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. 
 
 «y^/^ 
 
J 
 
 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 ■■ ■ 
 
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