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 AN 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 TO 
 
 THE PHILERMENIAN SOCIETY 
 
 OF BROWN UNIVERSITY, 
 
 THE MORAL CHARACTER OF THE LITERATURE OF 
 
 THE LAST AND PRESENT CENTURY. 
 
 DELIVERED AT PROVIDENCE, R. I., SEPT. 4, 1837. 
 
 BY ALEXANDER H. EVERETT. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. 
 
 PROVIDENCE: 
 
 PRINTED BY KNOWLES, VOSE&CO. 
 1837.
 
 ADDRESS. 
 
 GENTLEMEN OF THE SOCIETY 
 
 Though personally a stranger to most of you, it 
 is with much satisfaction that I meet you upon an occasion 
 so agreeable as that which has now called us together. 
 On the Anniversary of the venerable Institution, where 
 you received your first initiation into the mysteries of 
 science, you return from your various occupations in the 
 walks of active life, to renew your old associations with 
 each other, and to revive your interest in the pursuits which 
 constituted at once your duties and delights during your 
 abode in this University. You withdraw for a time from 
 the employments and professions the religious and polit- 
 ical connexions in which you may have become engaged, 
 from the different social circles to which you respect- 
 ively belong, and meet upon the common ground of early 
 friendship and a mutual attachment to the cause of 
 education and letters. 
 
 Such a purpose, gentlemen, carries with it its own 
 justification and even eulogy. It is good for us to be 
 here. It is good for us to quit for a time the absorbing 
 cares, the bitter controversies, the alternate triumphs 
 and defeats, that attend our progress through the world, 
 and dwell together, for a day or two at least, on the holy 
 and beautiful heights of Learning, in an atmosphere of 
 harmony and love. The intellectual powers are invigo- 
 rated by a temporary relaxation from habitual labor ;
 
 the heart is made better by indulgence in the kind senti- 
 ments, which are awakened by the occasion ; the very 
 physical senses are refreshed, by breathing again the gales 
 that soothed our careless infancy, and feasting our eyes 
 upon the well rembered woods, and hills, and waters over 
 which they blew. Who has not experienced in his own 
 person the deep truth, as well as the exquisite poetical 
 charm of the well known words, in which the Poet of 
 Eton College expressed his feelings on a distant prospect 
 of that Institution ? 
 
 Ah happy hills ! Ah pleasing shade ! 
 
 Ah fields, beloved in vain, 
 Where once my careless childhood strayed, 
 
 A stranger yet to pain ! 
 I feel the gales that from you blow 
 A momentary bliss bestow, 
 
 As, waving fresh their gladsome wing, 
 My weary soul they seem to soothe, 
 And redolent of joy and youth, 
 
 To breathe a second spring. 
 
 I should consider myself, gentlemen, as doing injustice 
 to such an occasion, if I were to select a topic for the pres- 
 ent address, which should tend, in the least degree, to 
 awaken differences of sentiment, inconsistent with the 
 object for which we are assembled. Avoiding every 
 theme, which offers any danger of this description, I 
 venture to solicit your indulgence fora few remarks upon 
 the Moral Characteristics and Tendencies of the Litera- 
 ture of the present, as compared loith that of the last 
 century. The aspect of learning at these two periods, 
 considered under a moral point of view, presents some 
 differences, resulting from corresponding differences in the 
 state of society, which are curious in themselves, and 
 pregnant with lessons of high practical importance. In 
 treating this subject, I shall first sketch very rapidly the 
 nature of the differences to which I allude, and shall 
 afterwards attempt to illustrate them by remarks on such 
 of the principal writers of the two periods, as indicate most
 
 distinctly their respective moral aspects. The nature of 
 the subject will lead me to dwell more particularly upon 
 the literature of the Continent, and especially of France ; 
 which, during a considerable portion of the time in ques- 
 tion, gave its moral tone to that of all the rest of Europe. 
 The outline of the difference in the moral characteristics 
 of the literature of the last and present century, is doubtless 
 familiar to you, and may be stated in a few words. It 
 corresponds with the remarkable change in public opinion 
 and in the state of society throughout Christendom, which 
 occurred during this period, and of which the French 
 Revolution formed the turning point. The effort of the 
 public mind throughout Europe, before the Revolution, 
 as exhibited in literature, not less than its other more 
 active demonstrations, was directed to the reform of exist- 
 ing institutions, political and religious. The spirit of 
 learning at this period was bold, critical, inquisitive. 
 In its excesses it degenerated into skepticism upon the 
 clearest and most important truths, and mockery of all 
 that is justly held most dear and venerable by the wise 
 and good. The opinion of which this form of learning 
 was the expression, wrought out its practical result in 
 the French Revolution. That memorable political torna- 
 do, which in most parts of Europe, swept away with the 
 abuses to be remedied the institutions themselves in which 
 they were found, left society a vast, unoccupied field, 
 overspread with ruins and reeking with the blood, which 
 had been poured out, like water, in the course of these 
 convulsions. A change now came over the spirit of the 
 age and of literature. Reform, whether for evil or for 
 good, had done its work, and done it thoroughly. The 
 object was now to re-construct, if possible, from the frag- 
 ments of the fallen edifices, or to create from new materials 
 furnished by the plastic energies of the great minds which 
 guide the movements of the rest, new systems of doctrine 
 and new forms of religion and government. This change
 
 iii the direction of public opinion, and in the nature of 
 the objects which it principally aimed to bring about, was 
 soon reflected in the aspect of learning. In the more sub- 
 stantial departments of theoretical and practical Philoso- 
 phy, profound thought and original creative energy took 
 the place of criticism. In the lighter forms of Poetry and 
 Romance, seriousness and tenderness predominated over 
 sarcasm. The prevailing errors were now those of extra- 
 vagance and superstition, rather than of skepticism. In 
 short, gentlemen, the characteristics of learning during 
 these two periods, as seen alike, in its power and its weak- 
 ness, its truth and its errors, its beauty and its deformity, 
 corresponded exactly with the nature of the spirit, which 
 prevailed in each, and with the direction of public opinion, 
 which tended during the former to the Reformation, and 
 during the latter to the Reconstruction, or as it has some- 
 times been called, the Regeneration of society. 
 
 Such, gentlemen, is, in general, the outline of the dif- 
 ference in the state of public opinion and of learning, at 
 the two periods in question, to which I have alluded. 
 You will not, of course, understand me to intimate that 
 the spirit which prevailed in either, was universal and 
 without exception. While the great majority of minds 
 follow, through all its changes, the current of the age in 
 which they live, a few eccentric spirits strike out an 
 independent path for themselves, sometimes directly op- 
 posite to that of their contemporaries. Thus we find, in 
 the midst of the wild licentiousness of the literary carni- 
 val of the last century, a strain of the deepest melancholy 
 issuing from the lyre of YOUNG, and answered from the 
 Continent in corresponding tones, in the high religious 
 enthusiasm of the Messiah. Nor was the practical direc- 
 tion of public opinion at either of these periods entirely 
 uniform throughout Christendom. While the rest of 
 Europe was struggling with frenzied energy for improve- 
 ment, Italy and Spain slept almost as profoundly as Egypt,
 
 Palestine and Greece. England, from causes peculiar to 
 herself, though the freest and best informed nation in 
 Europe, resisted, rather than shared the all-pervading 
 impulse, especially when it took the shape of open Revo- 
 lution. Now, on the contrary, when the storm has spent 
 its fury on the Continent, and public opinion has taken 
 the opposite direction, the spirit of Reform has broken out 
 with fresh vigor in England. Hence the different aspects 
 of the literature of the last and present century, to which 
 I have alluded, are less observable in England than they 
 are upon the Continent ; as I have already intimated, 
 and shall have occasion to shew, more fully in the sequel. 
 
 It is curious, however, after making all proper allow- 
 ance for individual exceptions, to see how completely 
 the spirit of Reform had obtained possession of the whole 
 mind of Europe, at the period preceeding the French 
 Revolution, even in quarters where it was likely to exer- 
 cise the most injurious influence. Let us glance for a 
 moment at the political and literary aspect of the age of 
 Louis XV. It offers one of the most brilliant pictures 
 that has ever been exhibited in the history of civilization. 
 
 Politically viewed, the strength is in the East. Eng- 
 land, distracted by the struggles of the STUART and 
 BRUNSWICK families for the succession to the throne, is 
 hardly a first-rate power. France has sunk already from 
 the height of influence, which she had reached under 
 Louis XIV. into a state of comparative inferiority. Spain 
 and Italy languish in torpid inactivity under the same 
 leaden BOURBON sceptre. In the mean time Prussia, in- 
 spired by the commanding genius of FREDERIC the Great, 
 starts at once from the condition of a third or fourth rate 
 power, to be the temporary arbiter of Europe. Russia, cre- 
 ated by the energy of PETER, is nobly sustained and even 
 strengthened by that of CATHERINE ; while in Austria, 
 MARIA THERESA, less dististinguished by talent, adorns 
 with tranquil dignity and the amiable virtues of private 
 life, the purple of the Holy Roman Empire.
 
 8 
 
 Such are the political relations. But France, though 
 politically fallen, reigns without a rival in the world of 
 civilization and letters. The sun of learning has set in 
 Italy and Spain, and has not yet risen in Germany. 
 England, at the return of CHARLES II., had sacrificed her 
 own vigorous and manly school in a vain imitation of that 
 of France. " Glorious JOHN," glorious chiefly for what 
 he might have done, and POPE, unequal successors to the 
 literary sceptre of SHAKSPEARE and MILTON, have found 
 themselves no successors at all. France, meanwhile, has 
 diffused the taste for her literature from Cadiz to Archangel. 
 Her language is spoken at all the Courts, and forms the 
 common medium of intercourse among the cultivated 
 classes of all the different nations. Her writers, though 
 greatly fallen, at least as we now consider them, from the 
 standard of the age of Louis XIV., are regarded as the 
 models of taste, and the only ones entitled to attention. 
 The appearance of their works is watched as a matter of 
 public concern throughout Europe. Some of the German 
 princes maintain ambassadors at Paris, expressly for the 
 purpose of receiving a regular account of the new publi- 
 cations. Such was the mission of the Baron de GRIMM, 
 whose despatches, which have since been published, form 
 perhaps the most amusing literary memoirs in existence. 
 At no time, before or since, with the exception of a bril- 
 liant period in the history of ancient Greece, was learning 
 so highly honored in the persons of its professors. PLATO 
 had been invited to reside at the Court of DIONYSIUS, King 
 of Sicily. In the same way, the mighty minds that 
 swayed the destinies of Europe, from the thrones of Russia 
 and Prussia, courted the society of the literary men of 
 France. FREDERIC the Great, invited VOLTARE to Berlin, 
 and corresponded with him for many years. CATHERINE 
 sought unsuccessfully the honor of his company, but en- 
 joyed that of his correspondence, and, after his death, 
 purchased his library, which is still preserved in the Pal-
 
 ace of the Hermitage at St. Petersburgh. D'ALEMBERT 
 declined a similar invitation from the Northern Seminaries, 
 which, however, was accepted by MARMONTEL, DIDEROT, 
 and others, who, with the Ambassador SEGUR, himself a 
 distinguished man of letters, constituted St. Petersburg 
 almost a French Court. So completely had the Great 
 FREDERIC given up his mind to the witchery of French 
 literature, that, although the noble German language was 
 native to his tongue, he would not condescend to use it, 
 but habitually conversed with his friends and wrote his 
 own books in French ; and this, too, at a time when 
 KLOPSTOCK was in all his glory, and when the brilliant 
 constellation of Weimar had already shown itself above 
 the horizon- 
 Such, gentlemen, was the influence, which was exer- 
 cised throughout Europe, at the period alluded to, by the 
 literature of France. It realised, in the world of letters, 
 the universal empire which the Sovereigns of France 
 have, at various times, attempted in vain to acquire by 
 arms. The sceptre of this universal empire, appertained 
 by general consent to the celebrated VOLTAIRE. There 
 may have been among the French writers of that day, 
 individuals who may justly be considered as superior to 
 VOLTAIRE in some of the requisites for literary excellence. 
 MONTESQUIEU, for example, is decidedly above him in 
 originality, depth and precision of thought, while in ele- 
 gance of style and vigor of imagination, he is at least his 
 equal. But neither the author of the Spirit of Laws and 
 the Persian Letters, nor any other writer of the period, 
 could dispute with the Patriarch of Ferney, the palm of 
 authority in the world of letters. He owed this to a 
 union of various qualities and talents, extraordinary in 
 themselves and still more extraordinary in their combina- 
 tion. As a wit and poet, " if not first, in the very first 
 line ;" - a clear and powerful thinker, though not attaining 
 the highest point either of originality or correctness, per- 
 
 2,
 
 10 
 
 haps because in all his speculations, he seems to have 
 aimed at effect rather than truth ; he combined with 
 these substantial endowments, an almost miraculous 
 facility of pouring out his thoughts alike in prose and 
 verse, an indefatigable and restless activity, not always 
 companion of high literary powers ; and a dauntless 
 courage that spurned control and rose convulsively against 
 all sorts of oppression. These qualities, exercised through 
 a long career of more than half a century, seconded too 
 in their operation by the general tendency of public opin- 
 ion, may well account for his colossal reputation, and the 
 immense influence, literary and political, which he possess- 
 ed over his contemporaries. 
 
