sire, the Pagan priest ; — all these person- ages are admirably portrayed. Not less so is the more generous-minded, but timid and vacillating Em- peror Diocletian, the debauched and ferocious Ga- lerius, and the vain, crafty, vindictive, and impious sophist Hierocles. Of the subordinate characters, or of those which play a part in the episodes, I have already spoken. The descriptions of scenery, of manners, of religious festivals, national customs, and battles, with which this poem abounds, are of consum- mate beauty and splendour. 2 74 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. The diction is, as has been already remarked, more ornate and highly finished than in any of the author's former works, precisely because, though in prose, it is destined to subserve the purposes of poetry. The research displayed in this work is very considerable. The Greek and Roman writers, the primitive fathers, and the Church historians, are used for argument, or- nament, and illustration. To point out some defects in this beautiful production, I should say that an air of ar- tificiality seems to pervade it. The episodes form too large a portion of the work, and the proper action ot the epic story begins too late. The scene of the nar- rative shifts too frequently ; and the author, aware that his great charm lies in description, is constantly trans- porting his heroes and heroines from one country to another — from Rome to Naples, from Naples to Baiae, from Baiae back again to Rome, from Rome to Gaul, and thence to Germany, and even to the neighbourhood of the Euxine. Thence the scene of action is successively transferred to Messenia, to Ar- cadia, to Athens, to the Holy Land, to Jerusalem, to the Dead Sea, to the confines of Arabia, to Lower Egypt, to Carthage, and back again to Rome. This perpetual change of place on one hand leaves a some- what confused impression on the mind, and on the other unavoidably suggests to us the idea that, in- stead of the places being introduced for the sake of the incidents, the incidents are introduced for the sake of the places. This artificial character again Critique on the ''Martyrs!' 275 comes out in the anachronism, which makes St Jerome and St Augustine contemporaries with the Emperor Constantine, to whom they were long pos- terior in date. And again, that Cymodice should meet in the desert the friend of her bridegroom, St Jerome, and receive from his hands precisely the sacrament of baptism, has something in it forced. There is a sort of stiffness and awkwardness, too, in the way in which the supernatural mechanism is handled. It has been also objected by some critics, that the poetical Paganism professed and practised by Demo- docus and his daughter was not the Paganism of the fourth century of our era, when scepticism was so widely prevalent. But it may, I think, be replied, that the author has placed those personages in the remote province of Messenia, where, from the rustic simpHcity of manners, heathenism had not the cor- rupt character which it displayed in the cities of At- tica, Asia Minor, and Italy. Lastly, I should say that in the very catastrophe of the poem there is an incongruous mixture of feelings. We know not whether Cymodice, in rushing into the Roman amphitheatre, to share the fate of her bride- groom, is inspired by Christian heroism, or by human love, or by a combination of both. The bride, con- trary to the bidding of the gladiator, has forced her way into the arena. She has not yet been called on to witness to her Divine Lord by the shedding of her 276 M. de Chateaubriand. blood j but she spontaneously rushes forward into the amphitheatre, and, in the embraces of her bridegroom, divides with him the palm of martyrdom. In the early stages of her conversion it was well to shew how human affection prepared her soul for the reception of the Christian faith ; but in the last and supreme act of holy martyrdom Divine love should, I think, have held over her heart an undivided sway. In one or two other passages of the work we meet with the same infelicitous mixture of earthly and heavenly affections, and which seems to shew that Chateau- briand had not attained to the highest ideal of Chris- tian art. He was in general too fond of glaring con- trasts, and did not sufficiently understand the art of fusing his colours. This poem was far from meeting at first with the great success which "Atala" and the "Genie du Christianisme " had experienced. The fact was, the press was far more enslaved than under the consul- ship, for Napoleon had confiscated the property of all the journals ; and even literary criticism was jea- lously controlled by the imperial police. In the Journal des Debats^ which had been taken from the management of its proprietors — who were henceforth reduced to an annual rent out of its profits — M. Hoffman pubHshed a series of articles, containing, it is allowed, a most unjust and violent attack on the " Martyrs.'' M. de Fontanes hastened, with his wonted generosity, to the vindication of his Death of a Relative. 277 friend, and published those beautiful stanzas com- mencing with the line — ** Le Tasse errant de ville en ville." Chateaubriand, following the advice of friendly critics, made several corrections in the work, which now obtained great favour, and passed through many edi- tions. At this period he experienced a severe domestic calamity. Armand de Chateaubriand, his kinsman, and comrade in war and in exile, was seized in a can- ton of Normandy, accused of having carried on a cor- respondence from Guernsey against Napoleon's gov- ernment, brought to Paris, and delivered over to a military tribunal to be tried for this offence. Though the Paris journals observed the strictest silence on this whole transaction, it came to the knowledge of Chateaubriand. Hereupon, he addressed an urgent petition to the Emperor in behalf of his unfortunate relative ; and though the Empress Josephine was gra- ciously pleased to place the petition in the hands of her imperial consort, the latter cast it into the fire, and suffered the sentence of condemnation pro- nounced by the military tribunal to be carried into effect. Armand de Chateaubriand, with two fellow-prison- ers — the Count de Goyon, and a servant called Quin- tal — was shot on Good Friday, 1809, on the plain of La Crenelle. What serious mischief could such ob- 278 M, de Chateaubriand. scure intrigues inflict at that period on the powerful government of Napoleon ! And how unjust and cruel was capital punishment for an offence attended with so little danger ! We may well suppose that this heavy domestic affliction, added to the secret persecutions of the im- perial police, and the ignoble attacks of literary jea- lousy and political enmity, tended to embitter the triumphs which our author's muse had just won. The year 1809, he declares, was one of the most unfortu- nate in his life. In the year 18 10 the ^^Itineraire de Paris \ Jerusa- lem " was pubKshed. The substance of this work I analysed in my last lecture, when I described the author's tour through Greece, Asia Minor, the Holy Land, and Egypt. As to the execution of the work itself, I can only say that I consider it the finest book of travels I ever read. A most competent judge, the Abbe de la Mennais, once told me, " it was Chateau- briand's most faultless work." And the distinguished critic M. Villemain, in his recent life of our author, says, " It is an original and charming book, the most natural he ever wrote." The work from the first commanded universal ap- plause ; nor has the public estimation of its merits ever varied. The subject called forth the author's various and elegant learning, his reminiscences of sacred and profane antiquity, his keen observation of manners and customs, and his wonderful descriptive His Poetical Productions. 279 powers, which here, if in manner less ornate and elaborate, are perhaps still more vivid and natural than in the ^^ Martyrs." The *^ Itineraire,'' which was designed by the author to be a mere supplemental volume of illustration to the latter work, was found to vie with it, and even in some respects to surpass it. Some of Chateaubriand's lyrics are very pleasing, and even touching. He tells us in his Memoirs that he found in the muse a solace and a relaxation at almost all periods of his life. He adds, that M. de Fontanes regretted he should have given up the culti- vation of poetry, in which he thought him destined to obtain great success. But Chateaubriand's memory must have here failed him ; for M. Villemain asserts the direct contrary. He represents that able critic as affirming that while Chateaubriand displayed such creative powers in prose, his poetry was flat and prosaic. His tragedy of *'Moise,'' which I have never read, is pronounced by Villemain to be frigid and monotonous. The relations between prose and poetry, and the various elements that go to constitute excellence in either, are most subtle and intricate, and seem often to elude analysis. In 1 810 the Emperor Napoleon expressed to his minister his utter surprise that the " Genie du Chris- tianisme " had not been placed by the Institute on the list of books, whose authors were entitled to cer- tain prizes, which he had charged it to allot. The Institute was then in a great degree composed of no- 2 8o M, de Chateaubriand. torious infidels and disguised Jacobins, who had not long before proposed a wretched materialistic produc- tion — the " Catechism," by St Lambert — as a book worthy of an academic prize. The majority of the Institute, in despite of the remonstrances of many distinguished members, declared that the ^^ Genie du Christianisme" did not come under the class of works to which the academic prizes could be adjudged, but recommended Chateaubriand's book to the especial attention of the Emperor as deserving of every encour- agement. In this way this body sought to evade the directions of the Government, without at the same time coming into direct collision with it. At this juncture died the poet Joseph Chenier, a member of the Academy ; and that Institution, forty days after his death, and by almost unanimous suf- frages, elected in his place M. de Chateaubriand. His more violent religious and political opponents ab- stained from voting ; and thus sought to relieve their body from its embarrassing position towards the Gov ernment. The Emperor, on the very evening of the election, congratulated M. de Fontanes on the very excellent choice which the Academy had just made. The new Academician had, according to custom, to deliver a speech on his reception at the Academy ; and in this he was obliged to take a review of the life and literary labours of his predecessor. The religious and political sentiments of the Voltairian and regicide Chenier were, of course, in direct antagonism to those His Farewell to Letters. 281 of our author ; and in such a biographical sketch he had to encounter difficulties on every side. In the academic discourse which he had prepared, Chateau- briand, while he acknowledged the literary merits of Chenier, that were respectable, denounced with his usual boldness his irreligious and revolutionary doc- trines and conduct. A secret committee of the Acad- emy, which examined the manuscript of the projected address, declared it was inadmissible ; and this was not surprising, as many of the members of that body shared the opinions, and were stained with the guilt of Chenier. The Emperor, who alternately flattered the Catholics and the Jacobins, and at this period was leaning decidedly towards the anti-Catholic party, confirmed the judgment of the committee. His hos- tility towards Chateaubriand increased ; and the latter was henceforth more exposed to the annoyances of the imperial police. But great political events are impending ; and it is to politics Chateaubriand will henceforth almost ex- clusively devote his intellectual powers. At the con- clusion of his ^^ Martyrs" he has the consciousness that he is about to leave for ever the fairy realms of romance, in which he had so long dwelt. " Farewell," says he, " O Fancy, thou who hast been my solace through life ; thou who hast partaken in my pleasures, but, alas, more frequently in my sorrows ! I canno*t sever myself from thee without a sigh ; for when I was but yet an enthusiastic youth, thou didst urge me to 282 M. de Chateaubriand. traverse the seas, and didst cheer me amid the tem- pest that shivered my sail/^ • And so, we who so long have accompanied him through the sohtudes of America, through the adven- tures and the sorrows of the emigration, through the* troubled morning of his early literary life, and the splendour of its glorious noon, must now follow him into the great arena of his political career, where, in one of the most agitated and momentous epochs of human history, he plays a conspicuous part. We, too, must now bid farewell to the flowery meads of romance and to the groves of poetry; for we are about to enter on the thorny paths of political life. The giant Despotism, that had so long trodden on Europe, from Naples to Berlin, was now tottering to its fall. The huge idol of brass was found to have but feet of clay. The vices and errors of the imperial Government I noticed in my last lecture j and it is needless here to recapitulate them. The groans of oppressed na- tions, and the uplifted hands of a holy Pontiif in prison, had called down the vengeance of Heaven ; and on every side countless hosts sprang up ; and the very elements were arrayed against the oppressor. The violated security of home, conjugal rights disre- garded, the sacredness of law despised, national inde- pendence trampled under foot, the outraged majesty of kings, oppressed religion, — all put up a cry to the ' ' Buonaparte and the Bourbons r 283 Supreme Author of all justice; and that cry was heard. As, in 1 8 14, the combined armies were advancing on the French territory, and the French troops were falling back, the Corps Legislatif vainly endeavoured to bring Napoleon round to more moderate counsels, and to engage him to conclude an honourable peace. The monarchical and the republican parties both be- gan to be stirring. Chateaubriand already became the centre of a poUtical party. It was at this period that, at great personal risk, he composed his famous pamphlet, "Buonaparte and the Bourbons." This pamphlet is doubtless written in too passionate a tone : it exaggerates the faults and crimes of Napo- leon, and ascribes to his Government wrongs for which not he, but the Revolution, was responsible. The services which Napoleon had rendered to France, — the suppression of anarchy, the restoration of religion, great material improvements in the administration, the great encouragement given to the mathematical and physical sciences, — all these services are over- looked in this pamphlet. Yet the greater portion of the strictures are perfectly true, as the strong response which the essay found in the public opinion of that day seemed to shew. All that the author says in fa- vour of the restoration of the legitimate dynasty — that it would prevent a dismemberment of France, secure its independence, put an end to devastating wars of 284 M. de Chateaubriand. ambition, establish a solid system of civil liberty, pro- mote commerce, and insure the freedom and dignity of the Church ; — all these statements are just and true. And if the Restoration but imperfectly accom- plished these beneficial results, this was not the fault of M. de Chateaubriand, nor of the political party of which he was long one of the most distinguished leaders. This pamphlet, "Buonaparte and the Bourbons," had an extraordinary sale, and was declared by Louis XVIII. to have been worth to his family one hundred thousand men. My limits will not allow me to trace the course of the momentous events which now followed in rapid succession. The abdication of the Emperor Na- poleon at Fontainebleau — the restoration of Louis XVIII. to the throne after an exile of twenty-five years — the return of the rest of the royal family — and the grant of the famous Charter — are great occur- rences, which I can do no more than advert to. The internal and foreign politics of the Restoration, so far as they bear on the life of the illustrious man whose biography I am sketching, will engage our attention in this and the following Lecture. I shall merely draw out the main thread of events, and connect with it the workings of our author. In the first year of the Restoration, he was named ambassador to Sweden ; a post which was a sort of honourable exile. But while he was making prepara- The Hundred Days. — His Peerage. 285 tions for his departure, the sudden return of Napoleon from the isle of Elba put an end to the appointment. In this year, 1814, he had pubUshed his "Reflections on the New Order of Things," wherein are contained the germs of his work, entitled " The Monarchy ac- cording to the Charter," and which evince the best intentions, and contain many most soHd and useful observations. As Napoleon advanced on the capital, Chateau- briand followed Louis XVIII. and the court to Ghent, where he was admitted into the Royal Coun- cil. There he presented a famous state-paper, en- titled, " Report to the King on the Present State of France," a document which is remarkable for its political sagacity. On the return of the Bourbons to France in July 1815, M. de Chateaubriand was made by the king a peer of France, and minister of state, with a pension. This place did not give a seat in the cabinet, but was a dignity somewhat corresponding to that of an English privy-councillor. The elections of 18 15 returned to the Chamber of Deputies a preponderating majority of men devoted to the Church and the monarchy, and counting among their members individuals distinguished as much for great talents, eloquence, and knowledge of business, as for property and ancient birth. In this Chamber the illustrious Catholic philosopher and publicist, M. de Bonald, proposed and carried the abolition of 286 M, de Chateaubriand. divorce ; and so this stigma, which the Revolution had stamped on the French code, was for ever removed. The banishment of the relapsed Regicides* from France was another salutary measure which this Chamber passed j and it is remarkable that our great Burke had, with his wonderful prescience, declared twenty years before, that if the restored dynasty did not banish the Regicides, they would in a year's time upset the monarchy. This prediction was literally verified. The Chamber would have adopted many other healing and restorative measures had it not been suddenly dissolved by the king, at the instiga- tion of a young minister, named M. de Cazes, who, imbued as he was with very revolutionary sentiments, had obtained over the royal mind an extraordinary influence. To justify this violent measure, the ministerial, as well as the revolutionary journals and their corre- spondents in every country in Europe, spread all kinds of calumnies against the royalist majority in the Chamber of 1815. It was said that that majority aimed at the overthrow of the Charter, at the restitu- tion of tithes to the clergy, and at the restoring of the confiscated lands to the emigrant nobles or their descendants ; nay, it was even hinted that they were unfavourable to the civil toleration of the Protestants. * They were so called, because, after the amnesty they had received firom the king in 18 14, they took part against him on Napoleon's return ft-om Elba. Demands of the Royalists. 287 These charges were utterly false. To begin with the matter of greatest importance — the Church — the royalists knew that the Holy See in its Concordat had solemnly renounced, on behalf of the French clergy, all claims to tithes, and every other descrip- tion of Church property that had been confiscated. They only claimed for the clergy some fixed, per- manent endowment instead of a precarious allowance, dependent on an annual parliamentary vote. While they desired full recognition by the state of the marriages of Protestants, they demanded that the registers should be restored to the Cathohc clergy, and civil marriages done away with. They de- manded the legal observance of the Sundays — a measure which, except in the capital and a few very large provincial cities, might have been easily carried out. They demanded a full execution of the Con- cordat, and an increase of episcopal sees from forty to eighty, a measure which was obtained six years later. They required the abolition of the oppressive organic articles, by which Napoleon had virtually nullified the Concordat, and against which the Holy See had solemnly protested. They required, too, the legal recognition, or, at least, toleration of religious orders of men. They asked for the reform of the university, which embraced all the academies and colleges of the country, and which was the deadliest gift the Revo- lution had bequeathed to France. While they were for the union of Church and 288 M. de Chateaubriand. State — a union existing in all European countries, and more lately sanctioned by a solemn declaration of the Holy See, which declared it most salutary to both the civil and the spiritual powers — the French royalists recognized the necessity of the amplest toleration for all dissident sects. Never in the writ- ings, or in the conversation of the French Catholics, did I ever find the principle of religious toleration impugned. As to the restitution of their estates to the emigrant nobility, no sane man ever proposed such a measure ; for it was utterly impracticable. Napoleon, at the commencement of the century, had already, by a wise policy, facilitated in some instances the repurchase by the ancient owners of confiscated property on rea- sonable terms. But even such repurchases were now too late. All that the royalists demanded was a rea- sonable indemnity to a class that had suffered so much for their religion, king, and country, and which would tend at once to satisfy the claims of honour- able and devoted men, and to tranquillize the minds of the purchasers of the confiscated estates. This wise and heaHng measure was obtained ten years afterwards, and, I am happy to add, works well at the present day. As to the violent overthrow of the Charter, such an idea was never entertained by the most ardent royal- ist, however many might ' entertain doubts as to its durability. The JoMrnal '' Le Conservateur!' 289 The Royalists demanded the abolition of bureau- cratic centralization, and the establishment of a com- prehensive communal and municipal system. They asked for the suppression of the censorship on journals, and for a free, but not a licentious press. They wished for a system of parliamentary elections that would embrace a great variety of interests, and insure to all the legitimate social influences, whether of rank, or of property, or of intelligence, or of civil magistracy, or of spiritual authority, their due weight. The proofs of these assertions which I have made, are to be found in the speeches of the members of the Cote Droit during the whole period of the Restor- ation, in the writings of their distinguished pubhcists, and, among others, in those of the illustrious man whose works I am reviewing, and especially in his *' Monarchic selon la Charte," which I shall presently notice. But if there were one writing more than another which served to dispel the absurd calumnies so zealously circulated against the Catholic and mon- archical party in France, it was the Conservateur. This was a bi-monthly periodical to which the most distinguished literati and politicians of the country contributed. They met once a week ; and Chateau- briand presided at their meetings, where papers, dis- cussing all important matters relating to the interests of Church and State, were read by their several con- tributors. Here, among others, attended the able administrator, Fidvee ; the distinguished orator, Count 290 M. de Chateaubriand, Castelbajac; the illustrious philosopher, De Bonald; and a young priest, who was then in the bright morn- ing of his fame.^ This luminary had then just risen above the literary horizon of France, and by his extra- ordinary splendour was fixing all eyes upon himself. That priest was afterwards the dear friend of my youth ; and with whom I was in the bonds of the closest friendship as long as he remained true to him-, self, and true to his principles, and true to the Church, of which he had been so long an ornament. The Conservateur appeared for two years, from 18 16 to 1 8 18, and powerfully contributed to the overthrow of the ministry of M. Decazes. It was in 181 6 M. de Chateaubriand published his political work entitled '^La Monarchic selon la Charte." In the first part he gives an exposition of the principles and practice of the modern representa- tive government j and, in the second part, he applies those principles to his own country. He concludes with remarks on the state of parties in France. The work displays great knowledge of the constitu- tion and the political history of England, and shews how well Chateaubriand had turned his long exile on our shores to account The statements are clear and precise j the observa- tions, though not profound, mostly sohd and judicious; the arguments frequently cogent j and the style, always perspicuous and flowing, is often brilliant. The book * The Abb^ de la Mennais. His Loss of Place and Pensio7t. 291 produced a great sensation in France and in England, and has to this day remained a text-book of French constitutional law. The Chamber of Deputies, elected in 1815, and where the Royalist party had so strong a majority, and which Louis XVIII. had called the Chambre introuvable^ was, as we have seen, dissolved by a royal ordinance of September 181 6. In a postscript to his work, Chateaubriand, alluding to this fact, declares that the monarch entertained different views from his ministers, and had signed this ordinance with regret. Hereupon the ministers prosecuted the work of M. de Chateaubriand, and required of the king to strike him off the list of ministers of state, and deprive him of his pension. The new electoral law, passed in the new Chamber by the influence of ministers, threw the preponder- ance of power into the class of the small proprietors, and decreed the partial renovation every year of the Chamber of Deputies. These two articles of the new law gave great encouragement and force to the revolu- tionary party. Men of very anarchical principles and antecedents came successively into the Chamber of Deputies. The Royalist leaders in the Conservateur com- bated with great energy the poHcy of the ministers, and exposed the formidable dangers which beset the most sacred interests of society. The secession of 292 M. de Chateaubriand. two of the most respected members of the Admin- istration, the Duke de Richeheu and M. Laine', strengthened for a time the dangerous influence of M. Decazes. The king was so infatuated with this minister that, to support him in the Chamber of Peers, he nominated sixty new peers, many of whom were decided Buonapartists. The election of the regicide, the famous Abbe Gregoire, opened the eyes of the monarch, and made him insist on a modifica- tion of the electoral law. At length an appalling event — the assassination of the Duke de Berri — filled France with consternation. The wretched assassin, Louvel, who by his crime wished to put an end to the Bourbon dynasty, had no doubt been influenced by the revolutionary fer- ment which had for some time prevailed. About the same time some military conspiracies broke out in diflerent parts of France. An eloquent tribute to the unfortunate prince, who had fallen the victim of revolutionary frenzy, issued from the pen of Chateaubriand, and served to allay the anguish of Christian France. The ministers gave unequivocal proofs of their horror at the fatal deed. The Count d'Artois and the Duke and Duchess d'Angouleme declared to the king that, if M. De- cazes was not dismissed from the ministry, they would quit the palace of the Tuileries. The king reluctantly consented to their request, and called the Duke de Richelieu a second time to the helm of The Royalist Ministry. 293 affairs. He became President of the Council, but a year afterwards modified the Cabinet, and introduced into it two of the Royalist chiefs, M. de Villele and M. de Corbiere. It was agreed that M. de Chateau- briand should be named ambassador to the Court of Berhn. This success of the Royahst party, which took place in 182 1, was but partial; for its leader, M. de Villele, though in the Cabinet, took no office. Chateaubriand was very well received by the King of Prussia, and by his court. This favourable recep- tion was due partly to his great literary reputation, partly to the fact that the Prussian monarch and his ministers now saw that a party, frankly religious and monarchical, could alone arrest the progress of the Revolution in France. Though M. de Chateaubriand found much to charm and gratify him during his abode at Berlin, he yet sighed for the pohtical excitement of Paris. At length in 1822 the ministry was overturned, and the Royalist party seized the reins of government. The new ministry consisted of M. de Villele, as Minister of Finance ; M. de Corbiere, Minister of the Home Department ; the Viscount de Montmorency for Foreign Affairs; M. de Peyronnet, for Justice; and the Duke de Belluno, for War. At the same time M. de Chateaubriand was ap- pointed ambassador to the British Court. The poor emigrant nobleman that had quitted England in 1799, obscure and unknown, doubtful whether he would be 294 ^' d^ Chateaubriand. allowed to plant his foot on his native soil, now re- turned crowned with literary laurels, and loaded with the honours of state. The exiled king, for whom he had fought and bled, and in whose cause he had endured the torments of exile and of penury, and had written such eloquent pages, was now restored to the throne of his ancestors. The wheel of fortune had re- volved, and the friendless exile was now the representa- tive of royalty. As he disembarked at Dover he was received with the roar of cannon; and a deputation from the municipal body, headed by the Lord Mayor, presented him an address. Two splendid carriages, each with four horses, and with outriders, conveyed him and his suite to the magnificent French Embassy in Portland Place, London, at a quarter of a mile's distance from that garret in Marylebone Street, where twenty-five years before he had found a shelter. At this period I was a young student of the law, and my enthusiasm for Chateaubriand's writings was at the highest pitch. I hastened, on the Sunday fol- lowing his arrival in London, to the little chapel of the French Embassy, situate in one of the back lanes of that metropoHs. It was to that chapel I used as a boy to go so frequently with my mother. There I used to see those venerable confessors of the faith — those holy priests, who, rather than betray their Church, had endured all manner of hardships and privations — penury, captivity, and exile. There I used to see the distinguished nobles and magistrates of France, with French Chapelin London. 295 their high-born dames and daughters, despoiled, as they had been, of their wealth and shorn of their greatness, seek, at the foot of the altar, solace and resignation under their bitter misfortunes. There, too, had I seen the stately figure of the Count d'Ar- tois, afterwards Charles X., whom, in my simplicity, I used to take for a bishop; because, by a royal privilege, he was admitted within the sanctuary. Thither, too, used to repair for her devotions, and dressed in plain attire, the august grand-daughter of the Empress Maria Theresa — the heroic orphan-daughter of the virtuous Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette — the Duchess d'Angouleme, that Niobe of modern history, as she has well been called — radiant with the twofold lustre of virtue and of misfortune — more majestic in her unutterable sorrow than had she been seated on the throne of France, amid all the glories of Versailles ! On the Sunday I speak of, the great French am- bassador and his secretaries arrived, and took the places assigned to them in the tribune. On this occasion the holy liturgy of our Church, which this distinguished man had described with such enchant- ing eloquence, seemed to make a livelier impression than ever on my heart. As soon as the holy sacrifice was terminated, I hastened with some friends to the chapel door, in order to catch a glimpse of the am- bassador. Fortunately we found him standing at the door, awaiting the arrival of his carriage. What plea- 296 M. de Chateaubriand, sure I then had in looking on the wanderer of the American forests and savannahs — the pilgrim of the Holy Land — the bard of Christianity— and the de- fender of restored monarchy! Chateaubriand was then in all the vigour of mature manhood. The sable locks, intermingled with gray, still clustered round his manly brow; — his marked and striking features had an earnest, and even melancholy expression ; while his cheek, imbrowned by travel, was stained with the variation of many a clime. The shape of his head was remarkably fine. I longed to hear the sound of his voice, however low; but not a whisper could I catch. Twice afterwards I saw Chateaubriand — once in the streets of London with his secretary, Count Marcellus ; and the last time, which was in the follow- ing year, when he presided at Paris over a CathoHc literary society, called "La Societe des bonnes Etudes." In this spring of 1822 he attended a public dinner, at which Mr Canning presided. The celebrated Eng- lish orator was not then in office, but was on the eve of his departure for India, as Governor-General of that great British dependency. Mr Canning pro- posed the health of the illustrious foreign guest in words which I remember as distinctly as if I had heard them but yesterday. " M. de Chateaubriand," said he, "began his career by defending the prin- ciples of Christianity, and has continued it by sup- porting those of monarchy. And he has now come over to us to unite the two countries in the common His Embassy in London. 297 bonds of monarchical principles and of Christian sen- timents." This interesting occurrence is (to my sur- prise) not at all noticed by Chateaubriand in his memoirs. Some time after this public dinner, he gave, in honour of Louis XVIII.^s saint's-day, a most costly and magnificent entertainment to the Duke of York, the ministers, the foreign ambassadors, and all the nobihty of London. He was, unfortunately, too pro- fuse in his expenditure ; and when in office, he enter- tained in a style of magnificence becoming only a nobleman of ample hereditary wealth. Madame de Chateaubriand had not accompanied him to London this time ; but on great occasions the honours of the embassy were discharged by his cousin, the Mar- chioness de la Bellinaye, whom I had the honour of being afterwards well acquainted with, and who, from the period of the first emigration, had resided in London, where two years ago she died at a very advanced age. It was now the pleasure of the great ambassador, as he tells us in his memoirs, to lay at times his gran- deur aside, and to seek out the scenes of his early misery and want. " What is it to me," he exclaims, '^that the Marquess of Londonderry has made an ap- pointment to meet me ; or that Mr Canning has called on me ; or that the Duke of Wellington wishes to confer with me on particular business; or that Lady Jersey has invited me to meet Earl Grey, Mr 298 M. de Chateaubriand, Henry Brougham, and the other leaders of the Oppo- sition ! What are all these grand folks to me !" No ! his great pleasure, as he tells us, was to alight from his carriage at the corner of a street, to go on foot up the back lanes, where he had once lived ; to try and find out some face well known in days of yore, and to view again the places where he had once been the familiar of misery, and where he had shaken hands with want. Or, again, he would let his empty tilbury drive in the fashionable round of Hyde Park in the evening, while he himself would stroll under those beautiful trees in Kensington Gardens, where in his days of exile he used to meet his fellow-sufferers, the French priests, reciting their breviary — those trees under which he had indulged in many a reverie — under which he had breathed many a sigh for home —under which he had finished "Atala,'' and had composed " Rene." Or, again, it was sometimes his fancy at night, when his secretaries had gone to a ball, and he had given all his servants a holiday, to remain solitary in that large house in Portland Place, and with the house-key on the table, to sit down to write his memoirs, and trace back the scenes of his early childhood — those scenes we all love to recall ; for it is there our moral natures receive their first and abiding impress ! Surely we recognize in the moody ambassador the fantastic youth we once saw in the woods, and on the moors of Brittany. But events are now thickening in Europe. The The Spanish Revolution. 299 clouds of confusion are gathering into black and tem- pestuous masses over the horizon of Spain. The Constitution of 1820, sprung out of a military revolt, I attempted to characterize on a former occasion. With its phantom of a mock, impotent royalty — with an aristocracy shut out from its due representation — a Church insulted and oppressed — the commons co- erced by a factious soldiery, and the tyranny of clubs — an irreligious and licentious press — that Constitu- tion, as it aped the follies and disorders, was inflicting the evils also of the French Constituent Assembly of 1790. The Catholics and Royalists of Spain, form- ing the immense majority of her people, cordially sympathized with the insurgents of the northern pro- vinces, when they unfurled the banner of resistance to the anarchic tyranny, which had its seat in the capi- tal. In the name of religion, royalty, law, corporate rights, and ancient customs and provincial liberties, they offered a most energetic opposition to the revo- lutionary troops. But, inferior as they were in mili- tary discipline, and possessed of few pecuniary re- sources, how could these brave guerilla bands be a match for the regular forces of the Revolution'? After a desperate struggle, they were driven back on the French territory, and there disarmed. A pestilen- tial fever having about this time broken out at Bar- celona, and spread to other towns in the north of Spain, the French Government deemed it expedient to establish in its provinces bordering on the Pyrenees 300 M, de Chateaubriand, a cordon sanitaire. At the same time an active cor- respondence was carried on between the Spanish clubs and the secret societies in France ; various attempts were made by the revolutionary emissaries of the former to debauch the fidelity of the French troops stationed on the frontier; and the doctrines, proceedings, machinations, and various outrages of the Spanish Cortes and clubs tended to revive the hopes, inflame the passions, and excite the emulation of the Jacobins of France. It was at this period the sovereigns of Europe re- solved to hold the Congress of Verona, in order to concert measures against a Revolution, which by its doctrines and examples so seriously compromised the peace of states, and the freedom of nations. Other important affairs were to engage the attention of the various plenipotentiaries and ministers there assem- bled, and to be submitted to their common delibera- tion. The French Cabinet deputed to that Congress four representatives : the Viscount, afterwards Duke Matthieu de Montmorency, then Minister for Foreign Affairs, the Count de la Feronnays, the Marquis de Caraman, and M. de Rayneval. The Congress was to be held in the autumn of 1822 ; and ever since the preceding month of May, Chateaubriand had been urgently soliciting M. de Villele and the Viscount de Montmorency, as well as other friends out of the Cabinet, to procure him the honour of being among the representatives of France at that august assembly His Mission to Verona, 301 of sovereigns and statesmen. This honour he at last acquired through the influence, more especially, of the Duchess de Duras ; and the acquiescence of M. de Villele was now the more easily obtained, as (for reasons I shall presently state) he wished to use Chateaubriand as an instrument for thwarting the policy of his rival, Montmorency. It was in an evil hour, when misled by ambition, Chateaubriand solicited and obtained this boon. For though his embassy to Verona was the means of bringing him into the French Cabinet, and though during his short administration of eighteen months he gave proofs of rare ability, yet that administration fed to dissensions in the Royalist party — led to his quarrel with the prime minister, M. de Villele — led to his rupture with the party, of which he had been so long the ornament, and brought about disasters which embittered his subsequent life, as well as affected the well-being of the monarchy itself He should have rested satisfied with the important embassy at the British Court, which gave him a political influence next to that of a cabinet minister j where, too, the liberal emoluments might enable him to repair his dilapi- dated fortunes j and where functions, not too onerous, allowed him sufficient leisure for the cultivation of letters. Whenever important pubHc questions might come under discussion, he could always raise his voice in the Senate of his country ; a minister so generous and noble-minded as his friend Montmorency, would 302 M, de Chateaubriand. have been sure to lend an ear to any useful sugges- tion he might make; and without any risk to his popularity, or collision with his colleagues, he might have exerted a salutary influence over the course of public affairs. He knew, too, that he was no favour- ite with Louis XVIII., who neither appreciated, as he ought, his noble character, nor relished his literary productions; and who once said, that a poet was not to be admitted into his councils. He knew well that, in case of any conflict with M. de Villele, the man of letters would surely be sacrificed to the skilful finan- cier and the able administrator. All these reasons should have made Chateaubriand decline rather than solicit the mission to Verona, and still more have withheld him from even seeming to supersede in the ministry the Viscount de Montmorency, so revered for his public and private virtues. As the summer advanced, the state of Spain became more alarming. An attempt of the Royal Guards to deliver the king from his thraldom miscarried; and his position was thus rendered more critical. The Spanish Royalists became more urgent in their de- mands for succour from their French brethren ; and the latter almost unanimously responded to their appeal. The Courts of Austria, Prussia, and Russia became every day more decided as to the necessity of an armed intervention in the affairs of Spain, and communicated their views on this matter to the Cabinet of the Tuileries, and to that of St James's. Dissensions in the French Cabinet. 303 At this moment M. de Villele began to waver in his poHcy. This minister possessed a mind singularly lucid, and had great talents for finance, and for all the details of administration ; but he had not deep and comprehensive views of statesmanship, nor a heart glowing with zeal for the interests of religion. He felt somewhat uneasy as to the temper of the French troops when confronted with the forces of the Revolution, and he dreaded the effects of a war on the reviving finances of his country. This poHcy of hesitation was opposed by Matthieu de Montmorency, and a portion of the Cabinet, who insisted that the interests of Europe, and more especially of France and of Spain, demanded a prompt termination to the anarchy prevailing in the last-named distracted coun- try. The views of M. de Villele were supported by the Journal des Dehats ; but all the other organs of Royalist opinion defended the policy of M. de Mont- morency. It is with reluctance, and contrary to the principle I have ever laid down for myself, I advert to domestic history of a recent date. But I shall state such oc- currences only as are indissolubly connected with the biography I am sketching, and as are absolutely ne- cessary for elucidating European affairs. The British Government was decidedly opposed to any armed intervention in the afiairs of Spain ; and its pohcy was in this respect an exception to that of the other European Cabinets. 304 M. de Chateaubriand. The position of our ministers was, indeed, a diffi- cult one. No British statesman in either of the two great poHtical parties dared to express an approval of the new Spanish Constitution. Yet, on the one hand, King Ferdinand VII., as I shewed on a former occa- sion, by his excessive severity towards the Liberals, (some of whom had rendered great services to their country in the War of Independence, and of whom others had been more misguided than ill-intentioned,) — King Ferdinand VII., I say, had alienated the sym- pathy of many friends of monarchy. On the other hand, when, not content with putting down the an- archic Cortes of 181 2, and annulling all its proceed- ings, he forbore to convoke the legitimate Cortes of the three estates, he evidently betrayed a want of dis- cernment, and acted against the advice of the wisest men in Spain, ecclesiastical and lay, and lost a noble opportunity for regenerating his countiy. Hence it was dreaded that his restoration would lead to the re- turn of the old Absolutism, which had inflicted so much evil on Spain ; and this was another difficulty that complicated the position of the British Govern- ment. Moreover, the suppression of monasteries flat- tered the vulgar Protestant prejudices ; and outrages on the Catholic clergy (though lamented by the better Protestants as proofs of an anti-Christian fanaticism) were in other quarters too often regarded as signs of approximation to the pure reformed creed. The absence of very general violence in the inci- Policy of the British Government. 