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 HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 AND OF THE 
 
 NINETEENTH 
 
 TILL THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH EMPIRE. 
 WITH PARTICULAR REFKREXCE TO 
 
 mental cultivation and progress. 
 By F. C. SCHLOSSER, 
 
 ' ■ 
 PRIVY COUNCILLOR AND PROFESSOR OF HISIOKY IN THE UNIVERSITY OP 
 
 HEIDELBERG. 
 
 TRANSLATED, WITH A PREFACE AND NOTES, 
 
 By D. DAVISON, MA. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 ClIAPiMAN AND HALL, 186 STRAND. 
 
 1843.
 
 rniNTED BY RICHARD AND JOHN E. TAVLOR, 
 RED HON COURT, FLEET STREET.
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 TN introducing the following portion of Prof. Schlosser's 
 ' History of the Eighteenth Century' to the notice of 
 the English public, I must trespass upon the reader 
 with a few preUminary remarks. In the course of a re- 
 sidence for some time in Germany, with a view to ac- 
 quire a knowledge of the language and literature of the 
 country, of its social and political condition, and espe- 
 cially its educational institutions, I have passed the last 
 winter in Heidelberg, from which I now write. The 
 European reputation of Prof. Schlosser, and his lec- 
 tures upon the Eighteenth Century, naturally attracted 
 my attention, as bearing upon the various objects of my 
 inquiry ; attendance upon his lectures led to a careful 
 perusal of the portions of his work already published, 
 and to a personal acquaintance with himself; and re- 
 peated intercourse and conversation enable me to speak 
 authoritatively with respect to his general views, to the 
 spirit in which the work is conceived, and the accessory 
 as well as the main objects which it was intended to 
 accomplish. 
 
 The ' History of the Eighteenth Century,' of which 
 no inconsiderable portion of the second part of the third 
 volume, not yet issued in Germany, is here presented, 
 has excited great attention on the continent of Europe*. 
 
 * The opinion which is entertained of its value and importance in Germany 
 may be seen by a reference to the Allgemeine Zeitung of Dec. 1842, No. 358, 
 and following numbers, pp. 28GO, etc etc.
 
 ii translator's preface. 
 
 It has been already translated into French and Dutch, 
 and now appears in an English dress. The literary por- 
 tion of the history, as far as it has yet been written — 
 till 1780, is contained in these volumes, and w411 be im- 
 mediately followed by the political portion till the same 
 period. And the Translator believes he will thus best 
 consult the taste and convenience of the public, inas- 
 much as each of the parts is in itself complete. 
 
 The Work derives its value, not merely from the pro- 
 found and minute acquaintance of the Author with the 
 subject, from the new views which are presented and 
 the hitherto unexamined sources from which much has 
 been derived ; but from his well-known independence of 
 character — from the freedom, alas ! how rare in German 
 political writers ! with which he speaks of events, many 
 of which have occurred during his own life — from the 
 general conclusions which he draws from comparative 
 views of the resources, conduct, manners, institutions 
 and literature of the great European nations, during a 
 period unparalleled in the history of the world for the 
 development of the physical and mental powers of man- 
 kind, for the greatness of the events which have oc- 
 curred, for the progress of knowledge, for the cultiva- 
 tion of the arts and sciences, for all that which can 
 contribute to the greatness and prosperity of nations. 
 The eighteenth century w^as an age of transition some- 
 times gradual and peaceful, and sometimes rapid and 
 revolutionary, from the still lingering usages and insti- 
 tutions of the middle ages to the full light and liberty 
 of the present day. The progress is continuous in our 
 own century, notwithstanding occasional drawbacks, 
 pointing onward to a period of still freer institutions, of 
 greatly increased knowledge, of higher degrees of men- 
 tal refinement and moral culture. In the eastern parts
 
 translator's preface. iii 
 
 of Europe the sparks of freedom are yet scarcely kin- 
 dled, in its centre they glimmer feebly and give indica- 
 tions of bursting out into a flame, in the west they shine 
 with a brighter but far from a pure or a uniform lustre. 
 It will be the great glory of the rising constitutional 
 and freer age of European politics, that we shall have 
 no longer these violent convulsions and volcanic throes, 
 which, in the past century, have paved the way to free- 
 dom, dimmed the splendour of its progress, and dimi- 
 nished the value of its possession. War and its horrors 
 will gradually disappear, private and national rights will 
 be better understood, tyranny and oppression on the 
 one hand, and popular revolutions and violence on the 
 other, will be rendered powerless, and there will be a 
 progressive illustration of the truth that " knowledge 
 is power." 
 
 Nothing can more effectually contribute to this end, 
 than that the various nations of Europe should become 
 still better acquainted with each other, with their man- 
 ners, institutions, literature and resources. There are 
 yet existing the strongest feelings of jealousy, and in 
 many cases of unmitigated hostility and aversion, much 
 of which is founded on mutual ignorance, on overween- 
 ing national pride, or lazy indifference. Englishmen 
 must be admitted to have stronger feelings of nationality 
 and, perhaps, national pride, than any other people. 
 This may be the result of their insular situation, of 
 their comparatively small intercourse as a nation with 
 other nations, and of their comparative ignorance of their 
 institutions, customs and people. As far as the feeUng 
 is truly patriotic it is noble and elevating, as far as it 
 prompts to the maintenance of the true honour, the 
 commercial renown, and political greatness of the na- 
 tion, may it never fail ! but when it degenerates, as it 
 
 VOL. I. h
 
 iv translator's preface. 
 
 often does, into mere insolent pretension, into ignorant 
 contempt and ridiculous assumption, the sooner we un- 
 derstand the effects of these evils, and learn to discri- 
 minate between what is national greatness and what is 
 merely national presumption, so much the better for 
 ourselves and for the world, upon which the influence 
 of England is, notwithstanding all draAvbacks, incom- 
 parably greater than that of any other nation. 
 
 In this respect the result of my experience is by no 
 means singular. Most men who have lived for any 
 time in Germany, who have had opportunities of mixing 
 in the societies of the people and of free intercourse 
 with its best minds, have come to similar conclusions, 
 viz, that we are still, to an extent almost incredible, 
 unacquainted with each other, that our mutual preju- 
 dices are strong, and that much yet remains to be done 
 by the well-thinking portion of the community in both 
 countries, to remove those prejudices, to open up a freer 
 and a better intercourse, not merely the intercourse of 
 books and learning, which are but imperfect types of 
 men, but an intercourse of minds prepared to see and 
 understand each other's excellences as well as defects, 
 and so to work for mutual progress and improve- 
 ment. This mutual forbearance is becoming daily more 
 and more necessary, in proportion as commercial and 
 political jealousies increase, when Germany, hitherto 
 distracted by the disunion of its princes, by the crook- 
 edness of their policy, the selfishness and intolerance of 
 their rule, begins to ])ant for freedom, to aspire after 
 national union, to developc her immense internal re- 
 sources, to shake herself free from dependence on other 
 nations for the supply of her wants, and from her past 
 Anglomania and Gallomania, to stand up for national 
 honour and independence. Her best men are working
 
 translator's preface. 
 
 assiduously for the realization of these ohjects ; the cur- 
 rent of their labours is uniform, and their influence is 
 becoming rapidly apparent. Schlosser's history is con- 
 ceived altogether in this spirit : he labours to awaken 
 and cherish the spirit of freedom and independence in 
 the minds of his fellow-countrymen, to wean them from 
 their adulation and imitation of other nations, to rouse 
 them from their crouching and abject servility towards 
 their own despotic or miscalled constitutional rulers, 
 and to endeavour to give them the bearing of self-jud- 
 ging, practical, self-relying men, who know their power 
 and their rights, and who will calmly and peacefully 
 but energetically pursue and maintain them, like men 
 who are acquainted with the temper of the weapons 
 which they use, and have a solid conviction that the 
 triumph of reason and argument, illustrated and con- 
 firmed by history and experience, is eventually sure. 
 
 Schlosser's history and views are so much the more 
 important, as he stands apart from the two great parties 
 which almost share between them the literary world in 
 Germany; and by the straightforwardness of his opinions, 
 the freedom with which they are uttered, and the argu- 
 ments by which they are sustained, has exposed himself 
 to the criticism and obloquy of both. According to his 
 own phrase in the Heidelberg Jahrbuch for 1842, in 
 which he gives some account of the progress of his 
 history, " he knows no kind of accommodation." He 
 neither yields to the solicitations of the learned, but 
 mystical, dreaming, sceptical philosophers of the age, 
 who abound to an almost incredible extent, nor to the 
 earnest, passionate, but equally mystical views of their 
 antagonists, who are raising their heads in Germany, 
 and labouring with indefatigable assiduity, both with 
 carnal and spiritual weapons, to put down the enemies 
 
 62
 
 vi translator's preface. 
 
 of the orthodox faith*. The Author, in the same paper, 
 observes, — " That the strong reaction which has taken 
 place within a few years, and the return of the circum- 
 stances of the time from 1770 — 1790, has rendered the 
 task of writing a satisfactory history so difficult, that 
 what is said may have the appearance of satire rather 
 than history. He is, however, conscious that he never 
 thought of any moral application, and brings forward 
 with care and accuracy the facts upon which he rests. 
 As to faith and duty, he may now and then be wanting 
 in the proper belief, or in true and pure political wis- 
 dom ; on this score, however, he feels quite at peace 
 with himself, because God is more tolerant than man ; 
 and after the very few years he may yet dwell in the dark- 
 ness of this life, God will vouchsafe to him in another 
 that true light, after which he has always faithfully, if 
 not always successfully, striven." Again, — " The Au- 
 thor expresses himself as being very sensible that, as an 
 old man, he no longer goes at the steam -boat and rail- 
 road pace of the age ; but that he has, however, long 
 and carefully weighed what he says. His judgements 
 rest upon his views of human destination, and these, 
 as well as those upon the nature and affections of 
 man, he has formed and maintained for half a century, 
 without allowing himself to be misled by all the systems 
 of philosophy which have been developed and propa- 
 gated, since the time of Kant, all which he has carefully 
 studied and examined. He knows therefore no accom* 
 modation, declares our age to be an age of sophists, 
 proselytes, renegades and time-servers : — how could he 
 hope to satisfy such an age?" 
 
 * The efforts especiallj' of the King of Prussia, and the High Church party 
 in North Germany. The means to which they resort, the influence whicli 
 they use, and the spiritual favouritism and tvranny wliicli they exercise, afford 
 but too many and too painful illustrations of the fact. Tlie King of Prussia is 
 either the most dangerous or the most hopeful man for liberty in the present day.
 
 translator's preface. vii 
 
 So much with regard to the Author's position and ge- 
 neral views ; his opinions on Hterature in particular are 
 fully explained in the Introduction, which has not been 
 published in Germany, but is intended to form a part of 
 the new edition already called for, of the first and second 
 volumes, and which the Author has done me the honour 
 to communicate in manuscript. It will be there seen, 
 that he treats literature only as it bears upon life and 
 morals, and the English more incidentally than the 
 French and German. He selects such authors only as, 
 in his opinion, at once indicated a great change in the 
 modes of thinking and morals of the people, and exer- 
 cised an important influence in promoting and con- 
 firming this change. His great object is to draw a true 
 picture of the moral and social condition of the age, and 
 to show in what respects and through what instrumen- 
 tality the men and the literature of one country acted 
 upon and affected those of the other. We must not 
 therefore expect to find anything very new in the 
 account given of our literature, which has been drawn 
 from the ordinary English sources, and perhaps not 
 always from the best ; but the novelty and interest 
 consist especially in the new results which are deduced, 
 in the new connexions which are pointed out, and in the 
 manner in which the literature of England is shown to 
 have been derived from that of France, and the effects 
 which, in its turn, it produced both in France and Ger- 
 many — effects which are still not only visible, but which 
 characterize the whole prevailing literature of Europe. 
 
 In the Athenaeum for September 1842, No. 780, there 
 appears a well-written letter from an anonymous corre- 
 spondent, intended to call the attention of the English 
 public to the opinion entertained of the English in gene- 
 ral upon the continent of Europe, and especially in
 
 viii translator's preface. 
 
 France and Germany. This letter contains so much 
 which corresponds with my own experience, and is so 
 well deserving of attention, that I subjoin some extracts 
 in a note*. 
 
 * " Any candid well-informed Englishman who lives some time abroad, 
 will find but too ample justification of any conceivable prejudices of foreigners 
 as to our national character, in the specimens of it they are too often com- 
 pelled to witness. I believe the efi"ects of these deplorable exhibitions of the 
 worst side of Englishmen are more serious than are generally imagined, and 
 that a great deal of asperity has been added to the envy and jealousy excited 
 by the commercial greatness of England, by the impertinent sneering remarks, 
 the affronting comparisons and the insolent wonder of purse-proud travellers, 
 who profoundly ignorant of, and indiiferent to, the language, literature, in- 
 stitutions and history of the country, can find nothing worthy their obsers'a- 
 tion but the marks of material inferiority, which are quite undeniable, and 
 which a well-informed man is fully prepared to encounter. Well may foreigners 
 think the only means by which they can secure our respect is wealth ; well 
 may they imagine that the only contest we think it worth while to engage in, 
 is the contest for money. What wonder, if, dazzled by our magnificence and 
 humbled by our insolence, they are learning to distrust the value of all that so 
 honourably distinguished them ? to blush before these ostentatious intraders 
 into their own contented poverty ? to believe that if Englishmen attach honour 
 and dishonour to wealth or its absence, it must be because they are conscious 
 that it is, after all, the sole root of their superiority and their power ? Nay, 
 worse : what wonder, if even into kind and honest hearts the demons of resent- 
 ment, emy and rapacity find entrance ? if those whom we have so long taunted 
 as beggarly, see with unchristian satisfaction beggary stalking through our 
 land ? if they anticipate with malignant joy the fall of a pride that never spared 
 the lowly, the decay of a luxury that could not be content without thrusting 
 itself into an insulting contact and comparison with their privations and their 
 homeliness?" 
 
 " Every Englishman feels, even in society, that he has some unfavourable im- 
 pressions to get over. It is but justice to add, that when this is once done, 
 when Germans see that he understands them, and are persuaded that he will 
 neither laugh at their habits, nor betray their confidence, nothing can exceed 
 the cordiality with which they receive him into their most intimate society — 
 the respect, the kindness, the afl'ection with which he will be treated. 
 
 " Few know -the impression they leave, and fewer care ; but an Englishman, 
 jealous of the honour of his noble country, and mindful of the solid virtue, 
 sense and knowledge of the kind hearts and sound heads he has left gathered 
 around her tranquil hearths, sighs to see her so misrepresented, and acquiesces 
 with humiliation in judgements against which he cannot appeal." 
 
 " I was going to mention other notions equally groundless, which I have 
 heard in conversation ; but there is little use in quoting individual instances of 
 erroneous judgements. The press is what wc must look to for the expression 
 of general opinion. Among books of permanent value and deserved authority, 
 I will cite only one. Schlosser, in his ' Histor}' of the Eighteenth Century' 
 — one of those works which combine profound research with a lively and in- 
 teresting mode of narrating — says (I think in a parenthesis, but certainly in a 
 passing way, as a thing that admits of no dispute), that the manners of the 
 present aristocracy of England are those of the Regency in France. I shall 
 not attempt to controvert a blunder so gross and so absurd. Nor need we 
 descend to any examination of private life, since whether that be spotless or
 
 translator's preface. ix 
 
 My special object, however, in mentioning it here, is 
 to allude to a notice which it contains, by way of illustra- 
 tion of the work, the literary portion of which is now 
 submitted to the English reader. The writer of the 
 letter, after speaking, as will be seen, in terms of me- 
 rited eulogium of Schlosser's work, adds with some 
 marked expressions of disapprobation, that the historian 
 has affirmed, " that the manners of the present aristo- 
 cracy of England are those of the Regency of France." 
 It must be confessed that Schlosser is no particular ad- 
 mirer of aristocracy in general, and that he bears some- 
 what heavily upon the whole class in England, in Ger- 
 many, and most especially in France ; but the conclusion 
 of the letter-writer is by much too sweeping, and must 
 arise from an imperfect acquaintance with the work to 
 which he refers. There are indeed passages which occur 
 in the course of the work, which, standing alone, might 
 be made, without much force, to bear this construction, 
 one of which will be found in the following pages, and 
 there are others perhaps more marked, in some parts of 
 the political history ; but the work must be judged as a 
 whole, its plan and objects must be comprehended ; and 
 then it will be seen that the Author, wdiatever his opi- 
 nions may be, has no such design as to commit his re- 
 putation as an historian to the assertion of any such 
 sweeping condemnation. His remarks apply to parti- 
 cular times, to particular classes or coteries of the ari- 
 stocracy — to those who appear or put themselves for- 
 ward in the great social or political affairs of the country, 
 
 the reverse, would affect the question but little. What distinguished the man- 
 ners of the Regency was, the defiance of all appearances, the open irreligion, 
 the daring indecency, the undiguised profligacy. How like this is to our ari- 
 stocracy, remarkable rather for a punctilious conformity to all the decorums of 
 life, and the outward observances of religion, our readers will judge. Nor, 
 setting aside the exceptions (which are notorious), are these appearances de- 
 ceitful. But this point it is hard to prove, and irrelevant to the question. 
 The utter inappropriateness of the comparison is manifest."
 
 X translator's preface. 
 
 and draw upon themselves public attention, as in very 
 recent cases, by their notorious immorality and profli- 
 gacy. I feel, in common Avith the writer of the letter, 
 that no such general assertion is capable of being at all 
 maintained, and that the number of the aristocracy, 
 how many soever frivolous or licentious there may be 
 amongst them, how many soever reckless of public opi- 
 nion, how many soever who degrade their station, and 
 whose conduct is calculated to bring their order into 
 contempt, — that the number is yet far greater who do 
 honour to their rank, and whose principles and conduct 
 are above serious reproach. Great allowance, however, 
 must be made for a stranger, who must judge chiefly 
 upon documentary evidence, who has not been an eye- 
 witness of English life : and comparisons of the most dis- 
 advantageous kind may be drawn, when by means of 
 the press, all is laid open to the public gaze, and com- 
 mented upon with a just severity ; but it ought to be 
 remembered, that in other countries all such breaches 
 of decency and morality, yes, and heavier crimes than 
 these, are carefully kept from the public view — in other 
 countries rank confers a privileged licence, and servility 
 and flattery ennoble and sanctify the crime ; and, more- 
 over, that the very fearlessness of the exposure, the bold- 
 ness and the just severity of the press, liable also to its 
 partialities, are evidences of a sound and wholesome 
 state of feeling in the community ; and if such an alle- 
 gation really were true, it would lead, and that speedily, 
 not only to the moral degradation, but to the rapid de- 
 struction of the whole political power of the aristocracy. 
 We must always bear in mind also, the great di- 
 stinction between the aristocracy of England and that 
 of almost all other nations. They are far more inti- 
 mately mixed up with the people and the institutions
 
 translator's preface. xi 
 
 of the country, than the aristocracies of the despotic 
 kingdoms and empires of tlie world. They form no 
 strong barriers to the progress of opinion, but are them- 
 selves influenced and carried onward by the spirit of the 
 age, and many of them are amongst the most enlight- 
 ened, ablest and most zealous reformers. They are 
 not the mere patrons of the arts of life from ostentation 
 or the love of patronage, but real friends and admirers and 
 eager promoters of all those great practical discoveries 
 which are calculated to advance and consolidate the civi- 
 lization of a great and free people ; whereas, in other 
 countries the aristocracy forms a peculiar and antagonist 
 class — the servile adherents of the monarchy, the sharers 
 of its privileges, and the instruments of its tyranny. 
 
 The remarks of such a writer as Schlosser may, how- 
 ever, well serve as a warning to the nobility of England, 
 to consider what is due to their station and their influ- 
 ence, and how incumbent it is upon the great majority 
 of the honourable, generous and patriotic among them 
 to discountenance in every possible way, those of their 
 order, who bring disgrace upon themselves, upon their 
 rank, and upon their country, and to allow no talents or 
 genius, no political sequacity or rhetorical powers, to 
 be a passport to high places, and to supply the place of 
 those solid, true and genuine qualities which ought to 
 distinguish Enghsh statesmen and peers. The spirit of 
 the book, however, and of its several parts, will be best 
 understood by its perusal, aided by the hints which I 
 have given with respect to the general views and objects 
 of its Author. 
 
 Admitting that there is much in every part of Schlos- 
 ser's ' History of the Eighteenth Century,' which is 
 neither calculated to soothe nor flatter our pride, and 
 sometimes perhaps, as we may think, a severity beyond
 
 xii translator's preface. 
 
 what the circumstances fairly justify, I feel no hesita- 
 tion, on that account, in being instrumental in intro- 
 ducing the whole or any part of the work to the English 
 reader. His opinion will have its influence, not only in 
 his own country, but in Europe ; his object and desire 
 are, as a great practical historian, to make the history of 
 the past the instructor of the future ; and in these times, 
 when a spirit of universal inquiry is abroad, when there 
 are so many competent judges amongst all classes of 
 society, when nations, like men, are cited to the bar of 
 public opinion, and their destinies are materially affected 
 by the results of the decision, it is especially interesting 
 and important not to look at our own history and lite- 
 rature from our own point of view alone, and through 
 our own spectacles, but to consider it also, as viewed 
 by others, and to understand the impressions which it 
 has made and makes upon the minds of able, learned 
 and partial or impartial writers of every country. The 
 feeling of Germany towards England is of special im- 
 portance. The German language, literature and cus- 
 toms have so much in common with our own, that we 
 are better calculated to understand and sympathize with 
 each other, and to work for common ends, than any 
 other nations in Europe. Whenever the struggle comes, 
 we are the most natural, as we shall be the most effi- 
 cient aUies ; and with a good mutual understanding and 
 a hearty confidence in each other, we may defy the 
 autocratical or revolutionary and democratical states to 
 do their worst. 
 
 What Lord Bolingbroke, in his ' Letters upon the 
 Study of History*,' says of the distinguishing charac- 
 teristic of a Roman in the days of Regulus, is no inapt 
 description of the feehng which too many on the conti- 
 
 * Letter II.
 
 translator's preface. xiii 
 
 nent, some from ignorance and some from other causes, 
 attribute to Englishmen of the present day, viz. " an 
 insatiable thirst of military [naval] fame, an unconfined 
 ambition of extending their empire, an extravagant 
 confidence in their own courage and force, an insolent 
 contempt of their enemies, and an impetuous overbearing 
 spirit with which they pursue all their enterprizes." If 
 to this we add an habitual worship of money, an all- 
 consuming love of gain, solicitude about the substantial 
 comforts of life, we shall have completed a somewhat 
 faithful picture of the partly exaggerated or wholly un- 
 just notions to which our rivals in trade and the ene- 
 mies of our greatness wish to give currency. It would 
 be vain to deny, that to some of these accusations we 
 offer occasionally but too sufficient grounds, and lay 
 ourselves open to imputations which do no credit to the 
 national character. These, however, are but excep- 
 tions, magnified beyond their real significance. There 
 is no Englishman who has resided for any time on the 
 continent, and mixed with the people, who has not often 
 had reason deeply to regret the impressions which many 
 of his countrymen have left behind them, and to wish 
 that those who travel with merely trifling objects in view, 
 who signalize themselves only by the rudeness of their 
 demeanour, the insolence of their manners, the pre- 
 sumption of their claims, and the niggardliness of their 
 remuneration, should draw down upon themselves the 
 ridicule and the contempt of those whom they call " the 
 beggarly Germans," and should mistake the ill -concealed 
 obsequiousness of an innkeeper, who hopes to profit by 
 their pocket while he hates themselves, for the respect 
 which is due to their assumption of importance and 
 wealth. Such people complain that they are cheated 
 and imposed upon, whilst they are led into errors by
 
 xiv translator's preface. 
 
 their guide-books, and look with English prejudices 
 upon every thing they see, and have but one standard of 
 perfection for their judgement, and exclaim, " That is 
 very good, it is something like English !" They expect, 
 at the same time, to be treated with more than ordinary 
 distinction and respect ; and merely because they be- 
 lieve themselves to be imposed upon, they pay with 
 a niggardliness foreign to their real nature and habits. 
 If this were the place and occasion, this might be 
 illustrated by anecdotes and examples ad nauseam ; for 
 " there is, perhaps, no folly more common, or vice more 
 epidemical, among the sons of men than that ridiculous 
 and hurtful vanity, by which the people of each country 
 are apt to prefer themselves to those of every other," and 
 it may be added, to which the English travelhng public, 
 are above all nations, prone. Such persons see only 
 what is outward, and draw their conclusions about Ger- 
 man life from the gaming-tables of the spas and the 
 table d 'botes of the hotels. They see little, if anything, 
 of real German life, and know nothing of the manners 
 and feelings of the best of the people. 
 
 However injurious such specimens of our country 
 may be, the well-informed and well-educated know 
 better than to confound these idle rangers in search of 
 occupation and pleasure, with the sounder part of our 
 people ; and there can be little doubt but that the pre- 
 vaihng feeling against the English, as far as it rests upon 
 any solid foundations or extends beyond the circle to 
 which I have just alluded, is and can only be of a tem- 
 porary nature. There are Germans who are as blindly 
 national as any man can possibly be ; they have begun 
 to dream about national greatness and independence ; 
 their material and substantial interests increase ; they 
 feel that they can do without Enghsh looms and forges,
 
 translator's preface. XV 
 
 and entertain already a somewhat foolish contempt 
 for their masters in the practical arts, whilst they 
 can yet offer only awkward imitations of their skill. 
 The Zollverein has been an immense step both for 
 princes and people ; it will first be the means of w^ealth, 
 then of power, then of poHtical freedom, and finally, 
 perhaps, of pohtical combination. The King of Prussia, 
 with a constitution in his hand, could at any moment 
 awaken Germany into a new life, extinguish the minor 
 states which are but bars to national prosperity — which 
 cripple the resources and obstruct the operations of the 
 national spirit, and raise and maintain a barrier against 
 all aggressors however powerful, for the Germans will 
 never again fight for their princes but for themselves. 
 When the Germans have had a Uttle longer experience 
 of prosperity, they will find that they can afford to drop 
 the spirit of commercial jealousy, to occupy their natural 
 position, and to enjoy their own resources, without cast- 
 ing an envious eye upon the superiority of more fa- 
 voured nations, or wishing to see their injury or decline. 
 Notwithstanding all the evil feeling that prevails, it 
 will be found to rest on no permanent foundation. The 
 institutions of England are still longed for, her practical 
 arts are still admired and imitated, her language and Hte- 
 rature are more and more cultivated and understood 
 almost to the exclusion of others, and no people as a 
 people can long continue to dislike a nation to whose 
 skill and resources they are so deeply indebted, whose 
 language and literature they find so congenial to their 
 tastes and worthy of their admiration, and whose free 
 institutions are the models by which they endeavour to 
 fashion their own. The Germans have yet assuredly 
 much useful and practical knowledge to learn, and 
 whilst we are contented to acknowledge their superiority
 
 xvi translator's preface. 
 
 in learned research, let them not hesitate to recognise 
 the vast superiority of our social and practical institu- 
 tions, which they are yet far from being in a condition 
 thoroughly to appreciate, much less to rival. It would 
 be altogether foreign to my design, however copious the 
 materials, to indulge in any feelings of ridicule, or to 
 lay myself open to the imputation of embittering when 
 I mean to conciliate. In a more suitable place and 
 manner I may, perhaps, hereafter venture to offer some 
 reflections on various points of interest connected with 
 the moral and social condition of the Germans, and 
 especially upon the nature and influence of their plans 
 and institutions for education, to which I have devoted 
 no inconsiderable time and attention, and for which I 
 have collected some useful materials. 
 
 In the mean time I will only observe, that it is im- 
 possible to be blind to the weak points of the moral and 
 political character of the Germans in general, to the 
 prevailing w^ant or total absence of all free discussion, 
 of all public spirit, of generous self-sacrifice for the pro- 
 motion of the cause of freedom and truth, to the too 
 common paltry concealments of opinion, to the pitiful 
 subservience to the higher powers, and to the manner 
 in which too many sacrifice honour and truth, soul and 
 body, to win the favour or avoid the displeasure of some 
 petty tyrant upon whom they are dependent for their 
 bread. These and other faults lie not in their natures 
 but in their circumstances. The best men among them 
 know them well, and believe they now see the dawn of 
 a brighter day approaching, in which truth, justice and 
 freedom will prevail, and the emancipated minds of a 
 great people will put forth new energies for the en- 
 lightenment and benefit of the present and future gene- 
 rations.
 
 translator's preface. xvii 
 
 I have now only a few words to add with regard to 
 my own share in bringing this Work before the EngUsh 
 pubhc. The Translation was first begun for self-im- 
 provement, and my only study has been fully to con- 
 vey the meaning and spirit of the Author, without sa- 
 crificing the genius of the language in which they are 
 conveyed ; with such a writer as Schlosser, whose sen- 
 tences are so parenthetical and pregnant, this is no easy 
 task. The Author, who is a very competent judge of 
 our language, has been good enough to read over and 
 compare the Translation, and by his permission I subjoin 
 his approval of the manner in which the meaning of his 
 Work has been transferred from his language into mine. 
 In respect to the style, I must crave the indulgence due 
 to a first attempt, and hope in the continuation of the 
 Work to acquire a greater facility and to avoid such 
 faults as may attach to the present volumes. 
 
 D. D. 
 
 Da der Herr Davison zu seinem Vergniigen den gan- 
 zen litterarischen Theil von der Unterzeichneten Ge- 
 schichte des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts diesen Winter ins 
 Englische uebersetzt hat, so wiirde es dem Unterzeich- 
 neten sehr lieb seyn, wenn diese Uebersetzung, die er 
 durchgesehen hat und fiir deren Genauigkeit und Rich- 
 tigkeit er biirgt, gedruckt wurde. 
 
 Der Unterzeichnete hat der Uebersetzung in der 
 Vorrede des letzen Theils ausdriicklich erwaehnt um 
 Hernn Davisons Verdienst anzuerkennen, und hat sie 
 mit ihm aufmerksam durchgelesen und gepriift, er biirgt 
 also dafiir, wie fiir seine eigne Arbeit. 
 
 F. C. Schlosser. 
 
 Heidelberg, Feb. 25, 1843.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 6, line 5, firr Ziirotas read Zurita 
 
 — 9^ — 17, for Dalbcrgfaiigc read Dalberg 
 
 — 11, — 2, for Foiivtcentli »-<'flr7 Twelfth
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME 1. 
 
 Translator's Preface i 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Sect. I. — Connexion of the Political History of Modern Times in 
 general with the History of general Literature 1 
 
 Sect. II. — Literature of Europe till the end of the Seventeenth 
 Century 5 
 
 Sect. III. — Condition of Literature in England and France at the 
 end of the Seventeenth Century 20 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 REFORMATION OR REVOLUTION OF PHILOSOPHY AND LITERATURE 
 
 IN ENGLAND. 
 
 Sect. I. — General remarks. — Locke. 25 
 
 Sect. II. — Origin and Progress of Enlightenment in Religion. — 
 Opponents of and Scoffers at the prevailing Doctrines. — Shaftes- 
 bury and some of the Deists 30 
 
 Sect. III. — Bolingbroke 55 
 
 Sect. IV — Arbuthnot — Pope — Swift 77 
 
 Sect. V. — Addison— Steele — The English Journals 98 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 LITERARY CULTIVATION AND INTELLECTUAL LIFE OF THE FRENCH, 
 OR RATHER THE MENTAL CULTURE AND IMPROVEMENT OF THE 
 HIGHER CLASSES OF EUROPE, FROM 1715, TILL SOMETHING BEYOND 
 THE HALF OF THE CENTURY. 
 
 Sect. I. — Voltaiie 106 
 
 Sect. II. — Montesquieu 125 
 
 Sect. Ill — Writers in the French Language, who, in the first half 
 of the Eighteenth Century, were protected by Frederick the 
 Second 144- 
 
 Sect. IV. — Learned Coteries in Paris. — (^Bureaux d esprit.). ... 155 
 
 Sect. V. — Theatre till the publication of Diderot's ' Father of a 
 Family and Natural Son ' , 1 66
 
 XX CONTENTS OV VOLIME I. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 STRIVING AFTER LIGHT AND AFTER A LITERATURE COMMENSURATE 
 WITH THE MIND OF THE REST OF EUROPE IN GERMANY, TILL THE 
 
 LETTERS UPON LITERATURE. 
 
 Page 
 
 Sect. I. — Introduction — The Pietists— Christian Thomasius .... 177 
 Sect. II.— Gottsched, and the Changes in Language and Literature 
 
 which proceeded from Leipzig 1 95 
 
 Sect. III. — Some Saxon poets of Gottsched's school — Zacharia, 
 
 Rabener, Gellert 210 
 
 Sect. IV.— The Bremen Literary Notices — Hagedorn — Haller. . 219 
 Sect. V. — Effect of the Disputes about German Education and 
 Culture, begun by the Zurich School and the adherents of Wolf, 
 
 with Gottsched 227 
 
 Sect. VI First traces of the movements which completely al- 
 tered German Life and Literature in the following period. 
 Weisse, Ramler, Nicolai, Lessing, Kleist, etc., till the ' Letters 
 upon Literature ' 240 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 france. introductory remarks upon some of the manifesta- 
 tions of english uterature. 
 
 Sect. 1 252 
 
 Sect. II. — Voltaire in his whole sphere of activity 259 
 
 Sect. III. — Montesquieu, as author of the ' Spirit of Laws ' . . . . 276 
 
 Sect. IV. — Rousseau, his Morals and Sentimentality 285 
 
 Sect. V.— Diderot 314 
 
 Sect. VI. — System of Nature — Helvetius on Mind 324 
 
 Sect. VII D'Alembert 338 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GERMANY TILL THE BEGINNING OF THE SEVENTH DECENNIUM OF THE 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Sect. I. — First Traces of the Influence of the new spirit of the age 
 upon Placemen, Universities, Theology and Learning 355
 
 ERRATA IN VOLUME I. 
 
 The Translator regrets, that in consequence of his great distance from the press, 
 and the difficulty of seeing revises, a few errors have escaped which affect the sense, 
 notwithstanding the great care of the printers. He hopes those mentioned below are 
 all that are material. 
 
 Page 16, 1. 8 from bottom, for tnarotique, read marotisme 
 
 — 19, last hne, /or Voltaires, read Voitures 
 
 — 61, 1. 14 from the bottom, after out insert of 
 
 — 88, 1. 14, /or was (not) recommended, read was (best) recommended 
 
 — 90, 1. ^,for sociaUty, read ideality 
 
 — 102, 1. 2, for poem, read fiction 
 
 — 11.3, note, 1. 1 ,for national, read natural 
 
 — 177, lines 11, 12, /or Genovesa, read Genovefa 
 
 — 179, 1. 9 from bottom, /or Woss, read Voss 
 
 — 181, 1. 4, /or Carpzovin, read Carpzov 
 
 — 202, 1. \l,for when, read where 
 
 — 211, 1. 9, /or Gottsched ' Man and Wife,' read the Gottsched's Husband and 
 
 Wife' 
 
 — 264, 1. 23, dele not 
 
 — 296, 1. 4, /or These supposititious orders, read Those suppositions and ideas
 
 HISTORY 
 OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 §1. 
 
 CONNEXION OF THE POLITICAL HISTORY OF MODERN TIMES 
 IN GENERAL WITH THE HISTORY OF GENERAL LITERATURE. 
 
 The remark, that every external change in the state gave rise 
 to a change in the Hterature intended for the educated classes of 
 society among the western nations, particularly among the 
 Greeks, Romans, and the people of the Germanic stem, leads 
 immediately to the supposition of a real ditference between the 
 history of the Oriental nations and the early times of the Greeks 
 and Romans, and modern history. These two different species 
 of history require to be treated in a wholly different method ; 
 the middle ages alone, till towards the fourteenth century, may 
 be treated in the same manner as is employed for that of the 
 primitive ages and of the East. On this general principle, the 
 history of the eighteenth century demands a continual reference 
 to the mutual relation existing between the internal culture and 
 the external political changes of the people and kingdoms of 
 Europe ; and a somewhat closer consideration of the course of 
 political history and of the civilization and mental improvement 
 of mankind in general, shows, that if a reference to this mutual 
 relation just mentioned, be neglected, all notions of the relation 
 of our times to antiquity and to the middle ages, must remain 
 imperfect and distorted. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 INTRODUCTION. [§ I. 
 
 From the beginning of history till the present time, cold rea- 
 son has held dominion in China and Japan, and rigid prejudice, 
 hostile to everything foreign and to every thought of improve- 
 ment. India, Egyi)t, Persia, Babylonia, Assyria, and all the 
 great kingdoms which were subject to despotic or hierarchical 
 rule, were under the influence of exaggerated fancy : this im- 
 pressed a characteristic upon all the mental culture and training 
 of these countries and people, which is quite unvarying and 
 wholly inseparable from their existence. Religion, worship, 
 literature, the political arrangements of the state, even the arts, 
 all rest upon the permanence and stability of the present state 
 of things, so as neitlier to encourage or allow any progress in 
 what is of native production, nor to be accessible to the eflfect of 
 anything which is foreign. As these principles had also gained 
 a footing and ascendency in Europe in the middle ages, the 
 history of that period must necessarily be treated in the same 
 manner as that of the East, did not the searching eye of the 
 keen observer perceive a real difference, and discover in the 
 fixed and benumbed condition of the middle ages, a secret striving 
 after progress of which no trace is exhibited in the East. 
 
 The middle ages therefore, and the Theocracy which was dor- 
 mant in its earlier periods, for the reason just mentioned neces- 
 sarily require a mode of historical treatment different from that 
 which is ap})licable to the East, although in both the powerof 
 the priesthood served to hold the state and the intelligence of 
 the people in a state of non-})rogression. Wherever a caste, or 
 jiricsthood, is in exclusive i)ossession of the administration of 
 a state, and of the mental culture and training s])read among the 
 peo})le — wherever the people are entertained ^^ ith amusements, 
 j)ictures, symbols, secrets, and hieroglyphics, and deceived by u 
 shadow of knowledge, history has only once to describe the 
 existing order of things in the time of the liighest bloom of the 
 state, in order to give an idea of the degree of development at 
 wliich the nation j)ermauenlly stood, whilst it possessed its 
 highest iniliience. The complete period during which any of 
 the colossal powers of the early ages and of the East oppressed 
 tlie world, is therefore fidly represented, when its origin — the 
 period of its highest prosperity — and its end, are accurately 
 described. This must be regarded as not altogether true with 
 respect to the period of non-jjrogression among the German 
 races in the first centuries of the middle ages. We find there
 
 § I.] INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 at least three cUfFerent kinds of mental culture running parallel 
 and contemporaneous with one another, although not progress- 
 ive. The people, whose freedom was afterwards converted 
 into bondage, or into a condition equally grievous, by the priest- 
 hood and the feudal lords, were still in possession of traditions 
 of their early free life, and of a kind of poetry handed dow^n and 
 transmitted by oral communication ; the orders of knighthood, 
 before they became altogether fixed and rigid, were in posses- 
 sion of a poetry, which related to religion and the circumstances 
 of their caste, and the priesthood had its scholastic knowledge. 
 There existed therefore indeed the mysteries of the spiritual 
 schools, exaggerated and unnatural imaginative poetry, and an 
 active practical education and training of the people ; but these 
 three things were not, as in the East, for ever kept apart from one 
 another by an impassable w-all of separation. This point we 
 must always keep carefully in our eye, if beginning from the 
 middle ages, we wish to follow the course of the political and 
 literary history of Europe from the fourteenth century till the 
 end of the seventeenth. 
 
 In order to lay a solid historical foundation for the origin of 
 the political arrangements and the literature of the people of the 
 three leading nations of Europe in the eighteenth century, we 
 fix our attention first exclusively upon Italy ; because it was in 
 Italy that the German nations which had destroyed the Roman 
 empire, first shook themselves free from their prejudices, and 
 from the fetters of the hierarchy. Their proximity to Rome 
 greatly contributed to this end ; because they were less dazzled 
 by the power and majesty of the pope on a nearer acquaintance, 
 than those who lived on the further side of the Alps. A ge- 
 neral change had been progressive in Italy since the twelfth 
 century ; there was a general movement within and without, 
 which continued till the middle of the sixteenth century, and 
 which, without laying any peculiar stress upon the comparison, 
 we think may with justice be compared to the change which 
 made the period from the time of Lycurgus till that of Alexan- 
 der in Greece, an era of great importance in the history of man- 
 kind. 
 
 We must indeed presuppose an acquaintance with the poli- 
 tical history of the period from the fourteenth century till the 
 eighteenth, because it would lead much too far from our design 
 to give even a cursory view of itj but in this history of the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 INTRODUCTION. [§ I. 
 
 eighteenth century, we must necessarily trace out the origin of 
 those portions of the Enghsh, French, and German hterature 
 ■which it contains during the course of, and anterior to, the 
 seventeenth century. Had space permitted, we must have 
 commenced the history of modern civihzation, by endeavour- 
 ing to sketch a picture of the condition of Italy in the fifteenth 
 century, in order to make it obvious that all that which Avas 
 admired in Holland in the seventeenth century, and which is 
 now admired in England, together with that species of art, 
 poetry and science with which both the English and the Dutch 
 still remain unacquainted, was then in full bloom, when all the 
 rest of Europe was still in a state of slumber ; we only wish, how- 
 ever, to touch upon this point in passing. The partial notices 
 which we shall give, shall merely relate to the origin and fate of 
 the civilized life of the Greeks in the time of the successors of 
 Alexander, and of the Romans in the time of the Empire, which 
 was regenerated by the aid of the study of the ancient writings. 
 From these indications, the reasons will be obvious, why, in re- 
 ference to the eighteenth century and the civil and literary 
 changes in the tirst half of it, especial attention must be given 
 to the French and in the second place to the Germans, why the 
 English literature is only incidentally treated, and no mention at 
 all is made of that of Italy, as being altogether destitute of con- 
 tents, and only maintaining a prolonged existence by means of 
 ornamental forms. 
 
 In reference to modern history, we start from the principle, 
 that the literature of Italy in the earlier parts of the middle ages 
 contained in itself, mixed in chaotic confusion, all the ditferent 
 elements of modern culture and civilization and of modern po- 
 litics. We there find the Byzantine garnish together with the 
 remains of classical antiquity, the new Eastern or Arabic along 
 with the ancient Orientalism of the Old and the New Testament, 
 that of the Fathers of the Church with Christianity in general ; 
 and still further the Northern, German, Celtic and its various 
 transformations in the poetry and the traditions of the old Gaul- 
 ish dialects of the North and the South, of the Bretons and Nor- 
 mans, as well as of the Catalonians and the inhabitants of Pro- 
 vence. About the same time the chaos of these sometimes 
 mutually attracting and sometimes repelling materials began to 
 resolve itself, and all assumed a new modern form, resembling 
 the classical, when the modern theories ot administration, con-
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 stitutions, government, police, and political economy were 
 formed in Italy. We have only to recollect that before the time 
 of Dante the songs of the Troubadours, Trouveres, and poets of 
 Provence as well as their language, were of equal importance 
 and currency with the Italian, and that all this ceased, as soon as 
 the Italian language after the time of Dante was perfected, and 
 poetry had assumed a form which was regulated according to 
 classical rules. The contents of the works and poems of the fol- 
 lowing period belonged indeed still later partly to the middle 
 ages ; but in proportion as civil society in Italy assumed the form 
 of the period of the successors of Alexander, and of the first 
 Roman Emperors, so much the more the literature also received 
 the impress of the form which was handed down from that 
 period. In the Italian cities of the fifteenth century, we find 
 therefore crowds of court poets, rhetoricians, sophists, masters 
 of the structure of language, and elegant Latinists ; and the so- 
 called academies served, like the orders of our days, as 
 means to form the bases of permanent societies. In these 
 times Louis the Twelfth and Francis the First wished to force 
 themselves among the Italian Princes; and not only assumed the 
 distinction of protectors of the arts and sciences in Italy, but 
 sought to give the same splendour to their city of Paris, which 
 the arts and the study of classical literature had already con- 
 ferred upon the Italian capitals. From this time forward the 
 new Italian civilization was mainly propagated by the instru- 
 mentality of the French. 
 
 § n. 
 
 LITERATURE OF EUROPE TILL THE END OF THE SEVEN- 
 TEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 The first rise of modern civilization, of the modern languages, 
 of the arts and sciences, as well as of the new social life, corre- 
 sponds indisputably with the time of the highest renown and 
 prosperity of the Moorish kingdoms in Spain ; modern studies 
 were first favoured in Castile, Arragon, and Portugal. A new 
 Christian life and a new literature were first formed among the 
 Spaniards, out of the Arabic and Northern elements together 
 with the classical aids of the ancients ; neither of them, how- 
 ever, passed wholly and completely over into the character of
 
 6 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 modern times. The life of the Spanish and Portuguese, as well 
 as their poetry, continued always romantic and knightly, although 
 we cannot deny that there are some splendid exceptions to this 
 assertion, among which, in the course of the fifteenth century, 
 we would especially mention Zurotas, ^ Annals of Arragon.' In 
 reference to tone, philosophy, language, and tendency, we may 
 venture to place this work by the side of any production of 
 classical antiquity. The Spaniards and Portuguese, however, 
 worked upon the literature of France and England in the six- 
 teenth and seventeenth centuries, not merely by means of those 
 and other works written after the models of classical antiquity, 
 but by poems also which altogether disdained those rules ; we 
 cannot therefore refer to these when we speak of the chain of 
 connexion between the mental culture and civilization of ancient 
 and of modern times. 
 
 All the Spanish works which form the foundation of the dra- 
 matic writings of the French and EngUsh, are full of genius ; but 
 by no means worked out according to the rules of Aristotle : 
 wherefore Corneille, as is well known, excels Racine with re- 
 spect to genius, but in other respects is much his inferior. The 
 same remark holds good of the most distinguished novels of the 
 French, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries ; they OAve 
 their importance, not to their conformity to ancient rules, but to 
 their Spanish eccentricity. We need only refer to Scarron and 
 Le Sage, whose ' Gil Bias,' indeed, is and was regarded as an 
 original work ; the French themselves, however, have convin- 
 cingly proved that it is only an original worked after a Spanish 
 model. In literature, the Spaniards despised all the trammels of 
 rule, and remained true to the spirit of the middle ages : they 
 did the same also In their ecclesiastical and political institutions. 
 Even daily life, in the most usual things, remained standing at 
 that point which it had reached in the seventeenth century. 
 And how completely it was destitute of all those conveniences 
 which the Germans were accustomed to enjoy, may be learned 
 from Leodius' 'Life of the Count Palatine, Frederic the Second.' 
 
 In Italy, on the other hand, civilization took that course 
 which the Greek and Roman liad previously taken, as soon as 
 the constitution of the Greeks had passed over from a democra- 
 tical, and that of the Romans from an aristocratical, to a mo- 
 narchical form. Since the time of Petrarch, and partly through 
 him, Italian literature received that charm which the Greek had
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 had under the successors of Alexander, and the Roman under 
 the emperors from Augustus till the time of the Antonines ; the 
 later Greeks and Romans Mere much less careful about matter, 
 about nature and simplicity, than about form and a perfect ob- 
 servance of the theory of art. With respect to those arts which 
 contribute to the conveniences and comforts of life, the Italians 
 at this time had made as great progress as the Romans, of whom 
 Montesquieu remarks, in his brief work upon their greatness 
 and decline, that the deeper their politics and their public life 
 sank, so much the more all the arrangements for the conveniences 
 of private life were increased. Theatres, great national roads, 
 police and architecture, are all the productions of these veiy 
 times. Among the most ancient Egyptians, and in Egypt under 
 the Ptolemies, as may be seen from their monuments and sculp- 
 tures, private life and social pleasures Avere precisely the same as 
 they are in our days ; all their instruments, their domestic uten- 
 sils, their social spirit, resembled ours. The same may be shown 
 to be also precisely the case in the Roman empire, from the re- 
 sults of the excavations in Pompeii and Herculaneum ; but in 
 those empires, as well as in Italy, during the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, simplicity, truth, and freedom disappeared along with po- 
 verty. 
 
 In the beginning of the fourteenth century Dante makes re- 
 iterated complaints with respect to knightly pomp and dissipa- 
 tion, which was poisoning the life of his Florentines ; scarcely 
 forty years after, Petrarch praises all that which Dante had so 
 strongly blamed, he becomes the flatterer of tyrants and boasts 
 of his access to their tables. The rhetorical sophistical eloquence, 
 and the artificial prose of the fifteenth century, were admirably 
 suited for such objects. In these times, all the practical and exact 
 sciences and the arts which stand in connexion with them, were 
 newly formed upon the foundations of the ancients and of their 
 Arabic interpreters. Anatomy, physiology, natural history in all 
 its branches, natural philosophy, astronomy, the arts and their 
 application to navigation, mathematics, together with all the 
 sciences to which it is necessary, calculation, together with deal- 
 ing, exchange, and banking, manufactures, handicraft, and the 
 arts of life, were all in their fullest bloom, whilst the masses of 
 the people had lost all their importance and power in the state. 
 At the end of the fifteenth century, there arose in Italy two great 
 aristocratic republics, and a number of smaller and greater prin-
 
 8 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 cipalities which adopted the new poHtical forms, their police 
 and strict disciphne ; all the arrangements of antiquity, which 
 contributed to make life convenient, agreeable, and educated, 
 w^ere again called forth, and everj^ thing assumed a modern form. 
 The governing princes and the heads of the great families in 
 Venice and Genoa, who were possessed of princely power, 
 founded their usurped dominion upon standing armies, which 
 were formed out of the so-called Condottieri of the fourteenth 
 century, and at a later period of Swiss mercenaries, and upon 
 splendour and wealth. In these times, as in those of the em- 
 pire, the people became indolent and abject through idleness, 
 festivals, processions, distributions, pomp, and alms ; hundreds 
 of public officials, domestic officers, servants, and courtiers, suf- 
 fered and performed all these duties and services, which venal 
 and abject libertines and slaves had previously suffered and per- 
 formed under the Ptolemies as well as under the Roman empe- 
 rors — all freedom was destroyed — every art and every science 
 became courtly ; and for this reason each readily found its Me- 
 cfcnas. The sophistical ornamental discourse of the court so- 
 phists, of the court historians, and of the Ciceronian publicists, 
 w^as admired and imitated in the whole of Europe, and when 
 the little states were not carrying on long or bloody wars, they 
 were contending in their respective cabinets with faithless tricks 
 and with polished discourse. This called into existence a new 
 species of political sophistry, which was called the doctrine of 
 the law of nations and politics, and which was not merely theo- 
 retically developed but was also practically used for the uncea- 
 sing oppression and annihilation of the smaller states by the 
 greater, and in the cunning, deceitful, diplomatic art which 
 made Venice, Milan, and the pope all-powerful in Italy. Tactics, 
 strategy , trade upon a grand scale, banking, exchange and its laws, 
 manufactures, industry in its great branches, political economy, 
 police and political investigations, as the terminology employed 
 in these subjects denotes, all belong to the Italians of the fif- 
 teenth century. And m ithout the aid and favour of princes and 
 men of power, learning would never have been able to raise its 
 head. 
 
 The academics of Italy secured a renown to the learned men 
 of the country; their deductions and panegyrics made them in- 
 dispensable to princes, so that our emperor, Charles IV., in 
 the person of Petrarch, honoured a man who was able to pro-
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 cure for him tlic renown of an Augustus. After Charles' time, 
 the circumstances of Germany were too unlike those of Italy to 
 allow the new literature to take root in Germany under any 
 modification, or to assume the form of the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries without the intervention and instrumentality of 
 France. The freer tendency of this mental culture and civili- 
 zation, in religious as well as in civil things, first came to us 
 through France. On the one hand this was lost in Theological 
 disputes about the pope, councils, and formulas of concord, and 
 on the other, in the thirty years' war, and the people were obliged 
 afterwards to receive the servile tendency of the French, who 
 were forced into submission to rules by Richelieu. Had this not 
 been the case, a new Germany Mould have been founded before 
 a new France, from the time of Nicolaus Cusanus (Crebs), of 
 Regiomontanus (Johann Miiller), Wessel, Agricola, Hegius, 
 Conrad Celtes (Pickel or Meissel), and of all the companions 
 of the noble Johann von Dalbergfange, but it sank as soon as it 
 gave birth to the Reformation. Hutten, Reuchlin, the authors of 
 the ' Letters of the Men of Darkness,' and Luther, called forth 
 light, Melancthon taught in Wittenberg with the same success 
 as the Greeks formerly taught in Italy. The foundation of the 
 numerous gymnasiums and later schools of North Germany, by 
 means of which the studies of Italy w^ere carried even into the 
 smallest country towns, the schools which Melancthon and his 
 numerous scholars urged on by their reforming zeal, not only 
 founded, but provided with teachers, are too well known to make 
 it needful to dwell on the matter : but the mental cultivation 
 which sprung from them, was suddenly disturbed. 
 
 The want of union among the governments, and the various 
 subjects of scholastic and subtle strife about unimportant trifles 
 in religious dogmas, which was carried on between the Calvin- 
 ists and Lutherans in barbarous Latin, a struggle for life and 
 death among the Lutherans about Crypto-Calvinism, and the 
 so-called symbolical books, speedily annihilated all free mental 
 cultivation and improvement among the Protestants. Among 
 the Catholics, the Jesuits at that time created their well-knoM^n 
 conservative system of knowledge, Latin, memoriter learning, and 
 mathematics, and, in all cases logic and rhetoric. The practical 
 sciences, which, in our times, are also favoured above others, 
 were largely indebted to the Jesuits in the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries ; but in their schools, on the other hand, every
 
 10 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 free movement, every impulse of a power which prompted to 
 self-examination and a searching out of new paths, was wholly 
 suppressed. At the end of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
 turies, barbarous polemics and a renovated scholasticism bound 
 both Protestants and Catholics in new chains. Among the 
 Protestants, Luther and Melanchthon, and among the Catholics, 
 the Emperor Maximilian the Second, had favoured the advance 
 and progress of a generation striving to emancipate itself from 
 the bonds of the middle ages ; at the end of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury a rapid retrogradation took place, and at the beginning of 
 the seventeenth the thirty years war threw back German mental 
 improvement and cultivation of all kinds for at least a century. 
 No one had time to think of the arts, and trade and industry 
 were in a complete state of stagnation. A mere reminiscence of 
 poetry (for more it was not) found refuge in Silesia ; and fo- 
 reigners ruled from the limits of the Tyrol to the Baltic sea. 
 These foreigners consisted of Spaniards and Italians, Hunga- 
 garians, Croats, Pandours and half Tvu'ks in the Imperial ser- 
 vice, Danes, Swedes and French. The last-mentioned pre- 
 tended to fight for the cause of the Protestants, and laid waste 
 Catholic districts ; the adventurers and criminals of all nations 
 Avho were the mercenaries of Wallenstein, and his associates were 
 formally instructed to plunder and rob. Precisely at this time, 
 when Germany, for the reasons and in the manner just men- 
 tioned, Avas falling altogether back into the condition of the mid^ 
 die ages, that literature was develoj^ed in France, which, since 
 the time of Francis the First, had been brought over the Alps 
 out of Italy, because it was suited to the new form which had 
 been given to the French state under Richelieu and Mazarin. 
 Louis the Fourteenth, aithotigh he could neither Avrite gram- 
 matically, nor spell correctly, found it advisable and suitable 
 for his designs to imitate the institutions and arrangements of 
 Italy, and like the princes of that country, to assume the posi- 
 tion and secure the renown of a protector of learning and learned 
 men. The Germans, at a later period, received their mental 
 improvement from France so much the earlier, because Chris- 
 tina of Sweden, the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, who, at 
 that time, was as powerful in Germany as the French, had pre- 
 ceded them in this ; for it Avas only at a later time that she went 
 to the source itself, i.e. to the artificial education and training of 
 the Italians of the seventeenth centuiy.
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 The foundation of the so-called classical French literature 
 under Louis the Fourteenth was laid by means of the Italians, 
 some of whom were called to France for that purpose. From 
 the time of his reign, the thread of connexion with Italy was po 
 longer broken, as had happened in Germany for a M'hole century. 
 Louis the Twelfth found it suitable and politically prudent to 
 imitate the princes of Italy, among whom he forced himself, in 
 showing favour to the learned and to artists of all kinds, who, since 
 the time of Petrarch, formed a part of the splendour of a court. 
 They had, at that time, long begun in Italy to console the peo- 
 ple for the loss of freedom by the splendour of the arts, and for 
 the loss of simple truth by the adornments of discourse, sophisms, 
 and the beautiful forms of poetry and histoiy . Poetry and prose in 
 the age of Louis the Twelfth had already attained in Italy the form 
 which they had possessed under the successors of Alexander and 
 the first Roman emperors. From the democratic education and 
 culture of the period of Dante, which had been the production of 
 a great time, and of an individual poetic and philosophic striving 
 of single men of genius, there arose a scientific period, which 
 demanded academies, expenditure, institutions, and the spur of 
 honour and vanity. In Italy, therefore, in the fifteenth century, 
 those species of arts and sciences alone were promoted and fa- 
 voured by the princes and by the ruling aristocrats, which shed 
 a splendour around the courts in their residences, and dazzled 
 the eyes of the people in Venice and Genoa. Even the popes 
 of the time supported, at great expense, a species of art, learn- 
 ing, and science, which praised and glorified the existing order 
 of things, the houses of the Visconti, and even those of the 
 Sforzas in Milan; the Estes, the Medici, the Gonzagas in Man- 
 tua, the Marquises of Montferrat and Savoy, and even the 
 smallest dynasts and tyrants created academies, libraries, col- 
 lections of m.edals and antiquities, whose value the learned men, 
 who were the objects of their favour, and the recipients of their 
 boimty, announced to the world, at the same time with the 
 praise of their Mecaenases. To this period also belong the his- 
 torians who wrote the purest Latin, and one of the most cele- 
 brated of whom boasted that he was sure of riches and honour, 
 because he understood how to clothe him who bestowed them 
 in cloth of gold, and him who gave nothing in sackcloth. De- 
 dications were the order of the day. Every one among us 
 knows whom Tasso and Ariosto honoured and magnified, and
 
 12 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 how they interwove the names of princes in their immortal 
 verse. No man is unacquainted with the manner of Machi- 
 avel's conversion from aristocratical to monarchical principles, 
 because he himself has given us instruction on the point, even 
 in the dedication and contents of his ' Prince.' 
 
 Louis the Twelfth already found this condition of things ex- 
 isting in the Italian States, Itahan art and artists, splendour, 
 pomp, luxury, learning, academies, dedications, panegjTics, 
 Ciceronian Latin, when he, who was in other respects a noble 
 and honourable ruler, was entrapped by his ambition to become 
 the tool of Ferdinand the Catholic. He borrowed two sorts of 
 things from the then existing Italian cultivation ; in politics the 
 employment of mercenary troops and a standing army ; in lite- 
 rature an imitation of Grecian models and the customs of the 
 Ciceronian historiographers. Paulus Emilius not only Avrote 
 the first history of Fi'ance in the newly revived Latinity of the 
 age, but he and some other learned men who were called out of 
 Italy, also laid the foundation of that building of classical learn- 
 ing, which was afterwards erected by Francis the First, and 
 carried out by the following kings. 
 
 Francis the First was much better guided in his monarchical 
 undertakings by his instinct, by his knightly zeal for splendour, 
 by his French sensibility and excitable nature, than his oppo- 
 nent and conqueror Charles the Fifth, by his keen and cold un- 
 derstanding. This led him to the full attainment of his designs 
 in the field and in the cabinet in reference to the outward exten- 
 sion of his might, but led him wholly astray in reference to the 
 foundation of an enduring dominion over the various nations 
 which were subject to him. Charles wished to found a uni- 
 versal European monarchy by power and policy, and he partly 
 attained his object ; but in effecting it rendered it impossible that 
 the single parts of his monarchy could be united together by any 
 inward bond. Spain, which was the chief state in his dominions, 
 was internally divided down till our own times, effectually hin- 
 dered from advancing with the spirit of the age, and continued 
 in a state of subjection to priests, monks and feudal knights. 
 Francis the First failed in his external designs ; but he not only 
 imitated the Italian princes by maintaining a standing army and 
 favouring a faithless system of politics, but iilso by promoting 
 and encouraging a national literature and national arts formed 
 by the study and aid of the ancients. For this purpose he
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 founded most magnificent institutions in his capital, and in this 
 way made French literature the literature of a court, and as 
 necessary to its splendour, connected the Mhole nation and its 
 mental culture and progress with the king and the capital, and 
 made them m their very nature altogether dependent upon both. 
 In order to explain and to prove this, it would be necessary 
 here to enumerate all his institutions and collections, the Col- 
 lege de France, the library, printing establishments, the collec- 
 tions of manuscripts which were purchased, the promotion of 
 Oriental and Occidental languages, the casting of types, &c., but 
 we shall take all these for granted as things well known, in order 
 to shoM', in what manner the same religious disputes and contro- 
 versies, which were destructive to the new classical and national 
 education in Germany, served to promote and forward it in 
 France. Religious controversies and a religious war in Germany 
 destroyed the institutions which had been erected with a view to 
 promote classical education, and obstructed the efforts of the 
 learned ; whereas in France the Ufeformers compelled their op- 
 ponents to make the most vigorous efibrts to maintain their 
 ascendency, for if they had not, Geneva would have gained the 
 victory over Paris, Calvin and Theodore Beza had sprung from 
 the bosom of the Catholic schools which pursued at the same 
 time the study of Roman law and that of the classics in such a 
 way, that the teachers of them are even now regarded as mas- 
 ters of their science ; Calvin therefore not merely founded in 
 Geneva a kind of reformed popery, but also a species of Euro- 
 pean institution for education in the Utey'is humanioribus, and we 
 learn from the letters of Calvin and Beza that students came 
 in numbers from all parts of Europe to Geneva. In all the 
 provinces of France, where the Reformation found adherents, 
 schools were founded on the principles of the normal seminary 
 in Geneva, skilful and able teachers were settled in all these new 
 Reformed Universities, and the Catholics were obliged to put 
 forth all their vigour and to employ all their energies, in order 
 to prevent their Universities from being forsaken and the whole 
 learned and national education from falling into the hands of 
 the Reformers. It Mas the schools of the Reformed institutions 
 which, when they were driven out of France by Louis the Four- 
 teenth in 1681, brought the light of the new studies, but to- 
 gether with a purely French or monarchical court life, into 
 Holland, Germany and other districts of that part of Europe, 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 14 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 which they called the North. It would lead us too far to 
 follow out this course into individual cases, and we wish there- 
 fore only to point out those particular circumstances, whose con- 
 sideration appears to us useful for understanding the brief view 
 of the condition of literature in Europe at the end of the seven- 
 teenth century, which we shall presently give. 
 
 The first thing which we must remark with this view, is the 
 fact, that the progress and application of the various kinds of 
 knowledge drawn from the sources of antiquity, of the civiliza- 
 tion which was suited for the new age and its relations, conti- 
 nued to advance in France in the course of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury, in spite of a religious war, whilst in Germany and Italy all 
 was in a state of retrograde movement. In order to connect 
 this notice with well-known names, we have only to call to the 
 recollection of our readers, that Francis the First, in order to 
 awaken a love of the arts, brought Benvenuto Cellini with him 
 from Ital}'^, and that under his direction, the French jurispru- 
 dence put to shame the tasteless studies of the Italian glossarists, 
 whilst at the same time in imitation of the Italian Princes, he 
 founded libraries, institutions for the study of languages (Col- 
 lege de France), printing establishments, and valuable collec- 
 tions, through the instrumentality of Lascaris, Pellisier and 
 others. The names of Danes, Postel, Bude, Cujace, the two 
 Godefroys, Brisson, Tourneboeuf, Lambin, Muret, to which we 
 might add twenty others, form a chain of names which is by no 
 means inferior to those of the Italians from Boccacio and Pe- 
 trarch till the middle of the sixteenth century. Calvin (Chau- 
 vin) sprung from the school of philologically learned jurists of 
 the time of Francis the First and his successors. Calvin as a 
 reformed Pope, founded the Academy in Geneva and all its 
 daughter institutions as rivals of the Parisian seminaries. Even 
 the Catholic Seminary of Paris in the midst of all the tumults of 
 war continued to be an institution for the advancement of edu- 
 cation, as appeared at the end of the sixteenth century, when 
 some of the able jurists and public men who were formed by it, 
 by their masterly satire prevailed over the fanaticism of the 
 League and the cabals of the Spaniards, and opened the eyes of 
 their Catholic contemporaries to the motives and designs of the 
 monks, priests, and Jesuits. The satire ' Menippce,' which })aved 
 the way for Henry the Fourth's accession to tlic throne, went 
 through three editions in the course of three weeks, and the
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 names of Peter Pithou, Rapin, Passerat, Gillet, Florent Chre- 
 tien, who were contributors to this master-piece of French wit, 
 are as celebrated as the restorers of classical education, as the 
 names of any equal number of Italians from the time of Pe- 
 trarch, or as any Protestant institution whatsoever. 
 
 The second fact, to which we must call the attention of our 
 readers is, that precisely in this restless time, i. e. till the be- 
 ginning of the seventeenth century, the half-classical, half- 
 national prose and poetry of the French Mere formed, which 
 ever afterwards remained as the foundation of their whole na- 
 tional literature. The writers of this period had drawn imme- 
 diately from the classical authors their knowledge of antiquity, 
 and immediately from their extinguished national poetry, and 
 from the light and joyful life of that time, the genuine French 
 tone, their national wantonness, and their keen national wit, 
 which was afterwards suffocated by Italian affectation, and by 
 the rules of their rigid academy of schoolmasters under Mary 
 de Medici, under Richelieu and Mazarin. If we mention the 
 names of some few other men from the time of Francis the First 
 till the death of Henry the Fourth, the reason will immediately 
 be perceived, why the French even down till our day must have 
 recourse to the books and poems of the men named by us if 
 they would be either national or original, and give to their works 
 a spirit of freshness or nature. Theodore Beza, the assistant 
 and successor of Calvin in his Protestant popedom, was espe- 
 cially celebrated in his youth by his wanton verses and his clas- 
 sical learning ; we shall not, however, take any further notice of 
 him, because he never became a national writer ; Clement Marot 
 on the contrary, combined the pious and religious spirit of the 
 time with that classical training which was derived from the 
 convents and with the spirit of wantonness which sprung from 
 the national literature. Clement Marot drew his wanton morals 
 or the national element of the poets of the middle ages, who, 
 as among us, had become ballad- singers, from a vagabond, who 
 with genuine French humour continued to sing in prison, in 
 the galleys and under the gallows, which he richly deserved. 
 This was Villon, whose poem Francis the First caused to be 
 made known as a model of original poetry, although its author 
 says of himself in his celebrated will, that he has always been — 
 
 " La mere nourriciere 
 
 De ceux qui n'avoint point d'argent 
 A tromper devant ct deiiiere 
 Un hommc diligent."
 
 16 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 Marot became for poetry what Rabelais had been at an earlier 
 time, only that the latter was well-furnished with solid classical 
 learning. His satirical prose, as is well known, is sought out, 
 commented upon, and multiplied by repeated impressions and 
 reprints in the present century by the French. In the writings 
 of Rabelais we meet with the indecency and vulgarity of the 
 priests (for he was himself a clergyman), gross obscenity and 
 most extensive reading in the ancients and the Bible all mixed 
 together. His countrymen took as little offence at this, as almost 
 at the same period it was neither regarded as offensive nor scan- 
 dalous, that the great reformer should be at the same time en- 
 gaged in translating the Bible and in writing books full of all 
 sorts of coarseness and indecency, as those against Henry the 
 Eighth of England, and Henry of Brunswick. Clement Marot 
 was less wanton than Rabelais and less vulgar than Villon, but 
 he was also less original and nearer to classical models, although 
 he also knew well how to combine in a way altogether peculiar to 
 himself the classical and religious education of his time with the 
 merry, naive and wanton species of writing which was charac- 
 teristic of the poetry of the people immediately antecedent to his 
 time. We must here make especial mention of Marot, as well 
 as of Montaigne, because they were of great importance in re- 
 ference to the times of Louis the Fourteenth, and because they 
 succeeded in introducing something of nature into the Court 
 literature, after tlie rule of the false taste which prevailed at the 
 time of Mary de Medici and her Marini, a time when the mis- 
 understood rules of Aristotle exercised dominion over the stage, 
 and in literature. 
 
 Boileau, who, as is well known, measured every description of 
 poetry by a rule which was strictly turned after the prescribed 
 forms of Aristotle, nevertheless regarded Marot's elegant badi- 
 nage as worthy of imitation, and La Fontaine, who was the ideal 
 of an artificial nature in the times of Louis the Fourteenth, owes 
 his reputation in this respect especially to his archaisms {au 
 marotique) borrowed from Marot. For this reason his fables 
 have been read now for a century as a book of instruction for the 
 French youth, as Luther's Bible is used among us. The pith 
 and kernel of the language and moral training were to be drawn 
 from both at the same time. \i\ the same manner as Marot at 
 the same time composed hymns and wrote songs, and the first, 
 however admirable they are, have been altogether forgotten, 
 vhilst the latter are still read, so was it also with the works of
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 Margaret of Navarre, who died in 1549. She was celebrated on 
 account of her numerous and learned pious poems by the poets 
 of the so-called lyric Pleiades, who, in various ways, introduced 
 into their verses a panegyric of 200 distichs, in which three 
 ladies have celebrated Margaret, but she lives in French litera- 
 ture even down to our days only through her indecent, offensive, 
 and very naive stories. The ' Heptameron ' of Margaret may in 
 many respects be placed along with the ^ Decameron' of Boc- 
 cacio, but especially on account of its obscenity, and it is pre- 
 cisely this circumstance which lias caused the book to be newly 
 printed almost once in every five years, in our century. The 
 same relation which Marot and Margaret of Navarre bore to 
 poetry and to entertaining literature in the times of Louis the 
 Fourteenth, was maintained by Montaigne towards philosophy 
 and the wisdom of life, and that especially because the syste- 
 matic philosophy of Descartes, Mallebranche, and Fenelon had 
 never jjroperly penetrated the literature of the age, as systems of 
 philosophy are wont to do in Germany. Even Pascal only 
 attained the great influence which he enjoyed and enjoys by 
 means of the aphoristic form of his celebrated ' Pensees,' which 
 consist more of sceptical than dogmatical speculations. Mon- 
 taigne recommended his ^Essays' at the same time to the read- 
 ing of the people, and as philosophy to the learned by his prac- 
 tical prudence, by aphoristic wdsdom, by the delicate and often 
 well-concealed scepticism of a man of the world, by collections of 
 anecdotes and passages from the ancients, and by broad jokes. 
 In the same manner as the influence and v,'ritings of Rabelais 
 and Marot are everywhere visible in the lighter species of the 
 later French literature, Montaigne ruled in the sceptical phi- 
 losophy of the classical periods, and along with him, Pascal, as 
 an apparently simple wag, appears here and there usually to help 
 out with his dialectics. Montaigne is quoted almost in every 
 page in the writings of Bayle, who was ever desirous of allowing 
 his own opinions to be expressed by another, whether he was a 
 classical writer, or of another class if he was only well-known. 
 Voltaire profited by him in the same manner as the profound- 
 thinking Pascal ; and Rousseau's ideas of life, religion and edu- 
 cation may without difficulty be deduced from Montaigne's 
 ' Essays.' 
 
 The time of the non-progression and retrogradation of French 
 mental culture from the death of Henry the Fourth till Moliere,
 
 18 INTRODUCTION. [§ II. 
 
 is much more important for our German literature than for the 
 French — of which we shall speak below — for we Germans tor- 
 mented ourselves with the false Italian taste of the last quarter 
 of the sixteenth century, and of the whole of the seventeenth, 
 even till beyond the middle of the eighteenth, whilst the 
 French had completely set themselves free from its dominion as 
 early as the last quarter of the seventeenth century. This false 
 taste showed itself in two different ways ; first in an excessive 
 and singular observance of stiff rules, and of vain attempts to 
 compress the French language into ancient forms; and secondly, 
 in an originality which despised rules of all kinds, and deUghted 
 in bombast and fustian. The former error, strict observance of 
 rules and constraint, deprived the lyric Pleiades, who in other 
 respects possessed varied talent — of all the charms of nature, — 
 and left behind merely cold artificiality ; the second served to 
 make Marini's imitators, as D'Urfe and Scudery, ridiculous ! 
 
 This affected name of the Pleiades was given to the poets, 
 Ba'if, Jean Daurat, Dubellay, Ponthus de Thiard, Ronsard, 
 Jodelle, and Belleau. Malesherbes, Avho did not belong to their 
 number, alone preserved any tinge of nature and nationality, 
 and as he also, like Voltaire, became an oracle for the French 
 language and its rules, he is still studied and published ; all the 
 rest, like our Voss, were thoroughly acquainted with antiquity, 
 and like him, worked, by means of influence and force, to intro- 
 duce and give currency to the Roman and Grecian forms. The 
 most learned of the seven, Ronsard, who was a scholar of 
 Tournebceuf's, and Jean Daurat, enjoyed at first a very great 
 renown ; but public opinion afterwards declared itself against 
 his learned poetry, and called him unintelligible. In the same 
 May as these poets sinned by an affectation of learning and 
 antique observance of rule, the later artists in language, Balzac 
 and Voiturc, pushed to an exaggerated length their anxiety for 
 fine and witty applications and turns of speech, for the correct- 
 ness and ornaments of language ; all which Mohere and Boileau 
 afterwards banished from life, by scoffing and satire. The far- 
 fetched, wire-drawn, and prolix style of tlieir letters, and now 
 antiquated panegyrics, which in their time was eagerly sought 
 after and splendidly remunerated by all the princes in Europe, 
 and their manner of seeking every thing in the form, and 
 nothing in the substance, has been admirably described 
 by one of Voitiu-c's ])ancgyrists, in this commendatory
 
 § II.] INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 phrase, " Partout il badine si bien, qu'il fit des chefs d'oeuvres 
 de rien." 
 
 The bombastic and tumid Hterature of the times, from the 
 death of Heniy the Fourth till that of Mohere, was brought 
 into fashion by Mary de Medici, and continued afterwards do- 
 minant, till Corneille brought from Spain into France other and 
 better models than Guarini and Marini, and other Italians of 
 the last quarter of the sixteenth century, and this even against 
 the will of the reigning Cardinal Richelieu and his courtly aca- 
 demy. The Chevalier Marini, whose manner of indulging in 
 tropes and metaphors, in ridiculous and far-fetched bombast, in 
 plays upon words and allusions, may be well learned from our 
 Lohenstein and Hofmannswaldau, was the fashionable poet of 
 Italy, when Mary de Medici became regent of France. He even 
 came to France, and by his influence all nature disappeared from 
 the literature of the time. What Marini eflfected Avith respect 
 to poetry, the two Scuderys, brother and sister, who were praised 
 by the Society, in the Hotel Rambouillet, and the three brothers, 
 D'Urfe, Anne, Honore, and Antoine, afterwards accomplished in 
 prose, by a long series of volumes of sentimental and bombastic 
 novels, which were imitated and translated in German, even 
 in the eighteenth century, because they might be measured, in 
 particularity and solidity, with German books and their authors. 
 The Artamene, or Cyrus the Great, of Mademoiselle Scudery, 
 consisted of ten thick volumes octavo ; her Clelia, or Roman 
 History, reached even to fifteen parts. 
 
 The so-called classical literature of the French, from the year 
 1670 onwards, put an end to the perverted life, pursuits, and 
 writing which sprung from the emulation of Guarini and Ma- 
 rini, viz. of the degenerate Italian literature after the time of 
 Tasso, or of the false taste which poisoned and destroyed the 
 structural arts and style of architecture of the time of Louis the 
 Thirteenth. This literary reformation ennobled the reign of 
 Louis the Fourteenth still more than all his conquests, and 
 placed among us Gottsched, and afterwards Wieland, in a con- 
 dition to liberate our Germany also, at last about 1750, from its 
 Marinis, Balzacs and Voltaires, its D'Urfes and Scuderys. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 INTRODUCTION. [§ III, 
 
 § HI. 
 
 CONDITION OP LITERATURE IN ENGLAND AND FRANCE AT 
 THE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 In this manner there arose in France in the time of Louis the 
 Fourteenth, an entirely new Hterature, M'hich found its way into 
 the circles of the English aristocracy under Charles the Second, 
 and in a short time became prevaihng all over Europe, because 
 it appeared thoroughly aristocratic and monarchical, although in 
 reality it was not so. The character of this literature deter- 
 mined the character of that of the former half of the eighteenth 
 century, and we must therefore in this place just refer to that 
 literature which was peculiarly favoured from the time of the 
 foundation of tlie French academy in France. 
 
 The literature of the French, from the time of Richelieu, was 
 in one point of view altogether national, full of pomp and splen- 
 dour, of wit and declamation, full of wantonness and a practical 
 understanding of life, with very few exceptions heartless and 
 without humour, but in the other point of view, borrowed from 
 the ancients, and adapted by the learned men in France to the 
 rules of the ancients, or more properly speaking, starting from 
 this, it was improved and made. This new literature had reached 
 its highest point of prosperity before the end of the seventeenth 
 century, and school philosophy, couched in admirable language 
 (Mallebranche, Pascal), eloquence which was fitted to the na- 
 tional character, the regular drama, and a poetry modelled ac- 
 cording to the strictest rules of art, had all reached that degree 
 of perfection which it was possible for them to attain ; who ever 
 in future wished to gain splendid renown as a writer, must seek 
 another path to reputation ; and this introduced an entirely new 
 literature and philosophy of life into France at the beginning of 
 the eighteenth century. This new wisdom, this enlightenment 
 and superiority to the prejudices of the people on the subject of 
 Church and State, had been earlier formed in Holland and 
 England, and was so much the more eagerly received in France, 
 in proportion as the fanaticism of the French ecclesiastics and 
 of the parliaments had embittered the minds of all intelligent 
 men. The quietism of the visionaries, and the destructive doc- 
 trines of the Jesuits with respect to the great importance of 
 ecclesiastical ceremonies, as well as the progress of the ])hilo- 
 sophy of religion, had first called forth scepticism in the bosom
 
 § III.] INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 of the Catholic church itself; then the reformers who were driven 
 out of their country by Louis the Fourteenth, and found a 
 refuge in the low countries, attacked the Catholic system of 
 religion and the French Government, which was hostile to them, 
 the court, and the morals of the Parisians, and at the same time 
 every species of despotism, with those weapons of knowledge 
 and learning for which they were indebted to the admirable 
 schools, and to the literature which w^as universally acknow- 
 ledged as classical in the time of Louis the Fourteenth. This 
 new species of mental culture spread so much the more without 
 observation, from the charm which it derived, from escaping 
 the notice or despising the vigilance of that severe police, wdiich 
 watched over literature as well as the state. Scothng and doubt 
 spread everywhere in secret, under the severe government of 
 Louis, and the mischiefs which they caused were so much the 
 more dreadful as they escaped public observation ; all the sin 
 and shame was afterwards laid to the charge of the Regency 
 alone, because Philip of Orleans did homage to the genius of 
 his age, and showed a feeling of indulgence, or exercised patience 
 towards its crimes and its scepticism. We have elsewhere* 
 alluded to the origin and connexion of the struggle against 
 Church and State in the seventeenth century; and we shall here 
 only add some remarks upon the changes in English literature 
 since the times of Cromwell. The affectation of piety and of 
 religious fanaticism, which reigned in England during the time 
 of the republic, both in writings and in life, and which introduced 
 a wholly absurd and ridiculous tone and language into conver- 
 sation, begat a strong repugnance in the public mind to such 
 hypocrisy, and awakened an inclination for natural freedom ; 
 this degenerated into extreme licentiousness in the time of 
 Charles the Second. The tone and lanffuaffe of the Restoration 
 were frivolous, because Biblical forms of language, and real or 
 pretended religiousness of life fell into utter contempt along with 
 the republic and the republicans, among whom this manner 
 prevailed. On his restoration, Charles the Second brought with 
 him the morals and usages of the times of the Fronde, and the 
 wanton tone of the memoirs and novels of the time immediately 
 following, and these prevailed in England during the whole of 
 his reign. The re-instating of the hierarchy in the old form, 
 which immediately followed the restoration of the Stuarts, the 
 
 * In an Essay on Schlosser and Bercht's Archives for History and Lite- 
 rature, vol.ii. pp. 2 — 52.
 
 22 INTRODUCTION. [§ III. 
 
 continuance of those crying abuses connected with the hierar- 
 chy, and the maintenance of them under WilHam the Third, 
 even after the expulsion of James the Second, drew the attention 
 of all thinking and able men to the subject, and caused them to 
 attack this wholly rigid ecclesiastical system, and along with it 
 incidentally Christianity itself. Besides, during the course of 
 the seventeenth century, an Englishman brought forward an 
 entirely new system of moral and political philosophy, in support 
 of the military dominion of absolute power. Thomas Hobbes 
 had forsaken the beaten path — had at the same time bid defiance 
 both to freedom and hierarchy, and without suspecting it, had 
 paved the May for the bold scoffers at all spiritual and temporal 
 dominion, as well as for the defenders of the rights of a sound 
 understanding, and of the demands of a free people against the 
 pretensions and claims of their rulers. Harrington and Alger- 
 non Sydney, as pohtical writers, went beyond the boldest French 
 writers of the eighteenth century, and the same Hobbes, who 
 defended temporal despotism, and propounded a philosophical 
 system of temporal absolutism, bitterly attacked Christianity. 
 
 The wanton and scoffing manner of speaking about religion 
 which we find prevailing under the reign of Charles the Second, 
 was a natural consequence of the pietistic severity and cari- 
 cature of Biblical language, which was the fashion in the time 
 of Cromwell, or the so-called Commonwealth. The wanton and 
 offensive memoirs and novels, which were well known among 
 the French, were read at the court of Charles; the courtiers 
 lived and wrote quite after the manner of the French, among 
 whom Charles and his brother had lived, and who swarmed 
 about the Enghsh court. About the same time as the French 
 wantonness was extended to England, Locke invented his new 
 philosophy of reflection, which was afterwards embraced, deve- 
 loped, and metamorphosed by the French in the eighteenth 
 century. We cannot either here or afterwards — when we return 
 to Locke, whose influence first began to be felt in the eighteenth 
 century, some time after his death, — allow ourselves to enter 
 into an investigation with respect to the nature of this philo- 
 sophy ; we shall however afterwards point out the connexion of 
 the pious Locke, with the audacious attacks of the scoffers upon 
 Christianity ; in this place, we shall only notice some occur- 
 rences of the eighteenth century, which stood in connexion with 
 the origin of the new philosophy. 
 
 The doctrine of experience and obseiTation, of calculation and
 
 § ITI.] INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 measurement, as the sources of knowledge, and the means of 
 applying it, pervaded the whole system of hfe, whose further 
 development it promoted ; even Leibnitz was obliged to do it 
 homage, although, according to his system, all true knowledge 
 was derived from God alone, and he endeavoured to clothe the 
 whole ecclesiastical system, the Trinity, Atonement, and even 
 Transubstantiation, in a philosophical dress : the rapid develop- 
 ment of external life, the multiplication of wants and conve- 
 niences were thereby no little promoted. This must have strongly 
 recommended this new philosophy to the inhabitants of the Low 
 Countries, between which and England there existed a very 
 lively intercourse under the reign of William the Third ; because 
 industry, vrealth and activity in trade and commerce, abounded 
 there as much as in England itself. The universities and their 
 teachers indeed were in no respects better disposed to Spinoza 
 in Holland, than to Locke in England, with whose system the 
 orthodoxy of traditionary faith could be ill made to agree ; 
 there were however thinking men such as Bayle, Le Clerc, and 
 others, even in the seventeenth century, who did not stop at the 
 modest doubts of Locke, but ventured to go still further. Bayle, 
 as is well known, brought together at the end of the seventeenth 
 century in his periodical and in his great dictionary, every thing 
 which both ancients and moderns had said against the prevail- 
 ing system — and proved in his work upon comets, that the 
 superstition and tendencies to belief in miracles in his time, 
 were absurd remnants of barbarism. The more skilfully he 
 concealed his proper meaning, as Locke also did, the more his 
 satire took effect, and the desire to find out the sting of his wit, 
 gave a charm to his words, which open scorn for the existing 
 order of things could not have given them. Bayle and Le Clerc 
 were obliged to proceed with great caution, in order to win the 
 favour of the Dutch and French ; for those doctrines which had 
 been discovered and developed in England, were received by the 
 French, and by their means universally disseminated ; the En- 
 glish ventured to speak out more boldly. Lord Herbert, of 
 Cherbury, had made a bold attack upon Christianity in the 
 former half of the seventeenth century ; Shaftesbury, after 
 Locke, directed his wit and his satire against the hierarchy and 
 the decrees of councils and confessions of faith of the clergy, 
 against learned investigators and courtiers. Shaftesbury, as 
 well as Collins, Tindal, Chubb, Mandeville, and Morgan, belong
 
 24 INTRODUCTION. [§ III. 
 
 to the eighteenth century, we shall therefore speak of them 
 hereafter : Toland, on the contrary, began his attacks upon 
 Christianity — which were vehement, but not always very rea- 
 sonable — shortly before the close of the seventeenth century. 
 
 Toland, like Shaftesbury and Bayle, whose friend he was, 
 belonged to those Mhom Locke's prudence and piety did not 
 permit him to know ; he was not sufficiently sly and cautious to 
 conceal himself in so thick a veil as Shaftesbury and Bayle, so 
 that it might still remain a question, whether he had really cri- 
 ticised Christian dogmatics, or wished to attack the system, in 
 like manner, as it was a question earnestly disputed, whether 
 Shaftesbury had been really an enemy of Christianity or not. 
 Toland was very zealous in favour of Deism and republicanism, 
 but often in a very unreasonable manner. He wrote his ^ Chris- 
 tianity not mysterious,' and was obliged to flee from England to 
 Dublin, as soon as his book appeared (1696), and was after- 
 wards not much less persecuted in Dublin than in England. 
 Toland besides, in his book, not only attacked the clergy in the 
 same manner as Voltaire and the whole body of scoffers in the 
 eighteenth century, but declared himself a republican, and 
 directed his attacks, not merely against the theology of the 
 church, but with bitterness and vehemence against Christianity 
 itself. Provoked by persecution, he afterwards wrote (1698) 
 his ^Life of Milton,' and under the title of Amyntor, a defence 
 of the work, in which he attacks religion quite in the manner 
 of the French Encyclopedists, who have used his materials. 
 
 Toland conducted himself very unskilfully ; he v.as often 
 vulgar, and gave way so completely to his humour and his mo- 
 mentary impulses, that his attacks Avould have passed over 
 altogether unheeded, if a number of other men, for the most 
 part of good reputation, had not at the same time entered the 
 lists against a theology and philosophy which had become anti- 
 quated, and wliich was nevertheless violently forced upon every 
 man by wicked governments and heartless aristocracies, in 
 order to hold the people in dependence by means of the hier- 
 archy and sophists. We must agaiii return to Toland, when 
 speaking of the literature and mental culture of the eighteenth 
 century, because Huet, Mosheim, and other learned and pious 
 men, by their defence of Christianity against his attacks, first 
 directed the attention of all those to Toland, whom the spirit of 
 the age excited against Christianity.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 REFORMATION OR REVOLUTION OF PHILOSOPHY AND LITERA- 
 TURE IN ENGLAND. 
 
 §1. 
 
 GENERAL REMARKS. — LOCKE. 
 
 At the conclusion of the introduction to this vohime, we have 
 remarked, that the poHtical changes in England at the end of the 
 seventeenth century, had given rise to a contest about the founda- 
 tions and principles of divine and human order, which sooner or 
 later must prove destructive to the whole existing system of the 
 middle ages. Those who doubted and scoffed, M'Cre, however, 
 by no means, the organs of the popular voice ; on the contrary, 
 the bold innovators, both in Holland and in England — where 
 alone their writings were tolerated by the police — had most to fear 
 both from the higher powers and from the people, notwithstand- 
 ing a party ruled in both countries at the beginning of the cen- 
 tury, who boasted, that they had been the defenders of freedom, 
 and had even maintained the republican constitution in Holland. 
 This party, called Whigs in England, opponents of the House 
 of Orange in Holland, was however, quite as near, nay, perhaps 
 more nearly, approximated to the middle ages, than their adver- 
 saries. The Anglican Whigs, the strict Calvinists who governed 
 Holland, and the Dominies of their pulpits, were, after 
 their own fashion, just as fanatical as the Jesuits in Spain, 
 Aiistria, or France : both covered their worldly views with 
 the mantle of hypocritical piety. The small number of persons 
 in England who purchased a share in the government, or who 
 were purchased by it, exhibited no greater respect for the laws 
 of morality than the servants of absolute monarchs. The gen- 
 tlemen of consequence in England and Ireland, precisely in the 
 same manner as the government in France, considered the church
 
 26 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 and its possessions as the property and the asylum of their re- 
 latives and favourites. 
 
 It was these circumstances which gave strength and attrac- 
 tion to awakened scepticism, and to the teaching of sound rea- 
 son in opposition to the prevailing positive dogmas of the church 
 and the petrified wisdom of the schools ; and there arose a class of 
 writers who directed the whole power of their wit against the 
 prevailing dogmas. We shall indeed see that the first properly 
 decisive attack was made from Paris or Berlin ; but we must 
 search for the weapons, armour, materials, and preparations for 
 the battle, in England. 
 
 We must besides, in this inquiry, keep in view a wider circle 
 of writers, because it is characteristic of the eighteenth century, 
 that all its writers began to work for a very different public from 
 that of their predecessors. They attempted to make easy, plea- 
 sant, and accessible, all that had been previously regarded as se- 
 rious, difficult, and unattainable ; without learned instruction 
 they sported with philosophy, poetry, and history, and the 
 writers of this period gained in grace and the powers of enter- 
 tainment what they lost in seriousness and depth. 
 
 For the illustration of this point we return to Locke ; because 
 the system of observation, reflection, and experience which, at 
 the end of the seventeenth century, he set forth in opposition to 
 the pedantic system of the universities, to the visionary and 
 poetical teaching of a Pascal, a Mallebranche (of a perception in 
 God), and to the pantheism of a Spinoza, paved the way for a 
 Bolingbroke and a Shaftesbury. We shall not inquire, in how 
 far Locke drew his materials from Hobbes, but only show in 
 what manner, without knowing or wishing it, he shook the 
 established system to its foundations. Locke himself, like the 
 first commentators on religion in Germany in the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, did not entertain the slightest thought of workhig a revo- 
 lution ; but his very first scholars, as we shall hereafter remark, 
 entered upon the way which Voltaire also took. 
 
 What however Locke himself did not perceive, by no means 
 escaped the Mcll-arnicd — but alas ! contemptible — defenders of 
 the orthodoxy of the Anglican church, and of the benefices 
 therewith connected. Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, who 
 held a number of other rich benefices together with his bishop- 
 ric, scented the tendency of Locke's philosophy, just as cor- 
 rectly as the watchman of Lutheran orthodoxy, Melchior 
 Gotz, Pastor in Hamburg, discovered the dangerous views of
 
 § I.] LOCKE. 27 
 
 our renowned Lessing, from the mere advertisement of the so 
 called ' Wolfenbuttel Fragments.' Stillingfleet, properly speak- 
 ing, only contended against a scholar and friend of the philoso- 
 pher, the Deist Toland ; but he took advantage of the opportu- 
 nity to attack Locke also, concluding Avith justice, that the 
 whole system of dogmatics which had sprung from the school of 
 the Aristotelian and scholastic Christian divines, must fall together 
 with the metaphysics of Aristotle himself. The Trinity, which 
 the Bishop of Worcester recognises as the foundation of his 
 Anglican scholastic Christianity, must stand or fall together 
 ■with the play upon the notion expressed by the word substance, 
 which had been invented by the dogmatic Aristotelian school of 
 Byzantium. The bishop therefore buckles on his armour, and 
 takes the field on behalf of the notion substance, and in the 
 truest sense, fights pro aris et focis. 
 
 The contest which Locke had to carry on with the learned 
 and well-read bishop, with respect to the greater or less danger 
 with which Christianity was threatened by the new philosophy, 
 became more vehement, especially because Locke neither wished 
 to be reckoned among the opponents of Christianity, nor to be 
 mixed up with those who were dissatisfied with the established 
 church. As we have only to relate facts, it is sufficient to show 
 that such a contest really took place, to state that Locke's 
 answer to the bishop's imputations occupies as great a space 
 in his works, as his 'Essay on the Human Understanding,' 
 itself.* This notice may suffice, in reference to the relation of 
 the new philosophy to the prevailing doctrines of the church. 
 
 Locke had no occasion to conceal his opinions with respect to 
 civil constitutions, as he had in relation to Theology. He might 
 boldly and safely affirm in England, that he was opposed to the 
 system prevailing on the Continent. Thereby he secured the 
 friendship of the ministers, to whom an attack upon a church 
 which was so serviceable to them, would have made him an 
 object of hatred. Locke therefore wrote a treatise upon civil 
 government, in opposition to the theological political principles 
 of Filmer. In this treatise he defended the original freedom of 
 man, and maintained, that the union of men in civil societies, 
 and consequently that all government, had its origin in a com- 
 pact, in opposition to Filmer, and those who were like-minded, 
 who maintained that all government had its foundation in pa- 
 
 * Locke's Works, London, 1714, 3 v. 4to., Human Understanding, 1-342. 
 Controversy with the Bishop, 343-576.
 
 28 ENGLAND. [CIIAP. I. 
 
 triarclial power, that consequent!}^ absolute monarchy is divine, 
 and no man born free. The whole of the first part of Locke's 
 small book is taken up with the refutation of those theological 
 proofs or alleged proofs, which deduced the sovereign poM^er of 
 princes from the monarchical power of Adam. 
 
 However ridiculous this derivation of monarchical power from 
 Adam may appear to us, it had nevertheless, even in England in 
 the beginning of the last century, such an apparent importance, 
 as to lead a man of Locke's eminence to come forward in oppo- 
 sition to Filmer. As to the second part, to which he gave the 
 title of ^ Civil Government,' we can only so far allude to it, as 
 it falls within the scope of our plan. It is important as showing 
 that the originator of the new philosophy, which demanded tole- 
 ration, and subjected faith to rational conviction, was the first 
 also to publish a theory of civil government which was not 
 founded upon divine right, but upon human compact. 
 
 Toleration of differences in religious opinions, was a thing no- 
 where thought of in the beginning of the last century, except 
 in Turkey and in Holland ; and no man, who did not wish to be 
 accused as an Indifferentist or Latitudinarian, durst raise his 
 voice in its behalf: with respect to this principle, Locke took 
 the foreway of Voltaire and Montesquieu, who afterwards wrote 
 with so much zeal in favour of universal toleration. In his trea- 
 tise upon toleration, Locke claims full liberty of thought and 
 of opinion for every man* — he desires that the Jew, heathen, 
 and Mahometan should stand upon a precisely equal footing 
 with their Christian fellow-subjects in every thing which concerns 
 civil rightst, a principle which, even in our day, still meets with 
 great opposition in various quarters. 
 
 Locke's view of Christianity and of its reasonableness was 
 first adopted by the German theologians ; in his time, the one 
 party reproached him with being too much attached to the old 
 forms of belief, whilst the other calumniated him, as if he were 
 altogether an enemy to Christianity. Locke drew his proofs in 
 favovu" of Christianity as a divine revelation, from the nature and 
 effects of its teaching, and rejected the proof A^hich rests upon 
 
 * " Absolute liberty, just and true liberty, equal and impartial liberty, is 
 the thing that \vc stand in need of. Now, though this has indeed been much 
 talked of, I doubt it has not been much understood, I am sure not at all prac- 
 tised, either by our governors towards the people in general, or by any dissent- 
 ing parties of the people towards one another." — Toleration, p. 249. 
 
 f " I would not have so much as a pagan, Jew, or Mahometan excluded 
 from the civil rights of the commonwealth because of his religion." — Locke's 
 Works, vol. ii. p. 259.
 
 § I.] LOCKE. 29 
 
 miracles and supernatural operations, because he regarded it as 
 unnecessary, and as an historical proof liable to attack on his- 
 torical and critical grounds. This supposition of Locke's was as 
 much opposed to the views of his disciples, the so-called Deists, 
 as to those of Shaftesbury, Bolingbroke and the philosophers of 
 the school of Voltaire. Locke besides carefully drew a distinc- 
 tion between the Evangelists and the letters of the Apostles, and 
 again between the history of their actions, and what was properly 
 only a legend of their miracles. He distinguishes even between 
 those doctrines in the Apostolic Epistles, which were only cal- 
 culated for the moment and for the particular circumstances of 
 the persons addressed, and those universal and eternal truths, 
 which were veiled to a generation whose eyes were blinded by 
 the dross of Judaism*. These assertions immediately gave rise 
 to a great outcry against him. What would have been the con- 
 sequence had he gone further? 
 
 We believe that it will be sufficiently evident from these few 
 words of introduction to the history of all the following attacks 
 which were made at this time by the wits of the age, by all per- 
 sons of talent and knowledge, upon a system which had out- 
 lived itself, and which was altogether unsuited to the new con- 
 dition and relations of society, that Locke, with all his discre- 
 tion, opened up and led the way ; we shall merely add, that he 
 insisted earnestly upon a reformation in education and the means 
 of instruction. In this respect also he showed himself prudent 
 and anxious, and may be said rather to have collected the mate- 
 rials and sharpened the weapons for the struggle against all that 
 which, in the course of time, had become either useless or hurt- 
 ful in monarchical and hierarchical government, than himself to 
 have entered upon the contest. Locke's immediate followers 
 and scholars, Shaftesbury and still more the numerous deists, 
 who were reproachfully called atheists, wielded the weapons 
 which he had forged, against the system upon which the Euro- 
 pean states of the middle ages were built, as upon a rock. 
 
 * " And as for the General Epistles, they, we may see, regard the state and 
 exigencies and some peculiarities of those times. These holy writers, inspired 
 from above, wrote nothing l)ut truth ; but yet every sentence of theirs must 
 not be taken up and looked on as a fundamental article necessary to salvation, 
 without an explicit belief whereof, nobody could be a member of Christ's 
 Church here, or be admitted into his eternal kingdom hereafter. If all or 
 most of the truths declared in the Epistles, were to be received and believed as 
 fundamental articles, what then becomes of those Christians who were fallen 
 asleep ? (as St. Paul witnesses, in his ' First Epistle to the Corinthians/many 
 were.)" — Reasonableness of ChristiauUy, vol. ii. p. 519.
 
 30 ENGLAND. [CHAP, I. 
 
 § n. 
 
 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT IN RELIGION. 
 
 OPPONENTS AND SCOFFERS OF THE PREVAILING DOC- 
 TRINES. — SHAFTESBURY AND SOME OF THE DEISTS. 
 
 Locke's follower and disciple, Shaftesbury, so much the more 
 deserves to be first mentioned among the creators of a new lite- 
 rature, which was altogether opposed to that which was existing 
 and had prevailed, because his manner and style were calculated 
 to induce the higher classes, who shrink from every thing re- 
 quiring effort, and who do not bring much knowledge to the 
 work, to read his Mritings. In these respects he was superior 
 to Bolingbroke, who, however, was much wittier and more 
 splendid than he. He guards himself carefully from exhaust- 
 ing his subject or going too deep for his readers ; and he be- 
 came therefore immediately the favourite writer of the fashion- 
 able world*. 
 
 Shaftesbury deserves here also to be first named ; because he 
 was in some measure, and against his will, drawn forth as a free- 
 thinking writer, in the very beginning of the eighteenth century. 
 He was first educated by his grandfather, who has gained a name 
 in history on account of his prudence, and a bad renown for the 
 way in m hich he proved and exercised it ; he was afterwards 
 trained by Locke according to a new method, or in other words, 
 like Voltaire, he had gained an earlier acquaintance with the 
 world so-called, than with science ; like Montaigne, he had 
 learned the ancient languages by the easy and superficial method 
 of practice, and was therefore, by his intercourse, education, 
 and improvement of mind altogether free from the prejudices of 
 his age, and found nobody in England who satisfied him as an 
 instructor. He sought out Bayle, Le Clerc and others in the 
 Low Countries, maintained his connexion with them during his 
 life, and turned from Locke's doctrine of virtue and reason to 
 the scofiing and ridicule of Bayle. He was confessedly much 
 less anxious for truth than the applause of the world. He had 
 been drawn forth, as we have remarked, by Toland, who pub- 
 lished his treatise upon ' Virtue and Merit,' and by numerous 
 interpolated sentences made it approximate closely to his own 
 
 * See Schlosser and Bercht's ' Archiv. fiir Gcschiclite und Literatur, 2 
 Band/ 7—52. p. 22, of Shaftesbury.
 
 § II.] SHAFTESBURY. 31 
 
 system. This occurred at the close of the seventeenth century ; 
 and at the beginning of the eighteenth, Shaftesbury thought 
 himself called upon to publish an improved and purified edition 
 of his work. 
 
 Whoever has read this single treatise of Shaftesbury, will 
 acknowledge that Voltaire was altogether right when, with 
 bitter irony, he called him even a too vehement opponent of Chris- 
 tianity. It was he, who long before Voltaire, showed the higher 
 circles the way to elude the morality and religion of the lower. 
 In this treatise he attacked the fanaticism and intolerance of his 
 time, spoke with bitterness and scorn against the assertions of 
 the Old Testament and the orthodox church, that God could 
 command or forbid anything else than what seemed right and 
 good, or evil and wrong, to an unprepossessed human being left 
 to the free exercise of his understanding. Man, so unbiassed, 
 neither led astray by prejudices, by fanaticism, nor system, with 
 his understanding directed to the discovery of what is profitable 
 and pleasant, is according to his view the only infallible guide, 
 and by the manner in which he speaks of superstition and 
 atheism and their effects he shows, that he feared little from a 
 deficiency in religion, but from its abuse every thing. He says 
 expressly, " Whoever thinks there is a God, and pretends for- 
 mally to believe that he is just and good, must suppose, that 
 there is such a thing as justice and injustice, truth and false- 
 hood, right and wrong, according to which he pronounces that 
 God is just, righteous, and true." This is afterwards supported 
 by a facility of speech, which is never offensive, with that re- 
 finement and art, which is to be learned only in the world, in 
 which Shaftesbury, like Voltaire, shone by his talents and his 
 tone; without attracting attention, he then places all positive 
 religion far behind natural morality. By a very clever turn of 
 discourse, the belief in God, as the supreme judge and as the 
 rewarder of all those who have fulfilled certain religious duties, is 
 placed in deep shade, in comparison with Shaftesbuiy's notions 
 of virtue. 
 
 Shaftesbury ironically says the same thing, which strict mo- 
 ralists, and among them Kant, have said in earnest, viz., that a 
 belief in God which originates in hope or fear, robs virtue of 
 all its merit, because man in this case renders merely an inter- 
 ested service*. Moreover, Shaftesbury, in other passages of the 
 
 * L. c. pp. 46, 47.
 
 32 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 new edition of his improved and enlarged treatise, attacks all 
 positive religions, and especially the Mosaic and the Christian 
 more vehemently than any of the other Deists, although he 
 neither mentions expressly the Old Testament nor the Christian 
 religion. He uses these words : — 
 
 " But if, by insensible degrees as a man proceeds in his re- 
 ligious faith and devout exercise, he comes to be more and more 
 reconciled to the malignity, arbitrariness, partiality or revenge- 
 fulness of his believed deity, his reconciliation with those qualities 
 themselves will soon grow in proportion ; and the most cruel, 
 unjust, and barbarous acts, will by the power of this example be 
 often considered by him, not only as just and lawful, but as 
 divine and worthy of imitation." 
 
 This is afterwards applied to the principle of all positive re- 
 ligions, and especially to the doctrine of atonement, which is 
 readily suggested \vithout being named, as appears from the 
 following passage : — 
 
 " If the mere voice, decree, or law of God be said absolutely 
 to constitute right and wrong, then are these latter words of no 
 significancy at all. For thus, if each part of a contradiction 
 were affirmed for truth by the Supreme Power, they would con- 
 sequently become true. Thus, if one person were decreed to 
 suffer for another's guilt, the sentence would be just and equita- 
 ble ; and thus, in the same manner, if arbitrarily and without 
 reason, some beings were sentenced to endure perpetual ill, and 
 others as constantly to enjoy good, this also Mould pass under 
 the same denomination. But to say of anj^thing that it is just or 
 unjust on such a foundation, is to say nothing, or to speak with- 
 out a meaning. And thus it appears that where a real devotion 
 and hearty worship is paid to a Supreme Being, who, in his hi- 
 story or character is represented otherwise than as really and truly 
 just and good, there must ensue a loss of rectitude, a disturbance 
 of thought and a corruption of tempers and manner in the be- 
 liever. His honesty will, of necessity, be supplanted by his zeal, 
 whilst he is thus unnaturally influenced and rendered thus im- 
 morally devout.^' — Characteristics, vol. xii. book 2. pp. 39, 40. 
 
 In other passages, indeed, he lays great stress upon, and at- 
 taches a high value to religion and to what he calls piety ; but 
 this is done in such a way as plainly to show that he means 
 clearly to distinguish what he calls religion from the prevailing 
 religion of the state.
 
 § II.] SHAFTESBURY. 33 
 
 The effort to establish a certain kind of morality, of which 
 religion has no need, and which was indeed anterior to it, is 
 perfectly in unison with this mode of attacking the established 
 faith. And this, indeed, he does not expressly assert, but allows 
 to be inferred in the ' Moralist,' a work which was brought be- 
 fore the public in the ninth year of the eighteenth century. In 
 this book, which he calls a rhapsody, he has introduced an ab- 
 solute sceptic and a defender of reason and its use, speaking, 
 after the manner of Cicero, but rather more in the tone of 
 conversation, about moral order and the existence of a God. 
 Here every thing which, since the time of Aristotle, had been 
 assumed as proved, and all the notions which were applied to 
 life, morality, and religion, are subjected to the criticism of an 
 understanding educated and trained without traditionary learn- 
 ing. The view appears to be, to prove to the great public of 
 educated persons, that their natural understanding had no rea- 
 son to shrink back before the learning of the schools, or before 
 their systematic creeds and metaphysics. The form of dialogue 
 here chosen, affords the cunning English peer, who did not wish 
 to incur the displeasure of the bishops and of the rigid believing 
 and dull-minded Anglicans, an opportunity of declaring himself 
 in much stronger terms against the prevailing notions than it 
 w^as possible for him to do in the treatise first published by To- 
 land. In reference to the irony which he thinks it necessary 
 to adopt, one of the persons who is introduced as speaking, says 
 expressly: " You know the common fate of those who dare to 
 appear fair authors ; what was that pious and learned man's case, 
 who wrote the ' Intellectual System of the Universe' ? I confess 
 it was pleasant enough to consider, that though the whole world 
 were no less satisfied with his capacity and learning than with 
 his sincerity in the cause of Deity, yet was he accused of giving 
 the upper hand to the atheists, for having only stated their 
 reasons and those of their adversaries fairly together." — Mo7'a1ist, 
 part ii. sect. 3. In what follows it is shown in the shrewdest 
 and most scoffing manner, that the defenders have made their 
 task a very easy one, by assuming what ought first to have been 
 proved, and that they injure their own cause by so strongly de- 
 precating the blessings of this life in order to exalt those of a 
 life to come, and denying the existence of all happiness and or- 
 der here with a view to seek them in a hereafter. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 It will be seen from this passage that Shaftesbury laughs to 
 scorn the teaching of all churches, pulpits, and chairs, according 
 to which this earth is a vale of tears, and heaven alone the home 
 of men. Thus he makes another of the persons of his dialogue, 
 in another passage, speak out with still more distinctness and 
 severity : — 
 
 " A Providence must be proved from what we see of order in 
 things present; we must contend for order, and in this part 
 chiefly where virtue is concerned. All must not be referred to 
 a hereafter ; for a disordered state, on which all present care of 
 things is given up, vice uncontrolled, and virtue neglected, repre- 
 sents a very chaos, and reduces it to the beloved atoms, chance, 
 and confusion of the atheists. What, therefore, can be worse 
 done in the cause of a deity than to magnify disorder, and ex- 
 aggerate, as some zealous people do, the misfortunes of virtue, 
 so far as to render it an unhappy choice with respect to this 
 Avorld ? They err widely, who propose to turn men to the 
 thoughts of a better world by making them think so ill of this. 
 For to declaim in this manner against virtue to those of a looser 
 faith, will make them less believe a Deity, but not the more a 
 future state." — Moi'alist, part ii. sect. 3. 
 
 In a subsequent passage, but always indeed in a covert man^ 
 ner, and under the appearance of a dialogue between two friends 
 who defend opposite systems, he ridicules the method of the 
 theologians who rail against nature and its arrangements, 
 against passions, inclinations, and impulses, upon the very 
 ground that they show themselves forgetful of the fact, that the 
 Godhead is responsible for nature and its properties. The pious 
 reflections of Locke and the natural theologians upon the wis- 
 dom and goodness revealed in the phaanomena of the world, are 
 here treated with scepticism and scoffing. Shaftesbvu'y does not, 
 indeed, enter upon the discussion of natural theology itself — 
 he has onh' to do with men, and leads into a labyrinth of doubts, 
 without alloA\ ing a malicious, a scornful, or a frivolous word to 
 escape from him ; Diderot and Leibnitz have, therefore, both 
 availed themselves of Shaftesbury. The German philosopher 
 profited by his sentimental pictures of virtue, a^ hich, as we shall 
 hereafter see, Mandcvillc ridiculed ; the French one confined 
 himself to his warfare against the doctrines of the church. This 
 controversy is found in the fifth part of the ^ Moralist,^ where
 
 § II.] SHAFTESBURY. 35 
 
 Shaftesbury ingeniously contends against miracles and super- 
 natural appearances — against a revelation founded upon signs 
 and wonders, or what he calls the atheism of superstition. 
 
 Shaftesbury, like the Frenchman who followed in his foot- 
 steps, opposes the unbiassed and bold judgment of the men of 
 the world to the speculation of the deep-searching schools and 
 privileged churches of his age; he does this, however, like 
 Bayle, in a form which conceals contempt under the appearance 
 of esteem for the only true religion. He alleges, for example, 
 with contempt and scorn, that the teacher of a revelation may 
 be in a certain sense right and true ; but nevertheless in refer- 
 ence to a faith which he regards as good and salutary, he may 
 be placed in circumstances which induce him to sanction all 
 sorts of pious frauds, and he adds : — '"'And so very natural do I 
 take this to be, that in all religions, except the true, I look upon 
 the greatest zeal to be accompanied with the strongest inclina- 
 tion to deceive ; for, the design and end being the truth, it is 
 not customary to hesitate or be scrupulous about the use of the 
 means." — Moralist, part ii. sect. 5. 
 
 In a subsequent passage in the same work he cleverly and 
 ingeniously refutes, or rather ridicules, and as it appears alto- 
 gether to the advantage of religion itself, the proofs in favour of 
 miracles, the theory on which they rest, and the doctrine of 
 spirits, angels and devils, with which they are connected. Shaftes- 
 bury shows that this whole theory of spirits and miracles leads 
 as necessarily to the doctrine of Epicurus, as that of eternal and 
 immutable order leads to God. " How singular," he exclaims, 
 " that the defenders of miracles, who quarrel with and abuse 
 one another, wish to teach us, that harmony, order, and union, 
 have led to atheism, that disorder, confusion, and interferences 
 with the operations of nature lead to the conviction of the exist- 
 ence of a God !" 
 
 The last division of his book contains the well known poetical 
 Theodike, " O mighty Nature ! wise substitute of Providence ! 
 empowered greatness ! O thou empowering Deity, supreme Crea- 
 tor*," which so much delighted Leibnitz and provoked Mande- 
 ville. In the first part, the easy and obvious notion of sound 
 reason is substituted for all the old metaphysical notions of mode 
 and substance, of thought and intelligence, and the old cosmo- 
 logy and morals appear in the obscure distance like the ruins of 
 
 * ' Moralist,* part iii. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 ENGLAND, [CHAP. I. 
 
 abstruse vagaries when placed in juxtaposition with the bright 
 and new buildings of Shaftesbury. In the same manner, the 
 notions of beauty, of enjoyment, of good, lose the form w'hich 
 had been given them in the middle ages, and appear in a di^ess 
 altogether new. All this was recommended to persons of rank, 
 and to the circles in which, at the same time, Shaftesbuiy shone 
 as a brilliant star, by means of pleasantness of form, of inge- 
 nious clothing, and of wit which was borrowed from his French 
 models. Can it be any matter of surprise that the earnestness 
 and rigidity of the schools became ridiculous ? 
 
 As to facihty and agreeableness of form, Shaftesbury wTote a 
 book esjjecially to show the superiority of the lively manner in 
 which French writers treated grave and important things, over 
 that of the dulness of his countiymen. Shaftesbury, like the 
 French writers, addressed himself to the good society of great 
 cities, who alone by their connexions and by their lively inter- 
 course with one another, could become masters of the jests and 
 wit, by means of which Voltaire and Bolingbroke gained their 
 reputation; he calls upon the fashionable and the rich to pass 
 judgment upon the most important concerns of mankind, which, 
 as everybody knows, in the ever-moving circles of the great 
 W'Orld, must always give way to the concerns and frivolities of 
 the day. The very title of this book bespeaks its object*. What 
 Shaftesbury brought forward must necessarily have paved the 
 way for a Bolingbroke, a Montesquieu and a Voltaire. How 
 much the new ton of good society was hostile to the hierarchy, 
 to despotism and fanaticism, how powerfully the fashion of bold 
 scepticism, like all other fashions, ruled, will become obvious 
 from the enumeration of the celebrated so-called deists, whom 
 we shall for this reason expressly introduce. 
 
 Before we pass on to the deists, we shall still make one remark, 
 namely that Shaftesbury preferred the so-called French litera- 
 ture to the English. According to his letters, Shakespeare and 
 Milton are antiquated ; and they, and all who have imitated their 
 vigour, are not upon a level with the polished, easy, and new 
 world, which he has in his eye. This is abundantly proved in 
 his letters, and we only mention it because Addison, Steele, 
 Prior, Pope, Thomson, Swift and others followed his example, 
 and formed a poetry from poetical reminiscences, and a prose 
 
 * Sensus Communis, an ' Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour in a 
 Letter to a Friend,' Basl. Ed. vol. i. p. 49.
 
 § II.] TOLAND. 37 
 
 from humourous incidents and polished speech which could dis- 
 pense with the creative power of genius. The rapid extension 
 of the notions which originated in this time will be readily un- 
 derstood, when it is seen in what charming clothing they are 
 presented in the writings of Shaftesbury, with what delicacy and 
 foresight he guards him,self against every prejudice by offering 
 no rude violence to any prevaihng opinion. Leibnitz was de- 
 ceived, he perceived in Shaftesbury's animated tirades his own 
 views of the best part of the world. The good Bishop Hurd was 
 beside himself when he read Shaftesbury's praises of the wis- 
 dom and goodness of the Creator in the arrangement and order 
 of the world. Voltaire alone, who in such things was particu- 
 larly keen-sighted, discovered in Shaftesbury the fatalism and 
 underhand dealing of a cautious pantheist. 
 
 In order to show how widely diffused the philosophy of a 
 Bayle and a Shaftesbury was, and how hollow the ground on 
 which the hierarchical and monarchical system of the European 
 states rested, we shall proceed to enumerate the best known of 
 the so-called deists, confining ourselves, however, to the names 
 of those men of whose services the French philosophers of the 
 eighteenth century have especially availed themselves. If we 
 bestow only the most hasty glance on the writings of the men 
 whose names we are about to mention, it is because, as writers, 
 they are in general insignificant, and theology and its history 
 do not fall within the scope of our plan. 
 
 Here w^e first meet again with Toland, who, in the end of the 
 preceding century, had already begiui to direct his rude and 
 open attacks against the existing established opinions, which 
 indeed had become antiquated, somewhat in the manner of 
 Shaftesbury, but in a comparatively plebeian style. A nearer 
 consideration of Toland is not here needful ; our readers will 
 find an account of him and his writings in ' Mosheim's Dis- 
 sertation' on the subject, and in the celebrated Des Maizeaux, 
 who published his posthumous works. We avail ourselves, 
 however, of the opportunity suggested by Toland's name to 
 remark, that, in the beginning of the century, French and En- 
 glish scoffers, if they were recommended as men of talents, were 
 endured at German courts, whilst the timid and modest German 
 philosophers, such as Wolf for example, were persecuted as 
 heretics. The wife of Frederic the Great of Prussia, that Hano- 
 verian princess who is so well known by her correspondence
 
 38 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 with Leibnitz and Bayle, and who made pretensions to philo- 
 sophy and to learned and clever French conversation, gave a 
 favourable hearing to sceptics in the midst of the pietists of that 
 age, and accepted with pleasure the dedication of Toland's chief 
 work*, against Christianity and morality. In the title of his 
 letters, which appeared in 1 704, the queen of Prussia is men- 
 tioned under the title of Serena. In these letters the author, 
 who had evidently read much more than he had thought, brings 
 before the public a bold infidelity. He teaches a kind of Spi- 
 nosism of his own invention, ascribes motion to matter as an in- 
 herent property, and derives thinking from motion. He denies 
 the immortality of the soul, calls faith in a continued state of 
 existence after death an Egyptian invention, and established 
 religions in general mere contrivances of law-makers, to keep 
 down the people. It has been indeed alleged that these letters 
 never reached the clever queen, but we learn from Toland's 
 account of his journey to Berlin, and from the panegyric, which 
 in this book he addresses to her, that he had been ad- 
 mitted to her society, and that she had invited him to 
 Charlottenburg, in order to discuss the subject in her presence. 
 Toland was by no means indeed equal to the learned Beausobre, 
 whom she appointed as his opponent, and the Frenchman also 
 was naturally a much more complete master of his own lan- 
 guage, than the Englishman who had acquired it ; it is clear, 
 however, from Toland's travels, which appeared in German, in 
 1707, that he was delighted that his somewhat audacious infi- 
 delity and republicanism were so favourably received and listened 
 to in a country under such strict military and theological govern- 
 ment as Prussia. He still calls the queen a republican in a 
 monarchical state. 
 
 Toland's ' Abasidaemon,' and his 'Nazarenus,' a gentile, 
 Jewish, Mahometan Christianity, show, by the very title, that 
 they are directed against all professed revelations ; his ' Tetra- 
 dynamus' attacks all rituals and liturgies. In the book last- 
 named, the Anglican church in particular is attacked, but often 
 rudely and unskilfully, and with contemptible wit. 
 
