On Germany
From The Art and Popular Culture Encyclopedia
|
"Werther had brought exalted sentiments so much into fashion, that hardly any body dared to show that he was dry and cold of nature, even when he was condemned to such a nature in reality. From thence arose that forced sort of enthusiasm for the moon, for forests, for the country, and for solitude; from thence those nervous fits, that affectation in the very voice, those looks which wished to be seen; in a word, all that apparatus of [romantic] sensibility, which vigorous and sincere minds disdain."--On Germany (1813) by Madame de Staël "THE Word romantic has been lately introduced in Germany to designate that kind of poetry which is derived from the songs of the Troubadours; that which owes its birth to the union of chivalry and Christianity. If we do not admit that the empire of literature has been divided between paganism and Christianity, the north and the south, antiquity and the middle ages, chivalry and the institutions of Greece and Rome, we shall never succeed in forming a philosophical judgment of ancient and of modern taste. We sometimes consider the word classic as synonimous to perfection. I use it at present in a different acceptation ; considering classic poetry as that of the ancients, and romantic, or romanesque poetry, as that which is generally connected with the traditions of chivalry. This division is equally suitable to the two æras of the world : that which preceded, and that which followed the establishment of Christianity." "--'Of Classic and Romantic Poetry' in On Germany (1813) by Madame de Staël |
|
Related e |
|
Featured: |
De l'Allemagne (1813, On Germany) is a book by Madame de Staël. The book brought German Romanticism to France. Straining under French censorship, she wrote to the emperor a provoking and perhaps undignified letter. Napoleon’s mean spirited reply to her letter was the condemnation of the whole edition of her book (ten thousand copies) as not French, and her own exile from the country.
Translations
Original French
English
See below
Full text of English translation
English translation of On Germany.
Volume 1
1837 ARTES SCIENTIA LIBRARY VERITAS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN E- PLURIBUS UNUM TUEBOR SI-QUAERIS PENINSULAM AMOENAM CIRCUMSPICE TRVA PACKERS THIS BOOK FORMS PART OF THE ORIGINAL LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN BOUGHT IN EUROPE 1838 TO 1839 BY DD 35 $783 V.I
GERMANY; 4 BY THE BARONESS STAËL HOLSTEIN. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. IN THREE VOLUMES. 1 VOL. I. LONDON : PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1813. in . London : Printed by C. Baldwin, New Bridge-street. G CONTENTS. Į 422 CEM- G1Y General Observations Page 1 PART THE FIRST. OF GERMANY, AND THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. CHAP. I. Ofthe Aspect of Germany CHAP. II. Ofthe Manners and Character ofthe Germans CHAP. III. Ofthe Women CHAP. IV. Ofthe Influence ofthe Spirit ofChi valry on Love and Honour CHAP. V. Of Southern Germany CHAP. VI. Of Austria CHAP. VII. Vienna CHAP. VIII. Of Society CHAP. IX. Of the Desire among Foreigners of imitating the French Spirit CHAP. X. Of supercilious Folly, and benevolent Mediocrity CHAP. XI. Of the Spirit of Conversation CHAP. XII. Of the German Language, in its Effects upon the Spirit of Conversation CHAP. XIII. Of Northern Germany CHAP. XIV. Saxony CHAP. XV. Weimar CHAP. XVI. Prussia - 11x 17x 37 43 53 57 69 80 86 97 101 123 130 138 146 152 iv CONTENTS. CHAP. XVII. Berlin CHAP. XVIII. Of the German Universities CHAP. XIX. Ofparticular Institutions for Edu cation, and Charitable Establishments The Fete of Unterseen Page 164 171 PART THE SECOND. ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. CHAP. I. Why are the French unjust to German Literature ? CHAP. II. Of the Judgmentformed by the Eng lish on the subject of German Literature CHAP. III. Of the principal Epochs of German Literature CHAP. X. Of Poetry CHAP. XI. Of Classic and Romantic Poetry CHAP. XII. Of German Poems CHAP. XIII. Of German Poetry CHAP. XIV. Of Taste 184 201 A 211 CHAP. IV. Wieland CHAP. V. Klopstock CHAP. VI. Lessing and Winckelmann CHAP. VII. Goëthe - 265 CHAP. VIII. Schiller - 273 CHAP. IX. Of Style, and of Versification in the German Language.. 221 228 235 · 241 X 254 280 294 304 313 344 378
PREFACE.
1st October, 1813. ✓ IN 1810, I put the manuscript of this work on Germany, into the hands of the bookseller, whohad published Corinne. As I maintained in it the same opinions, and preserved the same silence respecting the present govern ment of the French, which I had done in my former writings, I flattered myself that I should have been permitted to publish this work also : yet, a few days after I had dispatched my manuscript, a decree of a very singular description appeared on the subject of the liberty ofthe press ; it declared " that "no work could be printed without having " been examined by certain censors . " -Very VOL. I. b 1 ii PREFACE. well-it was usual in France, under the old régime, for literary works to be submitted to the examination of a public censorship ; the tendency of public opinion was then towards the feeling of liberty, which rendered such a restraint a matter very little to be dreaded ; a little article, however, at the end of the new regulation declared, " that when the 65 censors should have examined a work and permitted its publication, booksellers " should be authorized to publish it, but "that the Minister of the Police should still have a right to suppress it altogether, if " he should think fit so to do. "-The meaning of which is , that such and such forms should be adopted until it should be thought fit no longer to abide by them: a law was not necessary to decree what was in fact the absence ofall law ; it would have been better to have relied simply upon the exercise of absolute power. 66 66 My bookseller, however, took upon him self the responsibility of the publication of my book, after submitting it to the censors, and thus our contract was made. I came to reside within forty leagues of Paris, to PREFACE. ill superintend the printing of the work, and it was upon that occasion that, for the last time, I breathed the air ofFrance. I had, however, abstained in this book, as will be seen, from making any reflections on the political state ofGermany: I supposed myself to be writing at the distance of fifty years from the present time ; but the present time will not suffer itself to be forgotten. Several of the censors examined my manuscript; they suppressed the different passages which I have now restored and pointed out by notes . With the exception, however, of these passages, they allowed the work to be printed, as I now publish it, for I have thought it my duty to make no alteration in it. It appears to me a curious thing to shew what the work is , which is capable even now in France, of drawing down the most cruel persecution on the head of its author. At the moment when this work was about to appear, and when the ten thousand copies of the first edition had been actually printed off, the Minister of the Police, well known under the name of General Savary, sent his gensdarmes to the house of the bookseller, iv PREFACE. with orders to tear the whole edition in pieces, and to place sentinels at the different entrances to the warehouse, for fear a single copy of this dangerous writing should escape. A commissary of police was charged with the superintendance of this expedition , in which General Savary easily obtained the victory ; and the poor commissary, it is said, died of the fatigue he underwent in too minutely assuring himself of the destruction of so great a number of volumes, or rather in seeing them transformed into paper per fectly white, upon which no trace of human reason remained ; the price of the paper, valued merely at twenty louis by the police, was the only indemnification which the Bookseller obtained from the Minister. At the same time that the destruction of my work was going on at Paris, I received in the country an order to deliver up the copy from which it had been printed, and to quit France in four and twenty hours. The conscripts are almost the only persons I know for whom four and twenty hours are consi dered a sufficient time to prepare for a jour ney ; I wrote, therefore, to the Minister of PREFACE . the Police that I should require eight days to procure money and my carriage. The following is the letter which he sent me in answer. GENERAL POLICE, Minister's Office. Paris, 3d October, 1810. " I received, Madam, the letter that you " did me the honor to write to me. Your "son will have apprised you, that I had no objection to your postponing your depar ture for seven or eight days. I beg you " will make that time sufficient for the 66 arrangements you still have to make, " because I cannot grant you more. 66 66 66 1 " The cause of the order which I have signified to you, is not to be looked for in "the silence you have preserved with respect " to the Emperor in your last work ; that “ would be a mistake ; no place could be " found in it worthy of him; but your “ banishment is a natural consequence ofthe course you have constantly pursued for some years past. It appeared to me, that 66 66 vi PREFACE. " the air of this country did not agree with 66 you, and we are not yet reduced to seek " for models amongst the people you admire. " Your last work is not French ; it is I " who have put a stop to the publication of " it. I am sorry for the loss the bookseller " must sustain, but it is not possible for me " to suffer it to appear. " You know, Madam, that you were only permitted to quit Coppet, because you had expressed a desire to go to America. If my predecessor suffered you to remain in " the department of the Loire and the Cher, 66 "" 66 66 you were not to look upon that indulgence " as a revocation of the orders which had "been given with respect to you. At pre "sent, you oblige me to cause them to be strictly executed, and you have only your " self to accuse for it. ،، " I desire M. Corbigny * to suspend the " execution of the order I had given him, " until the expiration of the time I now 66 grant you.
- Prefect ofthe Loire and the Cher,
PREFACE. vii " I am concerned, Madam, that you have "obliged meto commence my correspondence " with you by a measure of severity ; it " would have been more agreeable to me to "have had only to offer you the testimonies " of the high consideration with which I "have the honour to be, 66 66 Madam, your very humble and very (Signed. ) Mad. de Stael. 66 "P.S.I have reasons , Madam, for mentioning " to you the ports of L'Orient, Larochelle, Bourdeaux, and Rochefort, as being the only ports at which you can embark ; I beg you will let me know which of them "6 "'* you choose." obedient Servant, THE DUKE DE ROVIGO. "
- The object of this Postscript was to forbid me the
Ports ofthe Channel. viil PREFACE. I shall subjoin some reflections upon this letter, although it appears to me curious enough in itself. " It appears to me, ” says General Savary, " that the air of this country " did not agree with you ; " what a gracious manner of announcing to a woman, then, alas ! the mother of three children, the daughter of a man who had served France with so much fidelity, that she was banished for ever from the place of her birth , without being suffered, in any manner, to protest against a punishment, esteemed the next in severity to death ! There is a French vaudeville, in which a bailiff boasting of his politeness towards those persons whom he takes to prison, says, Aussi je suis aimé de tout ceux quej'arrête.* I do not know if such were the intention of General Savary. He adds that the French are not reduced to seekfor models amongst the people I admire ; these people are the English first, and in many respects the Germans. At all events,
- "So I am loved by all I arrest."
PREFACE. ix I think I cannot be accused of not loving France. I have shewn but too much sensi bility in being exiled from a country where I have so many objects of affection, and where those who are dear to me have such powerof entertaining mebytheirgenius ! But, notwith standing this attachment, perhaps too lively, for so brilliant a country, and its ingenious in habitants, it did not follow that I was to be forbidden to admire England. She has been seen like a knight armed for the defence of social order, preserving Europe, during ten years of anarchy, and ten years more of despotism . Her happy constitution was, at the beginning of the Revolution, the object of the hopes and the efforts of the French. Mymind still remains where theirs was then. 1 On my return to the estate of my father, the Prefect of Geneva forbad me to go to a greater distance than four leagues from it. I suffered myself one day to go as far as ten leagues, merely for an airing ; the gensdarmes immediately pursued me, the postmasters were forbidden to supply me with horses, and it would have appeared as if the safety of the state depended on such a weak being X PREFACE. 擘 as myself. However, I still submitted to this imprisonment in all its severity, when a last blow rendered it quite insupportable to me. Some of my friends were banished, because they had had the generosity to come. and see me this was too much-to carry with oneselfthe contagion of misfortune, not to dare to associate with those one loves, to be afraidto write to them, or prononnce their names, to be the object by turns, either of affectionate attentions which make one tremble for those who shew them, or of those refinements of baseness which terror inspires, is a situation from which every one, who values life, would withdraw ! I was told, as a means of softening my grief, that these continual persecutions were a proof of the importance that was attached to me; I could have answered that I had not deserved "Ni cet excés d'honneur, ni cette indignité.” but I never suffered myself to look to consolations addressed to my vanity ; for I knew that there was no one then in France,
- " Neither this excess of honour, nor this unworthy
treatment." PREFACE. xi from the highest to the lowest, who might not have been found worthy of being made unhappy. I was tormented in all the con cerns of my life, in all the tender points of my character, and power condescended to take the trouble ofbecoming well acquainted with me, in order the more effectually to enhance my sufferings . Not being able then to disarm that power by the simple sacrifice of my talents, and resolved not to employ them in its service, I seemed to feel to the bottom of my heart the advice my father had given me, and I left my paternal home. I think it my duty to make this calumniated book known to the public, this book, the source of so many troubles ; and though General Savary told me in his letter, that my work was not French, as I certainly shall not allow him to be the representative of France, it is to Frenchmen such as I have known them, that I should with confidence address a work, in which I have endeavoured to the best of my abilities to heighten the glory of the works of the human mind. Germany may be considered, from its xii PREFACE. " geographical situation, as the heart of Europe, and the great association of the Continent can never recover its independence but by means of that country. Difference oflanguage, natural boundaries, the recollections of a common history, contribute all together to give birthto those great individual existences of mankind which we call nations ; certain proportions are necessary to their existence, they are distinguished by certain qualities ; and if Germany were united to France, the consequence would be, that France would also be united to Germany, and the French men of Hamburg, like the Frenchmen of Rome, would by degrees effect a change in the character of the countrymen of Henry the Fourth the vanquished would in time modify the victors, and in the end both would be losers. I have said in my work that the Germans were not a nation ; assuredly, they are at this moment most heroically disproving that assertion. But, nevertheless, do we not still see some German countries expose them selves, by fighting against their countrymen, to the contempt even of their allies, the PREFACE. Xill French? those auxiliaries (whose names we hesitate to pronounce, as if it were not yet too late to conceal them from posterity) those auxiliaries, I say, are not led either by opinion or even by interest, still less by honour ; but a blind fear has precipitated their governments towards the strongest side, without reflecting that they were themselves the cause of that very strength before which they bowed. The Spaniards, to whom we may apply Southey's beautiful line, "And those who suffer bravely save mankind ;" the Spaniards have seen themselves reduced to the possession of Cadiz alone ; but they were no more ready then to submit to the yoke of strangers, than they are now when they have reached the barrier of the Pyre nees, and are defended by that man of an ancient character and a modern genius, Lord Wellington. But to accomplish these great things, a perseverance was necessary, which would not be discouraged by events. TheGermans have frequently fallen into the error of suffering themselves to be overcome xiv PREFACE. by reverses. Individuals ought to submit to destiny, but nations never ; for, it is they who can alone command destiny ; with a little more exertion of the will, misfortune would be conquered. The submission of one people to another is contrary to nature. Who would now believe in the possibility of subduing Spain, Russia, England, or France ? -Why should it not be the same with Germany?—If the Germans could be subjugated , their misfor tune would rend the heart ; but still we should be tempted to say to them as Mlle. de Mancini said to Louis XIV. you are a king, sire, and you weep-you are a nation and you weep !! The picture of literature and philosophy, seems indeed foreign from the present mo ment ; yet it will be grateful, perhaps, to this poor and noble Germany, to recal the memory of its intellectual riches amidst the ravages of war. It is three years since I designated Prussia, and the countries of the north which surround it, as the country of thought; into how many noble actions has this thought PREFACE. XV beentransformed ! That to which the systems of Philosophers led the way, is coming to pass, and the independence of mind, is about to lay the foundation of the independence of nations.
1 OF GERMANY. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
THE origin of the principal nations of Europe may be traced to three great distinct families : the Latin, the German, and the Sclavonic. The Italians, the French, the Spaniards, and the Portuguese, have derived their civilization and their language from Rome ; the Germans, the Swiss, the English, the Swedes, the Danes, and the Hollanders are of Teutonic race ; the Poles and Russians occupy the first rank among those of the Sclavonic. Those nations whose intellectual culture is of Latin origin were the earliest civilised : they have for the most part inherited the quick sagacity of the Romans in the conduct of worldly affairs. Social institutions, foundedn the Pagan re ligion, preceded among them the establish VOL. I. B 1 OF GERMANY. ment of Christianity ; and when the people of the North came to conquer them, those very people adopted, in many respects, the customs of the countries which they conquered. The These observations must no doubt be mo dified by reference to climates, governments, and the facts of each individual history ecclesiastical power has left indelible traces in Italy. Their long wars with the Arabs have strengthened the military habits and enter prising spirit of the Spaniards ; but, generally speaking, all this part of Europe of whichthe languages are derived from the Latin, and which was early initiated in the Roman policy, bears the character of a long existing civiliza tion, of Pagan origin. The people of those regions evince less propensity to abstract reflexion than we find among the German nations ; they are more addicted to the plea sures and the interests of the earth ; and, like their founders, the Romans, they alone know how to practise the arts of dominion. The Germanic nations almost constantly resisted the Roman yoke ; they were more lately civilised, and by Christianity alone they passed instantaneously from a sort of barbarism to the refinement of Christian inter GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 3 course : the times of chivalry, the spirit of the middle ages, form their most lively recol lections ; and, although the learned of these countries have studied the Greek and Latin authors more deeply even than the Latin nations themselves, the genius natural to Ger man writers is of a colour rather Gothic than classical. Their imagination disports itself in old towers and battlements, amongknights, sorceresses, and spectres ; and mysteries of a thoughtful and solitary nature form the prin cipal charm of their poetry. The analogy which subsists among all the Teutonic nations is such as cannot be mis taken. The social dignity for which the Eng ish are indebted to their constitution assures to them, it is true, a decided superiority over the rest ; nevertheless, the same touches of character are constantly to be met with among all the different people of Germanic origin. They were all distinguished, from the earliest times, by their independence and loyalty ; they have ever been good and faith ful ; and it is for that very reason, perhaps, that their writings universally bear a melan choly impression ; for it often happens to WA B 2 OF GERMANY. · nations, as to individuals, to suffer for their virtues. The civilization of the Sclavonic tribes having been of much later date and of more rapid growth than that of other people, there has been hitherto seen among them more of imitation than of originality ; all that they possess of European growth is French; what they have derived from Asia is not yet sufficiently developed to enable their writings to display the true character which would be natural to them. Throughout literary Europe, then, there are but two great divisions strongly marked : the learning which is imitated from the ancients, and that which owes its birth to the spirit of the middle ages ; that which in its origin received from the genius of Paganism its colour and its charm, and that which owes its impulse and de velopment to a religion intrinsically spiritual. It might be said with reason that the French and the Germans are at the two ex tremes of the moral chain ; since the former regard all ideas as moving from exterior ob jects ; the latter, all impressions as proceeding from pre-conceived ideas. These two nations, 2 1 蒙 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 5 7 nevertheless, agree together pretty well in their social relations : but none can be more opposite in their literary and philosophical systems. Intellectual Germany is hardly known to France ; very few men of letters among us have troubled themselves about her. It is true that a much greater number have set themselves up for her judges. This agreeable lightness, which makes men pro nounce on matters of which they are ignorant, may appear elegant in talking, but not in writing. The Germans often run into the error of introducing into conversation that which is fit only for books ; the French some times commit the contrary fault, of inserting f in books that which is pardonable only in con versation ; and we have so exhausted all that is superficial, that, were it only for orna ment, and, above all, for the sake of variety, it seems to me that it would be well to try something deeper. For these reasons I believed that there might be some advantage in making known that country in which, of all Europe, study and meditation have been carried so far, that it may be considered as the native land of thought. The reflexions which the country 6 OF GERMANY. itself and its literary works have suggested to meshall be divided into four sections. The first will treat of Germans and the Manners of the Germans ; the second, of Literature and the Arts ; the third, of Philosophy and Morals ; the fourth, of Religion and Enthu siasm . These different subjects necessarily fall into one another. The national character has its influence on the literature ; the litera ture and the philosophy on the religion ; and the whole taken together can only make each distinct part properly intelligible ; it was ne cessary notwithstanding to submit to an apparent division, in order ultimately to collect all the rays in the same focus. interessagewa P I do not conceal from myself that I am about to expose, in literature as well as in philosophy, opinions foreign to those which reign in France ; but, let them appear just or 4 not, let them be adopted or combated, .they will at all events yield scope for reflection. " We need not, I imagine, wish to encircle the “ frontiers of literary France with the great " wall of China, to prevent all exterior ideas " from penetrating within.” * •
- These commas are used to mark the passages which the
censors of Paris require to be suppressed. In the second 1 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 7 It is impossible that the German writers, the best informed and most reflecting men in Europe, should not deserve a moment's atten tion to be bestowed on their literature and their philosophy. It is objected to the one, that it is not in good taste ; to the other, that it is full of absurdities. It is possible, however, that there may be a species of literature not conformable to our laws of good taste, and that it may nevertheless contain new ideas, which, modified after our manner, would tend to enrich us. It is thus that we are in debted for Racine to the Greeks, and to Shakspeare for many of the tragedies of Voltaire. The sterility with which our lite rature is threatened may make it be believed that the French spirit itself has need of being renewed by a more vigorous sap ; and, since the elegance of society will always volume they discovered nothing reprehensible ; but the chapters on Enthusiasm in the third, and, above all , the con cluding paragraph of the work, did not meet their appro bation. I was ready to submit to their censures in a ne gative manner, that is to say, by retrenching without making any further additions ; but the gendarmes sent by the Minister of Police executed the office of censors in a more brutal manner by tearing the whole book in pieces, OF GERMANY. ? preserve us from certain faults, it is of the utmost importance to us, to find again the source of superior beauties. After having rejected the literature of the Germans in the name of good taste, we think that we may also get rid of their phi losophy in the name of reason. Good taste and reason are words which it is always plea sant to pronounce, even at random ; but can we in earnest persuade ourselves that writers of immense erudition, who are as well acquainted with all the French books: as ourselves, have been employed for these twenty years upon mere absurdities ? In the age of superstition, all new opinions are naturally accused of impiety ; and in the days of incredulity , they are, not less natu rally, charged with being absurd . In the sixteenth century Galileo was delivered up to the Inquisition for having said that the world went round ; and in the eighteenth, some persons wished to make J. J. Rousseau pass for a fanatical devotee. Opinions which differ from the ruling spirit, be that what it may, always scandalize the vulgar : study and examination can alone confer that libera rality of judgment, without which it is im GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. possible to acquire new lights or even to pre serve those which we have. For we submit ourselves to certain received ideas, not as to truths, but as to power ; and it is thus that human reason habituates itself to servitude, even in the field of literature and philosophy. vi PREFACE. " the air of this country did not agree with "you, and we are not yet reduced to seek for models amongst the people you admire. " Your last work is not French ; it is I " who have put a stop to the publication of " it. I am sorry for the loss the bookseller “ must sustain, but it is not possible for me to suffer it to appear. 66 " You know, Madam, that you were only permitted to quit Coppet, because you had expressed a desire to go to America. If my predecessor suffered you to remain in " the department of the Loire and the Cher, you were not to look upon that indulgence " as a revocation of the orders which had "been given with respect to you. At pre " sent, you oblige me to cause them to be strictly executed, and you have only your " self to accuse for it. 66 66 66 66 66 " I desire M. Corbigny * to suspend the " execution of the order I had given him, " until the expiration of the time I now grant you.
- Prefect ofthe Loire and the Cher.
"6 PREFACE. vii 66 " I am concerned, Madam, that you have obliged meto commencemy correspondence " with you by a measure of severity ; it " would have been more agreeable to me to "have had only to offer you the testimonies " of the high consideration with which I " have the honour to be, 66 Madam, your very humble and very (Signed. ) Mad. de Stael. obedient Servant, THE DUKE DE ROVIGO." ،، "P.S.Ihave reasons , Madam, for mentioning "to you the ports of L'Orient, Larochelle, Bourdeaux, and Rochefort, as being the " only ports at which you can embark ; I beg you will let me know which of them you choose. "* "6
- The object of this Postscript was to forbid me the
Ports ofthe Channel. viii PREFACE. /1 I shall subjoin some reflections upon this letter, although it appears to me curious enough in itself. " It appears to me, " says General Savary, " that the air of this country did not agree with you ;" what a gracious manner of announcing to a woman, then, alas ! the mother of three children, the daughter of a man who had served France with so much fidelity, that she was banished for ever from the place of her birth , without being suffered, in any manner, to protest against a punishment, esteemed the next in severity to death ! There is a French vaudeville, in which a bailiff boasting of his politeness towards those persons whom he takes to prison, says, Aussi je suis aimé de tout ceux quej'arrête. * I do not know if such were the intention of General Savary. He adds that the French are not reduced to seekfor models amongst the people I admire ; these people are the English first, and in many respects the Germans. At all events,
- "So I am loved by all I arrest ."
PREFACE. ix I think I cannot be accused of not loving France. I have shewn but too much sensi bility in being exiled from a country where I have so many objects of affection , and where those who are dear to me have such power of entertaining me bytheirgenius ! But, notwith standing this attachment, perhaps too lively, for sobrilliant a country, and its ingenious in habitants, it did not follow that I was to be forbidden to admire England. She has been seen like a knight armed for the defence of social order, preserving Europe, during ten years of anarchy, and ten years more of despotism . Her happy constitution was, at the beginning of the Revolution, the object of the hopes and the efforts of the French. My mind still remains where theirs was then. On my return to the estate of my father, the Prefect of Geneva forbad me to go to, a greater distance than four leagues from it. I suffered myself one day to go as far as ten leagues, merely for an airing ; the gensdarmes immediately pursued me, the postmasters were forbidden to supply me with horses, and it would have appeared as if the safety of the state depended on such a weak being X PREFACE. as myself. However, I still submitted to this imprisonment in all its severity, when a last blow rendered it quite insupportable to me. Some of my friends were banished, because they had had the generosity to come and see me this was too much-to carry with oneselfthe contagion ofmisfortune, not to dare to associate with those one loves , to be afraid to write to them, or prononnce their names, to be the object by turns , either of affectionate attentions which make one tremble for those who shew them, or of those refinements of baseness which terror inspires, is a situation from which every one, who values life, would withdraw ! I was told, as a means of softening my grief, that these continual persecutions were a proof of the importance that was attached to me ; I could have answered that I had not deserved "Ni cet excés d'honneur, ni cette indignité.” but I never suffered myself to look to consolations addressed to my vanity ; for I knew that there was no one then in France,
- "Neither this excess of honour, nor this unworthy
treatment ." PREFACE. xi from the highest to the lowest, who might not have been found worthy of being made unhappy. I was tormented in all the con cerns of my life, in all the tender points of my character, and power condescended to take the trouble ofbecoming well acquainted with me, in order the more effectually to enhance my sufferings. Not being able then to disarm that power by the simple sacrifice of my talents, and resolved not to employ them in its service, I seemed to feel to the bottom of my heart the advice my father had given me, and I left my paternal home. I think it my duty to make this calumniated book known to the public, this book, the source of so many troubles ; and though General Savary told me in his letter, that my work was not French, as I certainly shall not allow him to be the representative of France, it is to Frenchmen such as I have known them, that I should with confidence address a work, in which I have endeavoured to the best of my abilities to heighten the glory of the works of the human mind. Germany may be considered, from its xii PREFACE. geographical situation , as the heart ofEurope, and the great association of the Continent can never recover its independence but by means of that country. Difference oflanguage, natural boundaries, the recollections of a common history, contribute all together to give birth to those great individual existences of mankind which we call nations ; certain proportions are necessary to their existence, they are distinguished by certain qualities ; and if Germany were united to France, the consequence would be, that France would also be united to Germany, and the French men of Hamburg, like the Frenchmen of Rome, would by degrees effect a change in the character of the countrymen of Henry the Fourth the vanquished would in time modify the victors, and in the end both would be losers. I have said in my work that the Germans. were not a nation ; assuredly, they are at this moment most heroically disproving that assertion. But , nevertheless , do we not still see some German countries expose them selves, by fighting against their countrymen, to the contempt even of their allies, the PREFACE. xiii French? those auxiliaries (whose names we hesitate to pronounce, as if it were not yet too late to conceal them from posterity) those auxiliaries, I say, are not led either by opinion or even by interest, still less by honour ; but a blind fear has precipitated their governments towards the strongest side, without reflecting that they were themselves the cause of that very strength before which they bowed. The Spaniards, to whom we may apply Southey's beautiful line, "And those who suffer bravely save mankind ;" the Spaniards have seen themselves reduced to the possession of Cadiz alone ; but they were no more ready then to submit to the yoke of strangers, than they are now when they have reached the barrier of the Pyre nees, and are defended by that man of an ancient character and a modern genius, Lord Wellington. But to accomplish these great things, a perseverance was necessary, which would not be discouraged by events. The Germans have frequently fallen into the error of suffering themselves to be overcome xiv PREFACE. by reverses. Individuals ought to submit to destiny, but nations never ; for, it is they who can alone command destiny ; with a little more exertion of the will , misfortune would be conquered. The submission of one people to another is contrary to nature. Who would now believe in the possibility of subduing Spain, Russia, England, or France ?-Why should it not be the same with Germany?—If the Germans could be subjugated, their misfor tune would rend the heart ; but still we should be tempted to say to them as Mlle. de Mancini said to Louis XIV. you are a king, sire, and you weep-you are a nation and you weep !! The picture of literature and philosophy, seems indeed foreign from the present mo ment ; yet it will be grateful, perhaps, to this poor and noble Germany, to recal the memory of its intellectual riches amidst the ravages of war. It is three years since I designated Prussia, and the countries of the north which surround it, as the country of thought; into how many noble actions has this thought PREFACE. XV beentransformed ! That to which the systems of Philosophers led the way, is coming to pass, and the independence of mind, is about to lay the foundation of the independence of nations
OF GERMANY. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. THE origin ofthe principal nations of Europe may be traced to three great distinct families : the Latin, the German, and the Sclavonic. The Italians, the French, the Spaniards, and the Portuguese, have derived their civilization and their language from Rome; the Germans, the Swiss, the English, the Swedes, the Danes, and the Hollanders are of Teutonic race ; the Poles and Russians occupy the first rank among those of the Sclavonic. Those nations whose intellectual culture is of Latin origin were the earliest civilised : they have for the most part inherited the quick sagacity of the Romans in the conduct of worldly affairs. Social institutions, founded n the Pagan re ligion, preceded among them the establish ( VOL. I. B OF GERMANY. ment of Christianity ; and when the people of the North came to conquer them, those very people adopted, in many respects, the customs of the countries which they conquered. These observations must no doubt be mo dified by reference to climates, governments, and the facts of each individual history: The ecclesiastical power has left indelible traces in Italy. Their long wars with the Arabs have strengthened the military habits and enter prising spirit of the Spaniards ; but, generally speaking, all this part of Europe of whichthe languages are derived from the Latin, and which was early initiated in the Roman policy, bears the character of a long existing civiliza tion, of Pagan origin. The people of those regions evince less propensity to abstract reflexion than we find among the German nations ; they are more addicted to the plea sures and the interests of the earth ; and, like their founders, the Romans, they alone know how to practise the arts of dominion. The Germanic nations almost constantly resisted the Roman yoke ; they were more lately civilised , and by Christianity alone ; they passed instantaneously from a sort of barbarism to the refinement of Christian inter GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. course: the times of chivalry, the spirit of the middle ages, form their most lively recol lections ; and, although the learned of these countries have studied the Greek and Latin authors more deeply even than the Latin nations themselves, the genius natural to Ger man writers is of a colour rather Gothic than classical. Their imagination disports itself in old towers and battlements, amongknights, sorceresses, and spectres ; and mysteries of a thoughtful and solitary nature form the prin cipal charm of their poetry.
- 1.
The analogy which subsists among all the Teutonic nations is such as cannot be mis taken. The social dignity for which the Eng ish are indebted to their constitution assures to them, it is true, a decided superiority over the rest ; nevertheless, the same touches of character are constantly to be met with among all the different people of Germanic origin. They were all distinguished, from the earliest times, by their independence and loyalty ; they have ever been good and faith ful ; and it is for that very reason, perhaps, that their writings universally bear a melan choly impression ; for it often happens to 1 B2 OF GERMANY. • nations, as to individuals, to suffer for their virtues. The civilization of the Sclavonic tribes having been of much later date and of more rapid growth than that of other people, there has been hitherto seen among them more of imitation than of originality ; all that they possess of European growth is' French; what they have derived from Asia is not yet sufficiently developed to enable their writings to display the true character which would be natural to them. Throughout literary Europe, then, there are but two great divisions strongly marked : the learning which is imitated from the ancients, and that which owes its birth to the spirit of the middle ages ; that which in its origin received from the genius of Paganism its colour and its charm, and that which owes its impulse and de velopment to a religion intrinsically spiritual.: It might be said with reason that the French and the Germans are at the two ex tremes of the moral chain ; since the former regard all ideas as moving from exterior ob jects ; the latter, all impressions as proceeding from pre-conceived ideas. These two nations, 8 素 II1* GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 5 7 nevertheless , agree together pretty well in their social relations : but none can be more opposite in their literary and philosophical systems. Intellectual Germany is hardly known to France ; very few men of letters among us have troubled themselves about her. It is true that a much greater number have set themselves up for her judges. This agreeable lightness, which makes men pro nounce on matters of which they are ignorant, may appear elegant in talking, but not in writing. The Germans often run into the error of introducing into conversation that which is fit only for books ; the French some times commit the contrary fault, of inserting in books that which is pardonable only in con versation ; and we have so exhausted all that is superficial, that, were it only for orna ment, and, above all, for the sake of variety, it seems to me that it would be well to try something deeper. For these reasons I believed that there might be some advantage in making known that country in which, of all Europe, study and meditation have been carried so far, that it $ may be considered as the native land of thought. The reflexions which the country 6 OF GERMANY. itself and its literary works have suggested to meshall be divided into four sections. The first will treat of Germans and the Manners of the Germans ; the second, of Literature and the Arts ; the third, of Philosophy and Morals ; the fourth, of Religion and Enthu siasm . These different subjects necessarily fall into one another. The national character has its influence on the literature ; the litera ture and the philosophy on the religion ; and the whole taken together can only make each distinct part properly intelligible ; it was ne cessary notwithstanding to submit to an apparent division, in order ultimately to collect all the rays in the same focus.
I do not conceal from myself that I am about to expose, in literature as well as in philosophy, opinions foreign to those which reign in France ; but, let them appear just or 4 not, let them be adopted or combated, .they will at all events yield scope for reflection. "We need not, I imagine, wish to encircle the " frontiers of literary France with the great " wall of China, to prevent all exterior ideas " from penetrating within." *
- These commas are used to mark the passages which the
censors of Paris require to be suppressed. In the second 1i1 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. -7 It is impossible that the German writers, the best informed and most reflecting men in Europe, should not deserve a moment's atten tion to be bestowed on their literature and their philosophy. It is objected to the one, that it is not in good taste ; to the other, that it is full ofabsurdities. It is possible, however, that there may be a species of literature not conformable to our laws of good taste, and that it may nevertheless contain new ideas, which, modified after our manner, would tend to enrich us. It is thus that we are in debted for Racine to the Greeks, and to Shakspeare for many of the tragedies of Voltaire. The sterility with which our lite rature is threatened may make it be believed that the French spirit itself has need of being renewed by a more vigorous sap ; and, since the elegance of society will always volume they discovered nothing reprehensible ; but the chapters on Enthusiasm in the third, and, above all , the con cluding paragraph of the work, did not meet their appro bation. I was ready to submit to their censures in a ne gative manner, that is to say, by retrenching without making any further additions ; but the gendarmes sent by the Minister of Police executed the office of censors in a more brutal manner by tearing the whole book in pieces. OF GERMANY. T preserve us from certain faults, it is of the utmost importance to us, to find again the source of superior beauties. After having rejected the literature of the Germans in the name of good taste, we think that we may also get rid of their phi losophy in the name of reason. Good taste. and reason are words which it is always plea sant to pronounce, even at random ; but can we in earnest persuade ourselves that writers of immense erudition, who are as well acquainted with all the French books: as ourselves, have been employed for these twenty years upon mere absurdities ? In the age of superstition, all new opinions are naturally accused of impiety ; and in the days of incredulity, they are, not less natu rally, charged with being absurd . In the sixteenth century Galileo was delivered up to the Inquisition for having said that the world went round ; and in the eighteenth, some persons wished to make J. J. Rousseau pass for a fanatical devotee . Opinions which differ from the ruling spirit , be that what it may, always scandalize the vulgar : study and examination can alone confer that libera rality of judgment, without which it is im GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. possible to acquire new lights or even to pre serve those which we have. For we submit ourselves to certain received ideas, not as to truths, but as to power ; and it is thus that human reason habituates itself to servitude, even in the field of literature and philosophy.
PART I. OF GERMANY, AND THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS.
CHAPTER I. Of the Aspect of Germany.