305 pient stages of this Revolution, (though examples of sweeping confiscations, judicial murders, and popular massacres were by no means wanting,) tended again to lull vulgar politicians into a false repose. The im- beciHty of this class of men ever looks for fearful catastrophes in the first or in the second act of the tragedy. But in the political^ as in the poetical drama, great sorrows and great crimes are the frtdts of the gradual growth of evil passions^ of the development of had characters^ and of the slow maturity of dark plots ^ and are therefore to be found not in the first^ hut in the last acts of the play. Again, the British ministers, at least some of them, wedded to the political routine of the eighteenth cen- tury, most unjustly suspected ambitious designs on the part of the French Court ; and feared that a French invasion of Spain, though sanctioned by a European Congress for European objects, and solicited by the very leaders of that people who had most strenuously resisted the arms of Napoleon, would yet lead to the territorial aggrandizement of France. It was with these feelings of anxiety and doubt the British Cabinet looked on the approaching Congress of Verona ; and no one felt the difiiculties of the situa- tion more keenly than the minister, the Marquess of Londonderry, who was about to be deputed to repre- sent England in that august assemblage of the sove- reigns and statesmen of Europe. At the end of September 1822, the French ambas- u 3o6 M, de Chateaubriand. sador left London for Paris ; but on his arrival at that capital he found that M. de Montmorency had already quitted it for his destination. After a short stay, dur- ing which he conferred with M. de Villele on the policy he was to pursue, he continued his route to Verona. Meanwhile, after the tragic death of the Marquess of Londonderry, brought about under circumstances of mental alienation, the eloquent orator and distin- guished statesman, Mr George Canning, had suc- ceeded to the department of Foreign Affairs. The Duke of Wellington was now sent as British envoy to the Congress of Verona. The instructions, indeed, which the illustrious marshal bore had been penned by the late Marquess of Londonderry ; but Mr Can- ning, not content with upholding a system of neu- trality, evinced something more than an equivocal sympathy for the Revolution. This statesman now sadly disappointed the expectations of his early ad- mirers ; he turned his back on those great Gamaliels, Burke and Pitt, at whose feet he had sat in youth ; forgot those noble doctrines he had himself once pro- claimed ; and, instead of supporting the religious and enlightened Spaniards, who demanded the restoration of the monarchy and of the ancient Cortes, he threw round a Constitution, (which he himself acknowledged to be vicious,) the aegis of his diplomatic protection. Decorum forbids me to make any further comments Congress of Verona. 307 on the policy then pursued by this statesman, and which has unfortunately left a permanent impress on the counsels of this empire. At Verona M. de Chateaubriand found the Em- peror of Austria, attended by Prince Metternich, and the AuHc Councillor, Gentz, the celebrated pubhcist, and translator and commentator of Burke's anti-revo- lutionary works. The King of Prussia was there, with his two brothers and two ministers. The Emperor of Russia was there too, accompanied by his prime minister and several marshals; while stars of lesser magnitude, like the King of Sardinia, the Duke of Modena, and the Duchess of Parma, attended as satelHtes On these greater luminaries. The King of France was represented, as before said, by his Minis- ter for Foreign Affairs, M. de Montmorency, and by four envoys in subordination to him, the Marquis de Caraman, the Count de la Feronnays, M. de Rayneval, and M. de Chateaubriand himself The Royalist Regency of Urgel in Catalonia sent also deputies to plead before this Congress the cause of their captive monarch, and of their oppressed country. The question of the suppression of the slave-trade, and of the putting down of piracy in the American seas, first engaged the attention of the Congress. But the main subject for deliberation was the Revolution in Spain. On the dangerous character of that Revolu- tion, and on the necessity of its suppression, no dis- 3o8 M. de Chateaubriand, sentient voice was raised, except in one quarter. The British plenipotentiary, the Duke of Wellington, while he attempted not to justify it, protested against the armed intervention of any European Power to put it down. The Viscount de Montmorency presented an energetic note to the Congress, depicting in strong col- ours the perils with which this Revolution menaced all European states, and especially France, recommending to the sovereigns assembled a simultaneous withdrawal of their ambassadors from Madrid, and (in case the revolutionary Government refused to comply with their just demands) the active intervention of France in the aifairs of Spain, backed, if necessary, by the forces of the other Powers. This note was more de- cided in its tone than suited the temporizing policy of M. de Villele, who, since the departure of M. de Mont- morency from Paris, had been created President of the Council. M. de Chateaubriand, in his " History of the Congress of Verona,'^ complains that his col- league, M. de Montmorency, had not consulted him in the drawing up of this note. But, in the first place, as he was the Minister for Foreign Affairs, he was not obliged to do so ; and, secondly, Chateaubriand, ever since his arrival at Verona, had kept himself in a state of strange isolation from all his colleagues. This fact we know from a letter published in the journals by the eldest son of the Marquis de Caraman, who, in vindi- cation of his father, tauntingly pronounced by Cha- teaubriand in his posthumous memoirs as a valet of is Political Views. 309 Prince Metternich's, found himself compelled to state the truth of the matter. The straightforward, single- minded policy of Montmorency stands (it must be confessed) in advantageous contrast with that of his literary colleague. The former looked to a war with the revolutionary Cortes as the means of serving the cause of religion, monarchy, and true freedom in Spain. But he knew well that a good, disinterested action would not go without its reward ; and that the war, if successful, (as there was every human proba- bility,) would insure to his sovereign a united, devoted army, consolidate the Royalist ministry, shed round the throne of the Bourbons a military prestige, and impart to the French Government a weight in the councils of Europe, which since the downfall of Napo- leon it had not possessed. Chateaubriand, on the other hand, declares that these interests of France were uppermost in his mind, and rose superior to every other consideration. He tells us that he looked upon the war with revolutionary Spain as the prelude to the acquisition by France of commercial advantages in South America, to the estabhshment of her ascendency in the East, and to the extension of her frontier to the Rhine. Had such ambitious, no less than visionary schemes been divined, the alliance of the several European Powers w^ould have been immediately broken up ; and possibly there would have been a declaration of hostilities on the part of Great Britain. These projects of Chateaubriand, as disclosed by him- 3IO M, de Chateaubriand. self in his '^ History of the Congress of Verona," ren- der intelhgible a phrase he subsequently employed, as minister, in a despatch to the French ambassador in London. Writing in reply to Mr Canning, he says the intervention in Spain is "an enterprize at once quite French and quite European/' " How an enter- prize can be at once quite French and quite Euro- pean," justly retorted the British minister, in the House of Commons, " is something I am at a loss to under- stand." It was these arriere-pensees of political aggran- dizement for his country which led, I imagine, to M. de Chateaubriand's strange reserve at the Congress of Verona, and to the somewhat equivocal policy he pursued at this juncture. Mr Canning positively as- serted, in a despatch to our ambassador at Paris, that the Earl of Liverpool had inferred from the language of M. de Chateaubriand that he was averse to a French intervention in Spain. The same must have been the impression of M. de Villele ; for he fully expected that at Verona Chateaubriand would have checked the warlike ardour of his colleague, Montmorency. What was the sequel of this imbroglio we shall presently see. On the whole. Prince Metternich, a most competent authority in such matters, is known to have declared that Montmorency evinced greater diplomatic skill and knowledge at Verona, than his celebrated col- league. In diplomacy, as in the general business of life, an open, straightforward course is the most politic, as well as the most just. When once asked what was The Emperor Alexander. 311 the secret of diplomatic success, the statesman I have just named replied, " Never to practise decep- tion/' The note of the French Minister for Foreign Affairs being approved of by all the plenipotentiaries, except the British, he hastened to return to Paris. He was most graciously received by Louis XVIII., who said to him, on his entering into the audience-chamber, " I am extremely satisfied with you, my cousin : I now create you Duke Matthieu de Montmorency." M. de Chateaubriand, and the other French envoys, remained three weeks longer at Verona. And it was during this time he entered into very cordial relations with the Emperor Alexander of Russia. His aliena- tion towards the Austrian Cabinet, which, without any proof, or rather against all evidence, he accused of being averse to the invasion of Spain by a French army, probably led him to cultivate these friendly relations with the Russian Czar. The character of Alexander, moreover, had much to attract a mind like M. de Chateaubriand's. Intellectual, generous, mag- nanimous, devout, this potentate had then a strong leaning to the Catholic Church, in whose communion Heaven at last vouchsafed him the grace of dying. He was then busy with the project of uniting the schismatical Greek Church of Russia with the Holy See. Had it pleased the Almighty to have prolonged his life, every portion of his vast empire, and every description of his subjects, including the noble, but 312 M, de Chateaubriand, unhappy Poles, would have experienced the effects of his beneficent rule. In the meantime an active war was being waged by the Royalist press of France in behalf of an armed intervention in Spain. The Etoile^ afterwards the Gazette de France^ the special organ of M. de Montmorency, M. de Peyronnet, and some other members of the Cabinet, was loud in the war-cry. The Journal des Debats^ on the other hand, then a Catholic and monarchical journal, defended the tem- porizing policy of M. de Villele, and of some other ministers. The revolutionary press, in its various shades of opinion, denounced the war with the utmost vehemence. Shortly after the arrival of M. de Montmorency at Paris, a Cabinet Council was held, in which he read the note that had been. submitted to the Congress of Verona, and been approved by it. This note, ad- dressed to the French ambassador at Madrid, was to be simultaneously presented with the notes transmitted by the three great Powers, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, to their respective representatives at the Spanish Court. These despatches, varying in their language, stipulated the conditions the compliance with which could alone prevent the withdrawal of the ambassadors from Spain, or, in other words, the breaking out of hostilities. After M. de Montmorency had read his note, the President of the Coungil brought out one couched in much more moderate terms, and pointing to war as a M, de Montmorency. 313 contingency more remote. A part of the Cabinet ap- proved of Montmorency's note ; a part supported that of M. de Villele's. The king gave his decision in fa- vour of the latter. Hereupon the Minister for Foreign Affairs rose, and declared that as the note he had read had received the approval of the Powers assembled at Verona, and as their plenipotentiaries had framed their despatches in unison with his own, he would conceive himself wanting in good faith, as well as in courtesy, to them, were he now to despatch to Madrid a document of a very different purport and tendency. From these considerations he felt bound in honour to tender the resignation of his office. The king, on his reiterating that resolution, replied that he would take the matter into consideration, and, if necessary, charge M. de Villele, ad inte^im^ with the portfolio of foreign affairs. M. de Montmorency continued, how- ever, to transact business with the corps diplomatique. The Duke of Wellington, on his return from Verona, having pressed with much urgency the mediation of our Court in the affairs of Spain, received from this minister a peremptory refusal in a diplomatic note, dated 6th September 1822. The next day the Moni- teur contained a royal ordinance, Vv^hereby the resig- nation of M. de Montmorency was formally accepted, and M. de Villele appointed Minister, ad interim^ for Foreign Affairs. The dismissal of this excellent states- man^' was a great blow to the Royalist party, and laid * It was my happiness to have been once mtroduced to this 314 -^- d^ Ckateatibriand. the first germs of those dissensions which were after- wards to prove so fatal to the monarchy. In the meantime the Congress of Verona had broken up, and M. de Chateaubriand had arrived in the French capital. Rumour had been busy with his name, and had represented him as caballing with the prime minister against his friend M. de Montmorency, in order to succeed to his place. The public eye was now fixed upon him, as the dismissal of Montmorency had rendered the monarchical party in France more ardent than ever for the war. On M. de Villele's offering to Chateaubriand the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, he declined it, but with that arch coyness that only provokes further solicitation. He alleged his friendship for Montmorency, whom he was unwilling, even in appearance, to supplant in office ; and then he pointed to the strong feeling for war on the part of the RoyaHsts, which was likely to. embarrass the Ad- ministration. M. de Villele had then an interview with him, and overcame in a great degree his apparent repugnance to office. At last the prime minister took his excuses to the king; but Louis XVIII., like M. de Villele, saw through these flimsy excuses, and dis- cerned the secret anxiety of Chateaubriand for the vacant place. After hearing from the latter some of excellent man and distinguished statesman. A countenance more expressive of benevolence, and of elevation of sentiment, I never beheld. The impression he made on me has never been effaced from my mind. Made Minister for Foreign Affairs. 3 1 5 his objections, his majesty briefly said, ^^ Accept the place; I command you." And the next day the Moniteur contained his nomination to the Ministry for Foreign Aflairs. Now had he reached the summit of his ambition. Chateaubriand, though ambitious and egotistical, was incapable of dissimulation \ yet it cannot be denied that both in London and at Verona, he had practised an over-refinement in his diplomacy. The Earl of LiverjDool on the one hand, and M. de Villele on the other, both thought, as we have seen, that he was averse to a war with the revolutionary Govern- ment of Spain ; and his succession to the vacant place of M. de Montmorency, at this juncture, produced the same impression on the French Royalists, and for a time diminished his popularity. From what has been stated, it is clear that he had been always for the armed intervention ; but that his conduct in all the negotiations which led to that great event, had not been of the same frank, direct, disinterested, single- minded character, which distinguished the bearing of the noble Montmorency. Once installed in oflice, M. de Chateaubriand dis- played great activity, as well as firmness of purpose. An animated interchange of notes ensued between himself and Mr Canning ; and it was interesting to see the brilliant passage of arms between two such distinguished men. Meantime the Royalist press be- came every day more vehement in its demand for 3 1 6 M. de Chateaubriand, war ; and none blew the martial trump more loudly than the most eloquent writer of the day, the cele- brated Abbe de la Mennais. Already had the Great Powers, while M. de Villele was still hesitating, with- drawn, on the 13th December 1822, their ambassa- dors from Madrid. On the 12th day of the following January M. de Chateaubriand transmitted a despatch to the French ambassador at that capital, demanding a prompt and important change in the Spanish Con- stitution of 1820, and complaining of a recent viola- tion of the French territory. On the i8th day of the same month the minister despatches another note to the same envoy, bitterly remonstrating against the re- plies of the Spanish Ministry to the observations of the French Government, and bidding him demand his passports, and quit Spain with his whole legation. The prime minister, M. de Villele, was now, by the force of events, the remonstrances of the Great Con- tinental Powers, the pressure of Royahst opinion, and the genius of his new colleague, drawn into the war. His own good sense shewed him that the stability of his administration, as well as the moral and material interests of France, would be compromised by further delay. War was now decided on. On the 28th January 1823 the Chambers were opened by the king himself, in a hall of the Louvre. There was a very numerous attendance of peers and deputies ; and this the most important parliamentary session of the Resto- ration was ushered in by the enthusiastic acclamations The Royal Speech, 317 with which the king and royal family were received, as well as by a brilliant assemblage of the rank, beauty, and civil and military glories of the French capital. The scene I can well imagine; for the following year I myself witnessed, at the triumphant close of the Spanish campaign, the opening of the French Par- liament by the king in that very hall. The infirm monarch w^as rolled in a chair into the great hall. After commencing his speech with some observations on the internal condition of France, his majesty, re- ferring to the war, which was now imminent, spoke as follows : — ^'I have employed every effort to guarantee the safety of my subjects, and to preserve Spain from ex- treme misfortune. " The blindness with which all representations made at Madrid have been repelled leaves little hope for the preservation of peace. " I have ordered the recall of my minister. A hun- dred thousand Frenchmen, commanded by a prince of my family, — by him whom my heart delights to call my son, — are ready to march in invoking the God of St Lewis to preserve the throne of Spain to a descend- ant of Henry IV., to preserve that fine kingdom from ruin, and to reconcile it with Europe. It was for me to deliberate. I have done so maturely ; I have con- sulted the dignity of my crown — the honour and the safety of France.'^ 3i8 M. de Chateaubriand. Prolonged and enthusiastic cries of " Vive le Roi!^^ followed on the close of the royal speech. The address to the Crown was first discussed in the Chamber of Peers, where the ministerial policy was approved by a large majority. When the discussion came on in the Chamber of Deputies, M. de Chateau- briand, though a peer, was, according to the French custom, obliged there to defend the policy of his Gov- ernment. This was a great trial for his oratory ; for the audience was considerably larger and more tumul- tuous, and the orators on both sides of the House more eloquent, than in the Chamber of Peers. Like most of the French orators in important parliamentary debates, he read his speech ; for it could not be ex- pected that men ascending the tribune at a late period of their lives could possess the gift of extemporaneous oratory. The speech was equal to the greatness of the occasion — it was the most effective Chateaubriand ever made ; and being well delivered, it produced an extraordinary impression on the Chamber and on the country. The orator shews the right of France to in- tervene in the affairs of Spain by the general testimony of publicists, and more especially by the doctrines and practice of the British Government, as manifest in the famous Declaration of Whitehall in 1793. He then points out the frequent violations of French territory, and the dangers thence incurred through the revolu- tionary troops of Spain. He dwells on the repeated attempts made by parties in Spain to debauch the His Speech in Favour of War, 319 fidelity of the French army ; on the close relations between the secret societies of the Peninsula and those of France; and on some military revolts at- tempted in the latter country, after the example of the successful one in Cadiz. The orator then proceeds to trace the history and the character of the Spanish Revolution, and to shew the fatal influence it was calculated to exercise on his own country, then but slowly recovering from her moral and social maladies. Lastly, he vindicates the Congress of Verona from the aspersions of its enemies, and gives an account of the objects which the sovereigns proposed to them- selves, and of the spirit which animated them. He concludes with proving how the expedition was cal- culated to unite in the bonds of military brotherhood the various members of the army, whether they were originally adherents of the Bourbon or of the Im- perial dynasty. In this speech there was one passage which pro- duced an electrical effect on the Chamber. The ora- tor, alluding to the fact that the King of Spain had been already menaced with deposition, and that de- position would too surely lead to a bloody imitation of the frightful catastrophe of the 21st January 1793, proceeds to say : — ^^ Is not the intervention which prevents the evil more useful than the one which avenges it? Spain had a diplomatic agent at Paris at the period of the dreadful occurrence I advert to ; 320 M. de Chateaubriand. but of what avail were his entreaties in behalf of his master's royal kinsman? What did that family-wit- ness do there % Assuredly, he was not needed to give evidence of a death which was known to earth and heaven ! Gentlemen, the trials of Charles I. and of Louis XVI. are already too many in the world. One juridical assassination more, and we shall establish by the authority of precedents a sort of prerogative of crime, and a code of jurisprudence for nations against kings !" This eloquent passage called forth a storm of applause, mingled with half-suppressed murmurs from the Left side. Such was the effect of the speech that the House at its close adjourned. In the spring of this year, 1823, the Duke d'An- gouleme, the nephew of the king, at the head of an army of one hundred thousand men, entered Spain. Before passing the frontier, he nominates a Spanish re- gency to act in the name of their king, and to assist the French commanders with their counsels. This army is preceded by a corps of Spanish Royalists. After dispersing a body of French insurgents, who had on the frontier allied themselves with the revolutionary troops of Spain, the prince advances with his army into the country. How different was his reception from the one which, fifteen years before, the great Napoleon had met with ! Everywhere he is hailed as a deliverer. The hamlets, villages, towns, and cities pour forth their population to greet him. The pea- sants bring provisions to his troops, and raise rustic Triumph of French Arms. 321 arches on his way ; the citizens receive him with the loudest acclamations j while the different orders of clergy, the grandees and the hidalgos, the magistrates and the municipalities of cities present him congratu- latory addresses. The main army of the Revolution- ists, under Ballasteros, falls back ; but in the defiles of Catalonia the skilful Mina opposes for a time to the advance of the French troops an energetic resistance. Meanwhile the revolutionary Cortes, fleeing before the French, drag their unhappy monarch as a captive to the walls of Cadiz. The French prince pursues his triumphant march through Spain, from Pampeluna to the walls of that city. There a desperate resistance is made in that last asylum of the Revolution. The prince by his intrepid valour animates his soldiers, and at last captures the Trocadero, a fort right opposite Cadiz. He then demands the unconditional surren- der of the king. I should have said that, a few weeks previously, the Duke d'Angouleme, by an ordinance dated from Andujar, and countersigned by his civil secretary, M. de Martignac, had moderated the counsels of the Spanish regency, and restrained the vindictive passions of its partizans. So he proved himself as wise and humane in council, as he was valiant in the field. On the ist of October 1823 the revolutionary force surrenders to the French, and the King of Spain is restored to his full freedom. The liberated monarch in grateful joy embraces his generous cousin ; and a X 322 M. de Chateaubriand. cry of jubilation is heard through the length and the breadth of the land. Such was the issue of this memorable campaign, which, when we consider its momentous objects and results, as well as the small amount of blood and treasure expended for their achievement, is almost un- precedented. All the results, indeed, and many of the most important ones, were not obtained ; for the work of social regeneration w^as not as easy in 1823, as it had been in 18 14. LECTURE III. LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND ^ — continued, TN my last Lecture I brought you down to the trium- phant close of the French campaign, under the Duke d'Angouleme, in the Spanish Peninsula. This is the place to inquire, what was the policy recommended by the French Government to the monarch whom it had rescued from a degrading thraldom, and whom it had re-established on his throne % On this matter M. de Chateaubriand, in his " History of the Congress of Verona," has furnished us with authentic information. He tells us that he urged on King Ferdinand VII. and his ministers the necessity of a firm, but temperate policy — the grant- ing of a generous amnesty — the re-establishment of the ancient Cortes — and the recognition, under cer- tain conditions, of the independence of the new South American , states. These conditions were, as he affirms, the establishment of regular monarchical 324 M. de Chateaubriand. governments in most of these states, with Spanish infantes at their head. Hereby the reconcihation between Spain and her revolted colonies would have been more easily brought about ; a commercial inter- course, most beneficial to both countries, would have been promoted ; the Church in those colonies would have preserved intact her spiritual authority and po- litical rights; order and freedom would have been there consolidated ; and the interests of the various races and classes composing the motley population of South America, would have been protected and advanced. Then, as regards the mother-country, what inesti- mable blessings would have flowed to her from the re- establishment of her ancient Cortes ! That task was now indeed, in 1823, from the extreme exasperation of parties, become more arduous than on the first liberation of the king in 18 14. That ancient con- stitution would, by calKng forth the energies of the nobles, have strengthened their position in society ; it would have opened a sphere to the activity of the middle classes, and so satisfied their legitimate aspira- tions; it would have insured to the clergy their due political influence, and so better protected their spiritual power ; it would have guaranteed the rights of all ranks, promoted their material w^ellbeing, and so consolidated at once authority and freedom. But, unfortunately, the wise counsels of M. de Chateaubriand and his colleagues were not attended Good Results of Intervention. 325 to by the Spanish Government Measures of extreme severity were resorted to against the revolutionary party ; and the old Absolutism, without any modifica- tion, was retained. Still the king displayed more prudence and energy than in the six years preceding 1820 ; a uniform system of policy was pursued ; and, as the Duke of Wellington acknowledged, the material prosperity of Spain was considerably advanced. Yet had those ancient Cortes been re-established, what misery would have been spared to that unfortunate land ! All the evils which followed on the death of Ferdinand in 1833, — the disastrous civil war between the adherents of Carlos and of Isabella — the triumph of revolutionary principles and revolutionary parties — the spoliation of the clergy — the persecution of religion — the spread of impiety, — all these calamities would have been happily avoided. We must, indeed, be thankful that, through the mercy of an all-gracious Providence, Spain should within the last twenty years have been gradually recovering from the severe wounds inflicted by her civil broils. M. Villemain, who was a decided partizan of the Duke Decazes, and was opposed to the intervention of his country in the affairs of Spain, and is much too severe in his censures on the government of King Ferdinand VI I. , is obliged "to admit that the mon- archical invasion of Spain thirty years ago was at- tended with complete success ; and that we may still maintain that, by arresting the ultimate excesses to 326 M. de Chateaubriand. which the Spanish Revolution was hurrying, without destroying the principle of that Revolution, which we see still energizing, it exercised on the whole world an influence salutary and conservative."* But if such were the results of this campaign to the Spanish Peninsula, what influence had the success of the French arms on the internal government of France herself? Its first efl'ect was to suppress mutinous fac- tions in the army, to restore concord in its ranks, and render it loyal and devoted to the Bourbon dynasty. "Nothing," well observes Chateaubriand in the famous speech cited on a former occasion — "Nothing so closely knits together the hearts of men, as the fellow- ship of arms." Next, the prudent and successful conduct of the war raised the dignity of France, and, for the first time since the downfall of Napoleon, gave her a voice in the councils of Europe. Lastly, the overthrow of the Spanish Revolution checked Liberalism in her interior, and consolidated the new Royalist administration, which, as we have seen, had the year before seized the helm of govern- ment. "Whatever," says M. Villemain, "might be the causes of that rapid success, (of the French arms,) it produced a deep impression in all Europe ; and the French Government, which had hitherto regarded the first employment of the army in a war of opinion as * La Vie de Chateaubriand, p. 299. Modern Representative System. 327 full of uncertainty and of danger, now could feel a great joy, and breath more at its ease."* In the autumn of 1823, M. de Chateaubriand pub- lished a pamphlet, shewing the advantages of sep- tennial parliaments, in order to give a certain stabiHty to the Constitution. And here is the fitting place to take a general review of his political system, and to give a short notice of his chief political writings and speeches. The political doctrines and aims of the party to which Chateaubriand belonged, I fully stated in my last Lecture. In that party he was particularly dis- tinguished by the stress he laid on the representative system, as the one alone suited to the wants and cir- cumstances of his country — alone calculated to recon- cile the claims of old and new France, and to insure the union of order and of freedom. Doubtless the modern representative system, feeble and defective copy, as it is, of the mediaeval States- Constitution, and of the more modern British Constitu- tion, possesses many decided advantages over the Ab- solutism which sprang up under the fostering care of Richeheu and of Louis XIV., and in various European countries became so prevalent during the eighteenth century. The control over the public expenditure possessed by the Parliament in this system — its co- operation in all legislative acts — the exemption of the subject from arbitrary arrests — the scope which it * La Vie de Chateaubriand, p. 339. 328 M, de Chateaubriand, furnishes to the talents and the energy of the higher and the middle classes, — these are inestimable a:dvan- tages that cannot be too highly appreciated. Our author enlarges, with much talent, on the inviolability which the Charter insured to the Crown — on the hereditary character of the peerage, and on the ne- cessity of entails to give it stability — on the various elements Avhereof the Chamber of Deputies ought to be composed — on its relations to the ministry — on the principles that should regulate parliamentary elec- tions — on the liberty of the press, and the rest. But did he not overlook the shortcomings and the defects, the grave defects, in that system % Did he sufficiently understand its internal organism % Did he understand that of the modern British Constitution, or of its parent, the mediaeval monarchy of the three estates % In France, under the Restoration, the external forms of royalty, of aristocracy, and of the commons subsisted ; but how different was the internal consti- tution from that of the two other systems ! The free, municipal system of the cities, and of the rural dis- tricts, undermined in the eighteenth century, was virtually destroyed by the great Revolution. The commissioners of the Republic overawed the mayors and corporations of the cities in the exercise of their functions ; and under Napoleon I. the bureaucratic centralization attained to such gigantic proportions as were unknown to the ancient regime. This system was retained under the Restoration, and, with some Old and New Parliaments Compared, 329 slight modifications, it exists at present. Hence, the Chambers had to defray the expenses, and the minis- ters chosen out of them had to exercise the patronage, of the whole administration of the country. The clergy had been despoiled by the Revolution of their ample revenues ; and, as a stipulated indem- nity, an annual stipend was now paid to them by the Government. The revolutionary torrent had swept away all the schools, colleges, and universities di- rected by the secular and regular clergy, as well as by the laity ; and a monstrous establishment, called the University, embracing every educational institute (ex- cept the clerical seminary) in the entire kingdom, was governed by state officials, and supported by an annual parliamentary aid. The Crown, too, had been robbed of its hereditary domains, and was now compelled to be a pensioner, on the bounty of its Parliament. In the States-Constitution the king could exercise his veto freely, and according to the dictates of his own conscience. But in this modern representative system the sovereign is nearly powerless, and must commit his conscience to the keeping of responsible ministers. Again, in the States-Constitution the clergy formed a separate order, whose concurrence was necessary to the passing of every law. But under the French Charter, and most of the other modern representative systems, the bishops sit in the Upper House, not in 330 M. de Chateaubriand. right of their sees, but by virtue of royal nomination ; while to the second order of clergy no kind of par- liamentary representation is accorded. Thus under that States-Constitution, which in the Middle Ages, and for a considerable time after, pre- vailed in most European kingdoms, we saw a free municipal government, local franchises, and provin- cial parliaments ; well-endowed and self-governing colleges and universities ; an opulent clergy, adminis- tering its own property, and holding a high, command- ing position in the Senate. Lastly, we saw royalty, possessed of an independent patrimony, and freely exercising its prerogative, effectually control and counterbalance the other constituent members of the State. The same observations will in part apply to the modern British Constitution. Singular dilemma of the European nations ! The Revolution of 1789, with the only true instinct that breaks out through all its excesses and aberrations, has rendered the representative system a necessity; yet at the same time it has rendered, more especially in France, a sound parliamentary government im- practicable, or at least exceedingly difficult. Every successive failure is followed by fresh attempts at reconstruction. Penelope no sooner rips up her robe by night than with unwearied labour she weaves it again by day. And what inference are we hence to draw % Two things are, I think, apparent : first, that the need of representative government is something The French Charter. 331 real and genuine; and next, that the form it has hitherto taken has been very defective. From what has been said, it will appear that the Constitutionalism of the nineteenth century makes as dangerous encroachments on the rights of the various orders of the State, as the Absolutism of the preced- ing age. Like its elder sister, it seeks a self-aggran- dizement, which is fatal to itself It invades the rights of the individual and of the family, of the com- mune and of the municipality, of the Church and of the school, of aristocracy and of the Crown. Thus in 1828 the French Chamber of Deputies, by de- manding, through the ministry it forced on the king, the suppression of ten Jesuit colleges, (which, with few exceptions, were the only Catholic institutes of edu- cation in the kiiigdom^ and by requiring a limited number of ecclesiastical students to be admitted into the seminaries, offered great violence to the con- science of the monarch, as well as of the clergy and of the whole Catholic population. These violent measures, as I have elsewhere shewn, cost many bitter pangs to the sovereign, who was forced to sanc- tion them j while at the same time they weakened the affections of French Catholics towards his throne, and disgusted them with the parliamentary regime. These feelings of mutual anxiety and distrust it was which, as I have in the Lecture alluded to endeavoured to prove, forced the reigning monarch to resort to the ordinances of July 1830, that modified the Constitu- 332 M. de Chateattbriand. tion, and the success whereof was chiefly; marred by rashness and incapacity.'"' Again, the same Constitution, conducted on differ- ent principles by very different parties, met in 1848 with a fate still more ignominious. Then in the year 1849 the Roman ParHament offered violence to the feelings of its sacred ruler by striving to force him into an unjust war with Austria. In other words, not content with exercising a control over the pubhc ex- penditure, the Parliament wished to arrogate to itself the essential prerogatives bf the Crown. Hence the ruin that came upon it Hence the wisdom of M. Guizot's remark, that the Pope must not only be free from the coercion of foreign Powers, but from the domination of a Roman Parliament. A parliament properly regulated, would not, I think^ exert an un- due control over the sovereign Pontiff. Yet I am free to confess that his position is an exceptional one, and unlike that of any mere secular potentate.t Further, look at the Belgian Constitution as it has existed since 1830. There, although there is an ex- cellent municipal system, and much solid freedom is insured by the Constitution, and though the great bulk of the nation are devoted to the Catholic faith, yet is there an unhappy divorce between Church and State. * See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern His- tory. Lecture VIII. f Provincial Parliaments are best suited to a state consti- tuted like the Roman. The States-Constitution. 333 The latter not being the ally of religion, has naturally become its foe \ the civil magistrate often counteracts the efforts of the priest ; and the revolutionary party, using secret societies and a licentious press as their instruments, are robbing the Catholics little by little of their dear-bought rights. Thus, in one way or another, all these new-fangled constitutions have signally failed wherever they have been tried ; and their existence has been as brief as it was agitated. Their failure false sages have ascribed, not to the essential vices of their internal structure, but to the accidental defects of persons or of countries. But how is it that, in the Middle Ages, the Constitution of the three estates flourished amid all the varieties of national character, and amid the errors or vices of rulers, from Portugal to Norway '2 That Constitution, from the very cradle of the European states, had existed, — first, indeed, consisting only of the king and his baronial parHament of spiritual and temporal peers; and then, as the burgesses grew in wealth and im- portance, superadding in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and in some cases even in the twelfth, a third estate, or, as we should say, a House of Com- mons. In Portugal that Constitution lasted (if we except the sixty years of Spanish domination) up to the commencement of the eighteenth century. In Spain it subsisted till the middle of the reign of Charles V. in Castile; in Catalonia and Valencia ta the commencement of the last century; in Navarre 334 ^' d^ Chateaubriand. and the Biscayan provinces (though in a mutilated form) down to our own times. In France, though there this Constitution never struck the same vigorous roots as in some other countries, the States-General subsisted to the reign of Louis XIII. ; while in some of its provinces these institutions perpetuated a stunted growth down to the Revolution of 1789. In Brabant and Flanders they flourished in full vigour down to that dreadful crisis in European affairs. In Bavaria, and many of the minor states of Germany, the States-Constitution endured till the beginning of the eighteenth century; in Austria till the outbreak of the thirty years' war. In the Scandinavian kingdoms of Norway and Sweden this free Constitution, rudely assailed as it was by the storms of the Reformation, has been, with various fluctuations, preserved down to our times. On the other hand, in Denmark, as in Prussia, Protestantism established a government the most arbitrary. In England, Scotland, and Ireland, this free Constitution, which had been so flourishing in the Middle Ages, was violently convulsed by the doctrines of the Reformation, and by the civil wars which it led to. Under Henry VIII. and his daughter Elizabeth, the ecclesiastical element was deranged and displaced ; while, at the Revolution of 1688, the regal prerogative was mutilated and defaced; yet, on the whole, the solid foundations of mediaeval freedom were retained. This Constitution forms the intermediate link between the States-Constitution of the Middle Ages and the modern Representative system. The British Constitution, 335 But this is not what Chateaubriand understood it to be. He once in early hfe wrote to a friend, " I am a Papist in rehgion, but an AngHcan in pohtics." And he really believed that the British Constitution, which, like the other old European monarchies, had grown up under the shelter of the Catholic Church, was actually transplanted to his own country by Louis XVIII. ! That Constitution, however, resembled the French Charter in nothing, save in the relations of the Crown to the Parliament. But in Great Britain, the Parliament, with which the Crown had to deal, was one where there existed a general homogeneity of feelings and interests between the two Houses'"' — where in the House of Commons ancient birth and landed property had very great influence, and where the com- mercial and professional classes were represented by men connected by territorial possessions and matri- monial ties with the high aristocracy. Had that aristocracy been, as in revolutionary France, despoiled of its wealth and its power ; had all its local influences been annihilated ; had the municipal corporations — the guardians of British freedom — been, as in the neighbouring country, crippled in their functions ; had a bureaucracy, fixed in London, managed the minutest affairs of the shires and towns ; had the Established * The advantages of this homogeneity were well understood by the profoundest, as well as the most eloquent, expositor of the British Constitution — Edmund Burke. When the regal and the clerical elements in that Constitution had been unduly de- pressed, how could the popular element be safely allowed to attain to a great expansion? 336 M. de Chateaubriand, Church and the learned corporations, robbed of their property and their rights, been forced, amid jarring sects and hostile factions, to beg in the name of re- ligion and of education for an annual pittance from parliament ; — then, I have no hesitation in saying that the Constitution of 1688 would not have survived the reign of William IIL The empire would then have presented a frightful alternation of democratic tyrannies and of military usurpations. On the other hand, if the Restoration had bestowed on France, what the Royalists had claimed, a free communal and municipal system, which would not only have infused life into the provinces, but have trained up the people for the exercise of parlia- mentary government; if provincial parliaments had been convoked, where the clergy, the landed proprie- tors, whether noble or otherwise, and the burgesses of the towns should have deliberated on their local affairs ; if out of these the members for the Chamber of De- puties had been elected ; if the Church had then en- joyed the freedom which after the Revolution of 1848 she obtained; if the maintenance of the clergy and of the public schools had been placed beyond the reach of a precarious annual parliamentary vote, and thus the occasion for dangerous conflicts between the different members of the legislature been avoided ; if the bishops had sat in the Upper House by virtue of their sees, and the second order of the clergy been represented in the Lower ; if their concurrence had been rendered necessary to the passing of those laws, Summary Remarks. 