 His ' Pantheisticon' is directed against every kind of religion 
 
 which teaches belief in a personal God, and in this treatise he 
 
 announces that the number of the confessors of pantheism was 
 
 uncommonly great. This book appeared in 1720. Toland has 
 
 • ' Christianity not mysterious.' London, 8vo., 1702.
 
 § II.] TOIiAXD. 39 
 
 without doubt greatly exaggerated the number of pantheists in 
 the beginning of the eighteenth century, as Lalande the astro- 
 nomer exaggerated the number of atheists at its close ; it is 
 remarkable, however, that in those apparently believing and 
 pious timesj the great circulation and numerous editions of his 
 very mediocre writings appear to confirm his assertion. Al- 
 though however, he preached republicanism and pantheism 
 with so much boldness, he did not go by any means so far as 
 Lalande, nor publish a list of his pantheists by name, as the 
 latter chd of his atheists, in which he introduced the names of 
 persons without first asking their permission. 
 
 In his work, Toland proposes to establish a pantheistic con- 
 gregation, or a formal society to oppose superstition, that is, 
 religion of every kind, and recommends to his society, that 
 instead of plaguing themselves about things wholly destitute of 
 reality, they should strive after the real blessings of life, health, 
 truth, and freedom. This ill-arranged and ill-written book, in 
 which Toland badly defends his own principles, found notwith- 
 standing numerous readers ; and the fact seems to confirm the 
 allegation, that the number of opponents of the prevailing belief 
 was by no means insignificant. These unbelievers eagerly 
 sought after every book which ventured to speak out their own 
 concealed opinions. And on this ground alone can the fact be 
 explained, that Toland's posthumous works, published in 1 726, 
 went off with such rapidity, that a new and large edition was 
 called for and published in 1747- 
 
 Toland's* attacks upon the prevailing belief were too coarse 
 
 * Toland was born in Ireland, studied in Glasgow, graduated in Edin- 
 burgh, and afterwards studied in Leyden. 
 
 The spirit of the times with respect to persecutions for matters of opinion, 
 may be learned from an appeal made against Toland, by Brown, a Fellow of 
 Trinity College Dublin, in which he urged upon the authorities the necessity 
 of vindicating Christianity, by inflicting severe penalties upon Toland. The 
 writer entreats the tender mercies of the magistrate, in these words : — "Do- 
 mine judex, rogamus vos cum omni affectu quo possimus, ut amore Dei, pietatis 
 et misericordiee intuitu, et nostrorum interventu precacionum, miserrimo huic 
 nullum mortis vel mutilationis periculum inferatis." 
 
 His works were finally brought under the notice of the Irish Parliament, 
 and considered in the Committee of Religion. After various debates, and a 
 peremptory refusal to allow Toland to defend himself, either personally or by 
 letter, the House resolved — " That the Book entitled ' Christianity not my- 
 sterious,' containing several heretical doctrines contrary to the Christian 
 religion and the established Church of Ireland, be publicly burnt by the hands 
 of the common hangman. Likewise, that' the author thereof, John Toland, 
 be taken into the custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms, and be prosecuted by the 
 Attorney-General, for writing and publishing the said book. — (Trans.)
 
 40 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 and violent to be willingly sanctioned or favoured by those who 
 did not wish to renounce religion of every kind (such as Hol- 
 bach, Diderot, and their friends). Collins, on the other hand, 
 entered upon his course with greater modesty, and his writings 
 proved much more serviceable to the French Encyclopedists, 
 especially to Diderot and Holbach, than the superficial labours 
 of Toland. 
 
 Collins, like Shaftesbury, stood in close connexion with Locke, 
 and like Shaftesbury also, studied under his direction. He 
 received from his instructor the most honourable testimonial of 
 his approbation, viz., that he had a love for the highest human 
 perfections, and a pure and an upright attachment to truth. 
 For this very reason it was impossible that Collins could be 
 altogether satisfied with Locke, who thought, or professed to 
 think, that Christian piety and empiric philosophy might be 
 very Avell united in one and the same system. Collins declared 
 himself freely and openly against dogmatics, however far he 
 kept himself from the insolence and boldness of Toland. 
 
 After he had altogether broken off from the Christian faith, 
 he sought carefully to avoid every offence against what was 
 becoming. It was only his feeling of indignation against those 
 narrow-minded men, who, without any reference to the new way 
 which Spinoza, Locke, Bayle and Shaftesbury, had opened 
 up, continued to Mrite and to preach, as if they still lived in the 
 middle ages, which induced him formally to attack Christianity. 
 Collins's attack proved to be especially injurious to the prevail- 
 ing system, because the French availed themselves of his learn- 
 ing, solidity, and philosophical acuteness, in order to promote 
 and advance their views. 
 
 The controversy which led Collins so far, as to write a chal- 
 lenge to the theologians and the philosophers of the univer- 
 sities and governments of his time, best shows to what a de- 
 gree the learned of that period, supported by technical know- 
 ledge and subtilty, ventured to sin against that sound human 
 reason, which was paving a way for itself with such power. 
 They had controversies in England, for example, about the na- 
 ture of the soul; Dodwell, well-known as one of the most 
 learned men of his age, and especially as deeply read in the 
 Christian Fathers, considered, as those ])eoplc are accustomed to 
 do, the soul as a pure jcthcrial being (and therefore still cor- 
 poreal), and was reduced to the greatest difficulty as to the man-
 
 § II.] COLLINS. 41 
 
 ner of rescuing its immortality. He hit upon the singular sup- 
 position, that the Holy Spirit, in baptism, conveys the principle 
 of immortality into the ffitherial bodily material of his souls*. 
 Another deeply-learned divine, Samuel Clarke, opposed a for- 
 mal mathematical demonstration to this palpable theological 
 nonsense. The theological mathematician proceeded from step 
 to step, and proposition to proposition, and in this way demon- 
 strated the ancient metaphysics, as if the question had pertained 
 to a principle in mathematics, natural philosophy, or astronomy. 
 This led Collins to stand up against both ; and the theologians, 
 by their vehement hostility against his writings and his person, 
 constrained him to throw away the scabbard of the sword which 
 he had once drawn. 
 
 Collins first stood forward, and that with caution and modesty, 
 against the abuses of the prevailing and traditionary metaphysics, 
 and of the ecclesiastical belief connected with it ; but he Mas not- 
 withstanding abused, accused of heresy, persecuted and finally 
 obliged, for a time, to take refuge in Holland, in order to avoid 
 the orthodox storm ; and it will be easily seen why, in such cir- 
 cumstances, his ^ Discourse upon Freethinking' should be written 
 in a very different fashion from Locke's, who had written upon 
 ^ Toleration,' in the quiet enjoyment of English endowments. 
 
 We can neither here enter upon theological nor philosophical 
 investigations, as it would be necessary to do if we wished more 
 closely to examine the writings of Collins. It must suffice to 
 indicate the relation in which some of them stood to the writings 
 of their time, and to the later attacks of the French upon Chris- 
 tianity. We remark therefore, that his philosophical investiga- 
 tions upon freethinking were controverted by the well-armed 
 theological-philosophical-mathematical pugilist Clarket,who had 
 vehement controversies with Leibnitz, Avith Dodwell, with Whis- 
 ton and others, in favour of his fine-spun speculative spider's 
 web ; that his ' Critical Examination of the Thirty-nine Articles 
 of the Anghcan Church,' embittered the theologians ; and that 
 
 * ' An Epistolary Discourse, proving from theScriptures and the first Fathers, 
 that the Soul is a principle naturally mortal ; but immortalized actually by the 
 Pleasure of God to Punishment or Reward by its Union with the divine bap- 
 tismal Spirit, wherein is proved that none have the Power of communicating 
 this Spirit since the Apostles, but only the Bishops.' Lond. 170G. — (Trans.) 
 
 f ' A letter to Mr. Dodwell, wherein all the Arguments in his Epistolary 
 Discourse against the Immortality of the Soul, are particularly answered, and 
 the Judgment of the Fathers concerning that matter truly represented.' — 
 (Trans.)
 
 42 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 his treatise upon '^The Grounds and Reasons of the Christian Re- 
 hgion/ incensed the pious against him. These treatises were 
 the armouries from which the French of the eighteenth century- 
 borrowed the weapons which they themselves were unable to 
 forge. 
 
 The writings of Collins were of remarkable service to the 
 school of Encyclopedists and to the society which met at Paris 
 in the house of Holbach, to impugn Christianity. This is 
 obvious from the fact^ that Holbach and Diderot, at the very 
 time of their highest renown, either translated or worked 
 after Collins. The four or five treatises which Collins had 
 directed against the prevailing and traditionary morality, as well 
 as against the established faith, are for the most part solid and 
 quiet, free from all indecent scorn, and drawn up without blus- 
 tering or abuse. 
 
 One of Collins's treatises (his paradoxes about the principle 
 of human actions), ^ A Philosophical Inquiry concerning Human 
 Liberty,' was therefore translated word for word by Diderot, and 
 incorporated as a formal article in his large Encyclopedia. 
 
 Before Collins and contemporaneously with Toland, Tindal 
 had appeared. His style was quite after the fashion and man- 
 ner of the French scoffers, and in his morals and the laxity of 
 his moral principles, he may also be compared to the dissolute 
 Parisians who preached immorality. This fact injured Tindal 
 and his views with the middle classes in England, whilst it proved 
 an advantage to him among the higher, with whom at that time 
 levity was the fashion. Tindal moreover attacked the prevailing 
 system in such a manner, that Middleton and others, who were 
 no blind adherents of the Established Religion, thought they did 
 the defenders of antiquated dogmatics a service, by recommend- 
 ing them to give up and let go what was untenable, in order to 
 save what was real and sound. This counsel was disregarded, 
 and those who disregarded it were not wrong in concluding, 
 that the Mhole system of the Byzantine and scholastic theology 
 and metaphysics was so closely connected, that it was impos- 
 sible to relinquish or remove any of its single parts without en- 
 dangering the whole. 
 
 Tindal wrote his book* against the constitution of the Church, 
 
 * ' The Rights of the Christian Church asserted against the Romish and all 
 other Priests who claim an Independent Power over it ; with a I'reface con- 
 cerning the Government of the Church of England.' 1706. — (Trans.)
 
 § II.] TINDAL. 43 
 
 as early as 1706, and therein chiefly relied upon Louis Meyer, a 
 disciple of Spinoza ; but because he had here to do with the in- 
 fluence, property and power of the clergy, which the Whigs in 
 England, who are always speaking of freedom, had no wish to 
 relinquish, the second part of his treatise, entitled ' False 
 Churches,^ did not appear in England, but was printed in Hol- 
 land. This work is apparently directed only against the Romish 
 hierarchy ; but Tindal availed himself of this as a pretence, in 
 order to attack every ecclesiastical constitution, which is in any 
 way connected with the state, and stands in need of worldly 
 possessions. The English, and especially all those who were con- 
 nected with the Established Religion or had any interest in bene- 
 fices or their patrons, and among these the otherwise freethink- 
 ing Avriters, Swift and Pope, took up arms against the book and 
 its author, whilst the freethinking portion of the public loaded 
 him with applause. Le Clerc did not hesitate earnestly to re- 
 commend the persecuted treatise of the Englishman in his 
 widely read journals, which were written in French, although 
 appearing in Holland"^. 
 
 Four-and-twenty years after this work there appeared another, 
 which afterwards became the hand-book of all those who wished 
 to impugn Christianity without losing sight of what aa as due to 
 propriety. This work which- appeared in 4to. in 1739, was en- 
 titled ' Christianity as old as the Creation.' In this treatise 
 Tindal's object is to show the impossibility of that kind of reve- 
 lation which Christian dogmatics teach, and to prove the absurd- 
 ity of a belief in miracles. He endeavours, on the contrary, to 
 show that Christianity is nothing else than the rational religion 
 of the primitive world, purified from the additions and di'oss of 
 Judaism. The irrational defenders of the fables and legends 
 which had been received into the religious books of the Jews and 
 the Christians, of the histories of the Old Testament which are so 
 fi'equently stumbling-blocks, and against which at that time Vol- 
 taire and other Frenchmen had directed the bitterest scorn, con- 
 tributed in no small degree to bring Tindal's book into the hands 
 of commentators. 
 
 * Collins's ' Essays concerning the Use of Reason.' 1707. 
 
 ' Priestcraft in Perfection, or a Detection of the Fraud of inserting and 
 continuing that Clause (the Church hath Power to decree Rites and Ceremo- 
 nies, and Authority in Controversies on Matters of Faith) in the Twentieth 
 Article of the Articles of the Cliurch of England.' 1709. 
 
 ' Historical and Critical Essay on the XXXIX Articles of the Church of 
 England.' 1724.— (Trans.)
 
 44 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 How untenable the whole system which Tinclal attacked at 
 that time was, appears particularly in the controversy to which 
 this work, ' Christianity as old as the Creation/ led, between two 
 distinguished Anglican scholars and divines, upon the manner 
 in which such attacks might be best guarded off, and the un- 
 sound fabric be sustained by being propped up with sound 
 wood. The one, Waterland, betook himself to the strife in a 
 Jesuitical manner. He wished to defend the Anglican system 
 through and through, as the Jesuits did that of Popery. He 
 contends for the literal truth of the whole Mosaic history of the 
 fall of man, and of the transactions connected with it, which 
 dogmatics have attributed to the devil — and defends the confu- 
 sion of tongues at the building of the tower of Babel, and other 
 similar things, against all doubters, with the usual dogmatism 
 and nicknames. Middleton doubted about all these things : he 
 had recourse to allegories, or, to use an expression of our times, 
 to the symbolical, and wished to leave the devil altogether out of 
 the question, because such an instrumentality may be very dan- 
 gerous. In this way Middleton* thought of rescuing Christian- 
 ity as a revelation, although he gave up the verbal inspiration of 
 the books of Moses, which had been previously set forth as the 
 absolute dictation of the Holy Spirit. The loud outcry which 
 was raised against this learned and vigorous divine, terrified others 
 from venturing to follow his example ; and reasonable men were 
 left no other choice, than either to do homage to the blind faith of 
 the Established Church, — so productive in places, benefices and 
 honours conferred by the government, — or to the scoffing and 
 scornful infidelity of the continually increasing number of ene- 
 mies of every thing traditionary. On this occasion also we may 
 remark, that the Protestant fanatics showed that they yielded in 
 no respect to the violence of those of the Romish Church. It 
 was announced on the titlepage of those numerous writings 
 which appeared during this controversy in England, that Mid- 
 dleton's writings against the watchmen of the faith — Waterland 
 and Pearce, as well as even those against the heretic Tindal, 
 deserved to be publicly burned, and he himself to be banished 
 from the country. 
 
 A writer now appeared, more modest than Toland, Tindal, or 
 
 * A Letter to Dr. Waterland, containing some remarks on his vindication of 
 Scripture, in answer to a book entitled, ' Christianity as old as the Creation,' 
 with the sketch of a plan of another answer to the said book, 8vo., 1730. — 
 (Trans.)
 
 § II.] WOLLASTON. 45 
 
 Collins. Wollaston came forward in favour of the improvement 
 of the religion of the people, and of its learned exposition, in a 
 manner suited to the progressive education of the age, and his 
 work excited the greater attraction in proportion to the peaceful- 
 ness and morality of his life, the well-weighed propositions of his 
 system, and the modesty with which he brought it before the 
 public. Wollaston, in his ' Rehgion of Nature Dehneated,' is so 
 little an opponent of positive religion, that although he altoge- 
 ther avoids the mention of Revelation and of Christianity in his 
 book, he nevertheless says : — 
 
 " I have brought forward nothing in this my delineation of 
 natural religion, at all contrary to revelation of any kind. Every 
 thing W'hich is said to be an immediate revelation from God, 
 must be taken, like all other things, for what it is said to be. 
 This can only be done by treating it with respect. The prin- 
 ciples which are contained in my book are therefore in no 
 respect positively opposed to Revelation. They rather pave the 
 way for it, and make men disposed to receive its doctrines. '' 
 
 All this, however, was of no avail ; it was enough that he was 
 praised by able writers, and by the people of the world, who 
 were discontented with what was old, to set in motion against 
 him the learned and the parsons, the systematic university 
 lecturers, and the government police ; the only effect of this 
 indeed was, that the cause which was thus maintained by force, 
 appeared only so much the worse in the eyes of that small por- 
 tion of the public, which were thus opposed by the ignorant 
 multitude and the public authorities. 
 
 Wollaston endeavoured to found a system of pure rational 
 religion, which had need of no revelation and no forgiveness of 
 sins, by means of a mathematical demonstration which he sup- 
 ported by learning, and used with ability and taste. This indeed 
 he does not expressly admit, but it results from the connexion 
 and consequence of his doctrine. His religion rests upon three 
 notions ; Happiness, Truth, Reason — and his definition of it 
 runs thus : — " The pursuit of happiness by the practice of 
 reason and truth." — Such a religion as this, which he proves 
 in mathematical form and at the same time by a passage 
 from the Christian Father Lactantius*, cannot only not be 
 learned — or not be believed upon the authority of another, but 
 
 * Religio cogi non potest ; verbis potius quam verberibus res agenda est, ut 
 sit voluntas. — Lact. — (Trans.)
 
 46 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 the teacher himself must necessarily be followed, and his princi- 
 ples made a subject of reflection. 
 
 In the same way as Leibnitz and Wolf sought to prove in a 
 strict mathematical manner the necessity of a revelation, Wol- 
 laston sought to prove that religion is wholly independent of 
 faith; or in other words, as the school of Leibnitz subjects 
 reason to faith, Wollaston, by the very same method, proves 
 the reverse. He relies so confidently on reason, and so highly 
 estimates the intrinsic worth of virtue, that although a man of 
 a truly pious heart, whose life was pure and distinguished by 
 the practice of every virtue, who lived without ostentation or 
 luxury in the midst of abundance, beyond the reach of all un- 
 holy worldly impulses and passions, in the exercise and prac- 
 tice of all the duties of humanity, and devoted himself to re- 
 flection and study, yet at the end of his book he never once 
 mentions a last judgment, or a future state of punishment or 
 reward. 
 
 We readily perceive that a representation of deism and of 
 the moral aiTangements of the world here below, which first of 
 all can dispense with a world above, contains a strain of bitter 
 irony, which just as little slipped unconsciously out from the 
 author, who by no means wished to break immediately with the 
 Anglican church, as it escaped the notice of the champions of 
 the churches and universities of his country. He first published 
 only an outline of his work, in a very small number of copies : 
 all the friends of the dawning light, and all the enemies of the 
 prevailing darkness, encouraged him shortly before his death to 
 prepare a new and enlarged edition ; of this edition 20,000 
 copies Mere printed; six others succeeded, from 1724 to 1738 ; 
 and a seventh, in 1750. The orthodox bewailed the growing 
 numbers of unbelievers ; but they never thought in consequence 
 of attempting to bring their own system nearer to the demands 
 and wants of the age, of which there Avas such abundant evi- 
 dence. 
 
 The French used Wollaston as well as Collins, to promote 
 their reforming plans ; the French translation, however, of 1726 
 is bad, and altogether incorrect. Those who in 1756 prepared 
 a new translation, Jit the time in which infidelity and scoffing 
 were the fashion in Paris, took the liberty of committing the 
 grossest perversions of the text in favour of their own opinions. 
 
 Contemporaneously with Wollaston, Mandevillc and Morgan 
 
 1
 
 § II.] MORGAN. 47 
 
 also wrote against the state religion, and the morality and policy- 
 founded upon it ; but quite in a different style. Morgan wrote 
 only against religion, and wished to set up morality in its stead. 
 Mandeville, on the other hand, apparently maintained the useful- 
 ness of religion : in his second treatise he took all the Romish 
 abuses ironically under his protection ; but ridiculed, on the other 
 hand, not only Christian, but also philosophical morality ; and 
 invented, in some measure in their stead, an optimism of im^ 
 morality. 
 
 In other times neither of these authors nor their ill-wa-itten 
 books, could have excited so much notice, or attained such a 
 reputation, as would have induced us to mention their names 
 on that account ; they are indebted for this notice to the absurd 
 rage of their opponents, the defenders of the antiquated sy- 
 stem. The more vehemently Morgan was attacked, abused, 
 and persecuted by privileged or paid writers, admitting that 
 his ignorance, incapacity and confusion laid him open to just 
 complaint and censure, so much the more were these diffuse, 
 dark, tedious, and pedantic books read ; because it was beheved 
 that every thing which was abused by the friends of spiritual and 
 temporal despotism must be worth the attention of the friends 
 of freedom . 
 
 Morgan's book is in the form of a dialogue between a Chris- 
 tian Jew, as he names the defender of the prevailing religious 
 doctrines, and a Christian Deist, i.e., a man who alleges that 
 the Christian religion is nothing else than pure natural religion*. 
 The Deist, whom he introduces speaking, speaks with great 
 presumption, as the ignorant are accustomed to do : that he 
 neither possessed any acquaintance with the ancient languages 
 nor with history, which he betrays in the very beginning, 
 awakens no good anticipations in favour of Morgan, who appears 
 in the person of the Deist. Morgan alleges with great boldness, 
 that his relio-ion of reason alone is divine, that the Christian is a 
 mere invention and device of man, and through all ages since 
 
 * The title of the book, according to the custom of the time, contains a full 
 indication of the contents : — 
 
 ' The Moral Philosopher, in a Dialogue between Philalethes, a Christian 
 Deist, and Theophanes, a Christian Jew. In which the Grounds and Reasons 
 of Religion in general, and particularly of Christianity, are distinguished from 
 the Religion of Nature, &c. London, 1737.' 
 
 The second book has a shorter title : — • 
 
 ' Fhysio-Theologv^ ; or, a Philosophic Moral Disquisition concerning 
 Human Nature, Free Agency, Moral and Divine Providence.'— (Trans.)
 
 48 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 its introduction, has been regarded as such by a small but op- 
 pressed party : that the character of Judaism, which is not 
 only human, but altogether devilish, cleaves still to the followers 
 of a blind faith : that the apostle Paul was the chief of the free- 
 thinkers Avho wished to have no connexion with Judaism, and 
 alone preached Christianity in its purity, whilst the other apo- 
 stles were merely the chiefs of a political party who in the spirit 
 of Judaism had attached themselves to it. 
 
 The freer Paulinian party, according to Morgan's view, had 
 been from the first always persecuted and oppressed by the 
 others ; and although the Jewish Christians had afterwards fall- 
 en asunder and separated into various hostile sects, the same 
 intolerant Jewish spirit still, in a greater or a less degree, ani- 
 mated them all, and they would not consent to relinquish 
 the service of sacrifices ; this spirit has given birth to a re- 
 ligion of priests among all those sects, which is immeasurably 
 removed from the true religion. In addition, Morgan will not 
 at all admit that his opinions approach in any respect to athe- 
 ism, or that his object is to defend any thing similar to it ; he 
 alone, as he alleges, is a teacher of the true moral religion. It 
 will not therefore be a matter of surprise, that a division of his 
 book treats of the public forms of divine worship, and especially 
 upon prayer. On the other hand, his Christian Deist will have 
 nothing to do with sacrifices or satisfaction, — nothing with the 
 vicarious death of Christ, — nothing with sacrifices and cere- 
 monies, — with grace or election, which does not depend upon 
 the merit of the person elected. 
 
 The belief in a priesthood appointed by God, necessarily falls 
 together with the doctrines just quoted. The whole civil con- 
 stitution of the Church, its government and tribunals, are Jewish; 
 divine inspiration, miracles and prophecies, the whole history of 
 Revelation are Jewish inventions, to which he opposes the words 
 of Christ in the New Testament as pure and divine truth. This 
 last-mentioned part, viz. his exposition of the views which are 
 represented as pure and holy, free from the dross of Judaism, is 
 moreover precisely the weaker part of his book. The author is 
 manifestly deficient in talent and knowledge justly to estimate 
 the truth : the stronger part is the exposure of the deficiency 
 and weakness of the prevailing dogmas of all sects. 
 
 Mandeville, who enjoys a much higher reputation than Mor- 
 gan, was a man wholly destitute of morality, and without insight
 
 § II.] MANDEVILLE. 49 
 
 into the nature of man or the connexion between bodily and 
 mental soundness and well-being. He was born in Holland, 
 passed over to England, and was probably himself surprised, 
 that, in consequence of the increased aversion towards tradi- 
 tionary absurdities and. errors, his memorable rhymes or his ill- 
 conceived ^ Fable of the Bees*' (printed in 1706), should have 
 excited so much attention as to call for several editions, and to 
 induce him to write and publish a copious commentary. 
 
 This commentary is usually understood, when ' The Fable of 
 the Bees ' is spoken of as one of the chief sources from which 
 tlie French opponents of Christianity, and of its morality, drew 
 their materials for scoffing and contempt for virtue, upon which, 
 with the exception of Mandeville, the English sceptics were not 
 accustomed to animadvert. Mandeville, like the Frenchmen 
 who followed his steps, sets out from the coiTupted condition of 
 human society, as he saw it exhibited in London, and compares 
 it with the comfort, the wealth and the prosperity, and the ever- 
 growing greatness of England, which nobody could mistake or 
 deny. He draws a strong contrast, and makes the most wicked 
 use of his representation. He shovvs that selfishness, knavery 
 and flattery are in alliance ; that falsehood and crime rule ; that 
 bribery and pride, the self-interest of the rich and the degrada- 
 tion of the poor, go hand in hand at elections, in trade, at court, 
 in the ministry and in Parliament; but that, notwithstanding, 
 every thing advances, each attains his object, the arts spring up 
 and are encouraged, every comfort and means of w^ell-being in- 
 crease ; consequently, he concludes, that crime, passion and cor- 
 ruption are necessary and wholesome, because they are altogether 
 inseparable from those pleasures which educated men will enjoy. 
 A society of purely virtuous men would be, according to this 
 book, without art and without science, in the highest degree 
 wearisome and miserable. With respect to the morality con- 
 nected with his so-called fable, he explains himself in the fol- 
 lowing manner : — 
 
 " No longer complain, ye foolish mortals : the greatness of a 
 nation is incompatible with righteousness. Fools alone flatter 
 themselves with the notion, that it is possible to enjoy all the 
 comforts and conveniences of life, to be renowned in war, to 
 
 * ' The Fable of the Bees ; or Private Vices made Public Benefits : with 
 an Essay on Charity and Charity Schools, and a Search into the Nature of 
 Society.'— [Trans.] 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 spend their days in worldly prosperity, and still to remain vir- 
 tuous. These are mere dreams of the fancy. Deceit, luxury, 
 vanity must necessarily be among us, and they are profitable in 
 the society of living men. Hunger is indeed often burden- 
 some and grievous ; but without hunger digestion is impossible, 
 and on this nutriment and growth wholly depend. We are in- 
 debted for wine to an ugly, dry, crooked stick ! In the same 
 way, sin will also be found advantageous ; but justice must indeed 
 purify and curb it, and lop off all its excess. It is impossible 
 that virtue alone can make a nation renowned and glorious. 
 And if we wish to see the renowned golden age of happiness in 
 some measure again flourish among us, we must be contented to 
 enjoy the fruits of temptation which allured our first parents in 
 Paradise, along with the virtue." 
 
 The fable which constitutes the foundation of the book of 
 which we speak, is, moreover, neither a fable nor a poem ; but 
 something in itself very silly. The chief point in the book is 
 the argument founded upon observation and experience, sup- 
 ported by individual examples drawn from daily life, by which 
 he would prove the advantage and even the necessity of vices, 
 passions, and even crimes. 
 
 The theory which Mandeville proposed, served the Encyclo- 
 pedists in France, and is in our days clothed in a philosophical 
 or poetic apparel, in the same way as in the beginning of the 
 eighteenth centiu*y it was set up in opposition to visionaries 
 and their dreams. The French translated Af andeville's book in 
 1751, because it contained the system which they were desirous 
 of teaching. 
 
 In this book, which no man would now trouble himself to 
 read, although it passed rapidly through six editions each 
 greater in number than that by which it was preceded, man is 
 considered wholly as a sensual being; and Mandeville states 
 the result of his experience of the world among Englishmen, to 
 be the same as Helvetius, in his book subsequently published, 
 had stated his conclusions to be with respect to the spirit of the 
 French world with which he had become acquainted. Both set 
 out with their experience of men in corrupt capitals and among 
 rich egotists, and as far as this goes are undoubtedly right ; but 
 the fashionable notion of the world does not comprehend the 
 whole world in itself. 
 
 We have always found in this apology for social vices and for
 
 § II.] MANDEVILLE. 51 
 
 the corruptions of civilization, only a satire upon the doctrines 
 of the Church with respect to a state of innocence and a holy- 
 life. An Englishman, however, who is also w^ell acquainted 
 with, and an admirable judge of German poetry and phdosophy, 
 has directed our attention to the fact, that Mandeville had 
 Shaftesbury particularly in his eye. We shall give below a pas- 
 sage from his private letter*. According to the remarks there 
 contained, it was Shaftesbury's declamation about the loveliness 
 of human virtue, and about the happiness to which this would 
 necessarily lead, without reference to immortality, and without 
 piety or religiousness, which Mandeville ridiculed and refuted. 
 Certain it is, that Mandeville was intimidated by the attention 
 which his book excited, and by the complaints which in England 
 were publicly and loudly uttered against the principles which it 
 contained, and in the later edition of his ample commentary 
 gives it clearly to be understood, that he is concerned with phi- 
 losophy alone, and that he had no intention to speak anything 
 
 about divines t- 
 
 That this is mere jeering and scorn is obvious at first view. 
 Mandeville however, whose whole hfe moreover quite corre- 
 sponded with his book, escaped legal prosecution, whilst the 
 formal complaint of the Middlesexgrand jury against another of 
 the English Deists, who did not at the same time laugh at the 
 heathen principle of morals and the Christian principle of piety, 
 as Mandeville did, but only attacked a belief in miracles, led to 
 a very different result. Wollaston, whose whole life and beha- 
 viour were just and irreproachable, wrote a work against the 
 miracles of Christ, for which he was condemned by the English 
 
 * Henry Crabbe Robinson. " Of Shaftesbury you left (in the treatise on 
 the Archives) a main feature unnoticed. He characterized nature as something 
 lovely and beautiful, whereas Kant and most philosophers prefer considering 
 virtue as something sublime, to be admired and esteemed. Hence Shaftes- 
 bury's book is full of fine declamation about the worth and excellence of 
 men's reason and natural qualities, with an obvious intention to set these up 
 against Revelation. It was against this system that Mandeville wrote his 
 ' Fable of the Bees.' This book has anticipated the French writers in all their 
 offensive representations of human nature, and it is remarkable that the se- 
 verely religious parties have always had a sneaking kindness for Mandeville, 
 at least, they hate the Shaftesbury school more, and for an obvious reason. 
 If man's nature be as Shaftesbury represented it, religion is by no means 
 necessary. Mandeville, on the contrary, shows man in his fallen state, and 
 so points out the necessity of a Redeemer." — (Author.) In the remark T in 
 the ' Fable of the Bees,' Mandeville names Shaftesbury expressly, and directs 
 his discourse against him as an Epicurean, 
 
 t See his Introduction. 
 
 E 2
 
 52 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 courts, and died after three years and a half's confinement in 
 prison. 
 
 We must avail ourselves of this opportunity, to point out how 
 unreasonably the champions of the ancient faith in England 
 proceeded, as the Romish church in France and the Protestant 
 zealots in Germany afterwards did. They forbad the entrance 
 of every ray of reason, they defended every hand's-breath of a 
 territory which no more belonged to them, they oppressed the 
 modest doubter ; but the fullest licence was extended to infidel- 
 ity, to jeering and scoffing about all that must for ever be re- 
 garded as holy and sacred by men, provided only that the out- 
 ward formalities of religion were observed. This is illustrated 
 in the cases of WoUaston and Mandeville. The former pro- 
 posed only to explain by natural causes the miracles of Christ; 
 he applied his solid learning, and his extensive reading in the 
 Christian Fathers, to modify and ameliorate the limited and 
 unreasonable notions of his Church ; but he guarded himself 
 against touching too closely upon the validity of Christianity, 
 and for that reason did not venture to refer to the miracle of the 
 resurrection of Lazarus : all to no purpose. 
 
 The watchmen of the Anglican Zion, — Pearce, Shaw, Atkin- 
 son, — blew vigorously the trumpet of alarm, and the juristical 
 theologians of the English courts of law, like the theological 
 jurists of the French Parliament, directed the barbarous forms 
 and formulas of their subtle law against an honourable man ; 
 whilst Mandeville scoffed at virtue Avith impunity, and a short 
 time before his death published a second work, which appears 
 to us at least as offensive as ^ The Fable of the Bees,' or as any 
 one of Holbach's ill-reputed treatises. 
 
 As regards ' The Fable of the Bees,' all the good which it 
 contained was borrowed from Bayle, although Mandeville never 
 mentions his name, except with a view to oppose him. The 
 second work attracted little notice, and was soon forgotten. It 
 was announced, indeed, as a defence of order ; but it is, nothing 
 less than the former, a bitter satire upon all the moral arrange- 
 ments in church and state*. The book appeared in 1730 as a 
 pretended confutatiun of the principles contained in his former 
 work. The confutation is mahciously ironical. This appears 
 
 * ' An Inquiry into the Origin of Honour and the Usefulness of Chris- 
 tianity in War. By the Author of ' The Fable of the Bees.' London, 8vo. 
 1732.''— [Trans.]
 
 § II.] CHUBB. 53 
 
 from the manner in which Mandeville afterwards proves that 
 rehgion and the clergy are profitable to the state in peace and 
 war. He frames his argument in such a way as to show, that 
 eveiy religion, but especially the Romish and its constitution, as 
 well as the preachers of the Protestants, appear only as means 
 for the attainment of outward objects — as machines for some- 
 thing which has nothing in common with the early constitution 
 of the Church, with that which clergymen and preachers an- 
 nounce as their business. This is so well carried through, that 
 however badly in other respects the book is written, many people, 
 otherwise very intelligent, have mistaken the malicious irony for 
 seriousness. 
 
 Amongst all the so-called deists, Chubb surprised his contem- 
 poraries the most, and convinced no small number of thinking 
 and intelligent friends of truth, of the untenable nature of the 
 scholastic system. Chubb was a man advantageously known as 
 a very learned and as a theological writer : great astonishment 
 therefore was excited, when he also put forth a theory of Chris- 
 tian doctrine, which had neither need of incomprehensible 
 dogmas, facts, history nor miracles — which did not acknowledge 
 them. The same writer had previously taken part in a subtle 
 controversy with respect to the triunity of God. Gay, Pope, 
 the learned and capricious Whiston, who lived on no very good 
 terms of friendship with systematic theology, had been well- 
 satisfied with his orthodox treatise upon the first person in the 
 Godhead, altliough the pillars of learned and canting meta- 
 physics, a Clarke, Harris, Hoadley, names celebrated for their 
 mathematical knowledge and book-learning, afterwards alleged, 
 they had always scented the trail of a heretic, and had never 
 fully confided in Chubb. We shall quote the title of Chubb's 
 work in a note*, and add, that his contemporaries alleged, that 
 he went further than any Socinian had ever gone. The book 
 contains a complete system of evangelical and Christian doc- 
 
 * ' The true Gospel of Jesus Christ asserted : wherehi is shown, Avhat is, 
 and what is not Gospel ; what was the great and good End it was intended 
 to serve ; how it excellently suited to answer that Purpose, and how or by 
 what means that End in a great measure has been frustrated. Humbly- 
 offered to public Consideration, and in particular to all those who esteem 
 themselves, or are esteemed by others, to be Ministers of Jesus Christ, and 
 Preachers of his Gospel ; and more especially to all those who have obtained 
 the Reputation of being the great Defenders of Christianity. By Thomas 
 Chubb. To which is added, a short Dissertation on Providence. London. 
 Cox. 1738.'
 
 54 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 trine, a doctrine very peculiarly revealed ; nevertheless., liow- 
 ever, the question of miracles and of a providential government 
 of the world is not treated of, and even the Apostles are esteemed 
 only in so far valuable as witnesses, as they do not deliver their 
 own opinions ; that they do however deliver their own opinions, 
 and are then subject to error, is proved from the most distin- 
 guished among them — John and Paul. 
 
 It is worth while to understand what Chubb alleged and set 
 forth as the principles of pure charity, particularly in reference 
 to the reformation of the ancient system, which commenced in 
 the seventh decennium of the eighteenth century, in Germany, 
 which reformation here and there, under the name of rationalism, 
 is yet proclaimed as heresy ; they are as follow : — 
 
 1. That Christ requires of men, that with all their heart and 
 all their soul, they should follow the eternal and unchangeable 
 precepts of natural morality. 
 
 2. That men, if they transgress the laws of morality, must 
 give proofs of true and genuine repentance ; because without 
 such repentance, forgiveness or pardon is impossible . 
 
 3. In order more deeply to impress these principles upon 
 the minds of men, and give them a greater influence upon their 
 course of action, Jesus Christ has announced to mankind, that 
 God hath appointed a day wherein he will judge the world in 
 righteousness, and acquit and condemn, reward or punish, ac- 
 cording as their conduct has been guided by the precepts which 
 he has laid down, or not. 
 
 In these there is naturally no trace of redemption, satis- 
 faction, &c. Chubb does not declare himself expressly upon 
 miracles ; however he altogether excludes them from what he 
 denominates properly speaking, the Gospel, or glad tidings of 
 salvation ; but allows that the miracles, as well as the virtuous 
 life of Christ, are of value as a support of the doctrine for the 
 weak. Of sacraments, ceremonies, ecclesiastical punishment 
 and policy, Chubb makes no account; but he allows baptism, 
 the Lord's supper, and prayer to remain as profitable obser- 
 vances. He declares the so-called Athanasian creed to be non- 
 sense, whose contents arc self-contradictory, or command the 
 belief of something altogether unintelligible. The doctrines of 
 predestination, of original sin, and the natural incapacity of men 
 to do any good thing, infant baptism, and the endowment of the 
 Church with worldly goods, are all called injurious inventions.
 
 § II.] BOLINGBROKE. 55 
 
 and regarded as obstructions to the preaching of the pure and 
 true doctrine. 
 
 We here break off this half theological history, and only re- 
 mark that it is no part of our duty to inquire whether, and in 
 how far, the men whose names have been mentioned, among 
 whom there is no good writer and only two or three are entitled 
 to the reputation of solid learning and estimable lives, were right 
 or wrong ; to the historian, writings and doctrines, like actions 
 or wars, are only the marks and phasnomena of the spirit of the 
 age, and as facts alone we quote these names and writings, in 
 themselves perhaps insignificant. The number of readers of 
 these attacks upon the ancient dogmatics, the numerous editions 
 which were called for of the worst books of this description ; 
 the learned writings of Warburton, Pearce, Clarke, and a great 
 number of others against the deists, which, as is generally the 
 case, were only read by those who were previously of those opi- 
 nions — the bitter and lamentable complaints of these and other 
 antagonists of infidelity, that the number of persons Avho wished 
 to read their own infidelity in the works of the deists, more and 
 more approached to the number of those who sought after the 
 faith of their Zion in the writings of its watchmen — and finally 
 the use which the French made of these writings, prove suffici- 
 ently that they proclaimed a necessity of the age, which neither 
 the church, the state, nor the learned would acknowledge. 
 
 We now pass on from these theological writers, in themselves 
 insignificant, to those who worked with a mighty influence upon 
 Voltaire and Montesquieu, who gave a new complexion to the 
 literature of their native land, and changed the form and figure 
 of the life of educated men, before the Parisian literati had even 
 begun the struggle against the existing order of things. 
 
 §111. 
 
 BOLINGBROKE. 
 
 We name Bolingbroke first, although Pope and Swift as writers 
 are both more celebrated than he, because he was the instructor 
 and forerunner of both, although by no means a facile writer 
 after their kind, and because he was also used by Voltaire and 
 Montesquieu. Bolingbroke besides had great influence at the
 
 56 ENGLAND. [CHAP. !• 
 
 same time as a writer, and as a minister and leader of the ton in 
 certain circles. He, as well as Shaftesbury, availed himself of 
 the fashion which had now begun to prevail in the great world, 
 in which it w^as the custom to pass opinions upon the most im- 
 portant subjects, as upon the news or fashions of the day, with 
 a feeling of social superiority to give play to wit, scoffing and 
 contempt against every thing serious. Poetry, history, religious 
 knowledge, politics, all come by inspiration to men of the world, 
 a pedant must master them by studies which make him dull. 
 Such was the characteristic of Bolingbroke, Pope and Swift, as 
 it was of Voltaire and the Marquis d' Argent. In Germany for 
 a long time no man would believe the possibility of such a 
 course, and those who believed it must have read French books, 
 which they did. In our own days people have just begun 
 among us to treat science in the same tone as a novel ; because 
 the learned, philosophers and theologians, have shown too great 
 contempt for the people. 
 
 We must neither here enter upon an investigation into the 
 life and character of Bolingbroke*, nor examine and criticise his 
 works at length, which were published after his death in four 
 volumes quarto, or in nine volumes octavo, but shall merely avail 
 ourselves of a few of his treatises, in order to show clearly what 
 direction Bolingbroke and his friends sought to give to the edu- 
 cation of their times. We shall here incidentally remark, that 
 Bolingbroke as well as Voltaire had quite a masterly skill in 
 appropriating other men's knowledge, — a capacity which, as is 
 well known, procured for Montesquieu and Gibbon the reputa- 
 tion of men of learning ; and that he was educated far less after 
 the Enghsh than after the French manner. With respect to the 
 last-mentioned point, we can only at present draw attention to 
 his life, to his connexion with France and with the French court, 
 and to his sojourn at two different times in Paris. 
 
 Bolingbroke had fully made his own the light and trivial, the 
 scoffing and jeering, and often also the malicious and lying tone 
 of the latest periods of Louis XIV. and of the Regency. He 
 spoke and wrote of a belief in God, of church and state, in such 
 a way as that none could fail to recognise in him the worthy pre- 
 
 * A solid work upon the life and writings of Bolingbroke by an English- 
 man, is yet a gre.at desideratuiu ; for the ' Memoirs of Lord Bolingbroke, by 
 George Wingrovc Cooke,' Lond. 1825. 2 vols. 8vo., are quite unsatisfactory 
 even with respect to his political life.
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 57 
 
 clecessor of Voltaire. In fact it was a very bad anticipation for 
 the result of the long and hard battle which was to be fought in 
 the eighteenth century for light, freedom and the breaking of 
 those chains which the nobility and clergy had forged in the 
 middle ages, that the first blows were given by such men as 
 Bolingbroke, Voltaire, and their distinguished society, whose 
 occupation it was to ridicule all peaceful and serious inquirers. 
 Whoever is acquainted with the leading men of these societies, 
 or the turbulent and dissolute life which they led, will see, that 
 such men, and the means which they used for the attainment of 
 their objects, must have been destructive of all economy, of quiet 
 family life — must have led to dissipation, vanity and pride — been 
 deadly enemies, in short, to truth, simplicity and virtue, without 
 which freedom is a dream, and right only a shadow. 
 
 As to Bolingbroke's personal character and his life, it will be 
 seen in the political history, how he changed his party and his 
 principles according to circumstances. Immediately before the 
 death of Queen Anne, he attached himself to a party which was 
 as dangerous to the freedom of their native country, as to en- 
 lightenment and progress in religion ; and he took no less trou- 
 ble to form a connexion with the opposite party. When these 
 attempts failed, he became minister of the Pretender, whose 
 cause he sacrificed in a manner no little discreditable to himself, 
 to promote the Hanoverian interest. 
 
 Moreover, it is not these early histories alone which prove 
 that no upright self-sacrificing zeal, that no earnest desire for 
 the advancement of mankind, springing from the love of his 
 species, that no disinterested struggle for knowledge and free- 
 dom, for truth and right, could be expected from a man so rest- 
 less, so vain, and so wholly influenced by selfishness and ambi- 
 tion 3 his whole life till his eightieth year was divided between 
 treachery, ambitious political designs, a forced retirement and 
 ostentatious philosophical repose. It will be readily perceived, 
 that all his writings betray the bitterness of a mind wliich was 
 willing to deceive others, as it had been itself deceived. 
 
 As to Bolingbroke's connexion with Paris and with the plii- 
 losophy wdiich was propagated from thence, Ave must not over- 
 look the fact, that he appeared personally and shone as a light 
 in the Parisian circles, in which those who frequented them de- 
 cided upon literature, wit and reputation, as the pit determines 
 the fate of a theatrical piece. He had already played off his
 
 58 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 wit in the house of Madame de Croissy, when he came to Paris 
 A^dth a view to a secret discussion of the preUminaries of the 
 peace of Utrecht. At that time he remained six months in 
 Paris, and was received and treated with great attention by the 
 king and his court, which seldom fails of its calculated design. 
 During his banishment, he afterwards passed some time at the 
 court of the Regent ; and wrote, as is well known, to M. de 
 Pouilly his letters in the French language, which contain the 
 complete philosophy of religion of a Voltaire or a Diderot. In 
 Chanteloup, on French soil, he also wrote his celebrated ^ Let- 
 ters upon the Study of History ;^ and finally he was on the most 
 intimate terms with Voltaire in England, when the latter visited 
 that country. How could he do otherwise than receive and give 
 a French direction ? 
 
 Among Bolingbroke's writings, we select expressly, not his 
 much-read letters Avritten Avhile he Avas in exile, or his ' Natural 
 Theology,^ &c., because in these works he appears as a sentimental 
 philosopher, which was least of all his true character ; but limit 
 ourselves, together with his ^ Letters upon the Study of History,^ 
 to those writings, on which, just when the circumstances required 
 it, he openly declared his views of human and divine things. 
 On such occasions, the object which he wished to attain by 
 means of his works obliged him to throAV away the mask which 
 he usually wore. 
 
 In the writings of Bolingbroke, as well as those of the French- 
 men who admired and imitated him, we must in general distin- 
 guish things of two kinds — the talent to oppose what was an- 
 tiquated, and the capacity to teach what was new. The nega- 
 tive direction against the remnants of the middle ages, and 
 against the abuses of his times, makes him one of the earliest 
 champions who defended the rights of the people and of reason, 
 against antiquated prejudices ; he is the organ of a new age — 
 the announcer of new relations, of which neither the defenders 
 of the hierarchy, of the feudality of the middle ages, nor those 
 of a military monarchy after the example of Louis the Four- 
 tcentli, wished to know anything. AVhen, on the contrary, he 
 wishes to set up a new system, he merely puts forward the prin- 
 ciples of his own life — selfish prudence, sophistically clothed in 
 philosophical or rhetorical language, just as his disciples among 
 the French have done. His style also, his eagerness for popu- 
 larity, his derision of learning, of scholastic acquirements, of a
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 59 
 
 dull manner of exposition^ may be considered in two points of 
 view. In the one, it tended to increase the number of readers of 
 philosophic writings, and made attractive and agreeable what 
 was previously repulsive and Avearisome ; in the other, he merely 
 plays when we expect earnest, easily slips over the essential 
 points, and assumes the character of a rhetorician when we had 
 hoped to meet with the philosopher or the historian, and places 
 shallow prattlers in a condition to speak about things which they 
 were formerly unable to draw within their circle, because they 
 lay beyond their reach. 
 
 His writings upon the study of history pre-eminently indicate 
 this double direction, this talent for describing so-called good 
 society, on account of which we have named him as the origi- 
 nator of ornamental and witty writing on very serious subjects, 
 and these letters have thereby attained an importance which 
 might almost be named classical. He contends (viz., in order to 
 maintain this first) with skill, eloquence, and success, against ab- 
 surd scholastic learning, pedantry and prejudice of every kind, 
 and especially against the folly of a blind faith in church creeds, 
 which are repeated without reflection or inquiry. Naturally con- 
 nected with this was an attack upon the credulity and tasteless- 
 ness with which universal history was accustomed to be written 
 in England, as well as in all Europe. How this was done may be 
 seen by consulting the numerous thick quartos of the so-called 
 ' Halle Universal History,' translated from Enghsh. In this 
 respect, the wit, the clearness, the facility of the circle in which 
 Bolingbroke as well as Voltaire shone, were admirably employed. 
 On the other hand, there appears every where in these letters, 
 as well as in his other writings, that view of knowledge and in- 
 quiry, Avhich afterwards became general by means of the French 
 school, that all human knowledge is of value only as a means and 
 not as an object. According to him, knowledge of human ac- 
 tions or of mental efforts, like mathematics or natural philosophy, 
 is of value only as it bears upon the state, upon traffic, or upon 
 pleasure ; pure knowledge and perception of the divine in what 
 is human, a purely active mental life, and the efforts of the ra- 
 tional being for the satisfaction of its intellectual powers and 
 wants, he does not acknowledge, however much he and his 
 Pope also speak of philosophic repose. 
 
 In connexion with this view of Bolingbroke and the French- 
 men who followed him, it may be stated that they set as much
 
 60 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 too low a value upon Christianity and its morality, as their op- 
 ponents and the whole canting world, in despite of daily evi- 
 dence, overrated both. According to this new theory, all the 
 phsenomena of human life were considered only from the stand- 
 ing point of their own time, and of the society in which they 
 lived, which felt no hesitation in calumniating and disowning 
 human nature, and sought even for the sources of universal be- 
 nevolence and patriotism in selfishness. Writers of this class 
 necessarily acknowledged no man as a historian or philosopher, 
 except him who could boast of an acquaintance with the rhe- 
 toric and sophistry of their school. 
 
 We shall call attention to the ' Letters upon the Study of 
 History,' so much the more particularly as they have gained a 
 reputation through the eloquence, the rank, and the connexions of 
 their author, and the excessive commendations of the English 
 and French of the new school, which according to our judg- 
 ment, they could only have in so far deserved as they spoke 
 out what men previously had scarcely ventured to think. In 
 other respects these letters contain neither remarkable his- 
 torical knowledge, pure criticism, nor deep views. 
 
 From these letters, moreover, in our days we can draw a 
 lesson of humility and modesty, if we have not already drawn it 
 from history itself. All that Bolingbroke wittily ridicules as 
 tedious and without talent — all that he laughs at as useless and 
 without taste — all that, which by his labours and those of his like- 
 minded associates, had for eighty years disappeared from ancient 
 history, is again brought back in our days, only that former in- 
 vestigations, original histories, genealogies and chronologies 
 have been replaced by others, Avhich appear to us, who belong 
 to the older generation, neither less absurd nor less empty. 
 
 Bolingbroke, besides, is not concerned with history as a science ; 
 he speaks of historical works, not as works of art in which the 
 author shadows out or gives a reflexion of a spirit which eitlier 
 attracts or terrifies. He knows nothing of animation and zeal 
 for truth and right ; history is to him only a designed narration ; 
 it is made, and is in no respect the creation of a mind filled with 
 the sul)jcct. And according to this view, the contents of the 
 first of his letters must be judged. History is only there con- 
 sidered in its reference to external life, according to its outward 
 advantages. This is indeed something, of which the learned 
 compilers, originators of new systems, investigators of the pri-
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 61 
 
 mitive world of Egyptian, Indian, old Greek, Italian, Celtic, Ger- 
 man, and God knows what antiquity, often never trouble them- 
 selves to think. 
 
 The abuse of learning and science in history gives Bolingbroke 
 the victory, and has created the historical half-novel, in the same 
 way as orthodoxy and oppressive ceremonial piety called forth 
 the deists. The sound understanding of an unbiased man of 
 the world is the less likely to be diverted from its object the less 
 he suffers himself to enter upon a systematic struggle. Boling- 
 broke, like Voltaire, who in history was altogether his disciple, is 
 zealous against the merely learned or Jesuitical use of history, 
 and against its entire separation from the affairs of life. As is 
 well known, it was Bolingbroke who first also, in England, called 
 history away from treating of the dead, to a consideration of the 
 living ; because he with justice requires that history should 
 always be exhibited in a form suited to the relations of progress- 
 ive education and of art, as the phaenomena of the world are at 
 each particular period conceived. That in this respect he, as 
 well as Voltaire, went too far, we shall afterwards remark, when 
 we have first shown in M'hat way his boldness carried the torch 
 of the new light into those places where before all was darkness. 
 
 Bolingbroke will hear nothing either of the legends of pre- 
 ceding ages, or of the mythical or poetical narratives of the 
 Greeks. He condemns the predilections of learned inquirers 
 for their favourite study, and the manner in which antiquity was 
 idolized in the first times of the newly awakened love for its 
 study. He ridicules the ingenuity which, as he expresses him- 
 self, makes history out a Manetho, Berosus, Hellanicus and 
 other fragments, laughs even at the ancienthistory of Herodotus, 
 for whose epic, and therefore poetical, form he has no taste. 
 Such a judgment may be unworthy of an historian ; it is, how- 
 ever, quite in character for a man of the world like Bolingbroke, 
 who soon found a favourable hearing in England. 
 
 The collection of immense masses of materials, the building 
 up of systems, was left to the authors of the celebrated English 
 ^ Universal History ;' and every man of higher intelligence and 
 deeper thought sought, from that time forward, from history to 
 throw a light upon life, and laughed at the legends and fables of 
 an imaginary primitive world. It might appear surprising that 
 Bolingbroke and Voltaire, with their ridicule and their discourses 
 against a primitive world and mysticism, should have addressed
 
 63 ENGLAND. [eUAP. I. 
 
 themselves to the very same class of men, and been favourably 
 heard by them, with whom in our days the creators of a new 
 primitive world, of new chronologies and systems about times 
 and places, which to us, are altogether strange, have had the 
 greatest success. The thing is easily explained : a public of 
 ignorant, credulous, or imaginative people always follows the 
 fashion and the leaders of the ton ; to-day Bolingbroke and Vol- 
 taire, to-morrow their vehement opponents. — This so-called great 
 world is a reed shaken with the v/ind. 
 
 Bolingbroke's vehement attacks upon the history of the Old 
 Testament, and upon every thing connected with it, must be 
 judged of in the same manner as his attacks upon the pedantic 
 or fancifully learned men of the English schools and universities. 
 He speaks as a man of the world, refutes as a man of the world, 
 starts from the views of the good society in which he lived, and 
 naturally finds the spirit of the primitive world ridiculous, the 
 views of the Jewish people and of the East hateful and unreason- 
 able. It is remarkable, however, in these letters, and as regards 
 the time in wliich they appeared, that he quite openly attacks 
 the prevailing system of the time, merely with the power of a 
 sound understanding, that he speaks out what most intelligent 
 men thought, but what nobody, not even the scoffers among the 
 French, had once ventured openly to declare. 
 
 The hierarchical obscurity was suddenly and unsparingly 
 dissipated by these letters ; Bolingbroke proved that history and 
 theology must ever remain separate ; and that, if history will 
 claim and vindicate her right, blind faith must be altogether set 
 aside ; only then can history first gain a new form through life, 
 and life through history. Starting from this point of view, Bo- 
 lingbroke, like Voltaire, treated the Jews and their traditions 
 with the greatest contempt ; calls primitive history, as it is related 
 in the books of Moses, an altogether silly and tasteless tale of a 
 tub, and makes merry over the manner in which Jewish history 
 has been incorporated into Christian teaching -i'. With this he 
 
 * " Thus you see, my Lord, that when we consider these books merely as 
 histories, delivered to us on the faith of a superstitious people, among whom 
 the custom and the art of pious lying prevailed remarkably, we may be allowed 
 to doubt whether greater credit is to be given to what they tell us concerning 
 the original compiled in their own country, and, as it were, out of sight of the 
 
 world In short, my I/ord, the Jewish history never obtained any credit in 
 
 the world till Christianity was established. The foundations of this system 
 being laid partly on these histories and on the prophecies joined to them or 
 inserted in them, Christianity has reflected back upon them an autliority
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 63 
 
 connects his ironical remarks upon those incomprehensible 
 Christian dogmas, which are required to be beUeved upon frail 
 historical evidence t. 
 
 Bohngbroke's manner which was exclaimed against as super- 
 ficial by the learned, and the great deficiency of his knowledge 
 of ancient customs, make it easy for the learned to refute him 
 in the universities and schools, and to triumph over him in and 
 before the rostrum ; but he triumphed without in the world. 
 In this way the Avhole fabric of theological history was suddenly 
 overthrown, which, in our days, is attempted to be again rebuilt 
 on new foundations and adorned v.ith new carvings ; schools 
 and cluu'ches presented their history, indeed, according to the 
 old way, the new generation and the reading public sought for 
 or created a new history. 
 
 The greatest portion of the book of which we speak, is not 
 new, nor the result of Bohngbroke's own reflections ; he m-erely 
 recommends to his fellow-countrymen in his letters, the French 
 method, and illustrates what he recommends by examples. He 
 has only to do with modern, only with what is properly speak- 
 ing political history. He does not narrate, but only presents 
 reflections, which, as is well known, is very easy, and very much 
 desired by a public who shrink from all effort and fatigue, and 
 seek only for results. It is moreover obvious, that Bolingbroke 
 had very limited notions of his subject from the way in which 
 he treats the whole of modern history, which he had still exclu- 
 sively in his eye, and from the very large part of his letters, 
 which relate to the histories in which he himself was involved. 
 The whole is nothing else than what would be called in our days 
 a well- written leading article in Bohngbroke's newspaper. Hi- 
 story here becomes politics and diplomatic skill, as politics had 
 previously by the author of the letters become history. Hume, 
 Robertson, Gibbon and others, in good and in evil stand upon 
 the shoulders of Bolingbroke, and the practical ' History of the 
 Eighteenth Century' acknowledges him as its creator. 
 
 which they had not before, wherever Christianity' has spread. Both Jews 
 and Christians hold the same books in great veneration, whilst each condemns 
 the other for not understanding, or for abusing them." — TIdnl Letter. 
 
 \ In another place, he says with bitter scorn : — " Truth and reason may be 
 reconciled a little better than they commonly are ; I may deny that the Old 
 Testament is transmitted to us under all the conditions of an authentic hi- 
 story, and yet be at liberty to maintain, that the passages in it which esta- 
 blish original sin, which seem favourable to the doctrine of the Trinity, which 
 foretell the coming of the Messiah, and all others of similar kind, are come 
 down to us as they were originally dictated by the Holy Ghost."
 
 64 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 We must now give some hints borrowed from these letters, 
 with respect to the facile direction which it was proposed to give 
 to education. And here we first mention a passage of the Fifth 
 Letter, in whicli quite a new arrangement and subordination of 
 moral duties is substituted for the generally acknowledged theo- 
 logical and moral one ; and selfishness is dignified by being 
 raised to a principle, because Bolingbroke here asserts the same 
 doctrine which the French afterwards repeated. He states it 
 as his opinion that virtue and happiness do not spring from be- 
 nevolence and patriotism, or from the idea of the Godhead, which 
 is the root of both, as various schools have taught ; but from self- 
 love, which has self alone as its ultimate object. "We shall here 
 quote the most striking passages. He appears to do homage to 
 a Platonic or a Platonistic idea, but says : — " Because everj^ ap- 
 proach of this kind renders a man wiser and better for himself, 
 for his family, for the little community of his own country, and 
 for the great community of the world. Be not surprised, my 
 Lord, at the order in which I place these objects. Whatever 
 order divines and moralists who contemplate the duties belong- 
 ing to these objects, may place them in, this is the order they 
 hold in nature : and I have always thought that we might lead 
 ourselves and others to private virtue more effectually by a due 
 observation of this order, than by any of those sublime refine- 
 ments that pervert it." This supposition he afterwards supports 
 with verses of his friend and disciple Pope. 
 
 It is in full accordance with this ^dew of history and of human 
 things in general which we have pointed out, that Bolingbroke, 
 in a manner almost ridiculous, confers a rank upon the enter- 
 taining Davila who wrote memoirs after the French fashion for 
 good society, and upon the pragmatical Guiccardini who pours 
 himself out in political dissertations, to which these authors 
 themselves would scarcely have made any claim. His words are: 
 " Davila, a noble historian surely, and one whom I should not 
 scruple to confess equal in many respects to Livy, as I should 
 not scruple to prefer his countryman Guiccardini to Thucydides 
 in every respect." — Fifth Letter. 
 
 In another place he connects, precisely in the same manner 
 as Voltaire afterwards did, the merited chastisement of the peo- 
 ple who in his time substituted collections and narratives for 
 historical \^Titing, with bitter and malicious salhes upon the le- 
 gends of Christianity. He says, among other things : — " No
 
 § III.] BOLIXGBROKE. 65 
 
 scholar Avill dare to deny, that false history, as well as sham 
 miracles, was employed to propagate Christianity formerly ; and 
 whoever examines the writers of our own age, will find the 
 same abuse of history continued. Many and many instances of 
 this abuse might be produced. It is grown into custom, writers 
 copy one another, and the mistake that was committed, or the 
 falsehood that was invented by one, is adopted by hundreds." — 
 Fifth Letter. 
 
 In another passage, the whole of which we cannot introduce, 
 because this vehement attack upon Christians runs on through 
 several pages, in Mhich he attacks Lardner and other learned 
 men of his time who defended Christianity against the Deists, 
 or rather abuses and jeers at them, he says in a few words, — 
 " Whilst the authenticity and sense of the text of the Bible re- 
 main as disputable, and whilst the tradition of the church re- 
 mains as problematical, to say no worse, as the immense labours 
 of the Christian divines in several communions have made them 
 appear to be, Christianity may lean on the civil and ecclesiasti- 
 cal power, and be supported by the forcible influence of educa- 
 tion ; but the proper force of religion, that force which subdues 
 the mind and awes the conscience by conviction, will be want- 
 ing."— Fi/^/A Letter. 
 
 Further, like Voltaire, he directs the weapons of his history, 
 wherever he can find an assailable point, against the remains of the 
 ideas of the middle ages, which he conceives in a wholly unhis- 
 torical manner, in so far as he altogether disallows the neces- 
 sity of a Theocracy under certain circumstances. In the Sixth 
 Letter he speaks out in this respect in the bitterest and openest 
 strain, when alluding to ecclesiastical government in Europe 
 since the beginning of the sixteenth centur}% 
 
 He commences with the heretics of the thirteenth and 
 fourteenth century, and observes incidentally : — '^ Some- 
 times the doctrines of the church were alone attacked ; 
 and sometimes the doctrine, the discipline, and the usurpations 
 of the pope. But little fires kindled in a corner of a dark world 
 were soon stifled by that great abettor of Christian unity, the 
 hangman." — Sixth Letter. 
 
 The same may be said of Bolingbroke's letters upon En- 
 glish history*, and their proper historical contents, which has 
 been said of his letters upon the study of universal history. 
 
 * ' Remarks on the History of England.' Basil, 1794, 8vo. 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 We can only dwell very shortly on the contents of those letters, 
 Avhich refer to English history, and were written merely for 
 the effect of the moment; we must however select some hints 
 from them with respect to the changed manner of treating a 
 science which had previously been regarded as accessible only 
 to the learned. 
 
 These letters have an equal importance as regards political 
 history and the education of the time. They procured for the 
 magazine in which they first appeared, a considerable publi- 
 city ; they were read with pleasure, afterwards as a volume 
 had an extensive circulation, and removed from history and 
 politics the discouraging, learned, juristicial and diplomatic 
 vesture in which it had hitherto been clothed. Tliese sciences 
 have since become easy and accessible ; and the ])Oi*tion of 
 society which w as at that time formed exclusively of the govern- 
 ment and the higher ranks, has become conscious how pitiful 
 that was which was concealed under such a distinguished ap- 
 pearance. The daring disclosure of what was accustomed to be 
 called the secrets of the Cabinet, by one who had been fully 
 initiated into all the mysteries, showed, in all their nakedness, 
 the emptiness of the presumption of the ruling castes and their 
 tools — those learned men, who were indispensable to their indo- 
 lence and their ignorance. A universal feeling of ridicule was 
 thrown upon the wearisome legal wisdom of the writers of folios 
 and quartos, upon the deductions which they drew, as well as 
 upon their solid well-supported official histories. Bolingbroke 
 and his friends opposed wit, easiness, boldness, skill, nature, to 
 the stiff and tedious ornament, purity, and morality of Steele, 
 Addison and other creators of the nev/ style ; this was decisive 
 in England as regards historical writing. 
 
 Another observation with respect to Bolingbroke's influence 
 as a writer in general, may be in like manner best supported by 
 passages selected from these letters. 
 
 Bolingbroke, namely, like Voltaire and iimumerable others 
 in our days, defended truth, freedom and right, with the same 
 cold calculation and circumspection, from the same egotistical 
 motives, and impelled by the same vanity and love of rule, with 
 which their antagonists maintained the opposite ; they were 
 therefore born to be leaders of parties, and were just so much 
 the more cool and prudent calculating advocates of the cause 
 which they had undertaken, the less they Avere led away into 
 inconsiderateness by enthusiasm.
 
 § III.] BOLIXGBROKE. 67 
 
 Bolingbrokc, moreover, was the first, we might rather say the 
 only one, among the writers of the new, and particularly of the 
 French school, who had properly conceived the nature of a con- 
 stitutional monarchy, and propounded it with correctness. These 
 letters afford proofs, that he saw much further than the writers 
 of the governments of constitutional states, even down to the 
 present moment, appear to see ; because he did not flatter him- 
 self and others with the thought that truly free men would 
 dwell with one another like sheej). He proves in these letters, 
 that struggles and Avrestlings are inseparable from freedom ; and 
 that a continuous attention and watchfulness of the people, and 
 of every individual, upon the government and their plans, is an 
 indispensable necessity in all constitutional states. In his time 
 in France nothing was known of these things, and in Ger- 
 many, where people have been accustomed, since time immemo- 
 rial, to an absolute government by officials, opposition and com- 
 plaint before the public, where the governments also have their 
 organs, is always confounded with rebellion and conspiracy. 
 Bolingbroke proves, in the passage to which we here allude, 
 that in every form of government definite hmits must be set to 
 the power of the prince, or of individual magistrates ; but that 
 the laws which define and fix these limits will remain wholly 
 fruitless if they are not aided by the greatest attention of the 
 citizens of the state. Lust of power and influence, according to 
 Bolingbroke who ought to know this best, is so natural to men, 
 that tyranny, like avarice, will always infallibly grow up and be 
 satiated by no possession. He continues : — 
 
 ^^ If therefore all men will endeavour to increase their power, 
 or at least to prolong and secure the enjoyment of it, according 
 to the uncertain measure of their own passions, and not accord- 
 ing to the state proportion of reason and of law ; and if neither 
 one nor the other of these can be attempted without a danger 
 to liberty ; it follows undeniably that, in the nature of things, 
 the notion of a peq^etual danger to liberty is inseparable from 
 the veiy notion of government." 
 
 This proposition, which is always recurring, and which by 
 the easy treatment of the whole English history given in these 
 letters, is made clearly evident and is strongly impressed, is 
 explained more accurately in another passage, by a definite ap- 
 plication : — 
 
 ^' If I agree with the gentlemen," he says, with a compliment 
 
 F 2
 
 68 ENGLAND. [CIIAP. I. 
 
 to George the Second, " who have insisted so much on the 
 little reason there was in the last reign, or in the present, to ap- 
 prehend any encroachments from the crown on British liber- 
 ties ; these gentlemen must, I think, agree with me likewise, that 
 this will not alter the case, subvert what I have endeavoured 
 to establish, or cast any blame on those who have endea- 
 voured to revive that public spirit of watchfulness over all 
 national interests, which is the proper and true guardian of 
 liberty, in an age when the public spirit has more than begun to 
 sink and die away. I hope there will be always men found to 
 preach this doctrine in season and out of season, as the apostles 
 preached the Gospel ; because if this spirit is not kept at all 
 times in vigour, it may fail us at some particular time when we 
 shall want to exert it most. In great and immediate danger, 
 the most sluggish sentinel is alert ; but surely they who in times 
 of apparent security excite us to be upon our guard, do as real 
 service as they who animate us to our defence when we are actu- 
 ally attacked ; and the first is, in my opinion, that kind of ser- 
 vice of which we stand the most in need." 
 
 In the discussion of this subject which is wholly political, and 
 which is moreover treated quite after the manner, and some- 
 times with the wit of Voltaire, he often assails wdth bitter scorn 
 those religious notions, which he and his French friends al- 
 leged they only struggled against, because they stood in contra- 
 diction to the necessities of their age. He throws an ironical 
 look upon the priestly dynasty, or upon the constitution in 
 which the ruler is represented as a god upon earth ; when he 
 wishes to prove, that no form of government or constitution can 
 be a protection against popular commotions, and that therefore 
 this reproach against free constitutions is altogether without 
 foundation. He says, namely : — 
 
 " Even Theocracy was attended by some real inconveniences, 
 according to the Jewish histories ; and neither the divine pre- 
 sence in the tabernacle, nor the ambulant oracle, which the 
 priest carried about with him, could preserve entire purity in 
 religion or good order in the state." 
 
 Those letters had besides also an ambitious object, which is 
 carefully concealed under their general and scientific one. The 
 author begins his letters with an explanation in the preface of 
 the manner in which he hoped they would prove detrimen- 
 tal to the interests, and lead to the overthrow of the power
 
 § III.] B0LINGI3R0KE. 69 
 
 of his political opponents, and returns to the same topic at 
 their conclusion. He shows us that in him \\c are not to look 
 for an author Avhose object is the promotion of the interests of 
 the schools or of literature, but of his own and that of his circle 
 and friends. As avc have not undertaken to describe Boling- 
 broke as a Avritcr, or even as a political author, we shall merely 
 mention, in passing, two incidental writings, of which the one 
 was never comjjletcd, but which is not on that account written, 
 in a less masterly style. The other is as able as it is severe 
 and bitter against his enemies, especially against Harlcy (Earl 
 of Oxford) : it is admirably calculated, on the one hand, to excite 
 ridicule and hatred against the party which he had forsaken ; 
 and on the other, to bring himself into favour with the King, 
 if the King had been able to read and understand what was 
 ably written. 
 
 One of these was his celebrated letter to Windham, which 
 was printed as a pamphlet, largely circulated, and excited great 
 attention at the end of the second decennium of the eighteenth 
 century. The other, which remained incomplete, he composed 
 at a very advanced age, and it proves that his power of mind 
 continued wholly unimpaired, till a period far beyond the ordi- 
 nary life of man. Neither deficiency in vigour or in clearness 
 is at all perceptible, nor can any diminution of liveliness be 
 traced. The letter contains some considerations upon the pre- 
 sent state of the nation, upon its taxes and debt. With a view 
 to our object, we must also call attention to his printed letter 
 addressed to Pope*, which was much larger than both these. 
 Bolingbroke, as is well known, was on very intimate terms with 
 this poet, as well as with Arbuthnot and Swift, and he knew 
 admirably how to use the vain Pope for his own purposes, with- 
 out Pope having the least suspicion of it ; Swift did not go 
 quite as far as Bolingbroke wished. This letter is also import- 
 ant to us on this account, because its limited extent very much 
 lightens our labour in discovering and disclosing those views 
 and principles, which, as the principles of modern wisdom, and 
 suited to the necessities of the age, Bolingbroke wished to sub- 
 stitute for the old. 
 
 The intention of the letter, as he says, is, altogether in confi- 
 dence to communicate to his friend Pope what he means to 
 
 * ' A Letter addressed to Alexander Pope, Esq., by the late Right Honorable 
 Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke.'
 
 70 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 express by the words, first philosophy. This first philosophy 
 he sets up in opposition to what, in somewhat free language, he 
 calls the reveries of their Theologians, the subtlety of the domi- 
 neering Aristotelians, and the obscurity of German speculation 
 (Leibnitz). He describes the last-mentioned in very unfriendly 
 and harsh terms. We shall here bring forward the passage, 
 which appears to us most striking': — 
 
 " Do not imagine that I understand, by the first philosophy, 
 what has usually passed under that name, metaphysical pneu- 
 matics for instance, or ontology. The first is conversant about 
 imaginary substances, such as may and may not exist. That 
 there is a God, we can demonstrate ; and although we know 
 nothing of his manner of being, yet we acknowledge him to be 
 immaterial, because a thousand absurdities, and such as imply 
 the strongest contradiction, result from the supposition, that the 
 Supreme Being is a system of matter. But of any other spirits 
 we neither have nor can have any knowledge ; and no man will 
 be inquisitive about the physiognomy of spirits, nor go about to 
 inquire, I believe at this time, as Evodius inquired of St. Austin, 
 whether our immaterial part, the soul, does not remain united 
 when it forsakes this gross terrestrial body, to some aetherial 
 body, more subtle and more fine ; which was one of the Pytha- 
 gorean and Platonic whims; nor be under any concern to 
 know, if this be not the case of the dead, how souls can be di- 
 stinguished after their separation. The second, that of ontology, 
 treats most scientifically of being abstracted from all being ' de 
 ente quatenus ens' It came into fashion whilst Aristotle was 
 in vogue, and has been spun into an immense Web out of scho- 
 lastic brains. But it should be, and is, I think, already left to 
 the acute disciples of Leibnitz, who dug for gold in the ordure 
 of the schools, and to other German wits. Let them darken, by 
 tedious definitions, M'hat is too plain to need any ; or let them 
 employ their vocabulary of barbarous terms to propagate an 
 unintelligible jargon, which is supposed to express such abstrac- 
 tions as they cannot make, and according to which however 
 they presume often to control the particular and most evident 
 truths of experimental knowledge — such reputed science de- 
 serves no rank in philosophy, not the last, and much less the 
 first." 
 
 What is afterwards said of Bacon does not bear upon our pre- 
 sent design, which is merely to show, in what way Bolingbroke
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 'jfl 
 
 brought forward^ what was afterwards called the eloquence of 
 the saloons, and what has become prevailing in France and 
 Germany as the doctrine of a sound human understanding. 
 We have hitherto only presented that portion of his writings 
 wdiich was directed against the prevailing philosophy ; we shall 
 now however quote what he himself calls his fundamental prin- 
 ciples, and which he propounds in opposition to the old meta- 
 physics, or ontology and pneumatology : — 
 
 " I understand by first philosophy," he says, " that which de- 
 serves the first place on account of the dignity and importance 
 of its objects, natural theology or Theism, and natural religion 
 or ethics." In reference to the former he expresses himself 
 thus : — " In plain terms, I speak not here of supernatural or 
 revealed science ; and therefore, I say, that all science, if it be 
 real, must rise from below, and from our own level. It cannot 
 descend from above, nor from superior systems of being and 
 knowledge." In these propositions another system is clearly 
 and openly opposed to that which was the then prevailing one, 
 according to which that alone was acknowledged as true by the 
 former, which according to the latter was to be rejected as the 
 error of our sensual natures. A little after he definitely declares, 
 as the heads of the new French school did also at a later period, 
 that " the notices we receive from Avithout concerning the beings 
 that surround us, and the inward consciousness we have of our 
 OW'U, are the foundations, and the true criterions too, of all the 
 knowledge we acquire of body and of mind : and body and 
 mind are objects alike of natural philosophy." 
 
 *' We assume commonly," he continues, " that they are two 
 distinct substances. Be it so. They are still united and blended, 
 as it were, together in one human nature; and all natures, 
 united or not, fall within the province of natural philosophy. 
 On the hypothesis, indeed, that body and soul are two distinct 
 substances, one of which subsists after the dissolution of the 
 other, certain men, who have taken the whimsical title of meta- 
 physicians, as if they had science beyond the bounds of nature, 
 or of nature discoverable by others, have taken likewise to them- 
 selves the doctrine of mind, and have left that of body, under 
 the name of physics, to a supposed inferior order of philosophers. 
 But the right of these stands good ; for all the knowledge that 
 can be acquired about mind, or the unextended substance of the 
 Cartesians, must be acquired, like that about body, or the ex-
 
 72 ENGLAND. [CIIAP. I. 
 
 tended substance, within the bounds of their province, and by 
 the means they employ particular experiments and observations. 
 Nothing can be true of mind, any more than of body, that is re- 
 pugnant to these ; and an intellectual hypothesis, which is not 
 supported by the intellectual phccnomena, is, at least, as ridicu- 
 lous as a corporeal hypothesis which is not supported by the 
 corporeal phaenomena." 
 
 In another passage he expresses the same sentiments still 
 more strongly, in which he alleges, Avhen speaking of the cor- 
 ruptions of natural theology and natural religion : " They have 
 been corrupted to such a degree, that it is grown, and was so 
 long since, as necessary to plead the cause of God, if I may use 
 this expression after Seneca, against the divine as against the 
 atheist ; to assert his existence against the latter, to defend his 
 attributes against the former, and to justify his providence against 
 both. To both, a sincere and humble Theist might say very 
 properly, ^ I make no difference between you on many occasions, 
 because it is indifferent* whether you deny or defame the Su- 
 preme Being.' Nay, Plutarch was not in the wrong, perhaps, 
 when he declared the last to be the worst." 
 
 Bolingbroke's opinion with respect to Locke and Leibnitz is 
 strongly expressed. He regards the philosophy of the former, 
 which is founded upon experience and knowledge, as the only 
 true Avisdom and science, and the mathematical, metaphysical 
 speculation of the latter, as nonsense. In the following vehe- 
 ment and bitter words we recognise the character of a man, 
 whom no glory of greatness could frighten, but who had also 
 other reasons than those which were purely scientific for regard- 
 ing the man, who was so highly favoured in Hanover, as into- 
 lerable. He says : — 
 
 " Leibnitz, one of the vainest and most chimerical men that 
 ever got a name in philosophy, and who is often so unintelligi- 
 ble that no man ought to believe he understood himself, cen- 
 sured Locke as a superficial philosopher. What has happened ? 
 The philosophy of the one has forced its way into general approba- 
 tion ; that of the other has carried no conviction and scarcely any 
 information to those who have misspent their time about it." 
 He thinks the different effects of Locke's and of Leibnitz's phi- 
 losophy may be easily explained: " God is hid from us in the 
 majesty of his nature, and the little we discover of him must be 
 * Utrum Dcum neges an inficias.
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 73 
 
 discovered by the light that is reflected from his works. Out 
 of this light, therefore, we should never go in our inquiries and 
 reasonings about his nature, his attributes, and the order of his 
 providence; and yet upon these subjects men depart the furthest 
 from it; nay, they who depart the furthest are the least heard 
 by the bulk of mankind ; the less men know the more they 
 beheve that they know. Belief passes in their minds for know- 
 ledge, and the very circumstances which should beget doubt 
 produce increase of faith." 
 
 When he afterwards speaks of Cudworth and his ideal sy- 
 stem, he places his readers fully upon that standing-point which 
 he regards as the only one from which a correct estimate can 
 be formed of what is ideal and of what is real in the world. ^^ It 
 would be sounded high," he says, "that he debased human 
 nature, which has a cognation, so the reverend and learned 
 Doctor Cudworth calls it, withtlie divine; that the soul of man, 
 immaterial and immortal by its nature, was made to contem- 
 plate higher and nobler objects than this sensible world, and 
 even than itself, since it was made to contemplate God and to 
 be united to him. In such a clamour as this, the voice of truth 
 and of reason would be drowned ; and with both of them on his 
 side, he who opposed it would make many enemies and few 
 converts. Nay, I am apt to think that some of these, if he made 
 any, would say to him, as soon as the gaudy visions of error were 
 dispelled, and till they were accustomed to the simplicity of 
 truth, ^Pol, me occidistis.'" 
 
 He cautiously adds, " Prudence forbids me therefore to write 
 as I think to the world, whilst friendship forbids me to write 
 otherwise to you. I have been a martyr to faction in politics, 
 and have no vocation to be so in philosophy." 
 
 He further alleges, "Truth and falsehood, knowledge and ig- 
 norance, revelation of the Creator, inventions of the creature, 
 dictates of reason, sallies of enthusiasm, have been blended so 
 long together in our systems of Theology, that it may be thought 
 dangerous to separate them ; lest, by attacking some parts of 
 these systems, we should shake the whole. It may be thought 
 that error itself deserves to be respected on this account, and 
 that men, who are deluded for their good, should be deluded 
 on. Nay," he exclaims, " I would go still further than Eras- 
 mus, who says in a letter to Melancthon, that he concurs in 
 opinion with Scaevola and Varro, who both thought that ' things
 
 74 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 evidently false might deserve an outward respect when they are 
 interwoven into a system of government ; and that a good citizen 
 will be cautious how he propagates even truth in opposition to 
 them.'" In these sentences he manifests the same contempt 
 for the lower classes, the same mean opinion of all those who 
 did not belong to good society, which Voltaire always exhibited. 
 The latter, as is well known, was accustomed to allege, and to 
 express in print, that he had nothing to say to lacqueys and the 
 populace. In the writings of Bolingbroke, however, we find a 
 view of things which never entered the mind of Voltaire. 
 
 '' If the religion we profess, " says he, " contained nothing 
 more than articles of faith, and points of doctrine clearly revealed 
 to us in the Gospel, we might be obliged to renounce our na- 
 tural freedom of thought in favour of this supernatural authority. 
 But since it is notorious that a certain order of men, who call 
 themselves the church, have been employed to make and pro- 
 pagate a theological system of then* own which they call Chris- 
 tianity," &c. &c. 
 
 Bolingbroke alleges that all that was usually said about the 
 pagan systems of religion, was equally applicable to the artificial 
 theology of the Christian systems and their councils. " If it 
 be hard to conceive how anything so absurd as the pagan theo- 
 logy stands represented by the Fathers who wrote against it and 
 as it really was, could ever gain credit among rational creatures, 
 it is full as hard to conceive how the artificial theology we speak 
 of could ever prevail not only in ages of ignorance, but even in 
 the most enUghtened ^\ " " You may bring," he continues, " Fa- 
 thers and councils as evidences in the cause of artificial theo- 
 logy : but reason must be the judge ; and all I contend for is, 
 that she should be so in the breast of eveiy Christian that can 
 appeal to her tribunal." 
 
 In expressions such as these and stronger still, he rejects all 
 so-called authoritative interpretation by churches or individuals 
 founded upon tradition and the apostolical succession of the 
 clergy, to which the Anglican church so firmly adheres. He 
 
 * He says in the continuation of this sentence. " There is a letter of St. 
 Austin, wherein he says, that lie was ashamed of himself, when he refuted the 
 opinions of the former philosophers, that he was ashamed of mankind when he 
 considered that such aljsurdities were received and defended. The reflections 
 might be retorted on the saint, since he broached and defended doctrines as 
 unworthy of the supreme and perfect, as those which the heathens taught 
 concerning their fictitious and inferior gods."
 
 § III.] BOLINGBROKE. 75 
 
 says — " It would be a game to provoke laughter, if there was no 
 suspicion of profanation in it, to see them gravely lay hands on 
 one another, and bid one another receive the Holy Ghost." 
 
 " We know, too," he afterwards says, " that if we receive the 
 explanations and commentaries of these dark sayings from the 
 clergy, we take the greatest part of our religion from the word 
 of man, not from the word of God." And what is still worse, 
 according to his opinion, is, that those who boast they are ap- 
 pointed by God to be the interpreters of his secret will and to 
 answer in his name, " have not been able in more than seventeen 
 centuries to establish a uniform system of revealed religion. 
 They do not seem to have aimed at this desirable end. Divided 
 as they have always been, they have always studied in order to 
 believe*, and to take upon trust, or to find matter of discourse, 
 or to contradict and confute ; but never to consider impartially, 
 nor to use a free judgement. On the contrary, they who have 
 attempted to use this freedom have been constantly and cruelly 
 persecuted by them." 
 
 He afterwards proceeds to speak of the history of the Church, 
 and shows in what manner Christianity was injured and destroyed 
 by additions and corruptions. The earUest of these he ascribes 
 to enthusiasm and mysticism, and furnishes his proofs by a re- 
 ference to the ^Epistles' and other writings of Clemens, Igna- 
 tius, and Iraenaeus, and to the visions of Hermes, which have so 
 near a resemblance to the productions of Bunyan. He then 
 passes on to the rhetorical age of the church, m hich he illus- 
 trates by reference to the names of Chrysostom, Jerome, Hilary 
 and Cyril, probably because he was unacquainted with Basil and 
 Gregory. "These were followed," he says, "by the Aristotelians 
 and scholastics, of whom he knows as little as Voltaire and other 
 Frenchmen, and whom he for that reason treats with the greatest 
 contempt." 
 
 He represents the character of the Aristotelians as follows : — 
 " Having very few materials of knowledge and much subtilty of 
 wit, they wrought up systems of fancy on the little they knew ; 
 and invented an art, by the help of Aristotle, not of enlarging, 
 but of puzzling knowledge with technical terms, with defini- 
 tions, distinctions and syllogisms merely verbal ; they taught 
 what they could not explain ; evaded what they could not an- 
 swer ; and he who had the most skill in this art might put to 
 
 * Bacon's Essays.
 
 76 ENGLAND. [CIIAP. I. 
 
 silence, ^vllen it came into general use, the man Avho ■was con- 
 sciously certain that he had truth and reason on his side." 
 " The authority of the schools lasted till the revival of let- 
 ters ; but as soon as real knowledge was enlarged and the con- 
 duct of the understanding better understood, it fell into con- 
 tempt. The advocates of artificial theology have had since that 
 time a very hard task. They have been obliged to defend in the 
 light, what was composed in the dark, and to acquire knowledge 
 to justify ignorance. They were drawn to it with reluctancy. 
 But learning that grew up among the laity, and controversies 
 with one another, made this unavoidable, which was not eligible 
 on the principles of ecclesiastical policy. They have done with 
 these new arms, all that great parts, great pains, and great zeal 
 could do under such disadvantages ; and we may apply to this 
 order on this occasion, ' Si Pergama dextra/ &c. But their Troy 
 cannot be defended ; irreparable breaches have been made in it." 
 Bolingbroke afterwards passes on to consider the controversial 
 writings of theologians, and proves that the opponents of specu- 
 lative theology had obtained an inexhaustible armoury of wea- 
 pons of offence, by means of the learning of its defenders, and 
 in the thick volumes Avhich they wrote. He treats the defence 
 of theology by ecclesiastics, wlio gained their living by their 
 craft, as destructive of their cause, because they defended it not 
 merely as a science, but as a means of life*. This preamble is 
 further carried out and proved by history, by which it is shown 
 that the inventors of theology as a science, and the creators of 
 the clergy as an order, used human and worldly means for the 
 accomplishment of their object ; councils arc treated with the 
 greatest degree of contempt. He declares in express words, 
 " He must be very ignorant in ecclesiastical antiquity, who does 
 not know by what intrigues of the contending factions, for such 
 they were and of the worst kind, these decrees were obtained ; 
 and yet an opinion prevailing that the Holy Ghost, the same 
 divine spirit who dictated the Scriptures, presided in these 
 
 * Such Theology is ; and men who could make no fortune except the low- 
 est in any other, make the highest in this; in the proof of which assertion I 
 might produce some signal instances among my lords the bishops. The con- 
 sc([uence has been uniform ; for how ready soever the tradesmen of one church 
 are to expose the false wares, that is, the errors and abuses of another, they 
 never admit that there arc any of their own ; and he who admitted this, in 
 some particular instance, would be driven out of the ecclesiastical company, as 
 a false brother, and one who spoiled the trade.
 
 § IV.] ARBUTIINOT — POPE SWIFT. 77 
 
 assemblies and dictated those decrees, their decrees passed 
 for infaUible decisions; and sanctified little by little, much of 
 the superstition, the nonsense, and even the blasphemy which 
 the Fathers taught, and all the usurpations of the Church." 
 We regard it as superfluous to dwell upon the other writings 
 of this English statesman, because what has been already ad- 
 duced is ample and perhaps more than sufficient, clearly to 
 point out the direction which he took, and which he wished 
 to give to the opinions of his time. From all this it will be 
 obvious, in what way Bolingbroke worked upon Voltaire and 
 Montesquieu, and how very profitable he was to them, by the 
 possession of extensive knowledge and experience with respect 
 to subjects in which they were altogether deficient. 
 
 § IV. 
 
 ARBUTHNOT POPE — SW^IFT. 
 
 We now pass on to those writers who shook what, up till this 
 time, had been the foundations of literature, and altered the 
 views of life and human relations, although they were so far 
 from having any feeling of opposition to the established order of 
 things, that, on the contrary, and sometimes with firm resolution, 
 they desired to defend and to maintain it ; but we mention them 
 because they followed the modern manner of the French, and 
 sought to introduce the style as well as the rhetoric, or the wit, 
 of a Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke into English literature. 
 
 We should here properly commence with the ^ Guardian,' 
 'Tatler,' and * Spectator;' periodicals, which in this respect 
 were fashionable and classical : we shall, however, take notice of 
 these hereafter, when we come to speak of Addison, Steele and 
 their friends, of the defenders of the ministerial system, and to 
 discuss the moralizing, descriptive, and ornamentally expanded 
 prose and poetry of the time. First we have to do with Boling- 
 broke's friends. 
 
 We have brought the three authors above-named prominently 
 forward, because altogether apart from our judgement of the in- 
 trinsic value of their works, the general opinion of their influ- 
 ence and importance has been decisive with regard to literature. 
 They were esteemed, and are yet esteemed as classical, and there
 
 78 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 is a belief in a progress from Shakespeare and Milton to Dry- 
 den, Pope and Swift, which was proportionate to the advanced 
 civihzation of the age ; we therefore pass over the importance 
 which these writers have for their nation, and let it be assumed 
 that their style is worthy of all the preference which has been 
 shown it by their fellow-countrymen ; and by a reference to some 
 of their works, shall clearly show their relation to their age, and 
 to true mental progress and cultivation. 
 
 Were we to give an opinion of the excellence of the three 
 writers as such, we could not overlook in the case of Arbuthnot, 
 that he gained a high reputation by his solid mathematical 
 writings, and by his refutation of Woodward's dreams about the 
 Deluge, which at that time excited great attention. We shall, 
 however, pass over those writings as well as the celebrated sati- 
 rical work still much read in England, viz., ' The History of 
 John Bull, or the Lawsuit without End*.' We cannot conceal 
 our opinion, that to us the wit and the manner of long and 
 tedious conversation with the English people about the English 
 people, appears antiquated, like the jests of Rabener; perhaps it 
 is that they cannot be appreciated or enjoyed by foreigners, who 
 are therefore not judges. If we mention Arbuthnot, it is only 
 because he entered the field with the arms of ridicule together 
 with Pope and Swift, against the antiquated doctrines, studies 
 and discipline of the foregoing century. 
 
 There was a compact entered into among the three friends, 
 and a formal plan laid down to turn into ridicule the pedantry of 
 the universities, and the foolish idolatry of antiquated learning, 
 which prevailed to the detriment of living and truly useful know- 
 ledge. Arbuthnot projected and carried out this plan, which 
 Pope and Swift afterwards extended in another way, in the ' His- 
 tory of the Life, Works and Discoveries of Martinus Scriblerus.' 
 This Uttle work is known in Germany from the seventh volume 
 of the * Translation of Pope's Works.' It was at that time re- 
 garded as Pope's work, although, as is generally known, and as 
 Johnson indeed in his life of Pope expressly asserts, it be- 
 longs almost exclusively to Arbuthnot. Arbuthnot himself is 
 known in Germany also by means of Lichtenberg's explana- 
 tions of Hogarth's caricatures. It appears, as if Lichtenberg, 
 however much he admires England, and however willingly 
 
 * Swift's Works, Hamb. and Leipsig, pt. i. pp. 91-281.
 
 § IV.] ARBUTHNOT POPE — SWIFT. 79 
 
 he praises Englishmen^ must have felt that the passage which he 
 produces does not place the wit of the writer in any very splen- 
 did point of view. The same may be said of the ^ Life of Mar- 
 tinus Scriblerus,' although Lord Brougham, as well as his op- 
 ponents in Parliament and out of it, at the present day, repeat- 
 edly avail themselves of quotations from this book, and allude 
 to the * History ' as one which is classical and well-known to 
 the people. 
 
 As to what relates to the contents of the book, we shall quote 
 Johnson's judgement in a note, because for once, we coincide with 
 this despotic pedant* ; with the exception only of the fact, that 
 the book was not much read or known. This is most shortly 
 confuted, by the circumstance which has just been mentioned 
 above, which is a proof that it was, and is much read and well- 
 known. We should never have thought of the dull and diffuse 
 Avitticisms of the ' Life of Martinus Scriblerus,' if we did not 
 wish to prove from the book, that even a man like Swift, who 
 w^as an admirable judge of what was calculated for his worldly 
 advantages, carried away by the spirit of the age, could be, at least 
 for some considerable time, a zealous and unconditional oppo- 
 nent of what was old, and could as unconditionally approve of what 
 was new. In this work of the three friends, universities, studies, 
 learned men, antiquarians, grammarians, &c. were clothed in the 
 most ridiculous vestments. The learned follies of the Latin 
 schools and of the orthodox universities intimately connected 
 with them— things therefore which were inseparable from the 
 whole mental and social order of society — were distorted and dis- 
 placed, and were placed deep in the shade in comparison with 
 the teaching of sovmd reason, with what was obvious and profit- 
 able, with the wisdom and philosophy of the present ' Penny 
 Magazine' and ^ Encyclopedias.^ 
 
 That every thing which was brought forward was clothed in 
 
 * Johnson, after he has shown that Arbuthnot is in the main the author, 
 says : — " The want of more will not be much lamented ; for the follies which 
 the writer ridicules, are so little practised, that they are not known, nor can 
 the satire be understood but by the learned : he raises phantoms of absurd- 
 it}', and then drives them away. For this reason the joint production of 
 three great writers has never obtained any notice from mankind ; it has been 
 little read, or when read has been forgotten, as no man could be wiser, better, 
 or merrier by remembering it. The design cannot boast of much originality; 
 for besides its general resemblance to ' Don Quixote,' there will be found in it 
 particular imitations of the history of M, Ouffle. Swift carried so much of it 
 to Ireland as supplied him with hints for his ' Travels. ' "
 
 80 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 the form of a poor imitation of the masterpiece of Cervantes, 
 injured the book only in the eyes of the whole of that small 
 public which knows how to distinguish between good wit and 
 bad. This, on the other hand, increased the effect of the satire 
 among the multitude, so that Pope when he was at the very 
 pinnacle of his renown, willingly suffered the authorship to be 
 attributed to himself. The mediocre, as is well known, and as 
 Wieland well knew and often said, is surest of that amount of 
 approbation which most enriches the bookseller and the writer. 
 
 The persons whom Arbuthnot ridiculed, the books to which 
 he alluded, are all long since forgotten ; but the principle which 
 he and his friends wished to introduce, has won the victory. He 
 laughs at the ancient languages — at inquiries after things which 
 by length of time have been wholly obliterated, ridicules every 
 thing which has no immediate utility for life, and instead of 
 the learned subjects of his time, wishes for others. In this re- 
 spect he goes so far as to call for the dancing, music and draw- 
 ing-masters instead of the old instructors, whom he rails at as 
 pedants. Who is there that does not see the light of our age in 
 Pope and Arbuthnot's annunciation of new subjects and modes 
 
 •> 
 
 of instruction for youtl 
 
 What has been said of the chapter upon schools and school 
 studies, may be equally applied also to that upon rhetoric, 
 logic and metaphysics ; for according to these writers, the specu- 
 lative or contemplative is uniformly to be regarded as of less 
 value than the palpable and practical — pure mental activity, the 
 creation of an inward world, and the pleasure which springs 
 from its creation, as inferior to action directed towards what is 
 outward, employed to gain what is substantial, and to rejoice 
 in what is really advantageous. The sense of these smart 
 observations, after all, can only be, that without any study what- 
 ever, sentence of condemnation may be passed upon the inves- 
 tigations of men who have devoted their whole lives to the con- 
 sideration and observation of the operations of the human mind, 
 in the same manner as opinions are given and sentences of con- 
 demnation pronounced without either earnestness or depth, in 
 the soul of the educated so called. The remark also holds good 
 with respect to the raillery and scorn against Locke's new phi- 
 losophy, which, with great cleverness, is carried through the 
 whole of this work. 
 
 However cutting and severe the wit may be which is directed
 
 § IV.] POPE. 81 
 
 against the work of 'The Powers of the Human Understanding,' 
 if we must assign an end and object to this scoffing and ridicule, it 
 can be no other, than to show the triumph of a man of the world 
 over science and solid investigation. This chapter, and another 
 in the life of Martinus Scriblerus by Pope, in which the proofs 
 brought forward by Collins and directed against Clarke's ' Ma- 
 thematical Demonstration of the Nature of the Soul,' are, as is 
 generally supposed, held up to ridicule according to the rules of 
 the schools, prove very clearly the direction of the philosophy of 
 the age to be against investigation, research, solidity and depth. 
 Bolingbroke and his friends thereby manifestly paved the way 
 for Voltaire and his. 
 
 Pope's poetry also belongs to the philosophy of the time, in 
 which, above all things, easiness of comprehension and a smooth 
 form are sought after. His versification, the clothing of his 
 ideas, his turns are admirable and not to be sui'passed ; his lan- 
 guage is pure and sustained, but his poetry altogether without 
 invention, without individuality, without power. The refined 
 education of high society shows itself in Pope's writings, as in 
 Marmontel's, in its mildest and politest form ; in those of Man- 
 deville and Diderot, in its more frivolous and wanton ; but the 
 essence is the same. 
 
 The cold, weak, vain nature of Pope, who, with more than 
 English eagerness sought after everything distinguished, who 
 pursued the shadow of the court as well as that of aristocratic 
 comforts, who was greedy for reputation and money, was alto- 
 gether fitted to announce and recommend an unsound and so- 
 phistical education. On the one hand, he Mas a Catholic, on 
 the other, a disciple and friend of Bolingbroke; on the one 
 hand, he alleged that he had always remained faithful to the 
 creed of his church, on the other, he announced, as we shall 
 show, the gospel of egotism. His mind was so supple, and he 
 knew so well how to shift his characters, that both parties, 
 each in its way struggling for and against the statu quo, availed 
 themselves of his service. We could very easily point out in 
 his works these two directions, and his endeavour to promote two 
 different objects ; but our business is only with the progress of 
 the efforts which were made, by the most distinguished men 
 of the century, to break and cast off the fetters of the middle 
 ages. 
 
 The work which established Pope's reputation, the celebrated 
 
 VOL. I, G
 
 82 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 translation of the Iliad, and the subscription to which realized 
 for him an independent fortune, and made him, what in England 
 is before everything else, wealthy, which introduced him into 
 the circle of men of the world, shows how the mental culti- 
 vation and literature, recommended by the age and by Boling- 
 broke, stood in relation to the ancient and simple, and how hea- 
 vily the neglect of the study of the customs and languages of 
 antiquity, the want of a more accurate knowledge of the learn- 
 ing and life of the ancient Greeks revenged itself upon the scoff- 
 ing authors of the ^ Life of Martinus Scriblerus.' 
 
 It was, however, altogether unworthy of a poet, who had a 
 perception of the beauties of Homer, and who wished to place 
 them before his fellow-countrymen in a pleasing form in their 
 own language, even if he only undertook the task as a money 
 speculation, to allow his name at last to be used as that of a mere 
 trading firm. It is well enough known that Pope pocketed the 
 subscription for the ' Odyssey,' and left the work to be done by 
 his understrappers ; he himself, indeed, openly acknowledges, 
 that he translated the father of all European poetry, and of all 
 pure human intellectual improvement, without any well-grounded 
 knowledge of the Greek language and antiquities, by the help 
 of literal translations and imperfect means, and absolutely 
 adorned him with tinsel. The consideration of this English 
 classical ' Iliad ' itself, shows us, in its true light, the character 
 of the age which admired such a translation. 
 
 That we may not seem unjust to the age, or to the English 
 public, and that it may appear that this translation of the 'Iliad' 
 was received and regarded as a master-piece — a national work 
 destined for immortality, we shall appeal, in aid of our testi- 
 mony, to the authority of Dr. Johnson, who, at the end of the 
 eighteenth century, v,as admired as the greatest of critics. We 
 infer, besides, nothing further from the unmeasured commenda- 
 tion of tliis editor, biographer, critic, and judge of taste of the 
 whole body of English poets, than that Pope was the beau ideal 
 of the English saloons, that he satisfied the demands and neces- 
 sities of his age, and that his poetry was altogether suitable to 
 the character and to the life of the good society of his time. 
 Johnson calls Pope the first of poets, and extols his translation 
 of the ^ Iliad' with an almost ridiculous praise. 
 
 What weakness, cockering, and artificiality appears in Ho- 
 mer represented in Pope's looking-glass, when compared with
 
 § IV.] POPE. 83 
 
 the highest, purest, and noblest simphcity of the poet in his own 
 tongue ! 
 
 This be-rhymecl ' Diad,' which was beautified in every hne, is 
 as destitute of nature and simphcity as were the Enghsh circles 
 of its admirers. The poet has obliterated the colouring of an- 
 cient times and foreign countries, in order to introduce another, 
 Avhich might appear more beautiful to his fellow-countrymen. 
 The ancient Greek patriarch appears as a distinguished English- 
 man, dressed after the newest French fashion. He comes for- 
 ward with theatrical pomp ; and the exclusive beau monde, ac- 
 customed to tinsel and paint, stand in astonishment and applaud. 
 The small number of those really acquainted with the subject, 
 excluded from the society of the rich and fashionable, look on 
 this tumult of applause with contempt, but their voice is raised 
 in vain. These remarks can only be justified by a comparison 
 of the translation with the original ; for, as a modern poem, it 
 reads well: in order, however, to show the wholly different spiint 
 from which the celebrated English and the German translation 
 proceeded, as both the authors wished by this means to call 
 forth a new kind of poetry in their respective countries, we shall 
 subjoin two parallel passages in the notes*. The intelligent 
 
 * We begin with the first lines of the ' Iliad' : 
 Poj^e. — The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring 
 
 Of all the Grecian woes, O goddess, sing ; 
 
 That wrath, which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign 
 
 The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain. 
 Voss. — Singe den Zorn, o Gottin, des Peleiaden Achilleus, 
 
 Ihn, der entbrannt den Achaiern unnennbaren Jammer erregte, 
 
 Und viel tapfere seelen der Heldensohne zum Ais 
 
 Sendete 
 
 The celebrated invocation, II. ii. 1. 484, runs thus in Pope : 
 
 Say, virgins seated round the throne divine. 
 
 All-knowing goddesses, immortal Nine ! 
 
 Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasured height 
 
 And hell's abyss hide nothing from j'our sight 
 
 (We wretched mortals lost in doubt below 
 
 But guess by rumour and but boast we know), 
 
 O ! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame. 
 
 Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came ! 
 
 To count them all demands a thousand tongues, 
 
 A throat of brass and adamantine lungs. 
 Voss. — Sagt mir anjetzt, ihr Musen, olympische Hohen bewohnend, 
 
 Denn ihr seyd Gottinnen, und wart bei AUem und wisst es ; 
 
 Unser Wissen ist nichts, wir horchen allein dem Geriichte : 
 
 Welche waren die Fursten der Danaer, und die Gebieter ? 
 
 Nie vermocht ich das Volk zu verkiindigen oder zu nennen ; 
 
 Waren mir auch zehn Kehlen zugleich, zehn redende Zungen, 
 
 War unzerbrechlicher Laut und ein ehernes Herz mir gewiihret. 
 Sed ohe ! jam satis est ! 
 
 g2
 
 84 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 judge, from these passages, will easily be able to form an opinion, 
 and the further development of the subject would be here out 
 
 of place. 
 
 Pope's three other larger poems, which, next to his translation 
 of Homer, gained for him renown in England and in the whole 
 of Europe, both in substance and form show more distinctly- 
 even to the individualities of life and literature, in what manner 
 his poetry and acquirements were the production of the modern 
 French refined education, and how they were calculated to ex- 
 tend it together with the artificial, luxurious, empty, social life 
 of the Parisian literati. In relation to literature this appears 
 from his poetical '^ Essay on Criticism ;' in relation to life, from 
 his ' Rape of the Lock ;' and in relation to religion and morals, 
 from his ' Essay on Man.' 
 
 As regards this poetry of modern social relations in general, 
 we cannot but admire the ornamental turns, the rounding of 
 expression, the easy flow of the verse, the purity of the lan- 
 guage, the tone of good society, the intelligible instruction 
 which it exhibits. Poetical creations and a high ideality will 
 be sought for in vain. Pope's poem upon criticism contains 
 directions for the new poetry ; it announces the principles Avhich 
 Shaftesbury had already acknowledged as the only ones which 
 accorded with the demands of the age, or in other words, it 
 contains the theory of the style, which we have explained as 
 constituting the peculiarity of the poetry of Dryden and Pope. 
 Pope knows as little as Boileau of that heavenly inspiration 
 which, with the materials, also suggests the perfect form ; but 
 he gives admirably composed, clever, and rhymed directions for 
 every species of writing. 
 
 We shall not stop to illustrate the above remarks by any 
 closer examination of the contents of this short and useful poem, 
 which is easily impressed on and retained in the memory, and 
 therefore highly suitable for its purpose ; but shall call to recol- 
 lection two celebrated verses, which have been quoted times 
 innumerable as oracular*, which speak of adorning nature — and 
 announce the principle of men accustomed to conventional orna- 
 ments, according to which pure and noble nature, in order to 
 
 * L. 297, 298. True wit is nature to advantage dress'd. 
 
 What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd. 
 
 482. Our sons their fathers' failing language see. 
 And such as Chaucer's is, shall Dryden's be.
 
 § IV.] POPE. 85 
 
 appear with advantage in society, required a fashionable garb, 
 which the fashionable poet of the time must furnish. This 
 was Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke's doctrine; Pope has only 
 presented it in verse. 
 
 We find therefore in the works of Pope the same rhetorical 
 skill, which Dionysius of Halicarnassus attributes to Homer, 
 commended with the expression that he brings new beauties 
 out of every line ; Longinus is said to be inspired by all the 
 nine Muses, and without circumlocution Vida* is placed in the 
 same rank with Homer and Virgil. But the further consider- 
 ation would lead us from the historical into a quite different 
 field, and we pass on therefore to the comic poem.] 
 
 'The Rape of the Lock' is, properly speaking, nothing else than 
 a piece of convivial pleasantry, which well accorded with the 
 offensive customs of the time ; and it received the rank of a 
 masterpiece, by means of the spirit of the age, and the reputation 
 of originality, at the moment when Voltaire and his disciples 
 filled all Europe with their poetical renown. The occasion of the 
 poem is an event in those circles into which Pope eagerly pressed, 
 as Marmontel afterwards did, and in which Voltaire moved with 
 somewhat more self-possession and dignity. An importance 
 is however given to this occurrence, although it be treated as 
 a burlesque, which could not be easily comprehended, if it was 
 not known what an absurd value is placed by the English and 
 French upon the right of access to certain societies. A certain 
 amount of talent, or some degree of reputation, procures ad- 
 mission to these societies which are still found in England ; in 
 other respects in their aristocratic sphere what is frivolous is 
 called gallant — superficial, clever — sounding speech, ornamental, 
 and every question, every motion, is calculated for effect. 
 Boileau's ' Reading Desk,' the pattern which Pope had in his 
 eye in writing ' The Rape of the Lock,' and which perhaps he 
 has excelled, shows what kind of poetry he wished to introduce. 
 In this he has the advantage, that no one could mistake the ad- 
 vance in this kind of poetry, fi'om Boileau to Pope, in which 
 there can be no mention of inspiration. But the vain English- 
 man, who was always squinting after the court at which, like 
 
 * L. 708. And a Vida sung. 
 
 Immortal Vida ! on whose honour'd brow 
 The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow ; 
 Cremona now shall ever boast thy name. 
 As next in place to Mantua, next in fame.
 
 86 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 Voltaire, he was anxious to play a character, fell far short of 
 the bolder Frenchman in proper freedom of spirit. This is easily 
 explained by the fact, that the aristocratic class which he served, 
 had increased amazingly in haughtiness and power since the 
 time of Louis the Fourteenth. Boileau is indeed a poet laureate ; 
 but he has only one to flatter, only his Louis the Fourteenth. 
 Whenever therefore he wishes, and is at liberty to attack, he 
 attacks with vigour, and becomes in fact burlesque by the 
 vehemence of his ridicule ; the anxious, cautious, weak Pope 
 dare not venture to break with the aristocracy and good society, 
 whose follies and silliness it was his duty to scourge, and he 
 spares them with as much delicacy, as he afterwards, with rude- 
 ness and vulgarity, in his ' Dunciad,' heaps abuse upon his 
 enemies and opponents of another class. 
 
 The miserable trifles which constitute the materials of his 
 poem ; the scenes in the so-called high life, their play, their 
 entertainments, their tedious jests, their artificial and screwed- 
 up manners, are not strongly contrasted, as they should have 
 been, with nature and morality, but extolled and ennobled. 
 Gods and geniuses serve as subjects of jest for polite society, 
 and the poet of the aristocracy compels the middle classes, who 
 read him with admiration, to busy and interest themselves with 
 the artificial parties of polite life, fi-ora which they were excluded, 
 instead of with their own natural connexions and affairs. In 
 the writings of our German Zacharia, who afterwards worked 
 in Pope's manner, it is easily seen, that the social sphere in 
 which he moved, stood very far below the French-English one, 
 which Bolingbroke and Pope enlivened by their talents. 
 
 Pope's * Essay on Man,' is far more important to us in refer- 
 ence to our immediate object, than the before-mentioned pieces. 
 Our only object is to show the origin and progress of the 
 mental struggle against those traditionary and ruling principles, 
 upon which the hierarchy or the church vested the whole 
 social order of society, in pursuance of that intimate connexion 
 which had been formed between the church and the state in 
 the middle ages. In this relation the poem of the cautious and 
 anxious Catholic has double significance. 
 
 It was impossible to bring Bolingbroke's theory into the 
 sphere of practical life, with greater mildness, courteousness, 
 moderation and allurement, than has been done in the ^ Essay 
 on JMan.' The principle ^^hich Helvetius and Holbach at a
 
 § IV.] POPE. 87 
 
 later period professed, is here not clearly and forcibly announced, 
 but is clothed in beautiful versification — viz. that the glory 
 of God and the happiness of man are not the end and object of 
 human life, as the Christian would express himself, and post- 
 humous renown, as the noblest among the ancients taught — 
 but that that alone which deserves to be called truly human^ 
 has reference to our convenience and personal enjoyment — 
 what we think or what w-e feel. Here in elegant verse, our 
 duties towards our neighbours, God, the world, and all those 
 feelings w'hich religion, poetry, philosophy awaken in well-in- 
 formed minds, are united in a circle around ourselves; sacri- 
 fices and self-consideration are reckoned as follies. 
 
 Pope admits in the poem that the notions are not his own, 
 that he has only reduced into verse the principles which his 
 friend Bolingbroke had taught him. How innocent Pope really 
 was, how little he had any opinion of his own, or wished to 
 enter into conflict with things as they were, is apparent from his 
 letters, and from Warburton's defence of his admired friend, in 
 which it is said openly, that Bolingbroke had led him astray, 
 and had induced him to write poetry in an infidel strain, without 
 being an unbeliever. In a letter to the younger Racine, the 
 well-known archjansenist, Pope himself alleges that he is a firm 
 Catholic Christian, and wishes so to remain. 
 
 The more Pope strives to veil the true sense of the new phi- 
 losophy, so much the more does it become our duty to prove 
 from his ' Essay on Man,^ which is so celebrated and classical 
 in orthodox England, which has been praised, commented upon, 
 and translated in pious Germany, that it contains the very same 
 principles which we shall afterwards again find in the writings 
 of Parisian high life. What Pope teaches in beautiful verse, 
 was universally, and at that time, by means of education and 
 practice, impressed upon the minds of the youth of the rich, 
 fashionable, privileged, and flattered classes ; they were in some 
 measure born with the conviction, that every thing revolves 
 around themselves and their connexions, hence, that every ad- 
 vantage and preference belong of right to them alone. 
 
 Had Pope not acknowledged this principle, it would have 
 been impossible for him to have called Bolingbroke " the ma- 
 ster of the poet and the song,'' who had so fully and clearly 
 avowed it in the printed letter above mentioned, addressed to 
 Pope. Bolingbroke may still be reckoned as a man of under-
 
 88 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 standing, talents, and knowledge : we may feel inclined to give 
 him a place as a statesman and diplomatist among the greatest 
 men of the kind ; but as a pattern and image of a true philoso- 
 pher he cannot be properly regarded. Pope, on the other hand, 
 not only introduces Bolingbroke through his whole poem, as a 
 pattern of that kind of religion and morality, and of the wis- 
 dom and prudence, which he wishes to teach, but he appeals to 
 him in the very beginning of the first epistle, in some measure 
 as his muse, and praises him at the conclusion of the fourth, as 
 the great master of true learning. In the concluding verses of 
 his poem, he says expressly, that he most strongly admires 
 those scenes in Bolingbroke's life which we have called the most 
 inglorious, and that the theory, which makes self-interest the bond 
 of social union, was not recommended by his example*. 
 
 Pope's God and his faith in him is like Voltaire's Deism, 
 which, as is well known, is altogether selfish. Pope, like Vol- 
 taire, recognises only one kind of religion, and ignorant of the 
 nature of mind, he sneers bitterly at the devotion of the weak 
 but pious, who have need of outward and sensible means to 
 enable them to elevate their thoughts above the sensible world. 
 Pope, for example, says directly, that the rattles and hobby- 
 horses of children, the orders, uniforms, and dress of men, and 
 the beads and prayer-books of old age, are all baubles alike f. 
 The poet's view of the constitution of the whole social union of 
 man, and of the origin of the arts and sciences, is quite in ac- 
 cordance with this principle. 
 
 In light and elegant verses, pleasant to read and easy to re- 
 tain, he brings forward his specious views upon the probable 
 course of the improvement of the human race. His verses are 
 very beautiful. Meiners and most modern historians have fol- 
 lowed them ; the principles, however, cannot be combined with 
 the remains of antiquity. It is the same theory brought forward 
 
 * " Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise. 
 To fall with dignity, with temper rise ; 
 Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer 
 From grave to gay, fiom lively to severe ;" 
 Compared with 1. 395, 396 : 
 
 " That reason, passion, answer one great aim ; 
 That true self-love and social arc the same." 
 
 ■y " Scarfs, garters, gold amuse his riper stage. 
 
 And beads and prayer-books arc the toys of age; 
 
 I'leased with this bauble still as that before. 
 
 Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er." — Essay on Man, ii, 279.
 
 § IV.] POPE. 89 
 
 as a fact, which D'Alembert, in his introduction to the ' French 
 Encyclopedia/ has developed, and logically proved with distin- 
 guished logical talent and in admirable style. According to this 
 theory, the education of a being, who, according to all the evi- 
 dence of history and of the oldest architectural remains in all 
 parts of the earth, built temples and sang hymns before he 
 thought of houses and cities for himself, begins Avith the imita- 
 tion of beasts ; these teach him the arts, and fear furnishes him 
 with a God. When a man has once admitted these principles, 
 then, without a further use of facts, the whole history of human 
 improvement and civilization follows of itself and hangs together 
 like a novel. Neither Pope nor D'Alembert thought of their 
 fellow-countrymen the Druids, of Mexico, Egypt, India, or in 
 general of the peculiar period of visionary religion, or religious 
 arts and poetry, which indeed have all disappeared before the 
 fuller cultivation of the reason, but which, nevertheless as facts, 
 are opposed to what might otherwise appear to be the natural 
 course of things. The manifestation of the religious arts and 
 poetry, before any other, recurs with too great frequency to allow 
 the order of things to be reversed, although it by no means fol- 
 lows therefrom that mankind should admire this beginning: as 
 what is highest, or remain thereby. 
 
 With the explanation of the original constitution of social 
 order, there stands in close connexion another principle ad- 
 vanced by Pope, viz. that despotism and freedom are not oppo- 
 site principles, but manifestations of the same kind, both having 
 their origin in self-love. By this much to be admired friend of 
 human kind, self-love is made the mother of all the arts, sciences, 
 and virtues, instead of crime and despotism being regarded as 
 the spawn of all-consuming selfishness ; and virtue and freedom, 
 on the other hand, as springing from the conviction, that each 
 individual can only find security, peace, and happiness, as a 
 member of the community in which every man's privilege is the 
 same *. From this it naturally follows, that in the case of Pope, 
 
 * 
 
 " So drives self-love, through just and through unjust. 
 To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust. 
 The same self-love in all becomes the cause 
 Of what restrains him, government and laws ; 
 For what one likes, if others like as well. 
 What serves one will, when many wills rebel ? 
 How shall he keep what sleeping or awake 
 A weaker may surprise, a stronger take ?" — Essay on Man, iii. 269.
 
 90 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I, 
 
 as well as that of Voltaire, self-privation, religious, poetical, phi- 
 losophical inspiration, that which, by a somewhat mystical or 
 monkish expression is called self-contemplation, in short that 
 all sociality, every thing given which is above and beyond what 
 is immediate and sensible, every effort stretching beyond what 
 is attainable in life, is not merely nonsense, but madness. Pope 
 says this expressly in a passage in which he ridicules Plato and 
 the Platonists*. 
 
 Self-love and conscience are nothing else with the poet than 
 two springs which drive the machine of human life, the former 
 being altogether as necessary to it as the latter, and that it can- 
 not be conceived without both. The complete victory of con- 
 science — an equilibrium in man — is, according to him, not as 
 Christians say, a condition of innocence and return into Para- 
 dise, but much more a nonentity or an absurd dream f. We 
 believe that we have now, by the selection of these specimens 
 and remarks, pointed out with sufficient distinctness the neces- 
 sary direction and effect of the philosophy spread among the 
 people by the instrumentality of these poems ; his ' Dunciad' 
 has no connexion with our plan. And this poem is besides 
 composed in the depreciating and scornfiil tone of that society, 
 for which Pope Mrote in England and Voltaire in France. Pope, 
 like Voltaire, brands all his enemies with burning and malicious 
 wit, and ridicules all that he does not understand or approve. 
 It is true, he scares away or annihilates at the same time whole 
 swarms of miserable bunglers, who had gained some distinction, 
 because the fashionable public was not in a condition to distin- 
 guish the bad from the good. 
 
 To hold up his antagonist to contempt. Pope, like Voltaire, 
 summons up all the malicious wit which is usually to be met M'ith 
 in the clever circles of great towns ; he puts no restraint upon 
 himself, and gives his epigrams an edge and smoothness, which 
 impress them upon the memory ; like the venomous verses of 
 
 * " Go, soar with Plato to the empyreal sphere 
 
 To the first good, first perfect, and first fair ; 
 
 Or tread the mazy rounds his followers trod. 
 
 And quitting sense call imitating God." — Essay on Man, ii. 23. 
 f " Two principles in human nature reign ; 
 
 Self-love to urge, and reason to restrain ; 
 
 Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call ; 
 
 Each works its end to move or govern all. 
 