 Connected by birth with the middling class of society, 
 at that time separated from the highest, especially in 
 France, by a broad and almost impassable line of distinc- 
 tion, VOLTAIRE raised himself at once, by a precocious 
 display of talent, to an association on equal terms with 
 nobles and princes ; and so little were his powers ham- 
 pered by any supposed inferiority to his new companions, 
 that one of his earliest adventures was a personal affair, 
 in which he undertook to secure his honor against the 
 effect of an insult from a Prince of the blood Royal. The 
 result was an imprisonment of several months in the 
 Bastile ; but so far was VOLTAIRE from being intimidated 
 or depressed by this punishment, that he employed the 
 period of his confinement in writing the Hcnriade; a 
 work which sustains, of course, no comparison with the 
 Iliad, but holds a high rank among the so-called epic 
 poems of modern times. Soon after his liberation, he 
 travelled in England, and he seems to have imbibed or 
 fostered in that country the bold, free thinking spirit, that 
 afterwards predominated so strongly in his writings. His 
 Letters on England, written at this period, exhibit one 
 of the first examples of that fearless discussion of moral 
 and political questions, which, however at times abused
 
 11 
 
 and carried to excess, constitutes, undoubtedly, one of 
 the most honorable distinctions of modern civilization. 
 On his return from England, he essayed his power in 
 dramatic poetry, where he at once took the lead of all 
 his competitors. His Orestes, Merope, Alzireand Zaire, 
 if they do not fully equal the master-pieces of Corneille 
 and Racine, stand upon the same line, and command at 
 this day, the unqualified admiration of the lovers of French 
 tragedy. The poet infused into some of these plays, what 
 perhaps was no improvement of them, poetically viewed, 
 the new element of philosophical thought, and endeavored 
 to render them auxiliary to his great purpose of Reform. 
 His next efforts, though he continued through life to ex- 
 ercise himself in tragedy, were in History. Here he 
 struck out a new path ; and abandoning the grave, didac- 
 tic character of the ancient historians, and of the great 
 writers of modern Italy, he made his work a keen, sarcas- 
 tic commentary on the political and religious abuses of the 
 times which he describes. In none of his productions are 
 his powers displayed in a more truly characteristic shape, 
 and in none, perhaps, does he appear to greater advantage, 
 than in the best of these histories, which are the Age of 
 Louis XIV. and the Universal History of Modern 
 Europe. In these he exhibits something like the fresh- 
 ness and power of an original inventor, and, if less pro- 
 found and instructive than some other historians, is, 
 perhaps, the most entertaining of them all. In connexion 
 with these great works, he poured forth a flood of minor 
 productions in prose and verse, sufficient of themselves, to 
 have given the highest reputation to any writer ; although 
 many of them, as well as some of his histories, are 
 objectionable on the score of their moral tendency, some 
 of them to such a degree as to be wholly unfit for general 
 perusal. 
 
 For a long time after his return to England, VOLTAIRE 
 was a favorite at the French Court, where he held for
 
 12 
 
 twenty years the honorary title of Chamberlain, which 
 gave him a free admission to the personal society of the 
 Royal Family. But the freedom of his strictures on 
 political and religious abuses, finally alienated from him 
 the favor of the government, and occasioned his exile from 
 Prance. This, however, was to him, with his European 
 reputation, a very small matter. Proscribed in France, he 
 was invited to Prussia by the Great FREDERIC, who gave 
 him the title of Chamberlain, and an apartment in the 
 Palace. The atmosphere of Courts has been sometimes 
 found dangerous to the personal independence of men of 
 genius ; but VOLTAIRE was not likely to suffer in this way 
 from its influence. The monarch of Letters sustained 
 himself on a footing of perfect equality with the monarch 
 of Prussia, and finally retired in disgust from his domin- 
 ions, rather than submit to some real or supposed affront. 
 He now established the head quarters of his universal lite- 
 rary sovereignty at Ferney, in the little republic of Geneva, 
 where he held his court, for the greater part of his remain- 
 ing life, receiving the homage of admiring crowds of vis- 
 itors from all parts of Europe. His fortune was ample, 
 the fruit, as it seems, of his own economy, talent and in- 
 dustry ; his enjoyment of life, though somewhat impaired 
 by perpetual attacks from rivals and adversaries, was prob- 
 ably on the whole very great ; his conversation with his 
 numerous visitors, brilliant, various and captivating almost 
 beyond example. At the close of his long career, when 
 he was fast approaching the verge of fourscore, after the 
 accession of Louis XVI., the hostility of the French 
 Court relented, and he was permitted to return to Paris. 
 His reception there was a splendid popular triumph. The 
 worlds of fashion and letters, which were identical, for 
 letters were then all the fashion at Paris, crowded round 
 him as an oracle. Finally, he attended the theatre, 
 through life the scene of his most brilliant successes, at 
 the representation of one of his own tragedies, and after
 
 13 
 
 it was over, saw his bust crowned with laurels amid the 
 acclamations of the audience. The excitement of this 
 scene seems to have been too great for his now feeble 
 frame, and to have overpowered the principle of life. He 
 was taken ill the next day, and after a confinement of two 
 or three weeks, expired on the field of his early glory, 
 surrounded by friends, crowned with wealth and honor, 
 and, as it were, in the arms of victory. 
 
 Such, gentlemen, were the character and literary career 
 of this celebrated person, who embodied in his own works 
 so much of the literature of the earlier part of the last 
 century, and so completely personified the spirit of the 
 whole in its brilliant qualities, and to a certain extent, in 
 its errors and excesses. He was, as was well said of him 
 during his life time, the spoiled child of an age which he 
 did more than any other person to spoil : V enfant gate 
 du siecle qu'il gata. The reckless, innovating spirit of 
 the period, formed and developed his character, while the 
 incredible fertility of resources, which he exhibited through 
 his long career, did much to strengthen the already over- 
 whelming opinion. His object and desire through life 
 were the reform of abuses in religion and government. 
 For this there was ample room : and had his efforts been 
 kept within the line of good taste, good morals and sound 
 discretion, their result might have been wholly beneficial. 
 Unfortunately, he too often overlooked all these considera- 
 tions, and others of a still more solemn and imperious 
 character, in his zeal for effect ; and has left behind him 
 a mass of writings, of which a very large portion can 
 hardly be perused with profit or even safety. 
 
 But the errors and excesses of VOLTAIRE, reprehensible as 
 they certainly are, are in some degree moral, compared 
 with those of his contemporaries, and immediate success- 
 ors, composing what has sometimes been called the Phi- 
 losophical, but more properly the Materialist or Atheisti- 
 cal school. The professors of this doctrine were not
 
 14 
 
 unwilling to sustain that system by the authority of the 
 high reputation of VOLTAIRE, and sometimes claimed him 
 as the Patriarch of the Philosophical church. In reality, 
 however, they had entirely abandoned his opinions on the 
 most important questions of philosophy, and substituted 
 for them others of a directly opposite character. VOLTAIRE, 
 though he often sneered and scoffed at what he considered 
 as religious errors and abuses, never lost sight of the great 
 truths of Religion itself, but continued to support and 
 defend them against all opposition, up to the close of his 
 life. The philosophers, on the other hand, laughed at 
 the idea of an intelligent Supreme Being, denied the real- 
 ity of moral distinctions, and a future existence, and 
 considered man as a variety of the animal creation, some- 
 what superior in intellectual power, but essentially simi- 
 lar in all respects to the brutes that surround him, and 
 destined, like them, after the close of his brief existence 
 in this world, to complete annihilation. The difference 
 between their opinions and those of VOLTAIRE, upon these 
 great questions, is illustrated by an anecdote, recorded in 
 the memoirs of GRIMM, whom, as I just now remarked, 
 was, at this period, the literary ambassador of the Duke 
 of SAXE GOTHA, at Paris. 
 
 "The Patriach," says GRIMM, "was sitting one fine 
 summer evening in his garden, at Ferney, conversing with 
 some of his friends, upon the brilliancy and beauty of the 
 starry firmament above their heads, when he extemporised 
 the following verses :" 
 
 Tous ces vastes pays d'azur et de lumiere, 
 Tires du sein du vide, et formes sans matiere, 
 Arrondis sans compas, et tournant sans pivot, 
 Ont a peine coute la depense d' un mot. 
 
 The purport of these lines, gentlemen, as I need not 
 inform those of you, who are acquainted with the French 
 language, is the same, in a more concentrated form, with 
 that of the beautiful hymn of Addison, " The spacious
 
 15 
 
 firmament on high," which is too familiar to you all, to 
 require to be repeated. 
 
 " The Patriarch," says GRIMM, in relating this anecdote, 
 " still adheres to his old fancy of a Supreme Intelligence, 
 and a future state of rewards and punishments. He 
 reasons upon this subject like a school boy, a bright and 
 lively one, to be sure, as he is, but still a mere school boy. 
 I should like to ask him whether any one has ever seen 
 this supreme intelligence, how tall he is, and what is the 
 color of his complexion. The Patriarch pretends that we 
 cannot conceive of the existence of a Universe, without a 
 supreme creating mind. This is true enough : we can- 
 not conceive of such a thing, but we know the fact that 
 it exists, and that is, perhaps, quite as good." 
 
 Such, gentlemen, was the doctrine of the philosophical 
 school ; such the argument, if argument it can be called, 
 by which it was supported. Although the head quarters 
 of the sect were established at Paris, the leader resided in 
 a different part of Europe, being no less a person than the 
 celebrated DAVID HUME, of Edinburgh ; one of the ablest 
 and at the same time most dangerous philosophical writers 
 of modern times. The correctness and simple elegance 
 of his style of writing, which make it, though not very 
 nervous or brilliant, one of the best in the language ; the 
 clearness of his reasoning in many of his essays, particu- 
 larly on subjects in political economy, and his success as a 
 historian, together with his respectable position in society, 
 and amiable personal character, gave him great authority 
 in the world of letters. This he unfortunately employed 
 in lending credit and reputation, to a series of the most 
 revolting paradoxes, in metaphysical and moral philosophy, 
 resulting in the rejection of all religion, natural and re- 
 vealed, the denial of moral distinctions, and a doubt as to 
 the existence of any thing whatever, mind or matter. 
 HUME himself candidly confesses, in one of his published 
 works, that in his cooler and more practical moments, he
 
 16 
 
 had no real faith in these strange heresies, which he sup- 
 ports in his writings, with so much gravity and apparent 
 conviction. " When I sit down," he says, " of an evening 
 to play a game of back-gammon, or join in a pleasant 
 conversation with a circle of intelligent friends, and with- 
 draw my attention in this way for a few hours, from my 
 favorite studies, I lose the conviction that I ordinarily feel 
 in the truth of their results, and begin to look upon them 
 as the mere vagaries of fancy. This candid avowal by 
 HUME of his own feelings, corresponds with that of the 
 mad astronomer, in JOHNSON'S Rasselas, who believed him- 
 self to possess a control over the elements, but was at any 
 time restored to his senses, by an hour's conversation with 
 the beautiful favorite of the Princess. HUME'S faith in 
 his own paradoxes, so far as there was any reality in it 
 was, in fact, an example of that sort of monomania, by 
 which a person, from intently meditating for a long time 
 upon a train of ideas, which he originally knew to be 
 false, acquires at length a sort of persuasion that they are 
 true. 
 