THE number and extent of forests indicate a civilization yet recent : the ancient soil of the south is almost unfurnished of its trees, and the sun darts its perpendicular rays on the earth which has been laid bare by man. Germany still affords some traces of unin 12 OF GERMANY. habited nature. From the Alps to the sea, between the Rhine and the Danube, you behold a land covered with oaks and firs , in tersected by rivers of an imposing beauty, and by mountains of a most picturesque aspect ; but vast heaths and sands, roads often neg lected, a severe climate, shed at first a gloom over the mind ; nor is it till after some time that it discovers what may attach us to such a country. The south of Germany is highly cultivat-. ed ; yet in the most delightful districts of this country there is always something of seriousness which calls the imagination rather to thoughts of labour than of pleasure, rather to the virtues of the inhabitants than to the charms of nature, The ruins of strong castles which are seen on the heights of the mountains, houses built of mud, narrow windows, the snows which during winter cover the plains as far as the eye can reach, all these cause a painful im pression on the mind. I know not what of silentness in nature and in the human race at first oppresses the heart. It seems as if time moved more slowly there than elsewhere, as if vegetation made not a more rapid progress 5 OF THE ASPECT OF GERMANY 18 in the earth than ideas in the minds of men, and as if the regular furrows of the labourer were there traced upon a thankless soil.. Nevertheless, when we have overcome these first unreflecting sensations, the country and its inhabitants offer to the observation something at once interesting and poetical ; we feel that gentle souls and tender imagina tions have embellished these fields. The high roads are planted with fruit trees for the refeshment of the traveller. The landscapes which surround the Rhine are every where magnificent ; this river may be called the tutelary genius of Germany ; his waves are pure, rapid, and majestic, like the life of a hero of antiquity. The Danube divides itself into too many branches ; the streams of the Elbe and Spree are disturbed too easily bythe tempests ; the Rhine only is unchangeable, The countries through which it flows appear at once of a character so grave and so diversi fied, so fruitful and so solitary, that one would be tempted to believe that they owe their cultivation to the genius of the river alone, and that man is as nothing to them, Its tide as it flows along relates the high deeds of the days of old, and the shade of 12 OF GERMANY. • habited nature. From the Alps to the sea, between the Rhine and the Danube, you behold a land covered with oaks and firs, in tersected by rivers of an imposing beauty, and by mountains of a most picturesque aspect ; but vast heaths and sands, roads often neg lected, a severe climate, shed at first a gloom over the mind ; nor is it till after some time that it discovers what may attach us to such a country. The south of Germany is highly cultivat-. ed ; yet in the most delightful districts of this country there is always something of seriousness which calls the imagination rather to thoughts of labour than of pleasure, rather to the virtues of the inhabitants than to the charms of nature, The ruins of strong castles which are seen on the heights of the mountains, houses built of mud, narrow windows, the snows which during winter cover the plains as far as the éye can reach, all these cause a painful im pression on the mind. I know not what of silentness in nature and in the human race at first the heart. It seems as if time oppresses moved more slowly there than elsewhere, as if vegetation made not a more rapid progress 5 OF THE ASPECT OF GERMANY 13 in the earth than ideas in the minds of men, and as if the regular furrows of the labourer were there traced upon a thankless soil... Nevertheless, when we have overcome these first unreflecting sensations, the country and its inhabitants offer to the observation something at once interesting and poetical ; we feel that gentle souls and tender imagina tions have embellished these fields . The high roads are planted with fruit trees for the refeshment of the traveller. The landscapes which surround the Rhine are every where magnificent ; this river may be called the tutelary genius of Germany ; his waves are pure, rapid, and majestic, like the life of a hero of antiquity. The Danube divides itself into too many branches ; the streams of the Elbe and Spree are disturbed too easily bythe tempests ; the Rhine only is unchangeable, The countries through which it flows appear at once of a character so grave and so diversi fied, so fruitful and so solitary, that one would be tempted to believe that they owe their cultivation to the genius of the river alone, and that man is as nothing to them, Its tide as it flows along relates the high deeds of the days of old, and the shade of 14 OF GERMANY. Arminius seems still to wander on its preci pitous shores. The monuments of Gothic antiquity only are remarkable in Germany ; these monu ments recal the ages of chivalry : in almost every town a public museum preserves the records of those days. One would say, that the inhabitants of the north, conquerors of the world, when they quitted Germany, left behind memorials of themselves under dif ferent forms, and that the whole land resem→ bles the residence of some great people long since left vacant by its possessors. In most of the arsenals of German towns, we meet with figures of knights in painted wood, clad in their armour ; the helmet, the buckler, the cuisses, the spurs, all according to ancient custom ; and we walk among these standing dead, who with uplifted arms seem ready to strike their adversaries, and hold their lances in the rest. This motionless image of actions formerly so lively occasions an impression of pain. It is thus that long after earthquakes the bodies of men have been discovered still fixed in the same attitudes, in the action of the same thoughts, that occupied them at the instant when they were swallowed up. 1 OF THE ASPECT OF GERMANY. 15 Modern architecture in Germany offers nothing to our contemplation worthy of being recorded ; but the towns are in general well built, and are embellished by the proprietors with a good-natured care. In many, the houses are painted on the outsides with various colours ; one sees upon them the figures of saints, and ornaments of every description; which, though assuredly not the most correct in taste, yet cause a cheerful variety, and seem to indicate a benevolent desire to please both their fellow countrymen and strangers. The dazzling splendour of a palace gratifies the self love of its possessors; but the well designed and carefully finished decorations which set off these little dwell ings have something in them kind and hospitable. The gardens are almost as beautiful in some parts of Germany as in England ; the luxury of gardens always implies a love of the country. In England, simple mansions are often built in the middle of the most mag nificent parks ; the proprietor neglects his dwelling to attend to the ornaments of nature. This magnificence and simplicity united do not, it is true, exist in the same " 12 OF GERMANY. habited nature. From the Alps to the sea, between the Rhine and the Danube, you behold a land covered with oaks and firs , in tersected by rivers of an imposing beauty, and by mountains of a most picturesque aspect ; but vast heaths and sands, roads often neg lected, a severe climate, shed at first a gloom over the mind ; nor is it till after some time that it discovers what may attach us to such a country. The south of Germany is highly cultivat-. ed ; yet in the most delightful districts of this country there is always something of seriousness which calls the imagination rather to thoughts of labour than of pleasure, rather to the virtues of the inhabitants than to the charms of nature, The ruins of strong castles which are seen on the heights of the mountains, houses built of mud, narrow windows, the snows which during winter cover the plains as far as the éye can reach, all these cause a painful im pression on the mind. I know not what of silentness in nature and in the human race at first oppresses the heart. It seems as if time moved more slowly there than elsewhere, as if vegetation made not a more rapid progress 5 OF THE ASPECT OF GERMANY .13 in the earth than ideas in the minds of men, and as if the regular furrows of the labourer were there traced upon a thankless soil. Nevertheless, when we have overcome these first unreflecting sensations, the country and its inhabitants offer to the observation something at once interesting and poetical ; we feel that gentle souls and tender imagina tions have embellished these fields . The high roads are planted with fruit trees for the refeshment of the traveller. The landscapes which surround the Rhine are every where magnificent ; this river may be called the tutelary genius of Germany ; his waves are pure, rapid, and majestic, like the life of a hero of antiquity. The Danube divides itself into too many branches ; the streams of the Elbe and Spree are disturbed too easily by the tempests ; the Rhine only is unchangeable. The countries through which it flows appear at once of a character so grave and so diversi fied, so fruitful and so solitary, that one would be tempted to believe that they owe their cultivation to the genius of the river alone, and that man is as nothing to them, Its tide as it flows along relates the high deeds of the days of old, and the shade of 14 OF GERMANY. Arminius seems still to wander on its preci pitous shores. The monuments of Gothic antiquity only are remarkable in Germany ; these monu ments recal the ages of chivalry : in almost every town a public museum preserves the records of those days. One would say, that the inhabitants of the north, conquerors of the world, when they quitted Germany, left behind memorials of themselves under dif ferent forms, and that the whole land resem→ bles the residence of some great people long since left vacant by its possessors. In most of the arsenals of German towns, we meet with figures of knights in painted wood, clad in their armour; the helmet, the buckler, the cuisses, the spurs, all according to ancient custom ; and we walk among these standing dead, who with uplifted arms seem ready to strike their adversaries, and hold their lances in the rest. This motionless image of actions formerly so lively occasions an impression of pain. It is thus that long after earthquakes the bodies of men have been discovered still fixed in the same attitudes, in the action of the same thoughts, that occupied them at the instant when they were swallowed up.
1 OF THE ASPECT OF GERMANY. 15 Modern architecture in Germany offers nothing to our contemplation worthy of being recorded ; but the towns are in general well built, and are embellished by the proprietors with a good-natured care. In many, the houses are painted on the outsides with various colours ; one sees upon them the figures of saints, and ornaments of every description ; which, though assuredly not the most correct in taste, yet cause a cheerful variety, and seem to indicate a benevolent desire to please both their fellow countrymen and strangers. The dazzling splendour of a palace gratifies the self love of its possessors ; but the well designed and carefully finished decorations which set off these little dwell ings have something in them kind and hospitable. The gardens are almost as beautiful in some parts of Germany as in England ; the luxury of gardens always implies a love of the country. In England, simple mansions are often built in the middle of the most mag nificent parks ; the proprietor neglects his dwelling to attend to the ornaments of nature. This magnificence and simplicity united do not, it is true, exist in the same 16 OF GERMANY.. degree in Germany ; yet, in spite of the want of wealth and the pride of feudal dignity, there is every where to be remarked a certain love of the beautiful, which, sooner or later, must be followed by taste and elegance, of which it is the only real source. Often in the midst of the superb gardens of the German princes are placed, Eolian harps close by grottos encircled with flowers, that the wind may waft the sound and the per fume together. The imagination of the northern people thus endeavours to create for itself a sort of Italy ; and during the bril liant days of a short-lived summer it some times attains the deception it seeks. THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 17
CHAPTER II. On the Manners and Character of the Germans.
THE Whole German nation can be made to agree in some principal features only ; for the diversities of this country are such, that it is difficult to bring together under one point of view, religions, governments, climates, and even people so different. Southern Germany is, in very many re spects, quite distinct from the northern ; the commercial cities are altogether un like those which are the seats of univer sities ; the small states differ sensibly from the two great monarchies of Prussia and Austria. Germany was lately an aristocra tical confederation ; an empire without one common centre of intelligence and of public VOL. I. с 18 OF GERMANY. spirit, it did not form a compact nation, and the bond of union was wanting to its separate members. This division of Germany, fatal to her political force, was nevertheless very fa vourable to all the efforts of genius and imagi nation. In matters of literary and metaphy sical opinion, there was a sort of gentle and peaceful anarchy, which allowed to every man the complete development of his own individual powers of perception. As there is no capital city in which all the good company of Germany finds itself united, the spirit of society exerts but little power ; and the empire of taste and the arms of ridicule are equally without influence. Most writers and reasoners sit down to work in solitude, or surrounded only by a little circle over which they reign. They abandon them selves, one by one, to all the impulses of an unrestrained imagination ; and if any traces are to be found throughout Germany of the ascendancy of fashion, it is in the desire evinced by every man to show himself in all respects different from the rest. In France, on the contrary, every man aspires to de serve what Montesquieu said of Voltaire ; Il a plus que personne l'esprit que tout le W 1 THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 19 monde a. The German writers would yet more willingly imitate foreigners than their own countrymen. In literature, as in politics, the Germans have too much respect for foreigners and not enough of national prejudices. In individuals it is a virtue, this denial of self, and this esteem of others ; but the patriotism of na tions ought to be selfish . The pride of the English conduces powerfully to their political existence ; the good opinion which the French entertain of themselves has always contri buted greatly to their ascendance over Eu rope ; the noble pride of the Spaniards for merly rendered them sovereigns of one entire portion of the world. The Germans are Saxons, Prussians, Bavarians, Austrians ; but the Germanic character, on which the strength of all should be founded, is, like the land itself, parcelled out among so many different masters... I shall separately examine northern and southern Germany ; but will for the present confine myself to those reflections which equally suit the whole nation. The Germans are, generally speaking, both sincere and faithful ; they seldom forfeit their word, and c 2 20 OF GERMANY. deceit is foreign to them. If this fault should ever introduce itself into Germany, it could only be through the ambition of imitating foreigners, of evincing an equal dexterity, and, above all, of not being duped by them ; but good sense and goodness of heart would soon bring the Germans back to perceive that their strength consists in their own nature, and that the habit of rectitude renders us incapa ble, even where we are willing, of employing artifice. In order to reap the fruits of immo rality, it is necessary to be entirely light armed, and not to carry about you a con science and scruples which arrest you mid way, and make you feel, so much the more poignant, the regret of having left the old road, as it is impossible for you to ad vance boldly in the new. It is, I believe, easy to shew that, without morality, all is danger and darkness. Never theless there has often been observed among the Latin nations a singularly dextrous policy in the art of emancipating themselves from every duty ; but it may be said, to the glory of the German nation , that she is almost incapable of that practised suppleness which makes all truths bend to all interests, and sacrifices 1 THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 21 every engagement to every calculation . Her defects, as well as her good qualities, subject her to the honourable necessity of justice. The power of labour and reflection is also one of the distinctive features of the people of Germany. They are naturally a literary and philosophical people ; yet the separation into classes, which is more distinct in Ger many than any where else, because society does not soften its gradations, is in some re spects injurious to the understanding properly so called. The nobles have too few ideas, the men of letters too little practice in business. Understanding is a combination of the know ledge of men and things ; and society, in which men act without object and yet with interest, is precisely that which best develops the most opposite faculties. It is imagination more than intellect that characterises the Ger mans. I. P. Richter, one of their most distinguished writers, has said that the empire of the seas belongs to the English, that of the land to the French, and that of the air to the Germans ; in fact, we dis cover in Germany, the necessity of a centre and bounds to this eminent faculty of thought, which rises and loses itself in vacuum, which L 22 OF GERMANY. penetrates and vanishes in obscurity, which perishes by its impartiality, confounds itself by the force of analysis, and stands in need of certain faults to circumscribe its virtues. In leaving France, it is difficult to grow accustomed to the sluggish inertness of the German people ; they never hasten to any object ; they find obstacles to all ; you hear it is impossible " repeated a hundred times. in Germany for once in France. When action is necessary, the Germans know not how to struggle with difficulties ; and their respect for power is more owing to the resemblance between power and destiny, than to any interested motive. The lower classes are sufficiently coarse in their forms of proceeding; above all, when any shock is intended to their favourite habits ; they would naturally feel much more than the nobles that holy antipathy for foreign man ners and languages which in all countries seems to strengthen the national bond of union. The offer of money does not alter their plan of conduct ; fear does not turn them aside from it ; they are, in short, very capable of that fixedness in all things which THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 23 " 1 is an excellent pledge for morality ; for he who is continually actuated by fear, and still more by hope, passes easily from one opinion to another whenever his interest requires it. As we rise a little above the lower class , we easily perceive that internal vivacity, that poetry of the soul, which characterises the Germans. The inhabitants of town and country, the soldiers and labourers, are all acquainted with music. It has happened to me to enter small cottages blackened by the smoke of tobacco, and immediately to hear not only the mistress but the master of the house playing voluntaries on the harpsichord, like the Italian improvisatori in verse. Almost every where upon market days, they have players on wind instruments placed in the balcony of the town- house which overlooks the public square : the peasants of the neighbourhood are thus made partakers in the soft enjoyment of that first of arts. The scholars walk through the streets singing psalms in chorus. They say that Luther often took a part in these cho russes in early life. I was at Eisenach, a little town in Saxony, one winter day when it was so cold that the very streets were 24 OF GERMANY. blocked up with snow ; I saw a long pro cession of young people in black cloaks, walking through the town and celebrating the praises of God. They were the only persons out of doors ; for the severity of the frost had driven all the rest of the world to their fire-sides ; and these voices, almost equal ly harmonious with those of the south, heard amidst all this rigour of the season, excited so much the livelier emotion. The inhabi→ tants of the town dared not in the intense cold to open their windows ; but we could perceive behind the glasses, countenances, sad or serene, young or old, all receiving with joy the religious consolations which this sweet melody inspired . The poor Bohemians, as they wander, fol lowed by their wives and children, carry on their backs a bad harp made of common wood, from which they draw harmonious music. They play upon it while they rest at the foot of a tree on the high road, or near the post houses, trying to awaken the attention of travellers to the ambulatory concert of their little wandering family. In Austria, the flocks are kept by shepherds who play charming airs on instruments at 11I THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 25 + These airs agree once simple and sonorous. perfectly well with the soft and pensive impression produced by the aspect of the country. Instrumental music is as generally culti vated throughout Germany as vocal music in Italy. Nature has done more in this re spect, as in so many others, for Italy, than for Germany ; for instrumental music labour is necessary, while a southern sky is enough to create a beautiful voice : nevertheless the men of the working classes would never be able to afford to music the time which is necessary for acquiring it, if they were not endowed with organs peculiarly adapted to the acquirement. Those people who are musicians by nature receive through the medium of har mony sensations and ideas which their confined situations and vulgar occupations could never procure for them from any other source. The female peasants and servants who have not money enough to spend in dress, ornament their heads and arms with a few flowers, that imagination may at least have some part in their attire : those who are a little more rich wear on holidays a cap of gold stuff, in sufficiently bad taste, which 26 OF GERMANY. affords a strange contrast to the simplicity of the rest oftheir costume ; but this cap, which their mothers also wore before them, seems to recal ancient manners ; and the dress of ceremony with which the lower classes of women pay respect to the Sunday has some thing solemn in it which interests one in their favour. The Germans deserve credit also for the sincerity testified in their respectful acts of reverence, and their formal sanctity which foreigners have so often turned into ridicule. They might easily have sub stituted a cold and indifferent deport ment for that grace and elegance, which they are accused of being unable to reach : disdain always silences ridicule ; for it is principally upon useless efforts that ridicule attaches itself; but benevolent characters choose rather to expose themselves to plea santry, than to preserve themselves from it by that haughty air of restraint, which it is so easy for any person to assume. In Germany, we are continually struck by the contrast which exists between senti ments and habits, talents and tastes : ci vilization and nature seem to be not yet 14 THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 27 sufficiently amalgamated together . Some times the most ingenuous of men are very affected in their expressions and countenance, as if they had something to conceal : some times, on the other hand , gentleness of soul does not prevent the rudeness of manners : fre quently even this contradiction goes still fur ther, and absolute weakness of character shows itself through the veil of harshness in language and demeanour. An enthusiastic passion for the fine arts and for poetry is joined to habits even low and vulgar in social life . There is no country where young men, studying at the Universities, are better acquainted with the ancient languages and with antiquity ; yet there is none in which superannuated customs ´more generally exist even at the present day. The recollections of Greece, the taste for the fine arts, seem to have reached them through the medium of correspondence ; but feudal institutions, and the ancient customs of the German nation, are always held in honour among them, even though, unhappily for the military power of the country, they no longer possess the same strength.
There is no assemblage more whimsical than that displayed in the military aspect of 22 OF GERMANY. penetrates and vanishes in obscurity, which perishes by its impartiality, confounds itself by the force of analysis, and stands in need of certain faults to circumscribe its virtues. In leaving France, it is difficult to grow accustomed to the sluggish inertness of the German people ; they never hasten to any object ; they find obstacles to all ; you hear it is impossible " repeated a hundred times. in Germany for once in France. When action is necessary, the Germans know not how to struggle with difficulties ; and their respect for power is more owing to the resemblance between power and destiny, than to any interested motive. The lower classes are sufficiently coarse in their forms of proceeding; above all, when any shock is intended to their favourite habits ; they would naturally feel much more than the nobles that holy antipathy for foreign man ners and languages which in all countries seems to strengthen the national bond of union. The offer of money does not alter their plan of conduct ; fear does not turn them aside from it ; they are, in short, very capable of that fixedness in all things which THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 23 is an excellent pledge for morality ; for he who is continually actuated by fear, and still more by hope, passes easily from one opinion to another whenever his interest requires it. verse. As we rise a little above the lower class, we easily perceive that internal vivacity, that poetry of the soul, which characterises the Germans. The inhabitants of town and country, the soldiers and labourers, are all acquainted with music. It has happened to me to enter small cottages blackened by the smoke of tobacco, and immediately to hear not only the mistress but the master of the house playing voluntaries on the harpsichord, like the Italian improvisatori in Almost every where upon market days, they have players on wind instruments placed in the balcony of the town-house which overlooks the public square : the peasants of the neighbourhood are thus made partakers in the soft enjoyment of that first of arts. The scholars walk through the streets singing psalms in chorus. They say that Luther often took a part in these cho russes in early life. I was at Eisenach, a little town in Saxony, one winter day when it was so cold that the very streets were
24 OF GERMANY. blocked up with snow; I saw a long pro cession of young people in black cloaks, walking through the town and celebrating the praises of God. They were the only persons out of doors ; for the severity of the frost had driven all the rest of the world to their fire-sides ; and these voices, almost equal ly harmonious with those of the south, heard amidst all this rigour of the season, excited so much the livelier emotion. The inhabi→ tants of the town dared not in the intense cold to open their windows ; but we could perceive behind the glasses, countenances, sad or serene, young or old, all receiving with joy the religious consolations which this sweet melody inspired . The poor Bohemians, as they wander, fol lowed by their wives and children, carry on their backs a bad harp made of common wood, from which they draw harmonious music. They play upon it while they rest at the foot of a tree on the high road, or near the post houses, trying to awaken the attention of travellers to the ambulatory concert of their little wandering family. In Austria, the flocks are kept by shepherds who play charming airs on instruments at THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 25 These airs agree once simple and sonorous. perfectly well with the soft and pensive impression produced by the aspect of the country. Instrumental music is as generally culti vated throughout Germany as vocal music in Italy. Nature has done more in this re spect, as in so many others, for Italy, than for Germany ; for instrumental music labour is necessary, while a southern sky is enough to create a beautiful voice : nevertheless the men of the working classes would never be able to afford to music the time which is necessary for acquiring it, if they were not endowed with organs peculiarly adapted to the acquirement. Those people whoare musicians by nature receive through the medium of har monysensations and ideas which their confined situations and vulgar occupations could never procure for them from any other source. 1 The female peasants and servants who have not money enough to spend in dress, ornament their heads and arms with a few flowers, that imagination may at least have some part in their attire : those who are a little more rich wear on holidays a cap of gold stuff, in sufficiently bad taste, which • 26 OF GERMANY. affords a strange contrast to the simplicity of the rest oftheir costume ; but this cap, which their mothers also wore before them, seems to recal ancient manners ; and the dress of ceremony with which the lower classes of women pay respect to the Sunday has some thing solemn in it which interests one in their favour. so The Germans deserve credit also for the sincerity testified in their respectful acts of reverence, and their formal sanctity which foreigners have so often turned into ridicule. They might easily have sub stituted a cold and indifferent deport ment for that grace and elegance, which they are accused of being unable to reach : disdain always silences ridicule ; for it is principally upon useless efforts that ridicule attaches itself; but benevolent characters choose rather to expose themselves to plea santry, than to preserve themselves from it by that haughty air of restraint, which it is so easy for any person to assume. In Germany, we are continually struck by the contrast which exists between senti ments and habits, talents and tastes : ci vilization and nature seem to be not yet " THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 27 sufficiently amalgamated together. Some times the most ingenuous of men are very affected in their expressions and countenance, as if they had something to conceal : some times, on the other hand, gentleness of soul does not prevent the rudeness of manners : fre quently even this contradiction goes still fur ther, and absolute weakness of character shows itself through the veil of harshness in language and demeanour. An enthusiastic passion for the fine arts and for poetry is joined to habits even low and vulgar in social life . There is no country where young men, studying at the Universities, are better acquainted with the ancient languages and with antiquity ; yet there is none in which superannuated customs more generally exist even at the present day. The recollections of Greece, the taste for the fine arts, seem to have reached them through the medium of correspondence ; but feudal institutions, and the ancient customs of the German nation, are always held in honour among them, even though, unhappily for the military power of the country, they no longer possess the same strength. Thereis no assemblage more whimsical than that displayed in the military aspect of • 28 OF GERMANY. Germany ; soldiers at every step, and all leading a sort of domestic life . They are as much afraid of fatigue and of the inclemency of the air, as if the whole nation were composed of merchants and men of letters ; and yet all their institutions tend, and must necessarily tend, to inspire the people with military habits. When the in habitants of the north brave the inconveni ences of their climate, they harden them selves in a wonderful manner against all sorts of evil : the Russian soldier is a proof of this. But where the climate is only half ri gorous, where it is still possible to guard against the severity of the heavens by do mestic precautions, these very precautions render them more alive to the physical suf ferings of war + Stoves, beer, and the smoke of tobacco, surround all the common people of Germany with a thick and hot atmosphere, from which they are never inclined to escape. This at mosphere is injurious to activity, which is of no less importance in war, than courage itself; resolutions are slow, discouragement easy, because an existence, void of pleasure in general, inspires no great confidence in THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 29 the gifts of fortune. The habit of a peace able and regular mode of life is so bad a preparation for the multiplied chances of hazard, that even death coming in a regular way appears preferable to a life of ádventure. The demarcation of classes, much more positive in Germany, than it used to be in France, produced the annihilation of military spirit among the lower orders ; this separa tion has in fact nothing offensive in it ; for, I repeat, á sort of natural goodness mixes itself with every thing in Germany, even with aristocratical pride : and the differences of rank are reduced to some court privileges, to some assemblies which do not afford suffi→ cient pleasure to deserve envy nothing is bitter, under whatever aspect contemplated, when society, and ridicule which is the off spring of society, is without influence. Men cannot really wound their very souls, except by falsehood or mockery: in a country of seriousness and truth, justice and happiness will always be met with. But the barrier which separated, in Germany, the nobles from the citizens, necessarily rendered the whole nation less warlike. " 30 OF GERMANY. Imagination, which is the ruling quality of the world of arts and letters in Germany, inspires the fear of danger, if this natural movement is not combated by the ascendancy of opinion, and the exaltation of honour. In France, even in its ancient state, the taste for war was universal ; and the common peo ple willingly risked their life for the purpose of gratifying it. It is a question of impor tance to know if the domestic affections, the habit of reflection, the very gentleness of soul, do not conduce to the fear of death ; but if the whole strength of a state consists in its military spirit, it is of consequence to examine what are the causes that have weak ened this spirit in the German nation. Three leading motives usually incite men to fight ; the patriotic love of liberty, the enthusiasm of glory, and religious fana ticism. There can be no great patriotism in anempire divided for so many ages, where Ger mans fought against Germans, almost always instigated by some foreign impulse : the love of glory is scarcely awake where there is no centre, no capital, no society. That species of impartiality, the very excess of justice, which characterises the Germans, renders 5 THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 31 them much more susceptible of being inflamed with abstract sentiments, than of the real interests of life ; the general who loses a battle is more sure of indulgence, than he who gains one is of applause ; there is not enough difference between success and reverse, in the opinions of such a people, to excite any very lively ambition. Religion, in Germany, exists at the very bottom of the heart ; but it possesses there a character of thought and independence which breathes nothing of the energy neces sary to exclusive sentiments. The same in dependence of opinions, individuals, and states, so prejudicial to the strength ofthe Germanic empire, is to be found also in their religion : a great number of different sects divide Ger many between them ; and the Catholic religion itself, which, in its very nature, exercises an uniform and strict discipline, is nevertheless interpreted by every man after his own fashion. The political and social bond of the people, a general government, a general worship, the same laws, the same interests, a classical literature, a ruling opinion, nothing of all this exists among the Germans ; each individual state is the more independent, each 32 OF GERMANY. individual science the better cultivated ; but the whole nation is so subdivided, that one cannot tell to what part of the empire this very name of nation ought to be granted. The love of liberty is not developed among the Germans ; they have not learned , either by enjoyment or by privation, the value which may be attached to it. There are many examples of federative governments. which give to the public spirit as much force as even an united administration, but these are the associations of equal states and free citizens. The German confederacy was composed of strong and weak, citizen and serf, of rivals, and even of enemies ; they were old existing elements combined by circum stances and respected by men. The nation is persevering and just ; and its equity and loyalty secure it against injury from any institution, however vicious. Louis of Bavaria, when he took the command of the army, entrusted to Frederic the Fair, his rival, and at that time his prisoner, the ad ministration of his States ; and he had not to repent of this confidence, which in those days caused no astonishment. With such virtues, they never found the ill consequences of the THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 33 weakness or even the complication of the laws; the probity of individuals supplied their defects. The very independence which the Germans enjoyed in almost all respects, rendered them indifferent to liberty ; independence is a pos session ; liberty its security ; and onthis very account nobody in Germany was molested either in his rights or his enjoyments, they could not feel the want of such an order of things as might secure them in the possession ofthis happiness. The imperial tribunals pro mised a sure though slow redress of every act of arbitrary power ; and the moderation of the sovereigns, and the wisdom of the go verned, seldom gave room for any appeals to their interference ; people therefore could not imagine that they stood in need of constitu tional fortifications when they saw no ag gressors. One has reason to be astonished, that the feudal code should have subsisted almost un altered among a people so enlightened ; but as, in the execution of these laws, so defec tive in themselves, there was never any injustice, the equality with which they were applied made amends for their inequality VOL. I. D 34 OF GERMANY in principle. Old charters, the ancient pri vileges of every city, all that family history which constitutes the charm and glory of little states, were singularly dear to the Ger mans ; but they neglected that great national might, which it was so important to have founded among the colossal states of Europe. The Germans, with some few exceptions, are hardly capable of succeeding in any thing which requires address and dexterity ; every thing molests and embarrasses them, and they have as much need of method in action as of independence in ideas. The French, on the contrary, consider actions with all the free dom of art, and ideas with all the bondage of custom. The Germans who cannot en dure the yoke of rules in literature, require every thing to be traced out before them in the line of their conduct. They know not how to treat with men ; and the less occasion is given them in this respect to decide for themselves, the better they are satisfied. Political institutions can alone form the character of a nation ; the nature of the government of Germany was almost in op position to the philosophical illumination of the Germans. From thence it follows that, THE MANNERS OF THE GERMANS. 36 they join the greatest boldness of thought to the most obedient character. The pre-emi nence of the military states and the distinc tions of rank have accustomed them to the most exact submission in the relations of social life. Obedience, with them, is regu larity, not servility ; they are as scrupulous in the execution of the orders they receive, as if every order became a duty. The enlightened men of Germany dispute vehemently among themselves the dominion of hypothesis, and will suffer no shackles in this department ; but they give up with out difficulty all that is real in life to the powerful of the earth. " This reality, which they so much despise, finds purchasers how ever, who in the end avail themselves of " their acquisition to carry trouble and con " straint into the empire of the imagination itself." The understanding and the charac ter of the Germans appear to have no com munication together : the one cannot suffer any limits, the other is subject to every yoke ; the one is very enterprising, the other very timid in short, the illumination of the one 7 6.6 68 66 7 "
- A passage suppressed by the censors,
1117 p 2 36 OF GERMANY. seldom gives strength to the other, and this is easily explained. The extension of know ledge in former times only serves to weaken the character, when it is not strengthened by the habit of business and the exercise of the will. To see all, and comprehend all, is a great cause of uncertainty ; and the energy of action develops itself only in those free and powerful countries where patriotic sentiments are to the soul like blood to the veins, and grow cold only with the extinc tion of life itself. † † I have no need to say that it is England which I wished to point out by these words ; but when proper names are not pronounced, the censors, in general, who are men of know Jedge, take a pleasure in not comprehending. It is not the same with the police; the police has a sort of instinct that is really extraordinary in prejudice of all liberal ideas, under whatever form they present themselves, and traces out, with the sagacity of a good hound, all that might awaken in the minds of the French their ancient love for the progress of light and liberty. * OF THE WOMEN. 37
CHAPTER III. Of the Women.
NATURE and society give to women a habit of endurance; and I think it can hardly be denied that, in our days, they are generally worthier of moral esteem than the men. At an epoch when selfishness is the prevailing evil, the men, to whom all positive interests have relation, must necessarily have less gene rosity, less sensibility, than the women. These last are attached to life only bythe ties of the heart ; and even when they lose themselves, it is by sentiment that they are led away ; their selfishness is extended to a double object, while that of man has himself only for its end. Homage is rendered to them according to the affections which they 1 $8 OF GERMANY. inspire, but those which they bestow are almost always sacrifices . The most beautiful of virtues, self devotion, is their enjoyment and their destiny ; no happiness can exist for them but by the reflection of another's glory and prosperity ; in short, to live inde pendently of self, whether by ideas or by sentiments, or, above all, by virtues, gives to the soul an habitual feeling of elevation. In those countries where men are called upon by political institutions to the exercise of all the military and civil virtues which are inspired by patriotism, they recover the superiority which belongs to them ; they re-assume with dignity their rights, as mas ters of the world : but when they are con demned, in whatever measure, to idleness or to slavery, they fall so much the lower as they ought to rise more high. The destiny of women always remains the same ; it is their soul alone which creates it ; political circumstances have no influence upon it. When men are either ignorant or incapable of the means of employing their lives with dignity and propriety, Nature revenges herself upon them for the very gifts which they have received from her the activity of the 3 8 "8 OF THE WOMEN. 39 body contributes only to the sloth of the mind ; the strength of soul degenerates into coarseness ; and the day is consumed in vulgar sports and exercises, horses, the chase, or entertainments which might be suitable enough in the way of relaxation, but seem merely degrading, as occupations. Women, the while, cultivate their under standing ; and sentiment and reflection pre serve in their souls the image of all that is free and generous. The German women have a charm, exclu sively their own- a touching voice, fair hair, a dazzling complexion ; they are modest but less timid than Englishwomen ; one sees that they have been less accustomed to meet with their superiors among men, and that they have besides less to apprehend from the severe censures of the public. They endea vour to please by their sensibility, to interest by their imagination ; the language of poetry and the fine arts are familiar to them; they coquet with enthusiasm, as they do in France with wit and pleasantry. That perfect loy alty which distinguishes the German character, renders love less dangerous to the happiness of women ; and perhaps they admit the ad 40 OF GERMANY. vances of this sentiment with the more con fidence, as it is invested with romantic colours ; and disdain and infidelity are less to be dreaded there than elsewhere. Love is a religion in Germany, but a poetical religion which tolerates too easily all that sensibility can excuse. It cannot be denied that the facility of divorce in the Protestant states is prejudicial to the sacred ness of marriage. They change husbands with as little difficulty as if they were ar ranging the incidents of a drama ; the good nature common both to men and women is the reason that so little bitterness of spirit ever accompanies these easy ruptures ; and as the Germans are endowed with more imagina tion than real passion, the most extravagant events take place with singular tranquillity ; nevertheless, it is thus that manners and character lose every thing like consistency ; the spirit of paradox shakes the most sacred institutions, and there are no fixed rules upon any subject. One may fairly laugh at the ridiculous airs ofsome German women, who are continually exalting themselves even to a pitch of affec tation, and who sacrifice to their pretty 1 2 OF THE WOMEN. 41 softnesses of expression all that is marked and striking in mind and character ; they are not open, even though they are not false ; they only see and judge of nothing correctly, and real events pass like a phan tasmagoria before their eyes. Even when they take it into their heads to be light and capricious, they still retain a tincture of that sentimentality which is held in so high honour in their country. A German woman said one day, with a melancholy expression, " I know not wherefore ; but those who are absent pass away from my soul. " A French woman would have "rendered this idea with more gaiety but it would have been fun damentally the same. " Notwithstandingthese impertinencies, which form only the exception, there are among the womenofGermany numbers whose sentiments are true and whose manners simple. Their careful education, and the purity of soul which is natural to them, render the dominion which they exercise soft and equal ; they in spire you from day to day with a stronger interest for all that is great and generous, -with more ofconfidence in all noble hopes, and theyknowhowto repel that bitter irony which 42 OF GERMANY. 7 breathes a death-chill over all the enjoyments ofthe heart. Still we seldom find amongthem that quickness ofapprehension, which animates conversation and sets every idea in motion ; this sort of pleasure is scarcely to be met with any where out of the most lively and the most witty societies of Paris. The chosen company of a French metropolis can alone confer this rare delight : elsewhere we gene rally find only eloquence in public, or tran quil pleasure in familiar, life. Conversation, as a talent, exists in France alone ; in all other countries it answers the purposes of politeness, ofargument, or of friendly inter course in France, it is an art to which the imagination and the soul are no doubt very necessary, but which possesses, besides these, certain secrets by which the absence of both may be supplied when necessary. INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 43
CHAPTER IV. Of the Influence of the Spirit of Chivalry on Love and Honour.
CHIVALRY is to modern, what the heroic age was to ancient, times ; all the noble recol lections of the nations of Europe are attached to it. At all the great periods of history, men have embraced some sort of enthusiastic sen timent, as an universal principle of action. Those whom they called heroes, in the most distant ages, had for their object to civilize the earth ; the confused traditions which re present them to us as subduing the monsters of the forests bear, no doubt, an allusion to the first dangers which menaced society at its birth ; and from which it was preserved by the supports of its yet new organization. Then 4 44 OF GERMANY. came the enthusiasm of patriotism , and in spired all that was great and brilliant in the actions of Greece and Rome : this enthusi asm became weaker when there was no longer a country to be called one's own ; and, a few centuries later, chivalry succeeded to it. Chivalry consisted in the defence of the weak, in the loyalty of valour, in the contempt of deceit, in that Christian charity which endea voured to introduce humanity even in war ; in short, in all those sentiments which substituted the reverence of honour to the ferocious spirit of arms. It is among the northern nations that chivalry had its birth ; but in the south of France that it was embellished by the charm of poetry and love. The Germans had in all times treated women with respect ; but the French were the first that tried to please them : the Germans also had their chanters of love (Minnesinger), but nothing that could be compared to our Trouvères and Troubadours; and it is to this source perhaps that we must refer a species of lite rature strictly national. The spirit of northern mythology had much more resemblance to Christianity than the Paganism of the ancient Gauls ; yet is there no country where Chris I1 INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 45 tians have been better Knights, or Knights better Christians, than in France. The crusades brought together the gentle men of all countries, and created out of the spirit of chivalry a sort of European patriot ism, which filled every soul with the same sentiment. The feudal government, that po litical institution so gloomy and severe, but which in some respects consolidated the spirit of chivalry, by investing it with the character of love ; the feudal government, I say, has continued in Germany even to our own days : it was overthrown in France by Cardinal Richelieu, and from that epoch to the revolution, the French have been alto gether destitute of any source of enthusiasm. I know it will be said that the love of their kings was such ; but, supposing it possible that this sentiment could extend to a whole nation, still it is confined so entirely to the mere person of the sovereign, that during the ad ministrations of the Regent and of Louis XV, it would have been difficult, I imagine, for the French to have derived any thing great from its influence. The spirit of chivalry, which still emitted some sparkles in the reign of Louis XIV,, was extinguished with him, f
+ 46 OF GERMANY. and succeeded, according to a very lively and sensible historian, * by the spirit of fatuity, which is entirely opposite to it. Instead of protecting women, fatuity seeks to destroy them ; instead of despising artifice, she em ploys it against those feeble beings whom she prides herself in deceiving ; and she substi tutes the profanation of love in the place of its worship. Even courage itself, which formerly served as the pledge of loyalty, became nothing better than a brilliant mode of evading its chain ; for it was no longer necessary to be true, but only to kill in a duel the man who accuses you of being otherwise ; and the empire of society in the great world made almost all the chivalrous virtues disappear. France then found herself without any sort of enthusiastic impulse whatever ; and as such impulse is necessary to prevent the corruption and disso lution of nations, it is doubtless that natural necessity which in the middle of the last century turned every mind towards the love of liberty. It seems then that the philosophical pro
- M. de la Cretelle,
7 7 INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 47 gress of the human race should be divided into four different periods : the heroic times, which gave birth to civilization ; patriotism , which constituted the glory of antiquity ; chivalry, the warlike religion of Europe ; and the love of liberty, the history of which dates its origin from the epoch of the revolution . Germany, with the exception of a few of its courts, which were inspired with the emu lation of imitating France, had not been tainted by the fatuity, the immorality, and incredulity, which, since the time of the Re gency, had debased the natural character of Frenchmen. Feudality still retained among the Germans the maxims of chivalry : they fought duels, indeed, seldomer than in France, because the Germanic nation is not so lively as the French, and because all ranks of peo ple do not, as in France, participate in the sentiment of bravery ; but public opinion was generally much more severe with regard to every thing connected with probity. If a. man had in any manner been wanting to the laws of morality, ten duels a day would never have set him up again in any person's esteem. Many men of good company have been seen in France, who, when accused of 48 OF GERMANY. 1 some blameable action, have answered : " It may be bad enough ; but nobody at least will dare to say so before my face." Nothing can imply a more utter depravation of morals ; for what would become of human society if it was only necessary for men to kill each other to acquire the right of doing one another in other respects all the mischief possible ? to break their word, to lie, pro vided nobody dared to say " You have lied ;" in short, to separate loyalty from bravery, and transform courage into a mode of obtaining social impunity ! Since the extinction of the spirit of chivalry in France ; since she possessed no longer aGode froi, a Saint Louis, or a Bayard, to protect weakness, and hold themselves bound by a promise as by the most indissoluble chain, I will venture to say, contrary to the received opinion, that France has perhaps been that country of the world in which women are the least happy at heart. France was called the Paradise of Women, on account of the great share of liberty which the sex enjoys there ; but this very liberty arose from the facility with which men detach themselves from them. The Turk, who shuts INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 49 up his wife, proves at least by that very con duct how necessary she is to his happiness : the man of gallantry, a character, of which the last century furnished us with so many examples, selects women for the victims of his vanity ; and this vanity consists not only in seducing, but in afterwards abandoning them. He must, in order to justify it, be able to declare, in phrases light and irrepre hensible in themselves, that such a woman has loved him, but that he no longer cares about her. " My self love tells me, let her die of chagrin," said a friend of the Baron de Bezenval ; and this very friend appeared to him an object of deep regret, when a pre mature death prevented him from the ac complishment of this laudable design. One grows tired of every thing, my angel, writes M. de la Clos in a novel which makes one shudder at the refinements of immora lity which it displays. In short, at this very period when they pretended that love reigned in France, it seems to me that gallantry, if I may use the expression, really placed women out of the protection of the law. When their momentary reign was over, neither generosity, nor gratitude, not even VOL. I. • " 50 OF GERMANY. pity, was left them. They counterfeited the accents of love to make them fall into the snare, like the crocodile which imitates the voices of children, to entrap their mothers. Louis XIV. , so vaunted for his chivalrous. gallantry, did he not show himself the most hard-hearted of men in his conduct towards the very woman by whom he was most be loved of all, Madame de la Vallière ? The details which are given of that transaction in the Memoires de Madame are frightful. He pierced with grief the unfortunate heart which breathed only for him, and twenty years of tears at the foot of the cross, could hardly cicatrize the wounds, which the cruel disdain of the monarch had inflicted . No thing is so barbarous as vanity ; and as society, the bon-ton, fashion, success, all put this vanity singularly in play, there is no country where the happiness of women is in greater danger than one in which every thing depends upon what is called opinion, and in which every body learns of others what it is good taste to feel . It must be confessed that women have ended by taking part in the immorality which destroyed their own true empire; • ive INFLUENCE OF THE SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY. 51 they have learned to lessen their sufferings by becoming worthless. Nevertheless, with some few exceptions, the virtue of women always depends onthe conduct of men. The pretend ed lightness of women is the consequence of the fear they entertain of being abandoned ; they rush into shame from the fear of outrage. Love is a much more serious quality in Germany than in France. Poetry, the fine arts, even philosophy, and religion, have made this sentiment an object of earthly adoration, which sheds a noble charm over existence. Germanywas not infested, like France, with licentious writings which circulated among all classes of people, and effected the de struction of sentiment among the high, and of morality among the vulgar. It must be allowed, nevertheless, that the Germans have more imagination than sensibility ; and their uprightness is the only pledge for their constancy. The French, in general, respect positive duties ; the Germans think them selves less bound by duty than affection. What we have said respecting the facility of divorce affords a proof of this ; love is, with 14 1E 2 OF GERMANY them, more sacred than marriage . It is the effect of an honourable delicacy, no doubt, that they are above all things faithful to promises which the law does not warrant : but those which are warranted by law are nevertheless of greater importance to the in terests of society. The spirit of chivalry still reigns among the Germans, if we may be allowed to say so, in a passive sense ; they are incapable of deceit, and their integrity discovers itself in all the intimate relations of life ; but that se vere energy which imposed so many sacri fices on men, so many virtues on women, and rendered the whole of life one holy exer cise governed by the same prevailing senti ment; this chivalrous energy of the times of old has left in Germany only an impres sion long since passed away. Henceforward nothing great will ever be accomplished: there, except by the liberal impulse, which, throughout Europe, has succeeded to chi valry. OF SOUTHERN GERMANY. CHAPTER V. Of Southern Germany. Ir was pretty generally understood that li terature existed in the north of Germany alone, and that the inhabitants of the south abandoned themselves to the enjoyments of sense, while those of the north tasted more exclusively those of the soul . Many men of genius have been produced in the south, but they have formed themselves in the north. Near the coasts of the Baltic we find the noblest establishments, the most dis tinguished men of science and learning ; and from Weimar to Konigsberg, from Konigs berg to Copenhagen, fogs and frosts appear to be the natural element of men of a lofty and vigorous imagination. 84 OF GERMANY. No country stands so much as Germany in need of the occupations of literature ; for society there affording little charms, and individuals for the most part wanting that grace and vivacity which are inspired by nature in warm climates, it follows that the Germans are agreeable only when they are superior in mind, and that they want genius. 'to be witty. more Franconia, Swabia, and Bavaria, before the illustrious establishment of the present academy at Munich, were countries singu larly dull and monotonous : no arts, with the exception of music ; no literature ; a rude accent which lent itself with difficulty to the pronunciation of southern languages ; no society ; large assemblies , which looked like ceremonies than parties of pleasure ; obsequious politeness to an in elegant aristocracy ; goodness and integrity in every class ; but a sort of simpering stiff ness, which is the reverse at once both of ease and dignity. One should not there fore be surprised at the criticisms and pleasantries which have been passed on German tediousness. The literary cities are the only objects of real interest, in a
t OF SOUTHERN GERMANY. 55 4 country where society is nothing, and nature very little. Letters might perhaps have been culti vated in the south of Germany with as much success as in the north, if the sovereigns had ever properly interested themselves in the advancement of them ; nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that temperate climates are more favourable to society than to poetry.. When the climate is neither inclement nor beautiful, when people live with nothing either to fear or to hope from the heavens, the positive interests of existence become almost the only occupation of the mind ; both the delights of the south and the rigours of the north have stronger hold over the imagination. Whether we struggle against nature, or intoxicate ourselves with her gifts, the power of the creation is in both cases equally strong, and awakens in us the sentiment of the fine arts, or the interest of the mysteries of the soul. Southern Germany, temperate in every sense, maintains itself in a monotonous state, of well-being, singularly prejudicial to the activity of conduct as well as of thought. The most lively desire of the inhabitants 56 OF GERMANY. / of this peaceful and fertile country is that they may continue to exist as they exist at present ; and what can this only desire pro duce ? It is not even sufficient for the preser vation of that with which they are satisfied . 1 OF AUSTRIA. -57 CHAPTER VI. Of Austria. * THE learned men of the north have accused Austria of neglecting letters and sciences ; they have even greatly exaggerated the degree of restraint imposed there by the censure of the press. If Austria has pro duced no great men in the literary career, it is to be attributed not so much to constraint as to the want of emulation. It is a country so calm, a country in which competence is so easily secured to all classes of its inhabitants, that they think but little of intellectual enjoyments. They do more for the sake of duty than of fame ; the
- This chapter was composed in the year 1808.