 And to their proper operation still. 
 
 Ascribe all good — to their improper ill." — Essuij on Man, ii. 53.
 
 § IV.] SWIFT. 91 
 
 Voltaire^ they also immediately became models of wit in every 
 body's mouth. Whatever was serious or learned, severe or 
 simple, became also an object of scorn ; and living men, not 
 merely as individuals, but in herds, were held up to derision. In 
 the society of persons to whom every thing is absurd which does 
 not wear their own colour, this poem, because it furnished ma- 
 terials for conversation, Avas much more highly valued than 
 imaginative poetry could have been, or a wit which does not 
 merely scratch the rind but penetrates the core. Whoever does 
 not make an acquaintance with unimportant English authors a 
 study, or takes perchance the part of a Gibber, Benson, or other 
 well-known men, will scarcely even read the ' Dunciad ;' but 
 W'hoever does so must feel a much greater degree of resentment 
 against the maliciousness of the philosophical moralising poet, 
 than admiration of his wit. The same, as is well known, is the 
 case with Voltaire, when in prose and verse he cries shame and 
 sin against all those who are not willing to do him homage. 
 
 We name Swift along with Arbuthnot and Pope, although he, 
 neither in his tone and language, nor in his philosophical views, 
 attached himself to that good society which collected around 
 Pope and Bolingbroke, but was, notwithstanding, among the 
 number of their friends. It may be readily shown, that, like 
 Pope, he was altogether di'agged forward against his will, by the 
 spirit of the age, to which every one was obliged to do homage, 
 who, in the eighteenth century, wished to please, not the 
 learned universities and pedants alone, but the fashion-setting 
 portion of the, people. Swift wrote in a proper sense for the 
 people, and partly for such persons as wished to be entertained 
 with low jokes, obscenity, equivoques, and ill-breeding; but 
 firmly attached to the church and its endowments, he also 
 struggled like the rest, for the remnants of the middle ages, and 
 therefore justly finds a place in this review. 
 
 As it appears to us after having considered his writings, Vol- 
 taire has done Swaft too much and too little honour, by calling 
 him the English Rabelais. He also tried in vain to bring into 
 extensive circulation a bad French translation of ' Gulliver's 
 Travels,' because Swift's books can only have a charm for En- 
 glishmen, or those who have an Anglomania, partly because his 
 so-called humour is not every man's affair, and partly because, 
 along with what is good and clever, they contain so much that is 
 flat and dull. Voltaire's views, however, in endeavouring to
 
 92 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 recommend Swift to his fellow-countrymen, are not to be mis- 
 taken, and therefore we have mentioned him. 
 
 Swift's satires upon the doctrines of the church, as well as 
 upon the ministry of his native country, show, that the one as 
 well as the other laid bare what ought to have been covered. 
 The Dean's ridicule is so much the more remarkable in conse- 
 quence of the zeal which he afterwards displayed to defend those 
 doctrines by the preaching of which he got his living. The 
 serious, German reader, who is not accustomed to this species 
 of humour, and has been corrupted by the ancients, on reading 
 the letters of the English satirist, which are dull, wearisome, 
 often vulgar and mean, often unintelligible and ill-bred, some- 
 times exhibiting artificial and forced wit, and who contrives to 
 rummage through the mass of them, will often ask with asto- 
 nishment, how it is possible that such a writer could not only 
 obtain (that would be more easily explained), but also maintain 
 a place amongst the greatest men of ancient and of modern 
 times ? The answer, that books like men, have their destiny, 
 would be sufficient for those who comprehend its sense ; the 
 thing however may perhaps be as easily explained in another 
 way. 
 
 Swift best served his party as a popular writer by the Hne 
 which he chose, he became more practically useful by not 
 striving after classical perfection, by expressing himself alto- 
 gether in the tone and style of a rude people, and by levelling 
 his wit precisely to their power of comprehension. We only 
 touch upon this point in passing, because our purpose is less to 
 form or express an opinion of the literary services of the men of 
 whom we speak, or of the intrinsic value of their works, than of 
 their effect upon the people and upon their time. In order to 
 point out the nature of Swift's influence by a few hints, we 
 select merely three from the great number of Swift's often mise- 
 rable writings, and shall not dwell long upon any of them. In 
 reference to politics and his eflbrts against the court and govern- 
 ment, we select the ' Drapier's Letters.' In reference to reli- 
 gion and science, out of a hundred, we shall merely refer to 
 one or two passages in his ' Tale of a Tub,' and in * Gulliver's 
 Travels.' 
 
 The ' Drapier's Letters ' are, moreover, no satire ; but an 
 open, clear, vigorous exposition, addressed to the Irish people, 
 on account of an act of extortion which the ministers authorized
 
 § IV.] SWIFT. 93 
 
 for the pleasure and advantage of the royal favourites. Wood the 
 contractor and the king's favourites shared the advantage. These 
 letters are especially remarkable ; because they show how admi- 
 rably Swift understood how to strike the chord which met with 
 a universal response. The ministry, relying confidently upon a 
 bought or won Parliament, could bid defiance to the people, but 
 they were obliged to yield to the satirist. The effect of the 
 letters just named was so complete and instantaneous, that the 
 ministry were obliged to withdraw their authority, and Wood 
 to relinquish his contract. 
 
 In ' Gulliver's Travels,' or the wonderful, comical, and ridi- 
 culous narratives, written in a somewhat dull style, which bear 
 that name, customs, arrangements, ceremonies, laws, individuals, 
 whole classes, are not only clothed in comical forms, or rather 
 represented in caricatures, and the M'himsical, the hateful, and 
 the ridiculous are not only exhibited, but also vehemently blamed 
 reviled and abused without irony or allegory. 
 
 In this book, on the one hand, the great public are made ac- 
 quainted with the generally prevailing prejudices, in a manner 
 suited to the requirements of the age and of the prevailing state of 
 mental cultivation, and to the necessities of the populace ; whilst 
 the deficiencies of the existing arrangements and regulation of 
 states, and of general usages which partly belonged to the middle 
 ages, and had partly come down from the end of the seventeenth 
 century, are bitterly ridiculed; on the other hand, however, 
 human life is considered in an altogether common and practical 
 way. Whoever accurately examines this widely circulated 
 work of the Dean, will find, that, like the great master of wit 
 among the French, all his views were dii'ected towards what was 
 immediately beneficial, which is the characteristic of savages and 
 barbarians, and that he flattered the modes of thinking of the 
 multitude, who long after what is agreeable and useful, and are 
 pleased to see their self-love exalted to a virtue. In religion and 
 in life Swift acknowledges only what is positive ; fancies, visions, 
 fanaticism, a land of poetical dreams and inspiration of the ideal, 
 are with him all nonentities. He attaches himself to those who 
 seek for temporal comforts, and to whom an inward life is 
 an absurdity. These thoughts are recommended by his wit, 
 which in this book is used equally against the real and apparent 
 perversity of the time. 
 
 All the English, the cleverest men among the Germans, Vol-
 
 94 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 taire also and other Frenchmen have with one accord praised 
 Swift's humour and wit too highly for us to venture to call in 
 question the great reputation of the work ; we believe, however, 
 that even a cursory reader of * Gulliver's Travels ' will admit, 
 that it owes a great part of its renown to its bold opposition to 
 customs and usages, which till that time no one had ventured to 
 attack. The admirers of SAvift will scarcely venture to dispute 
 that his narratives are spun out to an intolerable extent, and 
 that the instances of his vulgarity and bad manners, the coarse- 
 ness and offensiveness of his expressions, suggest to us the Ger- 
 man satires of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In this re- 
 spect, Voltaire, with great justice, called Swift the English Ra- 
 belais ; but this tone was altogether unsuited to the civilization 
 of the eighteenth century. Ilis mean discourse exactly hit the 
 taste of the middle and the lower classes in England, who are 
 most attracted by fabulous stories ; its political meaning height- 
 ened the relish, and the bitter, vehement, cutting, but alas ! too 
 well-founded, satire upon the court mistresses and ministers of 
 the new Hanoverian dynasty, procured for it a universal re- 
 ception. Swift worked upon the English mind after his fashion, 
 in the same way as Kotzebuc, Wieland, and others among us 
 Germans, in theirs ; he hit the point in Avhich the common peo- 
 ple and the fashionable vulgar meet ; he drove away the great, 
 the pure, the high, the poetic, every thing, in short, however 
 admirable it may have been, which had been handed down from 
 the middle ages ; — and substituted for them the joyous, the ge- 
 nerally useful, the distinct, the intelligible. It is clear, that 
 Swift, like Kotzebuc and Wieland, was the organ of his time, 
 for of poetry and science he had the ideas of an eager friend of 
 plum-pudding and roast-beef; he contended, however, at the 
 same time against the prejudices and privileges of the ruling 
 classes, and in the name of the people, required that men of 
 learning should be dragged before the tribunal of common sense, 
 however unjust in many cases this might be. 
 
 So much with regard to life, science, poetry ; as to religion, 
 we shall inquire of his * Tale of a Tub* ' about the direction of 
 the jests which he there i)assed upon it. In the same manner 
 as Pope calls himself a good Catholic, Swift repeatedly alleges, 
 that he is strongly attached to the Anglican Church ; and he 
 
 * Schlosser has translated thig into German. — ' Miihrclicn meiner Mutter 
 Gans.'— [Trans.]
 
 § IV.] SWIFT. 95 
 
 fulfilled the mechanical duties of his theological calling Avith the 
 punctuality of a day-labourer; and, as to his astonishment, the 
 antagonists and scoffers of the Established Church continued 
 to increase, he wrote in favour of its doctrines and against the 
 Deists : and, notwithstanding, not one of all the Encyclopaedists 
 has sneered with so much rudeness as Swift, at theologians 
 and the sanctity of religious conviction, which at least a man 
 ought always to honour, if he cannot share. The Anglican 
 system, Catholics, Lutherans, Calvinists, sects of all kinds, the 
 dogmas and philosophy of these different parties and sections, 
 are all attacked in the most ill-bred manner in a book which he 
 himself has intitled a silly tale. It will be sufficient to prove 
 this, to lay our finger upon one or two passages. He admits in 
 his apology for this history of Peter, Jack and Martin (the pope, 
 Calvin, and Luther), that he w ished to ridicule and hold up to 
 contempt the prevailing doctrines of the church, and the scho- 
 lastic education, which in England was, and partly still is, closely 
 connected with these doctrines. In what characters contempt 
 for true science and genuine learning shows itself, and at the 
 same time how it injures and counteracts itself, appears from 
 the powerless enmity which Swift exhibited against Bentley 
 in this apology, in order to favour his patron and friend Boyle 
 (Earl of Orrery). He praises the latter (who had maintained 
 the credit of some forged letters, and defended the genuineness 
 of some low fables), not on account of his writings, but declares 
 his long-forgotten work more worthy of posthumous fame than 
 the letters of Bentley, whose learning, penetration, and strength 
 of judgement, in spite of all his faults, will be praised and ad- 
 mired, as long as the ancients are read, to whom he had devoted 
 his time and his industry*. 
 
 We shall be able to form an opinion of the tone in which Swift 
 treats the church to which he belonged, from the following pas- 
 sage : — " Towards the just performance of this great work (being 
 heard in a crowd) there remain but three methods that I can 
 think on, whereof the wisdom of our ancestors being highly sen- 
 sible, has, to encourage all aspiring adventurers, thought fit to 
 erect three wooden machines for the use of those orators who 
 desire to talk much without interruption. These are, the pulpit, 
 the ladder, and the stage itinerant." Of the sacraments he 
 
 * ' Tale of a Tub.' Dedication to Prince Posterity.
 
 96 ENGLAND. [CIIAP. I. 
 
 speaks no less offensively than of preaching ; for in the place in 
 which he speaks of Calvin's opposition to transubstantiation, and 
 to the refusal of the cup to the laity in the Lord's Supper, he 
 puts the most vulgar and the coarsest expressions into the mouth 
 of the Reformer, such as would be offensive when uttered by 
 a mere dotard, to say nothing of a Dean, and favourite of many 
 of the dignitaries of the High Church. We shall only quote the 
 beginning of his long tirade of vulgarities : — " What ! said Jack 
 (Calvin), a rogue that locked up liis drink, turned away our 
 
 wives, cheated us of our fortunes ; palmed his crusts upon 
 
 us for mutton ; and at last kicked us out of doors ; must we be 
 in his fashions, with a pox ! a rascal besides, that all the street 
 cries out against," &c. 
 
 Calvin's doctrines of the unchangeable decrees of God, of pre- 
 destination and grace, were treated with similar ridicule and 
 insult. Thus : — " He would shut his eyes as he walked along 
 the streets ; and if he happened to bounce his head against a post, 
 or fall into the kennel, as he seldom missed to do one or both, 
 he would tell the gibing apprentices who looked on, that he sub- 
 mitted with entire resignation, as to a trip or a blow of fate, with 
 whom he found by long experience how vain it was either to 
 wrestle or cuff; and whoever durst undertake to do either, would 
 be sure to come off with a swinging fall or a bloody nose." 
 
 In the same work, and in the story of ' The Battle of the 
 Books,' which belongs, and is altogether suited to it, learning 
 and solid acquirements are treated in the same style as syste- 
 matic theology and ecclesiastical government. Bentley, Wotton, 
 Rymer, whose merits only the few can appreciate, who know 
 what it is to dedicate a life to the pursuit of knowledge, and not 
 to grasp after the ephemeral applause of the passing time, are 
 held up to scorn before the people, who are always too much dis- 
 posed to despise what is serious, and not only to laugh at the 
 wit of the writer, but also at the thing against which the wit is 
 directed. We should, however, be wrong if Me did not add, 
 that in all this he was always the speaking organ of an age de- 
 manding light and freedom. He expresses himself as follows, 
 putting these words into the mouths of the ancients, speaking 
 of their commentators and imitators : — " Now for you and your 
 skill in architecture and other mathematics, I have little to say ; 
 in that building of yours there might, for aught I know, have 
 been labour and method enough ; but by woful experience for
 
 § IV.] SWIFT. 97 
 
 US both it is plain the materials are naught ; and I hope you 
 will henceforth take warning, and consider duration and matter 
 as well as method and art. You boast indeed of being obliged 
 to no other creature, but of drawing and spinning out all from 
 yourself; that is to say, if we may judge of the liquor in the 
 vessel by what issues out, you possess a good plentiful store of 
 dirt and poison in your breast ; and though I would by no 
 means lessen or disparage your genuine stock of either, yet I 
 doubt you are somewhat obliged for an increase of both to a 
 little foreign assistance. — In short, the question comes all to 
 this, whether is the nobler being of the two, that which by a 
 lazy contemplation of four inches round, by an overweening pride 
 feeding and engendering on itself, turns all into excrement and 
 venom, producing nothing at all but flybane and a cobweb, or 
 that which by a universal range with long search, much study, 
 the judgement and distinction of things, brings home honey 
 and wax*." 
 
 We believe these remarks will suffice to show in what way 
 Swift exercised a powerful influence in England, and afterwards 
 in Germany, by rousing the great public from the long slumber 
 in which the clergy, the professors and governments sought to 
 retain them. It will, however, be immediately perceived that 
 the tone and manner of the innovators were as little suited in 
 England as in France, to direct the transition from belief with- 
 out conviction, and from the mere repetition of prescribed for- 
 mularies, to independent thinking and free judgement, without a 
 violent concussion. The men who have been quoted, Boling- 
 broke and his friends, belonged moreover to the political oppo- 
 sition ; they were endowed by nature with a satirical vein ; in 
 order therefore to show completely and clearly, that the influ- 
 ence of the century and its spirit were more powerful than that 
 of men and their wills, than bayonets and the hierarchy ; it will 
 be necessary and profitable still further to prove that the minis- 
 terial, the ornamented artificial, the tedious moral and serious 
 writers of the time also lu-ged on a reformation. The brief re- 
 marks which, in conclusion, we shall here subjoin with respect 
 to Addison, Steele and others, will show, that they also wished to 
 introduce an entirely new style, a new manner, a tone which 
 should be in accordance with the completely changed relations 
 of life, and wholly foreign to the dogmatism of the middle ages. 
 * ' Battle of the Books' — Dialogue of the Spider and the Bee. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 § V. 
 
 ADDISON — STEELE — THE ENGLISH JOURNALS. 
 
 Addison and his friends wished to bring literature nearer, or 
 to subject it altogether, to the cold rules of the French, with 
 whom form was more than substance, and according to their 
 judgement, it is not inspiration, which is inborn, or comes from 
 above, but understanding, wit and artifice which are learned in 
 and brought away from the schools, which constitute the great- 
 ness of modern writers. The truth of this allegation might be 
 readily sustained from a reference to Voltaire's commendation of 
 Addison's celebrated rhetorical tragedy, or to Dennis's still 
 ruder and more malicious criticism of the same piece, if it were 
 not so easily proved from their own writings. The much-com- 
 mended talents of these so-called stylists, all point to this — that 
 the reading public wished to be entertained, not roused to think ; 
 to be gently moved, not deeply excited ; that a weak and rheto- 
 rical kind of mental cultivation was forcibly pressing onward. 
 This rhetorical and sophistical character of mind is common to 
 the Deists and scoffers with the celebrated moral and religious 
 writers, at whose head stood Addison, who by God's grace was 
 for some time Secretary of State, since he could neither speak in 
 Parliament, nor when it was his duty to draw up public docu- 
 ments, was he able to prepare despatches in a good style and 
 with beauty of language. This fact admirably characterises 
 those men of the stylistic school. They were never fitted for 
 life, and puffed up with vanity ; all rhetoricians will be the same 
 as long as the world stands. Notwithstanding this, however, 
 Addison wrote very edifying treatises, and translated psalms ; 
 and Mandeville with wit and justice, called him a parson in a 
 tie-wig. 
 
 If it should be asked how these dull prosaists, in whom there 
 was not a spark of poetry, vv'Cre able to prescribe laws and 
 rules of taste to their own and to following times, and how they 
 gained that high renown which they yet enjoy, although few any 
 longer read, or can read, their polished artistical works, which 
 are destitute of strength and sap, the answer is easy. The 
 fashion came from the court and the nobility to the people, of 
 regarding this rhetoric as poetry, and this morality as literature. 
 King Wilham, Queen Anne and her Ministers praised and ex- 
 tolled Addison ; they had neither taste nor sense for anything
 
 § v.] ADDISOX. 99 
 
 else than business or cabals, and by them weak and dull orna- 
 ment must necessarily be more highly valued than true poetry or 
 vigorous prose, which cannot be understood without some strong 
 effort of the mind, and for that reason pleases the more, because 
 it rewards the toil. Bolingbroke, Pope, Prior and others have 
 to thank these their opponents, for travelling the same way with 
 themselves, at least in reference to taste; Pope willingly aided 
 to increase the reputation of Addison, because he was not defi- 
 cient in that tact which is peculiar to people of his stamp, and 
 felt sure that Addison's fame could never obscure his own. 
 
 It may be best seen from the history of the renown which 
 Addison enjoyed, how it was with the new literature and taste to 
 which he was indebted for his first advancement by King Wil- 
 liam, and which he himself afterwards sought to promote. He 
 began with Latin poems, and transmitted them to Boileau, who 
 with great justice was averse to the Latin poetising of the mo- 
 derns : what else, however, could the Frenchman do, being thus 
 flattered by the attention of the Englishman, than pay him a 
 most polite compliment? which he did. His real or presumed 
 opinion was duly circulated, Addison's character was made : he 
 was held to be a poet, and celebrated in verse the peace of 
 Ryswick, a subject which was quite suitable to his reputation 
 as a poet, and to Boileau's commendation of him. This diplo- 
 matic poem was followed by an account of a tour, which con- 
 tains nothing more of Italy than what anybody in his study can 
 collect from books, without having ever been in the country ; if 
 we regard the article upon the republic of San Marino, as a 
 small exception. Then came a military-political poem, ' The 
 Battle of Blenheim,' of which his enemies said aloud, and many 
 of his friends softly, that it was a poetical newspaper. 
 
 The appearance of his tragedy of ^ Cato' afterwards excited 
 so much attention, and the applause was so general, that it might 
 be thought that a people who had had a Shakspeare and so 
 many other inspired dramatists, had altogether changed their na- 
 ture, because they so extravagantly applauded these meagre 
 rules and this naked rhetoric ; but it was not so. Fashion and 
 the example of the aristocracy in England are all-powerful ; when 
 the fashion altered, they returned back to the old poets. We 
 mention this tragedy of ' Cato ' only on account of one circum- 
 stance, because we neither will nor may enter upon an exami- 
 nation of it as a question of taste. This piece shows that 
 
 H 2
 
 100 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 those pious and moralising writers of the eighteenth century also 
 rose up against the principles established and ruling in the states 
 of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Republicanism alone 
 gave its attraction to this stiff, rhetorical and somewhat bom- 
 bastical piece, which is pressed into the French standard of unity 
 of time and place, and interwoven with love scenes, after the 
 French fashion — in M^hich Cato appears in a dressing-gown with 
 Phaedo by the hand, in the same room in which the whole action 
 of the piece is laid. The same feeling gave a charm to his verses. 
 The spirit, from Avhich the violent effort sprung in France, to 
 cast off the fetters in which Richelieu, Mazarin, and Louis the 
 Fourteenth had bound the people and its literature, showed 
 itself so powerfully as sometimes to animate and inspire even 
 the vain, cold, prosaic, all-calculating Addison, who was prudent 
 in pondering even on the minutest things, and who on this very 
 account was so much the more admired by the egotistical ex- 
 clusive circles, and it called forth from him some good lines, and 
 many splendid expressions. Even the Tories, in order not to 
 be altogether behind the spirit of the age or to lose their popu- 
 larity, were obliged to approAC, commend and reward w^hole 
 scenes and single phrases in which republicanism was conspi- 
 cuous, and Bolingbroke was among the first who did so. 
 
 The effect of Addison's periodical papers, and of those of his 
 friends, upon the quiet revolution, which partly was really pro- 
 gressive, and partly was prepared in the beginning of the eight- 
 eenth century, deserves to be here so much the more clearly 
 pointed out, as these periodicals have attained the reputation of 
 being regarded as classical. We believe that, in this respect, 
 we shall attain our object most suitably and satisfactorily, by 
 selecting some passages from Johnson's life of Addison, which 
 bear upon the point. These passages will carry the greater 
 weight of proof, as Johnson often finds that admirable, which 
 wc think worthy of blame, as he sets out from wholly different 
 principles, and draws a quite different conclusion about the 
 influence of his writings upon literature and mental improve- 
 ment. With respect to Addison's influence in the propa- 
 gation of general knowledge, and so called social improve- 
 ment, or, in what was jeeringly called, " the reign of the 
 blue stockings," Johnson, who had the pre-eminence in this 
 empire, and in whose time the name had its origin, will neces- 
 sarily entertain opinions very different from those of a German
 
 § v.] ADDISON — STEELE. 101 
 
 scholar. In this respect, Addison, Steele, and their journals 
 promoted a sort of mental cultivation, which had been previously 
 peculiar to the Parisians, by the help of which persons were ac- 
 customed to carry with them into their evening circle sufficient 
 knowledge gleaned from the morning's reading, or the periodicals 
 of the day, to enable them to discuss and pronounce opinions 
 upon every art and science, on government and religion, when 
 formerly only every day affairs were treated of. By this means 
 the modest were put to silence, and the well-grounded to shame, 
 the ready and the witty sent forth their oracles into the world, 
 and the ladies of their saloons were educated and prepared for their 
 doctrine, by means of their clever periodicals. This seems to us 
 to be a strictly just judgement, wdth respect to an influence of 
 which Johnson, looking from his point of view, has given a very 
 different description in the following words, when he says : — 
 '^That general knowledge (we add, and therefore superficial) 
 which now circulates in common talk, was in his time rarely to 
 be found. Men not professing learning were not ashamed of 
 ignorance, and in the female world any acquaintance with books 
 was distinguished only to be censured ; his purpose was to in- 
 fuse literary curiosity (Johnson here adopts a most descriptive 
 expression), by gentle and unsuspected conveyance, into the 
 gay, the idle, and the wealthy ; he therefore presented knowledge 
 in the most alluring form, not lofty and austere, but accessible 
 and familiar. When he (we add a well-known flatterer of the 
 great) showed them their defects, he showed them likewise, 
 that they might be easily supplied. His attempt succeeded : 
 inquiry was awakened, and comprehension was extended. An 
 emulation of intellectual elegance was excited, and from this 
 time to our own, life has been gradually exalted, and conver- 
 sation purified and enlarged." 
 
 This passage speaks distinctly out, what we would say in 
 other expressions, if the intelligent reader were not able, without 
 our help, to comprehend this play of words, and others would 
 take it amiss were we to subjoin our circumlocutions. We 
 shall however go a little further into the examination of these 
 periodicals, which have so greatly contributed to the difficulty 
 ever growing with the progress of time, of distinguishing be- 
 tween genuine and false, superficial and solid acquirements, and 
 by which a false glitter Avas made more nearly to resemble 
 the real splendour of truth. Neither Steele nor Addison had
 
 102 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I. 
 
 made any solid acquirements^, although the latter at least was a 
 good Latinist. Steele began his career as a writer, with a poem, 
 his 'Christian Heroes,' which justified no great expectations. 
 This poem could have little of soul or nature in it, because the 
 contents stood in a most surprising contradiction Avith Steele's 
 scandalous and dissolute course of life. He afterwards tried 
 himself, as industrious people of the kind are used to do, in 
 plays, and wrote a few wholly insignificant ones. The specula- 
 tion of a periodical on belles lettres succeeded better. 
 
 Till Steele hit upon the thought in 1709, there had appeared 
 in England no daily periodical of this character, but only poli- 
 tical sheets {' Mercurius Aulicus,' ' Rusticus,' ' Civicus '), or 
 papers in which the political or ecclesiastical events of the time 
 were abused or contended against (e.g. 'The Observer' by 
 L'Estrange, or ' The Rehearsal ' by Lesley) ; he therefore suc- 
 cessfully introduced a Uterary paper under the very appropriate 
 name of ' The Tatler.' This paper was written for ladies. ' The 
 Tatler,' as it was said, was to supply the means of agreeable 
 and instructive conversation, such as should meet with accept- 
 ance and approval in fashionable circles. When the attempt 
 proved fortunate, Addison joined his old friend, and aided him 
 with such skill and art as to edify and instruct the circle in 
 which he was quite at home, and presently the whole world of 
 elegance and fashion became familiar with their writings. It was 
 found advisable to change the somewhat ironical title, and after- 
 wai'ds under the name of ' The Spectator,' the periodical attained 
 so high a reputation, that our German writers at a later period, 
 both of the Leipzig and the Swiss schools, Avishcd to write and 
 train the German nation after this model. 
 
 The learned Germans, however, overlooked the fact, that the 
 English attached great importance to ornamental and diifusive 
 development in language and style, or to the fashionable form 
 and elegance which appeared best adapted to their exclusive 
 circles, because they are not natural but artificial. The two 
 friends only admitted such pieces into their periodical as were 
 worked and polished in their spirit. The form is essentially the 
 same which yet prevails in all such English and Scottish jour- 
 nals. They are calculated by means of long-spun explanations 
 and descriptions which descend to the minutest points, to keep 
 a half-sleeping man awake, and to waste the time of one who 
 has his hands full of useful occupation.
 
 § v.] ADDISON — STEELE. 103 
 
 This model of a ladies' journal contains descriptive and rhe- 
 torical poetry, correct, lively, artificial, but uniformly moral 
 prose; all however tread the beaten path; no flash of genius, 
 no kindling fire, no kernel, no strength. Therein we find the 
 image of the better side of the life of that time, but also its kill- 
 ing moralising wearisomeness, which was repugnant to the live- 
 lier portion of society, at whose head were Bolingbroke and Vol- 
 taire. By means of this journal Addison's tone and taste were 
 adopted as those of the so called educated classes, or were rather 
 the cosmetics which concealed the corruption w^hich was silently 
 stealing on, as were the hypocritical sweetness and mildness in 
 Paris under Louis the Fourteenth and Cardinal Fleuiy. 
 
 With respect to the outward history of the periodical, we 
 refer to the numerous literaiy manuals ; as to the authors, Steele 
 had more fire, Addison more industry. Addison di'ew, with 
 pedantic carefulness, pictures of manners and characters, de- 
 scriptions and clever representations ; but the same may with 
 truth be said of him, which was said of his master and model, 
 Boileau, in his life and times : he smacks universally of the 
 cruise and the lamp, of the toilsome labour of the ploughman, 
 and the indefatigable furrowing of the drawing ox. 
 
 How far they went in this way will be better learned from 
 Johnson, who is altogether smitten wdth this kind of social con- 
 versation, mental improvement, and if you will, knowledge, than 
 from a German, who loves society less than this EngHsh Boi- 
 leau. We give the passage : — 
 
 " 'The Tatler' and 'The Spectator' adjusted, like Casa, the 
 unsettled practice of daily intercourse by propriety and poHteness, 
 and like La Bruyere, exhibited the characters and manners of 
 the age. The personages introduced in these papers were not 
 merely ideal, they were then known and conspicuous in va- 
 rious stations. Of ' The Tatler' this is said by Steele in his last 
 paper, and of ' The Spectator' by Budgell in the preface to 
 ' Theophrastus,' a book which Addison has recommended, and 
 which he was suspected to have revised, if he did not write it. 
 Of those portraits, which may be supposed to be sometimes 
 embellished and sometimes aggravated, the originals are now 
 partly known and partly forgotten. But to say that they united 
 the plans of two or three eminent writers is to give them but a 
 small part of their due praise ; they superadded literature and 
 criticism, and sometimes towered far above their predecessors.
 
 104 ENGLAND. [CHAP. I* 
 
 and taught with great justness of argument and dignity of lan- 
 guage the most important duties and subhme truths. All these 
 topics were happily varied with elegant fictions and refined alle- 
 gories, and illuminated with different changes of style and feli- 
 cities of invention." 
 
 The method invented by Addison and Steele of carrying on 
 conversation with good society by means of writing and print- 
 ing, was also taken advantage of by Swift* and others, and the 
 number of these entertaining journals so increased, that ' The 
 Spectator' lost much of its reputation, because its smoothness 
 and diffusiveness wearied by their continuity and repetition. 
 Steele wrote, partly alone, and partly in connexion with Addi- 
 son, other periodicals, such as ' The Guardian ' and * The En- 
 glishman,' and some others ; none of them, however, excited the 
 same degree of attention as ' The Spectator ;' and at last there 
 arose a vehement contest between Steele and his friend about 
 politics. 
 
 The distinguished traits which Addison's eulogists celebrate, 
 are all, without exception, of the kind which we can at once de- 
 duce from the eulogy here pronounced upon him, without going 
 through his works, and point to a double influence of this writer 
 upon the change which at that time was introduced in social 
 conversation through the M'hole of Europe. On the one hand, 
 conversation became more intellectual, attractive and lively, on 
 the other, however, poetry became prose, knowledge lost in se- 
 riousness and strength ; the most important events of human 
 life were determined by the wit and eloquence of certain circles 
 of society, according to the leading of the journals, which were 
 the organs of the momentary spirit of the time. We cannot 
 possibly better describe the character of these celebrated perio- 
 dicals, which in our days are still published in new editions in 
 England, and translated and extensively imitated in Germany 
 and France, than in the words of Steele and Johnson. 
 
 " He was eminent," says Steele, "above all men in that talent 
 called humour, and enjoyed it in such perfcction,that I have often 
 reflected, after a night spent Avith him apart from all the world, 
 that I had had the pleasure of conversing with an intimate ac- 
 quaintance of Terence and Catullus, who had all their wit and 
 nature heightened with humour more exquisite and delightful 
 
 ♦ ' Examiner.'
 
 ^ v.] ADDISON STEELE. 105 
 
 than any other man ever possessed." That is, in other words, 
 he entertained the rich and fashionable circles by exhibiting their 
 images for their own gratification and the edification of others, 
 in a mirror which reflected only beauties. His morality, 
 therefore, Mas stiff and religious, and his truth so represented 
 as to be suitable to every body, but neither calculated to terrify 
 nor dazzle. This morality is the chief ingredient of his nar- 
 ratives and descriptions, which were clothed in all manner of 
 forms and allegories. In order to make himself agreeable, Ad- 
 dison universally puts forward the claims of duty in the mildest 
 forms, and calls that virtue which flattered delicate feeling or 
 sensibility. 
 
 What Johnson says of his style and language altogether 
 agrees with this description of the contents of Addison's works : 
 " His prose is the model of the middle style ; on grave subjects 
 not formal, on light occasions not grovelling ; pure without sim- 
 plicity, and exact without apparent elaboration ; always equable 
 and always easy, without glowing words or pointed sentences. 
 Addison never deviates from his track to snatch a grace; he 
 seeks no ambitious ornaments, and tries no hazardous innova- 
 tions. His page is always luminous, but never blazes in unex- 
 pected splendour. It was apparently ,his principal endeavour 
 to avoid all harshness and severity of diction. He is therefore 
 sometimes verbose in his transitions and connexions, and some- 
 times descends too much to the language of conversation. Yet 
 if his language had been less idiomatical, it might have lost 
 somewhat of its genuine Anglicism. What he attempted he 
 performed ; he is never feeble, and he did not wish to be ener- 
 getic ; he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. His sentences 
 have neither studied amplitude nor affected brevity ; his periods, 
 though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever 
 wishes to attain an English style familiar but not coarse, and 
 elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to 
 the volumes of Addison." 
 
 We have introduced these somewhat long passages from John- 
 son,because it is impossible better to describe the tone and mental 
 cultivation which Addison and Steele introduced and called 
 forth, and which Johnson approved, than is here done. All 
 true poetry disappeared. Glover became greater than Milton, this 
 fashionable polish and mediocrity had permeated life and weak- 
 ened it. This mode of giving instruction in and furnishing ma-
 
 106 FRANCE. [chap. II* 
 
 terials for social conversation by writing, called forth among the 
 lively Frenchmen an entirely new kind of literature, whose ori- 
 ginator was a man of genius and possessed of the most various 
 knowledge. Voltaire was in all his proportions wholly and 
 throughout a Frenchman, and the progressive mental cultiva- 
 tion of the distinguished and intellectual classes in France are 
 reflected in him, as those of England in Addison. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LITERARY CULTIVATION AND INTELLECTUAL LIFE OF THE 
 FRENCH, OR RATHER THE MENTAL CULTURE AND IMPROVE- 
 MENT OF THE HIGHER CLASSES OF EUROPE, FROM 1/15, TILL 
 SOMETHING BEYOND THE HALF OF THE CENTURY. 
 
 §1. 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 Voltaire's literary activity and influence fall, properly speak- 
 ing, within the following period. During the seven years' war, 
 he and his friends, the Encyclopaedists, D'Alembert and Diderot, 
 Raynal, Helvetius, and Holbach, were the announcers of a new 
 Gospel, and the creators of a new literature ; Voltaire however 
 is indebted for the importance which he afterwards attained, to 
 the attention which he excited in this period, and the reputation 
 which he had acquired. We consider it therefore most suitable 
 to our purpose to place Voltaire's name at the head of those men 
 whose works were regarded as being of a good tone, and fashion- 
 able reading, in this as well as in the following period. In the 
 present period we shall associate the name of Montesquieu with 
 that of Voltaire, and in the following period that of J. J. Rous- 
 seau ; because both these writers, like him, produced a revolu- 
 tionary effect, as we are now accustomed to say, although quite 
 independent of Voltaire, and in a manner wholly difi^erent from 
 him. In tlicse paragraphs we shall show, in what way he 
 gained for himself great importance in literature and life, as was
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 107 
 
 afterwards seen, and in the following period we shall describe 
 the whole extent of his literary activity and influenccj with 
 reference to those peculiar departments in which it was exer- 
 cised. 
 
 Voltaire brought into literature the tone and mental energy of 
 the highly eulogised and clever societies of the last days of Louis 
 the Fourteenth ; and Condorcet, in his life of Voltaire, informs 
 us what kind of tone and wit prevailed among the choice few, 
 whilst the multitude were sunk in bigotry and superstition, in 
 gross ignorance and poverty, or overwhelmed with filth and 
 wretchedness. This eulogist and commender of a man whom 
 he also calls his apostle, informs us of the sources from w^hence 
 he drew^ the wit, the knowledge of men and of the world, the 
 liveliness of conception and representation by which he was 
 so eminently distinguished. We thus become acquainted with 
 the tone in which the great men whom Voltaire initiated into 
 the circles of higher life, allowed themselves to indulge, and we 
 find the characteristics of this tone in his earliest poems. When 
 we perceive that ridicule and scorn were poured out against 
 every thing sacred and holy in these circles, the question first 
 naturally presents itself, How it came to pass that that distin- 
 guished society, which could only maintain its position and in- 
 fluence through the prejudice of the public in its favour, did not 
 at once see that it w^as ruining its own game ? The answer is 
 easy. Each member played two characters ; the one within the 
 circle, for his own pleasure ; the other outwardly, and for the 
 people : Voltaire therefore, when he was yet a very young man, 
 wrote in secret abusive songs against the king and the nobility, 
 whilst he composed poems for the public in praise of Louis the 
 Fourteenth, and in celebration of the feast of the Virgin Mary, 
 which Louis the Thirteenth had glorified by a vow. One while 
 he composed in secret an epistle to Urania, against Christianity 
 and its founder ; and at another, odes in honour of the true God 
 an.d a dying Saviour*, It never occurred to any one, that the 
 
 * We shall occasionally direct the attention of our readers to the passages 
 which appear to us remarkable. In the 'Ode to the True God/ (1714) the 
 last nine lines of which it consists, run as follows : — 
 
 Toi seul insensible a tes peines 
 
 Tu cheris I'instant de ta mort. 
 
 Grand Dieu ! Graces aux fureurs humaines 
 
 L'univers a change de sort 
 
 Je vois de palmes eternelles 
 
 Croitre en ces campagnes cruelles
 
 108 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 wantonness and the scorn of polite and fashionable loungers 
 would ever reach the oppressed and labouring people, who 
 were held in bonds of degradation and slavery by the priest- 
 hood, the public officials and nobility, and who seemed beyond 
 the hope or possibility of deliverance from temporal and spiritual 
 tyranny ; and therefore these people did homage in private to 
 the very things which they pubhcly persecuted with unrelenting 
 severity. 
 
 Voltaire's contemporary, J. B. Rousseau, by his example and 
 writings, shows us how the union of poisonous wickedness, with 
 religiousness of feeling or expression, was at that time thought 
 of by the higher circles of Europe. This renowned person pre- 
 pared spiritual songs, psalms, and hymns, at the same time 
 that he was composing the most scandalous, offensive and inde- 
 cent poems, and was for that reason, as well as for unnatural 
 crimes, prosecuted, condemned and banished from France ; he 
 found his first friendly reception in the midst of the darkest and 
 most fanatical times, in the house of Prince Eugene in Brussels, 
 afterwards in Vienna, and finally again in Brussels, from the 
 Prince de Baudemont. The same fact appears also in Voltaire's 
 history, only that Louis the Fifteenth was warned against him 
 by Cardinal Fleury, and that he entertained besides, a personal 
 dislike to him, which was greatly increased by Voltaire's friend- 
 ship with Frederic the Second. 
 
 Voltaire was born in the last decennium of the seventeenth 
 century, and was a man of extraordinary endo^^^nents and capa- 
 cities ; he was a scholar of the Jesuits, whose schools were at 
 that time in high reputation for Latin and mathematics. While 
 he was yet a pupil of the Jesuits, as the Marquis Condorcet in- 
 forms us, he was introduced by a clergyman into the society of 
 debauchees and gourmands of genius, who indulged in satire 
 and ridicule against all that others regarded as sacred, and fol- 
 lowed the pursuit of pleasure and were sunk in the luxury and 
 sensuality of the regency ; he was therefore born and brought 
 up to be their instrument and organ. 
 
 This society into which, according to Condorcet, the Abbe 
 Chateauneuf introduced him as a boy, consisted of men of high 
 
 Qu' arrosa ton sang pr^cicux, 
 L'horamc est heureux d'etre perfide 
 Et coupaI)le d'un dt'icide 
 Tu nous fais devcnir de dieux.
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE, 109 
 
 rank, of the Duke and Grand Prior Vendome, the Duke of Sully, 
 Prince Contl, &c., together with ecclesiastics such as Chau- 
 lieu, who is known as a witty and satirical poet, and Courtin and 
 Servien. The fruit of his intercourse with these witty and clever 
 men, was his early and short poems, which were soon in every 
 body's mouth. At this early period also (17 13), he wrote verses 
 against the government of Louis the Fourteenth, and the abuses 
 connected with it, which led to his being incarcerated in the 
 Bastille.* This incarceration tended to make him better known, 
 
 * We shall here give some stanzas : — 
 Stanza I. Aux maux les plus afFreux le ciel nous abandonne, 
 Le desespoir, la mort, la faim nous environne, 
 Et les dieux souleves nous tant de fois, 
 Equitables vengeurs des crimes de la terre, 
 
 Ont frappe du tonnere 
 Les peuples et les rois. 
 
 Stanza VI. Quoi verra-t-on toujours de ces tyrans serviles 
 
 Oppresseurs insolens des pupilles 
 
 Elever des palais dans nos champs desoles ? 
 
 Verra-t-on cimenter leurs portiques durables 
 
 Du sang des miserables 
 Devant eux immoles ? 
 
 Stanza VII. Eleves dans le sein d'une infame avarice 
 
 Leurs enfans ont suce le lait de I'injustice, 
 Et dans les tribunaux vont juger les hommes 
 Malheur a qui, fonde sur la seule innocence 
 
 A mis son esperance 
 En leurs indignes mains. 
 
 Finally the last stanza of this poem, which was very ill-suited to his ' Cre- 
 pinade,' ' Bourbier,' and others, runs thus : — 
 
 Le luxe a ses cotes marche avec arrogance 
 L'or qui nait sous ses pas s'ecoule en sa presence, 
 Le fol orgueil le suit ; compagnon de I'erreur 
 II sape des etats la grandeur souveraine 
 
 De leur chute certaine 
 Brillant avant-coureur. 
 
 In the third stanza, the deaths of the most hopeful children and grandchildren 
 of Louis are referred to as punishments for his sins : — 
 
 D'un monarque puissant la race fortunee 
 Remplissait de son nom I'Europe consternee ; 
 Je n'ai fait que passer, ils etaient disparus ; 
 
 In the Chamber of Justice, which was established 1715, it goes thus : — 
 Le delateur, monstre execrable. 
 Est orne d'un titre honorable. 
 A la honte de notre nom 
 L'esclave fait trembler son maitre. 
 Enfin nous allons voir renaitre 
 Le temps de Claude et de Neron. 
 En vain I'auteur de la nature 
 S'est reserve le fond des coeura.
 
 110 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 and to increase his popularity, because he spoke out what every 
 one thought. He afterwards wrote with equal bitterness and 
 severity, almost in a revolutionary tone and to the tune of the 
 Marsellaise, some very exciting verses against the regency, and 
 jDarticularly against the tribunal which was erected in l7l6, 
 with a view of persecuting the servants and officials of the pre- 
 ceding king. We have given in the note some very vehement 
 lines, written quite in the tone and spirit of the revolution, and 
 directed against the whole circumstances and conduct of this 
 tribunal, in order especially to show what kind of an oj)position 
 had been got up and was carried on under the severest oppres- 
 sion of a bigoted government, and in spite of their police, their 
 censorship, and their bastille. 
 
 The bitterest satires of this kind were written by Voltaire, 
 from his twentieth till his eight and twentieth year ; aijd no 
 man can mistake in their tone and language the master-spirit 
 of the witty and malicious style, as well as the perfect expression 
 and language of the higher Parisian circles. These virulent at- 
 tacks excited the more attention from the great secresy with 
 Avhich they were circulated. They were communicated in ma- 
 nuscript, or learned by heart, and repeated in society when fa- 
 vourable opportunities were afforded ; they were the property of 
 good society. At last they were carried out by the servants and 
 brought to the knowledge of the people, or they were printed in 
 Holland and privately circulated in Paris ; they were at first 
 denied and afterwards acknowledged by the author, and they 
 
 Si I'orgueilleuse creature 
 Ose en sonder les profondeurs. 
 Une ordonnance criminelle 
 Veut qu'en public chacun revele 
 Les opprobres de sa niaison, 
 Et pour couronner I'entreprise 
 On fait d'un pays de franchise 
 Une immense et vaste prison. 
 The conclusion is very remarkable for a time in which the people could only 
 be addressed in and by songs :— 
 
 Vicille erreur, respect chimerique, 
 Sortez de nos coeurs mutincs, 
 Chassons Ic sommcil 16thargique 
 Qui nous a tcnus cnchaines. 
 Peuplc, que la flanime s'apprete, 
 J'ai deja serablablc au prophcte 
 Perce le mur d'iniquite. 
 Volez, detruiscz I'injustice ; 
 Saisisscz au bout de la lice 
 La desirable libertc.
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. Ill 
 
 thus perhaps acquired an importance which they would not 
 have attained if they had been allowed to be openly printed and 
 circulated, like the satires of Swift or the bitter attacks of Bo- 
 lingbroke. Voltaire's satire and ridicule, besides, were directed 
 against every thing which his age, sometimes, perhaps, without 
 good reason, was accustomed to honour. A few examples may 
 serve for elucidation. 
 
 The Academy had offended and injured him, or rather the so- 
 called renowned men who had the greatest influence in it and 
 the greatest sway at court, had declared some bad verses to be 
 good and had shut out Voltaire from the prize which he ex- 
 pected to receive ; he revenged himself upon them in a poem, 
 which has received the name of ' Le Bourbier,' from the filth 
 in which he points to a place for La Motte Houdart, Dacier, 
 and other Mecaenases of the time. He quarrelled with Jean 
 Baptiste Rousseau, the greatest poet of his age, when he paid 
 him a visit in Brussels. He therefore attacked him also in a 
 poem, which was well calculated to spread the terror of his 
 name. This so-called ^Crepinade^ exceeds everything that Jean 
 Baptiste Rousseau ever wrote in his venomous pasquinades. 
 This will appear from the few lines which w^e give in the notes*. 
 We must speak somewhat at greater length of his opposition 
 and enmity to Christianity, because this was the most important 
 for the spirit of a time embittered to the heart's core against the 
 hierarchy, orthodoxy and prevailing hypocrisy. 
 
 The celebrated or all-renowned epistle to Urania, which Jean 
 Baptiste Rousseau regarded as blasphemous, proves that Voltaire, 
 before his journey to England, had announced that war of ex- 
 tirpation against the religion of the people, which he afterwards 
 
 * We say nothing of ' Le Bourbier.' In the ' Crepinade ' Rousseau is first bo- 
 dily and then mentally described as a son of the devil — then the conclusion ; — 
 Dans les cafes il fit le bel esprit, 
 II nous chanta Sodome et Jesus Christ (! !) 
 II fut siffle, battu pour son merite. 
 Puis fut errant, puis se fit hypocrite 
 Et pour finir a son pere il alia. 
 Qu'il y demeure. Or je veux sur cela 
 Donner au diable un conseil salutaire : 
 Monsieur Satan, lorsque vous voudrez faire 
 Quelque bon tour au chetif genre humain, 
 Prenez-vous y par un autre chemin : 
 Ce n'est le tout d'envoyer son semblable 
 Pour nous tenter : Crepin votre feal 
 Vous servant trop, vous a ser\'i fort mal. 
 Pour nous damner, rendez le vice aimable.
 
 112 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 carried on for more than sixty years ; he shows, however, in his 
 first vehement attack upon the historical credibihty of Christian- 
 ity, a feehng of respect and a sense for what is great, beautiful 
 and poetical in the idea of a holy and a pure church, and a society 
 of true believers. This epistle was addressed to one of the most 
 distinguished ladies in fashionable life, who was married to one 
 of the highest and most respected noblemen in the Austrian Ne- 
 therlands. The tone in ■which he thinks he may venture to address 
 himself to this lady and to her whole circle, as well as the whole 
 contents of the epistle, show most clearly, that as early as 1715, 
 the monks had brought things to such a pass by their mechani- 
 cal devotion, the Jesuits by their spiritual tyranny and affiliations, 
 and the Jansenists by their dogmatics and asceticism, that all in- 
 telligent men began to be discontented with the old system. 
 
 Voltaire begins this poetical epistle with the assurance, that he 
 recognises the necessity and the advantage of religious notions, 
 and sees clearly, that man woidd sink into the gulf of sen- 
 suality, if he had no higher ideas than those which he could 
 derive and form immediately from his sensible perceptions*. 
 Immediately afterwards he declares, that he cannot receive the 
 doctrines of the fall of man, of original sin, of the satisfaction of 
 Christ, the eternity of hell torments, as consistent with his idea 
 of the nature of that God, whom his understanding leads him to 
 acknowledge and adore t- The attack is bitter and severe, the 
 satire is keen ; still he acknowledges a belief in God, although he 
 may not recognise the God of Christianity as the Being whom 
 he worships. His words are, — " A senseless man would blas- 
 pheme God, 1 adore him. A Christian I am not, because I have 
 learned to love God in a better way than that." He is never- 
 theless poet enough to acknowledge the great idea of Christ's 
 victory over sin and death, over the grave and hell ; the idea of his 
 dominion over his true servants, and of his sitting at the right 
 
 * ' Le Pour et le Centre/ an epistle to Urania (Mad, de Rupelmonde). v. 10. 
 Ne crois point qu'enivre des erreurs de mes sens 
 De ma religion blaspheniateur profane, 
 Je veuille avec depit dans mes egarcmens 
 Detruire en libertin la loi qui les condamnc, etc. etc. 
 f Je vieux aimer ce Dieu, je chcrche en lui mon pere ; 
 On me montre un tyran que nous dcvons hair. 
 I! crea des humains a lui semblables 
 Afin de les mieux avilir ; 
 11 nous donna descoiurs coupablcs 
 Pour avoir droit dc nous punir, 
 II nous fait aimer le plaisir, etc. etc.
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 113 
 
 hand of God, not merely as poetry, but even as consolatory and 
 elevating truth. We shall give below the line in which Voltaire, 
 at the conclusion of his epistle, like Pope in that of his Universal 
 Prayer, pronounces his opinion upon the system which he 
 wished to see substituted for that which then universally pre- 
 vailed, which excluded from the pale of religion, or persecuted 
 and calumniated every one who could or would not blindly swear 
 to the very letter of its creeds *. 
 
 At the same time as he excited the public attention by his 
 short poems, which like his easy prose have always found the 
 greatest number of admirers, he endeavoured to tread in the 
 footsteps of Racine, and to enrich the French literature by a 
 classical epic, because no one since the time of Chapelain, who 
 had altogether failed in his ' Maid of Orleans,' had ventured to 
 try his powers on a heroic poem. This heroic, which when 
 it was first projected bore the title of ^ The League,' and which, 
 when it afterwards appeared in England, was called the ' Hen- 
 riade,' was intended to inculcate toleration, and to unmask the 
 weak side of the hierarchy, of monachism, and of priestcraft. 
 He was acknowledged as a tragic poet after the production of 
 his ^ (Edipus ' (17I8), because he rose unquestionably far supe- 
 rior to the other poets of this entirely prosaic age. 
 
 The enlightenment which Voltaire announced, as well as that 
 which Bolingbroke and his friends preached in England, was 
 altogether destitute of the solid foundations which secure an 
 edifice against overthrow. Every reformation which at all de- 
 
 * It first speaks of Christ and his Gospel : — 
 
 Ses exeraples sent saints, sa morale est divine ; 
 II console en secret les coeurs, qu'il illumine ; 
 Dans les plus grands malheurs il leur offre un appui, 
 Et si sur I'imposture il fonde sa doctrine, 
 C'est un bonheur encore d'etre trompe par lui. 
 
 Then follows national religion, of which we give the conclusion : — 
 
 Crois que devant son trone, en tout temps, en tout lieu 
 
 Le coeur du juste est precieux ; 
 
 Crois qu'un bonze modeste, un dervis charitable, 
 
 Trouvent plutot grace a ses yeux 
 
 Qu'un Janseniste impitoyable, 
 
 Ou qu'un pontife ambitieux. 
 
 Et qu'importe enfin sous quel titre on I'implore ? 
 
 Tout homage est regu ; mais aucun ne I'honore 
 
 Un Dieu n'a pas besoin de nos soins assidus ; 
 
 Si Ton pent I'offenser, c'est par des injustices. 
 
 II nous juge sur nos vertus, 
 
 Et non pas sur nos sacrifices. 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 FRANCE. [CIIAP. II. 
 
 serves the name, must be founded upon severe and strict mo- 
 rality. Without morahty and a holy zeal for truth and know- 
 ledge, all attacks upon existing systems can only lead to mis- 
 chief and greater evils ; nothing can be effected for reformation 
 when the principles of the reformers are not free from selfishness 
 and from the empty vanity of mean or courtly souls. It is evi- 
 dent from his conduct at that time, and especially very shortly 
 before his journey to England, and from the sentiments which 
 beseems anxious to disseminate, that Voltaire was very far from 
 attacking with bitter ridicule the injurious or useful prejudices 
 of the government and court, religion and worship. He and 
 his friends took all possible pains to obtain permission to dedi- 
 cate his free-thinking ' Henriade ' to the blindly believing King 
 Louis, and the court would probably have given another direc- 
 tion to Voltaire's wit if this had taken place, and he had 
 reaped the advantages for which he hoped. The condition of 
 the temporal government and of the ecclesiastical police in 
 France was at that time of such a kind, that the most scandalous 
 novels, satires and songs were in every body's mouth, and the 
 poem in which Voltaire at a later period exceeded Peter Aretin 
 and such writers in grossness, indecency and wit, was easily and 
 universally circulated ; but this dedication could not be accepted. 
 Because some passages occurred in this serious poem, which 
 M'ere directed against religious pretences, hypocrisy and priest- 
 craft, the king durst not show him the smallest favour, nor dare 
 he even grant a privilege for printing the book. When he did 
 not succeed with the king, he was not ashamed to seek for the 
 favour of the Marchioness de Prye, who at that time conducted 
 the scandalous government of France, under the name of the 
 Duke of Bourbon. In the year before his journey to England, 
 the vain man wrote a comedy (L'Indiscret) ; and in a flattering 
 poem he recommended it to the protection of this woman with- 
 out shame and morality, who then ruled France. 
 
 Voltaire's journey to England stands in close connexion, be- 
 sides, with the then condition of France, with the want of all 
 that legal order which should have protected the middle classes 
 against the brutal insolence and oppression of the great. He 
 fled from a country in which desjjotism j)ut down the law, 
 and superstition triumphed over religion, and took refuge in a 
 land of freedom. This was afterwards announced in his * En- 
 glish Letters.' The great man who according to the custom of
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 115 
 
 the time had caused him to be maltreated by his servants in the 
 midst of Paris on account of some satirical verses, stood so far 
 above the reach of the law, that neither the courts of justice nor 
 the government could give or procure any satisfaction for the 
 offence ; he never suspected, however, what bitter fruits his in- 
 solence would produce for his grand-children : he never dreamt 
 that the spirit of the age, \vhich the poet, his friends and dis- 
 ciples announced, would become too strong for bayonets, police 
 and obsolete rights. Voltaire, vain as he was, must have re- 
 garded a constitution under which such offences could be com- 
 mitted with impunity with so much the greater dissatisfaction, 
 as he had already under the regent paid the penalty of his 
 petulance in writing some severe verses, by a second confine- 
 ment in the Bastille ; and withal he was only in his element in 
 the midst of those people who were the butts of his satire and 
 his wit. 
 
 The brothers Walpole, after a short interval, were again at 
 the head of affairs in England, at the time of Voltaire's tempo- 
 rary sojourn in that country (1726 — 1729). One of them had 
 completely gone over to the French school, as his own letters 
 and those of his son — as their stale affectedly witty and pre- 
 sumptuous writings fully prove, and we shall afterwards show 
 what value and importance the name of Walpole had in Paris 
 when we come to speak of the societies of Mesd. Geoffrin and 
 du Deffant. When therefore Voltaire came to England, the 
 one brother gave a hint to the other, that on this occasion it 
 would be a prudent and politic stroke for King George, in the 
 case of this renowned Frenchman, to come forward as a patron 
 of the Muses ; for notwithstanding the foundation of Gottingen, 
 the king was little fitted in any way to assume the character of 
 a MecEenas. George the Second and his ministers headed a 
 subscription for a splendid impression of the ^ Henriade,' and 
 Voltaire became rich, in the same way as Pope had done by the 
 subscription to his ^Horner;' but the former, by the prudent 
 care and management of his gains, increased his means, and by 
 speculations of various kinds, at the close of his life, was in pos- 
 session of no inconsiderable wealth. W^ith respect to the influ- 
 ence upon his mode of thinking and the direction of his activity, 
 which sprung from his sojourn in England, Condorcet says ex- 
 pressly, that he learned from Bolingbroke and from his friends 
 
 I 2
 
 116 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 what he never could have learned from Bayle*, although he was 
 not able to accomplish what Montesquieu did to excite the ad- 
 miration of the people there, by praising their constitution, their 
 patriotism, their proud feeling of independence, nor did he recom- 
 mend anything similar to the French. During his sojourn in 
 England, and immediately afterwards, he reached the very sum- 
 mit of his renown in Europe, and what was more, he became the 
 national idol of the French. The pious cardinal Fleury experi- 
 enced to his horror, what Louis the Fifteenth afterwards felt and 
 could never pardon, that notwithstanding and in spite of all his 
 state prisons and Jesuits, his hired mercenaries and officials, 
 an organ of the popular voice and of the spirit of the age had 
 sounded, before which, sooner or later, the monarchy and the 
 court, however eagerly they might strive against it, would be 
 struck dumb and obliged to give way. 
 
 Voltaire became renowned as a tragic poet by his ^ Zaire,' and 
 by his smaller poems he Avon the favour of those ladies and gen- 
 tlemen who made pretensions to be creators and leaders of the 
 fashion, and even Gottsched in Leipzig began to speak of him, 
 however much Bodmer, Breitinger and all the pious took it 
 amiss. About this time he wrote his history of Charles the 
 Twelfth, which, whatever the serious inquirer after truth may 
 say as to its facts, proved to the world that history might be 
 made available for social entertainment, and that it was possible 
 to give it all the influence and importance of a novel. 
 
 Shortly before Voltaire's return from England, Montesquieu 
 had gained a reputation which was continually increasing by his 
 * Persian Letters,' and he shone as a star of the first magnitude 
 in the house of Madame de Tencin, who brought together to her 
 celebrated assemblies only the choice spirits and most renowned 
 scholars of the day. Voltaire sought to gain a similar reputation 
 by similar means, and shortly after his return from England, he 
 MTote his ' English Letters.' This book, like the ' Persian 
 
 * Condorcet, in his life of Voltaire, says, " L'Angletcrre fut son asile. New- 
 ton n'etait plus ; mais son esprit regnait sur ses conipatriotes, qu'il avait in- 
 struit a no reconnaitrc pour guides dans I'^tude de la nature, que I'cxperience 
 et le calcul. Locke, dont la mort etait encore recente, avait donne le premier 
 une theorie de I'llme humaine, fondee sur I'cxperience, et montre la route, qu'il 
 faut suivre en metaphysique pour ne point s'dgarer. La philoso])hie de 
 Shaftesbury, commentee par Bolingbroke, enibellie par les vers dc Pope, avait 
 fait naitre en Angleterre un d^isme qui annon^ait une morale fondee sur des 
 motifs faits pour emouvoir les ames clevees sans ofFenser la raison."
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 117 
 
 Letters/ was directed against the system prevailing in France, 
 whose deficiencies and weakness Montesquieu had laid open ; 
 it was secretly printed, and secretly circulated. Voltaire after- 
 wards communicated the essential contents of these ' Letters ' 
 upon Englishmen, or of these ' Philosophic Letters,^ in the va- 
 rious articles of his 'Philosophical Dictionary.' They had scarcely 
 appeared under the name of the author, before the government 
 and the courts of law publicly gave evidence of their want of 
 power, by a fruitless struggle against the clever wantonness of 
 these circles, of which Voltaire was the organ. The book was 
 not merely forbidden, but it was formally condemned and burned 
 by the hands of the common hangman. 
 
 The poor printer was the only sufferer ; the real offender, 
 friend and creditor of the great, escaped the storm which burst 
 upon his book, but was again soon enough in Paris. The keeper 
 of the seals soon felt himself obliged to respect and reverence 
 the spirit of the age, which was persecuted with fanatical rage 
 by the parliament and clergy. We shall quote the reasons 
 alleged for the prosecution of those ' Philosophical Letters,' 
 in a note, in the -words of Condorcet*, and direct attention 
 to the return of the same appearances in history, although 
 under very different forms. 
 
 In their time those letters had the same sort of influence 
 and effect, in reference to English institutions viewed with 
 French eyes, in reference to dramatic poetry, to the philosophy 
 of reflection and life, which Madame de Stael's have had in our 
 own days, upon Germany. In reference to German literature, 
 Madame de Stael had just as little penetrated into the depth of 
 a life that was foreign to her, as Voltaire, although Voltaire un- 
 derstood a little more English than Madame de Stael did Ger- 
 
 * Condorcet writes : — " La publication de ces lettres excita une persecution, 
 dont en les lisant on aurait peine a concevoir racharnement ; mais il y com- 
 battait les idees innees^ et les docteurs croyaient alors que s'ils n'avaient point 
 d'idees innees, il n'y aurait pas de characteres assez sensibles pour distin- 
 guer leur ame de celles des betes. D'ailleurs il y soutenait avec Locke, qu'il 
 n'etait pas rigoureusenrient prouve que Dieu n'aurait pas le pouvoir, s'il le vou- 
 lait absoluraent, de donner a un element de la matiere la faculty de penser ; et 
 c'etait aller centre le privilege des theologiens, qui pretendent savoir h. point 
 norame, et savoir seals, tout ce que Dieu a pense, tout ce qu'il a fait ou pu 
 faire, depuis et meme avant le commencement du monde. Enfin il y examinait 
 quelques passages des pcnsees de Pascal, ouvrage que les Jesuitcs meme etaient 
 obliges de respecter malgn^ eux, comme ceux de S. Augustin. On fut scan- 
 dalise de voir un poete, un laique oser juger Pascal. II semblait qu'attaquer 
 le seul des defenseurs de la religion chretienne," etc., etc.
 
 118 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 man, and did not, like her, draw all his knowledge of books and 
 their contents, singly and alone, from the report of an ingenious 
 scholar and sophist. In their works both were somewhat alike : 
 Voltaire's letters were forbidden and persecuted by the govern- 
 ment of Cardinal Fleury, which was favourable to the old dark- 
 ness, almost upon the very same grounds as the work upon 
 Germany was forbidden and persecuted by Bonaparte, who 
 called himself a friend and protector of the new light ; because 
 the one appeared hostile to a military, and the other to a hier- 
 archical despotism. 
 
 In his work Voltaire had treated the new English reflective 
 philosophy and the theology of the Enghsh scholars after 
 his fashion, for the advantage of the French, as Madame de 
 Stael, the German ideal philosophy and the transcendental 
 poetry of the romantic school. Voltaire remained wholly unac- 
 quainted with Shakspeare. Madame de Stael knew Gothe 
 better, who was introduced by her along with the transcend- 
 ental poets, because her interpreter* was in a situation to furnish 
 her with the very best assistance. Voltaire, moreover, was much 
 bolder in his language than his predecessors, or than Mon- 
 tesquieu ; for under the protection and shadow of his English 
 friends, he made the most vehement attacks upon the French 
 legislation, upon the constitution of their courts, and upon the 
 government, and that not in a learned and hea\y, but in a clever 
 and easy style. He employed the English scepticism, Avhich 
 taught how a man might altogether dispense with faith, in op- 
 position to Pascal's ingenious and profound philosophy, whose 
 objects were to lead through scepticism to belief. 
 
 These letters introduced the English religious philosophy of 
 that time, the literature and views of life entertained by that 
 nation, into France, precisely in the same manner as it is sought 
 at the present time to introduce there the opposite vicMS from 
 Germany ; and they excited the greater attention because Mon- 
 tesquieu had already awakened the people, and turned their 
 attention from the system prevailing in France, to a mania for 
 England. On this occasion tlie difference is strikingly mani- 
 fest between the Protestant public Mith whom Pope had to do 
 in England, and the species of unbelief which coukl be proposed 
 to it, and the Catholic public in France, in which the reigning 
 
 •William Schlegcl.
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 119 
 
 system is fully adopted, or must be wholly rejected and treated 
 with contempt, if a man does not wish to be regai'ded as an 
 oddity, which was the case at a later period with Rousseau. 
 
 When Pope M'as exposed to the general reproach of having 
 preached Bolingbroke's comfortless system in his ^ Essay on 
 Man,' he immediately published a deistical confession of faith, 
 in his paraphrase of the Lord's prayer ; thereupon the English 
 were appeased, and even the theological Warburton finds no- 
 thing to blame. Voltaire was not so fortunate ; his 'English 
 Letters ' excited so great an alarm that he became afraid, and 
 wished, by the public acknowledgement of the ' Epistle to 
 Urania,' which had now been twelve years in private circulation, 
 to appease the storm, and to justify his views ; but this was 
 only to throw oil on the fire. He was also so devoid of all con- 
 science in his way, that in order to quiet the alarm raised upon 
 his public acknowledgement of the ' Epistle,' he tried to throw 
 the blame of it upon an entirely innocent man, who could no 
 longer defend himself. He declared that the Abbe Chaulieu, 
 who was long since dead, was its author. As Voltaire in this 
 poem formally renounced Christianity, he treated the Jewish 
 people, the Christian histories, and all that was regarded as 
 matters of faith, with the greatest contempt, but clothed it all 
 in admirable verse ; he should at least not have laid the burthen 
 of his sins upon a Catholic clergyman. He is however more 
 honest in his ' Epistle,' than Pope in his ' Prayer.' What is 
 most important for our object is, that whilst Voltaire was cursed 
 and hated as a blasphemer at the French court, by a bigoted 
 people, and by German scholars, to whom accidental tidings of 
 him came ; he was, on the contrary, sought after and honoured 
 by nobles and princes. Frederick the Second, when yet 
 Crown Prince, had entered into correspondence and friendship 
 M'ith him. Frederick, like his sister, the wicked Margravine 
 of Bayreuth, admired Voltaire's wit and talents only, he thought 
 nothing about his politics; but his intimate connexion with 
 Voltaire was of great use to him ; he raised him to be the head 
 of that general opposition which was being carried on against 
 the remnants of the middle ages, and it furnished the intellec- 
 tual poet who was struggling energetically against the system 
 prevailing in France, Germany and Austria, with an ally who 
 was very powerful on account of his temporal influence. Who- 
 ever admired Frederick's deeds, could not blame Voltaire's
 
 120 FRANCE. [GHAP. II. 
 
 system. But as this intimacy between the king and the poet 
 took place later in point of time, we shall return to the order of 
 events with respect to Voltaire's revolutionary or reforming 
 activity. Almost contemporaneously with this general attack 
 upon the reigning system and upon dogmatics, he began, in a 
 clever and witty strain, to satirise the prevailing tone of the 
 learned. We can best judge from the Jesuitical rage with which 
 he was persecuted, how admirably he had delineated the weak- 
 nesses and presumption of the interpreters of the ancients, who 
 shone in the schools and academies, and had acquired great 
 reputation by their various and copiously exhibited learning. 
 This took place two years after his return from England (1731). 
 These industrious gentlemen had reduced every thing to a 
 system of rules, and they fashioned heads according to them, as 
 gardeners in those days fashioned box-trees by their shears. 
 Learning and mediocrity alone were praised, because these work 
 according to rule, and can be contented with the imitation of 
 what has been mechanically learned in the schools. 
 
 It will readily be conceived, that a man like Voltaire, with 
 whose personal character we have happily nothing to do, because 
 he played no political part, had also his personal views in this 
 attack upon the pedants ; his poem, however, is not on that ac- 
 count the less witty and striking. All able men, who knew 
 anything of the miserably learned instruction, which was alto- 
 gether foreign to life and its movements, lamented the condition 
 to which it was reduced, and rejoiced that Voltaire had laid his 
 scourge upon the conductors. This he did in his ' Temple of 
 Taste' ('LeTemple du Gout,'), which when compared with Pope's 
 ' Dunciad,' shows the superiority in this species of poetry to 
 have been greatly on the side of the Frenchman. Both Pope 
 and Voltaire have attacked their enemies in bitter and malicious 
 satire, and both by their poems have immortalised a great many 
 insignificant persons ; but the Englishman's satire only hit such 
 people as would never have been known without his mention of 
 them, Voltaire selected those who were still called great in their 
 respective schools. 
 
 The ' Dunciad,' according to Johnson's opinion, had already 
 lost its importance in his time. The 'Temple of Taste,' in which 
 there is no want of Daciers and Salmasiuscs, only first attained 
 its true importance in our days. The wit of the j)oet shows us, 
 that those who write commentaries upon the ancients, the crowd
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 121 
 
 of compilers and editors^ the tasteless indicators and conjectu- 
 rers, the searchers after things not worth the searching for, are 
 nothing wiser or more prudent in our days than they were in 
 the seventeenth century*. The case Avas the same with school 
 learning as with dogmatics ; they wished to impose what was 
 ancient upon the new age ; the state held upright what could 
 no longer stand by itself, and was afterwards obliged, with dis- 
 comfiture and disgrace, to relinquish one after another. As 
 long as all the demands of the age were pertinaciously resisted, 
 as long as no concession was made, or no point yielded, wit tri- 
 umphed, how loud soever pedants and academicians lamented 
 over the ' Temple of Taste.^ The pedants, as the clergy had 
 done in the case of the ' English Letters,' called in the tempo- 
 ral, or rather the military arm, to their aid ; and although not 
 with the same success as the clergy had done, yet Voltaire found 
 it advisable to take up his residence in Lorraine, and to absent 
 himself for a season from France. 
 
 About the time at which Voltaire found it wise to avoid Paris 
 for a season, his tragedies were received as perfect master-pieces, 
 [We shall return to the subject in the following division.] al- 
 though when more nearly examined, all these pieces stood in 
 direct opposition to the prevailing system of the time, both 
 political and religious. These plays were persecuted on the 
 one hand by the magistrates and the clergy, on the other they 
 were demanded by the public ; they were praised, and finally, 
 after they had been made powerful by persecution, they were 
 
 *They could not come to a 'Temple of Taste/ restrained, "d'une nuee de 
 coramentateurs, qui restituaient des passages, et qui compilaient de gros 
 volumes a propos d'un mot, qu'ils n'entendaient pas. 
 
 La j'apper9us les Daciers, les Saumaises, 
 
 Gens herisses de savantes fadaises, 
 
 Le teint jauni, les yeux rouges et sees 
 
 Le dos courbe sous un tas d'auteurs Grecs, 
 
 Tous noircis d'encre, et coiffes de poussiere. 
 
 Je leur criai de loin par la portiere : 
 
 N'allez-vous pas dans le temple du gout 
 
 Vous faire decrasser ? Nous, messieurs ? point du tout 
 
 Ce n'est pas la, grace au ciel notre etude : 
 
 Le gout n'est rien, nous avons I'habitude 
 
 De rediger au long, de point en point 
 
 Ce qu'on pensa ; mais nous ne pensons point. 
 Apres cet aveu ingenu, ces messieurs voulurent absolument nous faire lire 
 certains passages de Dictys de Crete, et de Metrodore de Lampsaque, que Sca- 
 liger avait estropies. Nous les remerciames de leur courtoisie et nous con- 
 tinuames notre chemin."
 
 120 FRANCE. [OHAP. II. 
 
 system. But as this intimacy between the king and the poet 
 took place later in point of time, we shall return to the order of 
 events with respect to Voltaire's revolutionary or reforming 
 activity. Almost contemporaneously with this general attack 
 upon the reigning system and upon dogmatics, he began, in a 
 clever and witty strain, to satirise the prevailing tone of the 
 learned. We can best judge from the Jesuitical rage with which 
 he was persecuted, how admirably he had delineated the weak- 
 nesses and presumption of the interpreters of the ancients, who 
 shone in the schools and academies, and had acquired great 
 reputation by their various and copiously exhibited learning. 
 This took place two years after his return from England (1731). 
 These industrious gentlemen had reduced every thing to a 
 system of rules, and they fashioned heads according to them, as 
 gardeners in those days fashioned box-trees by their shears. 
 Learning and mediocrity alone were praised, because these work 
 according to rule, and can be contented with the imitation of 
 what has been mechanically learned in the schools. 
 
 It will readily be conceived, that a man like Voltaire, with 
 whose personal character we have happily nothing to do, because 
 he played no political part, had also his personal views in this 
 attack upon the pedants ; his poem, however, is not on that ac- 
 count the less witty and striking. All able men, who knew 
 anything of the miserably learned instruction, which was alto- 
 gether foreign to life and its movements, lamented the condition 
 to which it was reduced, and rejoiced that Voltaire had laid his 
 scourge upon the conductors. This he did in his * Temple of 
 Taste' (^Le Temple du Gout,'), which when compared with Pope's 
 * Dunciad,' shows the superiority in this species of poetry to 
 have been greatly on the side of the Frenchman. Both Pope 
 and Voltaire have attacked their enemies in bitter and malicious 
 satire, and both by their poems have immortalised a great many 
 insignificant persons ; but the Englishman's satire only hit such 
 people as would never have been known without his mention of 
 them, Voltaire selected those who were still called great in their 
 respective schools. 
 
 The ' Dunciad,' according to Johnson's opinion, had already 
 lost its importance in his time. The * Temple of Taste,' in which 
 there is no want of Daciers and Salmasiuses, only first attained 
 its true importance in our days. The wit of the poet shows us, 
 that those who write commentaries upon the ancients, the crowd
 
 § I.] VOLTAIRE. 121 
 
 of compilers and editors, the tasteless indicators and conjectu- 
 rers, the searchers after things not worth the searching for, are 
 nothing wiser or more prudent in our days than they were in 
 the seventeenth centvuy*. The case was the same with school 
 learning as with dogmatics ; they wished to impose what was 
 ancient upon the new age ; the state held upright what could 
 no longer stand by itself, and was afterwards obHged, with dis- 
 comfiture and disgrace, to relinquish one after another. As 
 long as all the demands of the age were pertinaciously resisted, 
 as long as no concession was made, or no point yielded, wit tri- 
 umphed, how loud soever pedants and academicians lamented 
 over the ' Temple of Taste/ The pedants, as the clergy had 
 done in the case of the * English Letters,^ called in the tempo- 
 ral, or rather the military arm, to their aid ; and although not 
 with the same success as the clergy had done, yet Voltaire found 
 it advisable to take up his residence in Lorraine, and to absent 
 himself for a season from France. 
 
 About the time at which Voltaire found it wise to avoid Paris 
 for a season, his tragedies were received as perfect master-pieces, 
 [We shall return to the subject in the following division.] al- 
 though when more nearly examined, all these pieces stood in 
 direct opposition to the prevailing system of the time, both 
 political and religious. These plays were persecuted on the 
 one hand by the magistrates and the clergy, on the other they 
 were demanded by the public ; they were praised, and finally, 
 after they had been made powerful by persecution, they were 
 
 *They could not come to a 'Temple of Taste,' restrained, " d'une nuee de 
 coramentateurs, qui restituaient des passages, et qui corapilaient de gros 
 volumes a propos d'un mot, qu'ils n'entendaient pas. 
 
 La j'apper9us les Daciers, les Saumaises, 
 
 Gens herisses de savantcs fadaises, 
 
 Le teint jauni, les yeux rouges et sees 
 
 Le dos courbe sous un tas d'auteurs Grecs, 
 
 Tous noircis d'encre, et coifFes de poussiere. 
 
 Je leur criai de loin par la portiere : 
 
 N'allez-vous pas dans le temple du gout 
 
 Vous faire decrasser ? Nous, messieurs ? point du tout 
 
 Ce n'est pas k\, grace au ciel notre etude : 
 
 Le gout n'est rien, nous avons I'liabitude 
 
 De redigcr au long, de point en point 
 
 Ce qu'on pensa ; mais nous ne pensons point. 
 Apres cet aveu ingenu, ces messieurs voulureut absolument nous faire lire 
 certains passages de Dictys de Crete, et de Metrodore de Lampsaque, que Sca- 
 liger avait estropies. Nous les remerciames de leur courtoisic et nous con- 
 tinuames notre chemin."
 
 124 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 passage in the poem may be perhaps its conclusion, but which 
 after all contains only an admirable theory for those who seek for 
 contentment upon earth, not beyond but in themselves*. What 
 was the fruit of all this pious zeal on the part of the zealots ? Why, 
 the favourite of the great of that time satirized these zealots in a 
 most virulent manner, in two other pieces (' La Defense du Mon- 
 dain, ou Apologie du Luxe,' and ' Sur I'Usage de la Vie '). In 
 these he exposed and ridiculed their theories, and proved with 
 great wit and clearness, that the pious usually preach principles, 
 and cause or wish them to be preached, which no one follows, 
 and they themselves least of all. 
 
 Another effect which ' The Worldling ' produced, in conse- 
 quence of the attention which it excited and the circumstances 
 which were connected with it, was far more injurious to public 
 morality than the satirizing of hypocrites. Voltaire had no prin- 
 ciples of his own, except the love of reputation, honour and 
 distinction. These were his springs of action. He now began to 
 perceive his peculiar vocation; and saw what the great world were 
 most disposed to read, and commenced his masterpiece of poetry, 
 a filthy heroic, worthy of Aretin himself, which was straightway 
 disseminated in different stanzas, and read and admired by every 
 one who made any pretensions to belong to people of good society. 
 The poem is indeed a masterpiece of genius, the most distin- 
 guished production of a mind reverencing neither God nor man, 
 — the contents, however, are as exciting as the first dissemina- 
 tion of it was disgraceful. 
 
 We must, alas ! in the next period return to this ' Maid of 
 Orleans,' who was the opposite of all that the name implies, w hen 
 we come to speak of the whole extent of Voltaire's social influ- 
 ence, and we shall only now remark in passing, that the first 
 dissemination of the work took place in and proceeded from 
 French Lorraine, Avhich at that time was not yet united with 
 France. Voltaire studied mathematics and natural philosophy 
 in good society, in which, however, burgher morality could form 
 
 Qu' auraient-ils pu connaitre? ile n'avaicnt rien. 
 lis ctaicnt nus, ct c'cst chose tres-claire 
 Que qui na rien, n'a nul partaye ufaire. 
 * Et vous jardin dc ce premier bon homme, 
 Jardin fameux par le diable et la pomme, 
 C'est bien en vain que, par I'orgueil seduits, 
 Iluet, Calmet dans Icur savante audace 
 Du paradis ont cheichc la place. 
 Le paradis terrestre est ou je suis.
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 125 
 
 no subject of discourse, and published popular writings in order 
 to defend Newton's doctrines against the Jesuits and the Ro- 
 misli theologians, and to recommend them to the world. The 
 Jesuits persevered obstinately, like some theologians of our own 
 times, in maintaining the astronomical authority of the book of 
 Joshua in opposition to Copernicus, Kepler and Newton, and 
 made themselves doubly ridiculous on this occasion by attempt- 
 ing to defend blind faith against mathematics and experience*. 
 
 §11. 
 
 MONTESQUIEU. 
 
 Having given some indications of the tendencies and conse- 
 quences of the poetry and philosophy of the chief of the new 
 French teachers of the eighteenth century in the years from 
 I72O-I74I, we naturally pass on to those men, who, leaning 
 on Voltaire's influence and authority, availed themselves of the 
 rising feelings of repugnance against hierarchy and superstition, 
 against hypocrisy and despotism, as a mere speculation for wri- 
 ting, and who wrote in Voltaire's manner, although not with his 
 ability ; before we mention those insignificant names, who only 
 acquired importance through the circumstances, and through 
 Frederick the Second, we must first allude to Montesquieu. 
 
 We do not speak of Montesquieu here as the author of ' The 
 Spirit of Laws ;' in this relation he will be treated of hereafter : 
 at present we refer only to his ' Persian Letters ' and his ' Consi- 
 derations upon the Reasons of the Greatness and Decline of the 
 Roman Empire.' The ' Persian Letters ' were Ma-itten altogether 
 in the style and manner which became celebrated through Vol- 
 taire ; Montesquieu, therefore, wished at a later period to deny 
 or at least to conceal the authorship of the letters, as Gothe 
 wished to disown his student-wit against Wieland, and precisely 
 on the same bad grounds. Montesquieu shone in the house 
 of Madame de Tencin by means of the same kind of wit which 
 
 * That the Jesuits were consequent in the same way, as people in Rome a 
 few years ago were, and that they would have nothing to do with the Co- 
 pernican system, we learn from Marmontel's Autobiography, written for 
 his children (' M^moires d'un Pere ') : he states (Edit, de Paris, chez Le Doux, 
 1827, 8vo), when he being a disciple of the Jesuits became unfaithful to them, 
 part 1. p. 102 : "Desma seconde annee de physique, n'ayant pu engager mon 
 professeur jesuite a nous enseigner la physique Newtonienne, je pris mon 
 parti d'aller I'etudier u I'ecole des Doctrinaires."
 
 126 FRANCE. [CII-AP. II. 
 
 Frederick the Second loved and admired in his companions ; 
 but he afterwards gained some favour among the English ari- 
 stocracy and in some measure the hierarchy, and he altered his 
 tone. He very early assumed a wholly different tone and a dif- 
 ferent position with respect to his age, from that which he had 
 assumed in his first work. In his later writings he spared reli- 
 gion and morals, and renounced the fearful weapons of keen sa- 
 tire ; but, on the other hand, he attacked w ith great seriousness 
 the whole edifice of the French state, as it had been built up 
 since the time of Louis the Eleventh, and especially the admi- 
 nistration of the government since the time of Louis the Thir- 
 teenth. We dwell somewhat longer on the first work, because 
 what we have to say of the ' Persian Letters,' compared with what 
 we shall hereafter have occasion to remark of the associates and 
 satellites of Frederick the Second, will prove that from 1721 the 
 old theories were regarded as wholly untenable. 
 
 Montesquieu had seen and felt the misery and oppression of 
 the last years of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth ; and with 
 the strong feeling of disapprobation of a noble and youthful 
 mind, had communicated his thoughts and feelings to his con- 
 temporaries. He afterwards saw the times of the regency and 
 its demoralization ; he wished to speak to the people and to the 
 well-informed portion of the evils of ordinary life, and to produce 
 an effect ; this could only be done by means of poetry, as Vol- 
 taire had done, or by a novel in prose ; a serious book would 
 have remained altogether without influence. He chose the form 
 of the novel as most suitable for his design, because nature had 
 endowed him with no poetical capacities. In general, Voltaire, 
 as a poet and a philosopher, had chiefly directed his poetical 
 satire against superstition and the priesthood, which stood most 
 in his way ; Montesquieu, as a learned Jesuit and noble, took 
 more the political side of the subject, and kept in his eye mini- 
 sterial despotism, oppression and want of respect for the law and 
 for legal forms. 
 
 Both these, the most celebrated men of the eighteenth century, 
 were renowned besides almost at the same time in consequence 
 of their satires against faith, reigning institutions, and the exist- 
 ing constitution of tlie state. The short and witty poems of the 
 one, and the apparently easy wanton novel of the other, no sooner 
 reached the hands of those, who gave the tone (1721), than the 
 joy of salutaiy as well as disadvantageous prejudices suddenly
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 127 
 
 disappearedj and in this respect the ' Persian Letters ' may be re- 
 garded as more important than any writing of Voltaire's, because 
 they enter into ahnost all the relations of life, and expose before 
 the eyes of the people everything which was absurd or unnatu- 
 ral in their institutions, which the people were accustomed to 
 admire, and the courts and governments to praise, as the highest 
 perfection of fortune and M'isdom. 
 
 Under the protection of a veil which concealed nothing, Mon- 
 tesquieu ventured, in the time of the regency, to say what people 
 would scarcely venture to pubHsh in a newspaper or other poli- 
 tical writing in our times of greater freedom. He proves, in a 
 satirical vein, that all the celebrated institutions of the monarchy 
 are rotten ; he seeks in jest and earnest to point out the reme- 
 dies which may serve to cure the diseases of the state. And this 
 makes it necessary more minutely to examine the contents of the 
 'Persian Letters' in reference to the condition of the social and 
 political relations of the century. 
 
 Montesquieu wrote these letters when he was thirty-two years 
 old, and after he had made some previous attempts in author- 
 ship. He belonged to the best society of his age, and to the 
 most distinguished men of his nation ; it is therefore quite a 
 mistake to suppose that he was precipitate, or that the form and 
 materials of his work were the offspring of any youthful ambi- 
 tion. No ! he was here the organ of his time, not the inventor 
 of his doctrine. The clothing alone of the ' Persian Letters ' 
 belongs to its author, the substance to his age : he only speaks 
 out what all men of understanding thought, and this indeed is 
 plain from the applause with which the ' Persian Letters ' were 
 received, and the response which they found in every mind. As 
 to the form of the ' Persian Letters ' making Persians write about 
 and discuss Prench manners, government, and the events of the 
 day, he borrowed this from a friend of Regnard, the well-known 
 composer of comic pieces. Dufresny, who was a chamberlain 
 of Louis the Fourteenth, and who was celebrated * in his time 
 
 * Dufresny wrote several very good pieces, without promiaing anything re- 
 markable. He wrote especially for the journals and other periodicals many 
 witty essays and many pleasant stories, so that Auger has thought it worth 
 while in our days (1810) to publish ' Les oeuvres choisies de Dufresny.' Among 
 these, ' Les Entretiens, ou Amusemens serieux et comiques,' have been much 
 read, and in them he had availed himself of the arrival of ambassadors from 
 Siam in France, in order to give them the title of Siamese remarks upon the 
 life and pursuits of his time. They are indeed in quite a different tone from 
 those of Montesquieu.
 
 128 FRANCE. [chap. ir. 
 
 as a writer for the elegant world, had already introduced a couple 
 of Siamese discoursing upon French customs and manners ; 
 Montesquieu put his remarks and reflections into the mouths of 
 Persians. The story, which in these letters is connected with 
 the satire, the narratives of occurrences without and within the 
 harem, the pictures of Eastern life, which Montesquieu was 
 better acquainted with than any Frenchman of his age, the wan- 
 tonness which is intentionally mixed up with the narrative, the 
 romantic issue, and in general the aesthetical or literary estima- 
 tion of the work, do not come wdthin the sphere of this work : 
 we have only to do with its moral, religious and political cha- 
 racter. The essential contents of the book are nothing but a 
 sharp and bitter description of the circumstances of France at 
 the end of the seventeenth and in the beginning of the eight- 
 eenth century, or in other words, a vehement attack upon the 
 administration of the state, the hierarchy, the superstition, and 
 the whole system of the principles and government of a monar- 
 chical, hierarchical government. These indeed are contents of a 
 very serious character ; and it is therefore easily seen that the 
 only object of the light and wanton parts of the story of the 
 ' Letters' is by their easy and playful tone to compel cursory novel 
 readers and fashionable ladies to read the more serious materials. 
 That which in a proper work of art would be a decided imper- 
 fection and essential failure, if we consider the object of the 
 work, will in this case be regarded as an advantage, viz. that the 
 dress and character of the novel are inappropriate. The Persian, 
 by whom the most of the letters are written, writes like a French- 
 man ; his features cannot be concealed under his Oriental mask. 
 But a completely Oriental costume would have shocked the 
 reader, and the ^ Letters' would not have reached theu' political 
 aim. 
 
 The * Letters ' indeed give us no true picture of their time ; 
 their effect proves, however, that the author merely said what 
 educated people thought, and what no newspaper, no periodical 
 ventured to announce. This makes it necessary for us, at least, 
 to vindicate the points touched upon by Montesquieu. Before 
 wc briefly state the contents of single letters wc must make this 
 general remark, that the book is especially important, from the 
 circumstance that no one at that time had ventured to blame 
 the church and the government in prose, and that therefore the 
 boldness of the writer excited astonishment. Satirical novels
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 129 
 
 took their origin later, and Montesquieu had the clever tone of 
 conversation quite in his power. He describes all the scenes 
 of life with wit and great liveliness, the excitability and excite- 
 ment of the people of the higher classes in Paris at that time. 
 He depicts the influence of the female sex, and prepares the 
 minds of his readers for his new theory deduced from England, 
 of the true nature of modern constitutions, the theory of a reli- 
 gion without a priesthood, and of a monarchy without bayonets. 
 
 Montesquieu in his ' Persian Letters ' paints the times of 
 Louis the Fourteenth and the Regency, and the plans adopted 
 by the Regent to free himself from his debts, in such dark colours, 
 that a Jacobin of the time of the revolution could scarcely have 
 spoken in stronger terms. Names indeed are not mentioned, 
 but at the time in which these ^ Letters ' appeared that was by 
 no means necessary ; at present, however, a minute acquaintance 
 with the history of the time is indispensable, in order to under- 
 stand the particular allusions, and the book has in consequence 
 lost its importance. 
 
 The clergy and the dogmas and institutions of the Catholic 
 church, the doctrines of transubstantiation, of fasts, of the 
 power of the pope in the church, the alarm about the Bull Uni- 
 genitus, the war between the Gallican and the Roman churches, 
 between the Jansenists and the Jesuits, all these topics meet 
 us almost in the very commencement of the work : we shall ex- 
 tract some passages from the ' Letters,' in order to make the 
 tendency and object of the work more obvious. 
 
 From the tenth to the fifteenth letter, as well as afterwards in 
 the ' Spirit of Laws,' and in the ' History of the Republic of the 
 Troglodytes,' the republican constitution is represented as that 
 of virtue and simplicity, and monarchy as the necessary restraint 
 of the development of social life, which has become a state of 
 demoralisation and crime. The Persian, as appears by the 
 * Letters,' observed in the Christian land many conscientious 
 doubts, and wished to know the reason of many of those posi- 
 tive decrees which are repugnant to reason and experience. He 
 applied to a Mollah. The Mahomedan theologian is here the 
 representative of all the logical professors and controversial 
 preachers, and answ^ers as such persons are accustomed to do. 
 
 " Whoever," says he, " is a true believer, entertains no such 
 doubts ; whoever will be instructed, let him apply to the fathers 
 of the church." He introduces the fathers, grossly abuses in- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 fidelity and Infidels, and relates a very silly legend. The twenty- 
 fourth letter, combined with the twenty-ninth, carries religious 
 irony still further. In the twenty-fourth the pope is called a 
 conjuror, who is able to make the people believe that three per- 
 sons are one, the bread we eat no bread, and the wine we drink 
 no wine, and a thousand things of the same description. In the 
 twenty-ninth the irony against the riches and power of the 'pope 
 and the bishops is still stronger. It touches upon the dispen- 
 sations granted for money, upon controversies in matters of faith, 
 upon bead rolls and the inquisition. 
 
 With respect to the persecution of heretics, Montesquieu puts 
 very remarkable words into the mouth of his Persian when 
 speaking of the intolerance of his time : " Happy the land which 
 is inhabited by the children of the prophets ! these sorrowful 
 exhibitions are there unknown; the holy religion which was 
 brought from heaven by angels, maintains itself by its own in- 
 ternal truth.^' In the thirty-fifth letter a parallel Is drawn be- 
 tween the Mahomedan and the Catholic religion, which is 
 sustained with great ingenuity and wit. In the thirty-seventh 
 letter, Montesquieu, after having In a few short but striking 
 touches drawn a very different picture of Louis the Fourteenth 
 from that which dare be given of him in the official history of 
 his time, and of the splendoiu* of the monarchy, returns in the 
 thirty-ninth letter to the subject of religion and its doctrines. 
 The bitter irony of this letter which touches upon the very 
 foundations of the Gospel is wholly written after the mamjer 
 of Voltaire. He tries to shoAV that the Gospel history is not 
 more authentic than that of the Koran, by placing the legends 
 of the Mahomedan theologians in juxtaposition with the tra- 
 ditions imposed upon Christianity. The Capuchins, their mode 
 of life, and that of all other monks, are afterwards attacked in 
 very free language ; and father confessors, as well as casuists, who 
 knew how to benefit themselves and their churches by the sins 
 of the rich and the noble, receive a quick dispatch. 
 
 " If my Sophi," says the ill-disguised Persian, " had a man 
 at his court, who treated him as your confessors treat their God 
 — if he invented some subtle distinction between different com- 
 mands and laws, and instructed his subjects in what sense they 
 might violate his commandments, and in what sense they must 
 thoroughly follow them out, he would immediately cause him to 
 be impaled.' 
 
 })
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 131 
 
 The doctrines of the natural freedom of the will, of predesti- 
 nation, and the controversies which have been carried on with 
 respect to them in the schools, are treated in the sixty-ninth 
 letter, with the light of a clear and sound understanding ; the 
 doctrine of Paradise and of the fall of man are ridiculed, in pass- 
 ing, as Jewish fables. The reigning literature of the French 
 comes in also for its share of criticism and condemnation. The 
 Academie Franqaise, or the knightly order of forty flatterers 
 and rhetoricians, which was founded by Richelieu and protected 
 by Louis the Fourteenth, is no better spoken of by Montes- 
 quieu in his seventy-third letter than it had been by Voltaire in 
 his ' Bourbier.' " It has been founded merely for chattering," 
 says the writer. *^ Flatteiy is the element of the speeches of 
 its members, and of the never-ceasing prattling of the gentle- 
 men academicians ; the spirit of eulogism is infused into each 
 at his initiation." How correctly Montesquieu conceived the 
 spirit of this much-praised art of eloquence, how strikingly he 
 judges of the value of this monarchical forcing-house of lite- 
 rature and of science cherished merely for ostentation, will be 
 best learned from his own words. He says : — 
 
 " This corporation consists of forty heads, which are full of 
 figures of speech, metaphors and antitheses. The mouth of 
 each of the forty speaks only in exclamations ; their ears must 
 always be tickled by rhythm and cadence ; nothing can be said 
 of their eyes, for the whole bodies of the members seem made 
 onlj"^ to speak and not to see. The corporation does not stand 
 firmly on its feet ; for time, which is its plague, bends it hither 
 and thither, and always destroys what it has accomplished.^^ 
 
 In the seventy-sixth letter, the Christian view, with respect 
 to self-murder, is unfavourably compared with the more indul- 
 gent principles of the ancient Greeks and Romans. 
 
 In these letters Montesquieu expresses his opinion in a much 
 more becoming and worthy manner, with respect to the pre- 
 vailing and perverted principles of political administration, than 
 he had done upon religious subjects. He puts his obvious and 
 palpable objections to the form of an absolute monarchy, into 
 the mouth of his Asiatic, whose position and character do not 
 render him the most suitable vehicle for such opinions. In his 
 eighty-third letter he developes the form of a limited monarchy 
 as opposed to that of autocracy, against which he had stated 
 his objections in the eightieth letter. This theory is elucidated 
 
 K 2
 
 132 FRANCE. [chap. II, 
 
 ■ 
 
 in the ninety-second letter, by some brief remarks upon the 
 concluding events of the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, upon 
 his death, his will, and the history of its abolition. In the 
 ninety-fourth letter, Montesquieu declares distinctly that the 
 foundations of the various institutions of the European states 
 ■were tottering at his time and incapable of undergoing any se- 
 vere trial. We shall quote the passage itself: — 
 
 " People," says the Persian, " speak more about the rights 
 of the state and the rights of the people in Europe than in Asia ; 
 it may, however, with truth be alleged, that all principles on 
 these subjects have either disappeared or been displaced by the 
 passions of the rulers, the endurance of the people, or the flat- 
 tering sophistry of writers." The following letter is properly 
 didactic ; we pass it over, therefore, because our object is to touch 
 only upon what relates to the struggle of talents and genius 
 with force, or to that in which the efforts of the higher classes 
 show themselves, in connexion with their desire to free them- 
 selves from those prejudices which were in other respects pro- 
 fitable to them. 
 
 In the same manner as Voltaire, in the poem already referred 
 to, attacked the tribunals of the Regency in verse, Montesquieu 
 satirises them in his ninety-eighth letter in prose. On this oc- 
 casion he points out, at the same time, the May to honour in 
 his days, and holds up to scorn the pride and insolence of the 
 nobility. It would appear as if he referred to the contents of 
 the writing directed against them by the parliament. We give 
 the commencement of the passage, from which a conclusion 
 may be easily drawn with respect to the contents of the whole 
 (ex pede Herculem). " The body of lacqueys," writes the Per- 
 sian, ^'^ is in greater esteem in France than elsewhere ; for it is 
 the nursery of great gentlemen, and serves to fill up the vacan- 
 cies which exist in other stations," etc. etc. 
 
 With the hundredth letter, the author begins to give his views 
 of a state, which was precisely the very opposite of that which 
 was generally existing and approved of. The exposition of his 
 theory is given in such an easy style, is so clear, so agreeable, 
 so short, the subjects rather touched than dilated upon, that we 
 have no difficulty in conceiving, that the rigid and irrational 
 theories of the schools must have yielded before the verses of 
 Voltaire, and Montesquieu's easy prose. We call the attention 
 of our readers to the fact, that in this way the theories of the
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 133 
 
 Romish theologians and jurists were destroyed among educated 
 persons before the appearance of the ' Spirit of Laws ;' and the 
 nature of Roman and German legislation, as well as the unhappy 
 consequences of the mixture of both, were made plain to mere 
 novel readers. In the same manner, in the hundred and second 
 and hunch'ed and third letters, the proper condition of the Euro- 
 pean governments, and the nature of their modified and tempered 
 constitutions are explained. The predilection in favour of the 
 English constitution, which reigns through the whole • Spirit of 
 Laws,' clearly shows itself in the hundred and fourth letter, in 
 Avhich the principles of this constitution are explained in a com- 
 prehensible and easy manner. 
 
 In this letter and in those which immediately follow, in Avhich 
 the principles of administration and the relation of luxury and 
 industry to civilization, are discussed, the germs of that philo- 
 sophy are visible which has since pervaded the whole of the 
 French people ; but which had at first slowly and unobserved 
 given an entirely new colour to literature. This is the most re- 
 markable feature in the activity and influence of Voltaire and of 
 Montesquieu. These two, who were the greatest writers of the 
 nation, both availed themselves of poetry and morals, of the 
 forms of confidential correspondence and songs, in order to place 
 in a clear light, and to hold up to the public contempt, the 
 meanness and degradation of courtly, flattering and mercenary 
 writers. Those alone can judge how important a service this 
 was, who are well acquainted with the condition of literature at 
 that time. 
 
 As to political economy. Lord Brougham and Miss Mar- 
 tineau, as is well known, have tried to recommend their theories 
 in England, in the same manner, to a public which was not at 
 all accustomed to discuss such subjects, and very well-known 
 and learned theologians in Germany have treated the deep 
 mysteries of religious philosophy in novels ; Montesquieu pre- 
 ceded and pointed out the way to them all. And it appears to 
 us, that the two short letters in which he has characterized the 
 two systems of domestic and social life, both of which are op- 
 posed to the prevailing system, and to the teaching of the 
 church, are more to the point and more compi'ehensible than all 
 that his imitators have produced of the same kind. The question 
 is thus thrown out which Voltaire, in ' The Worldling,' dispatched 
 with a witticism : — " Are luxury and the arts advantageous or
 
 134 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 injurious to man ?" The Persian Rhedi, in a very clever and 
 ingenious manner, defends a principle with respect to the object 
 of human life, which has great similarity with the paradox, after- 
 wards so splendidly defended by Rousseau. According to this 
 principle, as Rousseau afterwards seriously maintained, the arts 
 and sciences, as well as luxury, are consequences of degene- 
 racy. Another principle is opposed to this, which is put into 
 the mouth of the Persian Usbeck. As to Rhedi's theory, pro- 
 pounded in the hundred and fifth letter, it will be seen that 
 Montesquieu, as well as Rousseau, must take his stand upon 
 morality, in order to justify it. To show how near he comes to 
 Rousseau, and how sharply he criticises his age, we shall bring 
 forward some unquestionably connect political remarks. 
 
 " I have heard,'' writes Rhedi, " that the invention of bombs 
 alone was the means of destroying the freedom of all the 
 European nations. Princes could no longer entrust their for- 
 tresses to the citizens, because these would surrender upon the 
 bursting of the very first shell. This furnished them with a 
 pretence for maintaining large standing armies, by means of 
 which they afterwards oppressed their own subjects." In the 
 same way, the discovery of the new Morld, and the increased 
 mass of gold and silver thereby brought into circulation, are 
 represented as a means of annihilating freedom and indepen- 
 dence. In the following letter, on the contrary, Usbeck em- 
 ploys Voltaire's doctrine, brought forward in * The Worldling,' 
 whicli lies at the foundation of all the modern works upon poli- 
 tical economy, and which is generally followed in life. 
 
 The contents and manner of the hundred and seventh letter 
 will be readily deduced from the conclusion, Avhich we here 
 present. " Above all, my dear Rhedi, what I have before said 
 is plain, that a prince who will be powerful, must be careful 
 that his subjects be well protected and prosperous, he must strive 
 that they should not only be well supplied with the necessaries of 
 hfe, but that they should have eveiy superfluity of luxury." 
 
 The hundred and seventh letter again returns to the criticism 
 of particular points, and contrasts the government of Louis the 
 Fourteenth with that ideal constitution which he had sketched, 
 and what is actual and existing with what is true. On this occa- 
 sion a remark is made which will find its confirmation in the first 
 division of this history — that no opinion can be formed with re- 
 spect to a governor in the West, till he has risen above the power
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 135 
 
 of his father confessor and his mistress. This naturally leads to 
 the history of Maintenon. In the hundred and thirteenth letter, 
 there are some general considerations in the first edition, which 
 were omitted in the following ones, and among others a very 
 bold proposition for those times, though not for ours, with 
 respect to the chronology of the Bible : — 
 
 " The years of the world's age cannot be numbered ; the sand 
 on the sea shore, when compared with them, is but as an in- 
 stant." In the following letters there is found the germ of all 
 those ideas from which the ^ Spirit of Laws ' took its origin. The 
 greatest part of the contents of the following letters is serious 
 and instructive, although even in these a certain degree of light- 
 ness was necessary in the form, for the class of readers for whom 
 the book was calculated ; but the author was obliged, from the 
 nature of his object, to avoid going too deeply into particulars. 
 In these parts of the book also, the whole pervading system of 
 the age, the government of the church, as well as the admini- 
 stration of the state, are seriously blamed, and the degradation 
 of the whole race of the people, which was so much censured, 
 is attributed to the evil of the systems by which they are ruled. 
 This appears in letters one hundred and sixteen and seventeen, 
 in which monogamy and polygamy are discussed. We shall elu- 
 cidate the tendency by the quotation of a single sentence : — 
 
 " The prohibition of divorce is one cause of the depopulation 
 of Christian Catholic countries, and the great number of those 
 who are not allowed to marry is a second." Montesquieu adds 
 expressly, that by those who are not allowed to marry he under- 
 stands the priests and dervises, nuns and monks, Avho are re- 
 strained by vows of perpetual celibacy. His Persian exclaims, 
 " How Christians can call this pre-eminently virtue I do not 
 comprehend, because I can form no notion of a virtue which has 
 no useful effects." This serves for an introduction to a very 
 vehement attack upon monasteries and cloister life. 
 
 After a popular explanation of the principles of political eco- 
 nomy, with respect to the increase of population and the pos- 
 sibility of providing for the support of a greatly augmented body 
 of people, there follows, in the hundred and twentieth letter, an 
 investigation on the subject of colonization, with respect to 
 which, principles are brought forward and opinions stated which 
 properly belong to the close of the eighteenth century. In the 
 hundred and twenty-second letter the absolutely governing
 
 136 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 states of Switzerland and Holland are very vigorously assailed ; 
 a few sentences will show clearly the view which he took of the 
 subject : — 
 
 " The equality of citizens itself/' he says, " usually produces 
 a certain equality in their prosperity, because it brings redun- 
 dance and life into all parts of the body politic, and spreads in 
 all directions. This is not the case in countries which obey an 
 absolute power. The prince, the courtiers and a small number of 
 private persons possess all the wealth, whilst all the rest are 
 sunk in the deepest poverty." In the following letter, the hun- 
 dred and twenty-third, a pretended decree issued by princes in 
 favour of the court is promulgated, which is so bitterly ironi- 
 cal, that its publicity could be attributed in our days only to a 
 Cobbett or an O'Connell. The following keen remark serves as 
 an introduction to this outbreak : — 
 
 " When I think of the situation of princes, who are always 
 surrounded and besieged by covetous and insatiable men, I 
 cannot do otherwise than pity their condition, and this I do the 
 more as they have not strength enough to withstand the re- 
 quests of people, to whom all acts of favour and privilege 
 granted, necessarily cause additional burthens to be laid upon 
 that portion of their subjects who ask for nothing. Whenever 1 
 hear persons speak of princely presents, of liberality, of testi- 
 monies of grace, of the salaries which they bestow,^^ etc. etc. ; 
 then follows the pretended edict, w^hose contents will readily be 
 guessed at from the words which have been introduced. The 
 hundred and thirty-first letter is naturally connected with that 
 which has been partially quoted, because in it the nature and 
 condition of the European republics are discussed, and these are 
 linked to the history of the irruption of the northern tribes 
 into the despotically governed provinces of the south of Europe, 
 and to the notion of a freer constitution and government, which 
 this irruption brought with it. The fact of the dreadful conse- 
 quences of Law's scheme, and of the paper speculations of the 
 Regency, being immediately afterwards described in the darkest 
 colours, is a piece of tactics, of which perhaps the author of the 
 ' Letters' was not himself conscious, but only instinctively 
 adopted. 
 
 In the following letters, the ignorance of the monks, the insi- 
 pidity of the whole theological litcratiu-e and of the useless wis- 
 dom of the schools, is mercilessly ridiculed. These letters are
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 137 
 
 quite In the manner of Voltaire. The following passage of the 
 hundred and thirty-fifth letter presents, in prose, almost a copy 
 of what we have quoted above in verse from Voltaire's ' Temple of 
 Taste/ which appeared later than the ' Persian Letters.' The 
 librarian of an institution, who is represented in this letter as 
 showing his treasures to the Persian, speaks to him as follows : — 
 
 "'There stand the grammarians^ glossarists, and commenta- 
 tors.' ' Father,' replied the Persian, ' might not all these 
 people have been destitute of a sound manly understanding ?' 
 ' Yes,' answered the librarian, ' understanding does not appear 
 in their books, and they are nothing the worse on that account ; 
 that is very pleasant for them.' ' True,' replied the Persian, 
 ' and I know philosophers enough who would do well to betake 
 themselves to such studies.' " On the conclusion of the letters, 
 and the remarks which are appended in order to unravel and 
 bring out the denouement of the events involved in the story of 
 the novel, we cannot delay, but must pass on to other works 
 written by the same author. 
 
 In what has preceded we have endeavoured to make it ob- 
 vious, that Montesquieu was in error when he supposed that 
 his ' Persian Letters' had had a social influence as an historical 
 creation, and not as a political and religious satire. His whole 
 strength lay in being the organ of the spirit of his age, which 
 was giving evidence of its existence by several other signs ; after, 
 therefore, he had made several attempts upon the aesthetic field, 
 he soon turned back to the political. The attempt in a depart- 
 ment which was altogether strange to him, and which he made 
 merely for the pleasure of the society which assembled in the 
 house of Mad. de Tencin, need only be mentioned in passing, 
 in order to dwell somewhat longer on his ' Considerations upon 
 Roman History.' 
 
 Immediately after his ' Persian Letters,' Montesquieu wrote 
 a prosaic poem, or if you will, a novel, called ' The Temple of 
 Gnidus,' in which he says and describes all sorts of agreeable 
 and pleasant things ; the whole, however, like his attempt at a 
 work of taste, is without philosophy properly so called, devoid of 
 vigour and life. This book was, indeed, very much read, and 
 circulated in several editions ; but the author himself felt that 
 the great public had been unaffected, and that he had given de- 
 light only to the numerous circle of his friends and the acade- 
 mic world. He drew back and disowned ' The Temple of Gni-
 
 138 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 dus/ as he had done the first unmutilated editions of the ' Per- 
 sian Letters/ but upon entirely different grounds. 
 
 Montesquieu's journey to England, and his close intimacy 
 and intercourse with Englishmen, which even extended to find- 
 ing a market for the wines of his estates, produced a great in- 
 fluence upon his remaining writings, and especially upon his 
 ' Spirit of Laws.' This may be readily traced in his ^ Considera- 
 tions,' but still more in his * Spirit of Laws,' which it will be the 
 more necessary to mention expressly in the following period, as 
 its appearance immediately preceded the proposal and elucida- 
 tion of the entirely new system of absolute democracy, which 
 was brought forward by J. J. Rousseau. Montesquieu, at this 
 time, had become a member of the Academy, he had travelled 
 through France, Italy and the Netherlands, and sojourned for 
 a time in England, almost contemporaneously with Voltaire ; 
 and it will therefore be easily perceived, that the friend and 
 confidant of Lord Chesterfield no longer altogether agreed with 
 the author of the ' Persian Letters.' 
 
 The legal order of the English, the use which they made of 
 their state religion and their livings, the life and active move- 
 ment in England, reconciled him to many things which he had 
 bitterly and hostilely attacked in his ^ Persian Letters ; ' and on 
 the other hand he entertained a more lively feeling of the degra- 
 dation to which the people of the Continent must submit for that 
 quiet which results from a vigorous police under the protection of 
 power, and he felt that moral death must be the result, the neces- 
 sary consequence, of their want of participation in all public affairs. 
 England was at that time comparatively free from the evils which 
 have since grown out of the unhappy distinction between im- 
 mense wealth and almost indescribable poverty ; and the strong 
 impression which in the very bloom of its prosperity it made 
 upon the mind of a nobleman who saw his native land given up 
 as a spoil to the arbitrary will of ministers and courtiers, is appa- 
 rent in every part of his ' Considerations.' 
 
 The * Considerations upon the Causes of the Greatness and 
 Decline of the Romans and their State,' appeared in 1734, and 
 therefore at a time when history was entirely in the hands of 
 theologians, jurists and transcribers, or of learned tasteless com- 
 pilers, from which it was first freed by Voltaire and Bolingbroke. 
 We must not however forget that Beaufort in his ^ Roman Re- 
 pubhc,' which first appeared in separate treatises in the Memoirs
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 139 
 
 of the Academy, had sho^vn no less ability in the political treat- 
 ment of history than Montesquieu, and that he far exceeded him 
 in solid inquiry and learned knowledge of the subject. More- 
 over Gibbon stood wholly upon Montesquieu's shoulders, and 
 follows his traces minutely in his ' History of the Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire : ' since the appearance of this book, 
 the whole treatment of history has assumed quite a different 
 form. 
 
 The great effect of the ' Considerations ' must not however be 
 attributed wholly to the pleasant and oratorical manner, or to 
 the peculiar ideas of the author, but also to the spirit of the 
 age, and especially to Montesquieu's position, who was quite as 
 much an object of regard in England as in his native land. 
 We could furnish not a few examples from our own times in 
 which many important men have been very largely indebted for 
 reputation as writers to their personal importance, or have been 
 helped forward by means of their French or English celebrity. 
 This remark does not deprive the work itself of any of its merit, 
 but we speak only of the effect, which, as is well known, de- 
 pends far more upon the accidents of public opinion than upon 
 real worth, of which only a very small number of persons are 
 in any condition to form an independent opinion. 
 
 We neither can nor will allow ourselves to enter upon a criti- 
 cism or minute analysis of this important book, though but small 
 in size: we must not, however, pass over the fact that it 
 merely contains the results of Montesquieu's study of history, 
 his opinions and conclusions, but no investigations or weighing 
 of particular or single facts, on which in the end the whole 
 matter rests. 
 
 The confident tone, the pointed epigrammatic sentences, the 
 definite certainty, with which opinions are pronounced on whole 
 masses of facts, Avere all calculated for the public, with whose 
 wants he became acquainted through Mad. de Tencin : a great 
 object however was incidentally gained ; the tedious and pious 
 diffuseness of Rollin, and the Jesuitical historical learning of 
 Catrou and Rouille were banished into the dark schools, where 
 obsolete knowledge alone was cultivated and pursued. It was at 
 this time very easy to bring together the results of Roman hi- 
 story, so far as was needful for intercourse, and Parisian conver- 
 sation, as at a later period, may be learned from the well-known 
 work of President Renault. A very slight acquaintance with
 
 140 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 the history of their own country was quite sufficient and suit- 
 able to the new tendency of Hterature and conversation, 
 
 Montesquieu's httle book can be regarded only as a collec- 
 tion of oracles, and a catalogue of the sins of an absolute and 
 military empire. This may be judged of from the fact that 
 the whole Roman history, from the first origin of the peo- 
 ple till the time of the crusades, is treated of in a few sheets, 
 which are most prodigally printed, and which notwithstanding 
 only make a small octavo volume of 200 pages. Montesquieu 
 can neither be regarded as a philosopher nor an historian, he is 
 an admirable orator upon history considered from a political point 
 of view, precisely as Bossuet is admirable, if the whole of man- 
 kind and history be viewed with ecclesiastical eyes. Montesquieu 
 had the English history and constitution always before him ; Bos- 
 suet, the Jewish prophets and the Christian fathers. 
 
 We are not, therefore, to seek for any learning in Montesquieu ; 
 we must not ask what connexion his book had with other books 
 which accident brought into his hands, and which he hastily read; 
 we must not inquire whether what he alleges be true or to be relied 
 upon ; the question is quite of a different kind. The allegations 
 therefore of such a work should never be considered, as is some- 
 times done, as the authority of a great man, or as oracles ; on 
 the contrary, the inquiring historian must always be led by Mon- 
 tesquieu's most distinct allegations to inquiry, in order that his 
 investigations may be fruitful ; so Gibbon at least thought, whom, 
 however, we by no means reckon amongst the number of those 
 men whom we should characterize as inquirers. 
 
 Persons scarcely ventured at this time occasionally to insi- 
 nuate a remark upon the effect of a constitution or the abuses 
 of a government; old Mezeray gave great offence by having 
 ventured so to do ; and the world was the more surprised that 
 Montesquieu had dared to use history as a political means. A 
 distinguished man and an ecclesiastic renowned as a writer, ven- 
 tured to raise up the oppressed minds of his fellow-countrymen 
 in that dark and despotic age, by the example of the greatest and 
 the most powerful nation ; and this alone would entitle his work 
 to immortality. His nation, at least those educated men whom 
 he had in his eye, were brought up by ecclesiastics : slavish fear 
 and monkish humility were so deeply imprinted in their souls, 
 that despotism everywhere found slaves, and the country no- 
 where citizens ; in his Roman history, Montesquieu taught the
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 141 
 
 meaning of patriotism and of the consciousness of inherent power 
 and unahenable right. In the description of the same nation, 
 and in opposition to this, he showed how the people had been 
 degraded by despotism, and finally, how they altogether sunk. 
 
 The ^ Considerations upon Roman History' had the same ob- 
 ject as Machiavelli's ^Discourses upon Livy;' but they did not 
 remain, like these, wholly without fruit. Besides, Montesquieu 
 was not a blind admirer of the Roman state, its religion and 
 aristocracy, as Machiavelli was. He is so far removed from blind 
 and unconditional admiration, that he does not even once repre- 
 sent the Roman state as the greatest and best, as the patriotic 
 Florentine did. No love of military pomp or glory dazzled his 
 sight, and Livy does not carry him away by the torrent of his 
 eloquent discourse. 
 
 In the plan and development of the ' Considerations' we recog- 
 nise the idea from which the ' Spirit of Laws ' sprung. On 
 the one hand, Livy had no such influence upon Montesquieu 
 as he is accustomed to have upon the learned or blind ad- 
 mirers of antiquity; on the other, Montesquieu carried with 
 him into history no mere dead learning, or even theology and 
 Christian morality, as the Jesuits and Bossuet did; nor loose 
 judgements, light and clever conversation and frivolity of mind, 
 like Voltaire. Montesquieu and Bolingbroke by their writings 
 have given to modern times quite a different idea of history from 
 that which the older writers entertained. They proved from 
 history the continually grov,ing opposition against spiritual and 
 worldly prejudices, and showed that a newly awakened and 
 living patriotism alone could compel those reforms which w'ere 
 demanded by the intelligent of all classes and refused by govern- 
 ments and the clergy, and could become means of deliverance to 
 the torpid generations of their time. 
 
 From the previous remarks it will be obvious that the ' Con- 
 siderations upon Roman History,' as well as the ^ Persian Letters,' 
 were directed against the existing order of things in France, and 
 the prevaihng priestcraft of the age ; but we must add, that 
 they indicated views which were quite as much opposed to the 
 wantonness of the enemies of every system of monarchical ad- 
 ministration, as to the barbarity of parliaments and the de- 
 spotism of ministers. The work therefore cannot, properly speak- 
 ing, be regarded as an historical one, but merely as a means of 
 awakening the world out of its theological slumbers by a philo-
 
 142 FRANCE. [chap. II, 
 
 sophical consideration of history, to withdraw its attention from 
 such books as Bossuet's well-intended ' Discourses upon Univer- 
 sal History/ the products and representations of the hierarchical 
 principle, and to destroy the influence of those learned school- 
 books which were intentionally prepared and upheld at the charge 
 of the various governments for the maintenance of their own 
 views. These objects were fully attained. 
 
 We shall introduce merely two or three passages from the 
 * Considerations,' in order more exactly to point out the con- 
 nexion of this important book with its time, and its probable in- 
 fluence upon the public, and to prove that Montesquieu, by his 
 method of considering history, became in some measure a poli- 
 tical prophet. The first passage which we shall quote is admi- 
 rably suited to the last years of the French republic. He takes 
 occasion to allege that the cause of the decline and fall of Roman 
 freedom is not to be found in the restlessness or even tumults 
 of the people, but in the greatness and extension of their do- 
 minion, and in the splendour of the capital. He observes : — 
 
 " As long as the Roman people were only stirred up by their 
 tribunes, on w'hom they had nothing to bestow, except that 
 power which they themselves possessed, the senate w^as easily 
 able to defend itself against popular tumults ; because its power 
 and authority were permanent, Avhereas that of the masses 
 generally passes from the greatest vehemence to the greatest 
 weakness : but all this immediately changed as soon as the people 
 were in a condition to confer on their tribunes great powers 
 beyond the bounds of the city. From this time forward all the 
 w isdom of the senate was fruitless, and the republic was lost. 
 The reason," he continues, " why free states are not so enduring 
 as others is chiefly to be found in this, that the great success as 
 well as misfortunes which they experience are destructive of 
 their freedom ; whereas, in states in which the freedom of the 
 people is annihilated, success as well as misfortune only makes 
 slavery more oppressive. A wise republic, therefore, should 
 never, pro])erly speaking, luidertake any thing by which it runs 
 the risk either of extraordinary success or probable failure, but 
 should always seek after the firm maintenance of its position 
 and circumstances as its chief good. The extent of its dominion, 
 therefore, destroyed the Roman republic, and the greatness of 
 the city did not a little contribute to the consummation." This 
 is afterwards proved at length.
 