 The doctrine of HUME obtained but little currency in 
 England, where life is too intensely practical to afford 
 much scope for the success of theories, which are refuted 
 at once by an appeal to practical experience. In France, 
 on the contrary, it fell in with the current of public opin- 
 ion, and formed, in connexion with other speculations of 
 a kindred character, the basis of the philosophy, to which 
 I just now alluded. CONDILLAC had falsely deduced from 
 the writings of LOCKE, the conclusions, never drawn by 
 himself, that sensation was the only source of knowledge, 
 and that there was no reality in any thing not immedi- 
 ately palpable to the senses. HELVETIUS denied that there 
 was any essential distinction between moral good and 
 evil", and acknowledged no other rational motive of action 
 but sensual pleasure. DIDEROT and others, attacked re- 
 ligion under all its forms, and undertook to establish, on
 
 17 
 
 its ruins, a system of naked, unsophisticated atheism. It 
 was their intention to embody these cheering views in a 
 large work, designed for a sort of code of universal 
 science, to be called the Encyclopedia. This plan was 
 in part carried into effect, and in part disappointed. The 
 work was published, and forms a conspicuous and volumi- 
 nous portion of most large libraries ; but it was in a great 
 measure robbed of its sting, by the caution of the book- 
 seller who published it. This person, who seems to 
 have been a wiser man than his employers, justly deem- 
 ing that the insertion of their favorite theories would 
 render the work exceedingly obnoxious to the government, 
 and probably occasion its prohibition, took the precaution 
 to suppress, without consulting the authors, a large propor- 
 tion of their philosophical speculations. When the work 
 was nearly through the press, and it was too late to reme- 
 dy the mischief, the authors discovered, with dismay, the 
 deception that had been practised upon them. They 
 express their indignation at this act of petty treason in 
 their prudent, but, it must be owned, not to them entirely 
 faithful publisher, with a violence which, now that their 
 labors are more correctly estimated than they were at the 
 time by themselves, appears rather comic. The work is, 
 in fact, of little or no value. Its theories in the physical 
 sciences and their application to the arts, have been almost 
 wholly superseded by the immense progress, since made 
 in these departments. Its moral philosophy was imme- 
 diately refuted by the excesses of the French Revolution, 
 and is now rejected with contempt, by the almost univer- 
 sal consent of Christendom. In short, gentlemen, the 
 great French Encyclopedia, which was intended by its 
 authors as an Abridgment of all science at its highest pos- 
 sible state of perfection, an infallible standard of opinion 
 and belief for all future ages, had come, within fifty years 
 after its publication, to be looked upon as little better 
 than a part of the necessary lumber of a large library, 
 
 3
 
 18 
 
 rarely if ever consulted for the purpose of instruction, and 
 chiefly curious as one of the most remarkable examples in 
 literary history, of an entire disproportion between the 
 grandeur of the effort and the littleness of the perfor- 
 mance. 
 
 In the meantime, however, the authors of the Encyclo- 
 pedia were industriously, and much more successfully 
 employed in disseminating the same doctrines in other 
 forms. Under the influence of the temporary public fa- 
 vor, with which they were received, these writers appear 
 to have lost sight entirely of the real character of their 
 opinions, and constantly state them with a simplicity 
 which renders them almost ludicrous. GRIMM, as I have 
 remarked, writes to the Duke of SAXE-GOTHA, a reigning 
 Prince, that he should be glad to know the stature and 
 complexion of the Supreme Being. D'ALEMBERT, un- 
 doubtedly the most judicious person of the sect, writes, in 
 his turn, to the King of PRUSSIA, the most powerful and 
 intelligent Sovereign in Europe, that he is harassed to 
 death by his doubts upon what he calls the terrible 
 question, whether there is any thing at all in existence. 
 Finally, HELVETIUS carries his reform of moral science so 
 far, as to affirm that the relation, naturally existing be- 
 tween parents and children, is that of hatred. " Hence 
 arises," says he, after some paltry sophistry, which he 
 considers as tending to this conclusion, " hence arises the 
 hatred which naturally exists between parents and child- 
 ren." It is melancholy to reflect, that these revolting 
 notions were, at the time, generally received with favor 
 in the highest circles on the Continent of Europe. Their 
 authors, as we have seen, were in habits of personal inti- 
 macy and correspondence with the most illustrious mon- 
 archs, who were proud and happy to treat them as equals. 
 The wealthy and titled classes practised, in daily life, the 
 lessons which were taught in this school. In short, the 
 very substance of society, in its most exalted portions,
 
 19 
 
 under an external varnish of refinement and elegance, had 
 become entirely corrupt, and sunk into a state of moral 
 dissolution. 
 
 This, gentlemen, was the real cause of the excesses of 
 the French Revolution ; which the enemies of liberty are 
 in the habit of representing as the natural results of at- 
 tempts to reform political abuses, and establish liberal 
 institutions. A reform of government, undertaken by 
 upright and honorable men, from just views of its necessity, 
 may be conducted to a close, with very little danger of 
 abuse or excess, as is amply shewn by the history of our 
 own Revolution, and that which is now in progress in 
 England. It was the misfortune of the cause of liberty 
 in France, that the conduct of the Reform fell into the 
 hands of men imbued with the most erroneous notions of 
 moral duty, and incapable, by character, of doing justice 
 to the circumstances in which they were placed. It was 
 not till one whole generation had been swept from the 
 stage by the tremendous inflictions which their own 
 errors, faults, and crimes, had brought upon them ; and 
 another, formed in the stern school of suffering, to a purer 
 and loftier standard of character, had taken their places, 
 that the principle of liberty began to work out its proper 
 effects, and open upon the longing eyes of the gallant 
 French nation, the fair prospect which now seems to un- 
 fold itself before them, of a long period of political prosper- 
 ity, under a just, wise, and liberal government. 
 
 I shall have occasion, gentlemen, to touch again upon 
 this topic, at the conclusion of the address. It is, of 
 course, unnecessary to say any thing in refutation of the 
 doctrines to which I have alluded, before an audience like 
 that which I have now the honor to address. The bril- 
 liant minstrel of the Pleasures of Hope, has expressed what 
 we all feel upon the subject, in one of the most powerful 
 passages of that poem.
 
 20 
 
 Arc these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, 
 Lights of the world and demigods of Fame ? 
 Is this your triumph, this your proud applause, 
 Children of Truth, and champions of her cause? 
 Oh star-eyed Science ! hast thou wandered there 
 To waft us home the message of Despair ? 
 Then bind the palm, thy Sage's brow to suit, 
 With blasted leaf and death-distilling fruit ! 
 Ah me ! the laureate wreath that murder rears, 
 Blood-nursed and watered by the widow's tears, 
 Seems not so foul, so tainted or so dread, 
 As waves the night shade o'er the skeptic head. 
 What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain ? 
 I smile on death, if heaven-ward hope remain; 
 But if the warring winds of nature's strife 
 Be all the faithless charter of my life-; 
 If chance awaked, inexorable power, 
 This frail and feverish being of an hour ; 
 Then melt, ye elements ! that formed in vain 
 This troubled pulse and visionary brain : 
 Fade, ye wild flowers; memorials of my doom ! 
 And sink, ye stars ! that light me to the tomb ! 
 
 Such, gentlemen, was the spirit which prevailed in 
 the philosophy and literature of the last century. The 
 true method of escaping from its influence, was by a di- 
 rect appeal to the instructive good sense, and good feeling 
 of the people. This appeal was made at once in various 
 forms, and in all parts of Europe, with a decision and 
 success, that reflect the highest honor upon the intellect- 
 ual and moral character of Christendom. A new philoso- 
 phy and a new literature, animated by a spirit precisely 
 the reverse of that which prevailed in the materialist 
 school, coinciding in all their developements with the 
 loftiest views of the nature and destiny of man, and the 
 noblest and best feelings of the uncorrupted heart, started 
 at once into being, and have ever since been gaining pub- 
 lic favor, until they may be said to have determined the 
 moral tendency of the learning of the present age. 
 
 The new Philosophy to which I allude, grew up, at 
 about the the same time in two different and remote
 
 21 
 
 points of Europe, out of the reflections of independent 
 thinkers, reasoning, without connexion or communi- 
 cation with each other, upon the same subjects, and 
 led by the mere force of truth, to the same conclu- 
 sions. REID in Scotland, and KANT in Germany, had 
 the honor of originating these two movements, and the 
 immediate object of both, at the outset, was to refute the 
 doctrine of HUME. This is well known, in regard to 
 REID ; and KANT, in the introduction to his principal work, 
 expressly states that he was led to undertake it, by a 
 wish to answer the sophistry, in the relation of cause and 
 effect, by which HUME had attempted to sap the foun- 
 dation of all religion. The arguments of REID and KANT, 
 however variously presented, and differing in many points 
 of external form, resolve themselves alike, in the last re- 
 sult, into an appeal to the consciousness of every individ- 
 ual, as the source of his conviction of the certainty of 
 knowledge, and the reality of moral distinctions. The 
 argument is at bottom substantially the same with that 
 by which Dr. JOHNSON replied, in the course of conversa- 
 tion, to a person who disputed the freedom of human action. 
 " Sir," said the great moralist, in his usual emphatic style, 
 " Sir, we know we are free, and there's an end on't." 
 REID, a clear and correct thinker, but a rather cold and 
 dreary writer, attracted but little attention, until his views 
 had been farther developed and recommended by the 
 warm and graceful eloquence of STEWART ; and even now, 
 so entirely practical is the tendency of the public mind in 
 England and this country, their philosophy can hardly be 
 said to have become a subject of deep and general interest. 
 In Germany, on the contrary, where the bent of public 
 opinion is not less decidedly towards abstract and meta- 
 physical pursuits, than it is with us towards those of prac- 
 tical life, the philosophy of KANT became, after a short 
 interval, an object of universal interest, agitated for fifty 
 years the whole intellectual world through all its depart-
 
 22 
 
 ments, materially affected the aspect of poetry and polite 
 literature, and finally, after passing through several suc- 
 cessive transformations in the hands of his successors, 
 crossed the Rhine, a barrier, as Madame de STAEL well 
 remarks, more difficult of passage for a book, than for an 
 army of a hundred thousand men, and is now, as devel- 
 oped by the brilliant and commanding eloquence of 
 COUSIN, electrifying France, and rousing the eager atten- 
 tion of England and America. 
 