58 OF GERMANY. rewards of public opinion are so poor, and its punishments so slight, that, without the motive of conscience, there would be no incitement to vigorous action in any sense. " $ Military exploits ought to be the chief interest of the inhabitants of a monarchy which has rendered itself illustrious by con tinual wars ; and yet the Austrian nation had so abandoned itself to the repose and the pleasures of life, that even public events. made no great noise till the moment arrived of their calling forth the sentiment of patrio tism ; and even this sentiment is of a tran quil nature in a country where there is nothing but happiness. Many excellent things are to be found in Austria, but few men really of a superior order ; for it is there of no great service to be reckoned. more able than another ; one is not envied for it, but forgotten, which is yet more discouraging. Ambition perseveres in the desire of acquiring power, genius flags of itself; genius, in the midst of society, is a pain, an internal fever, which would require to be treated as real disease, if the rewards of glory did not soften the sufferings it produces. 2 s OF AUSTRIA. 59 In Austria, and all other parts of Ger the lawyers plead in writing, never The preachers are followed because men observe the practical duties of religion ; but they do not attract by their eloquence. The theatres are much neglected ; above all, the tragic theatre. Administra tion is conducted with great wisdom and justice ; but there is so much method in all things, that the influence of individuals is scarcely perceptible . Business is conducted in a certain numerical order which nothing can derange ; it is decided by invariable rules, and transacted in profound silence ; silence which is not the effect of terror, for what is there to be feared in a country where the virtues of the sovereign and the principles of equity govern all things ? but the profound repose of intellects, as of souls, deprives human speech of all its interest. Neither by crime nor by genius, by intolerance nor by enthusiasm, by passion nor by heroism, is existence either disturbed or exalted. The Austrian Cabinet during the last century was considered as very adroit in poli tics ; a quality which little agrees with the German character in general ; but men many, viva voce. 60 OF GERMANY. often mistake for profound policy that which is only the alternative between am bition and weakness. History almost always attributes to individuals, as to governments, more combination of plans than really existed. Austria, concentrating within herself peo ple so different from each other, as the Bohemians, Hungarians, &c. wants that unity which is so essential to a monarchy : nevertheless, the great moderation of her rulers has for a long time past produced a general bond of union out of the attachment to one individual . The Emperor of Ger many was at the same time sovereign over his own dominions, and the constitutional head of the empire. In this latter charac ter he had to manage different interests and established laws, and derived from his Impe rial magistracy a habit of justice and pru dence, which he transferred from them to the administration of his hereditary states. The nations of Bohemia and Hungary, the Tyrolese and the Flemings, who formerly constituted the monarchy, have more natural vivacity than the genuine Austrians : these last employ themselves incessantly in the act • 1 寡 1 OF AUSTRIA. el t of moderating instead of that of encourag ing. An equitable goverment, a fertile soil, a wise and wealthy nation, all contributed to teach them that for their well being it was only necessary to maintain their existing condition, and that they had no need what ever for the extraordinary assistance of supe rior talents. In peaceable times, indeed, they may be dispensed with; but what can we do without them in the grand struggles of empires ? •
- Suppressed by the censurer.
The spirit of Catholicism which was upper most at Vienna, though always with mode ration, had nevertheless constantly, during the reign of Maria Theresa, repelled what was called the progress of light in the eighteenth century. Then came Joseph the Second, who lavished all these lights on a coun try not yet prepared either for the good or the evil which they were qualified to produce. He succeeded for the moment in the object of his wishes, because throughout Austria he met with no active emotion either in favour of, or contrary to , his desires ; but, " after "his death,"* nothing remained of all his 62 OF GERMANY. establishments, because nothing can last but that which advances by degrees. Industry, good living, and domestic en joyments, are the principal interests of Aus tria ; notwithstanding the glory which she acquired by the perseverance and valour of her armies, the military spirit has not really penetrated all classes of the nation. Her armies are, for her, so many moving forti fications, but there is no greater emulation in this than in other professions ; the most honourable officers are at the same time the bravest and this reflects upon them so much the more credit, as a brilliant and rapid advancement is seldom the conse quence of their efforts. In Austria they almost scruple to show favour to superior men, and it sometimes seems as if govern ment wished to push equality even further than nature itself, and to treat talent and mediocrity with the same undistinguishing impartiality. The absence of emulation has, indeed, one advantage-that it allays vanity ; but often pride itself partakes of it ; and in the end there remains only a sort of easy arrogance, which is satisfied with the exterior of all things. OF AUSTRIA. 63 I think that it was also a bad system, that of forbidding the importation of foreign books. If it were possible to preserve to a country the energy of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries by defending it from the writings of the eighteenth, this might perhaps be a great advantage ; but as it is absolutely necessary that the opinions and the discoveries of Europe must penetrate into the midst of a monarchy which is it self the centre of Europe, it is a disadvantage to let them reach it only by halves ; for the worst writings are those which are most sure to make their way. Books filled with im moral pleasantries and selfish principles amuse the vulgar, and always fall into their hands ; while prohibitory laws are absolutely effective only against those philosophical works which tend to elevate the mind, and enlarge the ideas. The constraint which these laws impose is precisely that which is wanting to favour the indolence of the understanding, but not to preserve the inno cence of the heart. ▸ In a country where all emotion is of slow growth ; in a country where every thing around inspires a deep tranquillity, the OF GERMANYMAN . slightest obstacle is enough to deter men from acting or writing, or even (if it is re quired) from thinking. What can we have better than happiness ? they say ; it is proper to understand, however, what they mean by the word. Does happiness consist in the faculties we develope, or in those we suppress ? No doubt a government is always worthy of esteem, so long as it does not abuse its power, nor sacrifice justicę to its interest ; but the happiness of sleep is. deceitful ; great reverses may occur to disturb it ; and we ought not to let the horses stand still for the sake of holding the reins more gently and easily. A nation may easily content itself with those common blessings of life, repose and ease ; and superficial thinkers will pretend, that the whole social art is confined to secu ring these blessings to the people . Yet are more noble gifts necessary to inspire the feeling ofpatriotism. This feeling is combined of the remembrances which great men have left behind them, the admiration inspired by the chefs d'œuvre of national genius , and lastly the love which is felt for the institu tions, the religion, and the glory of our OF AUSTRIA. 65 country. These riches of the soul are the only riches that a foreign yoke could tear away ; if therefore material enjoyments were the only objects of thought, might not the same soil always produce them, let who will be its masters ? " They believed in Austria, during the last century, that the cultivation of letters would tend to enfeeble the military spirit ; but they were deceived . Rodolph of Hapsbourg untied from his neck the golden chain which he wore, to decorate a then celebrated poet. Maximilian dictated the poem which he caused to be written. Charles the Fifth knew, and cultivated, almost all languages . Most of the thrones of Europe were formerly filled by sovereigns well informed in all kind of learning, and who discovered in literary acquirements a new source of men tal grandeur. Neither learning nor the sciences will ever hurt the energy of cha racter. Eloquence renders men more brave, and courage renders them more eloquent ; every thing that makes the heart beat in unison with a generous sentiment, doubles the true strength of man, his will : but that systematic selfishness, in which a man VOL. I. F 66 OF GERMANY, sometimes comprehends his family as an ap pendage of himself, but that philosophy which is merely vulgar at bottom, however elegant in appearance, which leads to the contempt of every thing that is called illu sion, that is to say, self devotion and en thusiasm, this is the sort of illumination most to be dreaded for the virtues of a nation ; this nevertheless is what no censors of the press can ever expel from a country surrounded by the atmosphere of the eighteenth century : we can never escape from what is bad and hurtful in books, but by freely admitting from all quarters whatever they contain of greatness and liberality. The representation of " Don Carlos" was forbidden at Vienna, because they would not tolerate his love for Elizabeth. In Schiller's " Joan of Arc," they made Agnes Sorel the lawful wife of Charles the Seventh. The public library was forbidden to let the. Esprit des Lois " be read : and, while all this constraint was practised, the romances of Crébillon circulated in every body's hands, licentious works found entrance, and serious ones alone were suppressed. 66 " OF AUSTRIA.
67 The mischief of bad books is only to be corrected by good ones ; the bad conse quences of illumination are only avoided by rendering the illumination more com plete. There are two roads to every thing: to retrench that which is dangerous, or in spire strength to resist it . The latter is the only method that suits the times in which we live ; ignorance cannot now have innocence for its companion, and therefore can only do mischief. So many words have been spoken, so many sophisms repeated, that it is necessary to know much, in order to judge rightly ; and the times are passed when men confined their ideas to the patri mony of their fathers. We must think then, not in what manner to repel the in troduction of light, but how to render it complete, so that it may not produce false colours by the interruption of its beams. A Government must not pretend to keep a great nation in ignorance of the spirit which governs the age ; this spirit contains the elements of strength and greatness, which may be employed with success, when men are not afraid boldly to meet every question that presents itself : they will then F 2 68 OF GERMANY. find, in eternal truths, resources against transitory errors, and in liberty itself the support of order, and the augmentation of power. 1 VIENNA.
CHAPTER VII. Vienna. VIENN IENNA is situated in a plain surrounded by picturesque hills. The Danube which passes through and encircles it, divides itself into several branches forming many pleasant islets ; but this river loses its own dignity in so many windings, and fails to produce the impression which its ancient renown promises. Vienna is an old town, small enough in itself, but begirt with spacious suburbs it is pretended that the city, sur rounded by its fortifications, is not more ex tensive now than it was at the time when Richard Coeur de Lion was imprisoned near its gates. The streets are as narrow as those in Italy, the palaces recal in some degree اشر L 2 70 OF GERMANY. those of Florence ; in short nothing there resembles the rest of Germany, except a few Gothic edifices which bring back the middle ages to the imagination. The first of these edifices is the tower of St. Stephen, which rises above all the other churches of Vienna, and reigns majestically over the good and peaceful city whose gene rations and glories it has seen pass away. It took two centuries, they say, to finish this tower, begun in 1100 ; the whole Austrian history is in some manner connected with it. No building can be so patriotic as a church ; it is there alone that all classes of the nation are assembled, that alone which brings to the recollection, not merely public events, but the secret thoughts and inward affec tions which both chiefs and people have car ried into its sanctuary. The temple of the divinity seems present, like God himself, to ages past away. The monument of Prince Eugene is the only one that has been, for some time past, erected in this church ; he there lies, waiting for other heroes. As I approached. it, I saw a notice affixed to one of its pillars, that a young woman begged 4 VIENNA. 71 量 of those who should read to pray for her during her sickness. name of this young woman was not given ; it was some unfortunate being, addressing herself to beings unknown, not for their alms, but for their prayers ; and all this passed by the side of the illustrious dead, who had himself, perhaps, compassion on the unhappy living. It is a pious custom among the Catholics, and one which we ought to imitate, to leave the churches al ways open ; there are so many moments in which we feel the want of such an asy lum ; and never do we enter it without feeling an emotion which does good to the soul, and restores it, as by a holy ablution, to strength and purity. There is no great city without its public building, its promenade, or some other won der of art or of nature, to which the recollec tions of infancy attach themselves ; and I think that the Prater must possess a charm of this description for the inhabitants of Vienna ; no where do we find, so near the capital, a public walk so rich in the beauties, at once of rude and ornamented nature. A majestic forest extends to the banks of the - this paper The 72 OF GERMANY. Danube; herds of deer are seen from afar pass ing through the meadow ; they return every morning, and fly away every evening when the influx of company disturbs their solitude. A spectacle, seen at Paris only three times a year, on the road to Long- Champ, is re newed every day, during the fine season, at Vienna. This is an Italian custom-the daily promenade at the same hour. Such regularity would be impracticable in a coun try where pleasures are so diversified as at Paris ; but the Viennese, from whatever cause, would find it difficult to relinquish the habit of it. It must be agreed that it forms a most striking coup d'oeil, the sight of a whole nation assembled under the shade of magnificent trees, on a turf kept ever ver dant by the waters of the Danube. The people of fashion in carriages, those of the lower orders on foot, meet there every evening. In this wise country, even plea şures are looked upon in the light of duties, and they have this advantage, that they never grow tedious , however uniform . They preserve as much regularity in dissipa tion as in business, and waste their time as methodically as they employ it. VIENNA. 73 If you enter one of the redoubts where balls are given to the citizens on holidays, you will behold men and women gravely performing, opposite to each other, the steps of a minuet, of which they have im posed on themselves the amusement ; the crowd often separates a couple while dancing, and yet each persists, as if they were danc ing, to acquit their consciences ; each moves alone, to right and left, forwards and back wards, without caring about the other who is figuring all the while with equal conscien tiousness ; now and then, only, they utter a little exclamation of joy and then imme diately return to the serious discharge of their pleasure. It is above all on the Prater that one is struck with the ease and prosperity of the people of Vienna. This city has the repu tation of consuming more victuals than any other place of an equal population ; and this species of superiority, a little vulgar, is not contested. One sees whole families of citizens and artificers, setting off at five in the evening for the Prater, there to take a sort of rural refreshment, equally substan tial with a dinner elsewhere, and the money 74 OF GERMANY. which they can afford to lay out upon it proves how laborious they are, and under how mild a government they live. Tens of thousands return at night, leading by the hand their wives and children ; no disorder, no quarrelling disturbs all this. multitude whose voice is hardly heard, so silent is their joy ! This silence, nevertheless , does not proceed from any melancholy dis position of the soul ; it is rather a certain physical happiness, which induces men in the south of Germany to ruminate on their sensations, as in the north on their ideas. The vegetative existence of the south of Germany bears some analogy to the con templative existence of the north : in each , there is repose, indolence, and reflection. ་ ན If you could imagine an equally numerous assembly of Parisians met together in the same place, the air would sparkle with bon mots, pleasantries, and disputes ; never can a Frenchman enjoy any pleasure in which his self- love would not in some manner find itself a place. Noblemen of rank take their promenade . on horses or in carriages of the greatest magnificence and good taste ; all their VIENNA. 75 amusement consists in bowing, in an alley of the Prater, to those whom they have just left in a drawing room ; but the diversity of objects renders it impossible to pursue any train of reflection, and the greater num ber of men take a pleasure in thus dissipat ing those reflections which trouble them. These grandees of Vienna, the most illustri ous and the most wealthy in Europe, abuse none of the advantages they possess ; they allow the humblest hackney coaches to stop their brilliant equipages. The Emperor and his brothers even quietly keep their place in the string, and choose to be con sidered, in their amusements, as pri vate individuals ; they make use of their privileges only when they fulfil their duties. In the midst of the crowd you often meet with Oriental, Hungarian, and Polish cos tumes, which enliven the imagination ; and harmonious bands of music at intervals give to all this assemblage the air of a peaceable fête, in which every body enjoys himself without being troubled about his neighbour. You never meet a beggar at these pro menades ; none are to be seen in Vienna ; the charitable establishments there are regu 76 OF GERMANY.
lated with great order and liberality ; pri vate and public benevolence is directed with a great spirit of justice, and the people themselves having in general more industry and commercial ability than in the rest of Germany, each man regularly pursues his own individual destiny . There are few instances in Austria of crimes deserving death; every thing, in short, in this coun try bears the mark of a parental, wise, and religious government. The foundations of the social edifice are good and respectable ; " but it wants a pinnacle and columns to " render it a fit temple of genius and of glory." * I was at Vienna, in 1808, when the Em peror Francis the Second married his first cousin, the daughter of the Archduke of Milan and the Archduchess Beatrix, the last princess of that house of Este so cele brated by Ariosto and Tasso. The Arch duke Ferdinand and his noble consort found themselves both deprived of their states by the vicissitudes of war, and the young Empress, brought up in these cruel "times," † united in her person the double 66
- Suppressed by the censure.
+ Suppressed by the censure, VIENNA. 77 interest of greatness and misfortune. It was an union concluded by inclination, and into which no political convenience had entered, although one more honourable could not have been contracted. It caused at once a feeling of sympathy and respect, for the family affections which brought us near to this marriage, and for the illustrious rank which set us at a distance from it. Ayoung prince, the Archbishop of Waizen, bestowed the nuptial benediction on his sister and sovereign ; the mother of the Empress, whose virtues and knowledge conspire to exercise the most powerful empire over her children, became in a moment the subject of her daughter, and walked in the procession behind her with a mixture of deference and of dignity, which recalled at the same time the rights of the crown and those of nature. The brothers of the Emperor and Empress, all employed in the army or in the admi nistration, all in different ranks, all equally devoted to the public good, accompanied them respectively to the altar, and the church was filled with the grandees of the state, with the wives, the daughters, and the mothers, of the most ancient of the · 78 OF GERMANY. Teutonic nobility. Nothing new was produc→ ed for the fête ; it was sufficient for its pomp, to display what each possessed. Even the women's ornaments were hereditary, and the diamonds that had descended in every family consecrated the remembrances of the past to the decoration of youth : ancient times were present to all, and we enjoyed a magnifi cence, the result of the preparations of ages, but which cost the people no new sacrifices. The amusements which succeeded to the. marriage consecration had in them almost as much of dignity as the ceremony itself. It is not thus that private individuals ought to give entertainments, but it is perhaps right to find in all the actions of kings the severe impression of their august destiny. Not far from this church, around which the dis charge of cannons and the beating of drums announced the renewal of the union between the houses of Este and Hapsburgh, we see the asylum which has for these two centu ries enclosed the tombs of the Emperors of Austria and their family. There, in the vault of the Capuchins, it was that Maria Theresa for thirty years heard mass in the very sight of the burial place which she had prepared VIENNA. 79 for herself by the side of her husband. This illustrious princess had suffered so much in the days of her early youth, that the pious sentiment of the instability of life never quitted her, even even in the midst of her greatness. We have many examples of a serious and constant devotion among the sovereigns of the earth ; as they obey death only, his irresistible power strikes them the more forcibly. The difficulties of life inter vene between ourselves and the tomb ; but every thing lies level before the eyes of kings, even to the last, and that very level renders the end more visible. The feast induces us naturally to reflect upon the tomb ; poetry has, in all times, delighted herself in drawing these two images by the side of each other, and fate itself is a terrible poet, which has too often dis covered the art of uniting them. 80 OF GERMANY RMY . CHAPTER VIII. Of Society. THE rich and the noble seldom inhabit the suburbs of Vienna ; and, notwithstanding that the city possesses in other respects all the advantages of a great capital, the good company is there brought together as closely as in a small town. These easy communications, in the midst of all the enjoyments of fortune and luxury, render their habitual life very convenient, and the frame of society, if we may so express it, that is to say, its habits, usages, and man ners, are extremely agreeable. Among fo reigners we hear of the severe etiquette and aristocratical pride of the great Austrian nobility ; this accusation is unfounded ; there OF SOCIETY. 87 is simplicity, politeness, and, above all, honesty, in the good company of Vienna ; and the same spirit of justice and regularity which governs all important affairs is to be met with also in the smallest circumstances. People are as punctual to their dinner and supper engagements, as they would be in the discharge of more essential pro mises : and those false airs which make elegance consist in a contempt of the forms of politeness have never been introduced among them. Nevertheless, one of the principal disadvantages of the society of Vienna, is that the nobles and men of letters do not mix together. The pride of the nobles is not the cause of this ; but as they do not reckon many distinguished writers at Vienna, and people read but little, every body lives in his own particular coterie, because there is nothing but coteries in a country where general ideas and public interests have so small need of being developed. From this separation of classes it results that men of letters are deficient in grace, and that men of the world are rarely abundant in information. The exactitude of politeness which in VOL. I. G 82 OF GERMANY. some respects is a virtue, since it fre quently demands sacrifices, has introduced into Vienna the most fatiguing of all pos sible forms. All the good company transports itself en masse from one drawing room to another three or four times every week. A certain time is lost in the duties of the toilet, which are necessary in these great assemblies ; more is lost in the streets, and on the stair cases, waiting till the carriages draw up in order ; still more in sitting three hours at table ; and it is im possible, in these crowded assemblies, to hear any thing that is spoken beyond the circle of customary phrases: This daily exhibition of so many individuals to each other is a happy invention of mediocrity to annul the faculties of the mind. If it were established that thought is to be considered as a malady against which a regular course of medicine is necessary, nothing could be imagined better adapted for the purpose than a sort of distraction at once noisy and insipid ; such as permits the following up of no ideas, and converts language into a mere chattering, which may be taught men as well as birds. OF SOCIETY. 88 1 I have seen a piece performed at Vienna, in which Harlequin enters, clothed in a long gown and a magnificent wig ; and all at once he juggles himself away, leaving his wig and gown standing to figure in his place, and goes to display his real person elsewhere. One might propose this game of legerdemain to those who frequent large assemblies. People attend them, not for the sake of meeting any object that they are desirous of pleasing: severity of man ners and tranquillity of soul concentre in Austria all the affections in the bosom of one's family. They do not resort to them for the purposes of ambition, for every thing passes with so much regularity in this country that intrigue has little hold there, and besides it is not in the midst of society that it can find room to exercise itself. + These visits and these circles are invented for the sake of giving all people the same thing to do, at the same hour ; and thus they prefer the ennui of which they par take with their equals to the amusement which they would be forced to create for themselves at home. Great assemblies and great dinners take G 2 $84 OF GERMANY. 1 place in other cities besides Vienna ; but as at such meetings we generally see all the distinguished individuals of the countries where we assemble, we there find more opportunities of escaping from those forms of conversation, which upon such occasions succeed to the first salutations, and prolong them in words. Society does not in Austria, as in France, contribute to the developement or the animation of the under standing ; it leaves in the head nothing but noise and emptiness ; whence it follows, besides, that the more intelligent members of the community generally estrange them selves from it ; it is frequented by women alone, and even that share of understanding which they possess is astonishing, considering the nature of the life they lead. Foreigners justly appreciate the agreeableness of their conversation ; but none are so rarely to be met with in the drawing-rooms of the capital of Germany, as the men of Germany itself. In the society of Vienna, a stranger must be pleased with the proper assurance, the elegance, and nobleness of manner, which reign throughout under the influence of the women; yet there is wanting to it something 12 OF SOCIETY. 85 to say, something to do, an end, an interest. You feel a wish that to-day may be different from yesterday, yet without such variety as would interrupt the chain of affections and habits. In retirement, monotony tranquil lizes the soul ; in the great world it only fatigues the mind. 86 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER IX. Of the Desire among Foreigners of imitating the French Spirit. THE destruction of the spirit of feudal government, and of the old baronial life which was the consequence of it, has introduced a great deal of leisure among the nobility ; this leisure has rendered the amusement of society necessary to their existence ; and as the French are reputed masters in the art of conversation, they have made themselves throughout Europe the sovereigns of opinion, or rather of fashion, by which opinion is so easily coun terfeited. Since the reign of Louis XIV, all the good society of the continent, Spain and Italy excepted, has made its FOREIGNERS IMITATE THE FRENCH SPIRIT. 87 self-love consist in the imitation of the French. In England there exists a constant topic of conversation, that of politics, the interest of which is the interest of each individual and of all alike : in the south there is no society ; there the brilliancy of the sun, love, and the fine arts, fill up. the whole of existence. At Paris , we talk upon subjects of literature ; and the spectacles of the theatre continually changing, give place to ingenious and witty remarks. But in most other great cities, the only subject that presents itself for conversation consists in the anecdotes and observations of the day, respecting those very persons of whom what we call good company is composed. It is a sort of gossip, ennobled by the great names that are introduced, but resting on the same foundation as that of the lowest vulgar; for, except that their forms of speech are more elegant, the subject of it is the same, that is to say, their neigh bours. 1 T 熟 The only truly liberal subjects of conver sation are thoughts and actions of universal interest. That habitual backbiting, of which the idleness of drawing-rooms and the bar 88 OF GERMANY. renness of the understanding make a sort of necessity, may be more or less modified by goodness of character; yet there is always enough of it to enable us to hear, at every step, at every word, the buz of petty tattle, which, like so many flies, has the power of vexing even a lion. In France, people employ the powerful arms of ridicule for . mutual annoyance, and for gaining the vantage ground which they expect will afford them the triumph of self-love ; elsewhere a sort of indolent chattering uses up the faculties of the mind, and renders it incapable of energetic efforts of any des cription whatever. 1 } 1
Agreeable conversation, even when merely on trifles and deriving its charm only from the grace of expression, is capable of con ferring a high degree of pleasure ; it may be affirmed, without extravagance, that the French are almost alone masters of this sort of discourse, It is a dangerous but a lively exercise, in which subjects are played with like a ball which in its turn comes back to the hand of the thrower. ་ Foreigners, when they wish to imitate the French, affect more immorality, and are FOREIGNERS IMITATE THE FRENCH SPIRIT, 89 yet more frivolous, than they, from an apprehension that seriousness may be defi cient in grace, and that their thoughts and reflections may fail of possessing the true Parisian accent. The Austrians, in general, have at once too much stiffness and too much sincerity, to be ambitious of attaining foreign man ners. Nevertheless, they are not yet suf ficiently Germans, they are not yet suffi ciently versed in German literature ; it is too much the fashion at Vienna to believe that it is a mark of good taste to speak the French language only ; forgetting that the true glory, the real charm, of every nation, must consist in its own national spirit and character. The French have been the dread of all Europe, particularly of Germany, by their dexterity in the art of seizing and pointing out the ridiculous. The words elegance and grace possessed I know not what ma gical influence in giving the alarm to self love. It seemed as if sentiments, actions, life itself, were, before all things, to be sub jected to this very subtile legislation of fashion, which is a sort of treaty between 90 OF GERMANY. the self-love of individuals and that of society ; a treaty on which these several and respective vanities have erected for themselves, a republican constitution of go vernment, which pronounces the sentence of ostracism upon all that is strong and marked in human nature. These forms, these modes of agreement, light in appear ance and despotic at bottom, regulate the whole of existence ; they have by degrees undermined love, enthusiasm, religion, all things except that selfishness which cannot be reached by irony, because it exposes itself to censure, but not to ridicule. The understanding of the Germans agrees less than that of any other people with this measured frivolity ; that understanding has hardly any power over the surfaces of things ; it must examine deeply in order to compre hend ; it seizes nothing on the wing ; and it would be in vain that the Germans disencumbered themselves of the properties and ideas instilled into them at their birth ; since the loss of the substance would not render them lighter in the forms, and they would rather become Germans without worth, than amiable Frenchmen. • FOREIGNERS IMITATE THE FRENCH SPIRIT. 91 It must not be thence concluded that grace is denied them ; imagination and sensibility confer it upon them, when they resign them selves to their natural dispositions. Their gaiety, and gaiety they possess, particu larly in Austria, has not the smallest re semblance to the gaiety of the French. The Tyrolese farces by which at Vienna the great are equally amused with the vulgar, are much more nearly allied to Italian buffoonery than to French ridicule ; they consist in comic scenes of strong character, representing hu man nature with truth, but not social man ners with delicacy. Yet still this gaiety, such as it is, is worth more than the imita tion of a foreign grace : such grace may well be dispensed with ; but perfection, in whatever style, is still something. " The " ascendant obtained by French manners has perhaps prepared foreigners to believe them " invincible." * There is but one method of resisting this influence ; and that consists in very decided national habits and charac ter. From the moment that men seek to resemble the French, they must yield the "" >
- Suppressed by the police.
92 OF GERMANY. advantage to them in every thing. The English, not fearing the ridicule of which the French are masters, have sometimes ventured to pay them in kind ; and, so far from English manners appearing ungraceful even in France, the French, so generally imitated, became imitators in their turn, and England was for a long time as much the fashion at Paris, as Paris itself in all other parts of the world. The Germans might create to themselves a society of a most instructive cast, and al together analogous to their taste and cha racter. Vienna being the capital of Ger many, that place in which all the comforts and ornaments of life are most easily to be found collected, might in this respect have rendered great services to the German spirit, if foreigners had not almost exclu sively presided at all their assemblies. The generality of Austrians, who knew not how to conform to the French language and cus toms, lived entirely out of the world ; from whence it resulted that they were never softened by the conversation of women, but remained at once shy and unpolished , de spising every thing that is called grace, and • FOREIGNERS IMITATE THE FRENCH SPIRIT. 93 yet secretly fearing to appear deficient in it : they neglected the cultivation of their un derstandings under the pretext of military occupations, and yet they often neglected those occupations also, because they never heard any thing that might make them feel the value and the charm of glory. They thought they showed themselves good Ger mans in withdrawing from a society in which foreigners had the lead, yet never , dreamed of establishing another, capable of improving the understanding and unfolding the mind. The Poles and Russians, who constituted the charm of society at Vienna, spoke no thing but French, and contributed to the disuse of the German language. The Polish women have very seductive manners ; they unite an Oriental imagination with the suppleness, and the vivacity of France. Yet, even among the Slavonic, the most flexible of all nations, the imitation of the French style is often very fatiguing ; the French verses of the Poles and Russians re semble, with some few exceptions, the Latin verses of the middle age. A foreign lan guage is always, in many respects, a dead $ 94 OF GERMANY:
( language. French verses are at the same time the easiest and the most difficult to be written. To tie one to another, hemistichs, which are so much in the habit of being found together, is but a labour of the me mory; but it is necessary to have breathed the air of a country, to have thought, en joyed, or suffered , in its language, in order to describe poetically what is felt . Foreign ers, who are above all things proud of speak ing French correctly, dare not form any opinion of our writers otherwise than as they are guided by the authority of literary crítics, lest they should pass for not under standing them. They boast the style more than the ideas, because ideas belong to all nations, and the French alone are judges of style in their own language. If you meet a true Frenchman, you take a pleasure in speaking with him on subjects of French literature ; you find yourself at home, and talk about your mutual affairs : but a foreigner Frenchified does not allow himself a single opinion or phrase not strictly orthodox ; and it is most frequently an obsolete orthodoxy that he takes for the current opinion of the day. In 7 In many FOREIGNERS IMITATE THE FRENCH SPIRIT. 95 northern countries, people still repeat anec dotes of the court of Louis the Fourteenth . Foreigners, who imitate the French, relate the quarrels of Mademoiselle de Fontanges and Madame de Montespan, with a pro lixity of detail which would be tedious even in recording a transaction of yesterday. This erudition of the boudoir, this obstinate attachment to some received ideas, for no other reason than the difficulty of laying in a new stock of provisions of the same nature, all this is tiresome and even hurtful ; for the true strength of a country is its natural character ; and the imitation of fo reigners, under all circumstances whatever, is a want of patriotism. Frenchmen of sense, when they travel, are not pleased with finding among foreigners the spirit of Frenchmen, and on the con trary look out for those who unite national to individual originality. French milliners export to the colonies, to Germany, and to the north, what they commonly call their shop-fund (fonds de boutique) ; yet they carefully collect the national habits of the same countries, and look upon them, with good reason, as very elegant models. What • 9 96 OF GERMANY. is true with regard to dress, is equally true with regard to the understanding. We have a cargo of madrigals, calembourgs, vaude villes, which we pass off to foreigners when they are done with in France ; but the French themselves value nothing in foreign literature but its indigenous beauties. There is no nature, no life , in imitation ; and, in general, to all these understandings and to all these works, imitated from the French, may be applied the eulogium pronounced by Orlando in Ariosto upon his mare, while he is dragging her after him, " She possesses all the good qualities that can be imagined ; but has one fault, that she is dead." OF FOLLY AND MEDIOCRITY. 97 CHAPTER X. Of supercilious Folly, and benevolent Mediocrity. 1 INTELLECTUAL Superiority is seldom met with any where ; and for this very reason it re tains the name of superiority : thus , in order to judge of national character, we should examine the mass of the people. Men of genius are fellow citizens every where ; but, to perceive justly the difference between the French and Germans, we should take pains to understand the communities of which the two nations are composed. A Frenchman can speak, even without ideas ; a German bas always more in his head then he is able to express. We may be entertained by a Frenchman, even without understanding. He VOL. I. H 98 OF GERMANY. relates all he has done and seen, all the good that he thinks of himself, the praises he has received, the great lords he is acquainted with, the success he hopes for. A German, unless he thinks, can say nothing ; he is embarrassed by forms which he wishes to render polite, and by which he incommodes others as well as himself. In France, folly is animated, but supercilious. She boasts of not being able to comprehend, though you demand of her ever so little attention, and thinks to lessen what she does not understand, by affirming that it is obscure. The prevailing opinion of the country being that success is the criterion of every thing, even fools, in the quality of spectators, think themselves capable of influencing the intrinsic merit of things, by refusing to afford them the distinction of their applause. People of mediocrity, in Germany, are on the contrary full of good intention ; they would blush at finding themselves unable to rise to the level of the ideas of some dis tinguished writer ; and far from reckoning themselves judges, they aspire to become disciples. In France there are so many ready- made ་ OF FOLLY AND MEDIOCRITY. 99 phrases on every subject, that, with their assistance, a fool may discourse well enough for some time, and for a moment even seem a man of understanding ; in Germany, an ignorant person , never dares profess an opinion on any subject whatever with con fidence ; for no opinion being received as incontestable, you can advance none without being previously armed to defend it ; thus ordinary people are for the most part silent, and contribute nothing to the pleasure of society except the charm of good-nature. In Germany, distinguished persons only know how to talk, while in France every one is ready to bear his share in conversation. People of superior minds are indulgent in France, and severe in Germany : on the contrary French fools are malignant and jealous ; while those of Germany, however bounded in intellect, are yet able to praise and admire. The ideas circulated in Ger many on many subjects are new, and often whimsical ; from whence it follows that those who respect them appear for some time to possess a sort of borrowed under standing. In France, it is by manners that men give themselves an illusory importance. H 2 100 OF GERMANY. These manners are agreeable, but uniform ; and the discipline of fashion wears away all the variety that they might otherwise possess. A man of wit told me that one evening, at a masked ball, he walked before a look ing glass, and that, not knowing how to point himself out to himself, from the crowd of persons wearing similar dominos. with his own, he nodded his head to recog nize himself; the same may be said of the dress with which the understanding clothes itself in the world. We almost confound ourselves with others, so little is the real character shown in any of us ! Folly finds itself well off in all this confusion, and would make advantage of it by contesting the possession of real merit. Stupidity and folly are essentially different in this-stupid people voluntarily submit themselves to na ture, while fools always flatter themselves with the hope of governing in society. OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 101 CHAPTER XI. Of the Spirit of Conversation. In the east, when men have nothing to say, they smoke, and, while they are smoking, from time to time salute each other with their arms folded across their breasts as a mark of friendship ; but in the west people prefer to talk all day long, and the warmth of the soul is often dissipated in these conversations, where self-love is always on the wing to display itself, ascending to the taste of the moment, and of the circle in which it finds itself.