 § II.] MONTESQUIEU. 143 
 
 In the same manner as we have apphed this passage to the 
 recent history of France, Montesquieu himself has directed 
 one of his observations immediately against the then miserable 
 unlimited government of his country ; for he actually refers to 
 France, although he pretends just before to be speaking of the 
 East alone. " If," says he, " any one requires that the citi- 
 zens of a free state should be at the same time bold in war 
 and timorous in peace, he seeks an impossibility, and it may be 
 taken as a general rule that freedom has altogether disappeared 
 from a state which calls itself a republic, as soon as every man 
 in the state remains in a condition of quiet repose. The word 
 unity, when spoken of a political body, is very equivocal ; true 
 unity is that agreement, by virtue of v/hich all the parts of a 
 whole, however opposed to each other they may appear, con- 
 tribute to its well-being, as dissonances in music to the har- 
 mony of the piece." 
 
 " There may therefore," he continues, " be the most perfect 
 harmony in a state, in which externally nothing is seen but dis- 
 quiet, i. e. a harmony from which that kind of success proceeds, 
 which alone is true peace. But in the accord and agreement of 
 Asiatic despotism, i. e. of that species of government which is 
 unlimited, there is always true disunion. The peasant, the sol- 
 dier, the official and the nobleman have that sort of union and 
 connexion between them only, in which the one can oppress the 
 other, without fear of resistance or controul." It will be seen 
 from these words, what was the opinion entertained by one of the 
 most distinguished nobles and landowners in France (about 
 1734), with respect to the constitution and government of his 
 native country. We shall add still another passage, which has 
 received a splendid confirmation in the history of the French 
 revolution. " There is no state," says Montesquieu, '' which 
 more strongly threatens others with conquest, than that which 
 experiences the horrors of civil war. Every man, — noble, 
 burgher, peasant, artisan, — becomes a soldier ; and w hen the 
 parties have made peace, and united their strength, they have 
 great advantages over those states in which every man is a citi- 
 zen, and follows his peaceful occupation. Besides, it is precisely 
 in such disturbed states of society, as during the existence of 
 civil wars, that the greatest men are formed ; because in the 
 general confusion, men of talents and merit pave a w ay for them- 
 selves : for in such times every man finds out and assumes the
 
 144 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 place most suited to his powers, instead of having his place and 
 sphere, as in ordinary times, pointed out to him by other per- 
 sons, or constrained by circumstances, when he usually occu- 
 pies the wrong position/' 
 
 These passages wdll show the way in which Montesquieu, in 
 his work, makes history of an importance in the life and admi- 
 nistration of the state, of which the French, till that time, had 
 not the slightest conception. He shed a new light upon poli- 
 tics, which afterwards enlightened all those persons in the dif- 
 ferent states of Europe, who sought to substitute a new prin- 
 ciple and a new order for that obsolete and untenable one, which 
 could only be upheld by force. We shall speak of the ' Spirit of 
 Laws' in the following period ; for when this work appeared, the 
 new doctrine had already made great advances, and was loudly 
 announced in the tone-giving societies of Paris, and at the court 
 of Berlin. We pass on therefore to speak of the first apostles 
 of the system preached by Voltaire, or the scoffers whom Fre- 
 derick the Second invited to come to him from Holland, and in 
 connexion with them, in the following paragraphs we shall refer 
 to the history of the so-called bureaux d' esprit in Paris, in order 
 to avoid the necessity of returning to them in the next period, to 
 which they both properly belong. 
 
 §111. 
 
 WRITERS IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE, W^HO, IN THE FIRST 
 HALF OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, WERE PROTECTED 
 BY FREDERICK THE SECOND. 
 
 As we wish to bring all that relates to the men with Avhom 
 Frederick the Second surrounded himself from 1 740-1 7G0 within 
 a short compass, we depart from the strict order of time, as we 
 shall also do in the histoiy of German mental culture and im- 
 provement, in order fully to explain these points here ; because 
 we shall not frequently return to them, as it is necessary for 
 us to do to the great Avriters of the age. 
 
 The Berlin Frenchmen were for the most part called from 
 Holland, where they had taken refuge, as in very recent times 
 many admired German writers in the lighter departments of li- 
 terature have taken refuge in Paris ; their works, however, not- 
 withstanding all the prohibitions of the government, were ex-
 
 § III.] BERLIN FRENCHMEN. 145 
 
 tensively circulated in France, because the Dutch booksellers 
 made their prohibited works a matter of formal and systematic 
 speculation. A hierarchical and hypocritically religious tone 
 prevailed in France under Fleury's administration ; every man 
 who looked for public employment was obliged to fall in with 
 this tone, and multitudes sought to compensate themselves in 
 secret for this public restraint*. Every free mind, every man 
 of intelligence, hated this compulsory hypocrisy, hated the op- 
 pressive bonds which made every free expression of opinion 
 either impossible, or subjected it to grievous penalties, and peo- 
 ple soon learnt to abhor every thing connected with a system 
 which could be so abused. This circumstance gave an import- 
 ance to the writings of such men as La Mettrie, De Prades, 
 D'Argout, D'Argent and others, which they could never other- 
 wise have had. The writings of these men, which had been 
 otherwise quite unimportant, received also some weight and in- 
 fluence from their authors having been encouraged and honoured 
 by the greatest man of the century, and from having been ex- 
 posed to the opposition and clamour of the dull, learned, ortho- 
 dox scholars in Germany and France. The circumstances of 
 their abuse and attempt at refutation first really awakened the 
 attention of the people to the subject. The weapons of the 
 schools, the abuse, and the dead learning of the official defenders 
 of the reigning system, never reached the light-armed scoffers ; 
 their public, like themselves, laughed at the learned, their ar- 
 tificial and cumbrous phraseology, and their folios. 
 
 It is worthy of remark in reference to the least estimable 
 class of the writers about to be mentioned, that they, as well 
 as their favourers in Prussia, sprung from the very bosom of 
 the affected piety, hypocrisy and severity of the old theological 
 schools. The rudest and boldest of the scoffers. La Mettrie, 
 had been strictly brought up and educated by Jesuits and 
 Jansenists, as Frederick and his sister in Bayreuth had been 
 by a most pious and orthodox father. We cannot more clearly 
 show how powerful the voice of the opponents of Chris- 
 tianity, the enemies of all the remnants of the middle ages, 
 had already become in France in the first half of the eighteenth 
 century, under the government of the pious and just Cardinal 
 Fleury, than by introducing what the Abbe llanchon, in his 
 
 * ' Prussia at the present Time.' 
 VOL. I. I.
 
 146 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 ^Life' of the cardinal^ has extracted from his memoranda^ and has 
 given as his own words*. The substance of the words, which 
 we borrow from the abbe's manuscript history, is, that the 
 abbe and his cardinal foresaw a revolution in all existing insti- 
 tutions, as a thing unavoidable, which the cardinal denotes, by 
 a christian and biblical expression, as " the end of the world.'^ 
 The event has, however, proved that it was only the cardinal's 
 world which came to an end, the other is become neither better 
 nor worse than it was before. This leaves our minds little dis- 
 posed to fall in with the theological lamentations of the cardinal 
 and his abbe. We have a firmer trust in the Divine Providence 
 than these ecclesiastical gentlemen had. We are therefore full 
 of confidence even in our days, that the same fate will overtake 
 the foolish men and demented governments, who wish to recon- 
 struct the world, which by God's indignation was destroyed at 
 the end of the eighteenth century, as befell the builders at the 
 tower of Babel. As to the complaints of the prime minister, 
 the Abbe Ranchon assures us that the cardinal had written in 
 his memoranda ; — " The time of the Regency was a period of 
 the spirit of dissoluteness and iiTehgion, which had spread over 
 all France; the glory of the Dake of Orleans removed these 
 stains." 
 
 " In those times there appeared those licentious and destruc- 
 tive writings, on which a poison prepared by the most skilful 
 hands was shed, which destroyed the morals of the people, 
 and in consequence, a memorial of dissolute life and of ruinous 
 demoralization will be handed down to future times and cen- 
 turies. Pomp and pleasure drew Frenchmen and strangers 
 from all quarters to Paris. The sinful splendour of the theatre 
 and of public exhibitions almost exceeded those of the times of 
 the greatest heathen licentiousness and demoralization, as the 
 pride of architecture and the astonishing splendour of decorations 
 w^re almost boundless ; the maddening passion for gambling 
 ruined thousands of families ; luxury increased and became bur- 
 thensome even to those who had introduced it, in consequence 
 of the continuance of intolerable customs." Then follows the 
 
 * Ranchon's ' Life of Cardinal Fleury,' dedicated to the pope, which, in ac- 
 cordance with his holiness's desire, was not printed, contains, verbatim, the 
 memoranda of the cardinal. These two beautifully written folio volumes, 
 which in other respects were of little use to us, will be found in the Archives 
 du Royaime, Carton K. 163.
 
 § III.] BERLIN FRENCHMEN. 147 
 
 passage, on account of which especially we have introduced this 
 altogether lamentable discourse : — 
 
 *^ Long before this time, people had published works in Eng- 
 land A\4iich introduced infidelity into the system ; works in which 
 the appearance of uncertainty was intentionally given to the 
 truths of Christianity, which are universally believed and ac- 
 knowledged as well-grounded. In other writings a surprising 
 and ridiculous exhibition was made of our discourses upon reve- 
 lation, and our belief in mysteries, and that in the boldest lan- 
 guage. Appeals were made to the rights of reason and of a sound 
 understanding, people built systems of godliness according to 
 their own notions, and set forth propositions which were full of 
 error and deceit, which therefore deserved the name of decrees for 
 the annihilation of religion. Precisely in the time of the Regency 
 a multitude of these offensive and irreligious books were brought 
 over the sea, France was deluged with them, or rather all the 
 minds of those were poisoned, who amongst us made any pre- 
 tensions to strength of mind or to comprehensive views ; for by 
 such persons these works were most greedily swallowed." — It is 
 difficult to conceive how it was possible for an intelligent man 
 like the cardinal, or even the abbe, not to see what must follow 
 from all this if it had been really true. — " Soon afterwards," he 
 continues, " great numbers, misled by the charm of ungodliness, 
 and almost all the brilliant minds, almost all our contemporaries 
 who in respect to mental culture and tastes approximated to the 
 ancients, studied the books of the English, which announced 
 Deism ; and this because the French were captivated by the 
 pride of an unbending mind, which unreasonably despises all 
 subjection and rises up in opposition to the existing state of 
 things. From this time forward the so-called philosophers con- 
 tended against all divine and human laws, sometimes under one 
 pretence, and sometimes under another, and often without a pre- 
 tence at all. These books allured readers by the charm of pre- 
 tended freedom, and cast doubts upon every thing which for two 
 thousand years had been acknowledged as fact. They released 
 minds and hearts from all feelings of reverence for the Most 
 High, and from all respect for existing powers {puissances). 
 These books, in which religion is openly attacked, recommend 
 at the same time that the will and the views, the rights and the 
 claims, of unlimited monarchs should be subjected to close ex- 
 amination." These last words are important for our purpose, 
 
 L 2
 
 148 FRANCE. [CIIAP. II. 
 
 and quite decisive as to the views of both these men ; we shall 
 only add thereto, what the cardinal (as the abbe reports) is said 
 to have recorded in his memoranda, on the subject of the pro- 
 gress of irreligion. 
 
 He announced to the French prelates, that " The end of the 
 world was near, because this infidelity and demoralization had 
 become general ; people are now to be seen only who are given 
 over to the presumptuousness of their pride, or to the conse- 
 quences of the errors into which their passions lead them. 
 Never was so much luxurious pomp exhibited, never such an 
 insolent opposition to virtue. Luxury lives onl}'' by injustice, 
 the condition of irreligious excess into which every man has 
 plunged, destroys the foundation of all morals. No one," he adds, 
 '' raises his voice against it, no one finds it strange that all our 
 contemporaries should suffer themselves to be carried away by 
 the stream which leads them to adopt the generally prevailing 
 prejudice, so that it is of no avail to live better than others, be- 
 cause after this life nothing remains of us. Passions have led 
 astray the heart and understanding, have extinguished in us 
 the light of reason, or at least obscured it. We seem indeed to 
 have come to the last day, in which Christian love has grown 
 cold, in which ungodliness reigns, and when the son of man 
 appears shall he find faith upon the earth ?" 
 
 In order in some measure to justify the cardinal and his bio- 
 grapher in their complaints, which appear to show but little 
 confidence in the divine government of the world, vre shall re- 
 mark, that the most scandalous man of his age, to whom Fre- 
 derick afterwards extended his protection, was at this time pur- 
 suing his course in Paris. The physician La Mettrie lived and 
 compiled his immoral books in Paris, till he wrote his Machi- 
 avellism of physicians against the first court doctors, Helvetius, 
 Astruc, Moulin, Marcot, Sidobre and others ; as soon as this was 
 published, he was obliged to fly to Holland, and there he com- 
 posed his comedy ' La Faculte vengee.' 
 
 La Mettrie's example is one of the best proofs of the near 
 connexion between blind faith and mad infidelity, and how short 
 the passage from the one to the other really is. He changed 
 the wit of Voltaire and the fine satire of others, into a formal 
 system of wickedness and ungodly sensuality. The Jesuits 
 and Jansenists had imbued him with their blind faith and theo- 
 logical learning ; he soon threw off the mask, and like Rabelais,
 
 § III.] BERLIN FRENCHMEN. 149 
 
 who was also an ecclesiastic, fought them with their own wea- 
 pons. He turned his attention from theology to medicine, and 
 filled the world with miserable books, full of shocking immoral- 
 ities : with his shameless ignorance he combined the greatest 
 boldness in giving out for his own other persons' inventions, dis- 
 coveries and observations. We do not think it worth while to 
 speak of the contents of his contemptible works : they Avill be 
 readily surmised from the titles *, which we subjoin in a note. 
 The Marquis d' Argent, who was also one of the idolisers of Vol- 
 taire, said of him, with justice, that " he preached the theory of 
 sin with the shamelessness of a fool." The parliament of Paris 
 and the magistrates of Leyden caused his book to be burnt : 
 the young king of Prussia however invited him to Berlin, kept 
 him about him as his companion, and endured his gross man- 
 ners till 1751 J i. e. till his death. 
 
 The works of this dissolute and sensual reviler of every serious 
 principle and of every higher eifort, which perhaps no one in our 
 times would notice, foimd a rapid sale in that dark age, because 
 he directed his attention to a public who took delight in scandal 
 and sensuality. He compiled and mutilated other persons' 
 works, abused Haller and Boerhaave, and filled his writings to 
 loathing with the comfortless doctrines of sin, which he an- 
 nounced and propagated with a vehemence approaching to mad- 
 ness : notwithstanding all this, they were collected twice after 
 his death, and were read with eagerness and curiosity by the 
 higher classes ; for at that time and on many grounds such 
 books never came into the hands of the lower f. 
 
 As to Frederick the Second, it never occurred to him to dis- 
 turb the faith of his simple Germans ; on the contrary, whilst 
 he himself was praising and ordering La Mettrie's French ini- 
 
 * His medical writings, good or bad, do not fall within our sphere ; we 
 shall not for a moment think of his abusive satires against physicians and 
 medicine, because they may be sought out in literary works ; we remark only 
 in passing that the book ' La Politique du Medecin de Machiavel,' was that 
 which was burnt by command of the Parliament. His worst and most sin- 
 gular works are those which contain his atheism, materialism and theory of 
 sin, &c. The ' Histoire Naturelle de I'ame ' (1746), and ' L'homme machine' 
 (1748) were printed in Holland; the latter however was burnt in Leyden. 
 ' L'homme plante,' ' Les Reflexions sur I'origin des animaux,' 'Art de jouir,' 
 ' Venus Metaphysique,' were published in Berlin, although printed, or some 
 of them at least, in Holland. 
 
 ■f- They were first collected by command of the king, or some other high 
 personage, and printed in 4to, 1751 : a second time iii 1774, in two places. 
 The Amsterdam edition was intended for France.
 
 150 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 quity to be printed, he prohibited Gebhardi's German scru- 
 ples * ; his intercourse besides with La Mettrie was greatest at 
 a time in which his hatred against hypocrisy, pedantry, affecta- 
 tion of piety, and narrow-mindedness, from Avhich he had suf- 
 fered so much, was most vehement. He thought himself ob- 
 liged to root out these enemies of the progress of human im- 
 provement, though it should even be by ungodliness ; and more- 
 over, he now compensated himself in the clever society of his 
 French wits, for the tedium which he had been obliged to endure 
 as Crown Prince. Frederick might have the same opinions with 
 respect to La Mettrie and like-minded men, as the cardinal and 
 his biographer had ; but what appeared to the latter the last 
 day of the old world, must have been regarded by him as the 
 creation of a new one. In this way alone can Frederick be ex- 
 cused for having caused to be read in the Berlin Academy, by 
 his own secretary, a eulogy upon La Mettrie composed by him- 
 self. It must at the same time be knoAvn that La Mettrie Mas 
 a flatterer of the great, a spunger at their tables, and willingly 
 admitted as a vulgar jest-maker for company, from Mhich he 
 was never absent, and that he died of indigestion which was 
 brought on by indulgence at the table of the English ambas- 
 sador in Berlin f. 
 
 Next to La Mettrie, we shall mention De Prades, and 
 D' Argent ; but we do not venture to allege that their writings 
 had any influence ; besides, we must again allude to the former, 
 in the following period when we come to speak of the encyclo- 
 pedists. The Marquis d' Argent however must be introduced 
 on this ground, that before he came to the court of Frederick 
 he had pushed a regular trade in books, founded on the spirit of 
 speculation, and written from Holland after the manner of 
 Voltaire and Montesquieu, although not with their talents. 
 
 D' Argent had served in the army which the Duke of Berwick 
 had led to the Rhine ; dissipation, debts and quarrels with his 
 
 * Gcbliardi, a contributcr to Gottschcd's magazines, caused two treatises of 
 a rationalist cast to be printed in Berlin, 1743-4. (1. ' Rational Thoughts con- 
 cerning the mathematical Mode of teaching ITieolog}'.' 2. 'Concerning Miracles.') 
 They were forbidden by royal command, and Sulzcr writes to Glcim, March .30, 
 1748 : " Do you know that young Riidigcr is sent for six months to Spandau, 
 because he has printed a work in which the Christian religion and its heralds 
 are attacked ? The ecclesiastical Sancho Panza, Dr. Pott, is its author ; people 
 are curious to know what wnll happen to him." 
 
 t Much may be read of this man in the numerous writings about Frederick 
 the Second, in Thiebault, dc la Veaux, &c., most frequently and often un- 
 justly in Denina.
 
 (^ III.] BERLIN FRENCHMEN. 151 
 
 family who were of note in Provence, had driven him to 
 Holland, at the time in which many of his fellow-countrymen 
 sought to maintain themselves there by writing. About this 
 time Montesquieu's ' Persian Letters' commanded a large sale, 
 and found a very numerous body of readers ; D'Argent therefore 
 gave his books the form and clothing of the * Persian Letters.' 
 There appeared a long series of volumes of ^Jewish Letters,' from 
 his pen, then a series of ' Cabalistic,' and a third of * Chinese 
 Letters,' in which the traditionary opinions and the ruling sy- 
 stems of the time were attacked with great freedom. This kind 
 of writing was exclusively honoured in his time with the name of 
 philosophy, and by this sort of philosophy the young writer re- 
 commended himself to Voltaire, who had about this very time 
 formed his acquaintance with the then Crown Prince of Prussia. 
 Voltaire afterwards recommended to his friend the Crown 
 Prince, this new and bold announcer of a doctrine which he 
 himself had only secretly circulated, concealed under the form 
 of poetry, and in books to which he did not venture to prefix 
 his name. Frederick the Second immediately invited the Marquis 
 d' Argent to Berlin ; but the latter, on account of the remark- 
 able size of his stature, did not dare to put himself in the power 
 of Frederick William, and visited Berhn after his death only. 
 
 We must cast a glance upon the whole literary career of the 
 marquis, who was of great importance in Germany, in conse- 
 quence of his connexion with Voltaire and Frederick, but espe- 
 cially from the influence which the latter gave him in connexion 
 with his Frenchified academy in Berlin, because he was there 
 the apostle of a new gospel. Whilst he was known in France 
 by name only, he first became a man of note"" in Berlin, as the 
 author of some rather wanton novels and apocryphal memoirs, 
 partly feigned, and partly of real persons. To the latter class 
 belongs Count Bonneval, who has been mentioned as a Turkish 
 pasha. Then follow the ' Jewish Letters,' which are merely arti- 
 cles such as were then in demand by the Dutch booksellers, and 
 which were introduced in multitudes into France. 
 
 Among D' Argent's earlier sceptical writings, the ^Jewish 
 Letters' are the best, although they were spun out to the length 
 of eight volumes, and are now no longer readable. The six 
 volumes of Chinese, and the seven volumes of cabahstic let- 
 ters, are still weaker. There is, however, in all these letters, 
 that variety and multiplicity of knowledge which is so import-
 
 152 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 ant for conversation, and which is the more amusing, in pro- 
 portion as it is superficial. He afterwards propounded his 
 philosophy in a connected form in a book, to which he gave the 
 title of * La Philosophic du Bon Sens.' He was well acquainted 
 with life, he had served in the army, been connected with the law, 
 travelled in France, Spain, and as far as Constantinople, before 
 he came to seek his fortune in Holland. He must therefore 
 necessarily have had the advantage of great experience, he had 
 collected many anecdotes, and drawn various knowledge from a 
 great variety of sources ; but we seek in vain in his manufac- 
 tured articles for the liveliness and originality of Montesquieu's 
 ^ Persian Letters,' or for the richness in turns of expression and 
 taste, which characterise the ' English Letters' of Voltaire. His 
 books also only excited a passing attention at the time of their 
 appearance, and were very soon forgotten. Voltaire makes his 
 scepticism and satire attractive, by his style and manner ; but 
 D'Argent and such like people, were not only deficient in indi- 
 viduality and taste, but also in industry. 
 
 If it excites our wonder that Frederic chose such a man as an 
 intimate friend, and made him director of the fine arts in his 
 academy, we should remember, as respects the former, that the 
 ^Jewish Letters' had given great pleasure to the Crown Prince ; 
 and as to the latter, that D'Argent was by no means wanting in 
 ill-digested knowledge. Before he came to Berlin, he had carried 
 on a successful controversy with the orthodox and dark Paris 
 academician and grammarian, D'Olivet, with respect to Cicero's 
 treatise '^ On the Nature of the Gods ;' and his ' Philosophy of 
 Sound Reason' had already gone through two editions in 1740. 
 He sought in Germany to gain reputation for himself by his 
 Greek learning, and to bring forward the oldest writers in favour 
 of his new system. 
 
 D'Argent Avished to work upon the learned Germans, by 
 means of learning, and Voltaire, who in other respects laughed 
 at and ridiculed the man who combined the most absurd fancies 
 and ridiculous superstition with the most complete unbelief, 
 availed himself of him, in order to collect from the old Greeks, 
 materials to carry on the struggle against Christianity. 
 
 The activity of the Berlin Frenchmen had, moreover, a very 
 beneficial influence in relation to German writers, who at a later 
 period carried on war against what was ancient, under the stand- 
 ard of Nicolai. D'Argent's influence, his superficial reading.
 
 § in.] BERLIN FRENCHMEN. 153 
 
 his sophistry, the leading which he had in the Berlin academy, 
 roused up a party among those Nicolaitans, who strove most 
 eagerly against every thing old and antiquated, and this party 
 became the protectors of German seriousness, in opposition to 
 French wantonness and shallowness. We need not in this 
 respect appeal to Mendelssohn or Lessing, but only direct atten- 
 tion to the fact, that Nicolai himself was the publisher of Mozer's 
 minor writings, which for the most part are directed against 
 the immoral tendency of the French writers. 
 
 It is no part of our purpose to pass any judgement upon the 
 value of the publications, modifications, translations and expla- 
 nations of the primitive Pythagorean philosophers, which 
 D'Argent transformed and worked up after his own fashion ; we 
 must leave all that to the properly learned philosophers and 
 Hellenists; we shall not attempt to deduce from his far-fetched, 
 bold and superficial publications, what system he wished to in- 
 troduce to the German public, by means of his translated Py- 
 thagoreans ; this will all appear in the next period. When we 
 come to speak of the Parisian school, we shall only mention in 
 general the books of the marquis, which he published in Berlin, 
 and direct attention to their contents. 
 
 The books from which the marquis sought for his theory, 
 were at least works of a philosophical nature ; but before he 
 published his theory he had translated and published an abusive 
 treatise against Christians and Christianity. This was the 
 well-known discourse of the Emperor Julian, in favour of the 
 state religion of the Greeks and Romans. Voltaire accompanied 
 this translation with notes, in his manner. As Julian's vehe- 
 ment enmity to Christianity, and Voltaire's eager zeal to render 
 it absurd and hateful, are well known, it Avill be obvious that the 
 marquis was only a tool in the hands of the latter. 
 
 The treatise of Ocellus Lucanus, ' On the Nature of the Uni- 
 verse, and the Eternity of Matter,' shows by its title the object 
 for which D'Argent wished to use the translation of it which he 
 published. The book itself belongs to the most remote anti- 
 quity, and as it is said, served Plato for the basis of his philo- 
 sophy, which he founded upon the Pythagorean. The same 
 treatise was recast and published by a Parisian academician, at 
 the same time as it was given to the world by D'Argent. The 
 Parisian translator was the serious, worthy, and learned Batteux, 
 who was so far from wishing to use the work against the Chris-
 
 154 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 tian philosophy, that he had a scientific object always in his 
 view. Batteux's translation appeared in the * Memoirs of the 
 Parisian Academy.' D'Argent, on the contrary, made it no 
 secret in Berlin, that his translation was published chiefly with 
 the view of opposing the learned heterodox investigations of a 
 Pythagorean, or at least of an old Doric Greek, to the orthodox 
 metaphysics of Leibnitz and Wolf. The idea of a primitive 
 creation, which was entertained by philosophers, in which the 
 agency of a God was not needed, and his notions upon the 
 eternity of matter possessed of an eternal self-moving power, 
 were quite in accordance with the fashionable philosophy of the 
 Parisian circle, and also received the stamp of cun*ency in 
 Sans-Souci. Ocellus Lucanus, moreover, like D'Ai^gent and 
 Voltaire, discoursed about a morality which was not founded 
 upon any feeling of reverence or fear for the name and power of 
 God. This work was followed by a translation and explanation 
 of the treatise of ^ Timaeus of Locris, upon the Soul of the 
 World.' On this point also D'Argent and Batteux came into 
 collision, for the latter also translated 'Timaeus,' and incorpo- 
 rated his treatises in the * Memoirs of the Academy.' The 
 learned differ in their opinions with respect to the antiquity of 
 this book, which was translated by Batteux and D'Argent. 
 Some imagine that Plato made it the foundation of his dialogue, 
 attributed to Timaius, in which the doctrine of the soul of the 
 world is treated of ; others say that it is only an extract or sum- 
 mary of the Platonic Timeeus ; and many altogether deny the 
 antiquity of the work, and regard it as the fabrication of a much 
 later period. We may leave all this undetermined, since it 
 appears from the very title of the work, that the book itself, or 
 at least the translation of it, had a similar object with all that 
 D'Ai'gent and Voltaire undertook. D'Argent has also appended 
 remarks and dissertations to this translation, which are full of 
 undigested learning, collected indiscriminately from all quarters, 
 and mixed up with the boldest sophistical observations. If 
 D'Argent's work be compared with what Batteux has done, the 
 conclusion Mill be arrived at, that the Berlin academician has 
 dealt with the ancient philosopher as a sophist, and the Parisian 
 as a man of solid learning. This may be regarded as sufficient 
 for these insignificant people, to whom the friendship of the 
 King of Prussia has given some historical importance.
 
 § IV.] LEARNED COTERIES IN PARIS. 155 
 
 §IV. 
 
 LEARNED COTERIES IN PARIS. — {Burectux d'esprit.) 
 
 If we venture to bring the Parisian evening, dinner and sup- 
 per parties into connexion with the general history of Europe, 
 and the ladies also at whose houses these parties took place, we 
 can neither be blamed for scrupulous severity, nor for para- 
 doxical frivolity. It belongs to the character of the eight- 
 eenth century, that the historian who wishes to bring the true 
 springs of conduct and sources of action to light, must con- 
 descend even so far. It must also be borne in mind, when the 
 clever women and societies of Paris are spoken of, that the de- 
 mands of the age and progressive improvement and culture were 
 altogether unattended to at the court of Louis the Fifteenth, 
 as well before as after the death of Cardinal Fleury, and that all 
 which was neglected at Versailles was cultivated in Paris. The 
 court and the city had been hitherto united in their wants and 
 in their judgement; the court ruled education, fashion and the 
 general tone, as it ruled the state ; now, however, they completely 
 separated. Afterwards the voice of the city was raised in oppo- 
 sition, and the voice of this opposition became the organ of the 
 age and of the country ; but it was felt and recognised in Ver- 
 sailles only when it was too late. How easy it would have been 
 then, as Marmontel had shown very clearly in his memoirs, 
 to fetter Voltaire, \A'ho was offensive to the people, and how im- 
 portant this would have been for the state, will appear in the 
 following paragraphs, in which we shall show that even the Pa- 
 risian theatre, whose boards were regarded as a model by all 
 Europe, freed itself from the influence of the court, became 
 dependent on the tone-giving circles of Paris, and assumed a 
 decidedly democratic direction. 
 
 As early as the time of Louis the Fourteenth, the court had 
 separated itself from the learned men of the age ; and at the end 
 of the seventeenth century the houses and societies could be 
 historically pointed out, in which judgements were pronounced 
 upon questions of literature in the same manner as the pit be- 
 came the tribunal to which plays and play-actors must appeal -, 
 we shall not, however, go back so far, but keep the later times 
 always in our view. We have shown above, when speaking of 
 Voltaire's youthful education and training, what kind of societies
 
 156 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 those associations were, in which the Abbe de Chauheu and 
 other friends of Vendome and Conti led the conversation. Lite- 
 rature was brought wholly under the dominion of audacious pre- 
 tension and immorality, in the time of the Regency and during 
 the minority of Louis the Fifteenth. In reference to the leaders 
 there needs no proof. What could a Philip of Orleans or his 
 Dubois take under his protection, except what corresponded with 
 his ideas and mode of life ? 
 
 The time of the minority of Louis the Fifteenth and that of 
 the administration of Cardinal Fleury was for several reasons 
 highly favourable to the formation of private societies, which en- 
 tertained themselves with wit and satire, and carried on a quiet 
 but continual contest with the persons and systems which were 
 protected by the government and the clergy. Fleury regarded 
 every thing as sinful which had the appearance of worldly know- 
 ledge, or partook of the character of jests, novels, or plays ; Louis, 
 as he grew up, showed himself c[uite indifferent to every thing 
 which had no connexion with religious ceremonies, hunting, or 
 handsome women. Fleury spoke and wrote in that ecclesiasti- 
 cal phraseology which was laughed at in the world : he favoured 
 the clergy, school learning, the tone of the times of Louis the Four- 
 teenth ; but the spirit of the age demanded something different 
 from this. All that was regarded with disflivour by Fleury as- 
 sembled around those celebrated men, who held their reunions 
 in Paris, and this court soon became more important to the vain 
 than the royal one itself, and it was proved by experience that 
 reputation and glory might be gained without the aid or protec- 
 tion of the court at Versailles. This no one could have previ- 
 ously believed, but the public soon learnt to do homage to the 
 tone-giving scholars, to the ladies and gentlemen who fostered 
 them, as it had formerly paid its homage to the ministers of the 
 court. This gave to the ladies, who collected around them the 
 celebrated men of the time (for reputation was much more the 
 question than merit), and who protected and entertained them, a 
 degree of weight in the political and literary world, which made 
 them as important in the eighteenth century as Richelieu and 
 Colbert had been in the seventeenth. 
 
 The queen, on her part, might have been able to exercise 
 a beneficial influence, however little power she had in other 
 respects, when compared with the mistresses of the king; 
 but the daughter of Stanislaus Leckzinski was a gentle admi-
 
 § IV.] LEARNED COTERIES IN PARIS. 157 
 
 rable woman, although somewhat narrow-minded, and wholly- 
 given up to irrational devotional exercises and bigotry. Like 
 her father, she was altogether in the hands of the Jesuits, 
 blindly and unconditionally their servant; such an attachment 
 to a religious order, and such blind devotedness as hers would 
 be quite incredible, if we did not possess her own and her father's 
 autograph letters, as proofs of the fact. We shall present our 
 readers with some extracts from these letters, which are pre- 
 served in the archives of the French empire, when we come to 
 speak of the abolition of the order of Jesuits. 
 
 As to the enlightened mistresses who had much more power and 
 influence than the queen. Pompadour seemed, as we learn from 
 Marmontel, desirous of participating in the literature of the 
 age and of doing something for its promotion, Avhen she saw 
 how important writers and the influence of the press had be- 
 come; but partly because both she and the king Avere alto- 
 gether destitute of any sense for the beautiful in literature or 
 art, and partly because the better portion of the learned men 
 at the time neither could nor would be pleased with what a 
 Bernis, Diiclos and Marmontel were disposed to be, who un- 
 doubtedly received some marks of favour from her. Voltaire 
 is therefore quite right when he lays upon the court the blame 
 of allowing the influence which literature then exercised upon 
 the people, to be withdrawn altogether from the king and his 
 ministers, and to be transferred to the hands of the Parisian la- 
 dies and farmers-general, &c. Voltaire, in his well-known verses*, 
 admits, with great openness and simplicity, that he attached 
 much importance to the applause of a court, although it neither 
 possessed judgement nor feeling for the merits of a writer, nor 
 for poetical beauties ; and he complains at the same time that 
 this court had neither duly estimated his tragedies nor his epic 
 poems. It is characteristic both of the court and of Voltaire 
 that he eagerly pressed himself forward for admission to its 
 favour, and sought to attract attention by a work which 
 he himself called a piece of trash, and that the court ex- 
 tended its approbation and applause to this miserable and 
 
 * Mon Henri quatre et ma Zaire, 
 Et mon Americaine Alzire, 
 Ne m'ont valu jamais un seul regard du roi ; 
 J'eus beaucoup d'enncmis avec tres-peu de gloire. 
 Les honneurs et les biens pleuvent enfin sur moi 
 Pour une farce de la foire. — La Princesse de Navarre,
 
 158 FRANCE. ■ [chap. II. 
 
 altogether inappropriate piece {' La Princesse cle Navarre'), which 
 he composed on the occasion of the Dauphin's marriage with 
 the Infanta of Spain, whilst it entirely neglected his master- 
 pieces. 
 
 The Paris societies had got full possession of the field of lite- 
 rature, and erected their tribunals before the middle of the cen- 
 tury, whilst at Versailles nothing was spoken or thought of ex- 
 cept amusements and hunting, Jesuits and processions, and 
 the grossest sensuality prevailed. The members of the Parisian 
 societies were not a whit more moral or decent in their beha- 
 viour than those about the court at Versailles, but they carried 
 on open war against hypocrisy, and all that was praised and ap- 
 proved of by the court. 
 
 We shall now proceed to mention three or four of the most 
 distinguished of those societies, which have obtained an historical 
 importance, not merely for the French literature and mental and 
 moral culture of the eighteenth century, but for Europe in ge- 
 neral, without however restraining ourselves precisely within 
 the limits of the half century. The minute accounts which Grimm 
 has given, for the most part affect only the later periods ; we turn 
 our attention therefore the rather to what the weak, vain, talk- 
 ative Marmontel has related to us on the subject in his ^ Auto- 
 biography,' because Rousseau was by far too one-sided in his 
 notices, and drew public attention to the most demoralized and 
 degraded members of the circle only. 
 
 The first lady who must be mentioned, is Madame de Tencin. 
 She belonged to the period within which we must confine our- 
 selves, and she gained for herself such a name, not only in Paris, 
 but in all Europe, that she was almost regarded as the creator 
 of that new literature which stood in direct and bold opposition 
 to the prevailing taste, inasmuch as she received at her house, 
 entertained and cherished, those who were really its originators 
 and supporters. This lady could not boast of the morality of her 
 early years, nor of her respect even for common propriety. She 
 is not only notorious for having exposed, when a child, the ce- 
 lebrated D'Alembert, who was her natural son, and for regard- 
 ing with indifference his being brought up by the wife of a 
 common glazier as her own son ; but stories still worse than 
 even these arc told of her. She enriched herself, as many others 
 did, in the time of Law's scheme, by no very creditable means ; 
 and fell under such a serious suspicion of having been privy to
 
 § IV.] LEARNED COTERIES IN PARIS. 159 
 
 the death of one of those who had carried on an intrigue with her, 
 that she was imprisoned and involved in a criminal prosecution, 
 from which she escaped, not through her own innocence, but 
 by means of the powerful influence of her distinguished relations 
 and friends. 
 
 All this did not prevent Pope Benedict the Fourteenth, who, 
 as Cardinal Lambertini, had been often at her house, as a mem- 
 ber of the society of men of talents who met there, from carry- 
 ing on a continual intercourse with her by letter ; he also sent 
 her his picture as a testimony of kind remembrance. This lady 
 succeeded in procuring for her brother the dignity of a cardinal, 
 and through him had great weight with Fleury, with the court, 
 and with the city in general ; she is also known as an authoress. 
 As we are not writing a history of literature properly speaking, 
 we pass by her novels in silence, with this remark only, that 
 people are accustomed to place the ^ Comte de Comminges,' 
 written by Madame de Tencin, on the same footing with the 
 ^ Princess de Cleve,^ by Madame de Lafayette. 
 
 The society in the house of Madame de Tencin consisted of 
 well-known men of learning, and some younger men of distin- 
 guished namxC and family ; she united, in later years, a certain 
 amiability with her care for the entertainment and recreation of 
 those whom she had once received into her house. This society, 
 after the death of De Tencin, assembled in the house of Geoffrin. 
 It appears, however, that Madame de Tencin, as well as the 
 whole fashionable world to which she belonged, could never al- 
 together disavow their contempt for science, if indeed it be true, 
 that she was accustomed to call her society by the indecent by- 
 name of her menagerie. Fontenelle, Montesquieu, Mairan, 
 Helvetius who was then quite young and present rather as a 
 hearer than a speaker, Marivaux and Astruc, formed the nucleus 
 of this clever society and led the conversation. Marmontel, 
 who was not well suited to this society, in which more real 
 knowledge and a deeper train of thought was called for than 
 he possessed, informs us in the passage quoted below, what the 
 tone of this society was, and speaks of their hunting after lively 
 conceits and brilliant flashes of wit, in a somewhat contemptuous 
 manner*. Marmontel, howevei^, himself admits, that he was 
 
 * Marmontel, — 'Mem. d'un P^re/vol. i. liv. iv. pp. 20G-207. "J'y vis 
 
 jc ne sais qui encore tons gens de lettres on savans, et au milieu d'eux une 
 femme d'un esprit et d'un sens profond, mais qui, enveloppee dans son ext^-
 
 160 FRANCE. [CIIAP. II. 
 
 only once in the society, and that in order to read his ^ Aristo- 
 menes/ and that greater simphcity and good humour prevailed 
 there than in the house of Madame Geoffrin, in which he was 
 properly at home. 
 
 Madame de Tencin's influence upon the new literature of the 
 opposition party, or rather upon the spirit of the age, may be best 
 judged of from the fact, that she largely contributed to the first 
 preparation and favourable reception of Montesquieu's * Spirit 
 of Laws.' It is certain, at least, that she bought a large num- 
 ber of copies and distributed them amongst her friends. Ma- 
 dame Geoffi'ln Avent further ; the society which had previously 
 met at Madame de Tencin's, no sooner held their reunions in 
 her house, than she drew together the whole literary and the fa- 
 shionable world, ^foreign ministers, noblemen and princes who 
 were on their travels, etc. Marmontel also says, that the 
 aged Madame de Tencin had guessed quite correctly the in- 
 tentions of Madame Geoffrin, when she said, that she merely 
 came to her house so often in order to see what part of her in- 
 ventory she could afterwards make useful. 
 
 Madame Geoffrin became celebrated all over Europe, merely 
 by devoting a portion of her income and of her time to the re- 
 ception of clever society. She had neither the knowledge, the 
 mind, nor the humility of Madame de Tencin, which the lat- 
 ter at least affected towards the close of ,her life ; she was cold, 
 egotistical, calculating, and brought into her circle nothing more 
 than order, tact and female delicacy. Geoffrin also assumed 
 the tone of high life, which always treats men of learning, jioqts 
 and artists, as if they were mantua-makers or hair-dressers ; and 
 which must ever value social tact and the tone which is only 
 to be acquired in good society, higher than all studies and arts 
 
 ricur de bonhommic et de simplicite, avait plutot I'air de la mcnagere que de 
 la maitresse de la maison, c'etait la Madame de Tencin...... et en effet, je 
 
 m'apcrcus bientot qu'on y anivait prepare a jouer son rule, et que rcnvic 
 d'entrcr en scene n'y laissait pas toujours ^ la conversation la liberie de suivre 
 son cours facile et naturel. C'etait a qui saisirait le plus vite et comme a la 
 volec, le moment de placer son mot, son contc, son anecdote, sa maximc, ou 
 son trait k'ger et picjuant, et pour amener I'apropos, on le tirait quelquefois 
 d'un pcu loin. Dans Marivaux I'impaticnce de faire preuve de finesse et de sa- 
 gacite per9ait visiblcment. Montesquieu avec plus de calmc, attendait que la 
 balle vint a lui, mais il Tattendait. Mairan guettait I'occasion. Astruc ne 
 daignait pas I'attcndrc. Fontenellc seul la laissait venir sans la chcrcher, et 
 il usait si sobrement de 1 'attention qu'on donnait a I'entcndre, que ses mots 
 fins, ses jobs contcs, n'occupaient jamais qu'un moment. Helvctius, attcntif et 
 discret, recueillait pour scmcr un jour."
 
 § IV.] GEOFFRIN. 161 
 
 upon which any one possessed of these properties is in a con- 
 dition to pass judgement without having spent any time in their 
 investigation. Marmontel is therefore honest enough to admit 
 that he and his friends, as well as Madame Geoffrin herself, 
 were accustomed to make a full parade when foreign princes, 
 ministers, and celebrated men or women dined at the house. 
 On such occasions especially, Madame Geoffrin displayed all the 
 charms of her mind, and called to us, " now let us be agreeable.'^ 
 
 Geoffrin's house was the first school of hon ton in Europe : 
 Stanislaus Poniatowsky, even after he became King of Poland, 
 addressed her by the tender name of mother, invited her to 
 Warsaw, and received her as a personage of high distinction. 
 All the German courts which followed the fashion, paid corre- 
 spondents in order to be made acquainted with the trifles which 
 occupied that circle. Catherine the Second had no sooner 
 mounted the throne than she began to pay a commissioner at 
 this literary court, and even Maria Theresa distinguished Ma- 
 dame Geoffrin in a remarkable manner, on her return from Po- 
 land. Besides, we are made acquainted by Marmontel, who 
 ranked his hostess among the gods of this earth, with the anxiety 
 and cautiousness of this lady of the world, who afterwards broke 
 altogether with the chiefs of the new literature, and most humbly 
 did homage to the old faith, because she had never wholly for- 
 saken her old prejudices. 
 
 The able writers of the time were used by Geoffrin only as 
 means to promote her objects, to gain a reputation for splendour, 
 and to glorify France. The King of Prussia sought her society, 
 in order to refresh and cheer his mind when he was worn out 
 with the cares and toils of government. 
 
 Madame Geoffrin opened her house regularly on Mondays for 
 artists, and on Wednesdays for men of learning ; but as she 
 neither understood the arts nor sciences, she took part in the 
 conversation only so far as she could do so without exposing her 
 weak side. She understood admirably how to attract the great 
 men to her house, to whose houses she herself very seldom went ; 
 and as long as the appearance of fashionable infidelity and of 
 scoffing, which was then the mode in the higher circles, was 
 necessary to this object, she carefully concealed her real religious 
 opinions*. 
 
 * We shall here quote the passage from Marmontel, who is the best au- 
 thority on the point. ' Mem.' etc. vol. i. p. 335. " Pour ctre bien avcc le 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 The weak Marmontel, "U'ho, according to his own description, 
 was only fitted for supei'ficial conversation and writing, boasts 
 of the prudence, foresight and skill of his protectress, and shows 
 how she understood the way to gain the confidence of others 
 without ever yielding her own. This distinguished art made 
 the house of Madame Geoffrin invaluable to the great world, 
 and to those learned men who wished to shine in this kind of 
 society, and to cultivate and avail themselves of it, for such 
 people must learn above all things neither to say too much nor 
 too little. This society, indeed, was not calculated for any 
 length of time for a Rousseau or a Diderot. Even the great 
 admirers of Geoffi'in admit that savoir vivre was her highest 
 knowledge, she had very few ideas with respect to anything 
 besides ; but in the knowledge of all that pertained to the man- 
 ners and usage of good society, in the knowledge of men, and 
 particularly of women, she was deeply learned, and was able to 
 give some very useful instructions. 
 
 It would lead us too far into the history of the following pe- 
 riod, to enumerate and characterize the members of these regular 
 societies. It may suffice to mention, that in addition to all the 
 guests who frequented Madame de Tencin's, all the friends of 
 Voltaire's school, and at first also Rousseau, made a part of the 
 society at the house of Madame Geoffi'in. We have already 
 remarked that no prince, minister, or distinguished man of all 
 Europe came to Paris who did not visit Madame Geoffi'in, and 
 think it an honour to be invited to her house, because he there 
 found united all that was exclusively called talent in Europe. 
 
 Kaunitz also, who was then only a courtier in Versailles, came 
 to Madame Geoffi'in's parties. He was a man who combinpd 
 in a most surprising manner true philosophy and a deep know- 
 ledge of political economy, with the outward appearance of a fop 
 and a trifier. Among the other distinguished men who lived in 
 Paris, Marmontel names with high praise the Abbe Galliani, 
 Caraccioli, who was afterwards Neapolitan ambassador, and the 
 Swedish ambassador. Count Creutz. 
 
 Marmontel was so much delighted with this society, even at 
 
 ciel, sans ctremal avec son monde, elles'otaitfaitune especc de devotion clan- 
 destine : elle allait a la messe comme on va en bonne fortune ; elle avait un 
 appartenient dans un convent de religieuses, et une tribune a I'eglise de Ca- 
 pucins, mais avec autant de mystere que les fcmmes galantes de ce tems la 
 avaient des petites raaisons."
 
 § IV.] DEFFANT. 163 
 
 a very advanced age, that he gives us also accounts of then' even- 
 ing parties : ^^ As I was in the habit of dining with the learned 
 and with the artists at Madame Geoffrin's, so was I also of sup- 
 ping with her in her more limited and select circle. At these 
 petits soupers there was no carousing or luxuries, — a fowl, spi- 
 nach and pancakes constituted the usual fare. The society was 
 not numerous : there met together only five or six of her par- 
 ticular friends, or even persons of the highest rank, who were 
 suited to each other, and therefore enjoyed themselves." It 
 appears distinctly from the passage already quoted from Mar- 
 montel, how the high nobility on these occasions treated the 
 learned, and how the learned demeaned themselves towards the 
 nobility. It appears, therefore, that Rousseau was not in error 
 when he alleged that emptiness and wantonness only were che- 
 rished in these societies, and that the literature which Avas then 
 current was only a slow poison. 
 
 Madame du Deffant appeared on the stage of the great world 
 contemporaneously with Geoffrin, and attained so high a degree 
 of celebrity, that the Emperor Joseph paid her a visit in her 
 advanced period of life, and thus afforded her the opportunity 
 of paying him that celebrated compliment which is found re- 
 lated in every history of France. With respect to Deffant, how- 
 ever, we must not listen to Marmontel; she stood above his 
 rhymes, his love tales, his sentimental wanton stories, and be- 
 sides, he knew her only when she had become old. What we 
 Germans name feminine and good morals formed no part of the 
 distinction of Deffant, but talents only. Like Tencin, she was 
 ill-reputed in her youth on account of her amours, and reckoned 
 the Regent among her fortunate wooers ; at a later period she 
 turned her attention to literature. 
 
 Deffant brought together at her house all those persons 
 whom Voltaire visited when he was. in Paris ; among these the 
 President Renault, and, at a later period of which we now speak, 
 D'Alembert attracted to this circle distinguished foreigners 
 and Frenchmen, who made any pretensions to culture and 
 education. Deffant assumed quite a different tone among the 
 learned from that of Geoffrin. She set up for a judge in ques- 
 tions of philosophy and taste, and carried on a constant cor- 
 respondence with Voltaire. Among celebrated foreigners, the 
 Englishman Horace Walpole played the same character in this 
 house which the Swede Creutz had assumed in that of Geof- 
 
 M 2
 
 164 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 frin. Deffant and her Walpole became celebrated throughout 
 Europe by then* printed correspondence, which, on account of its 
 smoothness and emptiness, Hke all books written for the great 
 world, found very numerous readers. 
 
 Deffant, moreover, like Geoffrin, was faithless to her friends ; 
 she wished indeed to enjoy the most perfect freedom in their 
 society, but she was unwilling that they should publish abroad 
 this freedom. And she strongly disapproved of the vehemence 
 with which her friends assailed the existing order of things. 
 
 When she afterwards lost a considerable part of her property, 
 and became blind, she occupied a small dwelling in an ecclesi- 
 astical foundation in Paris, but continued to receive philosophers, 
 poets and artists in her house ; and in order to give a little more 
 life to the conversation, she invited a young lady whose circum- 
 stances were straitened to be her companion. This was Ma- 
 demoiselle I'Espinasse. L'Espinasse was not beautiful, but she 
 was young, amiable, lively, and more susceptible than we in 
 Germany are accustomed either to allow or to pardon. Deffant, 
 on the other hand, w'as witty and intelligent, but old, bitter, and 
 withal egotistically insensible. The boldest scoffers assembled 
 around L'Espinasse, and there was afterwards formed around 
 her a circle of her own. Deffant turned day into night, and 
 night into day. She and the Duchess of Luxembourg, who w-as 
 inseparable from her, received learned distinguished personages 
 and foreigners, from six o'clock in the evening during the greater 
 part of the night. 
 
 The importance in which such ladies and such societies were 
 held, not merely in France but in all Europe, may be judged of 
 fi'ora the fact, that the breach between Defiant and her young com- 
 panion was treated in some measure as a public European event. 
 The French minister and foreign ambassadors took part in it, 
 and the whole literary woi:Jd felt its effect. After this breach 
 there w^ere two tone-giving tribunals for the guidance of public 
 opinion in matters of literature and taste, and their decisions 
 were circulated by letter over all Em'ope. Horace Walpole, 
 Henault, Montesquieu, Voltaire, whose correspondence with 
 Deffant has been published in the present century, remained 
 true to her cause. D'Alcmbcrt, whose correspondence with 
 Deffant, as well as that of the Duchess of Maine, have also been 
 published in our century, went over to L'Espinasse. This acade- 
 mician, whose name and influence was next in importance to
 
 § IV.] l'espinasse. 165 
 
 that of Voltaire, formed the nucleus of a new society in the house 
 of L'Espinasse, and Avas grievously tormented by his inamorala, 
 who pursued one plan of conquest after another when she saw 
 one scheme of marriage after another fail of success. It appears 
 from the whole of the transactions and consequences connected 
 with this breach, however surprising it may be, that this forma- 
 tion of a new circle in Paris for evening entertainment may be 
 with truth compared to the institution of a new academy for the 
 promotion of European cidture and refinement. The Duchess 
 of Luxembourg, who continued to be a firm friend of Deffant, 
 took upon herself to provide suitable apartments for the society, 
 whilst the minister of the day (the Due de Choiseul) prevailed 
 upon the king to grant a pension of no inconsiderable amount 
 to L'Espinasse. 
 
 This new circle was the point of union for all the philosophi- 
 cal reformers. Here D'Alembert and Diderot led the conversa- 
 tion; and the renowned head of the political economists, Tiirgot, 
 who was afterwards minister of state, was a member of this 
 bolder circle of men who became celebrated and ill-renowned 
 under the name of Encyclopaedists. We shall enter upon a 
 fuller consideration of the tone and taste which reigned in this 
 assembly, as well as in the society which met in the house of 
 Holbach, and of the history of the Encyclopaedia, in the fol- 
 lowing period, and shall only now mention at the conclusion of 
 the present, and that very slightly, some of the other clever so- 
 cieties of Parisians who were all in their day celebrated in Europe. 
 It is scarcely possible for us to judge of the charm which these 
 societies possessed in the great world. This may be best learned 
 from their own writings and conversation, a specimen of which 
 may be found in Marmontel's ' Memoirs,' and formed the sub- 
 ject of a conversation between him and the Duke of Brunswick 
 (who fell at Jena in 1806) and his duchess. 
 
 The society of beaux espriis which met at the house of 
 Madame de Popliniere, in the time of Madame de Tencin, was 
 only short-lived, like the good fortune of the lady herself. In 
 her house there assembled members of the great world who were 
 addicted to carousing and debauchery, and learned men who 
 sought to obtain their favour and approbation. The same sort 
 of society was afterwards kept up in the house of Holbach. A 
 smaller society, which frequented the house of the farmer-general 
 Pelletier, consisted of unmarried people, who were known as
 
 166 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 persons who indulged in malicious and licentious conversation. 
 Colle, the younger Crebillon and Bernard^ who, notwithstanding 
 his helplessness, was called le gentil, played the chief characters 
 in this reunion, and the Gascon nature of Marmontel, which was 
 always forward and intrusive, helped him into this society also. 
 Baron Holbach, who was a native of the Palatinate, and the 
 able Helvetius who was wanton merely from vanity, brought 
 together expressly and intentionally at a later period, around 
 their well-spread table, all those who declared open war against 
 religion and morality*. We must, however, return to these 
 men in the following period. 
 
 Holbach for a whole quarter of a century had regular dinner- 
 parties on Sundays, which are celebrated in the history of athe- 
 ism. All those were invited. Mho were too bold and too out- 
 spoken for Geoffrin ; and even D'Alembert also at a later period 
 withdi'ew from their society. 
 
 Grimm, whose copious correspondence has also been pub- 
 lished in the nineteenth century, gives minutes and notices of 
 all the memorable sayings and doings that served to entertain 
 and occupy the polite world in Europe. Grimm also enter- 
 tained and feasted these distinguished gentlemen. He was not 
 at that time consul for Gotha, or employed and paid by that 
 court or the Empress Catherine to collect Parisian anecdotes, 
 neither had he then been made a baron, but was merely civil 
 secretary of Count von Friese. Both J. J. Rousseau and BufFon 
 belonged at first to these societies; but the former, in great 
 alarm, broke off all intercourse with the people who then played 
 the first parts in Paris, and the other quietly retired. Of this we 
 shaU speak further in the following period. 
 
 §v. 
 
 THEATRE TILL THE PUBLICATION OF DIDEROt's ' FATHER 
 OF A FAMILY AND NATURAL SON.^ 
 
 In a history of Europe, a criticism upon the French theatre 
 in general or upon single pieces, is not to be expected, and 
 
 * Marmontel, when converted, denied all this. We shall, however, after- 
 wards jirove his error, when he says : — " Dieu, la vertu, les saintes lois dc la 
 moral naturelle, n'y furent jamais mis en doute :"— he adds merely, " du moins 
 en ma presence.'
 
 § v.] THEATRE. 167 
 
 the more especially as abundant information may be gained 
 on the subject in German and French works on the history of 
 literature ; our business and duty here are only briefly to advert 
 to the influence which the theatre had upon the social condition 
 of life, and to the connexion into which it can be brought with 
 the prevailing philosophy. In this respect the department of 
 comedy, which is more deeply impressed with the spirit and 
 featm'es of society, is more important than tragedy ; we shall 
 therefore first premise a few remarks upon the latter, in order 
 afterwards to bring down the history of comedy to the period in 
 which Diderot endeavoured to win possession of the stage, in order 
 to promote his so-called moral objects. The origin of Diderot^s 
 mongrel species is particularly important for us in Germany, 
 because that kind of affecting drama so much praised by Di- 
 derot, and among us called play, had far greater success in 
 Germany than in France. Heine, Jiinger, Kotzebue, IfFland, and 
 such writers, have had, and continue to have, far more influence 
 upon the multitude among us, than Lessing, Gothe or Schiller 
 could ever attain. 
 
 We see, moreover, from the dress of the players and the 
 arrangements of the stage, that the customs and usages of 
 ancient times still ruled, even in Paris, in the first half of the 
 eighteenth century, when the people had a quick perception of 
 the ridiculous, and their sound understanding was not easily 
 mystified or blinded, and when power and skill must both be 
 used, in order to destroy the absurd prejudices of the seven- 
 teenth century. The subjects of their tragedies, for example, 
 were for the most part derived from Greek and Roman history, 
 from the East, or from the middle ages. Voltaire selected a sub- 
 ject from America, but, notwithstanding all this, the dramatis 
 personae, even till the middle of the century, appeared in the 
 most splendid and costly court dress of their own times. The 
 actors appeared upon the stage in full-dress Avigs, with feathers 
 in their hats, with frills and ruffles, coats and waistcoats with 
 long flaps, whether their object was to represent Agamemnon or 
 Ninus. The actresses appeared with trains and hoops, whether 
 they played the character of Electra or Zaire. Moreover, some 
 of the most distinguished gallants of the day, who were able to 
 pay for the privilege, took their seats in a long row upon the 
 stage, and by their presence utterly dispelled fi'om it the
 
 168 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 small lingerings of probability which the costume of the heroes 
 and heroines had left remaining. 
 
 The chairs of these gentlemen were banished from the stage as 
 soon as Voltaire's ' Semiramis^ had been made ridiculous by their 
 presence, because the shade of Ninus was obliged to pass in 
 front of them as they sat upon the stage. The actors showed 
 the greatest degree of aversion to the adoption of a proper 
 costume. This important change, which Marmontel compares 
 to a revolution, was first effected at the end of the seven years' 
 war. Clairon, who had some celebrity as an actress, and who is 
 known among us, partly by her memoirs and partly as a fa- 
 vourite of the last Margrave of Anspach and Bayreuth, ventured 
 to undertake and to carry through this revolution, — to introduce 
 a style of decoration and dress which was suited to the customs, 
 relations and times of the persons to be represented. It excited 
 attention in all Europe, when this actress for the first time in 
 the character of Electra, appeared on the stage without a hoop- 
 petticoat, and in that of Roxana in a Turkish costume. 
 
 Marmontel, who shows himself anxious to claim for himself 
 some share in effecting this great change, assures us, that it 
 had cost him much trouble to persuade Clairon to adopt this 
 resolution. She told him the change would involve her in 
 debt, that they would be obliged, not only at present, but in all 
 future times, to appear in costume in all characters ; that her 
 whole theatrical stock of apparel must be completely changed, 
 and that she should thereby lose above ten thousand crown- 
 dollars in di'esses alone. 
 
 As to the tragedies themselves, Corneille and Racine had 
 already pretty well exhausted the range of so-called classical 
 subjects ; and if Voltaire succeeded after them, his success 
 must be explained by his announcing and bringing forward on 
 the stage strong truths or bold allegations, which no one dare 
 put into circulation in any other way, and by clothing these 
 truths in admirable verse. Many of Voltaire's opponents, some- 
 times even Pompadour and the court, sought to elevate and 
 uphold Crebillon : but Voltaire, in consequence of his versifica- 
 tion and his refutation of the prevailing systems, found a con- 
 tinually increasing public among the enemies of the clergy, the 
 opponents of fanaticism, and the arbitrariness of the government. 
 We can, however, touch only very slightly upon these points, and
 
 § v.] THEATRE. 169 
 
 must leave the comparison and estimation of the merits of A^ol- 
 taire and Crebillon to the French themselves. The French cri- 
 ticism may be found discussed in such a way in La Harpe's 
 ^ Cours de la Literature/ as to raise a smile in the foreign reader, 
 whether he be German or English. 
 
 In relation to the spirit of the century, we see in Voltaire not 
 so much a tragic poet, as an orator, who by means of the per- 
 sonages of his plays defends, in good and easily remembered 
 verses, those principles which were oppressed and persecuted by 
 the state. No one can ascribe to Voltaire a creative mind or 
 the highest description of poetry, but such poetry was neither 
 called for by the spirit of the time, nor by his nation. We 
 cannot here enter upon an analysis of single pieces, in order to 
 prove that Voltaire's object was a defence of the cause of the 
 public, and a zealous and eloquent opposition to fanatics and 
 scholastics, to slavish feelings and despotism ; the mere enume- 
 ration of the titles of those pieces which received the most endu- 
 ring applause of the public, is in itself a sufficient proof of the fact. 
 
 Considered in this point of view, Crebillon could be no rival 
 of Voltaire, and if Marmontel obtained a short-lived reputation 
 by two pieces of very little merit, his * Aristomenes ' and ' Dio- 
 nysius the Tyrant,' which were written in the manner, and 
 with the assistance of Voltaire, he owes it entirely to the tone 
 which he adopted; for as soon as he took another direction, 
 he no longer found readers or admirers. We perceive, more- 
 over, with astonishment, how admirably Voltaire understands 
 the manner of feeling the pulse of his nation, and of leading at 
 his will the M'hole higher classes of Europe, who had been 
 brought up and educated after the French fashion, since he 
 showed himself able, by mere pomp of language, by versification, 
 and the talent of some good actors, to uphold for a long time the 
 classical tragic style of Corneille and Racine, which belonged to 
 very different times, and were suited to different customs. 
 
 Moliere had treated comedy in such a masterly style in the 
 seventeenth century, that Regnard, as well as Destouches, were 
 obliged to choose quite a different field in the comic territoiy, 
 in order not to risk or lose their reputation, by being compared 
 with him. Neither of them durst venture to portray the con- 
 trasts of human nature and social customs as exhibited in indi- 
 viduals, they were therefore obliged to draw nearer to the real 
 scenes of actual life, and to borrow from that source. They took
 
 170 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 their materials immediately from life ; did not, properly speaking, 
 create a poetical work of art, but contented themselves, like novel 
 "writers, with describing, with wit and art, what they had ob- 
 served in life, or in drawing pictures of real hfe, in a caricature 
 style, in order to excite laughter. The more the philosophy of 
 the time was disseminated, which was unfavourable to every 
 thing purely ideal, and demanded only what was real ; the more 
 the public of the so-called educated classes increased, who 
 wished to avoid, all such exertions as the comprehension of a 
 true work of art demanded, and merely to be made merry with- 
 out any concealed seriousness of purpose ; — so much the more 
 prevailing immorality and licentiousness drove true poetry from 
 the stage. 
 
 After the time of Regnard. and Destouches, comedy departed 
 more and more from poetry, became mere social entertainment, 
 and represented only the usual witty or demoralized society of 
 the saloons upon the stage. Old historical acquaintances, drawn 
 from daily life, are met with in the highly eulogised pieces of 
 Piron and Gresset, but still more in Le Sage. Long after the 
 appearance of his most distinguished piece, the last-mentioned, 
 writer gained an extraordinary renown as the author of ' Gil 
 Bias,' for which reason we must here mention his novels in pass- 
 ing, although novels perhaps, on account of their great number, 
 had a much smaller influence in France than in Germany, at 
 least till it occurred to Rousseau to embody and disseminate his 
 philosophy and visionary notions by means of such writings. 
 
 One of Piron's pieces only has kept its ground upon the stage 
 till the present day, his ^ Metromanie.' The subject of this 
 piece represents a trait, or scene, drawn from life ; cleverly con- 
 ceived, and handled with that tact which is peculiar to the 
 French, so as to give value and interest to a trifling and insig- 
 nificant jest. The same may be said more or less, of all those 
 so called ^ stock pieces,' which Piron and Gresset composed, 
 and which were calculated only for the moment. It would 
 be as precipitate to bestow that ridiculous admiration which 
 La Harpe metes out, as it would be unjust to concur in the 
 severe and sharp reproaches of our countrymen. In works 
 of this kind, in which poetry does not so much appear as 
 national peculiarities, these peculiarities have their rights. In 
 forming a judgement in such cases, national distinctions must be 
 always kept in view more than a system of aesthetics. It is
 
 § v.] THEATRE. I7I 
 
 also said that the ' Metromanie' is better fitted for reading 
 than for representation ; it has to do besides with an accidental 
 absurdity, which stands in no relation to tlie character of the 
 time of which we speak. 
 
 The most renowned piece of the wanton Gresset, who was a 
 poet and composer quite suited to the customs and morals of his 
 time, and who was, in consequence of his ' History of a Travel- 
 ling Parrot* (Vert-Vert)*, admired, imitated and translated in 
 Germany, is much more nearly connected with our object. 
 This piece is ' Le Mechant,' which was so much admired by La 
 Harpe, that he exclaimed in despair, in the last decennium of 
 the eighteenth century — " We have now waited fifty years in 
 vain for a piece in five acts, which can be compared with this 
 comedy." 
 
 ^ Le Mechant* is particularly deserving of notice, as contain- 
 ing a description of the morals of the time of the Regency and 
 of the early period of the reign of Louis the Fifteenth. [It was 
 played in l747«] The whole piece consists of single and detached 
 scenes, conceived with great truth and liveliness, and drawn 
 after life with a masterly hand. We shall not allege that the 
 tone and wit, or that even the verse, is natural ; but it was pre- 
 cisely this artificially natural tone which was best calculated to 
 draw the lineaments after life of a time, from which, according to 
 Marmontel and the eulogists of the day, all nature had entirely 
 disappeared. We do not mention Rousseau's opinion, because 
 he was an opponent of the customs and morals of the age. 
 
 In order not to lead our readers astray by remarks which 
 might appear partial and unjust, as proceeding from a German, 
 and from a serious point of view with respect to a piece of plea- 
 santry, or unreasonable, as made from the study, upon the active 
 scenes of life, we shall have recourse to a Frenchman, who lived 
 in Paris itself at the close of the eighteenth century, and mixed 
 in the scenes of active life. Whilst pronouncing his opinion 
 
 * La Harpe, in the words about to be quoted, admirably delineates the tone 
 and the morals of the times, whose condition we wish to explain, and the 
 views of the world to which he belonged : we shall therefore subjoin the pas- 
 sage for the benefit of those who may not have his work at hand : — " ' Vert- 
 Vert' est plutot un conte qu'un po^me. Mais il a paru sous ce dernier titre ; 
 et quoiqu'il en soit du titre, il n'est pas possible de passer ici sous silence, ce 
 qui n'est, si Ton veut, qu'un badinage, mais un badinage si sup^rieur et si 
 original, qu'il n'a eu d'imitateurs comme il n'avait des modeles. II produisait, 
 a son apparition dans le monde, I'effet d'un phenomene litteraire : ces sont les 
 expressions de Rousseau dans ses lettres, et il n'y a pas d'exagge'ration," etc.
 
 172 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 upon this piece^ he at the same time gives his view's of the tone, 
 morals and life of the European society which is therein re- 
 presented. " ^ Le Mediant/ " says La Harpe, " who is more a 
 man of the world than any other in the piece, is a man of ta- 
 lents, as such persons are called in the world. His tone is 
 that of scoffing pleasantry which afterwards became the fashion, 
 and which is distinguished by this characteristic, that whoso- 
 ever is complete master of it, knows how to turn all serious 
 things into jest*." 
 
 The same French judge of art, in order to prove how admira- 
 ble the tone of that clever society was, of which we have spoken 
 in the preceding paragraph, and which has been imitated in this 
 piece and put into the mouths of its characters, says, in another 
 passage : — " It exhibits a charming aisance, an ornamental de- 
 finitiveness of expression, a quick view of things of various 
 kinds, which is especially gained by individuals who can readily 
 appropriate to themselves the minds of others. Such opportu- 
 nities of appropriation were numerous in the social intercourse 
 of these societies, and warranted by their usage. In every dia- 
 logue many ideas were only hinted at, because it was contrary 
 to the fashion to go deeply into anything ; witty sketches, or 
 flashes of thought, were regarded as reasons ; and some pleasant 
 or agreeable turn or application was given to a trifle. Such 
 is the style of conversation in this society, in which people are 
 assembled without choice, in which they speak without interest- 
 ing themselves about anything ; a tone of which Gresset was a 
 complete master." 
 
 Le Sage, from another point of view, had seized upon and de- 
 scribed this same good society and real life, but not its practical 
 form. He had brought the circumstances of the last times of 
 Louis the Fourteenth's reign upon the stage in '^ Le Turcaret,' 
 and drawn its features with a strong hand. In Le Sage, whose 
 piece appeared in 1709, we find the usurious society of the 
 Spanish war of succession 5 in Gresset, whose ' Le Mechant' ap- 
 peared in 1747, the philosophical society of the Austrian war of 
 succession. 
 
 La Sage is less known among us by his ' Turcaret ' than by 
 his novels, in which he also describes the life of his age W'ith 
 liveliness and truth. In Germany, at that time, every one read 
 
 * The same Gresset, who was so complete a master of this tone, like La 
 Mettrie, had been previously a good orthodox Jesuit.
 
 § v.] THEATRE. 173 
 
 the numerous and very thick volumes of the novels written by 
 the brothers D'Urfe and the family of ScUdery ; in France Ten- 
 cin and La Fayette had introduced quite a different manner. 
 Le Sage returned to the not very delicate but witty manner of 
 Scarron, and availed himself at the same time of the imaginative 
 faculty of the Spaniards. His ' Devil upon two Sticks ' is 
 nothing else than a collection of stories of all sorts, founded 
 upon a Spanish novel of Louis Velez de Guevara, ^ El Diabolo 
 Cojuelo/ to which, however, Le Sage gave a Parisian physio- 
 gnomy. He substituted histories of his own times for those of 
 the Spaniards ; and selected such as were sufficiently known to 
 render it unnecessary for him to name the parties concerned. 
 One of the chief persons who plays a conspicuous part, is, as is 
 well known, the celebrated and clever Ninon de FEnclos, ill- 
 renowned for her morals ; Baron the actor, and Dufresny, who 
 was a writer on belles lettres, are also introduced. From Du- 
 fresny's ' Siamese,' Montesquieu borrowed the plan of his 
 ' Persian Letters,' together with the story of his marriage, and 
 similar well-known anecdotes and histories of the time. These 
 Parisian stories and this Parisian life had at that time the same 
 relation to the whole of Europe that the life of its own metropolis 
 has now for every country, and therefore the reason is obvious 
 ■why this book was translated into all the European languages. 
 
 Le Sage's second novel, which appeared some eight years 
 later, ^ Gil Bias of Santillan,' has acquired a species of clas- 
 sical celebrity ; we can, however, only take a passing notice of 
 it, as it stands in no express relation to the time of which we 
 speak. Voltaire was quite wrong, in attempting, from feelings of 
 envy at the success of the book, to spread the report, that Le 
 Sage had merely translated Don Mark Obregon's life of the 
 Spaniard Espinel : this has been fully proved in our century, in 
 a treatise written especially on this subject, and read by its au- 
 thor, Fran9ois de Neuchateau, before the French Academy ; 
 although it is true that the real contents of Gil Bias are Spanish 
 property. The truth and hfe which are found in ' Gil Bias ' be- 
 long to the Spanish writers, of which Le Sage availed himself; 
 but the form and style, that of which the French especially 
 boasted, belonged to the Frenchman. The Spanish elements 
 from which the book is composed, form a picture of the differ- 
 ent ranks and of the individuals of which they consist, painted 
 with the boldest hand and with the most striking colours from
 
 174 FRANCE. [chap. II, 
 
 immediate personal observation. * Gil Bias ' is distinguished by 
 wit, entertainment and a moral such as Le Sage thought was 
 suitable for the time. It cannot be at all compared with ^ Don 
 Quixote ^; ^Don Quixote' contains ideas and poetry — ' Gil Blas^ is 
 only the vehicle of palpable morality and a strong and vigorous 
 delineation of the realities of life. 
 
 ^LeTurcaret/ which was written long before 'Gil Bias/ shows 
 its author to be the same master of style, the same fine judge of 
 the middle classes of society, of their morality and their wit, as he 
 appears to be in his novels. In ' Le Turcaret ' the dark side of the 
 splendid and eulogised government of the great king is repre- 
 sented in a more lively and vigorous manner, and in this way 
 more bitterly and severely blamed, than in all the pasquinades 
 of the time which were secretly circulated. The whole piece, 
 which has been condemned as deficient in development, or in 
 the poetic and creative art of the true poet, consists of a repre- 
 sentation of a number of the detached scenes of the Hfe of that 
 age. The blood-suckers against whom a commission of inquiry 
 was issued in the time of the Regency, and along with them in- 
 triguers, knaves and cheats are represented. It has also there- 
 fore been made an objection to the piece, that bad characters 
 and wicked stratagems alone occur in it ; but however this may 
 lessen the poetical value of the work, it increases precisely in the 
 same proportion its historical importance, with which only we 
 have here to do. Le Sage, in ' Le Turcaret,' paints life as it 
 was, as he had seen and experienced it ; that it does not appear 
 better is no fault of his. This piece was very properly written 
 in prose as a mere image of the life which it represents, and be- 
 longs to the great works which we respect, as standing nearer to 
 life than to poetry. The money speculators of the last years of 
 the reign of Louis the Fourteenth have been sufficiently de- 
 scribed to render it unnecessary to illustrate their relations to 
 one another, to show with whom they were more immediately 
 connected, and their relations to society by selections of scenes 
 from ' Le Turcaret'; whoever wishes to become acquainted with 
 that degraded fashionable generation which sunk still deeper in 
 the time of the Regency, must read the piece for themselves. 
 
 The whole historical result of Mhat has been said may perhaps 
 be summed up as follows : The rehgious feelings which must 
 have been taken for granted as existing in the great public, 
 when a tragedy is presented to it, as well as the moral feelings
 
 § v.] THEATRE. 175 
 
 which give a poetic character to comedy, were weakened : the 
 theatre therefore remained for a long time stationary. During 
 this period of repose, a new element came into life instead of the 
 religious and moral one. A great portion of the men who were 
 not contented with the old, serious, severe and often cruel prin- 
 ciples, laM'S and religion (even Voltaire), sought to substitute an 
 indefinite feeling of humanity, or sentimentality, for the duty of 
 obedience to law or even to religious command. The public, so 
 far as it was represented in the theatre, showed clearly that it 
 felt the necessity of being moved and stimulated, but not of being 
 violently affected; there arose, therefore, a species of poetry 
 which corresponded to their feeling and desire, in the same man- 
 ner as the romantic has sprung up in our days, in which the 
 pubHc wish to be filled with horrors. 
 
 We shall show, in the following period, how quickly this sen- 
 timentality was diffused, and what were the general effects of its 
 diffusion, when we come to speak more fully of the Encyclopae- 
 dists and of Rousseau; we shall here limit ourselves to the 
 traces of this influence which may be seen in the theatre. Ma- 
 dame Quinault, one of the most distinguished actresses, on the 
 representation of a small comic piece, first made the remark, 
 that sentimental scenes had a much greater effect upon the 
 pubhc than either high tragedy or pure comedy. Voltaire was 
 then in the full bloom of his reputation ; Madame Quinault com- 
 municated the remark to him, and advised him to become the 
 creator of a new species of play, a touching comedy. The poet 
 for a long time turned a deaf ear to the remark, till at length 
 another poet, whom Quinault brought forward, proved its jus- 
 tice by the effect which his piece produced, and at the same time 
 awakened Voltaire's envy. 
 
 The poet who had followed Quinault's hint was La Chaussee, 
 who had gained great reputation not long before by his short 
 epistle to Clio. This epistle attacked bitterly and with cutting 
 severity the organ of the Academy and the favourite of the go- 
 vernment, the same La Motte, whom Voltaire had already sa- 
 tirised. This La Motte had, at that time, proposed a highly 
 prosaic thought of his own as a rule of taste, and pretended to be 
 a judge of poetry, without having any knowledge of the subject 
 or inspiration for its beauties. By following the hint thus given 
 him. La Chaussee became the inventor of the so-called mixed 
 drama, or of the affecting play, which the scoffers called Une
 
 176 FRANCE. [chap. II. 
 
 comedie larmoijante, because they wished for no new species, 
 and alleged that the middle path was merely the path of wretch- 
 edness and weakness. 
 
 La Chaussee afterwards wrote a number of pieces, which it is 
 not necessary for us to enumerate, because the reader can rea- 
 dily find them in every literary manual ; the applause of the 
 public, which he earned, was so great, that Voltaire became en- 
 vious, and wished also to make himself master of this species, 
 as he had become so of all the other departments of poetry. 
 He wrote an affecting play, ^ L^Enfant Prodigue,^ which was 
 brought out in 1736. This piece met with little applause; Vol- 
 taire thereupon became indignant, and associated himself with the 
 friends of the old school, in order to cry down this new species 
 of drama and to make it ridiculous. The result, however, in 
 this case proved that Voltaire himself was not the creator but 
 only the creation of the spirit of the age, for he immediately 
 made shipwreck as soon as he attempted to sail against the cur- 
 rent of opinion. He afterwards did homage to the public, and 
 wrote several pieces in this very manner, which had been so 
 much abused and satirised by himself. 
 
 La Harpe's observations upon this mixed species have a bear- 
 ing also upon the German theatre, and we shall here quote his 
 words : — " Some of the scenes,^^ he says, " of these so-called 
 plays are formal moral treatises, brought into the form of dia- 
 logue. The style, indeed, abounds in moral sentences, but is withal 
 very monotonous. The ideas, upon which the whole turns, are 
 of a low description, and therefore afford no compensation for 
 the monotony of the style. The number of persons who prattle 
 about virtue is too great, and they say too much about it." We 
 must now break off, because in the next period we shall use 
 the words of the French author, as the connecting link of our 
 history of the complete transformation of dramatic literature by 
 Diderot. This transformation was only apparent in France, and 
 without important influence ; in Germany, on the contrary, it 
 was continuous and extremely important, because the sensitive- 
 ness preached upon the stage corresponded to the spirit of the 
 age and the character of the people, and the fashional)le educa- 
 tion of the time favoured the racy morality of a Kotzebue,
 
 CHAP. III.] INTRODUCTION. l77 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STRIVING AFTER LIGHT AND AFTER A LITERATURE COM- 
 MENSURATE WITH THE MIND OF THE REST OF EUROPE IN 
 GERMANY, TILL THE LETTERS UPON LITERATURE. 
 
 §1. 
 INTRODUCTION — THE PIETISTS CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 
 
 In the beginning of the eighteenth century, the light of the new 
 age had not begun to dawn in Germany, although the want of 
 an entirely new literature was sensibly felt, as it had also been 
 in France, England, and even Holland. The people were in no 
 respects upon a level with the times of Louis the Fourteenth ; 
 they tormented themselves, however, with the taste of Marini, 
 d'Urfe and Balzac, and had even forgotten the right use of their 
 own language. The German people of rank read either no books 
 or only French ones ; the common people, the Bible, collections 
 of sermons ; and a portion of them, ' Simplicius Simplicis- 
 simus,' Til's ^ Merry Jester,' 'The Emperor Octavianus,' ' Ge- 
 novesa,' ' Fortunatus's Wishing Cap,' &c. And however high 
 a value some friends of the German language and nationahty 
 in the present day have attached to these books, they have 
 yet so little connexion with the progress of that mental im- 
 provement of which we speak, that we should pass over the 
 first forty years of the century altogether, if the slow pro- 
 gress of German literature did not in itself appear to us to offer 
 something characteristic of the history of the people. 
 
 'The literature of which we shall first speak is particularly im- 
 portant, in relation to its connexion with some very highly es- 
 timable properties of German life, and with some of its striking 
 peculiarities, by means of which a great gulf exists between the 
 different classes of the people and the men of education ; a sepa- 
 ration which does not exist in France, and is little apparent in 
 England. An inquiry into the reasons why the German nation 
 remained so far behind others, does not appear to us to belong 
 to our present design ; certain it is, however, that in proportion 
 as enlightenment was slow and gradual in its progress, it the 
 more thoroughly pervaded the people. There are two points 
 which bear upon the history of mental development until 
 
 VOL.. I. N
 
 irS GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 the reign of Frederick the Second, which we must not pass over 
 in silence. Pirst. that all education was limited to the Latin 
 schools and to the imiversities,. which rather promoted inideness, 
 vulgarity and barbaric learniog than mental improvement ; 
 against the evils which flowed from this source the zeal of the 
 pietists was particularly useful. Secondly, that there was a total 
 want of all freedom of speech, of instruction, and writing ; every 
 man was subject to a strict pohce. exercised in the name of the 
 statCj by those barbaric jurists and theologians, to w^hom eveiy 
 mnovation would have been disadvantageous. The barbarism 
 which prevailed in the schools and the universities, the mean 
 spirit and the tradesman-hke en\y in the learned corporations, 
 the coarseness and vulgarity of the students and their instructors, 
 produced much worse eifects in Germany than in France or 
 England, because there exists among us no great metropohs, no 
 proper central point of national life. 
 
 It may be seen from the hves of the genuine christian, Spener, 
 and of the enlightened jurist, Thomasius, and particulai-ly from 
 the persecutions which they suffered, and the calumnies which 
 were heaped upon them, how difficult it was for a single 
 beam of sound reason to penetrate the thick darkness of the 
 learned writers of quartos and foUos, of symbohcal books and 
 legal formulas, how much it cost to maintain pure and true righ- 
 teousness of life and feeling, against the faculties and consis- 
 tories, against the police of the state and the zeal of blustering 
 preachers. The taste of German readers and writers at the begin- 
 ning of the eighteenth century was of the very worst kind. The 
 few educated persons among them read and wrote French ; those 
 who read German had departed far from the simplicity of the 
 sixteenth centurv. and enioved the bombast of a Lohenstein arid 
 a Hoffinannswalden. The efforts of the pietists in this respect 
 were highly salutary, for they brought back and accustomed the 
 people to the simple and dignified language of Luther and 
 -\md. 
 
 The so-called pietists directed their attention, as Luther had 
 done before them, to the well-disposed portion of the nation ; 
 and the consequence of their efforts was, that they induced the 
 people and a number of the smaller courts to renounce the false 
 taste of the degenerate Italians and of the court poets of Louis 
 the Thirteenth, and again to do homage to the simphcity of the 
 Gospel and of the first reformers, its zealous defenders against
 
 § I.] THE PIETISTS. 179 
 
 Romish priestcraft. Spener, Franke, Gottfried Ai'iiold, and 
 such men, were indeed somewhat visionary and fanatical, but 
 they earnestly recommended the study of the poetical writings 
 of the Old Testament, and of the religious ones of the New, 
 which had almost fallen into a state of neglect by the dog- 
 matics and catechisms of the Lutheran and Reformed Jesuits ; 
 and they showed, by their own example, that there was some- 
 thing else to leam from Luther and Arnd, besides piety and 
 faith. The first and better class of pietists, if their disciples had 
 been hke them, would have been successful in leading the Ger- 
 man people to fonn themselves and then* language, as well as a 
 suitable hteratm-e and plan of mental improvement, from their 
 own resources, and then they would have no need of the principles 
 of a Bohngbroke and a Voltaire. 
 
 There were, alas ! very few among the pietists who at all re- 
 sembled a Spener and Gottfried Ai'uold ; and as pietism spread, 
 as usually happens in such cases, the mere form of Godliness 
 was speedily substituted for its power ; and this placed these 
 hypocrites as much at variance with the spirit of the age as the 
 systematic theologians of the schools, whom they opposed. 
 Pietism, besides, had a great influence even upon those who 
 kept themselves apart from the sectarian and conventicle sphit 
 of the pietists, in as far as it awakened and roused up a national 
 disposition. This may be shown by its regeneration in our own 
 times. The inclination to mysticism, which is peculiar to oui* 
 nation, mav be evervwhere traced out and obsen'ed in the whole 
 of the eighteenth centurj- down to the latest and most splendid 
 regeneration of fanaticism. We perceive a hearty enmity to 
 reason and its pretensions in the bitterness of the friends of 
 Klopstock and Bodmer against the Berlin school, and against 
 Wieland, who was an otfshoot from the Swiss ; we perceive it in 
 the war which Claudius, the followers of Hamann, Lavater and 
 the North German fanatics carried on with Lessmg, Woss and 
 then- friends : we perceive it in the struggle of the mystics, since 
 the time of Novalis, against the so-called rationalists. 
 
 As to the German literature of the end of the seventeenth and 
 the beginning of the eighteenth centmy, Leibnitz, as is well 
 known, either disdained, or at least did not venture, to create a 
 German public by the use of Luther's language, as Locke had 
 created an Enghsh one. Leibnitz, doing homage to the spunt 
 of the age and to the aristocracy, either would not or dared not 
 
 N 2
 
 180 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 require the French and EngHsh to come to him into Germany, 
 but he went to them into a foreign land, or in other words, he 
 Avrote in a foreign language and not in his OAvn. Leibnitz wrote 
 in a Latin, full of gallicisms, and in a French, full of Latinisms, 
 so that Bolingbroke, not without good reason, accused him of 
 writing in a style which was barbarous and unintelligible ; Gott- 
 fried Arnold and his friends, on the contrary, drew their lan- 
 guage from sources where it could be found undisturbed by the 
 mud of their neighbours, and by the Latin barbarisms of the 
 middle ages. Their prose was at least unartificial, many of their 
 disciples composed original visionary poetry, although their hy- 
 pocrisy was destitute of the freshness of life. 
 
 We must leave it to others to pursue and follow out the efforts 
 of pietism and of the inclination to research and systematising, 
 as a German national peculiarity ; we shall only remark in pass- 
 ing, that the whole nation, six times in this century, has been 
 so deeply absorbed in the creation of a new system of scholastic 
 philosophy, that they have entirely forgotten themselves in its 
 formation. As to pietism, we shall merely show, that the pie- 
 tists, at least in one point, quite fell in with the philosophy of 
 the scoffers. 
 
 The pietists, like the sceptics, struggled against the consisto- 
 ries and their legal presidents, who wished to acknowledge no- 
 thing except what was positive in theology, and to regard and 
 treat it as they did the Corpus Juris, and the penal decrees of 
 the criminal courts of the Emperor Charles the Fifth; they 
 struggled against the theological faculties and their learned sy- 
 stematic absurdities; against the clergy, who, like the Capu- 
 chins, thundered in the pulpit against heretics and unbelievers, 
 instead of proclaiming to the world their Master's message of 
 peace, or who assumed, in the confessional, the binding and ab- 
 solving power of the pope, in order, with sufficient hypocritical 
 humility, to deliver over into the power of Satan those who re- 
 fused to acknowledge or repeat their forms, and to doom them 
 to torments for their own benefit or that of their fellow-men. The 
 pietists, as well as the Deists, in the spirit of the new age, were 
 zealously opposed to dependence upon arbitrary will, and the 
 mental oppression which Mas everywhere exercised ; both ap- 
 pealed to the New Testament against the decisions of councils, 
 which, in every case, the authorities of the states desired to 
 maintain.
 
 § I.] THE PIETISTS. 181 
 
 The assemblies of the pietists in Leipzig were, as is well 
 known, nothing else than meetings of teachers "who appealed to 
 the original text of the Bible from the lectures and decisions of 
 an Alberti, or a Carpzovin, or by whatever other names these 
 barbarically learned and absolute systematic professors may have 
 been called. As they mutually supported and encouraged one 
 another in the study of the original languages of the sources of 
 their religion, they found, to their astonishment, light, truth, 
 spirit, life and poetry, instead of the scholastics and trash of 
 their professors, of all which they had not the slightest idea, so 
 long as they merely helped to thresh the mere straw of the dog- 
 matics of the schools. The new school, which was formed of 
 those who perceived that the day-labourers of the pulpits and 
 chairs of their time, were wholly destitute of that noble and 
 truthful inspiration, w'hich Christianity makes dear and valuable 
 to him who has never believed in miracles and legends — this new 
 school proved mighty, as long as, in conformity with the spirit 
 of the age, it preached freedom and deliverance from the ty- 
 ranny of reigning schools and churches, from authoritative 
 judgements, from public officers, and from demoralized courts. 
 As soon, however, as the pietists became sufficiently numerous 
 and influential as a sect, then affectation of religion and fanatical 
 zeal were used as mere cloaks for the concealment of their 
 worldly views, and they were deserted by the age in the same 
 manner as they had previously deserted it. 
 
 We must not here enter upon the edifying literature, lest we 
 should discourage mere worldly readers ; in order, however, to 
 support the bold assertion, that the pietists were the fruit of the 
 spirit of the age, yearning after knowledge and freedom, we 
 need only refer for satisfactory proof to one well-known book. 
 We derive this proof from a work which we regard as the most 
 important which appeared in that time, and which proceeded fi'om 
 that school — we mean Gottfried Arnold's ' Impartial History of 
 Churches and Heretics*,' a work which we must mention, also, 
 
 * We can neither here, nor in what follows, enter upon the inquiry of 
 the importance of the pietists and of Thomasius, Gottsched and others, to 
 German literature in general, but only touch upon the point incidentally, as 
 one lying beyond the range of our objects. We shall therefore observe, that 
 among the multifarious writings which Arnold published (between fifty and 
 sixty), even until he was eighty years old, there are several which were highly 
 serviceable to the German language and literature, although this cannot indeed 
 be said of his ' History of the Church,' the language of which is very impure, 
 however different soever it may be from the barbarous language of his contem-
 
 182 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 on account of the peculiar manner in which history is therein 
 treated. In this work, the then-existing system of the church 
 and the prevaihng dogmatics were attacked and contended 
 against, as vigorously as by Bolingbroke himself, but upon dif- 
 ferent grounds and from a different starting-point. This will be 
 immediately perceived, upon a comparison of Arnold's explana- 
 tion of the nature and objects of his still very interesting work, 
 with the complaints which were made, and the accusations which 
 were brought against the author by the learned men and eccle- 
 siastics of the time. 
 
 It is no part of our business here to examine what share 
 Thomasius took in this history of churches and heretics ; we 
 assume it to have been the work of the man who was obliged to 
 defend it. The notice which it excited may be deduced from 
 the fact, that in the most complete edition of the work, the 
 whole of the third volume folio is filled with writings for and 
 against it, and that it would be easy to write a whole book upon 
 the controversies which arose from, and were written about this 
 ' History of Heretics*.' As to Gottfried Arnold's community of 
 views with Bolingbroke, this will be seen by a comparison of 
 Chap. iif. § 3. of ^ Bolingbroke's Letters to Pope,' with the follow- 
 ing explanation given by Arnold of the particular character of 
 his work : — 
 
 He says, — " That, instead of following the example of the 
 church historians by whom he had been preceded, in employing 
 all their skill and using all their endeavours to justify the deeds 
 of their own party without distinction, and to blacken in the 
 grossest manner those of other sects, he will be on his guard 
 against flattering any party. He will therefore neither conceal 
 the faults of those who are honoured as the defenders of the true 
 faith, nor the virtues of those who are described as enemies of 
 the truth. Instead of attaching credit, like others, to the narra- 
 tives of church historians, which are often untrue, and believing 
 
 poraries : his writings, best worth notice, are : — ' Seine Wahre Abbildung der 
 ersten Christen im Glauben und Leben IC96,' 'Seine Reisen des Apostels 
 Petri 1702/ ' Seine Ausgabe (1/01 und 1713) von Johannis ^H^^e^i Cherubi- 
 nischen Wandersmann/ ' Seine in Joh. Arndts Manier geschricbenen Erbau- 
 ungsbiicher.* 
 
 * It will not be expected from us to lose ourselves in the special church 
 history of the eighteenth century ; but although our chief object must always 
 be the general part, we shall occasionally notice it also. The edition here 
 alluded to, is that published in SchafThauscn, 1742, 3rd vol. folio, pp. 1100. 
 
 f The passage referred to in the ' History of English Literature.'
 
 § I.] GOTTFBIED ARNOLD. 183 
 
 the accusations which both in ancient and modern times have 
 been brought against the so-called heretics, without any suit- 
 able examination, and by means of which many holy and good 
 men have been enrolled in the catalogue of heretics, he will 
 always pursue the course of serious examination. This he re- 
 gards as the more necessary, as the lists of heretics are wholly 
 incorrect, and great pains have been taken to enlarge them. 
 And further, instead of following other historians, in exalting to 
 heaven the old bishops and teachers of the church by the most 
 fulsome eulogiums, and expressing an unconditional approval of 
 all their actions, particularly those Avhich are connected with 
 their ecclesiastical assemblies and councils, synods so called, he 
 will regard it as the duty of impartiality to describe the nature 
 and qualities of the old ecclesiastical instructors, according to 
 truth. He will praise the deserving according to their merits, 
 fearlessly disclose the faults of the others, and show that those 
 people have often proved themselves the bitterest persecutors of 
 Christians, have accused and cruelly persecuted the innocent, 
 who were at least conscientious and convinced, and at the same 
 time have been the means of the most unhappy divisions in the 
 Christian church. 
 
 " And finally,^^ he continues, " because it has been hitherto the 
 custom to judge of the flourishing condition of the church of 
 Christ, rather from its outward splendour and possessions, than 
 from its inward condition, and therefore to regard those periods 
 as the most prosperous, in which the confessors of the true faith 
 of our Redeemer were delivered from the persecutions of their 
 enemies, and were established in ease and security, he shall re- 
 gard it as necessary, to form his judgement of the flourishing or 
 rotten condition of the church in every century, according to its 
 inward life and purity. He will show that the true church of 
 Christ was at all times in its highest state of vigour and purity, 
 when its members were obliged to take up their cross, and that 
 in their prosperity so called, the church fell into decay ; more- 
 over, that the true church has never consisted of the numerous 
 great and the persecutors, but of the little and persecuted flock." 
 
 These passages, which have been given in the words of the 
 author, prove that he fully coincided with Bolingbroke, in re- 
 ference to the prevailing theology of the schools and the esta- 
 blished systems of religion. Christian Thomasius, in his public 
 announcement and recommendation of the book, regards this as
 
 184 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 its chief feature and highest recommendationj even in these dark 
 and persecuting times. 
 
 " Arnold/' says Thomasius, ^' is the only man, or at least the 
 first, who has avoided the follies into which others have fallen, 
 and discovered and fully exposed the errors which have been 
 especially committed by the Englishman, Cave ; he has main- 
 tained that the church of Christ, with respect to life and conduct, 
 had begun to fall into decay immediately after the ascension of 
 our Saviour, and still more after the death of the Apostles, and 
 that this degeneracy had enormously increased since the age of 
 Constantine the Great." Thomasius adds, " that is the reason, 
 for which Arnold, without any good ground, has been so bitterly 
 attacked by those who were most obnoxious to the reproach of 
 having neglected all those precautions to which Arnold had had 
 recourse. His opponents therefore alleged, that he had de- 
 fended all heretics and visionaries, even the atheists, that he had 
 reviled the church of God, and defamed the true instructors of 
 the first Christian emperor," &c. 
 
 There was indeed, in other respects a great distinction between 
 the pietists and the Deists. The one wished to build up a 
 new and a purer church instead of that which existed ; the others, 
 utterly to destroy it. The tone of the two parties, who were ini- 
 mical to the existing condition of the church, was as different as 
 that of the portion of the public with whom they had respectively 
 to do. The English Deists, such as Bolingbroke and the French 
 scoffers, addressed themselves to courts and courtiers Avho had 
 outrun the age, — to the more refined and cultivated circles of me- 
 tropolitan cities, — to the good society of their time. The German 
 pietists had influence among the people only, who, in contra- 
 distinction to the others, would be called bad society. It was 
 just the reverse of what it is in our days ; and for that very 
 reason, there was a great deal more simplicity, strength, and 
 truth among the old pietists, than amongst their modern suc- 
 cessors. Who was their public ? — the German townsman, the 
 country squire, the old courtier, the stiff jurist, the ecclesiastical 
 functionaries and preachers, and eventually Frederick William of 
 Prussia, the whole of whom had no taste for, or acquaintance 
 with, the refinements of great cities, or the dazzling and fashion- 
 able wit of the English and French. To whisper in the ear 
 of such people was not sufficient ; those who addressed them 
 must cry aloud.
 
 § I.] CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 185 
 
 In the same manner as the miserable condition of German 
 instruction in the Latin schools and vuiiversities leads us to the 
 pietists ; the want of political freedom, the oppressive rule of 
 corporate bodies, and the tyranny of scholastic language and 
 systems lead us to Christian Thoraasius ; because he alone, as 
 early as the seventeenth century, had done more than any of his 
 contemporaries to burst the fetters of the middle ages. That 
 he knew well the difficulties ^nth which he would have to 
 contend, we shall prove from his own words, which we quote 
 with the greater satisfaction, as they explain in an admirable 
 manner his relation to his age. The passage will be found in 
 the introduction to a treatise by Thomasius, upon ^ The Art of 
 divining Men's Thoughts from their Conversation*;' and in a 
 defence of this treatise against some objections of Tentzel, he 
 returns to the topic of want of freedom. On this occasion he 
 gives a good description of the still existing abuses of the schools 
 and universities, and of the total want of zeal for human im- 
 provement and mental culture, properly so called. In this pas- 
 sage, to which we wish to call particular attention, he enumerates 
 the reasons of the slow progress of the Germans, and then espe- 
 cially insists upon the fact, that they were far behind the English 
 and Dutch, with respect to freedom of thinking and siJcech, even 
 behind the French before the expulsion of the adherents of the 
 Reformationf. He says : — 
 
 ^' Reason acknowledges no master but God, and therefore the 
 yoke which man imposes, when he prescribes human authority 
 as a rule of judgement, is intolerable ; but if it must be under 
 this yoke, or will voluntarily subject itself to it from the desire 
 for empty honours or love of gain, or from any vain fears, then 
 the understanding is no longer fit to be the instrument of any 
 true knowledge. It is freedom alone which has given to the 
 English, to the Dutch, and even to the French (before the ba- 
 nishment of the reformed) so many learned men ; Avhereas, on 
 
 * ' Die Kunst der Menschen Gesinnungen aus ihren Gesprachen zu erra- 
 then.' 
 
 "t " Christian Thomasius, &c. Weitere Erliiuterung durch unterschiedene 
 Exempel des unlangst gethanen Vorschlags wegen der neuen Wissenschaft, 
 anderer Menschen Gemlither erlcennen zu lernen, nebst der nothigen und griind- 
 licheii Beantwortung derer vielfiiltigen und iiber drei Jahr hero continuirten 
 Zunothigungen Herrn M. W. E. Tentzels, Halle, 1692, S, p. 139— 186. 
 186—281." 
 
 " Christian Thomasius nach seinen Schriften und Schicksalcn dargestellt 
 von H. Luden, Berlin, 1805, p. 206."
 
 186 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 the other hand, the want of this freedom has oppressed and 
 destroyed the quick genius and penetrating judgement of the 
 Itahan, and the noble minds of the Spaniards." 
 
 The whole life of this learned and philosophic jurist was de- 
 voted to a struggle with the barbarism of the schools, of the laws 
 and of the courts, and on his first ajjpearance as a tutor in Leip- 
 sig, as well as in his splendid career as director of the new uni- 
 versity in Halle, he laboured constantly to stir up his countrymen 
 to emulation, by making them acquainted with the progress of 
 the English and the French. His writings, the legal ones ex- 
 cepted, which do not fall within our views, were indeed only 
 calculated for the moment, and are now wholly without import- 
 ance ; in their time, however, their influence and effects were 
 great. We regard it, indeed, as one of the absurd exaggerations 
 into which Schlozer often allows himself to run, when, not quite 
 master of himself, he affirms that Thomasius has deserved better 
 of the human race than all the Greek philosophers together ; 
 we admit, that he must, and ought to be reckoned among the 
 greatest men of modern times. He was neither distinguished 
 as an orator, an inventive genius, a discoverer, nor by the extent 
 of his knowledge; but as an organ of his time, as a skilful 
 advocate of the requirements of the new century, which he had 
 learned from the English and French, and, according to their 
 circumstances, wished to make good to the Germans, he was 
 of more service to the nation than all their numerous meta- 
 physicians and theologians. 
 
 He began his career by encouraging the Germans to emulate 
 the French, and to make themselves acquainted with the French 
 language and literature, instead of wasting their time upon the 
 miserable scholastic Latin, M'hich at that period it was the custom 
 to study J then he zealously interested himself for the German 
 language, for its purification, and its use in life. These were at 
 that time the chief demands of the age, which Gottsched also 
 afterwards endeavoured to forward and to meet, and by means of 
 which this pedant, who was not worthy to lose the latchcts of 
 Thomasius' shoes, has obtained a great reputation and a species 
 of immortality, which, however, few will en\y him, even of 
 those whose oj)iuions are carried to and fro by every wind of 
 doctrine. Witli these views, M'ith this zeal for the advancement 
 of the German language, and for some sort of national culture, 
 it was quite natural that Thomasius should attach himself to the
 
 § I.] CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 18/ 
 
 pietist party, should go over to them, and work so industriously 
 on Gottfried Arnold's ^ History of Churches and Heretics,' 
 that he might almost be regarded as its author. This German 
 direction stood only in apparent contradiction to his pi'evious 
 and earnest recommendations of the French. This was mani- 
 fest when the pietists afterwards entirely turned away from the 
 spirit of their age, and all their practical contemporaries who 
 were not favourable to visionary or fanatical views, withdrew 
 from them ; for from this time forward, Thomasius altogether 
 forsook them. 
 
 If, after this general remark, we turn our attention to the 
 special evidences of his great influence, it will be seen, first, 
 what considerable progress had been made in Germany towards 
 a great change in manners and customs as early as the first 
 decennium of the century ; and secondly, how far our people, at 
 the close of the seventeenth century, fell short of that progress 
 which, at its commencement, it might have been reasonably 
 expected they should have made. All scientific instruction, all 
 books not merely on the sciences connected with the usual facul- 
 ties, but also upon philosophy and history, were written in the 
 Latin language ; and even mathematics, physics, natural history 
 and geography were wholly inaccessible to the people. These 
 sciences treated in a learned language, were altogether separated 
 from life, to which they belong, and from any examination of 
 their utility and application which was so necessary to their ad- 
 vancement. The so-called philosophy of the schools, holding on in 
 its absurd course in obscurity and darkness, never experienced 
 the disgrace of being shattered by coming into collision with 
 the common sense of the people, unskilled in its barbaric Latin, 
 and therefore at the cost of the nation built up its houses of 
 cards, fit only for the habitation of dreaming philosophers. With 
 respect to the manner of communicating instruction, it is 
 obvious, that it must either have been confined within the limits 
 of the knowledge which existed in the times of pure Latinity, or 
 otherwise must have been conveyed in a barbarous dialect. 
 Animation, spirit, inspiration, the eloquence of the moment, 
 were things not thought of. 
 
 Under the circumstances which have just been stated, it was 
 an act of no ordinary boldness in Christian Thomasius, as a 
 tutor in Leipzig, in 1688, to put up a notice upon a black
 
 188 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 board, written in the German language, and announcing a 
 course of lectures to be delivered in that tongue. By such 
 lectures he meant to show to the members of the university, 
 how the sciences might be introduced into life, and treated 
 according to the French plan. This was truly the only thing 
 which he wished to learn from the French, for we see from his 
 own writings, he had neither derived any acquirements in taste 
 from the ancients, nor from the French, whom he so highly 
 and frequently praised. The outciy is almost incredible, which 
 was raised against Thomasius on account of this innovation ; his 
 zeal, however, against the Latinity of the schools and their com- 
 pounds (for we do not here speak of the classics), Mas so much 
 in accordance with the spirit of the age, that he not only from 
 that time read all his lectures in German, but his example was 
 imitated by others in Leipzig, as early as the first decennium of 
 the eighteenth century. 
 
 The introduction of the language of the people as the instru- 
 ment of public learned instruction, is an event of so great 
 importance in the history of its improvement and mental culture, 
 that the full consideration of it would lead us too far ; and we 
 must satisfy ourselves with a notice of the fact. We cannot, 
 however, overlook the circumstance, that Thomasius sought 
 protection from the people, when the whole corporation of 
 learned professors, and particularly the theologians, rose vip in 
 arms against him. This circumstance gave occasion to the 
 establishment of a learned periodical in the German language*. 
 This satirical and critical monthly review was undoubtedly 
 written in German, in order to induce the nation to take an in- 
 terest in literary affairs, about which hitherto those only who 
 M^ere learned by profession and by trade troubled themselves, 
 and to call in the aid of the people against the pedantry and 
 the pedants of the age. The attempt succeeded, although the 
 periodical Avas only carried on for three years. 
 
 The path for the reformation of the people by means of 
 periodicals was now opened, and the thing itself was so much 
 
 * The title was twice changed — 1st. ' Scherz und ernsthaftc verniinftige und 
 einfaltige Gedanken Liber allerhand niitzliche Biichcr und Fragen.' 2dly. 
 • Frcimuthige, lustigc und ernsthaftc, jcdoch Vcrnunft und Gesetz, maszige 
 Gedanken oder Monatgesprache uber allerhand vornamlich aber neuc Biichcr, 
 1688 — 1G90.'
 
 § I.] CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 189 
 
 a necessity of the age, that in the very beginning of the eight- 
 eenth century, there existed a number of German magazines, 
 upon theological, philosophical, and historical subjects, which 
 are proofs of the interest taken in literature and science by the 
 people themselves, and not merely by the learned. In Tho- 
 masius' magazine alone, however, is to be found any freedom of 
 mind, or any zeal for the cultivation and promotion of those 
 sciences which belong to life, all the rest are as dark as the age 
 itself; it was still however much, that the people had once more 
 gained the privilege and right which seems to have been lost 
 since the death of Luther. The contents of Thomasius' peri- 
 odical do not fall within our view, but we cannot altogether pass 
 by the fact, that immediately after its appearance, he took other 
 steps, in order to deliver the German people from the learned 
 and corporate barbarism of stupid pedants. 
 
 He attempted also to treat philosophy for Germans in their 
 own language. This attempt appeared to the learned in Leip- 
 zig either so unnecessary or so injurious, that his work upon 
 logic was not allowed to be printed there. It was not sent to 
 the press and published till the author was a teacher in Halle, 
 in that school of learning where he trained many eminent 
 jurists according to his new method. We must leave to others 
 the task of pointing out the relation of this first German logic 
 to the sciences ; the manner in which it was connected with the 
 people, and with the necessities of the age, may be concluded, 
 from the great number of editions of this so called ^ Court 
 Philosophy.' A fifth edition appeared as early as the yearl7l9. 
 In the pursuit and study of philosophy itself Thomasius re- 
 mained true to his design of calling the Germans forth from the 
 dust of the study into the freshness of practical life. He 
 appended to his so called ^ Court Philosophy,' or logic, a guide 
 to practice, or what might be called in other words, the 'Theory 
 of Method,' and in his lectures he led on the students from 
 mere learning and remembering, to reflection and to the forma- 
 tion of right views of life. 
 
 The fact of Thomasius being obliged to read lectures upon 
 German style, and to exercise his hearers in German composition 
 and declamation, is one of the best proofs, that those schools in 
 which Latin only was learned, were far indeed behind their age, 
 when it became necessary for one of the most distinguished 
 academical teachers of the age to give up his time to such
 
 190 GERMANY. [CHAP. lit. 
 
 instruction. Thomasius' high reputation as a teacher of legal 
 science, and as a practical jurist, contributed eminently to 
 increase his influence upon the nation, and by writing M^orks in 
 German upon learned subjects, he promoted the advancement, 
 and led to the improvement, of the national language. 
 
 In Thomasius' view, pietism was a means of civilization, 
 because he had to do with rough student?, and not less rough 
 colleagues. The pietists struggled against mere memoriter 
 learning, love of system, school dogmatics, and the passion for 
 quotation, as much as he did himself ; but, as the early Christian 
 missionaries wished to curb and keep in subjection the wild 
 inhabitants of the northern nations by means of ceremonies, 
 penances, and a hierarchy ; the pietists, by means of the forms of 
 external devotion, wished to ameliorate and soften the rude cha- 
 racters of the students, which were encouraged by their teachers 
 for the sake of humble gains. Thomasius, whose efficiency and 
 influence were altogether worldly, had besides no need either of 
 pietism or the pietists — he stood quite independent. We shall 
 point out his merits in reference to enlightenment in a very few 
 words, because the nature of the mental culture of his contem- 
 poraries may be gathered at the same time from the titles of 
 the books, and from hints about his struggles with prevailing 
 prejudices, and with legal injustice. 
 
 Immediately after his work upon logic, he wrote a book upon 
 moral philosophy, also in the German language, which was 
 reprinted eight times from 1692 till 1726. Upon the contents of 
 this work we shall not enter, of the value of which w' e shall draw 
 no conclusion from the number of times of its being reprinted ; 
 we quote it merely as a fact, in order to show that authors did not 
 delay to profit by the demands of the age, which was manifested 
 by the reception given to the works of Thomasius; and that 
 the professors of other vmivcrsities followed the example of those 
 at Halle, whose lectures and expositions in the German lan- 
 guage allured a large concourse of hearers. We shall make no 
 further mention of the numerous books and treatises which 
 Thomasius at a later period wrote in German, because they 
 have in themselves very little importance or value, but merely 
 say, that they were all written in opposition to the prevailing 
 pen^ersity of his age, or directed against the universities and 
 their faculties. 
 
 Among the writings of Thomasius, which had an exciting and
 
 § I.] CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 191 
 
 improving influence upon the learned officials and jurists, whose 
 number in Germany, as is well known, is very great, in conse- 
 quence of the union of administration and justice, may be 
 reckoned his various instructions to lawj^ers, in reference to the 
 proper direction of their studies, and his earnest advice and 
 encouragement, that they should aim at a much moi'e general, 
 and properly speaking, human culture, than they had previously 
 done. Among his works which were in the highest degree ser- 
 viceable for the enlightenment of the greater public of his time, 
 we reckon his * Image of a Philosopher without Pedantry *,' 
 taken from the French of Charpentier, and his ' History of 
 Wisdom and Folly/ The latter should properly have borne the 
 title : — Three parts of a Miscellaneous Collection of Treatises 
 and Histories, for the promotion of that Enlightenment which 
 is a Necessity of the Age. 
 
 This * History of Wisdom and Folly ' led to a struggle after 
 the German manner, in favour of the dawning light, and some- 
 times for the principles of the pietists, against pedants and sys- 
 tem-mongers, of the same kind as that in which Bayle, who was 
 . contemporary w-ith Thomasius, contended in the French manner, 
 against dogmatics and theological morals, in Holland. Bayle, 
 hke Thomasius, fought with foreign weapons ; the latter, as well 
 as the former, introduced foreign words and actions, and by se- 
 lection, position and use, gave them significance. 
 
 There were two prevailing prejudices which made the law 
 courts of that time the battle-field of wild superstition, and 
 the judges the instruments of that cruelty which was the re- 
 sult of a most absurd prejudice; and it was only a person 
 like Thomasius, who was equally distinguished as a man and a 
 philosopher, as a theologian and a jurist, who could venture 
 in those dark times to enter the field against them, and subdue 
 them. Thomasius was the man who first raised his voice 
 in Germany against prosecutions for witchcraft, which were 
 at that time common, and against the application of torture 
 in criminal trials. Legislation indeed remained as barbarous as 
 it had previously been, but these abuses were greatly diminished 
 in practice. Torture still continued to be the letter of the law 
 in some states of Germany, till the fall of the German empire, 
 
 * Ebenbild eines olinpedantischen Philosophen, 1G93.
 
 192 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 and Schlozer, in his statistics, is obliged to notice cases of pro- 
 secution for witchcraft, in some parts of our country, and espe- 
 cially in the small ecclesiastical states, as late as the end of the 
 eighteenth century. 
 
 Thomasius, as a member of the court of awards in Halle, was 
 at first at issue with Stryk, who presided in the court, on the 
 subject of prosecutions for witchcraft, but he was soon led by 
 experience to adopt the better and clearer views of his colleague, 
 and then undertook to come forward as the opjjonent of this 
 absurdity. His having conquered his prejudice, and renounced 
 an opinion which appeared to him to be a consequence of 
 belief in the Bible, shows his pure love of truth, as clearly as his 
 having never sunk so deep in pietism as to lose a clear insight 
 into the relations of life. And here we must remark, that he 
 forsook the degenerate pietists as soon as their piety led them 
 to be guilty of calumny and persecution. This he made known 
 in the preface to a work published in ] 70S. After that time he 
 studied Locke, adopted his system, and wrote after his manner, 
 and in accordance with his principles. 
 
 With respect to his views of prosecution for Mitchcraft, Tho- 
 masius had been preceded by two Dutch writers, Van Dale and 
 Bekker ; but Thomasius did not venture, as those w^riters had 
 done, altogether to deny the existence of the devil. He satis- 
 fied himself with proving the absurdity of the accusation, of any 
 one being in league with this spirit of evil. Bekker's work* 
 against a belief in the devil, ghosts and witches, has been trans- 
 lated, as is well known, into all languages, and therefore into 
 German. In this treatise it is shown to be both cruelty and 
 folly, to condemn, torment, prosecute as allies of the devil, and 
 finally to execute in a horrible manner, wicked or unfortunate 
 Avomen, or persons afflicted by nature, or borne down by age 
 or poverty, who appeared to the ignorant to do supernatural 
 things. What Bekker had illustrated and conceived in a theo- 
 logical and i)hilosopliical point of view, Thomasius examined 
 and established as a lawyer from his own experience in trials, 
 without breaking or interfering with the clergy, who wished 
 still to retain the devil, as a useful pulpit to])ic and auxiliary. 
 As soon as, in tb.e court at Halle, he had gained a proper in- 
 
 * ' De betoverte Wereld.'
 
 § I.] CHRISTIAN THOMASIUS. 193 
 
 sight into the subject, he tvrote his Latin treatise * Upon 
 Witchcraft, regarded as a Criminal OiTence*/ This treatise 
 was afterwards translated into German, and made the most of 
 by his numerous disciples. 
 
 It will be seen from Thomasius' own words how bitterly he 
 was reviled, in consequence of his attacks upon the prejudices of 
 his age ; how dark every thing appeared at that time in Ger- 
 many ; and how zealously he emulated the example of Bayle and 
 other antagonists of superstition ; and the passage introduced in 
 the note, may serve, at the same time, to give some notion of his 
 manner of treating his subject, and of his not very agreeable 
 stylef. The passage quoted is extracted from a book written 
 in German, in which Thomasius proves, not merely to lawyers, 
 but especially to the great German public, the absurdity of pro- 
 secutions for witchcraft, illustrated by three cases of such prose- 
 cutions, extending to four hundred and thirteen pages. 
 
 * 'De Crimine Magiae,' 1701. 
 
 ■y The passage which follows is extracted from a preface to the first part. — 
 "Der I723,bei llenger in Halle in Octav erschienenen Verniinftigen und Christ- 
 lichen, aber nicht Scheinheiligen Thomasischen Gedanken und Erinnerungen 
 iiber allerhand gemischte philosophische und juristische Handel. Dort heisst es : 
 Was endlich den 11 ten, 12ten, 13ten Hiindcl anbelangt, so becheide ich 
 mich zwar (man bedenke, dasz Thomasius danials schon 22 Jahr lang gegen 
 Hexenprozesse geeiferthatte), dasz viele, die denen Hexenprocessen und denen 
 Fabeln von Kobolden noch so herzlich ergeben sind, sich iiber diese Handel 
 argern und wohl gar mit verkehrten Augen iiber mich seufzen werden, dasz 
 durch diese Handel die autoritaet derer beriihratesten Lehrer (audi auf denen 
 Protestirenden und zwar auf den meist annoch diese Stunde seyenden yv/iaius 
 Lutherischen Universitiiten) bei vielen (die spitzige Vernunft allzu hoch trei- 
 benden und nicht unter dem Glauben gefangen nehmen wollenden) Neulingen 
 immer in noch mehrere decadenz kommen diirfte. Aber ich hoffe auch, es 
 ■werden viele andere von der verniinftigen Parthei diese drei Handel mit Ver- 
 gniigen lesen und dadurch in ihrer durch Gottes Gnade allbereits erlangten 
 Erkiintnisz der noch bei uns leider sich befindlichen groben reliquien des 
 Politischen Pabstthums immer mehr und mehr gestarkt werden. Indem ich 
 diese Vorrede schliesze besinne ich mich, dasz fiir wenig Tagen die Zeitungen 
 aus Turin vom 29 Aug. folgendes gemeldet : ' Die der Zauberei iiberfiihrte 
 und nunmehro zum Tode verurtheilten Personen in dem Thai Aosta haben an 
 den Senat zu Chambery appellirt : es hat sich aber selbiger wenig an ihre 
 Appellation gekehrt ; vielmehr das wider sie ausgesprochene Urtheii nicht 
 nur bekraftigt, sondern auch noch gescharft und dabei verordnet, dasz alle 
 Acten dieses peinlichen Prozesses verbrannt und dadurch denen Nachkommen 
 das Andenken dieser schandlichen That benommen werden solle.' Das Letzte 
 meint er, wiirde seinen Gegnern erwiinscht seyn, sie wiirden schreien : ' O ! 
 dasz doch Thomasius dieses lase und sich bekehrte !' oder auch, ' O ! dasz doch 
 alle Schriften des Thomasius verbrannt und dadurch Nachkommen das 
 Andenken seiner gefarlichen und hcterodoxen Meinungen benommen wiirde 1' 
 Oder ' O ! dasz doch der Mann selbst verbrannt wiirde.' Wir wollten Gott 
 auf den Knien danken, wann wir dieses erleben sollten, und dadurch die zur 
 Ehre Gottes dominirende Orthodoxie gerettet siihen, u. s. w." 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 GERMANY. [CHAP. Ill, 
 
 The first case quoted is that of an action brought by the 
 parents of a girl thirteen years oldj against the parson of their 
 village^ who had accused tlieir daughter of being able to make 
 mice by magic. The second case, -Rhich caused a collision 
 between two law courts, and occupied the supreme court of 
 the empire and two faculties, together with the senate of an 
 imperial city, for three years (1718-1721), was caused by the 
 wantonness of a young and vagrant girl, who was accused of 
 witchcraft. The third case, in v/hich a boy of fourteen had 
 involved his family in a long prosecution for witchcraft, by 
 playing the hobgoblin, and acknowledging that he had entered 
 formally into an alliance with the devil, furnished Thomasius 
 with an opportunity of remarking, with a sneer, that he was 
 about to narrate a history which it would be very useful for the 
 patrons of prosecutions for witchcraft, and the favourers of hob- 
 goblins and ghosts to read ; and he adds, that a short time since, 
 Mr. Jeremiah Heinisch, a preacher at Groben, had published a 
 so-called testimony of the truth of the doings of a goblin in the 
 parsonage-house itself, in which he took great trouble to 
 persuade the people that it had so tormented him in his said 
 parsonage, that he had been almost compelled to leave the 
 house. 
 
