REESE LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.
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GENERAL
HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION
IN
EUROPE,
FROM
THE FAIL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE FRENCH
REVOLUTION.
BY M. GUIZOT,
« »
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN TIjE FACULTY^F LITERATURE AT FARES;
AND MINISTER OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION.
NINTH AMERICAN, TROM THE SECOND ENGLISH EDITION,
WITH OCCASIONAL NOTES,
BY C. S. HENRY, D.D.,
PEOFBSSnR 01 PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORT IN THB VKIVXRS1TY OF THE
CITY OF NFW YOBK
UHIVERSITYB
D. APPLETON & CO., 443 & 445 BROADWAY..
1865.
\
% 6>
V^iLr^jQ^
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year lb42,
By D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
In ihe Clerk's Office cf the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York.
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m
17NIVI J ITT
PREFACE
TO THE
THIRD AMERICAN EDITION.
The adoption of this work as a text-book by numerous in*
Etitutions, and the demand for a third edition within so short a
period, indicate the favorable estimation in which it is held in
this country.
In complying with the request of the publishers to superin-
tend the present edition, the editor has seen fit to add a few
notes, which, if of no value to the accomplished historical
scholar, may perhaps be of some use to the younger student.
He takes this occasion to offer a few observations on the
study of history, and on the use which he conceives may be
made of works like the present.
The study of history is a necessary part of a thorough edu-
cation. Aside from its more immediate practical advantages
a full and familiar knowledge of history is requisite to the
most liberal cultivation of the mind. Accordingly, the study
of history has always had a place in the course of instruction
pursued in our higher institutions.
Precisely here, however, lies a serious difficulty. History
is not, like many of the other studies prescribed in such a
course, a science whose leading principles can be systemati-
cally exhibited within a moderate compass, and of which a
complete elementary knowledge can be imparted within a
iimited time. There is, properly speaking, no short road to
a competent knowledge of history. For any valuable purpose
6 PREFACE.
here is really no such thing as an elementary study of history
It is not worth while to study it at all, unless it be thoroughly
studied. A thorough knowledge of it cannot, however, be
imparted in the lecture room ; it must be acquired by the
student himself in the solitary labor of the closet. The most
accomplished instructer can do nothing more than to assist
him in pursuing his investigations for himself. He must
study special histories. He must carefully exarfiine the bes,
sources, — if possible, the original sources. He must make
himself familiar with the details — at least of all the most
important portions — of the history of the world This is the
work of years.
It is obvious, therefore, that a thorough knowledge of his-
tory can never be acquired in the time allowed for its study
in the usual course of public instruction. The same thing
may perhaps be said to hold true of other studies. To a cer-
tain extent it does. Still, in regard to most of the other
studies, more can be done within the allotted time towards ac-
quiring a competent knowledge of them, than can be done in
regard to history. A good foundation may be laid ; a suc-
cessful beginning may be made. In respect to h/story it is
far more difficult.
In what way, therefore, to occupy the time allotted to his-
tory to the best advantage, is a perplexing problem.
To devote the whole period to the study of some compend
of universal history, containing a summary or abridgment of
all the special histories of the world, is a very common
method. Yet such w r orks, from the nature of the case, can be
but little more to the young student than a barren mass of
dates, names, and dead facts. We might as well expect to
gain a correct and lively impression of the form, features, and
expression of a living man from the contemplation of the hu-
man skeleton, as to acquire a true knowledge of history
from such abridgments alone. " Abridgments," as Professor
Smyth well remarks, " have their use, but to read them as a
PREFACE. 7
more summary method of acquiring historical knowledge, is
not their use, nor can he. When the detail is tolerably known,
the summary can then be understood, but not before. Sum
maries may always serve most usefully to revive the know
ledge which has been before acquired, may throw it into
proper shapes and proportions, and leave it in this state upon
the memory, to supply the materials of subsequent reflection.
But general histories, if they are read first, and before the
particular history is known, are a sort of chain, of which the
links seem not connected ; contain representations and state-
ments, which cannot be understood, and therefore cannot be
remembered ; and exhibit to the mind a succession of objects
and images, each of which appears and retires too rapidly to*
be surveyed ; and, when the whole vision has passed by, as
soon it does, a trace of it is scarcely found to remain. Were
I to look from an eminence over a country which I had never
before seen, I should discover only the principal objects ; the
villa, the stream, the lawn, or the wood. But if the landscape
before me had been the scene of my childhood, or lately of
my residence, every object would bring along with it all its
attendant associations, and the picture that was presented to
the eye would be the least part of the impression that was
received by the mini . Such is the difference between read-
ng general histories before, or after, the particular histories
o which they refer."
I must not, indeed, omit to observe," continues the same
writer, " that there are some parts of history so obscure and
of so little importance, that general accounts of them are
all that can either be expected or acquired. Abridgments and
general histories must here be used. Not that much can be
thus received, but that much is not wanted, and that what
little is necessary may be thus obtained.
"I must also confess that general histcries may in like
manner be resorted to, for the purpose of acquiring a general
notion of the great leading features of any particular history ;
8 PREFACE.
thej may be to the student what maps are to the trave ler
and give an idea of the nature of the country, and of the mag-
nitude and situation of the towns through which he is to pass ;
they may teach him what he is to expect, and at what points
he is to be the most diligent in his inquiries.
" Viewed in this light, general histories may be considered
ad of great importance, and that even before the perusal of
the particular histories to which they refer ; but they must
never be resorted to except in the instances, and for the pur-
poses just mentioned ; — they must not be read as substitutes
for more minute and regular histories, nor as short methodi of
quiring knowledge."*
While, therefore, the time devote-d to history in our usual
course of public instruction may not be altogether lost, even
if wholly employed in the study of some general compendium,
there is yet great danger that its fruit will be merely the me-
chanical acquisition of a mass of dead facts, soon forgotten.
The zealous teacher will naturally feel a strong desire to
lead his pupils to a more intimate acquaintance with the
living spirit of history, the true meaning and significance of
its mere facts. In this view resort is often had to such works
as this of Guizot and others, which treat of what is called
the philosophy of history. But in such works a knowledge
of the facts which are made the basis of generalization and
reflection, is almost wholly presumed ; while the young stu-
dent, from ignorance of the details of history, or a too slight
acquaintance with them, may not be in a condition to under-
stand, much less to judge for himself of the force and justness
of, the general views presented to him, — at all events, is ex-
posed to the danger of getting the habit of too easily taking
upon trust, of acquiescence without insight. Against all these
dangers the faithful teacher must do his best to protect tho
ttudent. The most proper time to study such works is ua«
— m
* Smyth's Lectures ou Modem History, vol. L p. 6.— Am. ed.
PREFACE. 9
doubiedly when a thorough historical knowledge of the facts
upon which they rest is acquired. Some one such work may.
however, under the guidance of a competent teacher, be read
with benefit by the young student. Even if there be some
things which he cannot adequately appreciate till he shall
have gained a more minute knowledge of the historical de-
tails ; even if there be some things which for the present he
must leave unsettled or take upon trust, — he will still gain the
advantage of having his attention directed to the great prob-
lems which history presents for solution ; he will form an
idea of what is meant by the most general spirit of history;
he will have learned that the mere external events of history
are worthy of record only as significant of the moral spirit of
humanity ; and he will be guided in his future study of the
facts and details of special histories by a more determinate
aim, and a more enlightened interest.
At the same time it is extremely desirable that the student
should in the course of his elementary education be led to
accomplish thoroughly some portion, however small, of the
great task of the historical scholar ; that some epoch, or por-
tion of an epoch, some interesting and important event, at
least, forming a sort of historical whole, should be selected
and minutely studied, till he is thoroughly familiar with all its
details, and perfectly comprehends the connexion, meaning,
and consequences, of all the facts. This should be done for
the purpose of teaching him how to investigate and compare,
combine and reflect for himself.
In the impossibility, then, of communicating a thorough
knowledge of history during the usual course of public in*
struction, thus much, it is conceived, should be attempted-—
to add to the study of some judicious compend of universal
nistory, that of some good specimen of philosophical gene-
ralization of historical facts, and the thorough investigation
of some small portion of special history
The present work by M. Guizot may be recommended as
10 PREFACE.
an excellent specimen of the sort of books which may aid
the student in forming the habit of reflecting upon the facts
of history, and in awakening and directing an intelligent in-
terest in the study of those facts Its generalizations, it is
true, are often extremely rapid, and presume a vast amount
of historical knowledge ; but with the guidance of a compe
tenc teacher, the diligent student may supply for himself the
needful information ; while the clearness and liveliness of the
style render it an attractive work, and the general justness
of its thought, the moderation and candor of its spirit, make
it for the most part a safe and salutary work.
In the occasional notes added to this edition — and which
are referred to by numerals — the editor has had no regular
plan of elucidating the work. He has sometimes made a
critical or qualifying remark simply because it could be done
in a short space, and at other times has omitted to say any
thing, because he would otherwise have been led into too
extended a disquisition. So, likewise, in some places he has
given historical or chronological statements of facts where he
thought he could do so to any good purpose within a mode-
rate compass, and in other places, which might seem equally
or more to require similar illustration, he has added nothing,
because he could not save the student the trouble of looking
elsewhere without increasing too much the size of the volume.
In short, they are what they are — here and there a note ; and
the editor would fain hope that they will not detract from the
value of the work in the view of any readers, and that to
some they may be of use. C S. H
University of New- York,
June, 1842.
ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS
LECTURE I.
CIVILIZATION IN GENERAL.
PAGE.
Object of the course 15
History of European civilization 16
Part taken in it by France 16
\Civilization may be recounted 17
Forms the most general and interesting
fact of history 17
Popular and usual meaning of the word
civilization 20
Civilization consists of two principal
facts : — 1st. the progress of socie-
ty; 2d. The progress of indivi-
duals 25
Proofs of this assertion- 26
TAGS
That these two facts are necessarily
connected to one another, and
sooner or later produce one an-
other 28
The entire destiny of man not con-
tained in his present or social con-
dition 31
Two ways of considering and writing
the history of civilization 31
A few words upon the plan of this
course 32
Of the actual state of opinion, and of
the future, as regards civilization 33
LECTURE n.
OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION ;— IN PARTICULAR ITS DISTINGUISHED CHARACTERISTICS
— ITS SUPERIORITY— ITS ELEMENTS.
Object of the lecture ....." 35
Unity of ancient civilization 36
Variety of modern civilization 37
| Superiority of the latter 39
State of Europe at the Fall of the Ro-
man Empire • 41
Preponderance of cities t 41
Attempts at political reform made by
the emperors 45
Rescripts of Honorius and Theodo-
sius II 45*
Power in the name of empire .„ 48
The Christian Church 48
The various states in which it had
existed down to the fifth century. 50
The clergy possessed of municipal
offices 52
Good and evil influence of the church 54
The Barbarians 55
They introduce into the modern
world the sentiments of personal
independence and loyalty 57
Sketch of the various elements of civi-
lization at the beginning of the
fifth century. 58
LECTURE IIL
OF POLITICAL LEGITIMACY — CO-EXISTENCE OF ALL THE SYSTEMS OF GOVERNMBN»
IN THE FIFTH CENTURY — ATTEMPTS TO RE-ORGANIZE SOCIETY.
All the various systems of civilization
lay claim to legitimacy 61
Explanation of political legitimacy. ... 64
Co-existence of all the various sys-
cems of government in the fifth
century 66
Instability of the state of persons,
estates, domains, and institu-
tions. 67
fwo causes— one material, the con-
tinuation of the invasions 69
4 second moral, the sentiment of ego-
tist individualism, peculiar to the
barbarians 72
The elementary principles of civiliza-
tion have been,
1. The want of order 74
2 Remembrances of the empire. ... 74
3. The Christian Church 74
4. The barbarians 75
Attempts at organization 75
1. By the barbarians 75
2. Bythe cities 76
3. By the church of Spain 77
" 4. By Charlemagne — Alfred 78
The German aud Saracen invasion ar
rested • SC
The feudal system begins >••• , .
12
CONTENTS.
LECTURE IV.
THE FEUDAL SYSTEM
PAGE.
Necessary alliance of facts and theo-
ries 82
Preponderance of country life 87
Organization of a little feudal so-
ciety 88
Influence of feudalism upon the dispo-
sition of a proprietor of a fief. .... 89
Upon the spirit of family 89
Hatred of the people for the feudal sys-
tem 93
Priests could do but littis for the serfs. 93
rA II
Impossibility of regular crganiiAtioi. ^
the feudal system 94
1st. No gTeat authority 98
2d. No public power 97
3d. Difficulties of the federative sys-
tem 99
Right of resistance inherent in the
feudal system 99
Influence of feudalism good for the de-
velopment of individual man 100
Eadfor social order 101
LECTURE V.
104
110
Religion a principle of association.
Fjice not essential to government.
Conditions necessary to the legitimacy
of a government 112
1. Power in the hands of the most
worthy 112
2. Respect for the liberties of the
governed 112
The church being a corporation and
not a caste, answered to the first
of these conditions 113
Various modes of nomination and elec-
tion in the church 114
THE CHRISTIAN CHUfCH
It failed in the second condition by the
unlawful extension of the principle
of authority 116
And by its abusive employment of
force 117
Activity and liberty of mind within the
church 119
Connexion of the church with prin-
ces 121
Principle of the independence of spirit-
ual authority 123
Claims of the church to dominion over
temporal powers 123
LECTURE VI.
THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH.
Separation of the governing and the
governed in the church 126
Indirect influence of the laity upon the
church 129
The clerical body recruited froir all
ranks of society 130
Influence of the church on public order
and legislation 132
Its system of penitence 135
The progress of the human mind pure-
ly theological 136
The church ranges itself on the side of
authority 138
Not astonishing — the object of religion
is to regulate human liberty 138
Various states of the church from the
fifth to the twelfth century 141
1 . The imperial church Ill
2. The barbarian church — develop-
ment of the principle of the sepa-
ration of the two powers 142
The monastic orders 143
3. The feudal church 144
Attempts at organization 145
Want of reform 145
Gregory VII 146
4. The theocratic church 146
Revival of free inquiry 147
Abelard, &c 147
Agitation in the municipalities.. 148
No connexion between these two
facts 148
LECTURE VII.
RISE OF FREE CITIES.
A Blcetch of the different states of
cities in the twelfth and eigh-
teenth centuries 150
Twofold question : —
Jst. Affranchisement of cities 154
State of cities from the fifth to the
tenth centuries 1 55
Their decline and revival 155
Insurrection of the commons. 159
Charters ,, 161
Social and moral effects of the af
franchisement of the cities. . . . 16S
2d. Of the interior government cf
cities 169
Assemblies of the people 169
Magistrates 169
Ifigh and low burghers 169
Diversity in the state of the com-
mons in various countries. ....... 170
CONTENTS.
13
LECTURE VIII
SKETOH OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION— THE CRUSADES.
PA8E. PAGE.
3ene»-al view af the civilization of Eu- The Crusades:
rope 173 Their character ..... 177
Ita distinctive and fundamental charac- Their moral and social causes. , 176
ter 175 These causes cease at the end of the
When this character began to appear. . 175 thirteenth century 181
State of Europe from the twelfth to Effects of the crusades upon civili-
the sixteenth century 175 zation 18t
LECTURE IX.
MONARCHY.
Important part of monarchy in the his-
• tory of Europe 193
In the history of the world 194
True causes of its importance 195
Twofold point of view under which
monarchy should be considered.. 195
1st. Its peculiar and permanent char-
acter 195
It is the personification of legitimate
sovereignty 196
Within what limits 198
2d. Its flexibility and diversity 200
The European monarchy seems the
result of the various species of
monarchy 200
Of the barbarian monarchy 201
Of the imperial monarchy 202
Of the feudal monarchy 206
Of modern monarchy, properly so call-
ed, and of its true f-haracter 209
LECTURE X.
ATTEMPTS AT ORGANIZATION.
Attempts to reconcile the various so-
cial elements of modern Europe,
so as to make them live and act
in common — to form one society
under one same central power. . . . 2.10
1st. Attempt at theocratic organiza-
tion 213
Why it failed 213
Four principal obstacles 213
Faults of Gregory VII 215
Re-action against the dominion of
the church 217
On the part of the people 217
On the part of the sovereigns 217
3d. Attempts at republican organiza-
tion 218
Italian republics — then vices 220
Cities of the south of France 222
Crusade against the Albigenses. . . . 222
The Swiss confederacy 222
Free cities of Flanders and the
Rhine.;.. .- 222
Hanseatic League 223
Struggle between the feudal nobility
and the cities 223
3d. Attempts at mixed organization. . . 224
The States-general of France 224
The Cortes of Spain and Portugal. . 225
The Parliament of England 22r)
Bad success of all these attempts 228
Causes of their failure..; 228
General tendency of Europe 228
LECTURE XI.
CENTRALIZATION, DIPLOMACY, ETC.,
Particular character if the fifteenth
century 229
Progressive centralizations of nations
and governments 230
tat. OfFrance 231
Formation of the national spirit of
France 232
Formation of the French territory. . 232
Louis XI., manner of governing. . . . 234
2d. Ot Spain 235
3d. Of Germany 236
4th 01 England 236
5th Of Italy 237
Rise of the exterior relations of states
and of diplomacy 238
Agitation of religious opinions 24(
Attempt at aristocratic reform in the
church 241
Councils of Constance and Bale 241
Attempt at popular reform 243
John Huss 243
Revival of ancient literature 244
Admiration for antiquity 245
Classic school 245
General activity 246
Voyages, travels, inventions, &c 248
Conclusion 247
14
CONTENTS
LECTURE XII.
THE REFORMATION.
PAGE.
Difficulty of unravelling general facts
in modern history 248
Picture of Europe in the sixteenth
century 249
Danger of precipitate generalizations.. 253
Various causes assigned for the refor-
mation 254
Its predominant characteristic — the in-
surrection of the Human mind
PAGl
against absolute power ip intellec-
tual affairs 255
Proofs of this fact 257
P'ogress of the reformation in different
countries 258
<Veak side of the reformation. 260
The Jesuits ". 262
Analogy between the revolutions of
civil and religious society. 264
LECTURE XIII.
THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION.
General character of the English revo-
lution 269
Its principal causes 270
Rather political than religious 271
Three great parties succeed one an-
other in its progress 275
1st. The pure monarchy reform
party 275
2d. The constitutional reform party. . . 276
3d. The republican party 278
They all fail 278
Cromwell 279
Restoration of the Stuarts 281
The legitimate administration 282
Profligate administrations 283
National administration 283
Revolution of 1688 in England and Eu-
rope 285
LECTURE XIV
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
Differences and resemblances in the
progress of civilization in England
and on the continent 287
Preponderance of France in Europe in
the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries 291
In the seventeenth by the French
government 292
In the eighteenth by the count y itself. 293
I/juis I'V 293
Table of Contemporary Sovereigns.. 307
Of his wars.. ; 294
Of his diplomacy 295
Of his administration 298
Of) 'egislation 299
C»«ses of its prompt decline 300
France in t.ie eighteenth century 302
Essential characteristics of the philo-
sophical revolution 302
Conclusion 305
UJT JS'ITTl
GENERAL
HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION
IN MODERN EUROPE,
PROM THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE TO THE FRENCH
REVOLUTION.
LECTURE I.
CIVILIZATION IN GENERAL.
Being called upon to give a course of lectures,, and having
considered what subject would be most agreeable and con-
venient to fill up the short space allowed us from now to the
close of the year, it has occurred to me that a general sketch
of the History of Modern Europe, considered more especial-
ly with regard to the progress of civilization — that a general
survey of the history of European civilization, of its origin,
its progress, its end, its character, would be the most profitable
subject upon which I could engage your attention.
I say European nvilization, because there is evidently so
striking a uniformity (unite) in the civilization of the different
states of Europe, as fully to warrant this appellation. Civili-
zation has flowed to them all from sources so much alike — it
is so connected in them all, notwithstanding the great differ-
ences of time, of place, and circumstances, by the same prin-
ciples, and it so tends in them all to bring about the same re-
sults, that no one will doubt the fact of there being a civiliza-
tion essentially European.
At the same time it must be observed that this civilization!
cannot be found in — its history cannot be collected from, the
nistory of any single state of Europe. However similar in
Its general appearance throughout the whole,. its variety is not
10 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
less remarkable, nor has it ever yet developed itselfoomplete/5
in any particular country. Lts characteristic features are
widely spread, and we shall be obliged to seek, as occasion
may require, in England, in France, in Germany, in Spain,
for he elements of its history.
The situation in which we are placed, as Frenchmen,
affords us a great advantage for entering upon the study of
European civilization ; for, without intending to flatter the
country to which I am bound by so many ties, I cannot but
regard France as the centre, as the focus, of the civilization
of Europe. It would be going too far to say that she has al
ways been, upon every occasion, in advance of other nations.
Italy, at various epochs, has outstripped her in the arts ; Eng-
land, as regards political institutions, is by far before her ;
and, perhaps, at certain moments, we may find other nations
of Europe superior to her in various particulars : but it must
still be allowed, that whenever France has set forward in the
career of civilization, she has sprung forth with new vigor,
and has soon come up with, or passed by, all her rivals.
Not only is this the case, but those ideas, those institutions
which promote civilization, but whose birth must be referred
to other countries, have, before they could become general, or
produce fruit, — before they could be transplanted to other
lands, or benefit the common stock of European civilization,
been obliged to undergo in France a new preparation : it is
from France, as from a second country more rich and fertile,
that they have started forth to make the conquest of Europe.
There is not a single great idea, not a single great principle
of civilization, which, in orde«r to become universally spread,
has not first passed through France.
There is, indeed, in the genius of the French, something of
a sociableness, of a sympathy, — something which spreads
itself with more facility and energy, than in the genius of any
other people : it may be in the language, or the particular turn
of mind of the French nation ; it may be in their manners,
or that their ideas, being more popular, present themselves
more clearly to the masses, penetrate among them with great-
er ease ; but, in a word, clearness, sociability, sympathy, are
the particular characteristics of France, of its civilization ;
and these qualities render it eminently qualified to march at
the head of European civilization.
In studying, then, the history of this great fact, it is neither
en arbitrary choice, nor convention, that leads us to make
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 1?
France the central point from which we shall study it ; but it
is because we feel that in so doing, we in a manner place our-
selves in the very heart of civilization itself — in the heart of
the very fact which we desire to investigate.
I say fact, and I say it advisedly : civilization is just as
much a fact as any other — it is a fact which like any other
may be studied, described, and have its history recounted.
It has been the custom for some time past, and very proper-
ly, to talk of the necessity of confining history to facts ; no-
thing can be more just ; but it would be almost absurd to sup-
pose that there are no facts but such as are material and
visible : there are moral, hidden facts, which are no less real
than battles, wars, and the public acts of government. Besides
these individual facts, each of which has its proper name,
there are others of a general nature, without a name, of which
it is impossible to say that they happened in such a year, or
on such a day, and which it is impossible to confine within
,any precise limits, but which are yet just as much facts as the
battles and public acts of which we have spoken.
That very portion, indeed, which we are accustomed to
hear called the philosophy of history — which consists in
showing the relation of events with each other — the chain
which connects them — the causes and effects of events — this
is history just as much as the description of battles, and all
the other exterior events which it recounts. Facts of this kind
are undoubtedly more difficult to unravel ; the historian is more
liable to deceive himself respecting them ; it requires more
skill to place them distinctly before the reader ; but this diffi-
culty does not alter their nature ; they still continue not a whit
the less, for all thisj to form an essential part of history.
Civilization is just one of these kind of facts ; it is so gene •
ral in its nature that it can scarcely be seized ; so complicated
that it can scarcely be unravelled ; so hidden as scarcely ta
be discernible. The difficulty of describing it, of recounting
its history, is apparent and acknowledged ; but its existence,
its worthiness to be described and to be recounted, is not less
certain and manifest.. Then, respecting civilization, what a
number of problems remain to be solved ! It may be asked,
ft is even now disputed, whether civilization be a good or an
evil? One party decries it as teeming with mischief to man,
while another lauds it as the means by which he will attain
18 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
his highest dignity and excellence. 1 Again, it is asked
whether this fact is universal — whether there is a general
civilization of the whole human race — a course for humanity
to rjn — a destiny for it to accomplish ; whether nations have
not transmitted from age to age something to their successors
which is never lost, but which grows and continues as a com-
mon stock, and will, thus be carried on to the end of all things.
For my part, I feel assured that human nature has such a des
tiny ; that a general civilization pervades the human race ;
that at every epoch it augments ; and that there, consequently,
1 This dispute turns upon the greater or less extension given to
the term.
Civilization may be taken to signify merely the multiplication of
artificial wants, and of the means and refinements of physical en-
joyment.
It may also be taken to imply both a state of physical well being
and a state of superior intellectual and moral culture.
It is only in the former sense that it can be alleged that civiliza-
tion is an evil.
Civilization is properly a relative term. It refers to a certain
state of mankind as distinguished from barbarism.
Man is formed for society. Isolated and solitary, his reason
would remain perfectly undeveloped. Against the total defeat of
his destination for rational development God has provided by the
domestic relations. Yet without a further extension of the social
ties, man would still remain comparatively rude and uncultivated
— never emerging from barbarism. In proportion as the social re-
lations are extended, regulated and perfected, man is softened,
ameliorated, cultivated. To this improvement various social con-
ditions combine; but as the political organization of society — the
state — is that which first gives security and permanence to all the
others, it holds the most important place. Hence it is from the
political organization of society, from the establishment of the
state, (in Latin civitas,) that the word civilization is taken.
Civilization, therefore, in its most general idea, is an improved
condition of man resulting from the establishment of social order
in place of the individual independence and lawlessness of the
savage or barbarous life. It may exist in various degrees : it ia
susceptible of continual progress : and hence the history of civiliza-
tion is the history of the progress of the human race towards realiz-
ing the idea of humanity, through the extension and perfection of
the social relations, and as affected, advanced or retarded, by the
character of the various political and civil ins titutions which have
existed.
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN ET7ROPE. 19
js a universal history of civilization to be written. Nor have
I any hesitation in asserting that this history is the most noble,
the most interesting of any, and that it comprehends every
other.
Is it not indeed clear that civilization is the great fact in
which all others merge ; in which they all end, in which they
are all condensed, in which all others find their importance ?
Take all the facts of which the history of a nation is com-
posed, all the facts which we are accustomed to consider as
the elements of its existence — take its institutions, its com
merce, its industry, its wars, the various details of its govern
ment ; and if you would form some idea of them as a whcle,
if you would see their various bearings ort each other, if you
would appreciate their value, if you would pass a judgment
upon them, what is it you desire to know ? Why, what they
have done to forward the progress of civilization — what part
they have acted in this great drama, — what influence they have
exercised in aiding its advance. It is not only by this that
we form a general opinion of these facts, but it is by this stand-
ard that we try them, that we estimate their true value.
These are, as it were, the rivers of whom we ask how much
water they have carried to the ocean. Civilization is, as it
were, the grand emporium of a people, in which all its wealth
— all the elements of its life — all the powers of its existence
are stored up. It is so true that we judge of minor facts ac-
cordingly as they affect this greater one, that even some which
are naturally detested and hated, which prove a heavy ca-
lamity to the nation upon which they fall — say, for instance,
despotism, anarchy, and so forth, — even these are partly for-
given, their evil nature is partly overlooked, if they have aid •
ed in any considerable degree the march of civilization.
Wherever the progress of this principle is visible, together
with the facts which have urged it forward, we are tempted to
forget the price it has cost — we overlook the dearness of the
purchase.
Again, there are certain facts which, properly speaking, can
not be called social — individual facts which rather concern the
human intellect than public life : such are religious doctrines,
philosophical opinions, literature, the sciences and arts. All
these seem to offer themselves to individual man for his
improvement, instruction, or amusement ; and to be directed
"ather to his intellectual melioration and pleasure, than to hi3
social condition. Yet still, how o r ten do these facts come be«
80 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
fore us — how often are we compelled to consider them as in
fluencing civibzation ! In all times, in all countries, it has
been the boast of religion, that it has civilized the people
among whom it has dwelt. Literature, the arts, and sciences,
have put in their claim for a share of this glory ; and mankind
has Dten ready to laud and honor them whenever it has felt
that this praise was fairly their due. In the same manner,
facts the most important — facts of themselves, and indepen-
dently of their exterior consequences, the most sublime in
their nature, have increased in importance, have reached a
higher degree of sublimity, by their connexion with civiliza
tion. Such is the worth of this great principle, that it gives
a value to all it touches. Not only so, but there are even
cases, in which the facts of which we have spoken, in which
philosophy, literature, the sciences, and the arts, are especial-
ly judged, and condemned or applauded, according to their
influence upon civilization.
Before, however, we proceed to the history of this fact, so
important, so extensive, so precious, and which seems, as it
were, to imbody the entire life of nations, let us consider
it for a moment in itself, and endeavor to discover what it
really is.
I shall be careful here not to fall into pure philosophy ; I
shall not lay down a certain rational principle, and then, by
deduction, show the nature of civilization as a consequence
there would be too many chances of error in pursuing this
method. Still, without this, we shall be able to find a fact to
establish and to describe.
For a long time past, and in many countries, the word civ-
ilization has been in use ; ideas more or less clear, and of
wider or more contracted signification, have been attached to
it ; still it has been constantly employed and generally under-
stood. Now, it is the popular, common signification of this
word that we must investigate. In the usual, general accep-
tation of terms, there will nearly always be found more truth
than in the seemingly more precise and rigorous definitions
of science. It is common sense which gives to words their
popular signification, and common sense is the genius of hu-
manity. The popular signification of a word is formed by de«
grees, and while the facts it represents are themselves present,
^s often as a fact comes before us which seems to answer ta
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EOHOPE. 21
the signification of a known term, this term is naturally ap-
plied to it, its signification gradually extending and enlarging
itself, so that at last the various facts and ideas which, from
the nature of things, ought to be brought together and imbo-
died in this term, will be found collected and imbodied in it.
When, on the contrary, the signification of a word is deter-
mined by science, it is usually done by one or a very few indi-
viduals, who, at the time, are idder the influence of some
particular fact which has taken possession of their imagina
tion. Thus it comes to pass that scientific definitions are, in
general, much narrower, and, on that very account, much less
correct, than the popular significations given to words. So,
in the investigation of the meaning of the word civilization as
a fact — by seeking out all the ideas it comprises, according
to the common sense of mankind, we shall arrive much near-
er to the knowledge of the fact itself, by than attempting to give
our own scientific definition of it, though this might at first
appear more clear and precise.
I shall commence this investigation by placing before you
a series of hypotheses. I shall describe society in various
conditions, and shall then ask if the state in which I so de
scribe it is, in the general opinion of mankind, the state of a
people advancing in civilization — if it answers to the signifi-
cation which mankind generally attaches to this word.
First, imagine a people whose outward circumstances are
easy and agreeable ; few taxes, few hardships ; justice is
fairly administered ; in a word, physical existence, taken al-
together, "3 satisfactorily and happily regulated. But with all
this the moral and intellectual energies of this people are
studiously kept in a state of torpor and inertness. It can
hardly be called oppression ; its tendency is not of that char-
acter — it is rather compression. We are not without exam-
ples of this state of society. There have been a great number
of little aristocratic republics, in which the people have been
thus treated like so many flocks of sheep, carefully tended,
physically happy, but without the least intellectual and moral
activity. Is this civilization 1 Do we recognise here a peo-
ple in a state of moral and social advancement ?
Let us take another hypothesis. Let us imagine a peoplft
whose outward circumstances are less favorable and agreea-
ble ; still, however, supportable. As a set-orT, its intellectua.
82 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
and moral cravings have not here been entirely neg.ected. A
certain range has been allowed them — some few pure and eieva*
„ed sentiments have been here distributed ; religious and moral
notions have reached a certain degree of improvement ; but
the greatest care has been taken to stifle every principle of
liberty. The moral and intellectual wants of this people are
provided for in the way that, among some nations, the physical
wants have been provided for ; a certain portion of truth is
doled out to each, but no one is permitted to help himself—
to seek for truth on his own account. Immobility is the
character of its moral life ; and to this condition are fallen
most of the populations of Asia, in which theocratic govern
ment restrains the advance of man : such, for example, is the
state of the Hindoos. I again put the same question as be-
fore — Is this a people among whom civilization is going on *
I will change entirely the nature of the hypothesis : sup
pose a people among whom there reigns a very large stretch
of personal liberty, but among whom also disorder and in-
equality almost everywhere abound. The weak are oppress-
ed, afflicted, destroyed ; violence is the ruling character of the
social condition. Every one knows that such has been the
state of Europe. Is this a civilized state 1 It may without
doubt contain germs of civilization wdiich may progressively
shoot up ; but the actual state of things which prevails in this
society is not, we may rest assured, what the common sens©
of mankind w r ould call civilization.
I pass on to a fourth and last hypothesis. Every indivi
dual here enjoys the widest extent of liberty ; inequality is
rare, or, at least, of a very slight character. Every one does
as he likes, and scarcely differs in power from his neighbor.
But then nere scarcely such a thing is known as a general
interest ; here exist but few public ideas ; hardly any public
feeling ; but little society : in short, the life and faculties of
individuals are put forth and spent in an isolated state, with
but little regard to society, and with scarcely a sentiment of
its influence. Men here exercise no influence upon one
another ; they leave no traces of their existence. Generation
after generation pass away, leaving society just as they found
it. Such is the condition of the various tribes of savages ; liber-
ty and equality dwell among them, but no touch of civilization.
I could easily multiply these hypotheses ; but I presume
that I have gone far enough to show what is the popular and
natural signification of the word civilization.
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 23
It is evident that none of the states which I have just de-
scribed will correspond with the common notion of mankind
respecting this term. It seems to me that the first idea com-
prised in the word civilization (and this may be gathered from
the various examples which I have placed before you) is the
notion of progress, of development. It calls up within us the
notion of a people advancing, of a people in a course of im-
provement and melioration.
Now what is this progress 1 What is this development 1
In this is the great difficulty. The etymology of the word
seems sufficiently obvious — it points at once to the improve •
merit of civil life. The first notion which strikes us in pro-
nouncing it is the progress of society ; the melioration of the
social state ; the carrying to higher perfection the relations
between man and man. It awakens within us at once the no
tion of an increase of national prosperity, of a greater activity
and better organization of the social relations. On one hand
there is a manifest increase in the power and well-being of
society at large ; and on the other a more equitable distribu-
tion of this power and this well-being among the individuals
of which society is composed.
But the word civilization has a more extensive signification
ihan this, which seems to confine it to the mere outward,
physical organization of society. Now, if this were all, the
human race would be little better than the inhabitants of an
ant-hill or bee-hive ; a society in which nothing was sought
for beyond order and well-being — in which the highest, the
sole aim, would be the production of the means of life, and
their equitable distribution.
But our nature at once rejects this definition as too narrow
It tells us that man is formed for a higher destiny than this
That this is not the full development of his character — that civ-
ilization comprehends something more extensive, something
more complex, something superior to the perfection of social
relations, of social power and well-being.
That this is so, we have not merely the evidence of our
nature, and that derived from the signification which the com-
mon sense of mankind has attached to the word ; but we have
likewise the evidence of facts.
No one, for example, will deny that there are communities
in which the social state of man is better — in which the means
of life are better supplied, are more rapidly produced, are bet-
ter distributed, than in otheis, which yet will be pronounced
24 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
by the unanimous voice of mankind to be superior in point of
civilization.
Take Rome, for example, in the splendid days of the repub-
lic, at the close of the second Punic war ; the moment of her
greatest virtues, when she was rapidly advancing to the em
pire of the world — when her social condition was evidently
improving. Take Rome again under Augustus, at the com-
mencement of her decline, when, to say the least, the pro-
gressive movement of society halted, when bad principles
seemed ready to prevail : but is there any person who would
not say that Rome was more civilized under Augustus than
in the days of Fabriciuu or Cincinnatus 1
Let us look further : let us look at France in the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries. In a merely social point of
view, as respects the quantity and the distribution of well-
oeing among individuals, France, in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, was decidedly inferior to several of the
other states of Europe ; to Holland and England in particular
Social activity, in these countries, was greater, increased more*
rapidly, and distributed its fruits more equitably among indivi-
duals. Yet consult the general opinion of mankind, and it
will tell you that France in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries was the most civilized country of Europe. Europe
has not hesitated to acknowledge this fact, and evidence of its
truth will be found in all the great works of European litera-
ture.
It appears evident, then, that all that we understand by this
term is not comprised in the simple idea of social well-being
and happiness ; and, if we look a little deeper, we discover
that, besides the progress and melioration of social life, an-
other development is comprised in our notion of civilization •
namely, the development of individual life, the development
of the human mind and its faculties — the development of man
himself.
It is this development which so strikingly manifested itself
in France and Rome at these epochs ; it is this expansion of
human intelligence which gave to them so great a degree of
superiority in civilization. In these countries the godlike
principle which distinguishes man from the brute exhibited
itself with peculiar grandeur and power ; md compensated in
the eyes of the world for the defects of lieir social system
These communities had still many social conquests to make ,
but they had already glorified themselves by the intellectual
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE 25
and moral victories they had achieved. Many of the con-
veniences of life were here wanting ; from a considerable
portion of the community were still withheld their natural
rights and political privileges : but see the number of illus-
trious individuals who lived and earned the applause and ap-
probation of their fellow-men. Here, too, literature, science,
and art, attained extraordinary perfection, and shone in more
splendor than perhaps they had ever done before. Now,
wherever this takes place, wherever man sees these glorious
idols of his worship displayed in their full lustre, —wherever
he sees this fund of rational and refined enjoyment for the
godlike part of his nature called into existence, there he re-
cognises and adores civilization.
Two elements, then, seem to be comprised in the great fact
which we call civilization ; — two circumstances are necessary
to its existence — it lives upon two conditions — it reveals itself
by two symptoms : the progress of society, the progress of
individuals ; the melioration of the social system, and the ex-
pansion of the mind and faculties of man. Wherever the
exterior condition of man becomes enlarged, quickened, and
improved ; wherever the intellectual nature of man distin-
guishes itself by its energy, brilliancy, and its grandeur ;
wherever these two signs concur, and they often do so, not-
withstanding the gravest imperfections in the social system,
there man proclaims and applauds civilization.
Such, if I mistake not, would be the notion mankind in
general would form of civilization, from a simple and rational
inquiry into the meaning of the term. This view of it is con-
firmed by History. If we ask of her what has been the char-
acter of every great crisis favorable to civilization, if we ex-
amine those great events which all acknowledge to have car-
ried it forward, we shall always find one or other of the two
elements which I have just described. They have all been
epochs of individual or social improvement ; events which
have either wrought a change in individual man, in his opin-
ions, his manners ; or in his exterior condition, his situation
as regards his relations with his fellow-men. Christianity,
for example : I allude not merely to the first moment of its
appearance, but to the first centuries of its existence — Chris-
tianity was m no way addressed to the social condition of
man ; it distinctly disclaimed all interference with it. It com-
manded the slave to obey his master. It attacked "none of
the great evils, none o f the gross acts of injustice, by which
2
26 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
the social system of that day wajs disfigured : vet who but will
acknowledge that Christianity has been cne'of the greatest
promoters of civilization ? And wherefore ? Because it has
changed the interior condition of man, his opinions, his .sen-
timents : because it has regenerated his moral, his intellectual
character.
We have seen a crisis of an opposite nature ; a crisis
affecting not the intellectual, but the outward condition of
man, which has changed and regenerated society. This also
we may rest assured is a decisive crisis of civilization. If
we search history through, we shall everywhere find the
same result ; we shall meet with no important event, which
had a direct influence in the advancement of civilization,
which has not exercised it in one of the two ways I have
just mentioned.
Having thus, as I hope, given you a clear notion of the two
elements of which civilization is composed, let us now see
whether one of them alono would be sufficient to constitute
it : whether either the development of the social condition, or
the development of the individual man taken separately, de-
serves to be regarded as civilization ? or whether these two
events are so intimately connected, that, if they are not pro-
duced simultaneously, they are nevertheless so intimately con-
nected, that, sooner or later, one uniformly produces the other ?
There are three ways, as it seems to me, in which we may-
proceed in deciding this question. First : we may investi-
gate the nature itself of the two elements of civilization, and
see whether by that they are strictly and necessarily bound
together. Secondly : we may examine historically whether, in
fact, they have manifested themselves separately, or whether
one has always produced the other. Thirdly ; we may con-
sult common sense, i. e., the general opinion of mankind. Let
us first address ourselves to the general opinion of mankind —
to common sense.
When any great change takes place in the state of a coun-
try — when any great development of social prosperity is ac-
complished within it — any revolution or reform in the powers
and privileges of society, this new event naturally has its ad-
versaries. It is necessarily contested and opposed. Now
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 21
what are the objections which the adversaries of such revolu
tions bring against them ?
They assert that this progress of the social condition is at-
tended with no advantage ; that it does not improve in a cor-
responding degree the moral state — the intellectual powers of
man ; that it is a faLe, deceitful progress, which proves detri-
mental to his moral character, to the true interests of his bet-
ter nature. On the other hand, this attack is repulsed with
much force by the friends of the movement. They maintain
that the progress of society necessarily leads to the progress 01
intelligence and morality ; that, in proportion as the social life
is better regulated, individual life becomes more refined and
virtuous. Thus the question rests in abeyance between the
opposers and partisans of the change.
But reverse this hypothesis ; suppose the moral develop-
ment in progress. What do the men who labor for it gener-
ally hope for ? — What, at the origin of societies, have the
founders of religion, the sages, poets, and philosophers, who
have labored to regulate and refine the manners of mankind,
promised themselves ? What but the melioration of -he so-
cial condition : the more e quitable distribution of the olessings
of life ? What, now, let me ask, should be inferred from this
dispute and from those hopes and promises ? It may, I think,
be fairly inferred that it is the spontaneous, intuitive convic
tion of mankind, that the two elements of civilization — the so-
cial and moral development — are intimately connected ; that,
at the approach of one, man looks for the other. It is to this
natural conviction, we appeal when, to second or combat either
one or the other of the two elements, we deny or attest its
union with the other. We know that if men were persuaded
that the melioration of the social condition w T ould operate
against the expansion of the intellect, they would almost op-
pose and cry out against the advancement of society. On the
other hand, when we speak to mankind of improving society
by improving its individual members, we find them willing ti
believe us, and to adopt the principle. Hence we may affirm
that it is the intuitive belief of man, that these two elements of
civilization are intimately connected, and that they reciprocally
produce one another.
If we now examine the history of the world we shall have
the same result. We shall find that every expansion of hu-
man intelligence has proved of advantage to society ; and that
28 GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
all tlie great advances in the social condition have turned tc
the profit of humanity. One or other of these facts may pre
dominate, may shine forth with greater splendor for a season,
and impress upon the movement its own particular character.
At times, it may not be till after the lapse of a long interval,
after a thousand transformations, a thousand obstacles, that
ihe second shows itself, and comes, as it were, to complete
the civilization which the first had begun ; but when we look
close y we easily recognise the link by which they are con-
nected. The movements of Providence are not restricted to
narrow bounds : it is not anxious to deduce to-day the conse-
quence of the premises it laid down yesterday. It may defer
this for ages, till the fulness of time shall come. Its logic
will not be less conclusive for reasoning slowly. Providence
moves through time, as the gods of Homer through space — it
makes a step, and ages have rolled away ! How long a time,
how many circumstances intervened, before the regeneration
of the moral powers of man, by Christianity, exercised its
great, its legitimate influence upon his social condition 1 Yet
who can doubt or mistake its power 1
If we pass from history to the nature itself of the two facts
which constitute civilization, we are infallibly led to the same
result. We have all experienced this. If a man makes a
mental advance, some mental discovery, if he acquires some
new idea, or some new faculty, what is the desire that takes
possession of him at the very moment he makes it 1 It is the
desire to promulgate his sentiment to the exterior world — to
publish and realize his thought. When a man acquires a new
truth — when his being in his own eyes has made an advance,
has acquired a new gift, immediately there becomes joined to
this acquirement the notion of a mission. He feels obliged,
impelled, as it were, by a secret interest, to extend, to carry
out of himself the change, the melioration which has been ac-
complished within him. To what, but this, do we owe the
exertions of great reformers 1 The exertions of those great
benefactors of the human race, who have changed the face
of the world, after having first been changed themselves,
have been stimulated and governed by no other impulse than
this.
So much for the change which takes place in the intellec
tual man. Let us now consider him in a social state A
revolution is made in the condition of society. Rights and
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE 28
property are more equitably distributed among individuals ;
this is as much as to say, the appearance of the world is pu
er — is more beautiful. The state of things, both as respects
governments, and as respects men in their relations with each
other, is improved. And can there be a question whether the
sight of this goodly spectacle, whether the melioration of this
sxternal condition of man, will have a corresponding influence
upon his moral, his individual character — upon humanity ? Such
a doubt would belie all that is said of the authority of exam-
ple and of the power of habit, which is founded upon nothing
but the conviction that exterior facts and circumstances, if
good, reasonable, well-regulated, are followed, sooner or later
more or less completely, by intellectual results of the same
nature, of the same beauty : that a world better governed, bet-
ter regulated, a world in which justice more fully prevails,
renders man himself more just. That the intellectual man
then is instructed and improved by the superior condition of
society, and his social condition, his external well-being, me-
liorated and refined by increase of intelligence in individuals :
that the two elements of civilization are strictly connected :
that ages, that obstacles of all kinds, may interpose between
them — that it is possible they may undergo a thousand trans-
formations before they meet together ; but that sooner or later
this union will take place is certain ; for it is a law of their
nature that they should do so — the great facts of history bear
witness that such is really the case — the instinctive belief of
man proclaims the same truth.
Thus, though I have not by a great deal advanced all that
might be said upon this subject, I trust I have given a tolera-
bly correct and adequate notion, in the foregoing cursory ac-
count, of what civilization is, of what are its offices, and what
its importance. I might here quit the subject ; but I canno.
part with it, without placing before you another question,
which here naturally presents itself — a question not purely
historical, but rather, I will not say hypothetical, but conjee
Sural ; a question which we can see here but in part ; bu!
which, however, is not less real, but presses itself upon our
notice at every turn of thought.
Of the two developments, of which we have just now
jppoken, and which together constitute civilization, — of the
30 GENERAL HISiORY OF THE
\
development of society on one part, and of the expansion of
human intelligence on the other — which is the end ? which
are the means 1 Is it for the improvement of the social con-
dition, for the melioration of his existence upon the earth,
that man fully developes himself, his mind, his faculties, his
sentiments, his ideas, his whole being ? Or is the meliora*
tion of the social condition, the progress of society, — is in-
deed society itself merely the theatre, the occasion, the mo-
tive and excitement for the development of the individual 1
In a word, is society formed for the individual, or the indi-
vidual for society 1 Upon the reply to this question depends
our knowledge of whether the destiny of man is pjurely social,
whether society exhausts and absorbs the entire man, or
whether he bears within him something foreign, something
superior to his existence in this world 1
One of the greatest philosophers and most distinguished
men of the present age, whose words become indelibly en-
graved upon whatever spot they fall, has resolved this ques-
tion ; he has resolved it, at least, according to his own con-
viction. The following are his words : " Human societies are
born, live, and die, upon the earth; there they accomplish
their destinies. But they contain not the whole man. After
his engagement to society there still remains in him the more
noble part of his nature ; those high faculties by which he
elevates himself to God, to a future life, and to the unknown
blessings of an invisible world. We, individuals, each with
a separate and distinct existence, with an identical person, we,
truly beings endowed with immortality, we have a higher des-
tiny than that of states."*
1 shall add nothing on this subject ; it is not my province
to handle it : it is enough for me to have placed it before you.
It haunts us again at the close of the history of civilization.
— Where the history of civilization ends, when there is no
mere to be said of the present life, man invincibly demands
if all is over — if that be the end of all things % This, then,
is the last problem, and the grandest, to which the history of
civilization can lead us. It is sufficient that I have marked
its place, and its sublime character. 2
* Opinion De Royer Collard, sur le projet de loi relatif au sac-
nlege, pp. 7 et 17.
2 Man can be comprehended only as a free moral being, that is,
as a rational being: but as a rational being it is impossible to com-
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE 31
Fiom the foregoing remarks, it becomes evident that the
listory of civilization may be considered from two different
points of view — may be drawn from two different sources.
The historian may take up his abode during the time prescrib-
ed, say a series of centuries, in the human soul, or with some
particular nation. He may study, describe, relate, all the cir-
cumstances, all the transformations, all the revolutions, wnich
may have taken place in the intellectual man ; and when he
had done this he would have a history of the civilization among
the people, or during the period which he had chosen. He
might proceed differently : instead of entering into the in-
terior of man, he might take his stand m the external world.
He might take his station in the midst of the great theatre of
life ; instead of describing the change of ideas, of the senti-
ments of the individual being, he might describe his exterior
prehead his existence, if it be limited to the present world. In the
very nature of human reason and of the relations of the human
race to it, lies the idea of the destination of the race for a super-
mundane and eternal sphere. Reason is the germ of a develop-
ment which is not and cannot be reached here below. To doubt
that it is destined for development, and that there is a correspond-
ing sphere, is contradictory : it is to doubt whether the fruit, un-
folding from the blossom, is destined by its constitution to ripen.
Herein, while the delusion of certain philosophical theories re-
specting Human Perfectibility is made apparent, may be seen
nevertheless the correct idea of man's earthly life. It is that of a
continual progress, a. reaching towards that perfection, the notion
and desire of which lies in the nature of his reason.
Humanity in all its social efforts has always been governed by
the idea of a perfection never yet attained. All human history
may in one view be regarded as a series of attempts to realize this
idea.
As individual man can attain the ideal perfection of his nature
only as a rational being, by the harmony of all his powers with his
reason ; so it is equally clear that humanity can realize the idea of
social perfection only as a rational society, by the union and broth-
erhood of the human family, and the harmony of all individuals
with the Divine reason. How far it may be in the intentions of
Divine Providence that the human race shall realize this perfection,
it may be impossible to determine. Certain it is, that it can never
he brought about by any mere political institutions, by checks and
sountcrchecks of interest, by any balance of international powers.
Only Christianity can effect this universal brotherhood of nations,
md bind the human family together in a rational, that is. a free
moral society.
32 - GENERAL HISTORY OF THE
circumstances, the events, the revolutions of his social condi
tion. These two portions, these two histories of civilization,
are strictly connected with each other ; they are the counter
part, the reflected image of one another. They may, how-
ever, be separated. Perhaps it is necessary, at least in the
beginning, in order to be exposed in detail and with clearness,
that they should be. For my part I have no intention, upon
the present occasion, to enter upon the history of civilization
in the human mind ; the history of the exterior events of the
visible and social world is that to which I shall call your at-
tention. It would give me pleasure to be able to display be-
'ore you the phenomenon of civilization in the way I under-
stand it, in all its bearings, in its widest extent — to place be-
fore you all the vast questions to which it gives rise. But, for
the present, I must restrain my wishes ; I must confine my-
self to a narrower field : it is only the history of the social
state that I" shall attempt to narrate.
My first object will be to seek out the elements of Eu-
ropean civilization at the time of its birth, at the fall of the
Roman empire — to examine carefully society such as it was
in the midst of these famous ruins. I shall endeavor to pick
out these elements, and to place them before you, side by side ;
I shall endeavor to put them in motion, and to follow them in
their progress through the fifteen centuries which have rolled
away since that epoch.
We shall not, I think, proceed far in this study, without
being convinced that civilization is still in its infancy. How
distant is the human mind from the perfection to which it may
attain — from the perfection for which it was created ! How
incapable are we of grasping the whole future destiny of man !
Let any one even descend into his own mind — let him picture
there the highest point of perfection to which man, to which so-
ciety may attain, that he can conceive, that he can hope ; — let
him then contrast this picture with the present state o/ the
world, and he will feel assured that society and civilization
are still in their childhood : that however great the distance
they have advanced, that which they have before them i» in
comparably, is infinitely greater. This, however, should not
lessen the pleasure with which we contemplate our present
condition. When you have run over with me the great epochs
of civilization during the last fifteen centuries, you will see,
up to our time, how painful, how stormy, has been the condi-
iou of nan ; how hard has been his lot, not only outwardly
CIVILIZATION OF MODERN EUROPE. 33
as regards society, but internally, as regards the intellectual
man. For fifteen centuries the human mind has suffered as
much as the human race. You will see that it is only lately
that the human mind, perhaps for the first time, has arrived,
imperfect though its condition still be, to a state where some
peace, some harmony, some freedom is found. The same
holds with regard to society — its immense progress is evident
— the condition of man, compared with what it has been, is
easy and just. In thinking of our ancestors we may almost
apply to ourselves the verses of Lucretius : —
" Suave mari magno, turbantibus sequora ventis,
E terra magnum altofius spectare laborem."
Without any great degree of pride we may, as Sthenelas is
made tO do in Homer, tfyetj rol Traripcov /xcy a^civovzi £t;;£o/(£0' eivav,
" Return thanks to God that we are infinitely better than our
fathers."
We must, however, take care not to deliver ourselves up too
fully to a notion of our happiness and our improved condition
It may lead us into two serious evils, pride and inactivity ; —
it may give us an overweening confidence in the power and
success of the human mind, of its present attainments ; and,
at the same time, dispose us to apathy, enervated by the agree-
ableness of our condition. I know not if this strikes you as
it does me, but in my judgment we continually oscillate be-
tween an inclination to complain without sufficient cause, and
to be too easily satisfied. We have an extreme susceptibility
of mind, an inordinate craving, an ambition in our thoughts, in
our desires, and in the movements of our imagination ; yet
when we come to practical life — when trouble, when sacrifi-
ces, when efforts are required for the attainment of our object,
we sink into lassitude and inactivity. We are discouraged
almost as easily as we had been excited. Let us not, how-
ever, suffer ourselves to be invaded by either of these vices.
Let us estimate fairly what our abilities, our knowledge, our
power enable us to do lawfully ; and let us aim at nothing that
we cannot lawfully, justly, prudently — with a proper respect
to the great principles upon which our social system, our civi-
lization is based — attain. The age of barbarian Europe, with
its brute force, its violence, its lies and deceit, — the habitual
pracncc under which Europe groaned during four or five cen-
turies aTf po.ssqd away for ever, and has given place to a bet-
34 GENERAL HISTORY OP CIVILIZATION.
ter order of things. We trust that the time now approaches
when man's condition shall be progressively improved by the
foice of reason and truth, when the brute part of nature shall
be crushed, that the godlike spirit may unfold. In the mean
time let us be cautious that no vague desires, that no extrava-
gant theories, the time for which may not yet be come, carry
us beyond the bounds of prudence, or beget in us a discon-
tent with our present state. To us much has been given, of
as much will be required. Posterity will demand a strict ac-
count of our conduct — the public, the government, all is now
open to discussion, to examination. Let us then attach our-
selves firmly to the principles of our civilization, to justice, to
the laws, to liberty : and never forget, that, if we have the
right to demand that all things shall be laid open before us,
and judged by us, we likewise are before the world, who will
examine us, and judge us according to our works.
LECTURE II *
Or EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION IN PARTICULAR : ITS DISTIM-
OUISHING CHARACTERISTICS ITS SUPERIORITY ITS ELE-
MENTS. ,
In the preceding Lecture, I endeavored to give an expla-
nation of civilization in general. Without referring to any
civilization in particular, or to circumstances of time and place,
I essayed to place it before you in a point of view purely phi
losophical. I purpose now to enter upon the History of the
Civilization of Europe ; but before doing so, before going
into its proper history, I must make you acquainted with the
peculiar character of this civilization — with its distinguishing
features, so that you may be able to recognise and distinguish
European civilization from every other.
When we look at the civilizations which have preceded that
of modern Europe, whether in Asia or elsewhere, including
even those of Greece and Rome, it is impossible not to be
struck with the unity of character which reigns among them.
Each appears as though it had emanated from a single fact,
from a single idea. One might almost assert that society was
under the influence of one single principle, which universally
prevailed and determined the character of its institutions, its
manners, its opinions — in a word, all its developments.
In Egypt, for example, it was the theocratic principle that
took possession of society, and showed itself in its manners,
in its monuments, and in all that has come down to us of
Egyptian civilization. In India the same phenomenon occurs
■ — it is still a repei tion of the almost exclusively prevailing
* This lecture, in the original, is introduced by a few words, in
which the author offers to explain privately any points of his dis-
course, not well understood, to such as shall apply ; also to state
that he is obliged frequently to make assertions without being
able, from the short time allotted to him, to give the proofs they
seem to require.
30 GENERAL HISTORY OY
influence of theocracy. In other regions a different organiaa
tion may be observed — perhaps the domination of a conquer
ing caste : and where such is \he case, the principle of force
takes entire possession of society, imposing upon it its laws
and its character. In another place, perhaps, we discover
society under the entire influence of the democratic principle ;
such was the case in the commercial republics which covered
the coasts of Asia Minor and Syria — in Ionia and Phoenicia
In a word, whenever we contemplate the civilizations of
the ancients, we find them all impressed with one ever-pre-
vailing character of unity, visible in their institutions, their
ideas, and manners — one sole, or at least one very prepon-
derating influence, seems to govern and determine all things.
I do not mean to aver that this overpowering influence of
one single principle, of one single form, prevailed without
any exception in the civilization of those states. If we go
back to their earliest history, we shall find that the various
powers which dwelt in the bosom of these societies fre-
quently struggled for mastery. Thus among the Egyptians,
the Etruscans, even among the Greeks and others, we may
observe the warrior caste struggling against that of the
priests. In other places we find the spirit of clanship strug-
gling against the spirit of free association, the spirit of aristo-
cracy against popular rights. These struggles, however, mostly
took place in periods beyond the reach of history, and no evi-
dence of them is left beyond a vague tradition.
Sometimes, indeed, these early struggles broke out afresh
at a later period in the history of the nations ; but in almost
every case they were quickly terminated by the victory of one
of the powers which sought to prevail, and which then took
sole possession of society. The war always ended by the
domination of some special principle, which, if not exclusive,
at least greatly preponderated. The co-existence and strife
of various principles among these nations were no more than
a passing, an accidental circumstance.
From this cause a remarkable unity characterizes most of
che civilizations of antiquity, the results of which, however
were very different. In one nation, as in Greece, the unity
cf the social principle led to a development of wonderful ra-
pidity; no other people ever ran so brilliant a career in so
short a time. But Greece had hardly become glorious, before
ufie appeared worn out : her decline, if not quite so rapid as
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 37
her rise, was strangely sudden. It seems as if the principle
which called Greek civilization into life, was exhausted. No
other came to invigorate it, or supply its place.
In other states, say, for example, in India and Egypt, /vhere
again only one principle of civilization prevailed, the result
was different. Society here became stationary ; simplicity
produced monotony ; the country was not destroyed ; society
continued to exist ; but there was no progression ; it remained
torpid and inactive.
To this same cause must be attributed that character of ty-
ranny which prevailed, under various names, and the most
opposite forms, in all the civilizations of antiquity. Society
belonged to one exclusive power, which could bear with no
other. Every principle of a different tendency was proscrib-
ed. The governing principle would nowhere suffer by its
side the manifestation and influence of a rival principle.
This character of simplicity, of unity, in their civilization,
is equally impressed upon their literature and intellectual pro-
ductions. Who that has run over the monuments of Hindoo
literature lately introduced into Europe, but has seen that they
are all struck from the same die 1 They all seem the result
of one same fact ; the expression of one same idea. Re-
ligious and moral treatises, historical traditions, dramatic po-
etry, epics, all bear the same physiognomy. The same charac-
ter of unity and monotony shines out in these works of mind
and fancy, as we discover in their life and institutions. Even
in Greece, notwithstanding the immense stores of knowledge
and intellect which it poured forth, a wonderful unity still pre
vailed in all relating to literature and the arts,
How different to all this is the case as respects the civili-
zation of modern Europe ! Take ever so rapid a glance at
this, and it strikes you at once as diversified, confused, and
stormy. All the principles of social organization are found
existing together within it ; powers temporal, powers spirit-
ual, the theocratic, monarchic, aristocratic, and democratic
elements, all classes of society, all the social situations, are
jumbled together, and visible within it; as well as infinite
gradations of liberty, of wealth, and of influence. These va«
rious powers, too, are found here in a state of continual struggle
among themselves, without any one having sufficient force te
58 GENERAL HISTORY OF
master »he others, and take sole possession of society. Among
the ancients, at every great epoch, all communities seem cast
in the same mould : it was now pure monarchy, now theocracy
or democracy, that became the reigning principle, each in its
turn reigning absolutely. But modern Europe contains ex
amples of all these systems, of all the attempts at social or-
ganization ; pure and mixed monarchies, theocracies, republics
more or less aristocratic, all live in common, side by side, at
one and the same tune ; yet, notwithstanding their diversity,
they all bear a certain resemblance to each other, a kind of
family likeness which it is impossible to mistake, and which
shows them to be essentially European
• In the moral character, in the notions and sentiments of
Europe, we find the same variety, the same struggle. Theo-
cratical opinions, monarchical opinions, aristocratic opinions
democratic opinions, cross and jostle, struggle, become inter-
woven, limit, and modify each other. Open the boldest trea-
tises of the middle age : in none of them, is an opinion carried
to its final consequences. The advocates of absolute powe~
flinch, almost unconsciously, from the results to which thei
doctrine would carry them. We see that the ideas and influ-
ences around them frighten them from pushing it to its utter-
most point. Democracy felt the same control. That imper-
turbable boldness, so striking in ancient civilizations, nowhere
found a place in the European system. In sentiments we
discover the same contrasts, the same variety ; an indomita-
ble taste for independence dwelling by the side of the greatest
aptness for submission ; a singular fidelity between man and
man, and at the same time an imperious desire in each to do
his own will, to shake off all restraint, to live alone, without
troubling himself with the rest of the world. Minds were as
much diversified as society.
The same characteristic is observable in literature. It
cannot be denied that in what relates to the form and beauty
of art, modern Europe is very inferior to antiquity ; but if we
look at her literature as regards depth of feeling and ideas, it
will be found more powerful and rich. The human mind has
been employed upon a greater number of objects, its labors
have been more diversified, it has gone to a greater depth.
Its imperfection in form is owing to this very cause. The
more plenteous and rich the materials, the greater is the dif
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 39
faculty of forcing them into a pure and simple form. That
which gives beauty to a composition, that which in works of
art we call form, is the clearness, the simplicity, the symbo-
lical unity of the work. With the prodigious diversity of
ideas and sentiments which belong to European civilization,
the difficulty to attain this grand and chaste simplicity has
bean increased. .
In every part, then, we find this character of variety to pre
vail in modern civilization. It has undoubtedly brought with
it this inconvenience, that when we consider separately any
particular development of the human mind in literature, in the
arts, in any of the ways in which human intelligence may go
forward, we shall generally find it inferior to the correspond-
ing development in the civilization of antiquity ; but, as a set-
oft" to this, when we regard it as a whole, European civiliza-
tion appears incomparably more rich and diversified : if each
particular fruit has not attained the same perfection, it has
ripened an infinitely greater variety. Again, European civil-
ization has now endured fifteen centuries, and in all that time
it has been in a state of progression. It may be true that it
has not advanced so rapidly as the Greek ; but, catching new
impulses at every step, it is still advancing. An unbounded ca-
reer is open before it ; and from day to day it presses forward
to the race with increasing rapidity, because increased free-
dom attends upon all its movements. While in other civiliza-
tions the exclusive domination, or at least the excessive pre-
ponderance of a single principle, of a single form, led to ty-
ranny, in modern Europe the diversity of the elements of so-
cial order, the incapability of any one to exclude the rest,
gave birth to the liberty which now prevails. The inability
of the various principles to exterminate one another compelled
each to endure the others, made it necessary for them to live
in common, for them to enter into a sort of mutual understand-
ing. Each consented to have only that part of civilization
which fell to its share. Thus, while everywhere else the
predominance of one principle has produced tyranny, the
variety of elements of European civilization, and the constant
warfare in which they have been engaged, have given birth in
Europe to that liberty which we prize so dearly.
It is this which gives to European civilization its real, its
Immense superiority — it is this which forms its essential, its
40 GENERAL HISTORY OF
distinctive character. And if, carrying our views still further
we penetrate beyond the surface into the very nature of things,
we shall rind that this superiority is legitimate-*-that it is ac«
knowledged by reason as well as proclaimed by facts. Quit-
ting for a moment European civilization, and taking a glance
at the world in general, at the common course of earthly
things, what is the character we find it to .bear 1 What do
we here perceive 1 Why just that very same diversity, that
very same variety of elements, that very same struggle which
is so strikingly evinced in European civilization. It is plain,
enough that no single principle, no particular organization, no
simple idea, no special power has ever been permitted to ob-
tain possession of the world, to mould it into a durable form,
and to drive from it every opposing tendency, so as to reign
itself supreme. Various powers, principles, and systems here
intermingle, modify one another, and struggle incessantly —
now subduing, now subdued — never wholly conquered, never
conquering. Such is apparently the general state of the world,
while diversity of forms, of ideas, of principles, their strug-
gles and their energies, all tend towards a certain unity,
certain ideal, which, though perhaps it may never be at-
tained, mankind is constantly approaching by dint of liberty
and labor. Hence European civilization is the reflected im-
age of the world — like the course of earthly things, it is nei-
ther narrowly circumscribed, exclusive, nor stationary. For
the first time, civilization appears to have divested itself of
its special character : its development presents itself for the
first time under as diversified, as abundant, as laborious an
aspect as the great theatre of the universe itself.
European civilization has, if I may be allowed the expres-
sion, at last penetrated into the ways of eternal truth — into
the scheme of Providence ; — it moves in the ways which
God has prescribed. This is the rational principle of its
superiority.
Let it not, I beseech you, be forgotten — bear in mind, as
we proceed with these lectures, that it is in this diversity of
elements, a,nd their constant struggle, that the essential char-
acter of our civilization consists. At present I can do no more
than assert this ; its proof will be found in the facts I shall
bring before you. Still I think you will acknowledge it to be
a confirmation of tf|is assertion, if I can show you that the
eauses, and the elements of the character which I have just
CIMLIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. fcl
attributed to it, can be traced to the very cradle of our civiliza*
tion. If, I say, at the very moment of her birth, at the very
hour in which the Roman empire fell, I can show you, in the
state of the world, the circumstances which, from the begin-
ning, have concurred to give to European civilization that
agitated and diversified, but at the same time prolific charac-
ter which distinguishes it, I think I shall have a strong claim
upon your assent to its truth. In order to accomplish this, I
shall begin by investigating the condition of Europe at the
fall, of the Roman empire, so that we may discover in its in-
stitutions, in its opinions, its ideas, its sentiments, what were
the elements which the ancient world bequeathed to the mo-
dern. And upon these elements you will see strongly impres-
sed the character which'I have just described.
It is necessary that we should first see what the Roman
empire was, and how it was formed.
Rome in its origin was a mere municipality, a corporation.
The Roman government was nothing more than an assem-
blage of institutions suitable to a population enclosed within
the walls of a city ; that is to say, they were municipal insti-
tutions ; — this was their distinctive character.
This was not peculiar to Rome. If we look, in this period,
at the part of Italy which surrounded Rome, we find nothing
but cities. What were then called nations were nothing more
than confederations of cities. The Latin nation was a con-
federation of Latin cities. The Etrurians, the Samnites, the
Sabines, the nations of Magna Graecia, were all composed in
the same way.
At this time there were no country places, no villages ; at
least the country was nothing like what it is in the present
day. It was cultivated, no doubt, but it was not peopled. The
proprietors of lands and of country estates dwelt in cities ;
they left these occasionally to visit their rural property, where
they usually kept a certain number of slaves ; but that which
we now call the country, that scattered population, sometimes
in lone houses, sometimes in hamlets and villages, and which
everywhere dots our land with agricultural dwellings, was al-
together unknown in ancient Italy.
And what was the case when Rome extended her bounda
<2 GENERAL HISTORY OF
ries ? If we follow her history, we shall find that she con-
quered or founded a host of cities. It was with cities she
fought, it was with cities she treated, it was into cities she
sent colonies. In short, the history of the conquest of the
world by Rome is the history of the conquest and foundation
of a vast number of cities. It is true that in the East the ex-
tension of the Roman dominion bore somewhat of a different
character ; Hie population was not distributed there in tha
same way as in the western world ; it was under a social sys-
tem, partaking more of the patriarchal form, and was conse-
quently much less concentrated in cities. But, as we have
only to do with the population of Europe, I &hall not dwell
upon what relates to that of the East
Confining ourselves, then, to the West, we shall find the
fact to be such as I have described it. In the Gauls, in
Spain, we meet with nothing but cities. At any distance from
these, the country consisted of marshes and forests. Examine
the character of the monuments left us of ancient Rome — the
old Roman roads. We find great roads extending from city
to city ; but the thousands of little by-paths, which now inter-
sect every part of the country, were then unknown. Neither
do we find any traces of that immense number of lesser ob-
jects — of churches, castles, country-seats, and villages, which
were spread all over the country during the middle ages.
Rome has left no traces of this kind ; her only bequest con-
sists of vast monuments impressed with a municipal charac-
ter, destined for a numerous population, crowded into a single
spot. In whatever point of view you consider the Roman
world, you meet with this almost exclusive preponderance of
cities, and an absence of country populations and dwellings
This municipal character of the Roman world evidently ren
dered the unity, the social tie of a great state, extremely diffi-
cult to establish and maintain.
A municipal corporation like Rome might be able to con-
quer the world, but it was a much more difficult task to govern
it, to mould it into one compact body. Thus, when the work
seemed done, when all the West, and a great part of the
East, had submitted to the Roman yoke, we find an immense
host of cities, of little states formed for separate existence
and independence, breaking heir chains, escaping on everr
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 43
side. This was one of the causes which made the establish-
ment of the empire necessary ; which called for a more con
centrated form of government, one better able to hold together
elements which had so few points of cohesion. The empire
endeavored to unite and to bind together this extensive and
scattered society ; and to a certain point it succeeded. Be-
tween the reigns of Augustus and Dioclesian, during the very
time that her admirable civil legislation was being carried to
perfection, that vast and despotic administration was establish-
ed, which, spreading over the empire a sort of chain-work of
functionaries subordinately arranged, firmly knit together the
people and the imperial court, serving at the same time to con-
vey to society the will of the government, and to bring to the
government the tribute and obedience of society. 3
— — . o
8 Dioclesian, A. D. 2S4, must be regarded as the first who at-
tempted to substitute a regularly organized system of oriental
monarchy, with its imposing ceremonial, and its long gradation of
dignities, proceeding from the throne as the centre of all authority
and the source of all dignity, in place of the former military despot-
ism, supported only upon, and therefore always at the mercy of,
the pretorian guards.
This system was still further perfected by Constantine the
Great, A. D. 324, who introduced several important changes into
the constitution of the empire.
He divided the empire into four great prefectures; the East;
Illyricum ; Italy ; and Gaul.
The four pretorian prefects created by Dioclesian were retained
by Constantine ; but with a very material change in their powers.
He deprived them of all military command, and made them merely
civil governors in the four prefectures.
He consolidated still more his monarchical system by an organi-
zation of ecclesiastical dignities corresponding with the gradations
of the civil administration.
This system continued substantially unchanged at the division of
k he empire, A. D. 395, and was perpetuated after that period.
Each of the empires was divided into two prefectures, and the
prefectures into diocesses, in the following manner :
Eastern
Empire.
Prefectures. Diocesses.
1. The East.
2. Egypt. _
I. The East, -j 3. Asia Minor.
I
_ 4. Pontus.
I 5. Thrace.
TT T (1. Macedonia (all Greece).
II. Illyricum. j 2 Dacia (whh J n the DaQ ^
44
GENERAL HISTOR* OF
This system, besides rallying the forces* a ad holding io-
gether the elements, of the Roman world, introduced with
wonderful celerity into society a taste for despotism, for cen-
tral power. It is truly astonishing to see how rapidly this in-
coherent assemblage of little republics, this association of
municipal corporations, sunk into an humble and obedient
respect for the sacred name of emperor. The necessity for
Prefectures. Diocesses.
I 1. Italy.
I. Italy. I 2. Illyria (Pannonia, etc.).
3. Africa.
Western
Empire.
H. Gaul.
1. Spain.
2. The Gauls.
3. Britain.
Each of these diocesses was divided into provinces, of which in
both empires there were one hundred and seventeen ; and the pro-
vinces into cities.
Imperial Administration.
Household. — The court officers were : the Grand Chamberlain ,
two Captains of the Guard ; Master of the Offices ; Quaestor or
Chancellor; Keeper of the Privy Purse (comes rerum privatarum),
whose functions are to be distinguished from those of the Minister
of the public treasury.
Provincial administration* — In each prefecture a Prefectus pre-
torio, at the head of the civil administration. In each diocess a
Vicar of the prefect. In each province a President. The cities
were governed by Duumvirs and a Defensor.
Military organization. — After the Guards and Household troops,
ranked the legions and the auxiliaries. These were commanded
in each prefecture by a Major General of the Militia ; a command-
er of the cavalry, a commander of the infantry ; military dukes
and counts, legionary prefects, etc.
Judiciary. — Cases of special importance reserved for the emperor
were decided by the quaestor ; ordinary matters by various magis-
trates, according to their relative magnitude. An appeal lay from
the defensor to the duumvirs, from the duumvirs to the president,
from the president to the vicar, from the vicar to the prefectus pre-
torio. ,
Finances. — The revenues were passed, by the collectors of cities,
into the hands of the provincial receivers, and thence, through*
bigher grade of treasurers, to the minister a:' the public treasury
Yid. Des MicheCs, Hist, du Moyen Age.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPfc. 45
establishing some tie between all these parts of the Roman
world must have been very apparent and powerful, otherwise
we can hardly conceive how the spirit of despotism could so
easily have made its way into the minds and almost into the
affections of the people.