It seems to me an acknowledged fact, that Paris is, of all cities in the world, that in which the spirit and taste for conversation are most generally diffused ; and that dis order which they call the mal du pays, that 102 OF GERMANY. undefinable longing for our native land, which exists independently even of the friends we have left behind there, applies particularly to the pleasure of conversation which Frenchmen find no where else in the same degree as at home. Volney relates, that some French emigrants began, during the revolution, to establish a colony and clear some lands in America ; but they were con tinually quitting their work to go and talk, as they said, in town-and this town, New Orleans, was distant six hundred leagues from their place of residence . The necessity of conversation is felt by all classes of peo ple in France : speech is not there, as else where, merely the means of communicating from one to another, ideas, sentiments, and transactions ; but it is an instrument on which they are fond of playing, and which animates the spirits, like music among some people, and strong liquors among others. That sort of pleasure which is produced by an animated conversation does not pre cisely depend on the nature of that conver sation ; the ideas and knowledge which it developes do not form its principal interest ; it is a certain manner of acting upon one another, of giving mutual and instantaneous delight, of OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 103 speaking the moment one thinks, of acquir ing immediate self-enjoyment, of receiving applause without labour, of displaying the understanding in all its shades by accent, gesture, look ; of eliciting, in short, at will, the electric sparks which relieve many by the very excess of their vivacity, and serve to awaken others out of a state of painful apathy. 2 Nothing is more foreign to this talent than the character and disposition of the German intellect ; they require in all things a serious result. Bacon has said, that conver sation is not the road leading to the house, but a bye path where people walk with plea sure. The Germans give the necessary time to all things, but what is necessary to conversation is amusement ; if men pass this line, they fall into discussion, into serious argument, which is rather an useful occupation than an agreeable art, It must also be confessed that the taste for society, and the intoxication of mind which it produces, render them singularly incapable of application and study, andthat the virtues of the Germans depend perhaps in some re spects upon the very absence of this spirit. · 104 OF GERMANY. The ancient forms of politeness, still in full force almost all oyer Germany, are contrary to the ease and familiarity of conversation ; the most inconsiderable titles, which are yet the longest to be pronounced, are there bestowed and repeated twenty times at the same meal ; every dish, every glass of wine, must be offered with a sedulity and a pressing manner, which is mortally tedious to foreign ers . There is a sort of goodness at the bottom of all these usages ; but they could not subsist for an instant in a country where pleasantry may be risked without offence to susceptibility ; and yet where can be the grace and the charm of society, if it forbids that gentle ridicule which diverts the mind, and adds even to the charm of good-nature an agreeable mode of expression ? The course of ideas for the last century has been entirely directed by conversation. They thought for the purpose of speaking, and spoke for the purpose of being applauded, and whatever could not be said seemed to be somewhat superfluous in the soul. The desire of pleasing is a very agreeable dis position; yet it differs much from the ne cessity of being beloved : the desire of pleas 1 S -- OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 105 . ing renders us dependant on opinion, the necessity of being beloved sets us free from it ; we may desire to please even those whom we would injure, and this is exactly what is called coquetry ; this coquetry does not appertain exclusively to the women, there is enough of it in all forms of behaviour adopted to testify more affection than is really felt. The integrity of the Germans permits to them nothing of this sort ; they construe grace literally, they consider the charm of expression as an engagement for conduct, and thence proceeds their suscep tibility ; for they never hear a word without drawing a consequence from it, and do not conceive that speech can be treated as a liberal art, which has no other end or con sequence than the pleasure which men find in it. The spirit of conversation is some times attended with the inconvenience of impairing the sincerity of character ; it is not a combined, but an unpremeditated deception. The French have admitted into it a gaiety which renders them amiable, but it is not the less certain, that all that, is most sacred in this world has been shaken to its centre by grace, at least by that sort 106 OF GERMANY. of grace that attaches importance to nothing, and turns all things into ridicule. The bons mots of the French have been quoted from one end of Europe to the other. At all times they have displayed the bril liancy of their merit, and solaced their griefs in a lively and agreeable manner ; at all times they have stood in need of one another, as alternate hearers and admirers ; at all times they have excelled in the art of know ing where to speak and where to be silent, when any commanding interest triumphs over their natural liveliness ; at all times they have possessed the talent of living fast, of cutting short long discourses, of giving way to their successors who are desirous of speak ing in their turn ; at all times, in short, they have known how to take from thought and feeling no more than is necessary to animate conversation, without fatiguing the weak interest which men generally feel for one another. The French are in the habit of treating their distresses lightly from the fear of fatiguing their friends ; they guess the ennui that they would occasion by that which they find themselves capable of sustaining ; they OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 107 hasten to demonstrate an elegant carelessness about their own fate, in order to have the honour, instead of receiving the example of it. The desire of appearing amiable induces men to assume an expression of gaiety, what ever may be the inward disposition of the soul ; the physiognomy by degrees influences the feelings, and that which we do for the purpose of pleasing others soon takes off the edge of our own individual sufferings . 66 "A sensible woman has said, that Paris is, of all the world, the place where men can " most easily dispense with being happy ; "* it is in this respect that it is so convenient to the unfortunate human race : but nothing can metamorphose a city of Germany into Paris, or cause the Germans, without entirely de stroying their own individuality, to receive, like us, the benefits of dissipation. If they succeeded in escaping from themselves, they would end in losing themselves altogether. The talent and habit of society conduce much to the discovery of human characters : to succeed in conversation, one must be able clearly to observe the impression which is pro ... .* Suppressed by the Literary Censorship ; because there must be happiness in Paris, where the Emperor lives. 108 OF GERMANY. duced at every moment on those in company, that which they wish to conceal or seek to ex aggerate, the inward satisfaction of some, the forced smile of others ; one may see, passing over the countenances of those who listen, half-formed censures which may be evaded by hastening to dissipate them before self love is engaged on their side. One may also behold there the first birth of approbation, which may be strengthened without however exacting from it more than it is willing to bestow. There is no arena in which vanity displays itself in such a variety of forms as in conversation. I once knew a man who was agitated by praise to such a degree, that whenever it was bestowed upon him, he exaggerated what he had just said, and took such pains to add to his success that he always ended in losing it. I never dared to applaud him, from the fear of leading him to affectation, and of his making himself ridiculous by the heartiness of his self-love. Another was so afraid of the appearance of wishing to display himself, that he let fall words negligently and con temptuously. His assumed indolence be trayed one more affectation only, that of 9 OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 109 pretending to have none. When vanity dis plays herself, she is good-natured ; when she hides herself, the fear of being discovered renders her sour, and she affects indifference, satiety, in short, all that can persuade other men that she has no need of them. These different combinations are amusing for the observer, and one is always astonished that self-love does not take the course, which is so simple, of naturally avowing its desire to please, and making the utmost possible use of grace and truth to attain the object. The tact which society requires, the neces sity which it imposes of calling different minds into action, all this labour of thoughts in its relations with men would be certainly useful to the Germans in many respects, by giving them more knowledge of the world, more nicety and dexterity ; but in this talent ofconversation there is a sort ofaddress which always takes away something from the inflex ibility of morality ; if we could altogether dispense with the art of managing men, the human character would certainly be the better in respect of greatness and energy. The French are the most skilful diploma- | tists in Europe ; and the very same persons 110 OF GERMANY. whom the world accuses of indiscretion and impertinence know better than all the world besides how to keep a secret, and how to win those whom they find worth the trouble. They never displease others but when they choose to do so, that is to say, when their vanity conceives that it will be better served by a contemptuous than by an obliging deportment. The spirit of conversation has remarkably called out in the French the more serious spirit of political negotiation ; there is no foreign embassador that can con tend with them in this department, unless, absolutely setting aside all pretension to finesse, he goes straight forward in business, like one who fights without knowing the art of fencing. The relations of the different classes with one another were also well calculated to develope in France, the sagacity, extent, and decencies, of the spirit of society. The distinction of ranks was not marked in a po sitive manner, and there was constant room for ambition in the undefined space which was open to all by turns to conquer or lose. The rights of the tiers- état, of the parlia ments, of the noblesse, even the power of 12 OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 111. the king, nothing was determined by an invariable rule ; all was lost, as may be said, in the address of conversation ; the most serious difficulties were evaded by the. delicate variations of words and manners, and it seldom happened to any either to offend another, or to yield to him ; both extremes were avoided so care fully. The great families had also among themselves pretensions never decided and always secretly understood, and this un certainty excited vanity much more than any fixed distinction of ranks could have done it was necessary to study all that composed the existence of man or wo man, in order to know the sort of con sideration that was due to them. In the habits, customs, and laws of France there has always been something arbitrary in every sense ; and thence it happens that the French have possessed, if we may use the expression, so great a pedantry of frivolity : the prin cipal foundations not being secured, con sistency was to be given to the smallest details. In England, originality is allowed to individuals, so well regulated is the mass ! In France, the spirit of imitation is like a 鼻 112 OF GERMANY. bond of society ; and it seems as if every thing would fall into confusion if this bond did not supply the instability of establishments . In Germany every body keeps his rank, his place in society, as if it were his established post, and there is no occasion for dexterous turns, parentheses, half-expres sions, to show the advantages of birth or of title which a man thinks he possesses above his neighbour. Good company in Germany, is the court ; in France it con sisted of all who could put themselves on an equality with the court ; and every man might hope it, and every man also fear that he may never attain to it. Hence it resulted that each individual wished to possess the manners of that society. In Germany you obtained admission by patent ; in France, an error of taste expelled you from it ; and men were even more eager to resemble the gens du monde than to distinguish themselves, in that same world, by their personal merit. An aristocratical ascendency, fashion, and elegance, obtained the advantage over energy, learning, sensibility, understanding itself. It said to energy,-You attach too ' / 1Y1 OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 113 much interest to persons and things :-to learning, You take up too much of my time :-to sensibility, You are too exclu sive :-to understanding, You are too indi vidual a distinction. Advantages were re quired that should depend more on man ners than ideas, and it was of more impor tance to recognize in a man the class to which he belonged than the merit he pos sessed . This sort of equality in inequality is very favourable to people of mediocrity, for it must necessarily destroy all origina lity in the mode of seeing and expressing one's self. The chosen model is noble, agreeable, and in good taste, but it is the same for all. This model is a point of re-union ; in conforming to it, every body imagines himself more associated with others. A Frenchman would grow as much tired of being alone in his opinion as of being alone in his room. The French do not deserve to be accused of flattering power from the calculations which generally inspire this flattery ; they go where all the world goes, through evil re port or good report, no matter which ; if a few make themselves pass for the mul VOL. I. I 114 OF GERMANY. titude, they are sure that the multitude will shortly follow them. The French revo lution in 1789, was effected by sending a courier from village to village to cry, " Arm yourselves for the neighbouring village " is in arms already ; " and so all the world found itself risen up against all the world, or rather against nobody. If you spread a report that such a mode of viewing things is universally received, you would obtain unanimity, in spite of private opinions ; you would then keep the secret of the comedy, for every one would in private confess that all are wrong. In secret scrutinies the depu ties have been seen to give their white or black ball contrary to their opinion, only because they believed the majority to be of different sentiments from their own, and because, as they said, they would not throw away their vote. It is by this necessity imposed in society of thinking like other people, that the con trast of courage in war and pusillanimity in civil life, so often displayed during the revolution, may be best explained . There is but one mode of thinking with respect to military courage : but public opinion 66 1 བཏུམ ཏུབ ! aA༡LaLaa OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 116 i may be bewildered as to the conduct to be pursued in political life. You are threat ened with the censure of those around you, with solitude, with desertion, if you decline to follow the ruling party ; but in the armies there is no other alternative but that of death or distinction, a dazzling si tuation for the Frenchman, who never fears. the one and passionately loves the other. Set fashion, or applause, on the side of danger, and you will see the Frenchman brave it in every form ; the social spirit exists in France from the highest to the lowest, it is necessary to hear one's self approved by one's neighbours : nobody will at any price expose himself to censure or ridicule ; for in a country where conversa tion has so much influence, the noise of words often drowns the voice of conscience. A 8 We know the story of that man who began by praising with enthusiasm an actress he had just heard ; he perceived a smile on the lips of those near him, and softened his eulogium ; the obstinate smile did not withdraw itself, and the fear of ridicule made him conclude by saying, Ma foi ! The poor devil did all that she could. The I 2 116 OF GERMANY. triumphs of pleasantry · are continually re newed in France ; at one time it is thought fit to be religious, at another, the contrary ; at one time to love one's wife, at another to appear no where in her coinpany. There have been moments even, in which men have feared to pass for idiots if they evinced the least humanity ; and this terror of ridi cule, which in the higher classes generally discovers itself only in vanity, is trans formed into ferocity in the lower. What mischief would not this spirit of imitation do among the Germans ! Their superiority consists in the independence of spirit, the love of retirement, and indivi dual originality. The French are all- pow erful only en masse, and their men of genius themselves always rest on received opinions when they mean to push onward beyond them. In short, the impatience of the French character, so attractive in conver sation, would deprive the Germans of the principal charm of their natural imagination, that calm reverie, that deep contemplation, which calls in the aid of time and perse verance, to discover all things. These are qualities almost incompatible OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 117 with vivacity of spirit ; and yet that vivacity is what above all things renders conversa tion delightful. When an argument tires, or a tale grows tedious, you are seized with I know not what impatience, similar to that which is experienced when a musician slackens the measure of an air. It is pos sible, nevertheless, to fatigue by vivacity even as much as by prolixity. I once knew a man of much understanding, but so impatient as to make all who talked with him feel the same sort of uneasiness that long-winded people experience when they perceive that they are fatiguing. This man would jump upon a chair while you were talking to him, finish your sentences for you that they might not be too long; he first made you uneasy, and ended by stun ning you : for, however quick you may be in conversation, when it is impossible to retrench any further, except upon what is necessary, thoughts and feelings oppress you for want of room to unfold them. All modes of saving time are not successful ; and a single sentence may be made tedious by leaving it full of emptiness : the talent of expressing one's thoughts with brilliancy and rapidity is that 118 OF GERMANY. which answers best in society, where there is no time to wait for any thing. No re flection, no compliance, can make people amuse themselves with what confers no amusement. The spirit of conquest and the despotism of success must be there exerted ; for the end and aim being little, you can not console yourself for reverses by the purity of your motives, and good intention goes for nothing in point of spirit, The narrative talent, one of the principal charms of conversation, is very rare in Ger many ; the hearers there are too complai sant, they do not grow tired soon enough, and the narrators, relying on their patience, are too much at ease in their recitals. In France, every speaker is an usurper sur rounded by jealous rivals , who must main tain his post by dint of success ; in Ger many, he is a lawful possessor, who may peaceably enjoy his acknowledged rights. The Germans : succeed better in poetical than in epigrammatic tales ; when the ima gination is to be addressed, one may be pleased by details which render the picture more real ; but when a bon mot is to be repeated, the preamble cannot be too much shortened. Pleasantry alleviates for a OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 119 moment the load of life : you like to see a man, your equal, playing with the burthen which weighs you down, and, animated by his example, you will soon begin to lighten it in your turn ; but when you discover effort or languor in that which ought to be only amusement, it fatigues you more than seriousness itself, where you are at least interested in the results . The honesty of the German character is perhaps an obstacle in the way of narration ; the Germans have a gaiety of disposition rather than of mind ; they are gay, as they are honest, for the satisfaction of their consciences, and laugh at what they say a long while before they have even dreamed of making others laugh at it. Nothing on the contrary is equal to the charm of a recital in the mouth of a French man of sense and taste. He foresees every thing, he manages every thing, and yet sacrifices nothing that can possibly be pro ductive of interest. His physiognomy, less marked than that of the Italians, indicates gaiety without losing any thing of the dignity of deportment and manners : he stops when 120 OF GERMANY. he likes, and never exhausts even amuse ment ; though animated, he constantly holds in his hand the reins of his judgment to conduct him with safety and dispatch ; in a short time also his hearers join in the con versation ; he then calls out, in his turn, those who have been just applauding him, and suffers not a single happy expression to drop without taking it up, not an agreeable pleasantry without perceiving it ; and, for a moment at least, they delight and enjoy one another, as if all were concord, union, and sympathy in the world. The Germans would do well to avail them selves, in essential matters, of some of the advantages of the spirit of society in France : the Germans might learn from the French to shew themselves less irritable in little cir cumstances, that they may reserve all their strength for great ones ; they might learn from the French not to confound obstinacy with energy, rudeness with firmness ; they might , also, since they are capable of the entire sacrifice of their lives, abstain from re covering them in detail by a sort of minute personality which even selfishness itself would not admit ; to conclude, they might draw OF THE SPIRIT OF CONVERSATION. 121 out of the very art of conversation the habit of shedding over their literary compositions that luminous effect which would bring them within the comprehension of most men, that talent of abridgement, invented by people who practise amusement much more than business, and that respect for certain decen cies, which does not require any sacrifice of nature, but only the management of the imagination. They would perfect their style of writing by some of the observa tions to which the talent of conversation gives birth : but they would be in the wrong to pretend to that talent such as the French possess it. Agreat city that might serve as a rallying point would be useful to Germany in col lecting together the means of study, in augmenting the resources of the arts, and exciting emulation ; but if this metropolis should bring forth in the Germans the taste for the pleasures of society, in all their elegance, they would thus become losers in that scrupulous integrity, that labour in solitude, that hardy indepen dence, which distinguishes their literary 122 OF GERMANY. and philosophical career; in short they would change their meditative habits for an external vivacity, of which they would never acquire the grace and the dexte rity. OF THE GERMAN LANGUAGE, 123 f CHAPTER XII. Of the German Language, in its Effects upon the Spirit of Conversation. ININ studying the spirit and character of a language, we learn the philosophical history of the opinions, manners, and habits of nations ; and the modifications to which lan guage submits, ought to throw considerable light on the progress of thought: but such an analysis would necessarily be very meta physical, and would require a great deal of learning that is almost always wanting to us in the understanding of foreign languages, and veryfrequently in that of our own. We must then confine ourselves to the general im pression, produced by the idiom of a people in its present existing state. The French, 124 OF GERMANY. having been spoken more generally than any other European dialect, is at once po lished by use and sharp-edged for effect. No language is more clear and rapid, none in dicates more lightly or explains more clearly what you wish to say. The German accom modates itself much less easily to the pre cision and rapidity of conversation. By the very nature of its grammatical construction, the sense is usually not understood till the end of the sentence. Thus the pleasure of interrupting, which, in France, gives so much animation to discussion, and forces one to utter so quickly all that is of impor tance to be heard, this pleasure cannot exist in Germany ; for the beginnings of sentences signify nothing without the end, every man must be left in possession of all the space he chooses to demand : this is better for the purpose of getting to the bottom of things ; it is also more civil, but it is less animated. The politeness of the Germans is more sincere, but less varied than that of the French ; it has more consideration for rank, and more precaution in all things. In France, they flatter more than they hu OF THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 125 mour, and, as they possess the art of ex pressing every thing, they approach much more willingly to the most delicate subjects. The German is a language very brilliant in´ poetry, very copious in metaphysics, but very positive in conversation. The French language, on the contrary, is truly rich only in those turns of expression which designate the most complicated relations of society . It is poor and circumscribed in all that de pends on imagination and philosophy. The Germans are more afraid of giving pain than desirous of pleasing. Thence it follows that they have as far as possible subjected their politeness to rule ; and their language, so bold in their works, is singularly enslaved in conversation, by all the forms with which it is loaded. " 1° I remember having been present, in Sax ony, at a metaphysical lecture given by a ce lebrated philosopher who always quoted the Baron de Leibnitz, and never did he suffer himself to be led in the ardour of haranguing. to suppress the title of this Baron, which suited but badly with the name of a great man, who died nearly a century ago . The German is better adapted for poetry 126 OF GERMANY. than prose, and its prose is better in writing than in speaking ; it is an instrument which answers very well when one desires to de scribe or to unfold every thing ; but we can not, in German, as in French, glide over the different subjects that present themselves . To endeavour to adapt German phrases to the train of French conversation, is to strip them of all grace and dignity . The great merit of the Germans is that of filling up their time well ; the art of the French is to make it pass unnoticed . Though the meaning of German periods is often not to be caught till the end, the construction does not always admit of a phrase being terminated by its most striking expression ; and yet this is one of the great means of producing effect in conversation . The Germans seldom understand what we call bons mots : it is the substance of the thought itself, not the brilliancy commu nicated to it, that is to be admired. The Germans imagine that there is a sort of quackery in a brilliant expression, and prefer the abstract sentiment, because it is more scrupulous and approaches nearer to the very essence of truth ; but conversation OF THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 127 ought to give no trouble either in under standing or speaking. From the moment that the subject of discourse ceases to bear on the common interests of life, and that we enter into the sphere of ideas, conversa tion in Germany becomes too metaphysical ; there is not enough intermediate space be tween the vulgar and the sublime ; and yet it is in that intermediate space that the art of conversation finds exercise. 1 The German language possesses a gaiety peculiar to itself ; society has not rendered it timid, and good morals have left it pure : yet it is a national gaiety, within reach of all classes of people. The grotesque sound of the words, their antiquated naïveté, com municate something of the picturesque to. pleasantry, from which the common people can derive amusement equally with those of the higher orders. The Germans are less restricted in their choice of expressions than we are, because their language not having been so frequently employed in the conversation of the great world, it is not, like ours, composed of words which a mere accident, an application, or an allusion may render ridiculous ; of words, in short, which, · 9 128 OF GERMANY. having gone through all the adventures of society, are proscribed , unjustly perhaps, but yet so that they can never again be admitted. Anger is often expressed in German, but they have not made it the weapon of raillery, and the words which they make use of are still in all their force and all their direct ness of signification ; this is an additional facility : but on the other hand, one can express with the French language a thou sand nice observations, a thousand turns of address, of which the German is till now incapable. We should compare ourselves with ideas in German, with persons in French ; the Ger man may assist us in exploring, the French brings us directly to the end ; the one should be used in painting nature, the other in painting manners. Goëthe, in his romance of Wilhelm Meister, makes a German woman say that she perceives her lover wishes to abandon her because he writes to her in . French. There are in fact many phrases in our language by which we may speak with out saying any thing, by which we may give hopes without promising, and promise without binding. The German is less flexible, 12 OF THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 129 and it does well to remain so : for nothing inspires greater disgust than their Teutonic tongue when it is perverted to the purposes of falsehood, of whatever nature it may be. Its prolix construction, its multiplied con sonants, its learned grammar, refuse to allow it any grace in suppleness ; and it may be said to rise up in voluntary resistance to the intention of him who speaks it, from the moment that he designs to employ it in be traying the interests of truth. VOL. I. K 130 OF GERMANY. Ş CHAPTER XIII. Of Northern Germany. THE first impressions that are received on arriving in the north of Germany, above all in the middle of the winter, are extremely gloomy ; and I am not surprised that these impressions have hindered most Frenchmen, who have been banished to this country, from observing it without prejudice. The frontier of the Rhine has something solemn in it. One fears, in crossing it, to hear this terrible sentence,-You are out ofFrance. -It is in vain that the understanding would pass an impartial judgement on the land that has given us birth ; our affections never detach themselves from it ; and, when we are forced to quit it, existence seems to be OF NORTHERN GERMANY. 131 torn up by the roots, and we become strangers to ourselves . The most simple habits as well as the most intimate rela tions, the most important interests as well as the most trifling enjoyments, all once centred in our native country, and all now belong to it no more. We meet nobody who can speak to us of times past, nobody to attest to us the identity of former days with those that are present ; our destiny begins again without the confi dence of our early years being renewed : we change our world, without experiencing any change in our heart. Thus banish ment operates as a sentence of self sur vival ; our adieus, our separations, all seem like the moment of death itself, and yet we assist at them with all the energies of life full within us. I was, six years ago, upon the banks of the Rhine, waiting for the vessel that was to convey me to the opposite shore ; the weather was cold, the sky obscure, and all seemed to announce to me some fatal pre sage. When the soul is violently disturbed by sorrow, we can hardly persuade ourselves that nature herself is indifferent to it ; men 1 K 2 132 OF GERMANY. may be permitted to attribute some in fluence to their griefs ; it is not pride, it is confidence in the pity of heaven. I was uneasy about my children, though they were not yet of an age to feel those emotions of the soul, which cast terror upon all surrounding objects. My French servants grew impatient at German slug gishness, and were surprised at not making themselves understood in the language which they imagined to be the only one ad mitted in all civilized countries. There was an old German woman in the passage boat, sitting in a little cart, from which she would not alight even to cross the river. " You are very quiet, " I said to her-"Yes" answered she, why should " I make a noise ?" These simple words struck me ! Why, in truth, should we make a noise ? But even were entire generations to pass through life in silence, still misery and death would not the less await them, or be the less able to reach them.
66 On reaching the opposite shore, I heard the horns of the postilions, seeming by their harsh and discordant tones to announce a sad OF NORTHERN GERMANY. 138 departure for a sad abode. The earth was covered with snow ; the houses bored with little windows, out of which peeped the heads of some inhabitants, disturbed by the sound of carriage-wheels in the midst of their monotonous employments ; a sort of contrivance for moving the bar at the turnpike dispenses with the ne cessity of the toll-gatherer's leaving his house, to receive the toll from travellers. All is calculated for immobility ; and the man who thinks, and he whose existence is merely material, both are alike insensible to all external distraction. Fields deserted, houses blackened by smoke, gothic churches, are all so many preparatives for stories of ghosts and witches. The commercial cities of Ger many are large and well built ; but they afford no idea of what constitutes the glory and interest of the country, its lite rary and philosophical spirit. Mercantile interests are enough to unfold the under standing of the French, and in France some amusing society may still be met with in a town merely commercial ; but the Ger mans, eminently capable of abstract studies, 134 OF GERMANY. treat business when they employ them selves about it, with so much method and heaviness, that they seldom collect from it any general ideas whatever. They carry into trade the honesty which distinguishes them ; but they give themselves up so en tirely to what they are about, that they seek in society nothing more than a jovial relaxation, and indulge themselves, now and then, in a few gross pleasantries, only to divert themselves. Such pleasantries overwhelm the French with sadness ; for they resign themselves much more willingly to grave and monotonous dulness, than to that witty sort of dulness which comes, slowly and familiarly, clapping its paws on your shoulder. The Germans have great universality of spirit in literature and in philosophy, but none whatever in business . They always consider it partially, and employ themselves with it in a manner almost mechanical. It is the contrary in France : the spirit of business is there much more enlarged, and universality is admitted neither in literature nor in philosophy. If a learned man were a poet, or a poet learned, he would become 4 OF NORTHERN GERMANY. 135 suspected among us, both by learned men and poets ; but it is no rare thing to meet in the most simple merchant, with luminous perceptions on the political and military interests of his country. From thence it follows, that in France there are many men of wit, and a smaller number of people of reflection. In France, they study men, in Germany, books. Ordinary faculties are sufficient to interest one in speaking of men; but it requires almost genius itself to discover a soul and an impulse in books. Germany can interest only those who employ themselves about past events, and abstract ideas. The present and the real belong to France, and, until a new order of things shall arise, she does not appear disposed to renounce those de partments. I think I am not endeavouring to conceal the inconveniences of Germany. Even those small towns of the north, where we meet with men of such lofty conceptions, often present no kind of amusement, no theatre, little society ; time falls, drop by drop, and no sound disturbs the reflections of so litude. The smallest towns in England 136 OF GERMANY. partake of the character of a free state, in sending their deputies to treat of the interests of the nation . The smaller towns of France bear some analogy to the capital, the centre of so many wonders. Those of Italy rejoice in the bright sky and the fine arts, which shed their rays over all the country. In the north of Ger many, there is no representative govern ment, no great metropolis ; and the seve rity of the climate, the mediocrity of fortune, and the seriousness of character, would combine to render existence very irksome, if the force of thought had not set itself free from all these insipid and narrowing circumstances. The Germans have found the means of creating to them selves a republic of letters, at once ani mated and independent. They have sup plied the interests of events by the interest of ideas. They can do without a centre, because all tend to the same object, and their imagination multiplies the small num ber of beauties which art and nature are able to afford them. The citizens of this ideal republic, dis engaged for the most part from all sort of OF NORTHERN GERMANY. 137 connexion either with public or private business, work in the dark like miners ; and, placed like them in the midst of buried treasures, they silently dig out the intellectual riches of the human race. 138 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XIV. Saxony. SINCE the reformation, the princes of the house of Saxony have always granted to letters the most noble of protections, in dependence. It may be said without fear, that in no country of the earth, does there exist such general instruction as in Saxony and in the north of Germany. It is there that Protestantism had its birth, and the spirit of inquiry has there maintained itself ever since in full vigour. During the last century, the electors of Saxony have been Catholics ; and though they have remained faithful to the oath which obliged them to respect the worship of their subjects, this difference of religion SAXONY. 139 between prince and people has given less of political unity to the state. The electors , kings of Poland, were more attached to the arts than to literature, to which, though they did not molest it, they were strangers. Music is generally cultivated throughout Saxony; in the gallery of Dresden are col lected together chefs- d'œuvre for the imi tation of artists. The face of nature, in the neighbourhood of the capital, is ex tremely picturesque, but society does not afford there higher pleasures than in the rest of Germany ; the elegance of a court is wanting; its ceremoniousness only finds an easy establishment. From the quantity of works that are sold at Leipsic, we may judge of the number of readers of German publications ; artizans of all classes, even stone-cutters, are often to be seen resting from their labours with a book in their hands. It cannot be imagined in France to what a degree knowledge is diffused over Germany. I have seen innkeep ers, and turnpikemen, well versed in French literature. In the very villages we meet with professors of Greek and Latin. There is not a small town without a decent library ; 12 140 OF GERMANY. " and almost every place boasts of some men worthy of remark, for their talents or infor mation. If we were to set ourselves about comparing, in this respect, the French pro vinces with Germany, we should be apt to believe that the two nations were three cen turies distant from each other. Paris, uniting in its bosom the whole flower of the Empire, takes from the remainder every sort of interest. Picard and Kotzebue have composedtwo very pretty pieces, both entitled The Coun try Town (La Petite Ville) . Picard repre sents the provincials as incessantly aping Parisian manners, and Kotzebue the citizens of his little community, delighted with and proud of the place they inhabit, which they believe to be incomparable. The different nature of the ridicule gives a good idea of the difference of manners. In Germany, every residence is an empire to its inhabi tant ; his imagination , his studies, or perhaps his mere good-nature, aggrandize it before his eyes ; every body knows how to make the best of himself in his little circle. The • importance they attach to every thing affords matter of pleasantry ; but this very impor SAXONY. 141 tance sets a value upon small resources. In France, nobody is interested out of Paris ; and with reason, for Paris is all France ; and one who has lived only in the country can have not the slightest notion of that which characterises this illus trious nation. The distinguished men of Germany, not being brought together in the same place, seldom see each other, and communicate only by writing; every one makes his own road, and is continually discovering new districts in the vast region of antiquity, metaphysics, and science. What is called study in Germany is truly admirable : fifteen ⠀⠀ hours a day of solitude and labour, for several years in succession, appear to them a natural mode of existence ; the very ennui of society gives animation to a life of retirement. The most unbounded freedom of the press existed in Saxony ; but the Govern ment was not in any manner endangered by it, because the minds of literary men did not turn towards the examination of political institutions ; solitude tends to deli ver men up to abstract speculations or to 1 9 142 OF GERMANY. poetry one must live in the very focus of human passions to feel the desire of employing and directing them to one's own purposes. The German writers oc cupied themselves only with theoretical doctrines, with scholastic learning, and literary and philosophical research ; and the powerful of this world have nothing to apprehend from such studies ; besides, although the government of Saxony was not free by right, that is, representation, yet it was virtually free through the habits of the nation, and the moderation of its princes. The honesty of the inhabitants was such, that f a proprietor at Leipsic having fixed on an apple-tree (which he had planted on the borders of the public walk) a notice, desiring that people would not gather the fruit, not a single apple was stolen from it for ten years. I have seen this apple tree with a feeling of respect ; had it been the tree of the Hesperides, they would no more have touched its golden fruit than its blossom. . Saxony was profoundly tranquil : they sometimes made a noise there about cer 8 1 SAXONY. 143 tain ideas, but without ever thinking of applying them. One would have said that thought and action were made to have no reference to each other, and that truth, among the Germans, resem→ bled the statue of Hermes, without hands to seize, or feet to advance. Yet is there nothing so respectable as these peaceful triumphs of reflection, which continually occupied a set of insulated individuals, without wealth, without power, and con nected together only by modes of worship and thinking. In France, men never occupied them selves about abstract truths except in their relation to practice. To perfect the art of government, to encourage population by a wise political economy, such were the ob jects of philosophical labour, especially in the last century. This mode of employ ing time is also very respectable ; but, in the scale of reflection, the dignity of the human race is of greater importance than its happiness, and, still more, than its increase to multiply human births without ennobling the destiny of man is 辜 144 OF GERMANY. only to prepare a more sumptuous banquet for death. The literary towns of Saxony are those in which the most benevolence and sim plicity predominate. Every where else , literature has been considered as the appen dage of luxury ; in Germany it seems to exclude it. The tastes which it engenders produce a sort of innocence and timidity favourable to the love of domestic life ; not that the vanity of authorship is without a very marked character among the Ger mans, but it does not attach itself to the triumph of society. The most inconside rable writer looks to posterity for his reward ; and, unfolding himself at his ease in the space of boundless meditations, is less rubbed by other men, and less embittered against them. Still, there is too wide a separation in Saxony between men of let ters and statesmen, to allow the dis play of any true public spirit. From this separation it results, that among the first there is too much ignorance of affairs to permit them any ascendancy over the nation, and that the latter pride themselves ( of 1 谁 SAXONY. 146 VOL. I. in a sort of docile Machiavelism, which smiles at all generous feelings, as at the simplicity of a child, and seems to indicate to them that they are not fit for this world.
L 146 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XV. Weimar. 6. Of all the German principalities, there is none that makes us feel so much as Weimar the advantages of a small state, of which the sovereign is a man of strong under standing, and who is capable of endeavouring to please all orders of his subjects, without losing any thing in their obedience, Such a state is as a private society, where all the members are connected together by inti mate relations . The Duchess Louisa of Saxe Weimar is the true model of a woman destined by nature to the most illus trious rank ; without pretension, as without weakness, she inspires in the same degree confidence and respect ; and the heroism of WEIMAR, 147 the chivalrous ages has entered her soul without taking from it any thing of her sex's softness. The military talents of the duke are universally respected, and his lively and reflective conversation continually brings to our recollection that he was formed by the great Frederic. It is by his own and his mother's reputation that the most distinguished men of learning have been attracted to Weimar. Germany, for the first time, possessed a literary metro polis ; but, as this metropolis was at the same time only an inconsiderable town, its ascendency was merely that of superior illumination ; for fashion, which imposes uniformity in all things, could not emanate from so narrow a circle . :
$ . 尋 Herder was just dead when I arrived at Weimar ; but Wieland, Goethe, and Schiller were still there. I shall paint each of these men separately in the following sec tion : I shall paint them, above all, by their works, for their writings are the per fect resemblances of their character and conversation. This very rare concordance is a proof of sincerity : when the first object in writing is to produce an effect • L 2 148 OF GERMANY. 1 upon others, a man never displays himself to them, such as he is in reality ; but when he writes to satisfy an internal inspira tion which has obtained possession of the soul, he discovers by his works, even with out intending it, the very slightest shades of his manner of thinking and acting. The residence of country towns has al ways appeared to me very irksome. The understanding of the men is narrowed, the heart of the women frozen there ; people live so much in each other's presence that one is oppressed by one's equals ; it is no lon-. ger this distant opinion, the reverberation of which animates you from afar like the report of glory ; it is a minute inspec tion of all the actions of your life, an observation of every detail, which prevents the general character from being compre hended ; and the more you have of inde pendence and elevation of mind, the less able you are to breathe amidst so many little impediments. This painful constraint did not exist at Weimar ; it was rather a large palace than a little town ; a select circle of society, which made its interest consist in the discussion of all the novel +
粤 -
+ ? WEIMAR. 149 ties of art and science : women, the ami able scholars of some superior men, were constantly speaking of the new literary works, as of the most important public events. They enjoyed the whole universe by reading and study ; they freed themselves by the enlargement of the mind from the restraint of circumstances : they forgot the private anecdotes of each individual, in habitually reflecting together on those great questions which influence the destiny com mon to all alike. And in this society there were none of those provincial wonders, who so easily mistake contempt for grace, and affectation for elegance. 密 + In the same principality, in the imme diate neighbourhood of this first literary re-union of Germany, was Jena, one of the most remarkable centres of science. Thus, in a very narrow space, there seemed to be collected together all the astonishing lights of the human understanding.. The imagination, constantly kept awake at Weimar by the conversation of poets, felt less need of outward distractions ; these distractions serve to lighten the burthen of existence, but often disperse its powers. 150 OF GERMANY. In this country residence, called a city, they led a regular, occupied, and serious life ; one might sometimes feel weary of it, but the mind was never degraded by futile and vulgar interests ; and if pleasures were wanting, the decay of faculties was at least never perceived. The only luxury of the prince is a deli cious garden ; and this popular enjoyment, which he shares in common with all the inha bitants of the place, is a possession on which he is congratulated by all. The stage, of which I shall speak in the second division of my work, is managed by the greatest poet in Germany, Goethe : and this amuse ment interests all people sufficiently to pre serve them from those assemblies which answer no other end than to bring concealed ennui to light. Weimar was called the Athens of Germany, and it was, in reality, the only place where the fine arts inspired a national interest, which served for a bond of fraternal union among different ranks of society. A liberal court habitually sought the acquaintance of men of letters ; and literature gained conside rably in the influence of good taste which WEIMAR. 151 presided there. A judgment might be formed, from this little circle, of the good effect which might be produced throughout Germany by such a mixture, if generally adopted.