 The deep-rooted superstitious belief in wandering spirits, 
 which is intimately connected with a rude faith and with a 
 mystical philosophy, suited to female or eccentric minds, or to 
 weak-minded men, which spirits appearing and acting so as 
 to be objects of sense, as neither souls nor bodies, could not 
 indeed possibly be destroyed by the weapons of sound 
 reason. AYhat has been stated by three men distinguish- 
 ed for piety in our own days, the one in a * Theory of the 
 Nature of Spirits,' the second in * Leaves in Favour of higher 
 Truth,' and the third, in ' The Story of the girl Von Prevorst,' 
 is much more absurd than the story of the simple parson at 
 Groben ; but Thomasius fully succeeded in banishing altogether 
 from our courts such cases of the freaks of visionaries and old 
 men. 
 
 We may also learn from Thomasius himself, how difficult the 
 struggle was, which he was obliged to maintain on this point 
 with the ignorant friends of old superstitions. The whole of 
 the second volume of the ^ Thoughts and Recollections,' already 
 quoted, confirms this assertion, by a diffuse, ample, and formal
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 195 
 
 legal narrative of all the persecutions and calumnies to which he 
 had been subjected during the course of his life. 
 
 Thomasius was less fortunate with regard to the torture than 
 he had been with respect to prosecutions for witchcraft. The 
 treatise* in which he urges the total discontinuance of this 
 practice, because he declared it to be a useless cruelty, and 
 unworthy of a Christian judge, aftected first only those judges, 
 who, being trained in these new principles, either prevented or 
 mitigated its application. But legally the torture was abolished 
 only in a veiy few states, till the end of the eighteenth century. 
 The noble Charles Frederick of Baden, together with the King 
 of Denmark, gave the first examples of its abolition. In Hano- 
 ver, torture, which had been abolished, was again re-introduced 
 by law, together with all other abuses, in 1814 ; it is however to 
 be hoped, for the honour of humanity, that though legally per- 
 mitted, it is never applied ; and that it will at some later period 
 give occasion to an ordinance for its legal abolition. 
 
 §11. 
 
 GOTTSCHED AND THE CHANGES IN LANGUAGE AND LITERA- 
 TURE WHICH PROCEEDED FROM LEIPZIG. 
 
 However little it will occur to any one to compare Tho- 
 masius Avith Gottsched, it is undeniable that the latter com- 
 pleted for Leipzig, Avhat the former had begun in Halle ; his 
 influence indeed was altogether of another kind, operated in 
 another direction, and upon very different subjects; it originated 
 from other motives, and from a very common mind. Gottsched 
 and Thomasius both laboured to expel barbarous Latin from the 
 schools and universities, and together with the German language 
 to bring the spirit of the new age into the affairs of life ; their 
 springs of action however were Avholly different. The mind of 
 Gottsched never felt any regard for, or was in the slightest 
 degree animated by, true inspiration ; he was not urged onward 
 by the eager and noble motive of freeing his country from bar- 
 barism and mental oppression, but merely speculated upon the 
 
 * ' De Tortura e Foris Christianorurn proscribenda.' 
 
 o 2
 
 196 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 spirit of the age. In order to gain a short-lived renown, univer- 
 sity influence, and the outward advantages connected with it, he 
 laboured with assiduity to aid in introducing the light of the new 
 century, by means of unwearied literary activity, and to diffuse it 
 by all the arts of a narrow mind. We remark, however, that the 
 circumstance, that the mere trading speculation of a university 
 professor could be founded upon the spirit of the time, awakened 
 by Thomasius and others, clearly proves how powerful this 
 spirit was. Gottsched was precisely the very fittest man to 
 open and prepare the way ; for one kind of vulgar zeal and ac- 
 tivity is the best calculated to weaken and destroy another. 
 What is dull and vulgar must be met with its own weapons, 
 and upon its own field. Genius, in and for itself, is nothing with 
 the multitude ; and the fact can have no more striking illustra- 
 tion than that which the history of German literature affords to 
 all who are sufficiently acquainted with its course. 
 
 It may be seen from Gottsched's works, how great the dark- 
 ness and learned barbarism still were in Germany at the end — 
 to say nothing of the beginning — of this period, the history of 
 which we are now writing. When speaking, in the year 1742, of 
 the difficulties which hypocrites and pedants laid in the way, in 
 order to prevent the introduction of the language of the people 
 and the enlightenment of the unlearned, he says, in his preface 
 to his translation of Bayle's dictionary, that this undertaking 
 was obstructed from three quarters. First, all zealously religious 
 men were dissatisfied, who could not in general endure the 
 "writings of Bayle, because he was a confessed friend and advo- 
 cate of scepticism, or a defender of the Manicheans*. The 
 second class of opponents consisted of the enemies of all German 
 books, who could not contemplate, without indignation, the 
 notion of desecrating the arts and sciences, by expounding them 
 in the modern languages, and making the unlearned acquainted 
 with their secrets. The third class of opponents, as he re- 
 gards them, consisted of those who were sworn admirers of the 
 French language, to whom all that is strange, unusual and 
 even obscure, which so often occurs in foreign books, appears to 
 be merely esprit, and to include in itself a certain Je ne sais 
 
 * Our readers will be astonished to find that the Abbot Mosheim belonged 
 to this class. Sec the Preface to Noltcn's ' Lexicon Latinie Linguae anti- 
 barbarum/ 17'40.
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 19/ 
 
 quoi, which it was impossible in German to express in so in- 
 tellectual, pohte and graceful a manner. 
 
 We have introduced the passage in Gottsched's own words ; 
 because, in consequence of the feeling of dislike which is enter- 
 tained towards his person, the great services which he rendered 
 to the country as the organ of his time, and as the reformer of 
 school instruction, have been too frequently overlooked or for- 
 gotten. When it appears that the difficulties were so great with 
 respect to the use of the language and the enlightenment of the 
 people in 1742, it will be obvious that in the second decenniura 
 of the century, at which time Gottsched came to Leipzig, 
 German literature had no existence. We shall, however, justify 
 this allegation also, by an irrefragable proof. For this purpose, 
 we select the heart-breaking rhymes*, in which Triller enume- 
 rates the names of all the men who had gained distinction and 
 renown in Germany as poets, since the time of Opitz. And 
 in order to form a correct judgement of the verses, it must be 
 known that this Triller was one of those who Avere eulogised by 
 Gottsched; for the Leipzig professor carried on a ridiculous 
 contest with Bodmer about Triller's miserable fables. 
 
 If Triller was a renowned poet, and Opitz, according to his 
 judgement and extravagant praise, was a Pindar, and that in 
 
 * ' Triller's Edition of Martin Opitz's Poems.' — Frankfort, 1746, 4 vols. 8vo. 
 Hofmannswaldau liesz Dich liegen, 
 Lohenstein ward ungetreu, 
 Hallmann stimmte diesen bey, 
 AUe wollten hiJher fliegen, 
 Keiner hat Dich doch erreicht. 
 So an Worten als an Sachen. 
 
 Gryphius nebst seinem Sohne, 
 Tscheming, Abschatz, Schoch und Dach 
 Gingen Deinem Vortritt nach 
 Strebten straks nach Deiner Krone. 
 Flemming aber hat Dir gleich 
 Oft auch noch zuvorgesungen. 
 
 Canitz, Neukirch, Pietsch und Besser, 
 Richey, Brockes und Zimmermann 
 Haben Dir es nachgethan, 
 Werden durch Dich taglich grosser ; 
 Haller steigt durch Dich empor, 
 Giinther brenut von Deinem Feuer, 
 Bohlau stimmt nach Dir sein Roh?, 
 Gleichwie Seidel seine Leyer, 
 Gottsched singt und Lindner spielt, 
 Wie es Deine Kunst befiehlt.
 
 198 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 1747^ how advantageous and important must we consider 
 Gottsched's merits to have been in the second decennium of the 
 century, who succeeded in causing the German language to be 
 made a regular branch of study and instruction in the public 
 schools ; wrote grammars, dictionaries, books of instruction, 
 pamphlets and poems, which were suited to the degree of 
 mental culture then existing among the mass of the people ! 
 What great mind could have understood or accomplished such a 
 task ? or what would have been its influence upon the people ? 
 In order to form an impartial judgement of Gottsched's import- 
 ance, and of his influence upon literature, we must be Avell 
 acquainted with the condition of both prose and poetry, from 
 the beginning of the century till 1740. This could only be 
 effected by enumerating the names of all the celebrated men ; 
 but we shall not venture here to introduce the long catalogue of 
 miserable writers, whose names have long since sunk into oblivion. 
 The names of the great mass of poets, from Opitz to Triller, may 
 be seen in the rhymes, which for this reason Me have quoted at 
 greater length than was necessary, in order to enable our readers 
 to judge of their merits ; Me shall merely add a very few obser- 
 vations. From M hat has been already said of the prose Mriters, 
 and of some of the most celebrated of the poets mentioned by 
 Triller, we must be convinced that, in the time of Gottsched, 
 all men of talents such as Frederick the Second, ladies, and all 
 those M ho had seen anything of the M'orld, had no other resource 
 than that of French books and French society. 
 
 With respect to pulpit eloquence, Gottsched, in the fourth 
 edition of his ^Art of Oratory,' M'ritten in German, mentions 
 only the names of Scriver, Lassenius and Miiller ; it must be 
 added, however, that Jerusalem and jVIosheim were celebrated 
 for their talents in this way, as early as 1740 — 1743. We 
 must not here be led aside to pulpit eloquence, M'hen our 
 discourse must turn upon novels, poetry, letter-M"riting and the 
 eloquence of political or common life. As lay prose-Mriters, 
 Gottsched names first, Ziegler, Puffendorf, and Fuchs. With 
 respect to the first-mentioned, (the M'cll-knoMn author of the 
 Asiatic ' Vanise,') Gottsched is obliged to admit, that he, as 
 well as Puffendorf and Fuchs, Mhom he classes along M'ith him, 
 was accustomed to disfigure his language by the mixture 
 Mhich he introduced of Latin and French Mords and phrases. 
 Puffendorfs merits as a teacher of the law of nations, and a
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 199 
 
 learned historian, do not here fall under consideration ; but the 
 first glance at the introduction to the history of the most cele- 
 brated nations of Europe, will convince the intelligent reader, 
 that a history composed in such a manner, could be read much 
 better in Latin than in German, and that Puffendorf wrote the 
 one far better than the other. 
 
 Gottsched has singled out three others as pre-eminent, from 
 the names which have been mentioned, viz., Thomasius, Canitz, 
 and Besser. The language of the first, however, is deficient in 
 purity, dignity and strength ; and although Canitz and Besser 
 have the advantage of Thomasius in purity and art, they are on 
 the other hand wholly devoid of simplicity and nature. In 
 every line they betray stiffness and pedantry, and especially the 
 oppressive servile disposition of courts. Thomasius always 
 speaks with candour and freedom, though wholly without orna- 
 ment. His writings, moreover, still possess value from their 
 contents ; but who in our days would take in his hand Canitz's 
 ^ Funeral Oration upon the premature Death of the Princess 
 Henrietta EHzabeth of Brandenburg,' and such like bombast ? 
 Who expects from the chief master of ceremonies of Frederick 
 the First, and Augustus of Poland (Besser), and from his state 
 and personal eulogiums, anything else than what was fit for the 
 atmosphere of courts, where taste was sought for and centred 
 in pomp and magnificence ? 
 
 In poetry, Gottsched brings forward Fuchs, Canitz, Besser, 
 Neukirch, and Postel, as his models. Matthison's ^ Lyric An- 
 thology ' contains, as specimens, some good pieces of Fuchs and 
 Besser ; but when these are compared with the originals, it will 
 be seen that Matthison has recast them greatly to their advan- 
 tage. Canitz is a mere echo of Opitz, who was himself by no 
 means original ; he Avas pious according to the stiff manners 
 of the age, and whatever is at all tolerable in his satires belongs 
 to Boileau. Besser has shown what the nature of his poetical 
 powers was, in his heroic poem of ^ The Great Election,' in 
 which the finest passage, the description of the battle of Fehr- 
 belUn, is nothing better than miserable prosaic rhyme, and 
 cannot bear the slightest comparison with the worst of such 
 productions of the same age in England and France. As to 
 Neukirch, who is extolled as a poet by Gottsched, the case 
 is pretty much the same as that of those male and female poeti- 
 cal writers who were crowned almost every year, from 1737 to
 
 200 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 I747j by the Protector in Gottingen (when a Haller too was a 
 teacher). We have only to read the verses of the lady-poets, 
 whom the Protector adorned with the laurel, to perceive how 
 utterly destitute of taste the judges of it at that time were. 
 This is confirmed by the fact, that Neukirch's heroic poem, 
 composed from Fenelon's ^ Telemachus ' rendered into rhyme, 
 actually appeared twice in folio, in all the magnificence of typo- 
 graphic pomp (1727—1729, and 1738, 1739). We must speak 
 of Postel a little more at length, because the renown of . this 
 man, and the manner in which he attained his celebrity, indicate 
 the taste of a period in which all poetry had disappeared from 
 the life and intercourse of men. 
 
 Postel was first indebted for his reputation to operas and 
 musical entertainments, which he prepared for the Hamburg 
 stage. This is particularly worthy of notice, because it gives us 
 the opportunity of incidentally remarking, that the spirit of the 
 age began to show its influence and effects, about the same time, 
 at the two extremities of Germany. In Halle, Zurich, Leipzig, 
 and Hamburg, all was awakened to new life. Thomasius urged 
 on the reform in the departments of learning ; Gottsched was 
 active in language and belles lettres ; and the Hamburg theatre 
 was used as an instrument of public improvement, by Postel, 
 Brookes, and Hagedorn. Postel desired to be simple and natu- 
 ral ; he did not wish to lose himself in allegories, metaphors, 
 and other bombast, like Lohenstein and HoffmannsM^aldau ; but 
 for that reason sunk far below the language of well-informed and 
 educated men. We have only to read the title and the invocation 
 of his * Artful Juno*,' published in 1700, to comprehend why 
 D'Argent and Mauvillon, some thirty years later, condemned 
 the Germans as destitute of all taste. The Swiss, who were 
 bitter opponents of Gottsched, did not omit to avail themselves, 
 in the spirit of triumph, of Mauvillon's words, in order to repay 
 insult with insult, Avhen they were ridiculed on account of the 
 roughness and Helvctism of their language. The German pub- 
 
 * The title runs thus : — ' Die listige Juno, wic solche von dem proszcn 
 Homer im vierzchnten Buch dcr Ilias abgcbildet, nachmals von dcm Bischof 
 Eustathius ausgelcgt, nunmchr in teutschen Versen vorgestellt durch. C. H. 
 Postel. ' The Invocation : — 
 
 Dich grosze Konigin dcr Gcittcr •will ich singen 
 
 *♦♦♦♦*»*» 
 
 Dich sclbcr ruf ich an, iasz mcinen Hals crschallcn 
 Mit RcimcD solcher lloh', als Dcinc Gottheit worth.
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 201 
 
 lie, to their disgrace be it said, because the ancients were still 
 read in the schools, not only delighted in this 'Listige Juno' 
 (artful Juno), but after the death of Postel, received with great 
 favour his heroic poem ^ Der grosze Wittekind' (the great 
 Wittekind), in ten cantos, the last of which was unfinished. 
 Why this should be called a disgrace, and of what was regarded 
 and esteemed as poetry among us about 1724, the reader will 
 be able to form an opinion, from the four hues given in the note, 
 which are selected from the invocation to the Muses in the poem 
 of Wittekind * 
 
 Giinther, Wernike, and above all Hagedorn, to whom we 
 shall return, felt some of the influence of their century; but 
 their merits were only first acknowledged, when Gottsched 
 had improved the nature of instruction, and had awakened 
 a feeling in favour of general improvement among the middle 
 classes. Some of Giinther's songs and satires are still, in 
 cases of necessity, readable ; but his course of life and destiny 
 prevented him from acquiring that mental culture, which alone 
 can secure to a poet a lasting influence upon the people. Wer- 
 nike, as an epigrammatist, has been treated precisely in the 
 same manner by Rammler, as the old German lyric writers 
 have been by Matthison ; and no reliance therefore can be 
 placed upon Rammler's collection ; his satirical poem, ' Hans 
 Sachs,' is here and there very tolerable ; but as our concern is 
 with its influence upon the people, we must say it had none. 
 Brockes, on the contrary, exercised no inconsiderable influence 
 upon his time and upon the public mind ; his poems were com- 
 posed altogether in the tone of the prevailing piety and of the 
 traditionary faith, and their spirit and contents belonged more 
 to the time of the past century than to that of the new one. This 
 will be obvious, from the title of his chief work, a closer exami- 
 nation of which does not fall M'ithin our plan. In 1 712, he wrote 
 a so-called oratorium, entitled ' Jesus crucified and dying for 
 the Sins of the World, taken from the four Evangehsts, and 
 represented in Verse f.' This poem excited great attention, not 
 only in Hamburg, but throughout all Germany. He further 
 
 * Auf Gottheit, die du hast vom Sinai geblitzet, 
 
 Lasz meine Geister seyn von Deinem Trieb erhitzet, 
 Durch Deinen Geist gestarkt, lasz sich von Dir allein 
 Die recht erleuchtende Entziickung stellen ein. — Sed ohe. 
 
 t ' Der flir die Siinden der Welt gemarterte und sterbende Jesus, aus 
 den vier Evangelisten in gebundener Rede vorgestellt.'
 
 202 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 translated, in 1727? Marini's ^Slaughter of the Innocents at 
 Bethlehem/ which was taken as a model by Lohenstein, who 
 is notorious as the introducer of the utmost artificiality in verse 
 and prose. 
 
 The chief work of the Hamburg poet is his ^ Earthly Plea- 
 sure in God, consisting of poems upon the works of Nature, 
 and upon Morals*,' which ultimately extended to nine parts. In 
 these poems, which are mostly descriptive, and wholly uncon- 
 nected, there is something good, and others, with slight alter- 
 ations and omissions, may be reckoned admirable even in our 
 times ; and yet, if it were worth the labour, we could very easily 
 prove, that Gottsched's unpoetical influence and his dull prose 
 were more profitable, and in better accordance with the spirit 
 of the age, than Brockes's admirable poetry. 
 
 Gottsched, provided with good certificates of learning, and 
 already well known by some occasional poems written in the 
 taste of the age, came to Leipzig in the year 1723, when at 
 first he was supported by the magistrates of Konigsberg, 
 because he had fled from the recruiting officers of Frederick 
 William. He was indebted to his connexion with Menken for 
 his earhest celebrity. The Leipzig scholars had also felt the 
 influence of Thomasius, and now published * Acta Eruditorum,' 
 in German as well as in Latin, and Johann Burkhard Menken 
 employed Gottsched as an assistant in the composition of his 
 German Magazine. Under Menken's protection, Gottsched 
 first attained celebrity, merely by a little ingenuity, without any 
 true merit, in the same way as many miserable writers and 
 instructors still become great. He made a party, praised 
 mediocrity, and sought for the reward of his mental labour, 
 not in himself, but in what was external in reputation and name; 
 by ci'inging and praising the poor and the contemptible, he se- 
 cured a number of followers, who would swear to his words ; he 
 reviewed, made a noise, and gained celebrity. Wc have already 
 remarked, that he was more profitable to the nation and to its 
 culture, by his littleness and meanness of character, than a gi'eat 
 mind, under the then circumstances, could possibly have been ; 
 because such a mind must have yielded to the ruling mob. In 
 order to comprelicnd this, wc have only to cast a glance upon 
 the educational institutions of the time. 
 
 * ' Irdischcs Vcrgnijgcn in Gott, bcstchcnd in physikalisch moialischcu 
 Gedicliten.'
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 203 
 
 Leipzig was the only university in Germany in which a 
 general education could be obtained ; for Gottingen did not 
 reach any degree of reputation till about 1740. In Leipzig, 
 the abuses and scandal of student-life were mitigated by the size 
 of the town^, by the prevailing manners, by the number of gen- 
 tlemen of rank who were pursuing their studies in that univer- 
 sity, under the direction of their private tutors; and hence the 
 same sort of influence was gradually spread from thence in the 
 first decennium, as that which proceeded from Weimar in the last 
 decennium of the century. Gottsched perceived and profited by 
 this, with an instinct which never fails people of his kind, and 
 with which he combined that prudence in the selection of means 
 suitable for the attainment of his end, which vanity and the 
 love of reputation confer upon the learned as well as upon cour- 
 tiers. 
 
 Gottsched wished to be a reformer according to the rules 
 and the example of French poetry and prose ; Addison and 
 Steele were his models. In order to bring forward a new lite- 
 rature, he chose the way which down to our own days the re- 
 formers of German taste have always trodden. He read lectures 
 upon the fine arts, in the German language, and by rules and 
 examples sought to bring back poetry, which had been lost in 
 bombast by the imitation of Lohenstein, to simplicity, which 
 indeed was sometimes changed into dulness. With the design 
 of destroying prejudices without raising an outciy, he had Bayle's 
 ' Dictionary' translated by his wife and his disciples, and added 
 remarks and annotations on all subjects, which might appear as 
 refutations. If, on the one hand, he celebrated and imitated the 
 French — if he was one of the first among the Germans who 
 recommended, applauded and idolized Voltaire ; he opposed, on 
 the other, the perverse spirit of the age, and sought eagerly to 
 root out the ruling prejudice, that it \vas unbecoming a person 
 of rank to employ his own mother-tongue in letters *. 
 
 * We consider it due to Gottsched and to history, to point out his true 
 merits, since he himself had almost caused them to be forgotten, by wishing 
 to be more than he could be, and by not retiring when his time was gone by. 
 With respect to his zeal for German speaking and writing, we have accident- 
 ally fallen upon a decisive passage in one of the letters of his betrothed, who 
 afterwards became his wife. (' Letters of Mrs. Louisa Adelgunde Victoire 
 Gottsched, born Kulmus. Dresden, 1771.' 2 vols. 8vo.) She writes, October 
 1730, 1st vol., p. 6 :— " But v^'hy not allow me to write in French ? You say it 
 is unjustifiable to write in a foreign language better than in one's own, and
 
 204 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 Gottsched had no sooner gained some reputation as a teacher 
 and writer^ than he appeared as a journahst, and as the founder 
 and head of a learned society, and thus made for himself 
 clients and allies. Such have been the tactics of all the heads of 
 literary parties, from that time onward. Gottsched was the 
 more successful in this plan, as it was easier in a time when all 
 was new, to accomplish much by the distribution of eulogiums 
 and diplomas, which can now no longer be effected. His society, 
 which was founded in Leipzig, was first called the ' Poetical 
 Society,' which for a Gottsched was not a little ridiculous, but he 
 afterwards adopted the more suitable denomination of ' Ger- 
 man.' Gottsched's Magazine of Taste, which was first called 
 ^Die Tadlerinn' (the female faultfinder), and afterwards ^ Der 
 Biedermann' (the gentleman), by no means equalled the 
 English, which were his models ; but he had also quite a differ- 
 ent class of readers from Addison and Steele. His magazines 
 were intended for the German middle classes, and the language, 
 wit and modes of thinking of himself, his Kulmus, afterwards 
 Mrs. Gottsched, their clients and friends, were far better fitted 
 to their circle of readers than a more refined and higher culture, 
 which would have been altogether foreign to them. His re- 
 formation of literature was truly useful, because it mounted 
 from below upwards, instead of, as in France, descending from 
 above downwards ; for in this way it worked beneficially and pe- 
 culiarly upon the middle classes — the best part of the German 
 people. 
 
 The school tyranny of Gottsched and his followers continued 
 only so long as it could be useful ; there were voices early 
 raised in opposition to it, but their objections rested upon no 
 firm foundation. In Berlin, in Hamburg, in Switzerland, the 
 Leipzig taste was not acknowledged ; there arose bitter strifes 
 and contests, and as is usual in Germany in learned quarrels, 
 abstract philosophers are never wanting. The followers of 
 Wolf, Baumgarten, and his shield-bearer, Meier, demonstrated, 
 after their mathematical method, that shallow is shallow. In 
 this manner Germany Mas excited on the subject of literature, 
 
 vet rny teachers have assured me that there is nothing so vulgar as letters 
 written in German, and that all well-bred people write in French. I know not 
 ■what induces me to put more confidence in you than in them ; but this I 
 know, that I have proposed to myself always to write in German."
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 205 
 
 in the early decennia of the eighteenth century, as it was on 
 that of rehgion in the sixteenth. Pamphlets, magazine contro- 
 versies about poetry and language multiplied till all Germany 
 was in commotion, a fearful war of parties commenced, and 
 what the friendly and peaceful Muses could not effect, the dread- 
 ful Furies accomplished. 
 
 Gottsched's ' Critical Art of Poetry,' which appeared in 1730, 
 and in its fourth edition had grown to 800 pages, consisted of 
 rules borrowed and diluted from the French; but Gottsched, 
 like the Frenchmen whom he followed, had the false taste to 
 attack the bombast of Marini and Lohenstein ; they could only 
 do that by cool reasoning. Gottsched's 'Critical Art of Poetry' 
 moreover begins most unfavourably, with a very bad translation 
 of Horace's ' Letter to the Pisos,' turned into rhyme, and in 
 the progress of the work, French examples are given, and spe- 
 cimens from Neukirch and Giinther, but chiefly from Opitz, 
 together with some of his own. He thinks, however, still upon 
 the ancients. Judging from the specimens, one must believe that 
 he could have produced no effect, if he had not had a party to 
 sustain him, and we must remember that no one would have 
 read his book if it had not been plainly written. The misuse 
 of foreign words and terminations fully deserves all the blame 
 W'hich it has received in Gottsched's ' Art of Speaking,' which 
 appeared in 1736, and was reprinted as often as his 'Critical 
 Art of Poetry.' A jumble of languages was regarded as so 
 ornamental and commendable, that words and terminations were 
 distinguished by the type, and the mixture of German and 
 Latin letters gave the books of that period a complete patch- 
 work appearance. 
 
 The influence which Gottsched had obtained as the organ of 
 his age, by means of the services rendered to the language by 
 his collections, by his manuals of poetry and eloquence, led him 
 to deceive himself altogether as to his proper sphere. He was 
 bold enough to force himself upon the public as a poet, as an 
 orator, as a translator, without having any pretensions to such 
 distinction ; this was injurious to himself, but the nation gained 
 by his failures. We believe, indeed, that it was very useful, 
 that by creditable and discreditable means, by writing many 
 books, by journals, by occasional poetiy, by mean party tactics, 
 by confident forwardness and flattery, by praise and abuse, he 
 gained for himself a distinction, such as is sometimes called
 
 206 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 a European celebrity, and therefore an importance in Leipzig 
 with the idols of the pedants, and with professors who taught 
 the science of bread-winning. This distinction was useful to 
 the German language and literature, for Gottsched's splendour 
 was reflected upon these. An outward interest in the language 
 and literature must have preceded mental improvement and 
 culture among the middle classes of the Germans, who con- 
 sist mostly of persons of learning, scattered about in the little 
 towns and in the country ; this Gottsched awakened, in his way, 
 in one part of the public ; and Wieland, at a later period, after 
 his manner, in another. 
 
 From the favourable reception which was given to Gottsched's 
 ^ Dying Cato*,' on its first appearance, we may form an opinion 
 of the taste of the German public, for whom he wrote his ma- 
 nuals. This tedious and dull piece, which was founded upon 
 Addison's ' Cato,' in which French ingredients, treated accord- 
 ing to French rules, are mixed up, was not merely everywhere 
 favourably received, but reprinted ten times in rapid succes- 
 sion. Even his most miserable pieces, translated from the 
 French by the aid of his wife and his adherents, were on their 
 first appearance not unfavourably received. In our days the 
 whole of the pieces written by Gottsched and his wife, which 
 are to be found, in six parts, in his ' German Theatre,' would 
 be regarded as absurd and ridiculous as they are bad ; but at 
 that time they awakened an anticipation of something better in 
 the minds of the freer part of our nation, particularly of the citi- 
 zens of the free-trading imperial cities. 
 
 Gottsched tells us himself, that his dramas were played only 
 for want of better, and in those cities in which there was no 
 court, by whom French and Italian actors could be maintained, 
 and operas introduced and performed at the expense of the 
 people. lie boasts in the prefaces of his * German Theatre,' 
 that his pieces were played in Leipzig, Frankfort on the Main, 
 Hamburg and Danzig, by the theatrical companies who at that 
 time moved about from place to place. This gave him boldness 
 to attempt to be the reformer of the stage also, and to mark the 
 year 1737 Ji'' the commencement of a new era, when he drove a 
 Jack-])udding from the stage with ridiculous pomp and so- 
 lemnity before the eyes of the Leipzig public. 
 
 We will not deny that the ceremony was ridiculous, and Gott- 
 
 * ' Der Sterbender Cato.'
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 207 
 
 sched^s pretensions intolerable ; and even admit that what was 
 substituted for the pieces,was duller and more stupid than the 
 old popular plays^ in which a clever actor such as Hanswurst 
 brought out many an admirable flash of wit, the suggestion of the 
 moment ; nevertheless the time was well-chosen to procure for 
 play-actors in Germany also some claim to the respect which, 
 as artists, they already enjoyed in France and in England. The 
 company of Neuberinn, which played at that time in Leipzig, 
 must have been good ; the pieces were well suited to a monarch-, 
 ical age, such as that was, and the public had a stronger feeling 
 for the stiffness and regularity of the monarchical stage of Louis 
 the Fourteenth, than for the rude and bitter wit of the citizens 
 of the free towns of the fifteenth century, or the religious dramas 
 of the seventeenth. Hanswurst was a remnant of the time of 
 the minstrels, and the celebration of his expulsion seemed to 
 announce the introduction of something foreign, at the expense 
 of what was of home growth; but in the then state and circum- 
 stances of mental culture, even that was advantageous. It gave 
 rise to violent opposition and commotions, which were favourable 
 to national literature. 
 
 Gottsched's translations, such as that of Fontenelle's ' Dis- 
 cours sur la Pluralite des Mondes,^ and others, had an object of 
 the same kind as his theatrical pieces ; they made the Germans 
 acquainted with the so-called classical time of Louis the Four- 
 teenth, and gave the citizens, or middle classes in general, some 
 notion of what was going on amongst the noble French reading, 
 writing and speaking societies, and of what was expected from 
 German writers. Along with these sometimes extremely bad 
 translations, Gottsched's historical notices of the German stage, 
 and his collections for the history of our theatre, deserve parti- 
 cular mention ; and he was also honourably and assiduously 
 active in the diffusion of the results of philosophy among the 
 people. 
 
 If the philosophical writings of Gottsched and his school 
 are compared, in reference to their language and style, with 
 the best of what Thomasius has written, or with the rudeness 
 of a Bodmer or Meier, their weakness and insipidity will be 
 readily forgiven. The wisdom of the schools, which had been 
 hitherto inaccessible and unintelligible, was at least made by 
 him attainable by the people. It was either conveyed in Latin,
 
 208 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 of which Brlicker's celebrated ^ History of Philosophy/ in six 
 volumes quarto, is a specimen, or in German, such as that written 
 by WolPs disciple Meier, whom we shall hereafter mention. 
 
 Gottsched's ^ German Manual of Theoretical and Practical 
 Philosophy' (fifth edition, 1749), in relation to science, is of no 
 value ; but with respect to language and mode of exposition, 
 has a great advantage over his pedantic discourses and trans- 
 lations, which are wholly without substance. By this book, 
 moreover, the essence of what was at that time taught and 
 cultivated in the learned schools was brought under the notice 
 of the people, instead of which it had been previously customary 
 to publish only books of prayer and devotion, or dialogues of 
 the dead, by whose composition Faszman, the author of ^ The 
 Life of King Frederick William and Frederick Augustus,' gained 
 great reputation. 
 
 We cannot place Gottsched's influence upon schools, teachers, 
 and schoolbooks in a clearer light, than by the mention of a 
 school essay and oration, written by one of his most zealous 
 partisans and most grateful disciples, who had been for forty 
 years rector in a little town, which at that time — the period of 
 the Danish rule — was not a capital, and which lies in a very dark 
 corner. In his speech he calls attention to Montesquieu's ' Spirit 
 of Laws,' and in his school program urges earnestly a reform 
 in the mode of instruction in the Latin language. Rector Her- 
 bart, in Oldenburg (the author in question), wrote a program 
 in 1744, entitled, 'Some humble Thoughts upon the Method of 
 Teaching hitherto practised, in giving Instruction in the Latin 
 Tongue*.' In this pamphlet of a sheet and a half, wn-itten in 
 German, he urges strongly the adoption of a method of instruc- 
 tion, which Montaigne, Leibnitz, and Comenius had already 
 recommended, and which was actually afterwards introduced by 
 Basedow and Campe. The same person pronounced ' An Oration 
 on the Occasion of the Danish Jubilee' (in 1 750), and treated with 
 great skill the question of the three different forms of govern- 
 ment, which Montesquieu had jjroposed and explained in his 
 ' Spirit of Laws,' which had just then appeared in Paris (1750). 
 
 In the seventh dcccnnium of the last century, Gottsched's 
 
 * ' Unvorgreifliche Gedanken von Vcrbessci-ung dcr bei Erlernung dor latcin- 
 ischen Sprache bisher gewohnlichen Lehrart.'
 
 § II.] GOTTSCHED. 209 
 
 abridgements^ as well as the writings of Gellert and Rabener, 
 were found in the houses of citizens and peasants, in Saxony, 
 Thuringia, Prussia, and Northern Germany, along with the Bible 
 and the Prayer-book. No man can dispute that Gottsched was 
 very popular ; at a later period, however, he mistook his sphere, 
 and neglected to retire from his labours, and relinquish his claims, 
 when his time was gone by. The poor man imagined, because 
 he was eveiywhere named and celebrated, that he was a poet, 
 and that he could raise up poets for the nation, in the same 
 manner as he had been instrumental in Leipzig in furnishing it 
 with teachers ; he wished to create a literature of weakness and 
 dulness — this made him ridiculous. From this time forward, it 
 was in vain that he brought ' Reynard the Fox ' again into circu- 
 lation, and published it in folio ; in vain that he increased his 
 treasury for the history of the German dramatic art of poetry ; 
 these works, as well as his dictionaries, were coldly received ; his 
 reviews were laughed at, his entertainments of understanding 
 and wit were at last forsaken even by Kastner and Gellert who 
 had given him frequent contributions, as they had been pre- 
 viously abandoned by others. 
 
 About the end of the year 1740, Gottsched^s influence was alto- 
 gether lost, because he could not venture to follow the move- 
 ment which he had originated, or to give way to younger and to 
 abler men ; he became utterly ridiculous, when he attempted 
 seven times in 1752-1753, by his condemnatory judgements to 
 put down Klopstock, who as a young man had already shown 
 great and surpassing poetical powers. Gottsched published a 
 treatise, intitled, ' Reasons why the Poem of the Messiah has not 
 met with general Applause *,' in which there are here and there 
 very judicious remarks and well-grounded objections, both 
 against the matter and the manner of the poem ; but no one lis- 
 tened to him. It was regarded as intolerable, that a tasteless 
 pedant should place the first German, who, notwithstanding his 
 visionary and fanatical notions, appeared as a great poet, in an 
 inferior rank to two Saxon landowners — the one a baron and 
 the other belonging to the middle classes. Gottsched and his 
 fraternity in Leipzig, and the emperor in Vienna, had crowned 
 Naumann and Schonaich as epic poets ; the nation, however, had 
 set the crown upon Klopstock, and on this occasion at least it 
 
 * ' Beraerkungen, warum das Gedicht der Messiasnicht allgemeinen Beifall 
 erhalten hat.' 
 
 VOL, I. P
 
 210 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 bore off the victory*. Gottsched's manner and tone in criti- 
 cising and condemning Klopstock, were unbecoming and pre- 
 sumptuous ; but the vahdity of his objections has been ratified 
 by time. He ridiculed, and not without reason, Klopstock's 
 extravagance, or what he called his " seraphic spirit of fanati- 
 cism tj" and censured his scholastic dogmatic matter, his effe- 
 minate and weak tenderness, his melting and weeping and 
 exaggerated feeling. All Germany was embittered and indig- 
 nant, that Gottsched and his Schwabe should set up the art of 
 poetry and the eloquence of the Leipzig professor as a stand- 
 ard of German culture and taste, and that they should ven- 
 ture to name their own miserable rhymes, the production of a 
 Neukirch, Naumann, and Schonaich, along with the inspired 
 poetry of a Klopstock. 
 
 § III. 
 
 SOME SAXON POETS OF GOTTSCHED's SCHOOL. 
 ZACHARIA, RABENER, GELLERT. 
 
 We shall here name first those men, who sprung from the 
 Leipzig school, who remained long faithful to their teacher, and 
 even when they at length forsook him, took no higher flight than 
 he had done, but continually kept near the ground, and never 
 soared above the view of the class of ordinary minds, to whom 
 their well-meaning diftuseness was very necessary and useful. 
 In the following paragraphs we shall alkide to those men who 
 wished to found a better system of mental culture and taste, 
 without enmity or quarrel with Gottsched, and afterwards we 
 shall advert to those who v.ere his antagonists and enemies. 
 
 Because we are not writing a detailed history of literature, we 
 pass over Schwabe and other insignificant creatures of Gottsched, 
 whom he either praised himself in his numerous reviews in the 
 * New Library %,' or in the * Latest News of Polite Learning,' or 
 encouraged others to praise ; and mention only such as rendered 
 indisputable services to their age and to German civilization. 
 
 * Gottsched's two poets have been again called to recollection in new edi- 
 tions in the present century; Naumann, Leipzig, 1802; Schonaich, 1805; 
 Naumann's ' Nimrod,' twenty-four books ; Schcinaich's ' Satires.' Also 
 ' Henry the Fowler,' and ' Hermann, or Germany Delivered,' twelve books. 
 
 \ ' Scraphinischcn Schwarmergeist.' 
 
 I 'Neuen Biichersaal.'
 
 § III.] ZACIIARIA. 211 
 
 John Elias Schlegel and Aclolph Schlegel, Zacharlii, Rabener, 
 Gellert, must be named before others, and particularly Kiistncr, 
 who never openly separated from Gottsched, and who yet main- 
 tains one of the first places among German epigrammatists. 
 
 The two Schlegels merit an incidental notice only, because 
 their prose possesses Httle more strength and dignity than that 
 of Gottsched ; their poetry, or the pieces of the one which form 
 a part of Gottsched's ' Theatre,^ are indeed superior to the dull 
 verses and miserable prose of the Gottsched ' Man and Wife,' 
 but it is still of a kind which could have no influence upon the 
 literature or upon the civilization and mind of the nation, how- 
 ever kindly it was at the time received. Zacharia deserves more 
 attention, not so much on account of the contents as of the influ- 
 ence of his writings, because he descended so far beneath the 
 excellence of Pope and others, whose style he imitated, that in 
 our youthful days he was widely circulated among the class which 
 stands a little below that of ordinary novel-readers, as Rabener's 
 satires were in Saxony. How admirably Zacharia had hit the 
 taste and tone of certain classes may be gathered from the fact 
 that an edition of his poems, prepared and pubhshed when he 
 was in his seventeenth year, not only found ready sale, but was 
 reprinted in South Germany. Of the poems which are contained 
 in this last edition we do not here speak, because they consist 
 of the translation of Mihon's ^ Paradise Lost,' and some later 
 poems ; we have in view only his early and facetious writings. 
 
 In the estimation of Zacharia, and all the German writers who 
 preceded the bards of the Gottingen Union — Herder and Gothe, 
 who created an entirely new school of poetry. Pope was regarded 
 as a great poet and an unattainable model, and, in fact, Zacharia 
 gained the highest renown among us by his burlesque poems 
 writen after the style and in the taste of the ' Rape of the Lock.' 
 If Zacharia's ^Pocket Handkerchief*,' his ^ Cat in Hell V his 
 ' Bullies J,' be compared with the ' Rape of the Lock,' it must be 
 admitted that the German poet stands as far below the English 
 one, as the vulgar company to which Zacharia introduces us is in- 
 ferior to the rich and fashionable circle from which Pope drew his 
 materials and his scenes. We shall not however be so unjust as 
 to condemn German social intercourse and society, upon the re- 
 presentation of a young man, who also at a more advanced age 
 
 * ' Schnupftuch.' f ' Murner ia der Holle.' % ' llenomisten.' 
 
 p 2
 
 212 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 neither would nor could alter any thing essential in a work which 
 had once been acknowledged ; the absence of all delicacy and 
 refinement of tone, however, cannot be denied. 
 
 In language and versification Zachariii is indeed superior to 
 the miserable rhymers of Gottsched's school. But what a 
 public, what village scandal and what gossiping do his comic 
 poems place before us ! What rudeness, vulgarity, dulness, 
 must men have brought with them from the universities to 
 endure the reading of his ^ Bullies ! ' When we only think of 
 the men who could take pleasure in the reminiscences of the 
 ' Bullies,' of the gossips who could admire his ' Cat in Hell,' of 
 the ladies in hoop petticoats who w^ere delighted with the 
 ' Pocket Handkerchief,' Mhen we only think of such people 
 united in a society with those sensitive souls for whom Zacharia's 
 pensive and visionary or stiff descriptive poems, which occupy 
 the next place to the burlesque, were intended, we are horrified, 
 and can readily pardon a man who had received his education 
 from and among the French, for regarding German society as 
 ridiculous. 
 
 Hence it appears how difficult it must have been, under these 
 circumstances, to amalgamate the two diflferent classes and 
 societies, — the noble and French, and the ordinary or dull to 
 which the people in Germany belonged, into one common third. 
 Nature had deserted them both. There were rudeness, vulgarity, 
 meanness on the one hand, on the other scorn, insolence and 
 an ever-ready contempt for the well-disposed but stupid people. 
 We shall see that the point of union of the two classes was first 
 sought in religious affairs, and the well-meaning pietists even 
 wished to make the chief of the fashionable and scoffing party, 
 Voltaire, during his sojourn in Berlin (1751), the annovnicer of 
 ^Klopstock's Messiah;' but the answer which Voltaire gave to 
 Sidzcr, who brought the book under his notice, shows how 
 absurd and impossible such a plan really was*. Wieland, when 
 he threw away his pious mask, knew how to conceive the matter 
 better. He adapted the French and the Greek to the necessities 
 of the higher classes, created a French-German literature in a 
 
 * Gleim's ' Literaiy Remains/ by Kortc. Zurich, 1805. 1st part, p. 15G. 
 Sulzer communicates to Bodraer, June 30, 1751, liow the attempt had failed. 
 Voltaire said, " Jc connais bien le Messie, c'cst le Fils du I'ero Eternel et le 
 Frerc du Saint Esprit, ct je suis son tres-hunible serviteur ; mais profane que 
 je suis, je n'ose pas mettre la main a rencensoir."
 
 § III.] RABENER. 213 
 
 Greek clothing, and forced the people to appropriate this kind 
 of culture. 
 
 Rabener, although he writes better prose than Gottsched, and 
 might have had great influence as a satirist, -will serv^e us as a 
 proof and example to show how difficult it Avas in the political 
 and social relations in Germany, at that time, to bring truth into 
 the affairs of life, without ^Yhich poetry or any other species of 
 pure human culture and civilization is not to be thought of. 
 
 In Rabener's satires, however useful they might have been in 
 elevating the class for whom Gottsched wrote, one or two degrees 
 in the scale of taste, and awaking them to a participation in Ger- 
 man literature, we see no element of life which goes beyond Gott- 
 sched more than in the writings of Zacharia and Gellert. We 
 should not indeed expect to find any bold philosophy in such a 
 man as Rabener, who was a surveyor of customs under Bruhl,who 
 played the same character in the times of Augustus the Third, in 
 Saxony, which Fleming had played under Augustus the Sebond, 
 and who therefore pushed his fortune in these melancholy times 
 and in this miserable department. But what is satire without 
 comprehensive views of life — without bold flights of poetry ? It 
 should always spare the mean, the low, the vulgar, who are to 
 be improved by means very different from satire ; but should, 
 on the contrary, ridicule with bitterness and severity that pride 
 and glitter, false presumption and empty and vain ostentation, 
 which dazzle the multitude. 
 
 Rabener's satire spared, what it was very advisable for him to 
 leave untouched at that time in Germany, and especially in 
 Saxony, the worst enemies of mankind, the people who, without 
 remorse or shame, despised and scorned popular opinion; because 
 no one, like Swift in England, or Voltaire in France, durst ven- 
 ture to disturb their quiet : his satires have only to do with old 
 gossips and their cousins. We hear nothing in Rabener of the 
 things which brought misery upon Saxony, whose authors were 
 ridiculous in their lives and contemptible in their conduct. The 
 people, with whoin this prudent and lame satirist meddles, 
 firm to their nature, can never possibly become subjects of 
 poetry ; because, in their wearisome sphere of life, they are far 
 removed, on the one hand, from simple nature, and, on the other, 
 from all true independence and free prosperity. Arts, science 
 and free action only begin when there is pure nature without 
 vulgarity, or in that condition of prosperity in which the first 
 rude necessities are satisfied.
 
 214 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 The life which Rabener drags to hght does not at all belong to 
 publicity, but to coffee-houses, beer-shops, or at the highest to 
 the casinos of his time ; it is a life determined by circumstances 
 and relations, and to be improved by no amount of ridicule. 
 Parsons, now and then a country squire, pedants, people who 
 have remained long behind their age, schoolmasters, old-fashion- 
 ed mad-women, are made the butts of his wit, in a style which 
 one observes in every line is intended to be witty, but which is 
 in reality very wearisome. It appears remarkable to us as a 
 sign of German life and culture, that Rabenei^'s satires as well 
 as Zacharia's poems were published in Leipzig so late as the 
 year 1777? in a new and ornamental edition. 
 
 Besides, before the time of Rabener, and contemporaneously 
 with him, Germany possessed in Liscov a much better satirist 
 than he was, who did not wTite like Rabener according to the 
 rules laid down for his art, but was a satirist by nature. The 
 fortune of the two men under the same government shows how 
 dangerous it was for German men of talent to say anything either 
 in prose or verse, similar to what the Frenchmen said, who on 
 this very account were caressed at all courts ; Liscov died in a 
 fortress in consequence of the displeasure of the bloodsucker 
 of the Saxons ; Rabener consoled himself under Kastner's 
 very true epigram by the ^ Conceit,' which is an exposition of his 
 views of life that Kiistner played against him, the advocate of 
 the tax-paying peasants and fools. 
 
 We cannot overlook Liscov, if it were only that, in the 
 spirit of the English and French, he challenged and called upon 
 the German nation to cast off the fetters of the middle ages, and 
 to aim at an entirely new species of culture. In his biting 
 satires, therefore, against a Sievers, Philippi, liillige, Manzel and 
 Rodigast, we perceive a totally ditrcrent character under the ap- 
 pearance of personality, than that which exists in the sour-sweet 
 discourses of Rabener. The persons upon whom Liscov's 
 scourge falls, had been long since forgotten if they had not 
 been mentioned in his writings, because the reader must knoAV 
 their names in order to have some perception of the struggle of 
 the dawning light with the thick and almost impenetrable dark- 
 ness, in Liscov's strife with them. We see how necessary such 
 a struggle was in the fourth, nay even in the fifth and sixth 
 decennia of the last century, among other circumstances from 
 the prosecution of the sceptic Edelmann about the year 1740,
 
 § III.] Liscov. ' 215 
 
 from the number of thick volumes which were ^vritten against 
 him, and from the violent abuse which was thrown out against 
 him from every pulpit and chair, and in all the learned reviews, 
 even in those of Gottingen. How far this ignorant zeal for or- 
 thodoxy Ment may be concluded from the fact, that even Mo- 
 sheim himself came forward as an advocate for the eternity of 
 hell torments, and that his relation and shield-bearer, Meene, 
 wrote thick volumes of controversies ao:ainst the defender of the 
 finite nature of future punishments, and in favour of the merci- 
 lessness of his theological god *. What Liscov accomplished in 
 this case may be learned from his most celebrated writings, 
 which were published in an enlarged and improved edition in 
 Hanover (1795). 
 
 This work, which is the most deserving of being read of all 
 those which appeared in the first half of the eighteenth century, 
 was printed for the first time in 1734 under the title 'A Treatise 
 concerning the Value and Necessity of miserable Scribes f ; ' we 
 refer to it with no view of estimating its value as a work of taste, 
 which is no part of our business or of our plan, but on account 
 of its relation to the state of literature and of life at that time. 
 Liscov ventured in print, in the darkness which prevailed, and 
 under the rule of princes such as we have already described, to 
 lay his lash upon the enemies of light, and hold them up to well- 
 merited scorn. He attacks with seriousness the blind ortho- 
 doxy of his age, and the folly and the temerity of those who 
 w^ould allow reason no right in matters of faith. 
 
 We learn from this treatise of Liscov the reason why so good 
 a writer as he vigorously took the part of Gottsched against the 
 conspiracy of the hypocritical Swiss party, with whose preten- 
 sions to piety even Haller was dissatisfied. He desired to keep 
 within bounds the immoderate admirers of a sentimental ortho- 
 doxy, which was at variance with the spirit of the demands of 
 the century. It was his wish to protest against such men as J. A. 
 Cramer, Klopstock and Bodmer, and to maintain the rights of 
 reason against the pretensions of the soul. Rabener always 
 
 *He was a member of the consistory in Quedlinburg, and afterwards super- 
 intendent in Jever. If the author is not sufficiently orthodox, it is no fault of 
 Meene's Catechism, which he learned in his youth, and which contains almost 
 1000 pages, 
 
 t ' Abhandlung von der Vortrcfflichkeit und Nothwendigkeit elender 
 Scribenten.'
 
 216 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 confined himself to the indefinite and general, like all those who 
 conceal their ignorance or their cowardice under the shield of 
 sparing and merciful views, and hide it the most when they 
 pretend to struggle on behalf of darkened, oppressed and be- 
 trayed humanity : and if ever he had definite persons in his eye, 
 they M-ere the imbecile and pitiful creatures of the Saxon vil- 
 lages whom he satirized, and who would have been blotted out 
 by time without his aid. Liscov was quite different — he always 
 fixed upon well-known persons : his satire however did not so 
 much affect the person ; but in and through individuals he made 
 the general vices or deficiencies of the age and of society matters 
 of observation, ridicule, or hatred, as Lessing afterwards did in 
 his personal controversy with Melchior GiJtze. Liscov's wri- 
 tings were again printed and brought into notice at the close of 
 the last century, with good reason, because they are still appli- 
 cable and important. 
 
 As to the last and best of the followers of Gottsched, Gellert, 
 it is much more difficult, from our point of view, to determine his 
 relation to the nation and its civilization, than that of the others ; 
 for he continued, for a long series of years, to be really a writer 
 for the people, and is even yet a popular author in several of the 
 smaller countries of Germany: we shall express our view without 
 going into a further analysis of his writings. Gellert appears 
 to us to be a link of connexion representing the transition 
 from the old tone of the middle classes, to the bold French one 
 of the circle for which Wieland wrote ; from the dull and unin- 
 teresting language of Gottsched, to the pithy and vigorous style 
 of Lessing ; from the pedantry of Gottsched's school, to the 
 easy confidence of the French scoffers. 
 
 J. A. Cramer, in his life of Gellert, seems, or wishes, to know 
 nothing of the connexion of his pious friend with Gottsched, 
 and never even mentions his name. This may be called 
 pious and gentle ; to us it appears sneaking, hypocritical, mean 
 and pitiful. Gellert not only worked in the translation of Baylc, 
 but at the end of the year 1740 we find articles of his in Gott- 
 sched's ' Entertainment for the Understanding and Wit,' even 
 after almost all the other men of talent had withdrawn their 
 countenance and aid, and when Kiistner alone, who in general 
 did not mix himself up with the opposition against Gottsched, 
 furnished contributions. 
 
 With respect to Gellert's direction and tendencies, w^e learn
 
 § III.] GELLERT. 217 
 
 from Cramer from what point he started, and ten volumes of 
 his writings show to what point he reached, Cramer tells us that 
 Giinther, Neukirch and Hanke excited Gellert's admiration, 
 that he imitated them, and in fact regarded them as great Ger- 
 man poets. The highest point which he reached was his fables, 
 with some popular odes and songs ; for we quite agree with the 
 truth of what was said of his works as early as 1748 in the Got- 
 tingen Notices of Literature, that such tales as, for example, ' The 
 Tartar Prince*,' the ' Misfortunes of Woman t,' the ' Woman and 
 Ghost J' and ' Auatomicus,' were destitute of all wit. The praise 
 which he bestows upon 'The Swedish Countess,' which was highly 
 eulogised in the Gottingen papers ( 1 749) when it first appeared, 
 might be almost regarded as bitter irony, when we remember 
 that the question is about a novel ; and yet the author was quite 
 right. "The events," says the good man, "are to be regarded 
 as the least important part of a book of this kind ; it is enough 
 for him if the love of virtue, of what is tender, natural and at- 
 tractive, is predominant." Gellert's comedies were calculated 
 to delight Mily Leipsig gossips and dominies, Messrs. Orgon and 
 Damon and Mrs. Richardin, who also constitute their chief cha- 
 racters. This was already felt in 1748, but no one ventured to 
 say it§. His letters, both those which were published by him 
 as models during his life, and those which were printed after 
 his death, betray no spark of genius ; they are Avritten with the 
 same dull and artificial ornament which was formed in the 
 school of Addison and Steele, of Mhich they were imitators, as 
 well as his lectures, which in our age would weary one to 
 death. 
 
 If it be asked how it came to pass that, after all this, Gellert 
 shone as a star of the first magnitude, and was in the hands 
 of almost every educated person in Germany, that he con- 
 tinued, for above a quarter of a century, to be regarded as 
 one of the first authors, and is still sought after in Saxony 
 and other neighbourhoods by citizens and peasants ; the an- 
 swer is not difficult, and the matter itself is in the highest degree 
 honourable to those Germans in all quarters of our country, of 
 whom Gellert was the favourite author. Of genius, poetry, phi- 
 
 * ' Der Tartarfiirst.' f ' Der Ungluck der Weibcr.' 
 
 I ' Die Frau und der Geist.* 
 
 § ' Anzeige in den Gottingischen Zeitungen, von gclehrten Sachen,' Febr. 
 1748, p. 108.
 
 218 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 losophy, of keen wit and sarcastic humour^ the liappy, simple 
 and domestic societies of the middle classes had not a shadow of 
 an idea ; poetical flights and imaginative power would have been 
 altogether wasted on Gottsched's contemporaries ; they sought 
 after writers who were timid, prudent, humble, credulous, and 
 among other things pedantic and gossiping like themselves. 
 Gellert, with his humility and weakness, with his morals which 
 exacted nothing more than any man could reach, with his dis- 
 cretion with respect to every thing which Mas fashionable and 
 outwardly distinguished, gave them nothing more than they 
 were capable of understanding. His timidity of character was 
 suitable to his time and its relations ; men of hke character have 
 had more success in our own days in Germany than greater 
 minds; we naturally think of the fate of Count von Platen. 
 Besides this mediocrity, which enabled the multitude to keep 
 pace M^ith him, Gellert had, however, other qualities which made 
 him a popular writer. 
 
 Gellert's language was much purer and nobler than that of the 
 writers recommended by Gottsched ; and by the style and man- 
 ner of his poetry he did not run counter to the spirit of the age, 
 like Klopstock, Cramer and Bodmer. He was a reformer also 
 in his way; but his reformation frightened or alarmed nobody, 
 because he laid stress rather upon conduct and morality than 
 upon faith, dogmas and orthodoxy. As he took very little notice 
 of the ancients, and was a stranger to their vigour, he was obliged 
 to lean upon and attach himself to the Silesians, French and 
 English ; this brought him nearer to the well-educated higher 
 classes in France ; his orthodox, good-natured, moral discourse, 
 which was suited to the then respectable middle classes, recom- 
 mended him to those from whose sphere he came, and for whom 
 his innocent wit was intended. His fables, and occasionally also 
 his tales, became a people's book. We could give no more ad- 
 vantageous description of the condition of our middle classes, 
 who in our youth caused their children to learn Gellert's fables 
 by heart, than by comparing the influence of one of Gellert's 
 fables Avith those of La Fontaine, which French children were 
 accustomed to learn in the same manner ; of the tales we say 
 nothing.
 
 § IV.] THE BREMEN LITERARY NOTICES. 219 
 
 §IV. 
 
 THE BREMEN LITERARY NOTICES — HAGEDORN HALLER. 
 
 When the vehement and bitter controversies, carried on be- 
 tween Gottsched and the learned men of Zurich, and others 
 afterwards, who were unwilling to submit to his dictation, had 
 shown the Germans that he was destitute of taste, the best of 
 his disciples and followers who had previously aided him in his 
 translations and furnished articles for his magazines, separated 
 themselves from him and formed a poetical society, which has 
 become important in the history of German culture and civil- 
 ization. Cramer, Ebert, Gartner, Gellert, Rabener, J. A. Schle- 
 gel, Zacharia, and others, about the year 1740, united and 
 formed a society in Leipzig, almost in the same manner as the 
 so-called Bard Union in the year 1 'J^O, in Gottingen. They held 
 regular weekly meetings, and submitted their productions to 
 mutual criticism ; and at a later period they resolved to publish 
 select pieces from their works. Several of the younger men had 
 contributed articles to Gottsched's magazines, but they soon 
 became ashamed of their miserable fellow-labourer and of the 
 tasteless pieces which he received. The best critical head among 
 them (Gartner) was solicited by them to conduct a well-chosen 
 selection of essays by his friends, with a view to the formation of 
 the German taste ; and in this way originated the periodical so 
 celebrated in the history of our literature, under the name of the 
 ' Bremen Literary Notices.^ 
 
 The plan of the new periodical, which was to contain essays 
 and papers only which might afford entertainment to the whole 
 educated public, and whose title, ' New Essays with a View to 
 promote the Pleasures of the Understanding and Wit*,' recalled 
 Gottsched to mind, was projected by Cramer, Gartner and Adol- 
 phus Schlegel; Rabener afterwards joined them; Arnold Schmidt, 
 Ebert and Zacharia followed; Gellert, Giseke and Hagedorn 
 took part in the second volume ; and finally came Gleim and 
 Klopstock. Klopstock in his ode *Wingolf' has immortalized 
 these friends, who had quietly separated from the miserable 
 rhymers of Gottsched's school, and who as early as 1747 had re- 
 cognised him as a poet who was able to sing a loftier strain, and 
 to create a new poetry ; for this reason we shall quote the various 
 passages which contain their names in the notes, and there we 
 
 * ' Neue Beitriige zum Vergniigen des Verstandes und Witzes.'
 
 220 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 shall find Gartner's actual merits highly extolled. The three 
 first cantos of Klopstock's ' Messiah ' first appeared in the fourth 
 and fifth Numbers of the fourth volume of the 'Literary Journal/ 
 and this alone would show that they were regarded as the har- 
 bingers of a new literature*. 
 
 * ' Wingolf was written 1747- As it may not be accessible to every reader, 
 we shall quote the passages in which Klopstock delineates his friends accord- 
 ing to their literary characters ; and if these are compared with the reference 
 already made to Triller's enumeration, it will be seen how far Gottsched and 
 his time stood below these noble and pure young men. 
 
 Wingolf. First Song. 30th Strophe. 
 
 Wie oder ziirnest Du von des Albion 
 Eiland heriiber ? Liebe sie, Ebert, nur ! 
 Sie sind audi deutsches Stamms, Ursohne 
 Jener die kiihn mit der Woge kamen u, s. w. 
 
 Second Song. 1st Strophe. 
 
 Sie kommen, Cramern gehet in Rhythmustanz 
 
 Mit hochgehobener Leyer Iduna vor ! 
 
 Sie geht, und sieht auf ihn zuriicke 
 
 Wie auf die Wipfel des Hains der Tag sieht u. s. w. 
 
 &th Strophe. 
 
 Nimm diese Rosen, Giselce, Velleda 
 Hat sie mit Zahren heute noch sanft genetzt, 
 Als sie Dein Lied mir von den Schmerzen 
 Deiner Gespielin der Liebe vorsang u. s. w. 
 
 lOlh Strophe. 
 
 Der Thorheit Hasser, aber auch Menschenfreund 
 
 Allzeit gerechter Rabener, Dein heller Blick, 
 
 Dein froh und herzenvoU Gesicht ist 
 
 Freunden der Tugend, und Deinen Freundcn 
 
 Nur liebenswiirdig, aber den Thoren bist 
 
 Du furchtbar ! Scheuche wenn Du noch schweigst, sie schon 
 
 Zuriick ! Lasz selbst ihr kriechend Lacheln 
 
 Dich in dem riigenden Zorn nicht irrcn u, s. w. 
 
 Thi7'd Song. 7th Strophe. 
 
 Der Du uns auch liebst, Olde, komm naher her, 
 Du Kcnner, der Du edel und feuervoll, 
 Unbiegsam beiden, beiden furchtbar. 
 Stumper der Tugend und Schriftcn hassest ! 
 Du, der bald Zweifler und Philosoph bald war. 
 Bald Spotter aller mcnschlichen Handlungen 
 Bald iviilton's und llomerus Pricstcr 
 Bald Misanthrope, bald Freund, bald Dichtor, 
 VicI Zeitcn Kilhnert, hast Du schon durchgclcbt. 
 Von Eisen Zeitcn, silbcrne goldcnc ! 
 Komm, Freund, komm wicdcr zu des Britten 
 Zeit und zuriick zu des Miionidcn. 
 Noch zwei erblick ich u. s. w.
 
 § IV.] THE BREMEN LITERARY NOTICES. 221 
 
 This journal, into which the first essays of Gotz, Uz and 
 Gleim were received, was of especial i7Tiportance for the ad- 
 vancement of national culture, and particularly by Gartner's se- 
 lection of pieces, at a time when there was no sound criticism. 
 Those articles only were received which were calculated to pro- 
 mote and advance that improv^ement in taste which had com- 
 menced, however imperfect it must still have been regarded. 
 The views and plan of its projectors were altogether calculated 
 for the then circumstances of life, literature and society, at a 
 period Mhen authors could never think of the speculation of 
 mere pecuniary gains. We shall first point this out, and after- 
 wards mention some of the names of those writers who were 
 connected with this journal; and thus it will be most clearly 
 seen what a great change was quietly taking place, and what 
 participation the nation gradually began to have in the national 
 literature. 
 
 Gottsched's school, Schonaich, Triller, Dominie, Schwabe 
 (whom the Leipzig bookmaker not only promoted to be a professor 
 
 Schmidt, der mir gleich ist ; den die Unsterblicheu 
 Des Hains Gesiingen neben mir auferziehn ! 
 Und Rohte, der sicli freier Weisheit 
 Und der vertrauteren Freundscliaft weihte. 
 
 Fifth Son(/. 7th Strophe. 
 
 Der Du dort wandelst, ernstvoll und heiter doch. 
 
 Das Auge von weiser Zufriedenheit, 
 
 Die Lippe voll von Scherz {Es horchen 
 
 Ihm die BemerJcuiigen Deiner Freunde 
 
 Ihm horcht entzilckend die feinere Schaferiv) 
 
 Wer bist Du Schatten ? Ebert ! er neiget sich 
 
 Zu mir und lachelt. Ja er ist es ! 
 
 Siehe der Schatten ist unser Gartner ! 
 
 Uns werth, wie Flaccus war sein Quintilius, 
 
 Der unverhiillten Wahrhelt V^ertraulichster, 
 
 Ach kehre, Gartner, Deinen Freunden 
 
 Ewig zuriick! Doch du fliehst fern weg! u. s. w. 
 
 Sixth Song. 1st Strophe. 
 
 In meinem Arm freudig, und weisheitsvoll 
 
 Sang Ebert : Evan, Evoe Hagedorn ! 
 
 Da tritt er auf dera Rebenlaube, 
 
 Muthig einher, w^ie Lyaus, Zeus Sohn ! u. s. w. 
 
 Seventh Song. 1st Strophe. 
 
 Er sangs. Jetzt sah ich fern in der Dtimmerung 
 Des Hains am Wingolf Schlegeln aus dichtrischen 
 Geweihten Eichen schatten schweben 
 Und in Begeistrung vertieft und ernstvoll. u. s. w.
 
 222 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 but a poet), all the protegees of the composer of Leipzig reviews, 
 were kept at a distance, and the reception of all the dull and 
 vulgar materials, such as had been admitted into former literary 
 journals, was strictly refused. Gellert's comedies, which are to 
 be found there, may well indeed be considered as an exception ; 
 and it is also to be observed, that Cramer and Klopstock's tone 
 was not unexceptionably favoured. In the correspondence of 
 the Swiss writers, which has been given to the public by Kortc, 
 we find also a hint, that it was a matter of doubt and considera- 
 tion with the conductors of the journal, whether they were alto- 
 gether true to their great object, viz. that of bringing in an en- 
 tirely new age, by admitting the first cantos of the 'Messiah.' 
 
 The friends of Cramer and Klopstock saw and felt that they 
 possessed far more true inspiration than Opitz ; they approved 
 of their sacred poetry as such ; still, judging from some passages 
 in the preface of the first part, which we shall quote, they seem 
 to have felt that the nation could neither be materially assisted 
 by mere piety and learning, nor exclusively by elegies. The truth 
 of this opinion was subsequently established, for neither did 
 Klopstock, the Swiss school, nor all the favourers of piety and 
 sentiment, who adopted their tone, succeed in bringing our 
 country at large to a level with other enlightened and educated 
 nations of Europe ; but Wieland first, then Lessing, the new 
 Berlin school, and finally Gothe. 
 
 In the preface to the first part of the Bremen Journal it is 
 said, with a delicate allusion to the numerous miserable produc- 
 tions with which the public was deluged, " Our view is, to make 
 a love for works of poetry and eloquence more common, and in 
 so doing to improve the taste and please the fancy of our readers." 
 It is afterwards added, " We shall especially endeavour, by our 
 papers, to be useful to the fair sex, and therefore we propose to be 
 amusing. If there be any who feel offended at this spirit, who 
 are jealous of a little pleasantr}^, because it is beyond their own 
 reach, they have the liberty. Intelligent readers know well that 
 a man cannot be pleasant, in a certain sense, if he has not previ- 
 ously spent a great deal of time seriously in his study." 
 
 The first part opens with a pastoral of Gartner's ^ Tried FidelUn,^ 
 of the contents and value of which we have nothing to say, but 
 the language and versification are so pure and excellent, that w^e 
 arc disposed to overlook or forget the Avearisome rhyming Alexan- 
 drines. The tone of this piece is quite in accordance with the
 
 § IV.] THE BREMEN LITERARY NOTICES. 223 
 
 words of the preface which have been quoted. Of the other 
 contributors we shall have frequent occasion to mention Cramer 
 and Klopstock, and we have akeady spoken of Gellert and 
 Zacharia. Ebert, by his knowledge of the Eng-lish language, 
 was very serviceable to this new generation, which had outgrown 
 the discipline and education of Gottsched ; but, alas ! he pro- 
 moted the visionary, dogmatising, sentimental tone of Cramer's 
 and Klopstock's friends, by his translation of Young's ' Night 
 Thoughts.' The melancholy tone of these ' Night Thoughts,' 
 and of Klopstock's muse, was too nearly related to the old 
 system ; and German literature could never have been regene- 
 rated, if there had not been some participation in the new Euro- 
 pean life, and some approximation to the Berlin school. Ebert, 
 indeed, also translated Glover's 'Leonidas;' but Glover had 
 become a sort of court poet by his connexion with Frederick 
 Prince of Wales (the father of George the Third). His epic 
 poems, drawn from the historical times, might indeed please some 
 admirers and persons acquainted with the art and his subjects, 
 but they were of no use as a guiding star to the German nation. 
 We may pass over Gieseke altogether, since he, as well as 
 Gotz, Uz and others, have only been named because they, each 
 on his own part and in his own way, prepared a portion of the 
 nation for true poetry, and awakened a feeling and sense of it 
 in their minds. Gieseke, as a native of Hamburg and a clergy- 
 man, remained true to the model of Brockes, who had been his 
 guardian in his youth, and whom he had succeeded in his office. 
 Gieseke and Uz just as little trod a new path as Schlegel, 
 who, with great justice, was parodied by Cronegk in his satire 
 upon Gottsched's epic poet Schonaich ; all these men belong to 
 the former era and to the older culture and civihzation. 
 
 The only one of the contributors to the Bremen Jovn*nal, 
 who, together with Gleim and Klopstock, had not merely a 
 momentary but future and permanent influence upon the new 
 German literature and men, was Frederick Hagedorn. He 
 worked, not only by his influence in Hamburg, with great and 
 beneficial effect, in awakening an educated and at the same time 
 a cheerful and pleasant life and tone, but his poems also formed 
 a most favourable and beneficial contrast with the somewhat 
 fanatical, heavy and dogmatic writings of Cramer and Klopstock. 
 They wished to support and retain the old age, but in a new 
 manner ; Hagedorn announced a new and a freer one.
 
 224 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 Hagedom lived from 17O8 — 1754, and therefore belonged alto- 
 gether to the period of which we treat; like Haller, he remained 
 totally a stranger to the pitiful quarrels of the Leipzig and Zu- 
 rich pedants, in which even Gleim was somewhat though not 
 openly involved ; like him, also, he had seen more of life. The 
 Zurich citizen Patriarch, who had grown up in the midst of 
 humble connexions, prejudices and quarrels, and who was under 
 the influence of the meanest passions, and the Leipzig Professor 
 who strove for Parnassus, stood equally far below him. He 
 was not blinded by vanity like Bodmer, and was especially di- 
 stinguished by admitting and yielding to the criticism of his 
 friends. And when the different editions of his poems are com- 
 pared, it is remarkable to see the changes which had taken place, 
 and the giant strides which German culture had made between 
 the earlier and latest editions. It is seen how rapidly the lan- 
 guage assumed a graver and a nobler form, and how the tone in 
 individual circles of certain German towns changed, in spite of 
 hindrances and obstructions. 
 
 Hagedorn had not, indeed, like Lessing and Rammler, or at a 
 later period Voss, studied the ancients with a view of opposing 
 the elasticity of a free and cheerful intercourse to the leaden 
 oppression of German social life, to schools and pedants ; but he 
 had, on the other hand, fully mastered and appropriated the 
 spirit of the better French and Italian writers. Hagedorn did 
 not seek in their writings merely for letters and rules, as Gott- 
 sched did ; he did not condescend to dull and every-day society, 
 like Gellert and Rabener ; he neither gave way to imagination 
 and theological fanaticism, like Klopstock ; nor was an imitator 
 of Petrarch, as Klamer, Schmidt and Jacobi were ; nor was he, 
 like Rammler, inaccessible and unintelligible to the unlearned 
 from his arts, versification and language. 
 
 The delicacy and refinement of Hagedorn's expressions, the 
 modesty of his subjects, especially as he had La Fontaine often 
 in his eye, are the more honourable distinctions, as the lan- 
 guage and tone of one party amongst the authors was dull 
 and vulgar, and that of the other visionary and spiritual. It 
 must be observed he well understood how to confine him- 
 self within the just limits of raillery and of innocent pleasantry, 
 that he was never obnoxious to the charge which serious friends 
 of sound morals brought, at a later jjcriod, against Wieland. 
 When he was yet a young man, Hagedorn rendered better ser-
 
 § IV.] HAGEDORN. 225 
 
 vice to the cause than all the innumerable rhymers of his age ; he 
 revived the popular music, which for a long time had taken refuge 
 in the Protestant churches, and was the only man of his time 
 who composed social songs which were fit to be sung. These 
 songs were set to music, and were soon in every body's mouth, 
 among a people which is more musical than any other in Europe. 
 This has made Hagedorn, and with justice, immortal in Germany, 
 although he was neither a Klopstock, a Gothe, nor a Schiller. 
 
 We perceive the remarkable progress of the development of 
 German culture, in other respects almost unobservable, in the 
 different editions of his poems. In the edition which appeared 
 in 1729, there is every where the language and tone of his friend 
 Brockes, of whose ^ Earthly Pleasure in God ' he had also 
 brought out a successful abridgement, or more properly, the 
 marrow of some successful pieces. If this edition be compared 
 with the following one, or with his attempt in poetical fables 
 and tales, which appeared in 1738, it will be found that the tone, 
 language and expression have assumed quite a different form, 
 and that a new age is indicated in them. The songs, in like man- 
 ner, as early as the edition of 1747^ received a form wholly dif- 
 ferent from that which they previously had. This brief notice 
 may be here sufficient ; the fuller development and prosecution 
 of the subject does not belong to a general history. His letters 
 also, which are found in the fifth part of the edition of Hage- 
 dorn's works prepared by Eschenburg in 1800, show the author 
 to have been a man of great refinement and delicacy of style and 
 tone, and free from pedantry ; and this appears very dbviously 
 when they are compared with the letters of Gellert, Rabener 
 and other contemporaries. We shall incidentally remark that 
 the letters of Mrs. Gottsched, published about the year 1770, are 
 also much better than those of her husband, and better than 
 could have been expected from the writer of the tasteless be- 
 rhymed translations of French plays. 
 
 We place Haller along with Hagedorn, because like him he 
 kept himself altogether apart from the imworthy strife of the 
 literary men of Leipzig and Ziirich, who contended for reputa- 
 tion not for honour ; and having lived in a greater world and in 
 the midst of truer knowledge, he shared neither the absurd conceit 
 and tasteless orthodox faith of a Bodmer, nor the dull and vulgar 
 admiration of a Gottsched for Voltaire and the French. As a 
 didactic poet also we may justly place Haller beside Hagedorn, 
 
 VOL.1. Q.
 
 226 GERMANY. [CIIAP. III. 
 
 and speak of the important influence which he exercised as a 
 pubhc teacher in Gottingen, and as a contributor to the Gottin- 
 gen Uterary periodicals which appeared from 1738 forward; 
 but this would lead us too far into the history of science, whereas 
 our object here is to treat of its relation to general mental culture 
 and improvement, and to life. 
 
 Haller is especially remarkable for his tact, or for the correct 
 \iews which he took of his relation as a poet to his age, of which 
 Bodmer and others were altogether destitute. We shall not de- 
 cide whether it was tact or accident which led him to withdraw 
 some of his earher writings from the public, when he had con- 
 tinued his poetical labours only till 1748, till the very moment 
 in which Kleist, Hagedorn, Klopstock, Gleim and Gerstenberg 
 rendered his poetry a redundance ; but certain it is that he in- 
 tentionally pursued this course, and in the later editions of his 
 poems omitted more and more of his earlier compositions ; and 
 he expressed his great dissatisfaction in the Gottingen journals, 
 when the lovers of hterature in Zlirich, without consulting him, 
 caused all that he himself had cast away to be collected and 
 printed. Mailer's novels belong to the following period, in 
 which we shall take notice of them : we mention his odes, sa- 
 tires, and other poems now, in order to remark that by a com- 
 parison of the different editions it may be seen how he, without 
 the aid of Gottsched, left the path which had been earlier trodden 
 by the Lohensteins and Hofftnannswaldaus, and gradually turned 
 back from bombast to simplicity. Hagedorn and Haller, there- 
 fore, by their example and their works, the one in the north the 
 other in the south, announced a better era. Haller's poems, 
 however truly pious and moral they are, are especially distin- 
 guished by being altogether free from the blindness of Bodmer, 
 and the dogmatism and fanaticism of Klopstock. They teach 
 an admirable philosophy, which springs not from books or uni- 
 versities, but from the mind and deepest and holiest convictions 
 of the poet. 
 
 It is true Haller is here and there not free from Hclvetism 
 and from the remnants of the taste of Lohenstein ; and we must 
 draw no conclusions with respect to the later editions of his 
 poems from an examination of the earlier ones. From 1730- 
 1777 there appeared eleven legitimate editions, each with con- 
 sideraljle alterations. In the works of a creati^•e genius alter- 
 ations would be no recommendation, but it is otherwise when we
 
 § v.] HALLER. 227 
 
 speak of a man who by vigour of thought, by his own skill and 
 observation, by good heart and feeling, had to contend against 
 the dull, watery and pedantic poetry and language of Gottsched. 
 We must never lose sight of the fact that Haller eflected more 
 by didactic and descriptive than by imaginative and creative 
 poetry. By means of a true and faithful description of Swiss 
 sceneiy and customs, he won those classes of his countrymen, 
 and of the Germans also, who had no great perception of poetic 
 beauties : by means of mingled philosophic and popular instruc- 
 tions, suited to the age, he recommended the new culture pre- 
 cisely to such people as would never have taken into their hands 
 the books of Gottsched, Gellert, Hagedorn, or Klopstock. 
 
 The longest and at the same time the most important of 
 Bailer's poems are the * Alps ' and his didactic poem ^ On the 
 Origin of Evil.' Both these philosophic didactic poems still 
 attract occasional readers, the one by its descriptions, the other 
 by the satirical traits which are here and there to be found ; but 
 the period of didactic and desci'iptive poetry (a somewhat doubt- 
 ful kind) had not then arrived among us Germans. Neither 
 of the poems can be regarded as a whole or a unity ; their value 
 depends upon single passages which they contain, and which 
 show that Haller was a man of highly cultivated mind and 
 possessed of various knowledge. These pieces contain either 
 descriptions of the natural beauties of Switzerland, representa- 
 tions of the life of the Alpine inhabitants, of the pure enjoyment 
 of nature and of innocent and simple pleasures, or the philo- 
 sophy of an educated and thinking man, sworn to no school, 
 thoughtful about Hfe and its general wants, not about schools, 
 chairs and sects. 
 
 Much of the contents of both poems Avould have held its 
 ground among us were it not for the wearisome form of their 
 rhyming ten-lined stanzas, which are intolerable to an ear ac- 
 customed to the more agreeable versification of later times, or 
 to the variety and flow of the Greek metres. 
 
 § V. 
 
 EFFECT OF THE DISPUTES ABOUT GERMAN EDUCATION AND 
 CULTURE, BEGUN BY THE ZURICH SCHOOL AND THE AD- 
 HERENTS OF WOLF, WITH GOTTSCHED. 
 
 The services rendered to German literature by the writers 
 whom we shall mention in these pai*agraphs is in and of itself very 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 unimportant ; but it is remarkable, because in their labours we 
 perceive the first traces of the influence of the prevailing scho- 
 lastic philosophy upon general literature and upon the tone of 
 society, Avhich influence has been afterwards again and again 
 visible, so that every new system of philosophy has brought 
 about a new form of literature. The followers of Wolf, who 
 honoured Baumgarten, professor in Halle, as the chiefs of schools 
 are accustomed to be honoured in Germany, looked upon him 
 with that stupid astonishment with which the learned and stu- 
 dious men of every German university are accustomed to regard 
 their idol. In their eyes the reputation of the weak Leipzig 
 admirers of French philosophy was an offence, and they formed 
 a reunion with those like-minded in Zurich, who were also in- 
 fluenced perhaps by passion to attack Gottsched, because they 
 had a somewhat better taste than he. 
 
 Bodmer, who may be regarded as the Zurich Gottsched, had, 
 moreover, so much the higher opinion of Leibnitz and Baum- 
 garten, as Gottsched was a loose rogue, because both these 
 philosophers received into their system the rigid orthodoxy which 
 Bodmer maintained, and philosophically demonstrated the 
 Christian faith. Bodmer and his Breitinger did not, how^ever, 
 draw their rules from Baumgarten, who followed them in point 
 of time. These demonstrations of the Wolfians were soon obliged 
 to give way to the vigorous and tastefully expounded theories of 
 Mendelssohn and Lessing. Sulzer afterwards brought with him 
 the principles of the Zurich school to Berlin, and his ^ Letters,' 
 which have been given to the world by Korte, prove that he 
 exhausted all the pitiful resources of the learned, — that he dis- 
 dained no secret means to secure the victory for his little cabal 
 of pictistic Zurich literati. All this, in the long run, was in- 
 deed in vain. Before we speak of the Zurich party we shall 
 allude to the followers of Wolf. 
 
 Baumgarten was the inheritor of Wolf's reputation and of his 
 professoi*'s chair in Ilallc, Mho, although he was imacquainted 
 with Morks of art and of poetry, and, if we make somewhat of 
 an exception of the Latin poets, had neither had time, desire, 
 nor opportunity even to see, much less to examine, the master- 
 works of all centuries and people, was nevertheless admirably 
 suited to deliver, ex cathedra, a theory of the beautiful in words 
 of art and in syllogisms, to students and to learned Germans who 
 had never made, seen or read_, anything that was beautiful.
 
 § v.] BAUMGARTEN. 229 
 
 Germany triumphantly exulted that the system was now com- 
 plete; because Leibnitz, as well as Wolf, had forgotten to 
 extend their mathematical method to the arts and poetry. 
 Baumgarten wrote a goodly quarto upon the science which 
 he had discovered, to Avhich, according to custom, he gave a 
 Greek name, and called it Esthetics*. We should not have 
 mentioned this Latin treatise upon taste, as it is no part of our 
 plan to speak of schools and their systems, and therefore of 
 philosophy as a science, if one of Baumgarten's disciples had not 
 introduced this new science to the people. 
 
 Meier, who, in conjunction with Pyra, conrector in Berlin, and 
 with Lange, clergyman in Laublingen, two very insignificant 
 enemies of rhyme, had previously attached himself to the Zurich 
 party in order to annihilate Gottsched's reputation, made this 
 new wisdom known in the German language, in three octavo 
 volumes, even before Baumgarten's Latin quarto appeared. At 
 that time Gottsched, by his repeated editions of his ' Critical Art 
 of Poetry,' was the arbiter of taste. Meier, therefore, armed 
 with his master's weapons, took the field against Gottsched's 
 '• Art of Poetry,' at the same time as he was publishing his 
 single volumes of his new science. There appeared successively, 
 from the year 1747-1749, six pieces written in condemnation 
 of Gottsched's ' Art of Poetry,' which extended to somewhat 
 more than 200 pages. Meier follows the Leipzig professor 
 with a running censure through the whole of his book, without 
 himself exhibiting any better taste than that which he condemns. 
 About the same time, 1748-1750, there appeared also ' The 
 Principles of all the Fine Arts,' by Geo. Freder. Meier f. In 
 the preface to the work the author expressly declares, that, 
 with the permission of his instructor Baumgarten, whose no- 
 tions he had clothed in his own language, and put together in 
 his own fashion, he expounded the subject to the great German 
 public J. 
 
 Li the conclusion of the third part of his book, with a presump- 
 
 * Baumgarten's '^sthetica' appeared in 1/50, 2 vols., and a new edition, 
 1754. 
 \ Georg Friedrich Meier, ' Anfangriinde aller schonen Wissenschaften.' 
 + His words are the following : — " He himself (viz. Baumgarten) is so 
 favourable to me that I know he will be pleased to see that I have mingled 
 together his thoughts and mine, in such a way that no reader shall be able to 
 say whether he is or I am the proper author. I must admit, however, with- 
 out any compulsion, that the professor is the chief author of the ^Esthetics.' "
 
 230 GERMANY. [CHAP. Ill, 
 
 tion which is pecuHar to those people who prove every thing a 
 priori, Meier says, with great ingenuousness, that when he and his 
 instructor had remarked the great and rapid progress of German 
 hterature, they had thought of the necessity of introducing a know- 
 ledge of the fine arts and of poetry into the system, and had there- 
 fore devoted themselves Avith industry to the study and development 
 of the principles of the beautiful*. Knowledge, in Germany, had 
 only a species of corporate value, because it was the custom to seek 
 for the higher sorts of culture in the universities only; it was there- 
 fore certainly of importance that a new, refreshing, and nobler 
 species of mental training should be received into the exclusive 
 circle of academical instruction among the sciences of the faculties 
 and the learned craftsmen, — and that the German plodders should 
 direct their subtility to the belles lettres ; by such means it be- 
 came possible to put to silence Boileau, Rollin, and Batteux, 
 and those who swore allegiance to their rules, as, for example, 
 Gottsched, and even Ramler. On this occasion, at least, it was 
 advantageous to Germany, that the clear and the intelligible are 
 always contemptible to her learned sons ; for now they forsook 
 the superficial because something more difficult was offered them. 
 With respect to the good Meier, the nature of his taste may 
 be inferred from his intimate friendship with Bodmer, with the 
 then celebrated and prolific Lange of Laublingen, whose transla- 
 tion of Horace Lessing utterly annihilated by his severe but well- 
 deserved criticism : his own writings more than justify the in- 
 ference. The barbarous and rugged German of the scholar is 
 more unpleasant and more difficult to read than the scholastic 
 Latin of the master, and the models which he quotes are 
 WTetched. Meier either knew nothing, or at least very little, of 
 the Greeks t, Italians, English, or even French: he is strong 
 only in theory and demonstration. He refers, indeed, to Virgil 
 and Horace, but the passages from the latter are appended at 
 the end, for the advantage of the German reader in the trans- 
 lation of "^ Dominie Lange.' This Samuel Gotthelf Lange, whose 
 
 * Third part, p. 383 : — " I cannot pass by the opportunity of remarking 
 the improvement in taste, which does peculiar honour to our Germany, and 
 that so many admirable poems have ap])earcd in our days. I need only men- 
 tion the ' Messiah,' the ' Spring,' the ' Lyric Poems and Songs,' which have 
 all lately come before the public." 
 
 t He names Homer, indeed, sometimes: but (1st part, p. 833), he com- 
 pares the manner in which he introduces Achilles, in the Iliad, with Mrs. 
 Langin's ode, in which she describes Switzerland. He quotes the ode, — that 
 we spare our readers.
 
 § v.] MEIER. 231 
 
 miserable translation of Horace Meier afterwards published with 
 a preface on the value of rhyme, plays moreover an important 
 character in this theory of the art of fine writing, along with 
 Mrs. Langin, as the man of taste calls her, because this poetical 
 couple are every where quoted. It was this circumstance which 
 enraged Lessing, and led him to compose that vehement and 
 bitter article, which has been left out of the latest editions of his 
 works, as somewhat too violent an outbreak of youthful sarcasm. 
 Meier's enmity to Gottsched, and his close connexion with 
 the miserable hunting and caballing of the Ziirich faction, may 
 be best learned from Sulzer's letters. Lange and Pyra belonged 
 to this pack. Gleim, who had pubhshed his attempt at comic 
 songs about 1745, played a somewhat equivocal character in these 
 transactions. We learn fi'om Gleim's Life, by Korte*, that 
 he secretly aided the Swiss party, and was instrumental in ha- 
 ving their pasquinades printed in Saxony, in order that they 
 might fall into the hands of those who would have been deterred 
 from reading them by finding Zurich on the title-page ; whilst 
 he pursued this course he publicly sent contributions to the very 
 last to Gottsched's ^ Latest from Polite Learning,' for which the 
 latter thanked him in a long paper. At the suggestion of Bod- 
 mer, and in order to advance the cause of orthodoxy, which 
 Bodmer took every means to promote, Meier, even before his 
 ^iEsthetics' was quite completed (1749), wrote his ^Condemna- 
 tory Judgment of the Epic Poem the AIessiah,t' which Lessing 
 ridiculed by an epigram, also applicable to the greatest part of 
 the writings about Gothe : — 
 
 Sein kritisch Lampchen hat die Sonne selbst erhellet, 
 Und Klopstock, der schon stand, von neuem aufgestellet. 
 
 Pyra, of whom we must make incidental mention, is better 
 known by his violent diatribes against Gottsched and his school 
 than by his own zeal for verse or rhyme, or by his odes. His 
 poetry, and its character, may be judged of from the fact that 
 Bodmer, who afterwards as vehemently abused and persecuted 
 all the poets of the newer and better schools, as he had previ- 
 ously abused Gottsched, published Pyra and Lange's poems 
 bound together. 
 
 Bodmer, Breitinger, and their Swiss ally Gessner, whom we 
 
 * Halberstadt, 1811. pp. 46-53. 
 
 t Beurtheilung dea Heldengediclits der Messias.
 
 232 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 distinguish from them, would scarcely be regarded as worthy of 
 notice, either as writers or for their influence upon the progress 
 of German literature, had they not been sometimes distinguished 
 by their industry as collectors, and had they not sometimes, in 
 the reformation of literature, renewed the scenes which had oc- 
 curred in the sixteenth century in the reformation of the church. 
 The movements against corrupt taste in the writings on belles 
 lettres, precisely in the same manner as those against the abuses 
 in the church, began in a similar manner, altogether indepen- 
 dently of one another, but about the same time, in Switzerland 
 and in Saxony; the originators of the respective movements, 
 whilst pursuing the same object, in both cases, fell into the 
 bitterest enmity against each other. 
 
 However fast Bodmer clave to the prejudices of the olden time, 
 and to his rude views of Bible antiquities, as appears from his 
 correspondence with Sulzer, yet he had been trained in a very 
 different way, and stood upon much more independent ground 
 than German professors usually stand, who are accustomed to 
 mark every hint of the students, and to obey every indication 
 of their governments or patrons. Bodmer and his friend Brei- 
 tinger had made themselves acquainted with philosophy, with 
 English and French writers, and, contemporaneously with 
 Gottsched, proclaimed war against the reigning taste The two 
 Ziirich friends hit upon the same thought as Gottsched ; they 
 also wished to form a society amongst their fellow-countrymen, 
 whose particular object should be the improvement of the lan- 
 guage and of taste. This Zurich reunion was indeed called a 
 learned society, but its object was merely intellectual conversa- 
 tion, such as had made certain private societies in London and 
 Paris at that time renowned. This union of men, whom acci- 
 dent had brought together in ZUrich, for the purposes of intel- 
 lectual and scientific conversation, and for the extension of that 
 species of literature among the people which was recommended 
 and prepared to their hands in the English periodicals which 
 have been already mentioned, took place at the same time as 
 Gottsched first appeared upon the stage in Leipzig (1719-21), 
 and the Zih'ich journal served as a model for the Leipzig one. 
 The ZUrich writers, following Addison and Steele's example and 
 model, wrote their 'Conversations iq)on Customs*,^ of which 
 four volumes appeared (1721-1723); Gottsched's 'Tadlerinnen' 
 
 * * Discurse der Malcr.'
 
 § v.] BODMER. 233 
 
 and the Hamburg * Patriot' were imitations of this Ziirich period- 
 ical, and therefore roused Bodmer's indignation. 
 
 The soeiety in Zurich had, it is true, been broken up, because 
 many of the members had changed their place of residence ; 
 Bodmer however persevered in his project of being a judge of 
 taste, and what was worse, of being a poet also, to which he had 
 as small pretensions as Gottsched and his Dominie. The war- 
 fare which arose between the Swiss and the Leipzig factions 
 about these periodicals, was carried on in such a way, that it 
 is impossible to describe in sufficiently mean language, the tone 
 and mental culture of a time, in which such rude and tasteless 
 controversies were carried on for years. The history of these 
 miserable quarrels fills all our German manuals of the history 
 of literature ; but Manso, in his * Supplements' to Sulzer's 
 ' Theory of the Fine Arts,' is especially discursive on this sub- 
 ject; we can only notice them here in one particular relation. 
 The warfare of the learned about eloquence, poetry, morality, 
 philosophy and language, roused the attention of the Avhole 
 people. Had the controversy not been carried on in an ill- 
 bred tone, which contributed to awaken and keep up a feeling of 
 curiosity and love of mischief in vulgar minds, the great public 
 of that day w^ould have remained wholly uninterested in the 
 dispute. 
 
 The people, who were invited to take part in the strife, learned 
 immediately and incidentally, from this mutual abuse and defa- 
 mation, what v/as passing in literature, and the younger and 
 better generation found the way paved for them, because the 
 behaviour of those quarrelling pedants made them both ridicu- 
 lous and contemptible, and showed more clearly the necessity of 
 a complete reformation, than any other demonstration could 
 possibly have done. We shall pass over the particulars of these 
 controversies, and shall merely cpiote* a passage in a note, as 
 
 * As late as the year l7-t-t, there was pubHshed a pocket and desk almanack, 
 in which there were not only to be found in prose, " Memorable and true 
 histories of the victory gained by the Swiss over the Saxons in the war of cri- 
 ticism, written with a poetical historical pen, according to Breitinger's rules 
 and quantities, in the Zurich Art of Poetry," but also such verses as the fol- 
 lowing : — 
 
 Nun hort, ihr Kunstricht'r allzumal 
 Ich sing vom krit'schen Feuer und Stab), 
 Und von mannicher krit'sch'n Schlacht, 
 Die viel in Jamm'r und Noth gebracht. —
 
 234 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 an example of the mean and vulgar tone by which they were 
 pen^adedj in order to mention the services of Bodmer and Brei- 
 tinger, with respect to general culture and mental improvement. 
 The Ziirich society gained great merit, by calling attention to 
 the need of a severe spirit of criticism, by showing, that this 
 was not to be expected from Gottsched, just as the Leipzig 
 Society, in their turn, showed that Bodmer and Breitinger were 
 wholly incompetent to the task of a reformation in language and 
 literature. The people perceived therefore that they must wait 
 for another — and that other was Lessing. 
 
 Bodmer and Breitinger prepared abridgements and com- 
 pendiums, which show a little more knowledge of fine literature, 
 or at least more acquaintance with the better poets, than Baum- 
 garten and Meier's empty speculations, and somewhat more 
 philosophy than Gottsched's rules compiled from RoUin, Batteux, 
 and other Frenchmen. This is the chief merit of the Swiss 
 school. We shall therefore only touch upon Bodmer's writings 
 in passing, whose numbers we may set down at five dozen 
 at least ; we must however call attention to the fact, that the 
 Swiss and Leipzig factions resembled each other, in both wish- 
 ing to be great poets, and in being equally destitute of a poetical 
 vein. Bodmer is simple enough to intimate to a friend, who 
 thought he saw in him in flict, a modern Homer, that he had 
 first written down a number of poems in prose, and then applied 
 himself to the task of reducing them into verse. The Zurich 
 dictator, who was an able, pious, but coarse, substantial, honest 
 man, full of Swiss vehemence, and of low and limited views of 
 life, such as that with which his relations in his little republican 
 city brought him into contact, wished to be a great epic poet, 
 as Gottsched desired to be a dramatic one. What could be 
 more ridiculous ? Gottsched, as a tragic poet, wrote his 
 ' Cato ; ^ Bodmer, as an epic one, his ^ Noah.' The latter met 
 at first with more opponents than Gottsched's ' Cato,' and 
 
 Maister Bodm'r unci Braiting'r hubsch unci fein, 
 
 Thaten grosse Kunstrichtcr seyn. 
 
 Sic han mit Verstandsmiissigkcit 
 
 Gekunstrichtcrt vor langer Zeit, 
 
 Die Discursen der Maler gar 
 
 Han sic liingst gcschricbcn, das ist wahr, 
 
 Als die Tadlerinncn und I'atrirjt 
 
 Sie bracht'n in Jammer, Angst uud Noth.
 
 § v.] BODMER. 235 
 
 Sulzer, a member of the Berlin academy, and a renowned 
 judge of taste in his day, in conjunction with all the numerous 
 friends of the Zurich patrician, in vain extolled the absurd prose 
 which his countryman and patrician (Sulzer was a native of 
 Winterthur) published in hexameter, with an amount of praise, 
 which he did not lavish so abundantly on Klopstock himself*. 
 It was all in vain that he continually quoted ' Noah,^ along 
 vidth Homer, in his ^Theory of the Fine Arts,' which was 
 widely circulated in the whole of Germany, and very often re- 
 published ; time has pronounced its judgement upon him, and 
 he rests in peace along with Gottsched's mortal ' Cato/ We 
 cannot here speak of Bodraer's deserving collections of the 
 poetry of the middle ages, because we have only incidentally 
 mentioned Gottsched's renowned labours on the history of the 
 German drama. His critical works alone are of some import- 
 ance for German hfe, and in reference to the culture and mental 
 progress of his age. 
 
 When Bodmer had carried on the contest with Gottsched, 
 for several years, about the principles of taste, of which they 
 were both destitute, he at length, and with continual reference 
 to Gottsched, whose ' Art of Eloquence,' appeared about this 
 time, published his Theory, in a work with the following title : 
 — ' On the Influence and Use of Imagination, for the Improve- 
 ment of Taste ; or a Careful Examination of Descriptions of all 
 Kinds, in which the Choicest Passages of the most Celebrated 
 Poets of the present Time are judged with well-grounded Free- 
 dom t.' This work is usually ascribed to Bodmer alone, Brei- 
 
 * Sulzer, in a letter to Bodmer (' Letters of the German Literati/ &c. First 
 Part, p. 175), writes as follows: — 29th April, 1752. " I count every hour, 
 together with the ladies, till the arrival of ' Noah,' and rail at the slowness of 
 the people. I congratulate you, from ray heart, on this production of your 
 declining years, which will bear you on safe wings through all future years, 
 and make them blessed. And I congratulate myself that I have lived in the days 
 of ' Noah/ seen its author with my eyes, and greeted him as my friend. 
 The present time, as I have already remarked (some specimens had appeared), 
 will not do you universal justice. But you need not fear to have the destiny of 
 Homer and so many great artists, who only ascended into the temple of uni- 
 versal glory after their death. Our posterity will honour your memory ; 
 tender fathers and mothers will think of you when they wish to present a 
 work to their sons and daughters, in which they may be able to find know- 
 ledge, spirit, taste and charming beauties, combined with the purest virtue." 
 
 t ' Von dem Einflusse und Gebrauche der Einbildungskraft zur Ausbesse- 
 rung des Geshmacks, oder genaue Untersuchung aller Arten Beschreibungen, 
 worin die auserlesensten Stellen der beruhmtesten Poeten dieser Zeit mit 
 griindlicher Freiheit beurtheilt wei'den.' * Fi-ankfort and Leipzig anonymous,'
 
 / 
 
 236 GERMANY. [CIIAP. HI. 
 
 tinger however, had aided him in it to such an extent, both by 
 his advice and labour, that both may make equal claims to the 
 merit of the book. It Avas to be only the forerunner of a 
 
 * General and Comprehensive Work upon the Principles of 
 Taste/ It was therefore dedicated to the philosopher Wolf; 
 but before the Ziirich gentlemen had prepared the great workj 
 of which this was to be the forerunner, Gottsched had baffled 
 their piirpose by his ^ Critical Art of Poetry/ 
 
 Bodmer knew nothing better than Addison's wisdom. The 
 latter, or his friend Steele, had called upon his fellow-country- 
 men, in the English * Spectator,' to determine the beautiful in 
 poetry and eloquence, with mathematical certainty, and to esta- 
 blish infallible rules for its production. This accorded altoge- 
 ther with Bodmer's views of poetry. The great work therefore 
 was to be brought out in the German language, which no En- 
 glishman, following ^ The Spectator's ' advice, had attempted, 
 and at this very juncture again, the unsanctified Gottsched 
 crossed his path; for schools and schoolmasters, the whole 
 great public pronounced in his favour. Gottsched's books had 
 that sort of breadth, utility, and obviousness, by which in our 
 days Meidinger's grammar, and many manuals for the Arts of 
 
 * Cookery and Education,' are recommended ; neither were the 
 Swiss writers any very deep thinkers, as the book which has 
 been mentioned abundantly proves ; they do not however range 
 rule after rule, as is done by Gottsched, or in Langen's * Latin 
 Grammar,' but draw their materials sometimes at least from the 
 able work of Longinus, and not merely from the French. 
 
 The examples, alas ! are so chosen, that contemptible flatterers 
 of the great time-servers and rhyme- cobblers are mentioned along 
 with men who at least have rendered some service*. By such 
 a work as little service could be done as by Meier's introduction 
 
 1727. The first edition of Gottsched's ' Art of Poetry' appeared in 1730. In 
 the second edition he assailed Bodmer, who had in 1732, pubHshed a most 
 wretched translation of Milton's ' Paradise Lost,' in Swiss prose. Gottsched 
 attempted to show, that Milton's poetry was not much better than Bodmer's 
 prose. In reply, Bodmer wrote a thick volume, 1740. On this occasion we 
 may again renuirk, that books have their destiny, as well as men. Bodmer's 
 miserable translation was published for the fourth time, 1780. 
 
 * These German poets are Postel, Brockes, Opitz, Paul Flemming, Lohen- 
 stcin. Von KiJnig, Giinthcr, Besser, Ilcriiiis, Rachel, Gryphius, Hoffmanns- 
 waldau, Canitz, and others still less known. The only one who possesses any 
 real interest among them is Fischart.
 
 § v.] BODMER. 237 
 
 of the Langes husband and wife. We pass over what Bod- 
 mer afterwards wrote upon tragedy, as well as his treatises in 
 defence of Milton, of the devils, angels, and whole machinery of 
 the ' Paradise Lost,' in order to pass on to Breitinger's work, be- 
 cause Bodmer had a share in its production, and after his fashion 
 appears with intolerable presumption as the patron and chief 
 judge of art. This book is entitled ' Critical Treatise upon the 
 Nature, Intention and Use of Allegories, &c. by J. J. Brei- 
 tinger. Zurich, 1740.' We shall quote a passage in a note from 
 Bodmer's preface, from which the style of the Zurich Dictator 
 may be judged of. It may be seen what a high opinion of him- 
 self he entertains, and what was to have been expected if he and 
 his friends had been able to realize their views*. We shall also 
 have an opportunity of incidentally remarking how admirably 
 calculated Bodmer was to meet the Leipzig school monarch and 
 his reviewer's presumption with scorn, insolence and rude self- 
 reliance. The high opinion which Bodmer entertains of himself 
 can moreover only surprise those who have not read the letters 
 addressed to him by Sulzer, Gleim, and many others, who do 
 not know of Wieland's early intercourse with him (before Wie- 
 land had taken his leave of pietism), and are not acquainted with 
 the relation in which Klopstock and the tender J. G. Jacobi 
 stood to him. 
 
 Breitinger's book is written in the same heavy and labouring 
 style as Bodmer's preface ; nobody, however, can deny that there 
 is more taste and more philosophy in this work than in all that 
 Gottsched ever wrote. The best part of it, particularly for that 
 time, appears to us to consist of the frequent introduction of 
 passages from Homer, and the intimation of an opinion which 
 neither Clarke nor Heyne ventured to deliver, that a tendency 
 to bad taste is apparent in Virgil in those passages in which he 
 
 * " I regard myself as the godfather of this critical work ; and that still more 
 ■when I consider that this production of a sharp judgement would have been 
 strangled in the birth without my aid, or interrupted by other works, or at least 
 not brought to the perfection which it has now reached. Little is wanting to 
 justify me in appropriating to myself in some measure the glory of the ancient 
 Socrates, who has often said that he followed the trade of his mother and had 
 no power to deliver himself, but that he could assist the birth of others," &c. 
 At the conclusion he says, to the praise of Breitinger, "The rules which 
 the most distinguished writers have concealed in the form of examples, have 
 been discovered by him, and whoever has once weil understood them, will 
 be able by their skilful use to enjoy the same pleasure which they have given 
 us in those first examples and models, which, without doubt, is sufficient to 
 secure the author the approbation of the intelligent, and to set him free from 
 all uneasiness about the future destiny of his work," &c. &c.
 
 238 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 believes himself to have improved upon the imitated verses of 
 his master. His treatise upon the exaggeration and foolery in 
 which Lohenstein and Hoffmannsvvaldau took the liberty to in- 
 dulge, is also very useful — we recommend particularly this last 
 division, which treats of Lohenstein, HotFmannswaldau and 
 Amthor, to those who wish to become acquainted with the false 
 taste of these imitators of a degenerate Italian school without 
 reading through the numerous volumes of their novels or their 
 poems. The poems, writers and passages which are praised and 
 recommended by both the Swiss critics are, however, neverthe- 
 less, still further removed from true poetry than even Lohen- 
 stein and Hoffmannswaldau, in whose bombast a striving after 
 higher excellence and a poetic spirit must be recognised. The 
 specimens of German allegories are selected from Opitz, Pietsch, 
 Giinther, and magnanimously enough, sometimes from Gott- 
 sched ; but the whole question is only about invention according 
 to rules, and of arrangement according to sample. 
 
 Sulzer, in Berlin, who never went beyond the wisdom of his 
 patron, shows us to what Bodmer's aesthetics was capable of 
 leading. He separated himself more and more from Ramler, 
 in proportion as the latter attached himself more to those who 
 contended for the light of the new century, despaired of the age, 
 and abused the men Mhom we have named as the originators 
 and promoters of a better taste in Germany*. How could any 
 deliverance spring from Bodmer and Breitinger^s wisdom ? In 
 fact Bodmer showed himself in the year 1769 to be one of the 
 most zealous defenders of the old rigidity, because in his abusive 
 satires, he reviled as enemies of taste, Gleim, who used his arts 
 to make and keep friends with all parties, and whom he had even 
 greeted, in 17^75 ^s Tyrtseus Gleim, and J. G. Jacobi who had 
 glorified him in the same year in one of his tenderest songs. In 
 the year just mentioned he published his miserable paper entitled 
 ' The Graces of the Little, in the Name and for the Benefit of the 
 Lovers of Anacreonf/ inwhichhesought to wound Jacobi, Gleim, 
 Lessing, Weisse, Gellert, Nicolai and Wieland, who had just then 
 
 * Sulzer to Bodmer, 1701. ('Lett, of learned Germans.' Part I. p. 342.) I 
 flatter myself, after these principles, to be able to give some hard hits to the 
 bad taste of the newest Germans, the Nicolais, Lessings, and Ramlers. But 
 to say the truth, I cannot possibly cxi)cct anything from people among whom 
 Abbt is a classic writer, Ramler a IJoracc, Weisse a Shakspeare, and Herder 
 a Michael Angclo. 
 
 t ' Die Grazicn dcs Kleinen, im Naraen und zum Besten der Anakreon- 
 tischen.'
 
 § v.] BREITINGER. 239 
 
 forsaken him, with the weapons of his wit, however leaden the 
 arrows of the pious man were. 
 
 Breitinger, in his book upon allegories, ever faithful to his 
 master, finds the true examples and models of German poetry 
 in Postel, Von Konig and Brookes. Breitinger not only calls 
 Brookes and Von Konig the most celebrated poets in Germany, 
 which might be true at the time in which he wrote ; but he adds, 
 that Brookes was admirable in his descriptions of the works of 
 nature and Von Konig in the lively representation of the mag- 
 nificence and pomp of a royal court. 
 
 Almost simultaneously with the work upon allegories just 
 mentioned, there appeared another in two volumes upon the dif- 
 ferent kinds of poetry, which is indisputably better grounded 
 and more thoroughly weighed than Gottsched's shallow notices, 
 and more practical than Baumgarten and Meiei''s definitions and 
 demonstrations. This book, whose ample title we subjoin*, was 
 intended to reduce every thing, as accorded with Bodmer's severe 
 nature, to the standard of strict rules, in order that any able, vigor- 
 ous, industrious tradesman, relying upon these principles, might 
 hereafter compose German poetry. The author of ' Noah,^ trust- 
 ing to these rules, attempted also the dramatic department, and 
 gave himself out for a master therein, which was also here and 
 there beUeved. Bodmer accompanied this work of his friend 
 with a remarkable patronising preface, in which he sought to 
 justify the method of first laying down and afterwards construct- 
 ing works of art according to established principles. 
 
 What Bodmer says in favour of the philosophy of art and 
 poetry, and of the necessity of rules and principles, may be read 
 with pleasure and advantage ; but the experience of all ages stands 
 opposed to his plan. All nations, where poetry deserves the 
 name, according to historical testimony, have first had master- 
 pieces of genius and afterwards deduced their theory of the beau- 
 tiful from the different species of poetical compositions ; just in 
 the same manner as nature and all her productions existed be- 
 fore natural philosophy. The Leibnitz philosophy of the Zurich 
 friends is indeed more vigorous and manly than the Leipzig rules, 
 
 * ' John Jacob Breitinger's Critical Art of Poetry, wtierein Poetical Deline- 
 ation in reference to Invention is thoroughly investigated, and illustrated by 
 Examples from the most celebrated Ancients and Moderns, with a Preface by 
 John Jacob Bodmer: Zurich, 1740.' Immediately after the same subject 
 is continued, and treated in reference to expression and colouring by the same 
 author.
 
 240 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 and is also upon the whole more worthily expressed ; the exam- 
 ples and specimens, however, are the same as those which we 
 have mentioned in the work on allegories ; of the effect and in- 
 fluence of the Swiss theory we do not speak. The influence of 
 Bodmer and of all those who, like him, Breitinger and Sulzer, 
 confined themselves within the old and narrow circle and the 
 ancient usages, and wished to set limits to the commenced pro- 
 gress of the century, must necessarily have been limited to 
 teachers and writers, whose services were no longer regarded, 
 because they lingered behind the spirit of the age. 
 
 §VI. 
 
 FIRST TRACES OF THE MOVEMENTS WHICH COMPLETELY AL- 
 TERED GERMAN LIFE AND LITERATURE IN THE FOLLOW- 
 ING PERIOD. WEISSE, RAMLER, NICOLAI,LESSING, KLEIST, 
 ETC., TILL THE ^LETTERS UPON LITERATURE.^ 
 
 We cannot conclude without indicating where and how it 
 came to be seen and felt in Germany that Klopstock and Gel- 
 lert's mode of promoting mental improvement did not corre- 
 spond to the demands of the age, and that a style of writing 
 must be adopted entirely different from that which authors had 
 hitherto employed, in order to meet the views of a different 
 and more enlightened public. We are able to form a cor- 
 rect notion of the public of a German writer of that period 
 from the expressions of Sulzer, from whom we should least of 
 all have expected a complaint such as that which we quote 
 below *. The case however is so completely altered, that 
 the very opposite complaint may now be made. In the next 
 period we shall see that the new generation wholly forgot the 
 tracks of Bodmer and Gottsched ; and consisting mostly of 
 young men animated with the noblest zeal, they followed partly 
 
 * "So long as books are only in the hands of professors, students and journal- 
 ists, it appears to me scarcely worth while to write anything for the present ge- 
 neration. If there be a reading public in Germany beyond the circles of profes- 
 sional life, I must acknowledge that I have not become acquainted with it. I 
 sec only students, candidates, here and there a professor, and as a rarity a 
 preacher, trouble themselves with books ; the great public know not at all 
 what literature, jHiilosophy, morals and taste mean." The editor adds, 
 " Since this time the very reverse has made things infinitely worse. We have 
 an immense reading public, whose favour authors, to their great disadvantage, 
 court."
 
 § VI.] RAMLER. 241 
 
 the leading of Wieland, some that of Lessing, and others that of 
 Herder, and their first and complete reformation in literature 
 and mental culture was effected. These heralds of a new and 
 better age saw that Bodmer's calvinistic severity, his attachment 
 to his kind of religious social order, his orthodox love of eccle- 
 siastical rule, were as unfriendly to the free movements of the 
 mind, to the pleasantry and poetry of life, as the Lutheran, 
 sentimental — poetical it is true — but dogmatically religious fa- 
 naticism of Klopstock. All the poets who liad admired Gott- 
 sched, and from whom Bodmer and Breitinger selected their 
 specimens and examples, were characterized by them by the 
 name of the " common poets." 
 
 As the fate of all writers at this time in Germany depended 
 on the reviewers, the men who felt the deficiencies of the pre- 
 viously existing literature, and were desirous of carrying out their 
 own views, were necessarily obliged to erect some critical in- 
 strumentality to make a party, and to set themselves up as its 
 confident organs. All reformers of German literature have 
 since followed the same method. Sulzer and Ramler sought in 
 vain to overthrow Gottsched in a critical way ; for both were 
 deficient in cutting wit and confident assumption, and sometimes 
 it appeared that the two Berlin friends differed in their views and 
 in their taste. 
 
 Ramler was distinguished by his odes, Avhich he either trans- 
 lated from Horace, or composed himself after his model. The 
 language, versification, and manner of the ancients were first 
 introduced into Germany by this friend of Gleim and Lessing, 
 although the learned alone M^ere able justly to appreciate the 
 service which the learned critic rendered to style, the art of po- 
 etry and its external form. Sulzer and Ramler had come to 
 Berlin almost contemporaneously (one inl748, the other inl750), 
 and both had united with some other learned men, in order to 
 assert and justify their judgements in matters of taste by means 
 of a critical periodical. 
 
 This first attempt at a new school of criticism is here worthy 
 of mention, because it was the first step on the way which led 
 to the publication of the ' Letters upon Literature,^ and after- 
 wards to the ' Universal German Library.' These papers, which 
 however are far removed from the confident boldness and from 
 the occasionally w^anton wit of the * Letters upon Literature,' 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 242 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 were undertaken by Sucro, Sulzer *, Langemak and Raraler, 
 under the sanction of the Berhn Academy ; but they came to an 
 end, without leaving a trace behind. 
 
 Before we proceed to speak of the new attempt which was 
 made in Berhn of contending with youthful vigour against the 
 ruling pedantry, and of its successful execution in Leipzig, we 
 must mention the names of some young men who at that time 
 first entered the field of literary contest and fame. They adopted 
 and wrote in a very different tone from Rabener and Gellert, 
 and the combination of their very dissimilar talents, plans and 
 views effected more for the mental culture of the German middle 
 classes than could have been accomplished under the then ex- 
 isting circumstances by one superior mind. Among them we 
 mention Weisse first, because he erected the first new critical 
 tribunal at Leipzig. 
 
 Weisse could and must follow the way which his friend Les- 
 sing pointed out to him ; and with so much the more attention 
 to the necessities of the great public, because he was deficient 
 in genius for a higher effort. He possessed that fortunate me- 
 diocrity, that gift of expressing himself and communicating his 
 thoughts with ease and not without taste, that kind of variety 
 of powers which satisfies the multitude, that unceasing activity 
 and readiness which in the end infallibly secure a great public 
 in Germany. He has never, indeed, produced a work which 
 may be called classical. Weisse had much more poetical ability 
 than his friend Nicolai ; for with the latter inspiration and noble 
 fancies were not only on an equal footing with superstition, fa- 
 naticism and light-headedness, but all that went beyond the 
 palpable and obvious was a subject of deadly hate, and in all his 
 literary imdertakings he never overlooked or forgot his trades- 
 man-like gain. Moreover Lessing lent the aid of his great mind 
 to promote the critical plans which these two devised. 
 
 Weisse and Lessing, although very different with respect to 
 the regularity and propriety of their general conduct, had de- 
 voted their attention to the theatre, when they were students in 
 Leipzig, and had had frequent intercourse with the most di- 
 stinguished actors of the time. They had given up the learned 
 stiffness then in vogue, and Weisse had drawn great attention to 
 
 * 'Critical News from the Empire of Learning, 1750,with the Approbation 
 of the Royal Academy of Sciences.' Berlin, 4to.
 
 § VI.] WEissE. 243 
 
 himself by a theatrical piece, in which he brought upon the stage 
 the abusive quarrel between the Ziirich and the Leipzig fac- 
 tions with respect to the right of dominion over the German 
 Parnassus. Weisse stood in close connexion with Schleo-el, 
 Rabener, Gellert and other contributors to the ^Bremen Notices :' 
 but it may be observed from the commencement, that Lessing 
 was at his side ; that he sometimes directed him to Shakspeare, 
 and sometimes showed him that the rigidly moral anxiousness 
 of the best writers of those times could not be combined with 
 high mental culture, and with the free soaring of the mind. 
 Lessing justly thought that true poetry, by ennobling the whole 
 of nature, would heal the wounds which it had inflicted. 
 
 The earUest works of Lessing which appeared in Leipzig, under 
 the title * Trifles,^ were nearly of the same nature, and calculated 
 for the same object that Weisse's 'Amusing Songs,' which ap- 
 peared almost contemporaneously, were intended to promote. 
 Lessing and Weisse wrote for the same theatre, from which, when 
 under the management of Neuberin, Gottsched had driven away 
 Hanswurst. The company in Leipzig was then led by Koch ; 
 and Eckhof, who has been rendered immortal by Lessing's dra- 
 maturgy, was a member of it. About 1756 Weisse caused the 
 pieces which he had written for this company to be collected in 
 the first volume of his ' Essays upon the German Theatre.' 
 Had these pieces appeared at another time, they would not have 
 been deserving of notice ; but at that time they contributed more 
 to rouse the people than all the Messiads. Whatever opinion 
 may be entertained of the value of Weisse's plays, they come 
 nearer in tone and language to the French, which enjoyed the 
 favour of the public, than those of the Gottsched family or those 
 composed by Gellert and Schlegel ; the people also received 
 them with great applause, which cannot be said of Lessing's first 
 attempts in the same line. We leave to the historian and critic 
 of German poetry, or to the historian of literature, the estima- 
 tion of the tragedies contained in Weisse's contributions to the 
 German theatre ; but we cannot, in reference to our design, omit 
 the notice of the fact that these contributions fill five Parts, and 
 that the most of the tragedies contained in them met with the 
 approbation of the people, and were several times reprinted. 
 Two comic pieces contained in these contributions, of which 
 only one belonged originally to the German writer, deserve par- 
 ticular mention j because they, for the first time, gave some com- 
 
 R 2
 
 244 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 pensation to the great public, the proper mass of the people, 
 for the banished Hansvvurst. One is the farce already men- 
 tioned, ^The Fashionable Poets,^ in which the rude and ridicu- 
 lous strife between the two tasteless parties about taste in the 
 fine arts, to which both Mere strangers, was ridiculed upon the 
 stage. This piece appeared in 1756; but the fact that it had 
 only a momentary and accidental interest, that it was forgotten 
 as soon as Gottsched and Bodmer ceased to have any weight or 
 influence, proves sufficiently that Weisse was destitute of that 
 creative power of genius, which insures a lasting renown to 
 poems which owe their existence to accidental circumstances. 
 The second comic Diece to which we have referred, has main- 
 
 J. ■' 
 
 tained its ground till our days, as a carnival amusement ; its 
 merit however belongs more to the English original than to 
 the German imitation. We speak of the ^Travelled Women, 
 or the Devil is loose,^ together with the second part or ' The 
 Merry Cobbler ; ^ both, as is Avell known, being drawn from En- 
 glish sources. Weisse's talent of accommodating himself to the 
 numerous middle classes, without sinking to what is dull, of 
 not offending good manners or moral feeling, without falling 
 into seraphic feelings with Cramer and Klopstock, caused him 
 to be generally admired ; and a number of writings flowed from 
 his fruitful pen, written in a tone which good society could ac- 
 knowledge as its own, in preference to that of the whole Leip- 
 zig and Zurich schools. 
 