337 at least, which affected rehgion ; if the ordinary sub- sidies could not have been refused except by con- siderable majorities of both Houses j — then perilous colhsions would have been avoided — coups d'etats would have been rendered unnecessary — France in the space of thirty years would not have been con- vulsed by three formidable revolutions — Europe would not have been shaken to its centre — civil liberty would not have suffered shipwreck — and the house of Bour- bon would have been still upon the French throne. These political considerations will not, I trust, be con- sidered irrelevant, and that for many reasons. First, They serve to illustrate the political views of M. de Chateaubriand; while (as far as my humble powers will allow me to make a suggestion) they offer on some points modifications of his system. Secondly, They prove that the soundest form of representative government sprang up under the influence of the Catholic Church, on whose constitution it was modelled ; and that this government was not confined to the Middle Ages, but was carried far down into modern times. Thirdly, They may convince the CathoHc nations o^ the Con- tinent, that they need not resort for models of legisla- tion to a foreign Protestant state, since in their own history are found all the types of the best representa- tive institutions. Fourthly, They explain the succes- sive failures of the modern Constitutional system in various countries, and especially in France, and shew that to charge that failure entirely on the pohcy pur- sued by Charles X. and his ministers, (as we shall see 338 M, de Chateaubriand. was done by our author,) is neither just nor logical. Lastly^, These considerations may, I trust, tend to reconcile the differences between two political schools of French Catholics, — one which, on account of the successive failures of the Charter, inveighs against all parliamentary government in France ; and the other which, in despite of the warnings of experience, clings to that Charter in a form unmitigated and unmodified. Having now taken a general survey of the modern representative system, and stated the views of M. de Chateaubriand on the subject, I will proceed to char- acterize his political writings and speeches. The success which he attained to in this branch of com- position evinced the singular versatility of his genius. He displays great knowledge of affairs, is lucid in his statements, cogent in his reasonings, and (as usual) brilliant and fervid in style. M. Villemain observes, that he is one of the masters of the modern parhamen- tary tribune, though less so by his speeches than by his political writings. But the fact is, that the Cham- ber of Peers — a smaller and more fastidious assembly, and where the deliberations were carried on within closed doors — did not by any means afford the same scope to eloquence as the Chamber of Deputies. There, as minister, Chateaubriand had once or twice occasion to speak ; and, accordingly, it is not surpris- ing that his oratorical efforts were there the most effec- tive. I think, indeed, that his vocation was more to His Political Writings. 339 eloquence than to romance and to poetry ; and that had he entered the Chamber of Deputies in early life, he would have become a most distinguished orator. His best speeches are those on the expedition to Spain in 1823, and on the administration of justice in ancient France. Of the former I spoke in the last Lecture ; in the latter we find a charming description of the manners and private life of the old French ma- gistrates. Chateaubriand's chief poKtical writings are the ^'Re- flections on the New Order of Things/' written in 1814 j "The Report to Louis XVIIL, at Ghent, on the State of France," in 181 5; and the "Monarchy according to the Charter,'' published in the following year. To these must be added a number of political essays inserted in the bi-monthly journal, Le Conser- vateur, of which I spoke in the last lecture. All these writings throw much light on a most im- portant period of history ; they abound in sohd and useful observations, and display a great knowledge of mankind, and a keen insight into the true principles of government. Yet the sagacity of our author, united as it is with a briUiant imagination and a fine sensi- bility, never expands into the large, practical wisdom of a Burke, nor rises to the high philosophy of a Frederick Schlegel or a Gorres. It is now time to turn to the state of public affairs in France. At the successful conclusion of the war in Spain, 340 M' de Chateaubriand, the Emperor of Russia, in testimony of his great satis- faction, sent to M. de Chateaubriand the Order of St Andrew, but paid no compHment to the President of the Council. Seeing that this omission was calcu- lated to breed an unpleasant feehng between himself and his colleague, M. de Chateaubriand immediately requested the Emperor Alexander to accord the same distinction to M. de Villele. From this time there sprang up between the two statesmen a certain spirit of jealousy, heightened as it was by the great diver- sity of their characters and tastes. Chateaubriand tells us in his memoirs, that he at- tended exclusively to the affairs of his own depart- ment, never meddled with those of any other, and took his soHtary walk to the Bois de Boulogne. This is a poetical way of saying, that at Paris he was isolat- ing himself from his colleagues, as the year before he had done at Verona. Two important measures now engaged the attention of the French Cabinet. M. de Villele wished to avail himself of the financial prosperity of France to reduce the interest of the national debt from five to three per cent. The next project, and closely connected with the first, was an indemnity of a milliard, or a thou- sand million francs, as a small indemnity for cruel losses to the plundered nobles of France. It would have been well (and Chateaubriand was of this opi- nion) if an act of most just reparation to the de- spoiled nobility had not been bound up with a mea- His Dismissal from Office, 341 sure which, however fair in itself, yet involved serious losses to a numerous class of the community — the fundholders. When the bill for the reduction of the interest on the public debt came before the Chambers, the per- sonal friends of M. de Chateaubriand in both Houses of the Legislature voted against it. He himself re- mained perfectly silent during the discussion of the bill, and abstained from voting. On this occasion, too, the venerable Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. de Quelen, declared that, moved by the entreaties of many of the faithful of his arch-diocese, who had told him that the proposed measure would jeopardize the for- tunes of their families, he regretted he felt bound to oppose this ministerial project. The bill, however, after having by no large majority passed the Chamber of Deputies, was rejected in the Upper House. As that House was breaking up, M. de Chateaubriand went up to M. de Villele, and said to him, " Be as- sured, I stand or fall with you.'' The prime minister, as he tells us in his autobiography, made no reply, but gave him a look never to be forgotten. M. Guizot informs us in his memoirs that, on M. de Villele's entering into the king's cabinet the next day, Louis XVIII. said to him, " How shamefully Cha- teaubriand has tricked us ! Draw out immediately an ordinance to dismiss him from our Council. I will intrust you ad interim with the Portfolio of Foreign Affairs." The secretary, M. de Reauzan, received a 342 M. de Chateaubriand. letter, addressed to M. de Chateaubriand, informing him that the king had no longer need of his services. The secretary was afraid to communicate this letter. And so the next day M. de Chateaubriand proceeded to a levee held by Monsieur, and which was to be fol- lowed by a Cabinet Council. On his arrival at the Tuileries he saw many of the courtiers looking on him askance, and that he was an object of unwonted curiosity. At length an official connected with the household of Monsieur came up to him, and said, " M. de Chateaubriand, did you not receive a note addressed to you last evening T^ "No,^' the minister replied. ^' Then, when you return home, you will find a note of great importance." It was then intimated to him, that orders had been received not to admit him that day to the Council Chamber. Chateaubriand having ordered his carriage for a much later hour, was now obliged to walk in his full court robes through some of the streets of Paris. We may well suppose how such an occurrence mortified the feehngs of one so susceptible. This he regarded for many years afterwards as not only an affront, but as a cruel out- rage. And such it would have been, had it been in- tended. But clearly the affront was not chargeable on the king or his prime minister, but solely on the misplaced timidity of a subordinate official, who failed to execute his orders. This explanation, though not perhaps in time, was made to M. de Chateaubriand ; and he ought to have been satisfied with it. But as The yournal des Debats. 343 to the dismissal itself, I think it the most mistaken and the most ungenerous act in the whole history of the Restoration. I do not deny that Chateaubriand was moody and intractable j that a certain restless ambi- tion and morbid vanity rendered him a difficult col- league. But, as M. Guizot well observes, he was less formidable as a rival, than as an antagonist. Then, his high integrity and stainless honour, the eminent services he had rendered to the Church and the mo- narchy, the prestige of his name, his genius and elo- quence, that made him the ornament as well as the support of any administration, — all should have inter- dicted the abrupt dismission of so tried and trusted a servant of the Crown. M. Bertin de Vaux, the chief proprietor of the Jour- nal des Debats^ on hearing of the fall of his friend from power, waited on the prime minister, with whom also he was on terms of the greatest intimacy. ^' Lose no time,^' he said, " in procuring the nomination of M. de Chateaubriand to the embassy at Rome." **I dare not make such a proposal to the king," replied the minister. " Then remember," said M. Bertin de Vaux, '' that the Journal des Debats has overthrown two administrations, — that of M. Decazes, and that of the Duke de Richelieu." " It was," answered the minister, " because you espoused the cause of Royal- ism j but if you attack my administration, you must coalesce with the Revolution." M. de Villele miscalculated, indeed, the political 344 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. influence of the writers of the Debats ; but was right, on the other hand, in predicting that the course they threatened to take would lead to their alliance with the revolutionary party. The Debats at that period united the influence of the Lo7idon Quarterly Review with that of a very widely-circulated daily newspaper. Its literary de- partment was acknowledged to be the best in France, and its political articles were inferior to those of no other journal. Its emphatic adhesion to the Charter, and its strong advocacy of the liberty of the press, secured for it, independently of the Royalists, the support of a large portion of moderate Liberals. It now took up warmly the cause of the disgraced min- ister, and drew away from the administration a certain section of the Royalists. This seems the fitting place to take a review of the different elements which constituted this party, and of the dissensions which weakened it, and that ulti- mately brought about the overthrow of the Bourbon dynasty. The Royalist party, when its leader, M. de Villele, and his friends took oflice in 1822, was united in sentiment, and firm and compact in its organization. M. Guizot has said indeed, in his memoirs, that after a lapse of thirty years, the counter-revolution suddenly found itself in the possession of power, but without definite aims and plans, and disconcerted, as it were, by its very success. How unfounded is this assertion Sections of the Royalist Party, 345 may be seen by the principles of the journal, Le Conservateur^ which I analyzed in my last Lecture, and which were in perfect conformity with all the doctrines proclaimed in the other writings and speeches of the Cote Droit throughout the Restora- tion. And that their plans were as definite as their doctrines were fixed, is proved, among other facts that might be alleged, by the expedition into Spain under the Duke d'Angouleme. The monarchical party was supported by the whole episcopate, by almost the entire body of the clergy ; by the ancient nobility, comprising the largest landed proprietors ; by a considerable proportion of the pro- fessional, the literary, and the mercantile classes ; by the peasants of the south and the west, as well as by a numerous body of Catholics of every social grade dispersed throughout the country. It is sad to think that through the mismanagement and the vacillating, temporizing policy of the prime minister on the one hand, and the impatience of ardent, intractable spirits on the other, this firm phalanx was so soon to be weakened by intestine divisions. The section of the RoyaHsts called the "Extreme Right" had for its leaders the Count de la Bourdonnaye and M. de la Lot, two able and eloquent men, who by their speeches and writings had rendered eminent services to the Church and the monarchy. The new ministry had not long been in power, however, when, incensed at the timid policy evinced by M. de Villele in regard 346 M. de Chateaubriand. to the Revolution in Spain, these two leaders raised the standard of opposition. But as their opposition seemed as undefined as it was intemperate, they were suspected of ambition, and thus obtained little influence in the Chamber of Deputies. The next section of the Royahsts was feebly re- presented in Parliament, but was powerful in the press, and exerted considerable influence over pubHc opinion, and especially among the junior members of the clergy. This section was called the " Ecclesiasti- cal Opposition," and was headed by the then illustrious Abbe de la Mennais, the learned M. de St Victor, the Abbe Gerbet, now the distinguished Bishop of Perpignan, and the then young Count O'Mahony, a descendant of one of the faithful Irish who had accompanied King James II. in his exile, and who displayed the brilliant wit and chivalric spirit of the land of his fathers. This party demanded, like the bulk of Royalists, but with more tenacity and vehemence, the reform of the University, the liberty of education, the estabhshment of religious orders, the synodical freedom of the Church of France, the freedom of religious charity under certain legal con- ditions, restrictions on the exorbitant power of the Council of State in controlling the acts of the bishops, and the legal observance of the Sunday. Its mem- bers were noted, too, for the vigour with which they assailed the Gallican opinions, and which they had the merit of ultimately overthrowing. In their purely Sections of the Royalist Party. 347 political opinions they were not so happy. They indulged in more than covert sneers at the Charter, pointed out, indeed, with great acuteness the weak points and the short-comings of the modern represen- tative system, but did not attempt to offer a soUd sub- stitute in its stead \ and so in this respect, their oppo- sition was purely negative. Their organ was first the Drapeau Blanc^ and then the Memorial Catholique. There was another very large section of Royalists, holding in the main the same doctrines in Church and State as the one just described, but which pur- sued a conciliatory course, and disapproved of any violent opposition to the ministry of M. de Villele. In the Chambers this party was headed by the great philosopher, the Viscount de Bonald, the Count de Mar- cellus, the Count de Castelbajac, the Duke Matthieu de Montmorency, and others. The special organ of this party was the daily journal, the Quotidienne^ after- wards the Union^ edited by M. Michaud, and his younger colleague, the excellent Laurentie, who still lives to honour French journalism. The other considerable section of Royalists was led by M. de Chateaubriand, M. Hyde de Neuville, and others, and was represented in the press by the Jour- nal des Debats^ of which I have before spoken. The chief writers in that journal were the proprietors, M. Bertin and M. Etienne de Vaux, the Abbe Feletz, and M. Salvandy. Its tone has been already described. There was still another fraction of the party that 348 M, de Chateaubriand, must not be passed over in silence. This was com- posed of some of the old parliamentary families, or the descendants of the ancient magistrates, who, un- taught by all the crimes and calamities of the Revolu- tion, still, while belonging to the Catholic Church, re- tained the false traditions of the old ultra-Gallican party. A specimen of this class was the Count de Ferrand, the author of the "- Spirit of History,^' and who had been a councillor in the ancient Parliament of Paris. Several of the members of the Council of State and the judges of the courts of law belonged to this section, and, as we shall see, inflicted in the latter years of the Restoration great mischief on the Church and on the monarchy. I remember meeting one of this class in society, who, after I had described to his family the struggles the Catholics of these countries were then making for their emancipation, turned coolly round to his daughters, and said, in a half- sympathetic tone, " You see the Enghsh Government is afraid of Rome." Yet this was an estimable man, who had suffered much from the Revolution, but who had apparently forgotten that it was those very preju- dices against Rome which had given birth to the schismatical "civil constitution of the clergy," the rejection whereof had furnished the materialists and the atheists with a pretext for persecuting the Catholic Church, and then overthrowing all religion and all social order. But, happily, this was a comparatively small fraction of the Royalists. Sections of the Revolutionary Party, 349 Such were the various sections of the great mon- archical party, and which it is necessary to bear in mind, in order to understand the history of the Resto- ration. Had these various elements remained united, the Revolution of July would never have occurred ; — the elder branch of the house of Bourbon would now have been seated on the throne. Outside of this party was that of the Left Centre and of the Doctrinaires. This faction had prevailed under the ministry of M. Decazes, and ruled during the whole reign of Louis Philippe. Without being precisely irreligious and revolutionary, it was opposed to the freedom of the Church and of education, and to the social influences of religion ; while it was the great stickler for the bureaucratic regime^ and, by flattering the revolutionary passions, served to pre- vent the consolidation of the throne, and of all sound freedom. M. Royer Collard and M. Casimir Perrier were the leaders, and Guizot, Jouffroi, and others the literary defenders of this party. The Left and the Extreme Left were led by orators of great talent, like General Foy, Benjamin Constant, and Manuel; and were represejited in the press by widely-circulated journals, like the Constitutiomiel^ the Courrier Fi^ancais^ the National^ and others. This party, more or less covertly, was ever assailing re- ligion, or her institutions, or her ministers; and, closely connected with secret societies, was turning against the Bourbons the very liberties they had con- 350 M. de Chateaubriand, ceded. I speak of this party as it existed under the Restoration ; and I am happy to add that time and misfortune have wrought a happy change in its lead- ing members. This faction had its roots in the popu- lace of the great commercial and manufacturing cities, in the purchasers of the confiscated estates, in a large portion of the mercantile and professional classes, in the youth brought up in so many irreligious colleges, and in the surviving functionaries of the Republican and the Imperial times. In the presence of such various and formidable dangers, did not duty, did not reason, did not the in- stinct of self-preservation command close union to the Catholic and the monarchical party of France % How often, when quite a young man, I used to say to my Royahst friends, — men, in age, and experience, and knowledge, so far my superiors, — that the spirit of clique or coterie would destroy their party, and that the destruction of their party would involve that of the monarchy. I little thought that my warnings would one day be so fearfully realized. Strange to say, the French — a people so agreeable, so fascinating in social intercourse — are contentious, intractable in pohtical life. They cling to subordinate matters with the same tenacity as they cling to great principles; but, in political life, compromise on the former is often necessary to the security of the latter. Time, too, is a great element of political success ; but Cast of the French Mind, 351 this the impatience of the French character will not deign to regard. But the cause of this aversion to compromise lies still deeper than in the impetuosity of the French character. It lies in the very constitution of the French mind. Comparing the different European nations, I should say that among the Germans the re- flective faculty predominates — among the English and the Spaniards, that of judgment prevails ; but among the French, generally speaking, it is the logical faculty which is pre-eminent. But that faculty is not the fitting instrument for the discussion and the manage- ment of political concerns. " History," admirably observes Frederick Schlegel, (and the remark will apply to politics,) — '^ History is the science of excep- tions." General principles are to be qualified by cir- cumstances, and modified by experience. But it is precisely this experience, and these circumstances, which logic in her abstract deductions overlooks. And hence, though it has enabled the French to obtain brilliant success in religious controversy, in metaphysics, in the mathematical and the natural sciences, it has not availed them so well in the con- duct of political afiairs. This fact is evinced in every period of their history. To all these considerations I must add the abnormal condition of a country con- vulsed by a frightful political tempest, like the Revolu- tion of 1 7 89. How difficult was it to erect a solid fabric 352 M, de Chateaubriand. of government on a soil yet oscillating after the recent earthquake ! How difficult to rule a people divided by such a conflict of interests, such an antagonism of principles, and a large portion of whom were without the great bond that holds society together — the bond of religion ! Such was the state of parties in France when M. de Villele took the helm of government. A most able administrator — a financier of the first order — a ready and lucid speaker, this minister had not, however, profound and comprehensive views of statesmanship. At the conclusion of the war in Spain, the elections of 1824 secured him an overwhelming majority in the Chamber of Deputies. I was present at the opening of that Parliament : I remember well there were not more than thirty members of the Left side, among whom was M. Benjamin Constant, with his long hair flowing down his shoulders after the fashion of the German students; and I well remember that their names, when called out, provoked general laughter. But partly through the mismanagement of the minister, partly through the faults of his Royalist opponents, that powerful majority, as I have said, gradually dwindled away. The sudden, discourteous dismissal of M. de Cha- teaubriand from the ministry, for which Louis XVIII. was even more to be blamed than the President of his Council, excited in the breast of the disgraced minister feelings of enmity which no explanation could mollify, The Royalist Opposition. 353 and drove him, I am sorry to say, into a factious, violent opposition, that weakened not only the admin- istration, but the monarchy itself. The Abbe de la Mennais, for attacking the first article of the Episcopal Declaration of 1682, touching the Pope's deposing power, was dragged like a culprit before the bar of a low tribunal, — that of the Correc- tional Police, — and sentenced to a nominal fine of one hundred francs. However injudicious might have been the conduct of the Abbe de la Mennais in moot- ing a question that, as he confessed, had no practical relations to the present time, (and many of his best friends lamented the manner in which he had treated the subject;) yet this prosecution of a virtuous eccle- siastic, and of a most distinguished apologist of re- hgion, drew down on the Government very severe censures. This trial took place in the year 1825 ; and from this period the party headed by the abbe took up a more decided attitude of hostility towards the Royalist administration. A little later M. Michaud, a devoted partizan of the Bourbons, who from his attachment to the royal cause had, under the first Republic, suffered imprisonment, and was at this time the proprietor and chief editor of one of the leading monarchical journals. The Quoti- die7i7ie^ — M. Michaud, I say, was, for joining in a deputation from the French Academy to protest to the king against a certain measure on the press, deprived of his pension. 354 -^^- ^^ Chateaubriand. Thus, in addition to the Extreme Right, led by the Count de la Bourdonnaye and M. de la Lot, three important sections of Royalists, composed of men of considerable weight, including the twp greatest writers of the day, were both in the Parliament and in the press arrayed against the ministry. The bulk of the clergy, especially the higher dignitaries, and the mass of country gentlemen, or as they are called in France, the gentilsho7nmes de province^ still clung to the minister. Hence, down to the elections of 1827, he commanded a strong but waning majority in the Lower House ; while, in the Upper, the support he received became more precarious and fluctuating. From his secession from the ministry up to the Revolution of 1830, M. de Chateaubriand won, indeed, the applauses of a spurious Liberahsm ; but became, with the great majority of French Cathohcs, extremely unpopular. The great principjes in Church and State, which he had so long defended, were not indeed repudiated, but they were put into abeyance. During this period of stormy opposition he never spoke of the licentiousness of the press — of the spread of irreligious works — of the machinations of the secret societies — of the irreligion in the public colleges — of the desecration of the Sunday — of the laws hostile to the freedom of the Church. He insisted almost exclusively on the liberty ^f the press, forgetting that licentiousness is its great- est bane. He reproached his former colleagues with re- establishing the censorship which, under the ministry Conduct of the Judges, 355 of M. Decazes, they had condemned. But he forgot that the circumstances were quite altered. The judges of the Cour Royale, who had the cognizance of offences against the press, refused, as long as the Jesuits, in contravention of the iniquitous decree of 1773, were allowed to hold schools, — refused, I say, to condemn the author of any libel, however seditious or blasphe- mous. When we bear in mind that the Jesuit colleges were, with a few exceptions, the only institutes of lay Catholic education then in France, — and when we see the ministers of justice thus carried away by political or rehgious fanaticism, we must allow that, under the circumstances, the ministers were in a manner driven to resort to the censorship of the press. How much nobler was the conduct of the Duke Matthieu de Montmorency, who, though so cavaHerly deprived of his seat in the Cabinet, never withdrew his support from his rival's administration ! Again, how much more unselfish was the opposition of the Abbe de la Mennais, compared with that of his countryman of Bretagne ! How much higher the aims for which he struggled ! I grant that he was at times intemperate and injudicious in his opposition to the ministry of that day. I think that had he not broken with it, — had he been content to give concilia- tory advice to his former colleagues, — the great ends to which he devoted his life would have been sooner and more safely attained. It was not till after a protracted struggle of twenty-five years, and after two revolutions, 356 M. de Chateaubriand. these great objects — the freedom of the Church, the freedom of education, the establishment of reUgious orders of men — were accompHshed ; and mainly, in- deed, by the disciples he had formed — the Count de Montalembert, the Pere Lacordaire, M. Berryer, and M. Laurentie. - On all these great matters Chateaubriand hence- forth observed the deepest silence. Even his defence of the liberty of the press, of which in the Journal des Debats he made a most unsparing use, seemed dictated as much by personal rancour, as by sincere conviction. At all events, his mode of defence now differed widely from that of his former years, and of his former col- leagues j and the very tone of his political writings was altered. So unpopular had he now become with the Catholics of France, that I well remember the Padre Ventura apologizing to his French friends for having in 1828 dedicated a philosophical work to him, while he was ambassador at Rome. Chateaubriand, in his memoirs, confesses that his opposition to the ministry of M. de Villele exceeded the bounds of moderation. After the Revolution of July, he had more than one qualm of conscience that he had been, against his wish, instrumental in bringing about that catastrophe. It is the general feeling of the French Royalists that, by his violent articles in the press against the administration, he brought the Court into those embarrassments which led to that Revolution ; and that thus he unintention- ally overturned the throne he had had so great a hand His Semi-Liberalism. 357 in setting up. Though he had strong grounds of com- plaint against Louis XVIII. and his prime minister, yet his half alliance with Liberalism, amid all the perils that then encompassed the altar and the throne, was inexcusable. Hence, though he lived to regret the course he had at that time pursued, and though, after the Revolution of July, he evinced with a noble dis- interestedness his fealty to the house of Bourbon, he never recovered the confidence of the Royalist party. The Jour7tal des Debats^ which had followed him in his secession from the Right side, did not, like him, take up again the cause of the elder Bourbons, but became the organ of the Orleanists, and has remained to this day an insidious foe of the Cathohc Church. I am astonished that M. Guizot, who has within the last twenty years approximated so much to the Catho- lic Church, and, taught by experience, has abandoned so much of his early Liberalism, should have in his recent memoirs declared that it was not the lay Roy- alists that, under the Restoration, excited the distrust of the nation, but what he is pleased to call the Parti- pretre, the sacerdotal, or, as he sometimes calls it, the ultra-Catholic party, which by its excessive pretensions alarmed (in his cant phrase) " modern society." But for fourteen years the rights, which the Catholics and Royalists had vainly demanded under the Restoration and the Government of July, have been enjoyed ; and '^modern society" has not been thereby disturbed. The Imperial University has been reformed, though 358 M. de Chateaubriand. not to the extent that might be desired. Numerous schools and colleges for the education of the laity have been founded by bishops, secular clergymen, Jesuits, Dominicans, Lazarists, and laymen, and, emancipated from the iron tutelage of the University, have diffused the blessings of religion, as well as of sound instruc- tion. While, under the Restoration, there were but a few Jesuits and Trappists in the kingdom, a number of religious orders of men have within the specified period been there established. Bishops can hold pro- vincial councils without molestation from the Govern- ment ; nor has any attempt been made by it, as was sometimes the case heretofore, to interfere with the teaching and the discipline of the seminaries. The only claims once put forth by Catholics, and not yet satisfied, are the abolition of civil marriages, and the legal observance of the Sunday. The latter object, however, the present emperor and his excellent con- sort have been striving to obtain by means of private associations. M. Guizot talks of the rights of conscience. He knows full well that they were rigidly respected under the Restoration. He alludes to the law of sacrilege, introduced in the year 1825, as one worthy only of the twelfth century. But is this a matter on which a Cal- vinist is a fair judge % What is the state of the case ? The religious feelings of French Catholics were cruelly outraged by frequent and systematic sacrileges, in which the sacred vessels were not only plundered, but Political Retrogression of France. 359 their adorable contents scattered and profaned. If we grant that the punishment of death visited in most Cathohc countries on offences of this atrocious dye were, from the temper of France at that time, too severe, who will affirm that very strong penalties were not needed % The very converse of M. Guizot's statement is true. The religious demands of French Catholics have been nearly all satisfied j but, with the single exception of the indemnity to the emigrants, their political hopes and aspirations have been sadly frustrated. The two branches of the house of Bourbon are in exile ; the peerage is not yet constituted on a satisfactory basis ; the descent of landed property is most unsound j the liberty of the commune and of the municipality is most restricted; bureaucratic centralization is still paramount ; parliamentary power nearly prostrate j the political press all but silenced. But let us hope that the ecclesiastical liberty, which yet flourishes, may be the mother and the nurse of a sound political freedom. Let us not forget that military government is in the long run the weakest of all governments. ^' Those who lean on the sword, will perish by the sword." After the elections of 1827, the Extreme Right in the Chamber of Deputies united with the Left, and M. de Villele and his colleagues succumbed to a hostile majority. The ministry and its Royalist opponents were guilty of mutual faults ; and it cannot be denied 360 M, de Chateaubriand. that, from the loose, undefined powers of the pohce, some arbitrary measures are chargeable on that ad- ministration. Yet, on the whole, in despite of many shortcomings, M. de Villele was the most capable and best-intentioned minister the Restoration produced ; and the Dauphiness was right when she told Charles X., *^ Sire, when you abandoned M. de Villele, you de- scended one step from your throne/' In resigning office, this minister regretted that he had not decen- tralized the administration in France. The chief members of the new administration were M. de Martignac, a protege of the late prime minis- ter, M. Portalis, and the financier, M. Roy. The name of M. de Chateaubriand was placed on a list of candidates for office presented to the king. His majesty struck it out with indignation, saying, ^' M. Laffitte would be better." So obnoxious to the^Court had his recent conduct rendered M. de Chateaubriand ! He now was charged with the embassy to Rome — a sort of honourable exile, that relieved the ministry from the embarrassment of his presence. In the capital of the Christian world the new am- bassador was well received by his Holiness, Pope Leo XII. Here he displayed his wonted activity, caused excavations to be made in search of objects of ancient art, and raised a monument to his distinguished coun- tryman, Nicholas Poussin. In the conclave, which met on the death of the virtuous Pontiff, he evinced more anxiety to forward the political interests of The Ordinances ^1828. 361 France, than the well-being of the Church ; and in the matter of the Papal election, sought to domineer over the prelates of his own country. The tone of his diplomatic correspondence, too, at this time with the French Government shewed, in matters of high mo- ment to the Church, a levity and an arrogance that were most painful, and which justly incensed the king. Meantime the ministry at home, in mean subser- vience to the irreligious Liberalism, had forced Charles X. to sign two fatal ordinances, that excited the gen- eral indignation of French Catholics, and called forth indignant remonstrances from all the bishops. The ordinances decreed, as has been said, the suppression of ten Jesuit colleges, (which were among the very few places of lay Catholic education,) as well as the arbi- trary limitation of clerical vocations. The anguish which the king suffered before he signed these ordi- nances, I have elsewhere described.'^ He convened at St Cloud a council of four or five prelates to sohcit their advice on the matter ; and they replied that, re- prehensible as these ordinances were, they might, in order to avoid greater dangers, be signed. To these ordinances the monarch then reluctantly affixed his name, but resolved on the first occasion to discard his obnoxious ministers. These facts I learned at the time from a private, but most authentic source. They * See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern History. Lecture VIII. London : Dolman, 1858, 362 M. de Chateaubriand. have never to my knowledge been published through any other channel. Meanwhile the French ambassador at Rome, hitherto the stanch champion of the Church, while such deadly wounds were being inflicted on religion and sound education, was silent and apparently ac- quiescent. At a magnificent ball, which at this time he gave in honour of the Russian princess, the Duchess Helena, a singular circumstance occurred, which throws some light on the state of his feelings at this period. He was standing at the head of the large room, and the ladies and gentlemen just after a dance were walk- ing round, when a young English lady, unknown to him, stepped forward and said, " M. de Chateaubriand, you are very unhappy;" and then she suddenly dis- appeared among the groups, and eluded the searching eyes of the ambassador. The fairy sylph had divined his thoughts, and told his secret. He was unhappy, and, I will add, he ought to have been unhappy ; for he had now forfeited the confidence of his king, and of the bulk of French CathoHcs, and must have been conscious that, through ambition and resentment, he had helped to bring in a ministry, which was now per- secuting the Church of France. The redeeming feature in the Martignac adminis- tration was its poHcy towards Greece. The deliverance of that country from the Turkish yoke was an object dear to the Catholics and Royalists of France ; and Emancipation of Greece. 363 on that subject there was a perfect unanimity of opinion among all parties in that country. M. de Chateaubriand^ during his administration, had taken steps for the accomphshment of so great and salutary a measure ; and, since his secession from the ministry, had warmly advocated the cause of Greece. Various difficulties, raised by the rival pretensions of European cabinets, had hitherto retarded the settlement of this question. As the naval battle of Lepanto had, three centuries ago, first weakened the power of the Turk, so that of Navarino annihilated it. Six thousand French troops, with the concurrence of Europe, con- summated and insured the independence which the Greeks had won. And so those Greeks who by their schism and their religious dissensions had passed their necks under the Moslem yoke, who had so often by cruel treachery repelled the aUiance of the Latins, have at last owxd to them their final deliverance. And so those beautiful regions, hallowed by so many glorious recollections, sacred and profane, have been at last rescued from an ignoble, enervating, debasing des- potism, that had so long given them up to " misery, to barbarism, to depopulation, to famine, to pestilence, to all the evils which can afflict and degrade humanity." ''^ After the election of Pope Pius VIII., M. de Cha- teaubriand obtained leave of absence to return for a time to France. * These are the words of the Count de Maistre in his ^' Du Pape." LECTURE IV. LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND — continued, C\^ the arrival of M. de Chateaubriand at Paris, he had an interview with the king, but received no encouragement, either from his majesty or from the ministers, to join the administration. Two of the ministers indeed, including his personal friend, M. Hyde de Neuville, urged this step, but it met with no support from their colleagues. M. de Chateau- briand then repaired to the Pyrenees to take the waters for the benefit of his health. It was on a fine summer evening, while he was strolling with some friends in the beautiful P3n-enean valley of Cauterets, he received the intelligence that the Martignac ministry had been dismissed, and that a new administration, of which the Prince de Polignac and the Count de la Bourdonnaye were the chief members, had just been formed. The ordinance which appointed the new ministers was dated the 8th August 1829. The intelHgence came on him more unexpectedly than it did on many others. He immediately started from the Pyrenees; but when His Interview with Prince Polignac. 365 his carriage turned on the road to Paris, instead of towards the Alps, he tells us in his memoirs that his eyes filled with tears. He saw the new perils which encompassed the monarchy; and he saw, also, that for a second time he was to sever old ties of friend- ship. As he proceeded slowly on to Paris, his mind was filled with the most gloomy forebodings as to the fate of his king and country. On his arrival he found pubhc opinion extremely agitated. He ad- dressed a note to Prince Polignac, saying that he solicited an audience of the king in order to resign his embassy, and to express to his majesty his opinion on the state of the country. He received a most friendly letter -from the prince, naming the day and hour at which he would receive him. The two had long been united in the bonds of the closest friend- ship; and the interview was, in more than one re- spect, of a most painful kind. Prince Polignac on this occasion testified the warmest regard for his friend; and entreated him, by all that was most sacred, to retain his post of ambassador at the Papal Court. Chateaubriand admits in his memoirs, that he was embarrassed what reply to make to the entreaties of his friend. He could only urge the unpopularity of the new ministry, and express a fear that it enter- tained designs unfavourable to the Constitution. It is to be lamented that Chateaubriand did not now strive to unite the scattered elements of the Royahst party, to strengthen the administration by 366 M. de Chateaubriand. joining it, or at least, by retaining the embassy at Rome, to hold a sort of neutral position, and so exert influence enough to prevent rash and imprudent measures. But the fact was, that his four years' opposition had driven him further off than he was aware from his old poUtical principles, and old po- litical connexions. As he persisted in tendering his resignation, the king declined to accord the audi- ence he demanded. A few words must now be said of the new ministry, that had just come into power. Its chief, the Prince de Polignac, whom I have had the honour of meeting in society, and some of whose friends I well knew, was a nobleman of great worth and piety, elegant per- son and manners, a graceful fluency in debate, great self-devotion to the royal cause, for which he had from his youth up incurred great risks, and possessed of talents most respectable, but not of the first order. The Count de la Bourdonnaye, the leader of the Extreme Right, has been already described. He was more remarkable for eloquence than for wisdom, but had of late years moderated the ardour of a too im- petuous zeal. He disappointed the expectations of the king and of his friends, proposed no plans to the Cabinet, and seemed to be without a definite line of policy. By his stormy opposition he had much con- tributed to the overthrow of M. de Villele's adminis- tration, and now seemed at a loss what system to substitute for the one he had rejected ; thus realizing The Polignac Ministry, 367 the old proverb, that "great talkers are little doers." After the lapse of three months, he tendered his resignation. The Minister of Finance was M. de Chabrol, a statesman remarkable for prudence and capacity. M. de Peyronnet, the Keeper of the Seals, was an eminent orator, distinguished as well for the boldness of his character, as for the vigour of his mind. Such were the chief members of the new Cabinet. It had to encounter a very stormy opposition in the press, and was sure of defeat in the Chamber of Deputies. It was not until the 2d of March 1830 the king, Charles X., opened the Parliament. He announced the happy termination of the war in Greece, and the emancipation of her people from the Turkish yoke. He declared his intention of making war on the Dey of Algiers, and chastising the insolence of that pirate- chief — a war that was to be attended with such event- ful consequences, religious and poHtical. After stating his desire to see France enjoy in peace the institutions, whose benefits he was resolved to insure her, the monarch used these words : " The Charter .has placed the public liberties under the safeguard of my regal rights. Those rights are sacred. My duty to my people is to transmit them intact to my successors. Peers of France, Deputies of Departments, I doubt not of your concurrence to work the good I wish to do. You will repel with 368 M. de Chateaubriand. contempt the perfidious insinuations which malevo- lence seeks to propagate. If culpable intrigues should raise up against my Government obstacles, which I do not wish to anticipate, I would find the power of overcoming them in my resolution to main- tain public tranquillity, in the just confidence of Frenchmen, and in the love which they bear to their king/^ A v/arm debate in the Chamber of Deputies ensued on the address to the Crown. In this parliamentary debate M. Berry er made his debut ^ and for the first time displayed those great oratorical powers which had already won for him such high distinction at the bar. An address contrary to the views of ministers was passed. The votes were 221 for it, and 181 against it. The king received the deputation bearing the address, and expressing the regret he felt at the course the Chamber of Deputies was pursuing, de- clared that the interest of his people forbade him to deviate from his unalterable resolves. The Chambers were prorogued. In that interval many efforts were made by various parties to bring about a modification of the ministry, and to restore union between the Crown and the Parliament. M. de Villele had two interviews with the king, and strongly deprecated any violent or extra-legal mea- sures. But even M. de Villele, had he returned to power, could not have commanded a majority in the The Conquest of Algiers, 369 Chamber of Deputies, nor in any one that was, in the then temper of the pubhc mind, likely to be elected. In the Council, M. de Chabrol held the same language of good sense and moderation ; and he was supported by another minister, who like him strongly spoke against a dissolution of the existing Chamber of Deputies. Meantime the brilliant successes of General Bour- mont and of his army before Algiers had inflicted a second humiliation on the Moslem power, destroyed a nest of pirates, delivered many a hapless Christian from bondage, annexed a new colony to France, and in a region which Christianity had once so fructified, and civilization so richly adorned, opened a wide field to missionary zeal and commercial enterprize. Trusting to the influence of this happy event on the public mind, the king dissolved the Chamber of Deputies. But, unhappily, out of four hundred and twenty-eight representatives, two hundred and seventy were re-elected adverse to the Government. Here- upon the king resolved in his own mind to resort to a coup d^etat. The Russian ambassador, M. Pozzo di Borgo, paid one day a visit to the Palace of the Tuileries, and found King Charles X. deeply meditat- ing on the fourteenth article of the Charter, whereby, in certain extreme cases, the sovereign had the power to suspend the Constitution. The wily ambassador divined the purpose of the king. At length appeared the ordinances of July 1830, whereby the censorship 2 A 370 -^- de Chateaubriand. on the periodical press was restored, the late elections were quashed, and a new electoral law was promul- gated, which was calculated to insure to landed pro- perty a decided preponderance in the Chamber of Deputies. Now occur three questions. First, was the monarch justified in issuing these ordinances? Secondly, was' it prudent to issue them? And thirdly, were the means for carrying them out judiciously chosen % Let us examine this matter with the same judicial calm, as if the event had occurred three hundred years ago. Firstly, it is true that the fourteenth article of the Charter gave to the king the right of suspending the Constitution in extreme cases. We saw in the last lecture that the conscience of the king had been grievously wounded by the uncatholic ordinances of August 1828, which he had been forced by his ministers and the Parliament to issue — ordinances which had called forth the indignant remonstrances of the whole French episcopate, and had shocked the feelings of Catholic France. I shewed how in the old States-Constitution such a moral coercion on the conscience of royalty could scarcely have occurred — how the rights of all classes and descriptions of men were there secured — and dangerous collisions between the constituent bodies of the State thus avoided. In 1830 Charles X. expected from the new Parlia- ment, and the new ministry it was likely to force The July Ordinances, 371 upon him, the same moral coercion, and consequently the same anguish of conscience, which he had suffered in 1828. Of course those who think that royalty- is a mere sign-post, on which what is called a respons- ible minister and a parhamentary majority may fix up any decrees, however wicked or impious ; those of course will laugh to scorn all royal scruples, for they apparently deny to royalty all conscience, and even consciousness. But surely this is not the sentiment of the Catholic Church, when she anoints the king, and exacts from him such solemn promises to protect her rights and the rights of his subjects, and to rule according to law, and equity, and ancient customs. There are cases where the Church bids a monarch mount the scaffold, rather than affix his name to an unjust or unchristian decree. The virtuous Louis XVI., though surrounded by sanguinary mobs, and therefore exempt from personal responsibility, never forgave himself for having sanctioned with his royal signature the schismatical act, called the "Civil Constitution of the Clergy." Still, as no aggression, either on the Church or on the essential prerogatives of the Crown, had yet been made by the new Parlia- ment, such an extreme measure as a modification of the Constitution by a royal edict seems scarcely to be justified. But, secondly, were these ordinances of July prudent % Certainly not, in my opinion. The parliamentary aggression of 1828 was already past; and before he resorted to such an extreme act as the 372 M. de Chateaubriand. suspension of the Constitution, the monarch should have waited for fresh violent inroads on his rights. There were, besides, many circumstances that com- manded this prudential course. First, many of the ablest and most experienced statesmen of the Royalist party deprecated, as we have seen, any extra-legal or violent measures. Secondly, the monarchical and Catholic party was at this time much divided and dispirited, or (to use a military phrase,) much de- moralized. And thirdly, if the sovereign did resort to any extraordinary measure, it should have been for the purpose of enlarging, rather than of restricting the electoral franchise, for the purpose of emancipat- ing the Church and public education from the bond- age under which they still laboured, and by abolishing bureaucratic centralization, restoring their long-lost freedom to the commune and the municipality. The public, and especially the British public, are not aware of the dark plots then formed for the over- throw not only of the Monarchy, but of all society, and of religion itself, and which eighteen years after- wards were on the point of attaining such disastrous success. Then as to the third question relative to the manner in which the royal ordinances of July 1830 were carried out, there is but one opinion as to the signal incapacity displayed throughout the whole transaction. First, the capital error was committed of not awaiting the return of General Bourmont and The July Revolution. 