22 152 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XVI. Prussia. 1 In order to be acquainted with Prussia, you must study the character of Frede ric II. This empire, disfavoured by nature, and which has become a power only through the influence of a warlike master, was created by an individual. In Frederic the Second we behold two distinct persons ; a German by nature, and a Frenchman by education. All that the German effected in a German nation has left durable traces ; all that the Frenchman attempted has failed of producing fruit. Frederic the Second was fashioned by the French philosophy of the eighteenth century : this philosophy does injury to nations, when it dries up in them the PRUSSIA. 138 1 source of enthusiasm : but where there exists such a thing as an absolute monarch, it is to be wished that liberal principles may temper in him the action of despo tism . Frederic introduced into the north of Germany the liberty of thinking ; the re formation had already introduced there the spirit of inquiry, though not of toleration ; and, by a singular contradiction, inquiry was only permitted in imperiously pre scribing by anticipation the result of that inquiry. Frederic caused to be held in honour the liberty of speaking and writing, not only by means of those poignant and witty pleasantries which have so much ' effect on men when proceeding from the lips of a king ; but also, still more pow erfully, by his example ; for he never pu nished those who libelled him whether in speech or by publication, and he displayed in almost all his actions the philosophy whose spirit he professed. He established an order and an economy in the administration, which has constituted the internal strength of Prussia, in spite of all its natural disadvantages. There was never aking who displayed so much simplicity in • 154 OF GERMANY. 7 { his private life and even in his court : he thought himself bound to spare as much as possible the wealth of his subjects . He entertained on all subjects a feeling of jus tice which the misfortunes of his youth and the severity of his father had engraved on his heart : this feeling is perhaps the most rare of all a conqueror's virtues ; for they in general would rather be esteemed generous than just, because justice supposes some sort of equal relation with others. Frederic had rendered the courts of jus tice so independent, that, during his whole life, and under the reign of his successors, they have been often seen to decide in favour of the subject against the sovereign on matters relating to political interests. It is true that it would be impossible to introduce injustice into a German tribunal. The Germans are well enough disposed to make themselves systems, to abandon the care of politics to arbitrary power ; but in questions of law or administration, you cannot instil into their heads any principles but those of justice. Their very spirit of method, to say nothing of their uprightness of heart, secures equity by the د. • -PRUSSIA. 155 establishment of order in all things. Still, however, Frederic deserves praise for his integrity in the internal government of his country: and this is one of his best titles to the admiration of posterity. 1 Frederic did not possess a feeling heart, but he had goodness of disposition ; and, qualities of an universal, nature are those which are most suitable to sovereigns. Ne vertheless, this goodness of Frederic's was as dangerous as that of the lion, and one felt the talon of power in the midst of the most amiable grace and coquetry of spirit. Men of independent characters could with difficulty submit themselves to the freedom which this master, fancied he gave them, to the familiarity which he imagined that he permitted them ; and, even in their admira tion of him, they felt that they breathed more freely at a distance... T Frederic's greatest misfortune was, that he had not sufficient respect for religion or morals. His propensities were cynical, not withstanding the love of glory had given an elevation to his ideas ; his licentious mode of expressing himself on the most sacred subjects, was the cause that his very 12 ►
- "14
4 1 156 OF GERMANY. virtues failed of inspiring confidence ; they were felt and approved ; yet they were be lieved to be the virtues of calculation. Every thing in Frederic appeared necessarily to imply a political tendency ; thus, the good that he did ameliorated the state of the country, but did not improve the morality of the nation. He affected unbelief, and made a mockery of female virtue ; and nothing was so unsuitable to the German character as this manner of thinking. Fre deric, in setting his subjects free from what he called their prejudices, extinguished in them the spirit of patriotism : for, to attach inhabitants to countries naturally gloomy and barren, they must be governed by opinions and principles of great severity. In those sandy regions, where the earth produces nothing but firs and heaths, man's strength consists in his soul ; and if you take from him that which constitutes the life of this soul, his religious feelings, he will no longer feel any thing but disgust for his melancholy country. " Frederic's inclination for war may be ex cused by great political motives. His king dom, such as he received it from his father, 1 9 PRUSSIA. 157 " could not have held together ; and it was almost for its preservation that he aggrandized it. He had two millions and a half of subjects when he ascended the throne, and left six millions at his death. The need he had of an army prevented him from encouraging in the nation a public spirit of imposing energy and unity. The government of Fre deric was founded on military strength and civil justice he reconciled them to each other by his wisdom ; but it was difficult to combine two spirits of a nature so oppo site. Frederic wished his soldiers to be mere military machines, blindly actuated, and his subjects to be enlightened citizens, capable of patriotism. He did not establish in the towns of Prussia secondary authorities, municipalities such as existed in the rest of Germany, lest the immediate action of the military service might be impeded by them, and yet he wished that there should be enough of the spirit of liberty in his em pire, to make obedience appear voluntary. He wished the military state to be the first of all, since it was that which was most necessary to him ; but he would have desired that the civil state might support itself col 158 OF GERMANY. laterally with the military. Frederic, in short, desired to meet every where with assistances, and to encounter obstacles no where. The wonderful amalgamation of all classes of society is hardly to be obtained but through the influence of a system of laws, the same for all. "A man may combine op posite elements so as to make them proceed " together in the same direction, but " at his " death they are disunited ." * The ascen dant obtained by Frederic and supported by the wisdom of his successors, was even yet manifested for a time ; but in Prussia there were always to be perceived two dis tinct nations, badly united together, to form an entire one ; the army, and the civil state. The prejudices of nobility subsisted at the same time, with liberal opinions of the most decided stamp. In short, the figure of Prussia presented itself, like that of Janus, under a double face, the one mi-` litary, the other philosophical .
<a • " One of the greatest errors committed by Frederic, was that of lending himself to Suppressed by the literary police. 1 PRUSSIA. 159 Silesia had been (6 the partition of Poland. acquired by the force of arms ; Poland was a Machiavelian conquest, " and it could never be hoped that subjects so got by " slight of hand, would be faithful to the juggler who called himself their sove reign.'"*. Besides, the Germans and Sclavo nians can never unite together by indis soluble ties, and when a nation admits alien enemies into its bosom as natural sub jects, she does herself almost as much in jury as in receiving them for masters : for the political body then no longer retains that bond of union, which identifies the state and constitutes patriotic sentiment. 66 66 3 These observations respecting Prussia all bear upon the means which she possessed of maintaining and defending herself: for there was nothing in her internal government that was prejudicial to her independence or her security; in no country of Europe was knowledge held in higher honour, or in none was liberty, at least in fact, if not by law, more scrupulously respected. I did not meet, throughout Prussia, with any indivi 1
- Suppressed by the literary police.
160 OF GERMANY. dual that complained of arbitrary acts in the Government, and yet there would not have been the least danger in complaining of them; but when, in a social state, hap piness itself is only what may be called a fortunate accident, when it is not founded on durable institutions which secure to the ´human race its force and its dignity, patriot ism has little perseverance, and men easily abandon to chance the advantages which are believed to be owing to chance alone. Frederic II . one of the noblest gifts of that chance which seemed to watch over the destiny of Prussia , had known how to make himself sincerely beloved in his country, and, since he is no more, they still cherish his memory as if he were still alive. The fate of Prussia, however, has but too well taught us what is the real influence even of a great man, who, during his reign, has not disinterestedly laboured to make his country independent of his personal services : the entire nation confidently relied on its sove reign for its very principle of existence, and it seemed as if that nation itself must come to an end with him. Frederic II. would have wished to confine PRUSSIA. 161 all the literature of his dominions to French literature : he set no value on that of Germany. Doubtless it was, during his time, by many degrees short of having at tained its present distinction ; yet a German prince ought to encourage every thing Ger man. Frederic formed the project of ren dering Berlin in some respects similar to Paris, and flattered himself with having found among the French refugees some writers sufficiently distinguished to create a French world of literature. Such a hope was necessarily to be deceived ; factitious culture never prospers : some individuals may struggle against the difficulties of na ture ; but the mass always follows the bent she gives them. Frederic did a real injury to his country by proclaiming his contempt for the genius of the Germans. It has thence resulted that the Germanic body has often conceived unjust suspicions against Prussia herself. 肇 Many German writers, of deserved cele brity, made themselves known towards the end of Frederic's reign ; but the unfavour able opinion, which this great monarch had imbibed in his youth against the literature VOL. I. M
162 OF GERMANY. of his country, was never effaced ; and, a few years before his death, he composed a little work in which he proposes among other changes, to add a vowel at the end of every verb to soften the Teutonic dialect. This German in an Italian mask would pro duce the most comic effect in the world ; but no monarch, even in the east, possesses so much power as to influence in this manner, not the sense but the sound of every word that shall be pronounced throughout his dominions. Klopstock has nobly reproached Frederic with his having neglected the German muses, who, unknown to him, essayed to proclaim his glory. Frederic did not at all divine the real character of the Germans in literature and philosophy. He did not give them credit for being inventors . He wished to discipline men of letters as he did his ar mies. "We must conform ourselves " said he, in bad German, in his instructions to the academy, to the method of Boerhaave "in medicine, to that of Locke in metaphy sics, and that of Thomasius in natural philosophy ." His instructions were not followed. He never doubted that, of all 66 66 66 PRUSSIA. 163 men, the Germans were those who were least capable of being subjected to the routine of letters and philosophy: nothing announced in them that boldness which they have since displayed in the field of abstraction . Frederic considered his subjects as stran gers, and the Frenchmen of genius as his countrymen. Nothing, it must be confessed, is more natural than that he should have let himself be seduced by whatever was brilliant and solid in the French writers of this epoch : nevertheless Frederic would have contribu ted still more effectually to the glory of his country, if he had understood and develop ped the faculties peculiar to the nation he governed. But how resist the influence of his times, and where is the man whose genius itself is not, in many respects, the work of the age he lives in ? M & 7. 164 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XVII. Berlin. 1 BERLIN is a large city, with very broad streets, perfectly straight, the houses hand some, and the general appearance regular : but, as it has been but lately rebuilt, it dis plays no traces of ancient times. Not one Gothic monument remains amidst its modern habitations ; and nothing of the antique in terrupts the uniformity of this newly created , country. What can be better, it will be said, either for buildings or for institutions, than not to be encumbered with ruins ? I feel that, in America, I should love new cities and new laws : there, nature and li berty speak so immediately to the soul, as to leave no want of recollections ; but, in BERLIN. 165 this old world of ours, the past is needful to us. A Berlin, an entirely modern city, beautiful as it is, makes no serious impression ; it dis covers no marks of the history of the coun try, or of the character of its inhabitants, and its magnificent new built houses seem destined only for the convenient assemblage of pleasures and industry. The finest palaces in Berlin are built of brick ; hardly any stone is to be found even in its triumphal arches. The capital of Prussia resembles Prussia itself ; its buildings and establish ments are of the age of man, and no more, because a single man was their founder. 3 The court, over which a beautiful and virtuous queen presides, was at once impos ing and simple ; the royal family, which threw itself voluntarily into society, knew how to mix with dignity among the nation. at large, and became identified in all hearts with their native country. The King had found the means of fixing at Berlin J. de Müller, Ancillon, Fichte, Humboldt, Hufe land, a multitude of men distinguished in different ways ; in short, all the elements of a delightful society and of a powerful nation 166 OF GERMANY. were there ; but these elements were not yet combined or united together. Genius was attended with much more success, however, at Berlin than at Vienna : the hero of the nation, Frederic, having been a man of uncommon, brilliancy, the reflec tion of his name still inspired a love for every thing that resembled him. Maria Theresa did not give a similar impulse to the people of Vienna, and whatever, in Joseph, bore the least appearance of genius was sufficient to disgust them with it. No spectacle in all Germany was equal to that which Berlin presented. This town, si tuated in the centre of the north of Germany, may be considered as its focus of illumination. Sciences and letters are cultivated there ; and at dinners both ministerial and private, where the men meet together, the separa tion of ranks, so prejudicial to Germany, is not rigidly enforced, but people of talent of all classes are collected . This happy mixture is not yet, however, extended to the society of the women : there are among them some whose talents and accomplish ments attract every thing that is distin guished to their circles ; but, generally BERLIN. 167 F speaking, at Berlin as well as throughout the rest of Germany, female society is not well amalgamated with that of the men. The great charm of social life , in France , consists in the art of perfectly reconciling all the advantages, which the wit of the men and women united can confer upon conver sation. At Berlin, the men rarely converse except with each other ; the military condi tion gives them a sort of rudeness, which prevents them from taking any trouble about the society of women. When there are, as in England, great political interests to be discussed , the so cieties of men are always animated by a noble feeling common to all ; but in coun tries where there is no representative go vernment, the presence of the women is necessary to preserve all the sentiments of delicacy and purity, without which the love. of the beautiful must perish of itself. The influence of women is yet more salutary to the soldier than to the citizen ; the empire of law can subsist without them, much better than that of honour : for they can alone preserve the spirit of chivalry in a monarchy purely military. Ancient France owed all 168 OF GERMANY. her splendour to this potency of public opinion, of which female ascendancy was the cause. Society at Berlin consisted only of a very small number of men, a circumstance which almost always spoils the members of it by depriving them of the anxiety and of the necessity to please. Officers, who obtained leave of absence to pass a few months in town, sought nothing there but the dance or the gaming table . The mixture of two languages was detrimental to conversation, and the great assemblies at Berlin afforded no higher interest than those at Vienna ; or rather, in point of manners, there was more of the custom of the world at the latter than at the former of those capitals. Not withstanding this, the liberty of the press, the assemblage of men of genius, the know ledge of literature and of the German lan guage, which had been generally diffused of late, contributed to render Berlin the real metropolis of modern, of enlightened Ger many. The French refugees somewhat weakened that entirely German impulse of which Berlin is susceptible ; they still pre served a superstitious reverence for the age BERLIN. 169 of Louis XIV.; their ideas respecting lite rature became faded and petrified at a dis tance from the country which gave them birth ; yet in general Berlin would have assumed a great ascendancy over public spirit in Germany, if there had not still continued to exist (I must repeat it) a feel ing of resentment for the contempt which Frederic had evinced towards the German nation.
1 The philosophic writers have often in dulged unjust prejudices against Prussia ; they chose to see in her nothing but one vast mi litary fortification, and yet it was in this very point of view that she was least worthy of observation : the interest which this coun try really deserved to excite, consisted in the illumination , the spirit of justice, and the sentiments of independence, which are to be met with in a number of individuals of all classes ; but the bond of union of these noble qualities had not yet been formed. The newly constructed state could derive no security, either from duration or from the character of the materials which composed it. The humiliating punishments generally re sorted to among the German soldiery, stifled 170 OF GERMANY. the sentiments of honour in the minds of the soldiers. Military habits have rather injured than assisted the warlike spirit of the Prussians : these habits were founded on those ancient maxims which separated the army from the body of the nation, while in our days it has been discovered that there is no real strength except in national charac ter. This character, in Prussia, is more noble and more exalted than late events. might lead us to imagine ; " and the ardent " heroism of the unhappy Prince Louis ought "still to shed some glory over his compa " nions in arms. "*
- Suppressed by the literary police.
OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES, 171 CHAPTER XVIII. Of the German Universities. ALL the north of Germany is filled with the most learned universities in Europe. In no country, not even in England, have the people so many means of instructing them selves, and of bringing their faculties to per fection. How is it then that the nation is wanting in energy, that it appears generally dull and confined, even while it contains within itself a small number at least, of men, who are the most intellectual in all Europé? It is to the nature of its government, not to education, that this singular contrast must be attributed . Intellectual education is per fect in Germany, but every thing there passes into a theory : practical education depends · ↓ 9 172 OF GERMANY. solely on things actually existing ; it is by action alone that the character acquires that firmness which is necessary to direct the con duct of life . Character is an instinct ; it has more alliance with nature than the un derstanding, and yet circumstances alone give men the opportunity of developing it. The government is the real instructor of the people ; and public education itself, however beneficial, may create men of letters, but not citizens, warriors, or states men. In Germany, the genius of philosophy goes further than any where else ; nothing arrests its course ; and even the want of a political career, so fatal to the mass, affords a freer scope to the thinking part of the nation. But there is an immense distance between the first and second orders of genius, be cause there is no interest, no object of ex ertion, for men who do not rise to the ele vation of the most rash conceptions, In Germany, a man who is not occupied with the comprehension of the whole universe, has really nothing to do. 1 The German universities possess an ancient reputation of a date several ages antecedent OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 178 to the reformation . Since that epoch, the protestant universities have been incontes tably superior to the catholic, and the literary glory of Germany depends alto gether upon these institutions. * + The English universities have singularly contributed to diffuse among the people of England that knowledge of ancient lan guages and literature, which gives to their orators and statesmen an information so liberal and so brilliant . It is a mark of good taste to be acquainted with other things besides matters of business, when one is thoroughly acquainted with them ; and, besides, the eloquence of free nations attaches itself to the history of the Greeks and Romans, as to that of ancient fellow countrymen. But the German universities, although founded on principles analogous to those of Oxford and Cambridge, yet • A sketch of these institutions is presented to us in a work on the subject, just published by M. de Villers, an author, who is always found at the head of all noble and generous opinions ; who seems called, by the elegance of his mind, and the depth of his studies, to be the repre sentative of France in Germany, and of Germany in France. 174 OF GERMANY. differ from them in many respects : the multitude of students assembled together at Göttingen, Halle, Jena, &c. formed a kind of free body in the state : the rich and poor scholars were distinguished from each other only by personal merit ; and the strangers who repaired from all parts of the world submitted themselves with pleasure to an equality which natural su periority alone could disturb . There was independance, and even mili tary spirit among the students ; and if in leaving the university, they had been able to devote themselves to the interests of the public, they had received an educa tion very favourable to energy of character ; but they returned to the monotonous and domestic habits which prevail in Germany, and lost by degrees the vigour and the resolution, which their university life had inspired. They retained nothing of it , but a stock of valuable and very extensive information. 1 In every German university, several pro fessors concurred together in each indivi dual branch of instruction ; thus the mas ters themselves imbibed a principle of emu OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 175 lation, from the interest which they felt in attaining a superiority over each other in the number of scholars they attracted. Those who adopted such or such particular course, medicine, law, &c. found them→ selves naturally impelled to require infor mation on other subjects ; and thence fol lows the universality of acquirements which is to be remarked in almost all the well informed men of Germany. The univer sities had a separate property in their pos sessions like the clergy ; they had a juris diction peculiar to themselves ; and it was a noble idea of our ancestors, to lay open the bounds of instruction in all things. Mature age can submit itself to circum stances ; but at the entrance into life at least a young man should draw all his ideas from an uncorrupted source. The study of languages, which forms the basis of instruction in Germany, is much more favourable to the progress of the faculties in infancy, than that of the mathematics or of the physical sciences. Pascal, that great geometrician whose pro found reflection spread its wings over the science which chiefly occupied his atten 176 OF GERMANY. .f tion, as over all the other sciences, has himself acknowledged the defects insepara ble from minds at first formed by the mathematics : this study, in early life, exercises only the mechanism of the un derstanding; children who are employed so , early in calculating, lose all that seed of the imagination which is then so fine and so fertile, and do not acquire in its room any transcendent correctness of mind : for arithmetic and algebra are confined to the making us acquainted in a thousand dif ferent forms with propositions which are always the same. The problems of life are more complicated ; none are positive, none are absolute ; we must guess, we must choose, by the help of perceptions and sup positions which have no relation to the infallible progress of calculation. Demonstrated truths do not lead to pro bable truths , the only ones which serve to direct us in business, in the arts, or in society. There is indeed a point at which the mathematics themselves demand that luminous power of invention without which we can never penetrate the secrets of nature. At the summit of human 12 OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 177 thought the imagination of Homer and that of Newton seemed to meet ; but how many children without genius for the ma thematics are obliged to devote their whole time to that science ! but one of their faculties is employed, though the whole moral being ought to be developed at a period when the soul may be so easily deranged as well as the body, by fortifying only one of its parts. Nothing is less applicable to the con duct of life than a mathematical reasoning : a proposition in figures is decidedly either false or true ; in all other relations the true mixes itself with the false in such a manner that often instinct alone can make us decide between different motives which are sometimes equally powerful on either side. The study of the mathematics, ac customing us to certainty, irritates us against all opinions opposite to our own ; while that which is most important for our conduct in this world is to understand our fellow creatures, that is to say, to comprehend all that induces them to think or to feel differently from ourselves. The mathematics lead us to take no account VOL. I. N " • 178 OF GERMANY. of any thing that is not proved ; while primitive truths , those which are seized by feeling and genius, are not susceptible of demonstration. To conclude, the mathematics, subject ing every thing to calculation , inspire too much reverence for force ; and that sub lime energy which accounts obstacles as nothing, and delights itself in sacrifices , does not easily harmonize with the mode of reasoning which is developed by alge braic combinations. It seems to me then, that, for the ad vantage of morality as well as that of the understanding, the study of the mathema tics should be taken in its course as a part of complete instruction, but not to form the basis of education, and conse quently the determining principle of the character of his soul. Among the several systems of education, there are likewise some which advise us to begin the course of instruction with the natural sciences : in childhood they are only a simple diversion ; they are learned rattles, which accustom us to methodical amusement and superficial study. People OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 179 have imagined that children should be spared trouble as much as possible, that all their studies should be turned into recreations, and that in due time collections of natural history should be given to them for play-things, and phy sical experiments for a show. It seems to me that this also is an erroneous sys tem. Even if it were possible that a child should learn any thing well in amus ing itself, I should still have to regret that its faculty of attention had not been developed, a faculty which is much more essential, than one additional acquirement. I know they will tell me that the mathe matics call forth in a peculiar manner the power of application ; but they do not habituate the mind to compare, to appre ciate, to concentrate : the attention which they demand is what we may call direct ; the human understanding acts in mathema tics like a spring which always follows the same bent. Education conducted by way of amuse ment dissipates the reasoning powers ; pain. in all the concerns of life is one of the great secrets of nature : the understanding N2 180 OF GERMANY. . of the child should accustom itself to the efforts of study, as our soul accustoms itself to suffering . It is labour which leads to the perfection of our earlier, as grief to that of our later age : it is to be wished, no doubt, that our parents, like our destiny, may not too much abuse this dou ble secret ; but there is nothing important in any stage of life but that which acts upon the very central point of existence, and we are too apt to consider the moral being in detail. You may teach your child a number of things with pictures and cards, but you will not teach him to learn ; and the habit of amusing himself, which you direct to the acquirement of know ledge, will soon follow another course when the child is no longer under your guidance. It is not therefore without reason that the study of the ancient and modern lan guages has been made the basis of all the establishments of education which have formed the most able men throughout Europe. The sense of an expression in a foreign language is at once a grammatical and an intellectual problem ; this problem is altogether proportioned to the under OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 181 standing of a child : at first he understands only the words, then he ascends to the conception of the phrase, and soon after the charm of the expression, its force, its harmony ; all the qualities which are united in the language of man, are gra dually perceived by the child while en gaged in translating ; he makes a trial of himself with the difficulties which are pre sented to him by two languages at a time ; he introduces himself to the several ideas in succession, compares and combines dif ferent sorts of analogies and probabilities ; and the spontaneous activity of the mind, that alone which truly developes the fa culty of thought, is in a lively manner excited by this study ; the number of faculties which it awakens at the same time gives it the advantage over every other species of labour ; and we are too happy in being able to employ the flexible memory of a child, in retaining a sort of information without which he would. be all his life confined to the circle of his own nation, a circle narrow like every thing which is exclusive. The study of grammar requires the same 182 OF GERMANY. connection and the same force of attention as the mathematics, but it is much more closely connected with thought. Grammar unites ideas, as calculation combines figures ; grammatical logic is equally precise with that of algebra, and at the same time it applies itself to every thing that is alive in the mind : words are at the same time ciphers and images ; they are both slaves and free ; at the same time subject to the discipline of syntax, and all powerful by their natural signification : thus we find in the metaphysics of grammar, exactness of reasoning and independence of thought united ; every thing has passed by means of words, and every thing is again found in words when we know how to examine them : languages are inexhaustible for the child as well as for the man, and every one may draw from them whatever he stands in need of. The impartiality which is natural to the spirit of the Germans leads them to take an interest in the lite rature of foreign countries, and we find few men a little elevated above the com mon herd who are not familiar with seve- ✓ ral languages : on leaving school they are OF THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES. 183 in general already well acquainted with Latin and even with Greek. The educa tion of the German universities, says a French writer, begins where that of most nations in Europe ends. Not only the professors are men of astonishing informa tion ; but what distinguishes them above all things is their extreme scrupulousness in the art of instruction. In Germany men have a conscience in every thing, and there is nothing that can dispense with it. If we examine the course of human des tiny we shall see that levity of disposition may lead to every thing that is bad in the world. It is only in childhood that levity has a charm ; it seems as if the Creator still led the child by the hand, and assisted him to tread gently over the clouds of life ; but when time abandons man to himself, it is only in the serious ness of his soul that he can find reflection, sentiment, and virtue. Les 184 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XIX. Ofparticular Institutions for Education, and Charitable Establishments. Ir will at first sight appear inconsistent to praise the ancient method, which made the study of languages the basis of educa tion, and at the same time to consider the school of Pestalozzi as one of the best institutions of our age ; I think however, that both these means of viewing the subject may be reconciled . Of all studies, that which with Pestalozzi produces the most satisfactory result, is the mathema tics. But it appears to me that his me thod might be applied to many other branches of education and produce certain and rapid improvement. Rousseau was per OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 185 suaded that children before the age of twelve or thirteen had not an understand ing equal to the studies that were exacted from them, or rather to the method of instruction to which they were subjected. They repeated without comprehending, they laboured without gaining instruction , and they frequently gathered nothing from their education but the habit of performing their task without understanding it , and of evad ing the power of the master by the cun ning of the scholar. All that Rousseau has said against this routine of education is perfectly true ; but, as it often happens, the remedy which he proposes is still worse than the evil itself. 0 A child who, according to Rousseau's system, had learned nothing till he was twelve years old, would have lost six of the most valuable years of his life ; his intellectual organs would never acquire that flexibility which early infancy alone could give them. Habits of idleness would be so deeply rooted in him, that he would be rendered much more unhappy by speaking to him of industry for the first time at the age of twelve, than by 186 OF GERMANY. accustoming him from his earliest existence to consider it as a necessary condition of life . Besides, that kind of care and attention which Rousseau expects from the tutor as a substitute for instruction , and to render it at length necessarily effective, would ob lige every man to devote his whole life to the education of another being, and grandfathers alone would find themselves at liberty to begin their own personal career. Such projects are chimerical ; but Pestalozzi's method is real, of easy appli cation, and may have a great influence on the future progress of the human mind. Rousseau says with much reason, that children do not comprehend what they learn, and he concludes from thence, that they ought to learn nothing. Pestalozzi has profoundly studied the cause of this want of comprehension in children, and by his method ideas are simplified and graduated so as to be brought to the level of child hood, and the understanding common to that age may acquire without fatiguing itself the results of the deepest study in pass ing with exactness, and by degrees, through all the powers of the reasoning faculty, OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 187 • Pestalozzi places the child in a situation to discover himself, what he wishes to teach him. 1 There are no half measures in Pestalozzi's method : they either understand well, or not at all ; for all the propositions follow each other so closely, that the second is always the immediate consequence of the first. Rousseau says, that the minds of children are fatigued by the studies which are exacted from them. Pestalozzi always leads them by a road so easy and yet so determinate, that it costs them no more to be initiated into the most abstract sciences, than into the most simple occupations ; that which wearies children is the making them skip over the intermediate steps, and ob liging them to get forward without their knowing what they think they have learned : their heads are then in a state of confu sion, which renders all examination formi dable, and inspires them with an invincible disgust to learning. There exists no trace of this sort of inconvenience in the method of Pestalozzi. Children amuse themselves with their studies, not that they are given to them as a play, which, as I have already < wouth 9 188 OF GERMANY. " said, mixes ennui with pleasure, and frivo lity with study, but because they enjoy from their infancy the pleasure of grown men, which is that of comprehending and finishing what they are set about. The method of Pestalozzi, like every thing else that is truly good, is not entirely a new discovery, but an enlightened and persever ing application of truths already known. Patience, observation, and a philosophical study of the proceedings of the human mind, have given him a knowledge of what is ele mentary in thoughts, and successive in their development ; and he has pushed farther than any other the theory and the practice of gradation, in the art of instruction . His method has been applied with success to grammar, geography, and music ; but it is much to be desired that those distinguished professors who have adopted his principles, would render them subservient to every other species of knowledge. That of his tory in particular is not well conceived . No one has observed the gradation of im pressions in literature, as they have those of problems in the sciences ; in short , many things remain to be done in order to carry OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 189 education to its highest point, that is to say, the art of going backward with what one knows, in order to make others com prehend it. Pestalozzi makes use of geome try to teach children arithmetical calcula tion ; this was also the method of the an cients. Geometry speaks more to the ima gination than abstract mathematics. To be come completely master of the human mind, it is right, as much as possible, to unite precision of instruction with vivacity of impression, for it is not even the depth of science, but obscurity in the manner of presenting it, which alone hinders children from attaining it : they comprehend every thing by degrees, and the essential point is to measure the steps the by the progress of reason in infancy ; this progress, slow but sure, will lead as far as possible, if we ab stain from hastening its course. · It is very singular and pleasing to see at Pestalozzi's the countenances of children, whose round, unmeaning, and delicate features naturally assume an expression of reflection : they are attentive of themselves , and con sider their studies as a man of ripened age would consider his business. One remark 190 OF GERMANY. able circumstance is, that punishments and rewards are never necessary to excite them to industry ; it is perhaps the first time that a school of a hundred and fifty children has been conducted without the stimulus of emulation and fear. How many evil sen timents are spared to the heart of man, when we drive far from him jealousy and humiliation, when he sees no rivals in his comrades, no judges in his masters ! Rous seau wished to subject the child to the laws of destiny ; Pestalozzi himself creates that destiny during the course of the child's education, and directs its decrees towards his happiness and his improvement. The child feels himself free, because he enjoys himself amidst the general order which sur rounds him, the perfect equality of which is not deranged even by the talents of the children, whether more or less distinguish ed. Success is not the object of pursuit, but merely progress towards a certain point, which all endeavour to reach with the same sincerity. The scholars become masters when they know more than their comrades ; the masters again become scholars when they perceive any imperfections in their OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 191 method, and begin their own education again, in order to become better judges of the difficulties attending the art of in struction. It is pretty generally apprehended that Pestalozzi's method tends to stifle the ima gination, and is unfavourable to originality of mind. An education for genius would indeed be a difficult matter ; there is scarce ly any thing but nature and government which can either inspire or excite it ; but the first principles of knowledge rendered perfectly clear and certain, cannot be an ob stacle to genius ; they give the mind a sort of firmness which afterwards renders the highest studies easy to it. We must view the school of Pestalozzi as hitherto confined to childhood-the education he gives should be considered as final only for the lower classes, but for that very reason it may dif fuse a very salutary influence over the na tional character. The education of the rich ought to be divided into two different periods in the first, the children are guided by their masters ; in the second they voluntarily instruct each other ; and this sort of education, by choice, is 192 OF GERMANY. that which should be adopted in great uni versities. The instruction which is acquired at Pestalozzi's gives every man, of what class soever he may be, a foundation on which he may erect, as he chooses, either the cottage of the poor man or the palaces of kings. We should be mistaken in France, if we thought there was nothing good to be taken from the school of Pestalozzi , except his rapid method of teaching calculation . Pes talozzi is not himself a mathematician ; he is not well acquainted with the languages. He has only that sort of genius and instinct, which enables him to develope the under standings of children ; he sees the direction which their thought takes in order to attain its object. That openness of character which sheds so noble a calm over the affec tions of the heart, Pestalozzi has judged necessary in the operations of the mind. He thinks there is a moral pleasure in completing our studies ; and indeed we con tinually see that superficial knowledge in spires a sort of disdainful arrogance, which makes us reject as useless, dangerous, or ridiculous, all that we do not know. We 12 OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 193 also see that this kind of superficial knowledge obliges us artfully to hide what we are ignorant of. Candour suffers from all those defects of education , which we are ashamed of in spite of ourselves. To know perfectly what we do know, gives a quietness to the mind, which resembles the satisfaction of conscience. The open ho nesty of Pestalozzi, that honesty carried into the sphere of the understanding, and which deals with ideas as scrupulously as with men, is the principal merit of his school. It is by that means he assembles round him men devoted to the welfare of the children in a manner perfectly disinter ested. When in a public establishment none of the selfish calculations of the prin cipals are answered, we must seek the spring which sets that establishment in mo tion, in their love of virtue : the enjoy ments which it affords are alone sufficient without either riches or power. We should not imitate the institution of Pestalozzi, merely by carrying his method of instruction to other places ; it would be necessary also to establish with it the same perseverance in the masters, the same sim VOL. I. 0 a 1 " 194 OF GERMANY. plicity in the scholars, the same regularity in their manner of life, and above all the religious sentiments which animate that school. The forms of worship are not followed there with more exactness than elsewhere ; but every thing is transacted in the name of the Deity, in the name of that senti ment, noble, elevated, and pure, which is the habitual religion of the heart. Truth, goodness, confidence, affection, surround the children ; it is in that atmosphere they live ; and for a time at least, they remain stran gers to all the hateful passions , to all the proud prejudices of the world. An elo quent philosopher (Fichte) said, that he expected the regeneration of the German "nation, from the institution of Pestaloz " zi." It must be owned that a revolution founded on such means, would be neither violent nor rapid ; for education, however excellent, is nothing in comparison with the influence of public events. Instruction penetrates the rock drop by drop, but the torrent carries it off in a day. We must above all render homage to Pestalozzi, for the care he has taken to place his institu tion within the reach of persons without 0 66 OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 195 · fortune, by reducing his terms as much as possible. He is constantly occupied with the poorer classes, and wishes to secure for them the benefit of pure light and solid in struction. In this respect the works of Pestalozzi form a very curious kind of reading. He has written tales, in which the situations in life of the common peo ple are depicted with a degree of interest, truth, and morality , which is admirable. The sentiments which he expresses in his writings are as elementary, (it may be said , ) as the principles of his method. We are astonished to find ourselves shedding tears over a word, a narration so simple, even so vulgar, that the warmth of our emotions alone gives it consequence. People belonging to the lower classes of society are of an intermediate state between savages and men of civilized life ; when they are virtuous, they have a kind of innocence and goodness, which cannot be met with in the great world. Society weighs heavily upon them, they struggle with na ture, and their confidence in God is more animated and more constant than that of the rich. Incessantly threatened with mis fortunes, having constantly recourse to
. 02 196 OF GERMANY. prayer, anxious all the day, and preserved every night, the poor feel themselves under the immediate hand of Him, who protects those who are abandoned by mankind ; and their integrity, when they have any, is sin gularly scrupulous. I recollect in a tale of Pestalozzi's the restitution of some potatoes by a child who had stolen them : his dying grandmother orders him to carry them back to the owner of the garden, from whence he took them, and this scene affects us to the heart. This poor crime, if I may so call it, causing such remorse ; the awful ness of death amidst all the miseries of life ; old age and childhood drawn together by the voice of God which speaks equally to each of them ; all this is painful, very pain ful for in our poetic fictions, the pomp and splendour of destiny relieve us a little from the pity occasioned by its reverses ; but we fancy we perceive in these popular tales, a feeble lamp enlightening a small cot tage, and goodness of soul springing forth in the midst of all the afflictions by which it is tried. As the art of drawing is to be considered as an useful art, it may be said that among OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 197 · those which are merely pleasing, the only one introduced into the school of Pesta lozzi is music, and we should praise him also for the choice of it. There is a whole order of sentiments, I might say a whole order of virtues, which belong to the know ledge, or at least to the taste for music ; and it is great barbarity to deprive a nume rous portion of the human race, of such impressions. The ancients . pretended that nations had been civilized by music, and this allegory has a deep meaning ; for we must always suppose that the bond of so ciety was formed either by sympathy or in terest, and certainly the first origin is more noble than the other.