 The limits of the present occasion will, of course, pre- 
 vent me from enlarging upon any branch of the subject, 
 and especially upon one of so complex and abstract a 
 character as metaphysical philosophy. But as the name 
 of KANT has naturally presented itself in the course of our 
 reflections, it may, perhaps, be amusing to you, to advert 
 for a moment to some details of his personal habits and 
 character. Figure to yourselves then, gentlemen, a little 
 old man of the simplest appearance and manners, Pro- 
 fessor of Metaphysics in the University of Konigsburg, in 
 Prussia, who, though recognised as a person of ability, 
 has gone on quietly lecturing, till the age of about sixty, 
 without attracting in any way the public attention. Un- 
 married, unincumbered with the cares of a family, entirely 
 absorbed in his favorite scientific pursuits, he rises every 
 day at the same early hour of five, goes through the same 
 routine of studies and lectures, takes a long solitary walk 
 over the same ground, dines at home, commonly with two 
 or three invited friends, at the same hour, and after an- 
 other course of evening study, retires early to renew the 
 same routine on the following day. This is hardly the 
 sort of character, gentlemen, from which you would have 
 expected a revolution in intellectual philosophy. But the 
 highest results, especially in abstract science, are, after all, 
 generally produced by a long course of close, undisturbed, 
 solitary thinking. At length, the principal work of KANT, 
 entitled an Examination of pure Reason, makes its ap-
 
 23 
 
 pearance. It forms a single thick octavo volume. The 
 style is repulsive and fatiguing to the last degree ; and is 
 embarrassed by an entirely new nomenclature, which 
 renders the work unintelligible, without the strongest effort 
 of attention, even to those most familiar with the subject 
 and the language. It falls apparently lifeless from the 
 press. For three years it remains entirely unnoticed, and 
 the publisher is on the point of sending the whole edition 
 to be used as waste paper, when an article in one of the 
 literary journals first directed the public attention to the 
 work. Having once become an object of attention, the 
 fatiguing and repulsive character of the style, was rather 
 a recommendation than otherwise, with the patient Ger- 
 mans. They mastered the new nomenclature, a labor 
 equivalent to that of learning a new language, and reached 
 the substance of the doctrine. The leading principle, as 
 I remarked just now, is the appeal to consciousness, or 
 the original, internal conviction of the mind, as the evi- 
 dence of the certainty of knowledge, and the reality of 
 moral distinctions. This principle commanded at once 
 the general assent, and triumphed, in a moment, over the 
 wretched sophistry of the preceding school, which, in fact, 
 retired from the field without a struggle. In the various 
 commentaries, explanations, attacks and defences, which 
 now followed each other in rapid succession, and which 
 make up, in a great measure, the philosophical literature 
 in Germany, for the last sixty years, the leading principle 
 alluded to is generally admitted, and the controversy 
 turns upon points of application and detail. In the mean 
 time the modest philosopher emerges from obscurity, and 
 becomes a shining mark for the gaze of admiring disci- 
 ples. His lecture room is crowded ; his humble mansion 
 overflows with visitors ; but without being much moved 
 by this change in his position, he quietly pursues the even 
 tenor of his way as before, and finally expires, at a very 
 advanced age, without having ever left the city of Ko-
 
 24 
 
 nigsburg, from the time when he entered it to take his 
 place as Professor in the University. 
 
 What a contrast, gentlemen, between this quiet, labo- 
 rious, unpretending existence, and the brilliant position of 
 COUSIN, the present most prominent Representative of the 
 German philosophy, or rather of the Scotch and German 
 schools united, for he seems to have brought together 
 these two different developements of the same principle, 
 into one harmonious whole ! COUSIN was educated under 
 the instruction of ROYER-COLLARD, in the doctrines of the 
 Edinburgh school ; and in his earliest writings, confined 
 himself to an exposition of them. He soon, however, be- 
 came aware of the somewhat narrow and limited scope of 
 their inquiries, and sought a new inspiration in the bolder 
 daring and wider reach of the Germans. He also explored 
 with singular zeal and assiduity, the rich field of the Greek 
 philosophy, at its earlier and later periods. From the 
 copious materials supplied by these various sources, and 
 from the original exercise of his own acute and powerful 
 mind, he has formed a system, which, with the recom- 
 mendation of his brilliant eloquence, has created an ex- 
 traordinary sensation throughout Europe, and given to its 
 author a wider extent of personal influence and popular- 
 ity than had ever been obtained by any merely metaphys- 
 ical philosopher of modern times. The leading principle 
 in his system is the same with that of KANT and REID. 
 In developing his views, he follows very much the lead, 
 and adopts, to a certain extent, the manner and language 
 of the Germans. Like them, he is bold, excursive, sys- 
 tematic ; and sometimes, perhaps, like them, obscure and 
 fanciful. But his doctrine, even when questionable, is 
 always of a lofty and generous character, contrasting most 
 honorably with the grovelling and debasing spirit of the 
 sensual school. He included in the range of his inquiries 
 the Philosophy of History ; a new sience, as yet almost 
 wholly untouched, although one of wider application, and
 
 25 
 
 higher practical importance than almost any other. OR 
 this grand subject, his views, if not always convincing, 
 are startling from their novelty, imposing by their vast- 
 ness, and rendered plausible, at least, by the most brilliant 
 and various illustrations. There is no doubt, however, 
 that his lectures on this, and all other parts of his system 
 derived their great popularity, chiefly from the attention 
 of his commanding eloquence. They were delivered, 
 extempore at the University of Paris, to audiences of not 
 less than five or six thousand persons, and such was the 
 interest, which they inspired, that they were regularly re- 
 ported for the newspapers, like the proceedings of the po- 
 litical assemblies. I had the pleasure of making his ac- 
 quaintance, at my last visit to Paris, and found his 
 conversation not less rich, brilliant and instructive, than 
 his lectures and writings. He was preparing at that time 
 to devote a portion of his labor to practical politics, and 
 said to me, at the last interview which I had with him, 
 that he thought of yielding to the solicitations of some of 
 his friends, who wished him to become a candidate for the 
 House of Deputies. But before this arrangement could 
 be carried into effect, a just appreciation of his merit, by 
 the executive department of the government, placed him 
 in the higher and more permanent situation of a Peer of 
 Francfe : a place to which he has done distinguished hon- 
 x>r, by his splendid eloquence, exercised chiefly in unwea- 
 ried efforts in the cause of education and public improve- 
 ment. He is still in the vigor of life, and may probably 
 wield the sceptre of philosophy for twenty years to come. 
 In his hands, it will always indicate the ascendancy of 
 just principles, and elevated sentiments. 
 
 But Philosophy, even in its most attractive form, and 
 when aided by the charms of the most seductive eloquence, 
 addresses itself to a comparatively very limited portion of 
 society, while the influence of polite literature is almost 
 universal. The reaction that took place in literature 
 
 4
 
 26 
 
 against the immoral spirit of the sensual school, was, 
 therefore, practically, even more important than the philo^- 
 sophical reform to which I have adverted. Literature, 
 which in the hands of VOLTAIRE and his contemporaries 
 was rapidly becoming licentious, had degenerated, in those 
 of their successors, as I have already remarked, into a 
 sink of open and undisguised pollution. It had already 
 struck an incurable taint to the very core of society, es^- 
 pecially in France, when the reaction, to which I have 
 alluded, commenced with the writings of the celebrated 
 ROUSSEAU. 
 
 The names of VOLTAIRE and ROUSSEAU are commonly 
 associated together, and rightly so, as those of the two 
 most prominent persons in the literature of the last cen^ 
 tury. In most other respects, they have not only very 
 little in common, but stand, in regard to each other, in 
 the most direct and pointed opposition. Though both 
 Frenchmen, and both inhabiting, for many years, the 
 little territory of Geneva, they never saw each other, and 
 were totally unlike in their moral dispositions, their intel- 
 lectual powers and habits, and their modes of life. VOL- 
 TAIRE, in his moral character, was light, cheerful, satirical. 
 ROUSSEAU, grave, stern, and serious, even to insanity. 
 Their literary characteristics correspond with these differ- 
 ences. VOLTAIRE, fluent, copious, graceful, pointed, and 
 brilliant, but withal superficial. ROUSSEAU, with not less 
 point and elegance, rich, nervous, original, profound ; a 
 keen and close reasoner, thinking powerfully, and express- 
 ing his thoughts in "words that burn." Their respective 
 courses of life may have contributed to increase these 
 differences, which were, no doubt, in part, inherent in 
 their original constitutions. VOLTAIRE, belonging by ex- 
 traction to the middling class, raised himself at once by 
 the seductive charm of his manner, to an intimate famili- 
 arity with the very highest circles, with which he con- 
 jtjnued to identify himself through life. ROUSSEAU was
 
 27 
 
 the son of a poor mechanic, and being naturally of a 
 reserved and timid, as well as proud and aspiring charac- 
 ter, made himself known very slowly to the world. He 
 passed the first forty years of his life in obscurity, and in 
 the humblest social relations, occasionally as low as that 
 of a domestic servant. Even in his later periods, after he 
 had acquired his great reputation, and was visited, as an 
 object of curiosity, by the most distinguished persons from 
 all parts of Europe, he could find no better method of 
 supplying himself with the ordinary means of subsistence, 
 than that of copying music at a fixed price by the sheet. 
 Crushed to the earth by this overwhelming load of 
 humiliation, while he was conscious all the time of pos- 
 sessing intellectual powers of the highest order, his whole 
 soul revolted against a condition of society, which was 
 fraught for him with so much injustice. Hence the staple 
 of his writings is a stern and bitter denunciation of the 
 existing institutions, political, social, and religious ; a con- 
 stant inculcation of the absolute necessity of searching, 
 unflinching, thorough-going, radical reform. In this par- 
 ticular, his object is the same with that of VOLTAIRE ; and 
 this agreement in the practical tendency of their writings, 
 is one principal reason why their names are so frequently 
 classed together. But the spirit, in which they respect- 
 ively labor to effect this reform, is any thing but similar. 
 VOLTAIRE, while he laughs at the follies and vices of the 
 great, belongs, by his manners and habits of life, to their 
 circle. His morality, like theirs, is loose and sensual. 
 ROUSSEAU sees the excesses of the higher classes of society 
 without having it in his power to enjoy the luxuries with 
 which they are associated. Hence he is led to attack the 
 immorality of the age, and the sophistry by which it is 
 defended, not less vigorously, than the essential errors in 
 the frame-work of government. Fatigued by unsuccess- 
 ful efforts to emerge from obscurity, distracted by the 
 cares and passions of life, he at length seizes, with a
 
 28 
 
 sort of agonising grasp, one great principle ; the necessity 
 of appealing to nature, from the abuses and corruptions 
 of society. This principle is the Polar Star, by which he 
 steers his course in his subsequent writings. It coincides, 
 in substance, with that which formed the basis of the phi- 
 losophical reform, to which I have adverted. The reform- 
 ers in philosophy, appealed from the cloudy mystifications 
 of a malignant sophistry, to the original, instructive con- 
 victions of the mind. ROUSSEAU brought the practical 
 abuses of society, to the judgment seat of the uncorrupted 
 heart. In applying and carrying out this principle, he is 
 often mistaken, extravagant ; but it cannot be denied that 
 the principle itself is grand, lucid, and substantially true. 
 