 Lessing, who was born and educated to be a perfect critic, 
 before he united with his friends in an undertaking for the cri- 
 tical purification of German literature, had given evidence by 
 his own publications that he was in a condition to render some 
 better services than those of a Lange and a Dusch, whom he 
 afterwards so indignantly lashed. He had not only published 
 his earliest productions in six parts of the first, but afterwards 
 forgotten, collection of his works, but in connexion Avith Moses 
 Mendelssohn, had composed the only solid, well-considered and 
 universally readable philosophical writing, because free from all 
 scholastic language, to which we in Germany can refer. This 
 work had the form of an answer to the question, by which the 
 French Berlin Academy had at that time made itself ridiculous. 
 This little work, entitled ' Pope a Metaphysician,' wliich is con- 
 tained in the second edition of the latest collection of Lessing's 
 writings, contains a very fine, but at the same time bitter strain of
 
 § VI.] NICOLAI. 245 
 
 irony and ridicule directed against the Berlin Academy, its phi- 
 losophy, shallowness and narrow views, which were displayed 
 in the question, in its attempt to deduce a system of philosophy 
 from the work of a poet, and the ignorance which it manifested, 
 in seeking for originality of invention in the works of Pope, as 
 the academicians had done. 
 
 In this paper, moreover, the two friends also entered into an 
 admirable Scriptural examination of the common theory of Pro- 
 vidence, and of the coarse style in which the adherents of the 
 theological school of Wolf wished to justify the Godhead on ac- 
 count of the apparent want of moral and physical contrivance in 
 the arrangements of the universe. These theologians were not 
 satisfied with proving that this arrangement is good, wise, or what 
 is more, necessary and founded upon the reason and connexion 
 of the whole, but they boasted of having proved that no other con- 
 trivance was possible. This, as is well known, afforded Voltaire 
 an occasion for M'riting his indecent and wanton novel, in which 
 he ridiculed this best world of the philosophers. 
 
 This remarkable piece, in which philosophy appears free from 
 its terrific artificial language and from system, contains at the 
 same time an explanation of the relation of the poet to the phi- 
 losopher and to philosophy, together with an exposition of the 
 nature of didactic poetry, which has yet been replaced by nothing 
 better. The style and language are probably Lessing's, the 
 matter Mendelssohn's, and here are found the merits which 
 give Lessing's writings a value to the Germans above those of 
 all others. Here is clearness and strength, life and motion ; 
 here is true poetry ; no bombast, no rhetoric upon stilts, no 
 mad pathos, or poetry in irregular metre ; no Oriental pomp. 
 
 The friend of Lessing, Weisse and Ramler, Nicolai of Berlin, 
 whom we shall hereafter see always appearing as the represent- 
 ative of rude and interested partiality, had come forward at this 
 time in a very different character, it is true, but with all that 
 zealot's eagerness which was peculiar to him, and which in con- 
 sequence made him often ridiculous, when he thought to make 
 others so. He had become the organ of those who thought 
 themselves obliged to declare aloud that the new literature had 
 nothing to expect either from the disciples of Gottsched, from 
 the exclusive admirers of Bodmer, or from the visionary notions 
 of Klopstock ; and this time his active meddling was well applied. 
 The work in which he thus delivers his opinion upon the con-
 
 246 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 dition of literature, appeared about 1755, and excited at that 
 time great attentiou. Nicolai's name was unknown, the work 
 therefore appeared anonymously, introduced and recommended 
 to the public by a preface from J. G. Nicolai, Prof, at Frank- 
 fort on the Oder. This treatise bears the title of ' Letters upon 
 the present Condition of the Fine Arts in Germany.' In these 
 letters, Gottsched and his extracts from Batteux were first held 
 up to ridicule ; the author then directs liis attention to the Swiss 
 school, whose earnest endeavours to recommend an imitation 
 of the Greeks, to lead back to a taste for simplicity, to promote 
 the cause of religion and virtue, he praises and honourably ac- 
 knowledges, before he proceeds to show their weakness and in- 
 efficiency. He says with, great justice, — " Those gentlemen 
 who value themselves highly upon this particular taste, appear 
 to me to resemble the aldermen of some little borough where 
 they themselves are the chief people ; the forced hexameters, 
 the Latin letters (these German books were printed in the Ro- 
 man character), and an affectedly simple and horribly bombasti- 
 cal style of writing, are nothing else than the full-bottomed wig, 
 ruff and stiff stock in which these honourable and resolute dic- 
 tatorial gentlemen make their entry." Sulzer, who had just 
 published a tract which he intitled, ' Thoughts upon the emi- 
 nent Worth of M. Bodmer's Epic Poetry,' is first treated of and 
 his merits exhibited in a very courteous manner, but afterwards 
 some very bitter and cutting remarks are made upon him, as 
 one of the Swiss band, who recommend the good quahty of the 
 Swiss wares (their morality) because they cannot boast of their 
 beauty. Ramler, whose odes had just then appeared, is highly 
 eulogised, and another and different kind of criticism from that 
 which then prevailed is earnestly promoted. 
 
 Nicolai was not alone in his efforts. In the same manner as in 
 the letters just mentioned hepointed out what was deficient in the 
 prevailing culture and literatiu'e, so did Lessing also in the lite- 
 rary articles, which, according to the custom of the time, were 
 appended to Voss's newspa])er, of which he was the editor. 
 The carrying out the idea on a great scale was liowever due to 
 Nicolai. He had already entered into an agreement with Weisse 
 in Leipzig to set up a critical tribunal. This scheme, after some 
 delays, Weisse alone carried forward in the year 1757? by esta- 
 bhshing the ' Library of the Fine Arts and Sciences.' His 
 friend Lessing, who had the chief share in the two first pieces of
 
 § VI.] NICOLAI. 247 
 
 the ^ Letters upon Literature/ ^yhich were commenced two 
 years later, contributed only a single criticism to the ' Library;' 
 Mendelssohn, on the contrary, took part in both in a similar 
 manner. The object which Nicolai, Weisse and Lessing pro- 
 posed to accomplish by establishing two new critical tribunals, 
 whose tone and contents belong altogether to the succeeding 
 period, may be fully learned from their friendly correspondence. 
 In all their letters they complain of the ridiculous and pedantic 
 imitators of the ancients as well as of the English and French, 
 of dull, moral sermonizing, of diffuse and weak descriptions, of 
 expounding and detailing, of bad translations, and a want of 
 genius and originality. 
 
 We shall now, in the conclusion of this section, direct atten- 
 tion briefly to the three first years of the new^ critical journal, 
 and the condition of literature and criticism till the year 1759, 
 because in this year the new ' Letters upon Literature^ ap- 
 peared, with which we shall commence the following period. 
 We shall not return to the ' Library,' partly because it did not 
 embrace the whole circle of literature, as the ' Letters ' did, and 
 partly because it remained far behind them in reforming zeal, or, 
 if you will, in revolutionary vehemence. As to the latter, the 
 good Sulzer was afterwards so much alarmed at its tone, that he 
 not only never contributed an article, although the directors 
 were his best friends ; but he went so far as to express a malicious 
 pleasure, that a writer without influence or importance had 
 effected the discontinuance and confiscation of the paper in 
 Berlin*. In the time of Frederick the Second, it was not indeed 
 possible to carry through such a project in Berlin. In Saxony 
 things were on a different footing, and it is therefore obvious 
 why Weisse dare not too strongly excite the rage of the Saxon 
 writers. 
 
 With respect to the ' Library,' a detailed account of the 
 author's object was previously published, in which essays on 
 particular departments of the fine arts and sciences were pro- 
 mised, together with criticisms. In this prefatory publication, 
 Breitinger's labours are spoken of with respect, whilst the jour- 
 
 * Sulzer, in a letter to Gleim, 20th March 1762, writes, " The Council has 
 forbidden Nicolai to proceed with the ' Letters upon Literature,' and even re- 
 fused permission for the sale of those already published. This trick, no doubt, 
 comes from Justi, whose ' Psammetichus,' has been lately somewhat sharply 
 handled." He feels however that his rejoicing is a little unreasonable, and 
 adds, — " But where are we, when such a man can obstruct criticism ? "
 
 248 GERMANY. [CHAP. Ill, 
 
 nals of Gottsched and his clients are treated with contempt. It 
 is intimated, that the multitude of bad writers in Germany 
 imperiously called for a sharp and satirical criticism ; and the 
 younger generation are especially threatened with the scourge. 
 
 What is said in reference to style and language appears to us 
 so important for the history of the progress of German culture and 
 «ivihzation, because the influence of the * Library' and ' Letters 
 upon Literature' was so great, that bad German writers, from this 
 time forward, were obliged to alter their style, that we shall intro- 
 duce the words of the writer : — " Because (he writes) we regard 
 purity of language and justness of expression as two things, M'hich 
 have in various ways not only been interchanged with one another 
 by our German writers, but which have been neglected to an almost 
 incredible extent, we shall be careful not merely to observe upon 
 those important parts of fine writing, but, in the works which we 
 criticise, shall pay particular attention to these subjects, and will 
 therefore give our judgement upon many works, whose contents 
 do not fall Avithin our province, with respect to their style only, 
 in order to root out the still-existing prejudice, that it is not 
 necessary to write well, even in works whose chief object is the 
 cultivation of the fine arts." 
 
 In the first volume of the ^ Library of the Fine Arts,' one of 
 the numerous celebrated mediocre writers who had raised them- 
 selves upon the ruins of Gottsched's reputation, is treated with 
 merited severity. This was John Jacob Dusch, then cele- 
 brated as a miserable translator, as a poet in the style of Pope 
 and Thomson, and afterwards as a novel-writer. The public, and 
 the king of Denmark, took him for a great man. In the first 
 volume he is criticised as a writer, and in those which follow 
 exposed as a shameless and ignorant translator. He was not 
 however deterred by Lessing's severe criticism from writing 
 largely in the * Letters upon Literature ;' and we see how true 
 the observation is, A^hich was made on this occasion in the 
 * Library,' that mediocrity must be put down by force, because it 
 was a universal bar to genius in Germany. Cramer and Klop- 
 stock are indeed spoken of with respect in this volume ; but the 
 deficiencies of their style and their materials, the exaggerations of 
 their devotion and sentimentality, are with modesty and care 
 noticed and censured ; with respect to language and versifica- 
 tion, every thing is here intimated which time has since con- 
 firmed.
 
 § VI.] NICOLAI. 249 
 
 In the very commencement of the second volume there is found 
 a translation of a paper of Shaftesbury's, which appeared to the 
 author of the ' Library' important. In a criticism upon Klop- 
 stock's ^ Death of Adam/ which appeared about this time, the 
 writer has made the judicious and clever remark, that Klopstock's 
 name indisputably adorns this prosaic tragedy, although the work 
 is no ornament to his name. The volume is wholly dedicated 
 to the drama ; for it contains not only very extended notices of 
 Goldoni's pieces, but Cronegk's ' Codrus,' together with the 
 ^ Free Spirit,' are printed in it, and accompanied with a critical 
 examination. Both pieces, as is well known, are only distin- 
 guished as being some steps in advance of Schlegel's produc- 
 tions, and we only allude to them to show the slow progress 
 of German improvement ; because this must be known, to enable 
 the reader to appreciate the influence and activity of Lessing, 
 Wieland, and Herder, which will be illustrated in the commence- 
 ment of the following period. 
 
 We have not taken any very ample notice of Kleist, whose 
 ' Spring' then attracted great attention, along with the ' Messiah' 
 and the poems of Gleim and Hagedorn ; because this poet died 
 at the very moment in which he had perceived that the new 
 literature of Germany could be in no respect advanced by de- 
 scriptive and didactic poems in the manner of Thomson and 
 Pope. Tiie faithful friends of the able Kleist, i. e. all friends of 
 the dawning light, of general enlightenment and of the true 
 improvement of their native land, Ramler, Lessing, Gleim and 
 others, felt a double regret for his loss, because he was snatched 
 away in the very midst of his career. Lessing has declared, in his 
 ' Laocoon,' what his opinion was with respect to the connexion of 
 Kleist and his ' Spring' with the newly formed poetry of the Ger- 
 man nation ; and, by the quotation of his words, we shall place 
 our readers in a situation to form a judgement for themselves. 
 
 " Kleist was far from believing, in common with his eulogists," 
 says Lessing, " that the descriptions in which he took particular 
 pleasure, and by means of which, like Brookes and the modern 
 English, he had obtained the applause of the public, were true 
 poetry." Lessing even assures us that his friend had attached 
 but little value to his ' Spring,' and adds, " I can say with cer- 
 tainty, that if he had lived, he would have given it quite a dif- 
 ferent form. He had thought upon constructing a plan, and 
 considered about the means by which he might present, in
 
 250 GERMANY. [CHAP. III. 
 
 natural order before his eyes, and reduce to a just succession, 
 the multitude of images which he appears to have snatched up, 
 sometimes here, sometimes there, by chance, from the boundless 
 compass of renovated nature." 
 
 In the second volume of the ' Library' is to be found the only 
 contribution which Lessing made, and by which he raised the 
 same terror in the minds of the pitiful translators of the Greek 
 poets which he had excited in the wretched translators of the 
 Latin ones, by his annihilating criticism upon Lange's trans- 
 lation of the • Odes of Horace.' This criticism is directed against 
 a Mr. Lieberkiihn, who, relying upon the eulogy of his friends 
 and of Gottsched, tried to translate the ^Idyls' of Theocritus, 
 Moschvis, and Bion, without having any other notion of poetry 
 than might be drawn from Gottsched's books, and even without 
 any correct knowledge of the Greek language. 
 
 We folloAv the publication of the ' Library' no further ; because 
 these notices of the three first parts are sufficient for our pur- 
 pose, as the others fall within the period of the ^Letters upon 
 Literature.' From the year 1759, Weisse, his Sulzer and other 
 friends lingered behind their age. Their weakness, and the 
 middle path which they sought to tread, could only lead to 
 mediocrity, but neither awaken nor encourage genius. The 
 ^ Library,' in its criticism, never went beyond the theoretical 
 system erected by Sulzer and Ramler, with the aid of French 
 and English rules, as will be seen from the first look cast upon 
 the third and fourth volumes of the work. The lengthy and 
 dull essays upon the theoiy of particular parts of the fine arts 
 and sciences, the translation of the Abbe Dubois's remarks upon 
 the nature of the genius of poets and painters, the selection from 
 the ' Principes pour la Lecture des Orateurs,' and other materials, 
 were little, if at all, calculated to render any service to the Ger- 
 mans. We were in want of vigorous serious prose ; and were 
 we to substitute French rhetoric for the poetical or crawling 
 prose of that age ? The notices in the three thick volumes of 
 Ramler's German Batteux only point to the plain and dull 
 middle way, and to academic regularity. 
 
 Thus far had German culture, language and literature ad- 
 vanced, before Lessing, and, after him, and partly against him. 
 Herder, endeavoured to lift up their voices, and to prove that 
 both the Leipzig and the Berlin reformers had entered upon a 
 wrong path. About this time, also, Wieland turned away from
 
 § VI.] NEW CLASSICAL LITERATURE. 251 
 
 his former pietistical and Swiss direction, and became an espe- 
 cial favourite with the great, and particularly with the fashionable 
 public, by the tone, manner and style of a half French and half 
 Greek education. The greater number of readers of belles lettres 
 seek for amusement, and not application of mind; they know only 
 half the value of poetry ; the pure pleasure of mere mental acti- 
 vity is to them only a means, not an end ; they look for no mere 
 mental enjoyments, but search only for means of dignifying, ex- 
 alting, increasing and seasoning their sensual pleasures ; Wieland 
 precisely met the taste and the demands of such readers. We 
 shall therefore find, when we take up the thread which we have 
 for a moment dropt, the different parts of the German public, 
 and from different sides, not only roused in a different, but in an 
 altogether opposite manner. Klopstock, Herder, Lessing, Ni- 
 colai and his friends, each formed his own circle, his peculiar 
 public. The whole nation, however, took part in the strife with 
 respect to the essential nature of poetry, and the value of the 
 individual writers of the younger generation ; the elder were soon 
 forgotten. 
 
 An entirely new and purely classical literature took its origin 
 from the year 1770? in consequence of the movements Avhich were 
 caused by Lessing, Herder, Nicolai and Wieland, from 1759-70. 
 We believe, therefore, that we can best conclude our remarks upon 
 the history of German culture and mental improvement, and its 
 slow progress during the first half of the eighteenth century, with 
 the notices which have been just taken of the reforming labours 
 of the Weisses, Sulzers, and Nicolais. We shall commence the 
 history of the next period with some account of the earliest 
 works of Lessing, Wieland and Herder ; and immediately direct 
 attention to the honoured men, who, in that dark and despotic 
 time, when no man raised his voice in favour of the oppressed 
 citizens and peasants of Germany, ventured courageously to de- 
 fend the rights of humanity, and particularly of the oppressed, 
 against the presumptuous claims of the hierarchy and against 
 military power.
 
 252 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FRANCE. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS UPON SOME OF THE 
 MANIFESTATIONS OF ENGLISH LITERATURE. 
 
 §1. 
 [The portion of the view of English literature already given, 
 will be found in the first volume of ' Schlosser's History.' The 
 present chapter alone appears in the second volume, and all 
 those which follow, in the first part of the third volume. This 
 remark is necessary, in order to enable the reader to carry on the 
 connexion, and to explain some allusions which occur in the text, 
 which the translator has deemed it best to retain, in order to 
 preserve the complete integrity of the work, and to present it 
 precisely as the author himself has done, as well as to enable 
 those who take an interest in the subject or the Mork, here- 
 after to connect it with the histories of French and German 
 literature, to which it refers. The following chapter is given 
 in the introduction to French literature, p. 436, vol. ii.] 
 
 In the present volume we shall not enter upon English litera- 
 ture, partly because we shall require considerable space to show 
 in what way the Parisian literature became the general fashion 
 in Europe, and partly because we shall give in the following 
 volume whatever may be wanting here. We shall, however, in- 
 troduce some English writers before we enter upon the Frenchj 
 — authors who though entitled to no particular notice on ac- 
 count of the solid or intrinsic value of their works, have gained 
 a great reputation and innumerable imitators in France and 
 Germany, by means of the fashion and the adoption of the spirit 
 
 of the age. 
 
 Among these men Lord Chesterfield unquestionably merits 
 
 the first place, who, as often happens and has happened in our 
 times, by means of his rank and his activity as a man of the 
 world and a statesman, procured a great number of admirers of 
 his writings in the whole of Europe, and impressed upon them 
 that mark of distinction which gives sometimes an English and 
 sometimes a French character to fashionable reading from one 
 end of Europe to another. Chesterfield was personally, and 
 afterwards as a writer also, as well known and as much admired 
 in Paris, Berlin and the Hague, as in London. He occupies
 
 § I.] CHESTERFIELD. 253 
 
 one of the first places among the writers who, after the example 
 of the French, laboured to create a fashionable and general lite- 
 rature of the higher classes, which as being common to all Eu- 
 ropeans, is destitute of all national, individual, vigorous character, 
 and softly melts into egotism. His chief work describes and 
 delineates a man whom, as the ideal of a genuine statesman and 
 man of the world, he places in opposition to those who have only 
 received the common education of a citizen, and with this book 
 in our hand, we understand much more easily the tendency of 
 Rousseau ; because the man whom he would represent as the 
 ideal of a genuine human being, is the very opposite of Chester- 
 field's man of the world. This celebrated work is ' Chesterfield's 
 Letters to his Son.' 
 
 Chesterfield was a friend of Voltaire and Montesquieu, he had 
 begun and in 1748 he closed his diplomatic career under Wal- 
 pole ; and from this circumstance alone, we might M'ell conclude 
 that he attached very little importance to social morality. To the 
 honour, however, of the English of that day be it said, that they 
 were far indeed from yielding unconditional homage to the doc- 
 trines of worldly wisdom, or from regarding the perfection of 
 form, for which Lord Chesterfield's letters were celebrated and 
 which gained for them a classical reputation, as a compensation 
 for the great deficiency in the seriousness of their contents. In 
 order to prove, without going into an analysis of his writings, 
 that Chesterfield, like Hume in reference to the form, had 
 altogether gone over to the French school, we need only mention 
 the testimony of the Frenchman Siiard, which has so much the 
 more weight, as those Englishmen also who admire their cele- 
 brated writers of the eighteenth century more than those of an 
 earlier period, altogether agree with his opinion. Siiard says ex- 
 pressly, that there are few books in the English language whose 
 style so nearly approximates that of the French as that of 
 Chesterfield's ^ Letters ; ' he adds what has been already stated, 
 that this results from Chesterfield, like Hume, Bolingbroke, and 
 Gibbon being intimately acquainted with the French literature 
 and language. This further appears from the numerous and 
 high eulogiums which are to be found in the French writers. 
 
 The contents of these letters altogether correspond to their so- 
 phistical and rhetorical form. Chesterfield, like many of the 
 imitators ofourGothe, boldly afiirms, that manner and external 
 courtliness are far more essential in the world than seriousness 
 and virtue. The instruction which was formerly imparted only in
 
 254 ^ ENGLAND. [CHAP. IV, 
 
 secret and impressed upon the minds of young people of rank, is 
 here systematically given, viz., that the mere external form, alto- 
 gether without inward substance, gives a superiority to the di- 
 stinguished men of the world in the intercourse of life, and that 
 his only science is, never to lay himself open, and to have his 
 words, as well as his features and the movements of his body, 
 always completely under his control, &c. 
 
 All this would, however, by no means apply to that school of 
 clever rhetoricians, who in eloquent language so wonderfully mis- 
 represent religion and morality, that the simple and humble 
 mind, confounded by their logic, poetry and rhetoric, is no longer 
 able to distinguish right and wrong, it is no other than that prin- 
 ciple which has always, and will always be regarded as valid in 
 the circles in which Chesterfield moved, because Platonic philo- 
 sophy and Christian social morality would there be absurd ; 
 Chesterfield has gone still a step further, and in this way has 
 approximated nearly to the frivolity of the school of Holbach. 
 His own good friend, Johnson, has reproached him in the rude 
 manner which the learned English ladies admired in their oracle, 
 when he declares that Chesterfield's book was merely fitted to 
 teach the morahty of the most degraded of the female sex, and 
 the manners of a dancing-master. 
 
 This is indeed somewhat strongly said ; but in order to com- 
 prehend this judgement, we must know that Chesterfield in this 
 respect was only an imitator of the French writers of his time, 
 and that his pecuhar characteristic consisted in having syste- 
 matized the art of simulation for the benefit of fashionable and 
 dissolute society. Chesterfield teaches his son not only the 
 manner in which particular classes of the female sex are to be 
 seduced from the paths of virtue, but how every female virtue, 
 of which chastity is the foundation and corner-stone, may be 
 utterly destroyed. Chesterfield, moreover, teaches this art of 
 seduction only as it bears upon the diplomatic skill of a man of 
 the world, who looks upon the female sex as mere instruments 
 for accomplishing his political objects, or satisfying his ambi- 
 tious or sensual necessities. 
 
 Hume, who was less read and admired in Germany than in 
 France, because in the former he was accessible to the learned 
 alone by means of a very bad translation, has rendered the proof 
 easy, that he has only clothed in an English dress the theories 
 and principles of the men, of whom we shall speak in the follow- 
 ing paragraphs, by his own express declaration, that the judge-
 
 § I.] HUME. 255 
 
 ment and taste of his Parisian friends, the exclusive so-called 
 philosophers, had entirely guided him in the composition of his 
 history. It will be readily seen besides, that this age required a 
 species of history quite different from the former, and that after 
 Voltaire and Bolingbroke had spread the light of a sounder cri- 
 ticism or bold negation over the dead masses of historical know- 
 ledge, dialetics, rhetoric and sophistry must necessarily be called 
 in to aid, if the distinguished public which had been instructed 
 by their writings, was to be addressed. 
 
 We cannot here enter upon the discussion of Hume's philo- 
 sophy or his scepticism, or their relation to those of the French, 
 because we are not writing the history of science but of the 
 affections and principles of life ; and we shall therefore only 
 point out in its outward manifestations, the intimate connexion 
 of modern history with the impulses and leading which were 
 given by the Parisian literati. Every one who is acquainted with 
 the history of Hume's life, as well as of Gibbon's, knows also that 
 both were quite in their element among the men whom Me are 
 about to mention, that they lived in the midst of the French lite- 
 rature and language, and, seized with the desire to gain reputation 
 by means of effect, like the Parisians, they durst not undei^value 
 or neglect French rhetoric and sophistry. This will be readily 
 perceived, if the chief works of these two great masters of a new 
 school, which are not on that account less distinguished, or less 
 worthy of permanent renown, are only slightly examined. 
 
 Besides Hume was regarded, by Diderot, Marmontel and 
 Holbach, as a memberof the alliance for the propagation of the 
 principles of wisdom, which they wished to see prevailing in 
 the distinguished literary world, as at a later period were also 
 Gibbon, our German Grimm, and the Italian Galiani ; and even 
 Rousseau, by whom all these principles were regarded as folly 
 and "v^ ickedness, and to whom the life of their originator was a 
 scandal, was and remained on terms of intimate friendship with 
 Hume, till, in one of his fits of unfortunate hypochondria, he 
 believed himself to have been betrayed by him. From the 
 manner in which Marmontel, in his Memoirs, represents this 
 disagreement between the unhappy Rousseau, afhicted by the 
 creations of his own imagination, and Hume, it distinctly appears 
 that the society which frequented the house of Holbach, regarded 
 Hume as their best ally, whilst the Genevese democratic de- 
 fender of common truth regarded him as their bitterest enemy.
 
 256 ENGLAND. [CHAP. IV. 
 
 Hume therefore came forth, a little too early in England, with 
 his historical work, with his bold scepticism, his keen cri- 
 ticism, his art of using facts for the purpose of building up 
 a particular system, and for a definite object, and the first recep- 
 tion of his work was by no means encouraging. The new kind 
 of history only first triumphed over old prejudices, together with 
 the extension of the new principles of mental culture, when the 
 Parisian views of life had become the fashionable views of the 
 polite and fashionable world. We infer this from Hume's own 
 words, in which he triumphantly states, how incredibly small at 
 first the sale of a work had been, which was afterwards circu- 
 lated like the newspapers. If we could dwell longer here upon 
 the subject of English literature, these general notices might be 
 abundantly confirmed by a closer examination of many passages 
 of Hume's history, in which he speaks of Christianity and its 
 institutions, of the middle ages, their customs, and the nature 
 of their religious observances, but what has been already said 
 will amply suffice as an introduction to the following paragraphs*. 
 
 It cannot be alleged of Fielding and Richardson's novels, 
 which are more important as regards the German general lite- 
 rature of the close of the eighteenth century, than either the 
 writings of Chesterfield or Hume, that they were calculated for 
 the sphere of the highest classes, and therefore there will be 
 found in them no traces of the modes of thinking and of mental 
 culture which came from Paris and from Voltaire ; yet it is im- 
 possible to mistake also in these writings the mighty influence 
 of a new age. Fielding has described English life and English 
 manners, from the same point of view from which Hogarth has 
 given his masterly delineations with the aid of his pencil and his 
 graving-tool j but he also exhibits the mechanical religion and 
 hypocrisy of the hierarchy in the same light as the French 
 scoffers ; Richardson's style, on the other hand, was recognised 
 by the French themselves as their own. 
 
 Fielding, in his ^ Tom Jones,' exhibits the old method of edu- 
 cation, the religiousness of orthodox belief resting wholly upon 
 forms and formulas, in as strong and unfavourable contrast with 
 natural feeling, with the inborn sense of right, and with the reli- 
 gion of a pure mind, as Rousseau himself. Richardson, on the 
 other hand, wholly falls in with the moralists of the Marmontel 
 
 ♦The paragraphs upon French literature from the time of Voltaire. — Trans.
 
 § I.] RICHARDSON. 257 
 
 school. ' Pamela,' ^ Clarissa Harlowe,' ' Grandison/ are all 
 written with the admired art and diffuse ornamental style of 
 the rhetorical and sophistical schools, which, on the one hand 
 are wearisome by their sermonising, and, on the other, are charm- 
 ing by their descriptions calculated to suit the taste and please the 
 fancy of the multitude. This is the style which was so much 
 admired in Addison, and which is characteristic also of those 
 Encyclopaedists, who desired to recommend themselves, not so 
 much by their wit, as by sentiment and morality, to whom no 
 man can deny an uncommon talent in representation, great clear- 
 ness of expression, and liveliness of style. 
 
 As regards the morality of Richardson's celebrated moral 
 novels, it awakens no very favourable feeling of its in- 
 ward soundness, or of the truth and depth of conviction, from 
 which alone good principles or true representations of life can 
 spring, that its original was as little distinguished for the purity 
 of his morals as Fielding himself. In the admiration bestowed 
 on such a writer there may be recognised the character of the 
 modern schools, which are rich in morals and poor in morality, 
 which assign nothing to nature and every thing to art. This 
 spirit passed over from the Parisian life, from the tales of Mar- 
 montel and the domestic dramas of Diderot, to our Kotzebues, 
 Ifflands and Jiingers. The justice of this remark cannot be 
 better established than by a reference to the circumstance, that 
 Diderot lavishes the highest eulogiums upon those very parts of 
 Richardson's novels, which, as is well known. Fielding in his 
 had treated with bitter and well-merited scorn. Rousseau also, 
 at a time when he was only a rhetorician and sophist, was 
 attracted by the EngHsh rhetorician, and by his imitations 
 of him has shown what a man like Rousseau, who glowed with 
 a true fire, can accomplish with the discoveries of Richardson, 
 when he has first received them as truth, as he did, and has con- 
 vinced himself of that of which he wishes to persuade others. 
 
 Richardson, because he understood how to flatter, had how- 
 ever a degree of success which Rousseau, with all his truth, 
 never had. He was at the same time idolized by the pious 
 and orthodox Germans of that age, notwithstanding the misera- 
 ble translations which are usually prepared in Germany. He 
 was praised in English pulpits as a moral teacher, and earnestly 
 recommended also at the same time by those Frenchmen, who 
 were called atheists and enemies of religion. In all this we re- 
 
 VOL. I, S
 
 258 ENGLAND. [CHAP. IV. 
 
 cognise the signs of a time which was weary of old forms and 
 formulas, and sought in this way to release itself from their 
 influence. 
 
 In the preceding chapters upon German literature, we have 
 already remarked, that Glover's new species of epic poetry in his 
 ' Leonidas,' Sterne's ' Sentimental Journey,' and Johnson's cele- 
 brated criticisms, appear to us to be a proof that there was a 
 tendency in all the countries of Europe to substitute what was 
 universal, polished, artificial, for what was national, old, solid and 
 vigorous. This will justify us in once again placing Voltaire and 
 Montesquieu, as leaders of the ton, at the head of the history of 
 the formulas of wisdom, which regulated the life of the distin- 
 guished and educated society of the whole of Europe ; we shall 
 immediately pass on from them to Rousseau, because he and his 
 school, although vigorous opponents of the then existing state of 
 things, pursued a wholly different object, and were influenced 
 and guided by a notion which had nothing in common with the 
 principles and the life of the Parisian philosophers. 
 
 Voltaire's whole being, his wit, his philosophy of life, the 
 nature of the refinement and mental cultivation which he recom- 
 mended, were only suitable for the most wealthy classes, and for 
 the life of the high circles of monarchical countries and their 
 courts. Montesquieu found his ideal in England, and knew 
 how to give a new philosophical splendour to the aristocracy 
 and to the distinguished gentlemen, who are usually called the 
 High Church party. Rousseau alone ventured, in the midst of 
 the French nobility, in military, hierarchical, despotic, aristocratic 
 Europe, to announce and preach the democracy of an ideal world. 
 
 The three men just named had each his distinct sphere of 
 operation and influence, which might be .very easily historically 
 delineated by particulars, if this did not lead us too far from our 
 design. And in order to show that such a review of particular 
 circumstances Mould produce this effect, we have only to Call 
 attention to the case of Voltaire, because, in order to define his 
 circle of influence, and the extent of his instrumentality, we must 
 mention all the courts of Europe, and show how, from Choiseul 
 to the Crown-prince of Brunswick, Prince Henry, King Fre- 
 deric and Catherine II., every one sought his correspondence, 
 and paid him homage. The history and the contents of his 
 particulai' writings alone prove that he ruled in Europe with 
 unlimited sway for above sixty years. We shall, however, take
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 259 
 
 all this as acknowledged and proved, and limit ourselves to 
 pointing out the tendency of particular works of Voltaire, which 
 may be done with so much the greater boldness, as any error 
 with respect to writings which are in every body's hands, or 
 which at least can be readily examined, is easy to be observed. 
 In the following paragraphs we shall treat of Montesquieu's 
 ' Spirit of Laws,' having abeady noticed his other works. We 
 shall not pass on immediately to the school of Voltaire, or to 
 that of D'Alembert and Diderot, but shall first speak of Rous- 
 seau, especially because he mediately effected a complete change 
 of the whole German method of public instruction and private 
 education in the three last decennia of the eighteenth century, 
 and exercised immediately as great an influence upon the life of 
 the higher classes of the inhabitants of towns, as Voltaire did 
 upon the highest nobility. 
 
 § n. 
 
 VOLTAIRE IN HIS \VHOLE SPHERE OF ACTIVITY. 
 
 In the former part of this history we have followed chronologi- 
 cally the course of Voltaire's activity ; it now remains to us to 
 group his writings together according to their different species, 
 and to show in what way he succeeded in extending his influ- 
 ence over the field of literature, and consequently over the whole 
 life and intercourse of all the educated classes in Europe ; we 
 must, however, first premise one remark upon his sojourn in 
 Lorraine. During his sojourn in Lorraine, in the house of the 
 Marchioness du Chatelet, Voltaire tried to give currency to the 
 study of the so-called exact or mathematical and physical sciences, 
 to confer a charm upon the pursuit by his talent for represen- 
 tation and wit, and even in those departments to recommend a 
 new and a freer method, in opposition to the old one practised 
 by the Jesuits. It will be only possible to comprehend the 
 manner in which he carried on w^ar also in these departments 
 with the Jesuits and with blind faith, when we know that not 
 very long ago, even in our days, the Copernican system was 
 not allowed to be publicly taught in Rome. 
 
 Scientifically considered, the labours of Voltaire and his friend 
 the Marchioness, as they pursued mathematics together in Cirey, 
 
 s 2
 
 260 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 are very unimportant, because both were merely dilettanti ; but 
 they served notwithstanding to give a new and quite different 
 importance to the calculating and measuring sciences, in con- 
 sequence of the consideration which the one enjoyed from her 
 rank, and the other fi'om his wit and talents as a poet. The old 
 school sciences and contemplation were now to sink in the 
 scale ; observation of nature and the outward movements of life 
 to rise. Voltaire only gave the tone, his friend D'Alembert and 
 others completed the work : and no one can deny that this whole 
 school, as well as the French in general, have their chief strength 
 in the exact sciences, and in all cases in which the question de- 
 pends upon experiment and observation ; neither must it be for- 
 gotten that Buffon and Lalande belonged to this school. Al- 
 though we propose to mention the various species of Voltaire's 
 waitings, we do not propose to enumerate them fully and indivi- 
 dually, but shall only indicate their tendency and probable effect. 
 It will be, therefore, quite sufficient to select two or three of those 
 which were produced in Cirey. In his Avritings upon Newton's 
 * Philosophy of Nature ' ('Elemens de la Philosophic de Newton'), 
 Voltaire slily took the English philosopher under his protection 
 as being opposed to the Jesuits ; or, in other words, he availed 
 himself of the name and works of this celebrated Englishman, in 
 order to provoke the Jesuits ; for Newton's ecclesiastical theo- 
 logical direction had no interest for Voltaire, and he laughed at 
 his apocalyptic dreams. In another work he took the part of 
 Leibnitz against Newton, believing that by so doing he could 
 most eflfectually shatter the scholastic system which was main- 
 tained by force in the schools and academies that were favoured 
 by the government, and left altogether to the superintendence 
 of the clergy. We can only bestow a passing notice upon his 
 essay on the ^ Nature of Fire,' because the little book was written 
 with that self-confidence which Voltaire satirizes with so much 
 bitterness and severity in others. It is also certain that he 
 lent the aid of his pen to the Marchioness du CluUelet in her 
 mathematical and physical writings, for which she continued 
 so long celebrated ; and if we might venture to put confidence 
 in what seems to us a very suspicious authority — the instructress 
 of the present king of the French, the Marchioness was en- 
 titled to a veiy small portion of the merit of those works to 
 which she owed her reputation. Madame de Genlis relates in 
 her memoirs, that her grandfather, Monsieur dc Mezieres, who
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 261 
 
 was a near neighbour of the Marchioness, and deeply versed in 
 the mathematical sciences, had fm'nished the materials for the 
 treatises which Voltaire had assisted to reduce into form. This 
 report is not to be relied upon, neither is the source from M'hich 
 it comes ; it is however not the less true that both the celebrated 
 writers in Cirey largely contributed to make it fashionable to 
 speak about physics, mathematics and natural history. Scho- 
 lastics, theology, philological and antiquarian sciences were pre- 
 sently obliged to yield pre-eminence in the world to the experi- 
 mental sciences and to mathematical demonstration. Since, 
 moreover, Voltaire reached the summit of his fame precisely 
 during the time of his sojourn in Cirey, as he then entered into 
 an intimate connexion with Frederick the Second, and com- 
 menced a correspondence with him, which, with very slight in- 
 terruptions, continued till his death, this is the most suitable 
 place to enumerate the various species of his writings, both those 
 which were written at, as well as those written after this time. 
 
 If we first compare the opinions of the best judges of art and 
 taste (in order that we may not ourselves arrogate the right of de- 
 ciding), they all agree in this, that Voltaire was most distinguished 
 and greatest, both in poetry and in prose, in those light, witty 
 and agreeable compositions which relate to the connexions and 
 condition of social life, M'hich no one knew better than he did, 
 although he had most reliance upon himself in the dramatic 
 department. He wrote, therefore, twenty-eight pieces, but not 
 one of them could be declared to be perfect even by those 
 among whom he was so much admired and honoured ; since all 
 admit that his lively and volatile mind abhorred long application 
 and continuous labour. As a tragedian he was deficient in depth 
 of mind, seriousness, and true inspiration, and also in that pro- 
 found philosophy which elevates the mind above the lower circles, 
 and which could only be compensated for by that religiousness 
 of feeling, whose soft and childlike impressions his soul had lost 
 in early youth, in the midst of that witty and scoffing society 
 into which he had been introduced, where every thing sacred 
 was treated with ridicule or contempt. Whoever is able to di- 
 stinguish the gold of true poetry from rhetorical and shining 
 spangles (which is more difficult than many may imagine, be- 
 cause whole nations and generations have been mistaken and 
 deceived), will be convinced, with us, that no talents and no art 
 can beget true inspiration, and that tragedy must necessarily rest 
 upon a serious contemplation of human life, and upon moral
 
 262 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 principles. In our opinion, and in that of another, in which, as 
 a national judgement, we put more confidence than in our own, 
 in matters of taste, we should give the preference to ' Zaire,' 
 'Alzire,' ^ Mahomet,' and ' L'OrpheHn de la Chine,' because in 
 these pieces he does not undertake to portray the life of anti- 
 quity, which was entirely foreign to his modern and perverted 
 tendency. Voltaire's ' (Edipus' could be very well represented 
 on the Paris stage, on which Sophocles's piece of the same name 
 would have been a failure. When the life and the poetry of the 
 two pieces are compared, it will be readily perceived that they 
 differ as much from one another as Athens in the time of the 
 Persian war from Paris in the time of the Duke of Richelieu, 
 Voltaire's patron. Corneille, although in like manner a French- 
 man, and contemporary of the reigning taste of a Voitlire and a 
 Balzac, was better acquainted with Roman life, and had enriched 
 himself with more tragic poetry from the Spaniards. This is the 
 reason also why Voltaire, in Brutus and in the death of Caesar, 
 is so far inferior to Corneille. 
 
 If it were not certain that true comedy, which, as is well 
 known, has now altogether disappeared from the stage, demanded 
 quite as much seriousness, and as deep a comprehension of life, 
 as tragedy, it would excite our wonder and surprise that this 
 most witty of men, who was inexhaustible in happy conceits, 
 could never once succeed in satisfying his countrymen who 
 worshipped him, in a comedy. The French critics admit that 
 his characters in comedy are caricatures, their jests and their wit 
 are often merely broad farce. The comprehension of the good 
 and the bad sides of mankind, the laborious study of the charac- 
 ters of all ranks and conditions, in order slowly to improve the 
 morals of the age, as Moliere had done — all this was quite beyond 
 the power of Voltaire, and not worth his labour, because he saw 
 a much nearer way than this to reputation and distinction in the 
 world. Inspiration for the simple and the good he had never 
 felt ; but his cold and clear understanding, his biting satire, his 
 incomparable power of language and versification, made him a 
 fearful enemy of traditionary prejudices. 
 
 Voltaire knew only one life, only one time, and only one kind 
 of mental culture ; only one class of men was worthy of his at- 
 tention ; but for this reason, he knew this class well, he was ac- 
 quainted with their characters on all sides, and no man has better 
 laid bare their defects than his incomparable head. It was only 
 a mind like his which had the power to give the deathblow to the
 
 §11.] VOLTAIRE. 263 
 
 prevailing hypocrisy and sophistry, to the silly unction and the 
 mad scholastics of the Jesuits and Jansenists, and their jurists 
 and theologians. We believe, therefore, that when his fellow- 
 countrymen prefer his plays, such as ' Nanine,' ' PEnfant Pro- 
 digue, ' L'Ecossaise,' to his comedies, it is because he is only in 
 his element in those scenes in which the usual conversation of 
 people of fashion is introduced, or in which moderated serious- 
 ness and intelligible feeling win readers and spectators. This 
 indeed Voltaire himself would never acknowledge; he never 
 perceived that the play or novel in dialogue was a child of the 
 time which he praises so much ; on the contrary, he always 
 despised it, because he was not the first in this line of writing, 
 or was not at least, as in tragedy, a giant among dwarfs. 
 
 By all those who value flowing versification and wit more than 
 inspiration, by all those who had the same sort of views of men- 
 tal culture and life as Voltaire, he would be ranked, as a drama- 
 tist, among the first poets ; but he ought with much more reason 
 to be ranked high as a didactic poet. As we are neither writing a 
 history of literature, nor proposing to give an aesthetic examina- 
 tion of the works of the French poets, we think it better alto- 
 gether to pass over his ' Poeme sur le Desastre de Lisbonne/ 
 as well as that "^ Sur la Loi Naturale,^ and his ' Sept Discours 
 sur I'Homme.' His element was the lighter kinds of poetry, and 
 his fugitive verses, his sharp wit, his bold opinions, produced 
 effects in his time, like flashes of lightning ; for they illuminated 
 at the same time the night of Jesuitical superstition, and struck 
 and shivered to pieces the majestic towers and Gothic domes of 
 the middle ages. 
 
 The so-called fugitive pieces alone, if he had \mtten nothing 
 else. Mould have been sufficient to secure Voltaire's immoi'tality; 
 for in these he is altogether in his sphere ; he has only to think 
 of the people whom he calls exclusively the world, and he 
 can direct every spark of his genius to the production of instanta- 
 neous effect, delight his reader by his fancy, and surprise him 
 by his wit. 
 
 As to his celebrated serious poem, which he and his fellow- 
 countrymen regarded as an epic, the French writers and judges 
 of taste in the nineteenth century appear to have declared 
 themselves against this once generally praised ' Henriade.' A 
 generation which calls for and admires romantic nonsense, has 
 become unjust with respect to the great merit of this work, in
 
 264 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 reference to toleration, enlightenment, and true religion ; because 
 in the giddiness of its retrogradation to the old, it has forgotten 
 how it looked when the old still stood altogether fast. With 
 them, indeed, we find it dry and cold, and we may add, that 
 Voltaire could in no respect give that charm to his rhetorical 
 work of art, whereby Virgil and Tasso reconcile us to the imita- 
 tion of Homeric poetry, in times in which all sense for Homeric 
 simplicity was wanting. We do not speak of the music of the 
 language, of the inimitable ornament and euphony of the versi- 
 fication and rhythm, which are admired in the Italian and the 
 Latin poets ; we leave it to the assthetic critic to determine 
 what Voltaire has done in this respect for French ears — we speak 
 only of materials. 
 
 In both those poets there is presented to our mind a defi- 
 niteness of time and place, with which we have leisurely and pro- 
 saically become acquainted ; or, in other words, particular times 
 and places are pointed out and described : whereas in Voltaire all 
 is generality, and his accounts and descriptions, with slight 
 changes of names, might be easily adapted to any time or place 
 whatsoever. Delille probably meant to say something of this 
 kind in his epigrammatic and affectedly witty manner, when he 
 alleged, that in this heroic poem, so full of war and chargers, 
 not a single morsel of hay to feed the horses, or any water to give 
 them drink is not to be met with. 
 
 The scandalous and ungodly narrative burlesque poem, the 
 first part of which was put in circulation from Cirey, is much 
 more distinguished in its way than this serious heroic. This 
 poem (' The Maid of Orleans,') was secretly communicated to all 
 his distinguished acquaintances in all parts of Europe, in reply 
 to their earnest entreaties. This was at first done in single 
 cantos, which afterwards underwent innumerable alterations, so 
 that the latest editions in which all these varieties are collected, 
 give us a complete idea of the kind of entertainment and wit 
 which Voltaire's distinguished friends sought for and approved. 
 The ' Maid of Orleans,' with all its indecency, and with all the 
 ungodliness of an ungodly generation, is, and, alas ! remains, a 
 master-piece of delineation of the modes of thinking, and of the 
 clever and audacious conversation of the circle for which it m as 
 intended. Peter Aretin, as is well known, wrote in the same 
 strain in which ' The Maid of Orleans' is written, for popes, car- 
 dinals, princes and lords, for artists and the highly educated,
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 265 
 
 classical, learned Italian men of genius, and that in the time of 
 the highest bloom of the arts and sciences, and of outward pro- 
 sperity in Italy ; and we do not venture to determine which of 
 the two has come nearer to the summit of perfection in a de- 
 partment in M'hich they both strove to excel. 
 
 The book has less importance as a poem, or as a comic narra- 
 tive in verse, because it can be recommended to no modest per- 
 son — to none who are unacquainted with the malicious wit and 
 gross immoralities of the courts of those days — to read ; but as a 
 proof and evidence of the tone, of the life, of the mode of feeling 
 of the European aristocracy, it is, on the other hand, of so much 
 the greater value. It not only contains, brought together within 
 its small compass, all that was, or could be thought of by the 
 most audacious wit, or the most malicious wantonness, against 
 religion and morality, against all which had been previously re- 
 garded as reverend or sacred in the eyes of the people, but per- 
 sonal and political lampoons upon authors, written in the spirit 
 of revenge and with the greatest bitterness. King Louis, Pom- 
 padour, the first nobles of the empire and the best friends of the 
 poet, are treated with the bitterest scorn, his enemies are de- 
 scribed as people worthy of the galleys, and La Baumelle is 
 described as having been actually subjected to this infamous 
 punishment. 
 
 The manner in which the Christian religion itself — not merely 
 dogmatics and priestcraft — is here treated, exhibits in its most 
 disadvantageous light the philosophy of those fashionable circles 
 for whom Voltaire wrote. In this case the lords and ladies of 
 the saloons showed themselves wholly deficient in that worldly 
 wisdom in which, on other occasions, the most stupid among 
 them rarely fails. They never suspected how soon this new 
 wisdom, which they regarded as the privileged property of their 
 rank, would find its way among the populace whom they so 
 heartily despised. It may be confidently asserted with respect 
 to the ' Maid of Orleans,' that the effect of this poem upon the 
 European world of fashion has been much more injurious and 
 demoralizing, than the short-lived madness of the democrats of 
 the French reign of terror. Voltaire himself became ashamed 
 of the \^ ork in its original form ; he pretended that it had been 
 corrupted and falsified in the transcription, and presented a new 
 and transformed edition in 1762, in which he omitted what ap- 
 peared to him most dangerous. But as there yet remains in
 
 266 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 this improved edition much, very much, that is shockingly im- 
 moral and utterly hostile to religion and to the commonest de- 
 cencies of life, we may have some idea of the original form 
 which it presented when it was secretly sent to courts and to 
 distinguished lords and ladies for their perusal. In the nume- 
 rous editions of Voltaire's works which have appeared in our 
 nineteenth century, the old obscenities and different readings 
 have been all carefully collected, every sally of wickedness or 
 blasphemy has been given in an Appendix, so that the poem 
 and its additions form a thick volume. 
 
 With reference to form and contents, his satires in prose and 
 his novels stand in most immediate connexion with this narra- 
 tive poem. The wanton poet first tried himself, but in vain, in 
 the more serious satire of Horace and Persius ; but in another 
 species, in which success only depended upon wit, upon an ob- 
 servation of the superficies of things, upon a just conception of 
 the life and motives of the men of his age and of his acquaint- 
 ance, he is quite in his sphere. Voltaire must have altogether 
 gone beyond himself, in order to treat poetical satire, properly so 
 called, with success, and that he had no power to do : in the pro- 
 saic, however, in which he made his enemies ridiculous, and in 
 which he could speak in a tone that was natural to him, he 
 always attained his object, although the reader often feels the 
 deepest contempt for, and even indignation against the author. 
 Among these satires, that which was directed against Maupertuis, 
 the president of Frederick's Berlin Academy, and which is intitled 
 ' Diatribe du Docteur Akakia,' is in several respects the most 
 important, but especially because it caused an interruption of 
 friendly relations, for a long time, between him and the king by 
 whom he had been invited to Berlin, and compelled his return 
 to France. On this occasion, as is well known, Voltaire poured 
 out the stream of his satire upon Frederick and his father, Fre- 
 derick William. Voltaire, however, lost so little by the strife, 
 that he and the king were, not long cifterwards, reconciled. The 
 one as well as the other was under the influence of a ruling 
 and scornful nature, and they could not therefore well live to- 
 gether. He called these satires upon king Frederick William 
 and upon the king, memoirs of his life. Some manuscript let- 
 ters of the poet, which Napoleon carried away from the Vienna 
 archives, and which remained behind in the French archives 
 when the other plundered articles were restored, furnish more
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 267 
 
 attractive accounts than those which he has given in his printed 
 memoirs of his flight from Berhn in the middle of the year 1753, 
 and of his anxiety of mind when he was seized and detained 
 in Frankfort on the Main ; these accounts are no doubt much 
 truer than those m hich he thought it good to present to the 
 public. We there learn with astonishment, that in his anxiety 
 and fear, he applied by letter to Kaunitz and to the court of 
 Vienna, in the most pitiful style of entreaty and supplication, 
 and promised to make discoveries, which Frederick might de- 
 spise, as they were despised in Vienna*. 
 
 Voltaire's novels are without importance as poetical inven- 
 tions ; as peculiar conceptions of daily life in certain relations of 
 the present and the past forced into arbitrary connexion, or even 
 as love stories, they are for the most part merely cast after some 
 English original, because he did not wish to invent, but only 
 to arrive at a certain object ; in another point of view, how- 
 ever, they are incomparable. The chief aim of each one of Vol- 
 taire's small novels is, the overthrow and refutation of some 
 ruling opinion, and this object is admirably attained by the 
 story itself, and by weaving in sarcasms, because this ren- 
 dered all reply and refutation impossible. Seriousness could 
 never have reached the readers of these novels, or would imme- 
 diately Aveary them ; and every attempt to rival Voltaire, in a 
 strain of pleasantry and satire, would have been a folly. These 
 novels contained their chief charm for the great public, like 
 the * Maid of Orleans,' partly in their wanton scenes and narra- 
 tives, and partly in the boldness of their attacks upon the pulpit 
 instructions and doctrines of the time. Because these novels 
 are to be regarded in some measure as the nucleus of that wisdom 
 which the rich and the exalted, as well as the high clergy, living 
 upon endowments and tithes, regarded as their peculiar property 
 and privilege, whilst they strove with fire and sword to preserve 
 
 * A literal copy of these autograph letters (probably not yet published), 
 ■which the author took from the documents in the French archives in the year 
 1834, is at the service of any one w^ho wishes to use it. The letters there He 
 in Carton, K. 151, and it is said of them in the register of the archives ; — " Ces 
 papiers proviennent des archives de I'empire d'Autriche, et ils faisaient partie de 
 ces archives, qui ont ete deposes dans celles de I'empire Frangais en 1810, au 
 mois d'Avril." This remark is prefixed to the papers, — " Neuf pieces a ne plus 
 rendre, comme appartenantaun Fran^ais." The first piece is a naked and true 
 relation of the story, and a sketch of a letter of Voltaire's about his adventures 
 in Frankfort. Then follows a letter in his own hand. The earliest, of the date 
 of the 7th June 1753, from Frankfort.
 
 268 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 among the people the old doctrines and forms, which had long 
 lost their value, and believed it possible, either to deceive the 
 world by hypocrisy, or to constrain them by police, we must 
 necessarily dwell somewhat longer upon the subject. These 
 novels are too important for our object, that of representing the 
 connexion of the greatest genius and most popular writer with 
 the revolution of modes of thought, doctrines and institutions, 
 which took place in one part of Europe at the end of the eight- 
 eenth century, to allow us to proceed without mentioning some 
 of them, and pointing out their relation to the ruling principles 
 of the time. 
 
 In * Zadig ' the writer shows palpably and obviously how en- 
 tirely devoid of reason and taste the usual moral and edifying 
 considerations upon the way of Providence, upon a God who 
 thinks, counsels, acts, and conducts the atfairs of the world as 
 a man, must appear to the bold scoffer. Voltaire, we would 
 say, confined and limited the doctrine of an immediate guidance 
 of human affairs by the hand of Divine Providence, wholly to 
 the church and to the faith of the people ; he rooted it out of 
 higher life and out of science by means of his dreadful ridi- 
 cule. By his narratives he made that obvious, which indeed 
 is easily made palpable enough, because it is undeniable, that 
 the theory of a palpable guidance of human affairs by an ever- 
 manifesting interposing Providence, may be just as easily re- 
 futed as proved by history and experience. ^ Candide ' is an 
 indecent and sorrowful picture of human life, sportively repre- 
 sented as a caricature, with wanton humour, and also at the 
 same time with dreadful malice, in order to expose to ridicule 
 the singular presumption of those philosophers, who not only 
 wished to determine and establish definitively what is necessary, 
 or eternal and fixed laws in real things, but also to define the 
 unlimited field of possibility. Voltaire holds up to scorn those 
 who, in their chairs or at their writing-desks, consider the whole 
 incalculable number of worlds in the universe as candles and 
 lamps set up on their behalf; he scoffs at those who refer every 
 thing to man, as to a central point of the whole creation, and 
 who oracularly announce that it would not have been possible 
 for God to have made a world, in which their demi-god, who 
 often resembles the ape, and oftener the tiger, could have been 
 happier than he is in the present. 
 
 ' Memnon' contains the proper wisdom of life of the so-called
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 269 
 
 good society, whose members, like Voltaire, call themselves, 
 ■with a conscious greatness, exclusively men of the world, or in 
 a word, of the classes of whom Voltaire was at that time the 
 prophet, and among whom he is now called the ambassador of 
 Belial, because from fear and anxiety they wish to restore piety 
 or its substitute. The bitter satire of ' Memnon,^ however, 
 may be also very profitable to the truly wise, and Avarn them of 
 the folly of propounding that to fashionable company, which they 
 esteem as true wisdom. In ^ Memnon' is shown, in an admi- 
 rable manner, how the multitude are enamoured of their pru- 
 dence, and laugh at nature and its feelings — the inspiration and 
 zeal of martyrs for the truth. Voltaire proves, beyond the pos- 
 sibility of refutation, that the greatest philosopher, as soon as he 
 mixes among the society of the great world, in the best view of 
 the case must be regarded as an oddity, but will generally be 
 considered as a fool, if he does not possess that polite coldness 
 which our age has admired in Gothe more than all his really 
 great qualities. In this novel, Voltaire, as a good and clever 
 man of the world, amuses those who are of his own way of 
 thinking, by ridiculing the man who is Rousseau's ideal of per- 
 fection. The wise man of the Genevese philosopher alleges, 
 as is well known, that it is a duty, and what is much stronger, 
 that it is possible, in all the relations of this involved, and often 
 perverted and unnatural social life, to follow the principles of 
 reason alone and its laws ; and it was therefore by no means 
 difficult to exhibit him for the amusement of fashionable, and of 
 very vulgar society, as a fool who was only fit for Bedlam. 
 We pass over ' Les Voyages du Scarmantado,' ^Les Visions 
 de Babouc,' ' Micromegas,' &c. In the ' Ingenu,' there is no 
 chief leading notion, but the witty man yields himself up wholly 
 to his humour and to accident, and brings forth a rich abun- 
 dance of wit and flashes of genius with respect to the most various 
 subjects. 
 
 Voltaire was not in a condition to treat philosophy or history 
 as a science ; for his notion of science was that which was tra- 
 ditionary in the great world, and besides, his soul was destitute 
 of all those feelings by which history may be made an instruct- 
 ress of mankind. What is histoiy better than a novel or 
 learned trash, if it be without earnestness and industry, and 
 steadiness and repose, depth, esteem for eternal truth, holy
 
 270 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 confidence and belief in the nobleness of the soul in the midst 
 of all the demoralization of the civilized world ? All this was 
 a subject of scorn and ridicule to Voltaire ; he was neverthe- 
 less profitable both to history and philosophy, in a way peculiar 
 to himself. In history and for its study, Voltaire was peculiarly 
 important, and did more than a hundred mere collectors could 
 effect, although the men of the department are very unwiUing 
 to acknowledge him as a fellow-labourer. 
 
 If any one wishes to see and understand all that Voltaire has 
 done for history, although he has been blamed and abused on 
 all sides on account of his boldness and want of truth, he must 
 remember that he came forward at a time when the whole 
 nature of history had been altogether forgotten, and when all 
 true knowledge had been smothered by learning. And it was 
 only a man of Voltaire's wit and talents, who could throw the 
 light of an entirely new criticism upon the darkness of those 
 grubbing and collecting pedants ; who could vindicate the rights 
 of a sound understanding against the authors of immense ex- 
 tracts and compilations, against the genealogical writers of 
 quartos and folios; and who could show that industry and 
 memory are not to be regarded as the only qualifications of a 
 historian. Voltaire showed, in a manner which even astonished 
 the pedants themselves, how thoughtlessly one writer always 
 imitated the greatest absurdities, and copied the grossest errors 
 of another ; and how absurd it is to wish to get an acquaintance 
 with life, the histories of men and the true relations of things, 
 from records and diplomas, from medals and pedagogues, from 
 decrees and official histories. It was Voltaire who procured 
 a general recognition of the principles which had been pro- 
 pounded by Bolingbroke with respect to history, its proper ad- 
 vantages and use. History properly so-called, no one will seek 
 for in Voltaire ; he deals with facts as with men, but he teaches, 
 at the same time, how facts should be treated, in order that the 
 life of the present time may be enlightened and ])r()fited by the 
 knowledge of the past, and in order that at least the truth of 
 history may assist the poor and the oppressed against the rich 
 and the powerful. He himself, alas ! Avas a sophist, and used 
 history also sophisticall}-, to forward his own objects and those 
 of his school, to please the vanity of men whose favour he pur- 
 chased at any price, and whose commendation was more valu-
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 271 
 
 able in his eyes than that great and good consciousness which 
 consoles and supports the friends of truth, under the abuse of 
 sophistical liars. 
 
 Every historical work which was the production of Voltaire's 
 pen, had a calculated object ; and whoever is acquainted with 
 this object, and also does not seek for the usual historical fidelity 
 and accuracy, may read his works with great profit, and in his 
 history a practical guide will be found to his method of apply- 
 ing his mode of thinking and judging to all times, persons and 
 events. By his method of treating history, he brought his notions 
 among the people through the whole of Europe, and com- 
 pelled even those who regarded him as an atheist and scoffer to 
 read his works ; because he was the only man, for a long course 
 of years, who understood how to treat history in an easy, clever 
 and entertaining manner. It will of course be obvious, that as 
 soon as other historians appeared, who, with criticism and taste, 
 wrote historical works which were readable and useful, Voltaire 
 was no longer sought after. 
 
 In this department, also, we shall dwell for a little on some of 
 his works, and pass over others altogether, because it is not our 
 design either to give a catalogue of his writings or a complete 
 criticism upon them. We therefore pass over his Charles the 
 Twelfth and Peter the Great, which are little better than novels, 
 and his ' History of the Parliament of Paris,' which had little, if 
 any, influence. His * Annals of the German Empire' best 
 prove to what a condition our history had been reduced, and 
 how very little the few clever princes and princesses of our 
 nation thought of their countrymen. These annals, for example, 
 were written at the request of a German princess, who therefore 
 expected a history of her native country from a man who might 
 be looked upon as the representative of every thing that was 
 French. As such he was better suited than any other man to 
 be the historian of the time of Louis the Fourteenth, and his 
 work upon this time of splendom*, which may be regarded as 
 the source of unspeakable misery, is the only one among his 
 historical works, from which anything can be borrowed with a 
 proper regard for facts and historical obser^-ations. It is con- 
 sidered bv the French as one of their most distinguished histo- 
 rical works. His 'History of Louis the Fourteenth' shows 
 how much history may be abused, and how dangerous genius, 
 wit, talents and skill may become in the treatment of given
 
 272 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 materials, when they are applied to history, by a man without 
 moral earnestness, who is merely hunting after favour and 
 applause. 
 
 We are quite ready moreover to admit, with regard to all the 
 histories just mentioned, that their influence was limited to fur- 
 nishing a species of passing agreeable entertainment, by means 
 of history, to the fashionable and common world of men, who 
 abhor all effort and trouble of thinking about what they read. 
 It was however very different M'ith his ^ Essai sur les Moeurs 
 et sur I'Esprit des Nations.' We reckon this work one of the 
 most important productions in historical literature in the eight- 
 eenth century, not only because it is the first philosophical 
 universal history, for it was published by a Dutch bookseller in 
 1754, under the title ^ Abrege de I'Histoire Universelle, par 
 Voltaire,' but for quite different reasons. This book exhibits 
 the whole of history in the light of the worldly philosophy of 
 the eighteenth century, in striking contrast with the universal 
 history of Bossuet and other pious rhetoricians of the seven- 
 teenth. Voltaire commences his history at the very point at 
 which Bossuet had ceased, and considers the whole from pre- 
 cisely the opposite point of view. 
 
 Voltaire and Bossuet were both masters of language and of 
 style, and at the time when Voltaire wrote his work, Bossuet's 
 was regarded in the whole of Europe as a master-piece. Bos- 
 suet had commenced his history with the Jewish faith, and 
 brought it to a conclusion with the Christian, and referred every 
 thing to this faith alone ; Voltaire, on the contrary, commencies 
 with philosophic scepticism, and employs every thing for the 
 confirmation of these doubts and of distrust in poetry of all 
 kinds, derived from his knowledge of mankind ; he would admit 
 no poetry to intrude as an authority into the prose of social 
 life. Bossuet, by rhetorically praising Providence, and referring 
 every thing in the world to the Christian religion, not only does 
 injustice to the Egyptians and Greeks and their primitive 
 wisdom, but also to Buddhism and Brahminism, which are older 
 than Judaism, and reckon a much greater number of adherents, 
 as well as to the claims of Mahomed, who drew his followers 
 from the very midst of Christendom, and whose religion is now 
 as powerful in the South and East, as Christianity is in the 
 North and West ; and he wholly forgets that he has no longer to 
 do with a pubhc to whom the fathers of the church and such
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 273 
 
 like scholastics, might speak with confidence. Voltaire, whose 
 keen glance no weak points of his adversary ever escaped, 
 understood admirably how to avail himself of such weakness ; 
 he tries therefore, like Machiavell, to fix all the misfortunes of 
 the middle ages upon the Christian religion, and upon the crimes 
 and follies of Christian ecclesiastics. Bossuet, as a bishop, 
 considers all that men have done and suffered, as the conse- 
 quences of original sin, and regards the whole course of history as 
 the way of grace, and altogether independent of human wisdom 
 or folly, because the Godhead uses both for the promotion of 
 the final objects of the church. Voltaire, as a man of the world, 
 deduces every thing from accidental causes, or from the reason- 
 able or unreasonable conduct and actions of men ; when there- 
 fore the writings of these two able men, on the course of Pro- 
 vidence, are compared, both sides of the question are fully before 
 the mind ; because, when life has been considered and properly 
 understood, both have a foundation of truth. 
 
 Bossuet is everywhere and always an ecclesiastic ; Voltaire 
 always a witling, and enemy of every thing serious. Bossuet 
 continually betrays his ecclesiastical prejudices and views ; Vol- 
 taire unceasingly exhibits his bitterness against a church which 
 treated him as an enemy. He never appears free from the pre- 
 possessions of the society in which he had lived from his youth; 
 he is indeed altogether exempt from the prejudices of his age ; 
 but for that reason also, he passes judgement upon every other 
 age, in the sober discretion of his own. One of the most accu- 
 rate and industrious German ' Instructors in History,' Schlozer, 
 therefore thankfully acknowledged how very much he and all 
 others like him, who had been accustomed to estimate external 
 greatness alone, to call Miltiades a mere village bailiff when 
 compared with Attila and Zinghis Khan, and Athens a little 
 nest, must ever remain indebted to Voltaire : others of us are 
 indebted to him ; because by his biting satire he restrained within 
 some moderate limits, the absurd conduct of collectors, compilers 
 and folio-makers. 
 
 The last-mentioned has been unquestionably the most stri- 
 king and important effect of Voltaire's ^ Universal History.' He 
 brought such thoughtless collectors to see how absurd and in- 
 sipid their chronicles must appear to a man of the w'orld ; and 
 that if they would write for the public, and not merely for the 
 learned, they must draw up their histories in a manner suitable 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 to the notions of the time. The historian therefore who attends 
 to Voltaire's hints, will be obliged to subject those narratives, 
 which ecclesiastics and the people piously believe — which scho- 
 lars faithfully transcribe and present as a true copy of wdiat is 
 found in the sources from which they draw, to quite a different 
 kind of criticism, in order to protect his history against the 
 scorn and satire of the men of the world. It was only a man 
 like Voltaire, who durst venture to light the way for all future 
 historians, wdth the torch of bold criticism, and with a sound, 
 vigorous and unbiassed judgement. The more one-sided he 
 shows himself to be, the more readily we become aware when 
 he is too vehement and too cutting ; when his enmity to Chris- 
 tianity, w hich he never conceals, makes him deaf to the counsel 
 of that same sound understanding, which he so eagerly and 
 zealously protects against the fancies of the learned. 
 
 His philosophical works may be compared with his historical, 
 in as far as they enlighten the system of the schools with the 
 light of a sound understanding, and protect the common worldly 
 prudence of those who wish to enjoy life, against the proud wis- 
 dom of great thinkers. Voltaire, as a philosopher, with the 
 w^antonness of the world, defends the theory of a comfortable 
 life, of the combination of the enjoyments of sense and of the 
 mind — of society and of common pleasures. It would be quite 
 superfluous here, to go through his philoso{)hical writings accord- 
 ing to their contents, since we only wish to make our readers 
 observant of the extension and the influence which the renown 
 and distinction of the author procured for them ; we shall,, on 
 the contrary, point out their tendency. All his philosophical 
 writings are either directed against Christianity, or against 
 those thinkers who, like Mallebranche and Pascal, wished to use 
 philosophy and its necessary antinomy, or the dialectic proof of 
 the uncertainty of every philosophical allegation, as a means of 
 establishing the necessity of a Divine revelation ; or their con- 
 tents are purely sceptical. 
 
 Voltaire's philosophical writings, scientifically considered, are 
 by far less important than his historical, as he has not even 
 once drawn his knowledge of the philosophy which he pretends 
 to contend against, from its sources, or ever studied Plato, to 
 say nothing of Aristotle. The greatest part of these writings 
 make no claim to instruct the philosophers of the schools ; be- 
 cause Voltaire's hveliness of mhid and character did not permit
 
 § II.] VOLTAIRE. 275 
 
 him to study and to treat any subject consecutively and syste- 
 matically. He always Avrites in the manner of conversation ; 
 by snatches, positively and scoffingly. We would therefore 
 place the whole value of these writings, as a means of freeing 
 mankind from the chains of the middle ages, in this, that the 
 common mass of men are instructed by the keen and penetrating 
 glance of a great and able man, gained by his experience in life ; 
 and by this we are taught to know, that amongst the crops 
 harvested by the learned and the philosophic, there is as much 
 chaif as corn. 
 
 It is no part of our business to prove here, where we only 
 speak of facts, that this last-mentioned effect cannot take place, 
 without the greatest danger to the morals and seriousness of a 
 whole nation — that Voltaire's sceptical and scoffing views of 
 and into things, although suited to the higher classes universally 
 and in all times, as soon as they make their wfiy beyond the 
 circle of the saloons and of books,' and penetrate the proper 
 mass of the people, become a fearful pest, and poison the ele- 
 ments of life. Voltaire was of a very different opinion ; and in 
 order to bring his philosophical thoughts as much as possible 
 into every body's hands, he had recourse to a means which 
 served him more effectually than a magazine or a newspaper 
 could have done. He brought his philosophical thoughts into 
 the form of a dictionary, which he afterwards caused to be 
 printed under the title ^ Raison ;' at a later period however, he 
 added other essays of the same species, under the title ^ Ques- 
 tions sur I'Encyclopedie.' Both these books were afterwards 
 combined with the articles which he had written for the great 
 Encyclopedia, and united into one work. This work, under the 
 title of ' Dictionnaire Philosophique,' contains in alphabetical 
 order, his thoughts upon philosophical subjects ; all his suppo- 
 sitions and theories in this way are made accessible to every one. 
 The titles of his other works are ^ Philosophic de I'Histoire,' 
 ' Bible commencee,' ^ Examen important de Milord Bolingbroke,' 
 ' Histoire de I'Establissement du Christianisme ;' and these titles 
 of themselves show that the works are merely productions of his 
 liostiHty to Christianity. 
 
 T 2
 
 276 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 §111. 
 
 MONTESQUIEU, AS AUTHOR OF THE ' SPIRIT OF LAWS.' 
 
 We have not spoken of Montesquieu's chief work in the pre- 
 ceding period, partly because in order of time it falls within the 
 present, and partly because it was calculated for a different 
 public, and was written quite in a different style from the 
 * Persian Letters,' and produced a very different effect. The 
 effect of the ^ Spirit of Laws ' was so much the greater, in pro- 
 portion as the author appeared neither with boldness nor satire. 
 He di'ew the learned to his side, and convinced the ladies and 
 people of the world, that they had only to run through his short 
 chapters, his easy paragraphs, and entertaining volumes, in 
 order to gain a solid acquaintance with history and philosophy, 
 legislation and politics, constitutional theories and financial 
 science. On the appearance of the ' Spirit of Laws,' legislation 
 and the theory of constitutions became subjects of daily conver- 
 sation in the Parisian saloons, and the old constitutions of the 
 continent lost their ancient splendour in the fashionable circles, 
 because military monarchy had not been more favourably treated 
 in the ^ Spirit of Laws ' than in the ^ Persian Letters,' although 
 quite in a different manner, a different tone, and a different 
 language. The question here can have nothing to do with 
 scoffing or satire, although solid earnestness is kept as far 
 away as possible, in order that the book might be read like a 
 novel. The Church occupies a tolerable position in the nfew 
 structure which Montesquieu built up, in opposition to the old ; 
 and the fashionable and clever world, and the ladies could have 
 nothing but gain by the introduction of an English aristocracy, 
 by which the saloons and the sophists of the society obtained 
 political influence, whilst the exclusive circle, and at the same 
 time the barons maintained their importance. An Anglo-mania 
 immediately began to prevail, and the English, and especially 
 Montesquieu's intimate friends, were first obliged to make 
 a great noise, before the work excited so much attention in 
 France as to awaken the envy of Voltaire. 
 
 The English, with whom Montesquieu stood in close union, 
 felt their national pride flattered in an uncommon degree, and 
 received the work, immediately on its publication, with the 
 greatest applause. The French, on the other hand, at first re-
 
 § III.] MONTESQUIEU. 277 
 
 garded It as a kind of satire upon their existing constitution 
 and government, and felt their national pride wounded. For 
 very obvious reasons it altogether passed by Frederick the 
 Second. Tencin, Geoffrin, DefFant, and their aristocratic circle, 
 as M'ell as De Stael, Segiir, Narbonne and others, at a later 
 period, were obliged to recognise in the ^ Spirit of Laws ' an 
 announcement of the exclusive dominion of a certain kind of 
 mental culture ; the work therefore became the gospel of politi- 
 cal economy. Because we are neither writing the history of 
 politics nor of political economy, we cannot go into a full or a 
 minute examination of the contents of this work ; we must, how- 
 ever, take notice of those points which appear to us particularly 
 important, because the book has been more influential than any 
 other, in relation to the forms of administration which have been 
 here and there introduced in our century, and the views which, 
 since its appearance, have been taken of the nature of a state. 
 This holds good, not only of France, and of the states which 
 have been reformed according to its model, but also of those 
 which have been governed, at least in form, as absolute mo- 
 narchies ; for in these also there has been a desire to gain over 
 public opinion, by falling in with the representations which were 
 given in this very extensively circulated work. 
 
 Before we proceed to notice the contents of the book, and to 
 refer to those points which appear to us of special importance, 
 we must necessarily mention some outward circumstances, which 
 perhaps are not present to the minds of all oin* readers. First, 
 it should be known, that the work appeared as early as 1749; 
 but that the new edition, or more properly, the newly pre- 
 pared work, which was printed nine years afterwards, is to be 
 regarded as the proper work. Further, it appears from the 
 printed friendly correspondence of Montesquieu, that all mode- 
 rate men, that all those who were animated with a noble zeal for 
 the improvement of the miserable condition of their native land, 
 that all those who M^ere peacefully and quietly labouring in 
 favour of true science, English, French, and even Italians, all 
 important men who were thoroughly acquainted Avith those 
 branches of history and of political economy, and of which 
 Montesquieu had only acquired a hasty and superficial know- 
 ledge, assisted and supported him in his new edition, and 
 suggested to him alterations and improvements. The * Spirit of 
 Laws/ therefore, may be in some measure regarded as the con-
 
 278 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 tents or as the result of all the labours of the noble friends of mo- 
 derate freedom, who M'ished for a change of the prevailing police 
 and government regulations, without being merely negative and 
 destructive, like Voltaire and his school, or desiring to depart 
 altogether from what was historical and real, like Rousseau and 
 his followers. 
 
 In this way Montesquieu became an historical and political 
 oracle ; the best among the so-called philosophers swore alle- 
 giance to his cause, and by means of their known dialectics, ap- 
 plied his propositions to the promotion of their ends. Voltaire 
 tried in vain to injure the work by ridicule and satire, and even 
 a renowned academician of the old school summoned up in 
 vain the learning acquired in the schools and universities, the 
 history and knowledge of the ancient languages ruling in the 
 academy. As to Voltaire, it is ridiculous enough, that a man 
 who projected his own historical works with so little attention 
 to truth, who laughed at every man who accused him of gross 
 errors, — should complain of Montesquieu's superficiality. At 
 any other time, Crevier, who was on this occasion the champion 
 of the schools, would have been a fearful opponent of Mon- 
 tesquieu. He was deeply versed in the ancient languages ; he 
 possessed all that sound knowledge of history of which Mon- 
 tesquieu Avas destitute, who was only well-read in voyages and 
 travels : but the time was in favour of Montesquieu ; it was far 
 better disposed to listen to the announcer of a new and freer 
 knowledge of life, than to the defenders of the ancient wisdom 
 of the schools, to whom Crevier attached himself. 
 
 Crevier was not known indeed as a philosopher and thinker, 
 but as a man of solid learning, and had gained great and deserved 
 reputation by his learned historical collections. He felt unwill- 
 ing and dissatisfied that wit, keenness of perception, and elo- 
 quence, by means of Montesquieu, should triumph over solid 
 learning, and he therefore wrote, in 1764, his remarks upon the 
 ' Spirit of Laws.' In most points he was indisputably right ; 
 but Montesquieu had secured the public voice, and the judgement 
 of the learned never reached, and could not reach, his public. 
 He accused the fashionable writer, and not without good reason, 
 of vanity, of a love of phrase-making, and of deficiency in solid 
 knowledge and laborious studies ; but he wished, at the same 
 time, to throw his protecting shield over a condition of the con- 
 stitution, and of social order, which had become altogether anti-
 
 § III.] MONTESQUIEU. 279 
 
 qimted ; he wished to defend^ and deliver from the hands of the 
 spoiler, forms of religion and of Avorship, which could neither be 
 defended nor saved : this learning of the schools was struck 
 dumb before the voice of the world. 
 
 Because the new school afterwards represented the ' Spirit of 
 Laws' — by means of D'Alembert's well-known cunning analysis 
 of its contents, — as favourable to their objects, and in unison 
 with their principles, we shall adopt this analysis as the guiding 
 thread of our remarks, in order to show clearly, what notions of 
 the nature and constitution of states became prevailing, in con- 
 sequence of the incredibly extensive circulation of this work 
 among the tone-giving classes, notions which were wholly incon- 
 sistent with the system of government in France, and in all the 
 countries of the continent. Montesquieu no more recognises a 
 state of innocence, a theocracy, an original, and in some measure 
 a revealed constitution, established by laws written by the finger 
 of God, than Rousseau does ; but like the latter, he has no 
 dreams about a holy condition of animal life, Avhich he calls 
 original purity. Montesquieu assumes as his foundation, a uni- 
 versal condition of war caused by the operation of human pas- 
 sions, and shows that the necessity of social union and compact 
 was thus made evident, and hence government had its origin. 
 This compact, according to him, is extremely different among 
 different races, and hence it follows, that as the races and fami- 
 lies of the human race are innumerable, so are constitutions 
 also ; Montesquieu, however, distinguishes especially only three 
 fundamental forms, which are never met with altogether pure, 
 but rather in the most singular and manifold intermixtures. 
 
 As we shall enter more minutely into the * Spirit of Laws,' in 
 the history of the next period, we do not dwell at present on 
 the definitions of those three fundamental forms — a Republic, 
 Constitutional Monarchy, and Despotism; but only point out in 
 what way they are here presented to the reading public. The 
 republican form is represented as splendid and brilliant, unat- 
 tainable and ideal ; its principle, pure virtue, and its character- 
 istic, the love of perfect equality. Constitutional monarchy is 
 represented as the last refuge of our European races as they 
 are and may become, because they are deficient in that virtue 
 Avhich Montesquieu good-naturedly ascribes to certain ancient 
 republics ; the principle and foundation of this form of govern- 
 ment is, according to him, — honour. Despotism, on the other
 
 280 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 hand, which, according to Montesquieu's express declaration, is 
 that which prevails in most of the absolute monarchical and 
 military states of the continent, is represented as the pest of 
 mankind, as the abyss of moraUty, and its principle— fear. 
 
 We cannot allow this opportunity to pass, without touching 
 shortly upon the object of the analysis of the works of which we 
 treat in this division, and showing that the pubhc of the eight- 
 eenth century made it very easy for the author of the ^ Spirit 
 of Laws,' and for the most of those who followed him, histori- 
 cally to trace the proof of the relation of these three constitu- 
 tional forms to their fundamental elements. This has been 
 done by means of individual examples, violently separated from 
 their connexion, and rhetorically applied — examples which often 
 have no historically critical foundation, and which if they had 
 are still destitute of all value as evidence, when separated from 
 their connecting circumstances and events. He, moreover, lays 
 great stress upon the assertion, that every constitution in which 
 the three powers — the legislative, the administrative, and the 
 judicial — are not strictly separated, must necessarily degenerate 
 into a despotism, and he very cunningly avails himself of this 
 allegation, to cast the severest censure upon the system of the 
 continental monarchies, whilst he only appears to be praising 
 the English constitution. He first directs attention to law and 
 its administration, and it will be seen, on the first glance, that 
 his praise of the English institutions is so bestowed, and con- 
 ceived in such a spirit, that every trait conveys a reproach upon 
 the nature and practice of the institutions in France. The cruel 
 and horrible judicial conduct of the parliament towards the Cal- 
 vinists, and towards all those who could not unite with the majo- 
 rity in their principles of faith, is blamed with the greatest 
 severity. "Offences against rehgion," says the author, "should 
 only be punished by the exclusion of the offender from all par- 
 ticipation in those advantages which are or may be connected 
 with the confession of a particular faith. Offences against mo- 
 rality should only l)e punished by the disgrace which attaches to 
 the offence itself," &c. — " Writings," he continues, " should be 
 prosecuted with less legal severity than actions — thoughts, never." 
 A single proposition from amongst the number of those oracu- 
 larly conceived and impressed upon the memory of his con- 
 temporaries, condemns the whole system of police, of criminal 
 jurisdiction, and of government. The sentence runs thus : —
 
 § III.] MONTESQUIEU. 281 
 
 "Extra-judicial accusations, espionage, and anonymous letters, 
 are means of governing, which tyrants alone employ ; they are as 
 disgraceful to the people who use them, as to those who are made 
 the tools of their tyranny ; they ought and must be wholly 
 banished from every good monarchical state." 
 
 The continental system of taxation fares no better than its 
 system of government, and a point is here immediately raised 
 which w'as of great importance for France, not only with respect 
 to administration, but also in reference to life and morals ; he 
 declares himself to be vehemently opposed to the whole system 
 of general farming, and to the influence and distinction which 
 attached to the person and office of a farmer-general. Montes- 
 quieu first lays down the principle, that heavy taxes are least 
 endurable in a monarchy ; and that in a democracy the taxes 
 may be more oppressive, because every citizen considers what he 
 pays as an impost for his advantage, and paid to himself; and 
 farther, because it is easier, in a government in which all take 
 part, to watch over the faithful and equitable expenditure of 
 the public money. He then speaks of the taxes exacted in a 
 monarchy. " Customs," he observes, " are the best kind of taxes 
 for a monarchy, and their immediate collection is by far prefer- 
 able to the mode of farming ; but the total and manifest 
 destruction of a monarchy is near at hand, when the place of 
 a tax-gatherer becomes one of extraordinary honour (this was 
 so in France), which will infallibly be the case as soon as 
 luxury increases, and becomes generally prevailing." On this 
 occasion also he pronounces his opinion about that necessary 
 evil of his native country, and of all absolute monarchies — a 
 standing army. ^'A very numerous standing army," he ob- 
 serves, " is a pretence for immoderate taxation ; a means of 
 emasculating the state, and of enslaving the people." 
 
 He takes his stand upon experience, in opposition to the eccle- 
 siastical severity of the Christians and Mahomedans of his age, 
 in opposition even to the principles of Mahomedanism and of 
 the Christian middle ages, of founding certain fixed forms of 
 states and laws upon a definite revealed faith, or what is pre- 
 sumed to be such, and of suffering only a regulated species of 
 morality. He shows that different places and relations demanded 
 different kinds of government and morals. He appeals to the 
 different conditions of customs and laws resulting from climate, 
 to the accident of the determination of what may or may not
 
 282 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 be permitted or allowed under the most different circumstances : 
 and here differences of soil, of natural temper and constitution 
 of various races of men, are brought under consideration, and 
 the whole expressly applied to France, and it is shown, that 
 all the changes which have taken place in that country, will 
 be seen to have reference to, and in some measure to have 
 been influenced by, the hints given by Montesquieu. Among 
 these hints may be particularly mentioned, what he cleverly 
 says of the then relations of the nobility and citizens : — " That 
 vanity, which makes things greater than they really are, is a 
 good lever for a monarchical government; that pride, on the 
 other hand, which despises them, is a very dangerous one." In 
 his chief piece, in which he declares himself against Constan- 
 tine's laws in favour of celibacy, and recommends an uncon- 
 ditional increase of population, he is the forerunner of the school 
 of political economists ; because he brings into connexion with 
 this chapter upon the favourite theme of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, — the artificial increase of population — others upon trade 
 and industry, upon money, exchanges, national debt and rents. 
 Christianity is here presented altogether in another point of 
 view from that in which it had been presented in the * Persian 
 Letters;' and for this very reason, the ' Spirit of Laws' was 
 more destructive to the universally reigning abuses in the 
 Church, than the scorn and ridicule of the ^ Letters.' In his 
 * Spirit of Laws,' Montesquieu recognises the ])olitical import- 
 ance of Christianity, as Rousseau does its moral value ; the zeal 
 of both therefore against superstition and the hierarchy was far 
 more an object of dread to those who had an interest in ecclesi- 
 astical abuses, than the abuse of Voltaire, M'hich could only be 
 acceptable to those who were already apostates, or were about to 
 become so. Montesquieu apparently attaches himself to the 
 English, who, as is well known, have not allowed themselves 
 to be led away by their blind attachment to ecclesiastical 
 policy, who constantly cause manuals to be published, in which 
 what they mechanically and traditionally believe is philosophi- 
 cally proved, and for whom their Bucklands accommodate geo- 
 logy to the books of Moses. Montesquieu expresses himself 
 as opposed to Bayle's malicious proposition, that a state com- 
 posed merely of true Christians would be an impossibility ; but 
 he deviates also from the mechanical religion of the English ; 
 his polemics here against the existing order of things are as fine
 
 § III.] MONTESQUIEU. 283 
 
 as his conversation was. In order that it may be seen how 
 irrational the theologians of all countries were, how obstinately 
 they persevered in teaching in the spirit of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, we shall more exactly point out and explain the contents 
 of the twenty-fourth book of the * Spirit of Laws.^ 
 
 The book commences Avith a short general observation upon 
 religion in general, and then introduces that preservative which 
 in the Catholic church is a protection against the indignation 
 of the clergy, and which the Protestant, who does not agree in 
 opinion with the theologians of his church, can get rid of by no 
 spell. He says, namely, that " he speaks of religion only in a 
 political, not in a theological sense, and that therefore, humanly 
 speaking and thinking, many things may be true which may 
 appear erroneous when they are brought into combination or 
 comparison with higher truth.^^ After having rejected Bayle's 
 proposition, as we have already stated, he gives a turn to his 
 remarks, the bitter meaning of Avhich we shall not bring con- 
 spicuously forward. He shows that, as a state religion, Ma- 
 liomedanism was better fitted for despotic governments than 
 Christianity for a limited monarchy. Religion should never 
 give commands, but only counsel, and must never be at issue 
 with morality. He takes his examples, indeed, from Pegu ; but 
 every body readily perceives that the religion of Pegu was not 
 intended. 
 
 The eleventh chapter, which is short, bears upon the prevail- 
 ing monachism of his church, although he wisely introduces only 
 Mahomedans, the old and the new Persians, as a vehicle for his 
 zeal against a contemplative life. The propositions upon re- 
 pentance and penance, however, are openly applied to the 
 church. " The idea of labour," he says, " must always be con- 
 nected with that of penance, if this is to be salutary, and not 
 that of idleness ; the supposition of something saving, and not 
 merely extraordinary; thoughts of moderation and humility, 
 and not of avarice." With this is connected what is very ob- 
 scurely and indefinitely said afterwards against ecclesiastical 
 absolutions and repeated forgiveness of gross sins. In order to 
 point out to his contemporaries how the operation of bad reli- 
 gious opinions upon the morals and actions of the people may 
 be prevented without making a direct assault upon religion, 
 hoAV religious opinions which are altogether false, and also sound 
 ones, may be used in order to correct deficient constitutions or
 
 284 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 remedy unsuitable laws, he afterwards adduces a variety of ex- 
 amples and illustrations, which are intentionally borrowed from 
 the most distant countries. 
 
 Montesquieu gives it here distinctly to be understood, that 
 he is not speaking about religion, but only about the opinions of 
 the people, since he treats the most unreasonable of these opi- 
 nions much in the same way as he does the Christian, so that to 
 judge according to what he brings forward in the nineteenth and 
 following chapters, and according to the keenness of his expres- 
 sions, it might be almost believed that he was indeed not quite 
 in earnest in his reverence for the Christian religion. He alleges 
 that " in civil society, and as far as regards civil society, it is of 
 very small consequence, whether the opinions of the people be 
 true or false, that injury and benefit to society result altogether 
 from the good or bad use which is made of their principles of 
 belief.^^ In this way he very cautiously and prudently attacks 
 and contends against the theory of a state religion, and assails 
 the intolerance of his contemporaries and their abuses of the 
 numerous holidays, Avhilst he pretends always to be speaking of 
 Mahomedans, Indians and Mexicans. The words in which it 
 is impossible to mistake a reference to the Christian religion, 
 run as follows in the twenty-third chapter : — " The adherents 
 of that religion which forbids work on certain days, ought to 
 remember that it is quite a perversion to think more of the great- 
 ness of the Being Avhom people wish to honour, than to regard 
 the claims and necessities of men." We pass over the chapters 
 upon the locality of religion, upon the clergy and their worldly 
 possessions, upon the pontificate and papal influence, as well as 
 those upon the inquisition ; because we think it sufficient to have 
 shown the relation and tendencies of this work, which for thirty 
 years after its appearance was regarded as a general manual of 
 political and of worldly wisdom. 
 
 It appears in addition, that the immediate effect of the ^ Spirit 
 of Laws ' in Germany and in France was proportionally insig- 
 nificant. In both countries it was too much the custom to 
 despise the people, and to regard it as an offence for men 
 who were not officials, to trouble themselves about state af- 
 fairs, or even to think about constitutions and freedom. In 
 France the people was most embittered against the aristocracy, 
 and in the first burst of the revolution a mighty party fell, 
 because they insisted upon Montesquieu's principles ; at a later
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 285 
 
 period he was used as an ally against the democracy. When 
 the feudal nobility at length perceived that they were lost beyond 
 all deliverance, Montesquieu became the anchor and oracle of 
 the new baronial order about to be formed in France, and of the 
 former nobles of the empire in Germany ; and Avhen they con- 
 descended to reason or write books, both quoted the ' Spirit of 
 Laws' as if it were the Bible. 
 
 In England a foreign book has rarely worked more strongly 
 upon the nature of the state, the theory of the constitution, and 
 even upon legislation, than Montesquieu's work. The case of 
 Gibbon shows most distinctly the influence which it had in 
 England upon the treatment and application of history. More- 
 over, Montesquieu's book, interspersed with passages from tra- 
 vels, with single facts and anecdotes, written in a style as en- 
 tertaining and as easy as a novel, brought the new science of 
 speculation upon government and laws into life and daily con- 
 versation, and even those who took no interest in the affairs of 
 mankind were obliged to enter into this fashionable conversa- 
 tion. The effect which this produced in France may be learned 
 from Segllr's memoirs, in which he entertains us with accounts 
 of himself and of other noble officers, who, verily, were no phi- 
 losophers. 
 
 § IV. 
 
 ROUSSEAU, HIS MORALS AND SENTIMENTALITY. 
 
 Although Diderot, D'Alembert, Holbach, and Helvetlus, 
 to whom we shall afterwards refer, in a time in which more was 
 thought of pulling down what was old, and preaching up the 
 enjoyment of life, than of erecting a new moral structure, may 
 have found a more ready hearing than Montesquieu and Rous- 
 seau (who required an impossible amount of virtue from a 
 demoralized and self-seeking generation), we think ourselves 
 obUged to speak first of the last-mentioned. The time of which 
 ■\ve are now speaking, was a time of passion, of movement, of 
 transition ; in such times passion alone finds adherents, every 
 one who attempts mediation makes shipwreck, the extremes 
 alone form parties, and whoever takes a middle course or re- 
 mains neutral, falls to the ground. This e:^plains the reason 
 why Rousseau, who started with an admiration of Voltaire and
 
 286 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 his school, who was brought into notice by Diderot and his 
 friends, and introduced into the tone-giving society of Paris, 
 was, nevertheless, afterwards bitterly treated by both, and cruelly 
 persecuted with irony and scorn. 
 
 As Rousseau's autobiography belongs to that part of his 
 M^orks which is most generally read, we may take for granted 
 that our readers are acquainted with it, and thereby the difficult 
 task will be greatly facilitated, of pointing out his relation to his 
 time and to its mental culture ; we may therefore immediately 
 pass over the greater part of his mere outward history, or of his 
 circumstances in life, and shall only touch lightly upon a few 
 points. Besides, Me shall by no means go through the works of 
 this most fruitful writer, but merely refer to a few of them, and 
 deduce what may either readily be more fully and accurately 
 deduced from the remainder, or, if erroneous, be easily refuted 
 by them. 
 
 In order to arrive at a correct judgement with respect to 
 Rousseau's relation to his time, and his tendencies, which 
 were so different from those of the most renowned Parisian 
 scholars and sophists, all thoughts and reference to his private 
 character, which his opponents maliciously enough always 
 brought conspicuously forward, must be laid aside, and this 
 alone must be borne in mind, that he was born in Geneva, re- 
 ceived his tirst education in a Protestant republic, in which at 
 that time, morality, domestic happiness, and a life according to 
 nature and in nature, was maintained by means of custom, strict 
 religious education, simple social order, and by remoteness 
 from that luxury which accompanies great wealth. The recol- 
 lections of early virtue, which are the stronger in every man's 
 mind, the stronger the contrast is, which the impressions of 
 later life, be they good or evil, form with those of earlier 
 years, — these recollections must have made so much the stronger 
 impression upon Rousseavi, and so much the more affected his 
 character, because even the peculiar kind of vanity, of which he 
 was so often accused, and the tendency which became natural 
 to him after the time of his first prize-essay, made it impossible 
 for him to keep pace with the parasites and talkers of the great 
 ■world, of whom the greatest number of the so-called philoso- 
 phers of genius at that time consisted. 
 
 As to the effect of these recollections upon his writings : — In 
 a mind constituted like his, this early life had become an ideal
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 287 
 
 perfection, Avhich perfectly corresponded with the singular idea 
 of human happiness and of human destiny, which he attempted 
 to defend, and sought to represent in the most splendid colours. 
 With respect to Parisian life, his disinclination towards its 
 splendid society, and the charms which nevertheless this society 
 had for him, there were many reasons which restrained him 
 from listening to the voice of the siren song, which is far more 
 alluring to educated men than rude and sensual enjoyment. 
 The Genevese republican had at first no position in the Parisian 
 circle, no profitable literary activity, as Diderot and Marmontel 
 had, to induce him to demean himself with servility among the 
 rich ; and he w-as too independent, had too much noble pride, 
 and, if you will, too much vanity, to become a merely tolerated 
 spunger, who pays his score Avith wit, conversation and talents. 
 For this reason Rousseau avoided a rock on wdiich the noblest 
 minds have made shipwreck, and became acquainted with the 
 so-called high life, with the fashionable world of distinguished 
 men, without becoming a man of the world. He was thus in a 
 condition to sketch with fidelity the dark side of that life 
 which De Stael and Segiir, and innumerable others, have de- 
 scribed as so enchanting ; for this purpose he must indeed em- 
 ploy, as was unavoidable, colours of the darker hues. The 
 stirring intellectual life of rich and noble loungers, united with 
 all the most refined sensual indulgences which riches can pro- 
 cure, had the same effect upon all those who elevated this life 
 and its enjoyments to a system of vertu, which the Circean 
 draught had upon the companions of Ulysses, the one only 
 changed them into a different species of animals from the 
 other. Rousseau escaped the effect of the enchanting facility of 
 being able to meve with ease in this, which is called by some an 
 intellectual, by others an aristocratical exclusive society, as well 
 as the excitement and torture which beset those who have im- 
 portant afiairs to manage ; but he was endured among men of 
 both these kinds : he therefore saw the impulses and motives of 
 the creators of our new, clever, but by no means moral world ; 
 and this gives him and his testimony the greatest importance 
 for our history and views of life. 
 
 We shall premise one or two remarks upon his outward rela- 
 tions in Paris, and to the Parisian literati ; and then select and 
 refer to half a dozen of the eighty-four works and treatises 
 which he pubhshed from 1734 till 1778' In reference to the
 
 288 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 direction of his talents and his repugnance to those who had 
 either received a pohtical education or were members of any of 
 the learned faculties, it must be remembered that he himself had 
 never enjoyed a regular academical education directed in the old 
 manner, such as all the other philosophers and writers upon belles 
 lettres of his time had had. All, from Voltaire to Marmontel, 
 had been educated according to the ancient method. He drew 
 his history from Plutarch, his poetical training and elements 
 from novels, studied all possible variety of subjects with the 
 most persevering industry, had the most singular fate and ad- 
 ventures, and lost in early youth that simplicity of morals, 
 virtue and innocence, of which he became in very advanced age 
 one of the most zealous and brilliant defenders. 
 
 After many adventures, the Genevese self-taught scholar, 
 who had gone over from Protestantism to the Romish church, 
 and had returned to Protestantism again, came to Paris (about 
 1745) ; and like all literary men who made their way to the 
 'French capital, especially poets, he sought the protection and 
 patronage of Voltaire ; he was, however, not so successful with 
 his operas as Marmontel, who was also a protege of Voltaire, 
 shortly afterwards was with his miserable tragedies. The phi- 
 losophers acknowledged his great talents, looked upon him as 
 a good ally, and sought to bring him into notice, for they were 
 undoubtedly well-disposed and ready to do him service, a virtue 
 which he afterwards sought in vain to deny them. He under- 
 took the musical articles in the Encyclopaedia, and wished to 
 gain himself a place in the saloons which he visited along with 
 his friends, and a claim to literary reputation by his reply to a 
 prize-question which had been proposed, when a complete change 
 in the whole nature of his modes of thinking and life suddenly 
 took place. 
 
 No one will deny, that the ideas which Rousseau conceived 
 and illustrated in the case of the prize-question proposed by the 
 academy of Dijon, guided his whole future life and labours, and 
 became to him truth, even if we grant to his opponents and 
 accusers that these ideas were at first taken up and defended, 
 in order to excite greater attention by a clear-sighted, inge- 
 nious and eloquent illustration and support of a i^rinciple 
 opposed to the common opinion. Rousseau not only pro- 
 pounded the principle, which classes scholars with sophists, and 
 against which the whole ^Yriting world, decorated with their
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 289 
 
 academical uniform, rose up in arms. He not only propounded 
 this principle, but preached it in all his writings, with the fire 
 and enthusiasm of an apostle of his own, and of a true convic- 
 tion ; but he carried out his ideas, even to folly, into life, and 
 freely sacrificed for their maintenance, what men in general 
 most eagerly seek for. This last circumstance distinguished 
 him most favourably from the Parisian philosophers, who, like 
 their master, were all good men of the world, and sought by 
 diplomacy and sophistry to give currency to their opinions ; but 
 always veered according to the wind of the prevailing fashion. 
 
 The academy of Dijon had proposed a learned question upon 
 the influence of the revival of ancient literature upon morals. 
 Rousseau took a philosophical view of the question, and answered 
 it with such eloquence, clearness, and power, and in such lan- 
 guage, that the academy, without concurring in the main in 
 his opinion, crowned his reply as a master-piece of eloquence 
 and art. Rousseau had turned the question of the academy, as 
 if they had asked, whether men in general are morally improved 
 by a scientific education, and to this question he replies in the 
 negative. It may readily be conceived how much the world 
 was astonished at the applause and the academical prize, which 
 was awarded to his treatise*. 
 
 This event, unimportant in itself — Rousseau's obtaining the 
 prize in Dijon — became one of very great importance, first to 
 himself, then to the history of Geneva and France, as well as 
 for the ever-growing democratic tendency of military Europe, 
 As to himself, it will be seen by the observations prefixed to 
 this prize-essay, in the latest editions of his works, that he con- 
 nects the whole relations of his writings to their times with 
 this essayt ; as to the world, it so happened, that the direction 
 which he took was so completely in accordance with the uni- 
 versal necessity of radical improvement, which was becoming 
 generally felt, that he must necessarily become the prophet of 
 his age. 
 
 * The question runs thus: — "Si le retablissement des sciences et des arts a 
 contribue a ^purer les moeurs?" Rousseau, on the contraiy, answers the 
 question : — " Les progres des sciences et des arts a-t-il contribue a cor- 
 rompre ou a epurer les moeurs ?" 
 
 t His words are: — " Qu'est ce que la celebrite ? Voici le malheureux 
 ouvrage a qui je dois la mienne. II est certain, que cette piece, qui m'a valu un 
 prix et qui m'a fait un nora, est tout au plus mediocre. Quel gouffre de 
 misere n'eut evite I'auteur, si ce premier ecrit n'eut ete re^u que comme il 
 meritoit de I'etre !" 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 FRANCE. [chap. IV 
 
 The leading point in all the writings of the Genevese philo- 
 sopher is indisputably the carrying out into human life in all 
 their tendencies, consequences and applications, the principles 
 which he had laid down and defended in his first and second 
 prize-essays. Rousseau illustrates his hypotheses in the most 
 splendid manner; he clothes them in the charming apparel of 
 overpowering representation, supports them with the fiery elo- 
 quence of lively feeling and sincere conviction, and brings them 
 directly home to that public, which the outcry of the learned 
 about paradoxes never reaches. The learned did not neglect to 
 summon to their aid all that the spirit of their corporations 
 could yield or the pride of knowledge teach, to overwhelm the 
 new sophist with the arms of ancient wisdom ; they sought ad- 
 vantage from knowledge of all sorts, and as is usually the case, 
 they completed by insult and abuse whatever was deficient in 
 argument and reason ; but they did not grapple the subject by 
 the roots. 
 
 Rousseau was great in his dialectics, as Schleiermacher was in 
 our own time ; as soon as he succeeded in establishing the 
 first proposition of what he wished to prove, he could calmly 
 allow his opponents to toil and moil : they reached him no more. 
 His first principle, in reference to the disadvantage of scientific 
 culture, is his idea of the natural man and of the condition of 
 nature, as he explains and illustrates it in his second prize-essay ; 
 and if all that he says in relation to savages and barbarians, 
 Hottentots, inhabitants of the Ladrones, Spartans and Romans, 
 be not previously shown to be unfounded, unhistorical and 
 untenable, his conclusions must be necessarily granted. His 
 first celebrated prize-essay may be compared in all respects 
 to the so-called declamations of the later Grecian sophists; 
 it persuades the multitude, who have lost all inward sense of 
 truth, and that pure and deep feeling from which it springs, 
 and who therefore can be persuaded, but are incapable of con- 
 viction. 
 
 Rousseau's language and rhetorical skill, and his boldness, 
 compared with the vain and slavish business-like writing of the 
 learned, give the highest charm to ideas which were then new ; 
 the reader is overpowered and carried forward by liveliness, 
 variety of application, frequent apostrophes, and happily chosen 
 anecdotes ; his short positive sentences appear to be proverbs, 
 and his play of thesis and antithesis entertains and delights
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 291 
 
 the reader, and secures the success of his argument; quiet logi- 
 cal progress from idea to idea, and proposition to proposition, 
 will be sought for in vain. With respect to the historical proof 
 of his principles, Rousseau escapes all difficulty, by rhetorically 
 connecting the Christian notion of virtue with the word which 
 we are accustomed so to translate when it occurs in the ancients, 
 although the French word, vertu, signifies something altogether 
 different from the Latin word of the same sound, or from the 
 Greek one, which is so translated. The celebrated introduction 
 and address (a prosopopoeia) of Fabricius, which Diderot is 
 said to have so much admired, rest wholly upon this play upon 
 words ; Rousseau has here most skilfully applied the usual rhe- 
 torical treatises upon Roman history, which are not much better 
 than novels for any other use than for that for which they were 
 written, in order to find virtue where, strictly considered, nothing 
 is to be found which deserves the name. 
 
 The same academy which liadHbeen the means of circulating 
 the first universally admired prize-essay over the whole of 
 Europe, gave him an opportunity of further illustrating his new 
 thoughts, or what we should call the radical errors of his first 
 treatise, and of connecting it intimately \vith a democratic system 
 of social order, such as had been quite unheard of at his time. 
 The academy of Dijon proposed another question in 1753, upon 
 the causes of the inequality of men, and thus gave Rousseau 
 an opportunity of expressing his opinion, in his prize-essay in 
 reply to this query, that the whole civilization of mankind must 
 be regarded as its degeneracy. In his attacks upon civilization 
 in his first prize-essay, Rousseau appears to us to take the 
 same course as the pietists of the darkest schools, with this 
 single difference, that the pietists sought their ideal of humanity 
 which, in order to be a man, needed neither activity nor pro- 
 gress in paradise, before the fall, and found nothing in any end or 
 corner of the world since that event, but sin and sorrow ; Rous- 
 seau, on the contrary, finds specimens of his human ideal among 
 Hottentots, savages and Romans of the time of Fabricius. It 
 is obvious that he neither wished to admit the idea that per- 
 fection belongs to God alone, nor that a state of growing per- 
 fection, or progressive approximation to the Divine Being, is 
 that pre-eminence of the human creature, which distinguishes 
 him from the beast ; and that a condition of continual progress, 
 the suppression of and victory over the animal passions, the de- 
 
 u 2
 
 292 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 velopment and exaltation of the spiritual man, constitute the true 
 dignity and happiness of a finite being — a condition and progress 
 of which Rousseau's animal man can have as little idea as the 
 primitive divine man of the pietists in paradise. 
 
 Rousseau had already begun, before this, to be distinguished 
 in life and intercourse, from the sophists of the world. He has 
 been accused of being under the influence of an unusual species 
 of vanity, in thus seeking to play the character of Diogenes, 
 when he had become renowned and was sought after; but it 
 must always be admitted to his honour that this vanity was more 
 nearly related to freedom, and to the firm principles of a sage, 
 than the behaviour of Marmontel, Duclos, Grimm and others, 
 whom Rousseau could well have imitated or surpassed, if he 
 had had the ambition to be a fashionable and distinguished 
 slave, or to become a parasite — like the celebrated academi- 
 cians. This must always be borne in mind, in order that we 
 may not be led astray by tlfe abuse of the opponents of this 
 singular, and oftentimes melancholy man, or by his own sins. 
 When he undertook the work of writing the second prize-essay, 
 he was known at court by his musical drama, ' Devin du Village,' 
 and had acquired great reputation by his ' Lettre sur la Mu- 
 sique Fran9aise,' but had also made very many enemies ; the 
 usual way was open to him, but he chose his own path. 
 
 The treatise (discours) upon the causes of the inequality 
 among men, or the answer to the second prize-question, Rous- 
 seau dedicated to the chief magistrate of Geneva. His masterly 
 and true dedication to the Genevese magistrate, conceived and 
 written in the most dignified tone, exhibits a very marked 
 contrast with the declamation of the treatise itself, which ap- 
 pears in the conclusion of the very preface, as a rhetorical 
 master-piece, and not a sedate and serious inquiry*, and best 
 proves Mhat we have remarked above, that Rousseau's youth- 
 ful recollections of Geneva, and the enjoyment of nature in 
 its simplest relations, had exercised a great influence upon his 
 theories. All the delusions which his power of imagination 
 suggested to his mind about his native city, and much of the 
 truth of his views respecting it, were admirably suited to the 
 idea of his democratic state, which he afterwards began to build 
 
 * We allude to the passage which begins : — " O homme de quelque contree 
 que tu sois, quelles que soient tes opinions, ecoute voici ton histoire," &c. &c.
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 293 
 
 up in his mind^ in accordance Avith both his treatises*. This 
 treatise is extremely important for our object ; because it contains 
 the substance of all Rousseau's future writings, or at least the 
 principles of all that he afterwards taught. The idea which 
 reigns through the whole, the keenness of the discourse, the in- 
 spiration in favour of a phantom which his lively fancy has 
 embodied, united with the able dialectics of the contrat social, 
 led astray the noblest minds in the time of the French revolu- 
 tion, and gave rise to many weighty practical errors. 
 
 The historical path, which Rousseau despised, could alone 
 lead to the goal ; but he made very little use of what he knew 
 of history, as well as of the passages collected from voyages and 
 travels, but proceeded with that contempt for all that is posi- 
 tive and individual, which is usual with mere lovers of dialec- 
 tics, abstract philosophers and poetical orators ; because their 
 object is to charm the multitude, and lead them captive, or to 
 awaken the astonishment of their disciples, without any wish to 
 convince the serious and reflecting friends of truth. Rousseau 
 pursues precisely the same course as Herder; he selects exam- 
 ples at random, just as they may serve his purpose, and then 
 savages and barbarians are children of nature ; but whenever 
 examples are brought forward which are wholly contradictory 
 to his, and passages are quoted which refute his passages, then 
 the child of nature exists no more, except in the fancy. But 
 if ever we are conjured within the circle into which he seeks to 
 allure his readers in the first division of his treatise, or, in other 
 words, if it be ever admitted that " physical well-being and 
 sensual enjoyments," which certainly may be found amongst 
 the rude children of nature, constitute the chief end of human 
 beings, as they do of the inferior animals, then indeed the di- 
 stinction of men, in reference to their morals and intelligence, 
 disappears. If it be only once admitted, that it is a mere 
 fiction of the brain to believe that knowledge — the pursuit of it, 
 and joy in its possession, although it may have neither outward 
 
 * He makes Geneva his idea!, by first describing accurately the situation 
 and constitution of a city which lie would wish to have for his own ; he then 
 indicates, that he once had had that ideal for his native city, and laments that 
 it is no more to be had, and then draws out his thoughts already spoken into 
 particulars : — " Dans tons les autres gouvernemens, quand il est question 
 d'assurer le plus grand bien de I'etat, tout se borne toujours h des projets en 
 idees et tout au plus a de simples possibilites ; pour vous, votre bonheur est . 
 tout fait, il ne faut qu'en jouir, et vous n'avez besoin pour devenir parfaite- 
 ment heureux que de savoir vous contenter de I'etre."
 
 294 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 relations nor advantage, be truly worthy of humanity, that the 
 happiness of the reasonable being consists in the delight which 
 is felt in a world formed by intelligence in the mind and for the 
 mind, — then we must necessarily acquiesce in the proposition 
 which is propounded and illustrated in the second division of 
 Rousseau's treatise. 
 
 Rousseau maintains in his treatise, after his own fashion and 
 manner, that all inequalities among men are the consequence of 
 their degeneracy, and that this degeneracy is the result of social 
 union ; that social union developes the capacities of man, and 
 perfects his understanding, but at the same time makes him 
 bad, because each individual man is found to be M^orse in pro- 
 portion as he is social. He seeks to establish and justify this 
 highly surprising proposition, which does not derive the smallest 
 support from the most superficial daily experience, by deducing 
 the usual social order, of whatever kind it may be, from an un- 
 natural abuse of power on the one side, and from an unnatural 
 weakness on the other. In order in some measure to justify 
 this allegation, he boldly gives a development of the formation 
 and constitution of social order, which he calls historical, and 
 combines with it one of those common histories of the arts, 
 sciences, trade and handicraft, which proceed wholly according 
 to logical and psychological laws, and which are very agreeable 
 to read, because every thing is made so consequent and harmo- 
 nious, but which withal have not the slightest historical foun- 
 dation. We shall afterwards see that D'Alembert, in his 
 renowned introduction to the general Encyclopaedia, proceeds 
 precisely in the same way in reference to the same subject as 
 Rousseau, but arrives at the most opposite results ; this proves 
 that both men were dialecticians, now called doctrinaires. 
 
 It will soon be obvious in what way Rousseau connects his 
 democratic doctrine with the theory of society, and with the 
 history to which we have alluded, when we bring the proposi- 
 tion with which he starts into immediate juxtaposition wdth 
 the conclusion to which, at the end of his treatise, he arrives. 
 The proposition with which the second division of the treatise 
 commences runs thus : — " The first person who seized upon a 
 piece of land, and to whom it occurred to say, ' This is mine,' 
 and who met with people simple enough to believe his allega- 
 tion, was the proper founder of civil society." We shall endea- 
 vour briefly to present the propositions and principles which he
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 295 
 
 offers in the conclusion, as consequences of his theory, and of 
 his history of civil society, in the following results : — 
 
 As soon as the mightiest or the poorest, from their strength 
 or from their necessities, established a right to the property of 
 others, \Yhich according to their judgement belonged equally to 
 all, from a right founded in nature and in reason, then the pre- 
 vious equality of all immediately disappeared. This equality no 
 sooner ceased to exist, than the most dreadful confusion ap- 
 peared, and there arose a struggle between the right of the 
 stronger and that of the earlier possessor, which became the 
 fruitful parent of murder and bloodshed : this led rich and poor 
 to feel the absolute necessity of a contract. Such is the com- 
 mencement of Rousseau's state, which he ought first to have 
 endeavoured to prove by a general historical induction, and to 
 show that it Mas in some respects consistent Avith reality and 
 facts. It will be more readily conceded to him, that a new 
 period of the dominion and deceit of the rich, and of the oppres- 
 sion and over-reaching of the poor and the weak, begins with 
 the institution of this state, and with its new laws. We shall 
 only add, that he goes into an examination and refutation of the 
 hypotheses of other learned men upon the nature and constitu- 
 tion of human society, and that he communicates at great length 
 his suppositions or assumptions upon the existence of that 
 degeneracy which he perceives everywhere around him, and at 
 the same time upon the origin of despotism. We are further of 
 opinion, that this captivating little work, written with such 
 charming eloquence, may with propriety be called a vehement 
 manifesto, circulated among all persons of education, against the 
 whole existing social order of the world. 
 
 It belongs to the singular and contradictor}^ phaenomena of a 
 time, when governments dared to venture and do every thing 
 they desired, of a time in which the police watched anxiously, 
 not merely over actions, but also words and thoughts, that this 
 treatise should have been openly crowned with laurels of vic- 
 tory, and that afterwards the wholly innoxious * Emile ' should 
 have been burned by the hands of the common hangman, and, 
 like its author, have been persecuted with fire anasword. The 
 unhappy conclusions which a discontented generation, embittered 
 with its present condition, must draw, and did indeed draw from 
 this small work, are the following : — The condition of society 
 among men is an unnatural one ; the development and cultiva-
 
 296 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 tion of the higher intellectual faculties and powers are disadvan- 
 tageous ; the condition of physical well-being, when no thought 
 of intellectual life is awakened, is the normal condition, and 
 every departure from it degeneracy. These supposititious orders 
 must necessarily have led to the erection of a very different 
 social building from that which the world then admired in the 
 works of Montesquieu ; and, according to the judgement of his 
 contemporaries, who, after the appearance of his prize-essay, 
 ranked him as a prose writer with Voltaire, Rousseau was 
 quite superior, both as a writer and thinker, to the champion of 
 the aristocracy. 
 
 Rousseau himself, intoxicated with his reputation and carried 
 away by fancy, was so deeply impressed with his ideas, that he 
 hoped for the new philosophical deliverance of the human race 
 from their unconditional application to the realities of life ; he 
 therefore immediately afterwards projected two works, by means 
 of which he proposed to establish his ideas in the state, and 
 to make them circulate through all the veins and arteries of 
 life. The first was a collection of necessary notices, accidental 
 thoughts, and plans for a new theory of the constitution, esta- 
 blishment, government, and legislation of a state, which had 
 precisely the same relation to Montesquieu's state, which good 
 Parisian society had to that of the men trained by Rousseau. 
 The second was to be a novel, M'hich was to bring among the 
 people, properly so called, his whole views of life, — his kind of 
 morals and sentimentality, — his thoughts upon family life and 
 the enjoyment of nature, — upon the passions and unbiassed 
 A'irtue, — upon Parisian life and philosophy, — upon religion and 
 ecclesiastical dogmas, — and was to recommend all his views 
 upon these subjects in an agreeable and irresistible manner. 
 The novel was indeed written and printed before the elements 
 of the new theory in the so-called * Contrat Social ' were united 
 in a system; we shall however first direct attention to the * Con- 
 trat Social,' partly because the connexion of leading thoughts 
 with the principles of the prize-essay will thus be made more 
 obvious ; and partly because the political importance of the book 
 in the last decennium of the eighteenth century, was very great, 
 and continues, mediately, to be so still in our own times. 
 
 In those times another clothing was given to the theory 
 which Rousseau in his ' Contrat Social ' had enveloped in a dia- 
 lectic dress, or which, to speak according to our fashion, he had
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 297 
 
 scientifically propounded. It was circulated in the most various 
 forms among the people, the doctrine struck root, and in a form 
 which Rousseau himself would, perhaps, now disown, is still the 
 terror of the governments on the other side the Rhine. In his 
 composition of the * Contrat Social,' Rousseau had the ^ Spirit 
 of Laws ' always in his eye, and always supports himself also, 
 as Montesquieu did, apparently upon observation and history ; 
 but we have only to read the manner in which the constitution 
 of the Roman state and its history are here used, in order to see 
 that Rousseau was wholly destitute of that practical and histo- 
 rical sense which must be possessed by a founder of states. 
 The man who was strong in dialectics and rhetoric, who was the 
 mere creature of easily excited feeling and of a lively fancy, alto- 
 gether deceived himself, when he supposed that he was able to 
 produce a work such as he promises in the introductory words 
 to the ' Contrat Social/ 
 
 " He wishes," he there says, " to inquire if there exists in 
 civil order a rule of legal and certain administration, when men 
 are taken as they are, and laws as they might be." But without 
 any reference to what is, or what may be, in the explanation of the 
 contents of the first chapter of the ' Social Contract,' of which 
 he proposes to treat, the whole is notwithstanding linked to the 
 leading ideas in his two prize-essays. " ]\Ian," he begins, " is 
 by nature free ; we find him in experience everywhere a fettered 
 slave : what is the reason of this contradiction, and how can the 
 altered condition of the freeman be legal or right ? Upon power," 
 he continues, " no right can be founded ; for such a right can 
 only be good as long as we cannot escape from the power ; but 
 every bond of society must be a holy bond, although it may be 
 cemented, not by nature, but by agreement." Then he adds, 
 that he has imposed upon himself the task (in his work) of 
 inquiring into the nature of this agreement and its conditions. 
 In order to reach his object, he first despatches the historical 
 views of Grotius and Hobbes, and then directs his arguments 
 against the theological juridical teachers of the law of nations. 
 He first comes to his " original contract" in the fifth and sixth 
 chapters. 
 
 If we were to despatch the matter as quickly, and to speak as 
 decisively as Rousseau has done, he must be accused of having 
 merely substituted a metaphysical nonentity for the historical 
 and theological nonentities of his predecessors ; for he might
 
 298 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 with propriety first be required to prove, that his original com- 
 pact had an existence in some given time and place ; but from 
 this question he immediately and ingeniously escapes. But if, 
 sleeping or waking, this notion of an original compact has been 
 once conceded to him, then we are speedily and irrevocably en- 
 tangled in the meshes of his delicate net ; and the creator of 
 this new system, like all speculative philosophers, by his orato- 
 rical talents, and without much trouble, constructs a splendid 
 building, in which no deficient point can be shown above ground, 
 because he has been permitted to lay and fill up the foundations 
 before their swampy and unsound condition was discovered. 
 