373 of his victorious army from Algiers. Then the absence of the king at this fearful crisis on a hunting party at Fontainebleau— the charging the prime minister, a civilian, with the functions of a war minister ad interim — the want of an adequate commissariat for the troops engaged — and many other circumstances, which it is needless to mention, — all these were fearful mistakes. The sequel of the sad story is too well known. Not only France, but Europe feels to this day the baneful effects of that Revolution. Thus much only will I say, that those rich bankers and merchants, who on those three days of July gave away money to the workmen of St Antoine to rise against their legiti- mate sovereign, would now, in order to obtain the blessings of legal freedom and of stable prosperity, which they enjoyed under the Restoration, be ready to surrender half their fortunes. Some of the literary men who then took an active part against the Church and the Monarchy are now sincere Catholics. Such is the distinguished writer and philosopher, M. Victor Cousin ; such, it is now authoritatively stated, that former type of the Bourgeois Voltairianism, M. Thiers. And the political, and even religious tone of M. Guizot's recent writings is very different from that which marked his productions thirty years ago. Legitimists and Orleanists now act together in order to advance the interests of religion, and to promote good government ; and even on the 374 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. dynastic question, many Orleanists are disposed to unite with their former antagonists. And as regards the RoyaHsts themselves, the discussions and the experience of so many years have more and more strongly impressed on all their leaders the absolute necessity of representative government. The intem- perate attacks of a noted publicist on parliamentary institutions, have met with no countenance from that quarter. But to return to the Revolution of July. M. de Chateaubriand hurried from Dieppe, where he had le,arned the news of the promulgation of the ordi- nances, and arrived at his house on Thursday the 28th July 1830. He found Madame de Chateau- briand in the greatest terror, the inmates of the infir- mary she had founded exposed to danger, and the con- tiguous house of " foreign missions " menaced by the workmen with pillage, — a threat which on the follow- ing night they executed. The next day he addresses a letter to the king, which is taken by M. de Givre, who with great difficulty makes his way to St Cloud. The Duke de Duras, in the name of the king, informs M. de Givre that the ordinances had been revoked, and that the Duke de Mortemart had just been named president of a new administration, and that M. de Chateaubriand was to come to an understand- ing with him. M. de Givre could not return till nightfall on the 29th; but then victory was on the side of the insurgents. In this fearful crisis His Self-devotion in this Crisis, 375 the Court displayed a lamentable want of energy. Chateaubriand should have been himself summoned to St Cloud, and not handed over in this way to a minister whom he knew not where to find. The next day he proceeds to the Chamber of Peers in the Palace of the Luxemburg, On passing by a newly-opened grave, where a priest was saying prayers, he uncovered his head and made the sign of the cross, and was immediately recognized by some young men, who cried out, " Long live the defender of the freedom of the press ! Long live the Charter ! " "Yes, gentlemen," cried he; "long live the Charter, but long live the king also ! " The young men bore him on their shoulders to the great staircase in the Palace of the Luxemburg, and there left him. In the hall he meets the Duke de Mortemart, and com- municates to him the royal message he has just re- ceived. Both are filled with profound discouragement, when they see the small attendance of peers. At this moment General Sebastiani, witPi four commis- sioners from the Chamber of Deputies, enters the Palace of the Luxemburg, and declares that that Chamber regards the new ordinances touching the formation of a new ministry as null and void ; but respects them as far as they make the Duke of Or- leans Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. Hereupon M. de Chateaubriand rose and uttered these words : "I maintain, my lords, that nothing is lost; and that we can accept the ordinances. The question to 2^"] 6 M, de Chateaubriand. be considered is not whether there be danger or not, but whether we be bound to observe the oaths we have taken to that king, of whom we hold our digni- ties, and many among us their fortunes. His ma- jesty, in withdrawing the ordinances of the 25th instant, has done all that he ought to have done. Let us in our turn do what is incumbent on us, and give to France an example of honour and of loyalty. Let us hinder her from falling into anarchic combi- nations ruinous to her peace, her solid interests, and her liberty. The danger vanishes when we dare to look it in the face.'' Before leaving the soil of France, Charles X. had abdicated the throne ; and the dauphin, the Duke d'Angouleme, had renounced all claims to the crown in favour of his nephew, the Duke de Bordeaux, still a minor. After vainly attempting to secure the re- cognition of this young prince under the title of Henry V., and not succeeding in placing his rights under the guardianship of the Duke of Orleans, Cha- teaubriand declines to take the oath of allegiance to the government of Louis Philippe, retires from the Chamber of Peers, and gives up his peerage, his title of Minister of State, and even his pension. Here- tires again into private life, and with little fortune, has, at the age of sixty-two, to begin, as it were, life anew. He still, however, warmly interests himself in be- half of that dynasty, to whose cause he had devoted the energies of his life. With the view of aiding the His ''Etudes Historiques!' 377 ex-king with his counsels, he undertakes several jour- neys into Austria. In 1832 he received from the Duchess de Berri twelve thousand francs for the rehef of the poor of Paris during the dreadful visitation of the cholera. He offered the sum to the Prefect of the Seine for distribution ; but he having decUned the commission, M. de Chateaubriand intrusted the sum to the Arch- bishop of Paris. For this act he was suddenly ar- rested, and confined for fourteen days in the house of the Prefect of Pohce. The next year he wrote a memorial on the cap- tivity of the Duchess de Berri ; and for this memorial he was prosecuted, but acquitted. Meanwhile, disappointed and disgusted with politi- cal life, he sought solace from those Muses, who had so often in his hours of affliction come to his aid. He had long been engaged on a history of France. He now for eighteen months devoted himself with the greatest diligence to the prosecution of this undertak- ing, in which he reviewed many subjects that had occupied his attention from youth. The introductory part appeared in 1831, and the remaining volumes, containing fragrnents of French history, saw the light in the year 1832. The work was entitled "Etudes Historiques,^' in 4 vols. 8vo. Portions only of the book have I read, and am therefore incompetent to pronounce a judgment on the whole. The work it- self is very fragmentary, and is also unequal in its 378 M, de Chateaubriand. parts. It is allowed to display considerable research ; but the haste with which it was composed prevented, of course, the sifting of materials, the weighing of authorities, and the general finish of execution. But, as in all the author's productions, there are many brilHant passages, and vivid and beautiful descrip- tions. In the parts I have read, I have noticed, how- ever, too often a straining after effect, and a fondness for sparkling antithesis, which we do not find in the ^earlier writings of Chateaubriand. This seems the fitting place to speak of this writer as a literary critic, and of the aesthetic influence he exerted over the mind of his country. In no depart- ment had French literature been so weak, as in the criticism of letters and of art. The horizon of the French critics rarely extended beyond ancient Greece and Rome, and their own country. They took no account of the wants, and the feeHngs, and the as- pirations of modern society, nor of the primum mobile — the great mainspring of that society — the Christian religion. The Aristarch, w^ho was the arbiter of taste in the age of Louis XIV., and to a great extent in the suc- ceeding century, was Boileau, a man of keen wit, but of little poetic enthusiasm. The illustrious poet Ra- cine said of that critic, '' Boileau is a very good man, but understands little of poetry." In the eighteenth century English literature began to attract the attention of the French poets and His Esthetic Views, 379 critics, as in the early part of the preceding age the Spanish had been fashionable. The exquisite judg- ment which Nature had given to Voltaire, but which impiety and vanity so often distorted, made him sometimes a just appreciator of foreign literature. La Harpe was one of the fairest and most judicious French critics of the last century. Yet he spoke of the divinest perhaps of all poets, Dante, in words of contemptuous disparagement, which I should be ashamed to repeat in this assembly. He was one of the last writers of the eighteenth century who lived to witness the dreadful result of their religious aberra- tions in the Revolution which convulsed its close, and whom, under Divine grace, that spectacle brought back to religion. With the dawn of the present century a better critical school arose ; and here, as in so many other things, Chateaubriand had the honour of leading the way. The foundations of his aesthetic system are laid in the " Genie du Christianisme;" but the maturer judg- ment of later years, and a more accurate study of the great monuments of literature and the fine arts, enabled our author to develop his system, to correct mistakes, and supply shortcomings in his first and greatest work. It may be here proper to make a few reflections, before I proceed to analyze his aesthetic system. Christianity, the fullest and the final revelation, 380 M. de Chateaubriand. has disclosed to us a more perfect knowledge of God, of the spiritual intelligences, of man, and of material Nature. It has revealed to man his origin and his destiny, his true relations to the Deity, to his fellow- creatures, and to the external world. It has emanci- pated him from the ignorances of superstition, from the doubts of false philosophy, from the tyranny of the passions, from the servitude to outward Nature. Hence his senses have been brought under due con- trol, his soul has been purified, his feelings refined, his imagination exalted, his understanding enlarged and enlightened. The Christian religion developing all the truths, and realizing all the promises of the two elder Dispensations, explained to mankind the past, and cast a prophetic light over the future. Hence she gave to the historian the key for under- standing the course of events, and the destinies of mankind; to the poet she disclosed new secrets in the human breast, as well as displayed more vividly the unseen world — the terrors of the abyss, and the transcendent glories of the celestial abodes; she gave up to the man of science that Nature which he had once w^orshipped as a divinity, but was now to treat as his handmaid ; while by the light of her dogmas, she enabled the metaphysician to track the most hidden paths of human inquiry. At the very time when Chateaubriand, in his " Genie du Christianisme,'' was laying down the basis of a new aesthetic system, a great German philo- Frederick von SchlegeL 381 sopher, Frederick Schlegel, who subsequently became a Catholic, was propounding his views of art to his country. Both had for object to prove the high and blessed influences which Catholic Christianity has exerted on literature and art. But in the general similarity of principles, it is curious to observe the differences of individual genius in the treatment of their subject. While the German enunciates broad general principles, susceptible of numerous appHca- tions, the Frenchman throws out fine, delicate per- ceptions, and deals more in illustration, than in the rigid deductions of logic. Both display exquisite taste and splendid imagination ; but while in Cha- teaubriand sensibility prevails, philosophy predomin- ates in Schlegel. The rapid eye of the former takes in but parts of his subject; the comprehensive glance of the latter embraces the whole. The aesthetic system of Frederick Schlegel, applied and developed by his brother Augustus William, and by Tieck, has renovated literary and artistic criticism not in Germany only, but in France, Italy, and Great Britain. To proceed now to the analysis of Chateaubriand's aesthetic views : — he shews well how Christianity has ennobled and sanctified all the domestic and the social relations, and all the afiections and the pas- sions, which spring out of and adorn them. He shews how that blessed light, which illumines modern life, is reflected in modern poetry and art. By a 382 M. de Chateaubriand, comparison between ancient and modern poets, for example, he points out how the Christian rehgion made up in a certain degree for the deficiencies of natural genius, and shed a Divine halo over the works of religious art. In our religious system, the relations between husband and wife, between mother and child, between brother and sister, are brought out in such attractive form, and with such winning grace : — there friendship is so noble, and love so pure and so ideal. And then, as to the characters, which the author terms social^ how infinitely more august, more vener- able is the Christian priest, than the heathen sooth- sayer ! How far more frank, more generous, more merciful, more self-devoted is the Christian knight, than the pagan warrior! What majestic grace, too, what lofty paternity in the true Christian king ! Then as Christianity had taught new virtues, it inspired new sentiments ; it turned the eye of man inwards upon himself; it rendered his conscience more deli- cate : and thus ensued a struggle between that con- science, and the evil passions and the evil spirits, which were ever urging him to sin. Hence arose a new phase of moral life, well adapted, according to our author, to the purposes of epic and of dramatic poetry. The heathen was the child of Nature ; — his creed was composed, partly of Divine elements, derived from primitive revelation, partly of human and corrupt elements. He was "of the earth — earthy;" he looked Influence of Christianity 07i all Art. 383 too much to outward things ; he attended too Httle to the internal motives of action, and recoiled only from those grosser moral transgressions, which shocked the reason, and terrified the conscience. Hence in human psychology the Christian religion has intro- duced a great change, which it is the duty of poetry, as well as of philosophy to attend to. Lastly, Chateaubriand speaks of that holy passion of Divine love which our faith has inspired. It is that passion — which is, as it were, the inner life of the Church — which for more than eighteen hundred years hath filled the earth with marvels, w^hich inspired the heroic fortitude of the apostles and the martyrs, which peopled the solitude with holy anchorites, which with untiring tenderness daily dries up the tears, ministers to the wants, enlightens the igno- rance, and corrects the errors of frail humanity, and amid a cold and selfish world, fans the flame ot an undying love. What an exhaustless source of poetic and artistic beauty in this principle of Divine love ! There is, however, another element of Christian life, which our author has but just touched, and which it had been well had he more enlarged on. This is the mystical element in the Church. As under the graceful forms, and wondrous variety, and teeming luxuriance of vegetable and animal life in external Nature, there are marvels of interior organism hidden from our eye ; it is so in the Church. We are amazed at her outward energy — the splendour of her 384 M. de Chateaubriand. liturgy — the pomp of her ceremonial — the number and variety of her works of love — the activity of her preaching — the efficacy of sacramental grace — the success of her missions, domestic and foreign — her wonderfully deep and compact theology — her mar- vellous unity — her immortal duration, defying the opposition of earth and of hell, the assaults of schism and of heresy, and of false science and philosophy, the craft of statesmen, and the fanaticism of the popu- lace — a duration which, realizing the Divine promise, makes her victorious over the world, and even time itself. But not less striking than those outward mani- festations, is the hidden, inner Ufe of the Church. What a world of marvels does the canonization of a saint display! — marvels which are, as it were, the counterpart to the external workings of the Church. What a mine for poetry and art in that mysterious life of the saints ! — in their long vigils and their habit of prayer — their glorious visions and ecstasies — their gift of prophecy — their intuitions in Divine things — their miraculous cures — their dominion over external Nature — their wrestHngs with, and final victories over Satanic power — their deathbeds surrounded by angelic troops ! These are subjects which Christian painting has treated with consummate power, but which Christian poetry, except in the Muse of the great Dante, has too much overlooked. And if, as I before said, Chateau- His Critique on ''Paradise LostT 385 briand has not sufficiently dwelt on this element of Christian aesthetics, he probably thought that his age was not sufficiently ripe for it. The Essay on English Literature, which our author brought out in 183 1, though often desultory and un- equal, contains some fragments of priceless w^orth. The criticism on Milton is by far the finest portion of the work. In his chapter entitled " Plan of Para- dise Lost/^ Chateaubriand has entered more fully into the spirit of Milton, than any critic I have ever met with. He has given me a loftier conception of that sublime poem, than I had before formed. It is a criti- cism which takes the original to pieces, and then by a bold effort of genius casts it anew. It is the more re- markable, as it appears in a work which not unfre- quently betrays the decline of the author's intellectual powers. The following passage in the chapter re- ferred to I shall now take the liberty of citing : it is in our author's best manner, and reminds me of the sublime simplicity of Bossuet. The opening of the poem is thus described : — " Satan awakes in the midst of the fiery lake, (and what an awakening!) E[e gathers together a coun- cil of the chastened legions : he reminds his com- panions in disobedience and in misfortune of an an- cient oracle, which foretold the birth of a new world, the creation of a new race formed with the design of filling up the void left by the fallen angels. Fearful 2 B 386 M, de Chateaubriand, tliought ! it is in hell we hear for the first time pro- nounced the name of Man. ^' Satan proposes to go in quest of that unknown world, to destroy or to corrupt it. He departs, ex- plores hell, encounters Sin and Death, bursts open the portals of the abyss, traverses chaos, discovers crea- tion, descends to the sun, alights upon the earth, be- holds our first parents in Eden, is touched by their beauty and by their innocence, and by his remorse and his pity gives us an ineffable idea of their nature and of their happiness. From the heights of heaven the Deity beholds Satan, foresees the frailty of man, announces his entire ruin, unless some one offers him- self to be his security, and to die for him. The angels remain mute with terror. In the silence of the heavens, the Son alone speaks, and offers Himself for a Sacri- fice. The Victim is accepted, and even before he hath fallen, man is redeemed." After a rapid analysis of the remaining portions of "Paradise Lost," the author concludes: — "Such is the work in its noble simplicity. The facts and the recitals spring naturally one out of the other. We traverse hell, chaos, the heavens, the earth, eternity, time, in the midst of canticles and of blasphemies, of punishments and of joys. We are borne through those immensities quite naturally and with ease, without perceiving, without feeling the movement — without Translation of ' ' Paradise L ost, ' ' 387 thinking of the efforts that were needed to bear us up so high on eagle-wings, and to create such a uni- verse." Chateaubriand had for several years been engaged on a translation of the ^' Paradise Lost " into French prose. It appeared in 1838. During his emigration he had translated for a London pubHsher some por- tions of that poem \ and now, when much of the indi- gence of his youth had returned, he resumed this labour of love. The divine bard, as he tells us, filled up his cup once more. M. Villemain, who from his great knowledge of the English language and litera- ture is a most competent judge in such a matter, de- clares that though this translation occasionally dis- plays great beauties, it is, from being too systemati- cally literal, not a successful version. Before concluding this biographical sketch, it is but fitting to give a few extracts from the author's writings, so as to enable you to test the accuracy of my criticisms. My limits will not allow me to cite more than a few passages. And as the descrip- tion of external nature was one of the departments in which Chateaubriand most excelled, the passages selected will illustrate on this point his fascinating powers. In his beautiful Letters on Italy, addressed to M. de Fontanes, we find the following charming reflec- tions on the scenes of nature, and their associations. Speaking of the cascade of Tivoli, he says : — 388 M. de Chateaubriand. " I will tell you/' addressing M. de Fontanes, " I have been annoyed by that roar of waters, which so often delighted me in the forests of America. I still reniember with what delight at night-time, in the midst of the forest, when my camp-fire was nearly extinct, when my guide was asleep, when my horses were browsing at some distance, — I still remember, I say, with what delight I listened to the melody of winds and of waters in the depth of those solitudes. Those murmurs, sometimes high, sometimes low, rising and falling at every moment, made my heart beat ; and every tree was to me as a lyre, from which the winds drew forth ineffable harmonies. ^^At present I feel I am less sensible to those charms of nature, and I doubt whether even the cataract of Niagara itself would excite in me the same admiration as formerly. When we are very young, mute nature speaks to us much, because there is a superabundance of feeling within the heart of man. The world is then all before us ; and we hope to con- vey back to that world our feelings, and we nourish a thousand chimeras. But at a more advanced age, when the prospect which lay before us has been left behind, when we have been disabused of so many illu- sions, then nature in her solitude becomes more frigid and more silent in our regard, or, as La Fontaine says, the gardens speak but little. To excite our interest, re- collections of society must attach to nature, because we suffice less to ourselves; absolute solitude is a Environs of Rome. 389 burden to us, and we need those conversations which, as Horace says, are carried on in a low voice between friends."* How exquisite is the following description of the environs of Rome ! — ^' Nothing is so beautiful as the lines of the Roman horizon — as the gentle incHnation of the plains — as the soft, evanescent outlines of the mountains which bound that horizon. Often the valleys assume the form of an arena, of a circus, of a hippodrome ; while the hillocks are cut into terraces, as if the vigorous hand of the Romans had stirred up all that earth. A peculiar haze spread over the distance rounds off all objects, and removes everything harsh or displeasing in their forms. The shadows are never cumbrous and dark ; there are no masses, however obscure, in the foHage and the rocks, where some little light does not penetrate. A singular harmony of tints unites the earth, the sky, the waters ; all surfaces, by means of an insensible gradation of colours, so unite in their extremities, that it is not possible to determine the point where one shade ends, and where another be- gins. You have doubtless admired in the landscapes of Claude Lorrain that light which seems ideal and more beautiful than nature. Well, this, I can assure you, is the light of Rome. " I was never tired of contemplating from the Villa Borghese the sun setting over the cypresses of Mount * Souvenirs d'ltalie, pp. 23, 24. 3 go M. de Chateaubriand. Marius, or over the pines of the Villa Pamfili, planted by Le Notre. I have often also ascended the Tiber to Ponte Mode to enjoy that grand spectacle of the close of day. The summits of the Sabine mountains then appear all composed of lapis-lazuli and pale gold, while their base and their sides are steeped in a vapour of a violet or purple tint. Sometimes beautiful clouds, like light cars, borne on the evening breeze with a matchless grace, enable us to realize the apparition of the Olympian inhabitants under that mythological sky. Sometimes, again, ancient Rome seems to have spread out in the far West all the purple of her consuls and of her Cassars under the last steps of the god of day. But all this rich decoration does not disappear as quickly as in our northern climes. When you think the tints are about to be effaced, the colours suddenly light up on another point of the horizon ; twiHght seems to succeed to twilight ; and the magic of sunset is prolonged. It is true that at this hour of deep repose for the fields the air no longer resounds with pastoral songs ; the shepherds have disappeared ; ^ dulcia linquimus arvaf but we still see the large victims of Clitumnus, the white oxen, or the troops of half-wild mares, descending alone to the banks of the Tiber, and coming to drink of its waters. You would fancy yourself carried back to the times of the old Sabines, or to the age of the Arcadian Evan- der, at the time when the Tiber was called Albula, The American Solitudes. 391 and when the pious ^neas ascended its unknown waves." * Must we not admit that in these exquisite land- scapes, even viewed through the defective medium of my version, the pen of Chateaubriand vies with the pencil of Poussin and of Claude Lorrain % In the passages I have cited you may observe two distinctive traits in the genius of this great master — - the intense sympathy he shews to reign between ex- ternal nature and man's inward feelings, and the happy association of historical recollections with na- tural scenery. Take, again, another passage, where he is describ- ing the solitudes of North America in her high lati- tudes : — " On all sides," says he, "prevail indefinable mur- murs. Here there are frogs, bellowing like bulls ; there are another kind of frogs, which live in the trunks of old willows, and whose continuous cries resemble alternately the tinkling of a sheep-bell, and the bark- ing of a dog. The traveller, agreeably deceived in those wild regions, fancies he is approaching a labour- er's hut, or that he hears the lowings and the tread of a herd. At length vast harmonies, suddenly stirred up by the winds, fill the depths of the forest, like a universal chorus of the Hamadryads. But soon, again, those sounds sink, and by degrees die away in * Souvenirs d' Italic, pp. 8-10. 392 M, de Chateaubriand, the tops of the cedars and the reeds ; so that you cannot tell the moment when those sounds cease, or whether they still continue, or whether they be not the mere offspring of fancy."* I regret that these passages are the only flowers which I have now time to collect from the author's writings. ^ As to the conversation of Chateaubriand, the Abbe de la Mennais described it to me as remarkable for naturalness and ease, and an unpretending simplicity. The same judgment is passed by M. Villemain in his recent biography. ^' The conversation of Chateau- briand," says his friend the Duke de Noailles, in his panegyric at the French Academy, " was full of ease and simplicity, and had no trace of the stateliness of his written style, nor of the sometimes gloomy charac- ter of his works. At times silent and dreamy, at times rising to lofty reflections, but oftener displaying a pre- cise, lucid, and sensible mind, he poured out his thoughts with a charming ease and a serene cheer- fulness." t The last years of Chateaubriand were cheered and soothed with the hopes and consolations of religion. Exercises of devotion and acts of charity were the sweetest solace to one so cruelly tried by the storms of fortune. ^^Alms," he would say to those who urged on him not to exceed his limited means — " Alms * Souvenirs d'Amerique, pp. 233, 234. + Discours de M. de Noailles ii I'Academie, p. 770. Madame de Chateaubriand, 393 are the easiest form of penitence." Often remember- ing the vicissitudes of his pubHc Hfe, and the ingrati- tude of courts, he would exclaim, "Christ is my King; my only King is Christ/^ He had at last found the Monarch who repays so liberally the ser- vices of His followers, and at whose court neither caprice nor ingratitude can ever find admission. In 1847 M. de Chateaubriand lost the faithful part- ner of his life — the excellent lady whose wisdom and piety had shone alike in misfortune and in pros- perity, whose counsels had so often sustained him in his chequered existence, and in whose active charities it was his happy privilege to have taken part. He has in his Memoirs paid the following touching tribute to her memory : — " I know not," he says, " whether there has ever existed a keener intelligence than my wife's ; she divines the thought and the word hovering on the brow and the lips of the person, with whom she is conversing. To deceive her is next to impossible. Of an original and cultivated mind, with a spirit of the most piquant curiosity, and with a wonderful talent for narration, Madame de Chateaubriand admires me without ever having read two lines of my works. She fears she would there meet with ideas which are not hers, or discover that the world has not sufficient enthusiasm for my worth. Though an impassioned judge, she is a well-informed judge, and a good one. " The defects of Madame de Chateaubriand, if she 394 ^^ d^ Chateaubriand. has any, flow from the superabundance of her good qualities ; my faults, too real, spring from the sterility of my good qualities Madame de Cha- teaubriand is far better than myself, though in social intercourse less easy. Have I been irreproachable in her regard? Have I manifested towards the com- panion of my life all those sentiments which she mer- ited, and which by right belonged to her % Has she ever uttered a complaint on the subject? What hap- piness has she tasted in return for an affection which was never found wanting % She was the partner of all my misfortunes ; she was plunged into the dun- geons of the Reign of Terror ; she shared my perse- cutions under the Empire, and my disgraces under the Restoration ; and found not in maternal joys an antidote to all these troubles. Deprived of children, whom she might have had in another union, and whom she would have loved with almost idolatry, she has not experienced all those honours and those ten- dernesses that attend on the mother of a family, and that console woman in her prime. Thus has she ad- vanced sterile and solitary towards old age. . . . " Can I weigh any annoyances she has given me against the anxieties I have occasioned her % Can I oppose any good qualities I may possess to her vir- tues, which feed the poor, which have raised up the Infirmary of Marie-Therese in despite of so many obstacles % What are my labours compared with the works of that Christian lady % When both of us shall His Posthumous Memoirs. 395 appear before the judgment-seat of God, it is I that shall be condemned." Then, after examining what sort of influence a single life might have had on his literary labours^ and after alluding to the divergence of political views between himself and Madame de Chateaubriand, the illustrious writer concludes with these noble words : — " Retained by an indissoluble tie, I have purchased at the price of a little bitterness at first the sweets I now enjoy. Of the evils of my existence I have kept but the part, which was incurable. I owe, therefore, a tender and eternal gratitude to my wife, whose attachment has been as touching as it w^as sincere and profound. She has rendered my life more grave, more noble, more honourable, in inspiring me ever with the respect for my duties, if she gave me not always the strength to accomplish them."^ Of the work from which this passage is extracted, the Posthumous Memoirs, or, as they are called, the "Memoires d'Outre-tombe," I shall say but a few words. The book abounds, indeed, in passages of great beauty and great power, and contains lively and inter- esting sketches of men and of things, vivid and bril- liant descriptions of nature, and vigorous, but often too severe and sombre, delineations of the human charac- ter. Yet it had been better for its author had it never been given to the world. * M^moires d' Outre -tombe, vol. i., pp. 348-351. 396 M. de Chateaubriand. The first, but the least, defect in these Memoirs is their excessive length, and the very minute details into which they run. The next defect is the very offensive tone of egotism and vanity apparent in many parts. The third is the indecorous character of some passages. The last and gravest fault is the harsh, unkind, contemptuous manner in which the author speaks of estimable colleagues, the tone of de- preciation in which he characterizes the genius of some illustrious contemporaries, and, above all, the gross injustice too often manifested towards the party, with which he had so long the honour of being con- nected, whose principles inspired his noblest political effusions, which raised him to the pinnacle of great- ness, and the desertion of whose ranks, prompted by resentment, filled his last years with bitterness and self-reproach ; for it helped to bring on the ruin of his country. The publication of the Posthumous Memoirs im- mediately led to complaints, protests, and recrimina- tions from various parties. Surely a voice that speaks from the tomb should awaken a spirit of peace and charity, and not one of contention and hate ! The dreadful days of June 1848, which witnessed the most bloody conflict in the whole history of the Revolution, and when not merely the ephemeral Re- public, but society itself, seemed on the verge of destruction ; those days, I say, were destined to sadden the close of Chateaubriand's mortal career. His Last Moments. 397 ** Seated," says an eye-witness, "before his open windows, feeling death gradually stealing over him, pale, silent, and melancholy, his head sunk down on his chest, he Hstened attentively to the far sounds of civil strife, while every roar of the cannon brought tears to his eyes."* After a long silence, he was heard to mutter to himself those words he had written in 1814: "No, I will never believe that I write on the tomb of France." But that patriotic soul, ere it winged its flight from its native land, learned the wel- come tidings, that the cause of society had been saved. Shortly before his agony came on, he gave utter- ance to his sorrow at the assassination of the excel- lent Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. Affre. His death-bed was attended by those most entitled to his love and respect. There was his confessor and friend the Abbe Guerry, who administered to him the last con- solations of religion ; there was his nephew, M. Louis de Chateaubriand, the son of that much-loved brother, Armand de Chateaubriand, of whom he so often speaks in his Memoirs ; there was the good superior- ess of the Convent of Marie-Therese, founded by himself and his virtuous consort ; and there was Madame Recamier, who had been so constant a friend of both. Chateaubriand expired with great serenity on the 4th of July 1848. * Rhjiie des deux Mondes^ t. iii., p. 127. Lom6iie, Chateau- briand et ses M^moires. 398 • -^' de Chateaubriand. As a youth, he had been nurtured in the tempest ; so in the tempest he was destined to sink to his final sleep. France, in the agony of her social crisis, raised up her head for a moment, thought of the great spirit she had lost, and bitterly wept. The funeral obsequies of the deceased were cele- brated two days after his death in the Church of the ^^ Missions dtrangeres " by a numerous clergy ; and many' distinguished members of the laity were present on the solemn occasion. But it was in his own Brittany the illustrious departed was to receive the funeral honours worthy of himself, worthy of that classic land of fidelity. In his life-time the municipality of St Malo had, at his request, granted a solitary rock in the bay of that seaport for his place of sepulture. Thither his re- mains were now conveyed, accompanied by some ot the Paris clergy and of his lay friends. A solemn service was celebrated in the cathedral of that town ; and then the funeral procession commenced. More than fifty thousand persons attended this holy and national ceremony; the sea was studded with boats ; the housetops and the shoals around were crowded with spectators ; banners were flaunting on the breeze ; and the deep silence was interrupted only by the mournful canticles, and the booming of cannon. The coffin was at last deposited in a recess of the high rock, surmounted by a granite cross, which, like Estimate of his Genius, 399 the tomb of Themistocles on Colonna's cliffs, an- nounces to the navigator who salutes from afar the French coast, the last resting-place of Chateaubriand. His learned friend and disciple M. Ampere, who had been deputed by the French Academy to be its re- presentative on this mournful occasion, thus con- cludes his report to that learned body: "It would seem that the genius of the incomparable painter had been stamped on this last magnificent spectacle, and that to him alone among men it has been given to add, even after death, a splendid page to the immor- tal poem of his life.'^ '"' I shall now endeavour, according to the best of my ability, to sum up his general characteristics as a writer. '"Nature had- bestowed on M. de Chateaubriand a most brilliant imagination, and a deep sensibility. To these were added a soHd judgment, a refined taste, and reasoning powers of no ordinary stamp. All these faculties had been cultivated and developed by careful study, and by extensive travel. He had long meditated on the great models of classical an- tiquity, and made himself familiar with the illustrious writers of his own country. He was versed in Eng- lish, Italian, and even Spanish literature ; and for a layman, possessed considerable acquaintance with the Sacred Scriptures, the writings of the primitive fathers, and with ecclesiastical history. He had care- fully studied the early annals of his own country, as * Discours de M. de Noailles, pp. 771, 772. 400 M, de Chateaubfiand. well as the private memoirs of its later times. Even on some branches of physical science, such as natural history, he had bestowed considerable atten- tion. A genius so happily constituted, and enriched with such acquirements, found a happy instrument in a clear, elegant, flexible, and harmonious style. The description of external nature, and the por- traiture of human manners, are the two points in which this great writer most excels. He is not a mere Thomson, who depicts Nature with a minute, Dutch-like accuracy; nor, on the other hand, does he, hke Wordsworth, cast over his pictures a hazy, half-pantheistic vagueness. But Nature stands before him clear, bright, with a distinct outline, and as the medium between God and man. Well had he learned her strange, mysterious tongue j and whether in the graceful forms of vegetation, or in the rich variety of organic life, — whether in the strange rustling of the primeval forest, the roar of the tremendous cataract, or the towering majesty of the mountain-chain, — whether on the trackless expanse of ocean, or in the vast, starry firmament of night, — Nature ever spoke to him of the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of her Maker. His portraiture of manners is vivid, for with his glowing fancy he united powers of keen observation ; and in the singular vicissitudes of his life, as well as in his wanderings through so many different regions, Estimate of his Genius, 401 he had seen and studied mankind under a great variety of aspects. In the description of manners and customs, he is more successful than in the dehneation of character ; for his mind was more turned to the contemplation of outward than of inward objects. Hence in his ro- mances we find more of the rhetoric of the passions, than the psychological analysis of character. In his first and greatest work, the " Genie du Christianisme," composed before he had reached his thirty-seventh year, Chateaubriand's powers were all brought out to their fullest extent. Here he could display his rich stores of elegant literature and varied learning ; his clear, forcible reasoning in proving the truths of the Christian religion ; his splendid powers of description in shewing the manifold blessings, social and intellectual, she has conferred on man- kind ; and his exquisite sensibility in pointing out her latent harmonies with the human heart, and with ex- ternal nature herself Many of these excellencies are to be found in the beautiful epic of the '^ Martyrs," where the author so happily realized his own theory of Christian art, as well as in his Travels in Greece, Egypt, and Palestine — a most finished and exquisite production. In his political writings and speeches, Chateau- briand did not rise to equal excellence, partly because, as we have seen, he did not fully grasp the political principles of his party, the rationale of its system, if I 2 c 402 M. de Chateaubriand. may so speak j and partly because those writings did not afford scope to the most eminent quaUties of his mind. In those productions we find, as I before said, neither the large practical wisdom of a Burke, nor the luminous intuitions of a De Maistre, nor the deep philosophy and the historical illustrations of a Schlegel and a Gorres. But we meet with judicious observa- tions and generous sentiments, set forth by a brilliant imagination. In his political writings and speeches, as well as in his romances, there is a floating vapour of high truths and noble feelings, lit up by the rays of a splendid fancy. Chateaubriand was not, indeed, a metaphysician, but belonged to the class of writers called moralists ; for he displayed a great knowledge, and a keen observation of human life. The most salient trait in this great man's genius is, perhaps, his versatility. We are astonished at the amazing variety of his productions, as well as at the great excellence displayed amid all that variety. Tra- vels, different kinds of poetry, the romance, the ethical treatise, poHtical essays and pohtical speeches, history, biography, literary criticism, memoirs — such are the various themes which engaged the lively, versatile mind of this extraordinary man. In some of these he attained to excellence of a high order, and in others he occupied a most respectable position. The best way, perhaps, of drawing out a clear analysis of his genius, would be to institute a com- Compared with M. de la Mennais. 