Pestalozzi is not the only person in Ger manic Switzerland , who occupies himself with zeal in cultivating the minds of the common people : in this respect I was much struck with the etablishment of M. de Fel lenberg. Many people came to it to ac quire new light on the subject of agricul ture, and it is said that in this respect they have had reason to be satisfied ; but what principally deserves the esteem of the friends of humanity is the care which M. 198 OF GERMANY
de Fellenberg takes of the education of the lower classes ; he causes village schoolmas ters to be taught according to Pestalozzi's method, that they may in their turn teach children. The labourers who cultivate his grounds learn psalm tunes, and the praises of God will soon be heard ' in the country, sung by simple but harmonious voices, which will celebrate at once both nature and its Author. In short M. de Fellenberg endeavours by every possible means to form , between the inferior class and our own, a liberal tie, a tie which shall not be founded merely on the pecuniary interests of the rich and the poor. 1 We learn from the examples of England and of America, that free institutions are found sufficient to develope the faculties and understandings of the people ; but it is a step farther to give them more than the instruction which is necessary to them. There is something revolting in the neces sary, when it is measured out by those who possess the superfluous. It is not enough to be occupied in promoting the welfare of the lower classes with a view to usefulness only ; they must also participate in the en 1 2 OF PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. 199 joyments of the imagination and the heart. It is in this spirit that some enlightened philanthropists have taken up the subject of mendicity at Hamburgh. Neither de spotism nor speculative œconomy have any place in their charitable institutions. It was their wish that the unfortunate objects of their care should themselves desire the labour which was expected from them, as much as the benefactions which were granted them. As the welfare of the poor was not with them a means, but an end, they have not ordered them employment, but have made them desire it . We con stantly see in the different accounts given in of those charitable institutions, that the object of their founders was much more to render men better, than to make them more useful ; and it is this high, philoso phical point of view, that characterises the spirit of wisdom and liberty, which reigns in this ancient Hanseatic city. • There is much real beneficence in the world, and he who is not capable of serving his fellow creatures by the sacrifice of his time and of his inclinations, voluntarily con tributes to their welfare with money: this 200 OF GERMANY. is still something, and no virtue is to be disdained. But in most countries, the great mass of private alms is not wisely directed ; and one of the most eminent services which the Baron de Voght and his excellent countrymen have rendered to the cause of humanity is that of showing that without new sacrifices, without the in tervention of the state, private beneficence is alone sufficient for the relief of the unfor tunate. That which is effected by indivi duals is particularly suited to Germany, where every thing taken separately is better than the whole together. Charitable institutions ought indeed to prosper in the city of Hamburgh. There is so much morality amongst its inhabitants, that for a time they paid their taxes into a sort of trunk without any persons seeing what they brought these taxes were to be proportioned to the fortune of each individual, and when the calculation was made, they were always found to be scru pulously paid. Might we not believe that we were relating a circumstance belonging to the golden age, if in that golden age there had been private riches and public THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 201 taxes ? We cannot sufficiently admire how easy all things relating to instruction as well as to administration are rendered by honesty and integrity : we ought to grant them all the honours which dexterity usually obtains ; for in the end they suc ceed better even in the affairs of this world. THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 1 We must attribute to the German cha racter a great part of the virtues of Ger manic Switzerland. There is nevertheless. more public spirit in Switzerland than in Germany, more of patriotism, more of energy, more of harmony in opinions and sentiments ; but the smallness of the states and the poverty of the country do not in any degree excite genius : we find there much fewer learned or thinking men, than in the north of Germany, where even the relaxation of political ties gives freedom to all those noble reveries, those bold systems, 202 OF GERMANY. which are not subject to the nature of things. The Swiss are not a poetical nation, and we are with reason astonished that the beauties of their country should not have further inflamed their imagina tion. A religious and free people are at all times susceptible of enthusiasm, and the daily occupations of life cannot entirely subdue it. If this could have been doubt ed, we might still be convinced of it by the pastoral fête, which was last year cele brated in the midst of lakes, in the memory of the founder of Berne. This city merits more than ever the respect and interest of travellers : it appears since its last misfortunes to have resumed all its virtues with new ardour, and while losing its treasures has redoubled its beneficence towards the unfortunate. The charitable establishments in this place are perhaps the best attended to of any in Europe : the hospital is the finest, and indeed the only magnificent edifice in the city. On the gate is written this inscription, CHRISTO IN PAUPERIBUS. Nothing can be more admi rable ! Has not the Christian religion told us that it was for those who suffered, that THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 203 Christ descended on the earth ? and who among us is not in some period of his life, either in respect to his happiness or his hopes, one of those unfortunate beings who needs relief in the name of God? Every thing throughout the city and can ton of Berne bears marks of calm serious regularity, of a kind and paternal govern ment. An air of probity is felt in every object which we perceive ; we may believe ourselves in our own family whilst in the midst of two hundred thousand men, who whether nobles, citizens, or peasants, are all equally devoted to their country. In going to the fête it was necessary to embark on one of those lakes which, re flecting all the beauties of nature, seemed placed at the foot of the Alps only to multiply their enchanting forms. A stormy sky deprived us of a distinct view of the mountains ; but half enveloped in clouds they appeared the more awfully sublime. The storm increased ; and though a feeling of terror seized my soul, I even loved the thunder-bolt of heaven which confounds the pride of man. We reposed ourselves for a moment in a kind of grotto, before we 204 OF GERMANY. - ventured to cross that part of the lake of Thun which is surrounded by inaccessible rocks. It was in such a place that William Tell braved the abyss, and clung to the rocks in escaping from his tyrants. We now perceived in the distance that moun tain which bears the name of the Virgin (Jungfrau) , because no traveller has ever been able to attain its summit : it is less high than Mount Blanc, and yet it inspires more veneration because we know that it is inaccessible. We arrived at Unterseen ; and the sound of the Aar, which falls in cascades near this little town, disposed the soul to pensive reflection. A great number of strangers were lodged in the rustic but neat abodes of the peasants : it was strik ing enough to see walking in the streets of Unterseen young Parisians at once transported into the valleys of Switzerland. Here they heard only the torrents, they saw only the mountains, and endeavoured in `these solitary regions to find means of tiring themselves sufficiently to return with renewed pleasure to the world. Much has been said of an air played on the Alpine horn, which made SO " THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 3205 1 lively an impression on the Swiss, that when they heard it they quitted their regiments to return to their country. We may imagine what effect this air must produce when repeated by the echoes of the mountains ; but it should be heard resounding from a distance ; when near, the sensation which it produces is not agreeable. If sung by Italian voices, the imagination would be perfectly intoxicated with it ; but perhaps this pleasure would give birth to ideas, foreign to the simpli city of the country. We should wish for the arts, for poetry, for love, where we ought to content ourselves with the tran quillity of a country life. On the evening preceding the fête, fires were lighted on the mountains : thus it was that the deli verers of Switzerland formerly gave the signal of their holy conspiracy. These fires, placed on the heights, resembled the moon, when rising behind the mountains she displays herself at once brilliant and peaceful. It might almost have been thought, that new stars appeared to lend their aid to the most affecting sight which this world could offer. One of these flam • 206 OF GERMANY. ing signals seemed placed in the heavens ; from whence it illumined the ruins of the castle of Unspunnen, formerly possessed by Berthold, the founder of Berne, in re membrance of whom this festival was given. Profound darkness encircled this bright object ; and the mountains, which during the night resembled vast phantoms, seemed like the gigantic shades of the dead, whose memory we were then cele brating. On the day of the fête, the weather was mild, but cloudy ; it seemed as if all nature must be in harmony with the tender emotions of every heart. The enclo sure chosen for the games is surrounded by woody hills, behind which mountains rise above each other as far as the sight can reach. All the spectators, to the number of nearly six thousand, seated themselves in rows on the declivity ; and the varied colours of their dress looked at a distance like flowers scattered over the meadows. No festival could ever have worn a more smiling appearance ; but when we raised our eyes, the rocks suspended above us seemed, like destiny, to threaten weak mortals in the midst of their pleasures : if there is how THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 207 1 ever a joy of the soul so pure as to disarm even fate, it was then experienced. When the crowd of spectators was assembled, the procession of the festival was heard ap proaching from a distance, a procession, which was in fact a solemn one ; for it was devoted to the celebration of the past. It was accompanied with pleasing music : the magistrates appeared at the head of the peasants ; the young girls were clothed in the ancient and picturesque costumes of their cantons ; the halberts and the banners of each valley were carried in front, by old men with white hair, and dressed in habits exactly similar to those worn five centuries ago, at the time of the conspiracy of the Rutli. The soul was filled with emotion on seeing these banners, now so peaceful, with the aged for their guardians. Days long past were represented by these men, old in comparison with ourselves, but when considered in reference to the lapse of ages, how young ! There was an air of trust and reliance in all these feeble beings which was touching in the extreme, because it could only be inspired by the honesty of their souls. In 208 OF GERMANY. the midst of our rejoicing our eyes filled with tears, just as they are wont to do, on those happy and yet melancholy days , when we celebrate the convalescence of those whom we love. At last the games began; and the men of the valley, and those of the mountains, displayed, in lifting enormous weights or in wrestling with one another, a degree of agility and strength of body which was very remarkable. This strength for merly rendered nations more military ; now, in our days, when tactics and artillery dispose the fate of armies, it is only to be seen in the games of husbandmen. The earth is better cultivated by men who are thus robust, but war cannot be made with out the aid of discipline and of numbers ; and even the emotions of the soul have less empire over human destiny, now that in dividuals have been sunk in communities, and that the human species seems, like in animate nature, to be directed by mechani cal laws. After the games were ended, and the good bailiff of the place had distributed the prizes to the victors, we dined under tents, and we sund verses in honour of the tranquil happiness of the Swiss. During 1 THE FETE OF UNTERSEEN. 209 the repast, wooden cups were handed round, on which were carved William Tell, and the three founders of Helvetic liberty. With transport, they drank to peace, to order, to independence ; and the patrio tism of happiness was expressed with a cor diality which penetrated every soul. 66 66 " The meadows are as flowery as ever, the mountains as verdant ; when " all nature smiles, can the heart of man alone be a mere desert ? "* No, most undoubtedly, it was not so ; the soul expanded with confidence in the midst of this fine country, in the pre sence of these respectable men, all ani mated with the purest sentiments. A country, poor in itself, and narrow in extent, without luxury, without power, without lustre, is cherished by its in habitants as a friend who conceals his . virtues in the shade, and devotes them all to the happiness of those who love him. During the five centuries of pros
grace *These words were the burthen of a song, full of and talent, composed for this fète. The author is Madame Harmès, well known in Germany by her writings under the name of Madame de Berlepsch . VOL. I. P 210 OF GERMANY. I perity which the Swiss have enjoyed, we may reckon wise generations, rather than great men ; there is no room for excep tions where all are thus happy. The ancestors of this nation may still be said to reign there, ever respected , imitated , revived in their descendants. Their sim plicity of manners, and attachment to ancient customs, the wisdom and unifor mity of their lives, recal the past, and anticipate the future ; a history which is always the same seems like a single mo ment, lasting through ages. Life flows on, in these valleys, like the rivers which run through them ; new waves indeed appear, but they follow the same course ; may they never be inter rupted ! May the same festival be often celebrated at the foot of the same moun tains ! May the stranger admire them as wonders, while the Helvetian cherishes them as an asylum where magistrates and fathers watch together over citizens and children. PART II. ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. CHAPTER I. Why are the French unjust to German Literature ? I MIGHT answer this question in a very simple manner, by saying that very few people in France are acquainted with the German language, and that its beauties, above all in poetry, cannot be translated into French. The Teutonic languages are P 2 212 OF GERMANY. easily translated into each other ; it is the same with the Latin languages : but these cannot give a just idea of German poetry. Music composed for one instrument is not executed with success on another of a dif ferent sort. Besides, German literature has scarcely existed in all its originality more than forty or fifty years ; and the French, for the last twenty years, have been so ab sorbed in political events, that all their li terary studies have been suspended. It would however be treating the ques tion very superficially, merely to say that the French are unjust to German literature, because they are ignorant of it : they have, it is true, strong prejudices against it ; but these prejudices arise from a con fused sentiment of the wide difference, both in the manner of seeing and feeling, which exists between the two nations. In Germany there is no standard of taste on any one subject ; all is independent, all is individual. They judge of a work by the impression it makes, and never by any rule, because no rule is generally admitted : every author is at liberty to form a new sphere for himself. In France the greater ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. 213 . number of readers will neither be affected, nor even amused, at the expense of their literary conscience : there scrupulosity finds a refuge. A German author forms his own public ; in France the public commands authors. As in France there are more peo ple of cultivated minds than there are in Germany, the public exacts much more ; while the German writers, eminently raised above their judges, govern, instead of re ceiving the law from them. From thence it happens that their writers are scarcely ever improved by criticism : the impatience of the readers, or that of the spectators, never obliges them to shorten their works, and they scarcely ever stop in proper time, because an author being seldom weary of his own conceptions can be informed only by others when they cease to be interesting. From self-love, the French think and live in the opinions of others ; and we perceive in the greater part of their works, that their principal end is not the subject they treat, but the effect they produce. The French writers are always in the midst of society, even when they are composing ; for they never lose sight of the opinion, raillery, 1 214 OF GERMANY. and taste then in fashion, or in other words, the literary authority under which we live at such or such a time. The first requisite in writing is a strong and lively manner of feeling. Persons who study in others what they ought to expe rience themselves, and what they are per mitted to say, with respect to literature have really no existence. Doubtless, our writers of genius (and what nation possesses more of these than France ? ) have subjected them selves only to those ties which were not prejudicial to their originality : but we must compare the two countries, en masse and at the present time, to know from whence arises their difficulty of understanding each other. In France they scarcely ever read a work but to furnish matter for conversation ; in Germany, where people live almost alone , the work itself must supply the place of company ; and what mental society can we form with a book, which should itself be only the echo of society ! In the silence of retreat, nothing seems more melancholy than the spirit of the world . The solitary man needs an internal emotion, which shall ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. 215 compensate for the want of exterior ex citement. Perspicuity is in France one of the first merits of a writer ; for the first object of a reader is to give himself no trouble, but to catch, by running over a few pages in the morning, what will enable him to shine in con versation in the evening. The Germans, on the contrary, know that perspicuity can never have more than a relative merit : a book is clear according to the subject and according to the reader. Montesquieu cannot be so easily understood as Voltaire, and neverthe less he is as clear as the object of his medita tions will permit. Without doubt clearness should accompany depth of thought ; but those who confine themselves only to the graces of wit and the play on words, are much more sure of being understood . They have nothing to do with mystery, why then should they be obscure ? The Germans, through an opposite defect, take pleasure in darkness ; they often wrap in obscurity what was before clear, rather than follow the beaten road ; they have such a disgust for common ideas, that when they find them selves obliged to recur to them, they sur " - " 216 OF GERMANY. round them with abstract metaphysics, which give them an air of novelty till they are found out. German writers are under no restraint with their readers ; their works being re ceived and commented upon as oracles, they may envelope them with as many clouds as they like ; patience is never wanting to draw those clouds aside ; but it is necessary at length to discover a divinity ; for what the Germans can least support, is to see their expectations deceived : their efforts and their perseverance render some great conclusion needful . If no new or strong thoughts are discovered in a book, it is soon disdained ; and if all is pardoned in behalf of superior talent, they scarcely know how to appre ciate the various kinds of address dis played in endeavouring to supply the want of it. The prose of the Germans is often too much neglected . They attach more import ance to style in France than in Germany ; it is a natural consequence of the interest excited by words, and the value they must acquire in a country where society is the first object. Every man with a little un derstanding is a judge of the justness or 2 ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. 217 suitableness of such and such a phrase, while it requires much attention and study to take in the whole compass and connection of a book. Besides, pleasantry finds expres sions much sooner than thoughts, and in all that depends on words only, we laugh before we reflect. It must be agreed nevertheless that beauty of style is not merely an external advantage, for true sentiments almost always inspire the most noble and just expressions ; and if we are allowed to be indulgent to the style of a philosophical writing, we ought not to be so to that of a literary composition : in the sphere of the fine arts, the form in which a subject is presented to us is as essential to the mind, as the subject itself. " The dramatic art offers a striking example of the distinct faculties of the two nations . All that relates to action, to intrigue, to the interest of events, is a thousand times better combined, a thousand times better conceived among the French ; all that depends on the developement of the impressions of the heart, on the secret storms of strong passion, is much better investigated among the Germans. In order to attain the highest point of 218 OF GERMANY. perfection in either country, it would be necessary for the Frenchman to be religious, and the German more a man of the world. Piety opposes itself to levity of mind, which is the defect and the grace of the French nation ; the knowledge of men and of so ciety would give to the Germans that taste and facility in literature which is at present wanting to them. The writers of the two countries are unjust to each other : the French nevertheless are more guilty in this respect, than the Germans ; they judge with out knowing the subject, and examine after they have decided : the Germans are more impartial. Extensive knowledge presents to us so many different ways of beholding the same object, that it imparts to the mind the spirit of toleration which springs from univer sality. The French would however gain more by comprehending German genius, than the Germans would in subjecting themselves to the good taste of the French . In our days, whenever a little foreign leaven has been allowed to mix itself with French regularity, the French have themselves applauded it with delight. J. J. Rousseau, Bernardin de Saint V ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS. 219 " 1 Pierre, Chateaubriand, &c. are, in some of their works, even unknown to themselves, of the German school ; that is to say, they draw their talent only out ofthe internal sources of the soul. But if German writers were to be disciplined according to the prohibitory laws of French literature, they would not know how to steer amidst the quicksands that would be pointed out to them ; they would regret the open sea, and their minds would be much more disturbed than enlightened . It does not follow that they ought to hazard all, and that they would do wrong in some times imposing limits on themselves ; but it is of consequence to them to be placed ac cording to their own modes of perception. In order to induce them to adopt certain necessary restrictions, we must recur to the principle of those restrictions without em ploying the authority of ridicule, which is always highly offensive to them. Men of genius in all countries are formed to understand and esteem each other : but the vulgar class of writers and readers , whe ther German or French, bring to our recol lection that fable of La Fontaine, where the stork cannot eat in the dish, nor the fox in 320 OF GERMANY. the bottle. The most complete contrast is perceived between minds developed in soli tude, and those formed by society. Impres sions from external objects and the inward recollections of the soul, the knowledge of men and abstract ideas, action and theory, yield conclusions totally opposite to each other. The literature, the arts, the philo sophy, the religion of these two nations. attest this difference ; and the eternal boun dary of the Rhine separates two intellectual regions, which, no less than the two countries, are foreign to each other. ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 221 CHAPTER II. Ofthe Judgment formed by the English on the subject of German Literature. GERMAN literature is much better known in England than in France. In England, the foreign languages are more studied , and the Germans are more naturally connected with the English, than with the French ; never theless prejudices exist even in England both against the philosophy and the literature of Germany. It may be interesting to examine the cause of them. The minds of the people of England are not formed by a taste for society, by the pleasure and interest excited by conversation. Business, the parliament, the administration, fill all heads ; and political interests are the 1 222 OF GERMANY. principal objects of their meditations. The English wish to discover consequences imme diately applicable to every subject, and from thence arises their dislike of a philosophy, which has for its object the beautiful, rather than the useful. The English, it is true, do not separate dignity from utility, and they are always ready, when it is necessary, to sacrifice the useful to the honourable ; but they are not of those, who, as it is said in Hamlet, " with " the incorporal air do hold discourse," a sort of conversation of which the Germans are very fond. The philosophy of the English is directed towards results beneficial to the cause of humanity : the Germans pursue truth for its own sake, without thinking on the advantages which men may derive from it. The nature of their different governments having offered them no great or splendid op portunity of attaining glory, or of serving their country, they attach themselves to con templation of every kind ; and to indulge it, seek in heaven that space which their limited destiny denies to them on earth. They take pleasure in the ideal, because there is nothing in the actual state of things which • 1 ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 223 speaks to their imagination. The English, with reason, pride themselves, in all they possess, in all they are, and in all that they may become ; they place their administration and love on their laws, their manners, and their forms of worship. These noble senti ments give to the soul more strength and energy ; but thought, perhaps , takes a bolder flight, when it has neither limit nor determinate aim ; and when incessantly con necting itself with the immense and the infinite, no interest brings it back to the affairs of this world. Whenever an idea is consolidated, or in other words, when it is changed into effect, nothing can be better than to examine atten tively its consequences and conclusions, and then to circumscribe and fix them: but when it is merely in theory, it should be considered in itself alone. Neither practice nor utility are the objects of inquiry ; and the pursuit of truth in philosophy, like imagination in poetry, should be free from all restraint. • The Germans are to the human mind what pioneers are to an army ; they try new roads, they attempt unknown means : how 224 OF GERMANY. r 1 can we avoid being curious to know what they say on their return from their excursions into infinity ? The English, who have so much originality of character, have nevertheless generally a dread of new systems. Justness of thought has been so beneficial to them in the affairs of life, that they like to discover it even in intellectual studies ; and yet it is in these that boldness is inseparable from genius. Genius, provided it respect religion and morality, should be free to take any flight it chooses : it aggrandizes the empire of thought. Literature, in Germany, is so impressed with the reigning philosophy, that the repugnance felt for the one will influence the judgment we form of the other. The English have however, for some time, trans lated the German poets with pleasure, and do not fail to perceive that analogy which ought to result from one common origin . There is more sensibility in the English poe try, and more imagination in that of Ger Domestic affections holding great many. sway over the hearts of the English, their poetry is impressed with the delicacy and solidity of those affections : the Germans, more independent in all things because ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 225 they are less free, paint sentiments as well as ideas through a cloud : it might be said that the universe vacillates before their eyes ; and even, by the uncertainty of their sight, those objects are multiplied which their talent renders useful to its own purposes. The principle of terror, which is employed as one of the great means in German poetry, has less ascendancy over the imagination of the English in our days. They describe nature with enthusiasm, but it no longer acts as a formidable power which encloses phantoms and presages within its breast ; and holds in modern times the place held by destiny among the ancients. Imagination in England is almost always inspired by sensibility ; the imagination of the Germans is sometimes rude and wild : the religion of England is more austere, that of Germany more yague : and the poetry of the two nations must neces sarily bear the impression of their religious sentiments. In England, conformity to rule does not reign in the arts, as it does in France ; nevertheless, public opinion holds a greater sway there than in Germany. Na tional unity is the cause of it. The English VOL. I. 226 OF GERMANY. wish in all things to make principles and actions accord with each other. Theirs is a wise and well regulated nation, which comprizes glory in wisdom, and liberty in order the Germans, with whom these are only subjects of reverie, have examined ideas independent of their application, and have thus attained a higher elevation in theory. It will appear strange that the present men of literature in Germany have shown themselves more averse than the English to the introduction of philosophical reflec tions in poetry. It is true, that men of the highest genius in English literature, Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden in his Odes, &c., are poets, who do not give themselves up to a spirit of argumentation ; but Pope, and many others, must be considered as didactic poets and moralists. The Germans have renewed their youth, the English are become mature.* The Germans profess a
- The English poets of our times, without entering into
concert with the Germans, have adopted the same system. Didactic poetry has giver place to the fictions of the middle ages, to the empurpled colours of the east : the reasoning faculties, and even eloquence itself, are not sufficient to an art essentially creative. 1 ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 227 doctrine which tends to revive enthusiasm in the arts, as well as in philosophy, and they will merit applause if they succeed ; for this age lays restraints also on them, and there was never a period in which there existed a greater inclination to despise all that is merely beautiful ; none in which that most common of all questions, What is it good for ? has been more frequently re peated. 92 228 OF GERMANY . CHAPTER III. Of the principal Epochs of German Litera ture. GERMAN literature has never had what we are accustomed to call a golden age, that is to say, a period in which the progress of science is encouraged by the protection of the sovereign power. Leo X. in Italy, Louis XIV. in France, and in ancient times, Pericles and Augustus, have given their names to the age in which they lived. We may also consider the reign of Queen Anne as the most brilliant epoch of English literature : but this nation , which exists by its own powers, has never owed its great men to the influence of its kings. Germany was di vided ; in Austria no love ofliterature was dis ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 229 covered, and in Frederic II. (who was all Prussia in himself alone, ) no interest whatever for German writers . Literature, in Ger many, has then never been concentrated to one point, and has never found support in the state. Perhaps it owes to this abandonment, as well as to the independence consequent on it, much of its originality and energy. "We have seen poetry (says Schiller) despised by Frederic, the favoured son of " his country, fly from the powerful throne " which refused to protect it but it still " dared 1 to call itself German ; it felt proud " in being itself the creator of its own glory. " The songs of German bards resounded on " the summits of the mountain, were pre cipitated as torrents into the vallies : the " poet, independent, acknowledged no law, " save the impressions of his own soul, no " sovereign but his own genius." (6 BC It naturally followed from the want of encouragement given by government to men of literary talents in Germany, that their attempts were made privately and indivi dually in different directions, and that they arrived late at the truly remarkable period of their literature. 1 230 OF GERMANY. The German language, for a thousand years, was at first cultivated by monks, then by knights, and afterwards by artisans, such as Hans- Sachs, Sebastian Brand, and others, down to the period of the reforma tion ; and latterly by learned men who have rendered it a language well adapted to all the subtleties of thought. In examining the works of which German literature is composed, we find, according to the genius of the author, traces of these dif ferent modes of culture ; as we see in moun tains strata of the various minerals which the revolutions of the earth have deposited in them. The style changes its nature al most entirely, according to the writer ; and it is necessary for foreigners to make a new study of every new book which they wish to understand. The Germans, like the greater part of the nations of Europe in the times of chivalry, had also their troubadours and warriors, who sung of love and of battles. An epic poem has lately been discovered called the " Ni belungs," which was composed in the thir teenth century ; we see in it the heroism and fidelity which distinguished the men of 66 ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 231 those times, when all was as true, strong, and determinate, as the primitive colours of nature. The German in this poem is more clear and simple than it is at present ; general ideas were not yet introduced into it, and traits of character only are nar rated. The German nation might then have been considered as the most warlike of all European nations, and its ancient traditions speak only of strong castles and beautiful mistresses, to whom they devoted their lives. When Maximilian endeavoured at a later period to revive chivalry, the human mind no longer possessed that tendency; and those religious disputes had already commenced, which direct thought towards metaphysics, and place the strength of the soul rather in opinions than in actions. Luther essentially improved his language by making it subservient to theological discussion : his translation of the Psalms and the Bible is still a fine specimen of it. The poetical truth and conciseness which he gives to his style are in all respects confor mable to the genius of the German lan guage, and even the sound of the words has an indescribable sort of energetic frankness 232 OF GERMANY. on which we with confidence rely. The po litical and religious wars, which the Germans had the misfortune to wage with each other, withdrew the minds of men from literature ; and when it was again resumed, it was under the auspices of the age of Louis XIV. , at the period in which the desire of imitating the French pervaded almost all the courts and writers of Europe. The works of Hagedorn, of Gellert, of Weiss, &c . were only heavy French, nothing original, no thing conformable to the natural genius of the nation . Those authors endeavoured to attain French grace without being inspired with it, either by their habits, or their modes of life. They subjected themselves to rule, without having either the elegance or taste which may render even that despot ism agreeable. Another school soon suc ceeded that of the French, and it was in Germanic Switzerland that it was erected : this school was at first founded on an imita tion of English writers. Bodmer, sup ported by the example of the great Haller, endeavoured to show that English litera ture agreed better with the German genius, than that of France. Gottsched, a learned i " ON GERMAN LITERATURE. 233 A 1 man without taste or genius, contested this opinion, and great light sprung from the dispute between these two schools. Some men then began to strike out a new road for themselves. Klopstock held the highest place in the English school, as Wieland did in that of the French ; but Klopstock opened a new career for his succession, while Wieland was at once the first and the last of the French school in the eighteenth century. The first, because no other could equal him in that kind of writing, and the last, because after him the German writers pursued a path widely different. As there still exist in all the Teutonic nations some sparks of that sacred fire which is again smothered by the ashes of time, Klopstock, at first imitating the English, succeeded at last in awakening the imagination and character peculiar to the Germans ; and al most at the same moment, Winckelmann in the arts, Lessing in criticism, and Goëthe in poetry, founded a true German school, if we may so call that, which admits of as many differences, as there are individuals, or varieties of talent. I shall examine se parately poetry, the dramatic art, novels, སྐ " 234 OF GERMANY. and history ; but every man of genius con stituting (it may be said) a separate school in Germany, it appears to me necessary to begin by pointing out some of the principal traits which distinguish each writer indivi dually, and by personally characterizing their most celebrated men of literature, be fore I set about analyzing their works. WIELAND. 235 CHAPTER IV. Wieland. Or all the Germans who have written after the French manner, Wieland is the only one whose works have genius ; and although he has almost always imitated the literature of foreign countries, we cannot avoid ac knowledging the great services he has ren dered to that of his own nation, by improv ing its language and giving it a versifica tion more flowing and harmonious. There was already in Germany a crowd of writers, who endeavoured to follow the traces of French literature, such as it was in the age of Louis XIV. Wieland is the first who in troduced with success that of the eighteenth century. In his prose writings he bears 256 OF GERMANY. A r r some resemblance to Voltaire, and in his poetry to Ariosto ; but these resemblances, which are voluntary on his part, do not prevent him from being by nature com pletely German. Wieland is infinitely better informed than Voltaire : he has studied the ancients with more erudition than has been done by any poet in France. Neither the defects, nor the powers of Wieland allow him to give to his writings any portion of the French lightness and grace. In his philosophical novels, Agathon and Peregrinus Proteus, he begins very soon with analysis, discussion, and metaphysics. He considers it as a duty to mix with them passages which we commonly call flowery ; but we are sensible that his natural dispo sition would lead him to fathom all the depths of the subject which he endeavours to treat. In the novels of Wieland serious 配) • ness and gaiety are both too decidedly ex pressed ever to blend with each other ; for in all things, though contrasts are striking, contrary extremes are wearisome. In order to imitate Voltaire, it is ne cessary to possess a sarcastic and philoso
WIELAND. 237 phical irony, which renders us careless of every thing, except a poignant manner of expressing that irony. A German can never attain that brilliant freedom of plea santry ; he is too much attached to truth, he wishes to know and to explain what things are, and even when he adopts re prehensible opinions, a secret repentance slackens his pace in spite of himself. The Epicurean philosophy does not suit the Ger man mind ; they give to that philosophy a dogmatical character, while in reality it is seductive only when it presents itself under light and airy forms : as soon as you invest it with principles, it is equally displeasing to all. The poetical works of Wieland have much more grace and originality than his prose writings . Oberon and the other poems of which I shall speak separately, are charm ing and full of imagination. Wieland has however been reproached for having treated the subject of love with too little severity, and he is naturally thus condemned by his own countrymen, who still respect women a little after the manner of their ancestors ; but whatever may have been the wander 238 OF GERMANY. ings of imagination which Wieland allowed himself, we cannot avoid acknowledging in him a large portion of true sensibility : he has often had a good or bad intention of jesting on the subject of love ; but his dis position, naturally serious, prevents him from giving himself boldly up to it. He re sembles that prophet who found himself obliged to bless where he wished to curse ; and he ends in tenderness what was begun in irony. In our intercourse with Wieland we are charmed, precisely because his natural qua lities are in opposition to his philosophy. This disagreement might be prejudicial to him as a writer, but it renders him more attractive in society ; he is animated, en thusiastic, and, like all men of genius, still young even in his old age ; yet he wishes to be sceptical, and is angry with those who would employ his fine imagination in the establishment of his faith. Naturally benevolent, he is nevertheless. susceptible of ill-humour ; sometimes, be cause he is not pleased with himself, and sometimes, because he is not pleased with others : he is not pleased with himself, be WIELAND.. 239 cause he would willingly arrive at a degree of perfection in the manner of expressing his thoughts, of which neither words nor things are susceptible. He does not choose to satisfy himself with those indefinite terms, which perhaps agree better with the art of conversation than perfection itself; he is sometimes displeased with others, because his doctrine, which is a little relaxed, and his sentiments, which are highly exalted, are not always easily reconciled . He contains within himself a French poet and a Ger man philosopher, who are alternately angry with each other ; but this anger is still very easy to bear ; and his discourse, filled with ideas and knowledge, might supply many men of talent with a foundation for conversation of various sorts. The new writers, who have excluded all foreign influence from German literature, have been often unjust to Wieland : it is he whose works, even in a translation , have ex cited the interest of all Europe : it is he who has rendered the science of antiquity subservient to the charms of literature ; it is he also who, in verse, has given a musical and graceful flexibility to his fertile but 240 OF GERMANY. rough language ; it is, nevertheless, true, that his country would not be benefited by pos sessing many imitators of his writings : na tional originality is a much better thing ; and we ought to wish, even when we ac knowledge Wieland to be a great master, that he may have no disciples. KLOPSTOCK. 241 CHAPTER V. Klopstock. IN Germany, there have been many more remarkable men of the English, than of the French school. Amongst the writers formed by English literature we must first reckon the admirable Haller, whose poetic genius served him so effectually, as a learned man, in inspiring him with the greatest en thusiasm for the beauties of nature, and the most extensive views of its various pheno mena ; Gessner, whose works are even more valued in France than in Germany ; Gleim, Ramler, &c. , and above them all Klopstock. His genius was inflamed by reading Mil ton and Young ; but it was with him that the true German school first began. He ex VOL. I. R 242 OF GERMANY. presses in a very happy manner in one of his odes the emulation of the two Muses. " I have seen-Oh ! tell me, was it the " present, or did I contemplate the future ? " I have seen the Muse of Germany enter " the lists with the English Muse, and full of " ardour press forward to victory. ઃઃ " Two goals, erected at the extremity of " the course, were scarcely distinguishable : " one was shaded by an oak, the other was " surrounded with palm - trees . * "Accustomed to such combats, the Muse " of Albion proudly descended on the are " na ; she recollected the ground which she " had already traversed in her sublime con " test with the son of Meonides, with the lyrist of the Capitol. She saw her rival " young and trembling, but her emotion "was glorious ; the ardour of victory flushed " her countenance, and her golden hair " flowed on her shoulders. (6 (6 Scarcely retaining her respiration within " her agitated bosom, already she thought " she heard the trumpet ; she devoured the
- The oak is the emblem of patriotic poetry, and the
palm- tree that of the religious poetry, which comes from the east. KLOPSTOCK. 243 " " arena with ardent eyes ; she bent herself " towards the goal. " Proud of such a rival, still more proud "of herself, the noble English Muse mea “ sured the daughter of Tuisco with a glance. " Yes, I remember, said she, in the forests " of oak, near the ancient bards, together " we sprung into birth. " But I was told that thou wert no more : "pardon, O Muse, if thou revivest to im " mortal life, pardon me that I knew it " not till now. Nevertheless I shall know " it better when we arrive at the goal. " It is there-dost thou see it in the " distance ? beyond that oak, seest thou "those palms, cans't thou discern the " crown ? thou art silent-Oh ! that proud silence, that constrained countenance, that " look of fire fixed on the earth-I know it. "Nevertheless- think again before the dangerous signal, think—is it not I who " maintained the contest with the Muse of Thermophyle, with her also of the seven " hills? a " She said : the decisive moment is ar rived, the herald approaches : O daughter R 2 CC 66 << << 244 OF GERMANY. of Albion, cried the Muse of Germany, I love thee ; in admiring, I love thee—but " the palm of immortality is dearer to me 66 even than thou art. Seize the crown if thy genius demands it , but let me be al "lowed to partake it with thee. " How my heart beats-immortal gods even, if I were to arrive the first at the " sublime object of our course-Oh ! then " thou wouldst follow close upon me-thy " breath would agitate my flowing hair. 66 66 " All at once the trumpet resounded ; they fly with the rapidity of an eagle ; a " cloud of dust extends itself over the wide career: I saw them near the oak, but the " cloud thickened, and they were soon lost " to my sight." It is thus that the ode finishes, and there is a grace in not pointing out the victor. I refer the examination of Klopstock's works in a literary point of view to the chapter on German poetry, and I now con fine myself to the pointing them out as the actions of his life. The aim of all his works, is either to awaken patriotism in his country, or to celebrate religion : if 66 66 KLOPSTOCK. 243 poetry had its saints, Klopstock would certainly be reckoned one of the first of them . The greater part of his odes may be con sidered as Christian psalms ; Klopstock is the David of the New Testament : but that which honours his character above all , without speaking of his genius, is a reli gious hymn under the form of an epic poem called the Messiah, to which he de voted twenty years. The Christian world already possessed two poems, the Inferno of Dante, and Milton's Paradise Lost : one was full of images and phantoms, like the external religion of the Italians. Milton who had lived in the midst of civil wars, above all excelled in the painting of his characters ; and his Satan is a gigantic rebel armed against the monarchy of heaven. Klopstock has conceived the Christian sen timent in all its purity ; he consecrated his soul to the divine Saviour of men. The fathers of the church inspired Dante ; the Bible inspired Milton : the greatest beau ties of Klopstock's poem are derived from the New Testament ; from the divine sim plicity of the gospel he knew how to draw 246 OF GERMANY. • a charming strain of poetry, which does not lessen its purity. In beginning this poem, it seems as if we were entering a great church, in the midst of which an or gan is heard, and that tender emotion, that devout meditation which inspires us in our Christian temples, also pervades the soul as we read the Messiah. Klopstock, in his youth, proposed to himself this poem as the object and end of his existence. It appears to me that men would acquit them selves worthily with respect to this life, if a noble object, a grand idea of any sort, distinguished their passage through the world ; and it is already an honourable proof of character to be able to direct towards one enterprize all the scattered rays of our faculties, the results of our labour. In whatever manner we judge of the beauties and defects of the Messiah, we ought frequently to read over some of its verses ; the reading of the whole work may be wearisome, but every time that we re turn to it, we breathe a sort of perfume of the soul, which makes us feel an attraction to all things holy and celestial, After long labours, after a great number KLOPSTOCK. 247 and, of years, Klopstock at length concluded his poem. Horace,, Ovid, &c . have ex pressed in various manners the noble pride which seemed to ensure to them the im mortal duration of their works : 66 66 Exegi monumentum ære perennius : ” * "Nomenque erit indelibile nostrum.”† 66 A sentiment of a very different nature pene trated the soul of Klopstock when his Mes siah was finished . He expresses it thus in his Ode to the Redeemer, which is at the end of his poem . " I have hoped in thee, O heavenly Medi " ator ! I have sung the canticle of the new covenant : the formidable race is run, " and thou hast pardoned my tottering " footsteps. " Gratitude ! eternal, ardent, exalted sen " timent ! O cause the harmony of my harp to resound. O, haste ! my heart is “ overwhelmed with joy, and I shed tears " of rapture. " I ask no recompense ; have I not al
- "I have erected a monument more durable than brass."