It was with this spirit, with this administrative organiza-
tion, and with the military system connected with it, that the
Roman empire struggled against the dissolution which was
working within it, and against the barbarians who attacked it
from without. But, though it struggled long, the day at length
arrived when all the skill and power - of despotism, when all
the pliancy of servitude, was insufficient to prolong its fate.
In the fourth century, all the ties which had held this immense
body together seem to have been loosened or snapped ; the
barbarians broke in on every side ; the provinces no longer
resisted, no longer troubled themselves with the general des-
tiny. At this crisis an extraordinary idea entered the minds
of one or two of the emperors : they wished to try whether
the hope of general liberty, whether a confederation, a sys-
tem something like what we now call the representative sys-
tem, would not better defend the Roman empire than the des-
potic administration which already existed. There is a man-
date of Honorius and the younger Theodosius, addressed, in
the year 418, to the prefect of Gaul, the object of which was
to establish a sort of representative, government in the south
of Gaul, and by its aid still to preserve the unity of empire.
•
Rescript of the Emperors Honorius and Theodosius the Younger^
addressed, in the year 418, to the Prefect of the Gauls, residing at
Aries.
"Honorius and Theodosius, Augusti, to Agricoli, Prefect of the
Gauls.
" In consequence of the very salutary representation which your
Magnificence has made to us, as well as upon other information
obviously advantageous to the republic, we decree, in order that they
may have the force of a perpetual law, that the following regula-
tions should be made, and that obedience should be paid to them
by th«3 inhabitants of our seven provinces,* and which are such as
they themselves should wish for and require. Seeing that from
* Vienne, the two Aquitaineg, Novempopulana, the two Narbonnes, and the province
rf the Maritime Alps.
46 GENERAL HISTORY OF
motives, both of puDlic and private utility, responsible persons 01
special deputies should be sent, not only by each province, but by
each city, to your Magnificence, not only to render up accounts, but
also to treat of such matters as concern the interest of landed pro-
prietors, we have judged that it would be both convenient anc
highly advantageous to have annually, at a fixed period, and to
date from the present year, an assembly for the inhabitants of the
seven provinces held in the Metropolis, that is to say, in the city oi
Aries. By this institution our desire is to provide both for public
and private interests. First, by the union of the most influential
inhabitants in the presence of their illustrious Prefect, (unless
he should be absent from causes affecting public order,) and by
their deliberations, upon every subject brought before them, the
best possible advice will be obtained. Nothing which shall have
been treated of and determined upon, after a mature discussion,
shall be kept from the knowledge of the rest of the provinces ; and
such as have not assisted at the assembly shall be bound to follow
the same rules of justice and equity. Furthermore, by ordaining
that an assembly should be held every year in the city of Constan-
tine,* we believe that we are doing not only what will be advan-
tageous to the public welfare, but what will also multiply its social
relations. Indeed, this city is so favorably situated, foreigners re-
sort to it in such large numbers, and it possesses so extensive a
commerce, that all the varied productions and manufactures of the
rest of the world are to be seen within it. All that the opulent East,
the perfumed Arabia, the delicate Assyria, the fertile Africa, the
beautiful Spain, and the courageous Gaul, produce worthy of note,
abound here in such profusion, that all things admired as magnificent
in the different parts of the world seem the productions of its own
climate. Further, the union of the Rhone and the Tuscan sea so
facilitate intercourse, that the countries which the former traver-
ses, and the latter waters in its winding course, are made almost
neighbors. Thus, as the whole esrrth yields up its most esteemed
productions for the service of this city, as the particular commodi-
ties of each country are transported to it by land, by sea, by rivers,
bv ships, by rafts, by wagons, how can our Gaul fail of seeing the
great benent we confer upon it by convoking a public assembly to
be held in this city, upon which, by a special gift, as it were, of
Divine Providence, has been showered all the enjoyments of life,
and all the facilities for commerce ?
" The illustrious Prefect Petroniusf did, some time ago, with a
Sraiseworthy and enlightened view, ordain that this custom should
e observed ; but as its practice was interrupted by the troubles
of the times and the reign of usurpers, we have resolved to put it
* Constantine the Great vas singnlarly partial to Aries ; it was he ■who made it the
■eat of the prefecture of the Gauls : he desired also that it should bear his name ; buJ
eu8tora was more powerful than his will.
*■ Petronius was Prefect of the Gauls between 402 and 408.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 47
again in force, by the prudent exercise of our authority. Thus,
then, dear and well-beloved cousin Agricoli, your Magnificence,
conforming to our present ordinance and the custom established by
your predecessors, will cause the following regulations to be ob-
served in the provinces : —
" It will be necessary to make known unto all persons honored
with public functions or proprietors of domains, and to all the judg-
es of provinces, that they must attend in council every year m the
city }f irles, between the Tdes of August and September, the days
of corvocation and of session to be fixed at pleasure.
" Novempopulana and the second Aquitaine, being the most dis-
tal?* provinces, shall have the power, according to custom, to send,
if .heir judges should be detained by indispensable duties, deputies
in their stead.
"Such persons as neglect to attend at the place appointed, and
within the prescribed period, shall pay a fine : viz., judges, five
pounds of gold ; members of the curiae and other dignitaries, three
pounds.*
" By this measure we conceive we are granting great advan-
tages and favor to the inhabitants of our provinces. We have also
the certainty of adding to the welfare of the city of Aries, to the
fidelity of which, according to our father and countryman, we owe
so much.f
"Given the 15th of the calends of May; received at Aries the
10th of the calends of June."
Notwithstanding this call, the provinces and cities refused
the proffered boon ; nobody would name deputies, none would
go to Aries. This centralization, this unity, was opposed to
the primitive nature of this society. The spirit of locality,
and of municipality, everywhere reappeared ; the impossi-
bility of reconstructing a general society, of building up the
whole into one general state, became evident. The cities,
confining themselves to the affcirs of their own corporations,
shut themselves up within their own walls, and the empire
fell, because none would belong to the empire ; because citi
zens wished but to belong to their city. Thus the- Roman
empire, at its fall, was resolved into the elements of which
it had been composed, and the preponderance of municipal
rule and government was again everywhere visible. The
* The municipal corps of the Roman cities were called curi^, and the member* of
these bodies, whn were very numerous, curiales.
t Constantine the Second, husband of Placidia, whom Honorius had taken for hie «•
Ws£ne in 131
48 GENERAL HISTORY OP
Roman world nad been formed of cities, and to cities ajrain it
returned. 4
This municipal system was the bequest of the ancient Roman
civilization to modern Europe. It had no doubt become fee-
ble, irregular, and very inferior to what it had been at an ear-
lier period ; but it was the only living principle, the only one
hat retained any form, the only one that survived the general
destruction of the Roman world.
When I say the only one, I mistake. There was another
phenomenon, another idea, which likewise outlived it. I
mean the remembrance of the empire, and the title of the em-
peror, — the idea of imperial majesty, and of absolute power
attached to the name of emperor. It must be observed,
then, that the two elements which passed from the Roman
civilization into ours were, first, the system of municipal cor-
porations, its habits, its regulations, its principle of libeily —
a general civil legislation, common to all ; secondly, the idea
of absolute power ; — the principle of order and the principle
of servitude.
Meanwhile, within the very heart of Roman society, there
had grown up another society of a very different nature,
founded upon different principles, animated by different sen-
timents, and Avhich has brought into European civilization
elements of a widely different character : I speak of the
Christian church. I say the Christian church, and not Chris-
tianity, between which a broad distinction is to be made. At
the end of the fourth century, and the beginning of the fifth,
Christianity was no longer a simple belief, it was an institu-
tion — it had formed itself into a corporate body. It had its
4 That the municipal spirit should have been stronger than any
more general sentiment binding the citizens to the empire, was
natural, not only because their interests were more immediately
concerned in the municipal administration, but because the people
had some voice ^.nd influence in the government of the cities, while
vhey had none in the general government. Though the municipal
magistrates, the duumvirs and defensors, were a part of that vast
chain of administrative functionaries proceeding from the imperial
throne, and linked to it, yet they were chosen from the municipal
6enate (decurions) and nominated bv the people.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 49
government, a body of priests ; a settled ecclesiastical polity
for the regulation of their different functions ; revenues ; in-
dependent means of influence. It had the rallying points
suitable to a great society, in its provincial, national, and gen-
eral councils, in which were wont to be debated in common
the affairs of society. In a word, the Christian religion, at
thi3 epoch, was no longer merely a religion, it was a church.
Had it not been a church, it is hard to say what would
have been its fate in the general convulsion which attended
the overthrow of the Roman empire. Looking only to world-
ly means, putting out of the question the aids and superin-
tending power of Divine Providence, and considering only the
natural effects of natural causes, it would be difficult to say
how Christianity, if it ha.d continued what it was at first, a mere
belief, an individual conviction, could, have withstood the
shock occasioned by the dissolution of the Roman empire and
the invasion of the barbarians. At a later period, when it had
even become an institution, an established church, it fell in
Asia and the North of Africa, upon an invasion of a like kind
— that of the Mohammedans ; and circumstances seem to point
out that it was still more likely such would have been its fate
at the fall of the Roman empire. At this time there existed
none of those means by which in the present day moral influ-
ences become established or rejected without the aid of insti-
tutions ; none of those means by which an abstract truth now
makes way, gains an authority over mankind, governs their
actions, and directs their movements. Nothing of this kind
existed in the fourth century ; nothing which could give to sim-
ple ideas, to personal opinions, so much weight and power.
Hence I think it may be assumed, that only a society firmly
established, under a powerful government and rules of disci-
pline, could hope to bear up amid such disasters — could hope
to weather so violent a storm. I think, then, humanly speak-
ing, that it is not too much to aver, that in the fourth and fifth
centuries it was the Christian church that saved Christianity ;
that it was the Christian church, with its institutions, its
tnagistiates, its authority — the Christian church, which strug-
gled so vigorously to prevent the interior dissolution of the
empire, which struggled against the barbarian, and which, in
luct, overcame the barbarian ; — it was this church, I say, that
became the great connecting link — the principle of civilization
bet ween the Roman and the barbarian world. It is the state
3
50 GENERAL HISTORY OF
of the church, then, rather than religion strictly understood,—
rather than that pure and simple faith of the Gospel which all
true believers must regard as its highest triumph, — that we
must look at in the fifth century, in order to discover what influ-
ence Christianity had from this time upon modern civilization,
and what are the elements it has introduced into it.
Let us see what at this epoch the Christian church really
was.
If we look, still in an entirely worldly point of view — if we
look at the changes which Christianity underwent from ita
first rise to the fifth, century — if we examine it, (still, I re-
repeat, not in a religious, but solely in a political sense,) we
shall find that it passed through three essentially different
states.
In its infancy, in its very babyhood, Christian society pre-
sents itself before us as a simple association of men possess-
ing the same faith and opinions, the same sentiments and feel-
ings. The first Christians met to enjoy together their common
emotions, their common religious convictions. At this time
we find no settled form of doctrine, no settled rules of disci-
pline, no body of magistrates. «
Still, it is perfectly obvious, that no society, however young,
however feebly held together, or whatever its nature, can ex-
ist without some moral power which animates and guides it ;
and thus, in the various Christian congregations, there were
men who preached, who taught, who morally governed the
congregation. Still there was no settled magistrate, no dis-
cipline ; a simple association of believers in a common faith,
with common sentiments and feelings, was the first condition
Df Christian society.
But the moment this society began to advance, and almost
at its birth, for we find traces of them in its earliest documents,
there gradually became moulded a form of doctrine, rules of dis-
cipline, a body of magistrates : of magistrates called npeaBvTcpoi,
car elders, who afterwards became priests ; of brimmvai, inspect-
ors or overseers, who became bishops ; and of Siolkovoi, or dea*
cons, whose office was the care of the poor and the distribu^
♦ion of alms.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE, 51
It is almost impossible to determine the precise functions
of these magistrates ; the line of demarcation was probably
veiy vague and wavering ; yet here was the embryo of insti
tutions. Still, however, there was one prevailing charactei
in this second epoch : it was that the power, the authority
the preponderating influence, still remained in the hands of
the general body of believers. It was they who decided in
the election of magistrates, as well as in the adoption of rules
of discipline and doctrine. No separation had as yet taken
place between the Christian government and the Christian
people ; neither as yet existed apart from, or independently
of, the other, and it was still the great body of Christian be-
lievers who exercised the principal influence in. the society. 5
In the third period all this was entirely changed. The
clergy were separated from the people, and now formed a
distinct body, with its own wealth, its own jurisdiction, its
own constitution ; in a word, it had its own government, and
formed a complete society of itself, — a society, too, provided
with all the means of existence, independently of the society
to which it applied itself, and over which it extended its in-
fluence. This was the third state of the Christian church,
5 It is fair to say that this and the preceding paragraphs touch
upon several disputed points. Contrary to the assertions here
made, it has by many been always strongly maintained that from
the outset not only were there Christians, but there was a Church ;
not only " a simple association of believers," but an organized
body; and that the constitution, government, and main rules of
discipline of the church were distinctly and even divinely settled ;
and that the' determination of none of these things was ever left to
the popular voice or will of " the great body of Christian believers."
At the same time it is admitted by those who hold this view,
that from and after the time of Constantine, the original constitu-
tion of the church, without being destroyed, was overlaid by a vast
body of human additions, particularly by the hierarchy, or long
gradation of ecclesiastical dignities and powers rising upward from
the primitive bishop to the patriarch, and that by these and other
lesults of the alliance of Christianity with the empire, the simpli-
city of the church was corrupted, its purity endangered, and the
primitive relations of the clergy and people injuriously affected.
In this view, therefore, the general correctness of the author's re-
marks in regard to the state of the church in what he terms the
" third period" will be admitted, even by those who may question,
the justness of his preceding statements.
52 GENERAL HISTORY OF
and in this state it existed at the opening of the fifth century
The government was not yet completely separated from th«
people ; for no such government as yet existed, and less so ir.
religious matters than in any other ; but, as respects the re
lation between the clergy and Christians in general, it was
the clergy who governed, and governed almost without control.
But, besides the influence which the clergy derived from
their spiritual functions, they possessed considerable power
over society, from their having become chief magistrates in
the city corporations. We have already seen, that, strictly
speaking, nothing had descended from the Roman empire, ex-
cept its municipal system. Now it had fallen out that by the
vexations of despotism, and the ruin of the cities, the curiales,
or officers of the corporations, had sunk into insignificance
and inanity ; while the bishops and the great body of the
clergy, full of vigor and zeal, were naturally prepared to guide
and watch over them. It is not fair to accuse the clergy of
Usurpation in this matter, for it fell out according to the com-
mon course of events : the clergy alone possessed moral
strength and activity, and the clergy everywhere succeeded
to pow T er — such is the common law of the universe.
The change which had taken place in this respect shows
itself in every part of the legislation of the Roman Emperors
at this period. In opening the Theodosian and Justinian codes,
we find innumerable enactments, which place the management
of the municipal affairs in the Hands of the clergy and bishops.
I shall cite a few.
Cod. Just., L. L, tit. iv., De Episcopah audientia, § 26. — With
regard to the yearly affairs of the cities, (whether as respects the
ordinary city revenues, the funds arising from the city estates, from,
legacies or particular gifts, or from any other source ; whether as
respects the management of the public works, of the magazines of
provisions, of the aqueducts ; of the maintenance of the public baths
the city gates, of the building of walls or towers, the repairing ot
bridges and roads, or of any lawsuit in which the city may be engaged
on account of public or private interests,) we ordain as follows :— ■
The right reverend bishop, and three men of good report, from
among the chiefs of the city, shall assemble together; every year
they shall examine the works done ; they shall take care that those
who conduct, or have conducted them, measure them correctly,
give a true account of them, and cause it to be seen that they have
fulfilled their contracts, whether in the care of the public monu«
CIVILIZATION IN iMODERN EUROPE. 53
merits, in the moneys expended in provisions and the public baths,
of ail that is expended for the repairs of the roads, aqueducts, and
all other matters.
Ibid., § 30. — With respect to the guardianship of youth, of the
first and second age, and of all those to whom the law gives cura-
tors, if their fortune is not more than 5000 aurei, we ordain that
the nomination of the president of the province should not be wait-
ed for, on account of the great expense it would occasion, especially
if the president should not reside in the city in which it becomes
necessary to provide for the guardianship. The nomination of the
curators or tutors shall, in this case, be made by the magistrate of
the city .... in concert with the- right reverend bishop and other
persons invested with public authority, if more than one should re-
side in the city.
Ibid., L. L, tit. Y.,De Defensoribus, § 8. — We desire the defend-
ers of cities, well instructed in the holy mysteries of the orthodox
faith, should be chosen and instituted into their office by the rever-
end bishops, the clerks, notables, proprietors, and the curiales.
With regard to their installation, it must be committed to the glo-
rious pow ?r of the prefects of the prsetorium, in order that their
authority should have all the stability and weight which the letters
of admission granted by his Magnificence are likely to give.
I could cite numerous other laws to the same effect, and in
all of them you would see this one fact very strikingly pre-
vail : namely, that between the Roman municipal system, and
that of the free cities of the middle ages, there intervened an
ecclesiastical municipal system ; the preponderance of the
clergy in the management of the affairs of the city corpora-
tions succeeded to that of the ancient Roman municipal ma-
gistrates, and paved the way for the organization of our mo-
dern free communities.
It will at once be seen what an amazing accession of power
the Christian church gained by these means, not only in its
own peculiar circle, by its increased influence on the body of
Christians, but also by the part which it took in temporal mat-
ters. And it is from this period we should date its powerful
co-operation in the advance of modern civilization, and the
extensive influence it has had upon its character. Let us
briefly run over the advantages which it introduced into it.
And, first, it was of immense advantage to European civil-
ization that a moral influence, a moral power — a power rest-
ing entirely upon moral convictions, upon moral opinions and
sentiments — should have established itself in society, just at
this period, when it seemed upon the point of being crushed
54 GENERAL HISTORY OF
by the overwhelming physical force which had saken poa
session of it. Had not the Christian church at this time ex<
tsted, the whole world must have fallen a prey to mere brute
force. The Christian church alone possessed a moral power ;
it maintained and promulgated the idea of a precept, of a law
superior to all human authority ; it proclaimed that great truth
which forms the only foundation of our hope for humanity ;
namely, that there exists a law above all human law, which,
by whatever name it may be called, whether reason, the law
of God, or what not, is, in all times and in all places, the same
law under different names.
Finally, the church commenced an undertaking of great
importance to society — I mean the separation of temporal and
spiritual authority. This separation is the only true source
of liberty of conscience ; it was based upon no other princi-
ple than that Avhich serves as the groundwork for the strictest
and most extensive liberty of conscience. The separation of
temporal and spiritual power rests solely upon the idea that
physical, that brute force, has no right or authority over the
mind, over convictions, over truth. It flows from the dis-
tinction established between the world of thought and the
world of action, between our inward and intellectual nature
and the outward world around us. So that, however paro-
doxical it may seem, that very principle of liberty of conscience
for which Europe has so long struggled, so much suffered,
which has only So late.y prevailed, and that, in many instances,
against the will of the clergy, — that very principle was acted
upon under the name of a separation of the temporal and spiritual
power, in the infancy of European civilization. It was, more-
over, the Christian church itself, driven to assert it by the cir-
cumstances in which it was placed, as a means of defence
against barbarism, that introduced and maintained it
The establishment, then, of a moral influence, the mainte •
nance of this divine law, and the separation of temporal and
spiritual power, may be enumerated as the great benefita
which the Christian church extended to European society ia
the fifth century.
Unfortunately, all its influences, even at this period, were
KOt equally beneficial.. Already, even before the close of the
fifth century, we discover some of those vicious principles .
uhich have had so baneful an effect on th*e advancement of
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 55
our civilization. There already prevailed in the bosom of the
church a desire to separate the governing and the governed.
The attempt was thus early made to render the government
entirely independent of the people under its authornj — io take
possession of their mind and life, without the conviction of
their reason or the consent of their will. The church, more-
over, endeavored with all her might to establish the principle
of theocracy, to usurp temporal authority, to obtain universal
dominion. And when she failed in this, when she found she
could not obtain absolute power for herself, she did what was
almost as bad: to obtain a share of it, she leagued herself
with temporal rulers, and enforced, with all her might, their
claim to absolute power at the expense of the liberty of the
subject.
Such then, I think, were the principal elements of civiliza-
tion which Europe derived, in the fifth century, from the
Church and from the Roman empire. Such was the state of
the Roman world when the barbarians came to make it their
prey ; and we have now only to study the barbarians them-
selves, in order to be acquainted with the elements which
were united and mixed together in the cradle of our civiliza-
tion. •
4
It must be here understood that we have nothing to do with
the history of the barbarians. It is enough for our purpose
to know, that wi h the exception of a. few Slavonian tribes,
such as the Alans, they were all of the same German origin :
and that they were all in pretty nearly the same state of civili-
zation. It is true that some little difference might exist in
this respect, accordingly as these nations had more or less
intercourse with the Roman world ; and there is no doubt but
the Goths had made a greater progress, and had become more
refined than the Franks ; but in a general point of view, and
with regard to the matter before us, these little differences are
of no consequence whatever.
A general notion of the state of society among the barba-
rians, such, at least, as will enable us to judge of what they
have contributed towards modern civilization, is all that we
require. This information, small as it may appear, it is now
almost impossible to obtain. Respecting the municipal sys-
.em of the Romans and the state of the Church we may form
56 GENERAL HISTORY OF
a tolerably accurate idea. Their influence has lasted to tria
present times ; we have vestiges of them in many of our in-
stitutions, and possess a thousand means of becoming ac-
quainted with them ; but the manners and social state of the
barbarians have completely perished, and we are driven to
conjecture what they were, either from a very few ancient
historical remains, or by an effort of the imagination.
There is one sentiment, one in particular, which it is
necessary to understand before we can form a true picture of
s barbarian ; it is the pleasure of personal independence — the
pleasure of enjoying, in full force and liberty, all his powers
in the various ups and downs of fortune ; the fondness for
activity without labor ; for a life of enterprise and adventure.
Such was the prevailing character and disposition of the bar-
barians ; such were the moral wants which put these immense
masses of men into motion. It is extremely difficult for us,
in the regulated society in which we move, to form anything
like a correct idea of this feeling, and of the influence which
it exercised upon the rude barbarians of the fourth and fifth
centuries. There is, however, a history of the Norman con-
quest of England, written by M. Thierry, in which the char-
acter and disposition of the barbarian are depicted with much
life and vigor. In this admirable work, the motives, the incli-
nations and impulses that stir men into action in a state of life
bordering on the savage, have been felt and described in a
truly masterly manner. There is nowhere else to be found
so correct a likeness of what a barbarian was, or of his course
of life. Something of the same kind, but, in my opinion,
much inferior, is found in the novels of Mr. Cooper, in which
he depicts the manners of the savages of America. In these
scenes, in the sentiments and social relations which these
savages hold in the midst of their forests, there is unquestion-
ably something which, to a certain point, calls up before us
the manners of the ancient Germans. No doubt these pic
tures are a little imaginative, a little poetical ; the worst fea
tures in the life and manners of the barbarians are not given
in all their naked coarseness. I allude not merely to the evils
which these manners forced into the social condition, but to
the inward individual condition of the barbarian himself.
There is in this passionate desire for personal independence
something of a grosser, more material character than we
•hould suppose from the work of M. Thierry ; a degree of
\
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 5?
TY
brutality, of headstrong passion, of apathy, which we do not
discover in his details. Still, notwithstanding this alloy of
brutal and stupid selfishness, there is, if we look more pro-
foundly into the matter, something of a noble and moral char-
acter, in this taste for independence, which seems to derive
its power from our moral nature. It is the pleasure of feeling
one's self a man ; the sentiment of personality ; of human
spontaneity in its unrestricted development.
It was the rude barbarians of Germany who introduced this
sentiment of personal independence, this love of individual
liberty, into European civilization ; it was unknown among
the Romans, it was unknown in the Christian Church, it-was
unknown in nearly all the civilizations of antiquity. The
liberty which we meet with in ancient civilizations is politi-
cal liberty ; it is the liberty of the citizen. It was not about
his personal liberty that man troubled himself, it was about
his liberty as a citizen. He formed part of an association,
and to this alone he was devoted. The case was the same
in the Christian Church. Among its members a devoted at-
tachment to the Christian body, a devotedness to its laws, and
an earnest zeal for the extension of its empire, were every-
where conspicuous ; the spirit of Christianity wrought a
change in the moral character of man, opposed to this prin-
ciple of independence ; for under its influence his mind strug-
gled to extinguish its own liberty, and to deliver itself up en-
tirely to the dictates of his faith. But the feeling of person -
al independence, a fondness for genuine liberty displaying it^
self without regard to consequences, and with scarcely any
other aim than its own satisfaction — this feeling, I repeat, was
unknown to the Romans and to the Christians. We are in-
debted for it to the barbarians, who introduced it into Euro-
pean civilization, in which, from its first rise, it has played so
considerable a part, and has produced such lasting and bene-
ficial results, that it must be regarded as one of its fundamen-
tal principles, and could not be passed without notice.
There is another, a second element of civilization, which
we likewise inherit from the barbarians alone : I mean mili-
tary oatronage, the tie which became formed between indivi-
duals, between warriors, and which, without destroying the
liberty of any, without even destroying in the commencement
.he equality up to a certain point which existed between them,
laid the foundation of a graduated subordination, and was the
58 GENERAL HISTORY OF
origin of that aristocratical organization Vhich, at a later pe*
riod, grew into the feudal system. The germ of this connexion
was the attachment of man to man ; the fidelity which united
individuals, without apparent necessity, without any obliga-
tion arising from the general principles of society. In none
of the ancient republics do you see any example of individuals
particularly and freely attached to other individuals. They
were all attached to the city. Among the barbarians this tie
was formed between man and man ; first by the relationship
of companion and chief, when they came in bands to overrun
Europe ; and at a later period, by the relationship of sovereign
and vassal. This second principle, which has had so vast an
influence in the civilization of modern Europe — this devoted-
ness of man to man — came to us entirely from our German
ancestors ; it formed part of their social system, and was
adopted into ours.
Let me now ask if I was not fully justified in stating, as I
did at the outset, that modern civilization, even in its infancy,
was diversified, agitated, and confused ? Is it not true that
we find at the fall of the Roman empire nearly all the ele-
ments which are met with in the progressive career of our
civilization 1 We have found at this epoch three societies all
different ; first, municipal society, the last remains of the Ro-
man empire ; secondly, Christian society ; and lastly, barba-
rian society. We find these societies very differently organ-
ized ; founded upon principles totally opposite ; inspiring men
with sentiments altogether different. We find the love of the
most absolute independence by the side of the most devoted
submission ; military patronage by the side of ecclesiastical
domination ; spiritual power and temporal power everywhere
together ; the canons of the church, the learned legislation of
the Romans, the almost unwritten customs of the barbarians ;
everywhere a mixture or rather co-existence of nations, of
languages, of social situations, of manners, of ideas, of impres-
sions, the most diversified. These, I think, afford a sufficient
proof of the truth of the general character which I have en-
deavored to picture of our civilization.
There is no denying that we owe to this confusion, this
diversity, this tossing an 1 jostling of elements, the slow pro-
gress of Europe, the storms by which she has been buffeted,
Jie miseries to which ofttimes she has been a prey. But,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 59
howevei dear these have cost us, we must not regard them
with unmingled regret. In nations, as well as in individuals
the good fortune to have all the faculties called into action, so
as to ensure a full and free development of the various powers
both of mind and body, is an advantage not too dearly paid
for by the labor and pain, with which it is attended. What
we might call the hard fortune of European civilization — the
trouble, the toil it has undergone — the violence it has suffered
in its course — have been of infinitely more service to the pro-
gress of humanity than that tranquil, smooth simplicity, in
which other civilizations have run their course. I shall now
nalt. In the rude sketch which I have drawn, I trust you will
recognise the general features of the world such as it appear-
ed upon the fall of the Roman empire, as well as the various
elements which conspired and mingled together to give birth
to European civilization. Henceforward these will move and
act under our notice. We shall next put these in motion, and
see how they work together. In the next lecture I shall en-
deavor to show what they became and what they performed in
the epoch which is called the Barbarous Period ; that is to
say, the period during which the chaos of invasion continued. 6
6 The remarkable crisis, when the Romans and the barbarians
were contending for the empire of the world, should be well com-
prehended by the student. Gibbon will furnish the history : Caesar
and Tacitus are the original sources for a knowledge of the German
character. It was a struggle between civilization and barbarism :
the latter triumphed ; the Dark Ages were the result.
Frequent border wars had been maintained with the Germans
on the Rhine from the time of Julius Caesar, when the conquest
of Gaul had extended the bounds of the empire to that river.
But after the time of Caracalla, 212, the conflict became inces-
sant : new tribes of Germans began to appear and press upon the
frontier, making continual predatory irruptions into the Roman ter-
ritory, but effecting no permanent establishment.
At length, in 376, the Huns, entering Europe from northern Asia,
subdued or drove before them the Sclavonian and Gothic tribes,
precipitated the Visigoths across the Danube within the limits of
the Roman Empire.
Then began the struggle for the empire. Wave followed wave
in the great migration of nations — a movement which continued to
roll tumultuously over Europe for more than three centuries after
the downfall of the Western Empire.
The various tribes of barbarians whose names appear in the his-
tory of this period belonged to three distinct races :
60 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
1. The Scythian — comprising the Huns, the Alani, Avari, Bui
garians, Hungarians, -Turks, and Tartars.
2. The Sclavonian — to which belonged the Bosnians, the Ser
vians, Croatians, etc.; the Wendi, I oles, Bohemians, Moravians
Pomeranians, Wiltsians, Lusatians, etc.; the Livonians and Lithu
anians.
3. The German — including the Alemanni, a confederation of
tribes of which the Suevi were the chief; the Bavarians, Mar*
comanni, Quadi, Hermunduri, Heruli ; the Gepidse, the Goths
the Francs, the Frisons ; the Vandals, Burgundians, Rugii, Lom-
bards ; the Angli, and Saxons.
The final extinction of the Roman Empire of rjie West is dated
in 476, when the imperial throne was subverted by Odoacer, lead-
er of the mixed multitude of barbarian auxiliaries. But it should be
remembered that previous to this event Rome had been twice taken
and sacked, first by Alaric and the Visigoths in 4i0, next by Genseric
and the Vandals in 455; and that four barbarian kingdoms had
been established within the limits of the empire : the kingdom of
the Burgundians in 413 ; of the Suevi in 419 ; of the Visigoths in
419 ; of Carthage by the Vandals in 439.
In 493 the power of Odoacer was destroyed, and the Ostro-
Gothic kingdom of Italy established by Theodoric the Great.
Thus, before the end of the fifth century, the Vandals were mas-
ters of Africa ; the Suevi, of a part of Spain ; the Visigoths of the
rest, together with a large part of Gaul ; the Burgundians of that
part of Gaul lying on the Rhone and Saone ; the Ostro-Goths of
nearly all Italy ; while the Francs under Clovis had begun (481
— 496) the career of conquest, which in the next and following cen-
turies resulted in the overthrow of those kingdoms, the establish-
ment of the Frankish dominion, and the formation for a tme ci a
new centre of gravity for Europe un<3cr Chcvrleroagne.
LECTURE III.
OF POLITICAL LEGITIMACY CO-EXISTENCE OF ALL THE SYS-
TEMS OF GOVERNMENT IN THE FIFTH CENTURY — ATTIMPT8
TO REORGANIZE SOCIETY.
In my last lecture, I brought you to what maybe cUledthe
porch to the history of modern civilization. I briefly placed
before you the primary elements of European civilization, as
found when, at the dissolution of the Roman empire, it was yet
in its cradle. I endeavored to give you a preliminary sketch
of their diversity, their continual struggles with each other,
and to show you that no one of them succeeded in obtaining
the mastery in our social system ; at least such a mastery as
would imply the complete subjugation or expulsion of the
others. We have seen that these circumstances form the dis-
tinguishing character of European civilization. We will to-
day begin the history of its childhood in what is commonly
called the dark or middle age, the age of barbarism.
It is impossible for us not to be struck, at the first glance at
this period, with a fact which seems quite contradictory to the
statement we have just made. No sooner do we seek for in-
formation respecting the opinions that have been formed rela-
tive to the ancient condition of modern Europe, than we find
that the various elements of our civilization, that is to say,
monarchy, theocracy, aristocracy, and democracy, each would
have us believe that originally, European society belonged to
it alone, and that it Las only lost the power it then possessed
by the usurpation of the other elements. Examine all that has
been written, all that has been said on this subject, and you
will find that every author who has attempted to build up a
system which should represent or explain our origin, has
asserted the exclusive predominance of one or other of these
elements of European civilization.
First, there is the school of civilians, attached to the feu-
dal system, among whom we may mention Boulainvilliers as
62 GENERAL HISTORY OF
the most celebrated, who boldly asserts, that, at the downfal,
of the Roman empire, it was the conquering nation, forming
afterwards the nobility, who alone possessed authority, or
right, or power. Society, it is said, was their domain, of
which kings and people have since despoiled them ; and
hence, the aristocratic organization is affirmed to have been
in Europe the primitive and genuine form. ^
Next to this school we may place the advocates of monar-
chy, the Abbe Dubois, for example, who maintains, on the
other side, that it was to royalty that European society be-
longed. According to him, the German kings succeeded to
all the rights of the Roman emperors ; they were even invited
in by the ancient nations, among others by the Gauls and Sax-
ons ; they alone possessed legitimate authority, and all the
conquests of the aristocracy were only so many encroach-
ments upon the power of the monarchs.
The liberals, republicans, or democrats, whichever you may
choose to call them, form a third school. Consult the Abbe
de Mably. According to this school, the government by which
society was ruled in the fifth century, was composed of free
institutions ; of assemblies of freemen, of the nation proper-
ly so called. Kings and nobles enriched themselves by the
spoils of this primitive Liberty ; it has fallen under their re-
peated attacks, but it reigned before them.
Another power, however, claimed the right of governing
society, and upon much higher grounds than any of these,.
Monarchical, aristocratic, and popular pretensions were all
of a worldly nature : the Church of Rome founded her pre-
tensions upon hor sacred mission and divine right. By her
labors, Europe, she said, had attained the blessings of civi-
lizatior and truth, and to her alone belonged the right to
govern it.
Here then is a difficulty which meets us at the very outset.
We have stated our belief that no one of the elements of
European civilization obtained an exclusive mastery over it,
in the whole course of its history , that they lived in a con-
stant state of proximity, of amalgamation, of strife, and of
compromise ; yet here, at our very first step, we are met by the
directly opposite opinion, that one or other of these elements,
even in the very infancy of civilization, even in the very heart
of barbarian Europe, took entire possession of society. And
it is not in one country alone, it is in every nation of Europe.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 63
that the various principles of our civilization, under forms a
little varied, at epochs a little apart, have displayed these
irreconcilable pretensions. The historic schools which I have
enumerated are met with everywhere.
This fact is important, not in itself, but because it reveals
some other facts which make a great figure in our history
By this simultaneous advancement of claims the most opposed
to the exclusive possession of power, in the first stage of
modern Europe, two important facts are revealed : first, the
principle, the idea of political legitimacy ; an idea which has
played a considerable part in the progress of European civili-
zation. The second is the particular, the true character of
the state of barbarian Europe during that period, which now
more expressly demands attention.
It is my task, then, to explain these two facts ; and to
show you how they may be fairly deduced from the early
struggle of the pretensions which I have just called to your
notice.
Now what do these various elements of our civilization, — ■
what do theocracy, monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy
aim at, when they each endeavor to make out that it alone
was the first which held possession of European society ? Is
it any thing beyond the desire of each to establish its sole
claim to legitimacy ? For what is political legitimacy 1 Evi-
dently nothing more than a right founded upon antiquity, upon
duration, which is obvious from the simple fact, that priority
of time is pleaded as the source of right, as proof of legiti-
mate power. But, observe again, this claim is not peculiar
to one system, to one element of our civilization, but is made
alike by all. The political writers of the Continent have been
in the habit, for some time past, of regarding legitimacy as
belonging, exclusively, to the monarchical system. This is
an error ; legitimacy may be found in' all the systems. It has
already been shown that, of the various elements of our civi-
lization, each wished to appropriate it to itself. But advance
a few steps further into the history of Europe, and you will
Bee social forms of government, the^ost opposed in prin-
ciples, alike in possession of this legitimacy, The Italian
and Swiss aristocracies and democracies, the little republic
of San Marino, as well as the most powerful monarchies, have
considered themselves legitimate, and have been acknowledged
64 GENERAL HISTORY OP
as such ; all founding their claim to this title upon the an
tiquity of their institutions ; upon the historical priority and
duration of their particular system of government.
If we leave modern Europe, and turn our attention to other
times and to other countries, we shall everywhere find this
same notion prevail respecting political legitimacy. It every-
where attaches itself to some portion of government ; to some
institution ; to some form, or to some maxim. There is no
country, no time, in which you may not discover some por-
tion of the social system, some public authority, that has as-
sumed, and been acknowledged to possess, this character of
legitimacy, arising from antiquity, prescription, and duration.
Let us for a moment see what this legitimacy is ? of what
it is composed ? what it requires 1 and how it found its way
into European civilization 1
You will find that all power — I say all, without distinction
— owes its existence in the first place partly to force. I do
not say that force alone has been, in all cases, the foundation
of power, or that this, without any other title, could in every
case have been established by force alone. Other claims un-
doubtedly are requisite. Certain powers become established
in consequence of certain social expediencies, of certain re-
lations with the state of society, with its customs or opinions.
But it is impossible to close our eyes to the fact, that violence
has sullied the birth of all the authorities in the world, what-
ever may have been their nature or their form.
This origin, however, no one will acknowledge. All au-
thorities, whatever their nature, disclaim it. None of them
will allow themselves to be considered as the offspring of
force. Governments are warned by an invincible instinct tha.
force is no title — that might is not right — and that, while they
rest upon no other foundation than violence, they are entirely
destitute of right. Hence, if we go back to some distant pe-
riod, in which the various systems, the various powers, are
found struggling one against the other, we shall hear them
each exclaiming, " I existed before you ; my claim is the old-
est ; my claim rests upon other grounds than force ; society
belonged to me before tins state of violence, before this strife
in which you now find me. I was legitimate ; I have been
apposed, and my rights have been torn from me."
This fact alone proves that the idea of violence is not the
foundation of political legitimacy, — that it rests upon some
^i^ATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 65
other basis. This disavowal of violence made by every sys-
tem, proclaims, as plainly as facts can speak, that there is
another legitimacy, the true foundation of all the others, the
legitimacy of reason, of justice, of right. It is to this origin
that they seek to link themselves. As they feel scandalized
at the very idea of being the offspring of force, they pretend
to be invested, by virtue of their antiquity, with a different
title. The first characteristic, then, of political legitimacy, is
to disclaim violence as the source of authority, and to asso-
ciate it with a moral notion, a moral force — with the notion
of justice, of right, of reason. This is the primary element
from which the principle of political legitimacy has sprung
forth. It has issued from it, aided by time, aided by prescrip-
tion. Let us see how.
Violence presides at the birth of governments, a1> the birth
of societies ; but time rolls on. He changes the works of
violence. He corrects them. He corrects them, simply be-
cause society endures, and because it is composed of men.
Man bears within himself certain notions of order, of justice,
of reason, with a certain desire to bring them into play — he
wishes to see them predominate in the sphere in which he
moves. For this he labors ^unceasingly ; and if the social
system in which he lives, continues, his labor is not in vain.
Man naturally brings reason, morality, and legitimacy into the
world in which he lives.
Independently of the labor of man, by a special law of
Providence which it is impossible to mistake, a law analogous
to that which ruled the material world, there is a certain de-
gree of order, of intelligence, of justice, indispensable to the
duration of human society. From the simple fact of its du-
ration we may argue, that a society is not completely irration-
al, savage, or iniquitous ; that it is not altogether destitute of
intelligence, truth, and justice, for without these, society can-
not hold together. Again, as society develops itself, it be-
comes stronger, more powerful; if the social system is con-
tinually augmented by the increase of individuals who accept
and approve its regulations, it is because the iction of time
gradually introduces into it more right, more intelligence, more
justice ; it it is because a gradual approximation is made in
its affairs to the principles of true legitimacy.
Thus forces itself into the world, and from the world into
Jhe mind of man, the notion of political legitimacy. Its foun*
66 GENERAL HISTORY OF
dation in the first place, at least to a certain extent, is mora*
egitimacy — is justice, intelligence, Lnd truth ; it next obtains
the sanction of time, which gives reason to believe that affairsi
are conducted by reason, that the true legitimacy has been in-
troduced. At the epoch which we, are about to study, you
will find violence and fraud hovering over the cradle of mon-
archy, aristocracy, democracy, and even over the church it-
self; you will see this violence and fraud everywhere gradually
abated ; and justice and truth taking their place in civili-
zation. It is this introduction of justice and truth into our
social system, that has nourished and gradually matured poli-
tical legitimacy ; and it is thus that it has taken firm root in
modern civilization.
All those then who have attempted at various times to set
up this idea of legitimacy as the foundation of absolute pow-
er, have wrested it from its true origin. It has nothing to do
with absolute power. It is under" the name of justice and
righteousness that it has made its way into the world and
found footing. Neither is it exclusive. It belongs to no par-
ty in particular ; it springs up in all systems w T here truth and
justice prevail. Political legitimacy is as much attached to
liberty as to power ; to the rights of individuals as to the
forms under which are exercised the public functions. As we
go on we shall find it, as I said before, in systems the most
opposed ; in the feudal system ; in the free cities of Flanders
and Germany ; in the republics of Italy, as well as in monar-
chy. It is a quality which appertains to all the divers ele-
ments of our civilization, and which it is necessary should be
well understood before entering upon its history.
The second fact revealed to us by that simultaneous ad-
vancement of claims, of which I spoke at the beginning of
this lecture, is the true character of what is called the period
of barbarism. Each of the elements of European civiliza
tion pretends, that at this epoch Europe belonged to it alone ;
hence we may conclude that it really belonged to no one of
them. When any particular kind of government prevails in
the world, there is no difficulty in recognising it. When we
come to the tenth century, we acknowledge, without hesita-
tion, the preponderance of feudalism. At the seventeenth we
have no hesitation in asserting, that the monarchical principle
prevails. If we turn our eyes to the free communities of
Flanders, to the republics of Italy, we confess at once the
•^lilTION IN MODERN EUROPE. 67
pteiiominance of democracy. Whenever, indeed, any ono
principle really bears sway in society, it cannot be mistaken.
The dispute, then, that has arisen among the various sys-
tems which hold a part in European civilization, respecting
which bore chief sway at its origin, proves that they all ex-
isted there together, without any one of them having prevail-
ed so generally as to give to society its form or its name.
This is, indeed, the character of the dark age : it was a
chaos of all the elements ; the childhood of all the systems ;
a universal jumble, in which even strife itself was neither
permanent nor systematic. By an examination of the social
system of this period under its various forms, I could show
you that in no part of them is there to be found anything like
a general principle, anything like stability. I shall, however,
confine myself to two essential particulars — the state of per-
sons, the state of institutions. This will be sufficient to give
a general picture of society.
We find at this time four classes of persons : 1st. Freemen,
that is to say, men who, depending upon no superior, upon no
patron, held their property and life in full liberty, without be-
ing fettered by any obligation towards another individual. 2d.
The Luedes, Fideles, Antrustions, &c, who were connected
at first by the relationship of companion and chief, and after-
wards by that of vassal and lord, towards another individual
to whom they owed fealty and service, in consequence of a
grant of lands, or some other gifts. 3d. Freedmen. 4th.
Slaves.
But were these various classes fixed 1 Were men once
placed in a certain rank bound to it ? Were the relations, in
which *he different classes stood towards each other, regular
or peimanent ] Not at all. Freemen were continually chang-
ing their condition, and becoming vassals to nobles, in consid-
eration of some gift which these might have to bestow ; while
others were falling into the class of slaves or serfs. Vassals
were continually struggling to shake off the yoke of patronage,
to regain their independence, to return to the class of freemen.
Every part of society was in motion. There was a continual
passing and repassing from one class to the other. No man
continued long in the same rank ; no rank continued long th«
same.
68 GENERAL HISTOK> OP
Property was in much the same state. I need scarcely
tell you, that possessions were distinguished into allodial, or
entirely free, and beneficiary, or such as were held by ten-
ure, with certain obligations to be discharged towards a supe-
rior. Some writers attempt to trace out a regular and estab-
lished system with respect to the latter class of proprietors,
and lay it down as a rule that benefices were at first bestowed
for a determinate number of years ; that they were afterwards
granted for life ; and finally, at a later period, became heredi-
tary. The attempt is vain. Lands were held in all these
various ways at the same time, and in the same places. Be-
nefices for a term of years, benefices for life, hereditary bene-
fices, are found in the same period ; even the same lands,
within a few years, passed through these different states.
There was nothing more settled, nothing more general, in the
state of lands than in the state of persons. Everything shows
the difficulties of the transition from the wandering life to the
settled life ; from the simple personal relations which existed
among the barbarians as invading migratory hordes, to the
mixed relations of persons and property. During this transi-
tion all was confused, local, and disordered.
In institutions we observe the same unfixedness, the sam«
chaos. We find here three different systems at once before
us: — 1st. Monarchy; 2d. Aristocracy, or the proprietorship
of men and lands, as lord and vassal ; and, 3dly. Free insti-
tutions, or assemblies of free men deliberating in common.
No one of these systems entirely prevailed. Free institutions
existed ; but the men who should have formed part of these
assemblies seldom troubled themselves to attend them. Ba
ronial jurisdiction was not more regularly exercised. Monar-
chy, the most simple institution, the most easy to determine,
here had no fixed character ; at one time it was elective, at
another hereditary — here the son succeeded to hi? father,
there the election was confined to a family ; in another place
it was open to all, purely elective, and the choice fell on a
distant relation, or perhaps a stranger. In none of these sys-
tems can we discover anything fixed ; all the institutions, aa
well as the social conditions, dwelt together, continually con
founded, continuallv changing.
The same unsettledness existed with regard to states , they
were created, suppressed, united, and divided ; no govern-
ments, no frontiers, no nations ; a general jumble of situations,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 69
principles, events, races, languages : such was barbarian
Europe.
Let us now fix trie limits of this extraordinary peiiod. Its
origin is strongly defined ; it began with the fall of the Roman
empire. But where did it close ? To settle this question,
we must find out the cause of this state of society ; we must
Bee what were the causes of barbarism.
I think I can point out two : — one material, arising from
exterior circumstances, from the course of events ; the other,
moral, arising from the mind, from the intellects of mac
The material, or outward cause, was the continuance of
invasion ; for it must not be supposed that the invasions of the
barbarian hordes stopped all at once, in the fifth century. Do
not believe that because the Roman empire was fallen, and
kingdoms of barbarians founded upon its ruins, that the move-
ment of nations was over. There are plenty of facts to prove
that this was not the case, and that this movement lasted a
long time after the destruction of the empire.
If we look to the Franks, or French, we shall find even the
first race of kings continually carrying on wars beyond the
ilhine. We see Clotaire, Dagobert, making expedition after
expedition into Germany, and engaged in a constant struggle
with the Thuringians, the Danes, and the Saxons who occu-
pied the right bank of that river. And why was this but be-
cause these nations wished to cross the Rhine and get a share
In the spoils of the empire ! How came it to pass that the
Franks, established in Gaul, and principally the Eastern, or
Austrasian Franks, much about the same time, threw them-
selves ic such large bodies upon Switzerland, and invaded
Italy by crossing the Alps ? It was because they were push-
ed forward by new populations from the north-east. These
invasions were not mere pillaging inroads, they were not ex-
peditions undertaken for the purpose of plunder, they were
the result of necessity. The people, disturbed in their own
settlements, pressed forward to better their fortune and find
new abodes elsewhere. A new German nation entered upon
the arena, and founded the powerful kingdom of the Lombards
in Italy. In Gaul, or France, the Merovinginian dynasty
gave way to the Carlovingian ; a change which is now gen-
70 GENERAL HISTORY OF
erally acknowledged to have been, properly speaking, a new
irruption of Franks into Gaul — a movement of nations, which
substituted the Eastern Franks for the Western. Under the
second race of kings, we find Charlemagne playing the same
part against the Saxons, which the Merovinginian princes
played against the Thuringians : he carried on an unceasing
war against the nations beyond the Rhine, who were pre-
cipitated upon the west by the Wiltzians, the Swabians,
the Bohemians, and the various tribes of Slavonians, who
trod on the heels of the German race. Throughout the
north-east emigrations were going on and changing the face
of affairs.
In the south, a movement of the same nature took place.
While the German and Slavonian tribes pressed along the
Rhine and Danube, the Saracens began to ravage and conquer
the various coasts of the Mediterranean.
The invasion of the Saracens, however, had a character
peculiarly its own. In them the spirit of conquest was united
with the spirit of proselytism ; the sword was drawn as well
for the promulgation of a faith as the acquisition of territory.
There is a vast difference between their invasion and that of
the Germans. In the Christian world spiritual force and tern
poral force were quite distinct. The zeal for the propagation
of a faith and the lust of conquest are not inmates of the same
bosom. The Germans, after their conversion, preserved the
same manners, the same sentiments, the same tastes, as be-
fore ; they were still guided by passions and interests of a
worldly nature. They had become Christians, bu_t not mis-
sionaries. The Saracens, on the contrary, were both con-
querors and missionaries. The power of the Koran and of the
sword was in the same hands. And it was this peculiarity
which, I think, gave to Mohammedan civilization the wretch-
ed character which it bears. It was in this union of the tem-
poral and spiritual powers, and the confusion which it created
between moral authority and physical force, that that tyranny
was born which 'seems inherent in their civilization. This I
believe to be the principal cause of that stationary state into
which it has everywhere fallen. This effect, however, did
not show itself upon the first rise of Mohammedanism ; the
union, on the contrary, of military ardor and religious zeal,
gave to the Saracen invasion a prodigious power. Its ideaa
and moral passions had at once a brilliancy and splendor al-
together wanting in the Germanic invasions ; it displayed it-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 71
self with more energy and enthusiasm, and had a correspon-
dent effect upon the minds and passions of men.
Such was the situation of Europe from the fifth to the nintn
century. Pressed on the south by the Mohammedans, and on
the north by the Germans and Slavonians, it could not be
otherwise than that the reaction of this double invasion should
keep the interior of Europe in a state of continual ferment
Populations were incessantly displaced, crowded one upon
another ; there was no regularity, nothing permanent or fixed.
Some differences undoubtedly prevailed between the various
nations. The chaos was more general in Germany than in
the other parts of Europe Here was the focus of movement.
France was more agitated than Italy. But nowhere could so-
ciety become settled and regulated ; barbarism everywhere
continued, and from the same cause that introduced it. 7
7 The following chronological indications may assist in recalling
a more distinct view of the invasions, conquests, and revolutions
of this stormy period.
507. Clovis (of the Merovingian dynasty, and true founder of the
Frankish empire) adds to his former acquisitions the conquest
of the Visigothic kingdom. Dies, 511. Kingdom divided be-
tween his four sons, but ultimately united under one of them,
Clotaire I., 568.
530. Thuringia conquered ana" annexed to the Frankish dominions.
535. Conquest of Burgundy by the Franks.
554. Ostro-Gothic kingdom destroyed by Narses — Italy becomes a
province of the Eastern Empire.
560. Gepidse destroyed by the Lombards and Avars.
568. Kingdom of the Lombards established in Upper Italy. — South-
ern Italy continues an exarchate of the Eastern Empire.
628. Dagobert I. (son of Clotaire II.) king of the Franks. Inva-
sion of the Slavonians (Wendi). Mayors of the Palace con-
trol the royal authority.
687. Pepin Heristal, mayor of the palace.
711. The Saracens appear in Europe — conquer Spain —cross the
Pyrenees — checked on the Aude, 712 — invade France, beaten
by Eades duke of Aquitaine, 721 — driven beyond the Aude, 725.
715. Charles Martel mayor of the palace.
726. Leo (Iconoclastes), Emperor of the East, issues an edict
against image-worship — the people of Rome and Naples re*
volt — exarch of Ravenna murdered by the people, and the city
yielded to the Lombards. A sort of republic under the au-
thority of the Pope established at Rome ; including the terri-
tory from Viterba to Terracina, and from Narni to Ostia. Com-
mencement of the temporal power of the Popes. The Pope
72 GENERAL HISTORY OF
%
Thus much for the material cause depending upon the course
of events ; let us now look to the moral cause, founded on the
intellectual condition of man, which, it must be acknowledged,
was not less powerful.
For, certainly, after all is said and done, whatever may be
the course of external affairs, it is man himself who makes
our world. It is according to the ideas, the sentiments, the
moral and intellectual dispositions of man himself, that the
and the republic of Venice (founded 697) unite to drive the
Lombards from Ravenna.
732. Saracens invade France — defeated by Charles Martel at the
Battle of Tours.
752-757. Pepin the Short, mayor of the palace — deposes Childeric,
the last of the Merovingian kings — recognised king by the
Pope — founds the Carlovingian dynasty.
Exarchate of Ravenna destroyed" by the Lombards — the Pope
and the Romans refuse submission — invite the aid of Pepin,
who invades Italy and forces the Lombards to give up the
exarchate of Ravenna and the Pentapolis, which he bestows
upon the Pope. Commencement uf the relations between the
Popes and the German princes.
768. Charlemagne king — conquers Aquitania, 769 ; overthrows the
Lombard kingdom of Italy, 774 ; first war against the Sax-
ons ; drives them beyond the Weser, 772-774 ; defeats them
again, 777 ; war against Spain, 778 ; second war against the
Saxons, 778-785 ; subdues all on the south of the Elbe, com-
pels them to receive baptism. The Lombards (of Beneven-
tum), the Greeks, and Avari, league against him — defeated.
Avari subdued and Christianized, 791-799.
800. Charlemagne restores the Roman Empire of the West ; re-
ceives the imperial crown from the Pope; Saxons on the Elbe
subdued and dispersed, 812. [The subjugation of the Saxons
had cost Charlemagne thirty years war.] War with the
Wiltzians and other Slavonian tribes. Maritime incursions
of the Northmen on the ocean coast, and of the Saracens on
the Mediterranean.
814. Death of Charlemagne. This event was followed by the dis-
memberment of his empire, and the formation of the three
great states of Germany, France, and Italy; also of three
secondary kingdoms, Castile, Arragon, and Navarre.
The death of Charlemagne and the breaking up of his vast
• system likewise opened the barriers of the empire to the in-
cursions of the Saracens, the Northmen, the Slavonians, and
the Hungarians : it was not until the close of the tenth cen-
tury that the barbarian invasions can be said to have definitely
ceased.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 73
world is regulated, and marches onward. It is upon the
intellectual state of man that the visible form of society
depends.
Now let us consider for a moment what is required to en-
able men to form themselves into a society somewhat durable,
somewhat regular ? It is evidently necessary, in the first
place, that they should have a certain number of ideas suffi-
ciently enlarged to settle upon the terms by which this society
should be formed ; to apply themselves to its wants, to its re-
lations. In the second place, it is necessary that these ideas
should be common to the greater part of the members of the
society ; and finally, that they should put some constraint upon
their own inclinations and actions.
It is clear that where men possess no ideas extending be-
yond their own existence, where their intellectual horizon is
bounded in self, if they are still delivered up to cheir own
passions, and their own wills, — if they have not among them
a certain number of notions and sentiments common to them
all, round which they may all rally, it is clear that they can-
not form a society : without this each individual will be a
principle of agitation and dissolution in the social system of
which he forms a part.
Wherever individualism reigns nearly absolute, wherever
man considers but himself, wherever his ide*as extend not be-
yond himself, wherever he only yields obedience to his own
passions, there society — that is to say, society in any degree
extended or permanent — becomes almost impossible. Now
this was just the moral state of the conquerors of Europe at
the epoch which engages our attention. I remarked, in the
last lecture, that we owe to the Germans the powerful senti-
ment of personal liberty, of human individualism. Now, in a
state of extreme rudeness and ignorance, this sentiment is
mere selfishness, in all its brutality, with all its unsociability.
Such was its character from the fifth to the eighth century,
among the Germans. They cared for nothing beyond their
own interest, for nothing beyond the gratification of their own
passions, their own inclinations ; how, then, could they ac-
commodate themselves, in any tolerable degree, to the social
condition 1 The attempt was made to bring them into it ; they
endeavored of themselves to enter into it ; but an act of im-
providence, a burst of passion, a lack of intelligence, soon
threw them back to their old position. At every instant we
see attempts made to form man into a social state, and at
i
74 GENERAL HISTORY OF
every instant we see them overthrown by the failings of man, by
the absence of the moral conditions necessary to its existence
\ Such were the two causes which kept our forefathers m a
state of barbarism ; so long as these continued, so long bar-
barism endured. Let us see if we can discover when and
from what causes it at last ceased.
Europe labored to emerge from this state. It is contrary
to the nature of man, even when sunk into it by his own fault,
to wish to remain in it. However rude, however ignorant,
however selfish, however headstrong, there is yet in him a
still small voice, an instinct, which tells him he was made for
something better ; — that he has another and higher destiny.
In the midst of confusion and disorder, he is haunted a»d tor-
mented by a taste for order and improvement. The claims
of justice, of prudence, of development, disturb him, even
under the yoke of the most brutish egotism. He feels him-
self impelled to improve the material world, society, and him-
self ; he labors to do this, without attempting to account to
nimself for the want which urges him to the task. The bar
barians aspired to civilization, while they were yet incapable
of it — nay, more — while they even detested it whenever its
laws restrained their selfish desires.
There still remained, too, a considerable number of* wrecks
and fragments of Roman civilization. The name of the em-
pire, the remembrance of that great and glorious society still
dv/elt in the memory of many, and especially among the sena-
tors of cities, bishops, priests, and all those who could trace
their origin to the Roman world.
Among the barbarians themselves, or their barbarian ances-
tors, many had witnessed the greatness of the Roman empire :
they had served in its armies ; the) had conquered it. The
image, the name of Roman civilization dazzled them ; they
felt a desire to imitate it ; to bring it back again, to preserve
some portion of it. This was another cause which ought to
have forced them out of the state of barbarism, which I have
described.
A third cause, and one which readily presents itself to
every one, was the Christian Church. The Christian Church
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 75
was a regularly constituted society ; having its maxims, its
rules, its discipline, together with an ardent desire to extend
*ts influence, to conquer its conquerors. Among the Chris-
tians of this period, in the Catholic clergy, there were men of
profound and varied learning ; men who had thought deeply,
who were versed in ethics and politics ; who had formed defi-
nite opinions and vigorous notions, upon all subjects ; who
felt a praiseworthy zeal to propagate information, and to ad-
vance the cause of learning. No society ever made greater
efforts than the Christian Church did from the fifth to the
tenth century, to influence the world around it, and to assimi-
late it to itself. When its history shall become the particular
object of our examination, we shall more clearly see what it
attempted — it attacked, in a manner, barbarism at every point,
in order to civilize it and rule over it.
Finally, a fourth cause of the progress of ciwlization, a
cause which it is impossible strictly to appieciate, but which
is not therefore the less real, was the appearance of great
men. To say why a great man appears on the stage at a cer-
tain epoch, or what of his own individual development he im-
parts to the world at large, is beyond our power ; it is the
secret of Providence ; but the fact is still certain. There are
men to whom the spectacle of society, in a state of anarchy
or immobility, is revolting and almost unbearable ; it occa-
sions them an intellectual shudder, as a thing that should not
be ; they feel an unconquerable desire to change it ; to restore
order ; to introduce something general, regular and permanent,
into the world which is placed before them. Tremendous
power ! often tyrannical, committing a thousand iniquities, a
thousand errors, for human weakness accompanies it. Glori-
ous and salutary power ! nevertheless, for it gives to human
it}", and by the hand of man, a new and powerful impulse.
These various causes, these various powers working to
gether, led to several attempts, between the fifth and ninth
centuries, to draw European society from the barbarous state
into which it had fallen.
The first of these was the compilation of the barbarian
iaws ; an attempt which, though it effected but little, we can-
not pass over, because it was made by the barbarians them-
selves. Between the jixth and eighth centuries, the laws of
nearly all the barbarous nations (which, however, were nothing
76 GENERAL HISTORY OF
more than the rude customs by which they had been regulat*
ed, before their invasion of the Roman empire) were re-
duced to writing. Of these there are enumerated the codes
of the Burgundians, the Salii, and Ripuarian Franks, the
Visigoths, the Lombards, the Saxons, the Frisons, the Ba-
varians, the Germans, and some others. This was evi-
dently a commencement of civilization — an attempt to bring
society under the authority of general and fixed principles.
Much, however, could not be expected from it. It published
the laws of a society which no longer existed ; the laws of
the social system of the barbarians before their establishment
in the Roman territory — before they had changed their wan-
dering life for a settled one ; before the nomad warriors be-
came lost in the landed proprietors. It is true, that here and
there may be found an article respecting the lands conquered
by the barbarians, or respecting their relations with the an-
cient inhabitants of the country ; some few bold attempts were
made to regulate the new circumstances in which they were
placed. But the far greater part of these laws were taken up
with their ancient life, their ancient condition in Germany ;
were totally inapplicable to the new state of society, and had
but a small share in its advancement.
In Italy and the south of Gaul, another attempt of a differ-
ent character was made about this time. In these places
Roman society had not been so completely rooted out as else-
where ; in the cities, especially, there still remained some-
thing of order and civil life ; and in these civilization seemed
to make a stand. If we look, for example, at the kingdom of
the Ostrogoths in Italy under Theodoric, we shall see, even
under the dominion of a barbarous nation and king, the muni-
cipal form taking breath, as it were, and exercising a consid-
erable influence upon the general tide of events. Here Ro-
man manners had modified the Gothic, and brought them in a
great degree to assume a likeness to their own. The same
thing took place in the south of Gaul. At the opening of the
sixth century, Alaric, a Visigothic king of Toulouse, caused a
collection of the Roman laws to be made, and published
under the name of Breviarum Aniani, a code for his Roman
subjects. 8
s Some knowledge of these codes is necessary. Laws are the
fcest index of the state of a people : but the barbarian codes are
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 77
In Spain, a different power, that of the church, endeavored
to restore the work of civilization. Instead of the ancient
German assemblies of warriors, the assembly that had most
influence in Spain was the Council of Toledo ; and in this
council the bishops bore sway, although it was attended by
the higher order of the laity. Open the laws of the Visigoths,
and you will discover that it is not a code compiled by bar-
barians, but bears convincing marks of having been drawn up
by the philosophers of the age — by the clergy. It abounds in
general views, in theories, and in theories, indeed, altogether
foreign to barbarian manners. Thus, for example, we know
that the legislation of the barbarians was a personal legisla-
tion ; that is to say, the same law only applied to one parti-
cular race of men. The Romans were judged by the old Ro-
man laws, the Franks were judged by the Salian or Riouarian
code ; in short, each people had its separate laws, though
united under the same government, and dwelling together in
the same territory. This is what is called personal legisla-
tion, in contradistinction to real legislation, which is founded
upon territory. Now this is exactly the case with the
legislation of the Visigoths ; it is not personal, but territorial.
All the inhabitants of Spain, Romans, Visigoths, or what not,
were compelled to yield obedience *■<) one law. Read a little
further, and you will meet with still more striking traces of
philosophy. Among the barbarians a fixed price was put upon
» — - — — _ . . . -
particularly interesting as the first result of the contact of barbar-
ism with civilization. In fact, the collecting and reducing to writ-
ing of these rude customs must be considered partly as an imitation
of the Romans by their conquerors.
Of the Capitularies some knowledge should likewise be obtained.
These were proclamations or laws published by different kings from
Clovis to Hugh Capet. Taken in connexion with the codes, they
indicate the character of the people, and the changes in the state
of society.
The original sources of information are the work of Lindenbro-
gius for the codes, of Baluze for the capitularies. The general
reader will find something on the subject in Gibbon and in Mon-
tesquieu ; but Butler's Hora Juridical is the best book — concise, yet
complete in the view it gives.
Among the peculiarities by which most of these laws are distin-
guished from modern legislation, the most striking is perhaps the
fact that all offences were punished with^nes. This is significant
of the barbarian sentiment of individuality, of personal ir depen-
dence. The barbarian will wot suffer his life or liberty to ■ af-
fected by his actions.
78 GENERAL HISTORY OF
man, according to his rank in society — the life of the barba«
rian, the Roman, the freeman, and vassal, were not valued a*
the same amount — there was a graduated scale of prices. But
the principle that all men's lives are of equal worth in the
eyes of the law, was established by the code of the Visigoths.
The same superiority is observable in their judicial proceed-
ings : — instead of the ordeal, the oath of compurgators, or trial
by battle, you will find the proofs established by witnesses, and
a rational examination made of the fact, such as might take
place in a civilized society. In short, the code of the Visi-
goths bore throughout evident marKs of learning, system, and
polity. In it we trace the hand of the same clergy that acted
in the Council of Toledo, and which exercised so large and
beneficial an influence upon the government of the country. 9
In Spain then, up to the time of the great invasion of the
Saracens, it was the hierarchy which made the greatest efforts
to advance civilization.
In France, the attempt was made by another power. It
was the work of great men, and above all of Charlemagne
Examine his reign under its different aspects ; and you wiR
see that the darling object of his life was to civilize the nation??
he governed. Let us regard him first as a warrior. He was
always in the field ; from the south to the north-east, from
the Ebro to the Elbe and Weser. Perhaps you imagine that
these expeditions were the effect of choice, and sprung from
a pure love of conquest ? No such thing. I will not assert
that he pursued any very regular system, or that there was much
diplomacy or strategy in his plans ; but what he did sprang
from necessity, and a desire to repress barbarism. From the
beginning to the end of his reign he was occupied in staying
the progress of a double invasion — that of the Mohammedans
in the south, and that of the Germanic and Slavonic tribes in
the north. This is what gave the reign of Charlemagne its
military cast. I have already said that his expeditions against
the Saxons were undertaken for the same purpose. If we
pass on from his wars to his government, we shall find the
■ case much the same : his leading object was to introduce or-
der and unity in every part of his extensive dominions. 1
9 Des Michels represents the code of the Visigoths, as sanctioned
by the Council of Toledo in 6S8, to have been only a revision and
amendment of the code of Alaric, published in 506.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 79
have not said kingdom or state, because these words are too
precise in their signification, and call up ideas which bear
but little relation to the society of which Charlemagne stood
at the head. Thus much, however, seems certain, that when
he found himself master of this vast territory, it mortified and
grieved him to see all within it so precarious and unsettled — -
to see anarchy and brutality everywhere prevailing, — and it
was the first wish of his heart to better this wretched condi-
tion of society. He endeavored to do this at first by his missi
regii, whom he sent into every part of his dominions to find
out and correct abuses ; to amend the mal-administration of
justice, and to render him an account of all that was wrong ;
and afterwards by the general assemblies or parliaments as
they have been called of the Champ de Mars, which he held
more regularly than any of his predecessors. These assem-
blies he made nearly every considerable person in his domin-
ions to attend. They were not assemblies formed for the
preservation of the liberty of the subject, there wa.s nothing
in them bearing any likeness to the deliberations of our own
days. But Charlemagne found them a means by which he
could become well informed of facts and circumstances, and
by which he could introduce some regulation, some unity, into .
the restless and disorganized populations he had to govern.
In whatever point of view, indeed, we regard the reign of
Charlemagne, we always find its leading characteristic to be
a desire to overcome barbarism, and to advance civilization.
We see this conspicuously in his foundation of schools, in his
collecting of libraries, in his gathering about him the learned
of all countries ; in the favor he showed towards the influence
of the church, for everything, in a word, which seemed like-
ly to operate beneficially upon society in general, or the in-
dividual man.
An attempt of the same nature was made very soon after-
wards in England, by Alfred the Great.
These are some of the means which were in operation, from
he fifth to the ninth century, in various parts of Europe,
which seemed likely to put an end to barbarism.
None of them succeeded. Charlemagne was unable to es
lablisb his great empire, and the system of government by
whic*- ae wished to rule it. The church succeeded no bette*
80 GENERAL HISTORY OF
in its attempt in Spain to found a system of theocracy. And
though in Italv and the south of France, Roman civilization
made several attempts to raise its head, it was not till a later
period, till towards the end of the tenth century, that it in
reality acquired any vigor. Up to this time, every effort to put
an end to barbarism failed : they supposed men more adi T an-
ced than they in reality were. They all desired, under va-
rious forms, to establish a society more extensive, or better
regulated, than the spirit of the age w r as prepared for. The
attempts, however, were not lost to mankind. At the com-
mencement of the tenth century, there was no longer any visi-
ble appearance of the great empire of Charlemagne, nor of the
glorious councils of Toledo, but barbarism w 7 as drawing.nigh
its end. Two great results were obtained :
1. The movement of the invading hordes had been stopped
both in the north and in the south. Upon the dismemberment
of the empire of Charlemagne, the states, which became
formed upon the right bank of the Rhine, opposed an effectual
barrier to the tribes which advanced from the west. The
Danes and Normans are an incontestable proof of this. Up
to this time, if we except the Saxon attacks upon England,
the invasions of the German tribes by sea had not been very
considerable : but in the course of the ninth century they be-
came constant and general. And this happened, because in-
vasions by land had become exceedingly difficult ; society had
acquired, on this side, frontiers more fixed and secure ; and
that portion of the w T andering nations, which could not be
pressed back, were at least turned from their ancient course,
and compelled to proceed by sea. Great as undoubtedly was
the misery occasioned to the w r est of Europe by the incur-
sions of these pirates and marauders, they still were much
less hurtful than the invasions by land, and disturbed much
less generally the newly-forming society. In the south, the
case was much the same. The Arabs had settled in Spain • •
and the struggle between them and the Christians still con-
tinued ; but this occasioned no new emigration of nations.
Bands of Saracens still, from time to time, infested the coasts
of the Mediterranean, but the great career of Islamism was
arrested.
2. In the interior ot Europe we begin at this time to see
ihe wandering life decline ; populations became fixed ; estates
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 81
and landed possessions became settled ; the relations betweer
man and man no longer varied from day to day under the in
fluence of force or chance. The interior and moral condi
tion of man himself began to undergo a change ; his ideas,
his sentiments, began, like his life, to assume a more fixed
character. He began to feel an attachment to the place in
which he dwelt ; to the connexions and associations which he
there, formed ; to those domains which he now calculated
upon leaving to his children ; to that dwelling which hereafter
became his castle ; to that miserable assemblage of serfs and
slaves, which was one day to become a village. Little socie-
ties everywhere began to be formed ; little states to be cut
out according to the measure, if I may so say, of the capaci-
ties and prudence of men. There, societies gradually became
connected by a tie, the origin of which is to be found in the
manners of the German barbarians : the tie of a confederation
which would not destroy individual freedom. On one side
we find every considerable proprietor settling himself in his
domains, surrounded only by his family and retainers ; on the
other, a certain graduated subordination of services and rights
existing among all these military proprietors scattered over the
land. Here we have the feudal system oozing at last out of
the bosom of barbarism. Of the various elements of oar civi-
lizations, it was natural enough that the Germanic element
should first prevail. It was already in possession of power ;
it had conquered Europe : from it European civilization was
to receive its first form — its first social organization.
The character of this form — the character of feudalism,
and the influence it has exercised upon European civilization
— vwill be the object of my next lecture ; while in the very
bosom of this system, in its meridian, we shall, at every
step, meet with the other elements of our own social system,
monarchy, the church, and the communities or free cities.
We shall feel pre-assured that these were not destined to fall
lander this feudal form, to which they adapted themselves
while struggling against it ; and that we may look forward
to the hour when victory will declare itself for them in theil
turn.
LECTURE IV
THE FEUDAL SYSTEM.
I >*.;ve thus far endeavored to give you a view of the state
of Eui^pe upon the fall of the Roman empire ; of its state in
he first period of modern history — in the period of barbarism.
We have seen that at the end of the period, towards the be-
ginning of the tenth century, the first principle, the first sys-
tem, whic£ took possession of European society, was the feu-
lal system — that out of the very bosom of barbarism sprung
feudalism. The investigation of this system will be the sub-
ject of the present lecture.
I need scarcely remind you that it is not the history of
events, properly so called, that we propose to consider. I
shall not here recount the destinies of the feudal system. The
subject which engages our attention is the history of civiliza-
tion ; it is that general, hidden fact, which we have to seek
for, out of all the exterior facts in which its existence is
contained.
Thus the events, the social crisises, the various states
through which society has passed, will in no way interest us,
except so far as they are connected with the growth of civili-
zation ; we have only to learn from them how they have re-
arded or forwarded this great work ; what they have given it,
•and what they have withheld from it. It is only in this point
of view that we shatf consider the feudal system.
In the first of these lectures we settled what civilization
was ; we endeavored to discover its elements ; we saw that
it consisted, on one side, in the development of man himself,
of the individual, of humanity ; on the other, of his outward
or social condition. When then we come to any event, to any
system, to any general condition of society, we have this two-
fold question to put to it : What has it done for or against the
development of man — for or against the development of so-
ciety 1 It will, however, te at once seen that, in the inves*
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 83
ligation we have undertaken, it will be impossible for us not
to come in contact with some of the grandest questions in
moral philosophy. When we would, for example, know in
what an event, a system, has contributed to the progress of
man and of society, it is necessary that we should know what
is the true development of society and of man ; and be en-
abled to detect those developments which are deceitful, ille-
, gitimate, — which pervert instead of meliorate, — which cause
them to retrograde instead of to advance. We shall not at-
tempt to elude this task. By so doing we should mutilate
and weaken our ideas, as well as the facts themselves. Be-
sides, the present state of the world, the spirit of the age,
compels us at once frankly to welcome this inevitable alliance
of philosophy and history.