 In his first literary effort of any consequence, ROUSSEAU 
 exhibited at once the beauty of his principle, and the 
 wildest reach of extravagance to which it could pos- 
 sibly be carried. A literary institution, in one of the 
 provincial cities of France, offered a prize for the best 
 essay on the comparative advantage of savage and social 
 life. In the one which ROUSSEAU wrote, and which 
 gained the prize, he enlarges in the most eloquent and 
 convincing terms upon the abuses of existing institutions, 
 and the advantages of a state of nature ; but he falls into 
 the fatal error of supposing this state of nature to be a 
 state of individual independence in the absence of all so- 
 ciety ; as if there was no medium between a corrupt and 
 abusive form of society, and no society at all ; or as if 
 a state of individual independence were in itself possible. 
 It does not seem to occur to him, in the ardor of his zeal, 
 that reform is one thing and destruction another ; that 
 society is itself the natural state of man, and is the more 
 conformable to his nature in proportion as it is more per- 
 fect as a form of society. The power and beauty of the 
 style, in connexion with the essential correctness of the 
 leading principle, attracted the public attention, and fixed 
 at once the reputation of the author. In his other works
 
 29 
 
 which followed in rapid succession, he pursues substantial- 
 ly the same track, and displays the same mixture of truth 
 and extravagance, in the same rich, nervous, and polished 
 style. The style of Rousseau, which is generally regard- 
 ed as the most finished form in which the French lan- 
 guage has ever been exhibited, was so remarkable, that it 
 became during his life time a matter of curiosity to as- 
 certain the secret of its excellence. A principal of one of 
 the Jesuits' colleges, inquired of him one day, how he had 
 been able to write so well. / said what I thought, was 
 the reply of the somewhat unceremonious citizen of Ge- 
 neva, conveying at once, and in the shortest possible form, 
 the best exposition of his own system, and the most sig- 
 nificant rebuke of that, which was attributed to the 
 inquirer. 
 
 The most important works of ROUSSEAU, are the Neu? 
 Eloisa, the Emilius, and the Social Contract. The first, 
 which is a series of philosophical essays in the form of a 
 novel, was devoured in the latter character by one class of 
 readers, and studied with intense interest in the former, 
 by another. It is far too free in its moral tone, for the 
 more correct taste of the present age ; but for that very 
 reason, was probably more useful at the time when it was- 
 written ; the moral feeling of the reading classes having, 
 then become so corrupt, that a work in a purer and better 
 taste, would have stood no chance of being read. The 
 Emilius, on the whole the most perfect and finished of 
 ROUSSEAU'S works, is essentially an essay on education ' r 
 but the subject is treated in so large and comprehensive a 
 way, that it naturally leads to observations on almost every 
 topic of high moral interest. It includes among other 
 things the celebrated Confession of the Savoyard Vicar y 
 one of the most eloquent defences of natural religion, and 
 of revelation under some of its aspects, that has ever 
 appeared. Although ROUSSEAU has sometimes been classed 
 among infidels, it was not without reason that he wa
 
 30 
 
 rather pettishly described by HUME in conversation as "no 
 better than a Christian in his own way." His Social 
 Contract, entitles him to the praise of an ardent, if not 
 always judicious and well directed love of liberty. This 
 work purports to be a portion of a larger one, which the 
 author had projected, but never executed. It is written 
 with great power, spirit and eloquence, and has essentially 
 aided the cause of liberty in Europe, although the doctrine 
 will hardly bear a strict examination. The idea of found- 
 ing society and government upon a contract between in- 
 dividuals, though somewhat plausible, is, to say the least 
 of it, by no means clear of doubt. Society is, in fact, as 
 I just now remarked, the natural state of man ; and any 
 theory, which supposes it to be artificially formed on 
 whatever principles, must be essentially erroneous in its 
 very foundation. 
 
 As ROUSSEAU advanced in years, he became, by the ef- 
 fect of these sucessive publications, with the exception of 
 VOLTAIRE, the most popular writer in Europe. Enthusi- 
 astically admired by the fair and young, who compose the 
 mass of the reading public, he was, at the same time, 
 studied by the deepest thinkers, and even consulted by 
 nations upon the arrangement of their political institutions. 
 One of his published works is a reply to a distinguished 
 Polish nobleman, who had addressed him a letter in the 
 name of some deliberative assembly upon a projected re- 
 form in the government. This was an extent of popular- 
 ity and influence, which even VOLTAIRE had hardly 
 attained, and which has, perhaps, never fallen to the lot 
 of any other man than ROUSSEAU. It is melancholy to re- 
 flect how little this extraordinary success contributed to 
 his happiness. Compelled, at the height of his reputation, 
 by his own total want of worldly wisdom, and by the 
 culpable neglect of those who ought to have provided for 
 him, to earn by a merely mechanical employment of the 
 most laborious character, a bare subsistance ; wretched
 
 31 
 
 by his own fault in his social and family relations, he 
 passed his life in the depths of almost uninterrupted gloom, 
 which, at length, in his later years, impaired the integrity 
 of his understanding, and drove him, in a fit of insanity, 
 to the commission of suicide. He furnishes one of the fatal 
 instances, so frequent in the history of men of genius, 
 which vindicate but too successfully the ways of Provi- 
 dence, in the distribution of the gifts of intellect, and 
 prove that the possessors of the loftiest talents have too 
 much reason, so far as their own happiness is concerned, 
 to covet rather than despise the lot of unaspiring, but, as 
 Horace well calls it, golden medirocrity. 
 
 The brilliant success of the writings of ROUSSEAU, gave 
 a new direction to the public taste, in polite literature, and 
 led to the gradual formation of a new school, directly op- 
 posite in its spirit and character to that which had been 
 fashionable through the earlier part of the century. ST. 
 PIERRE, the personal friend of ROUSSEAU, though consider- 
 ably younger, led the way by his charming Paul and 
 Virginia. Madame de STAEL, then a young lady in her 
 teens, made her brilliant debut on the literary stage, which 
 was afterwards to her the scene of so much glory, by her 
 Letters on the character and writings of Rousseau. 
 CHATEAUBRIAND, under the influence of the same inspira- 
 tion, poured out the first Sowings of his powerful and pro- 
 lific genius in his learned and vigorous, though somewhat 
 immature Essay on Revolutions. Similar circumstances 
 produced at the same time a similar result in other parts 
 of Europe. WIELAND, the VOLTAIRE of Germany, not 
 less gay and graceful, though happily far more decorous 
 than the Patriarch of Ferney, was yet compelled, in the 
 noon day of his glory, to yield the palm of popularity and 
 influence to SCHILLER and GOETHE, who had drawn their 
 inspiration from the higher sources of nature and SHAK- 
 SPEARE. In England, where, as I have remarked, polite 
 literature, was at this time at a low ebb, Dr. JOHNSON,
 
 32 
 
 in himself a host, a poet in all his writings, even to his 
 Dictionary, defended, almost alone, for thirty years, the 
 citadel of truth, against the inroads of an immoral sophis- 
 try, until the CAMPBELLS, SCOTTS, COLERIDGES, SOUTHTS 
 and WORDSWORTHS, the JEFFREYS, GIFFORDS, and BROUGH- 
 AMS, the MACKINTOSHES and BURKES of later years came 
 on to the rescue. In short, gentlemen, there has been since 
 the time of ROUSSEAU, and the opening of the French 
 Revolution, no writer of commanding genius in any part 
 of Europe, who has followed in the track of the French 
 school, with perhaps, the exception of the great English 
 brother poets, BYRON and MOORE ; and even in these, the 
 licentious and frivolous French spirit, which predominates 
 in some of their works, is tempered and mixed up with so 
 much powerful thought and true and deep feeling, that 
 we plainly see the triumph of the better principle, even in 
 minds where the worse exercises but too much influence. 
 While a strong, spontaneous reaction was thus taking 
 place, against the immoral spirit that had previously pre- 
 vailed in literature, the practical results of that spirit were 
 rendered more apparent than they had ever been before, 
 by the horrors that marked the commencement of the 
 French Revolution. These are a standing reproach upon 
 the cause of liberty, and the principle of liberty is often 
 held responsible for their occurrence. This charge, gen- 
 tlemen, as I have already intimated, is unjust and untrue. 
 It was not any error in the principles of government, pro- 
 fessed by the friends of liberty in France ; but it was the 
 looseness of their notions, on the relations of private life, 
 and on the solemn responsibilities of man to his Creator, 
 which blasted for a time the fruits of all their political 
 exertions. The heroes of the earliest period of the Revo- 
 lution, many of them persons of the highest talents and 
 the best intentions, had generally been brought up in the 
 atheistical school of morals and religion. MIRABEAU, the 
 Colossus of his country's freedom, the JOHN ADAMS of the
 
 33 
 
 French Revolution, was, by general acknowledgment, 
 the most immoral man of his age. His younger brother, 
 the Viscount de MIRABEAU, also a person of distinguished 
 talent and great looseness of morals, but eclipsed in both 
 respects by his elder brother the Count, was accustomed 
 to remark, that " in any other family he should have been 
 a wit and a rogue, but that in his own, he was a fool and 
 a saint." MIRABEAU had a maxim, which was truly char- 
 acteristic of the man, but of which it is somewhat difficult 
 to give a literal English translation. La petite morale tue 
 la grande. " Good morals in little things, are fatal to 
 good morals in great things." The meaning is, that a 
 person who scrupulously observes all the moral rules for 
 private conduct, will find himself so much hampered that 
 he will never be able to succeed in any great enterprise, 
 and, consequently, will never be able to practice good 
 morals on a large scale. The idea is rather ingenious, but, 
 as I need not say, is directly the reverse of the truth. A 
 scrupulous observance of all the rules of private conduct, 
 is, generally speaking, absolutely indispensable, in every 
 individual, to the full developement of his capacity for 
 public usefulness ; and he will consequently, other cir- 
 cumstances being equal, be more useful as a public man, 
 in proportion as he is more correct as a private one. A 
 comparison of the private lives of the leaders of the 
 American and French Revolutions, would go far to 
 account for the difference in their character and re- 
 sults ; and the example of MIRABEAU himself furnished 
 the most complete refutation that could possibly have 
 been given, of his own theory. The ultimate failure of 
 all his efforts to make himself useful to his country and 
 the world, may be traced immediately to the gross licen- 
 tiousness of his private life, which compelled him, though 
 possessed of talents as splendid, perhaps, as Providence 
 ever bestowed upon a human being, to pass his earlier 
 years in disgrace, poverty, imprisonment, and exile, and 
 
 5
 
 34 
 
 finally terminated his life, at the moment when he had 
 obtained something like a fair field for the exercise of his 
 powers, and might, perhaps, have succeeded in guiding 
 the fiery car of Revolution to the desired goal of regulated 
 liberty. The acts of the Constituent and Legislative As- 
 semblies, which abolished marriage, set aside public wor- 
 ship, and declared death an eternal sleep, sufficiently 
 evinced, that the sentiments of the majority of the law- 
 givers of France were in unison with those of MIRABEAU 
 and the atheistical school. Such was at this time the 
 intense aversion to religious ideas, that when BERNARDIN 
 DE ST. PIERRE read before the French Academy an essay 
 in proof of the existence of God, it was actually resented 
 by several members as a personal affront, in the usual form 
 of a challenge to single combat. The rivers of innocent 
 blood, that, for years in succession, daily ran down the 
 streets of Paris, furnished the natural commentary on the 
 political effect of these principles. But this state of things 
 was too violent and unnatural to last ; and the leaders in 
 these horrors, at their worst period, seem to have felt at 
 last that power, however fearfully exerted, must have 
 some basis in moral and religious principle. ROBESPIERRE 
 himself, not long before his death, condescended to extend 
 his patronage to the Supreme Being, decreed his existence 
 and established a public festival in his honor. The Di- 
 rectory, which succeeded ROBESPIERRE in the govern- 
 ment, re-established public worship under a fantastic form 
 of their own creation. Finally, NAPOLEON, though false to 
 the cause of liberty, was too true to his own interest not 
 to perceive that his empire, to be solid, must rest upon 
 Religion. Sweeping off with his iron sceptre the paltry 
 mummery of the revolutionary school, he re-opened the 
 desecrated churches, and restored public worship in the 
 venerable forms of the ancient Catholic faith. 
 