" The memory of my name shall be indelible. " 248 OF GERMANY, ready tasted the pleasure of angels since " I have sung the glories of my God ? The " emotion it occasioned penetrated to the inmost recesses of my soul, and it vibrat " ed all that is most intimately connected " with my being. " Heaven and earth disappeared from my sight ; but soon the storm subsided ; the " breath of my life resembled the pure ક 10 " and serene air of a vernal day. 66 Ah ! am I not recompensed ? have I not " seen the tears of Christians flow ? and in " another world, perhaps, they will again " welcome me with those holy tears ! I have also felt terrestrial joy ; my heart (in " vain would I conceal it from thee) , my 4 " heart was animated by ambition for glory : " in my youth it palpitated with this sen " timent ; it still palpitates, but with a " more chastened ardour. 66
1 Has not thy apostle said to the faith ful, If there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on those things ! —It " is this celestial flame which I have chosen " for my guide; it appears before my steps, " and displays a holier path to my ambi " tious sight. " 06
KLOPSTOCK. 249 4. " Led by this light, the delusion of ter "restrial pleasures has not deceived me. " When I was in danger of wandering, the " recollection of the holy hours in which my soul was initiated, the harmonious " voices of angels, their harps, their con "certs recalled me to myself. 1 " I am at the goal, yes, I have reached " it, and I tremble with happiness ; thus " (to speak in a human manner of celestial " things) , thus we shall be affected, when " at a future day we shall find ourselves in " the presence of Him who died and rose ❝ again for us. !! " It is my Lord and my God, whose " powerful hand has led me to this goal through the graves which surrounded me : “ he armed me with strength and courage against approaching death ; and dangers, unknown, but terrific, were warded from "the poet who was thus protected by a " celestial shield. " I have finished the song of the new " covenant. I have traversed the formida O heavenly Mediator, in thee have I put my trust." This mixture of poetic enthusiasm and 56 66 66 66 " ble course. 1 250 OF GERMANY, i religious confidence inspires both admira tion and tenderness. Men of talents for merly addressed themselves to fabulous deities. Klopstock has consecrated his talents to God himself, and by the happy union of the Christian religion with poetry, he shews the Germans how possible it is to attain a property in the fine arts which may belong peculiarly to themselves, with out being derived, as servile imitations, from the ancients. Those who have known Klopstock, re spect as much as they admire him. Re ligion, liberty, love, occupied all his thoughts. His religious profession was found in the performance of all his duties : he even gave up the cause of liberty when innocent blood would have defiled it ; and fidelity consecrated all the attachments of his heart. Never had he recourse to his imagination to justify an error ; it exalted his soul without leading it astray. It is said, that his conversation was full of wit and taste ; that he loved the society of women, particularly of French women, and that he was a good judge of that sort of charm and grace which pedantry reproves. KLOPSTOCK. 251 I readily believe it ; for there is always something of universality in genius, and perhaps it is connected by secret ties to grace, at least to that grace which is bestowed by nature. How far distant is such a man from envy, selfishness, excess of vanity, which many writers have excused in themselves in the name of the talents they possessed ! If they had possessed more, none of these defects would have agitated them. We are proud, irritable, astonished at our own perfections, when a little dexterity is mixed with the mediocrity of our character ; but true genius inspires gratitude and modesty ; for we feel from whom we received it, and we are also sensible of the limit, which he who bestowed has likewise as signed to it. We find in the second part of the Mes siah a very fine passage on the death of Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, who is pointed out to us in the Gospel as the image of contemplative virtue. Lazarus, who has received life a second time from Jesus Christ, bids his sister farewell with a mixture of grief and of confidence which is 252 OF GERMANY. deeply affecting. From the last moments of Mary, Klopstock has drawn a picture of the death-bed of the just . When in his turn he was also on his death bed, he re peated his verses on Mary with an expiring voice ; he recollected them through the shades of the sepulchre, and in feeble ac cents he pronounced them as exhorting himself to die well : thus, the senti ments expressed in youth were sufficiently pure to form the consolation of his closing life. Ah! how noble a gift is genius, when it has never been profaned, when it has been employed only in revealing to mankind under the attractive form of the fine arts, the generous sentiments and religious hopes which have before lain dormant in the human heart. This same passage of the death of Mary was read with the burial service at Klop stock's funeral . The poet was old when he ceased to live, but the virtuous man was already in possession of the immortal palms which renew existence and flourish beyond the grave. All the inhabitants of Hamburgh rendered to the patriarch of KLOPSTOCK. 253 literature the honours which elsewhere are scarcely ever accorded except to rank and power, and the manes of Klopstock re ceived the reward which the excellence of his life had merited. 3 254 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER VI. Lessing and Winckelmann. 4 PERHAPS the literature of Germany alone derived its source from criticism : in every other place criticism has followed the great productions of art ; but in Germany it pro duced them. The epoch at which litera ture appears in its greatest splendour is the cause of this difference. Various na tions had for many ages become illustrious in the art of writing : the Germans acquir ed it at a much later period, and thought they could do no better than follow the path already marked out ; it was necessary then that criticism should expel imitation, in order to make room for originality. Lessing wrote in prose with unexampled I LESSING AND WINCKELMANN. 25.5 7 clearness and precision : depth of thought frequently embarrasses the style of the writers of the new school ; Lessing, not less profound, had something severe in his cha racter which made him discover the most concise and poignant modes of expression. Lessing was always animated in his writings. by an emotion hostile to the opinions he attacked, and a sarcastic humour gives strength to his ideas. He occupied himself by turns with the theatre, with philosophy, antiquities, and theology, pursuing truth through all of them, like a huntsman, who feels more pleasure in the chase, than in the attainment of his object. His style has, in some re spects, the lively and brilliant conciseness of the French ; and it conduced to render the. German language classical. The writers of the new school embrace a greater number of thoughts at the same time, but Lessing deserves to be more generally admired ; he. possesses a new and bold genius, which meets nevertheless the common compre hensions of mankind. His modes of percep tion are German, his manner of expression 糜 256 OF GERMANY. European. Although a dialectician, at once lively and close in his arguments, enthusiasm for the beautiful filled his whole soul ; he possessed ardour without glare, and a phi losophical vehemence which was always active, and which by repeated strokes pro duced effects the most durable. Lessing analyzed the French theatre, which was then fashionable in his country, and asserted that the English drama was more intimately connected with the genius of his countrymen. In the judgment he passes on Mérope, Zaïre, Semiramis, and Rodogune, he notices no particular improbability ; he attacks the sincerity of the sentiments and characters, and finds fault with the personages of those fictions, as if they were real beings : his criticism is a treatise on the human heart, as much as on poetical literature. To ap preciate with justice the observations made by Lessing on the dramatic system in gene ral, we must examine, as I mean to do in the following chapters, the principal dif ferences of French and German opinion on that subject. But in the history of litera ture, it is remarkable that a German should LESSING AND WINCKELMANN. 257 have had the courage to criticise a great French writer, and jest with wit on the very prince of jesters, Voltaire himself. It was much for a nation lying under the weight of an anathema which refused ' it both taste and grace, to become sensible that in every country there exists a national taste, a natural grace ; and that literary fame may be acquired in various ways. The writings of Lessing gave a new im pulse to his countrymen : they read Shakes pear ; they dared in Germany to call them selves German ; and the rights of originality were established instead of the yoke of cor rection. Lessing has composed theatrical pieces and philosophical works which deserve to be examined separately ; we should always consider German authors under various points of view. As they are still more dis tinguished by the faculty of thought than by genius, they do not devote themselves exclusively to any particular species of com position ; reflection attracts them succes sively to different modes of literature. Amongst the writings of Lessing, one of the most remarkable is the Laocoon ; it VOL. I. S 258 OF GERMANY. characterises the subjects which are suitable both to poetry and painting, with as much philosophy in the principles as sagacity in the examples : nevertheless Winckelmann was the man who in Germany brought about an entire revolution in the manner of consi dering the arts, and literature also as con nected with the arts. I shall speak of him elsewhere under the relation of his influence on the arts ; but his style certainly places him in the first rank of German writers . This man, who at first knew antiquity only by books, was desirous of contemplat ing its noble remains ; he felt himself at tracted with ardour towards the south : we still frequently find in German imagination some traces of that love of the sun, that weariness of the north, which formerly drew so many northern nations into the countries of the south. A fine sky awakens senti ments similar to the love we bear to our country. When Winckelmann, after a long abode in Italy, returned to Germany, the sight of snów, of the pointed roofs which it covers, and of smoky houses, filled him with melancholy. He felt as if he could no longer enjoy the arts, when he no longer LESSING AND WINCKELMANN. 259 breathed the air which gave them birth. What contemplative eloquence do we not discover in what he has written on the Apollo' Belvedere and the Laocoon ! His style is calm and majestic as the object of his con sideration. He gives to the art of writing the imposing dignity of ancient monuments, and his description produces the same sen sation as the statue itself. No one before him had united such exact and profound observation with admiration so animated ; it is thus, only, that we can comprehend the fine arts. The attention they excite must be awakened by love ; and we must discover in the chef-d' - oeuvres of genius, as we do in the features of a beloved object, a thousand charms, which are revealed to us by the sentiments they inspire. Some poets, before Winckelmann, had studied Greek tragedies, with the purpose of adapting them to our theatres . Learned men were known, whose authority was equal to that of books ; but no one had hitherto (to use the expression) rendered himself a pagan in order to penetrate antiquity. Winckelmann possesses the defects and ad vantages of a Grecian amateur ; and we •
$ 2 260 OF GERMANY. 17. feel in his writings the adoration of beauty, such as it existed in a nation where it so often obtained the honours of apo theosis. Imagination and learning equally lent their different lights to Winckelmann : before him it was thought that they mutually excluded each other. He has shewn us that to under stand the ancients, one was as necessary as the other. We can give life to objects of art only by an intimate acquaintance with the country and with the epoch in which they existed. We are not interested by features which are indistinct. To animate recitals and fictions, where past ages are the theatre, learning must even assist the imagination, and render it, if possible, a spectator of what it is to paint, and a cotemporary of what it relates. Zadig guessed by some confused traces, some words half torn, at circumstances which he deduced from the slightest indi cations. It is thus, that through antiquity we must take learning for our guide : the vestiges which we perceive are interrupted, effaced, difficult to lay hold of; but by making use at once of imagination and LESSING AND WINCKÈLMANN. 261 study, we bring back time, and renew existence. When we appeal to tribunals to decide on the truth of a fact, it is sometimes a slight circumstance which makes it clear. Imagination is in this respect like a judge ; a single word, a custom , an allu sion found in the works of the ancients, serves it as a light, by which it arrives at the knowledge of perfect truth. Winckelmann knew how to apply to his inspection of the monuments of the arts that spirit of judgment which leads us to the knowledge of men ; he studied the physiognomy of the statue as he would have done that of a human being. He seized with great justness the slightest ob servations, from which he knew how to draw the most striking conclusions. A certain physiognomy, an emblematical at tribute, a mode of drapery, may at once cast an unexpected light on the longest researches. The locks of Ceres are thrown back with a disorder that would be unsuita ble to the character of Minerva ; the loss of Proserpine has for ever troubled the mind of her mother. Minos, the son and 1 8 262 OF GERMANY. disciple of Jupiter, has in our medals the same features as his father ; nevertheless , the calm majesty of the one, and the severe expression of the other, distinguish the sovereign of the Gods from the judge. of men. The Torso is a fragment of the statue of Hercules deified ; of him, who received from Hebe the cup of immorta lity ; while the Hercules Farnese yet pos sesses only the attributes of a mortal ; each contour of the Torso, as energetic as this but more rounded, still characterizes the strength of the hero ; but of the hero who, placed in heaven, is thenceforth freed from the rude labours of the earth. All is symbolical in the arts, and nature shows herself under a thousand different appear ances in those pictures, in that poetry, where immobility must indicate motion, where the inmost soul must be externally displayed, and where the existence of a moment must last to eternity. 4 Winckelmann has banished from the fine arts in Europe the mixture of ancient and modern taste. In Germany, his influence has been still more displayed in literature than in the arts . We shall, in what fol→ LESSING AND WINCKELMANN. 263 ? lows, be led to examine, whether the scru pulous imitation of the ancients is compa tible with natural originality ; or rather, whether we ought to sacrifice that origina lity in order to confine ourselves to the choice of subjects, in which poetry, like ' painting, having no model in existence, can represent only statues. But this discus sion is foreign to the merit of Winckel mann in the fine arts, he has shown us what constituted taste among the ancients ; it was for the moderns, in this respect, to feel what it suited them to adopt or to reject. When a man of genius succeeds in displaying secrets of an antique or foreign nature, he renders service by the impulse which he traces : the emotion thus received becomes part of ourselves ; and the greater the truth that accompanies it, the less servile is the imitation it inspires. Winckelmann has developed the true principles, now admitted into the arts, of the nature of the ideal ; of that perfect nature, of which the type is in our imagi nation, and does not exist elsewhere. The application of these principles to literature is singularly productive. • ✔ 264 OF GERMANY. The poetic of all the arts is united under the same point of view in the writings of Winklemann, and all have gained by it. Poetry has been better comprehended by the aid of sculpture, and sculpture by that of poetry ; and we have been led by the arts of Greece to her philosophy. Those metaphysics which have ideas for their ob ject originate with the Germans, as they did formerly with the Greeks, in the adora tion of supreme beauty, which our souls alone can conceive and acknowledge. This supreme ideal beauty is a reminiscence of heaven, our original country ; the sculptures of Phidias, the tragedies of Sophocles, and the doctrines of Plato, all agree to give us the same notion of it under different forms. GOETHE. 265 CHAPTER VII. Goëthe. M. THAT which was wanting to Klopstock was a creative imagination : he gave utterance to great thoughts and noble sentiments in beautiful verse ; but he was not what might be called an artist. His inventions are weak; and the colours in which he invests them have scarcely even that plenitude of strength that we delight to meet with in poetry, and in all other arts which are ex pected to give to fiction the energy and originality of nature. Klopstock loses him self in the ideal : Goëthe never gives up the earth ; even in attaining the most sub lime conceptions, his mind possesses vigour not weakened by sensibility. Goëthe might 266 OF GERMANY. be mentioned, as the representative of all German literature ; not that there are no writers superior to him in different kinds of composition, but that he unites in himself alone all that distinguishes German genius ; and no one besides is so remarkable for a peculiar species of imagination which nei ther Italians, English, or French have ever attained . 磁 Goëthe having displayed his talents in composition of various kinds, the exami nation of his works will fill the greatest part of the following chapters ; but a personal knowledge of the man who possesses such an influence over the literature of his coun try will, it appears to me, assist us the bet ter to understand that literature.
I Goethe possesses superior talents for con versation ; and whatever we may say, su perior talents ought to enable a man to talk . We may however, produce some ex amples of silent men of genius : timidity, misfortune, disdain, or ennui, are often the cause of it ; but, in general, extent of ideas and warmth of soul naturally inspire the necessity of communicating our feelings to others ; and those men who will not be GOETHE. 267 judged by what they say, may not deserve that we should interest ourselves in what they think. When Goethe is induced to talk, he is admirable ; his eloquence is en riched with thought ; his pleasantry is, at the same time, full of grace and of philo sophy ; his imagination is impressed by ex ternal objects, as was that of the ancient artists ; nevertheless his reason possesses but too much the maturity of our own. times. Nothing disturbs the strength of his mind, and even the defects of his cha racter, ill-humour, embarrassment, constraint, pass like clouds round the foot of that mountain on the summit of which his ge nius is placed. What is related of the conversation of Diderot may give some idea of that of Goëthe; but, if we may judge by the writ ings of Diderot, the distance between these two men, must be infinite. Diderot is the slave of his genius ; Goëthe ever holds the powers of his mind in subjection : Diderot is affected, from the constant endeavour to produce effect ; but in Goëthe we perceive disdain of success, and that to a degree that is singularly pleasing, even when we 268 OF GERMANY. have most reason to find fault with his neg ligence. Diderot finds it necessary to sup ply by philanthropy his want of religious sentiments : Goëthe is inclined to be more bitter than sweet ; but, above all, he is na tural ; and in fact, without this quality, what is there in one man that should have power to interest another ? " Goëthe possesses no longer that resistless ardour which inspired him in the composi tion of Werter but the warmth of his imagination is still sufficient to animate every thing. It might be said, that he is himself unconnected with life, and that he describes it merely as a painter.. Hé at taches more value, at present, to the pic tures he presents to us, than to the emo tions he experiences ; time has rendered him a spectator. While he still bore a part in the active scenes of the passions, while he suffered, in his own person, from the perturbations of the heart, his writings pro duced a more lively impression. As we do not always best appreciate Our own talents, Goëthe maintains at present, that an author should be calm even when he is writing a passionate work; 3 GOETHE. 269 and that an artist should equally be cool, in order the more powerfully to act on the imagination of his readers. Perhaps, in early life , he would not have entertained this opinion ; perhaps he was then enslaved by his genius, rather than its master ; per haps he then felt, that the sublime and heavenly sentiment being of transient dura tion in the heart of man, the poet is infe rior to the inspiration which animates him, and cannot enter into judgment on it,. without losing it at once, At first we are astonished to find cold ness, and even something like stiffness, in the author of Werter ; but when we can prevail on him to be perfectly at his ease, the liveliness of his imagination makes the restraint which we first felt entirely disap pear. He is a man of universal mind, and impartial because universal ; for there is no indifference in his impartiality his is a dou ble existence, a double degree of strength, a double light, which, on all subjects, en lightens at once both sides of the question. When it is necessary to think, nothing ar rests his course ; neither the age in which he lives, nor the habits he has formed, nor his 270 OF GERMANY. relations with social life : his eagle glance falls decidedly on the object he observes. If his soul had developed itself by actions, his character would have been more strongly marked, more firm , more patriotic ; but his mind would not have taken so wide a range over every different mode of perception ; passions or interests would then have traced out to him a positive path. Goëthe takes pleasure in his writings, as well as in his conversation , to break the thread which he himself has spun, to de stroy the emotions he excites, to throw down the image he has forced us to admire. When, in his fictions, he inspires us with interest for any particular character, he soon shows the inconsistencies which are calculated to detach us from it. He dis poses of the poetic world, like a conqueror of the real earth ; and thinks himself strong enough to introduce, as nature sometimes does, the genius of destruction into his own works. If he were not an estimable cha racter, we should be afraid of that species of superiority which elevates itself above all things ; which degrades, and then again raises up; which affects us, and then laughs - GOETHE. 271 at our emotion ; which affirms and doubts by turns, and always with the same success. I have said, that Goëthe possessed in himself alone, all the principal features of German genius ; they are all indeed found in him to an eminent degree a great depth of ideas, that grace which springs from imagination, a grace far more original than that which is formed by the spirit of society ; in short, a sensibility sometimes bordering on the fantastic, but for that very reason the more calculated to interest readers, who seek in books some thing that may give variety to their mono tonous existence, and in poetry, impres sions which may supply the want of real events. If Goëthe were a Frenchman, he would be made to talk from morning till night all the authors, who were contem porary with Diderot, went to derive ideas from his conversation, and afforded him at the same time an habitual enjoyment, from the admiration he inspired. The Ger mans know not how to make use of their talents in conversation, and so few people, even among the most distinguished, have the habit of interrogating and answering, 1 1 4 272 OF GERMANY ANY!. that society is scarcely at all esteemed among them; but the influence acquired by Goethe is not the less extraordinary. There are a great many people in Germany who would think genius discoverable even in the direction of a letter, if it were writ ten by him. The admirers of Goëthe form a sort of fraternity, in which the rallying words serve to discover the adepts to each other. When foreigners also profess to ad mire him, they are rejected with disdain, if certain restrictions leave room to suppose that they have allowed themselves to exa mine works, which nevertheless gain much by examination. No man can kindle such fanaticism without possessing great faculties, whether good or bad ; for there is nothing but power, of whatever kind it may be, which men sufficiently dread to be excited by it to a degree of love so enthusiastic. SCHILLER. 273 CHAPTER VIII. Schiller. CHILLER was a man of uncommon genius and of perfect sincerity ; these two quali ties ought to be inseparable at least in a literary character. Thought can never be compared with action but when it awakens in us the image of truth. Falsehood is still more disgusting in writing than in conduct. Actions even of the most deceit ful kind still remain actions, and we know what we have to depend on, either in judging or hating them; but writings are only a vain mass of idle words, when they do not proceed from sincere conviction. There is not a nobler course than that of literature, when it is pursued as Schil VOL. I. T 1 274 OF GERMANY. Į ler pursued it . It is true, that in Ger many there is so much seriousness and probity, that it is there alone we can be completely acquainted with the character and the duties of every vocation. Never theless Schiller was admirable among them all, both with respect to his virtues and his talents. His Muse was Conscience : she needs no invocation, for we hear her voice at all times, when we have once listened to it. He loved poetry, the dramatic art, history, and literature in general, for its own sake. If he had determined never to publish his works, he would nevertheless have taken the same pains in writing them; and no consi❤ deration, drawn either from success, from the prevailing fashion, from prejudice, or from any thing, in short, that proceeds from others, could ever have prevailed on him to alter his writings for his writings were himself ; they expressed his soul ; and he did not conceive the possibility of altering a single . expression, if the internal sentiment which inspired it had undergone no change. Schil ler, doubtless, was not exempt from self love ; for if it be necessary in order to ani mate us to glory, it is likewise so to ren SCHILLER. 275 1 der us capable of any active exertion what ever ; but nothing differs so much from another in its consequences as vanity and the love of fame : the one seeks success by fraud, the other endeavours to command it openly ; this feels inward uneasiness, and lies cunningly in wait for public opinion ; that trusts its own powers, and depends on natural causes alone for strength to subdue all opposition. In short, there is a senti ment even more pure than the love of glory, which is , the love of truth : it is this love that renders literary men like the warlike preachers of a noble cause ; and to them should henceforth be assigned the charge of keeping the sacred fire : for feeble women are no longer, as formerly, sufficient for its defence. Innocence in genius, and candour in power, are both noble qualities. Our idea of goodness is sometimes debased by asso ciating it with that of weakness ; but when it is united to the highest degree of know ledge and of energy, we comprehend in what sense the Bible has told us, that " God " made man after his own image. " Schil ler did himself an injury, when he first en T2 276 OF GERMANY. tered into the world, by the wanderings of his imagination ; but with the maturity of áge, he recovered that sublime purity which gives birth to noble thought ; with degrad ing sentiments he held no intercourse. He lived, he spoke, he acted, as if the wicked did not exist ; and when he described them in his works, it was with more exaggera tion and less depth of observation than if he had really known them. The wicked presented themselves to his imagination as an obstacle in nature, as a physical scourge ; and perhaps in many respects they have no intellectual being; the habit of vice has changed their souls into a perverted instinct. Schiller was the best of friends, the best of fathers, the best of husbands ; no quà lity was wanting to complete that gentle and peaceful character which was animated by the fire of genius alone : the love of li berty, respect for the female sex, enthu siastic admiration of the fine arts, inspired his mind ; and in the analysis of his works it would be easy to point out to what par ticular virtue we owe the various produc tions of his masterly pen. It has been SCHILLER. 277 E said that genius is all-sufficient. I believe it, where knowledge and skill preside ; but when we seek to paint the storms of human nature, or fathom it in its unsearchable depths, the powers even of imagination fail ; we must possess a soul that has felt the agitation of the tempest, but into which the Divine Spirit has descended to restore its serenity. I saw Schiller, for the first time, in the Saloon of the Duke and Duchess of Wei mar, in the presence of a society as en lightened as it was honourable. He read French very well, but he had never spoken it. I maintained with some warmth the superiority of our dramatic system over that of all others ; he did not refuse to enter the lists with me, and without feel ing any uneasiness from the difficulty and slowness with which he expressed himself in French, without dreading the opinion of his audience which was all against him, his conviction of being right impelled him to speak. In order to refute him, I at first made use of French arms, vivacity and pleasantry ; but in what Schiller said, I 278 OF GERMANY. soon discovered so many ideas through the impediment of his words ; I was so struck with that simplicity of character which led a man of genius to engage himself thus in a contest where speech was wanting to express his thoughts ; I found him so mo dest and so indifferent as to what con cerned his own success, so proud and so animated in the defence of what appeared to him to be truth, that I vowed to him from that moment a friendship replete with admiration. · Attacked, while yet young, by a hope less disease, the sufferings of his last mo ments were softened by the attention of his children and of a wife who deserved his affection by a thousand endearing qua lities. Madame de Wollzogen, a friend worthy of comprehending his meaning, asked him, a few hours before his death, how he felt himself? " Still more and " more easy," was his reply ; and, indeed , had he not reason to place his trust in that God whose dominion on earth he had endeavoured to promote ? Was he not approaching to the abode of the just ? 7 SCHILLER 279 J · Is he not at this moment in the society of those who resemble him ? and has he not already rejoined the friends , who are also expecting our arrival in the seats of blessedness ? 230 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER IX. Of Style, and of Versification in the German Language. IN learning the prosody of a language we enter more intimately into the spirit of the nation by which it is spoken, than by any other possible manner of study. Thence it follows that it is amusing to pronounce foreign words : we listen to ourselves as if another were speaking ; but nothing is so delicate, nothing so difficult, to seize, as accent. We learn the most complicated airs of music a thousand times more rea dily than the pronunciation of a single syllable. A long succession of years, the first impressions of childhood, can alone render us capable of imitating this pronun or OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 281. " " ciation, which comprehends whatever is most subtle and undefinable in the imagination, and in national character. The Germanic dialects have for their original a mother tongue of which they all partake. This common source renews and multiplies ex pressions in a mode always conformable to the genius of the people. The nations of Latin origin enrich themselves, as we may say, only externally ; they must have re course to dead languages, to unproductive mines, for the extension of their empire. It is therefore natural, that innovations in words should be less pleasing to them, than to those nations which emit shoots from an ever-living stock. But the French writers require an animation and colouring of their style, bythe boldest measures that a natu ral sentiment can suggest, while the Ger mans, on the contrary, gain by restricting themselves. Among them, reserve cannot destroy originality ; they run no risk of losing it, but by the very excess of abundance. The air we breathe has much influence on the sounds we articulate : the diversity of soil and climate produces very different modes of pronouncing the same language. 282 OF GERMANY. As we approximate to the sea coast, we find the words become softer ; the climate there is more temperate ; perhaps also the habitual sight of this image of infinity in clines to thoughtfulness, and gives to pro nunciation more of effeminacy and indo lence : but when we ascend towards the mountains, the accent becomes stronger, and we might say that the inhabitants of these elevated regions wish to make them selves heard by the rest of the world, from the height of their natural rostra. We find in the Germanic dialects the traces of the different influences I have now had occasion to point out. x The German is in itself a language equally primitive, and of a construction almost equally skilful, with the Greek. Those who have made researches into the great families of nations have thought they discovered the historical reasons for this resemblance. It is certainly true, that we remark in the German a grammatical affinity with the Greek ; it has all its difficulty, without its charm : for the multitude of consonants of which the words are composed render them rather noisy than sonorous. It might be
OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 283 said, that the words themselves were more forcible than the things represented by them , and this frequently gives a sort of monotonous energy to the style. We should be careful, nevertheless, not to at tempt softening the pronunciation of the German language too much there always results from it a certain affected graceful-. ness, which is altogether disagreeable : it presents to our ears sounds essentially rude, in spite of the gentility with which we seek to invest them ; and this sort of affectation is singularly displeasing. J. J. Rousseau has said, that the south ern languages were the daughters ofpleasure, the northern, of necessity . The Italian and Spanish are modulated like an harmonious song; the French is eminently suited to conversation : their parliamentary debates, and the energy natural to the people, have given to the English something of expres sion, that supplies the want of prosody. The German is more philosophical by far than the Italian ; more poetical, by reason of its boldness, than the French ; more fa vourable to the rhythm of verses than the English ; but it still retains a certain stiff • + 284 OF GERMANY. ness that proceeds, possibly, from its being so sparingly made use of, either in social intercourse or in the public service. 2 Grammatical simplicity is one of the great advantages of modern languages. This simplicity, founded on logical principles common to all nations, renders them easy to be understood : to learn the Italian and English, a slight degree of study is suf ficient ; but the German is quite a science. The period, in the German language, en compasses the thought, and, like the talons of a bird, to grasp it, opens and closes on it again. A construction of phrases, nearly similar to that which existed among the ancients, has been introduced into it with greater facility than into any other European dialect ; but inversions are rarely suitable to modern languages. The striking terminations of the Greek and Latin clearly pointed out the words which ought to be joined together even when they were separated ; the signs of the German declensions are so indistinct, that we have a good deal of difficulty to discover, under colours so uniform, the words which depend on each other. OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 285 When foreigners complain of the labour which is required to study the German language, they are told, that it is very easy to write in that language with the simplicity of French grammar, while it is impossible in French to adopt the Ger man period, and that therefore this should be considered as affording additional means of facility ; but these means mislead many writers, who are induced to make too fre quent use of them. The German, is per→ haps the only language, in which verse is more easy to be understood than prose ; the poetic phrase, being nécessarily inter rupted even by the measure of the verse, cannot be lengthened beyond it. Without doubt, there are more shades, more connecting ties, between the thoughts in those periods which in themselves form a whole, and assemble in the same point of view all the various relations belonging to the same subject ; but if we considered only the natural concatenation of different ideas, we should end by wishing to com prise them all in a single phrase. It is necessary for the human in order to comprehend, mind to divide, and we and we run a 286 OF GERMANY. risk of mistaking gleams of light for truth, when even the forms of a language are obscure. The art of translation is carried farther in the German language than in any other Euro pean dialect. Voss has translated the Greek and Latin Authors with wonderful exactness ; and W. Schlegel those of England, Italy, and Spain, with a truth of colouring which before him was unexampled . When the German is employed in a translation from the English, it loses nothing of its natural character, because both those languages are of Germanic origin ; but whatever merit may be found in Voss's translation of Homer, it certainly makes, both of the Iliad and Odyssey, poems, the style of which is Greek, though the words are German. Our know ledge of antiquity gains by it ; but the ori ginality, peculiar to the idiom of every nation, is necessarily lost in proportion. It seems like a contradiction to accuse the German language of having at once too much flexibility and too much roughness : but what is reconcilable in character may also be reconcilable in languages ; and we often find that the quality of roughness 1 OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 287 does not exclude that of flexibility in the same person. These defects are less frequently dis covered in verse than in prose, and in ori ginal compositions than in translations. I think then we may with truth affirm, that there is at present no poetry more striking and more varied than that of the Germans. • Versification is a peculiar art, the inves tigation of which is inexhaustible : those words, which in the common relations of life serve only as signs of thought, reach our souls through the rhythm of harmoni ous sounds, and afford us a double enjoy ment, which arises from the union of sen sation and reflexion ; but if all languages are equally proper to express what we think, they are not all equally so to im part what we feel ; and the effects of poetry depend still more on the melody of words, than on the ideas which they serve to ex press. The German is the only modern language which has long and short syllables, like the Greek and Latin ; all the other Euro pean dialects are either more or less ac 288 OF GERMANY. cented ; but verse cannot be measured, in the manner of the ancients, according to the length of the syllables : accent gives unity to phrases, as well as to words. It is connected with the signification of what is said ; we lay a stress on that which is to determine the sense ; and pronunciation, in thus marking particular words, refers them all to the principal idea. It is not thus with the musical duration of sound in lan guage ; this is much more favourable to . poetry than accent, because it has no po sitive object, and affords only a high but indefinite pleasure, like all other enjoy ments that tend to no determinate purpose. Among the ancients, syllables were scanned according to the nature of the vowels, and the connection of their different sounds : harmony was the only criterion. In Ger many, all the accessory words are short, and it is grammatical dignity alone, that is to say, the importance of the radical syl lable, that determines its quantity ; there is less of charm in this species of prosody, than in that of the ancients, because it de pends more on abstract combinations than on involuntary sensation ; it is nevertheless 4 OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 289 a great advantage to any language, to have in its prosody that which may be substi tuted to rhyme. Rhyme is a modern discovery ; it is connected with all our fine arts, and we should deprive ourselves of great effects by renouncing the use of it. It is the image of hope and of memory. One sound makes us desire another corresponding to it ; and when the second is heard, it recals that which has just escaped us. This agree able regularity must nevertheless be pre judicial to nature in the dramatic art, as well as to boldness in the epic. We can scarcely do without rhyme. in idioms where the prosody is but little marked ; and yet the restraints of construction may, in certain languages, be such, that a bold and contemplative poet may find it needful to make us sensible of the harmony of ver sification without the subjection of rhyme. Klopstock has banished Alexandrines from German poetry ; he has substituted in their stead hexameters, and iambic verses with out rhyme, according to the practice of the English, which give much greater liberty to the imagination. Alexandrine verses VOL. I. U . > 290 OF GERMANY. suit but badly with German poetry ; we may convince ourselves of this by the poems of the great Haller himself, what ever merit they may in other respects pos sess : a language, the pronunciation of which is so sonorous, deafens us by the repetition and uniformity of the hemisticks . Besides, this kind of versification calls for sentences and antitheses ; and the German genius is too scrupulous and too sincere to adopt those antitheses, which never present ideas or images in their perfect truth, or in their most exact shades of distinction. The har mony of hexameters, and above all of iambic verses, when without rhyme, is only natural harmony, inspired by sentiment it is a marked and distinct declamation ; while the Alexandrine verse imposes a certain species and turn of expression, from which it is difficult to get free. The composition of this kind of verse is even entirely in dependent of poetic genius ; we may pos sess it, without having that genius ; and on the contrary, it is possible to be a great poet, and yet feel incapable of conforming to the restrictions which this kind of verse imposes. Our first lyrical poets in France OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 291 are, perhaps, our finest prose-writers ; Bos suet, Pascal, Fenelon, Buffon , J. Jacques, &c. The despotism of Alexandrines often pre vents us from putting into verse , that which, notwithstanding, would be true poetry; while in foreign nations, versification being much more easy and natural, every poeti cal thought inspires verse, and, in general, prose is left to reason and argument. We might defy Racine himself to translate into French verse Pindar, Petrarch, or Klop stock, without giving a character unnatural to them. Those poets have a kind of boldness which is seldom to be found, ex-. cept in languages which are capable of unit ing all the charms of versification with perfect originality ; and this, in the French, can only be done in prose. One of the greatest advantages of the Germanic dialects in poetry is the variety and beauty of their epithets. The Ger man, in this respect also, may be compared to the Greek ; in a single word, we per ceive many images, as in the principal note of a concord, we have all the sounds of which it is composed, or as certain colours, which revive in us the perception of those U 2 292 OF GERMANY. with which they are immediately connected. In French, we say only what we mean to say ; and we do not see, wandering round our words, those clouds of countless forms, which surround the poetry of the northern languages, and awaken a crowd of recollec tions. To the liberty of forming one epithet out of two or three, is added that of animat ing the language by making nouns of verbs ; the living, the willing, the feeling, are all expressions less abstract than life, will, and sentiment ; and whatever changes thought into action gives more animation to the style. The facility of reversing the con struction of a phrase, according to inclina tion, is also very favourable to poetry, and gives the power of exciting, by the varied means of versification, impressions analo gous to those of painting and music. In short, the general spirit of the Teutonic dialect is independence. The first object of their writers is, to transmit what they feel ; they would willingly say to poetry, what Eloisa said to her lover ; " If there " be a word more true, more tender, and " more strongly expressive of what I feel, that word I would choose." In France, 4 OF STYLE AND VERSIFICATION. 293 66 the recollection of what is suitable and be coming in society pursues genius even to its most secret emotions ; and the dread of ridicule is like the sword of Damocles, which no banquet of the imagination can ever make us forget. In the arts, we often speak of the merit of conquering a difficulty ; it is said , never theless, with reason, that " either the diffi " culty is not felt, and then it is no dif ficulty, or it is felt, and is then not sur " mounted." The fetters imposed on the mind certainly give a spring to its powers of action ; but there is often in true genius a sort of awkwardness, similar in some re spects to the credulity of sincere and noble souls ; and we should do wrong, in endea vouring to subject it to arbitrary restric tions, for it would free itself from them with much greater difficulty than talents of a second-rate order. 294 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER X. Of Poetry. THAT which is truly divine in the heart of man cannot be defined ; if there be words for some of its features, there are none to express the whole together, particularly the mystery of true beauty in all its varieties. It is easy to say what poetry is not ; but if we would comprehend what it is, we must call to our assistance the impressions ex cited by a fine country, harmonious music, the sight of a favoured object, and, above all, a religious sentiment which makes us feel within ourselves the presence of the Deity, Poetry is the natural language of all worship. The Bible is full of poetry ; Homer is full of religion : not that there OF POETRY. 295 are fictions in the Bible, or doctrines in Homer ; but enthusiasm concentrates diffe rent sentiments in the same focus ; enthu siasm is the incense offered by earth to heaven ; it unites the one to the other. - The gift of revealing by speech the in ternal feelings of the heart is very rare ; there is , however, a poetical spirit in all beings who are capable of strong and lively affections : expression is wanting to those who have not exerted themselves to find it. It may be said, that the poet only disengages the sentiment that was impri soned in his soul. Poetic genius is an internal disposition, of the same nature with that which renders us capable of a generous sacrifice. The composition of a fine ode is an heroic trance. If genius were not versatile, it would as often inspire fine actions as affecting expressions ; for they both equally spring from a conscious ness of the beautiful which is felt within us. " A man of superior talent said , that (6 prose was factitious, and poetry natural ; and in fact, nations a little civilized begin always with poetry: and whenever a strong 4 296 OF GERMANY. passion agitates the soul, the most common of men make use, unknown to themselves, of images and metaphors ; they call exterior nature to their assistance, to express what is inexpressible within themselves. Common people are much nearer being poets, than men accustomed to good society ; the rules of politeness, and delicate raillery, are fit only to impose limits, they cannot impart inspiration. In this world, there is an endless contest between poetry and prose ; but pleasantry must always place itself on the side of prose ; for , to jest is to descend. The spirit of society is however very favour able to that gay and graceful poetry of which Ariosto, La Fontaine, and Voltaire are the most brilliant models. Dramatic poetry is admirable in our first writers ; descriptive, and, above all, didactic poetry have been carried by the French to a very high degree of perfection ; but it does not appear, that they have hitherto been called on to distinguish themselves in lyric or epic poetry, such as it was formerly con ceived by the ancients, and at present by foreigners. Lyric poetry is expressed in the name of OF POETRY. 297 " the author himself ; he no longer assumes a character, but experiences in his own person, the various emotions he describes. J. B. Rousseau, in his devotional odes, and Racine, in his Athalic, have shown them selves lyric poets. They were imbued with' a love of psalmody, and penetrated with a lively faith. Nevertheless, the difficulties of the language and of French versification are frequently obstacles to this delirium of enthusiasm. We may quote admirable strophes in some of our odes, but have we any complete ode in which the Muse has not abandoned the poet? Fine verses are not always poetry ; inspiration in the arts is an inexhaustible source, which vivifies the whole, from the first word to the last. Love, country, faith, all are divinities in an ode. It is the apotheosis of sentiment. In order to conceive the true grandeur of lyric poetry, we must wander in thought into the ethereal regions, forget the tumult of earth in listening to celestial harmony, and consider the whole universe as a symbol of the emotions of the soul. The enigma of human destiny is nothing to the generality of men; the poet has it 1 298 OF GERMANY. always present to his imagination. The idea of death, which depresses vulgar minds, gives to genius additional boldness ; and the 'mixture of the beauties of nature with the terrors of dissolution excites an indescriba ble delirium of happiness and terror, without which , we can neither comprehend nor des cribe the spectacle of this world. Lyric poe try relates nothing, is not confined to the succession of time, or the limits of space ; it spreads its wings over countries, and over ages ; it gives duration to the sublime mo ment, in which man rises superior to the pains and pleasures of life . Amidst the wonders of the world, he feels himself a being at once creator and created ; who must die, and yet cannot cease to be ; and whose heart, trembling, yet at the same time powerful, takes pride in itself, yet pros trates itself before God, The Germans, at once uniting the powers of imagination and reflection (qualities which very rarely meet) , are more capable of lyric poetry than most other nations . The moderns cannot give up a certain profun dity of ideas, to which they have been ha bituated by a religion completely spiritual ; OF POETRY. 299 and yet, nevertheless, if this profundity: were not invested with images, it would not be poetry : nature, then, must be ag grandized in the eyes of men, before they can employ it as the emblem of their thoughts. Groves, flowers, and rivers were sufficient for the poets of paganism ; but the boundless ocean, the starry firmament, can scarcely express the eternal and the infinite, which pervade and fill the soul of a Chris tian. The Germans possess no epic poem, any more than ourselves : this admirable species of composition does not appear to be granted to the moderns, and perhaps the Iliad alone completely answers our ideas of it. To form an epic poem, a particular combination of circumstances, such as oc curred only among the Greeks, is requisite, together with the imagination displayed in heroic times, and the perfection of language peculiar to more civilized periods. In the middle ages, imagination was strong, but the language imperfect ; in our days, lan guage is pure, but the imagination defect ive. The Germans have much boldness in their ideas and style, but little invention in 1 300 OF GERMANY. the plan of their subject : their essays in the epic almost always resemble the cha racter of lyric poetry ; those of the French bear a stronger affinity to the dramatic, and we discover in them more of interest than of grandeur. When the object is to please on the stage, the art of circumscribing oneself within a given space, of guessing at the taste of the spectators, and bending to it with address, forms a part of the success ; but in the composition of an epic poem, nothing must depend on external and transient circumstances. It exacts absolute beauties, beauties which may strike the so litary reader, even when his sentiments are most natural, and his imagination most emboldened . He who hazards too much in an epic poem, would possibly incur severe censure from the good taste of the French ; but he who hazards nothing would not be the less condemned. It must be acknowledged, that in improv ing the taste and language of his country, Boileau has given to French genius a dispo sition very unfavourable to poetic composi tion. He has spoken only of that which ought to be avoided, he has dwelt only OF POETRY. 301 on precepts of reason and wisdom, which have introduced into literature a sort of pedantry very prejudicial to the sublime energy of the arts. In French, we have master- pieces of versification ; but how can we call mere versification poetry ! To render into verse what should have remained in prose, to express, in lines of ten syllables, like Pope, the minutest details of a game at cards ; or, as in some poems which have lately appeared among us, draughts, chess, and chemistry, is a trick of legerdemain in words : it is composing with words, what we call a poem, in the same manner as, with notes of music, we compose a sonata. A great knowledge of the poetic art is however necessary to enable an author, thus admirably, to describe objects which yield so little scope to the imagination ; and we have reason to admire some detached pieces in those galleries of pictures : but the inter vals by which they are separated are ne cessarily prosaic, like that which passes in the mind of the writer. He says to him self, I will make verses on this subject, " then on that, and afterwards on this also ; " and, without perceiving it, he entrusts us 66 302 OF GERMANY. with a knowledge of the manner in which he pursues his work. The true poet, it may be said, conceives his whole poem at once in his soul, and, were it not for the difficulties of language, would pour forth his extemporaneous effusions, the sacred hymns of genius, as the sibyls and prophets did in ancient times. He is agitated by his conceptions as by a real event of his life a new world is opened to him ; the sublime image of every various situation and character, of every beauty in nature, strikes his eye ; and his heart pants for that celestial happiness, the idea of which, like lightning, gives a momentary splendour to the obscurity of his fate. Poetry is a momentary possession of all our soul de sires ; genius makes the boundaries of ex istence disappear, and transforms into bril liant images the uncertain hope of mortals. It would be easier to describe the symp toms of genius, than to give precepts for the attainment of it . Genius, like love, is felt by the strong emotions with which it penetrates him who is endowed with it ; but if we dared to advise, where nature should be the only guide, it is not merely OF POETRY. 303 literary counsel that we should give. We should speak to poets, as to citizens and Balo heroes ; we should say to them, Be virtu ous, be faithful, be free ; respect what is dear to you, seek immortality in love, and the Deity in nature ; in short, sanctify your soul as a temple, and the angel of noble thoughts will not disdain to appear in it. 304 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XI. Of Classic and Romantic Poetry. 1 THE Word romantic has been lately introduced in Germany to designate that kind of poetry which is derived from the songs of the Troubadours; that which owes its birth to the union of chivalry and Christianity. If we do not admit that the empire of literature has been divided between paganism and Christianity , the north and the south, antiquity and the middle ages, chivalry and the institutions of Greece and Rome, we shall never succeed in forming a philosophical judgment of ancient and of modern taste.
We sometimes consider the word classic as synonimous to perfection. I use it at present in a different acceptation ; considering classic poetry as that of the ancients, and romantic, or romanesque poetry, as that which is generally connected with the traditions of chivalry. This division is equally suitable to the two æras of the world : that which preceded, and that which followed the establishment of Christianity.