This indeed forms a striking, perhaps tho essential, char-
acteristic of the present times. We are now compelled to
consider — science and reality — theory and practice — right
and fact — and to make them move side by side. Down to the
present time these two powers have lived apart. The world
has been accustomed to see theory and practice following two
different routes, unknown to each other, or at least never
meeting. When doctrines, when general ideas, have wished
to intermeddle in affairs, to influence the world, it has only
been able to effect this under the appearance and by the aid
of fanaticism. Up to the present time the government of hu-
man societies, the direction of their affairs, have been divided
between two sorts of influences ; on one side theorists, men
who would rule all according to abstract notions — enthusiasts ;
on the other, men ignorant of all rational principle, — experi-
mentalists, whose only guide is expediency. This state of
things is now over. The word will no longer agitate for the
. sake of some abstract principle, some fanciful theorv — some
Utopian government, which can only exist in the imagination
of an enthusiasm ; ncr will it put up with practical abuses and
oppressions, however favored by prescription and expediency,
where they are opposed to the just principles and the legiti-
mate end of government. To ensure respect, to obtain con-
fidence, governing powers must now unite theory and prac-
tice ; hey must know and acknowledge the influence of both.
They must regard as well principles as facts ; must respect
ooth truth and necessity — must shun, on one hand, the blind
pride qf the fanatic theorist, and, on the other, the no less
84 GENERAL HISTORY OF
blind pride of the libertine practician. To this better state of
things we have been brought by the progress of the humar
mind and the progress of society. On one side the human
mind is so elevated and enlarged that it is able to view at
once, as a whole, the subject or fact which comes under its
notice, with all the various circumstances and principles which
affect it — these it calculates and combines — it so opposes,
mixes, and arranges them — that while the everlasting principle
is placed boldlv and prominently forward so as not to be mis-
taken, care is taken that it shall not be endangered, that its
progress shall not be retarded by a negligent or rash estimate
of the circumstances which oppose it. • On the other side,
social systems are so improved as no longer to shrink from
the light of truth ; so improved, that facts may be brought to
the test of science — practice may be placed by the side of
theory, and, notwithstanding its many imperfections, the com-
parison will excite in us neither discouragement nor disgust.
1 shall give way, then, freely to this natural tendency — to
this spirit of the age, by passing continually from the investi-
gation of circumstances to the investigation of ideas — from
an exposition of facts to the consideration of doctrines. Per-
haps there is, in the present disposition of the public, another
reason in favor of this method. For some time past there has
existed among us a decided taste, a sort of predilection foi
facts, for locking at things in a practical point of view. We
have been so much a prey to the despotism of abstract ideas
of theories, — they have, in some respects, cost us so dear,
that we now regard them with a degree of distrust. We like
better to refer to facts, to particular circumstances, and to judge
»nd act accordingly. Let us not complain of this. It is a
new advance — it is a grand step in knowledge, and towards
the empire of truth; provided, however, we do not suffer our-
selves to be carried too far by this disposition — provided that
we do not forget that truth alone has a right to reign in the
world ; that facts have no merit but iruproportion as they bear
its stamp, and assimilate themselves more and more to its
image ; that all true grandeur proceeds from mind ; that all
expansion belongs to it. The civilization of France possess-
es this peculiar character ; it has never been wanting in in-
tellectual grandeur. It has always been rich in ideas. The
power of mind has been great in French society — greater,
perhaps, than anywhere else. It must not lose this happy
privilege — it must not fall into that lower, that somewhat ma
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 83
lerial condition which prevails in other societies. Intelli-
gence, theories, must still maintain in France the same rank
which they have hitherto occupied.
I shall not then attempt to shun these general and philo-
sophical questions : I will not go out of my way to seek them,
but when circumstances bring them naturally before me, I
shall attack them without hesitation or embarrassment. This
will be the case more than once in considering the feudal
system as connected with the history of European civilization
A great proof that in the tenth century the feudal system
•was necessary, and the only social system practicable, is the
universality of its adoption. Wherever barbarism ceased,
•feudalism became general. This at first struck men as the
triumph of chaos. All unity, all general civilization seemed
gone ; society on all sides seemed dismembered ; a multitude
of petty, obscure, isolated, incoherent societies arose. Thiti
appeared, to those who lived and saw it, universal anarchy — ■
the dissolution of all things. Consult the poets and historians
of the day : they all believed that the end of the world was at
hand. Yet this was, in truth, a new and real social system
which was forming : feudal society was so necessary, so in-
evitable, so altogether the only consequence that could flow
from the previous state of things, that all entered into it, all
adopted its form. Even elements the most foreign to this
system, the church, the free communities, royalty, all were
constrained to accommodate themselves to it. Churches be-
came sovereigns and vassals ; cities became lords and vas-
sals ; royalty was hidden under the feudal suzerain. All
things were given in fief, not only estates, but rights and pri-
vileges-: the right to cut wood in the forests, the privilege of
fishing. The churches gave their surplice-fees in fief: the
revenues of baptism — the fees for churching women. In the
same manner, too, that all the great elements of society were
drawn within the feudal enclosure, so even the smallest por-
tions, the most trifling circumstances of common life, became
subject to feudalism.
In observing the feudal system thus taking possession of
every part of society, one might be apt, at first, to believ©
that the essential, vital principle of feudalism everywhere pre-
vailed. This would be a grand mistake. Although they put
86 GENERAL HISTORY OP
on the feudal form, yet the institutions, the elements of 6>
ciety which were not analogous to the feudal system, did not
lose their nature, the principles by which they were distin-
guished The feudal church, for example, never ceased for
a moment to be animated and governed at bottom by the prin
ciples of theocracy, and she never for a moment relaxed her
endeavors to gain for this the predominancy. Now she
leagued with royalty, now with the pope, and now with the
people, to destroy this system, whose livery, for the time, she
was compelled to put on. It was the same with royalty and
the free cities : in one the principle of monarchy, in the. others
the piinciple of democracy, continued fundamentally to pre-
vail : and, notwithstanding their feudal appearance, these va-
rious elements of European society constantly labored to de-
liver themselves from a form so foreign to their nature, and
to put on that which corresponded with their true and vital
principle.
Though perfectly satisfied, therefore, of the universality of
the feudal form, we must take care not to conclude on that ac-
count, that the feudal principle was equally universal. We
must be no less cautious not to take our ideas of feudalism
indifferently from every object which bears its physiognomy.
In order to know and understand this system thoroughly — to
unravel and judge of its effects upon modern civilization — we
must seek it where the form and spirit dwell together ; we
must study it in the hierarchy of the laic possessors of fiefs ;
in the association of the conquerors of the European territory.
This was the true residence of the feudal system, and into
this we will now endeavor to penetrate.
1 said a few words, just now, on the importance of ques-
tions of a moral nature ; and on the danger and inconvenience
of passing them by withotit proper attention. A matter of a
totally opposite character arises here, and demands our con-
sideration , it is one which has been, in general, too much
neglected. I allude to the -physical condition of society ; to
the changes which take place in the life and manners of a
people in consequence of some new event, some revolution,
some new state into which it may be thrown. These changes
have not always been sufficiently attended to. The modifica-
tion which these great crisises in the history of the world
have wrought in the material existence of mankind — in the
physical conditions of the relations of men to one another—
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 87
have not been investigated with so much advantage as they
might have been. These modifications have more influence
upon the general body of society than is imagined. Every one
knows how much has been said upon the influence of climate,
and of the importance which Montesquieu attached to it.
Now if we regard only the direct influence of climate upon
man, perhaps it has not been so extensive as is generally sup-
posed ; it is, to say the least, vague and difficult to appreciate ;
but the indirect influence of climate, that, for example, which
arises from the circumstance that in a hot country ^nan lives
in the open air, while in a cold one he lives shut up in his
habitation— that he lives here upon one kind of food, and
there upon another, are facts of extreme importance ; inas-
much as a simple change in physical life may have a power-
ful effect upon the course of civilization. Every great revolu-
tion Jeads to modifications of this nature i-n the social system,
and consequently claims our consideration.
The establishment of the feudal system wrought a change
of this kind, which had a powerful and striking influence upon
European civilization. It changed the distribution of the
(population. Hitherto the lords of the territory, the conquer-
ing population, had lived united in masses more or less nu-
merous, either settled in cities, or moving about the country
in bands ; but by the operation of the feudal system these men
were brought to live isolated, each in his own dwelling, at
long distances apart. You will instantly perceive the influ-
ence which this change must have exercised upon the charac-
ter and progress of civilization. The social preponderance —
the governments society, passed at once from cities to the
country ; the baronial courts of the great landed proprietors
toot the place of the great national assemblies — the public
body was lost in the thousand little sovereignties into which
every kingdom was split. This was the first consequence — •
a consequence purely physical, of the triumph of the feudal
system. The more closely we examine this circumstance,
Ihe more clearly and forcibly will its effects present them-
selves to our notice.
Let us now examine this society in itself, and trace out its
influence upon the progress of civilization. We will take
feudalism, in the first place, in its most simple state, in its
primitive fundamental form. We will visit a possessor of a
88 GENERAL HISTORY OF
fief m his lonely domain ; we will see the course of life
which ho leads there, and the little society by which he is
surrounded.
Having fixed upon an elevated solitary spot, strong by na-
ture, and which he takes care to render secure, the lordly
proprietor of the domain builds his castle. Here he settles
himself, with his wife and children, and perhaps some few
freemen, who, not having obtained fiefs, not having themselves
become proprietors, have attached themselves to his fortunes,
and continued to live with him and form a part of his house-
hold. These are the inhabitants of the interior of the castle.
At the foot of the hill on which this castle stands we find
huddled together a little population of peasants, of serfs, who
cultivate the lands of the possessor of the fief. In the midst
of this group of cottages religion soon planted a church and a
priest. A priest, in these early days of feudalism, was gene-
rally the chaplain of the baron, and the curate of the village ,
two offices which by and by became separated, and the vil-
lage had its pastor dwelling by the side of his church.
Such is the first form, the elementary principle, of feudal
society. We w r ill now examine this simple form, in order to
put to it the twofold question we have to ask of every fact,
namely, what it has done towards the progress — first, of man,
himself; secondly, of society?
It is with peculiar propriety that we put this twofold ques-
tion to the little society I have just described, and that we
should attach importance to its answers, forasmuch as this so-
ciety is the type, the faithful picture, of feudal society in the
aggregate ; the baron, the people of his domain, and the priest,
compose, whether upon a large or smaller scale, the feudal
system when separated from monarchy and cities, two dis-
tinct and foreign elements.
The first circumstance which strikes us in looking at this
little community, is the great importance with which the pos-
sessor of the fief must have been regarded, not only by him-
self, but by all around him. A feeling of personal conse-
quence, of individual liberty, was a prevailing feature in the
character of the barbarians. The feeling here, however, Avaa
of a different nature ; it was no longer simply the liberty of
CJVILIZATOIS IN MODERN EUROPE. 89
the man, of the warrior, it was the importance of the proprie*
tor, of the head of the family, of the master. His situation
with regard to all around him, would naturally beget in him
an idea of superiority — a superiority of a peculiar nature, an(j-
very different from that we meet with in other systems of
civilization. Look, for example, at the Roman patrician, who
was placed in one of the highest aristocratic situations of the
ancient world. Like the feudal lord, he was head of the
family, superior, master ; and besides this, he was a religious
magistrate, high priest over his household. But mark the
difference : his importance as a religious magistrate is de-
rived from without. It is not an importance strictly personal,
attached to the individual : he receives it from on high ; he is
the delegate of divinity, the interpreter of religious faith. The
Roman patrician, moreover, was the member of a corporation
which lived united in the same place — a member of the sen-
ate — again, an importance which he derived from without
from his corporation. The greatness of these ancient aristo-
crats, associated to a religious and political character, belonged
to the situation, to the corporation in general, rather than to
the individual. That of the proprietor of a fief belonged to
himself alone ; he held nothing of any one ; all his rights, all
his power, centred in himself. He is no religious magis-
trate ; he forms no part of a senate ; it is in the individual, in
his own person, that all his importance resides — all that he is,
he is of himself, in his own name alone. What a vast in-
fluence must a situation like this have exercised over him who
enjoyed it ! What haughtiness, what pride, must it have en-
gendered ! Above him, no superior of whom he was but the
representative and interpreter ; near him no equals ; no gene-
ral and powerful law to restrain him — no exterior force to
control him ; his will suffered no check but from the limits of
his power, and the presence of danger. Such seems to me
the moral effect that would naturally be produced upon the
character or disposition of man, by the situation in which he
was placed under the feudal system.
I shall proceed to a second consequence equally important,
though too little noticed ; I mean the peculiar character of the
feudal family
Let us consider for a moment the various family systems
90 GENERAI HISTORY OF
Let us look, in the first place, at the patriarchal family, of
which so beautiful a picture is given us in the Bible, and in
numerous Oriental treatises. We find it composed of a great
number of individuals — it was a tribe. The chief, the pa-
triarch, in this case, lives in common with his children, with
his neighbors, with the various generations assembled around
him — all his relations or his servants. He not only lives with
them, he has the same interests, the same occupations, he
leads the same life. This was the situation of Abraham, and
of the patriarchs ; and is still that of the Bedouin Arabs, who,
from generation to generation, continue to follow the same
patriarchal mode of life.
Let us look next at the clan — another family system, which
now scarcely exists, except in Scotland and Ireland, but
through which probably the greater part of the European
world has passed. This is no longer the patriarchal family.
A great difference is found here between the chief and the
rest of the community ; he leads not the same life ; the great-
er part are employed in husbandry, and in supplying his
wants, while the chief himself lives in idleness or war. Still
they all descend from the same stock ; they all bear the same
name ; and their common parentage, their ancient traditions,
the same remembrances, and the same associations, create
a moral tie, a sort of equality, between all the members of
the clan.
These are the two principal forms of family society as re-
presented by history. Does either of them, let me ask you,
resemble the feudal family? Certainly not. At the first
glance, there may, indeed, seem some similarity between the
feudal family and the clan ; but the difference is marked and
striking. The population which surrounds the possessor of
the fief is quite foreign to him ; it bears not his name. They
aie unconnected by relationship, or by any historical or moral
tie. The same holds with respect to the patriarchal family.
The feudal proprietor neither leads the same life, nor follows
the same occupations as those who live around him ; he is
engaged in arms, or lives in idleness : the others are laborers.
The feudal family is not numerous — it forms no tribe — it is
confined to a single family properly so called ; to the wife
and children, who live separated from the rest of the people
in the interior of the castle. The peasantry and serfs form
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 9*
no part of it ; they are of another origin, and immeasurably
beneath it. Five or six individuals, at a vast height above them,
and at the same time foreigners, make up the feudal family.
Is it not evident that the peculiarity of its situation must have
given to this family a peculiar character ? Confined, concen-
trated, called upon continually to defend itself; mistrusting,
or at least shutting itself up from the rest of the world, even
from its servants, in-door life, domestic manners must natural-
ly have acquired a great preponderance. We cannot keep
out of sight, that the grosser passions of the chief, the con-
stantly passing his time in warfare or hunting, opposed a con-
siderable obstacle to the formation of a strictly domestic so-
ciety. But its progress, though slow, was certain. The
chief, however violent and brutal his out-door exercises, must
habitually return into the bosom of his family. He there finds
his wife and children, and scarcely any but them ; they alone
are his constant companions ; they alone divide his soirows
and soften his joys ; they alone are interested in all that con-
cerns him. It could not but happen in such circumstances,
that domestic life must have acquired a vast influence ; nor is
there any lack of proofs that it did so. Was it not in the
bosom of the feudal family that the importance of women, that
the value of the wife and mother, at last made itself known 1
In none of the ancient communities, not merely speaking of
those in which the spirit of family never existed, but in those
in which it existed most powerfully — say, for example, in the
patriarchal system — in none of these did women ever attain
to anything like the place which they acquired in Europe
under the feudal system. It is to the progress, to the pre-
ponderance of domestic manners in the feudal halls and
castles, that they owe this change, this improvement in their
condition. The cause of this has been sought for in the pe-
culiar manners of the ancient Germans ; in a national respect
which they are said to have borne, in the midst of their for-
ests, to the female sex. Upon a single phrase of Tacitus,
Germanic patriotism has founded a high degree of superiority
■ — of primitive and ineffable purity of manners — in the rela-
tions between the two sexes among the Germans. Pure
chimeras ! Phrases like this of Tacitus — sentiments and
customs analogous to those of the Germans of old, are found
in the narratives of a host of writers, who have seen, or in-
quired into, the manners of savage and barbarous tribes.
There is nothing primitive, nothing peculiar to a certain rac«
92 GEXERAL HISTORY OF
in this matter, It was in the effects of a very decider- so
cial situation — it was in the increase and preponderance ot
domestic manners, that the importance of the female sex in
Europe had its rise, and the preponderance of domestic man.
ners in Europe very early became an essential characteristic
in the feudal system.
A second circumstance, a fresh proof of the .nfluence of
domestic life, forms a striking feature in the picture of a ieu
dal iamily . I mean the principle of inheritance — the spirit of
perpetuity which so strongly predominates in its character.
This spirit of inheritance is a natural off-shoot of the spirit
of iamily, but it nowhere took such deep root as in the feudal
system, where it was nourished by the nature of the property
with which the family was, as it were, incorporated. The
fief differed from other possessions in this, that it constantly
required a chief, or owner, who could defend it, manage it,
discharge the obligations by which it was held, and thus
maintain its rank in the general association of the great pro-
prietors of the kingdom. There thus became a kind of iden-
virication of the possessor of the fief with the fief itself, and
with all its future possessors.
This circumstance powerfully tended to strengthen and' knit
together the ties of family, already so strong by the nature of
the feudal system itself.
Quitting the baronial dwelling, let us now descend to the
little population that surrounds it. Everything here wears a
different aspect. The disposition of man is so kindly and
good, that it is almost impossible for a number of individuals
to be placed for any length of time in a social situation with-
out giving birth to a certain moral lio between them : senti-
ments of protection, of benevolence, of affection, spring up
naturally. Thus it happened in the feudal system. There
can be no doubt, but' that after a certain time, kind and friend-
ly feelings would grow up between the feudal lord and his
serfs. This, however, took place in spite of their relative
situation, and by no means through its influence. Considered
in itself, this situation was radically vicious. There was
nothing morally common between the holder of the fief and
his serfs. They formed part of his estate ; they were his
property ; and under this word property are comprised, not
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 93
only all the rights which we delegate to the public magistrate
to exercise in the name of the state, but likewise all those
which we possess over private property : the right of making
laws, of levying taxes, of inflicting punishment, as well as
that of disposing of them — or selling them. There existed
not, in fact, between the lord of the domain and its cultivators,
so far as we consider the latter as men, either rights, guaran-
tee, or society - .
From this I believe has arisen that almost universal, invin-
cible hatred which country people have at all times borne to
the feudal system, to every remnant of it — to its very name.
We are not without examples of men having submitted to the
heavy yoke of despotism, of their having become accustomed
to it, nay more, of their having freely accepted it. Religious
despotism, monarchical despotism, have more than once ob
tained the sanction, almost the love, of the population which
they governed. But feudal despotism has always been re-
pulsed, always hateful. It tyrannized over the destinies of
men, without ruling in their hearts. Perhaps this may be
partly accounted for by the fact, that, in religious and monar-
chical despotism, authority is always exercised by virtue of
some belief or opinion common to both ruler and subjects ; he
is the representative, the minister, of another power superior
to all human powers. He speaks or acts in the name of Di-
vinity or of a common feeling, and not in the name of man
himself, of man alone. Feudal despotism differed from this ;
it was the authority of man over man ; the domination of the
personal, capricious will of an individual. This perhaps is
the only tyranny to which man, much to his honor, never will
submit. Wherever in a ruler, or master, he sees but the in
dividual man, — the moment that the authority which presses
upon him is no more than an individual, a human will, one
like his own, he feels mortified and indignant, and struggles
against the yoke which he is compelled to bear. Such was
the true, the distinctive character of the feudal power, and
such was the origin of the hatred which it has never ceased
to inspire.
The rdi.igious element which was associated with the feu
dal power was but little calculated to alleviate its yoke. I
do not see how the influence of the priest could be very great
in the society which I have just described, or that he could
nave much success in legitimizing the connexion between the
enslaved people and the lordly proprietor. The church has ex«
94 General history of
arcised a very powerful influence in the civilizatiDn of Europe
out then it has been by proceeding in a general manner — by
changing the general dispositions of mankind. When we en-
ter intimately into the little feudal society, properly so called,
we find the influence of the priest between the baron and hia
serfs to have been very slight. It most frequently happened
that he was as rude and nearly as much under control as the
serf himself ; and therefore not very well fitted, either by his
position or talents, to enter into a contest with the lordly ba-
ron. We must, to be sure, naturally suppose, that, called upon
as he was by his office to administer and to ke-?p aliv r e among
these poor people the great moral truths of Christianity, he
became endeared and useful to them in this respect ; he con-
soled and instructed them ; but I believe he had but little
power to soften their hard condition.
Having examined the feudal system in its rudest, its sim
plest form ; having placed before you the principal conse-
quences which flowed from it, as respects the possessor of
the fief himself, as respects his family, and as respects th©
population gathered about him ; let us now quit this narrow
precinct. The population of the fief was not the only one in
the land : there were other societies more or less like his
own of which he was a member — with which he was con-
nected. What, then, let us ask, was the influence which this
general society to which he belonged might be expected to
exercise upon civilization 1
One short observation before we reply : both the possessor
of the fief and the priest, it is true, formed part of a general
society ; in the distance they had numerous and frequent
connexions ; not so the cultivators — the serfs. Every time
that, in speaking of the population of the country at this pe-
riod, we make use of some general term, which seems to con-
vey the idea of one single and same society — such for exam-
ple as the word people — we speak without truth. For this
population there was no general society — its existence was
purely local. Beyond the estate in which they dwelt, the
serfs had no relations whatever, — no connexion either with
persons, things, or government. For them there existed no
common destiny, no common country — they formed not a na-
tion. When we speak of the feudal association as a whole,
it is only the great proprietors that are alluded to.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 95
Let us now see what the relations of the little feudal so
ciety were with the general society to which it held, and
what consequences these relations may be expected to have
led to in the progress of civilization.
We all know what the ties were .which bound together the
possessors of fiefs ; what conditions were attached to their
possessions ; what were the obligations of service on one
part, and of protection on the other. I shall not enter into a
detail of these obligations ; it is enough for the present purpose
that you have a general idea of them. This system, however,
seemed naturally to pour into the mind of every possessor of
a fief a certain number of ideas and moral sentiments — idea.*
of duty, sentiments of affection. That the principles of fidelity;
devotedness, loyalty, became developed, and maintained by
the relations in which the possessors of fiefs stood towards
one another, is evident. The fact speaks for itself.
• The attempt was made to change these obligations, these
duties, these sentiments, and so on, into laws and institutions.
It is well known that feudalism wished legally to settle whut
services the possessor of a fief owed to his sovereign ; what
services he had a right to expect from him in return ; in what
cases the vassal might be calleu upon to furnish military or
pecuniary aid to his lord ; in what way the lord might obtain
the services of his vassals, in those affairs, in which they
were not bound to yield them by the mere possession of their
fiefs. The attempt was made to place all these rights under
the protection of institutions founded to ensure their respect.
Thus the baronial jurisdictions were erected to administer jus-
tice between the possessors of fiefs, upon complaints duly laid
before their common suzerain. Thus every baron of any con-
sideration collected his vassals in parliament, to debate vk
common the affairs which required their consent or concur-
rence. There was, in short, a combination of political, judi-
cial, and military means, which show the attempt to organize
the feudal system — to convert the relations between the pos-
sessors of fiefs into laws and institutions.
But these laws, these institutions, had no stability — no
guarantee.
If it should be asked what is a political guarantee, I am
compelled to look back to its fundamental character, and t<?
state that this is the constant existence, in the bosom of society,
of a will, of an authority disposed and in a condition to impose
96 GENERAL HISTORY - OF
a law upon the wills and powers of private individuals — to
enforce their obedience to the common rule, to make them
respect the general law.
There are only two systems of political guarantees possi-
ble • there must be either a will, a particular power, so supe-
rior to the others that none of them can resist it, but are obliged
to yield to its authority whenever it is interposed ; or, on the
other, a public will, the result of the concurrence — of the de-
velopment of the wills of individuals, and which likewise is
in a condition, when once it has expressed itself, to make it-
self obeyed and respected by all.
These are the only two systems of political guarantees pos-
sible ; the despotism of one alone, or of a body ; or free gov-
ernment. If we examine the various systems, we shall find
that they may all be brought under one of these two.
Well, neither of these existed, or could exist, under the
feudal system.
Without doubt the possessors of fiefs were not all equal
among themselves. There were some much more powerful
than others ; and very many sufficiently powerful to oppress
the weaker. But there was none, from the king, the first of
proprietors, downward, who was in a condition to impose law
upon all the others ; in a condition to make himself obeyed.
Call to mind that none of the permanent means of power and
influence at this time existed — no standing army — no regular
taxes — no fixed tribunals. The social authorities — the insti-
tutions, had, in a manner, to be new formed every time they
were wanted. A tribunal had to be formed for every trial —
an army to be formed for every war — a revenue to be formed
every time that money was needed. All was occasional —
accidental — special ; there was no central, permanent, inde-
pendent means of government. It is evident that in such a
system no individual had the power to enforce his* will upon
others ; to compel all to respect and obey the general law.
On the other hand, resistance was easy, in proportion as
repression was difficult. Shut up in his castle, with but a
small number of enemies to cope with, and aware that other
Vassals in a like situation were ready to join and assist him,
the possessor of a fief found but little difficulty in defending
himself.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 97
It must then, I think, be confessed, that the first system of
political guarantees — namely, that which would make all re-
sponsible to the strongest — has been shown to be impossible
under the feudal system.
The other system — that of free government, of a public
power, a public authority — was just as impracticable. The
reason is simple enough. When we speak now of a public
power, of what we call the rights of sovereignty — that is, the
right of making laws, of imposing taxes, of inflicting punish-
ment, we know, we bear in mind, that these rights belong to
nobody ; that no one has, on his own account, the right to
punish others, or to impose any burden or law upon them.
These are rights which belong only to the great body of so-
ciety, which are exercised only in its name ; they are ema-
nations from the people, and held in trust for their benefit.
Thus it happens that when an individual is brought before an
authority invested with these rights, the sentiment that pre-
dominates in his mind, though perhaps he himself may be un-
conscious of it, is, that he is in the presence of a public le-
gitimate authority, invested with the power to command him,
an authority which, beforehand, he has tacitly acknowledged.
This was by no means the case under the feudal system.
The possessor of a fief, within his domain, was invested with
all the rights and privileges of sovereignty ; he inherited them
with the territory ; they were a matter of private property.
What are now called public rights were then private rights ;
what are now called public authorities were then private au-
thorities. When the possessor of a fief, after having exercised
sovereign power in his own name, as proprietor over all the
population which lived around him, attended an assembly, at-
tended a parliament held by his sovereign — a parliament not
in general very numerous, and composed of men of the same
»rade, or nearly so, as himself — he did not carry with him any
motion of a public authority. This idea was in direct contra-
iiction to all about him — to all his notions, to all that he had
lone within his own domains. All he saw in these assemblies
*vere men invested 'with the same rights as himself, in the
same situation as himself, acting as he had done by virtue of
tneir own personal title. Nothing led or compelled him to
see or acknowledge in the very highest portion of the govern-
ment, or in the institutions which we call public, that charac-
•er of superiority or generality which seems to us bound up
5
98 GENERAL HISTORY OF
with the notion of political power. Hence, if he was dissatis-
fied with its decision, he refused to concur in it, and perhaps
called in force to resist it.
Force, indeed, was the true and usual guarantee of right
under the feudal system, if force can be called a guarantee.
Every law continually had recourse to force to make itself
respected or acknowledged. No institution succeeded under
it. This was so perfectly felt that institutions were scarcely
ever applied to. If Che agency of the baronial courts or par
liaments of vassals had been of any importance, we should
find them more generally employed than, from history, they
appear to have been. Their rarity proves 'Jieir insignificance.
This is not astonishing. There is another reason for i
more profound and decisive than any I have yet adduced.
Of all the systems of government and political guarantee,
it may be asserted, without fear of contradiction, that the most
difficult to establish and render effectual is the federative sys-
tem ; a system which consists in leaving in each place or
province, in every separate society, all that portion of govern-
ment which can abide there, and in taking from it only so
much of it as is indispensable to a general society, in order
to carry it to the centre of this larger society, and there to
imbody it under the form of a central government. This
federative system, theoretically the most simple, is found in
practice the most complex ; for in order to reconcile the de-
gree of independence, of local liberty, which is permitted to
remain, with the degree of general order, of general submis-
sion, which in certain cases it supposes and exacts, evidently
requires a very advanced state of civilization — requires, in-
deed, that the will of man, that individual liberty, should con-
cur in the establishment and maintenance of the system much
more than in any other, because it possesses less than any
other the means of coercion.
The federative system, then, is one which evidently requires
the greatest maturity of reason, of morality, of civilization in
the society to which it is applied. Yet we find that this was
the kind of government which the feudal system attempted to
establish : for feudalism, as a whole, was truly a confedera-
tion. It rested upon the same principles, for example, as
those on which is based, in the present day, the federative
system of the United States of America. It affected to leave
in the hands of each great proprietor all that portion of the
government, of sovereignty, which could be exercised there*
CIVILIZATION IN MOEERN EUROPE. 99
and to carry to trie suzerain, or to the general assembly of ba-
rons, the least possible portion of power, and only this in
cases of absolute necessity. You will easily conceive the im
possibility of establishing a system like this in a world of
ignorance, of brute passions, or, in a word, where the moral
condition of man was so imperfect as under the feudal system.
The very nature of such a government was in opposition to
the notions, the habits and manners of the very men to whom
it was to be applied. How then can we be astonished at the
bad success of this attempt at organization 1
We have now considered the feudal system, first, in its
most simple element, in its fundamental principle ; and then
in its collective form, as a whole : we have examined it under
these two points of view, in order to see what it dij. and what
it might have been expected to do ; what has been Is influence
on the progress of civilization. These investigations, I think,
bring us to this twofold conclusion : —
1st. Feudalism seems to have exercised a great, and, upon
the whole, a salutary influence upon the intellectual develop-
ment of individuals. It gave birth to elevated ideas and feel-
ings in the mind, to moral wants, to grand developments of
character and passion.
2dly. With regard to society, it was incapable of establish-
ing either legal order or political guarantee. In the wretched
state to which society had been reduced by barbarism, in
which it was incapable of a more regular or enlarged form,
the feudal system seemed indispensable as a step towards re-
association ; still this system, in itself radically vicious, could
neither regulate nor enlarge society. The only political right
which the feudal system was capable of exercising in Euro-
pean society, was the right of resistance : I will not say legal
resistance, for there can be no question of legal resistance in
a society so little advanced. The progress of society con-
sists pre-eminently in substituting, on one hand, public au-
thority for private will ; and, on the other, legal resistance foi
individual resistance. This is the great end, the chief per-
fection, of social order ; a large field is left to personal liber-
ty, but when personal liberty offends, when it becomes neces-
sary to call it to account, our only appeal is to public reason ;
public reason is placed in the judge's chair to pass sentence
on the charge which is preferred against individual liberty.
100 GENERAL HISTORY OF
Such is the system of legal order and* of legal resistance
You will easily perceive, that there was nothing bearing an^
resemblance to this in the feudal system. The right of re«
sistance, which was maintained and practised in this system,
was the right of personal resistance ; a terrible and anti-so-
cial right, inasmuch as its only appeal is to brute force — to
war — which is the destruction of society itself; aright, how
ever, which ought never to be entirely erased from the mind
of man, because by its abolition he puts on the fetters of ser-
vitude. The notion of the right of resistance had been ban-
ished from the Roman community, by the general disgrace
and infamy into which it had fallen, and it could not be re-
generated from its ruins. It could not, in my opinion, have
sprung more naturally from the principles of Christian so
ciety. It is to the feudal system that we are indebted for
its re-introduction among us. The glory of civilization is
to render this principle for ever inactive and useless ; the
glory of the feudal system is its having constantly professed
and defended it
Such, if I am not widely mistaken, is the result of our in-
vestigation of the feudal community, considered in itself, in
its general principles, and independently of its historical pro-
gress. If we now turn to facts, to history, we shall find it to
have fallen out, just as might have been expected, that the feu-
dal system accomplished its task ; that its destiny has been
conformable to its nature. Events may be adduced in proof
of all the conjectures, of all the inductions, which I have
drawn from the nature and essential character of this system.
Take a glance, for example, at the general history of feu-
dalism, from the tenth to the thirteenth centuries, and say, is
it not impossible to deny that it exercised a vast and salutary
influence upon the progress of individual man — upon the de-
velopment of his sentiments, his disposition, and his ideas ?
Where can we open the history of this period, without dis-
covering a crowd of noble sentiments, of splendid achieve-
ments, of beautiful developments of humanity, evidently gen-
erated in the bosom of feudal life. Chivalry, which in reality
bears scarcely the least resemblance to feudalism, was never-
theless its offspring. It was feudalism which gave birth to
that romantic thirst and fondness for all that is noble, gene-
rous, and faithful — for that sentiment of honor, which still
raises its voice in favor of the system by which it was nursed
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 1(J1
But turn to another side. Here we see that the first
sparks of European imagination, that the first attempts of
poetry, of literature, that the first intellectual gratifications
which Europe tasted in emerging from barbarism, sprung up
under the protection, under the wings, of feudalism. It was
in the baronial hall that they were born, and cherished, and
protected. It is to the feudal times that we trace back the
earliest literary monuments of England, France, and Ger
many, the earliest intellectual enjoyments of modern Europe.
As a set-ofT to + his, if we question history respecting the
influence of feudalism upon the social system, its reply is,
though still in accordance with our conjecture?, that the feu-
dal system has everywhere opposed not only the establish-
ment of general order, but at the same time the extension of
general liberty. Under whatever point of view we consider
the progress of society, the feudal system always appears as
an obstacle in its way. Hence, from the earliest existence
of feudalism, the two powers which have been the prime
movers in the progress of order and liberty — monarchical
power on the one hand, and popular power on the other — that
is to say, the king and the people — have both attacked it, and
struggled against it continually. What few attempts were
made at different periods to regulate it, to impart to it some-
what of a legal, a general character — as was done in Eng-
land, by William the Conqueror and his sons ; in France, by
St. Louis ; and by several of the German Emperors — all
these endeavors, all these attempts failed. The very nature
itself of feudality is opposed to order and legality. In the
last century, some writers of talent attempted to dress out
feudalism as a social system ; they endeavored to make it ap-
pear a legitimate, well-ordered, progressive state of society,
and represented it as a golden age. Ask them, however,
where it existed : summon them to assign it a locality, and a
time, and they will be found wanting. It is a Utopia without
date, a drama, for which we find, in the past, neither theatre
nor actors. The cause of this error is noways difficult to
discover ; and it accounts as well for the error of the opposite
class, who cannot pronounce the name of feudalism without
coupling to it an absolute anathema. Both these parties have
looked at it, as the two knights did at the statue of Janus,
only on one side. They have not considered the two differ-
ent -points of view from which feudalism may be surveyed,
102 GENERAL HISTORY OF
They do not distinguish, on one hand, its influen;e upon th*
progress of the individual man, upon his feelings, his faculties,
his disposition and passions ; nor, on the other, its influence
upon the social condition. One party could not imagine that
a social system in which were to be found so many noble
sentiments, so many virtues, in which were seen sprouting
forth the earliest buds of literature and science ; in which
manners became not only more refined, but attained a certain
elevation and grandeur ; in such a system they could not
imagine that the evil was so great or so fatal as it was made
to appear. The other party, seeing but the misery which
feudalism inflicted on the great body of the people — the ob-
stacles which it opposed to the establishment of order and
liberty — would not believe that it could produce noble charac-
ters, great virtues, or any improvement whatsoever. Both
these parties have misunderstood the twofold principle of civi-
lization : they have not been aware that it consists of two
movements, one of which for a time may advance indepen-
dently of the other ; although after a lapse of centuries, and
perhaps a long series of events, they must at last reciprocally
recall and bring forward each other.
To conclude, feudalism, in its character and influence, was
just what its nature would lead us to expect. Individualism,
the energy of personal existence, was the prevailing principle
among the vanquishers of the Roman world ; and the develop-
ment of the individual man, of his mind, and faculties, might
above all be expected to result from the social system, founded
by them and for them. That which man himself carries into a
social system, his intellectual moral disposition at the time he
enters it, has a powerful influence upon the situation in which
he establishes himself — upon all around him. This situation in
its turn reacts upon his dispositions, strengthens and improves
them. The individual prevailed in German society ; and the
influence of the feudal system, the offspring of German socie-
ty, displayed itself in the improvement and advance of the in-
dividual. We shall find the same fact to recur in the other
elements of our civilization : they all hold faithful to their
original principle ; they have advanced and pushed the world
in that same road by which they first entered. The subject of
the next lecture — the history of the Church, and its influence
upon European civilization, from the fifth to the twelfth cen-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 103
*" tury — will furnish us with a new and striking example of thia
fact. 10
10 To appreciate the views taken in the foregoing lecture, a know-
ledge of the peculiar institutions and customs of the Feudal Sys-
tem, and of the historical facts connected with its rise and pro*
gress, is requisite. The lecture might, within the same space, have
been more full and instructive in these respects, with advantage to
the disquisitions here presented. The needful information must be
supplied by the lecturer, or the student must seek it for himself.
The second chapter of Hallam's Middle Ages will perhaps best fur
nish within a brief compass all that is necessary.
The Feudal System, as a completely organized institution, can-
not be said to have extended much beyond the limits of the em-
pire founded by Charlemagne, which it will be remembered includ-
ed France, Germany, Italy, and part of Spain. In France and Ger-
many its working is best displayed.
The germs of the system existed, without doubt, long before the
time of Charlemagne ; but its full development is dated from the
tenth century. Previous to this time, an important step in the pro-
gress of the system had been taken by the conversion of benefices
(or lands granted by the kngs to their vassals upon condition of
military service) into hereditary fiefs. But the event which com-
pletely established the Feudal System, subverting in the sequel the
royal authority, and destroying the Carlovingian dynasty, was the
act of Charles the Bold, who, in 879, made the governments of the
counties hereditary. These provinces thus became great fiefs, the
dukes and counts rendering homage indeed to the crown, but as to
the rest exercising independent authority, and controlling all the
lesser feudatories within their former jurisdiction.
It must be borne in mind that the Feudal System was both cause
and effect of the wretched state of society during the times when
it prevailed; whatever has been said of its benefits must be taken
with great qualifications, and at all events applies almost wholly to
the feudal proprietors ; the lower classes, the mass of the people,
were subject to every species of lawless oppression. By the year
1300 ; the system was substantially overthrown, although a great
many of the odious and oppressive exactions which it entailed
upon the peasantry, the cultivators of the soil, were perpetuated
cfown to the French Revolution. The causes of its decline were
the growth of the royal power, the increase of commerce — the
rise of the free cities — and the formation of a middle class.
LECTURE V.
THE CHURCH.
Having investigated the nature and mfTuetise cf the feudal
Bystem, I shall take the Christian Church, from the fifth to
the twelfth century, as the subject of the present lecture. I
say the Christian Church, because, as I have observed once
before, it is not about Christianity itself, Christianity as a re-
ligious system, that I shall occupy your attention, but the
church as an ecclesiastical -society — the Christian hierarchy.
This society was almost completely organized before the
close of the fifth century. Not that it has not undergone many
and important changes since that period, but from this time
the church, considered -as a corporation, as the government
of the Christian world, may be said to have attained a com
plete and independent existence.
A single glance will be sufficient to convince us, that there
existed, in the fifth century, an immense difference between
the state of the church and that of the other elements of Euro-
pean civilization. You will remember that I have pointed out,
as primary elements of our civilization, the municipal system,
the feudal system, monarchy, and the church. The munici-
pal system, in the fifth century, was no more than a fragment
of the Roman empire, a shadow without life, or definite form.
The feudal system was still a chaos. Monarchy existed only
in name. All the civil elements of modern society were
either in their decline or infancy. The church alone pos-
sessed youth and vigor ; she alone possessed at the same time
a definite form, with activity and strength ; she alone possess-
ed at once movement and order, energy and system, that is to
say, the two greatest means of influence. Is it not, let me ask
you, by mental vigor, by intellectual movement on one side,
and by order and discipline on i\e other, that all institutions
acquire their power and influence over society ? The church,
moreover awakened attention to, and agitated all the great
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 105
questions which interest man ; she busied herself with all the
great problems of his nature, with all he had to hope or feal
for futurity. Hence her influence upon modern civilization
has been so powerful — more powerful, perhaps, than its most
violent adversaries, or its most zealous defenders, have sup-
posed. They, eager to advance or abuse her, have only re-
garded the church in a contentious point of view ; and with
that contracted spirit which controversy engenders, how
could they do her justice, or grasp the full scope of her sway ?
To us, the church, in the fifth century, appears as an or-
ganized and independent society, interposed between the mas-
ters of the world, the sovereigns, the possessors of temporal
power, and the people, serving as a connecting link between
them, and exercising its influence over all.
To know and completely understand its agency, then, we
must consider it from three different points of view : we must
consider it first in itself — we must see what it really was
what was its internal constitution, what the principles whici
there bore sway, what its nature. We must next consider l
in its relations with temporal rulers —kings, lords, and others
and, finally, in its relations with the people. And when b\
this threefold investigation we have formed a complete picture
of the church, of its principles, its situation, and the influence
which it exercised, we will verify this picture by history ; we
will see whether facts, whether what we properly call events,
from the fifth to the twelfth century, agree with the conclu-
sions which our threefold examination of the church, of its
own nature, of its relations with the masters of the world, and
with the people, had previously led us to come to respecting it.
Let us first consider the church, in itself, its internal condi-
tion, its own nature.
The first, and perhaps the most important fact that demands
our attention here, is its existence ; the existence of a gov-
ernment of religion, of a priesthood, of an ecclesiastical cor-
poration.
In the opinion of many enlightened persons, the very notion
of a religious corporation, of a priesthood, of a government of
religion, is absurd. They believe that a religion, whose ob-
ject is the establishment of a clerical body, of a priesthood
OF
Uf ^.
UNIVERS i
106 GENERAL HISTORY OF
legally constituted in short, of a government of religion, mus
exercise, upon the whole, an influence more dangerous than
useful. In their opinion religion is a matter purely individual
betwixt man and God ; and that whenever religion loses this
character, whenever an exterior authority interferes between
the individual and the object of his religious belief, that is,
between him and God, religion is corrupted, and society in
danger.
It will not do to pass by this question without taking
deeper view of it. In order to know what has been the influ-
ence of the Christian Church, we must know what ought to
be, from the nature of the institution itself, the influence of a
church, the influence of a priesthood. To judge of this influ-
ence we must inquire more especially whether religion is, in
fact, purely individual ; whether it excites and gives birth to
nothing beyond this intimate relation between each individual
and God ; or whether it does not, in fact, necessarily become
a source of new relations between man and man, and so ne-
cessarily lead to the formation of a religious society, and from
that to a government of this society.
If we reduce religion to what is properly called religious
feeling — -to that feeling which, though very real, is somewhat
vague, somewhat uncertain in its object, and which Ave can
scarcely characterize but by naming it — to that feeling which
addresses itself at one time to exterior nature, at another to
the inmost recesses of the soul ; to-day to the imagination,
to-morrow to the mysteries of the future ; which wanders
everywhere, and settles nowhere ; which, in a word, exhausts
both the world of matter and of fancy in search of a resting-
place, and yet finds none — if we reduce religion to this feel-
ing ; then, it would seem, it may remain purely individual
Such a feeling may give rise to a passing association ; it may,
it will indeed, find a pleasure in sympathy ; it will feed upon
it, it will be strengthened by it ; but its fluctuating and doubt-
ful character will prevent its becoming tlie principle of per-
manent and extensive association ; will prevent it from ac-
commodating itself to any system of precepts, of discipline,
of forms ; will prevent it, in a word, from giving birth to a
society, to a religious government.
But either I have strangely deceived myself, or this reli-
gious feeling does not comprehend the whole religious nature
of man. Religion, in my opinion, is quite another thing, and
infinitely more comprehensive han this.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN LtTROPB. 107
Joined to the destinies and nature of man, there aie a num-
ber of problems whose solution we cannot work out in the
present life ; these, though connected with an order of things
strange and foreign to the world around us, and apparently be-
yond the reach of human faculties, do not the less invincibly
torment the soul of man, part of whose nature it seems to be,
anxiously to desire and struggle for the clearing up of the
mystery in which they are involved. The solution of these
problems, — the creeds and dogmas which contain it, or at least
are supposed to contain it — such is the first object, the first
source, of religion.
Another road brings us to the same point. To those among
us who have made some progress in the study of moral phi-
losophy, it is now, I presume, become sufficiently evident,
that morality may exist independently of religious ideas ; that
the distinction between moral good and moral evil, the obliga-
tion to avoid evil and to cleave to that which is good, are laws
as much acknowledged by man, in his proper nature, as the
laws of logic ; and which spring as much from a principle
within him, as in his actual life they find their application.
But granting these truths to be proved, yielding up to morality
its independence, a question naturally arises in the human
mind : whence cometh morality, whither doth it lead 1 This
obligation to do good, which exists of itself, is it a fact stand-
ing by itself, without author, without aim % Doth it not con-
ceal, or rather doth it not reveal to man, an origin, a destiny,
reaching beyond this world ? By this question, which rises
spontaneously and inevitably, morality, in its turn, leads man
to the porch of religion, and opens to him a sphere from which
he has not borrowed it.
Thus on one side the problems of our nature, on the other
the necessity of seeking a sanction, an origin, an aim, for
morality, open to us fruitful and certain sources of religion.
Thus it presents itself before us under many other aspects
besides that of a simple feeling such as I have described. It
presents itself as an assemblage :
First, of doctrines called into existence by the problems
which man finds in himself.
Secondly, of precepts which correspond with these doc-
trines, and give to natural morality a signification and sanction
108 GENERAL HISTORY OP
Thirdly, and lastly, of promises which address themselvea
.o the hopes of humanity respecting futurity.
This is truly what constitutes religion. This is really what
it is at bottom, and not a mere form of sensibility, a sally of
the imagination, a species of poetry.
Religion thus brought back to its true element, to its es-
sence, no longer appears as an affair purely individual, but as
a powerful and fruitful principle of association. Would you
regard it as a system of opinions, of dogmas ? The answer
is, truth belongs to no one ; it is universal, absolute ; all men
are prone to seek it, to profess it in common. Would you
rest upon the precepts which are associated with the doc-
trines ? The reply is, law obligatory upon one is obligatory
upon all — man is bound to promulgate it, to bring all under its
authority. It is the same with respect to the promises which
religion makes as the rewards of obedience to its faith and its
precepts ; it is necessary they should be spread, and that
these fruits of religion should be offered to all. From the
essential elements of religion then is seen to spring up a re-
ligious society ; and it springs from them so infallibly, that the
word which expresses the social feeling with the greatest
energy, which expresses our invincible desire to propagate
ideas, to extend society, is proselytism — a term particularly
applied to religious creeds, to which it seems almost exclu-
sively consecrated.
A religious society once formed, — when a certain number
of men are joined together by the same religious opinions and
belief, yield obedience to the same law of religious precepts,
and are inspired with the same religious hopes, they need a
government. No society can exist a week, no, not even an
hour, without a government. At the very instant in which a
society is formed, by the very act of its formation it calls
forth a government, which proclaims the common truth that
holds them together, which promulgates and maintains the
precepts that this truth may be expected to bring forth. That
a religious society, like all others, requires a controlling pow-
er, a government, is implied in the very fact that a society
exists.
And not only is a government necessary, but it naturally
arises of itself. I cannot spare much time to show how
governments rise and become established in society in gene-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 10§
ral. I shall only remark, that when matters are left to take
their natural course, when no exterior force is applied to drive
them from their usual route, power will fall into the hands oi
the most capable, of the most worthy, into the hands of those
who will lead society on its way. Are there thoughts of a
military expedition ? the bravest will have the command. Is
society anxious about some discovery, some learned enter-
prise 1 the most skilful will be sought for. The same will
take place in all other matters. Let but the common order of
things be observed, let the natural ir equality of men freely
display itself, and each will find the station that he is best fit-
ted to fill. So as regards religion, men will be found no more
equal in talents, in abilities, and in power, than they are in
other matters : this man has a more striking ir.ethod than
others in proclaiming the doctrines of religion and making
converts ; another has more power in enforcing religious pre-
cepts ; a third may excel in exciting religious hopes and emo-
tions, and keeping the soul in a devout and holy frame. The
same inequality of faculties and of influence, which gives rise
to power in civil society, will be found to exist in religious
society. Missionaries, like generals, go forth to conquer. So
that while, on the one hand, religious government naturally
flows from the nature of religious society, it as naturally de
velops itself, on the other, by the simple effect of human
faculties, and their unequal distribution.
Thus the moment that religion takes possession of a man
a religious society begins to be formed ; and the moment this
religious society appears it gives birth to a government.
A grave objection, however, here presents itself: in this
case there is nothing to command, nothing to impose ; no
kind of force can here be legitimate. There is no place for
government, because here the most perfect liberty ought to
prevail.
Be it so. But is it not forming a gross and degrading idea
of government to suppose that it resides only, to suppose that
it resides chiefly, in the force which it exercises to make
itself obeyed, in its coercive element 1
Let us quit religion for a moment, and turn to civil govern-
ments. Trace with me, 1 beseech you, the simple march of
circumstances. Society exists. Something is to be done, no
matter what, in its name and for its interest ; a law has to be
110 GENERAL HiSTORY OF
executed some measure to be adopted, a judgment tc be pro
nounced. Now, certainly, there is a proper method of sup-
plying these social wants ; there is a proper law to make, a
proper measure to adopt, a proper judgment to pronounce.
Whatever may be the matter in hand, whatever may be the
interest in question, there is, upon every occasion, a truth
which must be discovered, and which ought to decide the
matter, and govern the conduct to be adopted.
The first business of government is to seek this truth, is to
discover what is just, reasonable, and suitable to society.
When this is found, it is proclaimed : the next business is to
introduce it to the public mind ; to get it approved by the men
upon whom it is to act ; to persuade them tt.it it is reasonable.
In all this is there anything coercive 1 Not at all. Suppose now
that the truth which ought to decide upon the affair, no matter
what ; suppose, I say, that the truth being found and proclaim-
ed, all understandings should be at once convinced ; all wills
at once determined ; that all should acknowledge that the
government was right, and obey it spontaneously. There is
nothing yet of compulsion, no occasion for the employment
of force. Does it follow then that a government does not ex-
ist ? Is there nothing of government in all this ? To be
sure there is, and it has accomplished its task. Compulsion
appears not till the resistance of individuals calls for it — till
the idea, the decision which authority has adopted, fails to
obtain the approbation or the voluntary submission of all.
Then government employs force to make itself obeyed. This
is a necessary consequence of human imperfection ; an imper-
fection which resides as well in power as in society. There
is no way of entirely avoiding this ; civil governments will
always be obliged to have recourse, to a certain degree, to
compulsion. Still it is evident they are not made up of com-
pulsion, because, whenever they can, they are glad to do
without it, to the great blessing of all ; and their highest point
of perfection is to be able to discard it, and to trust to means
purely moral, to their influence upon the understanding : so
that, in proportion as government can dispense with compul-
sion and force, the more faithful it is to its true nature, and
the better it fulfils the purpose for which it is sent. This is
tot to shrink, this is not to give way, as people commonly cry
oui ; it is merely acting in a different manner, in a manner
much more general and powerful. Those governments which
employ the most compulsion perform much less tlan those
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. HI
which scarcely ever have recourse to it. Government, by ad«
dressing itself to the understanding, by engaging the free-wil.
of its subjects, by acting by means purely intellectual, in-
stead of contracting, expands and elevates itself ; it is then
that it accomplishes most, and attains to the grandest objects.
On the contrary, it is when government is obliged to be con-
stantly employing its physical arm that it becomes weak and
restrained — that it does little, and does that little badly.
The essence of government then by no means resides in
compulsion, in the exercise of brute force ; it consists more
especially of a system of means and powers, conceived for
the purpose of discovering upon all occasions what is best to
be done ; for the purpose of discovering the truth which by
right ought to govern society, for the purpose of persuading
all men to acknowledge this truth, to adopt and respect it
willingly and freely. Thus I think I have shown that the
necessity for, and the existence of a government, are very con-
ceivable, even though there should be no room for compul-
sion, even though it should be absolutely forbidden.
This is exactly the case in the government of religious so-
ciety. There is no doubt but compulsion is here strictly for-
bidden ; there can be no doubt, as its only territory is the con-
science of man, but that every species of force must be ille-
gal, whatever may be the end designed. But government
does not exist the less on this account. It still has to perform
all the duties which we have just now enumerated. It is in-
cumbent upon it to seek out the religious doctrines which re-
solve the problems of human destiny ; or, if a general system
of faith beforehand exists, in which these problems are al-
ready resolved, it will be its duty to discover and set forth its
consequences in each particular case. It will be its duty to
promulgate and maintain the precepts which correspond to its
doctrines. It will be its duty to preach them, to teach them,
and, if society wanders from them, to bring it back again to
the right path. No compulsion ; but the investigation, the
preaching, the teaching of religious truths ; the administering
to religious wants ; admonishing ; censuring ; this is the task
"which religious government has to perform. Suppress all
force and coercion as much as you desire, still you will see
all the essential questions connected with the organization of
a government present themselves before you, and demand a
112 GENERAL HISTORY OF
solution The question, for example, whether a body of re
ligious magistrates is necessary, or whether it is possible t«
trust to the religious .'inspiration of individuals ? This ques-
tion, which is a subject of debate between most religious so-
cieties and that of the Quakers, will always exist, it must al-
ways remain a matter of discussion. Again, granting a bcdy
of religious magistrates to be necessary, the question arises
whether a system of equality is to be preferred, or an hierarch-
al constitution — a graduated series of powers ? This ques-
tion will not cease because you take from the ecclesiastical
magistrates, whatever they may be, all means of compulsion.
Instead then of dissolving religious society in order to have
the right to destroy religious government, it must be acknow-
ledged that religious society forms itself naturally, that re-
ligious government flows no less naturally from religious so-
ciety, and that the problem to be solved is on what conditions
this government ought to exist, on what it is based, what are
its principles, what the conditions of its legitimacy ? Tins is
the investigation which the existence of religious government
as of all others, compels us to undertake.
The conditions of legitimacy are the same in the govern-
ment of a religious society as in all others. They may be
reduced to two : the first is, that authority should be placed
and constantly remain, as effectually at least as the imperfec-
tion of all human affairs will permit, in the hands of the best,
the most capable ; so that the legitimate superiority, which
lies scattered in various parts of society, may be thereby
drawn out, collected, and delegated to discover the social law
— to exercise its authority. The second is, that the authority
thus legitimately constituted should respect the legitimate
liberties of those over whom it is called to govern. A good
system for the formation and organization of authority, a good
system of securities for liberty, are the two conditions in which
the goodness of government in general resides, whether civil
or religious. And it is by this standard that all governments
should be judged.
Instead, then, of reproaching the Church, the government
of the Christian world, with its existence, let us examine how
it was constituted, and see whether its principles correspond
with the two essential conditions of all good government.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 113
Let us examine the Church in this twofold point of view.
In the first place, with regard to the formations and trans-
mission of authority in the Church, there is a word, which has
often been made use of, which I wish to get rid of altogether
I mean the word caste. This word has been too frequently ap-
plied to the Christian clergy, but its application to that body
is both improper and unjust. The idea of hereditary right is
inherent to the idea of caste. In every part of the world, in
every country in wjiich the system of caste has prevailed — m
Egypt, in India — from the earliest time to the present day —
you will find that castes have been everywhere essentially
hereditary : they are, in fact, the transmission of the same
rank and condition, of the same power, from father to son.
Now where there is no inheritance there is no caste, but a
corporation. The esprit de corps, or that certain degree of
love and interest which every individual of an order feels to-
wards it as a whole, as well as towards all its members, has
its inconveniences, but differs very essentially from the spirit
of caste. The celibacy of the clergy of itself renders the ap-
plication of this term to the Christian Church altogether im-
proper.
The important consequences of this distinction cannot have
escaped you. To the system of castes, to the circumstance
of inheritance, certain peculiar privileges are necessarily at-
tached ; the very definition of caste implies this. Where the
same functions, the same powers become hereditary in the
same families, it is evident that they possess peculiar privi-
leges, which none can acquire independently of birth. This
is indeed exactly what has taken place wherever the religious
government has fallen into the hands of a caste ; it has be-
come a matter of privilege ; all were shut out from it but those
who belonged to the families of the caste. Now nothing like
this is to be found in the Christian Church. Not only is the
Church entirely free from this fault, but she has constantly
maintained the principle, that all men, whatever their origin^
are equally privileged to enter her ranks, to fill her highest
offices, to enjoy her proudest dignities. The ecclesiastical
career, particularly from the fifth to the twelfth century, was
open to all. The church was recruited from all ranks of so-
ciety, from the lower as well as the higher, indeed, most fre-
quently from the lower. When all around her fell under the
tyranny of privilege, she alone maintained the principle of
♦quality, of competition and emulation ; she alone called the
114 GENERAL HISTORY OT
superior of all classes to the possession of power. This if
the first great consequence which naturally flowed from ths
fact that the Church was a corporation and not a caste.
I will show you a second. It is the inherent nature of alJ
castes to possess a degree of immobility. This assertion re-
quires no proof. Turn over the pages of history, and you will
find that wherever the tyranny of castes has predominated,
society, whether religious or political, has universally become
sluggish and torpid. A dread of improvement was certainly
introduced at a certain epoch, and up to a certain point, into
the Christian Church. But whatever regret this may cost us.
it cannot be said that this feeling ever generally prevailed.
It cannot be said that the Christian Church ever remained in-
active and stationary. For along course of centuries she was
always in motion ; at one time pushed forward by her oppo-
nents without, at others driven on by an inward impulse — by
the want of reform, or of interior development. The church,
indeed, taken as a whole, has been constantly changing — ■
constantly advancing — her history is diversified and progres-
sive. Can it be doubted that she was indebted for this to the
admission of all classes to the priestly offices, to the continual
filling up of .her ranks, upon a principle of equality, by which
a stream of young and vigorous blood was ever flowing into
her veins, keeping her unceasingly active and stirring, and
defending her from the reproach of apathy and immobility
which might otherwise have triumphed over her 1
But how did the Church, in admitting all classes to power,
satisfy herself that they had the right to be so admitted ? How
did she discover and proceed in taking from the bosom of so-
ciety, the legitimate superiorities who should have a share in
her government % In the church two principles were in full
vigor : first, the election of the inferior by the superior, which,
in fact, was nothing more than choice or nomination ; secondly,
the election of the superior by the subordinates, or election
properly so called, and such as we conceive to be election in
the present day.
The ordination of priests, for example, the power of raising
a man to the priestly office, rested solely with the superior.
He alone made choice of the candidate for holy orders. The
case was the same in the collation to certain ecclesiastical
benefices, such as those attached to feudal grants, and some
others ; it was the superior, whether king, pope, or lord, who
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. A 15
nominated to the benefice. In other cases the true principle
of election prevailed. The bishops had been, for a long time,
and were still, often, in the period under consideration, elect-
ed by the inferior clergy ; even the people sometimes 1,00k
part in them. In monasteries the abbot was elected by the
monks At Rome, the pope was elected by the college of
cardinals ; and, at an earlier date, even all the Roman clergy
had a voice in his election. You may here clearly observe,
then, the two principles, the choice of the inferior by the su-
perior, and the election of the superior by the subordinates ;
which were admitted and acted upon in the Church, particu-
larly at the period which now engages our attention. It was
by one of these two means that men were appointed to the
various offices in the Church, or obtained any portion of ec-
clesiastical authority.
These two principles were not only in operation at the
same time, but being altogether opposite in their nature, a
constant struggle prevailed between them. After a strife for
centuries, after many vicissitudes, the nomination of the infe-
rior by the superior gained the day in the Christian Church.
Yet, from the fifth to the twelfth century, the opposite prin-
ciple, the election of the superior by the subordinates, con-
tinued generally to prevail.
We must not be astonished at the co-existence of these two
opposite principles. If we4ook at society in general, at the
common course of affairs, at the manner in which authority is
there transmitted, we shall find that this transmission is some-
times effected by one of these modes, and sometimes the
other. The Church did not invent them, she found them in
the providential government of human things, and borrowed
them from it. There is somewhat of truth, of utility, in both.
Their combination would often prove the best mode of dis-
covering legitimate power. It is a .great, misfortune, in my
opinion, that only one of them, the choice of the inferior by
the superior, should have been victorious in the Church. The
second, however, was never entirely banished, but under va-
rious names, with more or less success, has re-appeared in
every epoch, with at least sufficient force to protest agarast,
and interrupt, prescription. 11
m , ■ ■ ■ . . ■- — ■ — " — 1 ■ — ■ «
11 The distinction between the power of conferring the authority
.0 exercise the spiritual functions of an ecclesiastical office, and
ihe right of designating the person upon whom the authority shall
116 GENERAL HISTORY OF
The -Christian Church, at the period of which we ar«
speaking, derived an immense force from its respect foi
equality and the various kinds of legitimate superiority. It
*vas the most popular society of the time — the most accessible ;
it alone opened its arms to all the talen»s, to all the ambitious-
ly noble of our race. To this, above all, it owed its great-
ness, at least certainly much more than to its riches, and the
illegitimate means which it but too often employed.
With regard to the second condition of a good government,
namely, a respect for liberty, that of the Church leaves much
to be desired.
Two bad principles here met together. One avowed,
forming part and parcel, as it were, of the doctrines of the
Church ; the other, in no way a legitimate consequence of her
doctrines, was introduced into her bosom by human weakness.
The first was a denial of the rights of individual reason — ■
the claim of transmitting points of faith from the highest au-
thority, downwards, throughout the whole religious body,
without allowing to any one the right of examining them for
himself. But it was more easy to lay this down as a principle
than to carry it out in practice ; and the reason is obvious, for
a conviction cannot enter into the human mind unless the hu
man mind first opens the door to it ; it cannot enter by force.
In whatever way it may present itself, whatever name it may
invoke, reason looks to it, and if it forces an entrance, it is
because reason is satisfied. Thus individual reason has al
ways continued to exist, and under whatever name it may
be conferred for any particular place, should be borne in mind.
The former, by the established constitution of the Church and by
universal practice, always belonged exclusively t¥f the bishops:
they alone ordained the inferior clergy ; they alone consecrated the
bishops. In regard* to the latter the practice varied : sometimes,
the person designated was elected by the clergy and people,
which was the primitive mode, sometimes by the clergy; some-
times by the temporal sovereign. But in no case did the people 01
the prince imagine themselves competent to consecrate, to confer
upon the person they had selected for bishop, the spiritual powers
Dertaining to the functions of the see or benefice. This was always
referred to the bishops, with whom it rested 10 confer or withhold
those powers, without which the designation by people or prince
was of no effect. This remark, of course, applies only to the sa-
cred or spiritual orders; the authority of priors, abbots, etc. ""ras
ierived from their election.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 117
iave been disguised, has always considered and reflected
upon the ideas which have been attempted to be forced upon
it. Still, however, it must be admitted but as too true, that
reason often becomes impaired ; that she loses her power, be -
comes mutilated and contracted — that she may be brought not
only to make a sorry use of her faculties, but to make a more
limited use of them than she ought to do. So far indeed the
bad principle which crept into the Church took effect, but
with regard to the practical and complete operation of this
principle, it never took place — it was impossible it ever should.
The second vicious principle was the right of compulsion
assumed by the Romish church ; a right, however, contrary
to the very nature and spirit of religious society, to the origin
of the Church itself, and to its primitive maxims. A right,
too, disputed by some of the most illustrious fathers of the
Church — by St. Ambrose, St. Hilary, St. Martin — but which,
nevertheless, prevailed and became an important feature in its
history. The right it assumed of forcing belief, if these two
words can stand together, or of punishing faith physically, of
persecuting heresy, that is to say, a contempt for the legiti-
mate liberty of human thought, was an error which found its
way into the Romish church before the beginning of the fifth
century, and has in the end cost her very dear.
If then we consider the state of the Church with regard to
the liberty of its members, we must confess that its principles
in this respect were less legitimate, less salutary, than those
which presided at the rise and formation of ecclesiastical
power. It must not, however, be supposed, that a bad prin-
ciple radically vitiates an institution ; nor even that it does it
all the mischief of which it is pregnant. Nothing toiVures
history more than logic. No sooner does the human mind
seize upon an idea, than it draws from it all its possible con-
sequences ; makes it produce, in imagination, all that it would
in reality be capable of producing, and then figures it down in
history with all the extravagant additions which itself has con-
jured up. This, however, is nothing like the truth. Events
are not so prompt in their consequences, -as the human mind
in its deductions. There is in all things a mixture of good
and evil, so profound, so inseparable, that, in whatever part
yot penetrate, if even you descend to the lowest elements of
society, or into the soul :tself, you will there find these two
principles dwelling together, developing themselves side by
side, perpetually struggling aid quarrelling with each other,
118 GENERAL HISTORT OF
but neither of them ever obtaining a complete victory, or abso*
lutely destroying its fellow. Human nature never reaches to
the extreme either of good or evil. It passes, without ceasing
from one to the other ; it recovers itself at the moment when it
seems lost for ever. It slips and loses ground at the moment
when it seems to have assumed the firmest position.
We again discover here that character of discordance, of
diversity, of strife, to which I formerly called your attention,
as the fundamental character of European civilization. Be-
sides this, there is another general fact which characterizes
the government of the Church, which we ir,ust not pass over
without notice. In the present day, when the idea of govern-
ment presents itself to our mind, we know, of whatever kind
it may be,, that it will scarcely pretend to any authority be-
yond the outward actions of men, beyond the civil relations
between man and man. Governments do not profess to carry
their rule further than this. With regard to human thought,
to the human conscience, to the intellectual powers of man :
with regard to individual opinions, to private morals, — with
these they do not interfere : this would be to invade the do
main of liberty.
The Christian Church did, and was bent upon doing, exact-
ly the contrary. What she undertook to govern was the hu-
man thought, human liberty, private morals, individual opi-
nions She did not draw up a code like ours, which took ac-
count only of those crimes that are at the same time offensive
to morals and dangerous to society, punishing them only
when, and because, they bore this twofold character ; but pre
pared a catalogue of all those actions, criminal more particu-
larly in a moral pomXof view, and punished them all under
the name of sins. Her aim was their entire suppression. In
a word, the government of the Church did not, like our
modern governments, direct her attention to the outward man,
or to the purely civil relations of men among themselves ; she
addressed herself to the inward man, to the thought, to the
conscience ; in fact, to that which of all things is most hid-
den and secure, most free, .and which spurns the least re-
straint. The Church, then, by the very rature of its under-*
aking, combined with the nature of some of the principles
upon which its government was founded, stood in great peril
of falling into tyranny ; of an illegitimate employment of force.
In the mean time, this force was encountered by a resistance
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 119
within the Church itself, which it could never overcome.
Human thought and liberty, however fettered, however con-
fined for room and space in which to exercise their faculties,
oppose with so much energy every attempt to enslave them,
that their reaction makes even despotism itself to yield, and
give up something every moment. This took place in the
very bosom of the Christian Church. We have seen heresy
proscribed — the right of free inquiry condemned ; a contempt
shown for individual reason, the principle of the imperative
transmission of doctrines by human authority established. And
yet where can we find a society in which individual reason
more boldly developed itself than in the Church 1 What are
sects and heresies, if not the fruit of individual opinions 1
These sects, these heresies, all these oppositions which arose
in the Christian Church, are the most decisive proof of the
life and moral activity which reigned within her : a life stormy,
painful, sown with perils, with errors and crimes — yet splen-
did and mighty, and which has given place to the noblest de-
velopments of intelligence and mind. But leaving the oppo-
sition, and looking to the ecclesiastical government itself —
how does the case stand here ? You will find it constituted,
you will find it acting, in a manner quite opposite to what you
would expect from some of its principles. It denies the right
of inquiry, it wishes to deprive individual reason of its liber-
ty ; yet it appeals to reason incessantly ; practical liberty ac-
tually predominates in its affairs. What are its institutions,
its means of action ? Provincial councils, national councils,
general councils ; a perpetual correspondence, a perpetual
publication of letters, of admonitions, of writings. No govern-
ment ever went so far in discussions and open deliberations.
One might fancy one's self in the midst of the philosophical
schools of Greece. But it was not here a mere discussion,
it was not a simple search after truth that here occupied the
attention ; it was questions of authority, of measures to be
taken, of decrees to be drawn up, in short, the business of a
government. Such indeed was the energy of intellectual life
in the bosom of this government, that it became its predomi-
nant, universal character ; to this all others gave way ; and
that which shone forth from all its parts, was the exercise of
reason and liberty. 12
12 There are several things in the foregoing paragraphs not quit*
fcccurately put.
120 GENERAL HISTORY OF
I am far, notwithstanding all this, from believing that the
vicious principles, which I have endeavored to expiain, and
The assumption of the right, or the exercise of the power to
coerce faith, to punish physically for religious opinions, cannot in-
deed be too strongly condemned. It was a monstrous tyranny ex-
ercised by the Church at this period. The right of separating from
its society such as rejected the fundamental articles of its constitu-
tion, is entirely a different thing — being a right inherent in every
association, not to advert here to any grounds on which the obliga-
tion to do so was thought to rest.
Again ; in regard to the authority of the Church and the " rights
of individual reason" — here undoubtedly, in the corrupt ages of the
Church, monstrous abuses grew up ; yet these abuses should be dis-
tinguished from the primitive principle, from the perversion o^
which they sprang — the principle which required implicit faith in
all matters divinely revealed. — It is incorrect, too, to represent the
Church, even at its most corrupt period, as maintaining " the prin-
cicl? of the imperative transmission of doctrines by human au-
thority established." The absolute subjection of all Church au-
thority, as well as of the individual members of the Church, to the
authority of the Divine Word, was always held.
Nor, again, does the Church deserve the praise given to it in the
text of acting in its councils in opposition to its principles. In the
councils, the Church no doubt exercised to a certain extent the
right inherent in all ordinary associations of legislating for itself.
In all matters relating to rites, ceremonies, and doctrines, not con-
sidered to be definitively settled by Divine appointment, these coun-
cils exercised the power of determining by their own authority.
In all such matters there was scope for "discussion, deliberation,"
anl arbitrary preference. But when the question was concerning
any fundamental article of faith, the statement that "one might
fancy one's self in the midst of the philosophical schools of
Greece," is anything but true. They never dreamed of settling
any such question by excogitation, speculation, reasoning. The
appeal was to the sacred Scriptures as the ultimate and absolute
authority. It was a matter of interpretation. If the sacred writ-
ings were not clear and decisive in themselves of the point in ques-
tion, the next and only inquiry was, what could be historically
ascertained to have been the interpretation sanctioned by the uni-
versal consent of the Church from the Apostolic age downwards,
— and that was held to be decisive. Such was always the theory
of the Church as to the authority of its councils: it was never
imagined that the ascertained consent of the Church universal
from the primitive aire, in regard to a question of interpretation
bearing on an article of faith, could be set aside, by any discussion
or rote, by any speculation or reasoning.
Thus, from not distinguishing things quite distinct, the author's
censure on the one hand, and his praise on the other, may convey
an erroneous impression.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 121
which, in my opinion, existed in the Christian Church, exist-
ed there without producing any effect. In the period now
under review, they already bore very bitter fruits ; at a later
period they bore others still more bitter ; still they did not
produce all the evils which might have been expected, they
did not choke the good which sprang up in the same soil.
Such was the Church considered in itself, in its interior, in
its own nature.
Let us now consider it in its relations with sovereigns,
with the holders of temporal authority. This is the second
pom of view in which I have promised to consider it.
When at the fall of the western empire, when, instead of
the ancient Roman government, under which the Church had
been born, under which she had grown up, with which she
had common habits and old connexions, she found herself
surrounded by barbarian kings, by barbarian chieftains, wan-
dering from place to place, or shut up in their castles, with
whom she had nothing in common, between whom and her
there was as yet no tie — neither traditions, nor creeds, nor
feelings ; her danger appeared great, and her fears were
equally so.
One only idea became predominant in the Church ; it was to
take possession of these new-comers — to convert them. The
relations of the Church with the barbarians had, at first,
scarcely any other aim. 13
To gain these barbarians, the most effective means seemed
to be to dazzle their senses and work upon their imagination.
Thus it came to pass that the number, pomp, and variety of
13 Some of the barbarians had embraced Christianity before their
invasion of the Roman Empire. Among these were the Goths,
converted in the fourth century by their bishops Theophilus and
Ulphilas; the Heruli, the Suevi, the Vandals, and perhaps the
Lombards. They were converted by Arian missionaries, and
embraced that form of Christianity. In the sixth and seventh een-
turies *he Suevi, Visigoths, and Lombards adopted the orthodox
faith: the Heruli, Vandals, and Ostro-Goths adhered to Arianism.
The remarks of the text can therefore be applied literally only
.0 the Burgundians, Francs, etc., by whom the first conquerors of
the empire were swept away. Still, the Church had much to d©
8Ven in bringing under her full influence the first barbarians.
122 GENERAL HISTORY OF
religious ceremonies were at this epoch wonderfully increased
The ancient chronicles particularly show, that it was prin
cipally in this way that the Church worked upon the barba
rians. She converted them by grand spectacles.