 Religion and morality were now once more in repute, 
 and a new vigor was, of course, imparted to the impulse
 
 35 
 
 in their favor, which, as I remarked just now, had com- 
 menced in literature before the opening of the Revolution. 
 NAPOLEON extended his patronage and favor to the fine 
 spirits, already mentioned, who had first followed that 
 impulse. ST. PIERRE was rewarded by a pension, arid an 
 apartment in the Palace. He was also offered a seat in 
 the Senate, which would have brought with it a large 
 increase of his pension ; but this he nobly declined ; not 
 choosing to throw the mantle of his brilliant European 
 reputation over the political conduct of this great Apos- 
 tate from the cause of liberty. I had the pleasure, at this 
 period of his life, of meeting at Paris with the author of 
 Paul and Virginia. He was then an aged man, on the 
 verge of fourscore, of the most venerable appearance, with 
 long white locks, flowing down loosely over his shoulders. 
 The amiable spirit which prevails in his writings, had 
 secured him through life the favor of the sex ; and he 
 had, not long before, espoused in second nuptials a noble 
 and beautiful young lady of about seventeen, who scrupled 
 not to entwine with the fresh roses of her first love, a 
 brow, which, though white with the frost of nearly four- 
 score winters, was radiant with the two fold light of be- 
 nevolence and glory. A living Paul and Virginia, the 
 fruits of a former marriage, played round his knees. He 
 had been long unfortunate in the earlier part of his life, 
 but for many years before his death he was a happy man. 
 ST. PIERRE hardly realised, in his later productions, the 
 brilliant promise of the first. The stormy period of the 
 Revolution afforded, in fact, to persons of his way of 
 thinking, very little scope for literary effort. His larger 
 works, entitled Studies of Nature and Harmonics of Na- 
 ture, though containing many thrilling passages and writ- 
 ten throughout in a beautiful style, are now not much read. 
 His reputation rests on that charming little work, in which 
 his ardent love and true feeling of nature, speak, through 
 the medium of a simple pastoral tale, directly to the hearts
 
 36 
 
 of the fair and young. Their tears will embalm his 
 memory, and their sweet voices will sing his praise in 
 distant lands and future ages, when his own larger works, 
 with the bulky productions of many other writers of no 
 small note in their day, are forgotten. 
 
 CHATEAUBRIAND, who had emigrated at the opening of 
 the Revolution, now returned to France, a wiser man 
 than when he published his first immature production, and 
 soon after committed to press his Essay on the Genius of 
 Christianity, including the little romance of Atala, which 
 appeared separately in advance, as a lure to the public 
 attention. The brilliant style, and lofty moral and re- 
 ligious tone of the Genius of Christianity, aided very much 
 in accomplishing the change, which had long been in 
 progress in the spirit of polite literature. NAPOLEON felt 
 the value of such co-operation. He immediately employed 
 the author in the diplomatic service, arid raised him rap- 
 idly to the rank of Minister Plenipotentiary. But M. de 
 CHAUTEAUBRIAND was pretty soon disgusted with the ar- 
 bitrary character of the administration of NAPOLEON, and 
 surrendered the political honors which he could only re- 
 tain by what he considered a sacrifice of principle. He 
 furnishes another example, in addition to that of ST. PIERRE 
 just mentioned, and our own illustrious LAFAYETTE, of a 
 distinguished Frenchman who preferred independent 
 poverty to the splendid servitude of the Imperial Court. 
 Learning gained what the state lost. From that time to 
 this, through all the vicissitudes of a varied life, he has 
 continued to pour forth an uninterrupted series of publica- 
 tions, sometimes literary, sometimes political, always 
 powerful and brilliant, which, in the opinion of many, 
 have established his claim to the rank of the greatest writer 
 of the day. After the fall of NAPOLEON, the force of his 
 pen raised him to the high station of Minister of Foreign 
 Affairs, which, however, he sacrificed soon after, rather 
 than concur in what he considered unreasonable demands
 
 37 
 
 in the head of the government. He now threw himself 
 into the opposition, and the effect of his writings furnishes, 
 perhaps, the strongest proof that has ever been given of 
 the political influence of mere literature. The dynasty of 
 CHARLES X. fell before the pen of CHATEAUBRIAND. But 
 though hostile to the King, he was true to the Royal 
 family; and refusing to recognise the new settlement, has 
 remained ever since in retirement, pouring forth volume 
 after volume, with the same inexhaustible fertility as be- 
 fore, up to the present day. His manner of composition 
 has been, however, for many years past, too rapid to admit 
 the condensation of thought and perfection of language 
 which are indispensable to real excellence ; and his merely 
 literary reputation rests, after all, very much upon his 
 Genius of Christianity, and especially the little romance 
 of Atala, which is incorporated in it. In this production, 
 the scene of which is laid in the southern States of this 
 Union, the interest results from the triumph of religious 
 feeling, in the heart of a lovely young woman, over the 
 strongest earthly passions. Though less sweet and touch- 
 ing than Paul and Virginia, it is obviously the effusion of 
 a loftier genius. The opinions of M. de CHATEAUBRIAND 
 upon the character and institutions of this country, as 
 expressed in his writings and in his conversation, to 
 which I had occasionally the pleasure of listening while 
 in Europe, were highly favorable. He visited the United 
 States in the course of his youthful travels, and has 
 given some very interesting descriptions of our natural 
 scenery, and also of the state of society and the charac- 
 ers of prominent men, in his work entitled Recollections 
 of America. We are indebted to him for the striking 
 and profound remark, embodied in one of his published 
 works, that " the idea of a pure Representative Republic, 
 as exhibited for the first time in the Constitution of the 
 United States of America, is the most brilliant scientific 
 discovery of modern times."
 
 38 
 
 The complete success of M. de CHATEAUBRIAND estab- 
 lished the triumph of the new school of polite literature. 
 A host of imitators followed, the most remarkable of 
 whom is M. de la MARTINE, a pupil not inferior in power 
 or brilliancy to his master, and possessing the talent of 
 versification, in which CHATEAUBRIAND is deficient. The 
 prose style of M. de la MARTINE has, for most foreigners 
 at least, more charm than his verse. His travels in the 
 East are one of the most interesting productions of 
 modern times. Count de MAISTRE, M. de BOUALD, and 
 others have also earned a high reputation by works of a 
 similar general tendency, though varying very much in 
 style and subject. But the influence of this whole class 
 of writers is somewhat diminished, especially in Protest- 
 ant countries, by the great importance which they attach 
 to the peculiar doctrines and even the mere ceremonial 
 forms of the Catholic Church. Hence the writings of 
 Madame de STAEL are a more correct expression of the 
 spirit of the present literary period, and may be dwelt upon, 
 as such, with greater advantage. It is also agreeable to 
 be able to present to you a female writer, as the breathing 
 representative of this improved spirit. It was right and 
 proper, that a sex, which owes its present honorable posi- 
 tion, on a footing of entire social equality with the other, 
 to the influence of Religion, should reward the service, 
 by furnishing from its own ranks perhaps the most effect- 
 ive champion that has yet appeared, of the reality and 
 value of the Religious sentiment, considered independ- 
 ently of the forms and doctrines belonging to particular 
 modes of belief. 
 
 This distinguished writer received her education at the 
 brilliant Court of Louis XVI. where her father, M. NECKAR, 
 was at the time Prime Minister. She might naturally 
 have been expected to derive from such a position a taste 
 for the elegancies and frivolities of fashionable life, rather 
 than the deep things of philosophy and learning. But the
 
 39 
 
 influence of her parents, both of whom were persons of 
 the highest order of intellect, and that of the society 
 which they drew around them, seems to have overpowered 
 the natural tendency resulting from her situation in the 
 world. Her talents, originally of the most extraordinary 
 character, developed themselves at a very early age. She 
 mingled, while a mere child, on an equal footing, in the 
 conversations of the men of letters, who frequented her 
 father's house ; and her Letters on the writings and char- 
 acter of Rousseau, which exhibit the depth of thought 
 that belongs to a mature mind, were written at the age of 
 about seventeen. She continued, after her father's retire- 
 ment from office, to reside at Paris, as the wife of the 
 Swedish Ambassador, Baron de STAEL-HOLSTEIN ; and at 
 this time, she wrote several lighter works, probably for 
 the purpose of attaching to her name a popularity that 
 would ensure a more general reception to her more eleva- 
 ted productions. In these lighter works, her genius, of 
 which the essential characteristics were deep thought and 
 warm feeling, rather than poetical invention, appears to 
 little advantage ; and it was not until the publication of 
 Corinna, that she did full justice to her powers and es- 
 tablished a completely European reputation. This charm- 
 ing work is essentially a poem, on the fallen greatness and 
 glory of ancient Italy, one of the most attractive subjects 
 that could well be imagined, but which singularly enough, 
 though more than once attempted, yet had never before 
 been treated with any degree of success. As a romance, 
 the work has no great value. Corinna is the only charac- 
 ter of much interest, and she is interesting by what she 
 says, rather than what she does. We feel that it is 
 Madame de STAEL herself in a poetical dress ; or rather 
 the Genius of Italy, breathing out in fitting strains of the 
 deepest melancholy, her lamentations over the decaying 
 monuments of her departed glory. The reputation of 
 Madame de STAEL was raised still higher by her work on
 
 40 
 
 Germany, in which she threw aside the form of romance, 
 and confined herself to a simple, but eloquent and power- 
 ful expression of her personal observations and feelings. 
 Here too she exhibits more fully and forcibly than in her 
 other writings, the deep religious feeling which consti- 
 tutes one of their peculiarities, and renders them the most 
 appropriate expression of the spirit of the age. Her Ten 
 Years in Exile, and her Considerations on the French 
 Revolution, are splendid fragments, which make us regret 
 still more deeply her untimely death. The latter, had she 
 completed it, would have been her greatest work ; the 
 former probably the most entertaining. 
 
 The interest felt by the public in her writings, was 
 very much increased by the personal warfare which was 
 kept up against her by NAPOLEON, and the courage and re- 
 sources which she displayed in resisting it. It was the 
 dueen of Letters, contending with the Emperor of the 
 world. She was well aware of the influences of this cir- 
 cumstance upon her reputation, and said one day to the 
 Emperor : " Sire ! you are giving me a sad celebrity ; 1 
 shall occupy a page in your history." Aware of her noble 
 independence, and liberal spirit, he fears to trust himself 
 within the sphere of her personal influence, and prohibits 
 her residing at Paris. In vain she solicits a relaxation of 
 this rigorous sentence. The Minister of Police politely 
 informs her that the air of the Metropolis is not good for 
 her health, and that she must seek refreshment in the 
 mountains of Switzerland. Her father, M. NECKAR, had 
 lent two millions of francs to the French Government, at 
 a very doubtful period in the state of the finances. 
 Madame de STAEL now demands payment for this sum, 
 as a just debt. She is informed, on application, that she 
 cannot receive it, without giving satisfactory evidence of 
 attachment to the person of NAPOLEON. "I knew," said 
 she in reply, " that in order to recover a debt, it was ne- 
 cessary for the creditor to substantiate his claim by sum"-
 
 41 
 
 cient evidence, but I did not know, that it was necessary 
 to make a declaration of love to the debtor." The debt 
 remained unpaid until after the restoration of the BOUR- 
 BONS, when it placed her in affluence for the rest of her 
 life. 
 