403 parison between him and that once illustrious coun- tryman already spoken of, whose cradle was con- tiguous to his own. Chateaubriand, in his "Genie du Christianisme," commenced the work of religious regeneration, which the Abbe de la Mennais, in his " Essai sur T Indif- ference,^^ completed. The former predisposed the infidel mind to Christianity \ the latter, under Divine grace, forced it to succumb to the evidences of reli- gion. Chateaubriand charms and delights us in his writings; La Mennais thrills and electrifies. The former had greater liberality of sentiment, and a more genial sympathy with mankind; the latter, though most kind-hearted, took too dark a view of human nature, and had too little tolerance for human in- firmity. If La Mennais had a more powerful under- standing, Chateaubriand possessed a more practical sohdity of judgment. The genius of the layman was, perhaps, too rhetorical to rise to the highest regions of poetry, and not keen enough to penetrate into the deep places of philosophy. In the mind of the priest, it is difficult to know whether the poetical or the ratiocinative element had the greater preponderance. One loved a certain magnificent pomp of description ; the other painted with the graphic strokes of a Tacitus and a Dante. Though inferior to his great rival in intellectual power, the grace and flexibility of Chateau- briand's mind went far to adjust the balance. The learning of both, extensive as it was, and run- 404 M. de Chateaubriand, \ ning parallel on many points, yet diverged in different directions — that of one bearing more towards the belles-lettres ; that of the other leaning more to eru- dition, sacred and profane. Lastly, whilst the literary career of the priest ex- hibits, alas, a moral and intellectual disrupture more shocking even than that of the great TertuUian, to whom he bore so many points of resemblance ; the writings of Chateaubriand, from the first moment of his youthful conversion, display, as far as regards religion at least, the most steady and happy uni- formity. And so, in conclusion, I may say of the great man whose life I have been sketching, that ^^ he finished his course, that he kept the faith, that he fought the good fight, and that the crown of justice has been reserved for him in heaven." We may firmly believe and trust that the spirit of Chateau- briand, purged from the stains he may have contracted in his earthly pilgrimage, is now beholding, face to face, that Great Being whose attributes he so elo- quently described, and whose love he once enkindled on the desolate hearths of his country. He is now, we fondly hope, contemplating the ineffable beauty of those laws, whereof he sought to obtain a dim reflec- tion on this earth ; — he is now ravished by those Divine harmonies, of which few mortals here below have ever had so keen an anticipation. And so in this hope I conclude his fife. TWO LECTURES ON THE SECRET SOCIETIES OF MODERN TIMES. LECTURE I.^' freemasonry: sketch of its origin and early progress ; its moral and political tendency. Ladies and Gentlemen, TN resuming these public lectures, which have been delayed longer than I could have wished, I had purposed to do for Portugal what I had already done for Spain, by tracing her history from the fifteenth century down to the last War of Independence. But revered members of the Irish clergy having re- quested me to treat of Secret Societies, which are now the curse and bane of European nations, I have be- * This lecture, published two years ago, and of which the second edition is exhausted, is here reprinted, as it stands in the closest connexion with the next, which has never seen the light. 4o6 Freemasonry. gun \vith the venerable parent of all secret societies, the Masonic Order. But, before entering mpon the subject, I wish to make a few preliminary lemaiks. In the first place, our Protestant brethren, not being interdicted by the authorities in their different com- munions from becoming members of this society, incur not by such a step the same responsibility as Catholics who join it. In the second place, many excellent Catholics, on being made acquainted with the judg- ments of the Church on Freemasonry, have given up all connexion with the Order. In the third place,, there are in all countries estimable individuals belong- ing to the lower degrees of Masonry, and who are not cognizant of its ultimate tendencies, which I shall shew to be anti-Christian and anti-social. And lastly^ this remark is especially applicable to these three countries — England, Scotland, and Ireland, where Masonry has generally, but not alv^ays, retained a more innocuous character. In our East and West India colonies, where hospi- tality is, as it were, a necessity of life, this society is found to possess great attractions. And so, likewise, in that noble profession of arms, where friendships are so warm and generous, this institution is thought to knit closer the ties of fellowship. Thus an English or Irish Catholic young gentle- man, finding, in Protestant England for example,, Masonry in its lower grades comparatively harmless^ proceeds to Belgium, expecting to find in that very Plan of the Lecture. 407 Catholic country the Order in a most satisfactory con- dition. Yet it is precisely because Belgium is such a Catholic country, that the bad elements of society there have settled in Masonic lodges. The depravity of those lodges may be estimated by a single fact. A few years ago they were shameless enough to present a golden pen to the most infamous writer of the pres- ent age, the late M. Eugene Sue. So the English or Irish Catholic young gentleman^ who has, as I have supposed, visited these Belgian lodges, will return to his country either disgusted with Masonry, or with his faith and morals ruined. But it is time, after these preliminary remarks, to enter upon the subject. As Freemasonry professes in its higher grades to restore what it calls the pure Religion of Nature ; and again, as it promises, under the specious names of ^^ Liberty and Equality,^' to make men better and happier than Christianity has made them ; it throws down the gauntlet on all the great problems of moral and social life. Whoever attempts, therefore, to op- pose its pretensions, must take up the gauntlet it has thrown down. Under these circumstances, I have been compelled to point out the nature of primitive religion, the de- fection of heathenism, and the relations of the cele- brated Eleusinian Mysteries, from which Masonry claims to derive its system, both to the primitive Re- velation on the one hand, and to paganism itself on 4o8 Freemasonry. the other. The appeal which this institution makes to what it calls the more spiritual Judaism is then examined. Next, I give a rapid historic sketch of Masonry, shewing how it evolved from the associations of archi- tects in the Middle Age, till, in the times of the Eng- lish Commonwealth, it assumed a political form. Then I trace its history from that period down to the middle of the last century, when it incurs the formal censures of the Church. Afterwards, I endeavour to justify the judgments of the Church in respect to all secret societies, and especially to those who, like the higher Masons, the Illuminati, the Jacobins, and the Social- ists, aim at a total religious and social revolution. I shew how utterly inconsistent with the Christian reve- lation are the very pretensions of Masonry. Then I explain why so many estimable individuals, and some holding a high social position, were members of the Masonic Order. Afterwards, I shew that a large por- tion of Masons in every country, and especially in this empire, as they occupied the lower grades of the Order, knew nothing of its ultimate tendencies. The dangers of Masonry, even to those in the inferior degrees, are then considered. Next I analyze its constitution, and then its re- ligious, and subsequently its political, doctrines. Here occurs an episode on the Knights-Templars, in which I shew how their history fits in to that of the Masonic Order. I prove how the corrupt tenets of Authorities used. 409 the bad portion of the Templars perfectly correspond to those of the higher grades of Masonry. I then go off into an excursus on the social and intellectual blessings which the Catholic Church has actually con- ferred on mankind, compared with those which Ma- sonry promised, but could never realize. I conclude with a comparison between the religious and political tenets of the deistical Masons, of the atheistical II- luminati and Jacobins, and of the pantheistic Social- ists. Such is the wide field I purpose to travel over to-night. I must most earnestly bespeak your indul- gence — first, for detaining you so long j and, secondly, for handling a subject which, I sincerely believe, my powers are unequal to. My chief authorities are as follows : — 1. The Abbe BarrueFs work, entitled, "The Me- moirs of Jacobinism," the second volume of which is very full upon Masonry. In the thirty years preced- ing the French Revolution of 1789, the Abbe Barruel had by personal observation, as well as by research, ample opportunities of learning the principles and the working of the Masonic lodges. The first volume of this work was translated into English in the year 1796, and met with the approval of our illustrious Burke, who cites it in one of his last writings. 2. The main statements of Barruel are corroborated by the Protestant writer. Professor Robison, of Edin- burgh, in a book entitled, " Proofs of a Conspiracy against all Religions and Governments in Europe.'' 4IO Freemasonry. This work was published in 1798, and dedicated to the great statesman and orator, Wyndham. Robison had originally been a Mason. 3. A manual of Masonry was published some years ago by the infidel bookseller, Richard Carlile. In this all the ceremonies, degrees, and instructions in Masonry are described. 4. A work on this subject appeared a few years ago from the pen of a German Protestant, M. Eckert, an advocate at Dresden. It is entitled, ^^ Freemasonry considered in its true signification, or in its organiza- tion, its object, and its history. '' This work, which I received but a few days ago, I have consulted only in certain portions, and in a French translation."* I beg leave to observe that it is only from pub- lished documents I have drawn the materials of this lecture. I now proceed to my subject. Man, born to know and to love Eternal Truth, possesses an insatiable desire of knowledge. In his state of original justice, that desire of knowledge would have been one of the chief sources of his hap- piness ; for it would have led him to study more and more the power, and the wisdom, and the goodness of his Maker. The contemplation of those Divine attri- butes would have more and more enkindled his love; and the fervour of love would again have augmented * This translation is from the pen of the Abbe Gyr, and was printed at Li^ge in 1854. The Fall of Man, 4 1 1 the brightness of knowledge. Everywhere, whether in the clear, broad mirror of external nature, or in the depths of his own consciousness, or in the aspect of his fellow-creatures, united among themselves, united with their God, or in the luminous tradition of truth handed down from one happy generation to another, — every- where would man have then clearly discerned the image of his Creator. But at the fall what a miserable change ensued ! That noble desire of knowledge degenerated into an inordinate curiosity ; the intellectual vision of God was obscured ; and fear succeeded to love. Na- ture was now a broken mirror, that but half reflected the Deity. The senses and the appetites of man had revolted against his will, his will against his reason, and his reason against the law of his God. His con- science, laden with guilt, reluctantly acknowledged the force of that law which he had violated ; and his reason, confused, disordered, had forfeited the once bright intuition of divine things. So in that human consciousness, once so serene, so harmonious, all was now discord and perturbation. And if man looked around on his fellow-creatures, he saw beings as miserable as himself, and groaning under the penalty of the same guilt. And what had become of that glorious tradition of Eden, which, without the fall, would have been like a golden girdle, binding one generation after another to its God % Alas ! that tra- dition now became a motley- coloured, curiously- tangled web of primeval truth and poetic fiction. 4 1 2 Freemasonry, Man, born to control nature, sank more and more under her dominion ; and the wicked spirit who had first seduced him to rebellion, sought to alienate him further and further from his Maker. Such is the origin of paganism. It is the most exact representa- tion of fallen man. It shews him in his grandeur as well as in his abasement, in the struggles of the good and of the bad elements of his nature, in his aspira- tions after immortality, as in his downward tendency to earth. Hence, when the cultivated heathen examined the grounds of his religion, he found it a subject of per- plexity. The dictates of reason — the pangs of con- science — the utterances of universal tradition — the voice of nature — all urged him to seek light, and solace, and expiation in the temple. But, unworthy and incoherent representations of the Deity, the sen- sual worship of nature, which derogated from the rights of God, and obscured and overlaid all the great truths of primitive religion, the contradictions and absurdities which the different systems of paganism exhibited, drove back the heathen from the temple with his reason perplexed, his conscience disturbed, his passions unchecked, the problem of existence imperfectly solved. This condition of the heathen, happily, we cannot realize, because we live under a blessed Dispensation, where such moral discord is unknown. Christianity, (and I speak only of perfect or Catholic Christianity) Christianity and Heathenism, 4 1 3 — Christianity is the rehgion of harmony. It is the reli- gion of harmony ; for it more than satisfies the reason, fills up the yearnings of the heart after happiness, en- lightens the conscience, controls the passions, purifies and exalts the feelings, and mortifies the rebelHous senses. That harmony we find in the close union between the new and the two elder Dispensations, that had preceded, and foreshadowed, and prepared the way for the Christian. Harmony, ineffable har- mony, we find between the different dogmas of that religion, as well as between its doctrines, its worship, and its discipline. Harmony, too, is manifest between its whole system, and the analogies of reason, the moral constitution of man, and the operations of ex- ternal nature. Its history, too, presents the triumph of harmony; for it shews it solving one difficulty after another, overcoming all opposition, rising supe- rior to persecution, shining out more luminous in its doctrines after the obscurations of heresy, and stand- ing firmer and more compact in its evidences after the assaults of scepticism. Lastly, it is the religion of harmony ; for by its sacramental ordinances, it recon- ciles man with his offended God, and so restores con- cord between his distracted faculties. But, if Christianity be the religion of harmony, surely Paganism is the religion of dissonance. This dissonance we find between the primitive truths it had retained, and the errors it embraced. The same is manifest in the utter contradictions of its different 4 1 4 Freemasonry. systems — in the variations of the same system — in the radical differences of its mysteries — in the opposite modes of worshipping the same Divinity ; for, as the Hindoos say, *^ there is a right-hand and a left-hand mode of worshipping the same deity ; " — lastly, in the antagonism between its esoteric and exoteric, or public and private teaching. What a dissonance, too, be- tween belief and practice ! How often could pagan- ism cry out with the Roman poet : " Video meliora proboque^ deteriora sequor.^^ In a word, the moral and intellectual discord which the sin of our first parents had introduced into the world, heathenism perpetuated and augmented. It was a strange world of flickering lights and shadows, wherein unregenerate man groped his way painfully along. Hence the eagerness with which the cultivated heathen sought for a solution of his doubts, and for the moral guidance of his life; hence the ardour with which he sometimes questioned philosophy on the end of his existence, and on the truths that were to make him happy here and here- after ; hence the zeal with which he sought initiation in the mysteries or secret rites. But philosophy, even the purest, is no substitute for religion. Philosophy at best defends religion j philosophy conducts to reli- gion ; but philosophy is not religion itself. Man, de- pendent on a Being to whom he owes his existence and his preservation, must needs have recourse to prayer ; and man, conscious of having offended that great Being, must feel the need of expiatory sacrifice. The Mysteries of Eleusis. 415 Ratiocination is the life of philosophy. Tradition^ resting on the authority of revelation,' is the medium of religion. And observe, this holds good of all reli- gions and of all philosophies, true or false. No philo- sopher ever claimed for his own system more than a human authority ; and no religion, (and this is espe- cially true of the false religions of heathenism,) but pretended to a Divine origin and a Divine mission. This pretension was, of course, false as regarded the errors of heathenism, but well founded in respect to those truths it had borrowed from the primitive Reve- lation. It is very remarkable that, while the history of ancient philosophy presents very few examples of moral conversions wrought by even its best systems, (such, for example, as that of Polemo, who, by the study of Platonism was reclaimed from vice to a life of virtue ;) there are many testimonies of the ancients as to the very beneficial influence of the mysteries, and especially those of Eleusis, on the conduct of the initiated. These mysteries, had space permitted, I would have gladly described ; but the abundance and the variety of matters I have to bring before your notice this evening, preclude the possibility of such a description. Suffice it to say, that the main subject of celebration in these mysteries was the Myth of Demeter or Ceres, and of Persephone or Proserpine. And I may here observe, that the worship of these subterranean divinities had a more earnest and mys- 4 1 6 Freemasonry, tical import than was usually found in the gay and voluptuous mythology of the Greeks. The Myth of Ceres and Proserpine, represented in a succession of visions in the Eleusinian Mysteries, symbolized the institution of marriage and of agricul- ture, or property in its most concrete form — one the basis of social life, the other of human sustenance. The myth symbolized also the decay and dissolu- tion of the mortal body in the earth, and the rise of the soul to a better and immortal life. The kindled torch, too, which was passed from hand to hand, signified, perhaps, the successive phases in the eternal destiny of the soul. The neophyte, first appearing clad in the skins of wild beasts, and then represented as casting them off, denoted the transition from savage to civilized life. "The Mysteries of Eleusis," says the profound German mythologist, Creuzer, "did not only teach resignation, but (as we see by the verses of the Homeric hymn to Ceres, sung on those occasions) they afforded consoling promises of a better futurity. ' Happy is the mortal,' it is there said, ^ who hath been able to contemplate these grand scenes ! But he who hath not taken part in these holy ceremonies, is for ever deprived of a like lot, even when death has drawn him down into its gloomy abodes.'^' Creuzer adds, " It is conjectured (and rightly, in our opinion) that these verses of the Homeric songster were pre- sent to the mind of Sophocles, when, in lines pre- The Eleusinian Hymns. 417 seiTed by Plutarch, he exclaims : * Thrice blessed those mortals who, after having witnessed these sacred mysteries, descend to Hades. For them alone that abode is one of life ; to the others it is full of misery.' '^ And with these lines of Sophocles may be compared the following verses of Pindar, preserved by the learned Greek father, Clemens Alexandrinus, and which, as he tells us^ were in reference to the Eleusi- nian Mysteries. " Happy he," says the lyric poet, " who after having beheld those ceremonies, descends into the depths of the earth. He knows the end of life \ he knows the beginnmg given by Jove." Pindar here alludes to the second birth, or the new life beyond the tomb. These hymns served to explain to the neophytes of Eleusis the purport of the popular myths, and the nature of the visions brought before their eyes. But, in the lesser mysteries, which pre- ceded the greater, the initiated received some pre- paratoiy instruction. Myths, allegories, symbols, ceremonies, hymns, were the usual modes of rehgious instruction prevalent in remote antiquity. Even among the Hebrews there was no public preaching till after the Babylonish captivity; and then it was practised not in the Temple itself, but in the syna- gogues. And as to the heathens, Leibnitz long ago observed, " that they neither practised preaching, nor put forth any formularies or confessions of behef." The doctrines taught in the Eleusinian Mysteries are thus summed up by a living Catholic writer: 2 D 41 8 Freemasonry. "One supreme God — the eternity of matter — the immortaUty of the soul — the deification of the ele- ments and of the heavenly bodies — free-will — a judg- ment after death — the metempsychosis, and eternal felicity after certain expiatory punishments in the next world ; such," says he, " it appears to us, were the dogmas taught in these mysteries." "^ The estimable and learned Silvestre de Sacy, too, says, " that the impure emblems, so frequently exhi- bited in heathen worship, were not displayed in the initiations of Eleusis." Of the salutary influence of these mysteries on moral life, we have, besides the testimony of the Greek poets just cited, that of eminent orators and historians. My limits will not allow me to cite the remarkable passages of the orator Andocides,t and of the rheto- rician IsocrateSjJ on this matter; but I must content myself with the testimony of two writers, who, at the close of classical antiquity, ratify the judgments of the ancients on this subject. In his work, " De Le- gibus,^' Cicero thus eulogizes the Mysteries of Eleusis : " Nam mihi quum multa eximia divinaque videntur Athenae tuae peperisse, atque in vita hominum attul- isse, tum nihil melius illis mysteriis, quibus ex agresti immanique vita exculti ad humanitatem et mitigati sumus : Initiaque, ut appellantur, ita re vera principia * Cesare Cantu, Hist. Univ., t. i., p. 259. f De Myst., ss. 31, % Panegyr., c. vi., p. 20. The Mysteries of Ele usis. 4 1 9 vitae cognovimus ; neque solum cum laetitia vivendi rationem accepimus, sed etiam cum spe meliore mo- riendi."* And Diodorus Siculus, somewhat later, thus records the general opinion : " It is said," he writes, "that those who have been initiated in those mys- teries, become more pious, more just, and in every respect better men." t These initiations must not be confounded with the Bacchic Mysteries, which even at an early period partook of a licentious character. But at the time when Christianity was preached to the heathen world, the Mysteries of Eleusis had already much degene- rated. You will not of course misunderstand me. You will not suppose, after what I have said of paganism, that I am attributing to these mysteries any super- natural influence, or wishing you to beheve that these poor, weak elements of religion, where truth was at best clouded with so much error, could produce a perfect moral regeneration. I only mean to say, that as, under the Christian dispensation, theological and philosophical speculations and researches, unaccom- panied with acts of humility and prayer, will not lead those outside the true Church to any satisfactory result; so we find something (though in an. infinitely * De Legibus, lib. xi., c. 14. + Tivcardai (pam koI (vaepearepovs kol biKaioripovs Koi Kara nap ^eXTLovas iavT^v tovs rav fivarepiav Koivcojrqo-avras* — Dwd. Sic, lib. v., p. 48. 420 Freemasonry. inferior degree) analogous in heathenism. Ancient philosophy, as it appears, was incapable of working a moral reform; but the most respectable testimony- assures us, that those who approached the shrines of Eleusis, and beheld unveiled the antique majesty of traditions, and there sought out the truth not by rea- soning only, but by supphcation also, returned better and worthier men. Hence it is a remarkable fact, that the Pythagoreans, who are admitted to have been the best and the purest of the Greeks, were closely connected with these mysteries, as well as with the Orphic theology, which there played so important a part. Such were the nature and the tendency of these celebrated mysteries, from which Freemasonry derives its descent. But how hollow and absurd is this pre- tension, I shall clearly shew, when I analyze the reli- gious tenets of this institution. The frivolous deism, which is at the bottom of the Masonic mystery, will then appear to have neither a doctrinal affinity, nor a historical connexion with the initiations of Eleusis. Nor are the endeavours of another class of Free- masons, to deduce their order from the ancient Jews, a whit more successful. No ancient Jew could be found, who was not a believer in the law, and the prophets, and the Messiah to come. The spiritual- minded Hebrew, indeed, understood the purport and the significance of the legal ceremonial. He knew that it was of but temporary obligation, and that it The yewish Church. 421 prefigured a better and a higher order of things ; but yet he bowed to its authority, for he recognized its Divine origin and awful sanctions, as well as the lofty purposes it was destined to subserve. Moreover, by the side of the written law, there was a chain of traditions preserved by the Jewish Church, and which it faithfully clung to. The Hebrews ever believed that, with the delivery of the law, certain explanations were intrusted to their priesthood by their inspired lawgiver. In the New Testament we are told that the law and the prophets bear witness to Christ. Yet in looking over the law, we find but one luminous passage clearly prophetic of the Messiah. Yet the Hebrew, enlightened by the tra- ditionary explanations of his Church, well understood the high significance of ordinances, rites, ceremonies, and sacrifices, as typical of the character and the office of the Redeemer to come. Thus an impassable abyss lies between the monotheism of the ancient Jews, and that vague, undefined, purely personal re- ligion, called Deism, which, as we shall see, forms the basis of Masonry. The patriarchal theism was founded on Revelation, and deduced from that source its whole system of doctrine, morals, and worship. It recognized the necessity of public prayer and animal sacrifice, and assigned the functions of the priesthood, not to each individual, but to the head of the family only. The Mosaic law, though, indeed, local in its desti- 42 2 Freemasonry. nation, filled up the outline of doctrine and ritual in the elder dispensation, introduced in order to guard the chosen people against the dangers of idolatry, a far stricter discipline and a more elaborate cere- monial system, and by appointing a separate sacer- dotal body, transferred the priesthood from domestic to public life. Both these dispensations, too, pointed unerringly to all the mysteries of future redemption. Not so the modern deism, which falsely styles it- self the Religion of Nature. It is based, not on Revelation, but on the private judgment of each in- dividual. Here religion is purely and essentially personal^ devoid not of sacrifice only, but of public prayer, and without the intervention of any priest- hood, public or domestic. Its doctrinal system is so vague, that some of its partisans have called in ques- tion even the immortality of the soul, and agree in nothing, save in the belief in a Supreme Being. So far from being prophetic of Christianity, as was the elder religion of nature, deism sets itself up in opposition to Christ, and denies His Revelation. It is not even, like the better elements in heathen- ism, a corruption of primitive Religion, but something directly antagonistic to it. In a word, it is what the great Bossuet long ago called it, " a disguised or prac- tical atheismJ' It is now time to sketch the history of the Masonic Order. Freemasonry in its first beginnings must be traced The Mediceval L odges. 423 to the Masonic Lodges of the Middle Ages, in which the architects held their sittings, and framed statutes for their corporation. Thus, it is well known that when Erwin of Steinbach had begun the glorious Cathedral of Strasburg, he founded in that city a lodge, the centre and the model of other lodges spread throughout Europe. The heads of each of those lodges assembled at Ratisbon on the 25th April 1459, and drew up the Act of Incorporation, which instituted in perpetuity the lodge of Strasburg as the chief lodge, and its president as the Grand-Master of the Freemasons of Germany. The institute was formally sanctioned by the Emperor Maximilian in the year 1498, and that sanction was afterwards rati- fied by the Emperors Charles the Fifth and Ferdinand the First. These ordinances, subsequently renewed, were printed in the year 1563. The masters, journeymen, and apprentices formed a corporation, having a special jurisdiction in different localities. But the lodge of Strasburg was pre-eminent above the rest, and, in conformity with the statutes, pronounced a definitive judgment in all causes brought under its cognizance. In order not to be confounded with the vulgar mechanics, who could handle only the hammer and the trowel, the Free- masons invented signs of mutual recognition, and certain ceremonies of initiation. A traditionary se- cret was handed down, revealed only to the initiated, and that according to the degrees they had attained 424 Freemasonry. to in the corporation. They adopted for symbols the instruments of their craft — the square, the level, the compass, and the hammer. In course of time, it appears that the masonic lodges, in order to secure patrons and friends to their fraternity, admitted among their associates individuals totally unacquainted with the architectural art. And so, by degrees, other objects besides those connected with their craft, engaged the attention of the brethren. The mystery which enveloped their proceedings was common to all the trade-associations of the Middle Ages. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the Government began to entertain suspicions of these masonic lodges, and interdicted them. In the time of the Common- wealth, the royalists of England, in order to concert measures against the dominant tyranny, had recourse to secret political societies ; and these societies were now engrafted on the masonic lodges, which, from the number of men of various professions they ad- mitted into their ranks, were convenient receptacles for carrying on political plots. The scriptural sym- bols and scriptural phraseology employed in their lodges, were well suited to the spirit and habits of the time. Ramsay, in his " History of Freemasonry," does not deny that the lodges powerfully contributed to the restoration of Charles the Second. After the Revolution of 1688, the exiled Jacobites introduced this modern political Freemasonry into The First French Lodges. 425 France ; but the Government of Louis the Fourteenth checked its diffusion. Under the regency, established on the demise of that monarch, the Enghsh Pretender founded several lodges in that country ; and the Re- gent himself, a sated voluptuary, eagerly sought in these secret societies for some new source of gratifica- tion. In the year 1725, the first lodge in France was held under the presidency of three Englishmen, Lord Derwentwater, Sir John Maskelyne, and Sir Hugh Tighe. In the year 1736, on the departure of Lord Har- nonester, second Grand-Master of the Order in France, the court intimated, that if the choice to that dignity fell on a Frenchman, he should be sent to the Bastille. The Duke d'Antin was, however, elected ; and under him French masonry attained to a certain consistence. In the year 1744, during the presidency of the Duke de Clermont, a prince of the blood, masonic lodges were expressly prohibited by the Government ; but this prohibition served only to in- crease and spread them in the provinces. At length the lodges in Paris emancipated themselves from all dependence on those in England. A Scotch gentleman, the Chevalier Ramsay, was one of the most zealous promoters of Freemasonry in France. He had been bred up in the principles of Calvinism, and then having fallen into a state of scepticism, had, in order to obtain a solution of his religious doubts, travelled in Holland and France, 426 Freemasonry where he was converted to the Catholic Church by the great Fenelon. As a Jacobite, he was attached to an association that, as he confesses, had rendered great services to the House of Stuart ; and as tutor to the sons of the Pretender, he had the best oppor- tunities for furthering its success. A zealous Catholic and a devoted royalist, the advocate and promoter of Freemasonry ! How repugnant is this fact to our modern notions ! But observe, the Church had as yet pronounced no judgment on the matter. Ramsay proposed, as Grand-Master of the Order, to convene at Paris a council, consisting of deputies from, all the masonic lodges in Europe ; but the Prime Minis- ter, Cardinal Fleury, induced him to abandon this project " The Society of Freemasons," says a living Italian historian, " retained in Great Britain a serious charac- ter j but in other countries it was soon converted into convivial meetings, and became a sort of gay heresy, apparently innoxious, and which even by acts of bene- ficence sought to render itself useful. Its mysterious- ness served to attract and to excite the imaginative : the visionary thought to perceive in the Order a school of chimerical perfection and of transcendental mys- ticism : the charlatan, an abundant source of illu- sions : some, under the mantle of its name, practised knavery ; but a greater number looked on this institu- tion as a means for the relief of indigence. It was impossible that Governments should not look with Proscribed by Church and State. 427 distrust on those secret assemblies, and on that mys- terious understanding between men belonging to dif- ferent countries. Hence, all masonic lodges were proscribed, first in France in the year 1729, then in Holland in 1735, ^^^ successively in Flanders, in Sweden, in Poland, in Spain, in Portugal, in Hungary, and in Switzerland. At Vienna, in the year 1743, a lodge was burst into by soldiers : the freemasons had to give up their swords, and were conducted to prison, or set at large on their parole. As personages of high rank were of the number, great sensation was excited, and rumours were rife. But the masons de- clared that, as they were bound by the promise of secrecy, they were unable to reply to any judicial interrogatory. The Government, satisfied with this plea, set the prisoners free, and contented itself with prohibiting any more assembhes of the kind. "Already, in 1738, Pope Clement the Twelfth had excommunicated the Freemasons in Italy."* Benedict the Fourteenth renewed the anathemas ;t and there- upon, in the kingdom of Naples, where the Order was widely spread, Charles the Third applied to the mem- bers of this society the penalties enacted against all disturbers of the pubHc peace. Other princes fol- lowed a like pohcy. Such is a brief historical sketch of the rise and early progress of Freemasonry. We have seen how this modern sect grew out of the corporations of the * Hist. Univ., C. Cantu, vol. ix., p. 216. f FitV/^ Memorandum. 428 Freemasonry : purely architectural masons of the Middle Ages; how it gradually assumed a political character ; and how in England, in the seventeenth century, it was the refuge and the defence of the partisans of monarchy^ in their endeavours to throw off a detested revolu- tionary yoke. We have seen, too, that men of most estimable character and exalted position had attached themselves to this society. How then could an institution, apparently so praise- worthy, have drawn down the censures of the Church ] How could it have aroused the suspicions and the hostility of so many different Governments *? Let us investigate the matter calmly and with care. In the first place, the Catholic Church condemns all societies which, like that of the Freemasons, impose secret oaths. The Scripture tells us that " our speech should be yea, yea, and nay, nay ; and that it is not lawful to swear." The Church, which brings a mes- sage from God, and speaks to us in the name of God, can exact an oath of us ; and so can the civil power ; for it has received from God the sword of justice, and, for the ends of justice, it bids us invoke the name of the Supreme Author of all right. Secondly, the oaths of the Freemason are not only secret, but, at the best, unnecessary ; for, should we even be unable to prove that in very many countries the ultimate objects of Freemasonry are most culpable, yet all admit that the matters sworn to in the minor grades are most frivolous and puerile. But a frivolous Its Dangers. 429 or unnecessary oath is in the eyes of the Church a guilty oath. Next to secret oaths, there is another offence chargeable on the Masonic, as on all other secret societies. This is, that it destroys human freedom, as it removes all individual responsibility. The mason of one grade knows not the projects of the brothers of a higher grade, nor the lodges of one country the schemes, the principles, and the workings of those of another. The individual is the blind, passive instru- ment of an order, whose ultimate aims are wrapped up in secrecy. He is like a man who, without a lamp, enters into a dark cavern, whose length and breadth he knows not, nor the tortuous passages that cross the main path. Where the ends of an institu- tion are kept secret, and the means only are avowed, judgment is at fault, and the individual cannot esti- mate the extent of the responsibility he incurs for the errors of his order. But, in the third place, a more serious charge yet attaches to Freemasonry. There are some secret societies, whose professed aim is the removal of cer- tain local grievances, or a violent overthrow of some particular government. But the Masonic Order pre- tends to be in possession of a secret to make men better and happier than Christ, His apostles, and His Church have made or can make them. Mon- strous pretension ! How is this esoteric teaching consistent with the full and final revelation of Divine 430 Freemasonry truths? If in the deep midnight of heathenism, the sage had been justified in seeking in the Mysteries of Eleusis for a keener apprehension of the truths of primitive rehgion, how does this justify the mason in the mid-day effulgence of Christianity, to tell mankind that he has a wonderful secret for advancing them in virtue and in happiness — a secret unknown to the Incarnate God, and to the Church with which, as He promised, the Paraclete should abide for ever % And even the Protestant, who rejects the teaching of that unerring Church, if he admits Christianity to be a final Revelation, must scout the pretensions of a society that claims the possession of moral truths unknown to the Christian religion. The very pretensions of the mason are thus impious and absurd. He stands condemned on his own shewing \ and any inquiry into the doctrines and the workings of his order becomes utterly superfluous. But when, further, he obstinately withholds from the knowledge of the competent authority his marvellous remedies for the moral and social maladies of men, what is he but the charlatan, who refuses to submit to the examination of a medical board his pretended wonderful cures % On this subject Frederick Schlegel, in a work which I translated in my youth, has expressed himself with his characteristic wisdom. Alluding to the Masonic Order, he says : " Any secret spiritual association, diffused at once among Christians and Mahometans, Inconsistent with the Christian Scheme, 431 cannot be of a very Christian nature, nor long con- tinue so. Nay, the very idea of an esoteric society for the propagation of any secret doctrines is not com- patible with the very principle of Christianity itself; for Christianity is a Divine mystery, which, according to the intention of its Divine Founder, lies open to all, and is daily exposed on every altar. For this reason, in a revelation imparted to all alike, there can be no secrecy, as in the pagan mysteries, where, by the side of the popular mythology and the public religion of the state, certain esoteric doctrines were inculcated to the initiated only. This would be to constitute a church within a church — a measure to be as little tolerated or justified as an imperiMm in im- perio ; and in an age where worldly interests, and public or secret views of policy, have far greater ascendancy than religious opinions or sentiments, such a secret parasitical church would unquestionably, as experience has already proved, be very soon trans- formed into a secret directory for political changes and revolutions.^'* So far this great writer. I have clearly shewn, I trust, that the very prin- ciple on which Freemasonry is founded, is incompati- ble with the nature and the objects of the Christian Revelation. Let us now more fully investigate the constitution, the principles, and the moral and social influence of this Order. * Philos. of Hist., p. 456. Bohn, seventh ed. 432 Freemasonry. In the first place, observe the dates of the *first Papal Bulls of Condemnation, 1738 and 175 1 — the periods of the rise and the development of those irre- ligious and revolutionary principles, which reached their culminating-point in 1790. From their high watch-tower on the Seven Hills, the successors of Peter saw the coming storm ; they discerned the black clouds big with tempest. And among those clouds none then hung more portentously over the European horizon than those secret societies, that henceforth be- gan to gather into denser and darker masses. It has ever been the privilege of those pontiffs to be able to warn Europe of the dangers that menaced her; and on this occasion their warnings were not unheeded, as we have seen, by the civil governments of the day. How judicious are the following observations of a late Church historian of France ! " When we consider," says M. Picot, " that Freemasonry was born with irre- ligion ; that it grew up with it ; that it has kept pace with its progress ; that it has never pleased biit men either impious or indifferent about religion ; and that it has always been regarded with disfavour by zealous Catholics ; we can only regard it as an institution bad in itself, or at least dangerous in its effects."* Let us hear on the same subject a Scotch Protes- tant writer. Professor Robison of Edinburgh, who, about sixty years ago published a work, entitled, *' Proofs of a Conspiracy against all the EstabHshed * M^ moires Ecclesiastiques du i8eme sidcle, t. ii., pp. 163, 164. Its Mischievous Effects. 433 Religions and Governments of Europe/' This writer had been originally a member of the Masonic Society, which he subsequently abandoned. The question which now engages our attention he reduces within a small compass. "If/' says he, 'Uhere be a necessity for secrecy, the purpose of the association is either frivolous or it is selfish. Now, in either case the danger of such secret assemblies is manifest. Mere frivolity can never seriously occupy men come to age. And, accordingly, we see that in every corner of Europe where Free- masonry is estabhshed, the lodges have become seed- beds of pubHc mischief I beheve that no ordinary brother will say that the occupations in the lodges are anything better than frivolous, very frivolous indeed. The distribution of charity needs be no secret ; and it is but a very small part of the employment of the meeting." Then the writer goes on to say that, fri- volity not furnishing sufficient occupation to the mind, there is the danger that the meetings will be employed to purposes which require concealment. " When this is the case," he continues, " self-interest alone must prompt and rule, and now there is no length that some men will not go when they think themselves in no danger of detection and punishment. The whole proceedings of the secret societies of Freemasons on the Continent (and, I am authorized to say, of some lodges in Britain) have taken one turn, and this turn is perfectly natural. In all countries there are men of 2 E 434 Freemasonry, licentious morals And where can the sentiments or schemes of discontented men find such safe utterance or probable support, as in a secret so- ciety f* Such is the severe judgment pronounced on this association by two learned writers, — one a Catholic, the other a Protestant, — and who by reading, and the last even by personal observation, had made it a sub- ject of serious study. B)it here, on the very threshold of this inquiry, we are met with the objection : If Freemasonry be what these writers and others de- scribe, how comes it to pass that so many estimable and amiable individuals in the last and in the present century, in Catholic as in Protestant countries, have been members of the society % If it be revolutionary, as you say, how is it that so many personages of high rank and illustrious' birth, and even princes of the blood, have been its patrons and protectors % If it has such anti-Christian tendencies as you tell us, how is it that many sincerely religious men, CathoHc and Protestant, have belonged to it? How is it, again, that, even after the great social catastrophe of 1790, which Freemasonry is alleged to have had such a share in bringing about, men of exalted position, especially in Great Britain, should still be found among its asso- ciates and patrons % When we come to look more nearly into the real * Proofs of a Conspiracy, &c. By Professor Robison, pp. 464-6, Dublin: 1798. Patronage of the Great Explained. 