But even when they had become settled and converted,
even after ti.e growth of some common ties between them,
the danger of the Church was not over. The brutality, the
unthinking, the unreflecting character of the barbarians were
so great, that the new faith, the new feelings with which they
had been inspired, exercised but a very slight empire over
them. When every part of society fell a prey to violence,
the Church could scarcely hope altogether to escape. To save
herself she announced a principle, which had already been
set up, though but very vaguely, under the empire ; the sepa-
ration of spiritual and temporal power, and their mutual in-
dependence. It was by the aid of this principle that the
Church dwelt freely by the side of the barbarians ; she main-
tained that force had no authority over religious belief, hopes,
or promises, and that the spiritual and temporal worlds are
completely distinct.
You cannot fail to see at once the beneficial consequences
which have resulted from this principle. Independently of
the temporary service it was of to the Church, it has had the
inestimable effect of founding in justice the separation of the
two authorities, of preventing one from controlling the other.
In addition to this, the Church, by asserting the independence
of the intellectual world, in its collective form, prepared the
independence of the intellectual world in individuals — the in-
dependence of thought. The Church declared that the sys-
tem of religious belief could not be brought under the yoke
of force, and each individual has been led to hold the same
language for himself. The principle of free inquiry, the
liberty of individual thought, is exactly the same as that of the
independence of the spiritual authority in general, with regard
to temporal power.
The desire for liberty, unfortunately, is but a step from the
desire for power. The Church soon passed from one to the
other. When she had established her independence, it waa
in accordance with the natural course of ambition that she
should attempt to raise her spiritual authority above temporal
authority. We must not, however, suppose that this claim
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 123
had any other origin than the weaknesses of humanity , some
of these are very profound, and it is of importance that they
should be known.
When liberty prevails in the intellectual world, when the
thoughts and consciences of men are not enthralled by a pow-
er which calls in question their right of deliberating, of de-
ciding, and employs its authority against them ; when there
is no visible constituted spiritual government laying claim to
the right of dictating opinions ; in such circumstances, the
idea of the domination of the spiritual order over the tempo-
ral could scarcely spring up. Such is very nearly the present
state of the world. But when there exists, as there did in the
tenth century, a government of thtf spiritual order ; when the
human thought and conscience are subject to certain laws, to
certain institutions, to certain authorities, which have arro-
gated to themselves the right to govern, to constrain them ; in
short, when spiritual authority is established, when it has
effectively taken possession, in the name of right and power,
of the human reason and conscience, it is natural that it should
go on to assume a domination over the temporal order ; that
it should argue : " What ! have I a right, have I an authority-
over that which is most elevated, most independent in man —
over his thoughts, over his interior will, over his conscience ;
and have I not a right over his exterior, his temporal and ma-
terial interests ? Am I the interpreter of divine justice and
truth, and yet not able to regulate the affairs of this world ac-
cording to justice and truth ?"
i
The force of this reasoning shows that the spiritual order
had a natural tendency to encroach on the temporal. This
tendency was increased by the fact, that the spiritual order,
at this time, comprised all the intelligence of the age, every
possible development of the human mind. There was but
one science, theology ; but one spiritual order, the theological :
all the other sciences, rhetoric, arithmetic, and even music,
centred in theology.
The spiritual power, finding itself thus in possession of all
the intelligence of the age, at the head of all intellectual ac-
tivity, was naturally enough led to arrogate to itself the gene-
ral government of the world.
A second cause, which very much favored its views, was
124 GENERAL HISTORY OF
the dreadful state of the temporal order, the violence and
iniquity which prevailed in all temporal governments.
For some centuries past men might speak, with a degree oi
confidence, of temporal power ; but temporal power, at the
epoch of which we are speaking, was mere brutal force, a
system of rapine and violence. The Church, however im-
perfect might be her notions of morality and justice, was in-
finitely superior to a temporal government such as this ; and
the cry of the people continually urged herio take its place.
When a pope or bishop proclaimed that a sovereign had
lost his rights, that his subjects were released from their oath
of fidelity, this interference, though undoubtedly liable to the
greatest abuses, was often, in the particular case to which it
was directed, just and salutary. It generally holds, indeed,
that where liberty is wanting, religion, in a great measure,
supplies its place. In the tenth century, the oppressed na-
tions were not in a state to protect themselves, to defend their
rights against civil violence — religion, in the name of Heaven,
placed itself between them. This is one of the causes which
most contributed to the success of the usurpations of the
Church.
There is a third cause, which, in my opinion, -has not been
sufficiently noticed. This is the manifold character and situa-
tion of the leaders of the Church ; the variety of aspects
under which they appeared in society. On one side they
were prelates, members of the ecclesiastical order, a portion
of the spiritual power, and as such independent : on the other,
they were vassals, and by this title formed one of the links
of civil feudalism. But this was not all : besides being vas-
sals, they were also subjects. Something similar to the an-
cient relations in which the bishops and clergy had stood to-
wards the Roman emperors low existed between the clergy
and the barbarian sovereigns. A series of causes, which it
would be tedious to detail, had brought the bishops to look
upon the barbarian kings, to a certain degree, as the succes-
sors of the Roman emperors, and to attribute to them the
same rights. The heads of the clergy then had a threefold
character : first, they were ecclesiastics, and as such held to
the performance of certain duties ; secondly, they were feudal
vassals, with the rights and obligations of such ; thirdly, they
were mere subjects, and as such bound to render obedience
to an absolute sovereign. Observe the necessary consequence
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 125
of this. The temporal sovereigns, no whit less covetous, nc
whit less ambitious than the bishops, frequently made use of
their temporal power, as superiors or sovereigns, to attack the
independence" of the Church, to usurp the right of collating to
benefices, of nominating to bishopricks, and so on. On the
other side, the bishops often sheltered themselves under theil
spiritual independence to refuse the performance of their obli-
gations as vassals and subjects ; so that on both sides there
was an inevitable tendency to trespass on the rights of the
other : on the side of the sovereigns, to destroy spiritual in-
dependence ; on the side of the heads of the Church, to
make their spiritual independence the means of universal
dominion.
This result snowed itself sufficiently plain in events Jrell
known to you all ; in the quarrel respecting investitures ; in
the struggle between the Holy See and the Empire. The
threefold character of the heads of the Church, and the diffi-
culty of preventing them from trespassing on one another,
was the real cause of the uncertainty and strife of all its
pretensions.
Finally, the Church had a third connexion with the sove-
reigns, and it was to her the most disastrous and fatal. She
laid claim to the right of coercion, to the right of restraining
and punishing heresy. But she had no means by which to do
this ; she had no physical force at her disposal : when she
had condemned the heretic, she was without the power to
carry her sentence into execution. What was the conse-
quence 1 She called to Lsr aid the secular arm ; she had to
borrow the power of the civil authority as the means of com-
pulsion. To what a wretched shift was she thus driven by
the adoption of the wicked and detestable principles of coer-
cion and persecution !
I must stop here. There is not sufficient time for us to
finish our investigation of the Church. We have still to
consider its relation with the people, the principles which
prevailed in its intercourse with them, and what consequences
resulted from its bearing upon civilization in general. I shall
afterwards endeavor to confirm by history, by facts, by what
befell the Church from the fifth to the twelfth century, tie in-
iuctions which we havo drawn from the nature of her insti*
aitions and principles.
LECTURE VI
THE CHURCH.
In the present lecture we shall conclude our inquiries re-
specting the state of the Church. In the last, I stated that I
should place it before you in three principal points of view :
first, in itself — in its interior constimtion and nature, as a dis-
tinct and independent society : secondly, in its relations with
sovereigns, with temporal power ; thirdly, in its relations
with the people. Having then been able to accomplish no
more than the first two parts of my task, it remains for me to-
day to place before you the church in its relations with the
people. I shall endeavor, after I have done this, to sum up
this threefold examination, and to give a general judgment
respecting the influence of the church from the fifth to the
twelfth century ; finally, I shall close this part of my subject
by verifying my statements by an appeal to facts, by an ex-
amination of the history of the Church during this period.
You will easily understand that, in speaking of the relations
of the Church with the people, I shall be obliged to confine
myself to very general views. It is impossible that I should
enter into a detail of the practices of the Church, or recount
the daily intercourse of the clergy with their charge. It is
the prevailing principles, and the great effects of the system
and conduct of the Church towards the body of Christians, that
I shall endeavor to bring before you.
A striking feature, and, I am bound to say, a radical vice in
the relations of the Church with the people, was the separa-
tion of the governors and the governed, which left the governed
without any influence upon their government, which establish*
ed the independence of the clergy with respect to the general
body of Christians.
It would seem as if this evil was called forth by the state
©f man and society, for it was introduced into the Christian
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 127
Church at a very early period. The separation of the clergy
and the people was not altogether perfected at the time of
which we are speaking ; there were certain occasions — the
election of bishops, for example — upon which the people, at
least sometimes, took part in church government. This in-
terference, however, became weaker and weaker, as well as
more rare ; even in the second century it had begun rapidly
and dsibly to decline. Indeed, the tendency of the Church to
detach itself from the rest of society, the establishment of the
independence of the clergy, forms, to a great extent, the his-
tory of the Church from its very cradle.
It is impossible to disguise the fact, that from this circum-
stance sprang the greater number of abuses, which, from this
period, cost the Church so dear ; as well as many others which
entered into her system in after-times. We must not, how-
ever, impute all its faults to this principle, nor must we regard
this tendency to isolation as peculiar to the Christian clergy.
There is in the very nature of religious society a powerful in-
clination to elevate the governors above the governed ; to re-
gard them as something distinct, something divine. This is
the effect of the mission with which they are charged ; of the
character in which they appear before the people. This ef-
fect, however, is more hurtful in a religious society than in any
other. For with what do they pretend to interfere 1 With
the reason and conscience and future destiny of man : that is
to say, with that which is the closest locked up ; with that
which is most strictly individual, with that which is most free.
We can imagine how, u\. to a certain point, a man, whatever
ill may result from it, may give up the direction of his tempo-
ral affairs to an outward authority. We can conceive a no-,
tion of that philosopher who, when one told him that his house
was on fire, said, " Go and tell my wife ; I never meddle with
household affairs." But when our conscience, our thoughts,
our intellectual existence are at stake — to give up the govern-
ment of one's self, to deliver over one's very soul to the author-
ity of a stranger, is, indeed, a moral suicide : is, indeed, a
thousand times worse than bodily servitude — than to become
a mere appurtenance of the soil.
Such, nevertheless, was the evil, which without ever, as I
shall presently show, completely prevailing, invaded more and
more the Christian Church in its relations with the people.
We have already seen, that even in the bosom of the Church
itself, the lower orders of the clergy had no guarantee for their
i28 GENERAL HISTORY OF
liberty ; it was much worse, out of the Church, for the laity
Among churchmen there was at least discussion, deliberation,
the display of individual faculties ; the struggle, itself, sup*
plied in some measure the place of liberty. There was nothing,
however, like this between the clergy and the people. The
laity had no further share in the government of the Church
than as simple lookers-on. Thus we see quickly shoot up and
thrive, the idea that theology, that religious questions and af-
fairs, were the privileged territory of the clergy ; that the
clergy alone had the right, not only to decide upon all matters
respecting it, but likewise that they alone had the right to study
it, and that the laity ought not to intermeddle with it. At the
period of which we are now speaking, this theory had fully
established its authority and it has required ages, and revo-
lutions full of terror, to overcome it ; to restore to the public
the right of debating religious questions, and inquiring invfi
their truths.
In principle, then, as well as in fact, the legal separation
of the clergy and the laity was nearly completed before the
twelfth century.
It must not, however, be understood, that the Christian
world had no influence upon its government during this period.
Of legal interference it was destitute, but not of influence. It
is, indeed, almost impossible that such should be the case un-
der any kind of government, and more particularly so of one
founded upon the common opinions and belief of the govern-
ing and governed. For, wherever this community of ideas
springs up and expands, wherever the same intellectual move-
ment carries onward for government and the people, there
necessarily becomes formed between them a tie, which no
vice in their organization can ever altogether break. To
make you clearly understand what I mean, I will give you an
example, familiar to us all, taken from the political world
At no period in the history of France had the French nation
less power of a legal nature, I mean by way of institutions,
of interfering in the government, than in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, during the reigns of Louis XIV. and XV.
All the direct and official mear.s by which the people could
exercise any authority had bee n cut off and suppressed. Yet
there cannot be a doubt but that the putlic, the country, ex-
ercised, at this time, more influence upon the government than
At any other, more, for example, than when the states-gen«
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 129
eral had been frequently convoked ; than when the parlia-
ments inteimeddled to a considerable extent in politics, than
when the people had a much greater legal participation in the
government.
It must have been observed by all that there exists a power
which no law can comprise or suppress, and which, in times
of need, goes even further than institutions. Call it the spirit
of the age, public intelligence, opinion, or what you will, you
cannot doubt its existence. In France, during the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries, this public opinion was more
powerful than at any other epoch ; and, though it was de-
prived of the legal means of acting upon the government, yet
it acted indirectly, by the force of ideas common to the gov-
erning and the governed, by the absolute necessity undei
which the governing found themselves of attending to the
opinions of the governed. What took place in the Church
from the fifth to the twelfth century was very similar to this.
The body of the Christian world, it is true, had no legal means
of expressing its desires ; but there was a great advancement
of mind in religious matters : this movement bore along cler-
gy and laity together, and in this way the people acted upon
the Church.
It is of the greatest importance that these indirect influen-
ces should be kept in view in the study of history. They are
much more efficacious, and often more salutary, than we take
them to be. It is very natural that men should wish their in-
fluence to be prompt and apparent ; that they should covet the
credit of promoting success, of establishing power, of pro-
curing triumph. But this is not always either possible or
useful. There are times and situations when the indirect,
unperceived influence is more beneficial, more practicable.
Let me borrow another illustration from politics. We know
that the English parliament more than once, and particularly
in 1641, demanded, as many other popular assemblies have
done in sach cases, the power to nominate the ministers and
great officers of the crown. The immense direct force which
by this means it would exercise upon the government was re-
gardsd as a precious guarantee. But how has it turned out?
Why, in the few cases in which it has been permitted to pos-
sess this power, the result has been always unfavorable. The
choice has been badly concerted ; affairs badly conducted
But what is the case in the present day ? Is it not the in-
fluence of the two houses of parliament which determine*
130 GENERAL HISTORY OF
llie choice of ministers, and the nomination to all the great
offices of state ? And, though this influence be indirect and
general, it is found to work better than the direct interference
of parliament, which has always terminated badly.
There is one reason why this should be so, which I must
beg leave to lay before you, at the expense of a few minutes
of your time. The direct action upon government supposes
those to whom it is confided possessed of superior talents —
of superior information, understanding, and prudence. As
they go co the object at once, and per saltern as it were, they
must be sure not to miss their mark. Indirect influences, on
the contrary, pursuing a tortuous course — only arriving at
their object through numerous difficulties — become rectified
and adapted to their end by the very obstacles they have to
encounter. Before they can succeed, they must undergo dis-
cussion, be combated and controlled ; their triumph is slow,
conditional, and partial. It is on this account that where so-
ciety is not sufficiently advanced to make it prudent to place
immediate power in the hands of the people, these indirect
influences, though often insufficient, are nevertheless to.be
preferred. It was by such that the Christian world acted
upon its government ; — acted, I must allow, very inadequately
— by far too little ; but still it is something that it acted at all.
There was another thing which strengthened the tie be-
tween the clergy and laity. This was the dispersion of the
clergy into every part of the social system. In almost all
other cases, where a church has been formed independent of
the people whom it governed, the body of priests has been
composed of men in nearly the same condition of life. I do
not mean that the inequalities of rank were not sufficiently
gieat among them, but that the power was lodged in the hands
of colleges of priests living in common, and governing the
people submitted to their laws from the innermost recess of
some sacred temple. The organization of the Christian
Church was widely different. From the thatched cottage of
the husbandman — from the miserable hut of the serf at the
foot of the feudal chateau to the palace of the monarch
— there was everywhere a clergyman. This diversity in the
Bituatior. of the Christian priesthood, their participation in all
the varied fortunes of humanity — of common life — was a
great bond of union between ihe laity and clergy ; a bond
which has been wanting in most other hierarchies invested
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 131
with power. Besides this, the bishops, the heads oi the
Christian clergy, were, as we have seen, mixed up with the
feudal system : they were, at the same time, members of the
civil and of the ecclesiastical governments. This naturallv
led to similarity of feeling, of interests, of habits, and of man-
ners, in the clergy anl laity. There has been a good deal
said, and with reason, of military bishops, of priests who led
secular lives ; but we may be assured that this evil, however
great, was not so hurtful as the system which kept priests for
ever locked up in a temple, altogether separated from common
life. Bishops who took a share in the cares, and, up to a cer-
tain point, in the disorders of civil life, were of more use in
society than those who were altogether strangers to the people,
to their wants, their affairs, and their manners. In our sys-
tem there has been, in this respect, a similarity of fortune, of
condition, which, if it have not altogether corrected, has, at
least, softened the evil which the separation of the governing
and governed must in all cases prove.
Now, having pointed out this separation, having endeavor-
ed to determine its extent, let us see how the Christian Church
governed — let us see in what way it acted upon the people
under its authority.
What did it do, on one hand, for the development of man,
for the intellectual progress of the individual 1
m
What did it do, on the other, for the melioration of the so-
cial system ?
With regard to individual development, I fear the Church,
at this epoch, gave herself but little trouble about it. She en-
deavored to soften. the rugged manners of the great, and to
render them more kind and just in their conduct towards the
weak. She endeavored to inculcate a life of morality among
the poor, and to inspire them with higher sentiments and hopes
than the lot in which they were cast would give rise to.
I believe not, however, that for individual man — for the
drawing forth or advancement of his capacities — that the
Church did much, especially for the laity, during this period.
What she did in this way was confined to the bosom of hex
132 GENERAL HISTORY" OF
own society. For the development of the clergy, for the in«
struction of the priesthood, she was anxiously alive : to pro*
mote this she had her schools, her colleges, and all other in-
stitutions which the. deplorable state of society would per-
mit. These schools and colleges, it is true, were all thelogi-
cal, and destined for the education of the clergy alone ; and
though, from the intimacy between the civil and religious
orders, they could not but have some influence upon the rest
of the world, it was very slow and indirect. It cannot, in-
deed, be denied but the Church, too, necessarily excited and
kept alive a general activity of mind, by the career which
she opened to all those whom she judged worthy to enlist in-
to her ranks, but beyond this she did little for the intellectual
improvement of the laity.
For the melioration of the social state her labors were
greater and more efficacious.
She combated with much perseverance and pertinacity the
great vices of the social condition, particularly slavery. It
has been frequently asserted that the abolition of slavery in the
modern world must be altogether carried to the credit of
Christianity. I believe this is going too far : slavery subsist-
ed for a long time in the bosom of Christian society without
much notice being taken of it — without any great outcry
against it. To effect its abolition required the co-operation of
several causes — a great development of new ideas, of new
principles of civilization. It cannot, however, be denied that
the Church employed its influence to restrain it ; the clergy
in general, and especially several popes, enforced the manu-
mission of their slaves as a duty incumbent upon laymen, and
loudly inveighed against the scandal of keeping Christians in
bondage. Again, the greater part of the forms by which
slaves were set free, at various epochs, are founded upon re-
ligious motives. It is under the impression of some religious
feeling — the hopes of the future, the equality of all Christian
men, and so on — that the freedom of the slave is granted.
These, it must be confessed, are rather convincing proofs of
the influence of the Church, and of her desire for the abolition
of this evil of evils this iniquity of iniquities !
The church did not labor less worthily for the improvement
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. a33
of civil' and criminal legislation. We know to what a terrible
extent, notwithstanding some few principles of liberty, this
was absurd and wretched ; we have read of the irrational and
superstitious proofs to which the barbarians occasionally had
recourse — their trial by battle, their -ordeals, their oaths of
compurgation — as the only means by which they could dis-
cover the truth. To replace these by more rational and le-
jgitimate proceedings, the Church earnestly labored, and labored
not in vain. I have already spoken of the striking difference
between the laws of the Visigoths, mostly promulgated by the
councils of Toledo, and the codes of the barbarians. It is
impossible to compare them without at once admitting the im-
merse superiority of the notions of the Church in matters of
jurisprudence, justice, and legislation — in all relating to the
discovery of truth, and a knowledge of human nature. It must
certainly be admitted that the greater part of these notions
were borrowed from Roman legislation ; but it is not less
certain that they would have perished if the Church had not
preserved and defended them — if she had not labored to spread
them abroad. If the question, for example, is respecting the
employment of oaths, open the laws of the Visigoths, and see
with what prudence it controls their use : —
Let the judge, in order to come at the truth, first interrogate the
witnesses, then examine the papers, and not allow of oaths too
easily. The investigation of truth and justice demands, that the
documents on both sides should be carefully examined, and that the
necessity of the oath, suspended over the head of both parties, should
only come unexpectedly. Let the oath only be adopted in causes
in which the judge shall be able to discover no written documents,
v.o proof, nor guide to the truth.
In criminal matters, the punishment is proportioned to the
offence, according to tolerably correct notions of philosophy,
morals, and justice ; the efforts of an enlightened legislator'
struggling against the violence and caprice of barbarian man-
ners. The title of cwde et morte hominum gives us a very fa-
*orable example of this, when compared with the correspond-
ing laws of the other nations. Among the latter, it is the
damage alone which seems to constitute the crime ; and the
punishment is sought for in the pecuniary reparation which is
made in compounding for it ; but in the code of the Visigoths
the crime is traced to its true and mofal principle — the inten-
tion of the perpetrator. Various shades of guilt — involuntary
134 GE ERAL HISTORY OF
homicide, chance-medley homicide, justifiable homicide, un-
premeditated homicide, and wilful murder — are distinguished
and defined nearly as accurately as in our modern codes ; the
punishments likewise varying, so as to make a fair approxi-
mation to justice. The legislator, indeed, carried the princi-
ple of justice still further. He endeavored, if not to abolish,
at least to lessen, that difference of legal value, which the
other barbarian laws put upon the life of man. The only dis-
tinction here made was between the freeman and the slave.
"With regard to the freeman, the punishment did not vary either
according to the perpetrator, or according to the rank of the
slain, but only according to the mora] guilt of the murderer.
With regard to slaves, not daring entirely to deprive masters
of the right of life and death, he at least endeavored to restrain
it and destroy its brutal character by subjecting it to an open
and regular procedure.
The law itself is worthy of attention, and I therefore shall
give it at length : —
" If no one who is culpable, or the accomplice in a crime, ought
to go unpunished, how much more reasonable is it that those should
be restrained who commit homicide maliciously, or from a slight
cause ! Thus, as masters in their pride often put their slaves to
death without any cause, it is proper to extirpate altogether this
license, and to decree that the present law shall be for ever binding
upon all. No master or mistress shall have power to put to death
any of their slaves, male or female, or any of their dependants,
without public judgment. If any slave, or other servant, commits
a crime which renders them subject to capital punishment, his
master or his accuser shall immediately give information to the
judge, or count, or duke, of the place in which the crime has been
perpetrated. After the matter has been tried, if the crime is prov
ed, let the criminal receive, either by the judge or by his own mas-
ter, the sentence of death which he has merited; in such manner,
however, that if the judge desires not to put the accused to death,
he must draw up against him in writing, a capital sentence, and
then it will remain with his master to kill him or grant him his
life. But when, indeed, a slave, by a fatal audacity, in resisting
his master, shall strike, or attempt to strike him with his arm, with
a stone, or by any other means; and the master, in defending him-
self, kills the slave in his anger, the master shall in nowise be lia-
ble to the punishment of homicide. But it will be necessary to
prove that the fact has so happened ; and that by the testimony or
oath of the slaves, mals or female, who witnessed it, and also by
the oath of the person himself who committed the deed. Whoso-
ever from pure malice shall kill a slave himself, or employ another
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 135
to do so, without his having been publicly tried, shall be consider*
ed infamous, shall be declared incapable of giving evidence, shall
be banisned for life, and his property be given to his nearer
heirs."— (For-. Jud. L. VI. tit. V., 1. 12.)
There is another circumstance connected with the institu-
tions of the Chm ch, which has not, in general, been so much
noticed as it deserves. I allude to its penitentiary systerr,
which is the more interesting in the present day, because, so
far as the principles and applications of moral law are con-
cerned, it is almost completely in unison with the notions of
modern philosophy. If we look closely into the nature of the
punishments inflicted by the Church at public penance, which
was its principal mode of punishing, we shall find that their
object was, above all other things, to excite repentance in the
soul of the guilty; in that of the lookers on, the moral terror
of example. But there is another idea which mixes itself up
with this — the idea of expiation. I know not, generally
speaking, whether it be possible to separate the idea of punish-
ment from that of expiation ; and whether there be not in all
punishment, independently of the desire to awaken the guilty
to repentance, and to*-deter those from vice who might be un-
der temptation, a secret and imperious desire to expiate the
wrong committed. Putting this question, however, aside, it is
sufficiently evident that repentance and example were the ob-
jects proposed by the Church in every part of its system of
penance. And is not the attainment of these very objects the
end of every truly philosophical legislation ? Is it not for the
sake of these very principles that the most enlightened law-
yers have clamored for a reform in the penal legislation of
Europe ? Open their books — those of Jeremy Bentham for
example — and you will be astonished at the numerous resem-
blances whic n. you will everywhere find between their plans
of punishment and those adopted by the Church. We may be
quite sure that they have not borrowed them from her ; and
the Church could scarcely foresee that her example would one
day be quoted in support of the system of philosophers not
very remarkable for their devotion.
Finally, she endeavored by every means in her power to
suppress the frequent recourse which at this period was had
to violence and the continual wars to which society was so
Drone. It is well known what the truce of God was, as well
136 GENERAL HISTORY OP
as a number Oi other similar measures by which the Church
hoped to prevent the employment of physical force, and to in-
troduce into the social system more order and gentleness.
The facts under this head are so well known, that I shall not
go into any detail concerning them u
Having now run over the principal points to which I wish-
ed to draw attention respecting the relations of the Church to
the people ; having now considered it under the three as-
pects, which I proposed to do, we know it within and with-
out ; in its interior constitution, and in its twofold relations
with society. It remains for us to deduce from what we have
learned by way of inference, by way of conjecture, its gene-
ral influence upon European civilization. This is almost done
to our hands. The simple recital of the facts of the predomi-
nant principles of the Church, both reveals and explains its
influence : the results have in a manner been brought before
us with the causes. If, however, we endeavor to sum them
up, we shall be led, I think, to two general conclusions.
The first is, that the Church has exercised a vast and im
portant influence upon the moral and intellectual order of Eu
rope ; upon the notions, sentiments, and manners of society.
This fact is evident ; the intellectual and moral progress of
Europe has been essentially theological. Look at its history
from the fifth to the sixteenth century, and you will find
throughout that theology has possessed and directed the hu-
man mind ; every idea is impressed with theology ; every
u The " Truce of God" was a regulation prohibiting all private
warfare or duels on the holydays, from Thursday evening to Sun-
day evening in each week, also during the season of Advent and
Lent, and on the " octaves," or eighth day, of the great festivals.
This rule was first introduced in Aquitaine in 1017; then in France
and Burgundy ; subsequently into Germany, England, and the
Netherlands. During the eleventh century it was enjoined by spe-
cial decrees of numerous councils of the Church. Whoever en-
gaged in private quarrels on the prohibited days was excommuni-
cated. The Church endeavored by this regulation to restrict and
mitigate evils which it could not entirely repress. The Truce of
God was also made binding in regard to certain places, as church-
es, convents, hospitals; also certain persons, as clergymen, and in
general all unarmed and defenceless persons.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 137
question that has been started, whether philosophical, politi-
cal, or historical, has been considered in a religious point of
view. So powerful, indeed, has been the author' ty of the
Church in matters of intellect, that even the mathematical and
physical sciences have been obliged to submit to its doctrines.
The spirit of theology has been as it were the blood which
has circulated in the veins of the European world down to the
time of Bacon md Descartes. Bacon in England, and Des-
cartes in France, were the first who carried the human mind
out of the pale of theology.
We shall rind the same fact hold if we travel through tho
regions of literature : the habits, the sentiments, the language
of theology there show themselves at every step.
This influence, taken altogether, has been salutary. It not
only kept up and ministered to the intellectual movement in
Europe, but the system of doctrines and precepts, by whose
authority it stamped its impress upon that movement, was in-
calculably superior to any which the ancient world had known.
The influence of the Church, moreover, has given to the
development of the human mind, in our modern world, an ex-
tent and variety which it never possessed elsewhere. In the
East, intelligence was altogether religious : among the Greeks,
it was almost exclusively human : there human culture — hu-
manity, properly so called, its nature and destiny-— actually
disappeared ; here it was man alone, his passions, his feel-
ings, his present interests, which occupied the field. In our
world the spirit of religion mixes itself with all but excludes
nothing. Human feelings, human interests, occupy a con-
siderable space in every branch of our literature ; yet the re-
ligious character of man, that portion of his being which con-
nects him with another world, appears at every turn in them
all. Could modern intelligence ' assume a visible shape, we
should recognise at once, in its mixed character, the finger of
man and the finger of God. Thus the two great sources of
human development, humanity and religion, have been open
at the same time and flowed in plenteous streams. Notwith-
standing all the evil, all the abuses, which may have crept
into the Church — notwithstanding all the acts of tyranny of
which she has been guilty, we must still acknowledge her in-^
fluence upon the progress and culture of the human intellect
to have been beneficial ; that she has assisted in its develop-
ment rather than its compression, in its exiensior rather than
its confinement.
138 GENERAL HISTORY OF
The case is widely different when we look at the Churen
in a political point of view. By softening the rugged man-
ners and sentiments of the people ; by raising her voice
against a great number of practical barbarisms, and doing
what she could to expel them, there is no doubt but the Church
largely contributed to the melioration of the social condition ;
but with regard to politics, properly so called, with regard to
all that concerns the relations between the governing and the
governed — between power and liberty — I cannot conceal my
opinion, that its influence has been baneful. In this respect
the Church has always shown herself as the interpreter and
defender of two systems, equally vicious, that is, of theocracy,
and of the imperial tyranny of the Roman empire — that is to
say, of despotism, both religions and civil. Examine all its
institutions, all its laws ; peruse its canons, lock at its pro-
cedure, and you will everywhere find the maxims of theocracy
or the empire to predominate. In her weakness, the Church
sheltered herself under the absolute power of the Roman
Emperors ; in her strength she laid claim to it herself, under
the name of spiritual power. We must not here confine our-
selves to a few particular facts. The Church has often, no
doub% set up and defended the rights of the people against the
bad government of their rulers ; often, indeed, has she ap-
proved and excited insurrection ; often too has she maintained
the rights and interests of the people in the presence of their
sovereigns. But when the question of political securities
came into debate between power and liberty ; when any step
was taken to establish a system of permanent institutions,
which might effectually protect liberty from the invasions of
power in general ; the Church always ranged herself on the
side of despotism.
This should not astonish us, neither should we be too ready
to attribute it to any particular failing in the clergy, or to any
particular vice in the Church. There is a more profound and
powerful cause.
What is the object of religion'? of any religion, true or
false 1 It is to govern the human passions, the human will.
All religion is a restraint, sn authority, a government. It
comes in the name of a divine law, to subdue, to mortify hu-
man nature. It is then to human liberty that it directly op-
poses itself. It is human liberty that resists it, and that it
wishes to overcome. This is the grand object of religion, its
mission, ;ts hope.
CIVILIZATICN IN MODERN EUROPE. 133
But while it is with human liberty that all religions have
to contend, while they aspire to reform the will of man. they
have no means by which' they can act upon him — they have
no moral power over him, but through his own will, his liber-
ty. When they make use of exterior means, when they re-
sort to force, to seduction — in short, make use of means op-
posed to the free consent of man, they treat him as we treat
water, wind, or any power entirely physical : they fail in their
object ; they attain not their end ; they do not reach, they
cannot govern the will. Before religions can really accom-
plibh their task, it is necessary that they should be accepted
by the free-will of man : it is necessary that man should sub-
mit, but it must be willingly and freely, and that he still pre
serves his liberty in the midst of this submission. It is in
this that resides the double problem which religions are called
upon to resolve.
They have too often mistaken their object. They have re-
garded liberty as an obstacle, and not as a means ; they have
forgotten the nature of the power to which they address them-
selves, and have conducted themselves towards the human
soul as they would towards a material force. It is this error
that has led them to range themselves on the side of power,
on the side of despotism, against human liberty ; regarding it
as an adversary, they have endeavored to subjugate rather than
to protect it. Had religions but fairly considered their means
of operation, had they not suffered themselves to be drawn
away by a natural but deceitful bias, they would have seen
that liberty is a condition, without which man cannot be moral-
ly governed ; that religion neither has nor ought to have any
means of influence not strictly moral : they would have re-
spected the will of man in their attempt to govern it. They
have too often forgotten this, and the issue has been that re-
ligious power and liberty have suffered together.
I will not push further this investigation of the general con
sequences that have followed the influence of the Church up-
on European civilization. I have summed them up in this
double result, — a great and salutary influence upon its moral
and intellectual condition ; an influence rather hurtful than
beneficial to its political condition. We have now to try our
assertions by facts, to verify by history what we have as yet
only deduced from the nature and situation of ecclesiastical
society Let us now see what was tho destiny of the Chris
]40 GENERAL HISTORY OF
tian Church from the fifth to the twelfth century, and whethe
the principles which I have laid down, the results which 1
have endeavored to draw from them, have really been such as
I have represented them.
Let me caution you, however, against supposing that thsse
principles, these results, appeared all at once, and as clearly
as they are here set forth b^me. We are apt to fall into the
great and common error, in looking at the past through cen-
turies of distance, of forgetting moral chronology ; we are
apt to forget — extraordinary forgetfulness ! that history is es-
sentially successive. Take the life of any man — of Oliver
Cromwell, of Cardinal Richelieu, of Gustavus Adolphus. He
enters upon his career ; he pushes forward in life, and rises ;
great circumstances act upon him ; he acts upon great cir-
cumstances. He arrives at the end of all things — and then
it is we know him. But it is in his whole character ; it is as
a complete, a finished piece ; such in a manner as he is turn-
ed out, after a long labor, from the workshop of Providence.
Now at his outset he was not what he thus became ; he was
not completed — not finished at any single moment of his life ;
he was formed successively. Men are formed morally in the
same way as they are physically. They change every day,
Their existence is constantly undergoing some modification
The Cromwell of 1650 was not the Cromwell of 1640. It is
true, there is always a large stock of individuality ; the same
man still holds on ; but how many ideas, how many senti-
ments, how many inclinations have changed in him ! What
a number of things he has lost and acquired ! Thus, at what-
ever moment of his life we may look at a man, he is never
such as we see him when his course is finished.
This, nevertheless, is an error into which a great "numbe?
of historians have fallen. When they have acquired a com
plete idea of a man, have settled his character, they see him
in this same character throughout his whole career. W T itla
them, it is the same Cromwell who enters parliament in 1628,
and who dies in the palace of White-Hall thirty years after-
wards. Just such mistakes as these we are very apt to fall
into with regard to institutions and general influences. I cau-
tion you against them. I have laid down in their complete
form, as a whole, the principles of the Church, and the conse-
quences which maybe deduced from them. Be assured, how-
ever, that historically this picture is not true. All it repre-
sents has taken place disjointedly, succsssively ; has been
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. H
scattered here and there over space and time. Expect not t«j
find, in the recital of events, a similar completeness or whole,
the same prompt and systematic concatenation. One principle
will be visible here, another there ; all will be mcomplete,
unequal, dispersed ; we must come to modern times, to the
end of its career, before we can view it as a whole.
I shall now lay before you the various stated through which
the Church passed from the fifth to the twelfth century,
We may hot find, perhaps, the complete demonstration of the
statements which I have made, but we shall see enough, I ap-
prehend, to convince us* that they are founded in truth.
The first state in which we see the Church in the fifth cen-
tury, is as the Church imperial — the Church of the Roman
Empire. Just at the time the Empire fell, the Church believ-
ed she had attained the summit of her hopes : after a long
struggle, she had completely vanquished paganism. Gratian,
the last emperor who assumed the pagan dignity of sove-
reign pontiff, died at the close of the fourth century. The
Church believed herself equally victorious in her struggle
against heretics, particularly against Arianism, the principal
heresy of the time. Theodosius, at the end of the fourth cen-
tury, put them down by his imperial edicts ; and had the
double merit of subduing the Arian heresy and abolishing the
worship of idols throughout the Roman world. The Church,
then, was in possession of the government, and had obtained
the victory over her two greatest enemies. It was at this
moment that the Roman Empire failed her, and she stood in
the presence of new pagans, of new heretics — in the pres-
ence of the barbarians — of Goths, of Vandals, of Burgun-
dians and Franks. 15 The fall was immense. You may easily
imagine that an affectionate attachment for the Empire was
for a long time preserved in the Romish Church. Hence we
see her cherish so fondly all that was left of it — municipal
government and absolute power. Hence, when she had sue*
15 These barbarians, it will be remembered, followed the Arian
heresy, both those who embraced Christianity before the invasion
of the Empire, and those who did so after that event. The Bur-
gundians, converted by Arian missionaries in 433, adopted the
Catholic faith about 517. The Franks, following the example of
Clovis, embraced the orthodox faith in 4^7.
142 GENERAL HISTORY OF
ceeded in converting the barbarians, she endeavored to re-es
tablish the Empire ; she called upon the barbarian kings, sh«
conjured them to become Roman emperors, to assume the
privilege of Roman emperors ; to enter into the same rela-
tions with the Church which had existed between her and the
Roman Empire. This was the great object for which the
oishops of the fifth and sixth centuries labored. Such waa
the general state of the Church.
The attempt could not succeed — it was impossible to make
a Roman Empire, to mould a Roman society out of barbarians.
Like the civil world, the Church herself sunk into barbarism.
This was her second state. Comparing the writings of the
monkish ecclesiastical chroniclers of the eighth century with
those of the preceding six, the difference is immense. All re-
mains of Roman civilization had disappeared, even its very lan-
guage — all became buried in complete barbarism. On one side
the rude barbarians, entering into the Church, became bishops
and priests ; on the other, the bishops, adopting the barbarian
life, became, without quitting their bishopricks, chiefs of bands
of marauders, and wandered over the country, pillaging and de-
stroying like so many companies of Clovis. Gregory of Tours
gives an account of several bishops who thus passed their
lives, and among others Salone and Sagittarius.
Two important facts took place while the Church continued
in this state of barbarism.
The first was the separation of the spiritual and temporal
powers. Nothing could be more natural than the birth of this
principle at this epoch. The Church would have restored
the absolute power of the Roman Empire that she might par-
take of it, but she could not ; she therefore sought her safety
in independence. It became necessary that she should be
able in all parts to defend herself by her own power ; for she
was threatened in every quarter. Every bishop, every priest,
saw the rude chiefs in their neighborhood interfering in the
affairs of the Church, that they might procure a slice of its
wealth, its territory, its power ; and no other means of defence
seemed left but to say, " The spiritual order is completely
separated from the temporal ; you have no right to interfere
with it." This principle became, at every point of attack, the
defensive armor of the Church against barbarirm.
A sec( ud important fact which took place at this same pe«
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 143
riod, was the establishment of the monastic orders in the west
It was at the commencement of the sixth century that St
Benedict published the rules of his order for the use of the
monks of the west, then few in number, but who from this
time prodigiously increased. The monks at this epoch did
not yet belong to the clerical body, but were still regarded as
a part of the laity. Priests and even bishops were sometimes
chosen from among them : but it was not till the close of the
fifth and beginning of the sixth century that monks in general
were considered as belonging to the clergy, properly so called.
Priests and bishops now entered the cloister, thinking by so
doing they advanced a step in their religious life, and inci eas-
ed the sanctity of their office. The monastic life thus all at
once became exceedingly popular throughout Europe. The
monks had a greater power over the imagination of the bar-
barians than the secular clergy. The simple bishop and priest
had in some measure lost their hold upon the minds of bar-
barians, who were accustomed to see them every day ; to
maltreat, perhaps to pillage them. It was a more important
matter to attack a monastery, a body of holy men congregated
in a holy place. Monasteries, therefore, became during this
barbarous period an asylum for the Church, as the Church was
for the laity. Pious men here took refuge, as others in the
East had done before in the Thebias, in order to escape the
worldly life and corruption of Constantinople. 16
16 St Anthony, born in the year 251, is said to have laid the foun-
dation of the monastic orders about 305, by giving rules to the
Christian recluses who had withdrawn to the deserts of Thebias in
Upper Egypt. His discipline was carried by some of his disciples
into Syria. Subsequently St. Basil (born 326) founded a convent
in Pontus. The first community of monks in Gaul was established
by St. Martin of Tours, who about 375 built the famous convent
of Marmoutiers. He had previously founded one at Milan in Italy.
The discipline of the Egyptian monks was citroduced at the be-
ginning of the fifth century into Provence, by St. Honoratius and
St. Cassian; the former of whom established a monastery at Le-
rins, the latter at Marseilles.
There were, however, no regular monastic vows or public
profession till the sixth century. They were then introduced by
St. Benedict, first in a monastery founded by him at Monte Casino
near Naples, in 529. The strict rules established by him were
adopted into all the European convents. By their vow t s the monks
were obliged to poverty, chastity, and obedience: their rules of
discipline required them to devote their time to study, and to labol
with their hands.
144 GEXERAL HISTORY OF
These, then, are the two most important facts in the history
of the Church, during the period of barbarism.. First, the
separation of the spiritual and temporal powers ; and, secondly,
the introduction and establishment of the monastic orders in
the West.
Towards the end of this period of barbarism, a fresh attempt
was made to raise up a new Roman empire — I allude to the
attempt of Charlemagne. The Church and the civil sovereign
again contracted a close alliance. The holy see was full of
docility while this lasted, and greatly increased its power
The attempt, however, again failed. The empire of Charle-
magne was broken up ; but the advantages which the see of
Rome derived from his alliance were great and pt-rmanent.
The popes henceforward were decidedly the chiefs of the
Christian world.
Upon the death of Charlemagne^ another period of unset-
tledness and confusion followed. The Chupch, together with
civil society, again felfcinto a chaos ; again with civil society
she arose, and with it entered into the frame of the feudal
system. This was the third state of the Church. The dis-
solution of the empire formed by Charlemagne, was followed
Dy nearly the same results in the Church as in civil life ; all
unity disappeared, all became local, partial, and individual.
Now began a struggle, in the situation of the clergy, such as
had scarcely ever before been seen : it was the struggle of
the feelings and interest of the possessor of the fief, with the
feelings and interest of the priest. The chiefs of the clergy
were placed in this double situation ; the spirit of the priest
and of the temporal baron struggled within them for mastery.
The ecclesiastical spirit naturally became weakened and di-
During the dark period from the sixth century to the ninth, the
monks rendered great services to the cause of religion, letters, and
civilization. By their industrious hands waste forests and barren
lands were converted into rich and productive gardens; in the con-
vents were preserved all the remains of ancient learning; there
missionaries were educated.
Reverence for these institutions, and gratitude for the benefits
they conferred, led to gifts and endowments on the part of the
pixms laity, until at length the monasteries became as notorious fox
riches, luxury, and corruption, as they were at first for simplicity,
devotion, and industry.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 145
vided by this process — it was no longer so powerful, so uni
versal. Individual interest began to prerail. A taste for in-
dependence, the habits of the feudal life, loosened the ties of
the hierarchy. In this state of things, the Church made an
attempt within its own bosom to correct the effects of this
general break-up. It endeavored in several parts of its em-
pire, by means of federation, by common assemblies and de-
liberations, to organize national Churches. It is during this
period, during the sway of the feudal system, that we meet
with the greatest number of councils, convocations, and eccle-
siastical assemblies, as well provincial as national. In France
especially, this endeavor at unity appeared to be followed up
with much spirit. Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, may be
considered as the representative of this idea. He labored in-
cessantly to organize the French Church ; he sought out and
employed every means of correspondence and union which
he thought likely to introduce into the Feudal Church a little
more unity. We find him on one side maintaing the indepen-
dence of the Church with respect to temporal power, on the
other its independence with respect to the Roman see ; it was
he who, learning that the pope wished to come to France, and
threatened to excommunicate the bishops, said, Si excommu-
nicaturus venerit, excommunicato abibit.
But the attempt thus to organize a feudal Church succeed-
ed no better than the attempt to re-establish the imperial one.
There were no means of re-producing any degree of unity
among its members ; it tended more and more towards disso-
lution. Each bishop, each prelate, each abbot, isolated him-
self more and more in his diocess or monastery. Abuses and
disorders increased from the same cause. At no time was the
crime of simony carried to a greater extent — at no time were
ecclesiastical benefices disposed of in a more arbitrary man-
ner — never were the morals of the clergy more loose and dis-
orderly.
Both the people and the better portion of the clergy were
greatly scandalized at this sad state of things ; and a desire
for reform in the Church soon began to show itself — a desire
to find some authority round which it might rally its better
principles, and which might impose some wholesome restraints
on the others. Several bishops — Claude of Turin, Agobard
of Lyons, &c. — in their respective diocesses attempted this,
but in vain ; they were not in a condition to accomplish so
7
146 GENERAL HISTORY OF
vast a work. In the whole Church there was on y one powel
that could succeed in this, and that was the Roman See ; nor
was that power slow in assuming the position which it wished
to attain. In the course of the eleventh century, the Church
entered upon its fourth state — that of a theocracy supported
by monastic institutions.
The person who raised the Holy See to this power, so far
as it can be considered the work of an individual, was Gre-
gory VII. 17
It has been the custom to represent this great pontiff as an
enemy to all improvement, as opposed to intellectual develop-
ment, to the progress of society ; as a man whose desire was
to keep the world stationary or retrograding. Nothing is
farther from the truth. Gregory, like Charlemagne and Peter
the Great, was a reformer of the despotic school. The part
he played in the Church was very similar to that which Char-
lemagne and Peter the Great, the one in France and the other
in Russia, played among the laity. He wished to reform the
Church first, and next civil society by the Church. He wished
to introduce into the world more morality, more justice, more
order and regularity ; he wished to do all this through the
Holy See, and to turn all to his own profit.
While Gregory was endeavoring to bring the civil worlc
into subjection to the Church, and the Church to the See of
Rome — not, as I have said before, to keep it stationary, 01
make it retrograde, but with a view to its reform and improve-
ment — an attempt of the same nature, a similar movementj
was made within the solitary enclosures of the monasteries.
The want of order, of discipline, and of a stricter morality,
17 Gregory VII. (Hildebrand) succeeded Alexander II. in the
Papal chair 1073. He virtually governed the Church during the
time of his predecessor, and was indeed the real author of the de-
cree of Nicholas II., 1059, by which the power of nominating and
confirming the pope was taken from the German emperors and vest-
ed in the cardinals. His whole life was devoted to aggrandizing the
power of the Holy See. His talents were great, and his energy
indomitable. He died 10S5. For the rise and progress of the Pa-
pal power, see Hallam's Middle Ages, Chap. VH., and Ranke's His-
tory of the Popes.
The Papal power was at its height from the time of Innocent
III., 1194, to that of Boniface VIIL, 1294, after which it sensibly
declined.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 147
was severely felt and cried out for with a zeal that would not
be said nay. About this time Robert De Moleme established
his severe rule at Citeaux ; about the same time flourished St
Norbert, and the reform of the canons, the reform of Cluny
and, at last, the groat reform of St. Bernard. A general fer
mentation reigned within the monasteries : the old monks did
not like this ; in defending themselves, they called these re-
forms an attack upon their liberty ; pleaded the necessity of
conforming to the manners of the times, that it was impossible
to return to the discipline of the primitive Church, and treat-
ed all these reformers as madmen, as enthusiasts, as tyrants.
Dip into the history of Normandy, by Ordericu? Vitalius, and
you will meet with these complaints at almost every page.
All this seemed greatly in favor of the Church, of its unity,
and of its power. While, however, the popes of Rome sought
to usurp the government of the world, while the monasteries
enforced a better code of morals and a severer form of dis-
cipline, a few mighty, though solitary individuals protested in
favor of human reason, and asserted its claim to be heard, its
right to be consulted, in the formation of man's opinions. The
greater part of these philosophers forbore to. attack common-
ly received opinions — I mean religious creeds ; all they claim-
ed for reason was the right to be heard — all they declared
was, that she had" the right to try these truths by her own tests,
and that it was not enough that they should be merely affirm-
ed by authority. John Erigena, or John Scotus, as he is
more frequently called, Roscelm, Abelard, and others, became
the noble interpreters of individual reason, when it now be-
gan to claim its lawful inheritance. It was the teaching and
writings of these giants of their days that first put in motion
that desire for intellectual liberty, which kept pace with the
reform of Gregory VII., and St. Bernard. If we examine the
general character of this movement of mind, we shall find
that it sought not a change of opinion, that it did not array
itself against the received system of faith ; but that it simply
advocated the right of reason to work for itself — in short, the
right of free inquiry.
The scholars of Abelard, as he himself tell us, in his In-
troduction to Theology, requested him to give them " some
philosophical arguments, such as were fit to satisfy their
minds ; begged that he would instruct them, not merely to re-
peat what he taught them, but to understand it ; for no one can
148 GENERAL HISTORY OF
believe that which he does not comprehend, and it is absurd to
set out to preach to others concerning things which neither
those who teach nor those who learn can understand. What
other end can the study of philosophy have, if not to lead us
to a knowledge of God, to which all studies should be subor
dinate ? For what purpose is the reading of profane authors
and of books which treat of worldly affairs, permitted to be-
lievers, if not to enable them to understand the truths of the
Holy Scriptures, and to give them the abilities necessary to
defend them ? It is above all things desirable for this pur-
pose, that we should strengthen one another with all the pow-
ers of reason ; so that in questions so difficult and complica-
ted as those which form the object of Christian faith, you may
be able to hinder the subtilties of its enemies from too easily
corrupting its purity."
The importance of this first attempt after liberty, or this re
birth of the spirit of free inquiry, was not long in making it-
self felt. Though busied with its own reform, the Church
soon took the alarm, and at once declared war against these
new reformers, whose methods gave it more reason to fear
than their doctrines. This clamor of human reason was the
grand circumstance which burst forth at the close of the
eleventh and beginning of the twelfth centuries, just at the
time when the Church was establishing its theocratic and mo-
nastic form. At this epoch, a serious struggle for the first
time broke out between the clergy and the advocates of free
inquiry. The quarrels of Abelard and St. Bernard, the coun-
cils of Soissons and Sens, at which Abelard was condemned,
were nothing more than the expression of this fact, which
holds so important a place in the history of modern civiliza-
tion. It was the principal occurrence which affected the
Church in the twelfth century ; the point at which we will,
for the present, take leave of it.
But at this same instant another power was put in motion,
which, though altogether of a different character, was per-
haps one of the most interesting and important in the pro-
gress of society during the middle ages — I mean the institu-
tion of free cities and boroughs ; or what is called the enfran-
chisement of the commons. How strange is the inconsisten-
cy of grossness and ignorance ! If it had been told to these
early citizens who vindicated their liberties with such enthu-
siasm, that there were certain men who cried out for the
rights of human reason, the right of free inquiry, men who:»
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 149
the Church regarded as heretics, they would have stoned oi
burned them on the spot. Abelard and his friends more than
once ran the risk of suffering this kind of martyrdom. On the
other hand, these same philosophers, who were so bold in
their demands for the privileges of reason, spoke of the en-
franchisement of the commons as ,an abominable revolution,
calculated to destroy civil society. Between the movement
of philosophy and the movement of the commons — between
political liberty and the liberty of the human mind — a war
seemed to be declared ; and it has required ages to reconcile
these two powers, and to make them understand that their
interests are the same. Jn the twelfth century they had no-
thing in common, as we shall more fully see in the next lec-
ture, which will be devoted to the formation of free cities and
municipal corporations
LECTURE VII
RISE OF FREE CITIES.
Wb have already, in our previous lecturss, brought down
tne history of the two first great elements of modern civili-
zation, the feudal system and the Church, to the twelfth cen-
tury. The third of these fundamental elements — that of the
commons, or free corporate cities — will form une subject of
the present, and I propose to limit it to ;he sLine period as
that occupied by the other two.
It is necessary, however, that I should notice, on entering
upon this subject, a difference which exists between corporate
cities and the feudal system and the Church. The two latter,
although they increased in influence, and were subject to
many changes, yet show themselves as completed, as having
put on a definite form, between the fifth and the twelfth cen-
turies — we see their rise, growth, and maturity. Not so
the free cities. It is not till towards the close of this period
— till the eleventh and twelfth centuries — that corporate cities
make any figure in history. Not that I mean to assert that
their previous history does not merit attention ; not that there
are not evident traces of their existence before this period ;
all I would observe is, that they did not, previously to the
eleventh century, perform any important part in the great dra-
ma of the world, as connected with modern civilization
Again, with regard to the feudal system and the Church ; we
have seen them, between the fifth century and the twelfth,
act with power upon the social system ; we have seen the
effects they produced ; by regarding them as two great prin-
ciples, we have arrived, by way of induction, by way of con-
jecture, at certain results which we have verified by referring
to facts themselves. This, however, we cannot do with re-
gard to corporations. We only see these in their childhood.
I can scarcely go further to-day than inquire into their causes,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 151
heir origin ; and the few observations I shall make respecting
heir effects — respecting the influence of corporate cities upon
modern civilization, will be rather a foretelling of what after-
wards came to pass, than a recounting of what actually took
place. I cannot, at this period, call in the testimony of known
and contemporary events, because it was not till between the
twelfth and fifteenth centuries that corporations attained any
degree of perfection and influence, that these institutions bore
any fruit, and that we can verify our assertions by history. I
mention this difference of situation, in order to forewarn you
of that which you may find incomplete and premature in the
sketch I am about to give you.
Let us suppose that in the year 1789, at the commencement
of the terrible regeneration of France, a burgess of the twelfth
century had risen from his grave, and made his appearance
among us, and some one had put into his hands (for we will
suppose he could read) one of those spirit-stirring pamphlets
which caused so much excitement, for instance, that of M.
Sieyes, What is the third estate ? (" Qu'est-ce que le tiers
etat?") If, in looking at this, he had met the following pas-
sage, which forms the basis of the pamphlet : — " The third
estate is the French nation without the nobility and clergy :"
what, let me ask, would be the impression such a sentence
would make on this burgess's mind ? Is it probable that he
would understand it ? No : he would not be able to compre-
hend the meaning of the words, " the French nation," because
they remind him of nc facts or ciicumstances with which he
would be acquainted, but represent a state of things to the
existence of which he is an entire stranger ; but if he did un-
derstand the phrase, and had a clear apprehension that the
absolute sovereignty was lodged in the third estate, it is be-
yond a question that he would characterize such a proposition
as almost absurd and impious, so utterly at variance would it
be with his feelings and his ideas of things — so contradic-
tory to the experience and observation of his whole life.
If we now suppose the astonished burgess to be introduced
into any one of the free cities of France which had existed
in his time — say Rheims-, or Beauvais, or Laon, or Noyon
— we shall see him still more antonished and puzzled : he en-
ters the town, he sees no towers, ramparts, militia, or any
other kind of defence ; everything exposed, everything an easy
spoil to the first depredator, the town ready to fall into the
Hands of the first assailant. The burgess is alarmed at the
152 GENERAL HISTORY OF
insecurity of this free city, which he finds in so defenceless
and unprotected a condition. He then proceeds into the heart
of the town ; he inquires how things are going on, what is
the nature of its government, and the character of its inhabi-
tants. He learns that there is an authority not resident within
its walls, which imposes whatever taxes it pleases to levy upcn
them without their consent ; which requires them to keep up
a militia, and to serve in the army without their inclination
being consulted. They talk to him about the magistrates,
about the mayor and aldermen, and he is obliged to hear that
the burgesses have nothing to do with their nomination. He
learns that the municipal government is not conducted by the
burgesses, but that a servant of the king, a steward living at
a distance, has the sole management of their affairs. In ad-
dition to this, he is informed that they are prohibited from as-
sembling together to take into consideration matters imme-
diatelv concerning themselves, that the church bells have
ceased to announce public meetings for such purposes. The
burgess of the twelfth century is struck dumb with confusion
— a moment since he was amazed at the greatness, the im-
portance, the vast superiority which the " tiers etat" so vaunt-
ingly arrogated to itself; but now, upon examination, he finds
them deprived of all civic rights, and in a state of thraldom
and degradation far more intolerable than he had ever before
witnessed. He passes suddenly from one extreme to the
other, from the spectacle of a corporation exercising sovereign
power to a corporation without any power at all : how is it
possible that he should understand this, or be able to recon-
cile it ? his head must be turned, and his faculties lost in won-
der and confusion.
Now, let us burgesses of the nineteenth century imagine,
in our turn, that we are transported back into the twelfth. A
twofold appearance, but exactly reversed, presents itself to us
in a precisely similar manner. If we regard the affairs of
the public in general — the state, the government, the country,
the nation at large, we shall neither see nor hear anything of
burgesses ; they were mere ciphers — of no importance or
consideration whatever. Not only so, but if we would know
in what estimation they held themselves as a body, what
weight, what influence they attached to themselves with re-
spect to their relations towards the government of France as a
nation, we shall receive a reply to our inquiry in language ex-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 153
pressive of deep humility and timidity ; while we shall find
their masters, the lords, from whom they subsequently wrested
their franchises, treating them, at least as far as words go
with a pride and scorn truly amazing ; yet these indignities
do not appear, in the slightest degree, to provoke or astonish
their submissive vassals.
But let us enter one of these free cities, and see what is
going on within it. Here things take quite another turn : we
find ourselves in a fortified town, defended by armed burgess-
es. These burgesses fix their own taxes, elect their own
magistrates, have their own courts of judicature,, their own
public assemblies for deliberating upon public measures, fron
which none are excluded. They make war at their own ex
pense, even against their suzerain — maintain their own militia.
In short, they govern themselves, they are sovereigns.
Here we have a similar contrast to that which made Fra?ice,
of the eighteenth century, so perplexing to the burgess of the
twelfth ; the scenes only are changed. In the present day
the burgesses, in a national point of view, are everything —
municipalities nothing ; formerly corporations were every-
thing, while the burgesses, as respects the nation, were no-
thing. From this it will appear evident that many things,
many extraordinary events, and even many revolutions, must
have happened between the twelfth and the fifteenth centu-
ries, in order to bring about so great a change as that which
has taken place in the social condition of this class of so-
ciety. But however vast this change, there can be no doubt
but that the commons, the third estate of 1789, politically
speaking, are the descendants, the heirs of the free towns of
the twelfth century. And the present haughty, ambitious
French nation, which aspires so high, which proclaims so
pompously its sovereignty, and pretends not only to have re-
generated and to govern itself, but to regenerate and rule the
whole world, is indisputably descended from those very free
towns which revolted in the twelfth century — with great spirit
and courage it must be allowed, but with no nobler object
than that of escaping to some remote corner of the land from
the vexatious tyranny of a few nobles.
It would be in vain to expect that the condition of the free
towns in the twelfth century will reveal the causes of a meta-
morphosis such as this, which resulted from a series of events
154 GENERAL HISTORY C/
that took place between the twelfth and eighteenth centuries
It is in these events that we shall discover the causes of this
change as we go on. Nevertheless, the origin of the " tiers
etat" has played a striking part in its history ; and though we
may not be able therein to trace out the whole secret of its
destiny, we shall, at least, there meet wdth the seeds of it ;
that which it was at first, again occurs in that which it is be-
come, and this to a much greater extent than might be pre-
sumed from appearances. A sketch, however imperfect, of the
state of the free cities in the twelfth century, will, I think,
convince you of this fact.
In order to understand the condition of the free cities at
that time properly, it is necessary to consider them in two
points of view. There are two great questions to be deter-
mined : first, that of the enfranchisement of the commons, or
cities — that is to say, how this revolution was brought about,
what were its causes, what alteration it effected in the con-
dition of the burgesses, what in that of society in general, and
in that of all the other orders of the state. The s econ d ques-
tion relates to the government of the free cities, the internal
condition of the enfranchised towns, with reference to the
burgesses residing within them, the principles, forms, and
customs that prevailed among them.
From these two sources — namely, the change introduced
into the social position of the burgesses, on the one hand, and
from the internal government, by their municipal economy, on
the other, has flowed all their influence upon modern civiliza-
tion. All the circumstances that can be traced to their in-
fluence, may be referred to one of those two causes. As
soon, then, as we thoroughly understand, and can satisfac-
torily account for, the enfranchisement of the free cities on
the one hand, and the formation of their government on the
other, we shall be in possession of the two keys to their his-
tory. In conclusion, I shall say a few words on the great di-
versity of conditions in the free cities of Europe. The facfs
which I am about to lay before you are not to be applied in-
discriminately to all the free cities of the twelfth century — to
those of Italy, Spain, England, and France alike ; many of
them undoubtedly were nearly the same in them all, but the
fioints of difference are great and important. I shall point
them out to j T our notice as I proceed. We shall meet w r ith
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 155
ihem again at a more advanced stage of our civilization, and
can then examine them more closely.
In acquainting ourselves with the history of the enfran-
chisement of the free towns, we must remember what was the
state of those towns between the fifth and eleventh centuries
— from the fall of the Roman empire to the time when muni-
cipal revolution commenced. Here, I repeat, the differences
are sinking: the condition of the towns varied amazingly in
the different countries of Europe ; still there are some facts
which may be regarded as nearly common to them all, and it
is to these that I shall confine my observations. When I
have, gone through these, I shall say a few words more par-
ticularly respecting the free towns of France, and especially
those of the north, beyond the Rhone and the Loire ; these
will form prominent figures in the sketch I am about to make.
After the fall of the Roman empire, between the fifth and
tenth centuries, the towns were neither in a state of servitude
nor freedom. We here again run the same risk of error in
the employment of words, that 1 spoke to you of in a pre-
vious lecture in describing the character of men and events.
When a society has lasted a considerable time, and its lan-
guage also, its words acquire a complete, a determinate, a pre-
cise, a sort of legal official signification. Time has introduced
into the signification of every term a thousand ideas, which
are awakened within us every time we hear it pronounced,
but which, as they do not all bear the same date, are not all
suitable at the same time. The terms " servitude and freedom,"
for example, recall to our minds ideas far more precise and
definite than the facts of the eighth, ninth, or tenth centuries
to which they relate. If we say that the towns in the eighth
century were in a state of freedom, we say by far too much :
we attach now to the word "freedom" a signification which
does not represent the fact of the eighth century. We shall
fall into the same error, if we say that the towns were in a
state of servitude ; for this term implies a state of things very
different from the circumstances of the municipal towns of
those days. I say again, then, that the towns were neither
in a state of freedom nor servitude : they suffered all the evils
to which weakness is liable : they were a prey to the con-
tinual depredations, rapacity, and violence of the strong : yet,
notwithstanding these horrid disorders, their impoverished and
156 GENERAL HISTORV OF
diminishing population, the towns had, and still maintained, A
certain degree of importance : in most of them there was a
clergyman, a bishop who exercised great authority, who pos-
sessed great influence over the people, served as a tie be-
tween them and their conquerors, thus maintaining the city in
a sort of independence, by throwing over it the protecting
shield of religion. Besides this, there were still left in the
towns some valuable fragments of Roman institutions. We
are indebted to the careful researches of MM. de Savigny,
Hullmann, Mdle. de Lezardieie, &c, for having furnished us
with many circumstances of this nature. We hear often, at
this period, of the convocation of the senate, of the curiae, of
public assemblies, of municipal magistrates. Matters of po«
lice, wills, donations, and a multitude of civil transactions,
were concluded in the curia by the magistrates, in the same
way that they had previously been done under the Roman
municipal government.
These remains of urban activity and freedom were gradual-
ly disappearing, it is true, from day to day. Barbarism and
disorder, evils always increasing, accelerated depopulation.
The establishment of the lords of the country in the provin-
ce3, and the rising preponderance of agricultural life, became
another cause of the decline of the cities. The bishops
themselves, after they had incorporated themselves into the
feudal frame, attached much less importance to their munici-
pal life. Finally, upon the triumph of the feudal system, the
towns, without falling into the slavery of the agriculturists,
were entirely subjected to the control of a lord, were includ-
ed in some fief, and lost, by this title, somewhat of the inde-
pendence which still remained to them, and which, indeed,
they had continued to possess, even in the most barbarous
times — even in the first centuries of invasion. So that from
th.3 fifth century up to the time of the complete organization
of the feudal system, the state of the towns was continually
getting worse.
When once, however, the feudal system was fairly estab
lished, when every man had taken his place, and became
fixed as it were to the soil, when the wandering life had en-
tirely ceased, the towns again assumed some importance — a
new activity began to display itself within them. This is not
surprising. Human activity, as we all know, is like the fer-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 157
tility of the soil, — when the disturbing process is over, it re*
appears and makes all to grow and blossom ; wherever there
appears the least glimmering of peace and order the hopes of
man are excited, and with his hopes his industry. This ia
what took place in the cities. No sooner was society a little
settled under the feudal system, than the proprietors of fiefs
began to feel new wants, and to acquire a certain degree of
taste for improvement and melioration ; this gave rise to some
little commerce and industry in the towns of their domains ;
wealth and population increased within them, — slowly for cer-
tain, but still they increased. Among other circumstances
which aided in bringing this about, there is one which, in my
opinion, has not been sufficiently noticed, — I mean the asy-
lum, the protection which the churches afforded to fugitives.
Before the free towns were constituted, before they were in a
condition by their power, their fortifications, to offer an asylum
to the desolate population of the country, when there was no
place of safety for them but the church, this circumstance
alone was sufficient to draw into the cities many unfortunate
persons and fugitives. These sought refuge either in the
church itself or within its precincts ; it was not merely the
lower orders, such as serfs, villains, and so on, that sought
this protection, but frequently men of considerable rank and
wealth, who might chance to be proscribed. The chronicles
of the times are full of examples of this kind. We find men
lately powerful^ upon being attacked by some more powerful
neighbor, or by the king himself, abandoning their dwellings,
and carrying away all the property they could rake together,
entering into some city, and placing themselves under the pro-
tection of a church : they became citizens. Refugees of this
sort had, in my opinion, a considerable influence upon the pro-
gress of the cities ; they introduced into them, besides their
wealth, elements of a population superior to the great mass
of their inhabitants. We know, moreover, that when once an
assemblage somewhat considerable is formed in any place,
viiat other persons naturally flock to it ; perhaps from finding
it a place of greater security, or perhaps from that sociable
disposition of our nature which never abandons us. 18
18 Upon the establishment of the feudal system, " every town,
except within the royal domains, was suDject to some lord. In
episcopal cities, the bishop possessed a considerable authority,*
and in many there was a class of resident nobility. It is probablfc
IJ>8 GENERAL HISTORY OF
By the concurrence of all these causes, the cities regained
a small portion of power as soon as the feudal system be-
came somewhat settled. But the security of the citizens was
not restored to an equal extent. The roving, wandering life
had, it is true, in a great measure ceased, but to the conquer-
ors, to the new proprietors of the soil, this roving life was one
great means of gratifying their passions. When they desired
to pillage, they made an excursion, they went afar to seek a
better fortune, another domain. When they became more
seuled, when they considered it necessary to renounce their
predatory exneditions, the same passions, the same gross de-
sires, still remained in full force. But the weight of these
now fell upon those whom they found ready at hand, upon the
powerful of the world, upon the cities. Instead of going afai
to pillage, they pillaged what was near. The exactions of
» the proprietors of fiefs upon the burgesses were redoubled at
the end of the tenth century. Whenever the lord of the do-
main, by which a city was girt, felt a desire to increase his
wealth, he gratified his avarice at the expense of the citizens.
It was more particularly at this period that the citizens com-
plained of the total want of commercial security. Merchants,
on returning from their trading rounds, could not, with safety,
return to their city. Every avenue was taken possession of
by the lord of the domain and his vassals. The moment in
which industry commenced its career, was precisely that in
which security was most wanting. Nothing is more galling
to an active spirit, than to be deprived of the long-anticipated
pleasure of enjoying the fruits of his industry. When robbed
of this, he is far more irritated and vexed than when made to
suffer in a state of being fixed and monotonous, than when
that which is torn from him is not the fruit of his own ac-
tivity, has not excited in him all the joys of hope. There is
in the progressive movement, which elevates a man of a popu-
lation towards a new fortune, a spirit of resistance against
that the proportion of freemen was always greater than in the
country ; some sort of retail trade, and even of manufacture, must
have existed in the rudest of the middle ages, and consequently
some little capital was required for their exercise. Nor was it so
easy to oppress a collected body, as the scattered and dispirited
cultivators of the soil.* Probably, therefore, the condition of the
towns was at all times by far the more tolerable servitude" — Hal-
lam, Middle Ages, Chap. ii. pt. 2.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 159
iniquity and violence much more energetic than in any other
situation.
Such, then, was the state of cities during the course of the
tenth century. They possessed more strength, more import-
ance, more wealth, more- interests to defend. At the same
time, it became more necessary than ever to defend them, for
these interests, their wealth and their strength, became ob-
jects of desire to the nobles. With the means of resistance,
the danger and difficulty increased also. Besides, the feudal
•system gave to all connected with it a perpetual example of
resistance ; the idea of an organized energetic government,
capable of keeping society in order and regularity by its inter-
vention, had never presented itself to the spirits of that period.
On the contrary, there was a perpetual recurrence of indivi-
dual will, refusing to submit to authority. Such was the con-
duct of the major part of the holders of fiefs towards their
suzerains, of the small proprietors of land to the greater ; so
that at the very time when the cities were oppressed and tor-
mented, at the moment when they had new and greater inter-
ests to sustain, they had before their eyes a continual lesson
of insurrection. The feudal system rendered this service to
mankind — it has constantly exhibited individual will, display-
ing itself in all its power and energy. The lesson prospered ;
in spite of their weakness, in spite of the prodigious inequality
which existed between them and the great proprietors, their
lords, the cities everywhere broke out into rebellion against *
them.
It is difficult to fix a precise date to this great event — this
general insurrection of the cities. The commencement of
their enfranchisement is usually placed at the beginning of
the eleventh century. But in all great events, how many un»
known and disastrous efforts must have been made, before the
successful one ! Providence, upon all occasions, in order to
accomplish its designs, is prodigal of courage, virtues, sacri-
fices — finally, of man ; and it is only after a vast number of
unknown attempts apparently lost, after a host of noble hearts
have fallen into despair — convinced that their cause was lost
— that it triumphs. Such, no doubt, was the case in the
struggle of the free cities. Doubtless in the eighth, ninth,
and tenth centuries there were many attempts at resistance,
many efforts made for freedom: — many attempts to escape
I
j 60 GENERAL HISTORY OP
from bondage, which not only were unsuccessful, but the r&*
membrance of which, from their ill success, has remained
without glory. Still we may rest assured that these attempts
had a vast influence upon succeeding events : they kept alive
and maintained the spirit of liberty — they prepared the great
insurrection of the eleventh century.
I say insurrection, and I say it advisedly. The enfranchise-
ment of the towns or communities in the eleventh century
was the fruit of a real insurrection, of a real war — a war de-
clared by the population of the cities against their lords. The
fir^t fact which we always meet with in annals of this nature,
is 'the rising of the burgesses, who seize whatever arms they
can lay their hands on ; — it is the expulsion of the people of
the lord, who come for the purpose of levying contributions,
some extortion ; it is an enterprise against the neighboring
castle ; — such is always the character of the war. If the in-
surrection fails, what does the conqueror instantly do f He
orders the destruction of the fortifications erected by the
citizens, not only around their city, but also around each dwell
ing. We see that at the very moment of confederation, aftei
having promised to act in common, after having taken, in com
mon, the corporation oath, the first act of each citizen was to
put his own house in a state of resistance. Some towns, the
names of which are now almost forgotten, the little commu-
nity of Vezelai, in Nevers, for example — sustained against
their lord a long and obstinate struggle. At length victory de-
clared for the Abbot of "Vezelai ; upon the spot he ordered
the demolition of the fortifications of the houses of the citi-
zens ; and the names of many of the heroes, whose fortified
houses were then destroyed, are still preserved.
Let us enter the interior of these habitations of our ances-
tors ; let us examine the form of their construction, and the
mode of life which this reveals : all is devoted to war, every
thing is impressed with its character.
The construction of the house of a citizen of the twelfth
century, so far, at least, as we can now obtain an idea of it,
was something of this krnd : it consisted usually of three
stories, one room in each that on the ground floor served as
a general eating room for the family ; the first story was much
elevated for the sake of security, and this is the most remark-
able circumstance in the construction. The room in this
story was the. habitation of the master of the house and his
wife. The house wjas, in general, flanked with an angulai
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 161
lower, usually square : another symptom of war ; another
means of defence. The second story consisted again of a
single room ; its use is not known, but it probably served for
the children and domestics. " Above this in most houses, was
a small platform, evidently intended as an observatory or
watch-tower. Every feature of the building bore the appear-
ance of war. This was the decided characteristic, the true
name of tne movement, which wrought out the freedom of the
cities.
After a war has continued a certain time, whatever may be
the belligerent parties, it naturally leads to a peace. The
treaties of peace between the cities and their adversaries
were so many charters. These charters of the cities were
so many positive treaties of peace between the burgesses and
their lords.
The insurrection was general. When I say general, I do
not mean that there was any concerted plan, that there was
any coalition between all the burgesses of a country ; nothing
like it took place. But the situation of all the towns being
nearly the same, they all were liable to the same danger ; a
prey to the same disasters. Having acquired similar means
of resistance and defence, they made use of those means at
nearly the same time. It may be possible, also, that the force
of example did something ; that the success of one or two
communities was contagious. Sometimes the charters appear
to have been drawn up from the same model ; for instance,
that of Noyon served as a pattern for those of Beauvais, St.