 He comprehends the whole of his invented " original contract," 
 or that notion which precedes the notion of state, in a few words: 
 — " Each of us yields up his person, and all that he has or pos- 
 sesses, to the superior guidance of the general will ; every indi- 
 vidual is received as an inseparable part of this whole." By means 
 of this proposition we are, then, suddenly led altogether out of the 
 definite and given field of states and men, which we know or 
 have become historically acquainted with, and driven into the 
 extensive wilderness of mere possibilities, of sophistry, and dia- 
 lectics, and of the dreams of well-meaning philanthropy. Then 
 the metaphysical nonentity is made a historical thing. The 
 state becomes a notion, and the notion a state ; the subordinate 
 notions become parts of the state, which are treated according 
 to logical laws, and become pliant as the paper upon which we 
 write ; but which suddenly leave those in the lurch who trust in 
 them, because notions have very rarely any value in real life, 
 whereas money, enjoyment, and the fist have, and have had, a 
 value in all times and places. 
 
 Our object does not permit us to follow the subtle demonstra- 
 tion of Rousseau, or to compare his speculation with historical 
 facts and daily experience; the * Contrat Social 'obtained, how- 
 ever, far too great an importance to allow us to pass it over, 
 without adding some further remarks. In Germany, where 
 scarcely any but university scholars are to be found, the sub- 
 tleties of Rousseau would have remained at that time, and even 
 in France at another time, within the schools, and would only 
 have had the effect of producing other systems and books ; but 
 at the end of the preceding century the ' Contrat Social' became 
 the manual of Utopian dreamers. Rousseau had then become 
 the apostle of all gentlemen and ladies who made pretensions to
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 299 
 
 education ; and the form of the composition, and the boldness of 
 the speculation, suited the demands and necessities of the age : 
 finally, the movements in North America, in Poland, in Corsica, 
 and in Geneva, gave the work a great political value. We shall 
 first show, how in this treatise the empirical thing, state, be- 
 came a notion from Avhich other notions are deduced, under the 
 names of citizens and subjects, which in experience we know as 
 something given, but which have no longer anything in them of 
 what is known or given by history. As soon as he passes be- 
 yond this point, then it becomes possible and permissible for 
 him, without ever looking round, to advance boldly and rapidly 
 in his course, till his design is complete, and then he triumph- 
 antly calls in and accommodates individual cases of experience. 
 In order to make the matter more distinct, we shall select a short 
 specimen. 
 
 " The state," he says, "is a moral person, consisting of mem- 
 bers, which make up the whole, or the commonwealth. Such a 
 commonwealth is called a simple state when it obeys its own 
 will, or when it yields passive obedience ; it is called unlimited 
 sovereign, when itself deals with itself; power, when it is con- 
 sidered in its relation to other similar commonwealths. In this 
 way the individuals combined in a state, as a commonwealth, 
 are called people ; in so far as they have a share in the ruling 
 power, citizens ; in so far as they are subject to their own laws, 
 i.e. to those of the state, subjects." It will be readily seen from 
 this commencement, that these abstractions, for people who 
 were wholly without experience, without acquired knowledge, and 
 without desire and capacity to acquire, were spells, of a descrip- 
 tion of which we have often seen enough in Germany ; and that, 
 after such definitions, it became very easy in the second book to 
 exhibit democracy as the only just and legal constitution of that 
 phantom which is here called a state. This proof is given in 
 the following manner : — 
 
 " Sovereignty is inalienable, it is indivisible ; the general will 
 can never err ; all error springs from party-feeling, wherefore 
 party unions and societies must either be altogether prevented 
 in a state, or multiplied to such an extent, that individual so- 
 cieties can have but little influence." In this way he goes on 
 and on, and under a continued course of protestation against 
 metaphysics, a dialectic work of art is reared ; and as is the 
 manner of speculators and inventors, a number of examples are
 
 300 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 raked together by chance ; and, without any reference to descent, 
 chmate, soil, modes of Hfe, or traditionary usages, an abstract 
 people are united into an abstract state. How well Rousseau 
 knew his public, how well he understood how to become an 
 oracle by apodictic decisions, may be learned from the following 
 sentences : — 
 
 " After what I have previously said," he remarks, " we are not 
 allowed to ask to whom the legislative power belongs ; laws are 
 only expressions of the public willj it may not be asked, whether 
 a prince is above the law, for he too is a member of the state ; 
 it may not be asked, if the law can be unjust, for no man can be 
 unjust against himself; it may not be asked, how men can be 
 free, and yet subject to the laws, for the laws are nothing else 
 than the published expressions of their will." It is obvious, on 
 the first glance, that all is hollow, and wholly destitute of prac- 
 tical value in a world which is no more to be constructed, but 
 which has been constructed thousands of years ago ; but how 
 little he possesses those qualities M-hich were peculiar to his 
 model Montesquieu, Rousseau shows, like our countryman 
 Fichte, especially when he descends from his seat in the clouds, 
 and condescends to walk upon the solid ground. His high- 
 sounding prophecies about Corsica, at the conclusion of the 
 tenth chapter of the second book, best prove this remark. 
 
 Rousseau himself, in fact, sometimes seems to feel that he is 
 altogether unfit to be the reformer of states in a practical sense ; 
 for in the division upon legislation and its different systems, he 
 refers to Montesquieu, and in the third book, in Mhich he treats 
 of the different forms of governments, never once seems to sus- 
 pect that he is and must remain upon historical ground. He 
 therefore mentions monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, and the 
 executive power of princes ; but since merely a notion of the un- 
 limited will of the people always remains in the back-grovmd, 
 every man who has seen and known anything of men and life, 
 and has thought anything about history, perceives that this is 
 only a Utopian scheme. 
 
 Rousseau has had the boldness in this book to treat at large 
 of all possible constitutions and of a mixed government, to speak 
 of the accommodation of forms of government to climate, man- 
 ners and nationality, to handle the subject of abuses, of the 
 decline of governments, of the death of diseased bodies politic ; 
 and how immeasurably far does he show himself inferior to
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 301 
 
 Montesquieu ! and yet all that he advances upon these sub- 
 jects is to be regarded as the opposite of what Montesquieu has 
 said on the same points. The whole, however, has great histo- 
 rical value, as bearing upon the French revolution ; and if we 
 dwell somewhat longer upon the ' Contrat Social,' it is that we 
 may hereafter be able to refer to the subject in the political 
 history of the revolution. All that Rousseau says upon the 
 nature of free constitutions, has the same relation to what Mon- 
 tesquieu has written on the same subject, as the French con- 
 stitution of the year 1791 has to that of the year 1793, and 
 that very naturally, because the originators of the first mo- 
 narchical constitution were completely full of Montesquieu's 
 notions, as St. Jiist and other visionary friends of freedom were 
 of those of the ' Contrat Social.' 
 
 Rousseau here teaches what the enemies of a constitutional 
 monarchy at a later period made good against it, that every re- 
 presentative constitution, every delegation of the rights of a com- 
 monwealth to an elective or delegated chief, is contrary to reason 
 and destructive of freedom, and he treats the English constitu- 
 tion, w^hich had been so loudly praised by Montesquieu, Avith the 
 greatest contempt. We shall first hear him speak in general, 
 and then about England in particular. " The idea," he says 
 first, in general, " the idea of a representative constitution is one 
 which is altogether modern ; it is a descendant of the feudal 
 times, and is therefore a fruit of those wonderful and depraved 
 forms of government which so degraded the human race, that 
 the name man is become a term of servility." It will be here 
 seen, that Rousseau displays as much ignorance as ill-will; be- 
 cause he does not know that this is chargeable u^jon the bad 
 Latinity of the middle ages alone, in which freeholder, liegeman, 
 and man are denoted by the same term. Still more harsh and 
 severe is his outbreak against England and the English consti- 
 tution. He first alleges, that every law which has not been ra- 
 tified by the whole people, is nothing, and then he adds, — " The 
 English people believe themselves to be free ; they are grossly 
 in error, for they are only free during the elections for members 
 of Parliament ; as soon as these are chosen, they are again 
 slaves, they are nothing ; and the use which they make of their 
 power during the short period of its possession, is proof enough 
 that they are unworthy of it." 
 
 At the conclusion of the fourth book, a theory with respect to
 
 302 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 the assembly of the people and the revision of the constitution 
 is stated, which is of such a singular kind, that nothing is more 
 incomprehensible than that persons could be found at the end 
 of the eighteenth century, among people in other respects so 
 practical as the French, who could imagine the possibility of 
 bringing such things into practical operation. Rousseau insists 
 upon periodical assemblies of the whole people (not of Schwyz or 
 Uri, or such cantons or small tribes), not merely for legislation, 
 but also for the revision of the constitution, and those not to be 
 called together by any authority or power, but to come together 
 of their own mere motion. Such assemblies are to be opened 
 by two questions ; — first, " Shall the present form of government 
 continue?" — then " Is it the pleasure of the people to allow the 
 government to continue in the hands of those to whom it is at 
 present committed ? " 
 
 We have now sufficiently indicated and explained the ten- 
 dency and contents of the ' Contrat Social.' We cannot go into a 
 closer examination of the whole or of single parts, and therefore 
 we do not farther allude to the last division, upon the Roman 
 constitution, comitia, tribunes, censors, and established reli- 
 gion. Whoever knows anything about Rome or Roman history 
 and the Roman constitution, and then reads the manner in 
 which Rousseau treats the generally known phaenomena of the 
 real world, must necessarily be astonished that the impress of 
 Parisian celebrity was then so great, that the Corsicans, as well 
 as the Poles, should have applied to Rousseau to diaw up, a 
 constitution for their adoption and use. He was prudent 
 enough to avoid this rock, but his considerations upon the 
 Polish constitution, and the means of its improvement, are usu- 
 ally printed after the ^ Contrat Social.' 
 
 The novel in which, as we have already remarked, Rousseau 
 wished to bring the leading ideas of his prize-essays imme- 
 diately into life, and to procure access for them into the circle 
 of the ladies and the tone-giving world, was the ' New Heloise.' 
 It appeared before the ' Contrat Social' was printed in 1759, and 
 immediately excited incredible attention. It was then generally 
 alleged to be an imitation of Richardson's ' Clarissa Harlowe ;' 
 that can at most be only true of the novel in the book, and of 
 the love adventure, and this is indisputably its worst part ; the 
 chief point is the picture of that kind of sensibility and passion, 
 which Rousseau knew from experience ; and there is besides the
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 303 
 
 form and the doctrine, which he wished through this form to 
 recommend. Rousseau surpasses Richardson at least in this, 
 that he only describes and represents what he himself had felt, 
 and what had contributed to make his life in the highest degree 
 unhappy. Rousseau's ideas of love were, as is well known, 
 always in contradiction with his sensuality ; his ideal of civil and 
 domestic life, with his outward circumstances, or his vanity or 
 ambition ; wherefore he lived miserable and died unhappy. 
 
 As we are not writing a history of literature, but rather of mo- 
 rality, we are so much the more called on to premise one or two 
 short remarks upon the moral principles of the three most cele- 
 brated novel-writers of the eighteenth century. Their influence 
 upon the people was very great, because one novel did not fol- 
 low another in quick succession in those days, as in ours ; and so 
 many journals, periodicals and books for passing and momentary 
 entertainment were not written. Fielding remains fast by the 
 strongest and broadest realities of life, and allows himself to fall 
 no further into a strain of moralizing, than a magistrate occa- 
 sionally must ; the experience which he gained in the discharge 
 of the duties of this office, and the knowledge of those classes of 
 the people with whom, as a magistrate, he necessarily came into 
 contact, guided him in his descriptions of English life. Rich- 
 ardson contains the usual morality of his church ; he has an or- 
 thodox, tenacious, blind attachment to usages always in his eye, 
 of which there are more respecters in England than elsewhere, 
 and he deals out this morality to a wearisome length ; Rousseau 
 creates a morality of his own, as well as a peculiar life. Rous- 
 seau's morality may be much more serviceable to minds of a 
 better class ; the mass of men will be better guided by prejudice 
 and opinion and traditionary usage, than by a morality which 
 rests upon the understanding, however charmingly he pro- 
 pounds it. The virtue which he makes so easy, is very dan- 
 gerous ; because it flatters the senses and makes men confident. 
 The first part of the ' New Heloise' contains the proper 
 novel, which secured for the book acceptance with the public, 
 with which, however, we have least to do, because we desire 
 only to draw attention to the politics and wisdom of life, which 
 Rousseau by its instrumentality circulated among the best part 
 of the people, who were dissatisfied with the existing order of 
 things. We learn especially from the ^ Heloise ' how it came to 
 pass, that Rousseau raised up even Lavater, and such men as he,
 
 304 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 against the existing order of life, of instruction, and of education. 
 This ^vas a class of men wholly different from those whom Vol- 
 taire, Diderot and Helve tius honoured — the noble and sensi- 
 tive minds, which, in that time of awakening to an altered condi- 
 tion of life, perceived and acknowledged the stiffness, the con- 
 straint — all that was artificial and degenerate in the relations of 
 mankind and of the different ranks of society, and wished to 
 bring it nearer to nature, yet shuddered at the thought of those 
 who appeared, by their bitter scorn and ridicule, to aim only at 
 destruction. They turned therefore to Rousseau, who announced 
 a religion of the heart, instead of the prevailing dogmatics ; and 
 a virtue of feeling, instead of the morality of the ten command- 
 ments and the catechism. 
 
 Rousseau himself has very forcibly remarked, that he only 
 did homage to his time, by attempting to teach morality through 
 the medium of a novel, and particularly by a novel whose in- 
 trigues are altogether immoral : we do not at present touch 
 upon this point, but rather upon the delineation of life, as it is 
 represented immediately in the first part. We do not get a sight 
 of the proper prosaic burgher life ; but the better side of the 
 fashionable world and fashionable education is exhibited, and 
 this, although not free from reproach, contrasts advantageously 
 with the pretensions, genius, or piety of the present fashion, and 
 wdth the presumption of a time which is concerned only about 
 money and luxury. The noble class of men and women of the 
 great world, whose mental culture and enlarged feelings, as well 
 as the morality deduced from those feelings, may often displease 
 us, are recognised in the history of love as well as in the female 
 character ; they are to be regarded as gold to copper, w hen com- 
 pared with the creations Mhich are presented to us as highly 
 educated ladies in the ^ Liaisons Dangereuses,^ and in the novels 
 of Diderot and Marmontel. Rousseau, indeed, covers with the 
 mantle of love the frailties of his ideal women [femmes a grands 
 sentimens), 
 
 Rousseau's ' Heloise' had the same sort of influence Mhich we 
 remember, from our own experience in early youth, MVerter' 
 and ^ Siegwart ' had among us ; for Julia, her singular lover and 
 her wise husband, were admired by all the world, in spite of all 
 ecclesiastical moralists, and were often imitated in a most sin- 
 gular manner. The first part is a picture of the truth of life, 
 for Rousseau really felt ^vhat he wrote; he had felt all the
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 305 
 
 power of the passion which he painted, and did not merely make 
 a book, as others do. In addition to this, we have the true, 
 although some exaggeratedly beautiful descriptions of the Lake 
 of Geneva and its neighbouring countries, the Vallais, and the 
 introduction of men from Rousseau's early recollections. Truth 
 gains much by these forms taken from real life, although Rous- 
 seau adorns them ; and at the same time the letters in the first 
 part had not yet grown, as in the following parts, to long philo- 
 sophical treatises. 
 
 The first part which is, properly speaking, appropriated to the 
 novel, is, however, not without reference to life and its relations, 
 or, in other words, to the social and moral usages of the time 
 for which Rousseau wrote ; for we find a letter upon French and 
 Italian music, a subject which at that period caused a vehement 
 controversy in the Parisian world. We find remarks upon the 
 Vallais, and considerations upon nobility put into the mouth of 
 an Englishman ; the second part, however, is that which has, 
 properly speaking, to do with the internal history of the age. 
 In this Rousseau avowedly enters upon the condition of the 
 life of the higher classes, of the writers upon belles lettres, of the 
 prattlers of the Parisian saloons and of the ladies in the time of 
 the seven years' war, and through him we are made acquainted 
 with the ever-growing necessity of a thoroughly comprehensive 
 change of morals, of life and of government. We consider it 
 necessary for our purpose to refer to some passages in this part, 
 from Avhich it will become obvious in what way Rousseau, by 
 his novel, his eloquence, his great power of delineation, and the 
 recollections of his youth, not only attacked the degenerate, 
 artificial, sinful life of a great capital, and the evils of an ad- 
 vanced civilization, but also the wantonness of his celebrated 
 friends, who, strong in their sophistical arts, praised every 
 species of immorality, sensuality and shamelessness, as unpre- 
 judiced views of things and as marks of genius. 
 
 Those letters of the second part of the ' Helolse,' in which 
 Rousseau, in a w^ay peculiar to himself, describes with liveliness 
 the history of the connexions of the Parisian tone-giving world, 
 in no romantic style, but strictly according to truth, and treats 
 at length of women, and the relation of the two sexes to one 
 another — or from the fourteenth to the twenty-seventh, belong 
 to the best and most useful pieces which ever flowed from his 
 pen. He uses his St, Preux as his vehicle, and in this as- 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 sumed character he is partly free from those faults which make 
 his * Confessions ' suspicious, when he speaks in his own person, 
 and partly because he had not yet, in the time of this compo- 
 sition, become morose, suspicious, peevish and hypochondriac 
 almost to madness. The eloquence and liveliness of the de- 
 scriptions here are by no means sophistical ; but every one who 
 kno\^s from experience the life of the rich which is here de- 
 scribed, and the people who pursue such conduct, will again 
 immediately recognise the members of good society who are 
 known to him, who are always in the gi'eatest difficulty with 
 their time, with their polite education and manners, with their 
 rank, and with their wealth, if they find it impossible to exhibit 
 all these somewhere or other for public admiration. 
 
 Rousseau blames all that is affected and artificial in the life of 
 great cities, not as a rhetorician or a sophist, but from full and 
 inward conviction of its evil, and it ^Yill therefore excite no sur- 
 prise that he was decried by this society and their sophists as a 
 fool. These men know every thing, without having learned any 
 thing. They pick up a superficial acquaintance with things, 
 and their judgements, by tone and conversation, lightly passed 
 upon all possible subjects, are always borrowed from the latest 
 journal or work of fashion : how could nature and reason, 
 whose language Rousseau here employs, and whose cause he 
 maintains, ever make its way to such people ? And yet he was 
 the very man who brought into fashion that appearance at least 
 of nature and simplicity, which we now here and there perceive 
 in the polite world. 
 
 Things like those which occur in the twentieth letter of the 
 second book could not have been described with liveliness by a 
 moral man, according to our ideas of such a man, as they are 
 there described by Rousseau; but he had before his eyes in 
 strong colours the truth of life and life itself in all its sensuality 
 and sinfulness ; and so singular Avas that orthodox and moral 
 time, that it received with admiration and rejoicing what would 
 be persecuted with fire and sword in our days, from a feeling of 
 care and anxiety for the newly converted among fashionable and 
 noble sinners. 
 
 The novel properly is brought to a conclusion at the com- 
 mencement of the second division of the second part, and all 
 that follows might well have formed a distinct work ; but our 
 business is not here to investigate or to judge ; and it is espe-
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 307 
 
 cially important for our historical object, that the following 
 letters were not published in a separate form ; but as formal trea- 
 tises, constitute part of a widely circulated and universally read 
 novel. Among the letters of the third part, there is found an 
 inquiry into the question, whether self-murder is or is not per- 
 missible under certain circumstances. The proof of the com- 
 plete deficiency of all theological demonstrations against self- 
 murder constitutes the most important piece in reference to the 
 doctrine prevailing on this subject in the churches and schools 
 of all confessions, which always follow, and without much inves- 
 tigation, the beaten and usual path of traditionary doctrine. 
 This piece receives a still higher degree of value from the proof 
 which it contains of the utter worthlessness of the defence of 
 self-murder, which has been deduced from the splendid examples 
 of antiquity. 
 
 The following division (quatrieme partie) called modern times 
 away from gardens full of box- trees, cut into the figures of statues, 
 animals, and other innumerable devices — from the Dutch gardens, 
 with their tulips, potsherds, shells, and statues — from dark cha- 
 momiles into pure nature ; and aided the ancient architecture, 
 which is now presented anew with Gothic follies, to obtain a 
 victory over the volutes of the court architects of monarchs. In 
 the very commencement of the third letter of this division, 
 Rousseau admirably expresses the impression which Lord An- 
 son's ' Voyages * had made upon him as an admirer of the 
 beauties of nature, and the delight which he, in common with all 
 Europe, felt at the description of the Ladrones, which is there 
 given with much more poetry than truth. The remaining part 
 of the work is especially important for Geneva and Germany, 
 because the influence which it produced in both countries upon 
 all the usages of conventional life did not prove so transitory as 
 it did in France. The whole previous and ancient mode of 
 training children and youth, the manner of life, the arrangements 
 of the domestic circle, the severity of parents towards their chil- 
 dren, their monarchical and patriarchal relation with respect to 
 them, the distance at which the young were kept, and the out- 
 ward reverence which they were obliged to show, — all this, when 
 compared with the idyllic and simple pastoral relations which 
 Rousseau described, seemed so burdensome and inconvenient, 
 that it quickly disappeared, and people passed from one extreme 
 to another. We shall afterwards see that Basedow and CampCj 
 
 x2
 
 308 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 and the whole sentimental school, brought Rousseau's ideas out in 
 a German type, and that Claudius, Voss, Holty, and others, tuned 
 their lyres after his tone. By this means our domestic life be- 
 came more joyous and milder ; a feeling for the enjoyment of 
 nature and its beauties, which Rousseau had described in such 
 glowing colours, was awakened; the love and admiration of 
 rui'al life, which the rich can make more cheerful by the various 
 means which are at their command, made the enjoyment of it 
 first a fashion, and afterwards, as happens in such cases, a 
 necessity. 
 
 It is true, indeed, that this ^ Heloise ' and its innumerable 
 imitations, and that stream of miserable sentimental novels and 
 plays, which from this source flowed through Germany for 
 almost thirty years, caused a sickly play of feelings, and gave 
 rise to silly discourse and foolish prattle about nature and a life 
 according to its laws ; all the public relations of life, however, 
 became thereby milder, and the cane and the scourge were no 
 longer permitted to play those important characters, which a new 
 species and generation of philosophers and historians seek again 
 to revive. 
 
 In the ninth letter the relation of true refinement and genuine 
 culture to that trivial and customary emptiness, which has a 
 W' ord for every thing, is admirably described, and to that worldly 
 tone of a society, which exhibits all the outward pomp of mind, 
 but in which alone mere custom and repetition of expression are 
 to be found. In the tenth letter, on the contrary, there is por- 
 trayed at length the idyllic relation of a rich country gentleman, 
 carried through all the connexions of life, and this piece had a 
 more beneficial influence than a whole library of sermons. 
 These descriptions, full of soul, of deep inward feeling, and of 
 true inspiration — these idyllic dreams of a mind weary almost 
 to melancholy of life, among men who are only thoughtful about 
 the manner in which they can most advantageously present 
 themselves upon the theatre of the Avorld, have had by far a 
 greater influence in the amelioration of the oppressive condi- 
 tions of subjection which extend from the Pyrenees to Courland, 
 than multitudes of laws, and so much the more, as there is here 
 nothing of the merely fanciful, of which there is no want else- 
 where in the ' Heloise.' 
 
 In the same manner as the ninth and tenth letters touch upon 
 the unnatural perversion of those pedantic relations of life which
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 309 
 
 are deformed by ceremony, etiquette, and forms of all kinds, or 
 upon the men themselves, the eleventh treats of nature marred 
 and disfigured by these men, with their promenades, their artifi- 
 cial gardens and shrubberies. We must not here omit to re- 
 mark, in pursuance of our historical object, that the French 
 court pursued a very different course of conduct from that of 
 the educated portion of society, in reference to the change of 
 fashion which Rousseau eflfected. The court first did homage 
 to these principles only under the reign of a new king, and pre- 
 cisely at a time when it was too late, and when it should rather 
 have held fast by all which it was yet possible to maintain. The 
 court and its forms, its fixity, its life in the country, its eti- 
 quette, its ceremonies, undenvent not the slightest change during 
 the reign of Louis the Fifteenth ; all who belonged to the new 
 world, on the contrary, studied to approximate nature, and 
 applied the same principle to their grounds and gardens. They 
 did not suffer themselves to be led astray in Versailles, by all 
 that Rousseau had said against the art of gardening and the 
 culture of flowers as it Avas practised in France and in Holland ; 
 and those who were faithful to the old system, still laid out their 
 gardens and walks according to the taste of Versailles and Haar- 
 lem; others completely changed the form of their pleasure- 
 grounds according to the taste and description of Rousseau. 
 English gardens became the fashion at the same time with sen- 
 timentality ; for Rousseau not only made it obvious, that the 
 taste of the time, and the unnatural manner of laying out their 
 grounds, were false and absurd, but also that the opposite method 
 was more convenient, more advantageous, and more comfortable. 
 The description of the man whose character and modes of life 
 are given in the twelfth letter, as the ideal of a practical philo- 
 sopher, of a landowner and master of a family, is also no mere 
 phantom of the brain, such as perhaps might be expected from 
 Rousseau. 
 
 In order to show that we have alleged with good reason that 
 Rousseau wTote this novel with a view, partly attained, of 
 making an immediate application of his ideas upon mankind 
 and humanity, upon love and nature, upon government and 
 life, upon morality and religion, we need only state, that he has 
 so expressed himself, and that it may be deduced also from the 
 last part, which in other respects contains a second novel cal-
 
 310 FRANCE, [CIIAP. IV. 
 
 culatecl to produce a great social movement. In the very com- 
 mencement of the second letter there will be found an excellent 
 criticism upon the domestic order and establishment of great 
 houses, as they were usually found to exist, and arrangements 
 of his own invention, and of a different kind, are recommended. 
 In the third letter a matter is treated of, which was afterwards 
 farther carried out, and has been applied in Germany by our 
 reformers of education, who never mentioned Rousseau, when it 
 would have been their duty so to have done. He treats mi- 
 nutely, for instance, and largely, of the faults and deficiencies in 
 the education of children in rich and distinguished families. 
 The letter is a long and formal introduction to the subject 
 treated of in * Emile,^ it contains the fundamental principles of 
 a new theory of education, and Roussean himself admits that 
 the letter was too long for the place in which it is inserted, and 
 for the occasion on which it was written. 
 
 The morality and theology which Rousseau wished to substi- 
 tute for dogmatising Protestantism and symbolising Catholicism, 
 both of which subject reason to tradition, which they name 
 faith, here hold a distinguished place. In his ' Emile,' which 
 he calls the ' Confessions of a Savoyard Vicar,' he developes 
 the theory of his doctrine ; here it appears more to advantage 
 in action, because he shows how his Christianity, which is, pro- 
 perly speaking, mere natural religion, is consolatory and ele- 
 vating, and altogether suited to that life of nature so charmingly 
 described by him. This kind of religion, and the Vicar, who 
 makes it pass for Christianity, are here most eagerly and impor- 
 tunately recommended, in a piece of history written with the 
 greatest and most touching eloquence and art. Rousseau's 
 dying heroine, upon her death-bed, becomes the apostle of the 
 new doctrine of a holy life, and all that she or her confessor say 
 shortly before her death, stands in direct opposition to what at 
 Rousseau's time was universally said to the dying, and required 
 from them, if they wished to enter into a happy state. 
 
 The ' New Heloise ' gave occasion to a great outcry, because 
 all the friends of what Mas ancient, and, moreover, all the new 
 sophists and academicians, all the numerous defenders of a 
 genius-like witty banqueting mode of life, scoffed at the vi- 
 sionaries, and ridiculed their wisdom ; but his book was circu- 
 lated in the whole of Europe, became the oracle of the age, and
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 311 
 
 produced such an effect upon the better portion of all ranks, 
 who had a lively feeling of the necessity of a reformation, as no 
 novel ever afterwards produced. 
 
 Rousseau wished afterwards to reduce to a system what he 
 had said, incidentally and in various places in his ' Heloise/ 
 upon the subject of religion and education. He wished to com- 
 bine the single parts into a whole, and in order to secure for it 
 general circulation, he clothed his materials in the form of a 
 history. ' Emile,^ or his treatise upon education, which ap- 
 peared three years after the ' Heloise,' and fills four tolerably 
 thick volumes, contains a history, which may not be very attract- 
 ive for the great mass of novel-readers ; but it is here, as well as 
 in the ' Platonic Dialogues,' merely a means, and not an end. 
 Many were deceived by the title ; fathers and mothers, how- 
 ever, were allured by the form to study a system, which appeared 
 to remove all trouble and labour, and all cares from the con- 
 cerns of life. Instruction and education became an amusement. 
 Man, from being an animal, became a reasonable creature with- 
 out trouble, without annoyance, without effort, without reference 
 to talents, perverted inclinations, or natural organization. Every 
 thing that he learned was of immediate use and application ; he 
 was not harassed with books ; all methods of punishment and 
 constraint were abolished ; and nothing was to receive attention 
 except what was immediately sei'viceable to external physical 
 life. What joy was here for all the rich and the distinguished, 
 to whom, when they are not in good humour, or when they are 
 in the church, and in the society of the affectedly pious, the 
 earth only seems a vale of tears, and their very joys a sin ! ! ! 
 
 It is singular enough, that Rousseau was most vehemently 
 abused and persecuted on account of this book, which, however, 
 only contained the application of a peculiar species of Protestant 
 doctrine to life, although he had disseminated among the people 
 the same theory of wisdom, propounded in a quite different 
 form in * Heloise,' under the clothing of the most seducing po- 
 etry. Rousseau himself, in his ' Emile,' declares that he had not 
 coolness and quietness of mind enough to build up a system, he 
 only therefore announces remarks, observations, &c., but, never- 
 theless, begins the very first sentence with the announcement of 
 this proposition : — That he only recognises the finger of God 
 in external nature, and its organic laws, but by no means in 
 the development of human reason and in its progressive cul-
 
 312 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 ture *. Because Rousseau altogether forsook the field of expe- 
 rience, the didactic part of the work appears to us to have the 
 least value, and to be of the smallest importance ; but the attack 
 ■which it contains upon the reigning system is completely suc- 
 cessful. We cannot, however, accuse Rousseau of having driven 
 all seriousness and severity of training out of life ; because it was 
 no fault of his that the German education inventors and specu- 
 lators accommodated the single parts of his connected positive 
 imaginative theory to the historical world and to dull reality, 
 which could only be used as a Avhole and an ideal. 
 
 The novel of ^ Emile ' is like a fable ; but the alternation of 
 the didactic and the narrative form, the half-romantic, half-logical 
 manner, the transition of dialogue to narrative, and vice versa, 
 the admirable criticism upon the perverted manner of instruc- 
 tion and education in public schools and families at that time, 
 give the book a great charm. A degenerate and indolent gene- 
 ration willingly gave a place in reality to the idylls, and to the 
 methods recommended by Rousseau in his novel ; because it is 
 a well-known error of indolent minds to think that a man, in 
 order to be good, only needs to be weak and sensitive. We 
 shall not dwell upon the first part ; because it contains merely 
 what we shall afterwards find in the writings of Basedow, Salz- 
 mann and Campe. We must so much the more defer no- 
 ticing the influence of this theory, as it was practically brought 
 into use in Germany at an earlier period than it was possible 
 to have done in France under the old government and hierarchy. 
 At the close of the second part, which contains notions of mo- 
 rality and religion, which Rousseau recommends to his pupil 
 instead of the state religion enforced by civil laws, a hateful 
 police and legal courts, he declares himself to be a vehement 
 opponent of all positive religion, just after having made some 
 admirable observations upon the necessity and need of religious 
 feelings as the support of morality. 
 
 The third part, which contains the * Confessions of Faith of 
 a Savoyard Vicar,' excited the loudest outcry ; raised on the one 
 hand by unbelievers, egotists, encyclopaedists, sensualists, para- 
 sites and prattlers, and on the other by orthodox Protestants 
 and strict ecclesiastical Catholics. The first-named class of 
 men of the school of genius felt spitefully towards Rousseau ; 
 
 * " Tout est bien," he says, " sortant des mains de I'autcur des choses, tout 
 degcnere entre Ics mains des homraes."
 
 § IV.] ROUSSEAU. 313 
 
 because, in the first division of his ' Confessions,' he opposed a 
 religion of the heart to their subtleties and cold theory of the 
 understanding ; because he protected the doctrine of the exist- 
 ence of a God, of providence, and of a future state, against their 
 doubts ; and because he appealed to the feeling of noble and 
 uncorrupted minds, against their audacious wit and bold satire. 
 In the second division he roused and excited the orthodox slum- 
 bering Protestants, the rigid Jesuits and the severe Jansenists, 
 by attacking them in a quarter in which they are most exposed, 
 and in which they are therefore most sensitive. He attempts 
 to prove, that the so-called historical faith and its principles are 
 altogether untenable ; and that those would act well and pru- 
 dently, who, in attempting to establish the value and pre-emi- 
 nence of the evangelical system. Mould appeal merely to its 
 moral worth, and to the effects which obedience to its laws may 
 have and have had. He here contends against the necessity, 
 and even the possibility of what the theologians call a revelation ; 
 and, without sinking to the tone of the encyclopaedists, he 
 shows how^ useless and absurd the usual systems of Christian 
 philosophy, as taught in the universities, are, by which the 
 truth and divine origin of Christianity are attempted to be 
 proved, not to those who doubt or are unbelievers, for by these 
 none such could be converted, but to those who are already 
 rigid believers. He rejects miracles and inspiration without 
 scoffing at them. On this occasion, also, the obstinate blindness 
 and the beneficial stubbornness of that overweening reliance 
 upon external power appeared, M'ith which God is accustomed 
 to visit the enemies of light and of freedom. They, however, 
 took no warning, they did not attempt to produce in a new form 
 the faith which had disappeared, but they rather persecuted 
 Rousseau the more bitterly, in proportion to the real value of 
 his book. The consequence was, that the whole educated por- 
 tion of society regarded the man who was thus persecuted by 
 jurists, priests and domineering hypocrites as an apostle and 
 martyr, and attached themselves to his theory. 
 
 The Parliament of Paris, in which the Jansenists were predo- 
 minant, condemned the work and put the law in force against 
 it, which was absurd and at that time injurious. It pronounced 
 a sentence of personal arrest against the author, which he easily 
 escaped ; and what was the most singular of all, the Archbishop 
 of Paris addressed a pastoral letter to the clergy and people of
 
 314 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 his diocese against the book of a Protestant. This \A^as as if the 
 archbishop ^Yished also to rouse his quietly slumbering believers 
 and force them to reflection, and as if he wished immediately to 
 furnish Rousseau Avith an opportunity of showing to what a mise- 
 rable condition a system of doctrine must be reduced, which it was 
 necessary to uphold by means of the police ! Rousseau did not 
 fail to take advantage of the occasion, but printed a letter to 
 Christopher de Beaumont, Archbishop of Paris, which along with 
 ^ Junius's Letters,' and Lessing's attacks upon Goze, may be re- 
 garded as one of the master-pieces of this description of prose in 
 the eighteenth century, an incomparable model of power and 
 beauty of language, of style and of eloquence. The Protestants 
 also did not fail to show, in like manner, that they too defended 
 their Zion by the police. The Genevese magistrate first caused 
 the book to be burned, then the high and mighty lords of Berne 
 gave the author to understand, when he fled from France and 
 had arrived at Yverdiin, how little pleased they should be to see 
 him in their territory. We here break off, because the writings 
 which Rousseau afterwards sent forth from Metiers Travers, 
 when living under Prussian protection in Neufchatel, not only 
 in point of time, but in tendency and character belong to an 
 entirely different circle, and sprung from feelings and desires 
 quite different from those of his earlier writings. These works, 
 particularly the ' Letters from the Mountain,' are closely con- 
 nected with the democratic movement, which, shortly before and 
 during the North American war, took place in Switzerland and 
 England, and afterwards extended to France. We must there- 
 fore in the following period return especially to these ^ Letters 
 from the Mountain.' 
 
 DIDEROT. 
 
 Diderot unquestionably belongs to the number of those men 
 who have exhibited the most singular contrasts in their lives, as 
 well as in their character ; he must, therefore, by no means be 
 confounded with such men as Marmontel, Duclos, Grimm, and 
 other parasites and flatterers of the ladies and noble lords and 
 gentlemen of those times, in which enlightenment was the fashion 
 in the great w^orld, as darkness now is. If we accurately com-
 
 §V.] DIDEROT. 315 
 
 pare the report which he and his friends have given of his hfe 
 and behaviourj with the evil which his enemies afterwards spoke 
 of him*, we come to this result as our conclusion, tliat he was a 
 well-disposed and benevolent man, that he possessed good and 
 solid learning, and that in Paris he combined the life of a licen- 
 tious man, striving after mere enjoyment, with the independence 
 of a savage. With his good-heartedness and truly noble feeling 
 he united a contempt for all traditionary morality which was 
 consecrated by custom; but this contempt originated, in his 
 mind, from that immoderate and exaggerated repugnance to all 
 fetters upon the spirit of man, which is apt to take possession of 
 a noble mind when it has reached the full inward conviction 
 that it has been long held in leading-strings and deceived. This 
 remark applies particularly to the earlier period of his life, for 
 afterwards he turned what had originally sprung from a feeling 
 of repugnance into a finance speculation ; and at this time he 
 became even as great a fanatic for the promotion of his philo- 
 sophy of life, as Rousseau was for his, or a Trappist for the very 
 reverse. 
 
 We are about to speak here only of his revolutionary in- 
 fluences, and have premised the foregoing observation in order 
 to show that our object is, when occasion demands it, rather to 
 blame with severity the principles and morality of the age than 
 to attack the persons and behaviour of individuals : we shall 
 follow the chronological order of his writings. We must how- 
 ever give precedence to a few^ remarks upon his theory of the 
 drama, in order to complete w^hat has been previously said of 
 the transition of the French drama to sentimentality. The in- 
 fluence which Diderot secured for himself as a dramatist, and 
 his efforts as a dramatical poet, seem to us, both in their good 
 and their evil, perfectly to agree with his philosophical and moral 
 tendencies. He shows himself eager always to take under his 
 protection the prose of life, in opposition to the creative soaring 
 of the mind — the weak feelings and morality of the heart in 
 opposition to severe Christian training, in opposition to the doc- 
 trine of the sinfulness of the natural man, and to penances and 
 contrition imposed upon Christians. 
 
 Diderot was a child and organ of his age, as the numerous retro- 
 grading alarmists, pietists, ghost-seers, and men of an irrefutable 
 
 * See London Quarterly Review, No. 94, July 1832.
 
 316 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 system are the children and organs of ours ; the alternating and 
 vacillating dominion of orthodox and heterodox systems, of faith 
 and of scepticism, proves nothing else than that the divine truth 
 which dwells in our hearts and is not learned in schools, is eternal 
 and unchangeable ; but that the folhes and wisdom of the learned 
 alternate like winter and summer. Laharpe is wrong when he 
 alleges, that Diderot made no material change in what La 
 Chaussee had invented, and that he falsely boasted of being the 
 inventor of a new species of drama, Mhile he only expressed 
 it by various names (drame serieux, drame honnete, tragedie 
 domestique). It was in itself no inconsiderable step to depart 
 altogether from the form of poetry which Voltaire and La Chaussee, 
 who made all the persons of their drama speak in verse, had 
 adopted ; by introducing his characters with prose in their mouths, 
 he brought the stage much nearer to common life. This, how- 
 ever, was only external. He effected a far more considerable 
 change, by making the affecting and the romantic parts of his 
 plot the chief point, and wholly banishing the comic element. 
 
 In this style, which was afterwards perfected in Germany, and, 
 through the instrumentality of Kotzebue, carried back to France, 
 Diderot wrote his ^Natural Son,' an intolerable piece of compo- 
 sition, Avhich was only twice performed ; and his ' Father of a 
 Family,' which had somcMhat better success : his main services, 
 however, in favour of this species of ^^Titing, were those which 
 he rendered by his treatises, although these were written by him 
 in the spirit of a rhetorician and a sophist. All his friends were 
 summoned to lend their aid in promoting the cause of the 
 drama, and however little they could do for a matter which was 
 plainly not national, they did not let him fall ; his treatises had 
 their chief influence among the domestic Germans, who were 
 disposed for their reception. These treatises arc indeed Avon- 
 derful enough, as in one, for example, Avithout any reference to 
 the existence of the more recent drama, he attempts to lay down 
 rules as to the way in which a commencement must be made to 
 invent new species, and prescribes the sort of sympathy Avhich 
 may and should be awakened. In this singular treatise he 
 dramatises the death of Socrates, and most absurdly presents us 
 with this drama at full length ; on the contrary, the greatest 
 man in the comic species, Aristophanes, is only in his eyes an 
 original farce- writer. The master-pieces of the oldest comedies 
 are regarded by him as mere political farces, such as are exhibited
 
 § v.] DIDEROT. 317 
 
 nowadays by vagrant mountebanks in our fairs, and he recom- 
 mends the government to profit by such people (for Aristopha- 
 neses, according to him, are easily to be had), in order to turn 
 their opponents into ridicule or expose them to contempt. This 
 treatise is, besides, written in that tedious manner, which the 
 Parisians endured in the case of Diderot to such an extent, that 
 he finally became an endless prattler. At the conclusion of a 
 tedious discourse, in which he recommends his ' Natural Son,^ 
 he does not fail to quote Aristotle, Horace and Boileau in his 
 favour, and finally appends a dialogue, entitled ' Dorval et moi,^ 
 in which he once more developes, investigates, explains and 
 recommends the new drama. 
 
 We have dwelt somev>hat longer than we should otherwise 
 have done upon Diderot's poor dramas, and still poorer drama- 
 turgy, not only because the existence of the German plays of 
 Jiinger, Kotzebue, and Mand are intimately connected with 
 them, but also from another reason, which bears upon the French 
 relations, of which we are treating. It appears to us, namely, a 
 very remarkable fact, that whilst all sorts of means were em- 
 ployed to destroy the old discipline of morality and of the church 
 in real life, by bitter scorn and blunt contempt, immoral novels and 
 offensive satire, the very same people who employed these means 
 for such a purpose should represent on the stage morality of feel- 
 ing and pastoral tenderness and sensibility. This applies not only 
 to Diderot, but still more to his two imitators, Beaumarchais and 
 Fabrice d'Eglantine, whose pieces are indisputably much better 
 than those of Diderot: we shall mention both in the second volume 
 as political writers. Whoever besides is disposed so to do, may 
 regard this as an evidence of the devil himself in favour of eternal 
 truth, that people, who in their conduct showed no trace of mo- 
 rality, who knew nothing of family life, and were only at home 
 in the theatre or their evening societies, who by means of novels, 
 satires, dictionaries, pamphlets, &c. banished all family enjoy- 
 ment — all peaceful contentment and religious restrictions from 
 the minds of men and their conversation, exhibited it for appear- 
 ance sake on the stage. 
 
 In reference to the whole scope of Diderot's influence, and to 
 his share in the works of the exclusive philosophers of the 
 eighteenth century, we shall altogether pass over his early 
 writings ; and we do this with so much the better reason, as, 
 when more closely considered, they were only written on com-
 
 318 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 mission for the bookseller. Diderot made his first proper com- 
 mencement of bold writing in the spirit of the mighty opposition 
 against the generaloppression which had begun to be active (1745), 
 under the shield of an Englishman. He translated, or rather 
 he worked up in his own fashion, Shaftesbury's ' Enquiry upon 
 Virtue and Merit.' The translation was indeed still bolder and 
 more vehement than the original ; still Diderot then wrote with a 
 degree of caution and circumspection, which was quite unknown 
 to him six years afterwards ; for in this treatise he not only 
 abuses Tindal and Toland*, but in spite of all the ecclesiastics 
 of different churches, he tries also to defend Shaftesbury's ortho- 
 doxy. His translation of Stanley's 'History of Philosophy' 
 does not fall within our view ; six years afterwards he first began 
 his desolating war with all that was most certainly handed down 
 by tradition and most faithfully believed. 
 
 Diderot's new and totally different form of instructing and 
 entertaining the public was probably determined by the altera- 
 tion of the general tone which by degrees took place, and by 
 seeing that Rousseau's bold prize-essays, Voltaire's English 
 letters, Montesquieu, and the bold scoffers, whose Avritings 
 were smuggled into France from Holland as contraband wares, 
 had produced their effect. Diderot's first writings are very 
 different from the prattling and audacious manner of his later 
 ones; they are written in a much closer and more logical style. 
 He began his new philosophical career with his ' Pensees Philo- 
 sophiques.' These seventy-three propositions, which have no 
 apparent connexion with one another, have nevertheless a com- 
 mon design in their contents. It is immediately apparent from 
 their superscription that they are intended to be placed in oppo- 
 sition to the celebrated ' Thoughts of Pascal.' Pascal, by means 
 of a series of sceptical propositions hoped to establish the neces- 
 sity of a revealed truth ; Diderot, on the contrary, by the very 
 same method, trusted to make the public perceive that this 
 same revelation must be infallibly erroneous and untrue. 
 
 The first of these propositions only bears upon philosophy and 
 
 * Diderot quotes one of those passages in which Shaftesbury, according to 
 his manner, assumes the appearance of a beUever in the midst of his scepti- 
 cism, and adds : " Je ne congais pas comment, apres dcs protestations aussi 
 solemnellcs d'une enticre soumission de coeur ct d'esprit aux mysteres sacrcs 
 de sa religion, il s'est trouve quelqu'un assez injustc pour compter My Lord 
 Shaftesbury au nombrc des Asgils, des Tindals, et dcsTolands, gens aussi decries 
 dans leur egUse en qualite dc Chretiens, que dans la republique dcs lettres ea 
 qualite d'auteurs j mauvais protcstans et raiscrables ecrivains."
 
 § v.] DIDEROT. 319 
 
 scepticism in general ; the last are openly directed against Chris- 
 tianity, and against the philosophical proofs svhich Pascal had con- 
 trived in favour of revelation. In the first propositions the use and 
 value of the passions are proved in such a manner, as that it must 
 be admitted they are altogether necessary, and consequently that 
 those theologians are -wholly irrational who maintain that the most 
 perfect virtue and the perfection of morality consist in the utter 
 extinction of the passions. The cruel justice of the parliament in 
 matters of rehgion is sharply censured, without the parliament 
 being named; and on this occasion those who have a fear of God, 
 which may be more properly called terror, and who are now again 
 loud in their expressions of it among us, are admirably character- 
 ized*. In the twelfth proposition, Diderot proves, in favour of 
 his own mode of thinking, that God, according to his ^dew of the 
 Divine Being, would rather see the spread of atheism than of su- 
 perstition ; and here he entrenches himself very skilfully behind 
 the words of Plutarch. In the fourteenth proposition he seeks 
 to make it clear, that Pascal and he in reality travelled precisely 
 on the same path, and that he only opposed his sceptical dialectics 
 to the orthodox logic of that profound thinker, because the latter 
 had not had confidence to follow out the discovered truth to the 
 full extent to which it must necessarily have led him, — that 
 Pascal, as the instrument of the Jansenists, had never ventured 
 to stand on his own feet, but allowed himself to be used merely 
 as their toolf. 
 
 In a series of very acute propositions herejects,it is true, positive 
 atheism; but he shows with the same acuteness that the system of 
 the schools cannot possibly stand against a bold and deep-search- 
 ing scepticism ; and supported by this general scepticism, he pro- 
 ceeds with all the energy and power which he can summon to his 
 
 * The sentence runs thus, — " II y a des gens, dont il ne faut pas dire, qu'ils 
 craignent Dieu ; mais bien qu'ils en ont peur." 
 
 f Without confning ourselves to the words, we shall here give the substance 
 of tlie fourteenth paragraph : — " Pascal," he says, "was honest and upright, but 
 he was timid and credulous. He was an admirable writer, a deep thinker ; he 
 would have become a light of the world, had not Providence given him into the 
 hands of people who used his talents to satisfy their hate. It had been greatly 
 to be desired that he had left it to the theologians of his age to arrange their quar- 
 rels among themselves, and had devoted himself to the inquiry after truth ; 
 he ought to have followed his own way without fear of insulting God, by using 
 the talents conferred upon him without regard to results, and especially ought 
 not to have acknowledged persons as his masters who were not fit to be his 
 scholars. It might be said of him what La Motte said of La Fontaine : " he 
 had been simple enough to believe that Arnauid, De Sacy, and Nicole, were 
 better than he was."
 
 320 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 aid, in those propositions which follow the twenty- fourth, and with 
 the keenest logic, to overthrow or weaken the traditionary proofs 
 for the truth of the Christian religion. He does not indeed quote, 
 but he makes an admirably ingenious use of the writings of Julian 
 in his twenty-third paragraph, and still more afterwards, which 
 arguments he applies after his own peculiar manner. He after- 
 wards controverts, in a very able manner, the doctrine of miracles 
 and the proof of the truth of any system which was introduced 
 by miracles, without mentioning Christianity in particular. The 
 acuteness, the clearness, and the oftentimes startling truth* of this 
 acute and able paragraph are very advantageously distinguished 
 fi'om Diderot's later atheistical prattling ; moreover, the delicacy 
 and forbearance which politeness demands are nowhere wanting. 
 
 The second treatise in this new manner of bolder polemics 
 first appeared three years later (1749), and in this he announces 
 with great boldness and in more definite terms, a positive system 
 in opposition to that which then prevailed. The title of the 
 treatise is, ' Letters of a Blind Man for the Benefit of those who 
 see.' In this letter we first meet with traces of his fanaticism in 
 favour of infidelity, and of the eloquence which was the result 
 of that enthusiasm ; he still, however, abstains from the foolish 
 declaration of the non-existence of God and of gross materialism. 
 In the spirit of his philosophy, which was altogether directed 
 towards external things, and which was inimical to an inward 
 world given only in our thoughts and fancy, he apparently pro- 
 ceeds with a view to bring back the sense of vision, which stands 
 nearer than other senses to inward perception, to the more bo- 
 dily sense of touch, and for that purpose he makes use of New- 
 ton's ^ Theory of Colours, Refraction,' &c. In this way he comes 
 then to the celebrated Saunderson, who was blind, and yet taught 
 optics in Cambridge, and avails himself of the example in a very 
 masterly manner to controvert the proof of the schools in favour 
 of the existence of a God. 
 
 In order to show that he calls the condition of the middle 
 ages and the faith of his time, which Avas maintained by the po- 
 lice, blindness — and the philosophy announced by himself and 
 his friends, seeing — he has recourse to a somewhat too enigmati- 
 cal and figurative form of language : — " If," he says, " a man, 
 who had enjoyed the power of vision for some days, or even for 
 
 * Pensee 56. " L'exemple, les prodiges, et Tautorite peuvent faire des dupes 
 ou des hypocrites. La raison seule fait des croyaos."
 
 § v.] DIDEROT. 321 
 
 a single one, should return to a people consisting -wholly of 
 blind men, he must keep a strict silence amongst them, if he 
 did not wish to be regarded as altogether insane. If he spoke, 
 he would announce to such a people every day a new mystery, 
 which was only a mystery to the blind, and which those among 
 them, who boasted of having a little more insight than the rest, 
 would certainly not believe. . . . This supposed case," he continues, 
 " may explain to us the history and the persecution of people 
 who may have had the misfortune accidentally to discover a 
 truth in dark times, and been imprudent enough to communi- 
 cate their discoveries to their blind contemporaries." 
 
 The species of persecution, which was inflicted upon Diderot 
 on account of this treatise, as well as that which was afterwards 
 directed against Rousseau and a number of other persons who 
 were insignificant, appeared expressly calculated to rouse the 
 attention of the people and to make them observant of the most 
 unimportant manifestations. The police, the clergy, and the par- 
 liaments, by means of their powerless persecution, gave an im- 
 portance which they would never otherwise have attained to 
 those persons, who, sometimes with extraordinary talents, 
 preached dangerous principles, and promoted to an incredible 
 extent the circulation of their forbidden books, by making them 
 the objects of a much more zealous curiosity. The men became 
 apostles and martp's ; and their theories, which were in them- 
 selves often dry and tasteless, gained the reputation of oppressed 
 and secret wisdom. Arrest and imprisonment were the sure 
 path to fame ; because this means of giving celebrity had not then 
 lost its value by its frequency and repetition, as it has done in 
 our days ; and nothing, therefore, could by possibility be more 
 acceptable to a man like Diderot, than to be seized upon and 
 sent to Vincennes as the author of the ' Pensees.' 
 
 He no sooner recovered his freedom, after a confinement of 
 three months and a half, through the interposition and efforts of 
 his numerous friends, or rather through the continually growing 
 opposition to the prevailing system, which in its nature was alto- 
 gether untenable, than he projected the plan of the great Ency- 
 clopaedia. The object of this publication, and the hope of its 
 founders and conductors, were to prepare and circulate among 
 all classes and conditions of men, new modes of thinking in 
 all possible departments, which should be directly opposed to 
 all that was traditionary, and, at the same time, to secure an 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 ample remuneration to those poor men of learning, who were of 
 the same opinions with its projectors. The conduct of the whole 
 undertaking was left in the hands of Diderot ; and this French 
 dictionary of all the practical and real sciences, arts, commerce, 
 and handicraft, was announced with as great formalities and 
 noise — was commenced, and its praises trumpeted forth with as 
 much speculative ingenuity, as Basedow's elementary work after- 
 wards was in Germany. The work was printed at great expense, 
 one while prohibited by the government, and again the prohibition 
 recalled. We shall have occasion hereafter to return to the work 
 and to speak of it at length, when we come to refer to D'Alem- 
 bert's introduction to this practical dictionary, which is a master- 
 piece of style, language, oratory, logic and sophistry. 
 
 The prospectus of the ' Dictionnaire Universel et Raisonne 
 des Connaissances Humaines,' the first two volumes of which ap- 
 peared in 1751, was the work of Diderot, and must in no re- 
 spect be confounded with D'Alembert's introduction. D'Alem- 
 bert's introduction is distinguished by logical and mathematical 
 acuteness and conciseness ; these are altogether wanting in Dide- 
 rot's prospectus ; and in this rhetorical specimen, M'hich was in- 
 corporated in the great work, he already shows himself to be 
 vaunting, presumptuous and loquacious. Besides the general 
 superintendence and editing of the work, Diderot also undertook 
 the articles upon the arts and commerce, and, in connexion with 
 D'Alembert, wished to examine and oversee the articles deli- 
 vered by the other contributors ; he also undertook the articles 
 upon the most ancient philosophy, probably because he had 
 translated Stanley. 
 
 Under the very first letters of the alphabet Diderot attacked 
 and calumniated all those who could not resolve to adopt a com- 
 fortless and heartless infidelity, in exchange for a dangerous su- 
 perstition, or perhaps a simple faith, which, however, had con- 
 soled and blessed thousands of men. Under the article 'Ame' 
 (soul), there is a development and defence of the mournful ma- 
 teralism of that dissolute society of men of genius, who shone in 
 the Parisian saloons, and of which Diderot was the orator or 
 prattler. In the article upon ' Intolerance,' the defender of for- 
 bearance with every sort of scepticism, and consequently of every 
 kind of faith and superstition, allows himself to indulge in more 
 unbecoming and unworthy language against Christianity, the 
 spirit and moral effect of which folly or malice alone can disallow.
 
 § v.] DIDEROT. 323 
 
 than anyone of those whom he ridicules or blames as hypocrites 
 or zealots has ever allowed himself to indulge against those who 
 do not express their opinions precisely according to the tenour 
 of their catechisms : by this means he seriously damaged his 
 own cause, of which even his friends were very sensible. 
 
 From this moment forward the ^ Dictionnaire UniverseP had 
 rather a curious fate; for even D'Alembert presently with- 
 drew from itj and Diderot, supported by Voltaire, who alone 
 was as fanatical as himself, struggled against his government, 
 against all moderation and caution, against his publisher and the 
 public, in a most foolish manner. We cannot, however, avoid 
 admiring his perseverance and his zeal, to whatever degree we 
 may find it necessary to blame the nature and objects of his ac- 
 tivity. The management of the work was attended with great 
 and uncommon difficulties. The government at first prohibited 
 it ; then, beset on all sides, withdrew its prohibition. The mo- 
 derate portion of the public altogether withdrew from its sup- 
 port, or loudly complained against its tendencies. The editor at 
 length quarrelled with the publisher, who subjected the proofs 
 to a last revision, in order at least to moderate the most virulent 
 outbreaks. The advantage of the work bore no relation to the 
 labour and vexation which it caused ; and however great Dide- 
 rot's facilities both in speaking and writing confessedly were, 
 he was unable himself successfully to superintend the manage- 
 ment ; he was therefore obliged to employ literary manufacturers, 
 and the work consequently fell to the level of other manufac- 
 tured literary wares. 
 
 In the following volume we must once again return to Dide- 
 rot, but at present we believe that we have said enough of his 
 activity in this period, and pass on therefore to those other cele- 
 brated writers who came forward, in opposition to all those opi- 
 nions which belonged merely to faith or to tradition. We cannot 
 mention all those, who are now scoffingly, but who were for- 
 merly with honour, called philosophers in France, by way of 
 pre-eminence ; we shall, however, refer to the so-called ^ System 
 of Nature,' which was a product of the Holbach saloons, ^ Hel- 
 vetius on Mind,' and some of the writings of D'Alembert, and 
 reserve the remainder for the following volume. We shall there 
 treat, when speaking of the dominion of the new philosophy and 
 of its ultimate victory, of Diderot's travels and novels, of Bufibn 
 and Raynal, of Marmontel, his sentimentality and immoral mo- 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 FRANCE. [CUA-P. IV. 
 
 rality^ of Grimm, and some other members of the society which 
 assembled at Holbach's, of the pohtical economists, and among 
 them especially of Turgot ; and we shall at the same time name 
 a number of other men who brought among the people the the- 
 ories of the courtiers, whose parasites they were, the system of 
 selfishness, or who, like Beaumarchais and Wilkes, for example, 
 before and during the North American war, fought against the 
 ruling classes, their creatures and their sophists, with their own 
 weapons of wickedness. 
 
 With respect to Diderot, we have omitted to mention that 
 Frederick the Second forsook him as early as 1773; but that 
 Catharine the Second, who had much more need of such a Eu- 
 ropean Stentor to defend her reputation, and must pay him bet- 
 ter than was needful for Frederick the Second to do, purchased 
 his library from him, left it in his hands, gave him a yearly pen- 
 sion, and for many years paid it in advance, &c. Madame du 
 Deffant and Madame Geoffi-in had at that time shut their 
 doors against Diderot, and D'Alembert had altogether with- 
 drawn from him. 
 
 §yi. 
 
 SYSTEM OF NATURE — HELVETIUS ON MIND. 
 
 The society of dissolute Epicureans who for many successive 
 years met in the house of Holbach, contributed to make this 
 Baron, who was a native of the Palatinate, as celebrated in the 
 history of the theory of sensuality, which emanated from Paris, 
 as the Prussian Baron Cloots became in the time of the revo- 
 lution, through the madness of his blasphemies and the nonsense 
 of his general republic. Both were very rich, and Holbach 
 at least had an admirable cook ; it was very easy for him, as 
 a man of talents and wit, to bring together in his house a so- 
 ciety of friends whose modes of thinking and tastes for pleasure 
 were similar to his own. This society entered into a formal bond 
 against traditionary doctrines and the existing system, and its 
 members were as fanatical in favour of infidelity, as monks 
 and priests, Jesuits and pietists, methodists and missionaries, 
 are accustomed to be, in favour of a mechanical Morship and 
 a literal faith. The members of this society were Diderot, 
 Duclos, Helvetius, Marmontel, Grimm, Laharpe, Condorcet,
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 325 
 
 Raynal and Morellet ; these were regarded as its luminaries, 
 and were especially named in public as its defenders. The the- 
 ories which they proposed to make known, were formally de- 
 bated in this assembly as in a congress, together with the books 
 which were intended to be published, and Holbach not only 
 aided in the preparation of the Avorks, but furnished the money 
 for their printing. The number of writings which were brought 
 before the public by the instrumentality of this society was so 
 great, that Barbier, who published a ^ Dictionary of Anonymous 
 and Pseudonymous Writers,' has enumerated not less than 
 forty-seven books, which had been attributed to Holbach. We 
 select from this great number of works, prepared by the mem- 
 bers of this Holbach club, the boldest and the most spoken 
 against, the so-called ^ System of Nature' (Systeme de la Nature, 
 ou des Lois du Monde Physique et Moral), not with a view to 
 go minutely through or examine its contents, but to show that 
 the revolution is quite wrongfully accused of having annihilated 
 a system, which had ceased to exist long before the revolution 
 was thought of. We shall not venture a step into the literary 
 disputes about the author of this disputable work; we know 
 that if some allege that Holbach and Diderot were its joint authors, 
 others attribute it to quite a different source, and it is enough 
 for us that this dry production of an unholy mind and fancy- 
 killing doctrine was brought into circulation by Holbach and 
 his friends. 
 
 The book first appeared in two volumes in 1770, but we pre- 
 fer bringing it immediately forward in this place, and wish ra- 
 ther to speak of all the system-mongers of this school, which is 
 now so heartily abhorred and condemned by the French roman- 
 tic writers and doctrinaires as well as by our new school of 
 pietists and ghost-seers, than to come back to them again in the 
 following volume. The work itself was indebted for its circula- 
 tion merely to the spirit of contradiction, and to the charm 
 which every thing secret and forbidden has for the great multi- 
 tude ; because it is in other respects written in a weak manner 
 and in a bad style. This ' System of Nature,' in truth, merely 
 exhibits in a formal theory those loose principles and maxims, 
 which have been recognised and passed current in rich, fashion- 
 able and clever circles of men of pleasure, since the world be- 
 gan. It is easily perceived that the prudent people who laughed 
 at all the world, must therein have been made ridiculous : for
 
 326 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 what the world universally pursues, what every man also in our 
 times regards as obscure and yet practises in life, he seeks, as is 
 well known, to cover most carefully with the mantle of sophistry, 
 and cries aloud if it is boldly spoken out in wine-houses or in the 
 societies of distinguished or vulgar profligates ; it is, therefore, 
 ill-suited to be a system, and is destroyed even by the form. 
 
 In this book, which bears witness against itself, not only 
 ideality and spirituality, which, however, in conscience and 
 in history have as much in their favour as the phaenomena of 
 the outward world, are altogether denied ; and all that which 
 since the creation of the world has been indicated under the very 
 comprehensive name of divine, is treated as a complete decep- 
 tion : but a species of mechanism is set up in opposition to 
 some of the systems of physico-theology and teleology, which 
 are often ridiculous enough, which is even more irrational than 
 they are. Nature is a machine ; morality a prejudice, custom, 
 or instinct. Even Voltaire's sound understanding led him 
 to oppose this abuse of his own kind of scepticism and of his 
 description of satire. In the very passages, however, in which 
 he contends earnestly against the principle inculcated, he con- 
 firms what M'e shall fully establish in the following volume, that 
 this book found a very numerous class of readers and met with 
 a most favourable reception in bigoted France, which was kept as' 
 it were in a state of nonage by means of a despotic police. 
 
 In his ^ Philosophical Dictionary,' under the article ^ Style,' 
 Voltaire has conspicuously brought into notice, in strong colours 
 and in a bitter spirit, the deficiencies of form in this code of sen- 
 suality and enjoyment ; and in the article ' God,' has very ably 
 shown how utterly absurd it is, as has been done in this book, 
 to attempt to deny the existence of a God. He disputes also 
 the reasons which have been brought forward in disproof of that 
 existence ; but only, indeed, in order to promote his own views 
 of that indifference, which prefers remaining in a condition of 
 absolute doubt. In general, obscurity and confusion reign 
 through the whole, and the same sentences and propositions are 
 repeated even to loathing ; particular passages, on the contrary, 
 are written in a clear and lively manner, and there arc occasional 
 bursts even of eloquence. The King of Prussia, by his refuta- 
 tion of the work, which was much read in these singular times 
 even by ladies who made pretensions to education, contributed 
 largely to give it much more importance than it deserved. We
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 327 
 
 shall choose only a few passages as they present themselves, in 
 order to show in Mhat way such authors sought to give some 
 appearance of philosophy to their paradoxes. 
 
 The authors, for example, allege, that we can just as little 
 form any clear and definite notions in relation to the moral or 
 physical world from the word order or disorder, as from the 
 common definition of dead and animate matter, inert and living 
 materials and elements. Experience teaches, so these gentlemen 
 think, that those materials which we call inert and dead, possess 
 activity, motion, life, eyes, and even consciousness, when they 
 are united in a certain way among themselves, or with other 
 materials. This proposition is then laid down as a foundation, 
 in order to prove the eternity of matter. This matter, an abs- 
 tract thing, of which at last indeed we neither have nor obtain 
 any idea, because we always contemplate it in some particular 
 form, is to be regarded as something eternal and necessaiy, of 
 which the forms only are fleeting and accidental. 
 
 These propositions just quoted, as will be obvious, annihilate 
 the notion of a divine arrangement of the world, or Providence 
 and an inward life ; we shall add the proposition from which the 
 authors deduce the nothingness of the moral order of human 
 life, and the falsity of the adoption of any principles of morality. 
 " If" it runs, " man, according to his nature, is necessitated to 
 love his own well-being, he is also necessitated to search out 
 and apply all those means which can contribute to promote his 
 comfort and well-being. It is therefore absurd to expect, that a 
 man should love virtue, when this would make him unhappy ; 
 and as soon as he feels that sin would make him happy, then he 
 must love sin." 
 
 We are far from alleging that Diderot, Holbach, or the circle 
 of dissolute men of genius and idlers, who passed the summer 
 upon the latter's estate at Grandval, spent or regulated their 
 lives according to those principles, or that, in their presumption, 
 they ever thought what deadly poison they were sending into cir- 
 culation ; but this species of writing is far more comprehensible 
 among such people as these, than the course which Helvetius 
 pursued. It is easy to conceive, that a Parisian circle of pleasure- 
 seeking and clever brothers and sisters, who rejoiced in every 
 species of sensual enjoyment, might bring half a hundred of 
 such books into circulation; because we ourselves, in Germany, 
 where no Holbach promotes such writing by his money, have no
 
 328 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 want of such publications : but it is a melancholy sign of those 
 times, that a man, such as Helvetius, should seek and find the 
 satisfaction of his love of glory and of his vanity, in the compo- 
 sition of a svstem of selfishness. 
 
 In order in some measure to explain and excuse the last-men- 
 tioned factj we must suppose that it had come to be regarded 
 as an honour, in the midst of generally reigning servility, to 
 give evidence of free-thinking; under the reign of a general 
 spirit of slavery, to assert freedom ; and in a condition of almost 
 universal hypocrisy, to exhibit open contempt, and to oppose 
 scorn and contempt to a system which was forcibly sustained 
 by police and cruel tribunals, by institutions of education, 
 government and clergy, by blockheads and cunning sophists, 
 Helvetius, therefore, as a man of the world, pursued that course 
 which led to worldly reputation, and it will excite less surprise 
 that he gained this by means of his dry and comfortless book 
 upon ' Spirit,' when we know a little more accurately his per- 
 sonal connexions, his wealth, his expenditure, and the hospi- 
 tality which he exercised towards foreign princes and nobility. 
 
 The Avork upon ' Spirit' has long since disappeared; but 
 in consequence of the connexions of the author, it will always 
 have an historical value, and it acquires a double importance from 
 the fact that Madame du Defiant is said to have recognised 
 its theory as the principles upon which the great world pro- 
 ceeded, although they Avere unwilling to announce them. It 
 is said that Madame du Defiant stated, that this work betrayed 
 everybody's secret; it is therefore worth while to learn who 
 this everybody could be, whose secrets were betrayed by a 
 printed system of egotism. By a singular accident Helvetius 
 came to the possession of his more than princely wealth by 
 means of Queen Maria Leszinsky, whose respect for the Jesuits 
 amounted almost to reverence, and whose superstition almost to 
 nonsense. When he was only twenty-three years of age, he re- 
 ceived a share in the general farming of the taxes, which brought 
 him in a yearly income of above a hundred thousand French 
 crowns. From that time he became, as the farmers-general 
 usually were, the friend, host and confidant of the high nobility 
 of Europe. Helvetius divided his time among journeys of in- 
 spection, visits to great, or, more properly speaking, celebrated 
 men, amours of every kind and description, entertaining and 
 clever conversation and intercourse in all the Parisian saloons
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 329 
 
 mentioned elsewhere, and society with the actresses, opera singers, 
 and the geniuses of power of his age, and with the fashionable 
 European world, whose place of assembly was in his house. 
 
 We point out these connexions of the author as his justifica- 
 tion ; because it will be seen that he never became acquainted 
 with the classes of men, whose occupations, education and posi- 
 tion kept them apart from the egotism of the rich, by whom 
 they were regarded with deep contempt, and which obliged 
 them to live for others. Besides he was what the world calls a 
 good man ; he distributed pensions, he supported poor scholars, 
 was a beneficent landowner, and behaved well to his peasants, 
 except in the case of offences against the game laws, which he 
 prosecuted with such severity that he was often in danger of his 
 life ; with respect to which we must, however, remark, that the 
 poisonous letters on that subject in the collection of unprinted 
 writings and letters of Diderot, which has first been published 
 in our times, must be used with caution. Helvetius was well 
 known in all Europe, and especially by the princes, because he 
 kept an open and princely house for their reception, in Paris 
 in the winter, and in summer in the country ; and when his work 
 appeared, the contents of which we shall explain below, it was 
 received, as may be proved by documents, by all the great world 
 in Europe with approbation, and their admiration was loudly 
 expressed, that he had so admirably reduced to a system what 
 they all thought. 
 
 If proof were required, we might bring forward all the Ger- 
 man princes M'ho made any pretensions to mental improvement, 
 the Russian nobles and their empress Catharine, the Prussians 
 celebrated in war, the Duke of Brunswick and Prince Henry; 
 and also the Queen of Sweden. If any one, in our devotional 
 and solid philosophical times, should express or feel surprise 
 that we attribute so great importance to such a man as Helve- 
 tius, to such a person we Avould remark, that Italy also united 
 in the general strain of commendation, that two translations 
 were published at the same time in Germany, and that Gott- 
 sched took the greatest pains to trumpet forth the praises of the 
 work. The book was only sought on account of its contents, 
 for its style is uncommonly dry ; and yet the author on account 
 of it was sought out and gazed at as a miracle, when he was in 
 Paris in winter, by the princes and high nobility who swarmed 
 in the French capital. 
 
 Frederick the Second made an exception ; he disapproved of
 
 330 FRANCE. [chap. IV, 
 
 the book, because he saw M'ell, that this wisdom which was set 
 forth for him and such as he was, must destroy itself, as soon as 
 it ceased to be the secret of an exclusive society ; he however 
 promoted the influence of the work by his reception of its 
 author. As is well known, he caused Helvetius to be invited to 
 Berlin, and not merely as an author, but as an oracle of the op- 
 pressive French regime, allotted him apartments in his palace, 
 and treated him as an honoured guest. It will readily be be- 
 heved, that all the German princes who favoured the French 
 manners and mental culture, followed this example. Among 
 these the Duke of Gotha did every thing possible to prove 
 that he had not a Grimm in Paris in vain. Even George the 
 Third, Avho probably knew nothing of the contents of the work, 
 unless he may have read something of it in the newspapers, was 
 induced particularly to distinguish the celebrated author during 
 his sojourn in England. 
 
 In our notice of this work, we shall very shortly present, what 
 the fashionable and the rich, probably always in secret, whilst 
 they publicly professed quite dilEferent principles, regarded as 
 the true Gospel; for we cannot by any means overlook the 
 work. 
 
 Helvetius starts from a principle which he does not think it 
 necessary to prove, but assumes as an axiom, that all our ideas 
 are derived from the senses, and from impressions upon the 
 senses retained in the mind, or what he calls exclusively me- 
 mory * ; hence he concludes, that what we name mind is nothing 
 else than a power of perceiving the connexions and relations 
 which these notions, impressed through the senses, have with 
 and to one another and our whole personality f. Every judge- 
 ment formed by the understanding, therefore, is, according to 
 him, only a perception of various relations, and the action of the 
 judgement is called by him a compound feeling. Error there- 
 fore only s})rings from passion or ignorance, or the abuse of 
 certain words. As judgement with him is nothing else than a 
 particular species of feeling, namely, that of the agreement or 
 disagreement of two impressions, it is disturbed by passion, in 
 
 * " Je me rappelle Timage d'un chene, alors mes organes interieurs doivent 
 necessairement se trouver dans la situation oi\ iis etaient a la vue de ce chene ; 
 or cette situation des organes doit incontcstablement produire une sensation ; 
 il est done evident que se ressouvenir c'est sentir." 
 
 \ " Toutes les operations de I'csprit consistent d'appercevoir Ics ressemblanccs 
 ou differences, les convenances ou les disconvenances des objets divers. Cette 
 capacite n'est que la sensibilite physique meme ; tout sereduit done a sentir."
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 331 
 
 as far as passion only presses forward one side of the subject, 
 and prevents the other from being conceived, either in whole or 
 in part. Ignorance leads to error, because the ignorant man is 
 unable to recal by memory all the feelings or impressions which 
 are necessary to the comparison. 
 
 In this manner Helvetius proceeds ; as he is sensible, however, 
 that his readers especially will be very easily wearied with this spe- 
 cies of dry theorising, he departs from time to time altogether from 
 his method and matter. As in other places he mixes up anec- 
 dotes of all kinds with his subject, such as one would seek for 
 at most in a Vade-mecum of wit, or would relate in a social party, 
 he here inserts a long article upon luxury, and then returns to 
 the disturbance of a sound judgement by the abuse of words. 
 It will be readily supposed, that in a theory from which identity 
 and contemplation have wholly disappeared, the discourse must 
 turn especially upon such subjects as matter, space, eternal, &c. 
 
 Materialism leads him naturally to the subject of self-love ; 
 and in establishing the notion of this feeling he declares, that 
 Rochefoucault was entirely in the right when he laid down the 
 principle in his celebrated ' Maxims,' that this feeling is the only 
 motive of human action. In full agreement with this notion, 
 the idea of moral freedom is altogether denied ; because Helve- 
 tius, as he says, can make nothing of all that Mallebranche has 
 said upon the subject of moral freedom, and acknowledges only 
 physical freedom. The dryness of the materials is here again 
 enlivened by anecdotes and narratives, which form a very extra- 
 ordinary contrast with the rest of the work. 
 
 The whole so-called first part of the book is devoted to theo- 
 retical paradoxes, and the moral or practical matter first appears 
 in the second part, to which the preceding is to be regarded as 
 a foundation. And here we immediately find the riddle of the 
 applause bestowed by the polite and fashionable world resolved ; 
 the author as a philosopher ventures to proclaim what a fashion- 
 able man of our days, with all his undervaluing and contempt of 
 every thing except that which was the mode in the saloons, 
 would only venture softly to whisper in the ear of his nearest 
 neighbour. He places the manner of living in metropolitan 
 cities — the acquaintance with all their loose arts — upon an equal 
 footing with true science and art. Ninon de FEnclos and Ari- 
 stotle are, according to him, equally great and worthy of admi- 
 ration. The possibility of such a notion is immediately learned
 
 332 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 from the first sentence of the second discourse ; for it will be 
 seen, that he only needs to give a definition of that singular 
 thing which the French call esprit, suitable to his previously 
 assumed theoretical principles, in order to give it a place above 
 that wisdom and greatness of mind which can only be gained 
 by deep inward contemplation and study. Knowledge, accord- 
 ing to Helvetius's definition, is only the recollection of certain 
 facts and ideas propounded by others ; esprit, on the contrary, 
 is the combination of new ideas, in which it is of no conse- 
 quence, whether these be combined in favour of the public of 
 the licentious Ninon, or of the noble disciples of the serious 
 teacher of all human wisdom. 
 
 Had such a work been written, or intended only for the 
 schools and for books, it would scarcely have been worth men- 
 tion as suggesting materials for refutation, or as furnishing an 
 occasion for Mriting new books ; but it had its immediate in- 
 fluence and value in the great world, which rejoiced to find itself 
 here represented, and clung to this theory, as it had jjreviously 
 clung to blind faith, to Mhich it now begins anew to do homage. 
 We shall briefly point out the results to which this led. Helve- 
 tius, after having more accurately fixed and explained his singular 
 definitions of knowledge and esprit, continues in the following 
 popular language : — " Who will venture to deny, when he has 
 taken counsel of good morals, that there is as much capacity in 
 combining the most various things — that as many ideas are ex- 
 hibited in the attitudes, the dress, and the studied discourse of 
 a coquette, as are required for the discovery of a system of the 
 world, and that the actress Couvreux and the wanton Ninon de 
 I'Enclos have, each in and after her kind, quite as much mind 
 [esprit] as Aristotle and Solon }" This at least is quite incapable 
 of injury, and might serve to enliven or awaken conversation in 
 the saloons, but can only win a smile from any person of the 
 least reflection without exciting his contempt. But what fol- 
 lows is fearful : — 
 
 " Every individual judges persons or things according to the 
 agreeable or disagreeable impression which they make upon 
 him ; the public is nothing else than the aggregate of these indi- 
 viduals, and it judges according to the same impressions. Ac- 
 cordingly, what is called the uprightness of a private man, may 
 be nothing else than the custom of performing such actions 
 as are found to be permanently advantageous.'^ These general
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 333 
 
 principles are supported by a number of illustrations drawn 
 from experience, the correctness of which no one will doubt who 
 is acquainted with the esprit of those classes of men from among 
 w^hom Helvetius has collected his illustrations. Speaking of his 
 experience, he says, — "The ideas which we most willingly and 
 most easily adopt, are those which flatter our inclinations ; and 
 we decide according to the standard of our advantage, whether 
 we shall receive or reject the opinions of others." What he sub- 
 joins, was then no doubt true in his time, like the most of his 
 other illustrations from experience. " If," it runs, " a work has 
 once obtained renown, or a man celebrity, the one or the other 
 will be generally praised, without being more highly esteemed ; 
 for our applause in this case rests not upon our own feeling, but 
 upon a faith in the word of other persons. The various different 
 judgements pronounced by the most celebrated scholars upon 
 the most renowned master-pieces, prove that every one merely 
 esteems that the most which pleases him best, and that every 
 circle has withal its own standard." This is then applied to 
 morality. 
 
 " Virtue is nothing else than the custom of so directing our 
 actions, that they may be advantageous to the greatest number 
 of men ; and love for virtue is nothing else than the W'ish to pro- 
 mote in the highest degree the general good, which may be 
 unfavourable to particular circles." Upon this passage then 
 follow some admirable remarks upon the inward condition of a 
 weakly trained, or rather ill-trained, generation, which was in- 
 structed in every thing, but which possessed no solid or substan- 
 tial knowledge of anything : such that generation w'as, and such 
 the present now is. These remarks have nothing in common 
 with the system of egotism : they are immediately drawn from 
 experience, and correspond most fully with what Rousseau says^ 
 who starts from quite a different point. We should perhaps 
 literally translate these remarks with a view to our object, which 
 is to represent the intellectual intercourse-life of that time, we 
 shall however only bring forward a small portion of them. 
 
 "A philosopher," he observes, "who lives among people 
 wdio merely associate and entertain themselves with the trifles of 
 social intercourse, with ladies and so-called people of good 
 tone, will appear simple and ridiculous in such a society ; he 
 will become an object of scorn to the poorest punster, whose 
 miserable conceits pass for admirable specimens of wit. The
 
 334 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 applause bestowed upon certain jests, depends much less upon 
 wliether the originator of the jest is really witty or not, than 
 whether he takes care to ridicule and satirize those things which 
 are disagreeable to the society with whom he associates.^' A 
 chapter upon good tone contains, in like manner, some ad- 
 mirable observations, deduced from the experience of a noble- 
 man of the world, thoroughly skilled and initiated in all the per- 
 versity of this system ; from this some excuses may be made 
 for those who praise it. Those who lived in the world and were 
 thoroughly acquainted with its ways, found in the work many 
 pieces of experience and many truths which remained altogether 
 obscure to other readers, however clearly they are expounded. 
 In these very pieces he manifests a contempt for moral principle 
 which is not peculiar to him, but which in the great world was 
 regarded as a mark of genius. 
 
 In order to show, for example, that what is commonly called 
 the moral order of things is only another species of physical 
 order, he deduces from what he daily sees and hears that many 
 actions are regarded as crimes only from prejudice, and many 
 only as virtues from the force of public opinion. The observa- 
 tion is in many respects perfectly well-founded. From this it 
 appears how strong the dislike was at that time, even among 
 the highest classes and in the midst of all their demoralisation, 
 to the meanness and pitifulness of a degraded generation ; for 
 he alludes to their coalheaver's faith and slavish fidehty when, 
 after the mention of many virtues only sanctified by public 
 opinion, he alleges that the more such imaginary virtues are 
 prefen-ed to real ones, the more are morals destroyed and the 
 state becomes degraded. 
 
 On this occasion he delineates his monarchical age, such as we 
 have described it in the first division, but he names no one. 
 " Religious corruption (we naturally think of Louis XV., of Eliza- 
 beth of Russia, of Bavaria, and of the Palatinate) — religious cor- 
 rujition is for the most part the consequence of a love of pleasure ; 
 pobtical cornqHion the consequence of bad legislation and admi- 
 nistration of atfiiirs." " Moral theories," he aptly adds, " profit 
 ni)thing, for our modes of thinking and fechng are not thereby 
 determined, l)ut by natural impulses and by laws*. The legis- 
 
 • " Lc9 viccfl d'un pcupic sont. si j'ose ledirc. toujours cachds au fond de sa 
 h;g..ilnti..n c est \k qt.M faut fouillcr pour arrachcr la racinc productricc de scs 
 vices, —Diicourae II. chap, 15.
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 335 
 
 lator has only two means of improving morals : he must either 
 unite, in a skilful manner, what is advantageous to all, with the 
 private advantage of individuals, or he must promote and en- 
 courage development and cultivation of mind." What he says 
 with respect to the first, sounds harsh ; but M'hen more closely 
 considered, it must at least be regarded as the result of expe- 
 rience, if not of philosophy. 
 
 " Our own interest," says Helvetius, " is the only standard 
 according to which we measure the esteem or contempt which 
 we feel for the actions or notions of men, our whole life therefore 
 is absolutely dependent upon the direction which our passions 
 have received." He then goes through these passions one by 
 one, and shows, that where no passions exist, all activity dies ; 
 and also, that what he calls \drtue is an impossibility considered 
 apart from the existence of passions. This leads him to a point 
 to which above all others we must refer, because in this way it 
 will be clearly shown that the change which took place at the 
 close of the eighteenth century in the whole condition of society, 
 was not effected by accidental causes, but was the necessary 
 consequence of the excessive and vmjust claims of the ruling and 
 enjoying classes. Believers and unbelievers, idealists and realists, 
 aristocrats and democrats, Rousseau and Montesquieu, Voltaire 
 and Helvetius, Noailles and Condorcet, however different in 
 their opinions in other respects, all agree in this point, that the 
 existing condition of social order could not long continue : and 
 what shall we say if this condition, under a somewhat altered 
 form, is again recommended to the present generation by hire- 
 ling or deceived sophists ? 
 
 This leads us to the third discourse or division of the cele- 
 brated work upon * Mind,' in which a kind of theory of government 
 and legislation is proposed, after the example of Montesquieu 
 and Rousseau ; but considered fi'om a different point of view, 
 and founded upon very different principles from those which 
 they professed. Helvetius continues true to himself, or starts 
 here from frivolity and the love of pleasure, represents all those 
 forms of government and morals then existing in the states of 
 Europe, as altogether unsuitable, untenable, and irrational, and 
 leads his readers to the same goal to which Montesquieu with 
 his seriousness, and Rousseau with his fiery zeal for a condition 
 of nature, had conducted their readers. The eighteenth chapter 
 of the third part commences with a vehement and rhetorical de-
 
 336 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 claration directed against despotism and against ministerial 
 power, or what he calls the office of a vizier. iVfter this intro- 
 duction, like his predecessors, he describes the customs, laws and 
 morals of France, and consequently of all the continental states, 
 which were more or less like those of the military monarchy of 
 France, as ruinous and calculated to destroy all the bonds of 
 social union; whilst, on the contrary, he praises republican 
 institutions, and particularly those of the states of antiquity. 
 The protection, he alleges, which is extended to virtue in de- 
 spotic states, (and under this expression he comprehends, like 
 Montesquieu, all absolute monarchies) has a tendency, according 
 to the proofs already given, to prefer false virtues to true ones — 
 the most vigorous and able minds are oppressed, the w^eakest are 
 called fonvard and promoted. 
 
 A whole series of chapters (20 — 30) contain an uninterrupted, 
 well-sustained, and fine ironical description of the French man- 
 ner of Hfe, and of the French government. In the twenty- 
 second and twenty-third chapters it is proved, that only humble 
 talents and ajjparent virtues were rewarded in states organised as 
 tlie most of the European states then were ; whereas, on the con- 
 trary, true virtues and great abilities were necessarily discou- 
 raged. The republican states of antiquity alone, according to 
 the representation here given, as well as that given by Montes- 
 quieu and Rousseau, awakened and called into action great vir- 
 tues and talents, by the manner in which they were rewarded. 
 And in the twenty-ninth chapter the system of arbitrary go- 
 vernment practised in military monarchies is described in the 
 ^•cr^' darkest and most repulsive colours, as if the question had 
 only been about oriental despots, under which guise it had also 
 been treated by Montesquieu. 
 
 We may entirely pass over the fourth division of the work, 
 because it is not inmiediately connected with our object, although 
 it nulisj)utably contains many admirable observations, and con- 
 veys some very singular intelligence, drawn from the author's 
 experience and that of his friends, with respect to the nature and 
 usages of that world in which he was completely at home. In 
 this division he speaks, not scientifically, but in the language of 
 common life, about genius, imagination and fcehng— of what was 
 named iyrit in French society, and the different kinds of which 
 are indicated by his own words in the note *. The way in which 
 Esprit fort et esprit fin, bel esprit, esprit du siccic ct esprit juste."
 
 § VI.] HELVETIUS. 337 
 
 he treats education is similar to that in which he had previously 
 treated government and administration ; for he seeks to prove 
 that no system of education can properly be thought of in abso- 
 lute monarchies and wherever the minister of the day can do 
 M'hatsoever he pleases, because in these cases all instruction and 
 all education is then confined to mere preparation for business 
 or for court service. 
 
 As we have now brought conspicuously and unsparingly for- 
 ward the one side of the woi-k, which unveils to us the corruption 
 and immorality of the circle in which Helvetius lived, we must 
 not wholly overlook or forget the other side, M'hich furnishes 
 evidence of a genuine love of mankind in the midst of corruption, 
 of that intellectual movement which then animated all noble 
 minds, and of that enthusiasm for the progress of humanity 
 which inspired a generation which we, who are in the vale of 
 years, have, alas ! outlived. Blind faith and superstition, arbi- 
 trary^ dominion and the school systems of the learned, or rather 
 of the upholders of the opinions of the Byzantine and Roman 
 Churches, and of the iron power of military rule, are here stormed 
 in the manner in which Danton and his contemporaries after- 
 wards violently and utterly overthrew them. We can easily 
 prove from his second work, that in fact Helvetius entertained 
 the view of attaining the same end by a different way, which 
 Montesquieu and Rousseau before him had endeavoured to 
 reach. 
 
 This work appeared in 1771? under the title ^De FHomme,' 
 and contains, on the whole, the same principles which had been 
 brought fonvard in his work upon ' Mind ;' the principles however 
 are more fully developed and more scientifically established ; and 
 the political tendencies which would be now called radical, and 
 which had been only hinted at in the former work, are here 
 openly, clearly and definitely announced. Frederick, who now 
 began to see a democratic tendency reigning in literature, would 
 hear nothing of the work ; wdiereas Prince Gallitzin, on the con- 
 trary, caused a second edition to be published at his own expense. 
 The tone of this book is such as could only spring from the 
 conviction that a revolution was altogether unavoidable; the 
 author knows well that his language is bold, but the moment 
 was now arrived for his nation, in which prudence would have 
 been considered merely equivalent to meanness, and in which 
 a book, written in a cautious spirit, would have been regarded 
 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 as giving evidence of a slavish fear. He adds, that his book 
 upon man need not appeal' during his hfetime, because the 
 disease against %vhich it was directed was incurable. In this 
 work it is expressly alleged that France could only be delivered 
 by means of conquest ; because the form of the administration 
 and of the police led infalhbly to ignorance, and to an indifter- 
 ence towards every thing which stretches beyond inculcated and 
 traditionaiT ideas. 
 
 § VII. 
 
 d'alembert. 
 
 We shall reserve our remarks upon D'Alembert's personal 
 influence, especially upon Frederick the Second, Catherine the 
 Second, and many Gennan princes, till the close of this section, 
 and first refer to his labours for the dissemination of views which 
 must have necessarily proved destructive to the prevaihng system, 
 that rested wholly upon superstition and power. In this labour 
 he was not onlv the colleao:ue of Diderot in editins the Encvclo- 
 piedia, but very important as the friend of Voltaire ; and though 
 he conducted himself with much greater tact, prudence and 
 reason than Diderot, he was not more favourable to the existins 
 relision than Holbach or Helvetius. 
 
 D'Alembert was very renowned in his time as a mathema- 
 tician ; his merits indeed in this department were afterwards 
 called in question ; but it is no part of our province to decide, nor 
 even to assign him any definite rank as a writer upon style or ^eZ/e^ 
 lettres, since it is sufficient for us to show, in reference to our 
 object, that he not only exercised a great and important influence 
 upon the fashionable world and upon novel-readers, as Voltaire, 
 Montesquieu and Rousseau had also done, but that he intro- 
 duced the new doctrine into the departments of science, and 
 even sought to extend it over those of learning. We take for 
 granted as admitted facts, that D'Alembert was first known as 
 a mathematician, then as a friend of Voltaire and a man of ta- 
 lents and ingenuity ; that he played an important character in 
 the saloons, and assisted Lespinasse in the formation of her 
 peculiar circle, in which the subjects of the day were treated 
 with more boldness and freedom than in the house of Madame 
 Geoflfrin. We add to all this, that he was introduced by Vol-
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 339 
 
 taire to Frederick the Second, whose entire confidence he enjoyed, 
 and who carried on a correspondence ■with him; that in connexion 
 with Diderot, he ^^Tote a book in defence of the audacious and 
 in every respect contemptible Abbe de Prades, because he was 
 persecuted by the fanatical French courts, and afterwards, as 
 the panegyrist of the academy, had to distribute high-sounding 
 commendations and phrases, which were of more value to many 
 vain men than an order. 
 
 D'Alembert, in conjunction with Diderot, had projected the 
 plan of the ^ Encyclopaedia,^ the first two parts of which, as we 
 have already mentioned, appeared in 1751: this work was to 
 make all others unnecessary, and to diffuse the philosophy of the 
 new school over every department of human knowledge. He 
 alone wrote the Introduction to the work, which is, down to the 
 present day, regarded as a masterpiece of didactic style. This 
 Introduction is, properly si3eaking, a particular work ; and al- 
 though we cannot wholly concur in the unmeasured praise which 
 the French of that period, which preceded the doctrmarres and 
 the romantic school, have heaped upon it, yet we must admit, 
 that the declamation and affected artificiality of the renowned 
 styhst are not to be remarked in it, but that it exhibits a quiet, 
 uniform, clear, altogether didactic strain of exposition. The 
 art of the arrangement, and the unobserved introduction and 
 carrj'ing through of an entirely new system of the higher didactic 
 method, of the change of the hitherto admitted rank of the 
 various departments, is worthy of great admiration, and accom- 
 pHshed in a masterly manner. 
 
 This Introduction expounds a system whose foundation in- 
 deed belongs to Locke ; but it is here so consistently developed 
 and so clearly stated, that it may well be claimed by D'Alembert 
 as his own, and that he is justly entitled either to claim the 
 merit, or suffer the reproach, of having recommended and given 
 dominion to this new system. D'Alembert, with Locke, starts 
 from the principle that all our perceptions proceed from the 
 operations of our senses (not only begin with them, for there 
 all are agreed), and he leads us through a chain of propositions 
 intimately and logically united, till he brings us to that doctrine 
 which was in direct opposition to the philosophy of ^iristotle as 
 well as that of Leibnitz, viz. that reflection, comparison of sen- 
 sible perceptions and of their relations by the power of the under- 
 standing, and the perception of that which would be injurious 
 
 z 2
 
 340 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 or advantageous to us, constitute alone all human knowledge, and 
 that intellectual activity is not a ruling but only a serving power. 
 
 If these principles be once admitted, then it necessarily follows 
 that mere animal feeling or perception is not only the commence- 
 ment of all social order, of all arts, and of all philosophy, but also 
 that it is their only foundation, which is quite another thing. In 
 this way social order springs from the necessity of making use 
 of other men as instruments of our well-being alone, and it ne- 
 cessarily follows, that whoever has the greatest degree of power 
 will seize upon and secure the greatest advantages. In this way 
 the constitution of society necessarily calls forth oppression ; and 
 notions of right and wrong, very far from being founded origin- 
 ally in the intellectual nature of man, arise first from the repug- 
 nance which he feels against every species of oppression. The 
 notion of duty is necessarily connected with the notion of right, 
 and from them first springs the notion or rather the feeling of 
 virtue in the members of society, and the necessity felt becomes 
 a law. We must not overlook the fact, that D'Alembert does 
 not omit to find a place for the comfortless system of his school. 
 He introduces, without calling attention to the subject by any 
 remark, the way in which man is led by the notion of right and 
 wrong, impressed upon him from without, to the immateriality 
 of the soul, to immortality, and to the notion of a Godhead. 
 From all this it clearly follows, that external life and every thing 
 which is connected with it must have the precedence, and that 
 every thing which is intellectual must be placed in a subordinate 
 position ; and it naturally coincides with all these notions, that 
 instead of the study of the ancient languages, the poetry and pbi- 
 losophy of antiquity, and of the science of the Christian schools, 
 the foreway must be given in the series of knowledge to the na- 
 tural sciences, to the mathematical parts of human knowledge, in 
 short, to all that we can measure, reckon, taste, see, and weigh. 
 
 He expresses the last-mentioned fact with great caution, so 
 that no one has anything very essential to object, although the 
 whole order of the series of knowledge is subverted thereby, 
 and the pursuits of this life and its advantages are made the 
 chief object of learning, more than the belief in another. Ac- 
 cording to the old system, all knowledge was inclosed within the 
 limits of faith ; all the sciences of life and of things more pro- 
 fitable were subordinate to a science which was called a higher 
 or a given one ; whereas this, according to the new system, is
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 341 
 
 so far removed from life, that it is easily seen that the object is 
 wholly to set it aside. In reference to this point D'Alembert 
 with covert ingenuity observes : — " The definite is one side of 
 knowledge ; it belongs to the general properties of bodies — ex- 
 tension, size, in these alone is certainty ; the other bears upon 
 the knowledge of what is inwards, it leads us to God :" but he 
 maliciously adds — " It is separated from the other by a great 
 gulf.'^ In this treatise, revelation, which is altogether excluded 
 from knowledge, occupies a position which is sufficient to lead 
 us to perceive, that he wishes wholly to avoid all discussion on 
 it, or impugning it as Rousseau had done. He says he has 
 nothing to do with revelation, which is to fill up the gulf be- 
 tween w^hat is external and what is internal; that he speaks only 
 of the other, the real side of things. 
 
 He afterwards admirably points out the inward connexion of 
 the mathematical sciences among themselves, their absolute and 
 clear relative value ; with this however we have nothing to do, 
 as we neither criticise nor analyse the work, but only wish to 
 point out and explain its relation to the mighty progress of 
 the spirit of the age. He passes on from mathematics to logic, 
 thence to grammar, and from this to all that can remain to him 
 of metaphysics according to his system, and comes at last to 
 rhetoric, where all the others begin. 
 
 It is remarkable that Diderot as well as D'Alembert so extra- 
 ordinarily underrated that very science to which they OM'cd their 
 reputation. This sprung from their common repugnance to the 
 Jesuits. It is precisely the same with this, as it appears to us, 
 as it was with their praises of stoic morality, which they sought 
 to place in opposition to Christian ; since both praised the bre- 
 vity and conciseness, the earnestness, acuteness, and severity of 
 Tacitus and Seneca in their books ; although Diderot both in his 
 conversation and writings fell into great ditfuseness and repeti- 
 tion, and even his best friends were weary of his watery prolixity. 
 D'Alembert maintains that rhetoric is, properly speaking, no 
 science, in which we entirely concur with him, however little the 
 remark may be borne out by experience. He appeals to the well- 
 known sentence, that inward conviction or natural talents and 
 confidence in their power alone makes an orator (pectus facit 
 disertum) ; he adds, however, that the rhetorical arts have long 
 attained to the distinction of being regarded as a science*. 
 
 * " lis sont depuis longtcraps en possession de former une branche distin- 
 guee des connaissances hutnaines."
 
 342 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 History, geography, chronology follow at the conclusion of all, 
 and the history of political administration, and the knowledge of 
 various political arrangements and constitutions are very properly 
 connected Avith them. The fact must not be forgotten that all 
 this had great influence upon the splendid activity of such men 
 as Gatterer and Schliizer in Germany. We shall afterwards 
 see also that our I. D. Michaelis became a favourer of D'Alem- 
 bert. " All these sciences (he says) rest upon ideas which are 
 immediately derived from the senses (idees directes, que nous 
 avons re9ues par les sens), or upon the connexion and com- 
 parison of such ideas," the latter of which he calls exclusively 
 philosophy. 
 
 The notion which D'Alembert entertained with respect to the 
 fine arts, which he recognises as not creative but merely imita- 
 tive, is intimately connected with this idea of science, and of 
 what alone deserves the name of philosophy. Painting, sculp- 
 ture, architecture, poetry are mere imitations of the beauties of 
 nature, and music is placed very far in the background. Ac- 
 cording to this Introduction, it took its origin merely from the 
 desire to make a noise, and was afterwards perfected. It would 
 almost appear as if D^Alembert had forseen the newest direction 
 of music, and we cannot but take advantage of the occasion to 
 call the attention of our readers to the fact, that even those who 
 wished, in all other things, to raise a barrier of power against 
 the progress announced by the Encyclopaedists, completely coin- 
 cided with them in every thing which related to money and 
 pleasures, in obstructing all moral and intellectual advancement, 
 and in promoting Avhat they called material well-being. In 
 reference to the natural sciences and finance, our principle is 
 generally recognised ; we shall only quote D'Alembert's demand 
 with respect to music, the remainder, i. e. the information and 
 the proof, we must leave to those to give who are better acquainted 
 with the department than we are. D^Alembert requires of 
 music that it should represent and portray every thing possible ; 
 he even goes so far as to maintain, that music which represents 
 and portrays nothing is a mere noise. 
 
 The same striving either altogether to keep at a distance, or at 
 least to place in a very subordinate rank, all inward contemplation, 
 all the power of creative fancy, all abstract thinking which is not 
 merely reflective, is found in the division upon the mechanical 
 arts. This new theory, which was intentionally placed in hostile 
 opposition to the old, did not merely seek to secure a place for
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 343 
 
 these arts along with the others, which in those times would 
 have been both necessary and praiseworthy, but to give them a 
 pre-eminence above speculative science. When afterwards the 
 new philosophy of life was developed in a lively manner, it is 
 easily seen why all men of the world, and every man who was 
 striving after clearness, must have preferred this philosophy to 
 the obscurity, and to the positive oracular wisdom of the 
 school philosophy, which was united to a scholastic termino- 
 logy, and to artificial forms and formulas, and which was al- 
 ways dominant and renewing itself. D'Alembert starts with 
 an accurate distinction of what he calls enlightening truth (evi- 
 dence), certainty (certitude), and probability (probabilite), and 
 then developes and explains the internal connexion of the dif- 
 ferent branches of that science, \vhich he acknowledges as such. 
 He here expressly repeats himself, because he wishes to give 
 general currency to his clear and generally intelligible theory of 
 the order and subordination of the various departments of 
 knowledge. He states the whole process in the following 
 manner : — 
 
 " The subjects on which the mind is employed are either 
 internal or external, and the mind is engaged upon them either 
 by mediate or immediate notions. The whole mass of imme- 
 diate perceptions is passively gained by means of collecting or 
 learning, after the manner of a machine, and this is called en- 
 riching the memory ; the mediate perceptions are gained by 
 reflection. The power of combining notions is double, either a 
 combination of mediate notions (elle raisonne sur les objects des 
 idees directes) in the production of new notions by the imitation 
 of something given." In this way he continues : — " Memory, 
 imagination and reason are only three different activities in refer- 
 ence to objects, so that history corresponds to memory, philosophy 
 to the understanding, and the fine arts to imagination." Under 
 the last-mentioned he understands what we call the productive 
 capacity, but to which he sets very narrow limits in the words* 
 which we shall quote, in order that he may keep free of all 
 idealism. 
 
 We may venture to pass over the further development, enu- 
 meration and distribution of human perceptions, &c., because 
 
 * " L'esprit ne cr^e, et n'imagine des objets, que tant qu'ils sont semblables 
 a ceux qu'il a connus par des idees directes et par des sensations ; plus il 
 s'^ioigne de ces objets, plus les etres qu'il forme sont bizarres etpeu agreables."
 
 344 FRANCE. [CIIAP. IV. 
 
 they are not so nearly connected with the attack upon the 
 reigning system as the foregoing ; on the other hand, Ave must 
 examine somewhat more nearly his history of science. His 
 division of the whole learned world into men of erudition (eru- 
 dits), philosophers, and men of genius (beaux esprits), is so 
 formed, that the sciences of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
 turies retain a very small value, and that the whole history in 
 consequence becomes very one-sided ; but he by no means con- 
 ceals his design, and for this reason his history is of great im- 
 portance to us. He affirms boldly what, for long afterwards, all 
 Frenchmen affirmed after him, and Michaelis, Schlozer and 
 others disseminated in Germany, that the people of the middle 
 ages were only possessed of a barbarous literature and were 
 themselves barbarians. All that was magnificent in the mani- 
 festation and effect of the scholastic theology and the philosophy 
 of the middle ages was not only wholly disallowed, but even that 
 time of Italy, whose like will never return, and whose glorious 
 productions might be compared with the full blow of Athens or 
 with the splendid times of the Ptolemies, is satirized and treated 
 wdth contempt. We speak of the bloom of Italy in the four- 
 teenth and fifteenth centuries, and of the great and immortal 
 men who created a new science from the ancients, from the 
 poetry and philosophy of the middle ages, and from their own 
 discoveries and observations. In all these great men, this bold 
 writer only sees Salmasiuses, collectors, grammatical and critical 
 bunglers. This is plainly intentional and calculated for the 
 public, which he gains over in favour of the new science ; for it 
 could not be unknown to the malicious writer, how much his 
 own mother tongue, poetry, eloquence, and the formative arts 
 owed to the very men and studies which were contemned by him. 
 He guards himself carefully from betraying to his educated but 
 withal ignorant public, how the study of the ancient languages 
 in the very time so abused by him, was intimately connected 
 with the study of nature and the sciences of life, and that the 
 most celebrated interpreters of the ancients were the most highly 
 esteemed in proportion as they altogether kept aloof from the mere 
 criticism of words. 
 
 D'Alembert goes so far as to allege that these men had sought 
 only in the ancients facts and words, and it is a matter of 
 surprise, that the most distinguished men among the teachers 
 of a new and freer-thinking school, whose attention was more
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 345 
 
 directed to the duties of life than to the means of avoid- 
 ing future punishments or reconciling an avenging God *, 
 should have formed such false notions of the people to whom 
 the new age was indebted for that which he so earnestly recom- 
 mends and opposes to the scholastic science of his time. The 
 scornful tone with which he appears to care for the learned f, 
 makes the sciences of the school ridiculous ; and the manner in 
 which the democratic teacher is named along with the learned, 
 is an evidence of the malice with which these academical doc- 
 trinaires persecuted Rousseau J, who would have nothing to do 
 with the comradeship of the learned, and whom therefore the fol- 
 lowers of Voltaire, under the appearance of praise, continued 
 most maliciously to ridicule. Learning is here regarded as very 
 far inferior to belles lettres, and D'Alembert, in his destructive 
 zeal for the new^ school, goes so far, that he is even in the 
 highest degree unjust towards Ronsard. He disallows the claims 
 of the whole of the middle ages and its poetry, and mentions nei- 
 ther the Italians nor the Spaniards, because not the least shadow 
 of poetry fell to the lot of this founder of natural, statistic and 
 mathematical wisdom ; wherefore he dates the commencement of 
 belles lettres with the time of Malesherbes, and the bloom of the 
 fine arts he identifies with the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. 
 This tendency, which distinguishes the history of learning 
 and of belles lettres, again shows itself in the history of philo- 
 sophy, for philosophy in the writer's view, first begins with 
 Bacon, and he disposes of all the earlier philosophy with a bitter 
 side-glance at theology. Des Cartes, as an ideal philosopher, 
 places him in a difficulty, because he is obliged to name him 
 as a mathematician and natural philosopher -, but D'Alembert is 
 too good a logician and sophist not to know how to help himself 
 out of the difficulty. He honours the mathematician and dis- 
 coverer of natural laws, he brings prominently forward the 
 
 * Those grammarians and critics of the earherand better times of philology 
 only sought the reputation, " dejouir d'une science herissee de difficultes sou- 
 vent ridicule et quelques fois barbare." 
 
 f He laments in some measure that now-a-days people despise the learned 
 too much, and adds : — " II semble que par le mepris qu'on a pour les savans on 
 cherche a les punir de I'estime outree qu'ils faisaient d'eux-memes, ou du 
 suffrage peu eclaire de leurs contemporains." 
 
 X D'Alembert says, with a stroke at the courtiers and the Genevese philo- 
 sophers : — " Une foule de circonstances tend a nous y precipiter (dans la barba- 
 ric). On pent regarder comme une des principales, cet amour du faux bel- 
 csprit, qui protege Tignorance, qui s'en fait honneur, et qui la repandra tot ou 
 tard."
 
 346 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 opponent of the scholastic philosophy which prevailed in his 
 age, and the founder of a mathematical philosophy; but he 
 mentions his ideal philosophy only so far as to found his scep- 
 ticism upon it. Along with Des Cartes he guards himself well 
 against giving his due meed of honour and praise to our Kepler, 
 as La Place and other Frenchmen of a later period have done ; 
 he merely mentions him in passing, because his Platonism alone 
 would have excluded him, and the poetry of his * Harmonica 
 Mundi' would have harmonized very badly with D'Alembert's 
 views : Newton alone found favour. 
 
 It is not, however, Newton's philosophy to which D'Alembert 
 gives prominence in this department ; besides Bacon, he is ac- 
 quainted with Locke alone ; Newton therefore only obtains a place, 
 because in his mathematical and physical sciences he combined 
 observation with calculation and measurement. The founder of 
 this new science of the wisdom of life and of knowledge dwells 
 long upon the works of Locke, and D'Alembert goes so far as 
 to declare him alone to be worthy of the name of a philosopher, 
 and his praise is most ingeniously combined with the exclusive 
 recommendation of those men whom he proposes, in his mani- 
 festo to the educated world, to extol as the only friends of 
 enlightenment. 
 
 When he afterwards comes to enumerate the men whom he 
 recognises as renowned contemporaries, and recommends as the 
 founders of a better wisdom, then he exhibits his perfect mas- 
 tery in the business which he has undertaken in opposition to 
 the old school. Voltaire is not expressly mentioned in the van, 
 but when he has first mentioned others, he comes upon him 
 with so much the greater praise. Condillac, Buffon and Mon- 
 tesquieu are named along with Voltaire, and Rousseau is mali- 
 ciously cast in with the courtiers, who at that time gloried in 
 their ignorance ; and the author declares, that there was great 
 reason to fear a species of barbarism from both. On the other 
 hand, Rousseau is indeed praised as a contributor, and his 
 paradox with respect to the moral disadvantage of the culture of 
 the sciences is only slightly touched upon. 
 
 We think that we have now sufficiently pointed out the im- 
 portance of this introduction with respect to the mental cultiva- 
 tion of the last half of the eighteenth century, and that we are 
 thereby relieved from the necessity of speaking further of the 
 Encyclopaidia,orof inquiringwhatrelation it bore to thatof Cham-
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 347 
 
 brier which Diderot and D'Alembert took for their ground- work. 
 Among the other works of D'Alembert, which were pubHshed 
 in the year 1805, in eighteen volumes, if our object permitted 
 us to go into a fuller and more minute examination of his literary- 
 merits, we should be obliged to mention and enter upon his pane- 
 gyrics written after the manner of Fontenelle, his correspondence 
 wuth Frederick the Second, Catherine the Second and others, and 
 his attempt at a translation of Tacitus. But we hope to arrive 
 more shortly at our object of pointing out the nature of the new 
 mental training and its different tendencies, by availing ourselves 
 of the occasion of his controversy with Rousseau, upon the ques- 
 tion whether they should or should not erect a theatre in Geneva, 
 in order to show in what manner the age was moved and excited 
 by the two principal writers of the new school. 
 
 The controversy between Rousseau and D'Alembert sprung 
 out of the article Geneve, which the latter had worked up for 
 the * Encyclopaedia,' and in which he had calculated upon attack- 
 ing the obsolete severity of discipline and education from a new 
 quarter. This article (Geneve, ou Description abregee du Gou- 
 vernement de cette Republique), was immediately published as a 
 separate work and excited great attention, because every thing 
 was praised in a fine and covert manner in the republic, which 
 it was the intention of the writer thereby to blame and condemn 
 in the French monarchy. In this way it was proved with fore- 
 sight and forbearance, that the system then universally prevail- 
 ing, and which was maintained Avholly by power, was in itself 
 unreasonable and indefensible. The tolerant spirit of the Gene- 
 vese was especially lauded, and they were called upon to root 
 out the last-remaining traces of the old intolerance, the exclu- 
 sion of the theatre from their walls. The tone, the style, the 
 manner of this article show with what a lavish expenditure of 
 talents and mind Voltaire and D'Alembert attacked that anti- 
 quated system, which many of our contemporaries long for, 
 as for a lost paradise. The fineness of the irony and of the 
 blame contrasts in a manner very honourable to D'Alembert, 
 with the scorn, satire and reckless audacity of a Holbach and 
 a Diderot. In order to make this clear to our readers, we should 
 be obliged to extract long passages from their writings, and in- 
 troduce them into our text ; instead of that, however, we shall 
 rather lay before them some shorter but pertinent passages from 
 Rousseau's paper against D'Alembert, because we shall thereby
 
 348 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 be able to complete our account of Rousseau and his whole 
 sphere of action, whilst we throw the fullest light upon D'Alem- 
 bert's relation to his age. We shall see that D'Alembert's false- 
 hood, as well as Rousseau's truth, agreed in this, that a morality 
 maintained by the police, and a government founded upon sol- 
 diers, were and are equally destructive. 
 
 We have above said, that D'Alembert wished to convert the 
 French by holding up the example of the Genevese, and there- 
 fore he sophistically exaggerates much which might have been 
 said with truth to their honour. This remark holds good with 
 respect to toleration ; for he in some measure formally made the 
 Genevese clergy Encyclopaedists, when he alleged, that they 
 laid very little stress upon dogmatics, and only preached mo- 
 rality. D'Alembert had besides in this a subordinate object ; the 
 clergy had, according to the constitution, taken part in the ques- 
 tion when it was raised, whether they should depart from the 
 severe principles of Calvin, and should suffer a theatre in Ge- 
 neva, or not. The Genevese clergy were therefore shocked at 
 D'Alembert's eulogies, they protested formally against his views, 
 they asserted loudly and earnestly that the Christian religion of 
 the councils, not that of its founder, was theirs ; that, with the 
 Byzantine favourers of Athanasius, they believed in a Trini- 
 tarian Aristotelian God, and not merely in a Creator of the phy- 
 sical and moral world, and in Jesus Christ, whom he had 
 sent. We have expressed this thus strongly, because the Gene- 
 vese clergy alleged, that D'Alembert had charged them with- a 
 heresy which they altogether repudiated, and which was then, 
 as is usual in such cases, designated by the obsolete technical 
 and sectarian name of Socinianism. They solemnly affirm, that, 
 like Christ and his Apostles, they did not only preach that pure 
 morality, which flows from the inward feeling of the divine ori- 
 gin of our nature, but that they also taught dogmatics, that they 
 remained quite true to what is called the Apostles' Creed, and 
 at the same time, as will be expected from what has been just 
 said, that they heartily abhorred Diderot's and D'Alembert's 
 philosophy. 
 
 The Genevese had their peculiar reasons arising from the 
 well-know'n Genevese anxiety ; they had a view to the members 
 of their churches and to their neighbours, who urged them to 
 deny the imputation of having given up the doctrine of the 
 Catechism, and having embraced the fashionable theories of the
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 349 
 
 great world. Rousseau, from the impulse of his own mincl, and 
 from his own repugnance to D'Alembert, wrote a paper in order 
 to maintain his democratic philosophy, in opposition to the ari- 
 stocratic philosophy of the Encyclopcxdists. He chose a modest 
 title ; for he published merely a printed letter to D'Alembert 
 upon the article in the ^ Encyclopaedia/ which affected his native 
 city ; but this letter contains a minute examination of the worldly 
 wisdom of the academicians, or an admirably written treatise 
 upon the object and effects of the distinguished philosophy 
 w^hich D'Alembert taught with such uncommon talents and in- 
 genuity. Rousseau's letter (which we did not previously advert 
 to when speaking of his writings, because it could be better 
 introduced in this place, with a view to the object and con- 
 nexion of this attempt at a history of the inward social relations 
 of life) is peculiarly attractive by its manner of exposition, and 
 well deserved to be mentioned and distinguished as a master- 
 piece of French prose ; we consider it here, however, from another 
 side and upon other grounds. 
 
 Rousseau appears only to speak of the advantage or injury of 
 a theatre in a city of but small extent, but in reality he seeks to 
 unmask the fashionable sophists M'ho sought to avail themselves 
 of that better spirit, which the time called forth in all classes of 
 society, of that repugnance against despotism, the love of system 
 and the hierarchy, which the progress of external life awakened, 
 to turn all this to their own advantage and to that of the rich, 
 and thereby to forge new chains. We here speak of all the 
 then reigning academicians, of all the powerfid parasites of the 
 great and the rich, who put themselves forward as the defenders 
 of their sins, and found out a species of virtue, which flattered 
 
 their sensuality. 
 
 It may appear surprising, that the same man, whose chief 
 work was afterwards condemned by the Genevese clergy and 
 government as infidel and heretical, should first undertake the 
 defence of their faith and their doctrines, and repel the mali- 
 cious and cunning eulogies of D'Alembert, before he entered 
 upon the question of the theatre. As to the point itself; the 
 question of the advantage or disadvantage of a theatre must be 
 quite differently conceived and treated, from that in which it 
 has been done either by Rousseau or his antagonists. Rousseau's 
 logic finds it an easy task to deal with the usual defenders of 
 the theatre, and with the usual reasons which they assign in its
 
 350 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 favour. Both parties, Rousseau as well as his opponents, allege 
 that the poet occupies the same ground with the pulpit orator ; 
 that he preaches morality like him, but only in a different man- 
 ner ; they seek for moral greatness as their basis, when they 
 should merely have sought for esthetic. And although cesthctic 
 greatness produced moral effects, this, as is well known, follows 
 in a way quite different from the usual one. 
 
 The criticism and examination of some celebrated plays into 
 w^hich Rousseau here enters, is certainly altogether one-sided, 
 and if the question were only that of a critical examination, they 
 must be considered as almost ridiculous ; but the question rather 
 bears upon "the false enlightenment of that time, upon that 
 recklessness w^hich was regarded as a mark of genius, which 
 among us, along with an affectation of piety, sets up a claim to 
 be looked upon as a poetry of life ; this is the reason alone for 
 which we must dwell upon this point. Rousseau first subjects 
 several tragedies to his examination, and endeavours to prove, 
 that the manner in which wicked characters are represented in 
 them, the greatness and superiority w^hich they manifest, must 
 necessarily make a very disadvantageous impression upon the 
 mind, and prove injurious to morality, even though poetic 
 justice be inflicted upon them. We shall leave to our readers, 
 the consultation of this ingenious and able work, the examina- 
 tion of the manner in which Rousseau criticises Racine and 
 Voltaire, and their moral influences, and dwell somewhat longer 
 upon comedy, and especially upon his criticism of Moliere's 
 ' Misanthrope,' because he then confessedly opposes his theory 
 of human life and social intercourse to the prevailing morals, 
 mental culture, and tone of the society of the world. 
 
 After having made some other remarks which we pass over, 
 
 he proceeds ; — « After Moliere had held up to public laughter 
 
 all the other deficiencies and sins which cleave to those who do 
 
 not possess the amiable quahties of a man of good society, after 
 
 he had brought upon the stage innumerable other ridiculous 
 
 exhibitions of those people who are mauvais ton, there remained 
 
 no other object for his ridicule, than that which those who are 
 
 called the world will never pardon, viz. virtue ; this he has done 
 
 in the « Misanthrope*.' The hero of the piece, Alceste," con- 
 
 * "Moliere," he says, " voulant exposer ^ la risec publique tous les defauts 
 opposes aux qualites de I'liomme aimable, de rhommc de societc, apr^s avoir 
 jouetant d'autrcs ridicules, il lui rcstait a jouer cclui que le monde pardoune le 
 mollis, le ridicule de la vertu, c'est cc qu'il a fait dans le ' Misanthrope.'"
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 351 
 
 tinues Rousseau, '^ is no misanthrope, but a noble and true 
 man, and because he is so, he hates the prevailing morals and 
 abhors the false and empty tone of the world ; it is that alone 
 which makes him ridiculous. In order with greater certainty 
 both to make him ridiculous, and through him the truth, which 
 ventured to show itself in life, Moliere, quite in the spirit of the 
 "worldlings for whose amusement his hero was to serve, contrives 
 to exhibit him in a state of irritation and anger with all sorts of 
 trifling things, which are not worth the notice of a reasonable 
 man, to say nothing of his raving with that childish vehemence, 
 which is attributed to him." 
 