435 state of things, these objections will be found not to carry with them much weight. In the first place, in a society where there are more than thirty grades, and each with a proportionate scale of knowledge, it may well be supposed that the great majority of the mem- bers are ignorant of its ulterior designs. Again, it must, as before, be observed, that as the Protestant Churches have not interdicted these societies, Pro- testants, in frequenting them^ incur not the same de- gree of responsibility which attaches to the Cathohc members. Further, the Order of Freemasons, like every other secret association, varies a great deal with the circumstances of time and place, and reflects the temper of society. Moreover, the fact that men of rank and fortune are to be found at the head of an association, is no proof that it is not revolutionary. "All revolutions," says the great Bossuet, "are brought about by ambitious grandees, heading men of desperate fortunes.'' History shews, too, that fanaticism, whether religious or political, is often more powerful than self-interest. And more especially was this the case in the last century, when the irreligion which infected a large portion of the Continental no- bihty smote them with a judicial blindness, that made them insensible to the most palpable interests of their own order, as well as of all other classes of society. And, besides, the despotism in the Protestant Conti- nental states, and the absolutism prevalent since the age of Louis the Fourteenth in many CathoHc coun- 436 Freemasonry. tries, by depriving the nobility of an active political existence, blunted their political capacity, and made them blind to many dangers, and, among others, to those arising from secret societies. But the terrible experiences of the last seventy years, as well as the reiterated censures of the Church, have at last opened the eyes of all Catholics, be they high or low, to the many evils thence arising to re- ligion and to social order. Then, as regards these countries, they have not felt the shock of those revolutions which have convulsed the Continent, and are therefore less alive to the dan- gers from secret societies. Yet Professor Robison shews that, in the last agitated years of the eighteenth century, some of the British masonic lodges became infected with a revolutionary spirit. Well-regulated parhamentary institutions, too, exert undoubtedly, in the long run, an influence antagonis- tic to these occult associations. At all events, it is remarkable that political Free- masonry, which had its rise in England, should, ac- cording to the testimony of foreign as well as of native writers, have ever retained a more innocuous character in that country. Further, that even in the Continental lodges the greater part of masons were ignorant of the danger- ous tendencies of the Order, is a fact equally well at- tested. Let us on these two points hear the Abb^ Barruel, who in his elaborate work entitled the " Me- Good Men in its Lower Grades. 437 moirs of Jacobinism ^' thus speaks. " In treating of Freemasonry," says he, ^' truth and justice rigorously compel us to begin with an exception, that exculpates the greater part of those brethren who have been in- itiated, and who would have conceived a just horror for this association, had they been able to foresee that it could ever make them contract obligations which militated against the duties of the religious man and of the true citizen. England, in particular, is full of those upright men who, as excellent citizens, and belonging to all stations of life, are proud of being masons, and who may be distinguished from the others by ties which only appear to unite them more closely in the bonds of charity and fraternal affec- tion." He adds, " For a considerable length of time a like exception might have been made of the generality of lodges, both in France and Germany." .... In short, he concludes, " The number of exceptions to be made for upright masons is beyond the concep- tion of those who are not thoroughly acquainted with the principles and the proceedings of the secf ^ Thus far the Abbe Barruel. As regards the more exceptional character of the masonic lodges in these countries. Professor Robison of Edinburgh confirms the statement of the French abbe. *^ While the Freemasonry of the Continent," says he, " was tricked out in all the frippery of stars * Memoirs of Jacobinism, vol. ii., pp. 273-5. 43 S Freemasonry. and ribbons, or was perverted to the most profligate and infamous purposes, and the lodges became semi- naries of foppery, sedition, and impiety, it has re- tained in Britain its original form, simple and una- dorned, and the lodges have remained the scenes of innocent merriment, or meetings of charity and bene- ficence."* In this opinion the great German writer, whom I have already cited, also concurs. Having now traced the history of this association, then by respectable testimony justified the judg- ments which the Church has pronounced upon it, and having, afterwards, even in condemning the institution, acquitted large portions of its members of all cogni- zance of its impious and anti-social tendencies, I pro- ceed to examine its constitution and its doctrines. Now, before I enter into an examination of the secret doctrines of Masonry, there are principles and practices on the very surface of this society, which (as gentlemen, who from conscientious motives have quitted the Order, have assured me) shocked them from the very first. First, there is the system of exclusive beneficence. The practice of costly conviviality is not in itself favourable to charity ; and the sums expended by the masons on their banquets exceed beyond comparison the moneys bestowed in alms. But this is not the point I wish to insist on. I speak of that restriction * Proofs of a Conspiracy, p. 522. Its False Morality. 439 of charity to the brethren of the Order — a restriction so repugnant to the spirit of Christianity, which, though it assigns the first claim to those of the " household of the faith," embraces all mankind within the comprehensive range of its beneficence. Again, Freemasonry boasts that its brethren, when by chance they encounter each other on the battle- field, are led by signs of mutual recognition to save each other's lives. There is surely a great illusion here. The soldier, unless his public duty — his duty to his sovereign and his country — bid him in the mortal encounter slay his adversary, is bound to spare his life, whether he belong or no to the right worship- ful company of masons ! And such compliance with arbitrary and factitious engagements interferes with the sacred dictates of morality. It is otherwise with the claims of kindred in the hostile engagement ; for, as they are anterior, so they rise in many cases supe- rior to the obligations of civil society, and belong to an exceptional order of things, which even Free- masonry, in the madness of its pride, cannot pre- tend to. Then how very refined — how very exalted is the masonic code of ethics ! The mason is enjoined not to practise the arts of seduction on any members of the family of a brother-mason ! So this brotherhood, not content with restricting the precept of charity, restricts that of purity; — a restriction which, I do not hesitate to say, the better heathenism would have 440 Freemasonry. spurned; for it based morality, not on the conven- tional rules of any society, but on the eternal and immutable laws of God. I may add, that such arbi- trary restrictions throw ridicule on the Divine precept, and, so far from checking, tend to promote sensuaHty. Further, we see how by its exclusive, egotistic mo- rality, (if I may use the expression,) as well as by its classification of all mankind into the two orders, — the profane and the initiated, the enlightened and the ignorant, — this institution tends to foster a pride of caste and a personal arrogance most adverse to all religious feeling and moral improvement. Lastly, there are atrocious oaths and ceremonies in the higher grades of Masonry, which tend to harden the heart, and to encourage cruelty and crime. Such is the custom of leading the initiated with his eyes bandaged into a dark chamber, bringing before him a manikin stuffed with bladders full of blood, and bidding him avenge the death of Adoniram, the favour- ite hero, as we shall see, of Masonry, by plunging his poniard into the breast of the supposed victim. The bandage is then removed, and the initiated, who had inwardly consented to be the instrument of crime, discovers the horrid farce. But how calculated is that theatric semblance of assassination to cherish the spirit of revenge and of all the darker passions ! These are things lying, as I have said, on the very surface of this institution, most of which are known to all the members of the society, and which ought to Its Degrees and Symbols. 441 deter a wise man and an earnest Christian from join- ing it. Now, as to the constitution of this Order, it is divided into thirty-three grades ; but its main degrees are six — that of Apprentice, of Fellow-craft, of Master, of Elect, of Rosicrucian, and of Kadosch, There are a distinct ceremonial, signs of recognition, pass-words, and grips, for each degree. This great quantity of degrees, and their dependence and subordination, are calculated to insure secrecy, as well as to augment -the numbers, wealth, and influence of the Order. The whole machinery is constructed with such skill, that it can be easily managed by a few hands. In the cere- monies of initiation into the various degrees, every- thing is devised that can strike the imagination, awaken curiosity, or excite terror. As to the masonic symbols, they are thus described as existing in some portions of this society, which is much divided in itself In a charge delivered by a Venerable to a brother admitted to one of the higher grades, it is there said that the three implements with which the brother has been made acquainted — the Bible, the compass, and the square — have a secret signification unknown to him. By the Bible, he is to understand that he is to acknowledge no other law but that of Adam — the law which the Almighty had engraved on his heart, and which is called the Law of Nature. The compass recalls to his mind that God is the central point of everything, from which every- 44 2 Freemasonry. thing is equally distant, and to which everything is equally near. By the square he is to learn that God has made everything eqitaL By the cubic stone he is to learn^ that all his actions are equal with respect to the Sovereign Good.^ With respect to the doctrines of the Order, let us hear the Abbe Barruel. " The affected secrecy on the first principles of Masonry," says he, "liberty and equahty — the oath never to reveal that such was the basis of their doc- trines, shewed that there existed such an explanation of these words, as the sect was interested in hiding both from the State and from the Church. And, in reality, it was to attain to this explanation of the last mysteries, that so many trials, oaths, and degrees were necessary. " To convince the reader," continues Barruel, " how much these surmises are realized in the occult lodges, it is necessary for us to go back to the degree of Master, and relate the allegorical story, whereof the successive explanations and interpretations form the profound mysteries of the higher degrees. " In this degree of Master-Mason, the lodge is hung round with black. In the middle is a coffin, covered with a pall : the brethren standing round it in attitudes denoting sorrow and revenge. When the new adept is admitted, the Master relates to him the following history or fable : — * See Barruel, t. ii., p. 303. The Allegorical Story. 443 " Adoniram presided over the payment of the work- men who were building the Temple by Solomon's orders. There were three thousand workmen. That each one might receive his due, Adoniram divided them into three classes — apprentices, fellow-craftsmen, and masters. He intrusted each class with a word, signs, and a grip, by which they might be recognized. Each class was to preserve the greatest secrecy as to these signs and words. Three of the fellow-crafts, wishing to know the word of the Master, and by that means obtain his salary, hid themselves in the Temple, and each posted himself at a different gate. At the usual time, when Adoniram came to shut the gates of the Temple, the first of the three fellow-crafts met him, and demanded the word of the masters. Adoni- ram refused to give it, and received a violent blow with a stick on his head. He flies to another gate^ is met, challenged, and treated in a similar manner by the second. Flying to the third door, he is killed by the fellow-craft posted there, on his refusing to betray the word. His assassins buried him under a heap of ruins, and marked the spot with a branch of acacia. " Adoniram's absence gave great uneasiness to So- lomon and the masters. He is sought for every- where : at length one of the masters discovers a corpse, and taking it by the finger, the finger parted from the hand : he took it by the wrist, and it parted from the arm; when the master, in astonishment, 444 Freemasonry. ^ cried out, ^ Mac Benac^ which the craft interprets by the words, ^ the flesh parts from the bones/ " The history finished, the adept is informed that the object of the degree which he has just received is to recover the word lost by the death of Adoniram, and to revenge this martyr of the Masonic secrecy. The generality of masons, looking upon this history as no more than a fable, and the ceremonies as puerile, give themselves very little trouble in searching further into these mysteries. "These sports, however, assume a more serious aspect, when we arrive at the degree of Elect. This degree is subdivided into two parts : the first has the revenging of Adoniram for its object ; the other to recover the word^ or, rather, the sacred doctrine which it expressed, and which has been lost.^' * So far the Abbe Barruel. The last passage is very worthy of attention ; for it contains the whole pith of the religious and the poli- tical system of the Masonic Order. This is now the fitting place to introduce the his- tory of the Knight-Templars — a history which marks so important an era in that of the Masonic Order. The Order of Templars — so called from the site they occupied, where Solomon's Temple once stood — was founded in the twelfth century by Hughes des Payens, a nobleman of Champagne. Like the Knights of St John, they constituted an order at once * Barruel, Memoirs, t. ii., pp. 297-299. Eng. Trans. The Knight' Templars. 44 5 military and religious, which had sprung up in the stirring and eventful period of the Crusades. To the three ordinary vows of poverty, chastity, and obe- dience, they added a fourth — namely, the defence of the pilgrims who visited the tomb of our Lord. These spiritual knights were the foremost in the field : to them the post of greatest danger was ever allotted j they were the terror of the infidel, and the pride of the faithful ; and great indeed were the ser- vices they rendered to the Christian cause. There was, however, in their valour, from the first, some- thing bordering on rashness ; and we find not in them that steady equanimity of character evinced by their rivals, the Knights Hospitallers of St John. Great was the favour which the Templars had deservedly acquired by their eminent services and heroic achieve- ments. Popes and emperors, princes and prelates, nobles and burgesses, vied wdth each other in lavish- ing wealth, honours, and privileges on the Order. It numbered many and well-endowed priories in every state in Europe ; and a King of Aragon went so far as to bequeath his kingdom to the Order: but the three estates justly resisted so rash and unwise a legacy. By degrees excessive riches introduced luxury, and luxury laxity, among these knights. Jealousy and ambition made them set the interests of their community above the interests of the Church and of Christendom : they sometimes forgot themselves so far as to turn their arms against their Christian 446 Freemasonry. brethren, or treacherously betray their designs to the Moslem foe. The darkest suspicions now gathered around the Order ; those suspicions were soon con- verted into formal accusations ; and the Knight- Templars were tried in 1307, and in the following years, both before civil and ecclesiastical tribunals. Doctrinal aberrations and abominable crimes (in many respects similar to those of the ancient Mani- chaeans) formed the purport of the charges against them. In, some places the knights were found guilty; but in most countries they were acquitted. It was but a small minority that was chargeable with these dark transgressions against faith and morals ; and the great bulk of the Order was innocent, though many, under intimidation, had not denounced the crimes and impieties of their brethren. The Knights of Germany, Italy, Spain, Portugal, England, Scotland, and Ireland, had no share in these frightful disorders ; and it was only in France, and in Syria and Palestine, the guilty members of this community were to be found. To explain this fact, the late illustrious Ger- man Catholic writer, Gorres, sagaciously conjectures, that many nobles of the south of France, who entered the Order, had been already contaminated with the doctrinal and the moral corruptions of the Manichaean Albigenses — corruptions which were further aggravated by their intercourse with the guilty sectaries of the East. They thus formed an order within an order; and their Suppression of Order of Templars. 447 abominable doctrines and practices remained ] un- known to the great majority of the knights. This appears to me a happy solution of a difficult historical problem. The last Grand-Master of the Order, Jacques de Molay, and fifty of his companions, who, under the violence of torture, had confessed their guilt, retracted their confessions. But though brought, in 13 14, be- fore a civil tribunal by Philip le Bel, and condemned as relapsed heretics, they perished at the stake so- lemnly protesting their innocence j and that circum- stance, as well as the hitherto blameless character of Molay, entitles his last asseverations to credence. Pope Clement the Fifth, though at first favourably disposed towards the Order, seeing, after juridical inquiry, the great corruption of a certain portion of its members, and that others, under intimidation, had dechned to denounce to ecclesiastical authority the errors and the crimes of their brethren, thought the safest course was to suppress the Order. It must be borne in mind, too, that though the great majority of the knights were guiltless of the dreadful errors and crimes chargeable on a certain portion, yet every- where the Order had fallen into a state of great laxity. In some countries the surviving Templars wree re- ceived into other military communities ; and in Por- tugal, especially, incorporated into the Order of Christ, they shewed themselves worthy of their an- 448 Freemasonry. cient renown, and had a glorious part in the nautical discoveries, and in the military and maritime con- quests of the fifteenth century. " The knights," says the recent German Protestant historian of Masonry, " who were lucky enough to escape from France, assembled in one of the Scotch Hebrides, the Isle of Mull." '^ In this island, on the Feast of St John's, in the year 1307, the members of the Order reorganized their old institution, with its ancient mysteries and aims. They were, moreover, in- flamed with the desire of restoring the Order to its ancient splendour and power, as well as with the passion of vengeance. By their entrance into the Masonic Corporation, they concerted the perpetuation of their Order. Hence the origin of the Scotch degrees of Masonry. It does not appear proved, that the Mani- chaean principles of the condemned Templars were communicated to this branch of the institution, but only a general spirit of hostility to Church and State. It is to be observed that it was the remnant of French Templars only who entered into the Masonic Order. The German Knights, for example, were in- corporated with the Knights Hospitallers of St John. Let us now remark the close resemblance in the mysteries of the ancient Templars to those of some of the masonic grades. In the mysteries of the bad portion of these knights, the initiator said to the * La Franc-Mac onnerie. Par M. Eckert. Traduit de I'Alle- mand, par M. I'Abb^ Gyr., p. 32. Li^ge, 1854. Templars compared with Masons. 449 candidate : " Swear that you believe in a God, the Creator of all things, who neither did, nor will die ; " and then follow blasphemies against the God of Chris- tianity. How completely doth the Jehovah of the Masons correspond Avith this representation! How completely doth this declaration correspond with the Rosicrucian interpretation of that inscription on the Cross, whereby the Jews unwittingly confessed the Royalty of Christ — an interpretation which for the sake of reverence I will not repeat, but which to- tally divests our ever-blessed Lord not only of His Divinity, but even of His Prophetical office. The bad portion of the Templars chose Good- Friday for their impious orgies. The Rosicrucians (an extreme sect of Masons) selected the same sacred day for uttering blasphemies against our Divine Re- deemer. The cry of ^' Fraternity^' among the Templars an- swered to that of " Liberty and Equahty '^ among the Masons, as both words veiled the anti-social errors of the one and the other. The Templars were bound to secrecy by the most terrible oaths, the violation whereof involved the penalty of death. The same oath subsists among the Masons. No profane being could be present at the mys- teries of the Templars, and armed brethren were placed at the door to keep off all curious intruders. 2 F 45 o Freemasonry, It is so with the Masons, whose brother terrible, or the tiler, guards with a drawn sword the portals of the lodge. ^^ Thus everything/' says Barruel, " the very signs, the language, the names of grand-master, of knight, of temple, even the columns of Jachin and Boaz^ which decorated the Temple of Jerusalem, and which are supposed to have been consigned to the care of the Templars — all, in a word, betray our Free- masons as the descendants of those proscribed knights. "But what a damning proof do we not find in those trials,'' continues Barruel, "where the candi- date is taught to strike with his poniard the pretended assassin of their grand-master ! In common with the Templars, it is on Philip le Bel that they wreak their vengeance ; and in every other king the sect behold this pretended assassin.'' ^ Opening at random Carhle's "Manual of Masonry," I find the following passage in a charge delivered before the brethren of the Royal-Arch Masonry: " Companions, it is said the Masonic system exhibits a stupendous and beautiful fabric, founded on uni- versal wisdom, unfolding its gates to receive, without prejudice or discrimination, the worthy professors of every description of genuine religion or knowledge; con- centrating^ as it werCy into one body, their just tenets^ un- encumbered with the disputable peculiarities of any sect * Barruel, t. ii., pp. 391-393. Eng. Trans. The Rosicrucian Degree. 451 or persuasion. This system originated in the earhest of ages, and among the wisest of men." ^ I think it would be difficult to find a more pithy expression of utter religious indifferentism. What would become of religion when it had passed through such a crucible'? On what common ground would all the systems meet? And who is to determine what diXtjust tenets, and what is genuine religion ? In the Rosicrucian degree, which is one of the highest grades in Masonry, impiety assumes a bolder tone. Christ himself, in the eyes of these sophisters, is the destroyer of the unity of God. He, according to their impious notion, is the great enemy of Jehovah ; and to infuse the hatred of the sect into the minds of the new adepts, constitutes the grand mystery of the degree, which they have called Rosicrucian. The ornaments of the Rosicrucian lodge appear to be solely intended to recall to the candidate the solemn mystery of Mount Calvary. The whole is hung in black — an altar is to be seen at the bottom of the room, and over the altar is a transparent repre- sentation of the three crosses, the middle one bearing the usual inscription. The brethren in sacerdotal vestments are seated on the ground, in the most pro- found silence, sorrowful and afflicted, resting their heads on their arms to represent their grief It is * Carlile's Manual of Masonry, p. 9. 452 Freemasonry, not the death of the Son of God, who died the victim for our sins, that is the cause of their affliction. The main object of it is evident by the first answer which is made to the question, with which all the lodges are generally opened. The master asks the senior warden, what o'clock it is % The answer varies according to the different de- grees. In this it is as follows : " It is the first hour of the day, the time when the veil of the Temple was rent asunder — when darkness and consternation were spread over the Earth — when the light was darkened — when the implements of Masonry were broken — when the flaming star disappeared — when the cubic stone was broken — when the word was lostr * O Masonry ! thou hast here told thy last secret ! Enough! drop the mask — further hypocrisy is use- less. If thy implements were broken by the victory which Christ, through His death, won over sin and Satan, so were those of all superstition, all error, all false philosophy. Bury thyself, then, beneath the ruins of heathenism, and approach not the precincts of Christianity ! The word is not lost, as thou pre- tendest, but hath gone forth from Judea, and re- sounded to the uttermost parts of the Earth. The flaming star hath not disappeared ; but that star, descried in the cloudy distance by our first great Progenitor and the Fathers of the elder Dispensa- * Consult Barruel, t. ii., pp. 310, 311. Its Various Degrees. 453 tion, then beaming more clearly on Israel's prophetic eye, and casting at times a broken ray over the gloom of Gentility — that star hath now risen in all its splendour above the Mount of Calvary, shines for more than eighteen hundred years with undiminished lustre, and at the last great day of doom, when dark- ness shall wrap the universe — when the light of the sun itself shall be extinguished, that star will yet cheer an agonizing world ! " Oh, how profound,^' exclaims the Abbe Barruel, " is the combination of these mysteries ! Their pro- gress is slow and tortuous ; but how artfully each degree tends to the grand object ! " In the first two degrees of apprentice and fellow- crafty the sect begins by throwing out its principles of liberty and equality. After that it occupies the attention of its novices with puerile games of frater- nity, or with masonic repasts ; but it already trains its adepts to the profoundest secrecy by the most fright- ful oaths. In the third degree of master it relates the allegorical history of Adoniram, who is to be avenged, and of the word^ which is to be recovered. " In the degree of elect^ it trains the adepts to ven- geance, without pointing out the person on whom it is to fall. It carries them back to the pretended patriarchal religion of nature, and to its universal priesthood. In the Scotch degrees^ the brethren are declared free. The word so long sought for is Deisin^ the pretended worship of Jehovah, known to the 454 Freemasonry. philosophers of nature. In the Rosicrucian degree^ he who destroyed the worship of Jehovah is represented as Christ himself; and it is on the Gospel, and on the Son of Man himself, that the adept is to avenge the brethren, the pontiffs of Jehovah. In the last degree of Kadosch^ the adept learns that the assassin of Adoniram is the king^ who is to be killed, to avenge the grand-master Molay, and the order of the Masons, successors to the Knights-Templars. The religion, which is to be destroyed, is the religion of Christ; and the word (that is, liberty and equality) is to be estab- lished by the total overthrow of the altar and the throne." Such is the summary of the religious and the politi- cal principles of Masonry, as given by the Abbe Barruel. Having now dwelt more fully on the religious doc- trines of Masonry, let us turn to its political. And then let us compare its social tenets and influences with those of the Catholic Church. "Liberty," "equality," "fraternity" — whence had Masonry derived those all-hallowed, all-blessed words % Whence but from that Divine religion, which, as the Scripture saith, is "the law of perfect liberty?" for it emancipated man from the bondage to sin and Satan, and so prepared him for the highest social and intel- lectual freedom. Equality and fraternity that religion proclaimed to a selfish, corrupt, and enslaved world ; for it taught that all men were creatures of the same The false Freedom preached by Sects. 455 Creator, the children of the same heavenly Father, and the co-heirs of the same Redeemer, admitted alike without distinction of rank or fortune to the blessings of the Divine economy, and to the rewards of a future life. And was not fraternity taught by that religion, which shewed us a God who had taken upon Himself our nature, and had died for our sins, who had thus made Himself our brother, and bidden all men look on each other as brethren, and had declared that by this, ^'men shall know that ye are my disciples, that ye love one another % " But, alas ! the very blessings which Christianity had brought and announced to mankind were perverted by guilty sectaries to their ruin. The very light, which warmed and illumined the earth, blinded those who looked on it with a rash, irreverent gaze. Al- ready the apostles warned us against those who made "liberty a cloak for malice j" who, in the words of St Jude, "blasphemed majesty;" who would not " honour the king, nor those deputed by him to punish evil-doers." The Gnostics in the early ages of the Church — the Albigenses, the Fratricelli, and the Lol- lards of the mediaeval period — the Anabaptists of the sixteenth century — the Jacobins and the Socialists of modern times, perverting the Christian idea of spi- ritual equality, preached up one inconsistent with all ecclesiastical and civil order — repugnant to the very constitution of human nature — ruinous to all freedom, intellectual, political, and domestic. They proclaimed 4 5 6 Freemasonry. a social equality, which has no analogy in the physi- cal universe, where we see a graduated scale of being — an equality which existed not even in man's Para- disaic state, where, though there had not been a harsh separation of classes, there would have been still the inequality involved in the nuptial and in the parental relations — an equahty, in fine, which exists not in heaven itself, where, amid all those luminous hier- archies, there is ever a wondrous gradation of intelli- gence, felicity, and love. But if the Cathohc Church did not attempt to re- alize the equahty of conditions, which these sects de- manded — an equahty which the accidents of fortune, the differences in the duration of human life, as well as the infinite diversity of moral worth, and of physi- cal and intellectual energy among men, rendered utterly impracticable — did she therefore fail in her endeavours to regenerate mankind % Was she untrue to her great mission % Did she belie all those splendid promises of "liberty, equality, fraternity,'^ inscribed on the charter she had given to the world % Let the history of eighteen hundred years reply. Christianity, indeed, came not on earth to bestow secular greatness, or wealth, or power on its follow- ers, but to preach deliverance to the captives — to open the eyes of the blind — to bind up the wounds of the bruised — to break the yoke of sin — to reveal the glo- ries of the world to come. Yet by the very fact that it sanctified and renovated all the domestic and the Social Blessings of Christianity. 457 social relations, it sowed the seeds of that civiUzation which, acting on the spontaneous energy of nations, was to produce all the marvels of modern history. And what to all those marvels and those blessings can Masonry, and all the brood of anti-Christian sects, oppose % Will they dare to set up their fantastic tri- angle of equality, a symbol which, wherever erected, has led to spoliation, bloodshed, and anarchy *? — will they dare to oppose that symbol to the Cross, the emblem of man's social, as well as spiritual, redemp- tion — the emblem of eternal, self-devoting love — the source, in every age, of such lofty inspirations and such heroic sacrifices % Will they dare to deny or dis- pute those social blessings, which the Christian Church hath conferred on mankind? Those blessings, as I have said, formed no direct, immediate object of the Christian dispensation; yet were they its necessary concomitants, in the same way as the angel, "who brings us a heavenly message," is recognized by the brightness which shines round about him, and by the fragrance which he sheds from his wings. In the long series of ages which the Christian Church hath traversed, diffusing, like her Divine Founder, such manifold blessings in her course, she has had every species of obstacle to encounter. She had to con- tend with the pride, the self-will, the selfishness, and all the passions of our fallen nature. She had to contend with the ignorance and the weakness of the human understanding; she had to contend with the 4 5 8 Freemasonry. craft of the great adversary of God and man, who was ever raising up heresies to disfigure her, schisms to distract her, and tyrants to oppress her; who was ever sowing dissensions between her and the State, between nation and nation, between ruler and sub- ject, between class and class, between race and race. And yet, in despite of these great and various obsta- cles, she renovated an effete civilization, enlightened barbarism, tamed the savage life. She everywhere overthrew the tyranny of the stronger, and flung her divine aegis over the weak. She ennobled and con- solidated the family, by aboHshing polygamy and divorce, and thus exalted woman to a rank she had never attained to under any other religion. She took from paternity the savage right of life and death over the son, and first mitigated, and then abolished, slavery; — a social change, the most stupendous in the whole history of mankind — so stupendous, that ancient philosophy never dreamed of even proposing it. She sanctified poverty, the type of Him who had walked the earth more homeless and destitute than the birds of the air and the foxes of the field; and, in the words of a great French Catholic writer of this age, " she taught kings themselves to wash the feet of the poor, and to bow down and do homage to the sove- reignty of indigence. '^ She inspired the peasant with a noble sense of independence, taught the burgess to unite the spirit of charity with the spirit of thriftiness, tempered the pride, and refined the manners of Intellectual Blessings of Christianity. 459 nobility, and by the beautiful institution of chivalry, breathed into it a generous self-devotion to all that was tender, weak, and helpless. By her prayers and unctions she consecrated royalty into a sort of tem- poral and secondary priesthood, holding up before it its duties as well as its rights. She humanized legis- lation, and infused the spirit of mercy into the stern dictates of justice. In her own admirable constitu- tion she set up the model of the temperate, well- balanced mediaeval monarchy — a monarchy which grew up under the shadow of her altar, and which declined only in those times, and in those countries, where her political influence had declined. She cre- ated, as Montesquieu himself confesses, a new law of nations, and a new right of warfare, adapted to her own enlarged spirit of benevolence, as well as to that brotherhood of nations she had founded in Europe. And the interpretation and the enforcement of this international law were consigned, by general consent and usage, to the Sovereign Pontiff, the common Father of Christendom. Her missions promoted geographical discovery ; and the very propagation of the Gospel opened a boundless field to commercial enterprise. Then, in regard to the intellectual advancement of mankind, it were too long to com- memorate the services of the Church. With the Bible in one hand, and her glorious history in the other, she opened out to poetry and to art new luminous spheres, impervious to classical and Oriental 460 Freemasonry. antiquity. She has almost created the physical sciences; for between nature and nature's God she traced out a clear line of demarcation, unknown to paganism ; while in her profound, well-connected dogmas, speculative philosophy found an inexhaust- ible mine. Such were the blessings, intellectual and social, the Catholic Church bestowed on a world too dull to appreciate, too ungrateful to acknowledge them. And many other benefits would she have conferred on mankind, had not her divine work of regeneration been partially interrupted by the religious schism of the sixteenth century. To sum up, in conclusion, the religious and politi- cal doctrines of Freemasonry, the following observa- tions may suffice : In its higher grades we have seen that it professes deism, and yet pretends to revive the patriarchal religion. How empty, how absurd is this pretension, I have, I trust, sufficiently shewn. In keeping with the hollowness of its doctrine, is the sham of its ceremonial. It surrounds itself with mock symbols taken from Judaism and from Chris- tianity ; and while it appeals to the wiser heathens, who presided over the mysteries of Isis and Eleusis, it apes some of their forms and ceremonies. Yet I venture to assert that a Pythagoras and a Plato would have evinced for this deistical system nearly as much contempt, as did the great Bossuet under the light of Christianity. Plato, indeed, might at times be guilty Its Religious and Political Views. 46 1 of culpable compliances with the practices of Poly- theism, and might sanction in public what he con- demned in private. But never would he have affirmed, that a religious system without public sacrifice, public worship, and a priesthood of any sort, could obtain a hold over the human mind. Corresponding with the deistical principles of Free- masonry, was its shallow republicanism in politics. The republic, though the experience of all ages has shewn that it is not adapted for extensive em- pires, yet when based on historical traditions and national habits, allied with the Church, recognizing the due subordination of ranks, and supported by those two pillars, aristocracy on the one hand, and municipal corporations on the other, the republic, I say, differs not so essentially and radically from the genuine monarchy, founded on the three estates.* The masonic \ republic aimed at the overthrow of monarchical, clerical, aristocratic, and popular rights, and sought the establishment of a sort of bureau- cratic government, whereby the fraternity might safely propagate its religious and political principles, and monopoHze all place and power. And in some countries the attempt had a partial and temporary success. On the other hand, the political tenets of the lUu- minati and the Jacobins were in close keeping with * Yet even the best organized republic wants the element of cohesion, which royalty alone gives. 462 Freemasonry. . their monstrous doctrines in religion. As they im- pHcitly rejected all truths by the denial of that great cardinal truth — the being of a God — on which all in- tellectual, moral, political, and physical life depends, their politics were a mere negation of social and domestic order, and substituted for settled rule the confusion of anarchy. In their bloody orgies of 1793, they seemed to celebrate the festival of annihilation herself; and the benign Providence who rules the world, appeared by an awful judgment to have for a moment suspended His course, and abandoned that world once more to chaos and old night. These atheistic clubs have given place in our own age to Pantheistic sects, like the Saint Simonians, the Socialists, the Communists, and the Mazzinian portion of the Carbonari, who, amid the most fearful aberrations, have followed a sort of method, and in the very process of destruction have attempted to build up. Pantheism has been justly called the heresy of the nineteenth century. The sectaries I have named aim at establishing Pantheism in the Church, in the state, and in the family. In the Church, by denying the personality of God, by confounding Him with His creatures — by thus implicitly effacing the distinctions between right and wrong — by denying man^s free will, and by asserting the law of fatalism in the universe. Into the state they introduce the Pantheistic system of emanations, by destroying all individual liberty, by The Pantheistic Sects, 463 making the citizen a passive instrument of the state, by repressing all personal spontaneity, by cramping all individual interests and individual affections, and consequently proscribing all hereditary rank, heredi- tary rights, hereditary property, and by contriving a constant flux and reflux of powers from the govern- ment to the people, and from the people to the government. They introduce Pantheism into the constitution of the family, by destroying personal freedom, and with it the very principle of property, and then by an execrable logic, by denying the unity, the sanctity, the inviolability of the nuptial tie ; by rejecting here all settled alliances, all stability of affections and interests, all recognized connubial and parental claims : making by this horrid medley of folly and libertinism, the Pantheistic family a fit counterpart to the Pantheistic church and the Pan- theistic state. Such is the truly devilish skill with which these sects have interwoven their doctrines on religious, political, and domestic society. How they and their predecessors, the Illuminati and the Jacobins, grew out of Masonry, what has been their history and their moral and political in- fluence, will be shewn in the next lecture which I shall have the honour of delivering before you. LECTURE 11. THE ILLUMINATI — THE JACOBINS — THE CARBONARI — AND THE SOCIALISTS. My Lord Mayor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, IN concluding the lecture on Freemasonry, which some time ago I had the honour of delivering before you, I promised, on a future occasion, to shew how the lUuminati and the Jacobins, the Carbonari and the Socialists, grew out of that Order. This is the task I propose to perform to-night. Men friendly, as well as unfriendly, to that Order, have admitted to me, that I treated the subject with moderation and charity ; and I trust that on the pre- sent occasion I shall not be found to deviate from the same course. It is unnecessary to repeat what I said on the for- mer occasion, that to the lower grades of this Order very many estimable persons have at different periods belonged ; and that, unlike Catholics, Protestants are not prohibited by their religious authorities from join- ing this society. I may add, that men may in ignorance, and there- Tendencies of Secret Societies. 465 fore perfect innocence, profess doctrines, whose logi- cal consequences are very dangerous, and which, if brought home to their minds, they would reject with horror. And the same may hold good with regard to institutions of whose import and character they are not cognizant. Thus, in shewing the dreadful pur- poses to which Masonry may be, and has been, per- verted, I prove the dangers incident to that as well as other secret societies ; but I do not inculpate its inno- cent members. And though CathoHcs, by joining the Masonic and some other secret associations, incur excommunication, and therefore expose themselves to the gravest spiritual perils \ yet would many even of those shrink with horror from countenancing vice, irre- ligion, or social disorder. I shall now proceed to give a short account of the rise, 'the proceedings, and the principles of the lUu- minati. THE ILLUMINATI. The founder of Illuminism, Dr Adam Weishaupt, was born at Ingolstadt, in Bavaria, in the year 1748. Though he was of humble birth, his talents raised him to a high position. He had been a pupil of the Jesuits j but abandoning the faith in which he had been brought up, he studied the organization of their society with the view to frame an Order, destined to be a medium and an organ for propagating his own detestable principles, religious and social. Thus the old 2 G 466 The Illuminati. saying was realized, ^^ Where God builds a church, there the devil will raise a chapel." At the age of twenty- eight, Weishaupt was appointed to the chair of canon law at the University of Ingolstadt. By his talents and plausible manners, he exercised considerable in- fluence over the students who followed his lectures. A letter of his, which it would be indecorous to cite, written about 1775, testifies to the profound de- pravity of his character. In 1776 he devised his great scheme for the moral and social regeneration of mankind, and to which he devoted all the energies of his life. This plan he communicates to several ex- Jesuits, whom he at first gains over to his views, but who, on becoming acquainted with the true nature of his plan, renounce, with two exceptions, all fellow- ship with him. Nothing, indeed, could be more specious and plausible than his professions. He came, he said, to form a society for practising brotherly love, for diffus- ing the blessings of knowledge, for dispelHng igno- rance and superstition. What objects, considered in themselves, could be more laudable % Should not all men be prepared to support an undertaking so just and salutary % But what was the real purport and ob- ject of this undertaking we shall soon have ample opportunity of knowing. "In 1778," says Professor Robison, "the number of the members was considerably increased, and the Order was fully established. The members took Members of the Order. 