Quentin, and others ; I doubt, however, whether example had
so great an influence as is generally conjectured. Communi-
cation between different provinces was difficult and of rare
occurrence ; the intelligence conveyed and received by hear-
say and general report was vague and uncertain ; and there is
much reason for believing that the insurrection was rathei
the result of a similarity of situation and of a general sport
taneous movement. When I say general, I wish to be under
stood simply as saying that insurrections took place every-
where ; they did not, I repeat, spring from any unanimous
concerted movement : all was particular, local ; each commu
nity rebelled on it* own account, against its own lord, uncon-
nected with any Uner place.
The vicissitudes of the struggle were great. Not only did
162 GENERAL HISTORY OT
success change from one side to the other, but even aftel
peace was in appearance concluded, after the charter had been
solemnly sworn to by both parties, they violated and eluded
its articles in all sorts of ways. Kings acted a prominent
part in the alternations of these struggles. I shall speak of
these more in detail when I come to royalty itself. Too
much has probably been said of the effects of royal influence
upon the struggles of the people for freedom. These effects
have been o*ten contested, sometimes exaggerated, and in my
opinion, sometimes greatly underrated. I shall here confine
myself to the assertion that royalty was often called upon to
interfere in these contests, sometimes by the cities, sometimes
by their lords ; and that it played very different parts ; acting
now upon one principle, and soon after upon another ; that it
was ever changing its intentions, its designs, and its conduct ;
but that, taking it altogether, it did much, and produced a great-
er portion of good than of evil.
In spite of all these vicissitudes, notwithstanding the per-
petual violation of charters in the twelfth century — the free-
dom of the cities was consummated. Europe, and particular-
ly France, which, during a whole century, had abounded in
insurrections, now abounded in charters ; cities rejoiced in
them with more or less security, but still they rejoiced ; the
event succeeded, and the right was acknowledged.
Let us now endeavor to ascertain the more immediate re-
sults of this great fact, and what changes it produced in the
situation of the burgesses as regarded society.
And, at first, as regards the relations of the burgesses with
the general government of the country, or with what we now
call the state, it effected nothing ; they took no part in this
more than before ; all remained local, enclosed within the
limits of the fief.
One circumstance, however, renders this assertion not
strictly true : a connexion now began to be formed between
•he cities and the king. At one time the people called upon
the king for support and protection, or solicited him to gua-
ranty the charter which had been promised or sworn to. At
another the barons invoked the judicial interference of the
king between them and the burgesses. At the request of one
or other of the two parties, from a multitude of various causes,
<^
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 163
royalty was called upon to interfere in the quarrel, whence re-
sulted a frequent and close connexion between the citizens
and the king. In consequence of this connexion the cities
became a part of the state, they began to have relations with
the general government. tA--
Although all still remained local, yet a new general clasa
of society became formed by the enfranchisement of the com-
mons. No coalition of the burgesses of different cities had
'aken place ; as yet they had as a class no public or general
existence. But the country was covered with men engaged
in similar pursuits, possessing the same views and interests,
the same manners and customs ; between whom there could
cot fail to be gradually formed a certain tie, from which origi-
nated the general class of burgesses. This formation of a
great social class was the necessary result of the local enfran-
chisenroit of the burgesses. It must not, however, be suppos-
ed that the class of which we are speaking was then what it
lias since become. Not only is its situation greatly changed,
but its elements are totally* different. In the twelfth century,
this class was almost entirely composed of merchants or small
traders, and little landed or house proprietors who had taken
up their residence in the city. Three centuries afterwards
there were added to this class lawyers, physicians, men of let-
ters, and the local magistrates. The class of burgesses was
formed gradually and of very different elements : history
gives us no accurate account of its progress, nor of its diver-
sity. When the body of citizens is spcken of, it is erroneous-
ly conjectured to have been, at all times, composed of the
same elements. Absurd supposition ! It is, perhaps, in the
diversity of its composition at different periods of history that
we should seek to discover the secret of its destiny ; so long
as it was destitute of magistrates and of men of letters, so
long it remained totally unlike what it became in the sixteenth
century ; as regards the state, it neither possessed the same
character nor the same importance. In order to form a just
idea of the changes in the rank and influence of this portion
of society, we must take a view of the new professions, the
new moral situations, of the new intellectual state which gra-
dually arose within it. In the twelfth century, I must repeat,
the body of citizens consisted only of small merchants or
traders, who, after having finished their purchases and sales,
ietired to their houses in the city or town j and of little pro-
764 GENERAL HISTORY OF
prietors of houses or lands who had Aiere taken up their resi-
dence. Such was the European class of citizens, :u its pri
mary elements.
The third great result of the enfranchisement of the cities
was the struggle of classes ; a struggle which constitutes the
very fact of modern history, and of which it is full.
Modern Europe, indeed, is born of this struggle between
the different classes of society. I have already shown that in
other places this struggle has been productive of very differ-
ent consequences ; in Asia, for example, one particular class
has completely triumphed, and the system of castes has suc-
ceeded to that of classes, and society has there fallen into a
state of immobility. Nothing of this kind, thank God ! has
taken place in Europe. One of the classes has not conquer-
ed, has not brought the others into subjection ; no c^ss has
been able to overcome, to subjugate the others ; the struggle,
instead of rendering society stationary, has been a principal
cause of its progress ; the relations of the different classes
with one another ; the necessity of combating and of yielding
by turns ; the variety of interests, passions, and excitements ;
the desire to conquer without the power to do so : from all
this has probably sprung the most energetic, the jnost produc-
tive principle of development in European civilization. This
struggle of the classes has been constant ; enmity has grown
up between them ; the infinite diversity of situation, of inter-
ests, and of manners, has produced a strong moral hostility ;
yet they have progressively approached, assimilated, and un-
derstood each other ; every country of Europe has seen arise
and develop itself within it a certain public mind, a certain
community of interests, of ideas, of sentiments, which have
triumphed over this diversity and war. In France, for example,
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the moral and so-
cial separation of classes was still very profound, yet there
can be no doubt but that their fusion, even then, was far ad-
vanced ; that even then there was a real French nation, not
consisting of any class exclusively, but of a commixture of the
whole ; all animated with the same feeling, actuated by one
common social principle, firmly knit together by the bond of
nationality.
Thus, from the bosom of variety, enmity, and discord, has
issued that national unity, now become so conspicuous in
modern Europe ; that nationality whose tendency is to de-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 1(55
relop and purify itself more and more, ajifl fcpy day to in-
crease its splendor.
..,„,,
Such are the great, the important, the conspicuous social
efYects of the revolution which now occupies our attention.
Let us now endeavor to show what were its moral effects ;
what changes it produced in the minds of the citizens them-
selves, what they became in consequence, and what they
should morally become, in their new situation.
When we take into our consideration the connexion of the
citizens with the state in general, with the government of the
state, and with the interests of the country, as that connexion
existed not only in the twelfth century, but also in after ages s
there is one circumstance which must strike us n?ost forcibly :
I mean the extraordinary mental timidity of the citizens :
their rmmility ; the excessive modesty of their pretensions tc
a right of interference in the government of their country ;
■and the little matter that, in this respect, contented them.
Nothing was to be seen in them which discovered that genuine
political feeling which aspires to the possession of infiuence }
and to the power of reforming and governing ; nothing at-
tests in them either energy of mind, or loftiness of ambition ;
one feels ready to exclaim, Poor, • prudent, simple-hearted
citizens !
There are not, properly, more than two sources whence,
in the political world, can flow loftiness of ambition and ener-
gy of mind. There must be either the feeling of possessing
a great importance, a great power over the destiny of others,
and this over a large sphere ; or there must be in one's self
a powerful feeling of personal independence, the assurance of
one's own liberty, the consciousness of having a destiny with
which no will can intermeddle beyond that in one's own
bosom. To one or other of these two conditions seem to be
attached energy of mind, the loftiness of ambition, the desire
to act in a large sphere, and to obtain corresponding results
Neither of these conditions is to be found in the situation
of the burgesses of the middle ages. These were, as we
have just seen, only important to themselves ; except within
the walls of their own city, their influence amounted to but
little ; as regarded the state, to almost nothing. Nor could
they be possessed, of any great feeling of personal indepen-
dence : their having conquered — their having obtained a char-
ter, did but little in the way of promoting this noble senti*
166 generae history of
ment. T\i<m bbs of a city, comparing himself with tha
little baron \f| Blelt near him, and who had just been van-
quished by ln^^would still be sensible of his own extreme
inferiority , he was ignorant of that proud sentiment of inde-
pendence which animated the proprietor of a fief ; the share
of freedom which he possessed was not derived from himself
alone, but from his association with others — from the difficult
and precarious succor which they afforded. Hence that re-
tiring disposition, that timidity of mind, that trembling shy-
ness, that humility of speech, (though perLaps coupled with
firmness of purpose,) which is so deeply stamped on the char-
acter of the burgesses, not only of the twelfth century, but
even of their most remote descendants. They had no taste
for great enterprises ; if chance pushed them into such, they
became vexed and embarrassed ; any responsibility was a
burden to them ; they felt themselves out of their sphere, and
endeavored to return into it ; they treated upon easy terms.
Thus, in running over the history of Europe, and especially
of France, we may occasionally find municipal communities
esteemed, consulted, perhaps respected, but rarely feared ;
they seldom impressed their adversaries with the notion that
they were a great and formidable power, a power truly politi-
cal. There is nothing to be astonished at in the weakness of
the modern burgess ; the great cause of it may be traced to
his origin, in those circumstances of his enfranchisement
which I have just placed before you. The loftiness of ambi-
tion, independent of social conditions, breadth and boldness
of political views, the desire to be employed in public affairs,
the full consciousness of the greatness of man, considered as
such, and of the power that belongs to him, if he be capable
of exercising it ; it is these sentiments, these dispositions,
which, of entirely modern growth in Europe, are the offspring
of modern civilization, and of that glorious and powerful gen-
erality which characterizes it, and which will never fail to se-
cure to the public an influence, a weight in the government of
the country, that were constantly wanting, and deservedly
wanting, to the burgesses our ancestors.
As a set-off to this, in the contests which they had to sus-
*ain respecting their local interests — in this narrow field, they
acquired and displayed a degree of energy, devotedness, per-
severance, and patience, which has never been surpassed*
The difficulty of the enterprise was so great, they had to
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 167
struggle against such perils, that a display of courage almost
beyond example became necessary. Our Wtions of the bur-
gess of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and of his life
are very erroneous. The picture which Sir Walter Scott has
drawn in Quentin Durward of the burgomaster of Liege, fat,
inactive, without experience, without daring, and caring for
nothing but passing his life in ease and enjoyment, is only fit-
ted for the stage ; the real burgess of that day had a coat of
mail continually on his back, a pike constantly in his hand ;
his life was nearly as stormy, as warlike, as rigid as that of
the nobles with whom he contended. It was in these every-
day perils, in combating the varied dangers of practical life,
that he acquired that bold and masculine character, that de-
termined exertion, which have become more rare in the softer
activity of modern times.
None, however, of these social and moral effects of the en-
franchisement of corporations became fully developed in the
twelfth century ; it is only in the course of the two following
centuries that they showed themselves so as to be clearly dis-
cerned. It is nevertheless certain that the seeds of these
effects existed in the primary situation of the commons, in the
mode of their enfranchisement, and in the position which the
burgesses from that time took in society ; I think, therefore,
that I have done right in bringing these circumstances before
you to-day.
Let us now penetrate into the interior of one of those cor-
porate cities of the twelfth century, that we may see how it
was governed, that we may now see what principles and what
facts prevailed in the relations of the burgesses with one an-
other. It must be remembered, that in speaking of the mu-
nicipal system bequeathed by the Roman empire to the mo-
dern world, I took occasion to say, that the Roman world
was a great coalition of municipalities, which had previously
been as sovereign and independent as Rome itself. Each of
these cities had formerly been in the same condition as Rome
a little free republic, making peace and war, and governing
itself by its own will. As fast as these became incorporated
into the Roman world, those rights which constitute sove-
leignty — the righ" of war and peace, of legislation, taxation,
S&2. — were transferred from each city to the central govern-
ment at Rome. There remained then but one municipal
sovereignty. Rome reigned over a vast number of manici-
168 GENERAL HISTORY OF
palities, which had nothing left beyond a civic existence.
The municipal Atem became essentially changed : it was no
longer a politicalgovernment, but simply a mode of adminis-
tration. This was the grand revolution which was consum-
mated under the Roman empire. The municipal system be-
came a mode of administration ; it was reduced to the g::vern-
ment of local affairs, to the civic interests of the city. This
is the state in which the Roman empire, at its fall, left the
cities and their institutions. During the chaos of barbarism,
notions and facts of all sorts became embroiled and confused ;
the various attributes of sovereignty and administration were
confounded. Distinctions of this nature were no longer re-
garded. Affairs were suffered to run on in the course dictated
by necessity. The municipalities became sovereigns or ad-
ministrators in the various places, as need might require
Where cities rebelled, they re-assumed the sovereignty, for
the sake of security, not out of respect for any political theory,
nor from any feeling of their dignity, but that they might have
the means of contending with the nobles, whose yoke they
had thrown off ; that they might take upon themselves the
right to call out the militia, to tax themselves to support the
war, to name their own chiefs and magistrates ; in a word, to
govern themselves. The internal government of the citv was
their means of defence, of security. Thus, sovereignty" again
returned to the municipal system, which had been deprived of
it by the conquests of Rome. City corporations again be-
came sovereigns. This is the political characteristic of their
enfranchisement.
I do not, however, mean to assert, that this sovereignty
was complete. Some trace of an exterior sovereignty always
may be found ; sometimes it was the baron who retained the
light to send a magistrate into the city, with whom the muni-
cipal magistrates acted as assessors ; perhaps he had the
right to collect certain revenues ; in some cases a fixed tri-
bute was assured to him. Sometimes the exterior sovereignty
of the community was in the hands of the king.
The cities themselves, in their turn, entered into the feu-
dal system ; they had vassals, and became suzerains ; and by
this title possessed that portion of sovereignty which was in-
herent in the suzerainty. A great confusion arose between
the rights which they held from their feudal position, and those
which they had acquired by their insurrection ; and by this
double title they held the sovereignty.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 163
Let us see, as far as the very scanty sources left us will
allow, how the internal government of the cities, at least in
the more early times, was managed. The entire body of the
inhabitants formed the communal assembly : all those who
had taken the communal oath — and all who dwelt within the
walls were obliged to do so — were summoned, by the tolling
of the bell, to the general assembly. In this were named the
magistrates. The number chosen, and the power and pro-
ceedings of the magistrates, differed very considerably. Af-
ter choosing the magistrates, the assemblies dissolved ; and
the magistrates governed almost alone, sufficiently arbitrarily,
being under no further responsibility than the new elections,
or, perhaps, popular outbreaks, which were, at this time, the
great guarantee for good government.
You will observe that the internal organization of the mu-
nicipal towns is reduced to two very simple elements, the gen-
eral assembly of the inhabitants, and a government invested
with almost arbitrary power, under the responsibility of insur-
rections, — general outbreaks. It was impossible, especially
while such manners prevailed, to establish anything like a
regular government, with proper guarantees of order and du-
ration. The greater part of the population of these cities
were ignorant, brutal, and savage to a degree which rendered
them exceedingly difficult to govern. At the end of a very
short period, there was but little more security within these
communities than there had been, previously, in the relations
of the burgesses within the baron. There soon, however,
became formed a burgess aristocracy. The causes of this
are easily understood. The notions of that day, coupled with
certain social relations, led to the establishment of trading
companies legally constituted. A system of privileges be-
came "introduced into the interior of the cities, and, in the end,
a great inequality. There soon grew up in all of them a cer-
tain number of considerable, opulent burgesses, and a popula-
tion, more or less numerous, of workmen, who, notwithstand
ing their inferiority, had no small influence in the affairs of
the community. The free cities thus became divided into an
upper class of burgesses, and a population subject to all the
errors, all the vices of a mob. The superior citizens thus
foufud themselves pressed between two great difficulties : first,
tfc.9 arduous one of governing this inferior turbulent popula
tion and secondly, that of withstanding the continual attempts
8
170 GENERAL HISTORY OF
of the ancient master of the borough, who sought to regain
his former power. Such was the situation of their affairs, not
only in France, but in Europe, down to the sixteenth century.
This, perhaps, is the cause which prevented these communi
tics from taking, in several countries of Europe, and especial-
ly in France, that high political station which seemed proper-
ly to belong to them. Two spirits were unceasingly at work
within them : among the inferior population, a blind, licen-
tious, furious spirit of democracy ; among the superior bur-
gesses, a spirit of timidity, of caution, and an excessive de-
sire to accommodate all differences, whether with the king, or
with its ancient proprietors, so as to preserve peace and order
in the bosom of the community. Neither of these spirits could
raise the cities to a high rank in the state.
All these effects did not become apparent in the twelfth cen-
tury ; still we may foresee them, even in the character of the
insurrection, in the manner in which it broke out, in the state
of the different elements of the city population.
Such, if I mistake not, are the principal characteristics, the
general results, both of the enfranchisement of the cities and
of their internal government. I have already premised, that
these facts were not so uniform, not so universal, ass I have
represented them. There- are great diversities in the history
of the European free cities. In the south of France and in
Italy, for example, the Roman municipal system prevailed ;
the population was not nearly so, divided, so unequal, as in
the north. Here, also, the municipal organization was much
better ; perhaps the effect of Roman traditions, perhaps of the
better state of the population. In the north, it was the feudal
system that prevailed in the city arrangements. Here all
soemed subordinate to the struggle against the barons. The
cities of the south paid much more regard to their internal con-
stitution, to the work of melioration and progress. We see,
from the beginning, that they will become free republics. The
career of those of the north, above all those of France, show-
ed itself, from the first, more rude, more incomplete, destined
to less perfect, less beautiful developments. If we run over
those of Germany, Spain, and England, we shall find among
them many other differences. I cannot particularize them,
but ^hall notice some of them, as we advance in the history
of civilization. All things at their origin are nearly confound-
ed in one and the same physiognomy; i is only in their
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 171
efter-growth that their variety shows itself. Then begins a
new development which urges forward societies towards that
free and lofty unity, the glorious object of the efforts and
wishes of mankind. 19
19 Hallam's Middle Ages, Chap. ii. pt. 2, treating of the causes
of the decline of the feudal system, contains a brief view of tho
origin of the free cities, the time of their incorporation in the prin-
cipal countries of feudal Europe, the nature of their privileges,
etc. In the opinion of this writer, corporations existed earlier in
Spain than in any other country : the charter of Leon, granted by
Alfonzo V. in 1020, makes mention of the common council of that
city as an existing and long-established institution. The earliest
charters in France — those of St. Quentin and Amiens — were grant-
ed by Louis VI. During his reign, and those of the two succeed-
ing kings, 1108-1223, the principal towns in France acquired the
privileges of incorporation. In England it is not clear that any
corporate towns, except London, possessed the right of internal
jurisdiction before the reign of Henry II., 1154. The charter of
London was granted by Henry I., in 1100.
Most worthy of the student's attention is the history of the free
cities of Germany and Italy, especially of the latter, as having
contributed so largely to the progress of modern civilization. By
the middle of the twelfth century the cities of Lombardy, with
Milan at their head, had become extremely rich and powerful;
they formed a confederation among themselves ; maintained an ob-
stinate struggle for more than thirty years with Frederick Barba-
rossa, emperor of Germany, which terminated in 11S3 by the
treaty of Constance, wherein the emperor renounced all legal privi-
leges in the interior of the cities, acknowledged the right of the
confederated cities to levy armies, erect fortifications, exercise
criminal and civil jurisdiction by officers of their own appointment.
Among the German cities, confederations were also formed : of
these the most celebrated was the Hanseatic League, which origi-
nated in 1239-1241, from a convention between Lubeck, Hamburg,
and one or two other cities, by which they agreed to defend each
other against all oppression and violence, particularly of the nobles
The number of towns united in this league rapidly increased ; it
included at one time eighty-Jive cities. Regular diets were held
every third year at Lubeck, the chief city of the confederacy. This
league was at various times confirmed by kings and princes ; and,
in the fourteenth century, exercised a powerful political as well as
commercial influence. It was dissolved in 1630.
The privileges granted by charters to the cities in the middie
ages, were in general these : the right of corporate property ; a
common seal ; exemption from the more ignominious or oppressive
tokens of feudal subjection, and the defined regulation of the rest
settled rules as to succession and private rights of property ; and,
172 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
lastly, and of the greatest value, exemption from the royal jurisdic-
tion, as well as from that of the territorial judges, and the right of
being governed by magistrates of their own, either wholly, or (in
some cases) partly chosen by themselves. By degrees, at a later
1>eriod, the cities acquired the right of representation in the legis-
ative bodies of the nation — in Spain as early as the middle of the
twelfth century, in France, England, Germany, and Italy about a
century later.
LECTURE VIII V
iKETCH OF EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION — STATE OF EUROPE FROM
THE TWELFTH TO THE FOURTEENTH CENTURIES-'-THE
CRUSADES.
I have not yet laid before you the whole plsm of my course.
1 began by pointing out its object, and I then went straight
forward, without taking any comprehensive view of European
civilization, and without indicating at once its starting-point,
its path, and its goal, — its beginning, middle, and end. We
are now, however, arrived at a period when this comprehen-
sive view, this general outline, of the world through which
we travel, becomes necessary. The times which have hither-
to been the subject of our study, are explained in some mea-
sure by themselves, or by clear and immediate results. The
times into which we are about to enter can neither be under-
stood nor excite any strong interest, unless we connect them
with their most indirect and remote consequences. In an in-
quiry of such vast extent, a time arrives when we can no
longer submit to go forward with a dark and unknown path
before us ; when we desire to know not only whence we have
come and where we are, but whither we are going. This in
now the case with us. The period which we approach can
not be understood, or its importance appreciated, unless by
means of the relations which connect it with modern times.
Its true spirit has been revealed only by the lapse of many
subsequent ages.
We are in possession of almost all the essential elements
of European civilization. - 1 say almost all, because I have not
yet said anything on the subject of monarchy. The crisis
which decidedly developed the monarchical principle, hardly
took place before the twelfth or even the thirteenth century
It was then only that the institution of monarchy was really
established, and began to occupy a definite place in modern
society. It is on this account that I have not sooner entered
on the subjesi*;. With this exception we possess, I repeat it,
]74 GENERAL HISTORY OP
all the great elements of European society. You have seen
the origin of the feudal aristocracy, the Church and the muni- ~
cipaiities ; you have observed the institutions which would
naturally correspond with these facts ; and not only the insti-
tutions, but the principles and ideas which these facts natu-
rally give rise to. Thus, with reference to feudalism, you have
watched the origin of modern domestic life ; you have com
prehended, in all its energy, the feeling of personal indepen-
dence, and the place which it must have occupied in our civi-
lization. With reference to the Church, you have observed
the appearance of the purely religious form of society, its re-
lations with civil society, the principle of theocracy, the sepa-
ration between the spiritual and temporal powers, the first
blows of persecution, the first cries of liberty of conscience.
The infant municipalities have give'U you a view of a social
union founded on principles quite different from those of feu-
dalism ; the diversity of the classes of society, their contests
with each other, the first and strongly marked features of the
manners of the modern inhabitants of towns ; timidity of judg-
ment combined with energy of soul, proneness to be excited
by demagogues joined to a spirit of obedience to legal au-
thority ; all the elements, in short, which have concurred in
the formation of European society have already come under
your observation.
Let us now transport ourselves into the heart of modern
Europe ; I do not mean Europe in the present day, after the
prodigious metamorphosis we have witnessed, but in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. What an immense
difference ! I have already insisted on this difference with
reference to communities ; I have endeavored to show you
how little resemblance there is between the burgesses of the
eighteenth century and those of the twelfth. Make the same
experiment on feudalism and the Church, and you will be
struck with a similar metamorphosis. There was no more re-
semblance between the nobility of the court of Louis XV.
and the feudal aristocracy, or between the Church in the days
of Cardinal de Bernis and those of the Abbe Suger, than
there is between the burgesses of the eighteenth century and
•.he same class in the twelfth. Between these two periods
though society had already acquired all its elements, it under*
went a total transformation.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 175
I am now desirous to trace clea v ly the general and essen
tial character of this transformation.
From the fifth century, society contained all that I nav«
already found and described as belonging to it, — kings, a lay
aristocracy, a clergy, citizens, husbandmen, civil and religious
authorities ; the germs, in short, of every thing necessary to
form a nation and a government ; and yet there was no govern-
ment, no nation. In all the period that has occupied our at-
tention, there was no such thing as a people, properly so call-
ed, or a government, in the modern acceptation of the word.
We have fallen in with a number of particular forces, special
facts, and local institutions ; but nothing general, nothing pub-
lic, nothing political, nothing, in short, like real nationality
Let us, on the other hand, survey Europe in the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries : we everywhere see two
great objects make their appearance on the stage of the world,
— the government and the people. The influence of a gene-
ral power over an entire country, and the influence of the
country in the power which governs it, are the materials of
history ; the relations between these great forces, their allian-
ces or their contests, are the subjects of its narration. The
nobility, the clergy, the citizens, all these different classes
and particular powers are thrown into the back-ground, and
effaced, as it were, by these two great objects, the people and
its government.
This, if I am not deceived, is the essential feature which
distinguishes modern Europe from the Europe of the early
ages ; and this was the change which was accomplished be-
tween the thirteenth and the sixteenth century.
It is, then, in the period from the thirteenth to the sixteenth
century, into which we are about to enter, that we must en-
deavor to find the cause of this change. It is the distinctive
character of this period, that it was employed in changing
Europe from its primitive to its modern state ; and hence arise
its importance and historical interest. If we did not consider
it under this point of view, if we did not endeavor to discover
the events which arose out of this period, not only we should
never be able to comprehend it, but we should soon become
weary of the inquiry.
Viewed in itself and apart from its results, it is a period
without character, a period in which confusion went on in
176 GENERAL HISTORY OF
creasing 1 without appirent causes, a period af movement with
out direction, of agitation without result ; a period when mon-
archy, nobility, clergy, citizens, all the elements of social or-
der, seemed to turn round in the same circle, incapable alike
of progression and of rest. Experiments of all kinds wer8
made and failed ; endeavors were made to establish govern-
ments and lay the foundations of public liberty ; reforms in re-
ligion were even attempted ; but nothing was accomplished
or came to any result. If ever the human race seemed des-
tined to be always agitated, and yet always stationary, con-
demned to unceasing and yet barren labors, it was from the
thirteenth to the fifteenth century that this was the complex-
ion of its condition and history.
I am acquainted only with one work in which this appear-
ance of the period in question is faithfully described ; I allude
\ M. de Barante's History of the Dukes of Burgundy. I do
~ot speak of the fidelity of his pictures of manners and nar-
ratives of adventures, but of that general fidelity which ren-
ders the work an exact image, a true mirror of the whole pe-
riod, of which it at the same time displays both the agitation
and the monotony.
Considered, on the contrary, in relation to what has suc-
ceeded it, as the transition from Europe in its primitive, to
Europe in its modern state, this period assumes a more dis-
tinct and animated aspect ; we discover in it a unity of de-
sign, a movement in one direction, a progression ; and its
unity and interest are found to reside in the slow and hidden
labor accomplished in the course of its duration.
The history of European civilization, then, may be thrown i
into three great periods : first, a period which I shall call that
of origin, or formation ; during which the different elements
of society disengage themselves from chaos, assume an ex-
istence, and show themselves in their native forms, with the
principles by which they are animated ; this period lasted al-
most to the twelfth century. The second period is a period
of experiments, attempts, groping ; the different elements of
society approach and enter into combination, feeling each
other, as it were, but without producing anything general,
regular, or durable ; this state of things, to say the truth, did
not terminate till the sixteenth century. Then comes the
third period, or the period of development, in which human
society in Europe takes a definite form, follows a determinate
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 177
direction, proceeds rapidly and with a general movement to-
wards a clear and precise object ; this is the period which
began in the sixteenth century, and is now pursuing its course
Such appears, on a general view, to be the aspect of Eu-
ropean civilization. We are now about to enter into the se-
cond of the above periods ; and we have to inquire what were
the great and critical events which occurred during its course,
and which were the determining causes of the social transfor-
mation which was its result.
The first great event which presents itself to our view, and
which opened, so to speak, the period we are speaking of,
was the crusades. They began at the end of the eleventh
century, and lasted during the twelfth and thirteenth. It was,
indeed, a great event ; for, since its occurrence, it has never
ceased to occupy the attention of philosophical historians,
who have shown themselves aware of its influence in chang-
ing the conditions of nations, and of the necessity of study in
order to comprehend the general course of its facts.
The first character of the crusades is their universality ; all
Europe concurred in them ; they were the first European
event. Before the crusades, Europe had never been moved
by the same sentiment, or acted in a common cause ; till then,
in fact, Europe did not exist. The crusades made manifest
the existence of Christian Europe. The French formed the
main body of the first army of crusaders ; but there were al-
so Germans, Italians, Spaniards, and English. But look at
the second and third crusades, and we find all the nations of
Christendom engaged in them. The world had never before
witnessed a similar combination.
iiut this is not all. In the same manner as the crusades
were a European event, so, in each separate nation, they were
a national event. In every nation, all classes of society were
animated with the same impression, yielded to the same idea,
and ab«rr.doned themselves to the same impulse. Kings, nobles,
priests, citizens, country people, all took the same interest
and the same share in the crusades. The moral unity of na-
tions was thus made manifest ; a fact as new as the unity of
"Europe.
178 GENERAL HISTORY OF
When such even»*3 take place in what may be called th»
youth of nations ; in periods when they act spontaneously,
freely, without premeditation or political design, we recog-
nise what history calls heroic events, the heroic ages of na-
tions. The crusades were the heroic event of modern Eu-
rope ; a movement at the same time individual and general ;
national, and yet not under political direction.
That this was really their primitive character is proved by
every fact, and every document. Who were the first crusad-
ers ? Bands of people who set out under the conduct of Pe-
ter the Hermit, without preparations, guides, or leaders, fol-
lowed rather than led by a few obscure knights, traversed Ger-
many and the Greek empire, and were dispersed, or perished,
in Asia Minor. /
The higher class, the feudal nobility, next put themselves
in motion for the crusade. Under the command of Godfrey
of Bouillon, the nobles and their men departed full of ardor.
When they had traversed Asia Minor, the leaders of the cru-
saders were seized with a fit of lukewarmness and fatigue.
They became indifferent about continuing their course ; they
were inclined rather to look to their own interest, to make
conquests and possess them. 'The mass of the army, how-
ever, rose up, and insisted on marching to Jerusalem, the de-
liverance cf the holy city being the object of the crusade. It
was not to gain principalities for Raymond of Toulouse, or
for Bohemond, or any other leader, that the crusaders had
taken arms. The popular, national, European impulse over-
came all the intentions of individuals ; and the leaders had
not sufficient ascendency over the masses to make them yield
to their personal interests.
The sovereigns, who had been strangers to the first cru-
sade, were now drawn into the general movement as the
people had been. The great crusades of the twelfth century
were commanded by kings.
I now go at once to the end of the thirteenth century. A
great deal was still said in Europe about crusades, and they
were even preached with ai^or. The popes excited the sove-
reigns an 1 the people ; councils were held to recommend the
conquest of the holy land ; but no expeditions of any import-
ance were now undertaken for this purpose, and it was re«
garded with general indifference. Something had entered in
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 179
to the spirit of European society which put an end to the cru
sades. Some private expeditions still took place ; soma
nobles and some bands of troops still continued to depart for
Jerusalem ; but the general movement was evidently arrested.
Neither the necessity, however, nor its facility of continuing
it, seemed to have ceased. The Moslems triumphed more
and more in Asia. The Christian kingdom founded at Jeru-
salem had fallen into their hands. It still appeared necessary
to regain it ; and the means of success were greater than at
the commencement of the crusades. A great number of
Christians were established and still powerful in Asia Minor,
Syria, and Palestine. The proper means of tiansport, and of
carrying on the war, were better known. Still, nothing could
revive the spirit of the crusades. It is evident that the two
great forces of society — the sovereigns on the one hand, and
the people on the other — no longer desired their continuance .
It has been often said that Europe was weary of these con-
stant inroads upon Asia. We must come to an understanding'
as to the meaning of the word weariness, frequently used on
such occasions. It is exceedingly incorrect. It is not true
^hat generations of mankind can be weary of what has not
been done by themselves ; that they can be wearied by the
fatigues of their fathers. Weariness is personal ; it cannot
be transmitted like an inheritance. The people of the thir-
teenth century were not weary of the crusades of the twelfth ;
they were influenced by a different cause. A great change
had taken place in opinions, sentiments, and social relations.
There were no longer the same wants, or the same desires :
the people no longer believed, or wished to believe, in the
same things. It is by these moral or political changes, and
not by weariness, that the differences in the conduct of suc-
cessive generations can be explained. The pretended weari-
ness ascribed to them is a metaphor wholly destitute of truth.
Two great causes, the one moral, the other social, impelled
Europe into the crusades.
The moral cause, as you are aware, was the impulse ci ie«
ligious feeling and belief. From the end of the seventh cen-
tury, Christianity maintained a constant stn ggle against Mo-
hammedanism. It had overcome Mohammedanism in Europe,
after having been threatened with great danger from it ; and
180 GENERAL K STORY OF
had succeeded in confining it to Spain. Even from thenc«
the expulsion of Mohammedanism was constantly attempted.
The crusades have been represented as a sort of accident, an
unforeseen event, sprung from the recitals of pilgrims return-
ed from Jerusalem, and the preaching of Peter the Hermit.
They were nothing of the kind. The crusades were the con-
tinuation, the height of the great struggle which had subsist-
ed for four centuries between Christianity and Mohammedan-
ism. The theatre of this contest had hitherto been in Eu-
rope ; it was now transported into Asia. If I had attached
any value to those comparisons, those parallels, into which
historical facts are sometimes made willing or unwillingly to
enter, I might show you Christianity running exactly the same
course, and undergoing the same destiny in Asia, as Moham-
medanism in Europe. Mohammedanism established itself in
Spain, where it conquered, founded a kingdom and various
principalities. The Christians did the same thing in Asia.
They were there in regard to the Mohammedans, in the same
situation as the Mohammedans in Spain with regard to the
Christians. The kingdom of Jerusalem corresponds with the
kingdom of Granada : but these similitudes, after all, are o£
little importance. The great fact was the struggle between
the two religious and social systems : the crusades were its
principal crisis. This is their historical character ; the chain
which connects them with the general course of events.
Another cause, the social state of Europe in the eleventh
century, equally contributed to the breaking out of the cru-
sades. I have been careful to explain why, from the fifth to
the eleventh century, there vas no such thing as generality
in Europe ; I have endeavored to show how every thing had
assumed a local character ; how states, existing institutions,
and opinions, were confined within very narrow bounds : it
was then that the feudal system prevailed. After the lapse of
some time, such a narrow horizon was no longer sufficient ;
human thought and activity aspired to pass beyond the nar-
row sphere in which they were confined. The people no
longer led their former wandering life, but had not lest the
taste for its movement and its adventures ; they threw them-
selves into the crusades as into a new state of existence, in
which they were more at large, and enjoyed more variety t
which reminded them of the freedom of former barbarism
vhile it opened boundless prospects of futurity.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 181
These were, in my opinion, the two determining causes o^
the crusades in the twelfth century. At the end of the thir-
teenth, neither of these causes continued to exist Mankind
and society were so greatly changed, that neither the moral
nor the social incitements which had impelled Europe upon
Asia were felt any longer. I do not know whether many of
you have read the original historians of the crusades, or have
ever thought of comparing the contemporary chroniclers of the
first crusades with those of the end of the twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries ; for example, Albert de Aix, Robert the
Monk, and Raynard d'Argile, who were engaged in the first
crusade with William of Tyre and Jacques de Vitry. When
we compare these two classes of writers, it is impossible not
to be struck with the distance between them. The first are
animated chroniclers, whose imagination is excited, and who
relate the events of the crusade with passion : but they are
narrow-minded in the extreme, without an idea beyond the
little sphere in which they lived ; ignorant of every science,
full of prejudices, incapable of forming an opinion on what
was passing around them, or the events which were the sub-
ject of their narratives. But open, on the other hand, the his-
tory of the crusades by William of Tyre, and you will be sur-
prised to find almost a modern historian ; a cultivated, en-
larged, and liberal mind, great political intelligence, genera]
views and opinions upon causes and effects. Jacques de Vi-
try is an example of another species of cultivation ; he is a
man of learning, who does not confine himself to what imme-
diately concerns the crusades, but describes the state of man-
ners, the geography, the religion, and natural history of the
country to which his history relates. There is, in short, an
immense distance between the historians of the first and of the
last crusades ; a distance which manifests an actual revolu-
tion, in the state of the human mind.
This revolution is most conspicuous in the manner in which
these two classes of. writers speak of the Mohammedans. For
the first chroniclers, — and consequently for the first crusaders,
of whose sentiments the first chroniclers are merely the or-
gans, — the Mohammedans are only an object of hatred ; it is
clear that those who speak of them do not know them, form
no judgment respecting them, nor consider them under any-
point of view but that of the religious hostility which exists
between them. No vestige of social relation is discoverable
between them and the Mohammedans : they detest them, and
182 GENERAI HISTORY OF
fight with them ; and nothing more. "William of Tyre, Jacques
de Vitry, Bernard le Tresorier, speak of the Mussulmans
quite differently. We see that, even while fighting with them,
they no longer regard them as monsters ; that they have
entered to a certain extent into their ideas, that they have
lived with them, and that certain social relations, and even a
sort of sympathy, have arisen between them. William of
Tyre pronounces a glowing eulogium on Noureddin and Ber-
nard le Tresorier on Saladin. They sometimes even go the
length of placing the manners and conduct of the Mussulmans
in opposition to those of the Christians ; they adopt the man-
ners and sentiments of the Mussulmans in order to satirise the
Christians, in the same manner as Tacitus delineated the
manners of the Germans in contrast with those of Rome.
You see, then, what an immense change must have taken
place between these two periods, since you find in the latter,
in regard to the very enemies of the Christians, the very
people against whom the crusades were directed, an impar-
tiality of judgment which w r ould have filled the first crusaders
with surprise and horror.
The principal effect, then, of the crusades was a great step
towards the emancipation of the mind, a great progress to-
wards enlarged and liberal ideas. Though begun under the
name and influence of religious belief, the crusades deprived
religious ideas, I shall not say of their legitimate share of in-
• fluence, but of their exclusive and despotic possession of the
human mind. This result, though undoubtedly unforeseen,
arose from various causes. The first was evidently the novel-
ty, extent, and variety of the scene which displayed itself tor
the crv.saders ; what generally happens to travellers happened
to them. It is mere common-place to say, that travelling
gives freedom to the mind ; that the habit of observing differ-
eat nations, different manners, and different opinions, enlarges i
the ideas, and disengages the judgment from old prejudices.
The same thing happened to those nations of travellers who
have been called the crusaders ; their minds were opened and >
raised by having seen a multitude of different things, by hav»
ing become acquainted with other manners than their own.
They found themselves also placed in connexion with two
Btates of civilization, not only different, from their own, but
f more advanced — the Greek state of society on the one hand,
» and the Mussulman on the other. There is no doubt that the
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 18S
society of the Greeks, though enervated, perverted, and de« -
caying, gave the crusaders the impression of something more
advanced, polished, and enlightened than their own. The so-
ciety of the Mussulmans presented them a scene of the same
kind. It is curious to observe in the chronicles the impres-
sion made by the crusaders on the Mussulmans, who regarded
them at first as the most brutal, ferocious, and stupid barba-
rians they had ever seen. The crusaders, on their part, were
struck with the riches and elegance of manners which they
observed among the Mussulmans. These first impressions
were succeeded by frequent relations between the Mussul-
mans and Christians. These became more extensive and im-
portant than is commonly believed. Not only had the Chris-
tians of the East habitual relations with the Mussulmans, but
the people of the East and the West became acquainted with,
visited, and mingled with each other. It is but lately that one
of those learned men who do honor to France in the eyes of
Europe, M. Abel Remusat, has discovered the relations which
subsisted between the Mongol emperors and the Christian
kings. Mongol ambassadors were sent to the kings of the
Franks, and to St. Louis among others, in order to persuade
them to enter into alliance, and to resume the crusades for the
common interest of the Mongols and the Christians against
the Turks. And not only were diplomatic and official relations x <
thus established between the sovereigns, but there was much
and various intercourse between the nations of the East and
West. I shall quote the words of M. Abel Remusat :* —
" Many men of religious orders, Italians, French, and Flemings,
were charged with diplomatic missions to the court of the G-reat
Khan. Mongols of distinction came to Rome, Barcelona, Valentia,
Lyons, Paris, London, and Northampton; and a Franciscan of the
kingdom of Naples was archbishop of Pekin. His successor was a
professor of theology in the university of Paris. But how many
othe,' people followed in the train of those personages, either as
slaves, or attracted by the desire of profit, or led by curiosity into
tegions hitherto unknown ! Chance has preserved the names of
some of these; the first envoy who visited the king of Hungary on
the part of the Tartars was an Englishman, who had been banish*
ed from his country for certain crimes, and who, after having wan*
dered over Asia, at last entered into the service of the Mongols. A
Flemish Cordelier, in the heart of Tartary, fell in with a wcaian
* Memoires sur les Relations Politiques des Princes Chretiens avec .es Empereua
Mctgcls. Deuxieme Memoire, p. 154, 157.
184 GENERAL HISTOIIY OF
of Metz called Paguette, who had been carried off into Hungary
a Parisian goldsmith, and a young man from the neighborhood of
Rouen, who had been at the taking of Belgrade. In the same
country he fell in also with Russians, Hungarians, and Flemings.
A singer, called Robert, after having travelled through Eastern
Asia, returned to end his days in the cathedral of Chartres. A Tar-
tar was a furnisher of helmets in the armies of Philip the Fair.
Jean de Plancarpin fell in, near Gayouk, with a Russian gentleman
whom he calls Temer, and who acted as an interpreter; and many
merchants of Breslaw, Poland, and Austria, accompanied him in
his journey into Tartary. Others returned with him through Rus-
sia ; they were Genoese, Pisans, and Venetians. Two Venetians,
merchants, whom chance had brought to Bokhara, followed a Mon-
gol ambassador, sent by Houlagou to Khoubilai'. They remained
many years in China and Tartary, returned with letters from the
Great Khan to the Pope, and afterwards went back to the Khan,
taking with them the son of one of their number, the celebrated
Marco Polo, and once more left the court of Khoubilai to return to
Venice. Travels of this nature were not less frequent in the fol-
lowing century. Of this number are those of John Mandeville,
an English physician ; Oderic de Frioul, Pegoletti, Guilleaume de
Bouldeselle, and several others. It may well be supposed, that
those travels of which the memory is preserved, form but a small
part of those which were undertaken, and there were in those
days many more people who were able to perform those long jour-
neys than to write accounts of them. Many of those adventurers
must have remained and died in the countries they went to visit.
Others returned home, as obscure as before, but having their imagi-
nation full of the things they had seen, relating them to their fami-
lies, with much exaggeration no doubt, but leaving behind them,
among many ridiculous fables, useful recollections and traditions
capable of bearing fruit. Thus, in Germany, Italy, and France, in
the monasteries, among the nobility, and even down to the lowest
classes of society, there were deposited many precious seeds des-
tined to bud at a somewhat later period. All these unknown tra-
vellers, carrying the arts of their own country into distant regions,
brought back other pieces of knowledge not less precious, and,
without being aware of it, made exchanges more advantageous
than those of commerce. By these means, not only the traffic in the
silks, porcelain, and other commodities of Hindostan, became more
extensive and practicable, and new paths were opened to commer-
cial industry and enterprise; but, what was more valuable still,
foreign manners, unknown nations, extraordinary productions, pre-
sented themselves in abundance to the minds of the Europeans,
which, since the fall of the Roman empire, had been confined with-
in too narrow a circle. Men began to attach some importance to
the most beautiful, the most populous, and the most anciently civi-
jzed, of the four quarters of the world. They began to study the
arts, tlie religions, the languages, of the nations by whom it was
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 185
inhabited ; and there was even an intention of establishing a pro-
fessorship of the Tartar language in the university of Paris. The
accounts of travellers, .strange and exaggerated, indeed, but soon
discussed and cleared up, diffused more correct and varied notions
of those distant regions. The world seemed to open, as i* were,
towards the East ; geography made an immense stride ; and ardor
for discovery became the new form assumed by European spirit of
adventure. The idea of another hemisphere, when our own came
to be better known, no longer seemed an improbable paradox; and
it was when in search of the Zipangri of Marco Polo that Christo-
pher Columbus discovered the New World."
You see, then, what a vast and unexplored world was laid
open to the view of European intelligence by the consequen-
ces of the crusades. It cannot be doubted that the impulse
which led to them was one of the most powerful causes of
the development and freedom of mind which arose out of that
great event.
There is another circumstance which is worthy of notice.
Down to the time of the crusades, the court of Rome, the
centre of the Church, had been very little in communication
with the laity, unless through the medium of ecclesiastics ;
either legates sent by the court of Rome, or the whole body
of the bishops and clergy. There were always some laymen
in direct relation with Rome ; but upon the whole, it was by
means of churchmen that Rome had any communication with
the people of different countries. During the crusades, on
the contrary, Rome became a halting-place for a great portion
of the crusaders, either in going or returning. A multitude of
laymen were spectators of its policy and its manners, and
were able to discover the share which personal interest had
in religious disputes. There is no doubt that this newly-ac-
quired knowledge inspired many minds with a boldness hither-
to unknown.
When we consider the state of the general mind at the ter-
mination of the crusades, especially in regard to ecclesiasti-
cal matters, we cannot fail to be struck with a singular fact :
religious notions underwent no change, and were not replaced
by contrary or even different opinions. Thought, notwith-
standing, had become more free ; religious creeds were not
the only subject on which the human mind exercised its faeul- f (
ties ; without abandoning them, it began occasionally to wan-
der from them, and to take other directions. Thus, at the
186 G1NERAL HISTORY OF
end of the thirteenth century, the moral cause which had lea
to the crusades, or which, at least, had been their most ener-
getic principle, had disappeared ; the moral state of Europe
had undergone an essential modification
The social state of society had undergone an analogous
change. Many inquiries have been made as to the influence
of the crusades in this respect ; it has been shown in what
manner they had reduced a great number of feudal proprietors
to the necessity of selling their fiefs to the kings, or to sell
their privileges to the communities, in order to raise money
for the crusades.
It has been shown that, in consequence of their absence,
many of the nobles lost a great portion of their power. With-
out entering into the details of this question, we may collect
into a few general facts the influence of the crusades on the
social state of Europe.
They greatly diminished the number of petty fiefs, petty
domains, and petty proprietors ; they concentrated property
and power in a smaller number of hands. It is from the time
of the crusades that we may observe the formation and growth
of great fiefs — the existence of feudal power on a large scale.
I have often regretted that there was not a map of France
divided into fiefs, as we have a map of France divided into
departments, arrondissements, cantons and communes^ in which
all the fiefs were marked, with their boundaries, relations
with each other, and successive changes. If we could have
compared, by the help of such maps, the state of France be-
fore and after the crusades, we should have seen how many
small fiefs had disappeared, and to what exten* the greater
ones had increased. This was one of the most important re-
sults of the crusades.
Even in those cases where small proprietors preserved their
fiefs, they did not live upon them in such an insulated state as
formerly. The possessors of great fiefs became so many
centres around which the smaller ones were gathered, and
near which they came to live. During the crusades, small
proprietors found it necessary to place themselves in the train
of some rich and powerful chief, from whom they received
assistance and support. They lived with him, shared his for-
tune, and passed through the same adventures that he did.
When the crusaders returned home, this social spirit, this
habit of living in intercourse with superiors continued to
'IVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. i87
subsist, and had its influence on the manners of the age. A%
we see that the great fiefs were increased after the crusades >
so we see, also, that the proprietors of these fiefs held, within
their castles, a much more considerable court than before, and
were surrounded by a greater number of gentlemen, who pre-
served their little domains, but no longer kept within them.
The extension of the great fiefs, and the creation of a num-
ber of central points in society, in place of the general dis-
persion which previously existed, were the two principal
effects of the crusades, considered with respect to their in-
fluence upon feudalism.
As to the inhabitants of the towns, a result of the same na-
ture may easily be perceived. The crusades created great
civic communities. Petty commerce and petty industry were
not sufficient to give rise to communities such as the great
cities of Italy and Flanders. It was commerce on a great
scale — maritime commerce, and, especially, the commerce of
the East aijd West, which gave them birth ; now it was the .
crusades which gave to maritime commerce the greatest im-
pulse it had yet received.
On the whole, when we survey the state of society at the
end of the crusades, we find that the movement tending to
dissolution and dispersion, the movement of universal locali-
zation (if I may be allowed such an expression), had ceased,
and had been succeeded by a movement in the contrary di-*
lection, a movement of centralization. All things tended to
mutual approximation ; small things were absorbed in grea*
ones, or gathered round them. Such was the direction then
taken by the progress of society.
You now understand why, at the end of the thirteenth and
in the fourteenth century, neither nations nor sovereigns
wished to have any more crusades. They neither needed nor
desired them ; they had been thrown into them by the impulses
of religious spirit, and the exclusive dominion of religious
ideas ; but this dominion had now lost its energy. They had *
also sought in the crusades a new way of life, of a Jess con-
fined and more varied description ; but they began to find this
in Europe itself, in the progress of the social relations. It
was at this time that kings began to see the road to political
aggrandizement. Why go to Asia in search of kindoms, when
there were kingdoms to conquer at their very doors ? Philip
Augustus embarked in the crusade very unwillingly ; and what
188 GENERAL HISTORY OF
could be moie natural? His desire was to make himself
King of France. It was the same thing with the people. Th«
road to wealth was open to them ; and they gave up adven-
tures for industry. Adventures were replaced, for sovereigns,
by political projects ; for the people, by industry on a large
scale. One class only of society still had a taste for adven-
ture ; that portion of the feudal nobility, who, not being in a
condition to think of political aggrandizement, and not being
disposed to industry, retained their former situation and man-
ners. This class, accordingly, continued to embark in cru-
sades, and endeavored to renew them.
Such, in my opinion, are the real effects of the crusades ;
on the one hand the extension of ideas and the emancipation
of thought ; on the other, a general enlargement of the social
sphere, and the opening of a wider field for every sort of ac-
tivity : they produced, at the same time, more individual free-
dom and more political unity. They tended to the indepen-
j dence of man and the centralization of society. 1 Many in-
quiries have been made respecting the means of civilization
which were directly imported from the East. It has been
said that the largest part of the great discoveries which, in
the course of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, contribut-
ed to the progress of European civilization — such as the com-
pass, printing, and gunpowder — were known in the East, and
that the crusaders brought them into Europe. This is true to
a certain extent ; though some of these assertions may bo
disputed. But what cannot be disputed is this influence, this
general effect of the crusades upon the human mind on the
one hand, and the state of society on the other. They drew
society out of a very narrow road, to throw it into new and
infinitely broader paths ; they began that transformation of the
various elements of European society into governments and
nations, which is the characteristic of modern civilization.
The same period witnessed the development of one of those
institutions which has most powerfully contributed to this
great result — monarchy ; the history of which, from the birth
of the modern states of Europe to the thirteenth century, will
form the subject of our next lecture. 20
20 On the subject of this lecture, see Mill's History of the Cm
sades. Gibbon and Robertson may also be consulted. The best
works in German are Frederick Wilken's Geschichte der Kreutztige
mid Heeren's Versuch einer Entwickelung derFolgcn der Kreutzuge
fur Europa. In French, Michaud's Histoire des Croisades.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 189
The following chronological table may serve to put before th«
Itudent's eye a connected outline of the principal facts. Ei^ht
crusades are enumerated.
First Crusade.— A. D. 1096-1100. Urban II. Pope.
A. D.
1094. Peter the Hermit returned from a pilgrimage— by direction
of the Pope, preaches throughout Europe.
1095. Council of Clermont in France. (A previous council had
been held at Placenza.) Attended by the Pope and an im-
mense concourse of clergy and nobles. The crusade proclaim-
ed — great privileges, civil and ecclesiastical, granted to all who
should " assume the cross" — a year allowed to prepare. Peter
the Hermit, not waiting, sets out at the head of a vast rabble
of un jisciplined fanatics and marauders, who perish by dis-
ease, famine, and the sword, in Asia Minor.
1096. An army of 100,000 mounted and mailed warriors, 600,000
men capable of bearing arms, and a multitude of monks,
women, and children, depart from Europe and assemble on the
plains of Bythinia, east of Constantinople. Principal leaders
of the expedition, Godfrey of Boulougne, with his brothers
Baldwin and Eustace ; Robert II. duke of Normandy; Robert
II. count of Flanders ; Raymond of Toulouse ; Hugh of Ver-
mandois; Stephen de Blois; Bohemond, Prince of Tarento,
with his nephew Tancred.
1097. Nice taken by the crusaders.
1098. Antioch and Edessa taken.
1099. Jerusalem taken — a Christian kingdom, on feudal principles,
established — the crown conferred on Godfrey of Boulougne.
Interval between the First and Second Crusades. — 1100-1147.
Baldwin I. succeeds his brother Godfrey as king of Jerusalem.
A new army of crusaders destroyed by the Saracens in Asia Minor,
and the remnant of the first army cut to pieces at Rama. St. Jean
(PAcre, (Ptolemais,) Berytus, and Sidon, taken by Baldwin H., suc-
cessor of Baldwin I. The Christian army unsuccessful — Edessa
taken by the Turks in 1144 — continued ill success of the Chris-
tians leads to a new crusade.
Second Crusade. — 1147-1149. Eugene HI. Pope.
Leaders of this expedition, Conrad III. emperor of Germany, and
Louis VII. king of France, who set out separately on their march.
Both armies destroyed in Asia Minor by famine and the sword. —
The fugitives assemble at Jerusalem. Conrad, Louis, and Baldwin
III. king of Jerusalem, lay siege to Damascus — the enterprise fails
through the quarrels of the princes — Conrad and Louis return to
Europe.
Interval between the Second and Third Crusades. — 1149--11S9.
Saladin takes possession of Egypt and founds a dynasty in 117&
NT
190 GENERAL HISTORY OF
v
Makes war upon the Christian kingdom of Jerus&.em ; defeats Guy
of Lusignan at the battle of Tiberias; Guy taken prisoner; St.
Jean d'Acre and Jerusalem taken. Conrad of Montferrat lays
claim to the crown of Jerusalem, and rallies the remains of the
Christian forces at Tyre.
Third Crusade.— 1189-1 193. Clement III. Pope.
Leaders, Frederick I., (Barbarossa,) emperor of Germany, Philip
Augustus, king of France, and Bichard I. of England.
Frederick departs first with an army of 100,000 men, which is
entirely destroyed in Asia Minor. The emperor himself dies in
Cilicia 1190. His son Frederick of Suabia afterwards killed at St.
Jean d'Acre.
1190. The kings of France and England embark by sea, and pass
the winter in Sicily ; the armies embroiled by the artifices of
Tancred, usurping king of Jerusalem, and by dissension be-
tween the kings.
1191. The armies of France and England, with the Christian prin-
ces of Syria, take St. Jean d'Acre. Philip Augustus returns to
France, leaving a part of his army with Richard — who dis-
plays his bravery in some useless battles, but is unable to re-
gain Jerusalem.
1192. Richard concludes a truce with Saladin and returns to Et -
rope.
Third Interval.— 1193-1202.
Saladin diec — his dominions divided among the princes of hi9
family.
Fourth Crusade.— 1202-1204. Innocent III. Pope.
Leaders, Baldwin IX. count of Flanders ; Boniface II. marquis
of Montferrat; Henry Dandolo, doge of Venice, etc. The kings
of Europe could not be aroused to engage in this crusade, notwith-
standing all the urgency of the Holy See. The chief command
was conferred by the crusaders on Boniface of Montferrat. This
expedition, however, never reached the Holy Land — but engaged
i: putting down a usurpation at Constantinople, which finally led
to the taking and plundering of that city by the crusaders, and the
division of the empire among the conquerors, of whom Baldwin
was raised to the imperial dignity. The French empire of Con-
stantinople was destroyed in 1261 by Michael Paleologus.
Fourth Interval— 1204-1217.
Meantime the Christians in the East, though despoiled of most
of their possessions, and weakened by divisions, bravely defended
themselves against the sultans of Egypt. They continually invoked
aid from Europe; but more powerful interests at home made the
European princes regardless of their calls. Only those of more ex •
alted imaginations could be influenced. There was a crusade of
children in 1212.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 191
Fifth Crusade.— -1217-1221. Honorius III. Pope.
Three kings, John de Brienne, titular king of Jerusalem, Andrew
II. king of Hungary, and Hugh of Lusignan, king of Cyprus,
united their forces at St. Jean d'Acre. The king of Hungary was
soon recalled by troubles at home ; Hugh of Lusignan died; and
John de Brienne went to attack Egypt alone. He conquered Da-
mietta, and would have obtained the restitution of Jerusalem but
for the obstinacy of the Papal legate, who forbade any truce with
the infidels. In 1221 the crusaders, after many reverses, submitted
to an humiliating peace; and John of Brienne returning to Europe
gave his daughter in marriage to Frederick II. emperor of Ger-
many, who thereby became titular king of Jerusalem.
Fifth Interval.— 1221-1228.
Nothing remarkable took place in Syria.
Sixth Crusade.— 1228-1229. Gregory IX. Pope.
Leader, Frederick II. This emperor had taken the vows of the
cross five years before, and though anathematized by the Pope, had
failed to fulfil his engagement. At length he set out by invitation
of the Sultan Maledin, who yielded Jerusalem to him by treaty
without battle. Frederick was desirous to be crowned king of Je-
rusalem, but no bishop dared anoint an excommunicated prince.
Threatened with the loss of his Italian dominions, he returned
to Europe.
Sixth Interval 1229-1248.
Anarchy throughout the East, both among the Christians and
Mohammedans. Jerusalem, after being taken successively by seve-
ral Saracen chiefs, fell into the hands of the Sultan of Egypt.
Seventh Crusade. — 1248-1254. Innocent IV. Pope.
Leaders, St. Louis (IX.) and tke French princes. The king of
France engaged in this crusade in consequence of a vow made du-
ring a dangerous illness. Most of the princes of the blood and
great vassals accompanied him. He turned his arms first against
Egypt and took Damietta in 1250; but his army, surprised by a
sudden rising of the Nile, and carried off in great numbers by pes-
tilence, was surrounded by the Mussulmen, and Louis himself with
20,000 of his army was made prisoner. He obtained his liberty,
however, by payment of a heavy ransom and the surrender of Da-
mietta. He remained four years in Palestine, repairing the fortifi-
cations of the towns which yet remained in the hands of the Chris-
tians, (Ptolemais, Jaffa, Sidon, etc.,) and mediating between the
°hris f ian and Mohammedan princes.
Seventh Interval. — 1254-1272.
The Mongols, who, under Gengis Khan, had before overrun the
greatest p3."t of Asia, now entered Syria under his son, having
already desf>yed the Califate of Bagdad in 1258. They were
192 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
driven from Syria by the sultan of Egypt, Bibars, by whom also
Damascus, Tyre, Jaffa, and Antioch were seized.
Eighth Crusade. — 1270. Clement IV. Pope.
Leaders, Louis IX. ; Charles of Anjou ; Edward, prince of Eng-
land, afterwards Edward I. This expedition was first directed to
the coast of Africa ; Louis debarked before Tunis and laid sie^e to
i ™
that city: but the army was cut down by the blague, to which
Louis himself and one of his sons fell victims. Charles of Anjou
his brother made peace with the Mohammedans and renounced
the expedition to the Holy Land. Tbi? was the last crusade
End of the Christian power in Syria. — 1270-1291.
There remained now but four places in the possession of the
Christians on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean : Tripoli ;
Tyre ; Berytus ; and St. Jean d'Acre. These successively yielded
to the Saracens, the last in 129] . The various orders of religious
knights, sworn to the defence of the Holy Land, withdrew at first
to the Island of Cyprus. In 1310, the Hospitallers established them-
selves at Rhodes ; in 1312, the order of the Templars was abolish-
ed ; in 1300, the Teutonic knights transferred the seat of their
order to Courland, where they laid the foundation of a dominion
which continued powerful for a long period. — See Des Michel*
Hit* du Moyen Age.
LECTURE IX
OF MONARCHY.
I endeavored, at our last meeting, to determine the essen-
tial and distinctive character of modern society as compared
with the primitive state of society in Europe ; and I believed
I had found it in this fact, that all the elements of the social
state, at first numerous and various, were reduced to two — «
the government on one hand, and the people on the other.
Instead of finding, in the capacity of ruling forces and chief
agents in history, the clergy, kings, citizens, husbandmen,
and serfs, we now find in modern Europe, only two great ob-
jects which occupy the historical stage — the government and
the nation.
If such is the fact to which European civilization has led,
such, also, is the result to which our researches should con-
duct us. We must see the birth, the growth, the progressive
establishment of this great result. We have entered upon the
period to which we can trace its origin : it was, as you have
seen, between the twelfth and the sixteenth centuries that
those slow and hidden operations took place which brought
society into this new form, this definite state. We have also
considered the first great event which, in my opinion, evident-
ly had a powerful effect in impelling Europe into this road ;
I mean the crusades.
About the same period, and almost at the very time when
the crusades broke out, that institution began to increase,
which has perhaps chiefly contributed to the formation of
modern society, and to the fusion of all the social elements
into two forces, the government and the people. This insti-
tution is monarchy.
It is evident that monarchy has played a vast part in the
history of European civilization. Of this we may convince
ourselves by a single glance. We see tho development of
9
194 GENERAL HJfSTOjlT OF
monarchy proceed, for a considerable time> at trie same rate
as that of society itself: they had a common progression,
And not only had they a common progression, but with every
step that society made towards its definitive and modern char-
acter, monarchy seemed to increase and prosper; so that,
when .he work was consummated — wnen there remained, in
.he great states of Europe, little or no important and decisive
influence but that of the government and the public — it wjls
monarchy that became the government.
It was not only in France, where the fact is evident, tha*
this happened, but in most of the countries of Europe. A
little sooner or later, and under forms somewhat diiFerent, the
history of society in England, Spain, and Germany, offers us
the same result. In England, for example, it was under the
Tudors that the old particular and local elements of English
society were dissolved and mingled, and gave way to the sys-
tem of public authorities ; this, also, was the period when
monarchy had the greatest influence. It was the same thing
in Germany, Spain, and all the great European states.
If we leave Europe, and cast our eyes over the rest of the
world, we shall be struck with an analogous fact. Every-
where we shall find monarchy holding a great place, and ap-
pearing as the most general and permanent, perhaps, of all
institutions ; as that which is the most difficult to preclude
where it does not exist, and, where it does exist, the most
difficult to extirpate. From time immemorial it has had pos-
session of Asia. On the discovery of America, all the great
states of that continent were found, with different combina-
tions, under monarchical governments. When we penetrate
into the interior of Africa, wherever we meet with nations of
any extent, this is the government which prevails. And not
only has monarchy penetrated everywhere, but it has accom-
modated itself to the most various situations, to civilization
and barbarism : to the most peaceful manners, as in China,
and to those in which a warlike spirit predominates. It has
established itself not only in the midst of the system of castes^
in countries whose social economy exhibits the most rigorous
distinction of ranks, but also in the midst of a system of equal-
ity, in countries where society is most remote from every kind
of legal and permanent classification. In some places de-
spotic and oppressive ; in others favorable to the progress of
civilization and even of liberty ; it is like a head that may be
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 193
placed on maEy different bodies, a fruit that may grow from
many different buds.
In this fact we might discover many important and curious
consequences. I shall take only two ; the first is, that such
a result cannot possibly be the offspring of mere chance, of
force or usurpation only ; that there must necessarily be, be-
tween the nature of monarchy considered as an institution, and
the nature either of man as an individual or of human so-
ciety, a strong and intimate anslogy. Force, no doubt, has
had its share, both in the origin and progress of the institu-
tion ; but as often as you meet with a result like this, as often
as you see a great event develop itself or recur during a long
6eries of ages, and in the midst of so many different situations,
never ascribe it to force. Force performs a great and daily
part in human affairs ; but it is not the principle which governs
their movements : there is always, superior to force, and the
part which it performs, a moral cause which governs the
general course of events. Force, in the history of society,
resembles the body in the history of man. The body assur-
edly holds a great place in the life of man, but is not the
principle of life. Life circulates in it, but does not emanate
from it. Such is also the case in human society ; whatever
part force may play in them, it does not govern them, or ex-
ercise a supreme control over their destinies ; this is the pro-
vince of reason, of the moral influences which are hidden
under the accidents of force, and regulate the course of so-
ciety. We may unhesitatingly declare that it was to a cause
of this nature, and not to mere force, that monarchy was in-
debted for its success.
A second fact of almost equal importance is the flexibility
of monarchy, and its faculty of modifying itself and adapting
itself to a variety of different circumstances. Observe the
contrast which it presents ; its form reveals unity, permanence,
simplicity. It does not exhibit that variety of combinations
which are found in other institutions ; yet it accommodates it-
self to the most dissimilar states of society. It becomes evi-
dent then .hat it is susceptible of great diversity, and capable
of being attached to many different elements and principles
both in man as an indi^dual and in society.
It is because we have not considered monarchy in all it8
extent ; because we have not, on the one hand, discovered
196 GENERAL HISTORY OP
the principle which forms its essence and subsists under every
circumstance to which it maybe applied ; and because, on the
other hand, we have not taken into account all the variations
to which it accommodates itself, and all the principles with
which it can enter into alliance ; — it is, I say, because we
have not considered monarchy in this twofold, this enlarged
point of view, that we have not thoroughly understood the
part it has performed in the history of the world, and have
often been mistaken as to its nature and effects.
This is the task which I should wish to undertake with
you, so as to obtain a complete and precise view of the effects
of this institution in modern Europe ; whether they have flow-
ed from its intrinsic principle, or from the modifications
which it has undergone.
There is no doubt that the strength of monarchy, that moral
power which is its true principle, does not reside in the per-
sonal will of the man who for the time happens to be king ;
there is no doubt that the people in accepting it as an insti-
tution, that philosophers in maintaining it as a system, have
not meant to accept the empire of the will of an individual —
a will essentially arbitrary, capricious, and ignorant.
Monarchy is something quite different from the will of an
individual, though it presents itself under that form. It is the
personification of legitimate sovereignty — of the collective will
and aggregate wisdom of a people — of that will which is es-
sentially reasonable, enlightened, just, impartial, — which
knows naught of individual wills, though by the title of legit-
imate monarchy, earned by these conditions, it has the right
to govern them. Such is the meaning of monarchy as un-
derstood by the people, and such is the motive of their adhe-
sion to it.
Is it true that there is a legitimate sovereignty, a will which
has a right to govern mankind ? They certainly believe that
there is ; for they endeavor, have always endeavored, and
cannot avoid endeavoring, to place themselves under its em*
pire. Conceive, I shall not say a people, but the smallest
community of men ; conceive it in subjection to a sovereign
who is such only de facto, to a power which has no other
right but that of force, which does not govern by the title of
reason and justice ; human nature instantly revolts against a
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 197
sovereignty such as this. Human nature, therefore, must be*
lieve in legitimate sovereignty. It is this sovereignty alone,
the sovereignty de jure, which man seeks for, and which alone
he consents to obey. What is history but a demonstration of
this universal fact ? What are most of the struggles which
harass the lives of nations but so many determined impulses
towards this legitimate sovereignty, in order to place them-
sel\£s under its empire 1 And it is not only the people, but
philosophers, who firmly believe in its existence and inces-
santly seek it. What are all the systems of political philo-
sophy but attempts to discern the legitimate sovereignty ?
What is the object of their investigations but to discover who
has the right to govern society ? Take theocracy, monarchy,
aristocracy, democracy ; they all boast of having discc vered
the seat of legitimate sovereignty ; they all promise to place
society under the authority of its rightful master. This, I re-
peat, is the object of all the labor of philosophers, as well as
of all the efforts of nations.
How can philosophers and nations do otherwise than be-
lieve in this legitimate sovereignty 1 How can they do other
wise than strive incessantly to discover it ? Let us suppose
the simplest case ; for instance, some act to be performed,
either affecting society in general, or some portion of its mem-
bers, or even a single individual ; it is evident that in such a
case there must be some rule of action, some legitimate will
to be followed and applied. Whether we enter into the most
minute details of social life, or participate in its most moment-
ous concerns, we shall always meet with a truth to be dis-
covered, a law of reason to be applied to the realities of hu-
man affairs. It is this law which constitutes that legitimate
sovereignty towards which both philosophers and nations have
never ceased, and can never cease, to aspire.
But how far can legitimate sovereignty be represented,
generally and permanently, by an earthly power, by a human
will 1 Is there anything necessarily false and dangerous in
such an assumption 1 What are we to think in particular of
the personification of legitimate sovereignty under the image
of royalty 1 On what conditions, and within what limits, is
this personification admissible? These are' great questions,
which it is not my business now to discuss, but which I can-
not avoid noticing, and on which 1 shall say a few words in
passing.
198 GENERAL HISTORY OP
1 affirm, and the plainest common sense must admit, thst
legitimate sovereignty, in its complete and permanent form,
cannot belong to any one ; and that every attribution of legiti-
mate sovereignty to any human power whatever is radically
false and dangerous. Thence arises the necessity of f he limi-
tation of every power, whatever may be its name or form;
thence arises the radical illegitimacy of every sort of abso-
lute power, whatever may be its origin, whether conquest, in-
heritance, or election. We may differ as to the best means
of finding the legitimate sovereignty ; they vary according to
the diversities of place and time ; but there is no place or time
at which any power can legitimately be the independent pos-
sessor of this sovereignty.
This principle being laid down, it is equally certain that
monarchy, under whatever system we consider it, presents
itself as the personification of the legitimate sovereignty.
Listen to the supporters of theocracy ; they will tell you that
kings are the image of God upon earth, which, means nothing
more than that they are the personification of supreme justice,
truth, and goodness. Turn to the jurists ; they will tell you
that the king is the living law ; which means, again, that the
king is the personification of the legitimate sovereignty, of
that law of justice which, is entitled to govern society. Inter-
rogate monarchy itself in its pure and unmixed form ; it will
tell you that it is the personification of the state, of the com-
monwealth. In whatever combination, in whatever situation,
monarchy is considered, you will find that _it is always held
out as representing this legitimate sovereignty, this power,
which alone is capable of lawfully governing society.
We need not be surprised at this. What are the charac-
teristics of this legitimate sovereignty, and which are derived
from its very nature 1 In the first place, it is single ; since
there is but one truth, one justice, so there can be but one le-
gitimate sovereignty. It is, moreover, permanent, and always
the same, for truth is unchangeable. It stands on a high van-
tage-ground, beyond the reach of the vicissitudes and chances
of this world, with which it is only connected in the charac-
ter, as it were, of a spectator and a judge. Well, then, these
being the rational and natural characteristics of the legitimate
sovereignty, it is monarchy which exhibits them under the
most palpable form, and seems to be their most faithful image
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. ] 99
Consult the work in which M. Benjamin Constant has so in-
geniously represented monarchy, as a neutral and moderating
power, raised far above the struggles and casualties of society
and never metering but in great and critical conjunctures
Is not this, so to speak, the attitude of the legitimate sove-
reignty, in the government of human affairs 1 There must be
something in this idea peculiarly calculated to strike the mind,
for it has passed, with singular rapidity, from books into the
actual conduct of affairs. A sovereign has made it, in the
constitution of Brazil, the very basis of his throne. In that
constitution, monarchy is represented as a moderating pow-
er, elevated above the active powers of the state, like their
spectator and their judge.
Under whatever point of view you consider monarchy,
when you compare it with the legitimate sovereignty, you will
find a great outward resemblance between them — a resem-
blance with which the human mind must necessarily have
been struck. Whenever the reflection or the imagination
of men has especially turned towards the contemplation or
study of legitimate sovereignty, and of its essential qualities,
it has inclined towards monarchy. Thus in the times when
religious ideas preponderated, the habitual contemplation of
the nature of God impelled mankind towards the monarchical
system. In the same manner, when the influence of jurists
prevailed in society, the habit of studying, under the name of
law, the nature of the legitimate sovereignty, was favorable
to the dogma of its personification in the institution of monar-
chy. The attentive application of the human mind to the
contemplation of the nature and qualities of the legitimate
sovereignty, when there were no other causes to destroy its
effect, has always given strength and consideration to mon-
archy, as being its image.
There are, too, certain junctures, which are particularly
favorable to this personification ; such, for example, as when
individual forces display themselves in the world with all their
uncertainties ; all their waywardness ; when selfishness pre-
dominates in individuals, either through ignorance and bru-
tality, or through corruption. At such times, society, distract-
ed by the conflict of individual wills, and unable to attain, by
their free concurrence, to a general will, which might hold
them in subjection, feels an ardent desire for a sovereign pow-
er, to which all individuals must submit ; and, as soon as any
institution presents itself which bears any of the characteris-.
200 GENERAL HISTORY OT
tics of legitimate sovereignty, society rallies round it witli
eagerness ; as people, undur proscription, take refuge in the
sanctuary of a church. This is what has taken place in the
wild and disorderly youth of nations, such as those we have
passed through. Monarchy is wonderfully suited to those
times of strong and fruitful anarchy, if I may so speak, in
which society is striving to form and regulate itself, but is un-
able to do so by the free concurrence of individual wills
There are other times when monarchy, though from a con-
trary cause, has the same merit. Why did the Roman world,
so near dissolution at the end of the republic, still subsist for
more than fifteen centuries, under the name of an empire,
which, after all, was nothing but a lingering decay, a protract-
ed death-struggle ? Monarchy, alone, could produce such an
effect ; monarchy, alone, could maintain a state of society
which the spirit of selfishness incessantly tended to destroy.