 After her exile from Paris, Madame de STAEL retired to 
 the paternal seat at Copet, in Switzerland, where she 
 devoted her leisure to letters, and attention to the old age 
 of her father, whom she tenderly loved. But the jeal- 
 ousy of NAPOLEON pursued Her to this retreat, and com- 
 pelled her to take refuge in England, which she reached 
 by a circuitous route through Germany, Russia, and Eng- 
 land, all direct intercourse between France and England 
 being at that time cut off by the existing war. On ar- 
 riving at London, she found herself, at once, surrounded 
 by a circle of admirers, and recognised as a ruling power 
 in the world of letters. The literary society of London 
 was at that time unusually brilliant, and comprehended 
 many individuals of the highest rank and widest political 
 influence. SCOTT was blazing in full-orbed splendor at 
 the meridian of his glory, while BYRON was just shooting, 
 like a bright, fitful meteor, across the literary sky. In a 
 lower order, the CAMPBELLS, the ROGERSES, the MOORES, 
 the SOUTHETS, the WORDSWORTHS, the GIFFORDS, mingled 
 in friendly circles with the most distinguished names in 
 either house of Parliament and in general society, the 
 HALLAMS, the JEFFREYS, the BROUGHAMS, the LANDS- 
 DOWNES, the CANNINGS. Above them all shone conspicu- 
 ous as the great light of conversation and society, MACK- 
 INTOSH, just returned from India, rich in the various stores 
 of all departments of moral science and political learning, 
 and pouring them forth, on all occasions, with boundless 
 prodigality, in torrents of the purest and richest eloquence. 
 Madame de STAEL, not less illustrious than himself for 
 conversational powers, contested with him from day to 
 day the palm of victory in this truly civil war, and fairly 
 
 6
 
 42 
 
 divided with him the empire of society. The spirit that 
 pervaded these circles, in which I had occasionally the 
 pleasure of going, as a young listener, was entirely iii 
 unison with that which prevails in the writings of Mad- 
 ame de STAEL, and in the present school of polite learning : 
 free from bigotry, released from a slavish subjection to 
 names and forms, but, at the same time, pure, ardent, 
 generous, and devoted enthusiastically to the great inter- 
 ests of man, Religion and Liberty. 
 
 Just at this period occurred the crisis in the affairs of 
 Europe. The military master of the Continent had been 
 hurled from his seat of power, and, after one desperate but 
 ineffectual effort to recover it, had sunk forever. The 
 Allied Sovereigns, after sealing their triumph at the 
 Thuileries, repaired to London to congratulate the Queen 
 of the Ocean, in her own island, upon their common suc- 
 cess. They, too, were all, at this moment, not merely 
 elate with the flush of victory, but swelling with noble 
 sentiments and full of the fairest promises to the friends 
 of liberty, too many of which have since in calmer hours 
 been forgotten. Their presence gave new life and 
 splendor to the social circles of the British Metropolis, and 
 with this glittering caravan, Madame de STAEL returned 
 to Paris, where she fixed her residence for the brief re- 
 mainder of her life. Reinstated in the possession of an 
 ample fortune, borne aloft on the full tide of fame and 
 success, she figured conspicuously, as the presiding 
 genius of polite learning and liberal principles, till death 
 too soon arrested her career. To her influence is the 
 world very much indebted for the seriousness, the gene- 
 rosity of sentiment, the enthusiastic ardor for religion and 
 liberty, which form the characteristics of the present school 
 of polite learning, in contradistinction from the sensuality 
 and frivolousnsss that prevailed in the last. 
 
 Lord BYRON, in a sonnet written at Geneva, classes 
 Madame de STAEL with ROUSSEAU, VOLTAIRE, and GIBBON.
 
 43 
 
 ROUSSEAU, VOLTAIRE, our GIBBON, and DE STAEL: 
 Leman ! these names are worthy of thy shore ; 
 
 Thy shore of names like these. Wert thou no more, 
 Their memory thy remembrance would recall. 
 
 Nothing could have brought these names into con- 
 nexion with hers, but the accidental circumstance, that 
 those who bore them resided in the same vicinity. 
 ROUSSEAU is the only one of them whose genius has the 
 remotest affinity with that of Madame de STAEL. VOL- 
 TAIRE and GIBBON were the spirit of mockery personified. 
 ROUSSEAU was serious, profound, enthusiastic, like the 
 daughter of NECKAR; but in him the developement of 
 these sentiments had been very much vitiated by the in- 
 fluence of the age in which he lived. In her writings 
 they flow forth, in a stream as fresh and pure as it is 
 deep, copious and swelling, to diffuse fertility through the 
 vast domain of letters. Madame de STAEL was an enthu- 
 siastic admirer of the institutions of this country ; and at 
 one time, when she was pursued by the jealousy of NA- 
 POLEON into the remotest corners of Europe, contemplated 
 fixing her residence among us. As a citizen of the United 
 State, it gives me pleasure to lay this humble tribute of 
 respect upon her monument, which, like that of all the 
 truly great, is to be found in her works. 
 
 In her work on Germany, Madame de STAEL rendered 
 the same service to the German literature, which, as I 
 remarked just now, had been done before by COUSIN to 
 the German philosophy. She made it known to France, 
 and, in fact, to the whole west of Europe and America. 
 Through her it was discovered that the same revolution, 
 which had taken place in France in the tone of literature, 
 had also occurred in Germany : that materialism and 
 mockery had yielded the sway to the serious spirit of 
 Philanthropy, Piety, and the love of Liberty. The master 
 minds of SCHILLER and GOETHE led the way in this re- 
 form. Of these, the former too soon disappeared from this 
 earthly stage : the latter continued, till a very recent pe-
 
 44 
 
 riod, to wield the sceptre of German, I might perhaps say, 
 of European literature. The change which they effected 
 in the spirit of learning, was congenial with the naturally 
 noble, generous, and enthusiastic German character. It 
 had the happiest effect on the political situation of Europe, 
 by contributing, in no small degree, to generate among 
 the German youth the zeal for independence and liberty, 
 which finally secured their emancipation from the yoke of 
 France. It would give me pleasure, gentlemen, to dwell 
 at length upon this interesting branch of the subject ; but 
 the limits of the occasion, which I have already much 
 exceeded, compel me to refrain. 
 
 In this rapid review of the literary spirit of the last 
 and present century, I have adverted less to the writers of 
 England, than those of the Continent, partly because the 
 former are more familiar to you, and partly because the 
 change that I have described, has been less conspicuous 
 in (hem than in those of France and Germany. In truth, 
 the immoral school of learning never obtained in England 
 an extensive popularity. A few isolated writers, of whom 
 the principal are HUME and GIBBON, had imbibed its poi- 
 sonous spirit, but their works were too grave and volumi- 
 nous to produce much impression on the public mind. 
 Dr. JOHNSON, the acknowledged monarch of letters, stood, 
 as I remarked just now, for twenty years in succession, at 
 the entrance of the citadel of learning, with his flaming 
 sword of wit, and his Herculean club of logic, like the 
 angel at the gates of Eden, to repel every inroad of doubt- 
 ful aspect. BURKE guarded with equal success the temple 
 of political science. The poetry of this period, though 
 scanty, is all as chaste as it is highly finished. Every 
 line in JOHNSON, GOLDSMITH, GRAY, and COLLINS, is, 
 morally as well as poetically, a gem of the purest water ; 
 and where the stream bubbled up more copiously on the 
 Forth) it was still as clear of all stain or pollution, as 
 
 -Siloa's brook, that flowed 
 
 Fast by the oracle of God.
 
 45 
 
 CAMPBELL, ROGERS, SOUTHEY, and SCOTT, are all, in this 
 respect, of the right stamp. What a noble enthusiasm for 
 humanity, liberty, religion, animates the Pleasure of 
 Hope ! How charmingly the milder lights of refinement 
 and love shine through the classic pages of the Bard of 
 Memory ! How soon the Laureate recovers from the first 
 eifervesence of thoughtless youth, and strings his regene- 
 rated lyre to the highest strains of Patriotism and Piety ! 
 How faithfully the great Magician of the North, in all his 
 multifarious voyages in the enchanted seas of Poetry and 
 Romance, steers his bark by the Polar Star of perennial 
 Truth ! How fervid, and yet how active and poetical, is 
 the piety of HANNAH MORE ! How pure and impressive, 
 though unsanctified by religious views, the morality of 
 MARIA EDGWORTH ! It is only since the recent apparition 
 of BYRON and MOORE, that we find in the polite literature 
 of England, licentiousness arrayed in the dress of the 
 finest poetry. But even in them, as I said before, the 
 better feeling often gains the ascendancy ; and it is wor- 
 thy of remark, that their highest and happiest strains are 
 those in which they yield, as it were involuntarily, to the 
 strong promptings of the spirit of truth : as the Prophet of 
 old, who was sent for to curse Israel, when required to 
 bless him, seemed to do it with a relish. What a bright 
 beam of real sunshine passes over the meretricious beauty 
 of Don Jtian, when the poet, in the midst of his orgies, 
 breaks out suddenly into that lofty and pathetic elegy on 
 the fortunes of Greece ! Never, perhaps, did the genius 
 of lyric poetry weave a strain of higher mood. 
 
 The Isles of Greece ! the Isles of Greece ! 
 
 Where burning Sappho loved and sung ; 
 Where grew the arts of war and peace, 
 
 Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung, 
 Eternal summer gilds them yet, 
 But all, except their sun, is set. 
 
 The mountains look on Marathon, 
 And Marathon looks on the sea ;
 
 46 
 
 And musing there an hour alone, 
 
 I dreamed that Greece might yet be free ; 
 For standing on the Persian's grave, 
 How could I think myself a slave ? 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 Our virgins dance beneath the shade : 
 I see their glorious, bright eyes shine, 
 
 While, gazing on each glowing maid, 
 Mine own the burning tear-drops laves, 
 To think such breasts should suckle slaves. 
 
 Place me on Sunwin's marbled steep, 
 
 Where nothing save the waves and I 
 'May hear our mutual murmurs sweep j 
 
 There, swan-like, let me sing and die. 
 A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine ! 
 Dash down your cup of Samian wine ! 
 
 In his Hebrew Melodies, again, with what ardent feel- 
 ing and finished perfection of style, he runs over all the 
 topics that most deeply interest the reflecting mind. 
 Then, indeed, he almost realises his own splendid eulogy 
 on the monarch minstrel of Israel. 
 
 The harp the monarch swept, 
 
 The King of Men, the Loved of Heaven, 
 
 Which Music hallowed, while she wept 
 
 O'er tones, her Heart of Hearts had given ; 
 
 Redoubled be her tears ! its chords are riven. 
 
 And MOORE, too, when the glow of patriotism kindles 
 in his bosom, " how he makes" the chords of his too ef- 
 feminate lyre, ring with notes of the loftiest sublimity and 
 the purest pathos. 
 
 Remember thee ? Yes ! while there's life in this heart 
 I can never forget thee, all lone as thou art ; 
 More dear is thy sorrow, thy gloom and thy showers, 
 Than the rest of the world in its sunniest hours. 
 
 Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious and free, 
 First nower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, 
 I could hail thee with brighter, witli happier brow, 
 But, oh ! could I love thee more deeply than now ?
 
 47 
 
 No ! thy chains, as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, 
 But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons, 
 As the hearts of the young in the desert birds rest, 
 Drink Love with each life-drop that flows from her breast. 
 
 While these great poets are rendering a doubtful hom- 
 age to the cause of truth, another class, of deeper thought 
 and better feeling, though perhaps less dazzling brilliancy 
 of style, appeal at once for inspiration, like the minstrel 
 of Paradise Lost, to the high and holy source of religious 
 sentiment and religious truth. With what calm and grace- 
 ful majesty the Eagle of Cumberland sails through the 
 liquid vault of air ! How the wayward bard of the 
 Ancient Mariner, just for once to his own powers, lifts 
 from the cloud-cap summits of the Alps a hymn to their 
 Creator, not unequal in magnificence and beauty to the 
 scene that inspired it ! 
 
 Philosophy joins her steadier voice to the rapt strains 
 of her inspired sister. With what touching eloquence 
 she speaks through the pages of STEWART ! How full and 
 fresh the flood of benevolence and sympathy, springs up 
 from its secret source in the pure heart of MACKINTOSH ! 
 How the wise and good rejoice, when BROUGHAM lays 
 down upon the altar of divine truth, the tribute of the 
 mightiest mind that has adorned the magistracy of Eng- 
 land, since the age of BACON ! 
 