467 ancient names. Thus Weishaupt adopted the name of Spartacus, the man who headed the insurrection of slaves, which in Pompey^s time kept Rome in terror for three years. The Councillor Zwack, a zealous ally of Weishaupt, was called Cato ; Baron Knigge, an ardent adept of the Order, termed himself Philo ; Batz was Hannibal; Hertel, an apostate priest, Marius ; the Marquis Constanza, an Italian, was Dio- medes; Nicolai, an eminent and learned bookseller of Berlin, and author of several works of reputation, took the name of Lucian, the great scoffer of religion ; another was styled Mahomet " It is remarkable," continues Mr Robison, " that, except Cato and Socrates, we have not a name of any ancient who was eminent as a teacher and practiser of virtue. On the contrary, they seem to have affected the characters of the freethinkers and turbulent spirits of antiquity. In the same manner they gave ancient names to the cities and countries of Europe. Munich was called Athens ; Vienna, Rome, and so forth." * So far Professor Robison. Before I describe the character of these several members of the Order of the Illuminati, it will be well to state shortly the organization of the Order. The following were the several degrees : — I. The Novice or Minerval, who must belong to the Order of Freemasons. 2. The Illuminatus minor. ^ Proofs of a Conspiracy, pp. 133, 134. 468 The Illuminati. r Apprentice. Symbolic, ] Fellow-Craft. Masonry, \ ( Master. q . , K Illuminatus major, Scotch Novice. ( Illuminatus dirigens, Scotch Knight. ( Presbyter, Priest. Lesser, | Regens, Prince. Mysteries, P , ( Magus, or Philosophus. ' ( Rex. In the first degree of Magus, belonging to the higher mysteries, the doctrines of Spinoza are incul- cated, and all religion is repudiated. In the second degree, or that of Rex, it is taught that all subor- dination of ranks must disappear from the face of the earth, and that, if possible, by peaceable means, but if not, by violence, the Patriarchal state must be restored, and every householder made a sovereign. In the first volume of the " Original Writings," con- taining the secrets of the Order, and which at the period of its suppression were discovered by the Bavarian Government, there are certain documents called Tablets, which give curious revelations respect- ing the leading adepts of lUuminism. They were drawn up by a member of the Order, bearing the assumed name of Ajax. My limits will not allow me to enter into any par- ticulars respecting the character of these members called Areopagites. The principal were the Coun- cillor Zwack, known in the Order by the name of Catoj the apostate priest Hertel; Berger, called Plan and Objects of the Order. 469 Scipio in the Order, and who had been a Freemason ; the physician, Baader, called in the Order Celsus, a very bad character; the Baron Batz, known by the name of Hannibal; and an Italian nobleman, the Marquis Constanza, an enthusiastic admirer of Weis- haupt, and who bore among the adepts the name of Diomedes. Having thus named the chief members of this detestable association, I shall cite some extracts from their correspondence, that will best illustrate the plan and objects of the Order. In a letter from Spartacus (Weishaupt) to Cato, (Zwack,) and dated February 1778, the former insists on the great importance of the cultivation of science in order to serve as a point of attraction to their society. '^ Proper subjects only,^' he proceeds to say, ^^ shall be picked out from among the inferior classes for the higher mysteries^ which contain the first prin- ciples and means of promoting a happy life. No re- ligionist must on any account he admitted into these ; for here we work at the discovery and extirpation of super- stition and prejudices r He then proceeds to lay down the method of espionage by which the members of the Order shall be brought under the control of its heads. It is only after a long trial, and a patient, searching inquiry, the members shall be admitted to a full knowledge of the mysteries of the craft. " In a council," he says, *• composed of such members we shall labour at the 470 The Illuminati. contrivance of means to drive by degrees the enemies of reason and of humanity out of the world, and to establish a peculiar morality and religion, fitted for the great society of mankind." Then he goes on to say with what circumspection books against religion are to be placed in the hands of the probationary members. First, the historians and moralists of im- piety must be dispensed to the aspirants, and then, when their digestive powers have become stronger, the poison of such infamous productions as the " Systeme de la Nature " of Helvetius must be ad- ministered to them. The allegory under which SpartacuiS veils his hid- eous mysteries is the fire-worship of the Magi. " Let there be light," he blasphemously says, "and there shall be light." In the following letter of Spartacus the depraved doctrine that the end will justify the means, however atrocious, is specially taught. "To collect unpub- lished works," says he, "and information from the Archives of the States will be a most useful servdce : we shall be able to shew in a very ridiculous light the claims of our despots. Marius (keeper of the Archives of the Electorate) has ferreted out a noble document, which we have got. He makes it, forsooth, a case of conscience — how silly that, since only that is sin which is ultimately productive of mischief In this case, when the advantage far exceeds the hurt, it is meritorious virtue. It will do more good in our hands Their Proceedings. 4 7 1 than by remaining for a thousand years on the dusty shelf/' Thus Weishaupt commends a breach of trust, and a gross violation of official secrecy, because it pro- motes the ends of his nefarious society; nay, he laughs at the scruples of those whose conscience had not become absolutely dead. Zwack formed a project (and the scheme has been found in his handwriting) for establishing a sister- hood in subserviency to the Order of which he was a member. The desire to obtain money as well as in- fluence suggested the scheme ; and the means he recommended for accomplishing the design were well suited to his detestable institute. Here the character and dispositions of the fair aspirants to initiation were also to be severely probed ; they were, without their knowledge, to be under the guidance of men, and books calculated to corrupt their minds secretly placed in their hands. They were to be called the Sisters IlluminatcB. In the handwriting of this councillor was also found a work called " Horus," which was a bitter satire on all reUgion, and which was printed and distributed at the Leipzick fair. In the same handwriting were found a method for taking off the impressions of seals, and one for filling a chamber with pestilential vapour, together with other projects too detestable and im- moral to be described. Philo, (the Baron Knigge,) in a letter to his head. 472 The Illuminati. Spartacus, (Professor Weishaupt,) thus succinctly states the principles and the plan of the Order : — "We must consider the ruling propensities of every age of the world. At present the cheats and tricks of the priests have roused all meii against them, and against Chris- tianity. But at the same time superstition and fana- ticism rule with unlimited dominion, and the under- standing of men really seems to be going backwards. Our task, therefore, is doubled. We must give such an account of things that fanatics shall not be alarmed, and that shall, notwithstanding, excite a spirit of free inquiry. " We must not throw away the good with the bad, the child with the dirty water, but we must make the secret doctrines of Christianity be received as the secrets of genuine Freemasonry. " But further, we have to deal with the despotism of princes. This increases every day. But, then, the spirit of freedom breathes and sighs in every corner, and by the assistance of hidden schools of wisdom, liberty and equality, the natural and imprescriptible rights of man, glow in every breast. We must there- fore unite these extremes.'' — P. 152. The writer then describes his plan for accompHsh- ing this object. The twofold design of the Illuminati to undermine religion and society, as well as a general outline of the means to be employed for that purpose, we find stated in this letter. The writer then proceeds to explain away the Their Principles. 473 essence and the object of Christianity. The object of that Divine religion, we are told, is nothing more than to diffuse sound morality, and to enlighten the mind, and enable it to shake off prejudices. So its dogmas are thus set aside. Then as to its relations to civil society, we are further informed that Christianity, teaching men to govern themselves, renders rulers unnecessary, and so without any resolution, and by the natural course of things, establishes the reign of " liberty and equality." These were the hidden doc- trines of Christianity, we are told, that were committed to the keeping of secret societies, and which '^are now possessed by the genuine Freemasons.'^ Here the Illuming is right j for the Christianity he exhibits in this travestied form is, unquestionably, the posses- sion of the genuine Freemason. But that Philo was conscious of the utter futility of his assertions, and that he was playing a game of deep hypocrisy, is clear from his own words ; for in many places he says, " All this is only a cloak to prevent squeamish people from starting back.'' The same hypocritical game was played in the French Masonry. " In one of its rituals,'' says Professor Robison, " the master's de- gree is made typical of the death of Jesus Christ, the preacher of brotherly love. But in the next grade, the ^ ChevaHer du Soleil,' it is reason that has been destroyed and entombed, and the master in this degree, the sublime philosopher, occasions the dis- covery of the place where the body is hid : reason 474 ^^^ Illuminati, rises again, and superstition and tyranny disappear, and all becomes clear. Man becomes free and happy.''— Pp. 155. 156. Such were the detestable doctrines and proceedings of this sect. In 1782 the Bavarian Government was alarmed by rumours as to the principles and proceedings of cer- tain Masonic lodges, and especially of one known by the name of the Lodge Theodore. These rumours gaining strength, the elector instituted a judicial in- quiry into the rules and proceedings of this lodge. The inquiry served to confirm the suspicions of the Government and of the public ; and accordingly, as a sort of trial, all secret assemblies were interdicted, and the Masonic lodges were closed. In defiance of the royal edict, the Lodge Theodore continued its meet- ings. In 1783 four professors, — Utschneider, Cos- sandey, Renner, and Grunberger,— -with two others, were summoned before the Court of Inquiry, and questioned on oath respecting the rules and principles of the Order of the Illuminati. Their declarations were most damning to the Order. They affirmed that in the higher grades Christianity was abjured — sensual pleasures declared lawful — materialism incul- cated — loyalty and patriotism proscribed — and the subordination of ranks and the accumulation of pro- perty pronounced to be baneful. It was pretended that, as these professors acknow- ledged their ignorance on some points, their evidence Suppression of the Order, 475 on others was not trustworthy. But facts soon cor- roborated their testimony. The Order was suppressed. Weishaupt, discovered to be its founder, was deprived of his professorial chair, and banished from the Ba- varian States. A pension of 800 florins was generously offered him by the Bavarian Government ; but this he declined, and he was rewarded with the office of privy councillor by the infatuated Prince of Saxe-Gotha. The leading adepts of the sect, like Councillor Zwack, and the two Italians, the Marquis Constanza and Mar- quis Savioli, were also banished. In the year 1786 the Bavarian Government ordered a domiciliary visit to the house of the Councillor Zwack, and in the cellar a casket was discovered, containing a portion of the archives of the Order. Shortly afterwards a still larger collection of important documents was found at the house of the Baron Bassus, another leading member of the society. These various documents, published by the Bavarian Government under the title of " Original Schriften," (^' Original Writings,") amply confirm the evidence of the four professors as to the abominable principles and crafty proceedings of this association. Shortly after its suppression, Illuminism in a modi- fied form was revived in the north of Germany. The association was called the " German Union," and had twenty-two directors, of whom Dr Bahrdt was the most conspicuous member. " There is no denying," g^ys Professor Robison, "that the principles, and 476 The Jacobins, even the manner of proceeding, are the same with the Illuminati in every essential circumstance. Many paragraphs of the declamations circulated through Germany, with the plans, are transcribed verbatim from Weishaupf s corrected system of Illuminism.""^ The too famous Mirabeau was at this time at Ber- lin, and through him and another Frenchman, called Mauvillon, the principles of the German lUuminism were communicated to the Masonic lodges of France. And this leads me to speak of the rise of the Jacobins. THE JACOBINS. In the years immediately preceding the great Revo- lution of 1789, French Masonry was in a state of the greatest disorder. There were many schisms and dis- sensions in the body; and various divisions, under the name of Chevaliers bienfaisans^ Marlinistes, Phila- letes, and Amis reunis^ all more or less impious and anarchical, were bringing to maturity the seeds scat- tered by the infidel literati of the preceding eighty years. It was in this state of things, and during the meet- ing of the Notables, the German Privy-Councillor Bode, an ardent apostle of Illuminism, and who in the Order had taken the name of Aurelius, accom- panied by another Illumine Busche, (called Bayard,) aiTived in Paris. They were well received by the French Masons, the Philaletes and the Amis reunis especially ; and these the German deputies found ripe * Proofs of a Conspiracyj p. 321. Their Relations with the Illumines. 477 for the mysteries of Illuminism. Mirabeau, who at BerHn had been initiated in those mysteries, had pre- pared the way for these German envoys. Some of the most dangerous anarchists, who a short time after- wards played so terrible a part in the Revolution, were members, and sometimes office-bearers of these occult societies. The first proceeding which the foreign deputies advised was the formation of a political committee in each lodge; and in time, as Robison remarks, these committees led to the formation of the Jacobin Club. " Thus were the lodges of France,'^ says this writer, ^^ converted in a very short time into a set of secret affiliated societies, corresponding with the mother lodges of Paris, receiving from thence their principles and instructions, and ready to rise up at once when called upon to carry on the great work of overturn- ing the State. " Hence it has arisen that the French aimed in the very beginning at subverting the whole world. Hence, too, may be explained how the Revolution took place almost in a moment in every part of France. The revolutionary societies were early formed, and were working in secret before the opening of the National Assembly, and the whole nation changed, and changed again and again, as if by beat of drum. Those duly initiated in this mystery of iniquity were ready every- where at a call. And we see Weishaupt's wish accom- plished in an unexpected degree, and the debates in a club giving laws to solemn assemblies of the nation, 478 The Jacobins. and all France bending the neck to the city of Paris. The members of the club were lUuminati, and so were a great part of their correspondents/' * Hence Frederick Schlegel has justly observed, " There are in the history of the eighteenth century many phenomena which occurred so sudderily^ so instantaneously^ so contrary to all expectation^ that although, on deeper reflection, we may discover their efficient causes in the past, in the natural state of things, and in the general situation of the world ; yet are there many circumstances which prove that there was a deliberate y though secret^ prep artion of events ^ as, indeed,, in many instances has been actually demon- strated/' t So far Schlegel. To produce so momentous an event as the French Revolution, the concurrence of many and various causes was necessary. The lUuminized Masons were, doubtless, very important and active agents in this work of destruction ; but they were not the sole nor the chief causes of that catastrophe. The irreligion of eighty years — the Jansenism of a century and a half — the oppression of the Church by the ParUaments, and especially by that of Paris — the suppression of the Society of Jesus — the moral laxity of a portion of the clergy, secular and regular — the corruption of the Court during the Regency and the reign of Louis XV. — the libertinism and impiety of many * Proofs of a Conspiracy, pp. 405, 406. + Philosophy of History, p. 455. Causes of the French Revolution. 479 among the high nobility; — and then, among the poHtical causes, the suspension of the States-General, that, by moderating the exercise of royal power, would have rendered it more firm and more stable, and at the same time have called forth the public spirit, and the intellectual energies of the noblesse and the tiers etat — the growth of bureaucratic centralization — the neglect of the peasantry, too often produced by the absenteeism of the great proprietors — the reten- tion of certain privileges which, having lost their significance, tended only to excite jealousy — ^ and, lastly, the democratic principles imbibed by the army during the War of American Independence, — such were the chief causes of the great social convulsion adverted to. Now, the Illumines and the Illuminized Masons of France combined, concentrated, and intensified all the bad elements pre-existing in French society. But they did not create those elements ; for they existed long before them, and had their rise in things, as well as in persons, over which secret societies did not, and could not, exert any influence. The seed of evil, indeed, thrives better in one soil than in another; and the success or failure of occult associations depends on the religious principles, habits, and temper of a people, and on the nature of its poHtical institutions, and the spirit of its government. The Illuminati confessed that they succeeded far better in Protestant, than in Catholic Germany; and how immeasurably 480 The yacobins, greater mischief did not secret societies work in infidel France, than in CathoHc Spain ! Speaking of the workings of those societies on the French Revolution, Barruel pithily observes, " that in darkness they were conceived, but in broad daylight were they executed." This is true. In the years pre- ceding that great convulsion, impiety, like a serpent, sometimes lay coiled up in deadly folds, sometimes stole stealthily along, nursing its sweltering venom, till at the fatal moment it reared its horrid crest, put out its forky tongue, vibrated its dreadful rattles, bounded, and enfolded its victims in its crushing grasp. Jacob- inism tore off the veil which had concealed Illumin- ism, and revealed and realized its fearful designs. All the formidable engines fabricated in the Illu- mine lodges were now brought forth, and applied to the battering and the demolition of the religious and the social edifice. First, the authority of the Holy See — next the other doctrines of the Church — then the existence of a Divine revelation — lastly, the very being of a God, were successively rejected and proscribed. The property of the Church was confiscated; — her temples profaned; — her ministers outraged, imprisoned, driven into exile, or massacred. The social hierarchy, in all its grades, was attacked. Royalty — nobility, in its different degrees — the ancient legislatures, whether general or provincial — the magistracy, and the whole code of jurisprudence it represented and administered — the municipal corporations — all were The Scheme of Babeuf, 481 assail(*9 in their several prerogatives, rights, functions, and property, and mowed down by the scythe of a relentless equality. The middle and humbler classes of citizens were now reserved for destruction; the very principle of property, as proposed by Babeuf, was about to be proscribed; and the family itself, already disorganized by divorce, and by the official encouragement given to vice, was doomed to annihi- lation; when the mass of social ruin and the torrents of blood made the Revolution herself recoil from her work of destruction. The scheme of a universal par- tition of goods was suspended ; and Babeuf fell the victim of his wild dream of equality/^ Atheism gave way to a sort of fantastic, theatric deism, called '^ Theophilanthropy;" anarchy was repressed by some- thing in the shape of a government ; and the tide of revolution began slowly to ebb. * Babeuf, for heading a conspiracy against the Directory, was executed on the 24th May .t797» Among his papers, found after his execution, was a declaration, in which we read the following passage: — **We aim at something far more equitable, more sublime : goods in common, or the community of estates ! No more individual proprietors in land ; for the earth belongs to nobody. We demand, and will enjoy, the goods of the earth in common. The fruits belong to all." ** Disappear now, ye disgusting distinctions of rich and poor, of high and of low, of master and servant, of governors and governed ! For no other distinctions shall exist among man- kind, than those of age and sex." — Vide Barruel's Memoirs, Eng. trans., t. iv. p. 452. Babeuf is well worthy of notice, as he is the link between the anarchists of 1793, and the communists of our own times. 2 H 482 The Jacobins. Having now traced the history, and analyzed the doctrines of Illuminism, and of its daughter Jacob- inism, I think this is the fitting place to inquire, whether one or the other had any connexion with Freemasonry, and whether that connexion were any thing more than outward or accidental. First, the French Theosophists, a sect of masons, held, as Barruel shews, with some ceremonial differ- ences, the same doctrines with the Bavarian Illu- mines. " There the candidate was led through dark windings to the den of trials. Then every image that could strike the senses, and appal the imagination, was brought before him. Sepulchral lamps, potions of blood, representations of spectres, subterranean voices ; such were the contrivances adopted to make the candidate for initiation the dupe alternately of fear and of fanaticism. ^^ * Then was exacted of him a fearful, execrable oath, whereby all moral, social, and domestic obligations were superseded, and the in- fraction whereof, he was told, would be visited with chastisement swift and destructive as the lightning- stroke. This club, as early as the year 1781, held its sittings in the Rue la Sordiere at Paris, and even then num- bered 125 or 130 members. The famous Count St Germain often attended its meetings; and the notorious impostor Cagliostro was, by a formal deputation, specially invited to attend them. The famous Re- * Barruel, vol. iv. p. 357, Eng. trans. Masonic Congress of Wilhelmsbad. 483 volutionist, Condorcet, was another member of this dub. It possessed traveUing members, and compilers, and printers for the circulation of its works.* Again, we have the positive testimony of the Baron Knigge that, on the breaking up of the Masonic assembly of Wilhelmsbaden, deputies flocked to him to crave ad- mission to the higher mysteries. They needed, he tells us, no long noviciate, nor tedious trials, but were at once admitted to the degrees of Epopt and of Regens, which, he adds, they all received with enthusi- asm^ and termed master-pieces. What sort of men must have been those Masonic deputies — (and let us remember that at the Congress of Wilhelmsbad we had the choice specimens of the Order;) — what sort of men must have been those whom the hideous mysteries of Illuminism could thus en- chant? Could more striking evidence be adduced of the frightful condition of Masonry in 1782'? Next, we have the testimony of Count Virieux, who, on his return to Paris from the Masonic Con- gress of Wilhelmsbad, when twitted by a friend on the wonderful secrets he had there learned, replied to the following effect : — " I will not tell you the secrets I bring; but what I think I may tell you is, that it is all far more serious than you imagine. The fact is, that a conspiracy is now being contrived, and that with so much art, and of so profound a nature, that it will be very difficult for religion and for nations not * See Barruel, t. iv. p. 358. 484 Masonic Lodges, to sink under it/' The insight he had obtained into the higher mysteries so shocked and disgusted him, that he renounced all connexion with Masonry and its affihations, and henceforth became a very religious man.* Further, "as early as the year 1776," says the Abbe Barruel, "the Central Committee of the ' Grand Orient' instructed the directing adepts to prepare the brethren for insurrection, and to visit the lodges throughout France, to conjure them by the Masonic oath, and to announce that the time was at length come to fulfil it in the death of tyrants." t Lastly, in the year 1762 a deputy from the "Grand Orient," called Sinetty, an artillery officer, made, in a Masonic Lodge at Lille, the following declaration in the presence of his brother officers, one of whom afterwards attested the fact : — " In the most emphatic, enthusiastic tone, Sinetty declared, that at length the time was come that the plans so ably conceived, and so long meditated by the true Masons, were on the eve of being accomplished ; that the universe would be freed from its fetters ; tyrants, called kings, would be vanquished ; religious superstitions would give way to light ; liberty and equality would succeed to the slavery under which the world was oppressed ; and that man would at length be reinstated in his rights." J This is the very language uttered in the Conven- * See Barruel, vol. iv. p, 160. f Barruel, t. 1 1, p. 438. X Barruel, t ii, pp. 439-440. Manifesto of the Grand-Master. 485 tion. Surely the speech of one of its orators has here been antedated by thirty years ! No, for we have the positive testimony of a witness, who heard it at the very time stated. From the period when the Masonic deputies at the Congress of Wilhelmsbad were initiated in the mys- teries of Illuminism, the Bavarian sect spread with fearful rapidity, and assumed a menacing attitude. Its head-quarters were at this time in the city of Frankfort, and the Baron Knigge declares, that the number of persons whom he himself had illuminized, amounted to five hundred, and of these, he adds, nearly all were Masons, * The principles of Illuminism imparted a fearful energy and a strange expansive force to the whole Masonic Order. Long regarded as associations char- acterized by nothing but a love for fantastic cere- monial and frivolous amusements, its lodges were now looked upon as full of significance, and possessed of great power. So widely infected was this Order in Germany with the principles of Illuminism, that in the year 1794 its Grand-Master, the Duke of Brunswick, is- sued a manifesto, dissolving the association till better times should arise, when it could be restored to what he conceived to be its state of pristine purity. I shall give a few extracts from this very important docu- ment "All the world,'' he says, "knows this sect (the 486 Masonic Lodges, Illumines ;) its brethren are not less known than its name. It is this sect which has sapped the founda- tions of the Order^ till it was completely overturned; it is by this sect all mankind have been vitiated, and led astray for many generations. The ferment which reigns among nations is its work Raillery and disdain ; such were the weapons of that sect, first against Religion herself, then against her ministers. . . , . . From the house-tops the maxims of the most unbridled licentiousness were preached; and that licentiousness was called liberty. The Rights of Man were invented, which it is impossible to dis- cover in the book of Nature ; and nations were en- couraged to extort from their sovereigns the recog- nition of those supposed rights. The plan which had been formed to dissever all social ties, and to subvert all political order, was manifested in discourses and in acts. This was what was done, and is still doing. But I may observe, that princes and nations are ignorant how and by what means all this has been accom- plished. Wherefore, we tell them freely and boldly: ^ the abuse of our Order — (the Masonic) — the mistake as to our secret^ has produced all the troubles, political ana moral, wherewith the earth is now filled, ' We ought to assure princes and nations, on our honour and our allegiance, that our association is by Prohibitions of all Secret Societies. 487 no means guilty of these evils. But in order that our association may have force, and may merit credence, we must, in behalf of princes and of nations, make a complete sacrifice. To cut off the abuse and the mis- conception by the roots, we ought from this moment to put down the order. Hence we wholly suppress and dissolve it for the present time : the foundations we reserve for posterity, which in better times, when humanity shall be able to derive some profit from our holy alliance, may be enabled to excavate those foun- dations.^' Such are a few passages from this very remarkable document. " It was not," says M. Eckert, " a spe- cious declaration with the view of appeasing the King of Prussia; but its real object was to remove the cause of the revolution by the spontaneous dissolution of the order. Be this as it may, it is plain that this declaration was of great assistance to the Sovereigns, not only during the conflict they carried on with the Revolution from 1789 to 1793, but even after the de- cisive victory gained over the spirit of rebellion."* On the 20th October 1798, the King of Prussia published an edict interdicting anew secret societies. Under certain conditions, the Order of Freemasons was tolerated. By this edict all Prussian Masonry was subjected to the great lodges of Berhn. In Bavaria an absolute prohibition of this order took place in 1799. In Austria, after the Emperor * La Franc— Ma9onnerie, Trad. Franc, t. 11. p. 136. 488 The Masonic Lodges. Francis II. had mounted the throne, Freemasonry was again suppressed in 1794. Can any more powerful defence of the discipline of the Catholic Church in regard to secret societies be adduced, than the declaration put forth by the Grand- Master of the Masonic Order, the Duke of Bruns- wick, and which I have just cited % If a society like the Masonic — destined, as is alleged, to promote purely benevolent objects — could be so far diverted from its original purpose; if it could be made to a large extent instrumental in the accomplishment of the most atrocious designs — the corruption of morals, the propagation even of atheism, the overthrow of all civil government, the partition of property — doth not this fact shew the danger of all secret associations, and the consequent wisdom of the Chuch in inter- dicting them % But prior to the Masonic Congress of Wilhelmsbad, and therefore prior to the formal introduction of Illu- minism into the lodges, I have adduced examples enough to shew their corruption and impiety, and consequently that their perversion is to be ascribed to another and an earlier source, than the one as- signed in the manifesto I have quoted. If such corruption and impiety were not widely prevalent in the order, how can we account for the favourable reception it gave to the principles of Illu- minism % And supposing all the theories of Barruel and others, as to the early existence of a Manichean The Carbonari. 489 element in the society to be unsound, still we must admit that, in the twenty or thirty years preceding the Revolution of 1789, the lodges of France and Ger- many were deeply contaminated with the irreligious and anti-social tenets of the reigning philosophy. My limits will not allow me to speak of the doctrines and proceedings of the Carbonari. But this is the less to be lamented, as, in the first place, their system is mainly founded on that of the Illuminati, which I have sufficiently described ; and, secondly, many whom I have now the honour of addressing are, through the celebrated tales of the lamented Padre Bresciani,* sufficiently conversant with the tenets and practices of this sect. Suffice it to say, that among the Carbonari we meet with the same careful separation of the higher from the lesser mysteries, the same fearful oaths, the same appalling ceremonies, and even a still swifter ven- geance for the non-compliance with unlawful engage- ments. We meet with the same detestable principles — the same league against religion and her ministers — against social order — against property, and against the family. Among the Italian Carbonari, who, un- like so many of the German Illumines, were born in the Catholic Church, we see at times a frightful per- version of holy things — a convulsive struggle between faith and scepticism — the rage of the demon, " who believes and trembles." But it is only just to say that * The '*Jew of Verona," "Lionello," &c. 490 T^^^ Socialists, many in the lower grades are not at all cognizant of the ulterior tendencies of the sect, but from ignorance, curiosity, or a sense of misguided patriotism, allow themselves to be drawn into its lodges. THE SOCIALISTS. Saint-Simon was the founder of the first of the Socialist sects of modern times ; and before I enter upon an inquiry into those sects, this seems the fitting place to examine the circumstances which facilitated in certain countries, and more especially in France, the spread of their pernicious errors. In the first place, the French Constituent Assembly of 1790, by abolishing, instead of reforming, the Trades' Corporations, had left an immense void in society. While the public were not adequately de- fended against ignorance and fraud, nor the master against the evils of excessive competition, the moral and the material interests of the workman were left unprotected. In the course of ages, time had, doubt- less, introduced abuses in the Trades' Corporations; but these a wise legislature should have removed, while it carefully respected the institutions themselves. The so-called Reformers of the eighteenth century were urgent in the demand for the unrestricted free- dom of individual industry. Those of the present age, seeing the evils that have resulted to the indi- vidual and to society from an uncontrolled, unre- stricted competition, have held up as the great Causes of their Rise and Spread, 491 panacea the system of associations, and that in the most odious and despotic form. In the next place, the last hundred years, which have witnessed in Europe such an extraordinary de- velopment of manufacturing industry, have, unfor- tunately, beheld a like progress of irreligion, and vice, and social disorder. Too many of the master manufacturers, dead to every sentiment of religion, intent only on sordid gain, have abandoned their artizans to themselves, and, so far from superintend- ing their moral conduct and their religious practices, have set them a bad example ; or, by their harsh and selfish demeanour, have entirely alienated their affec- tions. The artizans, on their side, in many cases, with minds embittered by the neglect or the cupidity of their immediate superiors, undisciplined by religious training, given up to drunkenness and debauchery, have too often entered into unlawful combinations, not more adverse to the interests of their masters, than dangerous to the peace of society, and to the well- being of the workmen themselves. At the very moment, too, when the vicissitudes of trade, and the fluctuations incident more especially to the factory system, were constantly throwing so many operatives out of employ, and augmenting so considerably the rolls of poverty; the great institutions of charity, which the ages of faith had founded, were no more. The religious orders of both sexes had been suppressed- — 492 The Socialists. their lands confiscated — the hospitals despoiled of their revenues — even the lay confi-aternities had been put down. Yet these were the institutions that took from poverty its worst sting, that softened down the harsh, cruel contrasts between wealth and want, that recon- ciled the suffering members of society to the inequali- ties of fortune, that brought together high and low, rich and poor, uniting them in the bonds of a common fraternity, and shewing the most forlorn son of Adam, that he had still some small remnant of that patrimony, of which he and so many of his brethren had been bereaved by a great primeval sin. Respect for property, too, was weakened by the confiscation of the Church lands and tithes. These possessions, whether held by the secular or the regular clergy, were not only to a great extent expended, as has just been observed, in ministering to the wants, spiritual and temporal, of the poor ; but they were in a certain sense the common patrimony of all classes. Any man, however obscure his birth, or limited his means, might by piety and learning qualify himself for the due discharge of the highest ecclesiastical ofiices — for priories and abbeys, for prebendal stalls, deaneries, and bishoprics. With such examples the history ot the Catholic Church in every age abounds ; and the same, it is but just to say, has been often witnessed in the Protestant Church in England. But it was not only the easy access of individuals in all classes to the enjoyment of ecclesiastical wealth Causes of their Rise and Spread, 493 and honours, but the peculiar sacredness attaching to possessions set aside for the service of God, the main- tenance of His ministers, and the reHef of the poor, which commanded the especial reverence of mankind, and which in regard to his own religion even the heathen pays. When, therefore, a species of property- having such a hold on the veneration, as well as the self-interest of the people — sanctified, too, by the pious recollections of so many ages, — when such a species of property was rudely seized on by revolu- tionary violence ; how could secular property be ex- pected long to keep its ground ? We see, therefore, in the history of the French Revolution, how soon the confiscation of the estates of the nobihty followed on the spohation of the Church. In the general confusion, the property of the mercantile classes, of course, sufiered considerably; and had the reign of the Jacobins continued, the whole personal estate of France would have perished. The large masses of property, except in cases of very gross abuse, and where an aristocracy forgets its most manifest duties, — the large masses of property, I say, inspire the people with respect ; and when those masses disappear, their faith in property itself is weakened. Yet the principle of attachment to pro- perty is one inherent in human nature, and can never be eradicated, and is nowhere stronger than in the humbler classes of society. To all the circumstances I have enumerated as pre- 494 -^- ^^ Saint-Simon, paratory to the growth and the spread of the socialistic doctrines, must be added the influence of an irreU- gious, immoral, and revolutionary press, working on masses often labouring under severe physical priva- tions, and under a still greater moral destitution. Such was the state of things in certain countries of Europe, and more especially in one, which has been the laboratory of modern revolutions — I mean France. Can we conceive a soil better prepared for the deadly seed of socialism % Can we marvel at the rank, luxu- riant growth which that seed has there attained to % It is time to speak of the founder of the Saint- Simonian sect. Count Henri-Claude de Saint-Simon was born at Paris in 1760, and was sprung of the ancient and noble family to which the celebrated Duke de Saint- Simon, the author of the " Memoirs of the Court of Louis XIV.," belonged. The Count early shewed an enterprising but restless disposition. In early youth he used to bid his servant awaken him in the morning with the words, " Rise, Monsieur le Comte, you have great things to do to-day." Soon after he had entered the army, his regiment joined the expedition to the United States, then engaged in the War of Inde- pendence, and on his return to France, he was, at the early age of twenty-three, raised to the rank of colonel. It is characteristic of his adventurous spirit, that, before his return to Europe, he had obtained leave of absence to visit the kingdom of Mexico. There he Sketch of his Life. 495 proposed to the viceroy a plan for cutting the Isthmus of Darien, and so uniting the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. Soon after his return to Paris^ he was sent as attache on a diplomatic mission to the Hague, the object of which was to negotiate a secret treaty be- tween France and Holland for bringing about the overthrow of the British empire in India. Having soon become disgusted with diplomacy, he gave up his military commission, and resolved to devote his life to projects of public utility. For this end he undertook with a German friend. Count de Redern, a journey into Spain. There he proposes to M. de Cabarrus, the Director of the Bank of St Charles, and afterwards the minister of finance, various plans for the material improvement of Spain, and, among othtrs, one for digging a canal to unite Madrid with the sea. This last-mentioned project received the countenance of the minister, but was never carried into effect. Saint-Simon then repairs to Andalusia, and there sets on foot a joint-stock company for the introduction of diligences^ on the same plan as had been recently adopted in France. The scheme was very successful. But no sooner had the shareholders begun to reap profit from the undertaking, than Saint-Simon, with his usual fickleness, gave up the direction of the com- pany, and returned to France. As soon as he had reached his country, the Gre^t Revolution of 1789 broke out. Brought up, as he had been, by the infidel philosopher, D'Alembert, he, 496 M, de Saint-Simon, unlike the immense majority of his order, hailed that Revolution with joy. Now, in partnership with his German friend, Count de Redern, he enters into dis- graceful speculations for the sale of the plundered estates of the clergy and of his fellow-nobles, and realizes large profits. The illicit game is soon ter- minated by the Reign of Terror. Count de Redern contrives to escape into Germany; but Saint-Simon is thrown into prison. To the downfall of Robes- pierre he is indebted for the preservation of his life. Under the Directory, Count de Redern returns to France; and he and Saint-Simon endeavour to re- trieve their dilapidated fortunes. The two partners soon quarrel about their respective profits from the sales of the confiscated lands, and then separate. The German returns to his country with the larger fortune ; but the Frenchman has contrived to reap no inconsiderable gains. From this period, (1797,) Saint-Simon abandoned all financial speculations, and formed a plan for what he called the reorganizing of the sciences, and the reconstruction of social order. To this end he tra- velled in England, Switzerland, and Germany, and sought to form close relations with the most dis- tinguished artists, literati, and men of science of his time. To these he gave the most splendid entertain- ments, and sought in their conversation the improve- ment of his own mind. Under the Imperial regime, he pubhshed various works on science and pohtical His Death. 497 economy \ but they attracted little attention. In 1 8 14, he published, with M. Augustin Thierry, a work entitled, " The Reorganisation of European Society." Works entitled, *' UOrganisation,'' a jour- nal; " LTndustrie," '^ Le Systeme Industrie!," "Le Catechisme des Industriels," and, lastly, " Le Nouveau Christianisme," successively appeared in the years 18 17, 1820, 1821, 1824, and 1825. The profuse expenditure of M. de Saint-Simon at last brought him to the verge of ruin. The small profits he had acquired from his literary pursuits were inadequate to his wants; and so the miser- able man, driven to despair, attempted his own life in 1823. . The pistol-shot took but partial effect; and, with the loss of one eye, he narrowly escaped death. He then resumed his scientific labours, and ga- thered around him a certain number of disciples, among whom were some men of distinguished minds, though, as we may suppose, utterly destitute of reli- gious principle. He expired in their arms in the year 1825. Such was the wretched man who thought he had received a mission to preach a new religion, and one, forsooth, more perfect than the Christian. Let us now examine his religious system. The system of Saint-Simon is a mere syncretism, and not the most scientific, of the old Eleatic philosophy, and of the theories of Giordano Bruno and Spinoza. 2 I 498 The Saint'Simonians. In this system, which I shall briefly analyze, God is neither a mere material Being, as in Fetichism, nor a pure Spirit, like the God of the Christians. He, ac- cording to Saint-Simon, is the sum of all existence ; everything is God, He is in His living unity. Love ; in His material form. Nature or the World ; in His spiritual form. Humanity. God is, therefore, the soul of the world, so to speak; and the world is His body. His co-eternal form, and, consequently, is uncreated. Man, a finite manifestation of the Divinity, is His image also. Like the Deity, he is in his living unity, love or sympathy; in liis spiritual capacity, intelli- gence and wisdom ; and in his material aspect, force and beauty. Man^s work during life is the improve- ment of those three kinds of faculties. First, in the physical order, he can and he ought to procure for himself the utmost possible enjoyment, and labour by industry to embellish his abode ; secondly, in the in- tellectual order, he ought incessantly to advance in the knowledge of truth ; and, thirdly, in the sympa- thetic or moral order, his law is the love of God, and of his fellow-creatures. In the next life the lot which awaits him is a mystery. Confounded, absorbed in the bosom of the Great Whole — the Divinity — he will partake of the general development of the universe. Between man and God sympathy will henceforward be expressed by thanksgiving, and not by prayer, which indicates fear and distrust, and which seems Their Religious System. 