The imperial power contended for fifteen centuries against the
ruin of the Roman world.
It thus appears that there are times when monarchy, alone,
can retard the dissolution, and times when it, alone, can ac-
celerate the formation of society. And it is, in both cases,
because it represents, more clearly than any other form of
government can do, the legitimate sovereignty, that it exer-
cises this power over the course of events.
Under whatever point of view you consider this institution,
and at whatever period you take it, you will find, therefore,
that its essential character, its moral principle, its true mean-
ing, the cause of its strength, is, its being the image, the per
sonification, the presumed interpreter, of that single, superior,
and essentially legitimate will, which alone has a right to
govern society.
Let us now consider monarchy under the second point of
view, that is to say, in its flexibility, the variety of parts it
has performed and of effects it has produced. Let us en-
deavor to account for this character, and ascertain its causes.
Here we have an advantage ; we can at once return to his-
tory, and to the history of our own country. By a concur-
rence of singular circumstances, monarchy in modern Europe
has but one very character which it has ever exhibited in the
history of the world European monarchy has been, in soma
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 20 .
sort, the result of all the possible kinds of monarchy. la
running over its history, from the fifth to the twelfth century
vou will see the variety of aspects under which it appears
and the extent to which we everywhere find that variety, com-
plication, and contention, which characterize the whole course
of European civilization.
In the fifth century, at the time of the great invasion of the
Germans, two monarchies were in existence — the barbarian
monarchy of Clovis, and the imperial monarchy of Constan-
tine. They were very different from each other in principles
and effects.
The barbarian monarchy was essentially elective. The
German kings were elected, though their election did not take
place in the form to which we are accustomed to attach that
idea. They were military chiefs, whose power was freely
accepted by a great number of their companions, by whom
they were obeyed as being the bravest and most competent to
rule. Election was the true source of this barbarian monar-
chy, its primitive and essential character.
It is true that this character, in the fifth century, was al-
ready somewhat modified, and that different elements were
introduced into monarchy. Different tribes had possessed
their chiefs for a certain space of time ; families had arisen,
more considerable and wealthier than the rest. This produced
the beginning of hereditary succession ; the chief being al-
most always chosen from these families. This was the first
principle of a different nature which became associated with
the leading principle of election.
Another element had already entered into the institution of
barbarian monarchy — I mean the element of religion. We
find among some of the barbarian tribes — the Goths, for ex-
ample — the conviction that the families of their kings were
descended from the families of their gods or of their deified
heroes, such as Odin. This, too, was the case with Homer's
monarchs, who were the issue of gods or demi-gods, and, by
this title, objects of religious veneration, notwithstanding the
limited extent of their power.
Such was the barbarian monarchy of the fifth century,
whose primitive principle still predominated, though it had
itself grown diversified and wavering.
202 GENERAL HISTORY OF
I now take the monarchy of the Roman empire, the prin«
ciple of which was totally different. It was the personifies*
tion of the state, the heir of the sovereignty and majesty of
the Roman people. Consider the monarchy of Augustus or
Tiberius : the emperor was the representative of the senate ;
the assemblies of the people, the whole republic.
Was not this evident from the modest language of the first
emperors— of such of them, at least^ as were men of sense
and understood their situation 1 They felt that they stood in
the presence of the people, who themselves had lately pos-
sessed the sovereign power, which they had abdicated in their
favor ; and addressed the people as their representatives and
ministers. But in reality they exercised all the power of the
people, and that, too, in its most exaggerated and fearful form.
Such a transformation it is easy for us to comprehend ; we
have witnessed it ourselves ; we have seen the sovereign-
ty transferred from the people to the person of a single indi-
vidual ; this was the history of Napoleon. He also was a
personification of the sovereignty of the people ; and con-
stantly expressed himself to that effect. " Who has been
elected," he said, " like me, by eighteen millions of men ?
who is, like me, the representative of the people ?" and when,
upon his coins, we read on one side Rcpublique Frangaise,
and on the other Napoleon Empercur, what is this but an ex-
ample of the fact which I am describing, of the people having
become the monarch 1
Such was the fundamental character of the imperial mo-
narchy ; it preserved this character during the three first cen-
turies of the empire ; and it was, indeed, only under Diocle-
tian that it assumed its complete and definitive form. It was
then, however, on the eve of undergoing a great change ; a
new kind of monarchy was about to appear. During three
centuries Christianity had been endeavoring to introduce into
the empire the element of religion. It was under Constan-
tine that Christianity succeeded, not in making religion the
prevailing element, but in giving it a prominent part to per-
form. Monarchy here presents itself under a different aspect;
it is not of earthly origin : the prince is not the representa-
tive of the sovereignty of the public ; he is the image, the
representative, the delegate of God. Power descends to him
from on high while, in the imperial monarchy, power had as-
cended from oelow. These wers totally different situations,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 203
#vith totally different results. The rights of freedom and po
litical securities are difficult to combine with the principle of
religious monarchy ; but the principle itself is high, moral,
and salutary. I shall show you the idea which was formed
of the prince, in the seventh century, under the system of re-
ligious monarchy. I take it from the canons of the Council
of Toledo.
" The king is called rex because he governs with justice.
If he acts justly (recte) he has a legitimate title to the name
of king ; if he acts unjustly, he loses all claim to it. Our
fathers, therefore, said with reason, rex ejus eris si recta facts ;
si autem nonfacis, non eris. The two principal virtues of a
king are justice and truth, (the science of truth, reason.)
" The depositary of the royal power, no less than the whole
body of the people, is bound to respect the laws. While we
obey the will of heaven, we make for ourselves, as well as
our subjects, wise laws, obedience to which is obligatory on
ourselves and our successors, as well as upon all the popula-
tion of our kingdom. ##*##*
" God, the creator of all things, in constructing the human
body, has raised the- head aloft, and has willed that from it
should proceed the nerves of all the members, and he has
placed in the head the torches of the eyes, in order to throw
light upon every dangerous object. In like manner he has
established the power of intelligence, giving it the charge of
governing all the members, and of prudently regulating their
action. #########
" It is necessary then to regulate, first of all, those things
which relate to princes, to provide for their safety, and protect
their life, and then those things which concern the people, in
such a manner, that in properly securing the safety of kings,
that of the people may be, at the same time, and so much the
more effectually, secured."*
But, in the system of religious monarchy, there is almost
always another element introduced besides monarchy itself
A new power takes its place by its side ; a power nearer to
God, the source whence monarchy emanates, than monarchy
itself. This is the clergy, the ecclesiastical power which
interposes between God and kings, and between kings and
people, in such sort, that monarchy, though the image of the
Divinity, runs the hazard of falling to the rank of an instru
* Forum judicum, tit. i. 1. 2; tit. i. 1. 2, 1. 4.
204 GENERAL HISTORY OF
merit in the hands of the human interpreters of the Diving
will. This is a new cause of diversity in the destinies and
effects of the institution.
The different kinds of monarchy, then, which, in the fifth
century, made their appearance on the ruins of the Roman
empire, were, the barbarian monarchy, the imperial monarchy,
and religious monarchy in its infancy. Their fortunes were
as different as their principles.
In France, under the first race, barbarian monarchy pre
vailed. There were, indeed, some attempts on the part of
the clergy to impress upon it the imperial or religious char-
acter ; but the system of election, in the royal family, with
some mixture of inheritance and of religious notions, remained
predominant.
In Italy, among the Ostrogoths, the imperial monarchy
overcame the barbarous customs. Theodoric considered
himself as successor of the emperors. It is sufficient to read
Cassiodorus to perceive that this was the character of his
government.
In Spain, monarchy appeared more religious than else-
where. As the councils of Toledo, though I shall not call
them absolute, were the influencing power, the religious
character predominated, if not in the government, properly so
called, of the Visigothic kings, at least in the laws which
the clergy suggested to them, and the language they made
them speak.
In England, among the Saxons, manners remained almost
wholly barbarous. The kingdoms of the heptarchy were
little else than the territories of different bands, every one
having its chief. Military election appears more evidently
among them than anywhere else. The Anglo-Saxon mon-
archy is the most faithful type of the barbarian monarchy.
Thus, from the fifth to the seventh century, at the same
lime that all these three sorts of monarchy manifested them-
selves in general facts, one or other of them prevailed, accord-
ing to circumstances, in the different states of Europe.
Such was the prevailing confusion at this period, that
nothing of a general or permanent nature could be established;
and, from vicissitude to vicissitude, we arrive at the eighth
century without finding that monarchy has anywhere assumed
ft definitive character.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 205
Towards the middle of the eighth century, and with the
triumph of the second race of the Frank kings, events assume
a more general character, and become clearer ; as they were
transacted on a larger scale, they can be better understood
and have more evident results. The different kinds of mon-
archy were shortly destined to succeed and combine with one
another in a very striking manner.
At the time when the Carlovingians replaced the Merovin-
gians, we perceive a return of the barbarian monarchy.
Election re-appeared ; Pepin got himself elected at Soissons.
When the first Carlovingians gave kingdoms to their sons,
they took care that they should be acknowledged by the chief
men of the states assigned to them. When they divided a
kingdom, they desired that the partition should be sanctioned
in the national assemblies. In short, the elective principle,
under the form of popular acceptance, again assumed a cer-
tain reality. You remember that this change of dynasty was
like a new inroad of the Germans into the west of Europe,
and brought back some shadow of their ancient institutions
and manners.
At the same time, we see the religious principle more
clearly introducing itself into monarchy, and performing a part
of greater importance. Pepin was acknowledged and conse-
crated by the pope. He felt that he stood in need of the
sanction of religion ; it was already become a great power,
and he sought its assistance. Charlemagne adopted the same
policy ; and religious monarchy thus developed itself. Still,
however, under Charlemagne, religion was not the prevailing
character of his government ; the imperial system of monarchy
was that which he wished to revive. Although he allied him-
self closely with the clergy, he made use of them, and was
not their instrument. The idea of a great state, of a great
political combination, — the resurrection, in short, of the Ro-
man empire, was the favorite day-dream of Charlemagne.
He died, and was succeeded by Louis le Debonnaire.
Everybody knows the character to which the royal power
was then, for a short time, reduced. The king fell into the
hands of the clergy, who censured, deposed, re-instated, and
governed him ; a monarchy subordinate to religious authority
Beemed on the point of being established.
Thus, from the middle of the eighth to the middle of the
ninth century, the diversity of the three kinds of monarchy
206 GENERAL HISTORY OF
became manifested by events important, closely connected,
and clear.
After the death of Louis le Debonnaire, during the state of
disorder into which Europe fell, the three kinds of monarchy
almost equally disappeared : everything became confounded.
At the end of a certain time, when the feudal system had pre-
vailed, a fourth kind of monarchy presented itself, differing
from all those which had been hitherto observed : this was
feudal monarchy. It is confused in its nature, and canno>
easily be defined. It has been said that the king, in the feu
dal system of government, was the suzerain over suzerains,
the lord over lords ; that he was connected by firm links, from
degree to degree, with the whole frame of society ; and that,
in calling around him his own vassals, then the vassals of his
vassals, and so on in gradation, he exercised his authority
over the whole mass of the people, and showed himself to be
really a king. I do not deny that this is the theory of feudal
monarchy : but it is a mere theory, which has never governed
facts. This pretended influence of the king by means of a
hierarchical organization, these links which are supposed to
have united monarchy to the whole body of feudal society,
are the dreams of speculative politicians. In fact, the greatest
part of the feudal chieftains at that period were completely in-
dependent of the monarchy ; many of them hardly knew it even
by name, and had few or no relations with it : every kind of
sovereignty was local and independent. The name of king,
borne by one of these feudal chiefs, does not so much express
a fact as a remembrance.
Such is the state in which monarchy presents itself in the
course of the tenth and eleventh centuries.
In the twelfth, at the accession of Louis le Gros, things
began to change their aspect. 2 '- The king was more fre ■
quently spoken of; his influence penetrated into places which
it had not previously reached ; he assumed a more active part
in society. If we inquire into this title, we recognise none
of those titles of which monarchy had previously been accus-
tomed to avail itself. It was not by inheritance from the
emperors, or by the title of imperial monarchy, that this insti-
tution aggrandized itself, and assumed more consistency
21 Louis the Fat came to the throne 1108.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 201
Neither was it in virtue of election, or as being an emanation
from divine power : every appearance of election had vanished ,
the principle of inheritance definitively prevailed ; and notwith-
standing the sanction given by religion to the accession of
kings, the minds of men did not appear to be at all occupied
with the religious character of the monarchy of Louis le
Gros. A new element, a character hitherto unknown, was
introduced into monarchy ; a new species of monarchy began
to exist.
Society, I need hardly repeat, was at this period in very
great disorder, and subject to constant scenes of violence.
Society, in itself, was destitute of means to struggle against
this situation, and to recover some degree of order and unity.
The feudal institutions, — those parliaments of barons, those
seignorial courts, — all those forms under which, in modern
times, feudalism has been represented as a systematic and
orderly state of government, — all these things were unreal
and powerless ; there was nothing in them which could afford
the means of establishing any degree of order or justice ; so
that, in the midst of social anarchy, no one knew to whom
recourse could be had, in order to redress a great injustice,
remedy a great evil, to constitute something like a state. The
name of king remained, and was borne by some chief whose
authority was acknowledged by a few others. The differ-
ent titles, however, under which the royal power had been
formerly exercised, though they had no great influence, yet
were far from being forgotten, and were recalled on various
occasions. It happened that, in order to re-establish some
degree of order in a place near the king's residence, or to
terminate some difference which had lasted a long time, re-
course was had to him ; he was called upon to intervene in
affairs w T hich were not directly his own ; and he intervened
as a protector of public order, as arbitrator, as redresser of
wrongs. The moral authority which continued to be attach-
ed to his name gained for him, by little and little, this great
accession of power.
Such was the character which monarchy began to assume
onder Louis, le Gros, and under the administration of Suger,
Now, for the first time, seems to have entered the minds of
men the idea, though very incomplete, confused, and feeble.
of a public power, unconnected with the local powers w r hich
had possession of society, called upon to render justice ta
208 GENERAL HISTORY OF
those who could not obtain it by ordinary means, and capable
of producing, or at least commanding, order ; — the idea of a
great magistracy, whose essential character was to maintain
or re-establish the peace of society, to protect the weak, and
to decide differences which could not be otherwise settled.
Such was the entirely new character, in which, reckoning
from the twelfth century, monarchy appeared in Europe, and
especially in France. It was neither as barbarian monarchy,
as religious monarchy, nor as imperial monarchy, that the
royal power was exercised ; this kind of monarchy possessed
only a limited, incomplete, and fortuitous power ; — a power
which I cannot more precisely describe than by saying that
it was, in some sort, that of the chief conservator of the pub-
lic peace.
This is the true origin of modern monarchy ; this is its vital
principle, if I may so speak ; it is this which has been de-
veloped in the course of its career, arid, I have no hesitation
in saying, has ensured its success. At different periods of
history we observe the re-appearance of the various charac-
ters of monarchy ; we see the different kinds of monarchy
which I have described, endeavoring, by turns, to recover the
preponderance. Thus, the clergy have always preached re-
ligious monarchy ; the civilians have labored to revive the
principle of imperial monarchy ; the nobility would sometimes
have wished to renew elective monarchy, or maintain feu-
dal monarchy. And not only have the clergy, the civilians,
and the nobility, attempted to give such or such a character a
predominance in the monarchy, but monarchy itself has made
them all contribute towards the aggrandizement of its own
power. Kings have represented themselves sometimes as the
delegates of God, sometimes as the heirs of the emperors, or
as the first noblemen of the land, according to the occasion 01
public wish of the moment ; they have illegitimately availed
themselves of these various titles, but none of them has been
the real title of modern monarchy, or the source of its pre-
ponderating influence. It is, I repeat, as depositary and pro-
tector of public order, of general justice, and of the common
interest, — it is under the aspect of a chief magistracy, the
centre and bond of society, that modern monarchy has pre-
sented itself to the people, and, in obtaining their adhesion
has made their strength its own.
You will see, as we proceed, this characteristic of tha
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 209
monarchy of modern Europe, which began, I repeat, in the
twelfth century, and in the reign of Louis le Gros, confirm
and develop itself, and* become at length, if I may so speak,
the political physiognomy of the institution. It is by this that
monarchy has contributed to the great result which now cha-
racterizes European society, the reduction of all the social
elements to two — the government and the nation.
Thus it appears, that, at the breaking out of the crusades,
Europe entered upon the path which was to conduct her to
her present state : you have just seen monarchy assume the
important part which it was destined to perform in this great
transformation. We shall consider, at our next meeting, the
different attempts at political organization, made from the
twelfth to the sixteenth century, in order to maintain, by regu-
lating it, the order of things that was about to perish. We
shall consider the efforts of feudalism, of the Church, and
even of the free cities, to constitute society according to its
ancient principles, and under its primitive forms, and thus to
defend themselves against the general change which was pre-
paring.
LECTURE X
VARIOUS ATTEMPTS TO FORM THE SEVERAL SOCIAL ELE«
MENTS INTO ONE SOCIETY.
At the commencement of this lecture I wish, at once, &
determine its object with precision. It will be recollected,
that one of the first, facts that struck us, was the diversity, the
separation, the independence, of the elements of ancient Eu-
ropean society. The feudal nobility, the clergy, and the com
mons, had each a position, laws, and manners, entirely differ-
ent ; they formed so many distinct societies whose mode of
government was independent of each other. They were in
some measure connected, and in contact, but no real union
existed between them ; to speak correctly, they did not form
a nation — a state.
The fusion of these distinct portions of society into one is,
at length, accomplished ; this is precisely the distinctive or-
ganization, the essential characteristic of modern society.
The ancient social elements are now reduced to two — the
government and the people ; that is to say, diversity ceased
and similitude introduced union. Before, however, this re-
sult took place, and even with a view to its prevention, many
attempts were made to bring all these separate portions of so-
ciety together, without destroying their diversity and indepen-
dence. No positive attack was made on the peculiar position
and privileges of each portion, on their distinctive nature, and
yet there was an attempt made to form them into one stato,
one national body, to bring them all under one and the same
government.
All these attempts failed. The result which I have noticed
above, the union of modern society, attests their want of suc-
cess. Even in those parts of Europe where some traces of
the ancient diversity of the social elements are still to be met
with, in Germany, for instance, where a real feudal nobility
and a distinct body of burghers still exist ; in England, where
we see an established Church enjoying its own revenues and
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 211
'is own peculiar jurisdiction ; it is clear that this pretended
distinct existence is a shadow, a falsehood : that these special
societies are confounded in general society, absorbed in the
state, governed by the public authorities, controlled by the
same system of polity, carried away by the same current of
ideas, the same manners. Again I assert, that even where
the form still exists, the separation and independence of the
anciont social elements have no longer any reality.
At the same time, these attempts at rendering the ancient
and social elements co-ordinate, without changing their na-
ture, at forming them into national unity without annihilating
their variety, are entitled to an important place in the history
of Europe. The period which now engages our attention — ■
that period which separates ancient from modern Europe, and
in which was accomplished the metamorphosis of European
society — is almost entirely filled with them. Not only do
they form a principal part of the history of this period, but
they had a considerable influence on after events, on the man-
ner in which was effected the reduction of the various social
elements to two — the government and the people. It is clear-
ly, then, of great importance, that we should become well ac-
quainted with all those endeavors at political organization
which were made from the twelfth to the sixteenth century,
for the purpose of creating nations and governments, without
destroying the diversity of secondary societies placed by the
side of each other. These attempts form the subject of the
present lecture — a laborious and even painful task.
All these attempts at political organization did not, certain-
ly, originate from a good motive ; too many of them arose
from selfishness and tyranny. Yet some of them were pure
and disinterested; some of them had, truly, for their object
the moral and social welfare of mankind. Society, at this
time, was in such a state of incoherence, of violence and in-
iquity, as could not but be extremely offensive to men of en-
larged views — to men who possessed elevated sentiments,
and who labored incessantly to discover the means of improv-
ing it. Yet even the best of these noble attempts miscarried ;
and is not the loss of so much courage — of so many sacrifi-
ces and endeavors — of so much virtue, a melancholy spec-
tacle 1 And what is still more painful, a still more poignant
sorrow, not only did these attempts at social melioration fail,
but an enormous mass of error an* 1 of evil was mingled with
212 GENERAL HISTCIRY OF
ihem. Notwithstanding good intention, the majorily of them
were absurd, and show a profound ignorarrce of reason, of
justice, of the rights of humanity, and of the conditions of the
social state ; so that not only were they unsuccessful, but it
was right that they should be so. We have here a spectacle,
not only of the hard lot of humanity, but also of its weakness.
We may here see how the smallest portion of truth suffices
so to engage the whole attention of men of superior intellect,
that they forget every thing else, and become blind to all mat
is not comprised within the narrow horizon of their ideas.
We may here see how the existence of ever so small a par-
ticle of justice in a cause is sufficient to make them lose
sight of all the injustice which it contains and permits. This
dkplay of the vices and follies of man is, in my opinion Still
more melancholy to contemplate than the misery of this con-
dition ; his faults affect me more than his sufferings. The at-
tempts already alluded to will bring man before us in both these
situations ; still we must not shun the painful retrospect ; it
behooves us not to flinch from doing justice to those men. to
those ages that have so often erred, so miserably failed, and
yet have displayed such noble virtues, made such powerful
efforts, merited so much glory.
'I he attempts at political organization which were formed
from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries were of two kinds ;
one having for its object the predominance of one of the so-
cial elements ; sometimes the clergy, sometimes the feudal
nobility, sometimes the free cities, and making all the others
subordinate to it, and by such a sacrifice to introduce unity ;
the other proposed to cause all the different societies to agree
and to act together, leaving to each portion its liberty, and en-
suring to each its due share of influence.
The attempts of the former kind are much more open to
suspicion of self-interest and tyranny than the latter ; in fact,
they were not spotless ; from their very nature they were es-
sentially tyrannical in their mode of execution ; yet some of
them might have been, and indeed were, conceived in a spirit
of pure intention, and with a view to the welfare and advance-
ment of mankind.
The first attempt which presents itsejf, is the attempt at
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 213
theocratical organization ; that is to say, the design of bring-
ing all the other societies into a state of submission to the
principles and sway of ecclesiastical society.
I must here refer to what I have already said relative to the
history of the Church. I have endeavored to show what were
the principles it developed — what was the legitimate part of
each — how these principles arose from the natural course of
events — the good and the evil produced by them. I have
characterized the different stages through which the Church
passed from the eighth to the twelfth century. I have point-
ed out the state of the imperial Church, of the barbarian
Church, of the feudal Church, and lastly, of (he theocratic
Church. I take it for granted that all this is present in your
recollection, and I shall now endeavor to show you what the
clergy did in order to obtain the government of Europe, and
why they failed in obtaining it.
The attempt at theocratic organization appeared at an
early period, both in the acts of the court of Rome, and in
those of the clergy in general ; it naturally proceeded from the
political and moral superiority of the Church ; but, from the
commencement, such obstacles were thrown in its way, that,
even in its greatest vigor, it never had the power to overcome
them.
The first obstacle was the nature itself of Christianity.
Very different, in this respect, from the greater part of religi-
ous creeds, Christianity established itself by persuasion alone,
by simple moral efforts ; even at its birth it was not armed
with power ; in its earliest years it conquered by words alone,
and its only conquest was the souls of men. Even after its
triumph, even when the Church was in possession of great
wealth and consideration, the direct government of society
was not placed in its hands. Its origin, purely moral, spring-
ing from mental influence alone, was implanted in its consti-
tution. It possessed a vast influence, but it had no power. It
gradually insinuated itself into the municipal magistracies ; it
acted powerfully upon the emperors and upon all their agents ;
but the positive administration of public affairs — the govern-
ment, properly so called — was not possessed by the Church.
Now, a system of government, a theocracy, as well as any
other, cannot be established in an indirect manner, by mere
influence alone ; it must possess the judicial and ministerial
offices, the command of the forces, be in receipt of the im-
214 GENERAL HISTORY OF
posts, have the disposal of the revenues, in a word, it must
govern — take possession of society. Force of persuasion may
do much, it may obtain great influence over a people, and
even over governments its sway may be very powerful ; but
it cinnot govern, it cannot found a system, it cannot take
possession of the future. Such has been, even from its origin,
the situation of the Christian Church ; it has always sided
with government, but never superseded it, and taken its place ;
a great obstacle, which the attempt at theocratic organiza-
tion was never able to surmount.
The attempt to establish a theocracy very soon met with a
second obstacle. When the Roman empire was destroyed,
and the barbarian states were established on its ruins, the
Christian Church was found among the conquered. It was
necessary for it to escape from this situation ; to begin by
converting the conquerors, and thus to raise itself to their
rank. This accomplished, when the Church aspired to do-
minion, it had to encounter the pride and the resistance of the
feudal nobility. Europe is greatly indebted to the laic mem-
bers of the feudal system in the eleventh century : the people
were almost completely subjugated by the Church ; sover-
eigns could scarcely protect themselves from its domination ;
the feudal nobility alone would never submit to its yoke, would
never give way to the power of the clergy. We have only
to recall to our recollection the general appearance of the
middle ages, in order to be struck with the singular mixture
of loftiness and submission, of blind faith and liberty of mind
in the connexion of the lay nobility with the priests. We
there find some of the remnants of their primitive situation.
It may be remembered how I endeavored to describe the ori-
gin of the feudal system, its first elements, and the manner in
which feudal society 'first formed itself around the habitation
of the possessor of the fief. I remarked how much the priest
was there below the lord of the fief. Yes, and there always
remained, in the hearts of the feudal nobility, a feeling of this
situation ; they always considered themselves as not only in-
dependent of the Church, but as its superior, — as alone called
upon to possess, and in reality to govern, the country ; they
were willing always to live on good terms with the clergy
but at the same time insisting that each should perform hia
own part, the one not infringing upon the duties of the other
During many centuries it was the lay aristocracy who main
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 219
tained the independence of society with regard to the Church ;
they boldly defended it when the sovereigns and the people
were subdued. They were the first to oppose, and probably
contributed more than any other power to the failure of the
attempt at a theocratic organization of society.
A third obstacle stood much in the way of this attempt, an
obstacle which has been but little noticed, and the effect of
which has often been misunderstood.
In all parts of the world where a clergy made itself master
of society, and forced it to submit to a theocratic organization,
the government always fell into the hands of a married clergy,
of a body of priests who were enabled to recruit their ranks
from their own society. Examine history ; look to Asia and
Egypt ; every powerful theocracy you will find to have been
the work of a priesthood, of a society complete within itself,
and which had no occasion to borrow of any other.
But the celibacy of the clergy placed the Christian priest-
hood in a very different situation ; it was obliged to have re-
course incessantly to lay society in order to continue its ex-
istence ; it was compelled to seek at a distance, among all
stations, all social professions, for the means of its duration.
In vain, attachment to their order induced them to labor as-
siduously for the purpose of assimilating these discordant
elements ; some of the original qualities of these new-comers
ever remain ; citizens or gentlemen, they always retained
some vestige of their former disposition, of their early habits.
Doubtless the Catholic clergy, by being placed in a lonely
situation by celibacy, by being cut off, as it were, from the
common life of men, became more isolated, and separate from
society ; but then it was forced continually to have recourse
to this same lay society, to recruit, to renew itself from it,
and consequently to participate in the moral revolutions which
it underwent ; and I have no hesitation in stating it as my
opinion, that this necessity, which was always arising, did
much more to prevent the success of the attempt at theocratic
organization, than the esprit de corps, strongly supported as it
was by celibacy, did to forward it.
The clergy, indeed, found within its own body the most
powerful opponents of this attempt. Much has been said of
the unity of the Church, and it is true that it has constantly
endeavored to obtain this unity, and in some particulars has
had the good fortune to succeed. Bit we must not suffer
216 GENERAL HISTORY OF
ourselves to be imposed upon by high-sounding words, nor by
partial facts. What society has offered to our view a greater
number of civil dissensions, has been subject to more dismem-
berments than the clergy ? What society has suffered more
from divisions, from agitations, from disputes than the ecclesi
astical nation ? The national churches of the majority of Eu-
ropean states have been incessantly at variance with the Ro-
man court ; the councils have been at war with the popes :
heresies have been innumerable and ever springing up anew ;
schism always breaking out ; nowhere was ever witnessed
such a diversity of opinions, so much rancor in dispute, such
minute parcelling out of power. The internal state of the
Church, the disputations which have taken place, the revolu-
tions by which it has been agitated, have been perhaps the
greatest of all obstacles to the triumph of that theocratical
organization which the Church endeavored to impose upon
society.
All these obstacles were visibly in action even so early as
the fifth century, even at the commencement of the great at-
tempt of which we are now speaking. They did not, how-
ewer, prevent the continuance of its exertions, nor retard its
progress during several centuries. The period of its greatest
glory, its crisis, as it may be termed, was the reign of Gre-
gory the Seventh, at the end of the eleventh century. We
have already seen that the predominant wish of Gregory was
to render the world subservient to the clergy, the clergy to
the pope, and to form Europe into one immense and regular
theocracy. In the scheme by which this was to be effected,
this great man appears, so far as one can judge of events
which took place so long ago, to have committed two great
faults — one as a theorist, the other as a revolutionist. The
first consisted in the pompous proclamation of his plan ; in
his giving a systematical detail of his principles relative to
the nature and the rights of spiritual power, of drawing from
them beforehand, like a severe logician, their remotest, their
ultimate consequences. He thus threatened and even attacked
all the lay sovereignties of Europe, without having secured the
means of success : not considering that success in human
affairs is not to be obtained by such absolute proceedings, or
by a mere appeal to a philosophic argument. Gregory the
Seventh also fell into the common error of all revolutionists—
that of attempting more than they can perform, and of not
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 217
fixing the measure and limits of their enterprises within the
bounds of possibility. In order to hasten the predominance
of his opinions, he entered into a contest against the Empire,
against all sovereigns, even against the great body of the
clergy itself. He never temporized — he consulted no parti-
cular interests, but openly proclaimed his determination to
reign over all kingdoms as well as over all intellects ; and
thus raised up against him, not only all temporal powers,
who discovered the pressing danger o£ their situation, but
also all those who advocated the right of free inquiry, a party
which now began to show itself, and dreaded and exclaimed
against all tyranny over the human mind. It seemed indeed
probable, on the whole, that Gregory the Seventh injured
rather than advanced the cause which he wished to serve.
This cause, however, still continued to prosper throughout
the whole of the twelfth and down to the middle of the thir-
teenth century. This was the epoch of the greatest power
and splendor of the Church. I do not think it can be said
that during this period she made much progress ; to the end of
the reign of Innocent III. she rather displayed her glory and
power than increased them. But at this very moment of her
apparently greatest success, a popular reaction seemed to de-
clare war against her in almost every part of Europe. In
the south of France broke out the heresy of the Albigenses,
which carried away a numerous and powerful society. Al-
most at the same time similar notions and desires appeared
in the north, in Flanders. Wickliffe, only a little later, attack-
ed in England, with great talent, the power of the Church,
nd founded a sect which was not destined to perish. Sove-
reigns soon began to follow the bent of their nations. It was
only at the beginning of the thirteenth century, that the em-
perors of the house of Hohenstaufen, who deservedly rank
among the most able and powerful sovereigns of Europe, were
overcome in their struggle with the Holy See ; yet before the
eiA of the same century, Saint Louis, the most pious of mon-
archs, proclaimed the independence of temporal power, and
published the first pragmatic sanction, which has served as
the basis of all the following. 22 At the opening of the four-
28 This ordinance or edict was proclaimed by St. Louis in 1269.
The term Pragmatic Sanction is commonly applied to four ordi-
nances published at a subsequent date : 1. That of Charles VII. of
10
218 GENERAL HISTORY OF
teenth century began the quarrel between Philip the Eel witi
Boniface VIII. : Edward I. of England was not more obe
dient to the court of Rome. At this epoch it is evident, tha.
the attempt at theocratic organization had failed ; the Church
henceforward acted only upon the defensive ; she no longer
attempted to force b jx system upon Europe ; but only con-
sidered how she mignt keep what she possessed. It is at the
end of the thirteenth century that truly dates the emancipa-
tion of the laic society of Europe ; it was then that the Church
gave up her pretensions to its possession.
For a long time before this she had renewed this preten
sion in the very sphere in which it appea/ed most likely for
her to be successful. For a long time in Italy itself, even
around the very throne of the Church, theocracy had com-
pletely failed, and given way to a system its very opposite in
character : to that attempt at democratic organization, of which
the Italian republics are the type, and which displayed so
brilliant a career in Europe from the eleventh to the sixteenth
century.
It will be remembered, that, when speaking of the free
cities, of their history, and of the manner of their formation
I observed that their growth had been more precocious and
vigorous in Italy than in any other country ; they were here
more numerous, as well as more wealthy, than in Gaul, Eng-
land, or Spain ; the Roman municipal system had been pre-
served with more life and regularity. Besides this, the pro-
vinces of Italy were less fitted to become the habitation of its
new masters than the rest of Europe. The lands had been
France in 1438, by which the Papal power was limited, and the in-
dependence of the French church in various particulars declared — •
conformably to the canons of the Council of Basle. This council
commenced in 1431 and closed 1449. It passed a great many ca-
nons declaring the Pope subject to the decrees of general councils,
limiting his powers, and decreeing the reformation of various abuses
and corruptions of discipline and practice. The history of this
council, as well as that of the former council held at Constance in
1414— IS, is deeply interesting. 2. The decree passed by Charles
VI. emperor of Germany in 1449, confirming the canons of the
ccuncil of Basle, is also called a Pragmatic Sanction. 3. The de»
eiee of Charles VI. respecting the succession to the imperial throne,
4. The law of succession proclaimed by Conrad III. of Spain in 1759
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 219
cleared, drained, and cultivated ; it was not covered with
forests, and the barbarians could not here devote their lives to
the chase, or find occupations similar to what had amused them
in Germany. A part of this country, moreover, did not belong
to them. The south of Italy, the Campania, Romana, Ra-
venna, were still dependant on the Greek emperors. Fa-
vored by distance from the seat of government, and by the
vicissitudes of war, the republican system soon took root, and
grew very fast in this portion of the country. Italy, too, be-
sides having never been entirely subdued by the barbarians,
was favored by the circumstance, that the conquerors who
overran it did not remain its tranquil and lasting possessors.
The Ostrogoths were destroyed and driven off by Belisarius
and Narses : the kingdom of the Lombards was not perma-
nent. The Franks overthrew it under Pepin and Charlemagne,
who, without exterminating the Lombard population, found it
their interest to ally themselves with the ancient Italian in-
habitants, in order to contend against the Lombards with
more success. The barbarians, then, never became in Italy,
as in the other parts of Europe, the exclusive and quiet mas-
ters of the territory and people. And thus it happened tha
the feudal system never made much progress beyond the Alps
wheie it was but weakly established, and its members few
and scattered. Neither did the great territorial proprietors
ever gain that preponderance here, which they did in Gaul
and other countries, but it continued to rest with the towns.
"When this result clearly showed itself, a great number of the
possessors of fiefs, moved by choice or necessity, left their
country dwellings and took up their abode within the walls oi
some city. The barbarian nobles made themselves burgess-
es. It is easy to imagine what strength and superiority the
towns of Italy acquired, compared with the other communities
of Europe, by this single circumstance. What we have chiefly
dwelt upon, as most observable in the character of town popu-
lations, is their timidity and weakness. The burgesses ap-
pear like so many courageous freedmen, struggling with toil
and care against a master, always at their gates. The fate of
the Italian towns was widely different ; the conquering and
conquered populations here mixed together within the same
walls ; the towns had not the trouble to > defend themselves
against a neighboring master ; their inhabitants were citizens,
who, at least for the most part, had always been free ; who
defended their independence and their rights against distant
220 GENERAL HISTORY OF
foreign sovereigns j at one time against the kings of the
Franks, and, at a later period, against the emperors of Ger-
many. This will in some measure account for the immense
and precocious superiority of the Italian cities : while in other
countries we see poor insignificant communities arise after
great trouble and exertion ; we here see shoot up, almost
at once, republics — states.
Thus becomes explained, why the attempt at republican or-
ganization was so successful in this part of Europe. It re-
pressed, almost in its childhood, the feudal system, and be-
came the prevailing form in society. Still it was but little
adapted to spread or endure ; it contained but few germs of
melioration, a necessary condition for the extension and dura-
tion of any form of government.
In looking at the history of the Italian republics, from the
eleventh to the fifteenth century, we are struck with two facts,
seemingly contradictory, yet still indisputable. We see pass-
ing before us a wonderful display of courage, of activity, and
of genius ; an amazing prosperity is the result : we see a
movement and a liberty unknown to the rest of Europe. Bu
if we ask what was the real state of the inhabitants, how
they passed their lives, what was their real share of happi-
ness, the scene changes ; there is, perhaps, no history so sad,
so gloomy : no period, perhaps, during which the lot of man
appears to have been so agitated, subject to so many deplor-
able chances, and which so abounds in dissensions, crimes,
and misfortunes. Another fact strikes us at the same moment •
in the political life of the greater part of these republics,
liberty was always growing less and less. The want of se-
curity was so great, that the people were unavoidably driven
to take shelter in a system less stormy, less popular, than that
in which the state existed. Look at the history of Florence.
Venice, Genoa, Milan, or Pisa ; in all of them we find the
course of events, instead of aiding the progress of liberty, in-
stead of enlarging the circle of institutions, tending to repress
it ; tending to concentrate power in the hands of a smaller
number of individuals. In a word, we find in these republics,
otherwise so energetic, so brilliant, and so rich, two thing?
wanting — security of life, the first requisite in the social state
and the progress of institutions
From these causes sprung a new evil, which prevented th«
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 221
attempt at republican organization from extending itself. It
was from without — it was from foreign sovereigns, that the
greatest danger was threatened to Italy. Still this danger never
succeeded in reconciling these republics, in making them all
act in concert ; they were never ready to resist in common
the common enemy. This has led many Italians, the most
enlightened, the best of patriots, to deplore, in the present
day, the republican system of Italy in the middle ages, as the
true cause which hindered it from becoming a nation ; it was
parcelled out, they say, into a multitude of little states, not
sufficiently master of their passions to confederate, to consti-
tute themselves into one united body. They regret that their
country has not, like the rest of Europe, been subject to a
despotic centralization which would have formed it into a na-
tion, and rendered it independent of the foreigner.
It appears, then, that republican organization, even under
the most favorable circumstances, did not contain, at this pe-
riod, any more than it has done since, the principle of progress,
duration, and extension. We may compare, up to a certain
point, the organization of Italy, in the middle ages, to that of
ancient Greece. Greece, like Italy, was a country covered
with little republics, always rivals, sometimes enemies, and
sometimes rallying together for a common object. In this
comparison the advantage is altogether on the side of Greece
There is no doubt, notwithstanding the frequent iniquities that
history makes known, but that there was much more order,
security, and justice in the interior of Athens, Lacedemon,
and Thebes, than in the Italian republics. See, however,
notwithstanding this, how short was the political career of
Greece, and what a principle of weakness is contained in this
parcelling out of territory and power. No sooner did Greece
come in contact with the great neighboring states, with Mace-
don, and Rome, than she fell. These little republics, so
glorious and still so flourishing, could not coalesce to resist.
How much more likely was this to be the case in Italy, where
society and human reason had made no such strides as in
Greece, and consequently possessed much less power.
If the attempt at republican organization had so little
chance of stability in Italy where it had triumphed, where
the feudal system had been overcome, it may easily be sup
222 GENERAL HISTORY OF
posed that it was much less likely to succeed in the othei
parts of Europe.
I shall take a rapid survey of its fortunes.
There was one portion of Europe which bore a great re-
semblance to Italy ; the south of France, and the adjoining
provinces of Spain, Catalonia, Navarre, and Biscay. In
these districts the cities had made nearly the same progress,
and had risen to considerable importance and wealth. Many
little feudal nobles had here allied themselves with the citi-
zens ; a part of the clergy had likewise embraced their cause ;
in a word, the country in these respects was another Italy.
So also, in the course of the eleventh and beginning of the
twelfth century, the towns of Provence, of Languedoc, and
Acquitaine, made a political effort and formed themselves into
free republics, as haa been done by the towns on the other
side of the Alps. But the south of France was connected
with a very powerful branch of the feudal system, that of the
North. The heresy of the Albigenses appeared. A war
broke out between feudal France and municipal France. The
history of the crusade against the Albigenses, commanded by
Simon de Montfort, is well known : it was the struggle of the
feudalism of the North against the attempt at democratic or-
ganization of the South. Notwithstanding the efforts of
Southern patriotism, the North gained the day ; political
unity was wanting in the South, but civilization was not yet
sufficiently advanced there to enable men to bring it about.
This attempt at republican organization was put down, and
the crusade re-established the feudal system in the south of
France.
A republican attempt succeeded better a little later, among
the Swiss mountains. Here, the theatre was very narrow,
the struggle was only against a foreign monarch, who, al-
though much more powerful than the Swiss, was not one of
the most formidable sovereigns of Europe. The contest was
carried oiy with a great display of courage. The Swiss feu-
dal nobility allied themselves, for the most part, with the cities ;
a powerful help, which also raised the character of the revo-
lution it sustained, and stamped it with a more aristocratical
and stationary character than it seemingly ought to have
borne.
\ cross to the north of France, to the free towns of Flan*
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE, 223
ders, to those on the banks of the Rhine, and belonging to
the Hanseatic league. Here the democratic organization
completely triumphed in the internal government of the cities ;
but from its origin, it is evident, that it was not destined to
take entire possession of society. The free towns of the
North were surrounded, pressed on every side by feudalism,
by barons, and sovereigns, to such an extent that they were
constantly obliged to stand upon the defensive It is scarce-
ly necessary to say, that they did not trouble themselves to
make conquests ; they defended themselves sometimes well
and sometimes badly. They preserved their privileges, but
they remained confined to the inside of their walls. Within
these, democratic organization was shut up and arrested ; if
we walk abroad over the face of the country, we find no sem-
blance of it.
Such, then, was the state of the republican attempt : trium-
phant in Italy, but with little hope of duration and progress ;
vanquished in the south of Gaul ; victorious upon a small
scale in the mountains of Switzerland; while in the North,
in the free communities of Flanders, the Rhine, and Han-
seatic league, it was condemned not to appear outside their
walls. Still, even in this state, evidently inferior to the other
elements of society, it inspired the feudal nobility with pro-
digious terror. The barons became jealous of the wealth of
the cities, they feared their power ; the spirit of democracy
stole into the country ; insurrections of the peasantry became
more frequent and obstinate. In nearly every part of Europe
a coalition was formed among the nobles against the free
cities. The parties were not equal ; the cities were isolated ;
there was no correspondence or intelligence between them ;
all was local. It may be true that there existed, between the
burgesses of different countries, a certain degree of sympathy ;
the success or reverses of the towns of Flanders, in their
struggles with the dukes of Burgundy, excited a lively sen-
sation in the French cities : but this was very fleeting, and
led to no result ; no tie, no true union became established be-
tween them ; the free communities lent no assistance to one
another. The position of feudalism was much superior ; yet
divided, and without any plan of its own, it was never able
to destroy them. After the struggle had lasted a considerable
time, when the conviction became settled that a complete vic-
tory was impossible, concession became necessary; these
224 GENERAL HISTORY OF
petty burgher republics were acknowledged, negotiated with,
and admitted as members of the state. A new plan was now
begun, a new attempt was made at political organization-
The object of this was to conciliate, to reconcile, to make to
live and act together, in spite of their rooted hostility, the
various elements of society ; that is to say, the feudal no-
bility, the free cities, the clergy, and monarchs. It is to this
attempt at mixed organization that I have still to claim your
attention.
I presume there is no one who is not acquainted with the
nature of the States-general of France, the Cortes of Spain
and Portugal, the Parliament of England, and the States of
Germany. The elements of these various assemblies were
much the same ; that is to say, the feudal nobility, the clergy,
and the cities or commons, there met together and labored to
unite themselves into one sole society, into one same state,
under one same law, one same authority. Whatever their
various names, this was the tendency, the design of all.
Let us take, as the type of this attempt, the fact which
most interests us, as well as being best known to us — the
States-general of France. I say this fact is best known,
while I am still sure that the term States-general awakens in
none of you more than a vague and incomplete idea. Who
can say what there was in it of stability, of regularity ; the
number of its members, the subjects of their deliberations,
the times at which they were convoked, or the length of their
sessions ? Of all this we know nothing, and it is impossible
to obtain from history any clear, general, satisfactory infor-
mation respecting it. The best accounts we can gather from
the history of France, as regards the character of these as-
semblies, would almost le*ad us to consider them as pure ac-
cidents, as the last political resort both of people and kings ;
the last resort of kings, when they had no money and knew
not how to free themselves from embarrassment ; the last re-
sort of the people, when some evil became so great that they
knew not what remedy to apply to it. The 1 nobles formed
part of the States-general ; so did the clergy ; but they came
to them with little interest, for they knew well that it was not
in these assemblies that they possessed the greatest influence,
that it was not there that they took a true part in the govern-
ment. The burgesses themselves were not eager to attend
them ; it was not a righ/. which they were anxious to exer«
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 223
cise, but ratner a necessity to which they submitted. Again,
what was the character of the political proceedings of these
assemblies 1 At one time we find them perfectly insignifi-
cant, at others terrible. If the king was the stronger, their
humility and docility were extreme ; if the situation of the
monarch was unfortunate, if he really needed the assistance
of the States, they then became factious, either the instru-
ment of some aristocratic intrigue, or of some ambitious dema-
gogues. Their works died almost always with them ; they
promised much, they attempted much, — and did nothing. No
great measure which has truly had any iufluence upon society
in France, no important reform either in the general legisla
tion or administration, ever emanated from the States general.
It must not, however, be supposed that they have been alto-
gether useless, or without effect ; they had a moral effect, of
which in general we take too little account ; they served from
time to time as a protestation against political servitude, a
forcible proclamation of certain guardian principles, — such,
for example, as that a nation has the right to vote its own
taxes, to take part in its own affairs, to impose a responsi-
bility upon the agents of power. That these maxims have
never perished in France, is mainly owing to the States-gene-
ral ; and it is no slight service rendered to a country, to main-
tain among its virtues, to keep alive in its thoughts, the re-
membrance and claims of liberty. The States-general has
done us this service, but it never became a means of govern-
ment ; it never entered upon political organization ; it never
attained the object for which it was formed, that is to say, the
fusion into one only body of the various societies which di-
vided the country. 23
The Cortes of Portugal and Spain offered the same general
result, though in a thousand circumstances they differ. .The
importance of the Cortes varied according to the kingdoms,
and times at which they were held ; they were most power-
23 The first States-general of France, in the proper meaning of
the word, as including the clergy, nobility, and commons or depu-
ties from the towns, was convoked by Philip the Fair in 1302. The
feudal nobility had before this time submitted to the appellant ju-
risdiction of the crown, exercised by the royal tribunals ; — they had
also lost the legislative supremacy in their fiefs ; and now, by allow-
ing the commons to become a co-ordinate branch of the national le*
gisiature, they lost their last privilege of territorial independence.
226 GENERAL HISTORY OF
ful and most frequently convoked in Aragon and Biscay
during the disputes for the successions to the crown, and the
struggles against the Moors. To some of the Cortes — for
example, that of Castile, 1370 and 1373 — neither the nobles
nor the clergy were called. There were a thousand acci-
dents which it would be necessary to notice, if we had time
to look closely into events ; but in the general sketch to which
I am obliged to confine myself it will be enough to state that
the Cortes, like the States-general of France, have been an
accident in history, and never a system — never a political or
ganization, or regular means of government. 24
The lot of England has been different. I shall not, how-
ever, enter into any detail upon this subject at present, as it
24 The cities of Castile were early invested with chartered privi-
leges, including civil rights and extensive property, on condition ot
protecting their country. The deputies of the cities are not how-
ever mentioned as composing a branch of the Cortes or general legis-
lative council of the nation until 1169, and then in only one case.
But from the year 1189, they became a regular and essential part
of that assembly. Subsequently, through the exercise of the royal
prerogative in withholding the writ of summons, and through the
neglect of many cities in sending deputies, the representation be-
came extremely limited; and the privilege itself was graduallv
lost; so that in 1480 only seventeen cities retained the right oi
sending representatives. The concurrence of the Cortes of Castile
was necessary to all taxation and grants of money, and also to legis-
lation in general, as well as to the determination of all great and
weighty affairs. The nobles and clergy formed the two other es-
tates of the Cortes; but they seem to have been less regularly sum-
moned than even the deputies of the towns.
In the kingdom of Aragon, no law could be enacted or repealed
without the consent of the Cortes ; and by the " General Privilege,"
a sort of Magna Charta, granted in 1283, this body was to be as-
semoled every year at Saragossa — though it was afterwards sum-
moned once in two years, and the place of assembling left to the
discretion of the king. The Cortes of this kingdom consisted of
four estates : the prelates ; the commanders of military orders, who
were reckoned as ecclesiastics; the barons; the knights or infan-
zones ; and the deputies of the royal towns. This body by itself,
when in session, and by a commission during its recess, exercised
very considerable powers, both legislative and administrative. Va-
lencia and Catalonia had also each its separate Cortes both before
and after their union with Aragon. See Hallam, Middle Ages,
Vcl. I. Chap. IV
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 2%1
is my intention to devote a future lecture to the special con-
sideration of the political life of England. All I shall now do
is to say a few words upon the causes which gave it a direc
tion totally different from that of the continental states.
And, first, there were no great vassals, no subjects sufficient*
]y powerful to enter single-handed into a contest with the
crown. The great barons were obliged, at a very early pe-
riod, to coalesce, in order to make a common resistance.
Thus the principle of association, and proceedings truly po-
litical, were forced upon the high aristocracy. Besides this,
English feudalism — the little holders of fiefs — were brought
by a train of circumstances, which I cannot here recount, to
unite themselves with the burgher class, to sit with them in
the House of Commons ; and by this, the Commons obtained
in England a power much superior to those on the Continent,
a power really capable of influencing the government of the
country. In the fourteenth century, the character of the Eng-
lish Parliament was already formed : the House of Lords
was the great council of the king, a council effectively asso-
ciated in the exercise of authority. The House of Commons,
composed of deputies from the little possessors of fiefs, and
from the cities, took, as yet, scarcely any part in the govern-
ment, properly so called ; but it asserted and established
rights, it defended with great spirit private and local interests.
Parliament, considered as a whole, did not yet govern ; but
already it was a regular institution, a means of government
adopted in principle, and often indispensable in fact. Thus
the attempt to bring together the various elements of society,
and to form them into one body politic, one true state or com-
monwealth, did succeed in England while it failed in every
part of the Continent.
I shall not offer more than one remark upon Germany, and
that only to indicate the prevailing character of its history.
The attempts made here at political organization, to melt into
one body the various elements of society, were spiritless and
coldly followed up. These social elements had remained
here more distinct, more independent than in the rest of Eu-
rope. Were any proof of this wanting, it might be found in
its later usages. Germany is the only country of Europe
(I say nothing of Poland and the Sclavonian nations, which
entered so very late into the European system of civilization)
in which feudal election has for a long time taken part in tho
228 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
■
election of royalty ; it is likewise the only country of Europe
in which ecclesiastical sovereigns were continued ; the only
one in which were, preserved free cities with a true political
existence and sovereignty. It is clear, therefore, that the at-
tempt to fuse the elements of primitive European society into
one social body, must have been much less active and effec
tive in Germany than in any other nation.
I have now run over all the great attempts at political or-
ganization which were made in Europe, down to the end of
the fourteenth or beginning of the fifteenth century. Ah
these failed. I have endeavored to point out, in going along,
the causes of these failures ; to speak truly, they may all be
summed up in one : society was not yet sufficiently advanced
to adapt itself to unity ; all was yet too local, too special, too
narrow ; too many differences prevailed both in things and in
minds. There were no general interests, no general opinions
capable of guiding, of bearing sway over particular interests
and particular opinions. The most enlightened minds, the
boldest thinkers, had as yet no just idea of administration or
justice truly public. It was evidently necessary that a very
active, powerful civilization should first mix, assimilate, grind
together, as it were, all these incoherent elements ; it was
necessary that there should first be a strong centralization of
interests, laws, manners, ideas ; it was necessary, in a word,
that there should be created a public authority and a public
opinion. We are now drawing near to the period in which
this great work was at last consummated. Its first symptoms — ■
the state of manners, mind, and opinions, during the fifteenth
century, their tendency towards the formation of a central
government and a public opinion'— will be the svjbject of the
following lecture.
LECTURE XI.
CENTRALIZATION OF NATIONS AND GOVERNMENTS
We have now reached the threshold of modern history, in
the proper sense of the term. We now approach that state
of society which may be considered as our own, and the in-
stitutions, the opinions, and the manners which were those of
France forty years ago, are those of Europe still, and, not-
withstanding the changes produced by our revolution, continue
to exercise a powerful influence upon us. It is in the six-
teenth century, as I have already told you, that modern so-
ciety really commences.
Before entering into a consideration of this period, let us
review the ground over which we have already passed. We
have discovered among the ruins of the Roman Empire, all
the essential elements of modern Europe ; we have seen them
separate themselves and expand, each on its own account,
and independently of the others. We have observed, during
the first historical period, the constant tendency of these ele-
ments to separation, and to a local and special existence. But
scarcely has this object appeared to be attained ; scarcely
have feudalism, municipal communities, and the clergy, each
taken their distinct place and form, when we have seen them
tend to approximate, unite, and form themselves into a gen-
eral social system, into a national body, a national govern-
ment. To arrive at this result, the various countries of Europe
had recourse to all the different systems which existed among
them : they endeavored to lay the foundations of social union,
and of political and moral obligations, on the principles of
theocracy, of aristocracy, of democracy, and of monarchy.
Hitherto all these attempts have failed. No particular sys-
tem has been able to take possession of society, and to secure
it, by its sway, a destiny truly public. W T e have traced the
cause of this failure to the absence of general interests and
general ideas : we have found that everything, as yet, was too
special, too individual, too local ; that a long and powerful
230 GENERAL HISTORY OF
process of centralization was necessary, in order that society
might become at Once extensive, solid, and regular, the ob«
ject which it necessarily seeks to attain. Such was the
state in which we left E irope at the close of the fourteenth
century.
Europe, however, was then very far from understanding
her own state, such as I have now endeavored to explain it
to you. She did not know distinctly what she required, or
what she was in search of. Yet she set about endeavoring
to supply her wants as if she knew perfectly what they were.
When the fourteenth century had expired, after the failure of
every attempt at political organization, Europe entered natu-
rally, and as if by instinct, into the path of centralization. It
is the characteristic of the fifteenth century that it constantly
tended to this result, that it endeavored to create general in-
terests and general ideas, to raise the minds of men to more
enlarged views, and to create, in short, what had not, till then,
existed on a great scale — nations and governments.
The actual accomplishment of this change belongs to the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, though it was in the fif-
teenth that it was prepared. It is this preparation, this silent
and hidden process of centralization, both in the social rela-
tions and in the opinions of men — a process accomplished,
without premeditation or design, by the natural course of
events — that we have now to make the subject of our inquiry.
It is thus that man advances in the execution of a plan
which he has not conceived, and of which he is not even
aware. He is the free and intelligent artificer of a work
which is not his own. He does not perceive or comprehend
it, till it manifests itself by external appearances and real re-
sults ; and even then he comprehends it very incompletely.
It is through his means, however, and by the development of
his intelligence and freedom, that it is accomplished. Con-
ceive a great machine, the design of which is centred in a
single mind, though its various parts are intrusted to different
workmen, separated from, and strangers to each other. No
one of them understands the work as a whole, nor the gen-
eral result which he concurs in pioducing ; but every one ex-
ecutes, with intelligence and freedom, by rational and voluntary
acts, the particular task assigned to him. It is thus, that by
the hand of man, the designs of Providence are wrought out
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 231
in the government of the world. It is thus that the two great
facts which are apparent in the history of civilization come
to co-exist ; on the one hand, those portions of it which may
be considered as fated, or which happen without the control
of human knowledge or will ; on the other hand, the part
played in it by the freedom and intelligence of man, and what
he contributes to it by means of his own judgment and will.
In order that we may clearly understand the fifteenth cen-
tury ; in order that we may give a distinct account of this pre-
lude, if we may use the expression, to the state of society in
modern times, we will separate the facts which bear upon the
subject into different classes. We will first examine the politi-
cal facts — the changes which have tended to the formation
either of nations or of governments. From thence we will
proceed to the moral facts : we will consider the changes
which took place in ideas and in manners ; and we shall then
see what general opinions began, from that period, to be in a
state of preparation.
In regard to political facts, in order to proceed with quick-
ness and simplicity, I shall survey all the great countries of
Europe, and place before you the influence which the fifteenth
century had upon them — how it found them, how it left them.
I shall begin with France. The last half of the fourteenth,
and the first half of the fifteenth century, were, as you al]
know, a time of great national wars against the English.
This was the period of the struggle for the independence of
the French territory and the French name against foreign
domination. It is sufficient to open the book of history, to
see with what ardor, notwithstanding a multitude of treasons
and dissensions, all classes of society in France joined in this
struggle, and what patriotism animated the feudal nobility, the
burghers, and even the peasantry. If we had nothing but the
story of Joan of Arc to show the popular spirit of the time, it
alone would suffice for that purpose. Joan of Arc sprang from
among the people ; it was by the sentiments, the religious
belief, the passions of the people, that she was inspired and
supported. She was looked upon with mistrust, with ridicule,
with enmity even, by the nobles of the court and the leaders
of the army ; but she had always the soldiers and the people
on her side. It was the peasants of Lorraine who sent her
232 GENERAL HISTORY OF
to succor the citizens of Orleans. No event could shew n
a stronger light the popular character of that war, and the feel-
ing with which the whole country engaged in it.
Thus the nationality of France began to be formed. Down
to the reign of tne nouse of Valois, the feudal character pre-
vailed in France ; a French nation, a French spirit, French
patriotism, as yet had no existence. With the princes of the
house of Valois begins the history of France, properly so
called. 25 It was in the course of their wars, amid the various
turns of their fortune, that, for the first time, the nobility, the
citizens, the peasants, were united by a moral tie, by the tie of
a common name, a common honor, and by one burning desire
to overcome the foreign invader. We must not, however, at
this time, expect to find among them any real political spirit,
any great design of unity in government and institutions, ac-
cording to the conceptions of the present day. The unity of
France, at that period, dwelt in her name, in her ijational ho-
nor, in the existence of a national monarchy, no matter of what
character, provided that no foreigner had anything to do with
it. It was in this way that the struggle against the English
contributed strongly to form the French nation, and to impel
it towards unity.
At the same time that France was thus forming herself in a
moral point of view, she was also extending herself physi-
cally, as it may be called, by enlarging, fixing, and consoli-
dating her territory. This was the period of the incorpora-
tion of most of the provinces which now constitute France.
Under Charles VII., [1422 — 1461] after the expulsion of the
English, almost all the provinces which they had occupied —
Normandy, Angoumois, Touraine, Poitou, Saintonge, etc.,
became definitively French. Under Louis XL, [1461 — 1483]
ten provinces, three of which have been since lost and regain-
ed, were also united to France — Roussillon and Cerdagne,
Burgundy, Franche-Conte, Picardy, Artois, Provence, Maine,
Anjou, and Perche. Under Charles VIII. and Louis XIL
[1483 — 1515] the successive marriages of Anne with these
tw r o kings gave her Britany. Thus, at the same period, and
during the course of the same events, France, morally as weL
as physically, acquired at once strength and unity.
Let us turn from the nation to the government, and we shal
r-- — ■■ ,.-■- — — - -
* Philip VI., the first king of the house of Valois, came to ihe>
dirone in 1328.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 233
see the accomplishment of events of the same nature ; wc
shall advance towards the same result. The French govern-
ment had never been more destitute of unity, of cohesion, and
of strength, than under the reign of Charles VI. , [1380 — 1422]
and during the first part of the reign of Charles VII. At the
end of this reign, [1461] the appearance <5f everything was
changed. There were evident marks of a power which was
confirming, extending, organizing itself. All the great re-
sources of government, taxation, military force, and adminis-
tration of justice, were created on a great scale, and almost
simultaneously. This was the period of the formation of a
standing army, of permanent militia, and of compagnies-iVor*
donnance, consisting of cavalry, free archers, and infantry.
By these companies, Charles VII. re-established a degree of
order in the provinces, which had been desolated by the li-
cense and exactions of the soldiery, even after the war had
ceased. All contemporary historians expatiate on the won-
derful effects of the co?npagnies-d' or donnance. It was at this
period that the faille, one of the principal revenues of the
crown, was made perpetual ; a serious inroad on the liberty
of the people, but which contributed powerfully to the regu-
larity and strength of the government. 26 At the same time
26 The general term taille, or lax, seems here appropriated to the
particular tax made perpetual in the reign of Charles VII. , who
frequently levied money by his own authority. In general the kings
did not claim the absolute prerogative of imposing taxes without
the consent of the States-general; though they often in emergen-
cies violently stretched their power. The taille was commonly
assessed by respectable persons chosen by the advice of the parish
priests — a privilege of importance to the tax-payers, who were al-
lowed some voice in the repartition of the tax. This is, however,
entirely distinct from that consent of the people to the tax which
the theory of the French constitution made requisite. It is assert-
ed that this perpetual taille was granted by the States-general in
1439, but this does not appear in the terms of any ordinance.
One thing is certain, that this tax, whether at first established
with or without the concurrence of the States-general, was per-
petual, and managed without any check upon the crown, The two
acts of the reign of Charles VII., the establishment of a standing
military force, and a perpetual tax for its support, were the great
events of the period, and fatal to the liberties of France. There
was henceforth but little check to the increasing power of the crown.
The nobles lost their political influence ; the people gained noth-
ing The precedent was improved by succeeding monarchs, until
the absolute despotism of the crown was completely established.
234 GENERAL HISTORY OF
whe great instrument of power, the administration of justice,
was extended and organized ; parliaments were multiplied,
rive new parliaments having been instituted in a short space
of time : — under Louis XL, the parliaments of Grenoble (in
1451), of Bordeaux (in 14-62), and of Dijon (in 1477) ; under
Louis XII., the parliaments of Rouen (in 1499), and of Aix
(in 1501.) The parliament of Paris also acquired, about the
same time, much additional importance and stability, both in
regard to the administration of justice, and the superintend-
ence of the police within its jurisdiction.
Thus, in relation to the military force, the power of taxa-
tion, and the administration of justice, that is to say, in regard
to those things which form its essence, government acquired
in France, in the fifteenth century, a character of unity,
regularity, and permanence, previously unknown ; and the
feudal powers were finally superseded by the power of the
state.
At the same time, too, was accomplished a change of very
different character ; a change not so visible, and which has
not so much attracted the notice of historians, but still more
important, perhaps, than those which have been mentioned :
— the change effected by Louis XL in the mode of governing
A great deal has been said about the struggle of Louis XI
[1461—1483] against the grandees of the kingdom, of theii
depression, and of his partiality for the citizens and the in-
ferior classes. There is truth in all this, though it has been
much exaggerated, and though the conduct of Louis XL to-
wards the different classes of society more frequently dis-
turbed than benefited the state. But he did something of
deeper import. Before his time the government had been
carried on almost entirely by force, and by mere physical
means. Persuasion, address, care in working upon men's
minds, and in bringing them over to the views of the govern-
ment — in a word, what is properly called policy — a policy,
indeed, of falsehood and deceit, but also of management and
prudence — had hitherto been little attended to. Louis XL
substituted intellectual for material means, cunning for force,
Italian for feudal policy. Take the two men whose rivalry
engrosses this period of our history, Charles the Bold and
Louis XL : Charles is the representative of the old mode of
governing ; he has recourse to no other means than violence ;
he constantly appeals to arms ; he is unable o act with pa-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 235
rience, or to address himself to the dispositions and tempera
of men in order to make them the instruments of his designs
Louis XL, on the contrary, takes pleasure in avoiding the usa
of force, and in gaining an ascendency over men, by conver-
sation with individuals, and by skilfully bringing into play
their interests and peculiarities of character. It was not the
public institutions or the external system of government that
he changed ; it was the secret proceedings, the tactics, of
power. It was reserved for modern times to attempt a still
greater revolution ; to endeavor to introduce into the means,
as well as the objects, of public policy, justice in place of
self-interest, publicity instead of cunning. Still, however, a
great step was gained by renouncing the continued use of
force, by calling in the aid of intellectual superiority, by
governing through the understandings of men, and not by over-
turning every thing that stood in the way of the exercise of
power. Tnis is the great change which, among all his errors
and crimes, in spite of the perversity of his nature, and solely
by the strength of his powerful intellect, Louis XL has the
merit of having begun.
From France I turn to Spain ; and there I find movements
of the same nature. It was also in the fifteenth century that
Spain was consolidated into one kingdom. At this time an
end was put to the long struggle between the Christians and
Moors, by the conquest of Grenada. Then, too, the Spanish
territory became centralized : by the marriage of Ferdinand
the Catholic, and Isabella, the two principal kingdoms, Castile
and Arragon, were united under the same dominion. In the
same manner as in France, the monarchy was extendsd and
confirmed. It was supported by severer institutions, which
bore more gloomy names. Instead of parliaments, it was the
inquisition that had its origin in Spain. It contained the
germ of what it afterwards became ; but at first it was of a
political rather than a religious nature, and was destined to
maintain civil order rather than defend religious faith. The
analogy between the countries extends beyond their institu-
tions ; it is observable even in the persons of the sovereigns.
With less subtlety of intellect, and a less active and intriguing
spirit, Ferdinand the Catholic, in his character and govern-
ment, strongly resembles Louis XL I pay no regard to ar-
bitrary comparisons or fanciful parallels ; but 'iere the analogy
236 GENERAL HISTORY OF
is strong, and observable in general facts as well as in minutt
details.
A similar analogy may be discovered in Germany. It was
in the middle of the fifteenth century, in 1438, that the house
of Austria came to the empire ; and that the imperial power
acquired a permanence which it had never before possessed.
From that time election was merely a sanction given to here-
ditary right. At the end of the fifteenth century, Maximilian
I. definitively established the preponderance of his house and
the regular exercise of the central authority ; Charles VII.
was the first in France who, for the preservation of order,
created a permanent militia ; Maximilian, too, was the first in
his hereditary dominions, who accomplished the same end by
the same means. Louis XI. had established in France, the
post-office for the conveyance of letters ; Maximilian I. intro-
duced it into Germany. In the progress of civilization the
same steps were everywhere taken, in a similar way, for the
advantage of central government.
The history of England in the fifteenth century consists ot
two great events — the war with France abroad, and the con-
test of the two Roses at home. These two wars, though dif-
ferent in their nature, were attended with similar results. The
contest with France was maintained by the English people
with a degree of ardor which went entirely to the profit of
royalty. The people, already remarkable for the prudence
and determination with which they defended their resources
and treasures, surrendered them at that period to their mon-
archs, without foresight or measure. It was in the reign of
Henry V. that a considerable tax, consisting of custom-house
duties, was granted to the king for his lifetime, almost at the
beginning of his reign. The foreign war was scarcely ended,
when the civil war, which had already broken out, was car-
ried on ; the houses of York and Lancaster disputed the
throne. When at length these sanguinary struggles were
brought to an end, the English nobility were ruined, diminish-
ed in number, and no longer able to preserve the power which
they had previously exercised. The coalition of the great
barons was no longer able to govern the throne. The Tudors
ascended it ; and with Henry VII., in 1485, begins the era
of political centralization, the triumph of royalty
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 237
Monarchy did not establish itself in Italy, at least undel
that name ; but this made little difference as to the result. It
was in the fifteenth century that the fall of the Italian repub-
lics took place. Even where the name was retained, the
power became concentrated in the hands of one, or of a few-
families. Tlie spirit of republicanism was extinguished. In
the north of Italy, almost all the Lombard republics merged
in the Dutchy ot Milan. In 1434, Florence fell under the
dominion of the Medicis. In 1464, Genoa became subject to
Milan. The greater part of the republics, great and small,
yielded to the power of sovereign houses ; and soon after-
wards began the pretensions of foreign sovereigns to the do-
minion of the north and south of Italy ; to the Milanese and
kingdom of Naples.
Indeed, to whatever country of Europe we cast our eyes,
whatever portion of its history we consider, whether it relates
to the nations themselves or their governments, to their terri-
tories or their institutions, we everywhere see the old ele-
ments, the old forms of society, disappearing. Those liber-
ties which were founded on tradition were lost ; new powers
arose, more regular and concentrated than those which pre-
viously existed. There is something deeply melancholy in
this view of the fall of the ancient liberties of Europe. Even
in its own time it inspired feelings of the utmost bitterness.
In France, in Germany, and above all, in Italy, the patriots
of the fifteenth century resisted with ardor, and lamented
with despair, that revolution which everywhere produced the
rise of what they were entitled to call despotism. We must
admire their courage and feel for their sorrow ; but at the
same time we must be aware that this revolution was not only
inevitable, but useful. The primitive system gf Europe — the
old feudal and municipal liberties — had failed in the organiza-
tion of a general society. Security and progress are essen-
tial to social existence. Every system which does not pro-
vide for present order, and progressive advancement for the
future, is vicious, and speedily abandoned. And this was
the fate of the old political forms of society, of the ancient
liberties of Europe in the fifteenth century. They could not
give to society either security or progress. These objects
naturally became sought for elsewhere ; to obtain them, re-
course was had to other principles and other means : and this
238 GENERAL HISTORY O*
is the import of all the facts to which I have just called youi
attention.
To this same period may be assigned another circumstance
which has had a great influence on the political history of
Europe. It was in the fifteenth century that the relations of
governments with each other began to be frequent, regular,
and permanent. Now, for the first time, became formed those
great combinations by means of alliance, for peaceful as well
as warlike objects, which, at a later period, gave rise to the
system of the balance of power. European diplomacy origi-
nated in the fifteenth century. In fact you may see, towards
its close, the principal powers of the continent of Europe, the
Popes, the Dukes of Milan, the Venetians, the German Em-
perors, and the Kings of France and Spain, entering into a
closer correspondence with each other than had hitherto ex-
isted ; negotiating, combining, and balancing their various in-
terests. Thus at the very time when Charles VIII. set on
foot his expedition to conquer the kingdom of Naples, a great
league was formed against him, between Spain, the Pope, and
the Venetians. The league of Cambray was formed some
years later (in 1508), against the Venetians. The holy league
directed against Louis XII. succeeded, in 1511, to the league
of Cambray. All these combinations had their rise in Italian
policy ; in the desire of different sovereigns to possess its
territory ; and in the fear lest any of them, by obtaining an
exclusive possession, should acquire an excessive preponde-
rance. This new order of things was very favorable to the
career of monarchy. On the one hand, it belongs to the very
nature of the external relations of states that they can be con-
ducted only by a single person, or by a very small number,
and that they require a certain degree of secrecy : on the other
hand, the people were so' little enlightened that the conse-
quences of a combination of this kind quite escaped them.
As it had no direct bearing on their individual or domestic
life, they troubled themselves little about it ; and, as usual,
left such transactions to the discretion of the central govern-
ment. Thus diplomacy, in its very birth, fell into the hands
of kings ; and the opinion, tha*, it belongs to them exclusive-
ly ; that the nation, even when free, and possessed of the
right of voting its own taxes, and interfering in the manage-
ment of its domestic affairs, has no right to intermeddle in
foreign matters ; — this opinion, I say, became established in
Vfe
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 239
all parts of Europe, as a settled principle, a maxim of com-
mon law. Look into the history of England in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries ; and you will observe the great in-
fluence of that opinion, and the obstacles it presented to the
liberties of England in the reigns of Elizabeth, James I., and
Charles I. It is always under the sanction of the principle,
that peace and war, commercial relations, and all foreign
affairs, belong to the royal prerogative, that absolute power
defends itself against the rights of the country. The people
are remarkably timid in disputing this portion of the preroga-
tive ; and their timidity has cost them the dearer, for this
reason, that, from the commencement of the period into which
we are now entering (that is to say, the sixteenth century),
the history of Europe is essentially diplomatic. For nearly
three centuries, foreign relations form the mostlmportant part
of history. A The domestic affairs of countries began to be
regularly conducted ; the internal government, on the Con-
tinent at least, no longer produced any violent convulsions,
and no longer kept the public mind in a state of agitation and
excitement. Foreign relations, wars, treaties, alliances, alone
occupy the attention and fill the page of history ; so that we
find the destinies of nations abandoned in a great measure to
the royal prerogative, to the central power of the state.
It could scarcely have happened otherwise. Civilization
must have made great progress, intelligence and political
habits must be widely diffused, before the public can interfere
with advantage in matters of this kind. From the sixteenth
to the eighteenth century, the people were far from being
sufficiently advanced to do so. Observe what occurred in
England, under James I., at the beginning of the seventeenth
century. His son-in-law, the Elector Palatine, who had been
elected king of Bohemia, had lost his crown, and had even
been stripped of his hereditary dominions, the Palatinate.
Protestantism everywhere espoused his cause ; and, on this
ground, England took a warm interest in it. There was a
great manifestation of public opinion in order to force James
to take the part of his son-in-law, and obtain for him the res<
toration of the Palatinate. Parliament insisted violently for
war, promising ample means to carry it on. James was in-
different on the subject ; he made several attempts to nego-
tiate, and sent some troops to Germany ; he then told parlia-
ment that he required ,£900>000 sterling, to carry on the war
with any chance of success. It is not said, and indeed il
240 GENERAL HISTORY OF
does not appear, that his estimate was exaggerated. But par-
liament shrunk back with astonishment and terror at the sound
of such* a sum, and could hardly be prevailed upon to vol©
£70,000 sterling, to reinstate a prince, ar.d re-conquer a
country three hundred leagues distant from England. Such
were the ignorance and political incapacity of the public in
affairs of this nature ; they acted without any knowledge of
facts, or any consideration of consequences. How then could
they be capable of interfering in a regular and effectual man-
ner ? This is the cause which principally contributed to
make foreign relations fall into the hands of the central pow-
er ; no other was in a condition to conduct them, I shall not
say for the public benefit, which was very far from being
always consulted, but with any thing like consistency and
good sense.