 '^The candid and noble-minded man," says Rousseau, ^^is made 
 a special object of ridicule and scorn to the fashionable people 
 of the saloons, by having opposed to him in the person of Phi- 
 linthe, the model of a quiet and cold man of the world, who 
 never becomes warm, who is roused by nothing or for nothing, 
 except for the promotion of his own interest." He then pro- 
 ceeds to give an admirable delineation of the Philinthes of all 
 times and of all countries. As Klinger, in his ' Man of the 
 World and Poet,' has described one side of the case of which 
 we here speak, in a masterly manner, Rousseau in his letter has 
 drawn the other no less admirably. Rousseau has incompara- 
 bly sketched the features of this philosophy of courts and of the 
 world, of the poetical colouring of offences of all sorts by smooth 
 sophistry, of the whole motives and impulses of the Encyclopce- 
 dists, and of the doctrinaires and philosophical optimists who 
 resemble them, under the pretence of characterizing the Phi- 
 linthe of Moliere. 
 
 " This Philinthe," says Rousseau, " is the sage of the piece ; 
 one of those honest people of high life, whose maxims very much 
 resemble those of knaves ; one of those people who are so mo- 
 derate that they find every thing going well, because it is their 
 interest that it should go no better ; who are always content with 
 everybody, because they care for no one ; who, seated around a 
 well-spread board, maintain, that it is quite untrue that the peo- 
 ple are starving ; who, with well- filled purses, regard it as alto- 
 gether wrong for any one to speak with energy in favour of the 
 poor ; who, from their house, would look on and see the whole 
 human race robbed, plundered and massacred, without a word 
 of compassion or complaint ; because God has endowed them
 
 352 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 with a meritorious meekness, to enable them to endure such 
 calamities when they affect others and not themselves." 
 
 In the same bitter and cutting way Rousseau shows, that 
 what the world and novels usually call love, and the manner in 
 which this feeling is copied from the life of those people whose 
 principles D'Alembert and his friends wished to disseminate, is 
 represented in these pieces. It Is only after those outpourings 
 of his wrath and Indignation, that he first touches upon Geneva. 
 He first directs attention to the private life of those who are 
 connected with the theatrical art, as it is usually exhibited, shows 
 the influence of actors and actresses upon life, and upon thought- 
 less self-admiring youth and the elegant world, then to the taste 
 for luxury disseminated by means of the theatre, to dress, and 
 to dissipation among a people, who had been so happy as hi- 
 therto to preserve and maintain their simplicity In the midst of 
 corruption. On this occasion Rousseau makes this excellent 
 and pertinent remark, which may also be applied to all those who 
 have a passion for theatrical affairs ; that there are many things 
 which may be quite suitable in a great city. In which there are 
 many idle persons who are intent only upon dissipation and a 
 scandalous life, which would become altogether intolerable and 
 ruinous in a small town. This remark is carried through with 
 uncommon practical good sense and ability. 
 
 The few traits which have been given, and the turn which 
 Rousseau gave to the whole subject which he had undertaken, 
 will prove that his object In this letter, as well as in those which 
 we have already quoted from his ^ Heloise,' was much more that 
 of exposing to contempt and ridicule Parisian life and Its pur- 
 suits, the hunting after talents and enjoyment, the characters 
 which women played in these societies, the dominion which they 
 exercised, the whole mental condition and training which was 
 recommended by the Encyclopedists, than to warn his native 
 city against the siren songs of D'Alembert. 
 
 Rousseau's paper made so much noise in that excited and 
 excitable time, in which the effect of a work was not merely 
 momentary as it Is in our days, that D'Alembert could not re- 
 main silent; but his assuming, scornful and satirical answer 
 will only satisfy those who cannot or will not understand Rous- 
 seau. Every man who does not belong to the castes and classes 
 in which all sense of a natural life and of simplicity has not been
 
 § VII.] d'alembert. 353 
 
 extinguished by education or learning, will find D'Alembert's 
 refutation unsatisfactory and trivial, although he undoubtedly 
 has brought forward into bold relief the ridiculous point of his 
 opponent, his idyllic sentimentality, with all that skill and abi- 
 lity which was learned and practised in those wicked but witty 
 saloons, in which D'Alembert was thoroughly at home. Rous- 
 seau is therefore here and there made ridiculous, but the life and 
 the literature of a falsely trained age and of the sect of D'Alem- 
 bert gains nothing thereby. D'Alembert avails himself of that 
 line manner, by means of which, in the world, a dagger may be 
 thrust into the heart of an opponent, and he may be robbed of 
 honour and life, whilst he is all the while praised, treated with 
 courtly politeness, and with all apparent respect, without almost 
 the appearance of controversy and strife. 
 
 By the aid of this manner the cause and the person were in- 
 geniously united and confounded, and Rousseau represented as 
 an oddity, as a man who is always on the hunt after absurdities 
 and paradoxes. In order to draw the French fully to his side, 
 w^ho were already embittered against Rousseau, in consequence 
 of his severe judgement, or rather condemnation, of French 
 music, D'Alembert ingeniously, but maliciously, contrives to com- 
 bine the paradox of his judgements upon music with the para- 
 dox of his condemnation of the theatre. If D'Alembert means 
 to refute Rousseau's objections against the life and social inter- 
 course of capital cities, he brings forward nothing Ijettcr than 
 the old threshed-out and universally recurring principles of 
 love of company, which pass by and do not affect the person 
 who considers mankind from another point of view than that 
 from which good society is accustomed to consider it. 
 
 What D'Alembert brings forward as the advantage of theatri- 
 cal representations, in opposition to the defender of simplicity 
 and nature, is in like manner quite as weak ; because his philo- 
 sophy, and the object which he and Voltaire wish to reach, for- 
 bid him to embrace that view of the question, on which Rousseau 
 could be easily overthrown. Rousseau disallowed the principle, 
 that the human mind is related to the Godhead by means of its 
 creative power alone, that joy in mental creations is its highest 
 happiness, and that the greatest counterpoise against all that 
 immorality, which is the result of passion and sensuality, is 
 the consideration of the great beautiful, in the creations of 
 the mind. The maintenance of such views would have alto- 
 
 VOL. I, 2 A
 
 354 FRANCE. [chap. IV. 
 
 gether shattered D'Alembert's system, and told more strongly 
 against his theory of life than the system of his opponent, and 
 would have at once annihilated that subordination of the various 
 departments of knowledge which he had proposed and main- 
 tained in his Introduction. 
 
 For the same reason D'Alembert could not adduce or defend 
 the correct proposition, that the poet wishes to please and not 
 to profit, in such a manner that Rousseau's moral estimation of 
 the theatre should appear to be weak, and the result of an im- 
 perfect knowledge of the human mind. Rousseau was obvi- 
 ously unacquainted with true, genuine, creative poetry, and mere 
 feeling and understanding represent with him the whole of the 
 human mind. But as D'Alemberi; agreed with him on this point, 
 in order to prove that good pieces are moral, he could only bring 
 forward the common and popular observations which Rousseau 
 no doubt, as all of us have, frequently heard in society, or read 
 in the most common-place books ; because the great mass of 
 men merely repeat one another, without ever thinking of the 
 truth of what is affirmed*. Every line of this defence, which is 
 written in the style of an advocate, proves that D'Alembert is 
 only propounding the theory of certain circles, whilst Rousseau 
 pours out his own feelings and thoughts ; and that the democracy 
 of the one can never be reconciled with the knightly elegance of 
 the other, however much both are oj)posed to ruling principles 
 and systems. 
 
 D'Alembert had no shadow of success in his defence of Mo- 
 liere's ^ Misanthrope,' against Rousseau, however easy that de- 
 fence might have been. This failure also arises from the fact, 
 that he dare not venture to conceive this work of art under that 
 point of view under which it is now generally conceived. It 
 will be readily seen, that his protection of the affecting drama 
 arose chiefly from the circumstance that it was the invention of 
 his friends. D'Alembert, on the contrary, is more successful, 
 when he treats of the morals of actors and their influence, wdiich 
 he handles with much more knowledge and less melancholy 
 than Rousseau. But in the passage again, in which he should 
 have refuted his opponent's grounds of accusation against the 
 
 * Of the theatre in general it is said : — " Cost la morale mise en action, ces 
 sont les preceptcs reduits en exemples ; la tragedie nous offrc les malheurs 
 produits par ie vice des hommcs, la comedie les ridicules attaches a leurs 
 dcfauts,"
 
 CHAP. V. § I.] GERMANY. 355 
 
 pursuits of women which were called those of genius, and against 
 their influence through the saloons, he merely degrades himself 
 by directing miserable jests against Rousseau's person, and the 
 whole of that masterly maliciousness of speech which is called 
 medisancei was on this occasion summoned to his aid. 
 
 D'Alembert malevolently alludes to the fact, that Rousseau 
 himself had written pieces, and, whilst appearing to bestow upon 
 him extraordinary praise, takes advantage of the occasion to 
 overwhelm him with the bitterest satire. Rousseau had indeed 
 given a great opening to his experienced and skilful antagonist, 
 by his having proposed to the Genevese as a substitute for the 
 entertainments of the theatre, entertainments of his own inven- 
 tion, by mixing up sentimental scenes drawn from the Vallais 
 into real life, and wishing to offer to the practical Parisian the 
 sensitive descriptions of his fancy as solid truth. We must not 
 longer dwell on this subject, by proving how much D'Alembert 
 was superior to his opponent, how admirably he brought for- 
 ward and opposed that which is attainable in real life to the 
 sentimental theory of life ; for we must here break off, because 
 we believe that enough has been already said to explain this 
 new wisdom of the world, and to point out its tendencies. In 
 order not to dwell too long on the French, we defer till our next 
 volume our observations upon some other distinguished men of 
 that nation, who were more or less closely connected with those 
 w ho have been already named ; such, for example, as Raynal, 
 Marmontel, Beaumarchais and Mirabeau, Buffon, and the whole 
 school of economists till Turgot and Dupont. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 GERMANY TILL THE BEGINNING OF THE SEVENTH DECEN- 
 NIUM OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 §1. 
 
 FIRST TRACES OF THE INFLUENCE OF THE NEW SPIRIT OF 
 THE AGE UPON PLACEMEN, UNIVERSITIES, THEOLOGY AND 
 LEARNING. 
 
 In the first part we adopted the 'Letters upon Literature' as 
 the limits of the account of the first period of the new mental 
 
 2 A 2
 
 356 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 development among our people, and we should, therefore, pro- 
 perly here commence with these ' Letters;^ but, as we have li- 
 terature less in our view than the whole life of the people, we 
 regard it as more suitable to our design, first to speak of some 
 individuals who exercised a great influence upon society as men of 
 the world, or as learned members of the universities. We must, 
 therefore, also necessarily go ten years further than has been 
 done in the political history, yet without making any pretensions 
 to give a complete view or to go into a minute account of indi- 
 viduals. We select that alone which is pertinent and serviceable 
 for the instruction which it is our object to convey, leaving the 
 rest to be collected from the fuller manuals and biographies, of 
 whose number and character our nation has a right to be proud. 
 
 Our universities, which at that time had become altogether 
 houses of industry and manufactories for training men for busi- 
 ness, in which the greatest contempt was felt and maintained for 
 every kind of pure and genuine human improvement, remained 
 for a long time not only uninfluenced by, but even hostile to, the 
 new movement. Afterwards, indeed, when it became absolutely 
 necessary to entice new customers, in order to carry on a pros- 
 jierous and flourishing trade, they hung out a new signboard, and 
 this just took place in the following period. We should, besides, 
 be altogether unjust, if we overlooked or failed duly to commend 
 the great services which Semler, Michaelis, Gesner, Schlozer, 
 J^rnesti and Heyne rendered in the improvement of public in- 
 struction, and we shall direct attention to the three first in this 
 period, and to the others in that which follows, when we have 
 first noticed those men who acted immediately upon the great 
 public and not by the instrumentality of the schools. We begin 
 wdth Spalding and Ileimarus; not with Mosheim, because he kept 
 altogether and strictly within the limits of the traditionary method 
 and of orthodoxy, notwithstanding he distinguished himself as a 
 pulpit orator and author of an ecclesiastical history, written in 
 a very good Latin style. Spalding and Reimarus wrote German, 
 not merely for the learned, but for the benefit of the great j)u- 
 blic, and in the darkest times they disseminated religious en- 
 lightenment without however being cried down as, properly 
 speaking, heretics, which had already been the fate of Semler ; 
 and this makes them more remarkable than the Abbot Jerusa- 
 lem, who was as much celebrated as they. 
 
 Spalding had received an education wholly different from that
 
 § I.] SPALDING. 357 
 
 which the theologians of his time usually received. Books, long, 
 tedious, mechanically written — numerous lectures in the univer- 
 sities, which were calculated to waste and destroy any spark of 
 genius which the bad schools had left unextinguished — and 
 learned systems, which were impressed on the memory for the 
 mere purpose of an examination, were the means employed for 
 training our Protestant ecclesiastics, i.e. men whose duty it was 
 to raise the spirit of our oppressed people, to awaken their minds, 
 and to prepare their souls for heaven. In the beginning of the 
 century, they had turned from the straw of dogmatics to the 
 milk of pietism; the pietists and their principles prevailed, 
 during the greatest part of the period of which we are now 
 writing, in various districts of Germany, for example, in ducal 
 Saxony, in Halle, and in northern Germany; their instruction, 
 however, had degenerated into a mere system of hypocrisy. The 
 second part of Semler's autobiography gives the best and clear- 
 est view of the manner in which the nature of pietism was re- 
 lated to the nature of Christianity ; the first part of the same 
 book informs us how pietism afflicted private life, and disturbed 
 all attempts at any progress commensurate with the demands 
 or the spirit of the age. Spalding had made acquaintance with 
 a greater world, and had early associated with persons who had 
 notions of mental improvement and religion different from those 
 of those prodigies of learning, whom people were accustomed to 
 admire and wonder at in the universities. He attached himself 
 early to Gleim and to Kleist. In the same manner as Kleist, in 
 the English poets of his time, Thomson, Glover and others, 
 sought for a poetry more suitable to the spirit of the age than 
 that of Gottsched, Konig, or Bodmer, Spalding sought in the 
 writings of Shaftesbury a philosophy and a morality which 
 should be more useful and intelligible to the people, than the 
 speculations and terminologies of Baumgarten and other uni- 
 versity professors. 
 
 The translation of Shaftesbury's * Moral Philosophy,' which 
 Spalding published in 1745, stands in intimate connexion with 
 the labours of all the men whose acquaintance he had made at 
 the same time with that of Gleim and Kleist, who was then in 
 Berlin ; all these sought to raise up and oppose a free and noble 
 examination and explanation of science to the hitherto corporate 
 and slavish spirit of literature. In 1 748 appeared that work which 
 will for ever secure Spalding a place among those who awakened
 
 358 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 the German people to the proper use of their reasoning faculties 
 in matters of faith, and offered a rehgion of mildness and peace, 
 instead of one of penance and prayer. This book, entitled ' The 
 Destmation of Mankind,' was so much in accordance with the 
 necessities of the time and its progress, and so fully corresponded 
 to the demands which at that time, and since that time, are made 
 with regard to language and expression, that it was afterwards 
 reprinted till 1794 in very numerous editions, and continued to 
 meet the demands and necessities of the reading public. The 
 merit to which Spalding established a claim, in a species of lite- 
 rature which scarcely yet deserved the name, and the services 
 which he rendered by his style and manner of exposition, how 
 well he deserved to be classed among those who sought to give 
 thought and purity to owe language and style after the models 
 of our neighbours, and how fully he was entitled to a place along 
 with Mendelssohn and Lessing, will be best learned and under- 
 stood, by comparing this work with the long and tedious moral 
 writings of the renowned Gottingen professor Johann Peter 
 Miller, or those of Gellert or Dusch. 
 
 In his ' Destination of Men,' Spalding follows Shaftesbm^'s 
 method, deduces his moral principles, not from the commands 
 of the Scriptures, but from the constitution of human nature, 
 and endeavours to enliven a subject in itself somewhat dry, by 
 warmth and liveliness of exposition. Seven editions of this trea- 
 tise had been pubhshed as early as 1763. We shall best see the 
 great contrast which then existed between the demands of the 
 educated and smaller part of the nation, which was progressive 
 with the age, and those of the church and state, by the writings 
 of a representative of the principles of the consistories and uni- 
 versities, of the catechism and pulpit morality, of his time. This 
 man was the Reverend Melchior Gotz, at that time minister of 
 Aschersleben and afterwards chief pastor in Hamburg. We 
 ascribe the above-mentioned representative character to him, 
 because we see him appear afterwards on every occasion, during 
 the progress of enlightenment, as a watchman of Zion ; and be- 
 cause, by his ignorant zeal, he did more damage to the orthodox 
 faith than all the French philosophers together, than Bahrdt 
 and the ' Wolfenbiittel Fragments.' This man, whom we after- 
 wards see appealing for justice against the Frankfort newspapers 
 because they had censured his sermons, who threw out all kinds 
 of abuse against the ' Sorrows of Werther,^ who gave occasion
 
 § I.] SPALDING. 359 
 
 to Lessing to write those master-pieces of German prose which 
 were directed against him, wrote also against Spalding in the 
 usual style of ecclesiastical polemical authors, his ^Thoughts 
 upon the Consideration of the Destiny of Man, in the Form of a 
 Letter, Avith a Copy of the said Work/ 
 
 The outcry of the zealots was vain, for Frederick the Second 
 kept his eye upon a man who sought to awaken knowledge and 
 understanding in the midst of the darkness which then, in spite 
 of the king, was diffused especially from Halle, although Zedlitz 
 induced him sometimes to take vigorous measures for the pro- 
 motion of light and reason ; and, by the favour of the king, Spal- 
 ding obtained an important field of operations, in which he 
 worked with great vigour against the Lutheran grand inquisi- 
 tor of Hamburg. His influence was not merely exercised as an 
 ecclesiastic and church ruler, but especially by means of his 
 writings. He translated several temperate writings of the Eng- 
 lish, who at that time were in advance of the Germans in en- 
 lightenment, upon natural religion and Deism, and upon the 
 union of rational consideration and critical examination with 
 Christian faith. His sermons, which were circulated by the 
 press, were calculated to produce the same effect. The honest 
 Semler has rather given us to understand than properly de- 
 scribed, from a meeting which he had with him, how very dif- 
 ferent Spalding appeared, and how very superior he was, among 
 the men who were celebrated as pulpit orators about the end of 
 the seven years' war. Spalding's treatise, which may be regarded 
 as second in importance, is entitled ' Of the Value of the Feel- 
 ings in Ckristianity.' The reputation of this work was equally 
 great among the Lessing and the Lavater party, into which the 
 reformers of that time may be most suitably divided. Its object 
 was, in like manner, to give a milder tone to the stiff, severe, 
 and dogmatic principles of the Church : we shall not, however, 
 dwell upon it, because we must not enter upon doctrinal religion 
 and its history. 
 
 Reimarus was no divine by trade, but we should mention him 
 here because he was one of the greatest linguists and general scho- 
 lars which have existed since the restoration of learning, even if 
 he had not also done much in connexion with Spalding to intro- 
 duce light and warmth into the benumbed theological science of 
 the schools. This noble and learned man lived in Hamburg, where 
 in his time gloomy Lutheranism reigned, and where the people.
 
 360 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 roused and urged on by the fanatical clergy and the senate, will- 
 ingly allowed themselves to be made the tools of blind ortho- 
 doxy. This produced in the soul of this gentle, amiable, edu- 
 cated man, who was deeply skilled in the languages of antiquity, 
 in the natural sciences, and at the same time in medicine and 
 philosophy, the most vehement dislike to Christianity, which he 
 has breathed out quietly in the so-called ' Wolfenbiittel Frag- 
 ments.' Of these we do not here speak ; because he never ac- 
 knowledged himself the author, and it has only just been shown 
 very recently with any certainty, that he w^as probably the au- 
 thor of this work, to which we shall hereafter allude ; we only 
 now^ refer to the works in which he explained, in a readable and 
 intelligible manner, to the German public what had hitherto 
 been the exclusive property of the barbaric universities. 
 
 The object of his treatise, upon 'The most Important Truths 
 in Natural Religion,' Mas intelligibly to inform the blindly be- 
 lieving Germans, without rousing the indignation of the clergy, 
 that religion must be sought for, not only in the catechism, but 
 also in the heart and in the works of nature. Reimarus shows 
 admirably how absurd and tasteless it is for the theologians of 
 the so-called church insolently to boast of the utter incapacity, 
 or at least of the insufficiency, of human reason to attain to a 
 knowledge of God. This work is closely connected with his 
 second treatise, which is very important in reference to the pro- 
 gress of the natural sciences, and their philosophical treatment 
 in Germany. As the natural sciences form no part of our in- 
 quiry, we can only mention the title of his book upon the * In- 
 stincts of Animals,' in order to remark, that its appearance was 
 in general hailed with triumph, and especially in the ' Letters 
 upon Literature,' as the foreboding of a better German prose 
 literature. 
 
 Such books were at that time the more important for our 
 people, in consequence of the miserable condition into which the 
 German schools and universities had fallen, in the middle of the 
 last century, even in those districts and cities of our country 
 where most was done for mental progress and improvement. 
 The condition of the schools and universities, and the nature of 
 the instruction which was imparted in them, may be accurately 
 learned from the best original sources, — from the autobiogra- 
 phies of Michaelis, Semler and Reiske. All had become so dark 
 among us, that we could only derive a knowledge of the ancients,
 
 § I.] MICHAELIS. 361 
 
 of criticism, of interpretation, and even of enlightenment in ques- 
 tions of religion, from the Dutch and English, among Avhom 
 blind custom and pecuniary advantages have always been united 
 with the traditionary errors of the old system. It had finally gone 
 to such a length, that every one who had drawn his materials 
 from the sources of the ancient writers, was obliged altogether to 
 separate himself from the corporate learned men of tlie universi- 
 ties and their disciples and followers. In the movement wliich 
 we have described in the previous part, and which advanced 
 slowly in Germany, forcing its way from without, inward, the 
 pietists in Germany shared the same fate and gave rise to the 
 same consequences as the Jansenists, as well as their opponents 
 the Jesuits, did in France ; as soon as they began to obstruct 
 every species of progress, to deprecate the entrance of every 
 beam of light, and to condemn the study of the ancients, they 
 gave rise to a lasting animosity against the truth even among 
 its learned defenders. This will become manifest,when we come 
 afterwards to treat particularly of Michaelis and Semler; we 
 shall however premise some remarks upon the influence of Moser 
 and Von Moser, before we proceed to a general consideration of 
 the pietist school in Halle. 
 
 Michaelis, whom we shall afterwards notice as the founder of 
 a new school of Orientalists and Biblical critics, was educated in 
 Halle, took his doctor's degree in that university, and as such 
 read lectures there. Before his journey to England, he not 
 only maintained every other absurdity which people M'cre required 
 to believe in Halle, if they would not be regarded as heretics j 
 but, in a very well-known treatise, he sought to prove also the 
 divine origin of the Hebrew vowel points: he had scarcely 
 travelled, however, beyond the sphere of the pietistic air, when 
 he began to breathe more freely. We shall hereafter show, that 
 after his return from Holland and England, when he became 
 professor in Gottingen, he applied the theory and principles of 
 Montesquieu, and the new criticism, to the explanation of the Old 
 Testament. His fellow student in Halle, the learned Reiske, 
 admits in his autobiography, that however far his convictions had 
 gone beyond and were remote from the pietists and their prin- 
 ciples, he never completely recovered from the oppression of the 
 severe pious training of the Halle school, and since that time 
 had conceived a dislike against Christianity which had there ex- 
 ercised oppressive power, and even against the Roman writers.
 
 362 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 R,eiske, indeed, does not say this expressly of Christianity ; but 
 we can infer it, partly from his incidental remarks in his other 
 books, and partly from some circumstances in his life. He now 
 became a doctor in Holland ; and while those philologists and 
 doctors of medicine who were like-minded with him extended 
 their protection to him, the theologians formally opposed them- 
 selves to the promotion of a man whom, God knows on Avhat 
 ground, they called an atheist ; for the same reason his only true 
 friends in Germany, in this dark age, were the noble R,eim.arus 
 and Lessing. The third of the men who have been named, re- 
 ceived only his last pietistic consecration in Halle, but he had 
 already been trained from his youth up in this school, at Saal- 
 feld. Semler informs us how, from his very childhood he had 
 been not only urged by every means to believing and praying, 
 but that he was also, according to his true, well-disposed, ho- 
 nest, but narrow-minded nature, inclined to these ways. He 
 came therefore full of faith to Halle, where one of our philoso- 
 phical orthodox literati was then the academical leviathan. 
 Baumgarten so entangled the true-hearted and much more learned 
 and sounder-minded Semler with what is called scientific faith, 
 he oppressed him so much with useless, false and vain learning, 
 that the excellent man long remained the creature of the sly so- 
 phist, was frightened at his own discoveries, and because, hke 
 Baumgarten, he did not wish merely to cast a mist before the 
 eyes, he became, almost against his will, a bold reformer. Be- 
 fore we point out in what way the anxious and timid Michaelis 
 and the pious Semler showed how hollow the ground v/as under 
 the Babylonian tower of the orthodox system, we cast a glance 
 upon the men who brought a new life into political literature, in 
 like manner as Michaelis and Semler did into theological. 
 
 We select Justus Moser and F. C. von Moser, in order to 
 show, that the effort which had commenced in the belles lettres 
 to bring the Germans up to the same point at which other na- 
 tions stood, began to extend itself to every relation of restricted 
 and oppressed civil life. This may be much the more easily 
 cftected, because both of the authors of the letters upon litera- 
 ture, which were, properly speaking, devoted only to the fine 
 arts, were welcomed also in another relation as the announcers of 
 a new species of political writing. It was but very rare in those 
 days, that in general even the higher German officials understood 
 anything beyond the barbaric science law, the chancery and
 
 § I.] MOSER. 363 
 
 decree style, and the pedantry of the universities, or thought 
 anything else worthy of their attention ; and it is an especial 
 subject of wonder, that a minister and a man, who was the pen- 
 holder for the aristocracy in defence of their baronial privileges, 
 should condescend to appear as a liberal writer, at a time when 
 the much-despised people were regarded as wholly incapable and 
 unworthy of forming judgments upon affairs of state and with 
 respect to their own proper business. 
 
 We shall not deny that Justus M(3ser, who had been adopted 
 into the Hanoverian nobility, as many lawyers and rich mer- 
 chants are now into the English, often seized his pen only as a 
 skilful advocate of the usurpations of the middle ages and of 
 their fixed limits, in order to console the people, to appease the 
 rising spirit of the age, and to put to silence the expressions of 
 dislike which were waxing loud, and with whose causes he was 
 better acquainted than any other German ; still we must reckon 
 him among the men who did all which, under the then existing 
 circumstances, it was possible to do. Moser's eulogiums upon 
 the then existing and traditionary but unsuitable state of things 
 never flowed from impure sources, and mostly even from con- 
 viction. We might, in one respect, compare Moser with Tur- 
 got : how great soever the difference of the two men in every 
 other respect was, and how little soever the one can be placed 
 on a footing of equality with the other, they corresponded in 
 this, that both as men of distinguished official rank appeared as 
 friendly mediators between the people and proud and selfish 
 governments, and that they both desired slowly, gently and pru- 
 dently to introduce the improvements which they recommended 
 in their writings ; and in this respect Mbser was a more popu- 
 lar writer than Turgot. 
 
 Both Miiser and F. C. von Moser were at first, as writers, only 
 upon a level with the Gottsched school of authors. The former, 
 however, soon improved and ennobled both form and language, 
 and the latter is only deserving of mention on account of the 
 contents of his writings, because their form, tone and language 
 always continued mediocre. We shall therefore pass over in 
 silence the works of Moser's youth, which were written accord- 
 ing to the taste of the Gottscheds, and also the diffuse and dull- 
 written treatise upon the ^ Value of the Benevolent Affections 
 and Passions,' which appeared in 1756; because they are di- 
 stinguished by no peculiarities from innumerable other treatises
 
 364 GERMANY. [CIIAP. V. 
 
 written at the same time, in a similar manner, and upon like 
 subjects. In a work upon the comico-grotesque, which ap- 
 peared five years afterwards, all the qualities will be found which 
 distinguish and characterise Moser as the writer who was not 
 too high for the men who had passed from burschen life into 
 that of placemen, &c., for the prosperous citizens; and who 
 was not too low for the noble lords and half French circles, and 
 which must therefore have been uncommonly dear to the good 
 Nicolai. 
 
 In Osnabriick and Westphalia in general, any high flight of 
 thought, any warm zeal, any poetical inspiration, would have 
 been scarcely possible; and, like every thing else out of its proper 
 place, would probably only have produced ridiculous fruits. And 
 besides, we could not reasonably expect freer language and better 
 and keener wit from a man circumstanced as Moser was, who 
 was groaning under a load of prosaic business, who had daily 
 to do with prebendaries, with the high nobility, with possessors 
 of lands, lordships and feudal rights, whose prejudices and pride 
 he was obliged to spare. His ' Harlequin, or Defence of the 
 Comico- Grotesque,' is, properly speaking, wholly directed against 
 jDcdants of all kinds and in favour of a popular literature, and at 
 the same time against the pietists and the sneering enhghtened 
 bookmakers. Moser writes in a humorous tone, which was not 
 at that time so disgraced by abuses as in our days, against the 
 hypocritical opponents of the theatre in general, but especially 
 against that fury which had sprung from Gottsched's school, to 
 banish every thing which accorded with the taste of the humbler 
 classes from the stage, and to suffer nothing to be represented 
 on the theatre but stiff pieces manufactured according to Ari- 
 stotle's rules, or translated from the French. Moser never rises 
 above mediocrity, and his wit among other things has something 
 forced and small townish ; but it was precisely these qualities 
 which amused his public, who knew well, from the spirit and 
 feeling of their own societies, how they were astonished at the 
 extensive knowledge of French, English and Italian, and works of 
 belles lellres, which was exhibited merely for show, and they felt 
 no surprise that Moser placed the mediocrity and even the pi- 
 tiful style of a Zacharia and Dusch, the fashionable writers of 
 the educated Germans, on a level with Cervantes and Mo- 
 liere. 
 
 Moser does not aim at giving direct instruction to the people
 
 § I.] MOSER. 365 
 
 themselves, but only to the classes with whom he lived in con- 
 stant intercourse, and the kind of ornamental form which he 
 selected was altogether suited for this design. And he became 
 the forerunner of a better time and of a freer movement of life, 
 by opening up the senses and understanding of the people to 
 whom his style was suited, without exciting their fears. As 
 Moser presented truth to his public in the jesting garb, as his 
 humour and his wit were quite in the taste and after the fashion 
 of these people whom he wished to instruct, he alone might and 
 could say to them that they must not be too prudish, too anxious, 
 too tastelessly pious, if they wished to raise up a national litera- 
 ture and a national theatre. Moser himself in his writings never 
 rises beyond mere conventional wit, although he admits and 
 tries to convince his public, that the people must be allowed to 
 amuse themselves in their own way, and that their natural wit 
 notwithstanding all its oifensive rudeness had incomparably more 
 vigour than what is merely conventional. Moser shows his 
 public in an agreeable manner, that it was far from being the 
 same to take pleasure in rude and broad jokes, and to allow 
 oneself for the moment to be made merry by the bright flashes 
 of natural wit, even though they are emitted by a merry-andrew. 
 In this, as in all the rest of Moser's writings, are to be found 
 those qualities which are peculiar to him above all the writers of 
 his age, and which make him so peculiarly important for the history 
 of the progress of Germans and their national literature. Fore- 
 seeing as he did the complete dissolution of old customs and 
 usages, and even wishing and desiring to promote it, he always 
 labours quietly to substitute what was new and attractive for what 
 was traditional and antiquated — for what had become a custom 
 and was regarded as valuable by the people — and thus to make it 
 national and enduring. There is another quality in Moser's 
 writings which cannot be overlooked, — that he calls the attention 
 of the men of business to the fact, that the people may be guided 
 and roused to duty by moral influences better than by being 
 ruled by command. This is his especial object in a letter in 
 which he considers Christianity merely as a traditionary popular 
 belief, a prevailing opinion, and a state institution for the jiro- 
 motion of morality. This letter, entitled " A Letter to the Vicar 
 of Savoy, to be delivered to Mr. James Rousseau," proves at the 
 same time that as early as the sixth or seventh decennium of the 
 eighteenth century, there was very little hope remaining that
 
 366 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 the old dogmatics and their subtleties would be able to maintain 
 their ground against the freer princij^les which were forcing their 
 way from France into Germany. 
 
 The title, which indeed betrays a kind of witj w^hich is not to 
 everybody's taste, but which was quite as good at that day as 
 Rabener's and Gellert's humour, shows that this letter was di- 
 rected against the confession of a Savoyard, or against an attack 
 upon all revelation, or against the defence of natural religion, 
 which Rousseau had incorporated in his '^Emile.' Before we 
 bring forward another point, we must remark that the very fact 
 of the appearance of this letter of Moser's is very important as 
 indicating the condition of the time, and as a proof of the con- 
 tinually growing opposition, among people of education in Ger- 
 many, to the religion of governments and consistories. What at- 
 tention must Rousseau's principles have excited in Germany 
 when two official men in high stations thought it advisable to 
 come forward as his antagonists, in a yielding and conciliatory 
 tone, with arguments, and not with denunciation and exclusion ! 
 One and the same notion of refutation was, at the same time, 
 entertained by two very distinguished men, both of whom had 
 rendered great service to our language and literature, the one a 
 distinguished ecclesiastical and the other a civil officer — the 
 Abbot Jerusalem of Brunswick, and Moser in Osnabriick, 
 Jerusalem sought to gain the victoiy over Rousseau by showing 
 the possibility of proving that every natural religion, to become 
 the religion of the state and the people, must necessarily be 
 positively taught and believed. Jerusalem maintained this pro- 
 position, in a letter, considered in its theological and philoso- 
 phical point of view, and Moser in its political, in which he had 
 indisputably all history and experience in his favour. 
 
 Moser, who, as an experienced man of business, regarded an 
 aristocratical, intelligible, fatherly administration as beneficent 
 and suitable, placed his experience of the wants and thoughts 
 of the people in opposition to the theories of Rousseau, who had 
 had, even in his riper years, no opportunity of accurately study- 
 ing any particular people, and, without declamation, he lays down 
 principles, the justice and applicability of whicli are obvious. It 
 appears, from Moser's quiet and well-considered discourse, how 
 vacillating those moral principles must be, which originate in 
 sentimental lectures and are grounded on the feelings, which are 
 very different in different individuals and nations. Moser, ac-
 
 § I.] MOSER. 367 
 
 cording to his principles, takes civil society as he finds it, and 
 grants to one class what he refuses to another; llousseau 
 makes himself men, on whom he then indeed can confer the 
 rights which are suited to them. Rousseau was right if he only 
 wished to destroy ; Moser wishes to build up and to improve, 
 and leaves that pre-eminence to the aristocracy M-hich it sooner 
 or later will again seize upon and appropriate. 
 
 Let us return to our proper subject, — to Moser's remarks 
 upon positive religion : he says expressly, that he has nothing 
 to say against the principle that certain men, even that whole 
 classes, should look upon the popular religion in quite a different 
 way from the mass of the people ; yea, he wishes even to allow 
 them to arrange their mode of conduct according to their doubts 
 and scruples, only the people must believe. This sounds some- 
 what harsh ; and Rousseau, as a friend and advocate of systems 
 and theories, could by no means acquiesce in such a principle. 
 Others of us, however, who have seen to what excesses those 
 French and Germans have been led, who have renounced every 
 thing positive in government and religion, are, however unwill- 
 ingly, obhged to admit that Moser's principles have a solid 
 foundation in history and experience. From experience and 
 knowledge of the people, but not supported by philosophical 
 demonstration, he maintains that the people, from beginning to 
 doubt about the facts in the history of religion, are infalhblyled 
 to a vacillation of opinion with respect to religion itself We 
 do not M-ish to assert, that this practical doctrine would have 
 been better than the abstract doctrines of orthodoxy and of ab- 
 solutism in our days are, or that even then the mere letter of 
 an advocate, which produces no inward conviction, could render 
 such service to truth as Lessing and others rendered; but we 
 must remember that this letter appeared in 1765. 
 
 In the same year Moser published his introduction to the 
 history of Osnabriick, which may be called an introduction to 
 the whole body of German history, or an illustration of the 
 manner of treating it advantageously, which threw an entirely 
 new light upon the nature of historical learning. We call atten- 
 tion also to this book in order to show the progress of our nation 
 in the study and composition of history. The first part of the 
 history of Osnabriick was printed, for the second time, in 1 780, 
 and it, as well as the works of Michaelis and Schlozer, showed 
 the Germans how the principles which Voltaire, Bolingbroke,
 
 3GS GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 and Hume had stated or followed, could be applied, without 
 leading to absolute scepticism. Michaelis had taken the fore- 
 way in his writings upon the history and legislature of the Jews, 
 Moser followed upon those of the Germans. He was, on this 
 occasion, as it appears to us, much more fortunate in developing 
 the foundations and connexions of life and manners, of institutions 
 and usages, of family descent and domestic relations, and there- 
 fore of the nature and principles of popular history, than in the 
 investigation of history itself. We mean to say that Moser, in his 
 immortal work, the value of which has been only duly discovered 
 and appreciated in the present century, is much more successful 
 M'hen he deduces a history from the life of the country people, 
 Avhich abounds more in ancient usages in Westphalia than in 
 other provinces, from the laws, the family registers, and from 
 the sources of the business in which he was daily engaged, and 
 upon which customs and usages were founded, than when he 
 enters upon the chronicles and historical books of the middle 
 ages. We see too, distinctly, that the general conclusion does 
 not follow, and cannot properly be deduced, from the particu- 
 lars whicli are brought forward, but that supports only are sought 
 and added to those principles which are deduced from other 
 sources, as the custom is to quote statutes and judgements for 
 the maintenance of an opinion. 
 
 The work is not, therefore, the less important, because it is 
 written by an author who was not master of the whole of the 
 proper historical materials ; for it contains, in fact, a philosophical 
 history, without any of those abstractions, subtleties and imagi- 
 nations which are usually attached to that name. Schlozer wrote 
 at the same time, and in a similar manner, as Moser, but with- 
 out mildness and without taste, in a language far from pure. 
 Moser is distinguished also from Michaelis by the language and 
 tone of better society, and by the absence of the self-satisfactory 
 manner of professional enunciation which universally reigns in 
 the MTitings of Michaelis. Moser's short essays, which he pub- 
 lished in provincial papers, expressly to awaken the minds of his 
 fellow-countrymen in Germany to what was altogether new, and 
 to prepare them for treating upon public relations, were still 
 more important for the social and civil life of the people, and for 
 its progressive development in the later dcccnnia of the eighteenth 
 century. These essays, upon whicli for several reasons we 
 cannot delay, were afterwards published in four volumes, and arc
 
 § I.] MOSER. 369 
 
 yet the very best book which can be put into the hands of a 
 German official who is benevolent and able, to give him instruc- 
 tion upon every thing, with respect to his intercourse and trans- 
 actions with the people, which he will not find in the criminal 
 code or in the corpus juris. The essays collected in this national 
 work appeared originally in the ^ Osnabriick Intelligencer,' from 
 ] 766-1 782, and go far beyond the limits which we have pre- 
 scribed to ourselves. 
 
 The contents of these essays either refer to local subjects, or 
 they have relations altogether special. He has, however, him- 
 self explained fully the connexion in which they stand to his 
 other efforts to advance the progress of one part of the German 
 nation, and to the object of the continuous endeavours of his 
 whole life to rouse our nation from its slumber, without exciting 
 wild and revolutionary alarm. His own declaration is, that he 
 has endeavoured to lay down in these fugitive papers some im- 
 portant truths, which were the results of his experience in daily 
 life, and to impress them earnestly upon the minds of the people. 
 It cannot be denied, that there was in the background some 
 anxiety about the influence of the bolder principles of the French, 
 which, under Frederick's protection, threatened powerfully to 
 disturb the lagging course and phlegmatic spirit of the Germans, 
 and the customs and easy enjoyments of the Spaniards ; and 
 that Moser, according to the fashion of jurists and ordinary offi- 
 cials, sought to present the most favourable view of every op- 
 pression exercised upon peasants and citizens, and knew how to 
 excuse and accommodate to his system every abuse, according to 
 the manner of the doctrinaires both on this side and the other 
 side of the Rhine. Moser, as a jurist, as a placeman and friend 
 of great and small dynasties, in his position and with his occu- 
 pations, could just as little raise his mind to an ideal view of life, 
 and to the contempt of all limits, as his intimate friend and ad- 
 mirer Frederick Nicolai, the bookseller in Berlin. He was as 
 much an enemy to all genius and originality, which had no 
 practical application, as his friend in Berlin. Moser himself 
 admits that his relations in society, and his duties and connexions 
 as an official man, stood greatly in his way in the composition of 
 his writings*. 
 
 * We believe what is said in the text may be best illustrated for our 
 purpose, by quoting Mijser's own words. In the preface to the third 
 part of his * Phantasien' (Fancies), he says :— " The honour of having freely 
 
 VOL. I. 2 B
 
 370 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 With respect to manliness of character and boldness of ex- 
 pression against small and great despots and their contemptible 
 ways^ F. C. von Moser far excels the author of the patriotic 
 ' Imaginary Cases/ to whom in other respects he is very inferior. 
 Not only is F. C. von Moser distinguished, above all his contem- 
 poraries, for noble freedom of mind, but we doubt if, even now, 
 any French or German high official man would venture to 
 use the language which Von Moser used in his days. He was 
 not allowed indeed with impunity to throw his aspersions on the 
 slavish souls of the people, w^ho readily find reasons for all 
 abuses, and, in return for money and rank, make the M'orse ap- 
 pear the better reason. We must not here speak of Moser s 
 political grammar, published 1749, because both in form and 
 contents it belongs to the seventeenth century. This book is 
 composed in the barbarous language of the chancery courts, and 
 treats diffiisely of the barbarous formulas and the dull style of 
 courts and law offices, with all that oppressive learning which is 
 
 spoken the truth would have been of little use to me if I had gained nothing 
 thereby ; because the approbation and confidence of my fellow-citizens (viz. the 
 prebendaries, privileged men, and other officials) were as important to me as 
 right and truth (!!!). I have therefore been obliged to have recourse to many a 
 stratagem, in order to gain the one without losing the other, which would have 
 appeared too low, perhaps, if I had been writing for a great public. Tlie per- 
 son who is acquainted with the matter, will not be led astray by this blind. 
 What is most singular is (we see with what people the writer was obliged to 
 live and rule), that at home I am regarded as the greatest enemy of mere 
 personal rights of property', and abroad as their most zealous defender." But 
 he declares himself most openly with respect to the kind of writing which alone 
 remained to him, and to all the subordinates and daily companions of the 
 honourable lords in Osnabriick and Hanover, in a letter to Nicolai ; we shall 
 quote the passage in the letter (afterwards published by Nicolai, 1798, second 
 part, p. 166), although it is somewhat long. It says more than we, with our 
 great respect for Moser, would venture to say ; but it says it only to those 
 who knew how to value the virtue of the virtuous officials, and who have read 
 Klinger's ' Man of the World and Poet.' He says : — " I would not willingly 
 fall under the suspicion of having, from mere arbitrary feelings, here and 
 there written upon many subjects both pro and contra. Very important 
 local reasons have obliged me to it, and I would have waged, certainly, open war 
 against feudal rights if the whole present ministry here, and the whole district, 
 did not consist of landowners, whose respect and confidence I cannot despise, 
 without injuring all our institutions. And, God be praised ! I have never, 
 with all my expositions, made an enemy, and accomplished much which to 
 others appeared impossible. I could have supported many pieces in ray 
 ' Imaginary Cases' by examples of decrees relating thereto, or explained them 
 by plans afterwards adopted ; but that would have been going too far. It 
 would have been a very ticklish thing for me, if I had either publicly exposed 
 to view the president of my college, or the honourable lord marshal, whose 
 characters the local reader would have easily known ; or had written my opi- 
 nion to the public on matters which I discussed or expounded with my 
 colleagues."
 
 § I.] VON MOSEB. 371 
 
 common to our old German professors of law. We pass on rather 
 to books which are at least somewhat better written, although 
 properly speaking, their contents alone render them worthy of 
 notice. What however makes the works of both these men more 
 worthy of notice than even their contents, is the time at which 
 they appeared, and the reception which was given them by the 
 public, because all the world was astonished that a German 
 durst venture in any way whatever to speak the truth. 
 
 Moser published a work in 1759, entitled, ^ Master and Ser- 
 vant, described with Patriotic Freedom.^ This work excited the 
 greatest attention in the whole of Germany, and the enmities 
 which it drew upon the very cautious author, sufficiently prove 
 in what a miserable condition our political press was before the 
 time of Moser and Von Moser, and what a deep and abiding sense 
 of slavery had entered into and degraded the souls of our people 
 since the times of Hutten and Luther. We shall presently 
 make a long extract from the work itself, in a note, from which 
 it will be seen that the style, language and orthography belong 
 wholly to an older time ; and we may add, that the tone, the wit 
 and the manner of composition are as tasteless as the style and 
 language. How miserable must the education and the mental 
 culture, even at the schools have been ! how pitiful the teaching 
 of our mountebanks of science in the faculties ! how humble as 
 lacqueys our official men, when Moser's ^ Master and Servant,' 
 and other books of his, still worse written, could become torches 
 in a dark night ! There were, however, also particular circum- 
 stances connected therewith. 
 
 Von Moser's voice came forth from the government chancerv, 
 and therefore penetrated into chanceries where the voice of huma- 
 nity never reaches. The outcry of abuse, which came from an 
 official person, who had from his own and his father's experience 
 obtained a perfect acquaintance with princes, presidents, courts, 
 court privileges and finance chambers, caused the greatest con- 
 sternation, and disturbed in the most disagreeable manner that 
 security and quiet, which the rod of military discipline, the trijile 
 brazen breast-plate of subtle jurists, the rock-fast faith of court 
 theologians had served to establish in favour of despotic rulers, 
 and their like-minded officials. Moser's inductions of facts, the 
 examples and anecdotes about great governments and splendid 
 courts in the German duodecimo states, are for the most part 
 lost to the present age ; because they are cautiously clothed in 
 
 2 B 2
 
 372 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 the language of conventional obscurity. It appeal's to us at least 
 not worth \Ahile to attempt to be the CEdipus of this riddle. It 
 is enough to know^ that those whom they concerned felt the 
 keenness of the lash so sensibly, that they sought for, as such 
 men are accustomed to do, the bitterest and the severest 
 revenge. 
 
 In order to show in what manner Moser taught the Germans 
 in what a condition they were, and how he strove to rouse the 
 spirits of the people, from the mean service of slavery and thirst 
 for gain, to a love of their country, we shall quote a passage in 
 which he describes the connexion between the estates of the 
 kingdom and their forms, and the increase of taxation * ; we 
 trust in God, that it may not be necessary in some ten years for 
 another Moser, if such can be found in our days, to say some- 
 thing similar with regard to our estates of the present day. In 
 order not to rest upon our own opinion of F. C. von Moser as a 
 writer, we shall quote also in a note what Hamann, after his 
 strange fashion, has said about the form of the ' Master and 
 
 * ' Der Herr und der Diener' u. s. w. Frankfurt 1759- 12°. p. 101. " In 
 verschiedenen Provinzen Teutschlands habe ich die Handlungen der Land-Tage 
 in der Nahe zu betrachten Gelegenheit gehabt. Es hat mich ein ordentliches 
 Bedauern gekostet, wie das Landes-Viiterliche Herz auf densclben herumge- 
 schleppt worden. Nach der Proposition der Landeslierrlichen Commissarien 
 brache dem theuern Landes-Vater das Herz, dass er mit neuen Anfoderungen 
 beschwerlich fallen miisse. Er, der alsdann erst froh seyn wiirde, wenn er 
 seine Unterthanen reich und gliicklicli niachen kbnnte. Diss einige trostet 
 ihn, dass es ganz unvermeidliche und unter der Leitung eines hbheren Schick- 
 sals stehende Landesbedurfnisse seynd, welche ihn nothigen, dem Lande mit 
 neuen Anfoderungen beschwerlich zu fallen. Nach dieser charlatans- Predigt 
 geht das Negotiiren an. Die Land-Hauptleute, der Erb-Marschall, die Aus- 
 schlisse von Priilaten, Ritterschaft und Stltdten und wie sie nach der verschiede- 
 nen Lage der teutschen Provinzen heissen, werden einer nach dem andern 
 besprochen, gastirt, belebt, bedroht und gevvonnen, die mehreren Stimmen 
 machen endlich den Schluss und es wird ein abermaliges Aderlassen duixh das 
 ganze Land resolvirt. Der Land-Tags-Abschied ist so gelehrt, wie eine Lei- 
 chen-Predigt, und der Minister mit seinen Maklern und Kiich-, auch Keller- 
 Bedienten kommen im Triumph nach Hof zuriick, Leben und Wonne breitet 
 sich wieder iiber die Favoriten un^ Favoritinnen aus, der Jager blast auf die 
 frcudige Nachricht von den neuen Land-Tags-Geldern noch einmal so muthig 
 ins Horn, die Siingerinn, die seit 13 Monaten nicht bezahlte Siingerinn, stcigt 
 so hoch, wie cine Lerche, der /"aj/o/re-Hunds- Stall, dem die Renth-Cammer 
 und Creditores schon den Uiitergang decretirt hattcn, ertont von frohem Ge- 
 heul, und alle adeliche und unadeliche Miissiggangcr rechnen bereits auf die 
 neu eroffnete Goldgrube. Von den gethanen Bewilligungen sollte den Trup- 
 pen der riickstandige Sold cntrichtet, gewisse auf der Execution stehende 
 Landes-Schulden abgetragenund einige mit grossemVortheil feil geraachte,dem 
 Lande incorporirte Ritter-Giitcr bezahlt werden. Alles dieses ist ira Angesicht 
 des Landes mit Hand und Siegel, auf Wort und Treue versprochen worden. 
 AUein, dass Gott crbarni ! Wie wird der theursten Zusage gespottet. u.s.w."
 
 § 1.] VON MOSER. 373 
 
 Servant/ This judgement will be found given in the eleventh 
 part of the * Letters upon Literature/ which was the most cele- 
 brated, or, properly speaking, the only critical periodical of that 
 time, in which the same work in the fifth part had been previ- 
 ously highly eulogised ; and the words deserve double attention^ 
 because the editors of this periodical in no respect belonged to 
 the class of Hamann's unconditional admirers*. 
 
 The publishers and authors of the ^ Letters upon Literature/ 
 Mho glowed with a noble zeal for the regeneration of their fellow- 
 countrymen sunk in slavery and barbarism, directed so much 
 attention to the ^ Master and Sei'vant,' because they wished to 
 bring the book into the hands of the benumbed people; forMoser's 
 style and manner and his kind of piety, effectually debarred him 
 from becoming a great writer, and this is confirmed by all his 
 subsequent productions. In the whole of the two volumes of 
 his collected moral-political writings, a single essay could scarcely 
 be mentioned which reaches even mediocrity ; for his catechism 
 and sermonising morality are intolerable, and what should be 
 political is tedious and destitute of taste. His ' Remains ' (1 766) 
 are indeed not altogether tedious ; but they become absurd, be- 
 cause their form reminds us of Pascal, and because the good 
 Moser, from pure piety, is so malicious against Frederick the 
 Second, who could neither indeed value his theory of the atone- 
 
 * Hamann, in his ' Promiscuous Observations upon the Syntax of the French 
 Language,' says : — "This rhapsody ('the Master and Servant ') is partly spun 
 from French silk, and therefore we should be conscientious enough to pay 
 France with usury for the use of her materials, — a fresh proof of German 
 honour, which however is often prejudicial to the growth of prudence. One 
 of the translators has too zealously rendered Diener by serviteur ; valet-de- 
 chambre might have suited him better. Because the splendid skin of the ori- 
 ginal has excited great attention, a summary dissection of its inward structure 
 shall here be introduced. The author appears to be a stranger in the cabinet, 
 well acquainted however with the audience-chamber and the chancery. True 
 political skill is too active and too cunning to stop with' piis desideriis;' 
 neither must it be interchanged with proverbs, economical advantages, and 
 laws of ceremony. His knowledge of books and of men is not to be relied on. 
 ' Fundusque mendax,' to which Horace alludes in what he says of his con- 
 verse with nations, — ' Unde plus haurire laboris mali est, quam ex re decer- 
 pere fructus.' A magazine devoted to taste cannot, must not, assume to judge 
 of the sources of learning. The unsteady eye of the merely curious, without 
 the firm look of an examining observer, (on journeys, and especially at courts,) 
 weaiy without being satisfied, furnishes rather dissipation of thought than in- 
 struction ; accustomed indeed to admire, but not to judge, which must be more 
 correct and delicate in blame than in praise. Undigested materials cause an 
 imsound mode of writing, which tastes more of gall and vinegar than of salt 
 and spices, interchanged with frost and heat. A pedagogue of great gentlemen 
 and their servants will receive this ' licentiam poeticam' of a scholiast with that 
 moderation," &c. &c.
 
 374 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 ment, nor his kind of learning. We would pass over his * Da- 
 niel in the Den of Lions' and other poems, altogether in silence, 
 out of respect for him, if we wished to write a history of German 
 literature, which is not our object. It belongs to a later period 
 to set a value upon the services which he rendered by his patri- 
 otic ' Archives/ and we now pass on to J. D. Michaelis and 
 Semler, who bore about the same relation to the later enlight- 
 ened views of religion, which Moser and Von Moser did to those 
 of politics. 
 
 Michaelis and Semler in theology, like Moser and Von Moser 
 in the treatment of history, remained always true to the principles 
 of the government administration, and in politics to the old 
 system and its forms ; they trembled at the very thought of any 
 bold and searching reforms ; they were learned in an extraordi- 
 nary degree, but very middling writers, like Von Moser. Both 
 these men however carried a new light into the dark regions of 
 Jewish and Christian history, exegesis, and dogmatics, which 
 Michaelis afterwards took great pains, but in vain, to hide under 
 a bushel. Semler could not calculate, Michaelis was a master 
 in the art ; the former therefore was early denounced as a here- 
 tic, the latter had to do with a Hanoverian statesman, who sought 
 to advance the reputation and promote the advantages of Got- 
 tingen, and who found the theologians an aid and support to the 
 calculating politicians, whose number was not then so great as 
 it has now become. Michaelis was not the man (for we ought 
 to allude to that) who wished for enlightenment in religion ; his 
 aim was reputation and money ; he sought to discover an en- 
 tirely new political, economical, and legislative interest for the 
 readers of the Old Testament, who were then much more nu- 
 merous than they are at present, in the Jewish books, and with- 
 out observation to supplant the old theological stuff. 
 
 Michaelis himself was astonished when he observed that the 
 old manner of explaining the Scriptures and of understanding 
 and pointing out every history of the East literally in the 
 West, could not subsist along with his new method of ex- 
 plaining the East by the East ; he was therefore amazed and 
 terrified, and protested against the supposition which the bold 
 Semler put forth, that the church creeds of the Protestants of 
 his time were throughout and essentially different from the doc- 
 trine which every honest man must announce as that of Jesus 
 Christ and his apostles. The influence of the two learned men
 
 § I.] MICHAELIS AND SEMLER. 375 
 
 who have been named was as different as that of their charac- 
 ters. Semler was only learned, and paved the way for the 
 learned ; Michaelis was diffuse and popular, and laid claim, not 
 only to universality in knowledge, but also in influence. His 
 books, like his lectures, of which they were faithful copies, con- 
 veyed some new general, if not very well-grounded knowledge, 
 not only to the theologians, but also to the tradesmen educated 
 in the universities, who did not at that time devote much atten- 
 tion to the Bible, and to whose vulgarity of mind the breadth 
 and dulness, which are often found in Michaelis's writings, were 
 altogether suited. Semler's books, which were somewhat diffi- 
 cult to read, had a quite different field of operations ; his deep 
 and honest investigations destroyed traditional falsehood among 
 the learned, and he founded a school, which, following his foot- 
 steps, altogether renounced the traditional systematic faith. 
 
 We cannot in a general history enter upon an examination of 
 the principles of these celebrated men, nor give a detailed account 
 of the writings of either ; we shall only throw out some hints to 
 show how they paved the way for the bolder reformers of the 
 Protestant church, which had become dark and ignorant through 
 neglect or superstition, and to whom we must refer in the fol- 
 lowing period. We have already observed that Michaelis, ever 
 thoughtful about, and prudently calculating upon, the advantage 
 and the celebrity of his own name and that of Gottingen, looked to 
 France and England, and imitated the examples there set before 
 him, as far as he could venture so to do, without awakening the 
 suspicion of heterodoxy ; Semler, on the other hand, was guided 
 wholly by his own immense and often confounding learning and 
 discoveries, which his honest mind did not venture to conceal, 
 however faithfully he remained attached to the Christian faith. 
 Semler said advisedly, honestly and openly what he had found 
 out ; but he said it only to the learned, who were in a situation 
 to follow him upon his painful and laborious path. Michaehs 
 babbled and jested before the students, rejoiced in their vulgar 
 applause of his wit, and never suspected that he was effectually 
 destroying what he wished to uphold. Michaelis, in his expo- 
 sitions, books and in confidential conversation, and with an 
 immense acquaintance with the subject, let fall remarks about 
 the Old Testament and the Jews, in the presence of the great 
 public, which were wholly inconsistent with the principles of our
 
 3^6 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 Christian rabbis, and of those theologians who found the whole 
 of the Athanasian creed in the Old Testament. 
 
 Michaelis and his friend Gessner knew right well how their 
 opinions stood with regard to the reigning dogmaticsj but they 
 w-ere by far too prudent to run any risk of making enemies for 
 the sake of the pure and naked truth ; the service however which 
 they rendered to the then dawning enlightenment was not the 
 less, and we shall show, by Michaehs's example, that a genera- 
 tion which had been educated and trained by Michaelis, Gess- 
 ner, Heyne, Ernesti and Semler, from the stores of the ancients, 
 or by seeing and thinking, and not merely by writing dictations, 
 and committing lectures to memory, could no longer believe in 
 the serpent walking on the point of its tail, in Jacob's ladder, 
 Elijah's ascent to Heaven, and the like. Michaelis, in order to 
 remain fast in such belief, required of those who wished to un- 
 derstand and explain the Old Testament, the criticism of the 
 text, an inquiry into the strict signification of the words, ac- 
 quaintance with the dialects related to the Hebrew language, 
 with the usages of the East and its poetry. How was it possible, 
 that a dogmatic interpretation should be maintained, which paid 
 no respect to any of these requisitions ? 
 
 This learned writer did more for Gottingen than any other 
 of our theologians, even of later times, if we make in some re- 
 spects an exception in favour of Eichhorn and Ernesti, who in 
 other departments of literature were more at home than Micha- 
 elis. By his abounding loquacity, the activity of his mind, and 
 the variety of his subjects, he enabled and led the dull v.orldly 
 theologians of the university, whose oracle he was, who had been 
 hitherto rendered indifferent by their dogmatics to every species 
 of knowledge of nature or of mankind, to combine Biblical know- 
 ledo-e with the inventions and discoveries of the new age, and to 
 free themselves from a belief in Jewish and monkish supersti- 
 tions. He spoke of Waller and Linnrcus, of natural science and 
 politics, he applied the i)rinciplcs of Montesquieu to Jewish 
 legislation ; treated of agriculture and horse-breeding, of all poli- 
 tical and economical sciences ; and his bitter and severe jests in 
 his lectures were often directed against his stupid orthodox col- 
 leagues — why did they not take warning ? We answer, because, 
 being accustomed to tlie Stentorian sounds of systems, they were 
 quite deaf to the still quiet voice of sound reason.
 
 § I.] MICHAELIS. 377 
 
 Michaelis, properly speaking, was brought on his way by the 
 Enghsh, but these quickly perceived whither tliat way was likely 
 to lead him ; the incumbents of their churcheSj the families to 
 whom the livings belonged, that part of the nation in whose 
 power the government has always been, had quite different and 
 more tangible reasons for maintaining the integrity of all the old 
 doctrines and institutions, from those of our German Protest- 
 ants ; they speedily began therefore to raise an outcry against 
 the Germans, precisely in the same manner as the Germans had 
 raised a murder-shout previously against the English Deists, who 
 were by them called atheists. 
 
 We shall not examine how far Michaelis embraced the spirit 
 of antiquity well or badly, when he made Moses, according to his 
 theory, the oracle of God, the. Montesquieu of the Jews ; it was 
 at least a great step in advance, that he sought for something 
 more than Messianic prophecies and types of the New Testa- 
 ment in the books of Moses. We willingly admit that Mi- 
 chaelis was a man of sound learning, that he examined and un- 
 derstood the customs of antiquity, the life of the Nomads, the 
 wisdom of the Patriarchs, the poetry of the East in its length 
 and breadth, but he failed to fathom its depth. His investiga- 
 tions, however, and his instruction were friendly to the life of 
 our time, and made the quartos of Calovius, Gerhard, and Hut- 
 ter, which had been hitherto authorities, altogether useless. These 
 great dogmatists of our church, the author can assure his 
 readers from his own acquaintance with their thick books, in- 
 vestigated and proved Avith great seriousness that the second, and 
 not the first person of the Godhead, had written the tables of 
 the law with his own hand ! ! 
 
 D'Alembert knew well that Michaelis, who was so eager for 
 renown, could serve his and King Frederick's views in the en- 
 lightenment of Germany, and therefore had him invited to 
 Prussia ; but Michaelis remained orthodox, and Gottingen suited 
 his views better than the country of this niggardly monarch. 
 D'Alembert had only heard of Michael is's exegetical and critical 
 works from the reports of others, but he found no doubt the 
 evidence of the direction of his mind in his treatise u^Jon the in- 
 fluence of language, &c., which was honoured with the appro- 
 bation of the Berlin Academy and crowned with its laurel. This 
 work was at first only known through the admirable French
 
 37s GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 translation of Premontval *, which ^vas then regarded in general 
 as the production of JMichaelis. When, however, D'Alcmbert 
 entered into a correspondence with him, he indeed Avithdrew 
 from the claim of being able to write good French, and asserted 
 that he had need of Colom's help to assist him even in his let- 
 ters ; D'Alembert, however, did not cease to regard him as a 
 good writer, which nobody will do, who judges him from his 
 German alone. 
 
 D'Alembert entered into correspondence with Michaelis, in- 
 vited him to be a fellow-labourer in the great 'Encyclopedia,' and 
 when Frederick, after the seven years' war, caused him to come 
 to Berlin, in order to consult him as to the best manner of be- 
 ginning to open the eyes of his blind Germans, he earnestly re- 
 commended that Michaelis should, if possible, be attracted to 
 Prussia. With this view Guichard (named Quintus Icilius), 
 under the direction of the king and D'Alembert, wrote to Mi- 
 chaelis ; but, as has been before observed, the latter thought it 
 advisable not to accept the proposal. Michaelis's efforts, his 
 writing and teaching ditfer in general from those of Semler, in 
 the same way as all merel}^ academical labours differ from those 
 productions which spring from the free and unfettered mind. 
 Michaelis uniformly gave proofs of learning, or what in the 
 world is called talent, but he was w^holly without soul or truth ; 
 his activity was influenced by vanity and directed towards the 
 usual academical objects. It was in all resi)ects different with 
 the labours, feelings and objects of the true and pious Semler. 
 
 Semlei''s immense learning despised necessary forms ; but his 
 integrity, his fidelity, his love of truth impelled the man who 
 was far removed from all vanity, to lay open those truths and 
 discoveries of which he himself was afraid, and which we, asto- 
 nished by his learning, and animated by his noble sense of duty, 
 seek out with labour in his works. This holds good even of 
 his autobiography ; we wade through two volumes, in which he 
 gives a conscientious account of his knowledge, his wishes and 
 his efforts. We separate from him at length animated and con- 
 soled, because we have found out a noble man among thousands 
 of greater but far less estimable writers, wliose whole object is 
 
 * * De riiifluencc dcs Opinions sur le Langagc, ct du Langage sur Ics Opi- 
 nions. Dissertation, qui a rcmporte le prix de 1' Academic llovale de Prusse, en 
 1759.'
 
 § I.] SEMLER. 379 
 
 profit, and not to shine, or to serve the multitude in hopes they 
 will serve him again. 
 
 Semler truthfully and honestly believed that the charlatan 
 Baumgarten was a great man, he regarded the false show of the 
 colossal learning of the scholastic wolf as genuine and true know- 
 ledge, and he worked himself sick and stupid, in order to be 
 able merely to explain the orthodox waste of his Baumgarten, 
 or the badly translated compound of Church history, borrowed 
 from Fleury ; how therefore was he surprised when he found at 
 last that all this theological learning was mere chaff, that the 
 text of the New Testament was unfixed, and that many of these 
 WTitings, which were regarded as the genuine productions of the 
 early times of Christianity, were manifestly the works of pious 
 fraud!! Notwithstanding the true honourable man remained faith- 
 ful in his gratitude to Baumgarten ; but the truth which he had 
 discovered was regarded by him as too sacred, to render it pos- 
 sible for him to keep it concealed, and he therefore brought it 
 cautiously and prudently to light. 
 
 Semler in Halle set himself in opposition to the prevailing 
 traditionary faith, which made the Germans stupid and even 
 contemptible to their own princes and most distinguished men, 
 who had been educated according to the French model ; he was 
 frightened, however, when it was proposed to found an entirely 
 new system, and shrunk back in presence of his own light. Who- 
 ever wishes to know from the best sources the true condition of 
 the schools and churches in Germany, of instruction and in- 
 structors, the nature of the manuals and systems of faith and 
 knowledge at the end of the seven years^ war, let him take the 
 autobiography of Semler, and read the somewhat tedious and 
 difficult four hundred pages of its second part, and he will learn 
 to despise the people, who in our days are assiduously industri- 
 ous to bring back all this mischief, only in a somewhat modified 
 form. We dare not propose to the readers of a general history 
 to enter into the theological opinions of its authors ; we must, 
 however, merely advert to one point as the result of our very 
 laborious study of Semler's writings, and particularly of the 
 second part of the history of his life. 
 
 Semler learned in the most laborious way, by the study of 
 writings which altogether destroyed his taste and rendered him 
 incapable of writing even tolerably, by reading all the old theo- 
 logical compounds, manuals, books of instruction, by examining
 
 380 GERMANY. [CHAP. V. 
 
 the writings of all the visionaries, fanatics, pietists and props 
 of orthodoxy since the Reformation, that the whole theology 
 of his time and its exposition belonged to the worst periods 
 of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ; how could that be ? 
 How evident must it not be to every man who has read Semler, 
 that at a time when Gessner, Ernesti, Heyne and Michaelis had 
 again given life to the study of the ancients, to a taste for arts 
 and poetry, to an intelligent investigation and inquiry into ori- 
 ental languages and customs in the schools and universities, 
 the Bible also and theology must be studied and treated in a 
 manner very different from what they had been twenty years 
 before ! 
 
 As German Protestants, upon whose modes of life, theology 
 and the manner of its treatment had at that time far more influ- 
 ence than upon Catholics, with respect to whom religion in its 
 definite and fixed forms has little to do with their advancement 
 or progress, we consider Semler's services in the promotion of 
 knowledge as belonging, at least in one point of view, to the ge- 
 neral history of the mental culture and improvement of our na- 
 tive land, and not merely to learning ; the investigation of his 
 writings, on the other hand, we cannot enter upon. All the wri- 
 tings of Semler, who neither could nor would work immediately 
 upon the people, belong to a science of whose literature we cannot 
 in this work take account; in reference to our general view we must 
 however remark, that he formed in Halle by his instructions and 
 example a class of religious teachers who made it their business 
 to think and examine in a time almost wholly devoted to mere 
 speculation and hypocrisy, and this has made his name immor- 
 tal. Those Protestant instructors who had been educated by 
 Semler, announced from their pulpits and chairs an intelligible 
 faith, founded upon mature investigation, instead of an implicit 
 faith supported upon false historical testimonies, and all reli- 
 gious books w^ere purified from the absurdities of antiquated 
 reveries. 
 
 Semler, by his nature and education, was fitted above all others 
 to unveil and expose all those things, which sly deception had 
 forced upon Christians for centuries as the old and genuine 
 sources of divine learning. He was incomparably learned, of un- 
 wearied industry, and distinguished by a national tact, which he 
 had brought almost to perfection 5 by the necessary study of the 
 deistical writers whom he refuted, he was able almost instinc-
 
 § I.] SEMLER. 381 
 
 tively to trace out every pious fraud, to discover and expose 
 every forged and falsified alleged proof. In order to show that 
 Semler was the first who showed the urgent necessity of im- 
 provement in the methods of religious instruction which was 
 followed in the eighteenth, and is persecuted in the nineteenth 
 century, we shall subjoin two passages under the text, in which 
 he himself gives an account of his views of the history of theo- 
 logy. In the one, he lays down the principle of progress with 
 the age, which was detested and persecuted before Semler's time, 
 as it is in ours* ; and in the other, he affirms, that explanation 
 of the Bible without criticism is only ascetic and dogmatical 
 pumproom authority f. 
 
 * Semler ' Autobiog.' 2nd part, p. 258, says — : " Every man, teacher as well 
 as hearer, has a right to be an eclectic in theology ; because the nature of all 
 knowledge expressed by signs and communicated to others, is obnoxious to 
 the differences of times, or it comes into or falls out of repute with these times, 
 and can have no immutabilitj^ I regard therefore the numerous philosophical 
 and theological writers as industrious and faithful labourers, who prepare such 
 useful materials and furnish them as good as their times allow ; but who 
 can never render the labours of successors useless or unnecessary ; on the con- 
 trary, they must have accidental unavoidable deficiencies, which neither we 
 nor they can transform into advantages. If it were not so, whence come all 
 the materials for refutation, the opinions of all sorts entertained by the fathers, 
 scholastics and individual writers ? Time further brings with it, even now, 
 after Luther and all other theological writers, those unavoidable deficiencies, 
 still much more than is apparent in all civil, economical and other affairs ; 
 in which, however, time unavoidably brings with it other advantages and con- 
 clusions to observant contemporaries." 
 
 ■f 2nd part, p. 336. " Because I already loved criticism, I never allowed it 
 to be denied, that criticism must be applied to the Bible as well as to the writings 
 of profane authors. I perceived that the Protestant theologians were as little, 
 and yet still less acquainted with criticism in the seventeenth century, as the 
 most learned men of the Romish church ; for Morinus and Richard Simon, 
 indeed, opened up a new path, which however the dogmatists of both parties 
 were always anxious and laboured to stop again with new obstructions." 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
 Printed l)y Richard and John E. Taylor, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street.
 
 INDEX TO THE FIRST ATO SECOND YOLUMES. 
 
 LITERARY PORTION. 
 
 Abbt, ii. 2 
 
 Academy, French, i. Ill, 131 
 
 Achenwall, ii. 312 
 
 Adams, John, ii. 102 
 
 Addison, i. 36, 97—107, 217, 236, 257 ; ii. 64 
 
 Aiguilloii, Duke d', ii. 123 
 
 Alberti, i. 181 ; ii. 36 
 
 .yembert, D', i. 89, 106, 158, 163 et seq., 260, 279, 
 
 285, 294, 322— 32-i, 338—355, 377 ; ii. 116. 150 
 Altona, ii. 34 
 Altovf, ii. 186 
 
 America, N., i. 299 ; ii. 100 et seq. 
 Amthor, i. 238 
 Anne, Queen, i. 98 
 Anson, Lord, i. 307 
 Arbuthnot, i. 69, 78—80 
 Aretin, Peter, i. 264 
 Argent, D', i. 56, 145, 149 et seq., 200 
 Argout, D', i. 145 
 Ariosto, i. 11 
 Aristotelians, i. 75 
 Aristotle, i. 331 
 Arnd, i. 178, 179 
 Arnold, Gottfried, i. 179—184 
 Asia, i. 128 et seq. See Oriental nations 
 Assyria, i. 2 
 Astrue, i. 159 
 Atkinson, i. 52 
 Averdy, L', ii. 166 
 
 B. 
 
 Babylonia, i. 2 
 
 Bacon, i. 345 
 
 Baden, ii. 355 
 
 Baden, Margrave of, i. 195 ; ii. 157, 206, 308 
 
 Balirdt, ii. 186, 192, 200, 201, 208—214, 223, 249, 
 
 282, 325, 333 
 Baif, i. 18 
 Balzac, i. 18, 262 
 
 Bamberg and "Wiirzburg, Prince Bishop of, ii. 329 
 Banks, ii. 65 
 
 Bard Union, i. 219 ; ii. 236 
 Barre, Colonel, ii. 65 
 Barrington, ii. 88 
 Bartcnstein, Prince von, ii. 352 
 Basedow, i. 208, 307 ; ii. 33—41, 196—206, 320 
 Basle, ii. 39 
 Bath, Earl of, ii. 67, 70 
 
 Batteux, i. 153 
 
 Baudemont, Pi'ince, i. 108 
 
 Baumgarten, i. 204, 228, 229, 362, 379 ; ii. 186 
 
 Baumgartens, The, ii. 173 
 
 Bavaria, ii. 28, 334 
 
 Bayle, i. 17, 23, 30, 37, 02, 191, 196, 282 
 
 Bayreuth, Margravine of, i. 119 
 
 Beaufort, i. 138 
 
 Beaumarchais, i. 317 ; ii. 243 
 
 Beaumont, Archbishop Christopher de, i. 318,314 
 
 Beaumont, Archbishop Elie de, ii. 131 
 
 Beausobre, i. 38 
 
 Beccaria, ii. 160 
 
 Becmann, ii. 176 
 
 Bckker, i. 192; ii. 341 
 
 Belleau, i. 18 
 
 Benson, i. 91 
 
 Bentley, i. 95, 96 
 
 Berengarius Turonensis, ii. 53 
 
 Berlin, i. 204, 222, 241, 247, 253, 266, 357, 378; ii. 
 
 3, 129, 179, 183, 212—219, 240, 247, 251, 264, 305, 
 
 321 
 Berlin Academy, i. 242, 244, 245, 377 
 Berlin Critics, ii. 2 et seq. 
 Berlin Frenchmen, i. 144^—154 
 Berlin School, i. 179 
 Bernard, i. 166 
 Berne, i. 314; ii. 257,333 
 Bernstorf, ii. 36 
 Besser,i.l99 
 Bcza, Theodore, i. 13, 15 
 Bibcrach, ii. 14, 217, 223 
 Bichofswerder, ii. 183 
 Blue Stockings, ii. 64 — 73 
 Bluracnbach, ii. ,339, 340 
 Board of Trade, French, ii, 164 
 Bodmer, i. 116, 225 et seq., 239—241 
 Boie, ii. 335 
 
 Boileau, i. 16, 18, 84, 99; ii. 151 
 Bqie,ii.232, 235 
 Bo'lingbroke, i. 36, 55—77, 86—88, 91, 97, 99, 100, 
 
 113, 115, 141, 182, 183, 255, 270 ; ii. 64 
 Bonaparte, i. 118, 266 
 Bonn, University of, ii. 328 
 Bonnet, ii. 27—29, 151 
 Bonneval, Count, i. 151 
 Boscawen, Mrs., ii. 72 
 Bossuet, i. 140-142, 273, 273 ; ii. 287 
 Boswell, ii. 66, 68 
 Boyle, i. 95 
 
 Brahminism, i. 272 ; ii. 30 
 Brandeburg, ii. 250
 
 11 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Breidbacli, Von, ii. 327 
 Breitinger, i. 116, 231 et seq. 
 Bremen, i. 219-227 
 Breslau, ii. 184 
 Bretziier, ii. 200 
 Brissou, i. 14 
 
 Brookes, i. 200, 201, 223, 225, 239 
 ' Brougham, Lord, i. 79, 133 ; ii. 85, 87, 90, 91, 96, 
 
 111 
 Brown, i. 39 note 
 Bruhl, i. 213 
 Brunswick, ii. 59, 264, 326 
 
 , Crown Prince of, i. 258 
 
 , Duke of, ii. 114, 122, 325 
 
 Brussels, i. 108 
 Biickeburg, ii. 278 
 Buckland, i. 282 
 Buddliism, i. 272 ; ii. 30 
 Bude, i. 14 
 Budgell, i. 103 
 
 Buffon, i. 166, 260 ; ii. 148—152 
 Burger, ii. 235 
 Burke, ii. 69, 87, 93—98 
 Burney, Dr., ii. 71 
 Burney, Miss, ii. 69—72 
 Busching, ii. 129, 332 
 Byron, Lord, ii. 72 
 
 Calonne, ii. 167 
 
 Calvin, i. 13, 14, 96 ; ii. 140 
 
 Calvinists and Calvinism, i. 9, 13 et seq., 25 
 
 Cambridge, i. 320 
 
 Campe, i. 208, 307 ; ii. 200—207, 254—256, 262, 282 
 
 Canitz, i. 199 
 
 Caraccioli, i. 162 
 
 Carolinum at Cassel, ii. 321 
 
 Carpzovin, i. 181 ; ii. 186 
 
 Carter, Mrs., ii. 70 
 
 Cassel, ii 321 
 
 Catherine II., i. 161, 198, 258, 324, 338 ; ii. 123, 291, 
 
 300 
 Catholics and Catholicism, i. 9 et seq., 21, 44, 
 
 52, 95, 118, 129, 283, 312 ; ii. 33, 53, 81, 185 et seq., 
 
 305 
 Catron, i. 139 
 Cave, i. 184 
 
 Cellini, Benvenuto, i. 14 
 Celtic, i. 4 
 Cervantes, ii. 16 
 Chanteloup, i. 58 
 Chapone, Esther, ii. 72 
 Charles II., i. 20 et seq. 
 Charles IV., i. 8 
 Charles V., i. 12 
 Charlottenburg, ii- 214 
 Chateauneuf, Abbe, i. 108 
 Chatelet, Marchioness de, i. 259 et seq. 
 Chatham, Lord, ii. 91, 95, 97 
 Chaulieu, i. 109, 119, 156 
 Chaussee, La, i. 175, 176, 306 
 Chesterfield, i. 252—254 ; ii. 59 
 China, i. 2 
 
 Chodowiecki, ii. 16, 339 
 Chretien, Florent, i. 15 
 Christianity, i., 22—77, 112 et seq., 145, 153, 183, 
 
 265, 281 et seq., 310, 313, 365, 374r-379 ; ii. 27, 36, 
 
 139, 189 et seq., 213, 'ZGietseq. 
 Christina of Sweden, i. 10 
 Church, Anglican, i. 26, 95 
 Chubl), i. 53, 54 
 Cibber, i 91 
 Cirey, i. 259 et seq. 
 Clairon, Madame, i. 1, 68 
 Clarke, Samuel, i. 41, 53, 55 
 Claudius, i. 308 ; ii. 240 
 Cloland, ii. 64 
 Clcrc, Lc, i. 23, 30, 43 
 Clive, ii. 103 
 Colle, i. 166 
 
 College de France, i. 14 
 
 Collins, i. 40—42, 81 
 
 Cologne, Elector of, ii. 328 
 
 Comenius, i, 208 
 
 Commonvrealth, i. 22 
 
 Condillac, ii. 150, 152 
 
 Condorcet, i. 107, 108, 115, 116 note, 117 note, 324, 
 
 335 ; ii. 149, 151 
 Conti, Prince, i. 109 ; ii. 132 
 Corneille, i. 6, 19, 168, 169, 262 ; ii. 49, 151 
 Corsica, i. 299, 300, 302 
 Coster, ii. 165 
 
 Council of Two Hundi-ed, ii. 135 
 Courtin, i. 109 
 Cramer, i. 216, 219, 222, 248 
 Crebillon, i. 166, 168 
 Creutz, Count, i., 162, 163 
 Crevier, i. 278 
 Cromwell, i. 21, 22 
 Cronegk, i. 223, 249 ; ii. 47, 49 
 Cnisius, ii. 172-177, 186, 221 
 Cudworth, i. 73 
 Cujace, i. 14 
 CiJrchod, Miss, ii. 81 
 
 D. 
 
 Dalberg, Charles von, ii. 327 
 
 Dalberg, Johann von, i. 9 
 
 Dale, Van, i. 192 
 
 Danes, i. 14 
 
 Dan genii, ii. 158 
 
 Danish Government, ii. 33, 199 
 
 Danov, ii. 193 
 
 Dante, i. 5, 7 ; ii. 289 
 
 Danzig, i. 206 
 
 Darjes, ii. 174—177 
 
 Dashwood, Sir Francis, ii. 89 
 
 Daurat, Jean, i. 18 
 
 Davila, i. 64 
 
 Deffant, Madame du, i. 163 et seq., 277, 324, 328 
 
 Deists, and Deism, i. 29 et seq., 108 et seq , 147, 
 
 184 ; ii. 77, 190, 262. See also Voltaire, Boling- 
 
 broke, &c. 
 Delille, i. 264 
 Denmark, ii. 142 
 Denmark, King of, ii. 2, 195 
 Dennis, i. 98 
 Descartes, i. 17, 345 
 Dessau, ii. 37, 41, 199 et seq., 325 
 Dessau, Prince of, ii. 2, 199 
 Destouches, i. 169 
 Devonshire, Duchess of, ii. 68 
 Diderot, i. 34, 40, 42, 81, 106, 162—167, 255, 257, 
 
 285—287, 291, 304, 314—327, 339, 311 ; ii. 50, 113 
 
 —118, 125, 127, 150 
 Dijon, i. 288—291 
 Dodwell, i. 40 
 Dohm, ii. 320, 335 
 Druids, i. 89 
 Dryden, i. 84 
 Dubellay, i. 18 
 Duclos.i. 292, 314, 324 
 Dudevant, Madame, ii. 114, 293 
 Dufresny, i- 127, 173 
 Dupont de Nemours, ii. 152 
 Diirkheim, ii. 211 
 Dusch, i. 214, 248, 364 ; ii. 2, 15 
 Dutch, i. 185, 361 
 
 E. 
 
 Estes, The, i. 11 
 Eugene, Prince, i. 103 
 East, The. iSee Oriental Nations 
 East India Company, ii. 167 
 Eberhardt, ii. 177, 192, 214, 262, 325 
 Ebert,i. 219, 223 
 Eckhof, i. 243 ; ii. 45 
 Economists, French, ii. 152 et seq. 
 Edelmann, i. 214
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Edinburgh, ii. 75 
 
 Eglantine, Fabrice de, 1. 317 
 
 Egypt, i. 2, 89 
 
 Egyptians, i. 272 
 
 Eichhorn, ii. 194— 196, 234 
 
 Bmilius, Paulus, i. 12 
 
 Enclos, Ninon de 1', i. 331 
 
 Encyclopc-edists, French, i. 106, 165, 257, 288, 321, 
 
 331, 339, 342, 347, 349—352, 378 ; ii. 6, 57, 76, 155, 
 
 163 
 England, i. 20, 25—106, 114 et seq., 133, 138, 252 
 
 —259, 285, 301—303 ; ii. 57—112, 129, 145, 153, 
 
 159, 349 
 English, The, i. 185, 276, 280, 282, 359, 375 ; ii. 129 
 English Blue Stockings, ii. 64 
 English Church, ii. 142 
 Enghsh Constitution, i. 301 
 English Coteries, ii. 64 et seq. 
 English Novelists, ii. 59 
 English Writers, i. 253 
 Erasmus, i. 73 
 
 Erfurt, ii. 51, 186, 208, 217, 223, 327 
 Erlangen, ii. 186 
 Ernesti, ii. 187—191 
 Errleben, ii. 339 
 Eschenburg, i. 225 
 Espinasse, Mademoiselle 1', i. 164 et seq., 338 
 
 Fabricius, i. 291 
 
 Faszman, i. 208 
 
 Fayette, La, i. 173 
 
 Feder, ii. 176, 177, 181, 184, 339 
 
 Fenelon, i. 17 
 
 Fichte, ii. 181 
 
 Fielding, i. 27, 256, 257, 303 ; ii. 16, 59, 60, 69, 160 
 
 Filmer, i. 27 
 
 Fleury, Cardinal, i. 103, 108, 116, 118, 145, 146, 156 
 
 Fontaine, La, i. 16, 218 
 
 Fontenelle, i. 159 
 
 Forbonnais, ii. 158 
 
 Forster, George, ii. 321, 328, 330, 337, 338 
 
 Fox, C. J., u. 98, 99 
 
 France, i., 5 et seq., 56, 67, 71, 97, 106—176, 259— 
 
 355 ; ii. 113—171, 286, 343 
 France, Queen of, i. 156 
 Francis I., i. 5 et seq. 
 "Franciscans," The, ii. 89 
 Franke, i. 179 
 Frankfort, ii. 36, 249 
 Frankfort-on-the-Main, i. 206, 267, 321. 
 Frankfort-on-the-Oder, ii. 173, 175, 177, 191 
 Franklin, ii. 105—112 
 Frederick II., i. 108, 119, 125, 126, 144, 149 et seq., 
 
 258, 261, 266, 324, 329, 337, 338, 359 ; ii. 121, 136, 
 
 172, 173, 192, 219, 277, 320, 325 
 Freibiu'g, ii. 225 
 French, The, i. 5 et se(?., 185— 188, 198, 206, 207, 
 
 212, 214, 218, 369 ; ii. 18—21, 48—50, 58, 63 et seq., 
 
 77, 225, 226 
 French Theatre, i. 166—176 
 French Philosophical Politicians, ii. 152 
 French-German, i. 212 
 Frenchmen, Berlin, 1. 144 — 154 
 Fuchs, i. 198, 199 
 Fiirstenberg, ii. 326 
 
 G. 
 
 Galliani.'l'Abbe, i. 102, 255 
 Gallitzin, Prince, i. 337 
 Garrick, ii. 65, 70 
 Gartner, i. 219, 221, 222 
 Garve, ii. 184 
 
 Gatterer, i. 342 ; ii. 234, 313 
 Gaulic Dialects, i. 4 
 Gay, i.53 
 Gebhardi, i. 150 
 Gellert, i. 209, 216—219, 222, 240 
 Geneva, i. 13, 286, 289, 292, 293 note, 307, 314, 347 
 et seq. ; ii. 129 et seq. 
 
 Geneva, Academy of, i. 14 
 
 Genlis, Madame de, i. 260 
 
 Genoa, i. 8, 11 
 
 Geoffrin, Madame, i. 160—162, 277, 324 
 
 George II., i. 68, 69, 115 
 
 George III., i. 330 ; ii. 16, 192, 242, 310, 316 
 
 German Historians, ii. 309 
 
 German Journalists, ii. 324 et seq. 
 
 German Library, Universal, ii. 6 
 
 German Nations, i. 1 et seq. 
 
 German Novel-writers, ii. 259 
 
 German Princes, ii. 129 
 
 German Theatre, i. 176 
 
 Germans, i. 102 
 
 Germanv, i. 56, 67, 71, 92, 97, 117, 118, 133, 144 ef 
 
 seq., 167—172, 176—251, 254^259, 284, 298, 299, 
 
 307, 308, 310, 312, 316, 329, 342, 355—381 ; ii. 1— 
 
 56, 59, 63, 142, 165, 171—354 
 Gessner, i. 231 ; ii. 12 
 Gibbon, i. 63, 139, 140, 255, 285 ; ii. 65, 73, 75, 79— 
 
 86 
 Gieseke, i. 219, 223 
 Giessen, ii. 186, 208 
 Gillet, i. 15 
 Girtanner, ii. 340 
 
 Gleim, i. 219, 221, 224, 231, 238, 357 ; ii. 12, 173, 225 
 Glover, i. 105, 223, 258 ; ii. 60 
 Gockingk, Von, ii. 348—352 
 Godefroys, The, i. 14 
 Goldsmith, ii. 59 
 Gonzagas, The, i. 11 
 Gotha, Duchess of, ii. 325 
 Gotha, Duke of, i. 330 ; ii. 114 
 Gothe, i. 125, 167, 211—222, 267 ; ii. 48, 184, 224, 
 
 229, 230, 236 et seq., 281, 298, 305, 325 
 Gottingen, i. 200, 217, 219, 226, 374, 376 ; ii. 34, 176, 
 
 177, 181, 184, 188, 191, 193—195, 232 et seq., 278— 
 
 281, 310 et seq., 337 et seq. 
 Gottingen Bards, ii. 231 ef seq. 
 Gottingen Union, i. 211; ii. 15 
 Gottsched, i. 19, 116, 186. 195—210, 216 et seq., 240 
 
 —248, 329, 363 ; ii. 49, 216 
 Gottsched, Mrs., i. 203 note, 204, 225 
 Gottsched's School, Saxon Poets of, i. 210—218 
 Gotz, i. 221, 223, 358. 
 Gotze, U. 35, 51, 211, 213, 248, 249, 266, 267, 272— 
 
 275 
 Gournay, ii. 154, 157 — 159 
 Grafton, Duke of, ii. 88 
 Grandval, i, 327 
 
 Greek, i. 82, 212 ; ii. 8, 17, 19, 49, 199, 212, 239 
 Greeks, i. 1 et seq., 61 ; ii. 315, 317, 272 
 Grenville, Mr., ii. 97 
 Gresset, i. 170—172 
 Griesbach, ii. 194—196 
 Grillo, ii. 2 
 
 Grimm, i. 166, 255, 292, 314, 324 ; u. 113, 326 
 Groben, i. 194 
 Grossman, i. 260 
 Guarini, i. 19 
 
 Guevara, Louis Velez dc, i. 173 
 Guichard, ii. 173 
 Gunther, i. 201, 205, 217 
 
 H. 
 
 Haarlem, i. 309 
 
 Hagedorn, i. 200, 201, 219, 223-226 
 
 Hague, The, i. 253 
 
 Halberstadt, ii. 225 
 
 Halle, i. 189-192, 195, 200, 228, 3o7, 3o9, 361, 362, 
 
 379, 380 ; ii. 51, 172-177, 186-192, 197, 212-216, 
 
 234,325 .. _, „_ 
 
 Haller, i. 215, 225—227 ; u. lol, 310 
 Hamann,ii.3,4,10, 179,266, 373.. 
 Hamburg, i. 200-206, 223, 359 ; u. 35, 36, 45, 59, 
 
 205, 211, 247, 250, 251 
 TTnnkp i *217 
 
 Hanover; i. 195; ii. 59, 176. 177, 192, 232 ei seq., 
 
 250, 270, 281, 290, 303, 310, 330 
 Hauswurst, i. 207, 243
 
 IV 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Harlev, i. G9 
 
 Harpe, La, i. 169— 1'72, 176, 816, 324 
 
 Harrington, i, 23 
 
 Harris, i. 53 
 
 Hebrew, i. 361, 37C ; ii. 279, 282, 284, 285 
 
 Hegel, ii.l78 
 
 Heidcsheim, ii. 211 
 
 Heilbronn, ii. 198 
 
 Hcilinann, ii. 192, 193 
 
 Heine, i. 167 
 
 Heinisch, Mr. Jeremiah, i. 194 
 
 Helmstadt, ii. 186 
 
 Helvctius, i. 50, 86, 103, 159, 166, 285, 304, 324- 
 
 338 ; ii. 82, 201 
 Helvetius, Madame, ii. 82 
 Henault, i. 139, 163, 164 
 Herbart, i. 208 
 Herbert of Clierbury, i. 23 
 Herder, i. 211, 241, 250, 293 ; ii. 6—14, 22, 42, 149— 
 
 151, 175, 184, 194, 217, 218, 229, 277—290,314, 315, 
 
 325 
 Hermann, ii. 56, 218 
 Hermes, ii. 15 
 Herodotus, i. 61 
 
 Hesse Cassel, Margrave of, ii. 326 
 Heyne, ii. 42, 232—234, 281, 311, 340, 342 
 Higli Churcli Party, i. 258 
 Hippel, ii. 179 
 Hippias, ii. 19 
 Hoadley, i. .53 
 Hobbos, i . 22 
 
 Hoft'mannswalden, i. 19, 178, 238 
 Hogartli, i. 256 
 
 Hohenanfs, Tlie Von, ii. 226, 24i 
 Hohenlohc and Scliillingfiirst, Pi'inces of, ii. 352 
 Holbach, i. 40, 42, 86, 106, 165, 166, 255, 285, 324— 
 
 327 ; ii. 77, 82, 117 
 Holderlin, ii. 245 
 Holland, i. 13, 20, 23, 25, 136, 144, 149 note, 151, 
 
 195, 309, 362 ; ii. 129 
 HoUman, ii. 176 
 
 Holty, i. 308 ; ii. 235, 237, 240, 244, 251 
 Homer, ii. 239 
 Hompesch, ii. 326 
 Horace, i. 266 
 Huet, i. 24 
 
 Hume, i. 63, 253—256 ; ii. 65, 75—78, 160, 178 
 Hurd, Bishop, i. 37 
 Hutten, i. 9 
 
 Iffland, i. 167, 317 ; ii. 260, 327 
 
 India, i. 2, 89 ; ii. 289. Hee Oriental Nations 
 
 Ireland, i. 92 
 
 Iselin, ii. 39, 200, 202, 346 
 
 Italy, i. 3 et seq., 265 
 
 Jacobi, ii. 218, 225—231, .330 
 
 Jacobi, .1. G., i. 238 
 
 Jacobi, J. II., ii. 150 
 
 Jacobi, F. H., ii. 175, 225—231, 326 
 
 Jacobi.s, The, ii. 221, 222—231 
 
 Janscnists, i. 112, 148, 26.3, 313 
 
 Japan, i. 2 
 
 Jena, ii. 174, 175, 183, 184, 193—195, 231 
 
 Jerusalem, Abbot of, ii. 186, 193, 198, 264, 356,366 
 
 Jesuits, i. 9, 20, 25, lOS, 112, 125, 148, 157, 259, 260, 
 
 26.3, 313 ; ii. 303 
 Jewish History, i. 62 
 Jews, and Judaism, i. 43, 62, 272, 374-376; ii. 29, 
 
 272, 287, 307, 316 
 JodcUc, i. 18 
 Johnson, Dr., i. 79, 82, 100, 103—105, 120, 251, 258 ; 
 
 ii. 60, 66—70 
 Jones, Sir Wm., ii. 72 
 
 Joseph, Emperor, i. 163 ; ii. 157, 169, 211, 234 
 Journals, English, i. 102 
 
 Julian, Emperor, i. 153 
 Junger, i. 167, 317 ; ii. 260 
 Junius, i. ,314; ii. 90—92 
 Jiist, St., i. 301 
 
 K. 
 
 Kant, i. 31 ; ii. 4, 5, 171—184, 218 
 
 Kastner, i. 209, 214, 216; ii. 235, 340 
 
 Kaunitz, i. 162, 267 
 
 Kepler, i. 346 
 
 Kiel, ii. 184 
 
 Kleist, i. 249, ,357; ii. 173 
 
 Klinger, i. 351 ; ii. 48, 240 
 
 Klopstock, i. 209, 210, 219—226, 2^10, 241, 248, 249 : 
 
 ii. 3, 11, 55, 226, 2.34 et seq., 252 
 Klotz, ii. 6, 51-54, 216-218, 236 
 Koch, i. 243 
 Konig, Von, i. 2.39 
 Konigsbcrg, ii. 178, 181, 193 
 Korte, i. 222, 228, 231 
 Kotzebue, i 94, 167, 260, 316, 817 
 Kramer, ii. 3 
 
 L. 
 
 Lactantius, i. 45 
 
 Ladrones, i. 307 
 
 Lalando, i. 39, 260 
 
 Lambin, i. 14 
 
 Lange, i. 229—231, 244 
 
 Langemak, i. 242 
 
 Langin, Mrs., 230 note, 231 
 
 Lardner, i. 65 
 
 Lascarls, i. 14 
 
 Latin, i. 12, 99, 180, 186-189, 198, 205, 208, 22:^. 
 
 230, 241, 301 ; ii. 8, 191, 193, 198, 205, 217, 231 
 Laublingen, i. 229 
 Lausanne, ii. 80 
 Lavater.i. 303; ii. 24-32, 200,202, 290—297,301— 
 
 307 
 Learned Coteries in Paris, i- 155—166 
 Leibnitz, i. 23, 34, 37, 46, 70, 72, 179, 208, 260 ; ii. 
 
 185, 186, 229, 264, 265 
 Leiningen, Count of, ii. 211, 212 
 Leipzig, i. 181, 187—189, 195, 200 et seq., 219, 224 
 
 et 565,2.32 et seq., 242 et seq. ; ii. 49, 172-175, 
 
 184 et seq. 
 Leisewitz, ii. 235 
 Lenz, ii. 240, 3.36 
 Leodius, i. 6 
 Lessing, i. 167, 179, 222, 228-250, 314, 359, 362 ; ii. 
 
 1 et seq., 22, 41-56, 138, 175, 186, 215-218, 229, 
 
 232, 261—278, 325 
 Leszinsky, Queen Maria, i. 328 
 Lichtenau, Countess of, ii. 183 
 Lichtenberg, i. 78 ; ii. 295-303, 337—342 
 Lieberkiihn, i. 250 
 Limoges, ii. 168 
 Limousin, ii. 168 
 Linquet,ii. 169, 170 
 Liscov, i. 214 — 216 
 Livv, i. 141 
 
 Locke, i. 22, 25—29, 72, 339, 346 
 Lohenstein, i. 19,178, 202, 238 
 London, ii. 64 et seq., 90, 176, 281, 301, 354 
 Lorraine, i. 121, 124, 259 
 Louis XII., i. 5, 11 et seq. 
 Louis XIll., i. 107 
 
 Louis XIV., i. 10, 11, 19, 56, 100, 103, 126, 130 
 Louis XV., i. 108, 116, 151 et seq. 
 Lnbeck, ii. 35, 36 
 Lucanus, Ocellus, i. 153 
 Luther, i. 9, 10, 178, 179 ; ii. 238 
 Lutherans, and Lutherauism, i. 9, 95 ; ii. 35, 3t;, 
 
 41, 142, 187 
 Luxembourg, Duchess of, i. 164, 165 
 Luxemburg, ii. 132 
 Lyttelton, li, 67
 
 INDEX. 
 
 M. 
 
 Machiavel, i 12, li\ 
 
 Mahomedans, and Mahomodanism, i. 130, 272, 281 
 
 —284. ; ii. 30 
 Mainz, Electors of, ii. 327, 32S 
 Mairan, i. 159 
 Mai/.eaux, Des, i. 37 
 Malesherbcs, i. 18, 315 ; ii. 132, 162 
 Mallebranche, i. 17, 20 
 Mandeville, i. 47—52, 81 
 Manicheans, i. 196 
 Mannheim, ii. 326 
 Mansfield, Lord, ii. 91 
 Manso, i. 233 
 Marburg, ii. 172, 1S4 
 Marcard, ii. 300 
 Margaret of Navarre, i. 17 
 Marini, i. 16, 19 
 Marivaux, i. 159 
 Marmontel, i. 125 note, 1.55 ef seq., 188—171, 255— 
 
 257, 287—301, 314, 324; ii. 118—134, IGi 
 3Iarot, Clement, i. 15 — 17 
 Marschlinz, ii. 200, 201, 210 
 Martinean, Miss, i. 123, 13-3 
 Martinists, The, ii. 240 
 Matthison, i. 199, 201 
 Maupertuis, i. 266 
 Maurillon, i. 200 
 Maximilian II.. i. 10 
 Mayence, Elector of. ii. 217, 223 
 Mazarin. i.l5, 100 
 Medici, The, i. 11 
 Medici, Mary de, i. 15, 16, 19 
 Meenc, i. 215 
 Meier, i. 204, 229—231 
 Meiner, ii. 176 
 
 Meiners, i. 88 ; ii. 279, 339, 342 
 Meissncr, ii. 336 
 Meister, ii. .339 
 Melancthon. i. 9. 10 
 Mendelssohn, i. 328, 244, 247: ii. 2,4, 26—29, 175, 
 
 176, 301 
 Mendenham Abbey, ii. 89 
 Menken, i. 202 
 3Iensel, ii. 223 
 Merk, ii. 249 
 
 Mettrie, La, i. 115, 148, 1.50 
 Mexico, i. 89 
 Meyer, Louis, i. 43 
 Mezeraj', i. 140 
 Mezieres, M. de, i. 260 
 Michaelis, i. 342, 360, 361, 374-878 : ii. 187-193, 
 
 209, 232, 279, 310, 340 
 Middleton, i. 42,41 
 Miller, J. M., ii. 251, 253 
 Millers, The, ii 235, 236, 240, 259 
 Milton, i. 236, 237 
 Mirabeau, Count, ii. 155, 156, 197 
 Mirabeau oncle, ii. 155 
 Mirabeau pere, ii. 155—157 
 Molicre, i. 18, 169, 262, 350 
 Montasrue, Lady M. W., ii. 64 
 Montaarue, Mrs'. Elizabeth, ii. 65—68 
 Montaigne, i. 16, 17, 208 
 Montbar, ii. 150 
 Montesquieu, i. 7, 55, 77, 106, 116,125—144, 148, 159, 
 
 1&4, 173, 208, 258, 376—285, 296, 300, 301, 335, 336 
 
 361 
 Montferrat, Marquis of, i. 11 
 Moorish Kingdoms in Spain, i. 5 
 Moreau, ii. Iftt 
 
 Morellet.ii. 65, 123, 161—170, 325 
 Morgan, i. 4lj — 48 
 
 Moser, F. C. Von, ii. 3, 2lo, .34;j— 348, 362—373 
 Moser, Justus, i. ,302—369 : ii. 10 
 Moses, ii. 2S9 
 
 Mosheim, i. 24, 37, 196, 215, 356 
 Metiers Travers, i . 314 ; ii. 136 
 Motte, La, i. 175 
 Mozer, i. 153 
 
 Muller, Johannes, ii. 83, 321—323, 328 
 Munchausen, Herr Von, ii. 310 
 
 Munster-Landcgge, Von, ii. 351 
 Miu-et, i. 14 
 Musseus, ii. 303 
 
 N. 
 
 Naigeon, ii. 115 
 
 Napoleon, i. 118, 266 
 
 Narbonue, i. 277 
 
 Naumann, i. 209, 210 
 
 Necker, ii. 165,167,170 
 
 Neuberinn, i. 207 
 
 Neuchateau, Fran90is do, i. 173 
 
 Neufchatel. i. 314 ; ii. 131 
 
 Neukirch, i. 199, 205, 310, 317 
 
 Newton, i. 260, ;i46 
 
 Nicolai, i. 244—249, 369 ; ii. 1—7, 18, 153, 153, 17.? 
 
 —184, 197, 21.3—222, 225—231, 250, 262, 329 
 Noailles, i. 335 
 North, Lord, ii. 87 
 Northern Nations, i. 1 et seq. 
 Novelists, English, ii. 59 
 
 O. 
 
 Obregon, Don Mark, i. 173 
 
 Oldenburg, i. 208 
 
 Olivet, D', i. 152 
 
 Opitz, ii. 197, 199, 203 
 
 Orientalists, i. 361 
 
 Oriental Nations, i. 1 et seq., 138 et seq., 143, 373, 
 
 374-377 ; ii. 309, 388. 317 
 Osnabruck, i. 364, 367 
 
 Paris, i. 236, 287 ; ii. &4— 79, 82, 129, 197, 301 
 
 Paris, Catholic Seminary of, i. 14 
 
 Paris, Learned Coteries in, i. 155— 166 
 
 Pascal, i. 17, 30, 118, 318, 319 
 
 Passerat. i. 15 
 
 Paulus,ii. 196 
 
 PajTie, ii. 100—104 
 
 Pearce, i. 44, 53, 53 
 
 Pegu, i. 383 
 
 Pelletier, i. 165 
 
 Pellisier, i. 14 
 
 Pempelfort, ii. 336 
 
 Persia, i. 2 
 
 Persians, i. 283 
 
 Persius, i. 266 
 
 Pestalozzi, ii. 257 
 
 Petrarch,!. 6-8 
 
 Pfenninger, ii. 304—306 
 
 Philanthropia, ii. 200-205, 211 
 
 Philip of Orleans, i. 21 
 
 Philosophers, German, ii. 171 ef seq- 
 
 Pietists, The, i. 177—195, 212, .361 ; ii. 173 
 
 Piozzi, Mrs., ii. 69, 70 
 
 Pirou, i. 170 
 
 Pithou, Peter, i. 15 
 
 Plank, ii. 191, 195, 196, 234 
 
 Platner, ii. 184 
 
 Plato, i. 90, 153, 154 
 
 Pleiades, The Lmc, i. 17, 18 
 
 Poland, i. 299, 302 
 
 Political Economists, French Philosophical, ii. 
 
 152 
 Political "Writers and Speakers, English, ii. 87 
 Politiciaus, French Philosophical, ii. 153 
 Pompadour, Madame, i. 157, 168, 365 ; ii. 154 
 Poniatowsky, Stanislaus, i. 161 
 Pope, i. 36, 43, 53, 55, 64, 69, 78—91. !t9. 119. 130, 
 
 311 ; ii. 64 
 Pope, The, i. 8, 11, 132 
 Pope Benedict XIV., i. 159 
 Poplinidre, Madame de, i. 163 
 Portland, Duchess of, ii. 71 
 Portugal, i. 5, 6 
 Postel, i. 14, 199, 200
 
 VI 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Prades, De, i. 145, 339 
 Price, Dr., ii. 100—103 
 Pi'ior, i. 36, 99 
 
 Protestants, and Protestantism, i. 9 et seq., 118, 
 283, 312, 374, 377, 380 ; ii. 33, 53, 185 et seq., 361 
 Provence, Poets of, i. 5 ; ii. 155 
 Prussia, i. 209. See also Berlin 
 Prussia, Henry, Prince of, ii. 114 
 Prussia, King of, i. 326 ; ii. 127, 133 
 Prussia, Queen of, i. 37 
 Prussians, ii. 177, 183 
 Prye, Marchioness de, i. 114i 
 Puffendorf, i. 198, 199 
 Pulteney, ii. 67, 70 
 Piitter, ii. 192, 307, 310—313 
 Pyra, i. 229, 231 
 Pythagoreans, i. 153, 154 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quesnay, De, ii. 154 et seq. 
 Quinault, Madame, i. 175 
 
 R. 
 
 Rabelais, i. 16, 17 
 
 Eabener, i. 209, 213, 214, 219 
 
 Racine, i. 6, 168, 169 
 
 Rammler, i. 201, 238, 241, 246, 250; ii. 12, 13, 173, 
 232 
 
 Rapin, i. 15 
 
 Rationalists, i. 189, 208, 279; ii. 265, 279 
 
 Rauchoh, i. 146 
 
 Raynal, i 106, 325 ; ii. 73, 125—130 
 
 Reformation, The, i. 13 
 
 Reformers, The, i. 13 
 
 Regency, Prench, i. 129, 132 
 
 Regnard, i. 169 
 
 Reimarus, i. 356, 359, 362 ; ii. 36, 266, 337, 339 
 
 Reinhold, ii. 181—184 
 
 Reiske, i. 3G0, 361 
 
 Rekahn, ii. 207 
 
 Resewitz, ii. 2 
 
 Reuchlin, i. 9 
 
 Richardson, i. 256, 257, 302; ii. 59, 60 
 
 Richeheu, i. 9, 15, 19, 100 
 
 Riedel, ii. 51, 208, 216, 217, 223 
 
 Robertson, i. 63; ii.73— 75 
 
 Robinson, H. Crabbe, i. 51 note 
 
 Roche, Madame de la, ii. 224 
 
 Rochefoucault, i. 331 
 
 Rochford, ii. 88 
 
 Rochow, ii. 206, 207, 222 
 
 Rockingham, ii. 93, 97 
 
 Rollin, i. 139 
 
 Roman History, i. 139 et seq. 
 
 Romans, i.let seq., 142 
 
 Rome, i. 259, 302 
 
 Ronsard, i. 18, 343 
 
 Rostock, ii. 186 
 
 Rouille, i. 139 
 
 Rousseau, i. 17, 106, 123, 134, 138, 162, 163, 166, 170, 
 253—259, 267, 282, 285—314, 335, 336, 346—355, 
 366 ; ii. 24, 51, 55, 60, 76, 81, 130—147, 199 
 
 Rousseau, J. B., i. 108, 111 
 
 Rupelmonde, Madame de, i. 112 note 
 
 Russia, Empress of. See Catherine II. 
 
 Rymer, i. 90 
 
 Saalfeld, i. 302 
 
 Sage, Le, i. 6, 170 et seq. 
 
 Sailer, G. P., ii. 186 
 
 St. Austin, i. 74 note 
 
 St. Just, ii. 143 
 
 Sails, Count von, ii. 200, 201 
 
 Salzmann, ii. 200, 203, 205, 256, 261, 262 
 
 Sand, George, see Dudevant, Madame 
 
 Sandwich, ii. 88 
 
 Sartorius, ii. 319 
 
 Saunderson, i. 320 
 
 Savoy, Marquis of, i. 11 
 
 Saxon Poets, i. 210 
 
 Saxons, Lutlieran, ii. 187 
 
 Saxony, i. 209, 211, 213, 217, 231, 232, 247 ; ii. 297, 
 
 302, 357 
 Scarron, i. 6 
 Scheffner, ii. 179 
 Schelling, ii. 181 
 
 Schiller, i, 167 ; ii. 180, 239, 246, 298, 325 
 Schillingfiirst and Holienlohe, Princes of, ii. 352 
 Schlegels, The, i. 118, 211, 219, 223 ; ii. 198, 246 
 Schleiermacher, i. 290 
 Schlosser, ii. 206, 249 
 Schlozer, i. 192, 273, 342 ; ii. 198, 213, 234, 279, 313, 
 
 317, 330 et seq., 354 
 Schmid, ii. 223 
 Schmidt, A., i. 219 
 Schmidt, Klamer, ii. 225 
 Schneider, Eulogius, ii. 329 
 Schnepfenthal, ii. 205 
 Schonaich, i. 209, 210, 221, 223 
 Schorch, ii. 223. 
 Schubart, ii. 346 
 Schulze, ii. 182, 183 
 Schulzer, ii. 173 
 Schumann, ii. 270, 271 
 Schwabe, i. 210, 221 
 Schweigheuser, ii. 202—205, 231 
 Scotland, ii. 73 
 Scriptures, TJie, i. 31 et seq., 179, 245, 374, 375, 
 
 376, 379 ; ii. 35, 103, 187 et seq., 209, 212, 262, 266 
 
 et seq., 279, 282 
 Scuderv, i. 18, 19, 173 
 Segiir, i. 277, 285, 287 
 Semler, i. 357—362, 374—381; ii. 186—197, 208— 
 
 214, 264 
 Servien, i. 109 
 Shipley, Miss, ii. 72 
 Shaftesbury, i. 30—37, 51, 318, 357 
 Shakspeare, ii. 3, 48, 66, 232, 244^ 297 
 Shaw, i. 52 
 Shclburne, ii. 64, 65 
 Siegwart, ii. 241—253 
 Silesians, i. 218 
 Simon, ii. 202—205, 231 
 Smith, Adam, ii, 153, 160, 161 
 Smollett, ii. 59 
 Socinianism, i. 348 
 Solander, ii. 65 
 Sophocles, i. 262 
 Sorbonne, The, ii. 129, 162 
 Spain, i. 5, 6 
 
 Spalding, i. 356—359 ; ii. 379 
 Spaniards, i. 173, 262, 369, 
 Sponer, i. 178, 179 
 Spinoza, i. 23 
 Spires, Bishop of, ii. 334 
 Spittler, ii. 191, 234, 316, 342 
 Sprickmann, ii. 336 
 Stael, Madame de, i. 117, 118, 277, 287 
 Statesmen, English, ii. 87 — 113 
 Steele, i, 36, 97, 101—106, 217, 236 ; ii. 64 
 Sterne, i. 2,58 ; ii. 16, 01-63 
 Stilling, Jung, ii. 306—309 
 Stillingfleet, i. 26 
 Stolbergs, The, ii. 235, 236, 239 
 Stroatham, ii. 70. 
 Stroth, ii. 204 
 Stryk, i. 192 
 Siiard, i. 253 
 Sucro, i, 242 
 Sully, Duke of, i. 109 
 Sulzer, i. 212, 228-250; ii. 2, 232 
 Svvabia, ii. 28, 251 
 Sweden, ii. 142 
 
 Swift, i. 36, 43, 55, 69, 91—97, 104 
 Swiss, i. 200, 215, 222, 232 et seq. ; ii. 83 
 Swiss School, i. 234, 246. See also Zurich. 
 Switzerland, i. 136, 204,227, 232; ii. 131 et seq., 
 
 257, 292, 303, .304, 322 
 Sydney, Algernon, i. 22
 
 INDEX, 
 
 Vll 
 
 Tasso, i. 11, 264 
 
 Teller, it. 211—214 
 
 Tencin, Madame de, i. 116, 125, 137, 139, 173, 277 
 
 Teutzel, i. 185 
 
 Theologians, German, ii. 185 et seq . 
 
 Thiard, Ponthus de, i. 18 
 
 Thomasius, i. 178, 183—200 
 
 Thomson, i. 36 ; ii. 60 
 
 Thrale, Mrs., ii. 69, 70 
 
 Thummel, Von, ii. 22, 235 
 
 Thuringia, i. 209 
 
 Thurlow, ii. 88 
 
 Tiedeman, ii. 184 
 
 Timaeus, i. 1.54. 
 
 Tindal, i. 42—44, 318 
 
 Toland, i. 24, 37—40, 318 
 
 ToUner, ii. 173, 190 
 
 Tourneboeuf, i. 14 
 
 Treves, Ai-chbishop of, ii. 329 
 
 Trudaine de Moutigny, ii. 162 — 164 
 
 Triller, i. 197, 221 
 
 Tronchin, ii. 136 
 
 Troubadours, i. 5 
 
 Trouveres, i. 5 
 
 Tubingen, ii. 186 
 
 Turgot, i. 165, 363; ii. 127, 152, 161—171 
 
 Tuscany, Leopold Grand Duke of, ii. 157 
 
 Twickenham, ii. 64 
 
 U. 
 
 Ulm, ii. 2.36, 251 
 Unions : 
 
 Bard, i. 219 ; ii. 236 
 
 Gottingen, i. 211 ; ii. 15 
 
 Grove, ii. 310 
 Universities, i. 356 
 
 Berlin, ii. 173, 182, 282 
 
 Bonn, ii. 328 
 
 Breslau, ii. 184 
 
 Cambridge, i. 320 
 
 Erfurt, ii. 208, 217 
 
 Erlangen, ii. 186 
 
 Frankfort, ii. 173—177, 312 
 
 Giessen, ii. 186, 208, 209 
 
 Glasgow, ii. 107 
 
 Gottingen, i. 203, 376 ; ii. 176, 181, 184—195, 
 232 et seq., 278, .310—316, 330, 337, 342 
 
 Halle, i. 190, 228, 361; ii. 172, 173, 177,189, 
 213, 216 
 
 Jena, ii. 181—184, 189, 193—195, 312 
 
 Kiel, ii. 184 
 
 Konigsberg, ii. 178 
 
 Leipzig, i. 195, 203, 228 ; ii. 172, 184, 186, 309 
 
 Marburg, ii. 184 
 
 Munich, ii. 282 
 
 Oxford, ii. 107 
 
 St. Andrew's, ii. 107 
 Urfe, D', i. 18, 19, 173 
 Uz, i. 221, 223 
 
 Vida, i. 85 
 
 Vienna, i. 108, 209, 267 
 
 Villon, i. 15 
 
 Virgil, i. 264 
 
 Voitiu-e, i. 18, 262 
 
 Voltaire, i. 17, 36, 37, 55—91, 98, lOG— 125, 133— 
 137, 148—176, 212, 245, 255-275, 288, 304, 306, 
 326, 335, 338, 346 ; ii. 48, 49, 66, 78. 81, 119, 221, 
 325 
 
 Voss, i. 18, 179, 308 ; ii. 233—239, 339 
 
 W. 
 
 ■Wallenstein, i. 10 
 
 V^alpole, Horace, i. 163, 164 ; ii. 05, 72 
 
 Walpoles, The, ii. 64, 115 
 
 Wandsbeck, ii. 240 
 
 Warburton, i. 55, 87, 119 
 
 Waser, ii. 341 
 
 Waterland, i. 41 
 
 Weber, ii. 176 
 
 Wedderburne, ii. 109, 110 
 
 Weimar, ii. 182, 184, 193, 224, 278 
 
 Weimar, Dowager Duchess of, ii. 325 
 
 Weisse, i. 242—246, 250 ; ii. 254 
 
 Wernike, i. 201 
 
 Werther, ii. 241—253 
 
 Western Nations, i. 1 et seq., i;54 
 
 Westphalia, i. 364, 368 ; ii. 306, 326 
 
 Wettereau, ii. 245 
 
 Weymouth, ii. 88 
 
 Wh'iss, i. 25 
 
 Wliiston, i. 53 
 
 Wieland, i. 19, SO, 94, 125, 179, 184, 186, 206, 212. 
 
 217—224, 237, 246, 250 ; ii. 2-4, 14-- 24, 225— 
 
 242, 250, 325—330 
 Wilkes, ii. 64, 69, 88—90, 146 
 William III., i. 98 
 Winkelmann, ii. 4—6, 42, 232 
 Winkler, ii. 35 
 Wirtemberg, ii. 346 
 Wittenberg, ii. 186 
 Wolf, i. 37, 46, 204, 228, 236, 245 ; ii. 172—185, 221, 
 
 233, 234, 264 
 Wolfenbuttel, i. 53 ; ii. 192, 264—267 
 Wolfians, i. 228 et seq. 
 Wolke, ii. 40, 199, 202, 205 
 Wollaston, i. 45, 46, 51 
 Wcillner, ii. 183, 277, 288 
 Woltmann. ii. 323 
 Worms, Bishop of, ii. 212 
 Wotton, i. 90 
 
 Y. 
 
 Vendome, Duke of, i. 109 
 Venice, i. 8, 11 
 Versailles, i. 158, 309 
 Vesey, Mrs., ii. 68 
 
 Young, i. 223; ii. 61, 64 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zachariii, i. 86, 211, 212, 214, 219, 364 ; ii. 192 
 
 Zedlitz, i. 359 
 
 Ziegler, i. 198 
 
 Ziegra, ii. 266 
 
 Zimmerman, ii 290-293, 301—303, 3.36 
 
 Zurich, i. 200, 219, 224 et seq. ; ii. 2J2, 303, 304, 
 
 333, 341 
 Zurich School, i. 227 
 Zurotas, i. 6
 
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