499 even to aspire to make^ the Deity change His re-* solves. Among men the sympathetic development is wrought by the social state. For a long period the object of society seemed to be to make man an in- strument of man — that is to say, to establish tyranny on one side, and slavery on the other. But in the better futurity that is approaching, there will be one universal association of all mankind under one head, and which will have for its object the amelioration of man, and the cultivation of the globe. The Saint-Simonians divide human society into three classes — the priests, or the rulers ; the learned, or the theologians ; the industrials, or the artisans. To this end property is to change its nature j it is to become common. All inheritance is to be abolished. The son is to reap neither the riches nor the glory of his father; and the children, torn from the parental hearth, are to know no other parent but their common country. A common education will reveal their indi- vidual capacity; and all, without regard to birth or sex, will receive each according to his capacity, and each capacity according to its works. The most worthy, the most learned, the most virtuous member of the community is to be invested with supreme authority, to preside over the distribution of the social functions, and to rule the association — that is, all mankind — as spiritual and temporal head. From this rapid outline we may see that the Saint- 500 The Saint- Simonians. Simonians preach up a decided system of Pantheism, and that they rigorously apply its tenets to moral, political, and domestic life. Let us analyze their doctrines more in detail. There is, d^ccording to them, but one single Being, who is God. Spirit and matter, man and the world, are but forms of that infinite Substance. Their system, they add, differs essentially from Spinoza's, inasmuch as the two forms, matter and spirit, are with them combined and vivified by love. On this theory, M. Ozanam well observes, "that the idea of love is intimately connected with that of thought; that those two modes of being, whereof one often engenders the other, which intermingle and are confounded, are alike incompatible with matter. . . . In the language of common sense, extent, divisibiUty, inertness, are the characteristics of matter : love, thought, sentiment, are the modifications of spirit. " Whether, therefore, we consider spirit and matter as different substances or as different forms, there is no possible medium term between them ; for one ex- cludes the other. Still less could this medium term be love^ since love is essentially spiritual. Much more simpjicity and depth do we find in the system of Spinoza, which forms, nevertheless, the incontestable basis of Saint-Simon's philosophy."* So far M. Ozanam. By confounding God and nature. Pantheism denies * Melanges, t. i. Paris, 1859. Their Religious System, 501 the individuality of substances, — it denies the person- ahty of God, — it effaces the distinction between vice and virtue, right and wrong, — it destroys moral re- sponsibility, by rejecting the individuality of the soul, and so makes its immortality an illusion. The Saint- Simonians, hesitating and uncertain in their Pantheistic creed, sometimes represent the soul in the next life as passing through a series of migrations — sometimes confine the notion of her immortality to the perpetuity of fame. Thus, this religion, which was to supersede Chris- tianity, undermines the two great primary truths on which the whole moral economy of the world depends — the being of a God, and the immortality of the human soul. These two great dogmas are the founda- tion of all religions. The idea of a Supreme Being is the truth of truths, — the truth antecedent to all other truths; — it is a metaphysical necessity — a physical verity — a mathe- matical certainty — an indelible impression of the conscience ; it is the prolonged echo of all ages, and of all tribes, races, and peoples, civilised, barbarian, and savage ; it is the light of history, the guide of life, the fountain and the sanction of all legislation, the pivot of all existence, physical, moral, and intellectual. And the few miscreants who have striven to deny it, are objects of abhorrence to all mankind, regarded by them as intellectual monsters, and as moral parricides. The other great dogma of the immortality of the 502 The Saint' Simonians. soul, and of a state of future retribution, is one equally proclaimed by the concurrent voice of all times and of all nations, equally attested by the con- science, equally anticipated by the feelings, equally acknowledged by the reason. And though the evi- dences here are not of the same overpowering force as in the case of the other great truth — though they are more subtle, indirect, and inferential in their nature— yet are they scarcely less strong. Take the dogma of future retribution away, and the moral world falls into chaos. And it is remarkable that this doctrine was less disfigured in the heathen superstitions than the idea of a Supreme Being. Thus, these two primary articles of belief pro- pounded and developed in the successive schemes of Divine revelation, and which are the basis of all religion, are again reflected, and, if I may so speak, refracted by the natural reason itself. The Saint-Simonians hold all truth to be purely relative, or the doctrine, that what is true in one age ceases to be so in another; — a principle that strikes at the root of all objective certainty. They assert the principle of an endless development in the moral world ; and yet they pronounce their own system to be the final one. Such are the contradictions into which they fall ! In conformity with the Pantheistic doctrine of fatalism, these sectaries reject prayer ; for they main- tain that the Supreme Being can never change His Their Religious System. 503 resolves. But inconsistently enough, they admit of thanksgiving; but if all things be predetermined by an unalterable decree, why should thanksgiving be indulged in more than petition % But can we conceive a religion of any kind without prayer ] And in re- pressing that spontaneous respiration of the soul, if I may so speak, does not Pantheism pronounce an anathema upon itself? The anthropology of the system is in due keeping with its theology. The fall of man is denied, and the consequent necessity of a Divine Atonement. The antagonism between the flesh and the spirit, between the reason and the senses, is repudiated; and the gratification of the sensual appetites is prescribed as a duty, not less imperious than the satisfaction of in- tellectual desires. While every stimulus is thus given to concupiscence, and sensual passions are in a manner sanctified, the idea of future retribution is, as much as possible, thrown into the background, and this earth, as man's true paradise, is made the chief centre of all his aspirations. Thus, every barrier against sin is removed ; — all the dikes to guard the family and society against the inundation of crime are thrown down. "It is an error,^- say the adepts of this philosophy, " to wish to establish a positive distinction between good and evil, right and wrong. , . . . Justice and utility have been too long sepa- rated ; — vice and crime are but a want of perfection.^' Such were the doctrines openly proclaimed by the 504 The Samt-Simontans. new sect — doctrines which revolt the reason, and shock the conscience of all men. Justice and man's eternal interests can never be separated; but, irre- spective of the divine promise, the practice of virtue is often opposed to an immediate temporal gain. What is virtue but a sacrifice ? And what is a sacri- fice but the surrender of certain interests, advantages, and pleasures, from a sense of duty ? The Almighty in His own good timfe rewards virtue with temporal blessings ; but it was precisely because of its renun- ciation of forbidden pleasures, virtue receives these blessings. Then, to say that vice is but the result of feebleness of character, and feebleness of intellect, is most absurd; for as M. Ozanam well observes, we often lee crime associated with great vigour of mind, and great energy of character. And in the more advanced and cultivated periods of society, it not unfrequently happens that vice is more prevalent than in the earlier times. Now, as to the religious and civil organization of the world, as proposed by this sect, we have seen that personal merit is to be the sole standard or criterion of dignity. The Royal Pontiff, who presides over the General Association, is, with the aid of his officers, to determine the distribution of the various social functions. But, in order to discharge such a duty well, he must be endowed with a preternatural sagacity; and then the pride, vanity, jealousy, and self-interest of men would never abide by his award. Such an institution, if even it could be realized for a Their Social System. 505 year, would open an arena for endless contention, hate, violence, and bloodshed. Such a social arrange- ment is not adapted for the smallest community, even for the briefest period; and yet its partizans madly aspired to bring, and for ever, the universe under its control. It is one of the miracles of the Catholic Church, that she has united in the bonds of her unity so large a portion of the globe ; but this unity is one purely spiritual, purely dogmatic, binding only the minds and the hearts of men together. The civil magis- tracies, laws, and institutions, the peculiar customs, manners, and character of each country are not only respected, but guarded inviolate by the Catholic Church. Her doctrinal unity, too, is not a dead, abstract unity, but a living unity — a unity in diver- sity — a unity, which the variety of discipline, so far from impairing, serves but to strengthen and to elucidate. In the Saint-Simonian state, property is to be put an end to. "Property,^^ say the teachers of this, school, "which for many centuries has been in a state of progressive decline, must cease to exist. With it will cease inheritance, which will give place to the community of goods, and to their division according to merit, according to want."* This principle consummates the servitude to which the Saint-Simonian system had reduced man. On one hand, it renders his social status entirely depen- * Tableau de la Religion Saint-Simonienne, Juin 1 831. 5o6 The Saint-Simonians. dent on the judgment of the supreme ruler of the society, without reference to his own opinions, feel- ings, and inclinations ; and on the other hand, by depriving him of proprietary rights, it perpetuates his thraldom. Property is at once the symbol and the instrument of freedom. It is the application and the external manifestation of freedom. Property may be defined : an instrument acquired or inherited for the exercise of physical or of intellectual labour; or as the product of our own bodily or mental faculties, or of those from whom we have acquired or inherited it. , It is the characteristic of a being at once intelli- gent and free; and, therefore, as the brutes have neither intelligence nor freedom, they can acquire no property. And though man — a being endowed with intelligence and free-will — can without property re- tain moral liberty, he cannot without it retain his social freedom. Hence, according, to the legislation of pagan an- tiquity, the slave, as he had not the disposal of his person, was also without proprietary rights. And, in common parlance, we say of a man, when he has acquired a certain amount of property, " He has realized an independence r So closely do mankind connect the idea of freedom with that of property 1 But property, though upheld by human laws, is an- terior to civil society; — it is coeval with domestic life, and is guarded by the sanctions of the Divine law. The destruction of proprietary rights involves that Their Social System. 507 of heritage — that is, the transmission of rank, titles, orders, and even name ; for the child, according to this system, is to be torn from the parental roof, and to be educated by strangers, and to know no other mother but its country. Hereby the feelings dearest to human nature are cruelly outraged, and the family is utterly disorganized. These guilty sectaries go a step further, and assail the sanctity, the unity, and the inviolability of the nuptial tie. All the sects, ancient and modern, that have attacked the principle of property, have attacked the constitution of the family also. And the deep reason of this is, that as property is the badge and the instrument of man's in- dividual freedom, it is also the physical substratum of the family. The Saint-Simonians openly proclaimed the emancipation of woman — that is, her deliverance from all domestic and social restraints. They laid down dreadful premises, which other socialistic sects have carried to the most detestable conclusions. They were in search, they said, of the " free woman of the East," — the embodiment of their new theories of female perfection. But on this point, as on so many others, the new preachers were the worthy suc- cessors, if not the direct plagiarists, of the fanatical sects of the middle age. In the fourteenth century, the Fratricelli, or apos- tate friars, rejecting the authority of the Church, pro- claimed a new gospel of love, announced the advent of the Holy Ghost, preached up the levelling of ranks. 5o8 The Saint-Simonians. and the extinction of property, and perpetrated enor- mous scandals. While they were filling Italy and Germany with disorder, ''a woman, called Wilhel- mina," says M. Ozanam, " rose up in Milan, giving herself out as an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, des- tined to complete what she blasphemously called the imperfect work of Christ, to exercise the new ponti- ficate, and to transmit to her female successors the sceptre of the renovated Popedom."* Her ponti- ficate, full of scandals, did not, as we may suppose, last very long; but much longer than that of the Saint-Simonian high priest. These guilty sectaries, by seeking to rob woman of those virtues which religion inculcates, and nature ratifies, — by thwarting her holiest affections, by tear- ing her away from the sphere of her domestic duties, and placing her on a false, factitious, political equality with man, — degrade her from the high social position which Christianity had given her, and reduce her to one much lower than she held even under paganism. It was the nimbus of purity with which the Christian religion had invested her, that fitted her to ascend to a higher, more ethereal region of social life. Such is a brief outline of the Saint-Simonian system in its doctrinal, ethical, and social parts. The system itself, monstrously impious and absurd as it is, has little claims to originality ; and from its uncertainty and contradictions on the most fundamental points, * Melanges, t. i., p. 224. Paris, 1859. Condemnation of their Society, 509 evinces little scientific exactness. Yet the attempt to embody the Pantheistic doctrines in the shape of a religion, and to apply them to political and domestic life, was bold and novel ; for it had never before been made in so systematic a form. The July revolution of 1830 followed shortly on the death of Saint-Simon \ and in the excitement and agitation of the public mind consequent on that im- portant event, his disciples thought the moment pro- pitious to make their grand experiment on society. They openly proclaimed their Pantheistic creed, and all its monstrous applications to the State and to the Family. The Pontiff Enfantin, and his associates, Rodriguez, Bazard, and others, were to be seen parading the streets of Paris, clad in fantastic dresses, striving to enlist proselytes, and declaring that they were in search of the " free woman of the East." In a population so impious, as a large portion of the inhabitants of Paris then especially was, it may be supposed that the new doctrine found dupes, and even, too, among the educated classes. The new preachers were soon, however, accused and convicted before the tribunals of outrages against public morals ; and, by a solemn judicial sentence, their association was dissolved in 1833. Thus, the religion which was to embrace the world, and to supersede Christianity, perished ignominiously, and amid general derision, on the benches of a police-court ! Its very name has passed from the lips and the minds of men; and 5IO Socialists under M. Cabet. though little more than thirty years have rolled away since the death of its founder, it is become utterly a thing of the past. Some of its followers, like the dis- tinguished geologist, M. Margerin, and the great agri- culturist, M. Rousseau, were happily converted to the Catholic Church. Others henceforth confined themselves, like Le Chevalier, to economical pur- suits; and others again, like Comte, the ablest of the modern French infidels, founded a philosophy of the most desolating and atrocious cast. Of the other socialistic sects, I shall say but little j partly because the main errors, common to all, have been already noticed under the head of Saint-Simon- ianism ; and partly because some are too wicked and licentious to be described. The better, hke that of Cabet, admit Deism at most, but will not suffer a place of future punishments to be so much as named in their ideal commonwealth. Little, too, is to be said of the future rewards of Heaven ; because in the New Utopia, called Icaria, an Eden of bliss is to be restored. The fall of man is denied ; all the other truths of Christianity are proscribed; and though there are to be priests and priestesses in this com- munity, the thoughts of its members are to be diverted from the unseen world, and fixed upon their terres- trial abode. The community of goods is to be gradually established, and the present constitution of the family to be retained, but as a temporary ar- rangement only. Man is born essentially good, say Their Colony in Icaria. 5 1 1 these reformers; and it is domestic and political society only that depraves him. In Icaria, the politi- cal constitution is to be a despotic democracy. There is to be one legislative chamber composed of two thousand members. In this state, '' society, it is said, concentrates, disposes, and directs everything; it must subject the will and the actions of all its mem- bers to its rule, its order, and its discipline. The assembly is to regulate the minutest details of domestic life, even to the public kitchen." * It may, once for all, be observed, that though there are wild, impracticable democrats who abhor socialism, yet socialists of every shade are democrats. With an un- erring instinct they feel that in great states democracy is the feeblest form of government, and therefore leaves society most unprotected against their anarchic efforts. The colony called by M. Cabet, Icaria, and which he founded in a desert canton of Texas, was not more fortunate than that of New Harmony, planted by Robert Owen in North America. The colonists who had been induced by this wretched adventurer to pro- ceed to Texas, soon suffered the severest want and privations in their new settlement. Some succumbed under their miseries, and others, in a most deplorable condition, returned to France. Their chief, M. Cabet, was for swindling prosecuted and condemned by the Paris tribunal to two years' imprisonment. * Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme. Par M. de Bussy, p. 239. Paris 1859. 512 Other Socialist Sects. The other socialistic sects, like those of Robert Owen, Fourier, Considerant, and Proudhon are founded on the grossest atheism and materialism, the en- couragement of all the evil appetites and passions, the community of goods, the utter destruction of the family, the utter prostration of personal freedom. It is unnecessary to dwell on these frightful aberrations of the human mind. M. Proudhon, the most intel- lectual of the socialists, alternately affirms and denies every truth in religion, morals, philosophy, legislation, and political economy. He plays fast and loose with every principle, and seems to take a delight in making a mockery of human reason. He seems a living em- bodiment of the spirit of negation.* " I have studied M. Proudhon,^' says the illustrious Donoso Cortes, " under all aspects, and if I were asked, what was the most salient trait in his intellectual physiognomy, I should reply that it was the contempt for God and for men. Never did a man sin so gravely against humanity, and against the Holy Ghost. . . . No, it is not he who speaks — it is another who is within him, who holds, who possesses him, and casts him down panting, a prey to the convulsions of the epileptic — it is another who is more than he, who constrains him to keep up with him a perpetual dialogue. What he says at times is so strange, and he says it in so strange a fashion, that the mind * *' Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint," says Mephistopheles in "Faust." M. Louis Blanc. 5 1 3 remains in suspense, not knowing if he who speaks be a man or a demon, or whether he be serious or speak in mockery." * So far Donoso Cortes. Proudhon, with admirable logic, refutes at times the different systems of his brother-socialists, and so becomes an instrument for the vindication of truth. M. Louis Blanc, who during the Republic of 1848, was the founder of the national workshops of Paris — a privileged institution formed by an advocate of equality for the special benefit of the artizans of great cities, and where the idle and unskilful workman was to receive the same wages with the laborious and the skilful — M. Louis Blanc aifects to pass for a moderate socialist. Yet, in his works he pronounces the warmest eulogiums on all the dangerous fanatics, who, whether by word or by writing, or by the sword, have assailed the holy foundations of human society — Religion, the family, and property. He is one of those who, not daring to declare themselves com- munists, advocate the progressive tax and the sump- tuary impost. Nothing can be conceived more unjust than to make the burdens of the state fall on one class of citizens only, to the exclusion of all others. The toil of the peasant, the manual industry of the artizan, and the trade of the shopkeeper, are not less pro- tected by the civil government than the lands of the nobleman, and the vessels of the merchant. Why, ♦ GEuvres de Donoso Cortes, t. iii., p. 409. Paris 1862. 2 K 514 T^^^ Socialists. then, should the former enjoy a privileged exemption from the discharge of public duties % Why should they not, in return for the amount of protection re- ceived, pay their proportional tributes to the state that bestows \\% M* Proudhon himself characterizes the progressive tax as one " which arrests the forma- tion of capital, and even is opposed to its circula- tion. . . . After having shocked all interests," says he, ^* and by its classifications thrown the market into disorder, the progressive tax arrests the development of wealth, and reduces the saleable value of things below their real value. It dwarfs — it petrifies society. What tyranny, what mockery ! The progressive tax, therefore, look at it as we will, resolves into a denial of justice — into a prohibition on production — into a confiscation.'^ It is in vain, says M. de Bussy, ^'that M. Louis Blanc tells us he respects the family, when he pro- poses the abolition of the heritage of the family, and the heritage of property. If in property we destroy the principle of inheritance, we destroy the family, and a fortiori when we destroy inheritance in the family itself. " No family is possible without the right of property, and no property without the right of inheritance.'^ * These are admirable observations. Hence we see why the Constituent Assembly of France in 1789, by aboHshing all the titles, armorial bearings, and orders * Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme, p. 220. Paris 1859. The Infant Church in Jerusalem. 515 of the nobility, struck at the sacred principle of in- heritance, and so prepared the way for the wholesale confiscation of their estates. Before this class was despoiled, it was first dishonoured and degraded. These impious men, who cite Scripture only to dis- figure or parody it, bring forward the infant Church of Jerusalem, where there was a community of goods, as a sanction to their communistic schemes. But, in the first place, this community of goods among those first followers of Christ was purely voluntary; and, secondly, this state of things was evidently transient, and adapted only to an infant society. ^' While the land remained, did it not remain to thee "2" says St Peter to Ananias, " and after it was sold, was it not in thine own power f^ The apostle rebukes Ananias, not for having refused to throw his property into the common stock, (for he tells him he was master of his own,) but for having played the hypocrite, and laid at the apostles' feet but a part of the price of his lands, instead of the whole, as he pretended. And how could those first fervent worshippers of Christ have any relish for worldly occupations and worldly enjoy- ments ? Their hearts were in heaven, and everything of earth seemed to them a burden. Some of them had looked on the Divine face of the Redeemer, had witnessed His stupendous signs, and felt their hearts still burning with the recollection of His blessed words. They saw His apostles carrying on His ministry of love, and felt themselves still in an atmosphere of 5 1 6 The Socialists, heavenly mercies and heavenly marvels. They re- lieved themselves, therefore, (as much as their duties permitted,) of the burden of domestic cares; and their repasts in common were, as it were, an earthly reflec- tion of that Divine banquet they so often fed on at the foot of the altar. ^^ Their possessions and goods they sold," say the Acts of the Apostles, " and divided them to all, according as every one had need. And continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they took their meal with gladness and simplicity of heart." And even w^hen the fervour of first love was gone, the spread of God's kingdom upon earth seemed to be their only care. The first four centuries of the Church scarcely shew an example of a Christian, whether priest or layman, writing on any topic unconnected with theology. The life of community in religious orders is another example alleged by the socialists in confirmation of their theories. But how can the exceptional con- dition of a few serve as a standard for the conduct of the many? How can a life specially devoted to prayer, contemplation, the administration of the sacraments, the preaching of the word of God, the spiritual instruction of the ignorant, the conversion of the heathen, be prescribed to those engaged in secular relations and in secular duties as a model for imita- tion? The Church, which commands charity, recog- nises thereby the principle of property ; the Church, The Community of Goods, 5 1 7 which, by preaching up the detachment of the will, renders monastic obedience possible, so strongly re- spects personal freedom that alone in the world she has been able to abolish slavery. The Church, which imposes celibacy on her priests and her religious, has exalted matrimony into a sacrament. Her evan- gelical counsels confirm the force of her precepts ; and her precepts admit of the perfection of her counsels. But the life of community recommended by the Socialists is one where self-will is uncontrolled, where cupidity is encouraged, where the sensual appetites are not only unchecked, but even fostered, where moral responsibihty is destroyed; for future retribu- tion, denied by many of these sectaries, is, by even the more moderate, represented as something vague and indefinite. A word on the community of goods. The endless diversity in the physical, moral, and intellectual facul- ties of men — in their character, tastes, and disposi- tions — in the circumstances of their lives, as well as in their duration, precludes the very idea of an equality of fortunes. Lands, for example, that were now to be equally divided among a thousand families, would, at the end of sixty years, exhibit nearly as great an in- equality of distribution as at present prevails. In an excellent little popular pamphlet published at Paris a few years ago, in confutation of the Socialist errors, we find the following calculations : — 5 1 8 The Socialists. There are in France about forty-three milHon cul- tivable acres of land. It is estimated that on the average each acre yields sixty-four francs a year, or about two pounds twelve shillings. Out of these forty-three milUon acres, about a third are possessed by three million families, each family numbering on an average about five persons, and pos- sessing from five to three acres, and a little more. These poor families, of course, leave nothing for the spoiler. Another fourteen million acres are possessed by seven hundred thousand families, each family having on an average about twenty-one acres, and a yearly income of from one thousand to thirteen hundred francs, or from forty to little more than fifty pounds of our money. From these, again, nothing could be taken away. We have, therefore, twenty-eight millions that the hand of spoliation would itself respect. Eleven million acres are possessed by a hundred and sixty thousand families, possessing on an average about seventy-five acres, yielding to each family an annual income of three thousand francs, or about ;^i2o sterling. Now, though this income, compared with the miserable pittance above stated, is^ tolerable, yet none, says this pamphlet, who (io not wish to bring down every inhabitant in France to the level of poverty, would require a partition of these acres. The Partition of Estates. 5 1 9 Four million, or, for greater security, say six mil- lion acres, remain to be accounted for. These are possessed by twenty-three thousand families belonging to the class of the great proprietors. After the spolia- tion of these, and the assigning to each family so despoiled the very moderate allowance of ;^i2o per annum, there would remain four million acres to be divided among the poorer families. The total number of families which the pamphlet calculates would be entitled to a share in this general spoil, amount to four millions. Now, four million acres at the highest, divided among four million families, would give one acre to each, or a yearly income of sixty-four francs. Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. " The mountain labours, and a mouse is born." Thus, in order to secure to the poor famihes a tenth part only of what they receive from private alms and public beneficence, enormous injustice, and on the most terrific scale, is to be perpetrated, — torrents of blood are to flow, — national bankruptcy to ensue, — and France, convulsed to her centre, is to be covered with mourning and with ruins ! And, observe, the acres have been estimated at their normal marketable value ; but the very threat of such a spoliation would cause their value to fall below zero. 520 The Socialists. But that Providence^ which watches over His Church and civil society, has furnished the necessary- antidotes to the pestilent errors I have been describ- ing. The renovated zeal of the clergy in France and Germany, where these errors had their rise, — the great progress of Catholic philosophy and science, — the increase of piety and charity among the laity, — the establishment of confraternities, and especially of that great Association of St Vincent of Paul, which now blossoms and spreads its branches over the whole Church of Christ ; — these are the defences of the Christian Church and Christian society. The con- fraternity of St Vincent of Paul was in its origin simultaneous with the rise of Saint-Simonianism. And it is remarkable that one of the ablest vindica- tions of the Church and of society against this per- nicious system came from the pen of one of the founders of that charitable Association — the late lamented M. Ozanam. In conclusion, may I be allowed to express a hope and prayer, that the contamination of these odious doctrines may long be kept off from this isle, — an isle in early antiquity called holy,* — a title which in subsequent ages her tried attachment to the true faith, her constancy under the severest persecution, her manifold virtues, have so well deserved; — an isle which I consider it an honour to be connected with by family ties, as well as by academic position, and the * Sacra lerne. Conclusion. 321 bonds of faith ! May her virtues ere long be crowned with every temporal blessing; — may agricultural plenty and commercial and industrial prosperity keep pace with her progress in Religion and learning ! And in this prayer I beg leave to conclude the Lecture.* * In composing this Lecture, I have, besides the works of Barruel, Robison, and Eckert, cited in the preceding Lecture on Freemasonry, consulted the following books : — 1. Essai sur le Catholicisme, le Liberalisme, et le Socialisme, par Donoso Cortes, Marquis de Valdegamas. Paris, 1862. 2. Melanges religieux, philosophiques, politiques, et litt^r- aires, de J. Balmez. Paiis, 1854, 3 vols. 3. Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme, par M. Ch. de Bussy. Paris, 1859. 4. Brownson's Essays. New York, 1858. 5. Biographic Universelle de Michaud. Nouvelle edition. Paris, 1863. 6. Lionello, by the Padre Bresciani. Eng, Trans. Balti- more, 1862. 7. Melanges religieux, politiques, et litteraires, par M. Oza- nam, Professeur de la Litterature etrang^re a L' University Paris, 1859. APPENDIX, Referred to in Page 432. BRIEF EXPOSITION OF THE PRINCIPAL HEADS OF PAPAL LEGISLATION ON SECRET SOCIETIES. I. The whole legislation of the Church on the subject of the secret societies of modern ages is, so far as known to me, con- tained in the following documents — the Constitution of Clement the Twelfth, In eminenti^ 1738; of Benedict the Fourteenth, ' Providas, 1751 ; of Pius the Seventh, Ecdesiam a Jesu Ckristo, 1821 ; of Leo the Twelfth, Quo graviora, 1825. This last con- stitution contains in extenso the three preceding, and is found in the continuation of the Bullariiim Romanum, tome xvi. p. 345» &c. ; or in Heilig's edition of St A. Liguori's Moral Theology, Appendix^ de R. Pontificum Decretis. All these constitutions have been confirmed by our present Holy Father, Pius the Ninth, in the Encyclical, Qui pluribus, November 9, 1846, Acta^ pp. 1 1, 12. To these may be added the answers of the Sacred Peniten- tiary, November 8, 1821, to certain questions proposed by the Archbishop of Naples, and other bishops of the Neapolitan kingdom. In reference to these documents, and the legislative enactments contained in them, the following questions may be raised : — Appendix. 523 2. First — What are the secret societies condemned in the afore- said constitutions ? Answer i °. — The Freemasons are condemned byname in the constitutions of Clement and Benedict; the Free- masons and Carbonari in the constitution of Pius. 2°. — Leo, besides renewing the constitutions of his predecessors, estabhshes certain specific marks, and condemns all secret societies whatso- ever bearing those marks. See below, n. 5, 3°, and n. 7. 3. Secondly. — Has the Holy See designated any features in the constitution, end, or other adjuncts of these secret societies, as the grounds of condemnation ; and, if so, what are they ? Answer, — Several grounds are given, from which I select the following : I °. The union of men of every or any sect or reli- gious persuasion, and of men indifferent to all religion — heretics, deists, atheists, &c. (Mark, there is question throughout, not of public or otherwise open assemblies, as at our fairs, elections, &c. , but of secret associations. ) It is manifest, as the constitu- tion of Benedict affirms, that such associations are highly dan- gerous to the purity of Catholic faith and morals. 2°. The dark, impenetrable veil of secrecy which, by the constitution of these societies, is thrown over all that passes at their private meetings. 3°. The oath by which the bond of secrecy among the members is sealed. The authorities both in church and state have a right, which no oath of this kind can bar, to inquire and ascertain whether the proceedings of such secret associations are injurious to the welfare of the state or of religion. 4°. These societies bear an ill repute with wise and upright men, who look on those that join them as thereby tainted in character — tainted, of course, in Catholic eyes, and from a Catholic point of view. 5°. The oath taken by members of the higher orders in the societies, not to divulge their own secret transactions to members of the lower and less initiated grades. 4. As time rolled on, the true anti-Christian and anti-social tendency of the secret society system developed and displayed itself more unmistakably and more fully. Hence, among the grounds of condemnation in the constitutions of 1821 and 1825, we have, 6°, their furious and satanic hatred of the Vicar of Christ ; 7°, their league of secret murder ; 8°, their avowed atheism \ 9°, their conspiracy against all legitimate authority, in the state as well as in the Church, &c., &c. These hideous and 524 Appendix. hellish developments the Sovereign Pontiff affirms were m^de known to him from the most authentic sources of information. 5. Thirdly, — What are the ecclesiastical censures incurred by the aforesaid constitutions ; and by whom are they incurred ? Answer. — The greater excommunication is ipso facto incurred 1°, by Freemasons ; 2°, by Carbonari ; 3°, by the members of any secret society, under whatsoever name it may exist, where- soever or whensoever it may exist, which is, like that of the Carbonari, leagued against the Church and the supreme temporal authority 5 4°, by all who, under any pretext or excuse whatso- ever, enrol themselves in such societies, or propagate or promote them, or are present at any of their meetings, or give them any help or favour, whether openly or secretly, directly or indirectly, &c., &c. 6. Fourthly. — From what has just been said, it is evident that many forms of secret societies may exist, whose members do not incur the above excommunication. In fact, this censure is only incurred by Freemasons, Carbonari, members of secret societies organised against both the state and the Church, and the abettors, &c., of the same. Hence a question arises, are other secret societies, not coming under any of these denominations, though not excommunicated in their members, nevertheless condemned by the aforesaid Papal constitutions? Aiiswer 1°. It is plain that any secret society, in which any one of the marks enumerated above, n. 3, 4, is found, comes, at least by implication and vir- tually, under the ban of the Papal condemnation. For it is manifest that these marks are not evil because reprobated, but reprobated because evil — evil, as being in themselves and in- trinsically immoral ; or evil, as being in themselves or in the circumstances fraught with imminent danger to faith or morals, or both. Hence all secret societies, the members of which are pledged by oath, as above, n. 4, are evil, on account of the danger {supposing no other evil element) of unsound doctrine or immoral principles creeping in and extending — the lawful au- thority, whether civil or ecclesiastical, being all the while kept in utter ignorance of the growing disorder, and therefore unable to apply efficient remedies to check and extinguish it. Hence, also, all secret societies combined against the legitimate supreme civil authority are evil, because this object is not merely in itself Appendix. 525 dangerous but sinful, 2*. It is equally plain that any secret society, whose end, means, &c., are in opposition to any law of God or of the Church, whether coming under the description of the secret societies condemned by the Popes or not, is, by the very fact, under the ban of the Church. 7. I subjoin a few sentences from the Papal Constitutions : — " Inter gravissimas prsefatae prohibitionis et damnationis causas . . . una est, quod in hujusmodi societatibus et conven- ticulis cujuscunque religionis ac sectse homines invicem conso- ciantur. .... Altera est arctum et impervium secreti foedus, quo occultantur ea quae in hujusmodi conventiculis fiunt Tertia est jusjurandum quo se hujusmodi secreto inviolabiliter servando adstringunt : quasi liceat alicui cujuslibet promissionis aut juramenti obtentu se tueri, quominus a legitima potestate interrogatus omnia fateri teneatur qusecumque exquiruntur ad dignoscendum an aliquid in hujusmodi conventibus fiat, quod sit contra religionis aut reipublicae statum et leges Ultima demum, quod apud prudentes et probes viros esedem societates et aggregationes male audirent, eorumque judicio quicumque eisdem nomina darent, pravitatis et perversionis notam incurre- rent." — Benedict XIV. *' Societates occultas omnes, tarn quae nunc sunt, quam quae fortasse deinceps erumpent, et quae ea sibi adversus ecclesiam et supremas civiles potestates proponunt quae superius commemora- vimus, quocumque tandem nomine appellentur, nos perpetuo prohibemus sub eisdem poenis, quae continentur praedecessorum nostrorum litteris in hac nostra constitutione jam allatis, quas expresse confirmamus." — Leo XII. Patrick Murray, Prof, Theology, Coll. Maynooth, June 16, 1862. POSTSCRIPT. 8. Since the foregoing memorandum was published, certain statements have been put forward, for some of which the sanction of my very humble name has been claimed. 526 Appendix. 9. It has been stated, 1°, that, according to my interpretation of the Papal constitutions, secret societies combined against the state alone are not condemned by them. 10. The statement is absolutely and even glaringly untrue. I have, in n. 6 of my little exposition, laid down the directly opposite doctrine so explicitly and emphatically that I am unable to re-state it here in terms more explicit and emphatic. It is indeed true that only the members, abettors, &c., of certain secret societies named or described by the Sovereign Pontiffs, incur excommunication ; but it is equally true that societies other than these, though not excommunicated in their members, &c. , are clearly condemned. Many things are condemned by the Church under pain of sin, v^hich are not prohibited under penalty of ecclesiastical censure, 11. It has been stated, 2°, that certain secret societies, though bearing one or more of the marks (n. 3) on vi^hich the Papal condemnation is expressly grounded, have been formed for legitimate purposes, and use only legitimate means ; and that therefore such societies cannot come under the ban of Papal condemnation. 12. Waving the question of fact, and of the value of the tes- timony on which it rests, the inference cannot be admitted. All Catholic theologians are agreed in drawing a marked and im- portant distinction between laws founded on a supposition of fact, {^'' prcesumptio facti,^'') and laws founded on a supposition of danger, [^^ prcesumpiio periculi,^^) The former suppose the existence of certain facts, and are not binding in any particular case where the facts are found not to exist : the latter bind in every case, even in cases where the presumed danger does not exist, or is believed not to exist. Thus, in many or most dioceses in Ireland, there is a law prohibiting the clergy from dining in any house on a day when a station of confession had been held there. This is a law founded, not on the presumption of a fact, but of a danger — namely, of dissipation, &c., — and binds even in a case where there is clearly no such danger, on the part of either priest or people. The reason of the distinc- tion between the two kinds of law is simple enough. There are clear tests for ascertaining facts ; but where there is question of acts, in themselves harmless yet prohibited because generally Appendix. 527 dangerous, there is a general risk of self-delusion. I become quite persuaded that there is no danger in my own case. In this I may be altogether deceived ; but, even though I should happen to be right, my neighbour, Peter, will think he has just as good grounds for coming to a similar conclusion in his own case as I have in mine. So will James, John, and every one else, and thus the law becomes a nullity. 13. Now, it is perfectly clear, from the language of the Papal constitutions, that, while some secret societies are condemned, as in themselves manifestly evil, the condemnation and prohibi- tion of others are grounded on a presumption of danger. In fact, every secret society bearing any one of the marks enumerated above, (n. 3,) is inherently dangerous. The seed of perdition may not be seen at first ; but the wily devil has sown it there, and it will grow and one day bear its accursed fruit for the doomed generation of that day. 14. It has been stated, 3°, that associations, whether secret or open, of a purely political nature, belong, not to the spiritual order, within which the Church rules, but to the temporal order, over which she has by divine right no control whatever, that order being entirely external to her and independent of her. 15. The principle, of which this statement is but a single expression, is one of the most baleful heresies of later times. None other has contributed more to turn so many modern societies into the ** glittering and godless" things which they are. I regret that just now I have not time to give even a rapid summary of what might be said in exposure and refutation of it. I am only able to say in one w^ord that, if man were a moral agent only in what are called purely spiritual things, — if he could only commit sin while engaged in these, — and if, while engaged in what are called purely temporal things, his acts were as indifferent, were as little morally good or morally bad, as the motions of an irrational animal, — then, indeed, the statement would have no light foundation in truth. But, alas ! it is just in those walks and occupations of life, which seem to be furthest removed from the sphere of the Church's eager vigilance and saving control, that men learn sin and practise sin, and become the very teachers and apostles of sin. Whatever on this earth — systems of education, colleges, schools, books, associations, or 528 Appendix, whatever else may imperil the virtue or the faith of her children — on all these the Church has from above a sovereign right to judge, to command, and to be obeyed. 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