It may be seen, then, that in whatever point of view we
regard the political history of Europe at this period — whether
we look upon the internal condition of different nations, or
upon their relation with each other — whether we consider the
means of warfare, the administration of justice, or the levying
of taxes, we find them pervaded by the same character ; we
see everywhere the same tendency to centralization, to unity,
to the formation and preponderance of general interests and
public powers. This was the hidden working of the fifteentt
century, which, at the period we are speaking of, had not yet
produced any very apparent result, or any actual revolution
in society, but was preparing all those consequences which
afterwards took place.
I shall now bring before you a class of facts of a different
nature ; moral facts, such as stand in relation to the develop-
ment of the human mind and the formation of general ideas.
In these again we shall discover the same phenomena, and
arrive at the same result.
I shall begin with an order of facts which has often engaged
our attention, and under the most various forms, has always
held an important place in the history of Europe — the facts
relative to the Church. Down to the fifteenth century, the
only general ideas which had a powerful influence on the
masses were those connected with religion. The Church
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 241
alone was invested with the power of regulating, promulgat-
ing, and prescribing them. Attempts, it is true, at independ-
ence, and even at separation, were frequently made ; and the
Church had much to do to overcome them. Down to this
period, however, she had been successful. Creeds rejected
by the Church had never taken any general or permanent
hold on the minds of the people : even the Albigenses had
been repressed. Dissension and strife were incessant in the
Church, but without any decisive and striking result. The
fifteenth century opened with the appearance of a different
state of things. New ideas, and a public and avowed desiro
of change and reformation, began to agitate the Church her-
self. The end of the fourteenth and beginning of the fifteenth
century were marked by the great schism of the west, result-
ing from the removal of the papal chair to Avignon, and the
creation of two popes, one at Avignon, and the other at Rome.
The contest between these two papacies is what is called
the great schism of the west. It began in 1378. In 1409,
the Council of Pisa endeavored to put an end to it by depos-
ing the two rival popes and electing another. But instead of
ending the schism, this step only rendered it more violent.
There were now three popes instead of two ; and disorders
and abuses went on increasing. In 14 14, the Council of
Constance assembled, convoked by desire of the Emperor
Sigismund. This council set about a matter of far more im-
portance than the nomination of a new pope ; it undertook the
reformation of the Church. It began by proclaiming the in-
dissolubility of the universal council, and its superiority over
the papal power. It endeavored to establish these principles
in the Church, and to reform the abuses which had crept into
it, particularly the exactions by which the court of Rome ob-
tained money. To accomplish this object the council appoint-
ed what we should call a commission of inquiry, in other
words, a Reform CoLege, composed of deputies to the coun-
cil, chosen in the different Christian nations. This college
was directed to inquire into the abuses which polluted the
Church, and into the means of remedying them, and to make
a report to the council, in order that it might deliberate on the
proceedings to be adopted. But while the couneil was thus
engaged, the question was started, whether it could proceed
to the reform of abuses without the visible concurrence of the
head of the Church, without the sanction of the pope. It was
carried in the negative through the influence of the Roman
11
242 GENERAL HISTORY OF
party, supported by some well-meaning but timid individuals
The council elected a new pope, Martin V., in 1417. Tho
pope was instructed to present, on his part, a plan for the re-
form of the Church. This plan was rejected, and the council
separated. In 1431, a new council assembled at Bale with
the same design. It resumed and continued the reforming
labors of the Council of Constance, but with no better success
Schism broke out in this assembly as it had done in Christen-
dom. The pope removed the council to Ferrara, a^d after-
wards to Florence. A portion of the prelates refused to obey
the pope, and remained at Bale ; and, as there had been
formerly two popes, so now there were two councils. That
of Bale continued its projects of reform ; named as its pope,
Felix V. ; some time afterward removed to Lausanne ; and
dissolved itself in 1449, without having effected anything.
In this manner papacy gained the day, remained in posses-
sion of the field of battle, and of the government of the Church.
The council could not accomplish that which it had set about ;
but it did something else which it had not thought of, and
which survived its dissolution. Just at the time the Council
of Bale failed in its attempts at reform, sovereigns were
adopting the ideas which it had proclaimed, and some of the
institutions which it had suggested. In France, and with the
decrees of the Council of Bale, Charles VII. formed the prag-
matic sanction, which he proclaimed at Bourges in 1438 ; it
authorized the election of bishops, the suppression of annates
(or first-fruits,) and the reform of the principal abuses introduc-
ed into the Church. The pragmatic sanction was declared in
France to be a law of the state. In Germany, the Diet of May-
ence adopted it in 1439, and also made it a law of the German
empire. What spiritual power had tried without success, tem-
poral power seemed determined to accomplish.
But the projects of the reformers met with a new reverse
of fortune. As the council had failed, so did the pragmatic
sanction. It perished very soon in Germany. It was aban-
doned by the Diet in 1448, in virtue of a negotiation with
Nicholas V. In 1516, Francis I. abandoned it also, substitut-
ing for it his concordat with Leo X. The reform attempted
by princes did not succeed better than that set or, foot by the
clergy. But we must not conclude that it was entirely thrown
away. In like manner as the council had done things which
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 243
•urvived it, so the pragmatic sanction had effects which sur
vived it also, and will be found to make an important figure
in modern history. The principles of the Council of Bale
were strong and fruitful. Men of superior minds, and of en-
ergetic characters, had adopted and maintained them. John
of Paris, D'Ailly, Gerson, and many distinguished men of the
fifteenth century, had devoted themselves to their defence. It
was in vain that the council was dissolved ; it was in vain
that the pragmatic sanction was abandoned ; their general
doctrines respecting the government of the Church, and the
reforms which were necessary, took root in France. They
were spread abroad, found their way into parliaments, took a
strong hold of the public mind, and gave birth first to the
Jansenists, and then to the Gallicans. This entire series of
maxims and efforts tending to the reform of the Church, which
began with the Council of Constance, and terminated in the
four propositions of Bossuet, emanated from the same-source,
and was directed to the same object. 27 It is the same fact
which has undergone successive transformations. Notwith-
standing the failure of the legal attempts at reform made in
the fifteenth century, they indirectly had an immense influence
upon the progress of civilization; and must not be left out of
its history.
The councils were right in trying for a legal reform, for it
was the only way to prevent a revolution. Nearly at the time
when the Council of Pisa was endeavoring to put an end to
the great western schism, and the Council of Constance to
reform the Church, the first attempts at popular religious re-
form broke out in Bohemia. The preaching of John Huss,
and his progress as a reformer, commenced in 1404, when he
began to teach at Prague. Here, then, we have two reforms
going on side by side ; the one in the very bosom of the
27 These propositions, drawn up by Bossuet, were decreed by a
convocation of the French clergy assembled by Louis XIV., in
1682, and are called the Quatuor Propositions Cleri Gallicani.
They declare that power and authority are given by God to the
Vicar of Christ in spiritual, but not in temporal things ; that this
power is limited and restrained by the laws of the Church and
general councils ; and that the sentence of the pope is not un
changeable unless sanctioned by the Church Catholic. These
decrees are the foundation oi the independence of the Gallican
Church.
244 GENERAL HISTORY Oy
Church, — attempted by the ecclesiastical aristocracy itself,—*
cautious, embarrassed, and timid ; the other orisinatm°f with*
out the Church, and directed against it, — violent, passionate,
and impetuous. A contest began between these two powers,
these two parties. The council enticed John Huss and Je-
rome of Prague to Constance, and condemned them to the
flames as heretics and revolutionists. These events are per-
fectly intelligible to us now. We can very well understand
this simultaneous existence of separate reforms, one under-
taken by governments, the other by the people, hostile to each
other, yet springing from the same cause, and tending to the
same object, and, though opposed to each other, finally con-
curring in the same result. This is what happened in the
fifteenth century. The popular reform of John Huss was
stifled for the moment ; the war of the Hussites broke out three
or four years after the death of their master ; it was long and
violent, but at last the empire was successful in subduing it.
The failure of the councils in the work Of reform, their not
being able to attain the%bject they were aiming at, only kept
the public mind in a state of fermentation. The spirit of re-
form still existed ; it waited but for an opportunity again to
break out, and this it found at the beginning of the sixteenth
century. Had the reform undertaken by the councils been
brought to any good issue, perhaps the popular reform would
have been prevented. But it was impossible that one or th*
other of them should not succeed, for their coincidence show*
their necessity.
Such, then, is the state, in respect to religious creeds, in
which Europe was left by the fifteenth century : an aristocra-
tic reform attempted without success, with a popular suppress
ed reform begun, but still ready to break out anew.
It was not solely to religious creeds that the human mind
was directed, and busied itself about at this period. It was
in the course of the fourteenth century, as you all know, that
Greek and Roman antiquity was (if I may u$e the expres
sion) restored to Europe. You know with what ardor Dante,
Petrarch, .Boccacio, and all their contemporaries, sought for
Greek and Latin manuscripts, published them, and spread
them abroad ; and what general joy was produced by the
smallest discovery in this branch of learning. It was in tha
midst of this excitement that the classical school took iw
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 245
rise ; a school which has performed a much more important
part in the development of the human mind than has general-
ly been ascribed to it. But we must be cautious of attaching
to this term, classical school, the meaning given to it at pre-
sent. It had to do, in those days, with matters very different
from literary systems and disputes. The classical school of
that period inspired its disciples with admiration, not only for
the writings of Virgil and Homer, but for the entire frame of
ancient society, for its institutions, its opinions, its philoso-
phy, as well as its literature. Antiquity, it must be allowed,
whether as regards politics, philosophy, or literature, was
greatly superior to the Europe of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries. It is not surprising, therefore, that it snould have
exercised so great an influence ; that lofty, vigorous, elegant,
and fastidious minds should have been disgusted with the
coarse manners, the confused ideas, the barbarous modes of
their own time, and should have devoted themselves with en-
thusiasm, and almost w r ith veneration, to the study of a state
of society, at once more regular and#nore "perfect than their
own. Thus was formed that school of bold thinkers which
appeared at the commencement of the fifteenth century, and
in which prelates, jurists, and men of learning were united
by common sentiments and common pursuits.
In the midst of this movement happened the taking of Con-
stantinople by the Turks, 1453, the fall of the Eastern em-
pire, and the influx of the fugitive Greeks into Italy These
brought with them a greater knowledge of antiquity, nume-
rous manuscripts, and a thousand new means of studying the
civilization of the ancients. You may easily imagine how
this must have redoubled the admiration and ardor of the
classic school. This wag the most brilliant period of the
Church, especially in Italy, not in respect of political power,
but of wealth and luxury. The Church gave herself up to
all the pleasures of an indolent, elegant, licentious civiliza-
tion ; to a taste for letters, the arts, and social and physical
enjoyments. Look a* the way in which the men who played
the greatest political and literary parts at that period passed
their lives ; Cardinal Bembo, for example ; and you will be
surprised by the mixture which it exhibits of luxurious effemi-
nacy and intellectual culture, of enervated manners and men
tal vigor. In surveying this period, indeed, when we look at
the state of opinions and of social relations, we might imagine
ourselves living among the French of the eighteenth century
24-6 GENERAL HISTORY OF
There was the same desire for the progress of intelligence
and for the acquirement of new ideas ; the same taste for an
agreeable and easy life, the same luxury, the same licentious-
ness ; there was the same want of political energy and of
moral principles, combined with singular sincerity and activity
of mind. The literati of the fifteenth century stood in the
same relation to the prelates of the Church as the* men of
letters and philosophers of the eighteenth did to the nobility.
They had the same opinions and manners, lived agreeably
together, and gave themselves no uneasiness about the storms
that were brewing round them. The prelates of the fifteenth
century, and Cardinal Bembo among the rest, no more foresaw
Luther and Calvin, than the courtiers of Louis XIV. foresaw
the French revolution. The analogy between the two cases
is striking and instructive.
We observe, then, three great facts in the moral order of
society at this period ; on one hand, an ecclesiastical reform
attempted by the Churclfctself ; on another a popular, religious
reform ; and lastly, an intellectual revolution, which formed a
school of free-thinkers ; and all these transformations were
prepared in the midst of the greatest political change that has
ever taken place in Europe, in the midst of the process of the
centralization of nations and governments.
But this is not all. The period in question was also one
of the most remarkable for the display of physical activity
among men. It was a period of voyages, travels, enterprises,
discoveries, and inventions of every kind. It was the time of
the great Portuguese expedition along the coast of Africa ; of
the discovery of the new passage to India by the Cape of
Good Hope, by Vasco de Gama ; of the discovery of America,
by Christopher Columbus ; of the wonderful extension of
European commerce. A thousand new inventions started up
others already known, but confined within a narrow sphere ;
became popular and in general use. Gunpowder changed the
system of war ; the compass changed the system of naviga -
tion. Painting in oil was invented, and filled Europe with
masterpieces of art. Engraving on copper, invented in 1406,
multiplied and diffused them. Paper made of linen became
common. Finally, between 1436 and 1452, was invented
printing ; — printing, the theme of so many declamations and
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 24?
common-places, but to whose merits and effect no common-
places or declamations will ever be able to do justice.
Fron all this, some idea may be formed of the greatness
and activity of the fifteenth century ; a greatness which, at the
time, was not very apparent; an activity of which the results
did not immediately take place. Violent reforms seemed to
fail ; governments acquired stability. It might have been
supposed that society was now about to enjoy thdfrenefits of
better order, and more rapid progress. The mighty revolu-
tions of the sixteenth century were at nand ; the fifteenth cen-
tury prepared them. ^-T hey shall be the subject of the follow
ing lecture.
LECTURE XII
THE REFORMATION.
1 have often referred to and lamented the disorder, the
chaotic situation of European society ; I have complained of
the difficulty of comprehending and describing a state of so-
ciety so loose, so scattered, and incoherent ; and I have kept
you waiting with impatience for the period of general inter-
ests, order, and social union. This period we have now
reached ; but, in treating of it, We encounter a difficulty of
another kind. Hitherto, we have found it difficult to connect
historical facts one with another, to class them together, to
se ; ze their common features, to discover their points of re-
semblance. The case is different in modern Europe ; all the
elements, all the incidents of social life modify, act and re-act
upon each other ; the mutual relations of men are much more
numerous and complicated ;' so also are their relations with
the government and the state, the relations of states with
each other, and all the ideas and operations of the human
mind. In the periods through which we have already travel-
led, we have found a great number of facts which were insu-
lated, foreign to each other, and without any reciprocal in-
fluence. From this time, however, we find nothing insulated ;
all things press upon one another, and become modified and
changed by their mutual contact and friction. What, let me
ask, can be more difficult than to seize the real point of unity
in the midst of such diversity, to determine the direction of
such a widely spread and complicated movement, to sum up
this prodigious number of various and closely connected ele-
ments, to point out at last the general and leading fact which
is the sum of a long series of facts ; which characterizes an
era, and is the true expression of its influence, and of the part
it has performed in the history of civilization ? You will be
able to measure at a glance the extent of this difficulty, in the
great event which is now to engage our attention.
In the twelfth century we met with an event which was
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 2*9
religious in its origin if not in its nature ; I mean the Cru-
sades. Notwithstanding the greatness o c this event, its long
iuration, and the variety of incidents which it brought
about, it was easy enough for us to discover its general char
acter, and to determine its influence with some degree of pre-
cision.
We have now to consider the religious revolution of the
sixteenth century, which is commonly called the Reforma-
tion. Let me be permitted to say in passing, that I shall use
this word reformation as a simple ordinary term, synonymous
with religious revolution, and without attaching i» to any
opinion. You must, I am sure, foresee at once, how difficult
it is to discover the real character of this great crisis, ana to
explain in a general manner what has been its nature and its
effects.
The period of our inquiry must extend from the beginning
of the sixteenth to the middle of the seventeenth century ; for
this period embraces, so to speak, the life of this event from
its birth to its termination. All historical events have in some
sort a determinate career. Their consequences are prolonged
lo infinity ; they are connected with all the past and all the
r uture ; but it is not the less true, on this account, that they
nave a definite and limited existence ; that they have thel.
origin and their increase, occupy with their development a
certain portion of time, and then diminish and disappear from
^he scene, to make way for some new event which runs a
similar course
The precise date which may be assigned to the Reforma
tion is not of much importance. We may take the year 1520 -
when Luther publicly burnt at Wittemberg the bull of Leo X.,
containing his condemnation,' and thus formally separated
himself from the Romish Church. The interval between this
period and the middle of the seventeenth century, the year
1648, when the treaty of Westphalia was concluded, compre-
hends the life of the Reformation. That this is the case, may
be thus proved. The first and greatest effect of the religious
revolution was to create in Europe two classes of states, the
Catholic and the Protestant, to set them against each other
and force them into hostilities. With many vicissitudes, the
250 GENERAL HISTORY OF
struggle between these two parties lasted from the beginning
of the sixteenth century to the middle->of the seventeenth. It
was by the treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, that the Catholic
and Protestant states reciprocally acknowledged each other,
and engaged to live in amity and peace, without regard to
difference of religion. After this, from 164-8, difference of
religion ceased to be the leading principle of the classification
of states, of their external policy, their relations and alliances.
Down to that time, notwithstanding great variations, Europe
was essentially divided into a Catholic league and a Protes-
tant league. After the treaty of Westphalia this distinction
disappeared ; and alliances or divisions among states took
place from considerations altogether foreign to religious belief.
At this point, therefore, the preponderance, or, in other words,
the career of the Reformation came to an end, although its
consequences, instead of decreasing, continued to develop
themselves.
Let us now take a rapid survey of this career, and merely
mentioning names and events, point out its course. You will
see from this simple indication, from this dry and incomplete
outline, what must be the difficulty of summing up a series of
such various and complicated facts into one general fact ; of
determining what is the true character of the religious revo-
lution of the sixteenth century, and of assigning to it its true
part in the history of civilization.
The moment in which the Reformation broke out is remark-
able for its political importance. It was in the midst of the
great struggle between Francis and Charles V. — between
France and Spain ; a struggle at first for the possession of
Italy, but afterwards for the German empire, and finally for
preponderance in Europe. It was the moment in which the
house of Austria elevated itself and became predominant in
Europe. It was also the moment in which England, through
Henry VIII., interfered in continental politics, more regu-
larly, permanently, and extensively than she had ever done
before.
If we follow the course of the sixteenth century in France
we shall find it entirely occupied by the great religious wars
between Protestants and Catholics ; wars which became the
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 253
means and the occasion of a new attempt of the great i.oblea
to repossess themselves of the power which they had lost, and
to obtain an ascendency over the sovereign. This was the
political meaning of the religious wars of France, of the
League, of the struggle between the houses of Guise and Va
lois, — a struggle which was put an end to by the accession
of Henry IV.
In Spain, the revolution of the United Provinces broke out
about the middle of the reign of Philip II. The inquisition
on one hand, and civil and religious liberty on the other, made
these provinces the theatre of war under the names of the
Duke of Alva and the Prince of Orange. Perseverance and
prudence secured the triumph of liberty in Holland, but it
perished in Spain, where absolute power, ecclesiastical and
civil, reigned without control.
In England, the circumstances to be noted are, the reigns
of Mary and Elizabeth ; the struggle of Elizabeth, as head of
the Protestant. interests, against Philip II. ; the accession of
James Stuart to the throne of England ; and the rise of the
great dispute between the monarchy and the people.
About the same time we note the creation of new powers in
the north, Sweden was raised into existence by Gustavus
Vasa, in 1523. Prussia was created by the secularization
of the Teutonic order. The northern powers assumed a place
in the" politics of Europe which they had not occupied before,
and the importance of which soon afterwards showed itself
in the thirty years' war.
I now come back to France, to note the reign of Louis
XIII. ; the change in the internal administration of this coun-
try effected by Cardinal Richelieu ; the relations of France
with Germany, and the support which she afforded to the
Protestant party. In Germany, during the latter part of the
sixteenth century, there was the war with the Turks ; in the
beginning of the seventeenth, the thirty years' war, the greatest
of modern events in eastern Europe ; Gustavus Adolphus,
WaUenstein, Tilly, the Duke of Brunswick, the Duke of
Weimar, are the greatest names which Germany at this time
could boast of.
At the same period, in France, took place the accession
252 GENERAL HISTORY OF
of Louis XI V. and the commencement of the Fronde , i«
England broke out the great revolution, or, as it is sometimes
improperly called, the grand rebellion, which dethroned
Charles I.
In this survey, I have only glanced at the most prominent
events of history, events which everybody has heard of; you
see their number, their variety, their importance. If we seek
for events of another kind, events less conspicuous and less
distinguished by great names, we shall find them not less
abundant during this period ; a period remarkable for the
great changes which took place in the political institutions of
almost every country ; the period in which pure monarchy
prevailed in most of the great states, while in Holland there
arose the most powerful republic in Europe ; and in England
constitution'.! monarchy achieved, or nearly achieved, a final
triumph. Then, in the Church, it was during this period that
the old n .onastic orders lost almost all their political power,
and we.e replaced by a new order of a different character,
and wtiose importance, erroneously perhaps, is considered
much superior to that of its precursors, — I mean the Jesuits.
At the same period the Council of Trent obliterated all that
remained of the influence of the Councils of Constance and
Bale, and secured the definitive ascendency of the court of
Rome in ecclesiastical affairs. Leaving the Church, and tak
ing a passing glance at the philosophy of the age, at the un-
fettered career of the human mind, we observe two men,
Bacon and Descartes, the authors of the greatest philosophi-
cal revolution which the modern world has undergone, the
chiefs of the two schools which contended for supremacy. It
was in this period too that Italian literature shone forth in its
fullest splendor, while that of France and Engla/nd was still
in its infancy. Lastly, it was in this period that the colonial
system of Europe had its origin ; that great jbolonies were
founded ; and that commercial activity and enterprise were
carried to an extent never before known.
Thus, under whatever point of view we consider this era,
we find its political, ecclesiastical, philosophical, and literary
events, more numerous, varied, and important, than in any of
the preceding ages. The activity of the human mind dis-
played itself in every way ; in the relations of men with each
other — in their relations with the governing powers — in tha
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 253
relations of states, and in the intellectual labors of individuals
In short, it was the age of great men and of great things
Yet, among the great events of this period, the religious revo-
lution which now en^a ^es our attention was the greatest. I
was the leading fact the period ; the fact which gives it
its name, and determines its character. Among the many
powerful causes which have produced so many powerful
effects, the Eeformation was the most powerful ; it was that
to which all the others contributed ; that which has modified,
or been modified by, all the rest. The task which wc have
now to perforin, then, is to review, with precision, this event ;
to examine this cause, which, in a period of the greatest
causes, produced the greatest effects — this event, which, in
this period of great events, prevailed over all the rest.
You must, at once, perceive how difficult it is to link to-
gether facts so diversified, so immense, and so closely con-
nected, into one great historical unity. It must, however, be
done ; when events are once consummated, when they have
become matter of history, the most important business is then
to be attempted ; that which man most seeks for are general
facts — the linking together of causes and effects. This is
what I may call the immortal portion of history, which all
generations must study, in order to understand the past as well
as the present time. This desire after generalization, of obtain-
ing rational results, is the most powerful and noblest of all
our intellectual desires ; but we must beware of being satis-
fied with hasty and incomplete generalizations. No pleasure
is more seducing than that of indulging ourselves in determin-
ing on the spot, and at first sight, the general character and
permanent results of an era or an event. The human intel
lect, like the huma^ will, is eager to be in action, impatient
of obstacles, and desirous of coming to conclusions. It wil-
lingly fbigets such facts as impede and constrain its ope-
rations ; but while it forgets, it cannot destroy them ; they
still live to convict it of error at some after period. There is
only one way of escaping this danger ; it is by a resolute and
dogged study of facts, till their meaning is exhausted, before
attempting to generalize, or coming to conclusions respecting
their effects. Facts are, for the intellect, what the rules
of morals are jbr the will. The mind must be thoroughly ac-
quainted with facts, and must know their weight ; and it is
Dnly when she has fulfilled this duty — when she has com-
pletely traversed, in every direction, the ground of investiga*
254 GENERAL HISTORY OF
tion and inquiry — that she is permitted to spread her wings,
and take her flight towards that higher region, whence she
may survey all things in their general bearings and results
If she endeavor to ascend prematurely, without having first
acquired a thorough knowledge of the territory which she de-
sires to contemplate from above, she incurs the most imminent
risk of error and downfall. As, in a calculation of figures
an error at the outset leads to others, ad infinitum, so, in his-
tory, if we do not, in the first instance, take every fact into
account — if we allow ourselves to indulge in a spirit of pre-
cipitate generalization- 1 — it is impossible to tell how far we
may be led astray from the truth.
In these observations, I am, in some measure, putting you
on your guard against myself. In this course I have been
able to do little more than make some attempts at generaliza-
tion, and take some general views of facts which we had not
studied closely and together. Being now arrived at a period
where this task is much more difficult, and the chances of
error greater than before, I think it necessary to make you
aware of the danger, and warn you against my own specula-
tions. Having done so, I shall now continue them, and treat
the Reformation in the same way as I have done other events.
I shall endeavor to discover its leading fact, to describe its
general character, and to shew the part which this great event
has performed in the process of European civilization.
You remember the situation in which we left Europe, at
the end of the fifteenth century. We saw, in the course of
it, two great attempts at religious revolution or reform ; an at-
tempt a.i legal reform by the councils, and an attempt at revo-
lutionary reform, in Bohemia, by the Hussites ; we saw both
these stifled and rendered abortive ; and yet we concluded
that the event was one which could not be staved off, but that
it must necessarily reappaar in one shape or another ; and that
what the fifteenth century attempted would be inevitably ac-
complished by the sixteenth. I shall not enter into any de-
tails respecting the religious revolution of the sixteenth cen-
tury, which I consider as being generally known. I shall
confine myself solely to the consideration of its general in-
fluence on the destinies of mankind.
In the inquiries which have been made into the causes
which produced this great event, the enemies of the Refor-
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 252
tfijuion have imputed it to accidents and mischances, in the
uourse of civilization ; for instance, to the sale of indulgences
imvmg been intrusted to the Dominicans, and excited the
jealousy of the Augustines. Luther was an Augustine ; and
tiiis, therefore, was the moving power which put the Refor-
mation in action. Others have ascribed it to the ambition of
soteieigns — to their rivalry with the ecclesiastical power, and
to the avidity of the lay nobility, who wished to take posses-
sion of the property of the Church. In this manner the Re-
formation has been accounted for, by looking at the evil side
of human nature and human affairs - } by having recourse to
the private interests and selfish passions of individuals.
On the other hand, the friends and partisans of the Refor-
mation have endeavored to account for it by the pure desire
of effectually reforming the existing abuses of the Church.
They nave represented it as a redress of religious grievances,
as an enterprise conceived and executed with the sole design
of re-constituting the Church in its primitive purity. Neither
of these explanations appears to me well founded. There is
more truvfl in the latter than in the former ; at least, the cause
assigned is greater, and in better proportion to the extent and
importance of the event ; but, still, I do not consider it as cor-
rect. In my opinion, the Reformation neither was an acci
dent, the result of ^ome casual circumstance, or some per-
sonal intb»ests, nor arose from unmingled views of religious
improvement, the fruit of Utopian humanity and truth. It had
a more jjowerful cause than all these ; a general cause, to
which all the others were subordinate. It was a vast effort
made by the human mind to achieve its freedom ;" it was a
new born desire which it felt to think and judge, freely and
independently, of facts and opinions which, till then, Europe
received, or was considered bound to receive, from the hands
of authority. It was a great endeavor to emancipate human
reason ; and to call things by their right names, it was an in-
surrection of the human mind against the absolute power of
spiritual order. Such, in my opinion, was the true character
and leading principle of the Reformation.
When we consider the state of the human* mind, at this
lime, on one hand, and the state of the spiritual power of the
Church, which had the government of the human mind, on
the other, a double fact presents itself to our notice
256 GENERAL HISTORY 0#
In looking at the human mind, we observe much greater ao
tivity, and a much greater desire to develop its powers, that
it had ever felt before. This new activity was the result of
various causes which had been accumulating for ages. Fol
example, there were ages in which heresies sprang up, sub-
sisted for a time, and then s;ave way to others ; there were
other ages in which philosophical opinions ran just the same
course as heresies. The labors of the human mind, whethei
in the sphere of religion or of philosophy, had been accumu-
lating from the eleventh to the sixteenth century ; and the
time was now come when they must necessarily have a re-
sult. Besides this, the means of instruction created or favor-
ed in the bosom of the Church itself, had brought forth fruit.
Schools had been instituted ; these schools had produced
men of considerable knowledge, and their number had daily
increased. These men began to wish to think for themselves,
for they felt themselves stronger than they had ever been be-
fore. At last came that restoration of the human mind to a
pristine youth and vigor, which the revival of the learning and
arts of antiquity brought about, the progress and effects of
which I have already described.
These various causes combined, gave, at the beginning of
the sixteenth century, a new and powerful impulse to the hu-
man mind, an imperious desire to go forward.
The situation of the spiritual power, which then had the
government of the human mind, was totally different ; it, on
the contrary, had fallen into a state of imbecility, and remain-
ed stationary. The political influence of the Church and
Court of Rome was much diminished. European society had
passed from the dominion of Rome to that of temporal govern-
ments. Yet in spite of all this, the spiritual power still pre-
served its pretensions, splendor, and outward importance.
The same thing happened to it which has so often happened
to long established governments. Most of the complaints
made against it were now almost groundless. It is not true,
that in the sixteenth century, the Court of Rome was very
tyrannical ; it is not true, that its abuses were more numerous
and crying than they had been at former periods. Never,
perhaps, on the contrary, had the government of the Church
been more indulgent, more tolerant, more disposed to let
things take their course, provided it was not itself implicated,
provided that the rights it had hitherto enjoyed were acknow
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 257
hedged even though left unexercised, and that it wts assured
of its usual existence, and received its usual tributes. It
would willingly have left the human mind to itself, if the hu-
man mind had been as tolerant towards its offences. But i\
•isually happens, that just when governments have begun to
iose their influence and power, just when they are compara-
tively harmless, that they are most .exposed to attack ; it is
then that, like the sick lion, they may be attacked with impu-
nity, though the attempt would have been desperate when
they were in the plenitude of their power.
It is evident, therefore, simply from the consideration of the
state of the human mind at this period, and of the power
which then governed it, that the Reformation must have been,
I repeat it, a sudden effort made by the human mind to
achieve its liberty, a great insurrection of human intelligence.
This, doubtless, was the leading cause of the Reformation,
the cause which soared above all the rest ; a cause superior
to every interest either of sovereigns or of nations, superior
to the need of reform properly so called, or of the redress of
the grievances which were complained of at this period.
Let us suppose, that after the first years of the Reformation
had passed away, when it had made all its demands, and in-
sisted on all its grievances, — let us suppose, I say, that the
spiritual power had conceded everything, and said, " Well, be
it so ; I will make every reform you desire ; I will return to
a more legal, more truly religious order of affairs. I will
suppress arbitrary exactions and tributes ; even in matters of
belief I will modify my doctrines, and return to the primitive
standard of Christian faith. But, having thus redressed all
your grievances, I must preserve my station, and retain, as
formerly, the government of the human mind, with all the
powers and all the rights which I have hitherto enjoyed." —
Can we believe that the religious revolution would have been
satisfied with these concessions, and would have stopped
short in its course 1 I cannot think so ; I firmly believe that
it would have continued its career, and that after having ob-
tained reform, it would have demanded liberty. The crisis
of the sixteenth century was not merely of a reforming char*
acls/ ; it was essentially revolutionary. It cannot be deprived
of this character, with all the good and evil that belongs to
t ; its nature may be traced in its effects.
258 GENERAL K.STOR/ OF
Let us take a glance at th'j destinies of the Reformatio* ,
et us see, more particularly, what it has produced in the dk'
ferent countries in which it developed itself. It can hardly
escape observation that it exhibited itself in very different
situations, and with very different chances of success ; if then
we find that, notwithstanding this diversity of situations and
chances, it has always pursued a certain object, obtained a
certain result, and preserved a certain character, it mus' foe
evident that this character, which has surmounted all the di-
versities of situation, all the inequalities of cha-nce, must be
the fundamental character of the event ; and that this result
must be the essential object of its pursuit.
Well then, wherever the religious revolution of the sixteenth
century prevailed, if it did not accomplish a complete eman-
cipation of the human mind, it procured it a new and great
increase of liberty. It doubtless left the mind subject to all
the chances of liberty or thraldom which might arise from
political institutions ; but it abolished or disarmed the spiritual
power, the systematic and formidable government of the mind.
This was the result obtained by the Reformation, notwith-
standing the infinite diversity of circumstances under which
it took place. In Germany there was no political liberty ; the
Reformation did not introduce it ; it rather strengthened than
enfeebled the power of princes ; it was rather opposed to the
free institutions of the middle ages than favorable to their
progress. Still, in spite of this, it excited and maintained La
Germany a greater freedom of thought, probably, than in any
other country. In Denmark too, a country in which absolute
power predominated in the municipal institutions, as well as
the general institutions of the state, thought was emancipated
through the influence of the Reformation, and freely exercised
on ever/ subject. In Holland, under a republic ; in Eng'and,
under a constitutional monarchy, and in spite of a religious
tyranny which was long very severe, the emancipation of the
human mind was accomplished by the same influence. And
lastly, in France, which seemed from its situation the least
likely of any to be affected by this religious revolution, even
in this country, where it was actually overcome, it became a
principle of mental independence, of intellectual freedom.
Till the year 1685, that is, till the revocation of the edict of
Nantes, the Reformation enjoyed a legal existence in France.
During this long space of time, the reformers wrote, disputed,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 259
and provoked their adversaries to write and dispute with them
This single fact, this war of tracts and disputations between
the old and new opinions, diffused in France a greater degree
of real and active liberty than is commonly believed ; a liberty
which redounded to the advantage of science and morality, to
the honor of the French clergy, and to the benefit of the mind
in general. Look at the conferences of Bossuet with Claude,
and at all the religious controversy of that period, and ask
yourselves if Louis XIV. would have permitted a similar de-
gree of freedom on any other subject. It was between the
reformers and the opposite party that the greatest freedom of
opinion existed in the seventeenth century. Religious ques-
tions were treated in a bolder and freer spirit of speculation
than political, even by Fenelon himself in his Telemachus.
This state of things lasted till the revocation of the edict of
Nantes. Now, from the year 1685 to the explosion of the
human mind in the eighteenth century, there was not an inter-
val of forty years ; and the influence of the religious revolu-
tion in favor of intellectual liberty had scarcely ceased when
the influence of the revolution in philosophy began to operate.
You see, then, that wherever the Reformation penetrated,
wherever it acted an important part, whether conqueror or
conquered, its general, leading, and constant result was an
immense progress in mental activity and freedom ; an immense-
step towards the emancipation of the human mind.
Again, not only was this the result of the Reformation, but
it was content with this result. Wherever this was obtained,
no other was sought for ; so entirely was it the very founda-
tion of the event, its primitive and fundamental character !
Thus, in Germany, far from demanding political liberty, the
Reformation accepted, I shall not say servitude, but the ab-
sence of liberty. In England, it consented to the hierarchi-
cal constitution of the clergy, and to the existence of a Church,
as full of abuses as ever the Romish Church had been, and
much more servile. Why did the Reformation, so ardent and
rigid in certain respects, exhibit, in these instances, so much
f acility and suppleness 1 Because it had obtained the general
result to which it tended, the abolition of the spiritual jower,
and the emancipation of the human mind. I repeat it ; wher-
sver the Reformation attained this object, it accommodated
itself to every form of government, and to every situation.
260 GENERAL HISTORY OF
Let us now test this fact by the opposite mode of proof ;
let us see what happened in those countries into which th(j
Reformation did not penetrate, or in which it was early sup-
pressed. We learn from history that, in those countries, the
human mind was not emancipated ; witness two great coun-
tries, Spain and Italy. While, in those parts of Europe into
which the Reformation very largely entered, the human mind,
during the last three centuries, has acquired an activity and
freedom previously unknown ; — in those other parts, into
which it was never allowed to make its way, the mind, dur-
ing the same period, has become languid and inert : so that
opposite sets of facts, which happened at the same time, con-
cur in establishing the same result. *
The impulse which was given to human thought, and the
abolition of absolute power in the spiritual order, consti-
tuted, then, the essential character of the Reformation, the
most general result of its influence, the ruling fact in its
destiny.
I use the wox&fact, and I do so on purpose. The eman-
cipation of the human mind, in the course of the Reformation,
was a fact rather than a principle, a result rather than an in-
tention. The Reformation, I believe, has in this respect, per-
formed more than it undertook, — more, probably, than it de-
sired. Contrary to what has happened in many other revolu-
tions, the effects of which have not come up to their design,
the consequences of the Reformation have gone beyond the
object it had in view ; it is greater, considered as an event,
than as a system ; it has never completely known all that it
has done nor, if it had, would it have completely avowed it
What are the reproaches constantly applied to the Refor
mation by its enemies ? which of its results are thrown in its
face, as it were, as unanswerable ?
The two principal reproaches are, first, the multiplicity of
sects, the excessive license of thought, the destruction of all
spiritual authority, and the entire dissolution of religious so-
ciety : secondl)', tyranny and persecution. " You provoke
licentiousness," it has been said to the Reformers, — " you
produced it ; and, after having been the cause of it, you wish
to restrain and repress it. And how do you repress it ? By
ihe most harsh and violent means. You take upon your
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 261
selves, too, to punish heresy, and that by virtue of an illegiti-
mate authority."
If we take a review of all the principal charges which,
have been made against the Reformation, we shall find, if
we set aside all questions purely doctrinal, that the above are
the two fundamental reproaches to which they may all be
reduced.
These charges gave great embarrassment to the reform
party When they were taxed with the multiplicity of their
sects, instead of advocating the freedom of religious opinion,
and maintaining the right of every sect to entire toleration,
they denounced sectarianism, lamented it, and endeavored to
find excuses for its existence. Were they accused of perse-
cution 1 They were troubled to defend themselves ; they
used the plea of necessity ; they had, they said, the right to
repress and punish error, because they were in possession of
the truth. Their articles of belief, they contended, and their
institutions, were the only legitimate ones ; and if the Church
of Rome had not the right to punish the reformed party, it
was because she was in the wrong and they in the right.
And when the charge of persecution was applied to the
ruling party in the Reformation, not by its enemies, but by its
own offspring ; when the sects denounced by that party said,
" We are doing just what you did ; we separate ourselves
from you, just as you separated yourselves from the Church
of Rome," this ruling party were still more at a loss to find
an answer, and frequently the only answer -they had to give
was an increase of severity.
The truth is, that while laboring for the destruction of ab-
solute powsr in the spiritual order, the religious revolution of
the sixteenth century was not aware of the true principles of
intellectual liberty. It emancipated the human mind, and yet
pretended still to govern it by laws. In point of fact it pro-
duced the prevalence of free inquiry ; in point of principle it
believed that it was substituting a legitimate for an illegitimate
power. It had not looked up to the primary motive, nor down
to the ultimate consequences of its own work. It thus fell
into a double error. On the one side it did not know or re-
spect all the rights of human thought ; at the very moment that
it was demanding these rights for itself, it was violating them
towards others. On the other side, it was unable to estimate
the rights of authority in matters of reason. I do not speak
262 GENERAL HISTORY OF
of that coercive authority which ought to have no righti A
all in such matters, but of that kind of authority which is
purely moral, and acts solely by its influence upon the mind.
In most reformed countries something is wanting to complete
the proper organization of intellectual society, and to the regu-
lar action of old and general opinions. What is due to and
required by traditional belief, has not been reconciled with
what is due to and required by freedom of thinking ; and the
cause of this undoubtedly is, that the Reformation did not
fully comprehend and accept its own principles and effects.
Hence, too, the Reformation acquired an appearance of in-
consistency and narrowness of mind, which has often given
an advantage to its enemies. They knew very well what
they were about, and what they wanted ; they cited the prin-
ciples of their conduct without scruple, and avowed all its con-
sequences. There never was a government more consistent
and systematic than that of the Church of Rome. In point
of fact, the Court of Rome made more compromises and con-
cessions than the Reformation ; in point of principle, it ad-
hered much more closely to its system, and maintained a
more consistent line of conduct. Great strength is gained by
a thorough knowledge of the nature of one's own views and
actions, by a complete and rational adoption of a certain prin-
ciple and design : and a striking example of this is to be
found in the course of the religious revolution of the sixteenth
century. Every body knows that the principal power institu-
ted to contend against the Reformation was the order of the
Jesuits. Look for a moment at their history ; they failed
everywhere ; wherever they interfered, to any extent, they
brought misfortune upon the cause in which they meddled.
In England they ruined kings ; in Spain, whole masses of the
people. The general course of events, the development of
modern civilization, the freedom of the human mind, all these
forces with which the Jesuits were called upon to contend,
rose up against them and overcame them. And not only did
they fail, but you must remember what sort of means they
were constrained to employ. There was nothing great or
splendid in what they did ; they produced no striking events,
they did not put in motion powerful masses of men. They
proceeded by dark and hidden courses ; courses by no means
calculated to strike the imagination, or to conciliate that pub-
ic interest which always attaches itself to great things, what-
ever may be their principle and object. • The party opposed
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 263
to them, on the contrary, not only overcame, but overcame
signally ; did great things and by great maans ■ overspread
Europe with great men ; changed, in open day, the condition
and form of States. Every thing, in short, was against the
Jesuits, both fortune and appearances ; reason, which desires
success, — and imagination, which requires eclat, — were alike
disappointed by their fate. Still, however, they were un-
doubtedly possessed of grandeur ; great ideas are attached
to their name, their influence, and their history. T'he reason
is, that they knew what they did, and what they wished to ac-
complish ; that they were fully and clearly aware of the prin-
ciples upon which they acted, and of the object which they
had in view. They possessed grandeur of thought and of
will ; and it was this that saved them from the ridicule which
attends constant reverses, and the use of paltry means.
Wherever, on the contrary, the event has been greater than
the design, wherever there is an appearance of ignorance of
the first principles and ultimate results of an action, there has
always remained a degree of incompleteness, inconsistency,
and narrowness of view, which has placed the very victors
in a state of rational or philosophical inferiority, the influence
of which has sometimes been apparent in the course of
events. This, I think, in the struggle between the old and
the new order of things, in matters of religion, was the weak
side of the Reformation, which often embarrassed its situation,
and prevented it from defending itself so well as it had a
right to do.
I might consider the religious revolution of the sixteenth
century under many other aspects. I have said nothing, and
have nothing to say, respecting it as a matter of doctrine —
respecting its effects on religion, properly so called, or re-
specting the relations of the human soul with God and an
eternal futurity ; but I might exhibit it in its various relations
with social order, everywhere producing results of immense
importance. For example, it introduced religion into the
midst of the laity, into the world, so to speak, of believers.
Till then, religion had been the exclusive domain of the
ecclesiastical order. The clergy distributed the proceeds,
but reserved to themselves the disposal of the capital, and al-
most the exclusive right even to speak of it. The Reforma-
tion again threw matters of religious belief into general circu-
lation, and again opened to believers the field of faith, into
264 GENERAL HISTORY OF
which they had not been permitted to enter. It had, at the
same time, a further result ; it banished, or nearly so, religion
from politics, and restored the independence of the tempora*
power. At the same moment that religion returned into the
possession of believers, it quitted the government of society.
In the reformed countries, in spite of the diversities of eccle-
siastical constitutions, even in England, whose constitution
is most nearly akin to the old order of things, the spiritual
power has no longer any serious pretensions to the govern
ment of the temporal power.
I might enumerate many other consequences of the Refor-
mation, but I must limit myself to the above general views ,
and I am satisfied with having placed before you its principal
feature — the emancipation of the human mind, and the aboli-
tion of absolute power in the spiritual order ; an abolition
which, though, undoubtedly, not complete, is yet the greatest
step which, down to our own times, has ever been made to
wards the attainment of that object.
Before concluding, I pray you to remark, w T hat a striking
resemblance of destiny there is to be found, in the history of
modern Europe, between civil and religious society, in the
revolutions they have had to undergo.
Christian society, as we have seen when I spoke of the
Church, was, at first, a state of society perfectly free, formed
entirely in the name of a common belief, without institutions
or government, properly so called ;- regulated, solely, by moral
and variable powers, according to the exigencies of the mo-
ment.* Civil society began, in like manner, in Europe,
partly, at least, by bands of barbarians ; it was a state of so-
ciety perfectly free, in which every one remained, because he
wished to do so, without laws or powers created by institu-
tions. In emerging from that state which was inconsistent
with any great social development, religious society placed
itself under a government essentially aristocratic ; its govern-
ors were the clergy, the bishops, the councils, the ecclesias-
tical aristocracy. A fact of the same kind took place in civil
society when it emerged from barbarism ; it*was, in like man-
ner, the aristocracy, the feudalism of the laity, which laid hold
of the power of government. Religious society quitted the
iristocratic form of government to assume that of pure mon-
* Sec *>ote 5, page 51.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 265
archy ; this was the rationale of the triumph of the Court of
Rome over the councils and the ecclesiastical aristocracy of
Europe. The same revolution was accomplished in civil so-
ciety ; it was, in like manner, by the destruction of the aris-
tocratic power, that monarchy prevailed, and took possession
of the European world. In the sixteenth century, in the heart
of religious society, an insurrection broke out against the sys-
tem of pure ecclesiastical monarchy, against absolute power
in the spiritual order. This revolution produced, sanctioned,
and established freedom of inquiry in Europe. In our own
time we have witnessed a similar event in civil society. Ab-
solute temporal power, in like manner, was attacked and over-
come. You see, then, that the two orders of society have
undergone the same vicissitudes and revolutions ; only reli-
gious society has always been the foremost in this career.
We are now in possession of one of the great facts in the
history of modern society — freedom of inquiry, the liberty of
the human mind. We see, at the same time, the almost uni-
versal prevalence of political centralization. In my next lec-
ture I shall consider the revolution in England ; the event in
which freedom of inquiry and a pure monarchy, both results
of the progress of civilization, came, for the first time, into
collision. 28
23 The subject of the foregoing lecture is so vast, so important in
itself, and so complicated with all the great political events of Eu-
rope for many years, that the views presented by the author cannot
be competently appreciated (if even their force and bearing can be
well comprehended) without a more thorough and familiar ac-.
quaintance with the facts, the history of the period, than is likely
to be possessed by the young student. To give here such an ex-
hibition of the facts as would enable him to judge for himself, to
accept or modify the views of the author, is impossible. He must
carefully study the history of the period in the best writers : there
is no other way for him to acquire a clear and thorough compre-
hension of its spirit, of the meaning and value of the Reformation.
Among the works to which he may be referred are Robertson's
Charles the Fifth, Coxe's Austria, Roscoe's Leo X., Burnet's His-
tory of the Reformation ; Ranke's History of the Popes, D'Aubigne's
History of the Reformation, Gibbon, ch. 54; and for the English
Reformation, Blunt's History, portions of Hume and Lingard; the
histories of Heyiin, Fuller, Collier.
Two or three remarks may be made on the foregoing lecture.
That the reformation in England " consented to the ex-
istence of a Church as full of abuses as ever the Romish Church
had been, and much more servile," (p. 259,) is an observation which
12
266 GENERAL HISTORY OF
will be differently received, according to differences a>f individual
views.
That the Reformation in regard to its leading principle was " an
Insurrection of the human rnind against the absolute power of
spiritual order" (p. 256) is a remark that needs qualification. No
doubt the assertion of this principle of absolute independence, or
the unlimited right of private judgment in religion, became and has
continued to be the great characteristic result of the religious re-
volution. But the Reformation did not at the outset (any more
than many other great revolutions) generalize itself, define and
enunciate the principles on which it proceeded It began with op-
position to special abuses and corruptions. Neither Luther nor his
associates comprehended at first how far they should be carried.
It was only in the sequel that the right of private judgment k. re-
ligion wasbrought out, asserted, and contended for as a principle.
Luther himself and the earliest reformers did not contend for it as
an absolute principle. This is evident from the continual offers of
IiUther to submit himself implicitly to the decision of a general
council. It is evident moreover from the fact that the reformers,
just as much as the papists, held it right to inflict coercion, physi*
cal pains, and death upon those who denied what they regarded as
the essential faith.
" The Roman Catholics," says Robertson, " as their system rest-
ed on the decisions of an infallible judge, never doubted that truth
was on their side, and openly called on the civil power to repel the
impious and heretical innovators who had risen up against it. The
Protestants, no less confident that their doctrine was well founded,
required with equal ardor the princes of their party to check such
as presumed to impugn or oppose it. Luther, Calvin, Cranmer,
Knox, the founders of the reformed church in their respective coun-
tries, inflicted, as far as they had power and opportunity, the same
punishments, which were denounced by the Church of Rome, upon
such as called in question any article of their creed."
Upon this passage of Robertson, Smythe (Lectures on Mod. Hist,
p. 292, Am. ed.) remarks, that " Luther might have been favorably
distinguished from Calvin and others. There are passages in his
writings, with regard to the interference of the magistrate in re-
ligious concerns, that do him honor; but he was favorably situated
and lived not to see the temporal sword at his command. He was
never tried."
Now whether the principle of independence of all authority, the
absolutely unlimited right of private judgment in matters of re-
ligious faith, be or be not a correct principle, it will not be disputed
at the present day that absolute independence of all human author-
ity, and so far forth the unlimited right of private judgment, is a cor-
rect principle, and that all coercion or physical punishment is a
monstrous absurdity and a monstrous crime . Yet nothing is clearer
from history than that the reformers did not understand, did not act
upon this principle ; it was a century and a half before Protestants
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROJE. 267
earned definitively that they had no right to inflict death, im-
prisonment, stripes or fines upon heretics, and no right beyond
that of simply separating from their communion. It is a prevalent
opinion among us, that the Romanists are the only ones who put
people to death on account of their religious opinions. Protestants
should know that this is not the case. So far from it, much sad
warrant was given for the taunt of the Papists, " that the reformers
were only against burning when they were in fear of it themselves."
It is far better therefore not to burden the defence of the Reforma-
tion with the impossible task of denying or palliaiing the indefen-
sible acts of its first authors — acts to which they were led because
they themselves were not yet fully emancipated from the corrupt
principles of the age. The great cause of the Reformation does
not stand or fall on such grounds ; and nothing is lost by freely ad
mitting all the persecuting acts of the early reformers.
Calvin burnt Servetus for heresy: the mild Melancthon approv-
ed the act ; so did Bucer, (Calv. Epist. p. 147, ed. Genev. 1575).
Calvin, in his letter to the Earl of Somerset, lord Protector of
England, (Epist. p. 67,) speaking of the Papists and of the fanatic
sect of " Gospellers," says expressly, " they ought to be repressed
by the avenging sword which the Lord has put into your hands,—
gladio ultore coercen quern tibi tradidit Dominus."
In 1550, in the reign of Edward VI., a woman was burnt at the
stake for some opinion about the incarnation of Christ. The king
was extremely reluctant to sign the death warrant, and yielded
only to the authority of Cranmer. See Burnet. The Protestant
historian Fuller, a century afterwards, has this passage about it :
" She, with one or two Arians, were all who (and that justly) died
in this king's reign for their opinions." — "And that justly ! !"
For an account of the executions and other severe punishments
inflicted for religious opinions by the Protestants in England, see
the Church Histories of Heylin, Fuller, and Collier, all Protestant
writers. For a brief summary, see Smythe's Lectures on Mod.
Hist. vol. i. p. 266, et seq , Am. ed. It appears that many were put
to death in the reign of Henry VIII. ; some in the time of Edward
VI. ; one hundred and sixty Roman Catholics in the reign of Eliza-
beth; sixteen or seventeen in that of James I.; and more than
twenty by the Presbyterians and Republicans. Some of these were
burned or hanged directly for their religious opinions ; others under
sanguinary laws enacted on supposed principles of state necessity
From a study of the history connected with these facts, the read-
er will be able to judge for himself how far the principle of the
freedom of the mind in regard to religious faith, was recognised
or respected by the reformers.
One more question the student should have before his mind in
going through the history of this period. Admitting the right of
individual judgment to be absolutely independent of all human
authority, and all punishment for religious opinions to be absurd
and monstrous, — has man, on the other hand, a right to oppose his
268 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
individual judgment to divine authority, and arbitrarily to reject
the historical evidence by which the divine decision of any art'cle
of faith is established? On this point let the student recur to the
remarks of Guizot, p. 261. " It [the Reformation] fell into a double
error. On the one side it did not know or respec all the rights
of human thought ; at the very moment that it was demanding
these rights for itself, it was violating them towards others. On
the other side, it was unable to estimate the rights of authority in
matters of reason. I do not speak of that coercive authority which
ought to have no rights at all in such matters, but of that kind of
authority which is purely moral, and acts solely by its influence
upon the mind. In most reformed countries, something is want-
ing to complete the proper organization of intellectual society, and to
the regular action of old and general opinions. What is due to and
required by traditional belief, has not been reconciled with what
is due to and required by freedom of thinking; and the cause of
this undoubtedly is, that the Reformation did not fully comprehend
and accept its own principles and effects."
This perhaps is the most important passage in the lecture for
the student's meditation, and indicates a profound insight on the
author's part into the great problem which it was the mission •of
the Reformation to solve ; but which, as the author too truly saya,
is yet to be solred.
LECTURE XIII
THE; ENGLISH REVOLUTION.
We have seen, that during the course cf the sixteenth cen
tury, all the elements, all the facts, of ancient European so
ciety had merged in two essential facts, the right of free
examination, and centralization of power ; one prevailing in
religious "society, the other in civil society. The emancipa-
tion of the human mind and absolute monarchy triumphed at
the same moment over Europe in general.
It could hardly be conceived that a struggle between these
two facts — the characters of which appear so contradictory —
would not, at some time, break out ; for while one was the
defeat of absolute power in the spiritual order, the other was
the triumph of absolute power in the temporal order ; one
forced on the decline of the ancient ecclesiastical monarchy,
the other was the consummation of the ruin of the ancient feu-
dal and municipal liberty. Their simultaneous appearance was
owing, as I have already observed, to the circumstance that
the revolutions of the religious society followed more rapidly
than those of the civil ; one had arrived at the point in which
the freedom of individual thought was secured, while the
other still lingered on the spot where the concentration of all
the powers in one general power took place. The co-inci-
dence of these two facts, so far from being the consequence
of their similitude, did not even prevent their contradiction.
They were both advances in the march of civilization, but
they were advances connected with different situations ; ad-
vances of a different moral date, if I may be allowed the ex
pression, although coincident in time. From their position it
seemed inevitable that they must clash and combat before a
reconciliation could be effected between them.
The first shock between them took place in England. The
struggle of the right of free inquiry, the fruit of the Reformation,
against the entire suppression of political liberty, the object
270 GENERAL HISTORY OF
aimed at by pure monarchy — the attempt to abolish absolute
power in the temporal order, as had already been done in the
spiritual order — this is the true sense of the English revolu
tion ; this is the part it took in the work of civilization.
But how, it may be asked, came it to pass, that this strug-
gle took place in England sooner than anywhere else 1 How
happened it that the revolutions of a political character coin
cided here with those of a moral character sooner than they
did on the Continent ?
In England, the royal power had undergone the same ri-
cissitudes as it had on the Continent. Under the Tudors it
had reached a degree of concentration and vigor which it had
never attained to before. I do not mean to say that the practi-
cal despotism of the Tudors was more violent and vexatious
than that of their predecessors ; there were quite as many,
perhaps more, tyrannical proceedings, vexations, and acts of
injustice, under the Plantagenets, as under the Tudors. Per-
haps, too, at this very period the government of pure monar-
chy was more severe and arbitrary on the Continent than in
England. The new fact under the Tudors was, that absolute
power became systematic ; royalty laid claim to a primitive,
independent sovereignty ; it held a language which it had
never held before. The theoretic claims of Henry VIII.,
Elizabeth, James L, and Charles I., are very different from
those of Edward I. and III., although, in point of fact, the
power of the two latter monarchs was nowise less arbitrary or
extensive. I repeat, then, it was the principle, the rational
system of monarchy, which changed in England, in the six-
teenth century, rather than its practical power ; royalty now
declared itself absolute and superior to all laws, even to those
which it declared itself willing to respect.
There is another point to be considered ; the religious re-
volution had not been accomplished in England in the same
way as on the Continent ; it was here the work of the mon-
archs themselves. It must not be supposed that the seeds
had not been sown, or that even attempts had not been made
at a popular reform, or that one would not probably have soon
oroken out. But Henry VIII. took the lead ; power became
revolutionary ; and hence it happened, at least in its origin,
that, as a redress of ecclesiastical abuses, as an emancipation
of the human mind, the reform in England was much less
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 271
complete than upon the Continent. It was made, as might
naturally be expected, in accordance with the interests of its
authors. The king and the episcopacy, which was here
continued, divided between themselves the riches and the
power, of which they despoiled their predecessors, the
popes. The effect of this wa' soon felt. The Reformation
people cried out, had been closed, while the greater part of
the abuses which had induced them to desire it, were still
continued.
The Reformation re-appeared under a more popular form f
it made the same demands of the bishops that had already been
made of the Holy See ; it accused them of being so many
popes. As often as the general fate of the religious revolu-
tion was compromised ; whenever a struggle against the an-
cient Church took place, the various portions of the Reforma-
tion party rallied together, and made common cause against
the common enemy : but this danger over, the struggle again
broke out among themselves ; the popular reform again at-
tacked the aristocratic and royal reform, denounced its abuses,
complained of its tyranny, called upon it to make good its
promises, and not to usurp itself the power which it had just
dethroned.
Much about the same time a movement for liberty took
place in civil society ; a desire before unknown, or at least
but weakly expressed, was now felt for political freedom. In
the course of the sixteenth century, the commercial prosperity
of England had increased with amazing rapidity, while during
the same time, much territorial wealth, much baronial pro-
perty had changed hands. The numerous divisions of land-
ed property, which took place during the sixteenth century,
in consequence of the ruin of the feudal nobility, and from
various other causes which I cannot now stop to enumerate,
form a fact which has not been sufficiently noticed. A va-
riety of documents prove how greatly the number of landed
properties increased ; the estates going generally into the
hands of the gentry, composed of the lesser nobility, and per-
sons who had acquired property by trade. The high nobility,
the House of Lords, did not, at the beginning of the seven-
teenth century, nearly equal, in riches, the House of Com-
mons. There had taken place, then, at the same time in
England, a great increase in wealth among the industrious
classes, and a great change in landed property. While these
272 GENERAL HISTORY OF
two facts were being accomplished, there happened a third
a new march of mind.
The reign of Queen Elizabeth must be regarded as a pe«
riod of great literary and philosophical activity in England, a.
period remarkable for bold and pregnant thought ; the Puri -
tans followed, without hesitation, all the consequences of a nar-
row, but powerful creed ; other intellects, with less morality,
but more freedom and boldness, alike regardless of principle
or system, seized with avidity upon every idea, which seem-
ed to promise some gratification to their curiosity, some food
for their mental ardor. And it may be regarded as a maxim,
that wherever the progress of intelligence is a true pleasure,
a desire for liberty is soon felt, nor is it long in passing from
the public mind to the state.
A feeling of the same kind, a sort of creeping desire for
political liberty, almost manifested itself in some of the coun-
tries on the Continent in which the Reformation had made
some way ; but these countries, being without the meaas of
success, made no progress ; they knew not how to make
their desire felt ; they could find no support for it either in in-
stitutions, or in the habits and usages of the people ; hence
this desire remained vague, uncertain, and sought in vain for
the means of satisfying its cravings. In England the case
was widely different : the spirit of political liberty which
showed itself here in the sixteenth century, as a sort of ap-
pendix to the Reformation, found both a firm support and the
means of speaking and acting in the ancient institutions of
the country, and indeed the whole frame-work of English
society.
There is hardly any one who does not know the origin of
the free institutions of England. How, in 1215, a coalition
of the great barons wrested Magna Charta from John ; but it
is not quite so generally known, that this charter was renew-
ed and confirmed, from time to time, by almost every king
It was confirmed upwards of thirty times between the thir
teenth and sixteenth centuries, besides which new statute?
were passed to confirm and extend its enactments. Thus v
lived, as it were, without gap or interval. In the mean tim«
the House of Commons had been formed, and taken its plac*
among the sovereign institutions of the country. Under the
Plantagenets it had taken deep root and became firmly
established ; not that at this time it played any great part, o*
nad even much influence in the government ; it scarcely in
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE 273
deed interfered in this except when called upon to do so by
the king, and then only with hesitation and regret ; afraid
rather of bringing itself into trouble and danger, than jealous
of augmenting its power and authority. But the case was
different when it was called upon to defend private rights, the
house or property of the citizens, or in short the rights and
privileges of individuals ; this duty the House of Commons
performed with wonderful energy and perseverance, putting
forward and establishing all those principles which have be-
come the basis of the English constitution. Under the Tu-
dors the House of Commons, or rather the Parliament alto-
gether, put on a new character. It no longer defended
individual liberty so well as under the Plantagenets. Arbi-
trary detentions, and violations of private rights, which became
much more frequent, were often passed in silence. But, as
a counterbalance for this, the Parliament interfered to a much
greater extent than formerly in the general affairs of govern-
ment. Henry VIII., in order to change the religion of the
country, and to regulate the succession, required some public
support, some public instrument, and he had recourse to Par-
liament, and especially to the House of Commons, for this
purpose. This, which under the Plantagenets had only been
a means of resistance, a guarantee of private rights, became
now, under the Tudors, an instrument of government, of gen-
eral policy ; so that at the end of the sixteenth century, not-
withstanding it had been the tool, and submitted to the will
of nearly all sorts of tyrannies, its importance had greatly in-
creased ; the foundation of its power was laid, the foundation
of that power upon which truly rests representative govern-
ment.
In taking a view, then, of the free institutions of England
at the end of the sixteenth century, we find them to consist :
first, of maxims — of principles of liberty, which had been
constantly acknowledged in written documents, and of which
the legislation and country had never lost sight ; secondly, of
precedents, of examples of liberty ; these, it is true, were
mixed with a great number of precedents and examples of an
opposite nature ; still they were quite sufficient to maintain,
1,0 give a legal character to the claims of the friends of liberty,
and to support them in their struggle against arbitrary and
tyrannical government ; thirdly, particular and local institu-
.ions, pregnant with the seeds of liberty, the jury, the right
874 GENERAL HISTORY OF
of holding public meetings, of bearing arms, to which must
be added the independence of municipal administration and
jurisdiction : fourthly and finally, the parliament and its au-
thority became more necessary now than ever to the monarchs,
as these, having dilapidated the greater part of their inde-
pendent revenues, crown domains, feudal rights, &c, could
not support even the expenses of their households, without
taving recourse to a vote of parliament.
The political state of England then was very different iO
that of the continent ; notwithstanding the tyranny of the Tu-
dors, notwithstanding the systematic triumph of absolute mo-
narchy, there still remained here a firm support for the new
spirit of liberty, a sure means by which it could act.
At this epoch, two national wants were felt in England : on
one hand, a want of religious liberty and of a continuation of
the reformation already begun ; on the other, a want of politi-
cal liberty, which seemed arrested by the absolute monarchy
now establishing its power. These two parties formed an
alliance ; the party which wished to carry forward religious
reform, invoked political liberty to the aid of its faith and
conscience against the bishops and the crown. The friends
of political liberty, in like manner, sought the aid of the
friends of popular religious reform. The two parties joined
their forces to struggle against absolute power, both spiritual
and political, now concentrated in the hands of the king. Such
is the origin and signification of the English revolution.
It appears, then, to have been essentially devoted to the.
defence or conquest of liberty. For the religious party it was
a means, for the political party it was an end ; but the object
of both was still liberty, and they were determined to pursue
it in common. Properly speaking, there had been no true
quarrel between the episcopal and puritan party ; the struggle
was not about doctrines, about matters of faith, properly so
called. I do not mean that these were not very positive, very
important, and differences of great consequence between
vhem ; but this was not the main affair. What the puritan party
wished to obtain from the episcopal was practical liberty ; this
was the object for which it struggled. It must, however, be
admitted that there did exist at the same time, a religious party
which had a system to found ; a set of doctrines, a form of
discipline, an ecclesiastic constitution, which it wished to es«
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 275
Cablish — I mean the Presbyterians ; but though it did its best,
it had not the power to obtain its object. Acting upon the
defensive, oppressed by the bishops, unable to take a step
without the sanction of the political reformers, its necessary
allies and chieftains, liberty naturally became its predominant
interest ; this was the general interest, the common desire of
all the parties which concurred in the movement, however
different in other respects might be their views. Taking
these matters then altogether, we must come to the conclu-
sion, that the. English revolution was essentially political ; it
was accomplished in the midst of a religious people and a
religious age ; religious ideas and passions often became its
instruments ; but its primary intention and its definite object
were decidedly political, a tendency to liberty, the destruction
of all absolute power.
I shall now briefly run over the various phases of this revo-
lution, and analyze it into the great parties that succeeded one
another in its course. I shall afterwards connect it with the
general career of European civilization ; I shall show its place
and influence therein ; and you will be satisfied, from the de-
tail of facts as well as from its first aspect, that it was truly
the first collision of free inquiry and pure monarchy, the first
onset that took place in the struggle between these two great
and opposite powers.
Three principal parties appeared upon the stage at this im
portant crisis ; three revolutions seem to have been contained
within it, and to have successively appeared upon the scene.
In each party, in each revolution, two parties moved together
in alliance, a political party and a religious party ; the former
took the lead, the second followed, but one could not go with-
out the other, so that a double character seems to be imprint-
ed upon it in all its changes.
The first party which appeared in the field, and under
whose banners at the beginning marched all the others, was
the high, pure-monarchy party, advocating legal reform-
When the revolution began, when the long parliament as-
Bembled in 1640, it was generally said, and sincerely believ-
ed by many, that a legal, a constitutional reform would suffice •
that the ancient laws and practices of the country were suffi-
276 GENERAL HISTORY OF
cient to correct every abuse, to establish a system of govern
merit which would fully meet the wishes of the public.
This party highly blamed and earnestly desired to put a stop
to illegal imposts, to arbitrary imprisonments — to all acts, in-
deed, contrary to the known law and usages of the country
But under these ideas, there lay hid, as it were, a belief in
the divine right of the king, and in his absolute power. A
secret instinct seemed to warn it that thero was something
false and dangerous in this notion ; and on this account it ap-
peared always desirous to avoid the subject. Forced, how-
ever, at last to speak out, it acknowledged the divine right of
kings, and admitted that they possessed a power superior to
all human origin, to all human control ; and as such they de-
fended it in time of need. Still, however, they believed that
this sovereignty, though absolute in principle, was bound to
exercise its authority according to certain rules and forms ;
hat it could not go beyond certain limits ; and that these
rules, these forms, and these limits were sufficiently establish-
ed and guarantied in Magna Charta, in the confirmative
statutes, in the ancient laws and usages of the country. Such
was the political creed of this party. In religious matters, it
believed that the episcopacy had greatly encroached ; that
the bishops possessed far too much political power ; that their
jurisdiction was far too extensive, that it required to be re-
strained, and its proceedings jealously watched. Still it held
firmly to episcopacy, not merely as an ecclesiastical institu-
tion, not merely as a form of church government, but as a ne-
cessary support of the royal prerogative, and as a means of
defending and maintaining the supremacy of the king in mat-
ters of religion. The absolute power of the king over the
body politic, exercised aceording to the forms and within the
limits legally acknowledged ; the supremacy of the king as
head of the Church, applied and sustained by the episcopacy,
was the twofold system of the legal reform party. We may
enumerate as its chiefs, Lord Clarendon, Colepepper, Capel,
and, though a more ardent friend of public liberty, Lord Falk-
land ; and into their ranks were enlisted nearly ail the nobili-
ty and gentry not servilely devoted to the court.
Behind this party advanced a second, which I shall call the
political-revolutionary party ; it differed from the foregoing,
inasmuch as it did not believe the ancient guarantees, the
ancient legal barriers sufficient to secure the rights and liber-
■ff/f^
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 277
ties of the people. It saw that a great change, a genuine
revolution was wanting, not oflly in the forms, but in the spirit
and essence of the government ; that it was necessary to de-
prive the king and his council of the unlimited power which
mey possessed, and to place the preponderance in the House
of Commons ; so that the government should, in fact, be in
the hands of this assembly and its leaders. This party made
no such open and systematic profession of its principles and
intentions as I have done ; but this was the real character of
its opinions, and of its political tendencies. Instead of ac-
knowledging the absolute sovereignty of the king, it contend-
ed for the sovereignty of the House of Commons as the re-
presentatives of the people. Under this principle was hid
that of the sovereignty of the people ; a notion which the
party was as far from considering in its full extent, as it was
from desiring the consequences to which it might ultimately
lead, but which they nevertheless admitted when it presented
itself to them in the form of the sovereignty of the House of
Commons.
The religious party most closely allied to this political-re-
volutionary one was that of the Presbyterians. This sect
wished to operate much the same revolution in the Church as
their allies were endeavoring to effect in the state. They de-
sired to erect a system of church government emanating from
the people, and composed of a series of assemblies dove-
tailed, as it were, into each other ; and thus to give to their
national assembly the same authority in ecclesiastical matters
that their allies wished to give in political to the House of
Commons : only that the revolution contemplated by the Pres-
byterians was more complete and daring than the other, foras-
much as it aimed at changing the form as well as the prin-
ciples of the government of the Church ; while the views of
the political party went no farther than to place the influence,
the preponderance, in the body of the people, without medi-
tating any great alteration in the form of their institutions.
Hence the leaders of this political party were not all
favorable to the Presbyterian organization of the Church.
Hampden and Hollis, as well as some others, it appears,
would have given the preference to a moderate episcopacy,
confined strictly to ecclesiastical functions, with a greater ex-
tent of liberty of conscience. They were obliged, however,
to give way, as thev could do nothing without the assistance
of their fanatical allies.
278 GENERAL HISTORY OT
The third party, going much beyond these two, declared
that a change was required no* only in the form, but also in
the foundation of the government ; that its constitution was
radically vicious and bad. This party paid no respect to the
past life of England ; it renounced her institutions, it swept
away all national remembrances, it threw down the whole
fabric of English government, that it might build up another
founded on pure theory, or at least one that existed only in its
own fancy. It aimed not merely at a revolution in the govern-
ment, but at a complete revolution of the whole social system.
The party of which I have just spoken, the political-revolu-
tionary party, proposed to make a great change in the rela-
tions in which the parliament stood with the crown ; it wished
to extend the power of the two houses, particularly of the
commons, by giving to it the nomination of the great officers
of state, and the supreme direction of affairs in general ; but
its notions of reform scarcely went beyond this. It had no
idea, for example, of changing the electoral system, the ju-
dicial system, the administrative and municipal systems of the
country. The republican party contemplated all these changes,
dwelt upon their necessity, wished, in a word, to reform not
only the public administration, but the relations of society,
and the distribution of private rights.
Like the two preceding, this party was composed of a re-
ligious sect, and a political sect. Its political portion were
the genuine republicans, the theorists, Ludlow, Harrington,
Milton, &c. To these may be added the republicans of cir-
cumstance, of interest, such as the principal officers of the
army, Ireton, Cromwell, Lambert, &c, who were more or less •
sincere at the beginning of their career, but were soon con-
trolled and guided by personal motives and the force of cir-
cumstances. Under the banners of this party marched the
religious republicans, all those religious sects which would
acknowledge no power as legitimate but that of Jesus Christ,
and who, awaiting his second coming, desired only the govern-
ment of his elect. Finally, in the train of this party followed
a mixed assemblage of subordinate free-thinkers, fanatics, and
levellers, some hoping for license, some for an equal distribu-
tion of property, and others for universal suffrage.
In 1653, after twelve years of struggle, all these parties had
successively appeared and failed ; they appear at least to
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 279
nave thought so, and the public was sure of it. The legai
reform party quickly disappeared ; it saw the old constitution
and laws insulted, trampled under foot, and innovations forcing
their way on every side. The political-revolutionary party
saw the destruction of parliamentary forms in the new use
which it was proposed to make of them — it had seen the
House of Commons reduced, by the successive expulsions of
royalists and Presbyterians, to a few members, despised, de-
tested by the public, and incapable of governing. The re-
publican party appeared to have succeeded better ; it seemed
to be left master of the field and of power ; the House of Com-
mons consisted of but fifty or sixty members, all republicans.
They might fancy themselves, and call themselves, the rulers
of the country ; but the country rejected their government ;
they were nowhere obeyed ; they had no power either over
the army or the nation. No social bond, no social security
was now left ; justice was no longer administered, or if it was,
it was controlled by passion, chance, or party Not only was
there no security in the relations of private life, but the high-
ways were covered with robbers and companies of brigands.
Anarchy in every part of the civil, as well as of the moral
world, prevailed ; and neither the House of Commons, nor
the republican Council of State, had the power to restrain it.
Thus, the three great parties which had brought about the
revolution, and which in their turn had been called upon to
conduct it — had been called upon to govern the country ac-
cording to their principles and their will — had all signally
failed. They could do nothing — they could settle nothing.