 It is to this correct moral condition of public opinion 
 and of literature, that the world is indebted for the appar- 
 ent safety with which our mother country is now pursuing 
 her way through the storms of Revolution. It is not, 
 gentlemen, as I have already remarked, the true spirit of 
 Reform and Liberty, which endangers the tranquility of 
 nations : it was not such a spirit, which deluged the 
 streets of Paris, for years in succession during the French 
 Revolution, with innocent blood. No, gentlemen, it is 
 the false and foul spirit of licentiousness, immorality and 
 irreligion, that sometimes personates the other, and urges
 
 48 
 
 on individuals and communities to their ruin. As a friend 
 of liberty, I rejoice most sincerely, when I see her friends 
 in the old, " fast anchored isle," rubbing off the rust that 
 has crept round her venerable institutions in the long 
 lapse of a thousand years, and bringing them into harmony 
 with the wants arid the spirit of the times. In this great 
 work, they have my warmest sympathy and my best 
 wishes for their success ; but it is not only, nor chiefly, 
 for the zeal and energy with which they have thus far 
 carried it on, that I admire them most. These are quali- 
 ties of the highest value, but of common occurrence. No, 
 gentlemen, it is when I see them effecting this mighty 
 Reform without violence, for I count as nothing, a little 
 sparring in the newspapers, a few angry words at the 
 elections, without violence, without commotion, 
 without bloodshed : when I see that they not only wish 
 to be free, but know how to be just, which the French 
 did not : when I see them tempering valor with discre- 
 tion, the zeal for liberty with a careful regard for the 
 restraints of Religion, Morals and Law ; it is then, gen- 
 tlemen, that I argue well for the ultimate success of the 
 enterprise in which they are engaged : it is then that I 
 am proud, as an American, of our noble mother country. 
 She has much, gentlemen, in every way to boast of, that 
 illustrious Queen of the Isle. That the sun never sets 
 on her dominions, that the Eastern and Western Indies 
 pour forth their wealth into her lap, that her children 
 are conspicuous in every department of art and science, 
 that her " flag has braved a thousand years the battle and 
 the breeze ;" these are glorious things to be said with 
 truth of a little cluster of islands in a corner of the ocean. 
 But of all her glories that which I should value most highly 
 were I one of her children, of which I feel most proud 
 as a foreigner of kindred blood, is the last, the one which 
 she is now achieving ; that of maintaining, as a nation, 
 the supremacy of reason and humanity, in the midst of
 
 49 
 
 the sternest conflicts of contending parties, of governing 
 the tumult of popular excitement at its wildest heights of 
 frenzy, of taming, as it were, the monster Revolution 
 himself, and guiding him upon his headlong course, by 
 the silken rein of Law. There, gentlemen, I behold 
 something different from ordinary greatness. There I 
 recognise the mistress of the world in the science of 
 regulated liberty. There I hail the countrymen of AL- 
 FRED, HAMDEN, LOCKE, CHATHAM, and BURKE ; the 
 land of Magna Charta, of the Habeas Corpus act, of 
 the Trial by Jury, of the Liberty of the Press; of the 
 British Constitution. There I witness the superiority of 
 the old Anglo-Saxon stock over all others, at least for the 
 construction of social and political institutions. Who 
 does not offer up prayer for the success of our glorious 
 mother country in this grand enterprise of Reform, so 
 nobly conceived, thus far so happily executed ? Gentle- 
 men, she must obtain success, for she has proved, thus 
 far at least, that she deserves it. 
 
 Our country, too, gentlemen, I am proud to say, has jus- 
 tified in a similar manner her claim to a legitimate descent 
 from the same common ancestry. Here too, as in England, 
 the tide of public opinion, and of learning as its expression, 
 has always, even at the highest floods of popular excite- 
 ment, kept itself pure from all stain. To this we owe it, 
 gentlemen, that whenever the reign of Law has been 
 temporarily interrupted, Religion and Morals have thrown 
 their sacred shield over property and the private relations 
 of life. To this we owe it, that personal right of every 
 kind were, in general, preserved inviolate through th 
 revolutionary war, and through the dangerous crisis that 
 preceded the establishment of the Federal Constitution : 
 that they have since been preserved inviolate, or with 
 little infringement, through a period of nearly half a cen- 
 tury, under a greater freedom from the restraints of posi- 
 tive law, than was ever enjoyed by any other commu- 
 
 7
 
 50 
 
 nity. This, gentlemen, I consider as the brighest, the 
 crowning glory of our country. When I reflect on the 
 situation of that country, territorial and political, and 
 compare it with that of others, I see much to admire on 
 our side, and little to covet in the condition of even the 
 greatest and most favored nations of the earth. This vast 
 expanse of territory, with its exhaustless fertility, its 
 wealth of waters^ woods and rivers, its cloud-capt moun- 
 tains, boundless plains and ocean lakes : this tide of pop- 
 ulation, which is constantly pouring itself out in a fertil- 
 izing flow upon the bosom of our continental paradise : 
 this unexampled success in agriculture, manufactures and 
 commerce, in policy and war, in every useful and or- 
 namental branch of art and science : this family of new 
 natives, rising one after another into being, as by enchant- 
 ment, in the depths of an unexplored wilderness, this 
 hitherto untried principle of Representative Democracy, 
 quietly working out its beautiful wonders, speciosa mira- 
 cula, r in each : above all, this Union of the States, 
 which binds them together in one " golden," and I trust, 
 "everlasting chain" of perpetual peace: these, gentle- 
 men, are the elements and outward demonstrations of our 
 national greatness. I am proud, we must all be proud, 
 of all these advantages. But when I look through and 
 under them to the foundation of the system, 1 behold 
 something that awakens a still more lively sentiment of 
 satisfaction and national pride ; I mean the noble mode- 
 ration, with which the people, released from almost every 
 positive restraint, submit themselves spontaneously to the 
 higher law of their own sense of duty ; I mean the care 
 for education, the mutual regard for the rights of others, 
 the respect for the outward observances of Religion, 
 the deeply felt faith in its solemn truths, the high and 
 healthy tone of philosophy and literature in all their de- 
 partments, which make up together the moral and reli- 
 gious basis of our political institutions. When I contem-
 
 51 
 
 plate such a state of society, I acknowledge that our noble 
 fathers, to whom, under Providence, we are indebted for 
 it, were equal to the task they undertook, that loftiest 
 of all human enterprises, the foundation of an Empire. 
 When I recollect that we, their children, are charged with 
 the duty of maintaining and perpetuating such a state of 
 society, 1 am oppressed with the weight of responsibility 
 that devolves upon us, and I feel that we can have no 
 solid hope of success, but in a constant reliance on that 
 Rock of Ages upon which they rested. I acquiesce most 
 fully in the conclusion which has been drawn by the 
 most intelligent European traveller who has yet visited 
 our country, as the general result of all his observations 
 and researches. " I am convinced," says M. de JOCQUE- 
 VILLE, " that the greatest natural advantages and the best 
 political institutions, will never secure the prosperity of a 
 nation without good morals, while these will counteract 
 the influence of the most unfavorable circumstances and 
 the worst laws. The importance of good morals to na- 
 tional success, is a truth to which all study and alt expe- 
 rience constantly bring us back. I find it placed in my 
 mind, like a central point, in which all my enquiries and 
 reflections terminate. If I have not impressed upon others 
 the degree of influence which I attribute to the moral 
 habits of the Americans, in maintaining their political in- 
 stitutions, I have failed in the principal object of my 
 work." 
 
 I have thus, gentlemen, too concisely for a satisfactory 
 developement of so extensive a subject, though far too 
 largely, I fear, for your patient attention, endeavored to 
 describe and illustrate the respective moral characteristics 
 of the literature of the last, and of the present century. I 
 have shewn you the practical results of the licentiousness 
 of the former period in the excesses of the French Revo- 
 lution, of the comparative purity of the latter, in the 
 success of our own government, and of the revolution now
 
 52 
 
 in progress in England. Indulge me one moment longer 
 while, as a practical improvement of the proceeding re- 
 marks, I invite and earnestly entreat you to lend your 
 personal influence in keeping up the correct and elevated 
 moral tone, which has hitherto distinguished the conduct, 
 opinions and literature of our country. On you, and 
 those who, like you, are going forth annually from our 
 seats of learning, to fill the professional and political em- 
 ployments of society, it devolves, in a great measure, to 
 determine the character of public opinion. Resolve firm- 
 ly, labor strenuously and perseveringly, that it may 
 not degenerate under your influence. Cultivate assidu- 
 ously in yourselves and others, the pure, generous, relig- 
 ious spirit, which I have described as the characteristics 
 of the literature of the present age. Avoid in your lives 
 and writings the stain of licentiousness which formed the 
 reproach of that of the last century. Avoid the less se- 
 ductive, but, if possible, still more degrading idolatry of 
 mammon, which is, perhaps, the besetting sin of this. 
 Keep before you the examples of the fathers of our coun- 
 try, who left their delightful abodes in the wealthy and 
 civilised regions of the old world, that they might wor- 
 ship God with freedom of conscience in the wilderness ; 
 of the statesmen and patriots, who at a later period, 
 endangered, without hesitation, their lives and fortunes, 
 when they pledged their sacred honor to the cause of in- 
 dependence and liberty. Recollect that it depends, at 
 this moment, on your fidelity, on the fidelity of the 
 present generation, to the principles and examples of our 
 fathers, whether the fruits of their sacrifices shall be 
 transmitted unimpaired to future generations, or lost for- 
 ever. The destinies of our country, as they How present 
 themselves to the eye of probable conjecture, are magni- 
 ficent, beyond any precedent in history, almost beyond 
 the scope of the wildest fancy : but it depends, as I have 
 said, on the fidelity of each succeeding generation to its
 
 53 
 
 great trust, whether these bright anticipations shall be 
 converted into splendid and glorious realities, or vanish into 
 nothing, like the unsubstantial pageant of a dream. We, 
 gentlemen, as the existing generation, occupy in our time, 
 that isthmus of the Present, which interposes its narrow 
 bound between the immutable Past, and the still uncer- 
 tain Future. We bear up for a fleeting moment on our 
 feeble shoulders, the institutions on which depends the 
 welfare of those who are to follow us. In that cloudy, 
 billowy abyss of the Future, which spreads itself before 
 us, I can almost fancy that I see the shadowy forms of 
 the myriads, whose fortunes will he determined by our 
 conduct, rising in countless groups, and with clasped 
 hands, imploring us to be true to our duty. From that 
 higher and happier sphere, where they are now reaping 
 the reward of their earthly labors, our canonised fathers 
 look down upon us with eyes of encouragement, of warn- 
 ing, of love. They direct our view to the long roll 
 where History records, in blazing characters, the crimes 
 and the punishments of the nations that have gone be- 
 fore us. 
 
 Gentlemen, you have read this roll. Within those 
 venerable walls the treasured stores of learning have been 
 opened to you ; the task of preparation is completed ; the 
 hour of action has at length arrived. 
 
 Go forth then, gentlemen, cheerfully, resolutely, fear- 
 lessly, to the warfare of life ; and may the blessing of 
 Providence guide you aright through its various perils. 
 Temptations will assail you. Shake them off like dew- 
 drops from the lion's mane. Dangers will beset you. 
 Encounter them without dismay. Labor, suffer, perish, 
 if it must be so, in the sacred cause of truth and virtue. 
 Finally, gentlemen, when the fight waxes hottest and all 
 other resources seem to desert you, when the whole 
 head is sick and the whole heart is faint, then lift your 
 eyes aloft, and behold, emblazoned in the azure field of
 
 54 
 
 the firmament, waving gloriously its snow-white folds 
 from pole to pole, that wondrous banner, which the first 
 Christian Emperor saw, or thought he saw, in the midst 
 of battle, beaming glorious! y upon him through surround- 
 ing clouds, the banner of Religion ; and read upon it, as 
 he did, in letters, as bright as the flashes of the forked 
 lightning, the assurance of success. EN TOYTJI 
 By this conquer.
 
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