" Now it was," says Bossuet, " that a man was found who
left nothing to fortune, which he could gain by counsel and
foresight ;" a remark which has no foundation whatever in
truth, and which every part of history contradicts. No man
ever left more to fortune than Cromwell. No one ever risked
more — no one ever pushed forward more rashly, without de-
sign, without an aim, yet determined to go as far as fate would
carry him. Unbounded ambition, and admirable tact for draw-
ing from every day, from every circumstance, some new pro-
gress — the art of profiting by fortune without seeming ever to
possess the desire to constrain it, formed the character of
Cromwell. In one particular his career was singular, and
differs from that of every individual with whom we are apt to
compare him: he adapted himself to all the various changes,
280 GENERAL HISTORY OF
numerous as thev were, as well as to the state of things they
led to, of the revolution. He appears a prominent charactel
in every scene, from the rise of the curtain to the close of the
piece. He was now the instigator of the insurrection — now
the abetter of anarchy — now the most fiery of the revolutionists
— now the restorer of order and social re-organization ; thus
playing himself all the principal parts which, in the common
run of revolutions, are usually distributed among the greatest
actors. He was not a Mirabeau, for he failed in eloquence,
and, though very active, he made no great figure in the first
years of the long parliament. But he was successively Dan-
ton and Bonaparte. Cromwell did more than any one to
overthrow authority ; he raised it up again, because there wls
no other than he that could take it and manage it. The coun-
try required a ruler ; all others failed, and he succeeded. This
was his title. Once master of the government, Cromwell,
whose boundless ambition had exerted itself so vigorously,
who had so constantly pushed fortune before him, and seemed
determined never to stop in his career, displayed a good sense,
a prudence, a knowledge of how much was possible, which
overruled his most violent passions. There can be no doubt
of his extreme fondness for absolute power, nor of his desire
to place the crown upon his own head and keep it in his fami-
ly. He saw the peril of this latter design and renounced it ;
and though, in fact, he did exercise absolute authority, he saw
very well that the spirit of the times would not bear it ; that
the revolution which he had helped to bring about, which he
had followed through all its phases, had been directed against
despotism, and that the uncontrollable will of England was to
be governed by a parliament and parliamentary forms. He
endeavored, therefore, despot as he was, by taste and by
deeds, to govern by a parliament. For this purpose he had
recourse to all the various parties ; he tried to form a parlia-
ment from the religious enthusiasts, from the republicans, from
the Presbyterians, and from the officers of the army. He
tried every means to obtain a parliament able and willing to
take part with him in the government ; but he tried in vain ;
every party, the moment it was seated in St. Stephen's, en-
deavored to wrest from him the authority which he exercised,
and to rule in its turn. I do not mean to deny that his per-
sonal interest, the gratification of his darling ambition was his
first care ; but it is no less certain that if he had abdicated
nis authority one day, he would have been obliged to resums
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 28*
t the next. Puritans or royalists, republicans or officers, ther*
was no one but Cromwell who was in a state at this time to
govern with any thing like order or justice. The experiment
had been made. It seamed absurd to think of leaving to par
liaments, that is to say, to the faction sitting in parliament, a
government which it could not maintain. Such -vas the ex-
traordinary situation of Cromwell : he governed by a system
w T hich he knew very well was foreign and hateful to the coun-
try, he exercised an authority which was acknowledged ne-
cessary by all, but which was acceptable to none. No party
looked upon his domination as a definitive government
Royalists, Presbyterians, republicans, even the army itself,
which appears to have been the party most devoted to Crom-
well, all looked upon his rule as transitory. He had no hold
upon the affections of the people ; he was never more than a
pis-alle?; a last resort, a temporary necessity. The protector
the absolute master of England, was obliged all his life to
nave recourse to force to preserve his power ; no party could
govern so well as he, but no party liked to see the govern-
ment in his hands ; he was repeatedly attacked by them att
at once.
Upon Cromwell's death, there was no party in a situation
to seize upon the government except the republicans ; they
did seize upon it, but with no better success than before. This
happened from no lack of confidence, at least, in the enthu-
siasts of the party. A spirited and talented tract, published
at this juncture by Milton, is entitled " A Ready and Easy
Way to establish a free Commonwealth." You may judge of
the blindness of these men, who soon fell into a state which
showed that it was quite as impossible for them to carry on
the government now as it had been before. Monk undertook
the direction of that event which all England now seemed
anxious for. The Restoration was accomplished
The restoration of the Stuarts was an event generally
pleasing to the nation. It brought back a government which
still dwelt in its memory, which was founded upon its ancient
traditions, while, at the same time, it had some of the advan
tages of a new government, in that it had not recently been
Cried, in that its faults and its power had not lately been felt
The ancient monarchy was the only system of government
'282 GENERAL HISTORY OF
which had not been decried, within the last twenty years, fo*
its abuses and want of capacity in the administration of the
affairs of the kingdom. From these two causes the restora-
tion was extremely popular ; it was unopposed by any but the
dregs of the most violent factions, while the public rallied
round it with great sincerity. All parties in the country seem-
ed now to believe that this offered the only chance left of a
stable and legal government, and this was what, above all
things, the nation now desired. This also was what the res-
toration seemed especially to promise ; it took much pains to
present itself under the aspect of legal government.
The first royalist party, indeed, to whom, upon the return
of Charles the Second, the management of affairs was intrust-
ed, was the legal party, represented by its able leader, the
Lord Chancellor Clarendon. From 1660 to 1667, Clarendon
was prime minister, and had the chief direction of affairs : he
and his friends brought back with them their ancient prin-
ciples of government, the absolute sovereignty of the king,
kept within legal bounds, limited by the House of Commons
as regards taxation, by the public tribunals, in matters of pri-
vate right, or relating to individual liberty, — possessing, never-
theless, in point of government, properly so called, an almost
complete independence, and the most decided preponderance,
to the exclusion or even in opposition to the votes of the ma-
jorities of the two houses, but particularly to that of the House
of Commons. In other matters there was not much to com-
plain of: a tolerable degree of respect was paid to legal
order ; there was a tolerable degree of solicitude for the na-
tional interests ; a sufficiently noble sentiment of national dig-
nity was preserved, and a color of morality that was grave
and honorable. Such was the character of Clarendon's ad-
ministration, during the seven years the government was com-
nitted to his charge
But the fundamental principles upon which this adminis-
tration was based — the absolute sovereignty of the king, and
a government beyond the preponderating control of parliament
— were now become old and powerless. Notwithstanding the
temporary reaction which took place at the first burst of the
restoration, twenty years of parliamentary rule against royalty
had destroyed them for ever. A new party soon showed it
self among the royalists ; libertines, profligates, wretches
who, imbued with the free opinions of the times, and seeing
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 283
ihat power was with the commons, — caring themselves but
little about legal order, or the absolute power of the king, — ■
were only anxious for success, and to discover the means of
influence and power in whatever quarter they were likely to
be found. These formed a party, and allying themselves with
the national, discontented party, Clarendon was discarded.
A new system of government now took place under that
portion of the royalists I have just described ; profligates and
libertines formed the administration of the Cabal, and several
others which followed it. What was their character ? With-
out inquietude respecting principles, laws, or rights, or care
for justice or truth ; they sought the means of success upor
every occasion, whatever these means might be ; if success
depended on the influence of the commons, the commons
were everything ; if it was necessary to cajole the commons,
the commons were cajoled without scruple, even though they
had to apologize to them the next day. At one moment they
attempted corruption, at another they flattered the national
wishes ; no regard was shown for the general interests of the
country, for its dignity or its honor ; in a word, it was a gov-
ernment profoundly selfish and immoral, totally unacquainted
with all theory, principle, or public object ; but, withal, in the
practical management of affairs, showing considerable intelli-
gence and liberality. Such was the character of the Cabal
ministry, of Earl Danby's, and of the English government
from 1667 to 1679. Yet notwithstanding its immorality, not-
withstanding its disdain of all principle, and of the true inter-
ests of the country, this government was not so unpopular,
not so odious to the nation as that of Clarendon ; and this
simply because it adapted itself better to the times, better un-
derstood the sentiments of the people, even while it derided
them. It was neither foreign nor antiquated, like that of
Clarendon ; and though infinitely more dangerous to the coun-
try, the people accommodated themselves better to it.
But this corruption, this servility, this contempt of public
rights and public honor, were at last carried to such a pitch
as to be no longer supportable. A general outcry was raised
against this government of r ofligates. A patriotic party, sup-
ported by the nation, became gradually formed in the House
of Commons, and the king was obliged to take the leaders of
it into his council. Lord Essex, the son of him who had com-
284 GENERAL HISTORY OP
manded the first parliamentary armies in the civil war, Lord
Russel, and Lord Shaftesbury, who, without any of the vir-
tues of the other two, was much their superior in politica;
abilities, were now called to the management of affairs. The
national party, to whom the direction of the government was
now committed, proved itself unequal to the task : it could
not gain possession of the moral force of the country : it could
neither manage the interests, the habits, nor the prejudices
of the king, of the court, nor of any with whom it had to do
It inspired no party, either king or people, with any confi-
dence in its energy or ability ; and after holding power for a
short time, this national, ministry completely failed. The
virtues of its leaders, their generous courage, the beauty of
their death, have raised them to a distinguished niche in the
temple of fame, and entitled them to honorable mention in the
page of history ; but their political capacities in no way cor-
responded to their virtues : they could not wield power, though
they could withstand its corrupting influence, nor could they
achieve a triumph for that glorious cause, for which they could
so nobly die !
The failure of this attempt left the English restoration in
rather an awkward plight ; it had, like the English revolution,
in a manner tried all parties without success. The legal
ministry, the corrupt ministry, the national ministry, having
all failed, the country and the court were nearly in the same
situation as that which England had been in before, at the close
of the revolutionary troubles in 1653. Recourse was had to
the same expedient : what Cromwell had turned to the profit
of the revolution, Charles II. now turned to the profit of the
crown ; he entered upon a career of absolute power.
James II. succeeded his brother ; and another question now
became mixed up with that of despotism : the question of re-
ligion. James II. wished to achieve, at the same time, a
triumph for popery and for absolute power : now again, as at
the commencement of the revolution, there was a religious
struggle and apolitical struggle, and both were directed against
the government. It has often been asked, what course affairs
would have taken if William III. had not existed, and come
jver to put an end to the quarrel between James and the peo-
ple. My firm belief is that the same event would have taken
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 285
place. All England, except a very small party, was at this
time arrayed against James ; and it seems very certain, that,
under some form or other, the revolution of 1688 must have
been accomplished. But at this crisis, causes even superior
to the internal state of England conduced to this event. It
was European as well as English. It is at this point that the
English revolution links itself, by facts, and independently of
the influence of its example, to the general course of European
civilization.
While the struggle which I have just been narrating took
place in England, the struggle of absolute power against re-
ligious and civil liberty — a struggle of the same kind, however
different the actors, the forms, and the theatre, took place upon
the continent — a struggle which was at bottom the same, and
carried on in the same cause. The pure monarchy of Louis
XIV. attempted to become universal monarchy, at least it
gave the world every reason to fear it ; and, in fact, Europe
did fear it. A league was formed in Europe between various
political parties to resist this attempt, and the chief of this
league was the chief of the party that struggled for the civil
and religious liberty of Europe — William, Prince of Orange.
The Protestant republic of Holland, with William at its head,
had made a stand against pure monarchy, represented and
conducted by Louis XIV. The fight here was not for civil
and religious liberty in the interior of states, but for the in-
terior independence of the states themselves. Louis XIV.
and his adversaries never thought of debating the questions
which were debated so fiercely in England. This struggle
was not one of parties, but of states ; it was carried on, not
by political outbreaks and revolutions, but by war and nego-
tiation ; still, at bottom, the same principle was the subject
of contention.
It happened, then, that the strife between absolute power
and liberty, which James II. renewed in England, broke out
at the very moment that this general struggle was going on
in Europe between Louis XIV. and the Prince of Orange,
the representatives of these two great systems, as well in the
affairs which took place on the Thames as on the Scheldt.
The league against Louis was so powerful that many sover-
eigns entered into it, either publicly, or in an underhand,
ihough very effective manner, who were rather opposed than
28b GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
not to the interests of civil and religious liberty. The Em-
peror of Germany and Innocent XI. both supported "William
against France. And William crossed the channel to Eng-
land less to serve the internal interests of the country, than
to draw it entirely into the struggle against Louis. He laid
hold of this kingdom as a new force which he wanted, but
of which his adversary had had the disposal, up to this time,
against him. So long as Charles II. and James II. reigned,
England belonged to Louis XIV. ; he >ad the disposal of it,
and had kept it employed against Holland. England then
was snatched from the side of absolute and universal monar-
chy, to become the most powerful support and instrument of
civil and religious liberty. This is the view which must be
aken, as regards European civilization, of the revolution of
1688 ; it is this which gives it a place in the assemblage of
European events, independently of the influence of its exam-
ple, and of the vast effect which it had upon the minds and
opinions of men in the following century.
Thus, I think, I have rendered it clear, that the true sense,
the essential character of this revolution is, as I said at the
outset of this lecture, an attempt to abolish absolute power in
the temporal order, as had already been done in the spiritual.
This fact appears in all the phases of the revolution, from its
first outbreak to the restoration, and again in the crisis of
1688 : and this not only as regards its interior progress, but
in its relations with Europe in general.
It now only remains for us to study the same great event,
the struggle of free inquiry and pure monarchy, upon the con-
tinent, or at least the causes and preparation of this event
This will be the object of the next and final lecture.
LECTURE XIV
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
I endeavored, at our last meeting, to ascertain the crue
character and political object of the English revolution. We
have seen that it was the first collision of the two grezt facts
to which, in the course of the sixteenth century, all the civil-
ization of primitive Europe tended, — monarchy on the one
hand, and free inquiry on the other. These two powers
came to blows, if I may use the expression, for the first time
in England. It has been attempted, from this circumstance,
to deduce a radical difference between the social state of
England and that of the Continent ; it has been contended,
that no comparison could be made between countries so dif-
ferently situated ; and it has been affirmed, that the English
people had lived in a sort of moral separation from the rest
of Europe, analogous to its physical insulation.
It is true that between the civilization of England, and tha^
of the continental states, there has been a material difference
which it is important that we should rightly understand. You
have already had a glimpse of it in the course of these lec-
tures. The development of the different principles, the dif-
ferent elements of society, took place, in some measure, at
^he same time, at least much more simultaneously than upon
he Continent. " When I endeavored to determine the com-
plexion of European civilization as compared with the civili-
zation of ancient and Asiatic nations, I showed that the former
was varied, rich, and complex, and that it had never fallen
under trie influence of any exclusive principle ; that, in it, the
different elements of the social state had combine^? contended
with, and modified each other, and had continually been
obliged to come to an accommodation, and to subsist together.
This fact, which forms the general character of European
civilization, has in an especial manner been that of the civili-
zation of England ; it is in that country that it has appeared
most evidently and uninterruptedly ; it is there that the civil
288 GENERAL HISTORY OF
and religious orders, aristocracy, democracy, monarchy, local
and central institutions, moral and political development, have
proceeded and grown up together, if not with equal rapidity,
at least but at a little distance from each other. Under the
reign of the Tudors, for example, in the midst of the most re-
markable progress of pure monarchy, we have seen the dem-
ocratic principle, the popular power, make its way and gain
strength almost at the same time. The revolution of the
seventeenth century broke out ; it was at the same time re-
ligictis and political. The feudal aristocracy appeared in it
in a very enfeebled state, and with all the symptoms of decay ,
it was, however, still in a condition to preserve its place in
this revolution, and to have some share in its results. The
same thing has been the case in the whole course of English
history ; no ancient element has ever entirely perished, nor
any new element gained a total ascendency ; no particular
principle has ever obtained an exclusive influence. There
has always been a simultaneous development of the different
forces, and a sort of negotiation or compromise between their
pretensions and interests.
On the continent the march of civilization had been less
complex and complete. The different elements of society,
the civil and religious orders, monarchy, aristocracy, democ-
racy, have developed themselves, not together, and abreast, as
it were, but successively. Every principle, every system,
has in some measure had its turn. One age, for example, has
belonged, I shall not say exclusively, but with a decided pre-
dominance, to the feudal aristocracy ; another to the principle
of monarchy ; another to the principle of democracy. Com-
pare the middle ages in France, with the middle ages in Eng-
land ; the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries of our
history with the corresponding centuries on the other side of
the channel ; you will find in France, at that epoch, feudalism
in a state of almost absolute sovereignty, while monarchy and
the democratic principle scarcely had an existence. But turn
to England, and you will find, that although the feudal aris-
tocracy greatly predominated, that monarchy and democracy
possessed, at the same time, strength and importance. Mon-
archy triumphed in England under Elizabeth, as in France
under Louis XIV. ; but what precautions it was constrained
to take ! how many restrictions, sometimes aristocratic, some-
times democratic, it was obliged to submit toi In England,
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 289
every system, every principle, has had its time of strength
and success ; but never so completely and exclusively as on
the continent : the conqueror has always been constrained to
tolerate the presence of his rivals, and to leave them a certain
share of influence.
To this difference in the march of these two civilizations
there are attached advantages and inconveniences which are
apparent in the history of the two countries. There is no
doubt, for example, that the simultaneous development of the
different social elements has greatly contributed to make Eng-
land arrive more quickly than any of the continental states, at
he end and aim of all society, that is to say, the establish-
ment of a government at once regular -and free. It is the
very nature of a government to respect all the interests, all
the powers of the state, to conciliate them and make them
live and prosper in common : now such was, beforehand, and
by the concurrence of a multitude of causes, the despotism
and mutual relation of the different elements of English so-
ciety ; and, therefore, a general and somewhat regular govern-
ment had the less difficulty in establishing itself. In like
manner the essence of liberty is the simultaneous manifesta-
tion and action of every interest, every kind of right, every
force, every social element. England, therefore, had made a
nearer approach to liberty than most other states. From the
same causes, national good sense and intelligence of public
affairs must have formed themselves more quickly than else-
where ; political good sense consists in understanding and
appreciating every fact, and in assigning to each its proper
part ; in England it has been a necessary consequence of
the state of society a natural result of the course of civili-
zation.
In the states of the Continent, on the contrary, every sys-
tem, every principle, having had its turn, and having had a
more complete and exclusive ascendency, the development
look place on a larger scale, and with more striking circum-
stances. Monarchy and feudal aristocracy, for example, ap-
peared on the continental stage with more boldness, extent,
and freedom. Every political experiment, so to speak, was
broader and more complete. The result was, that political
ideas — I speak of general ideas, and not of good sense
•pplied to the conduct of affairs ; that political ideas and doc-
trines took a greater elevation, and displayed themselves with
13
290 GENERAL HISTORY OP
t
much greater rational vigor. Every system having, in some
sort, presented itself singly, and having remained a long time
on the stage, people could contemplate it in its general aspect
ascend to its first principles, pursue it into its remotest conse-
quences, and lay bare its entire theory. Whoever observes
with some degree of attention the genius of the English na-
tion, will be struck with a double fact ; on the one hand, its
steady good sense and practical ability ; on the other, its want
of general ideas, and of elevation of thought upon theoretical
questions. Whether we open an English work on history,
jurisprudence, or any other subject, we rarely find the great
and fundamental reason of things. In every subject, a*ad es-
pecially in the political sciences, pure philosophical doctrines
— science properly so called — have prospered much more on
the continent, than in England ; their flights, at least, have
been bolder and more vigorous. Indeed, it cannot be doubted
that the different character of the development of civilization
in the two countries has greatly contributed to this result.
At all events, whatever may be thought of the inconvenien-
ces or advantages which have been produced by this differ-
ence, it is a real and incontestable fact, and that which most
essentially distinguishes England from the Continent. But,
though the different principles, the different social elements
have developed themselves more simultaneously there, and
more successively in France, it does not follow that, at bot-
tom, the road and the goal have not been the same. Con-
sidered generally, the continent and England have gone
through the same great phases of civilization ; events have
followed the same course ; similar causes have led to similar
effects. You may have convinced yourselves of this by the
view I have given you of civilization down to the sixteenth
century ; you will remark it no less in studying the seven-
teenth and eighteenth centuries. The development of free in-
quiry, and that of pure monarchy, almost simultaneous in
England, were accomplished on the Continent at pretty long
intervals; but they were accomplished; and these two pow-
ers, after having successively exercised a decided predomi-
nance, came also into, collision. The general march of so-
ciet} r , then, on the whole, has been the same ; and, though
the differences are real, the resemblance is still greater. A
rapid sketch of modern times will leave you no doubt on thi*
subject.
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 291
The moment we cast our eyes on the history of Europe in
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, we cannot fail to
perceive that France marches at the head of European civili
zation. At the beginning of this course, I strongly affirmed
this fact, and endeavored to point out its cause. We shall
now find it more strikingly displayed than it has ever been
before
* The principle of pure and absolute monarchy had predomi-
nated in Spain, under Charles V. and Philip II., before its
development in France under Louis XIV . In like manner
the principle of free inquiry had reigned in England in the
seventeenth century, before its development in France in the
eighteenth. Pure monarchy, however, did not go forth from
Spain, nor free inquiry from England, to make the conquest
of Europe. The two principles or systems remained, in some
sort, confined within the countries in which they sprang up.
They required to pass through France to extend their do-
minion ; pure monarchy and liberty of inquiry were compelled
to become French before they could become European. That
communicative character of French civilization, that social
genius of France, which has displayed itself at every period,
was peculiarly conspicuous at the period which now engages
our attention. I shall not dwell upon this fact ; it has been
expounded to you, with equal force of argument and brillian-
cy, in the lectures in which your attention has been directed
to the influence of the literature and philosophy of France in
the eighteenth century. You have seen how the philosophy
of France had, in regard to liberty, more influence on Europe
than the liberty of England. You have seen how French
civilization showed itself much more active and contagious
than that of any other country. I have no occasion, there-
fore, to dwell upon the details of this fact ; I avail myself of
it only in order to make it my ground for making France com-
prehend the picture of modern European civilization. There
were, no doubt, between French civilization at this period,
and that of the other states of Europe, differences on which
I ought to lay great stress, if it were my intention at present
to enter fully into this subject ; but I must proceed so rapidly,
that I am obliged to pass over whole nations, and whole ages.
I think it better to confine your attention to the course of
French civilization, as being an image, though an imperfect
one, of the general course of things in Europe.
The influence of France in Europe, in the seventeenth and
292 GENERAL HISTORY OF
eighteenth centuries, appears under very different aspects. In
the first of these centuries, it was the French government
which acted upon Europe, and took the lead in the march of
, general civilization. In* the second, it was no longer to the
French government, but to the French society, to France her-
self, that the preponderance belonged. It was at first Louis
XIV. and his court, and then France herself, and her public
opinion, that attracted the attention, and swayed the minds of
the rest of Europe. There were, in the seventeenth century,
nations, who, as such, made a more prominent appearance on
the stage, and took a greater share in the course of events,
than the French nation. Thus, during the thirty years' war,
the German nation, and the revolution of England, the Eng-
lish nation played, within their respective spheres, a much
greater part than the French nation, at that period, played
within theirs. In the eighteenth century, in like mannei,
there were stronger, more respected, and more formidable
governments than that of France. There is no doubt that
Frederick II. and Maria Theresa had more activity and weight
in Europe than Louis XV. Still, at both of these periods,
France was at the head of European civilization, first through
her government, and afterwards through herself; at one time
through the political action of her rulers, at another through
her own intellectual development. To understand thoroughly
the predominant influence on the course of civilization in
France, and consequently in Europe, we must therefore study,
in the seventeenth century, the French government, and in
the eighteenth, the French nation. We must change our
ground and our objects of view, according as time changes
the scene and the actors.
Whenever the government of Louis XIV. is spoken of,
whenever we attempt to appreciate the causes of his power
and influence in Europe, w r e have little to consider beyond
his splendor, his conquests, his magnificence, and the literary
glory of his time. We must resort to exterior causes in order
to account for the preponderance of the French government
in Europe.
But this preponderance, in my opinion, was derived from
causes more deeply seated, from motives of a more serious
kind. We must not believe that it was entirely by means of
victories, festivals, or even master-pieces of genius, that Louia
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 293
XIV. and his government played, at that period, the part which
no one can deny them.
Many of you may remember, and all of you have heard of,
the effect which, twenty-nine years ago, was produced by the
consular government in France, and the state in which it
found our country. Abroad, foreign invasion impending, and
continual disasters in our armies ; at home, the elements of
government and society in a state of dissolution ; no revenues
no public order ; in short, a people beaten, humbled, and dis
organized — such was France at the accession of the consu
lar government. Who is there that does not remember the
prodigious and successful activity of that gCTernment, an ac-
tivity which, in a short time, secured the independence of
our territory, revived our national honor, re-organized the s-d-
ministration of government, re-moddled our legislation, in
short, gave society, as it were*, a new life under the hand of
power 1
Well — the government of Louis XIV., when it began, did
something of the same kind for France ; with great differences
of times, of proceedings, and of forms, it prosecuted and at-
tained very nearly the same results.
Remember the state into which France had fallen after the
government of Cardinal Richelieu, and during the minority
of Louis XI^. : the Spanish armies always on the fron-
tiers, and sometimes in the interior ; continual danger of in-
vasion ; internal dissensions carried to extremity, civil war, the
government weak, and decried both at home and abroad.
There never was a more miserable policy, more despised in
Europe, or more powerless in France, than that of Cardinal
Mazarin. In a word, society was in a state, less violent per-
haps, but very analogous to ours before the 18th of Brumaire.
It was from that state that the government of Louis XIV. de-
livered France. His earliest victories had the effect of the
victory of Marengo ; they secured the French territory and
revived the national honor. I am going to consider this gov-
ernment under its various aspects, in its wars, its foreign re-
lations, its administration, and its legislation ; and you will
see, I believe, that the comparison which I speak of, and to
which I do not wish to attach a puerile importance, (fori care
very little about historical comparisons,) you will see, I say
that this comparison has a real foundation, and that I am fully
justified in making it.
294 GENERA HISTORY OF
I shall first speak of the wars of Loui XIV. European
wars were originally (as you know, and as I have- severaj
times had occasion to remind you) great popular movements '
impelled by want, by some fancy, or any other cause, whole
populations, sometimes numerous, sometimes consisting of
mere bands, passed from one territory to another. This was
the general character of European wars, till after the crusades,
at the end of the thirteenth century.
After this another kind of war arose, but almost equally
different from the wars of modern times: these were distant
wars, undertaken, not by nations, but by their gc verning
powers, who went, at the head of their armies, to seek, at a
distance, states and adventures. They quitted their country,
abandoned their own territory, and penetrated, some into
Germany, others into Italy, and others into Africa, with no
other motive save their individual fancy. Almost all the wars
of the fifteenth, and even a part of the sixteenth century, are of
this character. What interest — and I do not speak of a le-
gitimate interest — but what motive had France for wishing
that Charles VIII. should possess the kingdom of Naples I
It was evidently a war dictated by no political considerations ,
the king thought he had personal claims on the kingdom of
Naples ; and, for this personal object, to satisfy his own per-
sonal desire, he undertook the conquest of a distant country,
which was by no means adapted to the territorial conveniences
of his kingdom, but which, on the contrary, only endangered
his power abroad and his repose at home. Such, again, was
the case with regard to the expedition of Charles V. into
Africa. The last war of this kind was the expedition of
Charles XII. against Russia.
The wars of Louis XIV. were not of this description ; they
were the wars of a regular government — a government fixed
in the centre of its dominions, endeavoring to extend its con-
quests around, to increase or consolidate its territory ; in
short, they were political wars. They may have been just
or unjust, they may have cost France too dear ; — they may
be objected to on many grounds — on the score of morality or
excess ; but, in fact, they were of a much more rational char-
acter than the wars which preceded them ; they were no
onger fanciful adventures ; they were dictated by serious mo-
tives ; their objects were to reach some natural boundary,
Bome population who spoke the same language, and might
be annexed to the kingdom, some point of defence against a
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 295
neighboring power. Personal ambition no doubt, had a share
in them ; but examine the wars of Louis XIV., one after the
other, especially those of the early part of his reign, and you
will find that their motives were really political ; you will see
that they were conceived with a view to the power and safety
of France.
This fact has been proved by results. France, at th« pre-
sent day, in many respects, is what the wars of Louis XIV.
made her. The provinces which he conquered, Franche-
Comte, Flanders, and Alsace, have remained incorporated
with France. There are rational conquests as well as fool-
ish ones : those of Louis XIV. were rational ; his enterprises
have not that unreasonable, capricious character, till then so
general ; meir policy was able, if not always just and prudent.
If I pass from the wars of Louis XIV. to his relations with
foreign states, to his diplomacy properly so called, I find an
analogous result. I have already spoken of the origin of di-
plomacy at the end of the fifteenth century. I have endeav-
ored to show how the mutual relations of governments and
states, previously accidental, rare, and transient, had at that
period become more regular and permanent, how they had
assumed a character of great public interest ; how, in short,
at the end of the fifteenth and during the first half of the six-
teenth century, diplomacy had begun to perform a part of im-
mense im^fertance in the course of events. Still, however, it
was not till the seventeenth century that it became really
systematic ; before then, it had not brought about long alli-
ances, great combinations, and especially combinations of a
durable nature, directed by fixed principles, with a steady
object, and with that spirit of consistency which forms the
true character of established governments. During the course
of the religious revolution, the foreign relations of states had
been almost completely under the influence of religious inter-
ests ; the Protestant and Catholic leagues had divided Europe
between them. It was in the seventeenth century, under the
influence of the government of Louis XIV., that diplomacy
changed its character. On the one hand, it got rid of the ex-
clusive influence of the religious principle ; alliances and
political combinations took place from other considerations.
At the same time it became much more systematic and regu-
lar, and was always directed towards a certain object, accord-
ing to permanent principles. The regular birth of the system
296 GENERAI HISTORY OF
of the balance of power in Europe, took place at this period
It was under the government of Louis XIV. that this system,
with all the considerations attached to it, really took posses
sion of the politics of Europe. When we inquire what was
on this subject, the general idea or ruling principle of the
policy of Louis XIV., the following seems to be the result.
I have spoken of the great struggle which took place in
Europe between the pure monarchy of Louis XIV., pretend-
ing to establish itself as the universal system of monarchy,
and civil and religious liberty, and the independence of states,
under the command of the Prince of Orange, William III.
You have seen that the great European fact, at that epoch,
was the division of the powers of Europe under these two
banners. But this fact was not then understood as I now ex-
plain it ; it was hidden, and unknown even to those by whom
it was accomplished. The repression of the system of pure
monarchy, and the consecration of civil and religious liberty,
was necessarily, at bottom, the result of the resistance of
Holland and her allies to Louis XIV. ; but the question be-
tween absolute power and liberty was not then thus absolutely
laid down. It has been frequently said that the propagation of
absolute power was the ruling principle in the diplomacy of
Louis XIV. I do not think so. It was at a late period, and
in his old age, that this consideration assumed a great part in
his policy. The power of France, her preponderance in Eu-
rope, the depression of rival powers, — in short, ffie political
interest and strength of the state, was the object which Louis
XIV.' always had in view, whether he was contending against
Spain, the Emperor of Germany, or England. He was much
less actuated by a wish for the propagation of absolute power,
than by a desire for the aggrandizement of France and his
own government. Among many other proofs of this, there is
one which emanates from Louis XIV. himself. We find in
his Memoirs, for the year 1666, if I remember rightly, a note
conceived nearly in these terms : —
" This morning I had a conversation with Mr. Sidney, an
English gentleman, who spoke to me of the possibility of re-
viving the republican party in England. Mr. Sidney asked
me for £400,000 for this purpose. I told him I couicl not
give him more thar £200,000. He prevailed on me to send
to Switzerland for another English gentleman, called Mr. Lud-
.ow, that I might converse with him upon the same sutject.*'
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 291
We nnd accordingly, in Ludlow's Memoirs, about the same
dare, a paragraph to the following import : —
" 1 have received from the French government an invitation
Jo go to Paris, to have some discussion on the affairs of my
country ; but I distrust this government."
And, in fact, Ludlow did remain in Switzerland.
You see that the object of Louis XIV. at that time was to
weaken the royal power of England. He fomented internal
dissensions, he labored to revive the republican party, in or-
der to hinder Charles II. from becoming too powerful in his
own country. In the course of Barillon's embassy w England,
the same fact is constantly apparent. As often as the authority
of Charles II. seems to be gaining the ascendency, and the
national party on the point of being overpowered, the French
ambassador turns his influence in that directior, gives money
to the leaders of the opposition, and, in short ccntends against
absolute power, as soon as that becomes the means of weak-
ening a rival of France. Whenever we attentively examine
the conduct of foreign relations under Louis XIV. j this is the
fact which we are struck with.
We are also surprised at the capacity and ability of the
French diplomacy at this period. The names of Torcy,
D'Avaux, and Bonrepaus, are known to all well-informed per-
sons. When we compare the despatches, the memorials, the
skill, the management of these counsellors of Louis XIV.,
with those of the Spanish, Portuguese, and German negotia-
tors, we are struck with the superiority of the French minis-
ters ; not only with their serious activity and application to
business, but with their freedom of thought. These courtiers
of an absolute king judge of foreign events, of parties, of the
demands for freedom, and of popular revolutions, much more
soundly than the greater part of the English themselves of
that period. There is no diplomacy in Europe in the seven-
teenth century which appears equal to the diplomacy of France,
except perhaps that of Holland. The ministers of John de Witt
and William of Orange, those illustrious leaders of the party
of civil and religious liberty, are the only ones who appear to
have been in a condition to contend with the servants of the
great absolute king.
You see, that, whether we consider the wars of Louis XIV.,
or his diplomatic relations, we arrive at the same results. We
can easily conceive how a government which conduced in
*uch a manner its wars and negotiations, must have acquired
298 GENERAL HISTORY OF
great solidity in Europe, and assumed not only a formidable
but an able and imposing aspect.
Let us now turn our eyes to the interior of France, and the
administration and legislation of Louis XIV. ; we shall every-
where find new explanations of the strength and splendor of
his government.
It is difficult to determine precisely what ought to be under-
stood by administration in the government of a state. Still,
when we endeavor to come to a distinct understanding on this
subject, we acknowledge, I believe, that, under the most gene-
ral point of view, administration consists in an assemblage of
means destined to transmit, as speedily and surely as possible,
the will of the central power into all departments of so-
ciety, and, under the same conditions, to make the powers of
society return to the central power, either in men or money.
This, if I am not mistaken, is the true object, the prevailing
character, of administration. From this we may perceive
that, in times where it is especially necessary to establish
union and order in society, administration is the great means
of accomplishing it, — of bringing together, cementing, and
uniting scattered and incoherent elements. Such, in fact, was
the work of the administration of Louis XIV. Till his time,
nothing had been more difficult, in France as well as in the
rest of Europe, than to cause the action of the central power
to penetrate into all the parts of society, and to concentrate
into the heart of the central power the means of strength
possessed by the society at large. This was the object of
Louis's endeavors, and he succeeded in it to a certain extent,
incomparably better, at least, than preceding governments had
done. I cannot enter into any details ; but take a survey of
every kind of public service, the taxes, the highways, indus-
try, the military administration, and the various establishments
which belong to any branch of administration whatever ;
there is hardly any of them which you will not find to have
either been originated, developed, or greatly meliorated, under
the reign of Louis XIV. It was as administrators that the
greatest men of his time, such as Colbert and Louvois, dis-
played their genius and exercised their ministerial functions
It was thus that his government acquired a comprehensive-
ness, a decision, and a consistency, which were wanting in ail
h,} European governments around him.
The same fact holds with respect to this government, aa
CIVILIZATION iN MODERN EUROPE. 299
regards its legislative caj. acity. I will again refer to the com-
parison I made in the outset to the legislative activity of the
Consular government, and its prodigious labor in revising and
remodelling the laws. A labor of the same kind was under
taken under Louis XIV. The great ordinances which hfi
passed and promulgated, — the ordinances on the criminal law,
on forms of procedure, on commerce, on the navy, on waters
and forests, — are real codes of law, which were constructed
in the same manner as our codes, having been discussed in
the Council of State, sometimes under the presidency of
Lamoignon. There are men whose glory it is to have taken
a share in this labor and those discussions, — M. Pussort, for
example. If we had to consider it simply in itself, we should
have a great deal to say against the legislation of Louis XIV.
It is full of faults which are now evident, and which nobody
can dispute ; it was not conceived in the spirit of justice and
true liberty, but with a view to public order, and to give xegu-
larity and stability to the laws. But even that alone was a
great progress ; and it cannot be doubted that the legislative
acts of Louis XIV., very superior to the previous state of
legislation, powerfully contributed to the advancement of
French society in the career of civilization.
Under whatever point of view, then, we regard this govern-
ment, we can at once discover the means of its strength and
influence. It was, in truth, the first government which pre-
sented itself to the eyes of Europe as a power sure of its
position, which had not to dispute for its existence with do-
mestic enemies, which was tranquil in regard to its territory
and its people, and had nothing to think of but the care of
governing. Till then, all the European governments had*
been incessantly plunged intc wars which deprived, them of
security as well as leisure, or so assailed by parties and ene-
mies at home, that they passed their time in fighting for their
existence. The government of Louis XIV. appeared to be
the first that was engaged solely in managing its affairs like
a power at once definitive and progressive, which was not
afraid of making innovations, because it reckoned upon the
future. In fact, few governments have been more given to
innovation. Compare it with a government of the same
nature, with the pure monarchy of Philip II. in Spain,
which was more absolute than that of Louis XIV., and yet
was less regular and tranquil. How did Philip II. succeed ia
300 GENERAL HISTORY OF
establishing absolute power in Spain ? By stifling every Kind
of activity in the country ; by refusing his sanction to every
kind of improvement, and thus rendering the state of Spain
completely stationary. The government of Louis XIV., on
the contrary, was active in every kind of innovation, and
favorable to the progress of letters, arts, riches — favorable, in
a word, to civilization. These were the true causes of its pre-
ponderance in Europe — a preponderance so great, that it was,
on the Continent, during the seventeenth century, not only for
sovereigns, but even for nations, the type and model of govern-
ments.
It is frequently asked, and it is impossible to avoid asking,
how a power so splendid and well established — to judge from
the circumstances I have pointed out to you, should have fal-
len so quickly into a state of decay ? how, after having play-
ed so great a part in Europe, it became in the following cen-
tury so inconsiderable, so weak, and so little respected ? The
fact is undeniable : in the seventeenth century, the French
government stood at the head of European civilization. In the
eighteenth century it disappeared ; it was the society of
France, separated from its government, and often in a hostile
position towards it, which led the way and guided the pro-
gress of the European world.
It is here that we discover the incorrigible vice and infalli-
ble effect of absolute power. I shall not enter into any detail
respecting the fau-.s of the government of Louis XIV. ; and
there were great ones. I shall not speak either of the war of
the succession in Spain, or the revocation of the edict of
Nantes, or the excessive expenditure, or many other fatal
measures which affected its character. I will take the merits
of the government, such as I have described them. I will
admit that, probably, there never was an absolute power more
completely acknowledged by its age and nation, or which has
rendered more real services to the civilization of its country
as well as to Europe in general. It followed, indeed, from
the single circumstance, that this government had no other
principle than absolute power, and rested entirely on this
basis, that its decay was so sudden and deserved. What was
essentially wanting to France in Louis XIV. 's time was in-
stitutions, political powers, which were independent and self-
existent, capable, in short, of spontaneous actior and resist
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 301
ance. The ancient French institutions, if they deseive the
name, no longer subsisted ; Louis X1Y. completed their de
struction. He took care not to replace them by new institu
tions ; they would have constrained him, and he did not choose
constraint. The will and action of the central power were
all that appeared with splendor at that epoch. The govern-
ment of Louis XIV. i's a great fact, a powerful and brilliant
fact, but it was built upon sand. Free institutions are a guaran-
tee, not only for the prudence of governments, but also for their
stability. No system can endure otherwise than by institutions.
Wherever absolute power has been permanent, it has been
based upon, and supported by, real institutions ; sometimes by
the division of society into castes, distinctly separated, and
sometimes by a system of religious institutions. Under the
reign of Louis XIV., power, as well as liberty, needed ineutu-
tions. There was nothing in France, at that time, to protect
either the country from the illegitimate action of the govern-
ment, or the government itself against the inevitable action of
time. Thus, we behold the government assisting its own de-
cay. It was not Louis XIV. only who grew old, and became
feeble, at the end of his reign ; it was the whole system of
absolute power. Pure monarchy was as much worn out in
1712, as the monarch himself. And the evil was so much
the more serious, that Louis XIV. had destroyed political
habits as well as political institutions. There can be no po-
litical habits without independence. He only who feels that
he is strong in himself, is always capable either of serving
the ruling power, or of contending with it. Energetic charac-
ters disappear along with independent situations, and a free
and high spirit arises from the security of rights.
We may, then, describe in the following terms the state in
which the French nation and the power of the government
were left by Louis XIV. : in society there was a great de
velopment of wealth, strength, and intellectual activity of
every kind ; and, along with this progressive society, there
was a government essentially stationary, and without means
to adapt itself to the movement of the people ; devoted,
after half a century of great splendor, to immobility and
weakness, and already fallen, even in the lifetime of its foun-
der, into a decay almost resembling dissolution. Such was
ihe situation of France at the expiration of the seventeenth
S02 GENERAL HISTORY OF
century, and which impressed upon the subsequent period st
different a direction and character.
[It is hardly necessary for me to remark that a great move-
ment of the human mind, that a spirit of free inquiry, was
v,he predominant feature, the essential fact of the eighteenth
century. You have already heard from this chair a great
deal on this topic ; you have already heard this momentous
period characterized, by the voices of a philosophic orator
and an eloquent philosopher.* I cannot pretend, in the
small space of time which remains to me, to follow all the
phases of the great revolution which was then accomplished ;
neither, however, can I leave you without calling your atten-
tion to some of its features which perhaps have been too little
remarked.
The first, which occurs to me in the outset, and which, in-
deed, I have already pointed out, is the almost entire disap-
pearance (so to speak) of the government in the course of the
eighteenth century, and the appearance of the human mind
as the principal and almost sole actor. Excepting in what
concerned foreign relations, under the ministry of -he Duke
de Choiseul, and in some great concessions made to the gen-
eral bent of the public mind, in the American war, for exam-
ple • — excepting, I say, in some events of this kind, there
perhaps never was a government so inactive, apathetic, and
inert, as the French government of that time. In place of
the ambitious and active government of Louis XIV., which
was everywhere, and at the head of everything, you have a
power whose only endeavor, so much did it tremble for its
own safety, was to slink from public view — to hide itself from
danger. It was the nation which, by its intellectual movement,
interfered with everything, and alone possessed moral author-
ity, the only real authority.
A second characteristic which strikes me in the state of
the human mind in the eighteenth century, is the universality
of the spirit of free inquiry. Till then, and particularly in the
sixteenth century, free inquiry had been exercised in a very
limited field ; its object had been sometimes religious ques-
tions, and sometimes religious and political questions conjoin-
ed ; but its pretensions did not extend much further. In the
eighteenth century, on the contrary, free inquiry became uni-
* The lectures of ViKernain and Cousin.
I
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 305
versal in its character and objects : religion, politics, pura
philosophy, man and society, moral and .physical science — -
everything became, at once, the subject of study, doubt, and
system ; the ancient sciences were overturned ; new sciences
sprang up. It was a movement which proceeded in every
direction, though emanating from one and the same impulse.
This movement, moreover, had one peculiarity, which per-
haps can be met with at no other time in the history of the
world ; that of being purely speculative. Until that time, in
all great human revolutions action had promptly mingled it-
self with speculation. Thus, in the sixteenth century, the
religious revolution had begun by ideas and discussions purely -
intellectual ; but it had, almost immediately, led to events. .
The leaders of the intellectual parties had very speedily be-
come leaders of political parties ; the realities of life had
mingled with the workings of the intellect. The same thing
had been the case, in the seventeenth century, in the English
revolution. In France, in the eighteenth century, we see the
human mind exercising itself upon all subjects, — upon ideas
which, from their connexion with the real interests of life,
necessarily had the most prompt and powerful influence upon
events. And yet the promoters of, and partakers in, these
great discussions, continued to be strangers to every kind of
practical activity, pure speculators, who observed, judged, and
spoke without ever proceeding to practice. There never was
a period in which the government of facts, and external real-
ities, was so completely distinct from the government of
thought. The separation of spiritual from temporal affairs
has never been real in Europe, except in the eighteenth cen-
tury. For the first time, perhaps, the spiritual world deve-
loped itself quite separately from the temporal world ; a fact
of the greatest importance, and which had a great influence
on the course of events. It gave a singular character of pride
and inexperience to the mode of thinking of the time : phi-
losophy was never more ambitious of governing the world, and
never more completely failed in its object. This necessarily
led to results ; the intellectual movement necessarily gave, at
last, an impulse to external events ; and, as they had been
totally separated, their meeting was so much the more diffi-
culty and their collision so much the more violent.
We can hardly now be surprised at another character of
the human mind at this epoch, I mean its extreme boldness
304" GENERAL HISTORY OF
Prior to this, its greatest activity had always been restrained
by certain barriers ; man had lived in the midst of facts, some
of which inspired him with caution, and repressed, to a cer-
tain degree, his tendency to movement. In the eighteenth
century, I should really be at a loss to say what external facts
were respected by the human mind, or exercised any influ-
ence over it ; it entertained nothing but hatred or contempt
for the whole social system ; it considered itself called upon
to reform all things ; it looked upon itself as a sort of creator ,
institutions, opinions, manners, society, even man himself, —
all seemed to require to be re-modejled, and human reason un-
; dertook the task. Whenever, before, had the human miud
displayed such daring boldness ?
Such, then, was the power which, in the course of the
eighteenth century, was confronted with what remained of the
government of Louis XIV. It is clear to us all that a colli-
sion between these two unequal forces was unavoidable. The
leading fact of the English revolution, the struggle between
free inquiry and pure monarchy, was therefore sure to be re-
peated in France. The differences between the two cases,
undoubtedly, were great, and necessarily perpetuated them-
selves in the results of each ; bui^at bottom, the general sit-
uation of both was similar, and ihe event itself must be ex-
plained in the same manner.
I by no means intend to exhibit the infinite consequences
of this collision in France. I am drawing towards the close
of this course of lectures, and must hasten to conclude. I
wish, however, before quitting you, to call your attention to
the gravest, and; in my opinion, the most instructive fact
which this great spectacle has revealed to us. It is the dan-
ger, the evil, the insurmountable vice of absolute power,
wheresoever it may exist, whatsoever name it may bear, and
for whatever object it may be exercised. We have seen that
the government of Louis XIV. perished almost from this sin-
gle cause. The power which succeeded it, the human mind,
the real sovereign of the eighteenth century, underwent the
same fate ; in its turn, it possessed almost absolute power ; in
its turn, its confidence in itself became excessive. Its move-
ment was noble, good, and useful ; and, were it necessary for
me to give a general opinion on the subject, I should readily
CIVILIZATION IN MODERN EUROPE. 305
say that the eighteenth century appears to me one of the
grandest epochs in the history of the world, that perhaps
which has done the greatest service to mankind, and has pro-
duced the greatest and most general improvement. If I were
called upon, however, to pass judgment upon its' ministry (if
I may use such an expression), I should pronounce sentence
in its favor. It is not the less true, however, that the abso-
lute power exercised at this period by the human mind cor
rupted it, and that it entertained an illegitimate aversion to the
subsisting state of things, and to all opinions which differed
from the prevailing one ; — an aversion which led to error and
tyranny. The proportion of error and tyranny, indeed, which
mingled itself in the triumph of human reason at the end of
the century — a proportion, the greatness of which cannot be
dissembled, and which ought to be exposed instead of being
passed over — this infusion of error and tyranny, I say, was a
consequence of the delusion into which the human mind was
led at that period by the extent of its power. It is the duty,
and will be, I believe, the peculiar event of our time, to ac-
knowledge that all power, whether intellectual or temporal,
whether belonging to governments or people, to philosophers
or ministers, in whatever cause it may be exercised — that all
human power, I say, bears within itself a natural vice, a prin-
ciple of feebleness and abuse, which renders it necessary that
it should be limited. Now, there is nothing but the general
freedom of every right, interest, and opinion, the free mani-
festation and legal existence of all these forces — there is
nothing, I say, but a system which ensures all this, can re-
strain every particular force or power within its legitimate
oounds, and prevent it from encroaching on the others, so as
to produce the real and beneficial subsistence of free inquiry.
For us, this is the great result, the great moral of the struggle
which took place at the close of the eighteenth century, be-
tween what maybe called temporal absolute power and spirit
ual absolute power.
I am now arrived at the end of the task which I undertook.
You wiU remember, that, in beginning this course, I stated
that my object was to give you a general view of the develop-
ment of European civilization, from the fall of the Roman
Empire to the present time. I have passed very rapidly ovei
this long career ; so rapidly that it has been quite out of my
306 GENERAL HISTORY OF CIVILIZATION.
power even to touch, upon every thing of importance, or to
bring proofs of those facts to which I have drawn your atten-
tion. I hope, however, that I have attained my end, which
was to mark the great epochs of the development of modern
society. Allow me to add a word more. I endeavored, at ihe
outset, to define civilization, to describe the fact which bears
that name. Civilization appeared to me to consist of two
principal facts, the development of human society and that of
man himself ; on the one hand, his political and social, and
on the other, his internal and moral, advancement. This year
I have confined myself to the history of society. I have ex-
hibited civilization only in its social point of view. I have
said nothing of the development of man himself. I have made
no attempt to give you the history of opinions, — of the moral
progress of human nature. I intend, when we meet again
here, next season, to confine myself especially to France ,
to study with you the history of French civilization, but to
, study it in detail and under its various aspects. I shall try
to make you acquainted not only with the history of society
in France, but also with that of man ; to follow, along with
you, the progress of institutions, opinions, and intellectual la-
bors of every sort, and thus to arrive at a comprehension of
what has been, in the most complete and general sense, the
development of our glorious country. In the past, as well as
in the future, she has a right to our warmest affections.
THE END.
OF
TABLE \&£
THE CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS
OF
SNC .AND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE, GERMANY RUSSIA, AND SPAIN 42*1
OF THE POPES.
[From Sir Harris Nicholas's " Chronology of History."]
V
A. D
England.
France.
Germany.
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
Scotland.
800
Egbert.
Charle-
magne.
Charle-
magne.
Leo III.
• *
» *
Achaius.
814
• •
Louis I.
Louis I.
816
• •
• •
Stephen V.
817
* •
• •
Paschal I.
819
• •
• *
• *
* •
• «
Congale III.
820
• ■
• <
Eugene II.
824
• •
•
Valentine.
• •
• •
Dougal.
827
• • • •
Gregory IV.
831
• •
• •
• •
• •
• t
Alpin.
834
Kenneth II.
836
Ethel wolf.
843
• •
Charlea U
Chauve.
Louis II.
Sergius II.
847
• •
* •
• •
Leo IV.
Rurick
854
• •
• •
• •
• •
# •
• *
Donald V.
855
• •
• *
• •
Benedict HI.
857
Ethelbald.
•
858
• •
t •
• •
Nicolas I.
• •
Garcia I.
Constan-
860
Ethelbert.
[tine II
866
Ethelred I.
868
. .
• t
• •
Adrian 11.
•
872
Alfred the
[Great.
873
• t
• •
• .
John VIII.
874
• •
• •
• •
• •
•
• ■
Ethus.
876
• •
• *
Carloman.
• •
• •
• •
Gregory.
—
• •
• •
Louis III.
—
» •
• •
Charles le
Gros.
877
• •
Louis II.
879
• •
Louis III.
—
# #
Carloman.
• •
■ •
Oleg
880
• •
. .
• •
• .
• •
Fortunio
883
• •
. ,
» •
Martin I.
884
• •
Charles le
Gros.
• •
Adrian III.
885
• •
• •
• •
Stephen VI.
887
• *
Arnold.
308
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS
!
1
Scotland
A. D.
England.
France
GtEMANT
Papal
Russia-
S?AIN.
States.
888
Hugh
■
891
• •
• •
Formosus.
892
• •
• .
• a
• •
Donald VI
897
1
• •
• «
Stephen VII.
! 898
Charles le
Simple.
899
[the Elder.
• •
Louis IV.
900
Edward
• •
• •
Rom. Formo-
sus.
. —
■ •
• •
« •
John IX.
901
• •
• •
. ,
,
• •
Conetantine
902
• *
• •
# m
Benedict IV.
• •
Sanchol.
[L'l
906
■ •
• •
• •
LeoV.
—
• •
• •
• •
Christopher.
907
• •
• •
• •
Sergius III.
910
• •
•
•
• •
Anastasius.
911
• *
• •
Conrad I.
912
• •
* ■
• .
Lando.
—
• •
• •
• •
JohnX.
913
• •
• •
• •
• •
Igor I
.
919
• «
.
Henry I.
922
• •
Robert.
923
• •
Ralph. -
925
Athelstan.
926
• •
• •
• .
• •
• •
Garcia
928-
« •
• •
• .
Leo VI.
[II.
929
• •
• •
• •
Stephen VIII.
931
■ •
•
• •
John XI.
936
V •
Louis IV.
Otho the
Great.
Leo VII.
938
• . •
• •
• •
• • »
• •
• •
Malcolm I.
940
« ■
• •
• •
Stephen IX.
941
Edmund.
943
. #
• •
• •
Martin II.
[slaw I.
945
. .
• #
• *
Swiato-
946
Edred.
• •
• t
Agapet II.
954
• •
Lothaire.
955
Edwy.
956
• * •
• •
• •
John XII
958
•
• t
• •
• - •
• •
• •
Indulphus.
959
Edgar.
905
• •
• i
• •
Benedict V
966
• •
• §
• •
John XIII
968
* •
• •
• •
, #
• •
Duffus.
970
• •
• •
• •
•
• •
Sancho
HI.
972
• •
•
• •
• (
Cullenus.
973
• •
• •
Otho II
Domnus II.
Jaropolk
• f
Kenneth III.
—
• •
• •
* .
Benedict VI.
[I.
974
, .
• •
• »
Benedict VII.
975
Edw'd the
Martyr.
978
Ethelredll
980
•
• »
• •
• •
Waldi-
mirl.the
993
• •
* •
Otho III.
Great.
984
# ,
• •
•
John XIV.
985
*
. ,
. .
John XV.
986
•
Louis V.
• .
Jaim XVI
987
• •
Hugh Ca-
pet.
[III.
994
• •
« *
• •
• •
, #
Garcia
Constantme
996
# ,
. .
a ,
Gregory V.
o ■ [1V I
997
• •
Robert.
• •
• •
• •
Grimus. j
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
303
A. D.fENGLAND.
France.
Germany.
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
Scotland
999
• •
• •
• •
Silvester II.
1000
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Sancho
III. the
Great.
1002
• •
• •
Henry II.
1003
• •
• t
• •
John XVII.
and XVIII.
• •
1004
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Male :1m II.
1009
• •
* •
« •
Sergius IV.
1012
• •
• •
• •
BenedictVIII
[polk I.
1015
, a
• •
• •
t •
Swiato-
1016
Edmund
. Ironside.
1017
Canute.
[slaw I.
1018
• *
• •
• •
• ■
Jaro-
1024
i •
. ,
Ccnradll.
John XIX.
1031
• •
Henry L
1033
• •
• •
• . .
Benedict IX.
• •
Ferdi-
nand I.
inCastile
1034
•
• •
• t
• •
• •
. ,
Duncan.
1035
• *
• •
• •
• •
• •
Garcia
IV. in
Navarre.
• •
• •
• t
• •
• •
Ramirez
I. in
Aragon.
1036
Harold.
1039
Hardica-
nute.
Henry II L
1040
, .
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Macbeth
1041
Edward
the Con-
fessor.
• •
t *
1044
• •
• t
t •
Gregory VI.
1047
# ,
•
• •
Clement II.
1048
• •
•
* •
Damasius II.
1049
• •
•
• •
Leo IX.
LI.
1051
, a
* .
• •
Isaslaw
1054
• •
• •
t •
• •
Sancho
IV.
Navarre.
1055
• •
• •
Victor II.
1056
• •
•
Henry IV.
1
1057
Stephen X
• •
• •
Malcolmm.i
1058
• •
. .
• •
Nicolas II.
1060
• •
Philip L
1061
• •
t •
• •
Alexander II
1063
• •
• *
• •
• •
• •
Sancho I.
Aragon.
1060
Harold IL
• •
• •
• »
• •
Sancho
I.Castile.
—
William I.
1072
• •
• •
• •
• •
Alphon-
so I.
i
Castile.
1073
• •
• •
Gregory VII.
Swato-
slaw II.
1076
• t
• •
• t
• •
[lod I.
Sancho
V. Nav.
$ Ar
1078
• •
• •
„ „
Wsewo-
1085
• •
• •
Victor III.
1087
William II.
• •
• *
Urban II.
[polskll.
1093
. . I
• •
. ' Swato-
• •
Donald VI. .
310
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
— -*
A D.
1094
England
France.
Germany
• •
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
Scotland.
■ •
• •
• •
• •
Peter I.
Duncan II
Nav. <$•
1096
1099
• *
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Paschal II.
• •
Ar.
• •
Edgax.
1100
Henry I.
1104
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Alphon-
soI.iVaw
1106
1107
1108
• •
• •
Henry V.
$Ar
• "
Louis VI.
•
• *
• t
• •
Alexander I.
1109
• *
• •
• •
• •
*
Urraca,
1113
1118
1119
1124
1125
• •
• •
• t
•
• *
• •
Ielas II.
Wa.di-
[mir II.
Ca.
• «
• •
• *
• •
• ■
• •
• •
Lothairell.
Calixtus II.
Honorius II.
Mistis-
• •
David I.
1126
• •
• •
• •
• •
[law.
• •
Alphon.
-.
1130
1132
• %
• •
• •
Innocent II.
II. Cas-
tile.
•
• •
• t
■ •
• •
Jaropolk
1133
• •
• ■
• »
t •
[II.
* •
Garcia
1134
• •
• •
• •
• •
t #
Y.N.
Ramirez
II. Ara-
1135
Stephen.
gon.
1137
• •
Louis VII.
• •
•
•
• •
Petronil-
la &Ray-
mondo,
1138
• •
• •
Conrad III.
• t
Wsewo-
Aragon.
1143
• •
• e
• ■
Celestine II.
[lod II.
1144
• •
• •
• •
Lucius II.
1145
• •
• •
• •
Eugene III.
• •
1146
• •
• •
• t
• •
lsaslaw
1149
• •
« •
• •
• •
[II.
Jurje I.
115T
• *
• •
• t
[I.
• •
[D.
• •
Sancho
VI. the
VVise,iV.
1152
• •
t •
Frederick
1153 . .
• •
• •
• •
• •
Malcolm IV
1154 Henry II.
Anastasius
[IV.
1155
• •
• •
• t
Adrian IV.
I
1157
• •
t •
• •
• •
Andrej
Sancho
II. Cas-
tile.
1158
• •
•
• •
• •
[III.
• •
Alphon.
III.
Castile.
1159
• •
• •
t •
Alexander
1162
• •
• •
• •
• •
• 1 i
llphon-
80 11.
Aragon.
.
1165
« •
• •
• •
• •
• •
. . 1
tfilliwi I.
1175
• •
• •
• ■
* ' 1
Michel I.
1177 : . .
• •
• •
t •
Vsewo-
1180 | . .
Philip II.
[lod III.
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
311
| " "1
A. D.
England.
Fkance.
Germany.
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
1 Scotland.
IllSl
• •
• *
Lucius III.
1185
• •
« *
• •
Urban III.
1157
• •
• «
• •
Gregory VII I.
1188
a .
, ,
• •
Clement III.
1159
Richard I.
1190
• •
• i
Henry VI.
1191
• •
« •
• •
Celestine III.
1194
• t
• •
• •
• •
• •
Sancho
VII.
Navarre.
1196
•
Peter II.
11198
1
• •
• t
Philip
Otho IV.
Innocent III
Aragon.
.1199
John
1212
• •
• •
FredericII.
1213
• •
• •
• i
• •
Jurje H
Jas. I. Ar.
1214
a g
t •
• t
• •
• •
Henry I.
Alex. II.
1216
Henry III.
Castile.
1217
• •
• •
t •
Honorius III
Constan-
Ferd. III.
1223
• •
Louis
[VIII.
tine.
Castile.
1226
• •
St. Louis
[IX.
1227
• •
• •
• •
Gregory IX.
1234
• •
• •
• t
• •
• •
Theobald
1238
• •
* •
• •
• a
Jaroslaw
I. Nav.
1241
• •
• •
• •
Celestine IV.
1 [II.
1243
V •
• •
• •
Innocent IV.
1245
• •
• •
• •
t •
Alexan-
der
Alex III.
1249
• •
• «
• •
New-
1250
• t
• •
Conrad IV.
skoi.
LC.
1252
• t
• •
• •
• •
• •
Alph. IV.
1253
• •
■ •
• •
• •
t •
Theobald
1254
• •
• t
William of
Holland.
Alexander
IV.
II. Nav.
1257
• •
• •
Richard,E.
of Corn-
wall
1262
• •
i •
• •
Urban IX.
Jaroslaw
1264
• •
• •
• •
Gregory X.
[III.
1265
• •
, .
• t
Clement IV.
1270
. .
Philip III.
• •
• •
Wasilej
Hen. I.
1272
Edward I
[I.
Navarre.
1273
• •
• •
Rodolph of
Hapsbur*;.
1274
• ■
• •
• §
• •
Joanna I.
1275
• •
• •
t •
Dimitrej
Navarre.
1276
• •
• •
Innocent V.
•
Peter III.
—
* •
• •
Adrian V.
Aragon.
—
• •
• •
John XX.
1277
• •
• •
Nicolas III.
1281
•
• ■
Martin IV.
Andrej.
1254
•
• •
• •
• •
Sancho
IV. Cas.
1255
• i
Philip IV.
Honorius IV.
• »
Alphonso
III. Ar.
1286
t *
• *
• •
, .
• •
* •
Nfargaret.
1288
• •
• •
• •
Nicolas IV.
John Baliol.
1291
a •
• •
. ,
• •
• •
James II.
1292
* •
Adolphus
of Nassau.
Aragon.
1294
• •
• »
• •
Ce festine V.
Danillo.
\_Castile.
1295
• •
• •
• •
Boniface VIII
• •
Ferd. IV
J
312
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
*.»
England.
Fkance.
Germany.
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
Scotland./
1296
• ■
• •
_ #
• .
• •
• •
Interreg-
1298
• •
•
Albert of
Austria.
num
1303
• •
• ^ •
• •
Benedict X.
[low.
1305
• •
• •
• •
Clement V.
Michai-
.
1306
Robert I.
1307
Edward II.
1308
• •
• •
Henry VII.
1312
• •
• *
• a
• •
• •
Alphonso
1314
• •
Louis X.
K. of Na-
varre.
Louis IV.
V. Cast.
1316
• •
John I.
1316
• •
Philip V.
• •
John XXI.
1317
• •
* •
• •
• •
Jurjelll.
1322
• •
Chas. IV.
1327
Edward
[III.
• •
• •
Alexander II.
• •
Alphonso
IV. Ar.
1328
« •
Philip VI.
• •
• •
lwan I.
of Mos-
cow.
Joanna II.
Navarre.
1329
* •
• •
• •
• •
. .
• •
David II.
1334
• t
• •
• •
Benedict XI.
[Edw. Ba-
1336
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Peter II.
Aragon.
liol usurped
in 1332, but
134a
Semen.
was deposed,
in the sarin 1
year.]
1342
• •
• •
• •
Clement VI.
1346
• •
• •
Charles IV
[Nav.
1349
• ' •
* •
• •
• •
• .
Charles II
1350
• t
John II.
• •
• •
• .
Peter I.
Castile.
1353-
t •
• •
• •
Innocent VI.
Iwan II.
1359
Dimitrej
II.
1363
• •
• •
• •
Urban V.
Dimitrej
1364
• •
Chas. V.
III.
[Castile.
1369
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Henry 11.
1371
• •
• •
• •
Robert II.
1377
Richard II.
[laus.
1378
•
• •
Wences-
Urban VI.
[Castile.
1379
t •
• •
• •
« •
• •
John I.
1360
• •
Chas. VI.
[Nav.
1386
• •
• •
•
• •
• •
Chas. III.
1387
• •
• •
• •
• •
• .
John I.
1389
• *
• •
•
• •
Wasilej
II.
Aragon.
[Cast.
1390
• •
• •
• •
Boniface IX
• •
Henry III.
Robert III.
1395
• •
• t
• •
• •
• •
Martin,
1399
Henry IV.
Aragon.
1400
• •
• •
Rohert.
•
1404
• •
•
t •
Innocent VII.
1406
t •
• •
• •
Gregory XII.
• •
John II.
Castile.
James I.
1409
• *
• •
• •
Alexander V.
1410
m ,
• •
• •
John XXII.
1411
t ,
• •
Sigismond.
1412
. .
9 i
• •
• •
• t
Ferd. I.
1413
Henry V.
Aragon.
1416
• •
• •
• •
• •
• t
Alphonso
V. Ar.
1417
• •
. .
• •
Martin V.
1422
Henry VI.
Chas.VII.
-
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
313
A. D.
EUGLAND.
Fkance. 1
Germany.
Papal
States.
Russia.
Spain.
1
Scotland.
1425
Wasilej
III.
Blanche,
Nav. 4"
1431
• •
# •
i •
Eugene IV
John I.
1437
• •
• ■
Albert II.
• .
• •
Ar.
James II.
1440
• •
• •
Fred. III.
1447
• •
• •
• •
Nicolas V. .
1454
• •
• •
• t
. •
• •
Henry IV.
1455
• *
• •
• •
Calixtus III.
Castile.
1458
• .
• •
• •
Pius II.
1460
James III.
1461
Edw. IV.
Louis XI.
1462
Wasilej
1464
Paul II.
L
1471
• *
• •
• •
Sixtus IV.
1474
« •
• «
• •
• *
• •
Ferd. II.
& Isabella
of Castile.
1479
• •
• •
Ferd. II.,
the Cath-
olic, A.
Eleanor,
N.
Francis.
PhoBbus,
N.
1483
Edward V.
Rich. III.
Charles
VIII.
Catherine
Nav
,1484
• •
• •
• •
Innocent VIII
1485
Henry VII.
■
1488
James IV
1492
• * •
• •
• •
Alexand. VI.
1
1493
• •
Maxi-
milian I.
•
1498
LouisXII.
1503
• •
• •
Pius III.
Julius II.
1505
• •
• •
• •
Wasilej
1509
Hen. VIII.
IV.
1513
• •
• •
Leo X.
• •
• •
James V.
1515
Francis I*
1516
Charles I.
1519
• •
Charles V.
• •
• •
Emperor
Chas. V.
1522
• t
• •
Adrian VI.
1523
• •
• •
Clement VII.
1
1533
• •
t •
• •
Iwan
Wasile-
1
1534
• •
t •
Paul III.
jevitch.
1
1542
• • • •
• .
• .
Miry.
1547
Edw. VI.
Henry II.
1550
• • • •
Julius III.
1553
Mary,
[II.
1555
. •
• •
Marcellinus
1556
• •
• •
Paul IV.
• •
Philip II.
1558
Elizabeth.
• •
Ferd. I.
1559
Francis 17
. .
Pius IV.
1560
Chas. IX.
1564
• •
Maxi-
milian II.
3566
* i
. .
Pius V.
(1557
• t
• .
* •
• •
James VI.
.1572
.
. •
GregoiyXIN.
11574
HenrylH.
11 570
• •
Rodolph TI.
14
31*
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS*
A. D
England
• France
Germany
Papal
States.
Russia
Spain.
Scotland.: 1
1584
1585
1589
• •
• *
• •
. .
Feodore
• •
• •
He'nr? IV
• •
Sixtus V.
I.
1590
• •
• •
• •
Urban VII.
1591
1592
1598
GregoryXIV
• t
• •
Innocent IX.
• •
• •
Clement VII]
• •
GREAT
• •
• •
Eoria "
Godu-
Philip III
BRITAIN.
1603
James I.
• •
now.
1605
Ascended
• •
• •
Leo XL
the throne 1
1606
Paul V.
of Eng_and
• •
' [XIII.
Louis
• •
• . Wasilej
March,
1610
• •
1 Schuis-
&ni.
1603.
1612
• *
Matthias.
1613
•
• •
• •
Michael
Fedro-
1619
• •
Ferd.II.
witsch.
1621
1623
1625
• •
• •
Charles I.
• •
• •
Gregory XV.
Urban VIII.
• •
Philip IV.
1637
« •
Ferd. III.
1643
• •
Lou. XIV.
1644
Innocent X.
1645
• •
• •
• •
Aleiej
1655
• •
• •
Alexand.VIL
Mic.
%
1658
•
Leopold I.
•
1660
Ciarles II.
1665
Chas. II
1667
* •
• •
Clement IX.
1670
• •
• •
Clement X.
HI.
1676
• t
• •
Innocent XL
Feodore
1682
• •
* •
. . Iwan
Alex.
1685
James II.
• •
• •
Peter the
Great.
1689
Mary &
William III,
• •
Aleiand.VIII
1691
.
• •
Innocent XII.
1694
Wm. III.
1700
1702
• •
Anne.
• •
Clement XI.
• »
Philip V.
1705
• *
• •
Joseph I.
1711
,
• •
CharlesVI.
1714
George I.
1715
• •
Louis XV.
1721
Innoc. XIII.
1724
Bened. XIII.
t [rine I.
1725
Cathe-
1727
GJeorge II.
• •
• •
• •
Peter II.
1730
• •
• •
Clement XII.
Anne.
11740
Bened. XIV.
wan III.
J741
• •
• •
• •
. .
Eliza-
1742
•
. . <
:has. VII.
beth.
1745
• •
. . 1
r rancis I.
& Maria
Teresa.
1"51
• •
• •
• •
• ■
. . 1
Ferdi-
1758
• •
• •
. .
Element XIII
nand VI.
1759
• •
• •
• •
• •
. . (
Charles
1760 (
3eorge III.
III.
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS.
311
I
A. D.
Great
France. .Germany.
Papal
Russia.
Spain.
Scotland Y-
Britain.
States.
1762
• •
• •
• *
. .
Peter III
-•
1765
• •
• •
Joseph II.
. •
Cathe-
1769
• •
• •
• •
Clement
rine 11.
1774
• •
Lou. XVI.
XIV.
1775
• i
• •
• •
Pius VI.
1788
• •
• •
• •
• •
• .
Chas. IV.
il790
• •
• *
Leopold II.
1792
• •
Republic.
Francis
II.*
1796
• •
• •
• •
. •
Paul I.
1600
• •
• •
• .
Pius v- 1.
1801
• •
• •
• .
• •
Alexan-
der.
1804
• t
Napoleon
Emperor.
AUSTRIA.
&
3
1806
• ■
Francis I.
1808
• •
• •
• •
• •
• •
Ferd. VII.
J. Napo-
a
1S11
Regency.
leon.
1814
• •
Louis
XV11I.
• •
• •
• .
Ferd. VII.
•"3
1820
George IV.
1823
• •
• •
• »
Leo XII.
1824
Chas. X.
1825
• •
• •
• •
• •
Nicolas I
1828
1829
[IV.
[Philip.
1830
William
Louis
1831
• •
• •
• •
Gregory
1832
xvi.
1833
• •
• •
• •
* •
. •
Isabella.
1834
1835
• •
• •
Ferdin. 1.
1836
1837
Victoria.
* Upon the ^itablishment of the Confederation of the Rhine, tr. 1806, Francis ceased
to be Ener-wr of Germany, and became hegtditarx Emperor of Austria, under f lis title
316
TABLE OF CONTEMPORARY SOVEREIGNS
THE LESSER EUROPEAN STATES, FROM 1690 TO 1838.
A. D.
CfcNMARK.
Naples.
Poland
Portugal.
Prussia.!
Sardinia.
Sweden.
Christian
•
• •
Augustus
Peter II.
Frederic
• •
Chas. XII.
V.
II.
William.
1699
Freder. IV.
1701
Frederic I
1704
• •
• •
Stanislaus
(Leczin-
sky.)
■
1706
John V.
1709
• •
• •
AugTis. II.
[We I.
1713
• •
Chas. II.
• .
• •
Frederic
[anora.
1719
Ulrica Eie-
1720
IV1.
Victor Am-
adeus 11.
Frederic.
1730
Christian
• •
• •
■ •
. •
Charles
1733
• •
• •
AugU3tOB
Eman. III.
1735
• •
Chas. III.
III
1740
Fred. II.
the Great.
1746
FredericV.
1750
• •
• •
Iceph
1758
■ »
EnWk-:e!.
Adolphus
1759*
• •
Ferd. I"Y
Frederic
17G4
• •
• .
Stanislaus
(P niatow-
1766
Chris. VII.
• .
sky.)
1771
Gustavus
1772
• •
• •
1st Parti-
III.
1
I tsea.
,1773
• •
. . .
• ■
• t
Victor Am.
1777
Maria.
[Wm. II.
III.
1786
• •
• •
• •
• #
Frederic
1792
Gustavus
1793
•
. *
2d Part'n.
IV. Adol.
1795
• •
9 •
3d Part'n.
1796
Eman. IV.
1797
Fred.W.
III.
1799
• •
. .
• •
John VI.
1802
Victor
1808
Freder. VI.
Jos. Na-
Eman.
1809
• •
poleon.
• •
• •
. •
• •
• •
Chaa.XlII.
1S15
• •
Joachim
Alexander.
i
Muctt.
1818
•
[nand I
. .
Charles
John XIV
1821
• •
Ferdi-
• •
• .
• •
Charles
1825
• •
• •
Nicoias.
Felix.
1826
• •
Francis.
• •
Pedro IV.
1828
• •
• •
• •
Mana da
Gloria.
1S30
• •
Ferdin.II.
• •
1831
• •
• •
• •
■ •
• •
Charles
Aniadeas.
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
,
1837
,_
i ■■ ■
VB 21664
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