In various German works, ancient poetry has also been compared to sculpture, and modern to painting ; in short, the progress of the human mind has been characterized in every different manner, passing from ma terial religion to those which are spiritual, from nature to the Deity. The French nation, certainly the most cultivated of all that are derived from Latin origin, inclines towards classic poetry imi tated from the Greeks and Romans. The English, the most illustrious of the Germa nic nations, is more attached to that which owes its birth to chivalry and romance ; and it prides itself on the admirable com positions of this sort which it possesses . I will not, in this place, examine which of these two kinds of poetry deserves the pre ference ; it is sufficient to show, that the VOL. I 306 OF GERMANY. " diversities of taste on this subject do not merely spring from accidental causes, but are derived also from the primitive sources of imagination and thought. There is a kind of simplicity both in the epic poems and tragedies of the ancients ; because at that time men were completely the children of nature, and believed them selves controlled by fate, as absolutely as nature herself is controlled by necessity. Man, reflecting but little, bore the impres sions of his soul on his countenance ; even conscience, was represented by external ob jects, and the torch of the Furies shook the horrors of remorse over the head of the guilty. In ancient times men attended to events alone, but among the moderns cha racter is of greater importance ; and that uneasy reflection, which, like the vulture of Prometheus, often internally devours us, would have been folly, amidst circumstances and relations so clear and decided, as they existed in the civil and social state of the ancients. · When the art of sculpture began in Greece, single statues alone were formed ; groupes were composed at a later period. 2 1 OF CLASSIC AND ROMANTIC POETRY. 307 It might be said with equal truth , that there were no groupes in any art ; objects were represented in succession, as in bas reliefs, without combination, without com plication of any kind. Man personified na ture ; nymphs inhabited the waters, hama dryads the forests : but nature, in turn, pos sessed herself of man ; and it might be said, he resembled the torrent, the thunderbolt, the volcano, so wholly did he act from in voluntary impulse, and so insufficient was reflection in any respect, to alter the mo tives or the consequences of his actions . The ancients, if we may be allowed the ex pression, possessed a corporeal soul, and its emotions were all strong, decided, and con sistent it is not the same with the human heart as it is developed by Christianity ; from the repentance it so strongly enjoins, the moderns have derived a constant habit of self-reflection. & But in order to manifest this kind of in ternal existence, a great variety of outward facts and circumstances must display, under every form, the innumerable shades and gradations of that which is passing in the soul. If in our days the fine arts were x 2 $03 OF GERMANY. confined to the simplicity of the ancients, we should never attain that primitive strength which distinguishes them, and we should lose those intimate and multiplied emotions of which our souls are susceptible. Simplicity in the arts would, among the moderns, easily degenerate into coldness and abstraction, while that of the ancients was full of life and animation. Honour and love, valour and pity, were the sentiments which distinguished the Christianity of chi valrous ages ; and those dispositions of the soul could only be displayed by dangers, exploits, love, misfortunes, that romantic interest, in short, by which pictures are in cessantly varied. The sources from which art derives its effect are then very different in classic poetry and in that of romance ; in one it is fate which reigns, in the other it is providence. Fate counts , the sentiments of men as nothing ; but Providence judges of actions according to those sentiments.. Poetry must necessarily create a world of a very different nature, when its object is to paint the work of destiny, which is both blind and deaf, maintaining an endless con test with mankind ; and when it attempts. ་ OF CLASSIC AND ROMANTIC POETRY. 309 W THAT to describe that intelligent order, over which the Supreme Being continually presides ; that Being whom our hearts supplicate, and who mercifully answers their petitions ! restlers pour , while bitesand the The poetry of the pagan world was ne cessarily as simple and well defined as the objects of nature ; while that of Christianity requires the various colours of the rainbow to preserve it from being lost in the clouds. The poetry of the ancients is more pure as an art ; that of the moderns more readily calls forth our tears. But our present ob ject is not so much to decide between classic and romantic poetry properly so called, as between the imitation of the one and the inspiration of the other. The li terature of the ancients is, among the mo derns, a transplanted literature ; that of chi valry and romance is indigenous, and flou rishes under the influence of our religion and our institutions . Writers who are imi tators of the ancients have subjected them selves to the rules of strict taste alone ; for, not being able to consult either their own nature or their own recollections, it is ne cessary for them to conform to those laws by which the chefs-d'-œuvre of the ancients • WIRD 1 310 OF GERMANY. ** ī 1 · may be adapted to our taste ; though the circumstances both political and religious, which gave birth to those chefs- d'œuvre, are all entirely changed . But the poetry written in imitation of the ancients, how ever perfect in its kind, is seldom popular, because, in our days, it has no connection whatever with our national feelings . The French, being the most classical of all modern poetry, is of all others least cal culated to become familiar among the lower orders of the people. The stanzas of Tasso are sung by the gondoliers of Venice : ´the Spaniards and Portuguese, of all ranks, know by heart the verses of Calderon and Camoëns. Shakspear is as much admired by the populace in England as by those of a higher class. The poems of Goëthe and Bürger are set to music, and repeated from the banks of the Rhine to the shores of the Baltic, Our French poets are admired wherever there are cultivated minds, either in our own nation, or in the rest of Eu rope ; but they are quite unknown to the common people, and even to the class of ci tizens in our towns, because the arts, in France, are not, as elsewhere, natives of the I OF CLASSIC AND ROMANTIC POETRY. 311 very country in which their beauties are displayed . Some French critics have asserted that German literature is still in its infancy ; this opinion is entirely false : men who are best skilled in the knowledge of languages, and the works of the ancients, are certainly not ignorant of the defects and advantages attached to the species of literature which they either adopt or reject ; but their chia racter, their habits, and their modes of réa soning, have led them to prefer that which is founded on the recollection of chivalry, on the wonders of the middle ages, to that which has for its basis the mythology of the Greeks. The literature of romance is alone capable of farther improvement, be cause, being rooted in our own soil , that alone can continue to grow and acquire fresh life : it expresses our religion ; it re cals our history ; its origin is ancient , al though not of classical antiquity. Classic poetry, before it comes home to us, must pass through our recollections of paganism : that of the Germans is the Christian æra of the fine arts ; it employs our personal impressions to excite strong and vivid emo 312 OF GERMANY. 1 tions ;; the genius by which it is inspired addresses itself immediately to our hearts, and seems to call forth the spirit of our own lives, of all phantoms at once the most pow erful and the most terrible. OF GERMAN POEMS. 313 CHAPTER XII. Of German Poems. FROM the various reflections contained in the preceding chapter, I think we must conclude that there is scarcely any classic poetry in Germany, whether we consider it as imitated from the ancients, or whether by the word classic we merely understand the highest degree of perfection. The fruitful imagination of the Germans leads them to produce, rather than to correct ; and there fore it would be very difficult to quote in their literature any writings generally ac knowledged as models. Their language is not fixed ; taste changes with every new. production of men of genius ; all is progress ive, all goes on, and the stationary point of I 314 OF GERMANY. perfection is not yet attained ; but is this an evil? In all those nations which have flat tered themselves with having reached it, the symptoms of decay have been almost imme diately perceived, and imitators have suc ceeded classical writers, as if for the purpose of disgusting us with their writings . In Germany there are as many poets as in Italy ; the multitude of attempts, of whatever kind they may be, indicates the natural dis position of a nation . When a love of the arts is universal in it, the mind naturally takes a direction towards poetry, as elsewhere towards politics, or毙 mercantile interests . Among the Greeks there was a crowd of poets ; and nothing is more favourable to genius than the being surrounded with a great number of men who follow the same career. Artists are indulgent when judging of faults, because the difficulties of an art are known to them ; but they exact much before they bestow approbation ; great beauties and new beauties must be produced, before any work of art can in their eyes equal the chefs-d' œuvre which continually occupy their thoughts. The Germans write extempore, if we may so express it, and this great facility is the .* OF GERMAN POEMS. 315 true sign of genius for the fine arts ; for, like the flowers of the south, they ought to bloom without culture : labour improves them ; but imagination is abundant, when a liberal nature has imparted it to man. It is impossible to mention all the German poets who, would deserve a separate eulogy ; I will confine myself merely to the consideration, and that in a general manner, of the three schools which I have already distinguished when I pointed out the historical progress of German literature. Wieland in his tales has imitated Voltaire, and often Lucian also, who, in a philosophi cal point of view, might be called the Vol taire of antiquity ; sometimes too, he has imitated Ariosto, and unfortunately also Cré billon. He has rendered several tales of chi valry into verse ; namely, Gandalin, Giron le Courtois, Oberon, &c. in which there is more sensibility than in Ariosto, but always less of grace and gaiety. The German does not glide over all subjects with the ease and lightness of the Italian ; and the pleasantries suitable to a language so overcharged with consonants, are those connected with the art of strongly characterizing a subject, rather 1 316 OF GERMANY. than of indicating it imperfectly. Idris and the New Amadis are fairy tales, in which at every page the virtue of women is the subject of those everlasting pleasantries which cease to be immoral, because they have become tiresome . Wieland's tales of chivalry appear to me much superior to his poems imitated from the Greek, Musarion, Endymion, Ga nymede, the Judgment of Paris, &c. Tales of chivalry are national in Germany. The na tural genius of the language, and of its poets, is well adapted to the art of painting the exploits and the loves of those knights and heroines, whose sentiments were at the same time so strong and so simple, so benevolent and so determined ; but in attempting to unite modern grace with Grecian subjects, Wieland has necessarily rendered them af fected. Those who endeavour to modify ancient taste by that of the moderns, or mo dern taste by that of the ancients, are almost always so. To be secure from this danger, we must treat each of these subjects entirely according to its own nature. Oberon passes in Germany almost for an epic poem. It is founded on a tale of French chivalry, Huon de Bourdeaux, of which M. OF GERMAN POEMS. 817 de Tressan has given us an abstract ; and Oberon the Genius, with Titania the Fairy, just such as Shakspear has described them in his play of the " Midsummer Night's "Dream," constitute the mythology of the poem. The subject is given by our old ro mantic writers ; but we cannot too much admire the poetry with which Wieland has enriched it. Pleasantry drawn from the marvellous is there handled with much grace and originality. Huon is sent into Palestine, in consequence of various adventures, to ask the daughter of the Sultan in marriage ; and when the gravest personages, who oppose that marriage, are all set dancing, at the sound of the singular horn which he possesses, we are never tired by the skilful repetition of the comic effect it produces ; and the better the poet has described the pedantic gravity of the imans and visiers at the court of the Sultan, the more his readers are amused by their involuntary dance. When Oberon carries the two lovers through the air in a winged car, the terror of that prodigy is dissipated by the security with which love inspires them. " In vain," says the poet, " earth disap << pears to their sight ; in vain night covers 318 OF GERMANY. " the atmosphere with her dark wings ; a heavenly light beams in their tender glances ; "their souls mutually reflect each other ; night is no longer night ; elysium surrounds " them ; the sun enlightens the recesses of " their hearts, and love every moment shews "them objects, always new and always de lightful." Sensibility is not in general much connected with the marvellous : there is something so serious in the affections of the soul, that we like not to see them drawn forth with the sports of the imagination ; but Wieland has the art of uniting fantastic fictions with true sentiments, in a manner peculiar to himself. The baptism of the Sultan's daughter, who becomes a Christian in order to marry Huon, is also a most beautiful passage : to change one's religion for the sake of love is a little profane ; but Christianity is so truly the religion of the heart, that to love with devotion and purity is already to be a convert. Oberon has made the young peo ple promise not to give themselves up to each other, till their arrival in Rome : they are together in the same ship, and, separat ed from the world, love induces them to 66 "" 66 " OF GERMAN POEMS. 319 violate their vow. The tempest is then let loose, the winds blow, the billows roar, and the sails are torn ; the masts are destroyed by the thunderbolt ; the passengers bewail themselves, the sailors cry for help : at length the vessel splits, the waves threaten to swallow them up, and the presence of death can scarcely take from the young couple their sense of earthly happiness. They are precipitated in the ocean : an in visible power preserves and lands them on a desert island, where they find a hermit, whom religion and misfortunes have led to that retreat. Amanda, espoused to Huon, after many difficulties, brings a son into the world ; and nothing can be more delightful than this picture of maternal tenderness in the desert : the new being who comes to animate their solitude, the uncertain look, the wandering glance of infancy, which the passionate ten derness of the mother endeavours to fix on herself, all is full of sentiment and of truth . The trials to which the married pair are subjected by Oberon and Titania are con tinued ; but in the conclusion their con stancy is rewarded. Although this poem is 320 OF GERMANY. 1 diffuse, it is impossible not to consider it as a charming work, and if it were well translated into French verse, it would cer tainly be thought so. There have been poets, both before and since Wieland, who have attempted to write in the French and Italian manner ; but what they have done scarcely deserves to be men tioned and if German literature had not assumed a peculiar character, it certainly would not form an epoch in the history of the fine arts. That of poetry must in Ger many be fixed at the time when the Mes siah of Klopstock made its appearance. The hero of that poem, according to our mortal language, inspires admiration and pity in the same degree, without either of these sentiments being weakened by the other. A generous poet said, in speak ing of Louis XVI. "Jamais tant de respect n'admit tant de pitié." This verse, so affecting and so delicate, might serve to express the tender emotions we experience in reading Klopstock's Mes
- M. de Sabran.
1! OF GERMAN POEMS. 321 siah. The subject of it is, without doubt, vastly superior to all the inventions of ge nius ; a great deal however is requisite to ' display with so much sensibility the human , in the divine, and with so much force the divine in the mortal, nature. Much talent is also required to excite interest and anxiety in the recital of an event, previously deter mined by an all-powerful Will . Klopstock has, with great art, at once united all that terror and that hope which the fatality of the ancients and the providence of Chris tians can jointly inspire. 1 I have already spoken of the character of Abbadona, the repentant demon who seeks to do good to man : a devouring remorse attaches itself to his immortal nature ; his regret has heaven itself for its object, that heaven which he has known, those celestial spheres which were his habitation . What a situation is this return towards virtue, when the decree is irrevocable : to complete the torments of Hell, nothing is wanting, but to make it the abode of a soul again awakened to sensibility ! Our religion is not fami liarized to us in poetry ; and among modern poets Klopstock has known best how to VOL. I. Y 322 OF GERMANY. personify the spirituality of Christianity, by situations and pictures the most analogous to its nature . There is but one episode which has love for its object in all the work ; and this love subsists between two persons who have been raised from the dead, Cidli and Semida : Jesus Christ has restored them both to life, and they love each other with an affection pure and celestial as their new existence ; they no longer consider themselves as sub ject to death ; they hope to pass together from earth to heaven, and that neither of them will experience the anguish of ap proaching separation. What an affecting conception does such a love present to us in a religious poem ! A love which could alone harmonize with the general tenour of the work. It must nevertheless be owned, that from a subject so continually and so highly exalted there results a little mono tony; the soul is fatigued by too much contemplation, and the Author seems some times to require readers already risen from the grave , like Cidli and Semida. This defect might, it seems to me, have been avoided, without introducing any thing OF GERMAN POEMS. 323 profane in the Messiah : it would perhaps have been better, to have taken the whole life of Jesus Christ for the subject of the poem, than to begin at the moment when his enemies demand his death. The colours of the east might with more art have been employed to paint Syria, and to character ize in a strong manner the state of the hu man race under the empire of Rome. There is too much discourse, and too many long conversations in the Messiah ; eloquence itself is less striking to the imagination , than a situation, a character, a picture which leaves us something to guess at. The Logos, or the Divine Word, existed before the creation of the world ; but with poets the creation ought to precede the Word.
Klopstock has also been reproached with not having sufficiently varied the portraits of his angels. It is true, that in perfection it is difficult to point out variety, and that in general men are characterized by defects. alone : some distinguishing traits, however, might have been given to this great pic ture ; but above all, as it appears to me, ten cantos should not have been added to that which terminates the principal action, • P . . Y 2 $24 OF GERMANY. which is the death of our Saviour. These ten cantos undoubtedly contain much ly rical beauty ; but when a work, of what ever kind, excites dramatic interest, it ought to conclude whenever that interest ceases. Reflections and sentiments, which we should read elsewhere with the greatest pleasure, are most frequently tiresome when a more lively emotion has preceded them . We con sider books, nearly as we should consider men : and we always exact from them what they have accustomed us to expect. Throughout all Klopstock's work we per ceive a mind highly elevated and sensitive ; nevertheless, the impressions which it ex cites are too uniform, and funeral ideas are too numerous. Life goes on, only because we forget death ; and it is for that reason, without doubt, that we shudder whenever the idea of death recurs to us. In the Messiah, as well as in Young's Night thoughts we are too often brought back to the tomb the arts would be entirely at an end, if we were always absorbed in that species of meditation ; for we require a very energetic sentiment of existence, to enable us to look on the world with the 1 I OF GERMAN POEMS. 325 animation of poetry. The Pagans, in their poems, as well as on the bas-reliefs of their sepulchres, always represented varied pic tures, and thus made even of death an action of life ; but the profound and uncer tain thoughts which accompany the Chris tian in his last moments, are more con nected with the emotions of the heart than with the lively colours of the imagination. Klopstock has composed religious and patriotic odes, with many other elegant pro ductions on various subjects . In his reli gious odes, he knows how to invest un bounded ideas with visible imagery ; but sometimes, this sort of poetry is lost in the immeasurable space which it attempts to embrace. + It is difficult to quote any particular verses in his religious odes which may be repeated as detached sentences. The beauty of his poetry consists in the general im pression which it produces. Should we ask the man who contemplates the sea, that immense body of waters, which is always in motion yet always inexhaustible ; which seems to give an idea of all periods of time at once, of all its successions become si 326 OF GERMANY...} • multaneous ; should we ask him, while wave follows wave, to count the pleasures he ex periences while ruminating on their pro gress ? It is the same with religious medi tations embellished by poetry ; they are worthy of admiration if they inspire new zeal to attain higher degrees of perfection, if we feel ourselves the better for having indulged in them : and this is the criterion by which we should form our judgment of this species of composition. Amongst the odes of Klopstock, those written on the French revolution scarcely deserve to be mentioned : the present mo ment has no inspiration for the poet ; he must place himself at a distance from the age in which he lives, in order either to judge or to describe it well : but the efforts made by Klopstock to revive patriotism amongst the Germans are highly honourable to him. From the poetry composed with this laudable intention, I will endeavour to give his song of the Bards after the death of Hermann, called by the Romans Armi nius he was assassinated by the Princes of Germany, who were jealous of his success and of his power. Q • OF GERMAN POEMS. 327 "6 66 "W. On this rock covered with aged moss, let us seat ourselves, O bards ! and together sing the funeral hymn. Let none approach more near, let none behold be " neath these branches the spot where lies " the noblest of our country's sons. " There he lies, extended in his blood ; " he, the secret terror of the Romans, even " when with warlike dances, and songs of triumph, they led his Thusnelda captive ! No, look not on him ! who can behold " him without tears ? and from the lyre no plaintive sound should flow ; it should " burst forth in strains of praise to his " immortal spirit. "K. Myhead still bears the golden locks "of youth this day beheld me first gird on "the sword, first saw these hands armed " with the lance and lyre. How then can I sing Hermann ? 66 66 66 << 16 66 Hermann, sung by the Bards, Werdomar, Kerding, and Darmond.
Expect not too much from youth, O " fathers ! I will wipe with my golden locks "the tears which bathe my cheeks, before 328 OF GERMANY. " I attempt to sing the greatest of the sons " of Mana.* 66 D. And I also, I shed tears ; but they " are tears of rage. No, I will not restrain " them : flow, burning tears, tears of fury ! ye are not silent, ye call down vengeance on perfidious warriors. O my friends ! hear 66 my terrible malediction : may no traitor to " his country, may no assassin of the hero die " in battle ! 66 66 "W. Seest thou the torrent that springs from the mountain and precipitates itself " on these rocks ? In its impetuous course it " rolls down the uprooted pine ; it comes, it " comes to form the funeral pile of Hermann. " The hero will soon be dust ; soon will he repose in his tomb of clay ; but on that " sacred dust may the sword be placed, on " which he vowed destruction to the con 66 queror. Stay awhile, O spirit of the dead ! before " thou rejoinest thy father Siegmar. O stay awhile, and behold how full of thee are the " hearts of thy people. " K. Tell not, O tell not Thusnelda that 66 66 66
- Mana, one of the tutelary heroes of the Germanie
Empire. 11 OF GERMAN POEMS. 329 1 "her Hermann is here, that he lies bleed ing; say not to that noble woman, to " that despaing mother, that the father of " her Thumeliko has ceased to live. "6 66 " Whoever could speak it to her, who " loaded with fetters has already walked " before the formidable car of the proud conqueror ; whoever could speak it to that unhappy being, he must have the heart of a Roman. 66 66 σε " D. Unhappy daughter, to what father owest thou thy being ? Segestes, * a traitor, " who in obscurity sharpened the homicidal " steel. Oh! curse him not. Hélat has already marked him with her seal . "W. Let not the crime of Segestes sully " our songs ; rather may eternal oblivion " extend its heavy wings over his ashes : the "chords of the lyre, which resound at the " name of Hermann, would be profaned, if " their vibrations accused the criminal . Her " mann ! Hermann ! thou, the favourite of " noble hearts, the bravest of the brave, the " saviour of thy country, in chorus our 66
- Authorofthe conspiracy in which Hermann perished.
↑ Héla, the goddess of hell. " 330 OF GERMANY. - " 66 " bards repeat thy praises, to the gloomy " echoes of our mysterious forests.
" Oh! battle of Winfeld ! bloody sister " to the victory of Canna ! I have beheld " thee with scattered locks : an eye of fire " and ensanguined hands appear amidst the harps of Walhalla ; in vain the son of Drusus, to efface all traces of thy steps, " would hide the whitened bones of the con quered in the valley of death. We have " not suffered it ; we have destroyed their "tombs, that their scattered remains may serve as a testimony to that great day : at " the vernal feast, from age to age, they " shall hear the joyful cries of the conque rors. " More companions in death would our " Hero have given to Varus ; already, but "for the jealous delay of the princes, had " Cacina rejoined his chief. 166 A thought, more noble yet, filled Her " mann's ardent soul : at midnight, near the " altar of Thor, † in the midst of the sacri 66 66 << 66
- The name given by the Germans to the battle which
they gained against Varus. + The god of war. ' T OF GERMAN POEMS. 331 " fices, in secret, to himself he said, I " will do it. CC " This great design followed him even to your games, when the warlike youth form " the dance, leap over the naked sword, and animate their pleasures with danger.
66 The pilot, conqueror of the storm, re "lates, that in a distant isle the burning " mountain, long before it bursts, announces by black clouds of smoke the flame and " terrible rocks that are about to issue from " its bosom : thus the early battles of Her " mann presaged to us, that he would one day traverse the Alps and descend into the plain of Rome. " There the hero would have perished, or "ascended to the Capitol, and near the throne " of Jupiter, who in his hand holds the " balance of the Fates, have interrogated " Tiberius and the shades of his ancestors on " the justice of their wars. " But to accomplish his bold design, it "behoved him to bear among all the princes " the sword of the chief of battles ; then did " his rivals conspire his death, and now he "" 66
- Iceland.
332 OF GERMANY. "lives no longer, he, whose heart conceived "the grand and patriotic thought. " D. Ho ! Héla, goddess of vengeance ! " hast thou gathered my falling tears ? hast "thou heard my furious accents ? " K. Behold, in Walhalla, under the " sacred shades, in the midst of heroes, the palm of victory in his hand, Siegmar ad " vances to receive his Hermann : the old man, restored to youth, salutes the young "hero ; but a cloud of melancholy obscures " his reception ; for now Hermann will not go-he cannot go-to the Capitol to inter " rogate Tiberius before the tribunal of the " Gods." << 66 66 There are several other poems of Klop stock in which, as well as in this, he recalls to the Germans the noble deeds of their an cestors ; but those recollections have scarcely any connection with the present state of their nation. We perceive in these poems, a vague sort of enthusiasm, a desire which cannot obtain its 'object ; and the slightest national song of a free people causes a truer emotion. Scarcely any traces of the ancient history of the Germans are now remaining, and that of modern times is too much divided, and too 1 OF GERMAN POEMS. 333 2 confused, to be capable of producing popular sentiments ; it is in their hearts alone that the Germans must discover the source of truly patriotic poetry, Klopstock frequently treats subjects of a less serious nature in a very graceful manner ; and this grace is derived from imagination and sensibility ; for in his poetry there is not much of what we call wit, which indeed would not suit the lyric character. In his Ode to the Nightingale he has given novelty to a worn-out subject, by imparting to the bird sentiments so tender yet so animated, both on nature and on man, that it seems like a winged mediator carrying from one to the other the tribute of its love and praise. An Ode on Rhenish Wine is very original : the banks of the Rhine form a truly national image for the Germans ; they have nothing in all their country superior to it . Vines grow in the same places that have given birth to so many warlike actions ; and wine a hundred years old, the contemporary of more glorious days, seems still to retain the generous warmth of former times. Klopstock has not only drawn from Chris tianity the greatest beauties of his religious 334 OF GERMANÝ. 14 • works, but as it was his wish that the litera ture of his country should be entirely inde pendent of that of the ancients, he has endea voured to give to German poetry a perfectly new mythology borrowed from the Scandina vians. Sometimes he uses it in rather too learned a manner, but at others he applied it very happily ; and his imagination seems to feel the relations which subsist between the gods of the north, and the aspect of the country over which they presided. There is a very charming ode ofhis entitled, The Art of Tialf, in other words, The Art of Skaiting, invented it is said by the Giant Tialf. He describes a young and beautiful female clothed in furs, and placed on a sledge formed like a car ; the young people who sur round it, by a slight push, drive it forwards with the rapidity of lightning. They choose for its path the frozen torrent, which during the winter offers the safest road. The locks of the young men are strewed over with shining particles of frost ; the girls who follow the sledge fasten to their feet little wings of steel, which in a moment carry them to a con siderable distance ; the song of the bards ac companies this northern dance : the gay pro 3 R OF GERMAN POEMS. 335 cession passes under elms covered with flowers of snow ; the ice cracks under their feet, a momentary terror disturbs their enjoyment ; but soon shouts of joy, and the violence of the exercise preserving that heat in the blood of which the cold air would otherwise deprive it, in short, the contest with the climate re vives their spirits ; and at the end of their course they reach a large illuminated hall, where a good fire, with a feast and ball, offer to their acceptance easy pleasures, instead of those which they had gained from their strug gle with the rigours of nature. The Ode on Departed Friends, addressed to Ebert, also deserves to be mentioned . Klop stock is less happy when he writes on the subject of love ; like Dorat he addressed verses to " his future mistress," and his Muse was not inspired by so far fetched a subject ; to sport with sentiment we should not have suf fered from it, and when the attempt is made by a serious person, a secret constraint always prevents him from appearing natural. We must reckon as belonging to the school of Klopstock, not as his disciples but as members of his poetical fraternity, the great Haller, who cannot be mentioned without respect, P 通 336 OF GERMANY. Gessner, and several others, who approached the English character with respect to truth of sentiment, and yet did not bear the truly characteristic stamp of German literature. Klopstock himself did not entirely succeed in presenting to Germany an epic poem at once sublime and popular, as a work of that sort ought to be. Voss's translation of the Iliad and Odyssey made Homer as much known as a sketched copy can render a finished original ; every epithet is preserved, every word is in its proper place, and the impres sion made by the whole is forcible, although we do not find in the German all the charms of the Greek, which was the finest language of the south. The men of literature in Ger many, who seize with avidity every new kind of writing, endeavoured to compose poems after the manner of Homer; and the Odyssey, containing in itself many details of private life appeared more easy to imitate than the Iliad . ↓ The first essay of this kind was an Idyll in three cantos by Voss himself, intitled Louisa : it is written in hexameters, which are gene rally acknowledged to be admirable ; but the pomp of hexameters seems seldom suitable to 4 } 1 " OF GERMAN POEMS. 337 66 the extreme naïveté of the subject. Were it not for the pure and religious emotions which animate the poem, we should interest our selves but little in the very quiet marriage of the venerable pastor of Grünau's daughter. Homer, alwaysjust in the application of his epi thets, constantly says, in speaking of Minerva, "the blue-eyed daughter of Jupiter ;" in the same manner Voss incessantly repeats, the "venerable pastor of Grünau, " (der ehrwür dige Pfarrer von Grünau.) But the simpli city of Homer produces so great an effect, merely because it forms a noble contrast with the dignified grandeur of his hero and of the fate which pursues him ; but when the subject treated of is merely a country pastor and a notable woman, his wife, who marry their daughter to the man she loves, its simplicity has less merit. In Germany descriptions are greatly admired like those in Voss's Louisa on the manner of making coffee, of lighting a pipe, &c.; and those details are given with much skill and exactness ; it is a well painted Flemish picture : but it appears to me that the common customs of life cannot well be introduced into our poems, as they were in those of the ancients ; for those customs VOL. I. Z 338 OF GERMANY. among us are not poetical, and our civiliza tion has something citizen-like in it. The ancients lived almost always in the open air, preserving their relations with nature ; and their manner of existence was rural, but never vulgar. The Germans consider the subject of a poem as of little consequence, and believe that every thing consists in the manner of treating it. Now this manner can scarcely ever be transfused into a foreign language, and yet the general reputation of Europe is not to be despised ; besides, the remembrance of the most interesting details is soon effaced, when it is not connected with some fiction which the imagination can lay hold of. That affecting purity which constitutes the princi pal charm of Voss's poem is most conspi cuous, as it appears to me, in the nuptial benediction of the pastor at the marriage of his daughter : addressing himself to her with a faltering voice he says, My daughter, may the blessing of God be with thee : " amiable and virtuous child, may the bless 66 66 ing of God accompany thee both on earth " and in heaven. I have been young and 66 now am old ; and in this uncertain life the OF GERMAN POEMS. 339 Almighty has sent me much joy and much sorrow. May his holy name be blessed for " both ! I shall soon, without regret, lay <s 65 xx my aged head in the tomb of my fathers, " for my daughter is happy ; she is so because " she knows that our souls are equally the care of our Heavenly Father in sorrow as in joy. What can be more affecting than the sight of this young and beautiful bride ! " In the simplicity of her heart, she leans on " the arm of the friend who is to conduct "her through the path of life ; it is with him "that in a holy union she will partake of happiness and of misfortune : it is she who, " if it be the will of God, will wipe the last " cold sweat from the forehead of her dying " husband. My soul was also filled with " presentiments when, on my wedding day, I brought my timid companion to this place : happy, but serious, I showed her at a dis " tance the extent of our fields, the tower of " the church, and the pastor's house, in which " we have experienced so much good and so " much evil. My only child ! for thou alone remainest, the others whom God had given " to me sleep below under the church-yard turf; my only child, thou goest, following 68 66 << "C CC ઃઃ 66 66 z 2 340 OF GERMANY. 66 " the path which led me hither. The cham " ber of my daughter will be deserted, her place at our table will be no longer occu pied ; in vain shall I listen to hear her foot steps, the sound of her voice. Yes, when thy husband takes thee far from me, sobs " will escape me, and my eyes bathed in tears " will long follow thee ; for I am a man and a father, and I love with tenderness this daughter who also loves me sincerely. But soon restraining my tears, I shall lift to " heaven mysupplicating hands, and prostrate myself before the divine will which has " commanded the wife to leave her father and " mother and follow her husband. Depart " then in peace, my child ; forsake thy family " and thy father's house ; follow the young man who henceforth must supply to thee " the place of those who gave thee birth ; be " in thy house like a fruitful vine, surround 66 thy table with noble branches. A religious " marriage is the purest of all earthly feli city ; but if the Lord found not the edifice , " how vain are the labours of man !" << • ܕ 6 : 1 66 " 66 <c cc 66 66 66 This is true simplicity, that of the soul ; that which is equally suitable to the monarch and to his people, to the poor and to the OF GERMAN POEMS. 341 rich, in short, to all the creatures of God. We are soon tired of descriptive poetry when it is applied to objects which have nothing great in themselves ; but sentiments descend to us from heaven, and however humble be the abode which is penetrated with their rays, those rays lose nothing of their original beauty. From the extreme admiration which Goëthe has acquired in Germany, his Hermann and Dorothea has obtained the name of an epic poem; and one of the most intelligent men of that or any other country, M. de Hum boldt, the brother of the celebrated traveller, has composed a work on this subject which contains several very philosophical and strik ing observations. Hermann and Dorothea is translated both into French and English, but we cannot in a translation have any idea of the charming effect produced by the original : from the first verse to the last it excites a tender emotion, and there is also, in its mi nutest details, a natural dignity which would not be unsuitable to the heroes of Homer. Nevertheless it must be acknowledged, that the personages and events are of too little. importance ; the subject is sufficient to keep 342 OF GERMANY. up the interest when we read it in the original, but in a translation that interest is destroyed. With respect to epic poems, it appears to me allowable to establish a certain literary aristo cracy: dignity, both of personages and ofthe historical recollections connected with them, can alone raise the imagination to a height equal to the composition of that species of poetry. An ancient poem of the thirteenth century, the Niebelungs, of which I have already spoken, seems in its time to have possessed all the characters of the true epic . The great actions of the hero of northern Germany, Sigefroi, assassinated by a king of Burgundy, and the vengeance inflicted on that king in the camp of Attila by the followers of Sige froi, which put an end to the first kingdom of Burgundy, are the subject of the work. An epic poem is scarcely ever the work of one man ; ages if we may be allowed the expression, must labour to perfect it ; patrio tism, religion, in short, the whole existence of a nation cannot be brought into action, but by some of those singularly great events which are not created by the poet, but which appear to him in greater magnitude seen " OF GERMAN POEMS. 343 through the obscurity of time : the person ages of an epic poem ought to represent the primitive character of their nation. We should discover in them that incorrup tible mould from which all history derives. its origin. The pride and boast of Germany were its ancient chivalry, its strength , its loyalty, the union of goodness and simplicity for which it it was famed, and that northern roughness which was, however, connected with the most exalted sensibility . We also admire that Christianity which is grafted on the Scandinavian mythology, that un tamed honour rendered pure and sacred by faith, that respect for women which became still more striking from the protec tection it afforded to the weak, that un daunted contempt of death, that warlike paradise which has now given place to the most humane of all religions. Such are the elements of an epic poem in Germany, of which genius should avail itself, and, with the art of Medea, bestow new vital powers on ancient recollections. 344 OF GERMANY. CHAPTER XIII. Of German Poetry. THE detached pieces of poetry, among the Germans, are, it appears to me, still more remarkable than their poems, and it is par ticularly on that species of writing that the stamp of originality is impressed : it is also true that the authors who have written most in this manner, Goëthe, Schiller, Bürger, &c. are of the modern school, which alone bears a truly national character. Goëthe has most imagination, and Schiller most sensibility ; but Bürger is more generally admired than either. By successively examining some poetical pieces of each of these authors, we shall the better be able to form an idea of the OF GERMAN POETRY. 345 qualities which distinguish them. The pro ductions of Schiller bear some analogy to the French taste, yet we do not find in his detached poems any thing that resembles the fugitive pieces of Voltaire ; that ele gance of conversation and almost of man ners, transfused into French poetry, belongs to France alone ; and Voltaire, in point ofgrace fulness, was the first of French writers. It would be interesting to compare Schiller's stanzas on the loss of youth, entitled the Ideal, with those of Voltaire, beginning, بھیجے Si vous voulez que j'aime encore, Rendez moi l'age des amours, &c. We see in the French poet the expres sion of pleasing regret, which has for its object the pleasures of love and the joys of life the German poet laments the loss of that enthusiasm and innocent purity of thought, peculiar to early age, and flatters himself that his decline of life will still be embellished by the charms of poetry and of reflection. The stanzas of Schiller do not possess that easy and brilliant clearness which is generally so striking and attrac 2 346 OF GERMANY. tive ; but we may draw from them conso lations which intimately affect the soul. Schiller never presents to us a serious or profound reflection without investing it with noble images ; he speaks to man, as nature herself would speak to him; for nature is also contemplative and poetical. ) To paint the idea of time she brings before us an ever-flowing stream ; and lest, through her eternal youth, we should forget our own transient existence, she adorns herself with flowers which quickly fade, and strips the trees in autumn of those leaves which spring beheld in all their beauty : poetry should be the terrestrial mirror of this di vinity, and by colours, sounds, and rhythm, reflect all the beauties of the universe. The poem entitled the Bell consists of two distinct parts : the alternate stanzas express the labour which is performed at a forge, and between each of these there are charming verses, on the solemn circum stances and extraordinary events commonly announced by the ringing of bells, such as birth, marriage, death, fire, insurrection, &c. We may translate into French the fine and affecting images which Schiller derives OF GERMAN POETRY. 347 from these great epochs of human life ; but it is impossible properly to imitate the strophes in short verse, and composed of words whose rough and quick sound almost conveys to our ears the repeated blows, and rapid steps of the workmen who direct the boiling metal. Can a prose translation give any just idea of a poem of this sort ? It is reading music instead of hearing it ; and yet it is easier to conceive the effect of instruments which are known to us, than of the concords and contrasts of a rhythm and a language we are ignorant of. Some times the regular shortness of the metre gives us an idea of the activity of the work men, the limited but regular force which they exert in their principal operations ; and sometimes, immediately after this harsh and strong sound, we hear the aërial strains of enthusiasm and melancholy. 7 The originality of this poem is lost, if we separate it from the effect of a versification skilfully chosen, where the rhymes answer each other like intelligent echoes modified by thought ; and nevertheless, these pic turesque effects of sound would be bold and hazardous in French. The vulgarity in point 348 OF GERMANY. 1 of style, continually threatens us; we have not, like almost every other nation, two languages, that of prose and that of verse ; and it is with words as with persons, where ever ranks are confounded familiarity is dangerous. Cassandra, another work of Schiller's, might more easily be translated into French, although its poetical language is extremely bold. At the moment when the festival to celebrate the marriage of Polyxena and Achilles is beginning, Cas sandra is seized with a presentiment of the misfortunes which will result from it ; she walks sad and melancholy in the grove of Apollo, and laments that knowledge of fu turity which troubles all her enjoyments. We see in this ode what a misfortune it would be to a human being could he pos sess the prescience of a divinity. Is not the sorrow of the prophetess experienced by all persons of strong passions and superior minds ? Schiller has given us a fine moral idea under a very poetical form, namely, that true genius, that of sentiment, even if it escape suffering from its commerce with the world, is frequently the victim of its own feelings. Cassandra never marries, 1 OF GERMAN POETRY. 349 not that she is either insensible or rejected ; but her penetrating soul in a moment passes the boundaries of life and death, and finds repose only in heaven.
I should never end if I were to mention all the poetical pieces of Schiller which contain new thoughts and new beauties. He has composed a hymn on the departure of the Greeks after the siege of Troy, which might be supposed the production of a poet then living, so faithfully has he ad hered to the complexion of those times. I shall examine, under the subject of drama tic art, the admirable skill with which the Germans transport themselves into ages, countries, and characters, different from their own: a superior faculty, without which the personages produced on the stage would re semble puppets moved by the same wire, and made to speak in the same voice, namely, that of the author. Schiller deserves par ticularly to be admired as a dramatic poet : Goëthe stands unrivalled in the art of com posing elegies, ballads, stanzas, &c.; his de tached pieces have a very different merit from those of Voltaire. The French poet has transfused into his verse the spirit of T
1 350 OF GERMANY. the most brilliant society ; the German, by a few slight touches, awakens in the soul pro found and contemplative impressions. -Goëthe is to the highest degree natural in this species of composition ; and not only so when he speaks from his own impressions, but even when he transports himself to new climates, customs, and situations, his poetry easily assimilates itself with foreign coun tries ; he seizes, with a talent perfectly unique, all that pleases in the national songs of each nation ; he becomes, when he chooses it, a Greek, an Indian, or a Mor lachian. We have often mentioned that melancholy and meditation which charac terises the poets of the north : Goëthe, like all other men of genius, unites in himself most astonishing contrast ; we find in his works many traces of character peculiar to the inhabitants of the south ; they are more awakened to the pleasures of existence, and have at once a more lively and tranquil enjoyment of nature than those of the north ; their minds have not less depth, but their genius has more vivacity ; we find in it a certain sort of naïveté, which awakens at once the remembrance of ancient sim I OF GERMAN POETRY. 351 " plicity with that of the middle ages : it is not the naïveté of innocence , but that of strength. We perceive in Goethe's poetical compositions, that he disdains the crowd of obstacles, criticisms, and observations, which may be opposed to him. He follows his imagination wherever it leads him, and a cer tain predominant pride frees him from the scruples of self-love. Goethe is in poetry an absolute master of nature, and most admira ble when he does not finish his pictures ; for all his sketches contain the germ of a fine fiction, but his finished fictions do not always equally convey the idea of a good sketch. In his elegies composed at Rome, we must not look for descriptions of Italy ; Goëthe scarcely does whatever is expected from him, and when there is any thing pompous in an idea it displeases him he wishes to produce effect by an untrodden path hitherto unknown both to himself and to the reader. His ele gies describe the effect of Italy on his whole existence, that delirium of happiness result ing from the influence of a serene and beau tiful sky. He relates his pleasures, even of the most common kind, in the manner of Propertius ; and from time to time some fine 352 OF GERMANY. recollections of that city which was once the mistress of the world give an impulse to the imagination, the more lively because it was not prepared for it. Herelates, that heonce met in theCampania of Rome a young woman suckling her child, and seated on the remains of an ancient co lumn ; he wished to question her on the subject of the ruins with which her hut was surround ed : but she was ignorant of every thing con cerning them, wholly devoted to the affections which filled her soul ; she loved, and to her the present moment was the whole of exist ence. We read in a Greek author, that a young girl, skilful in the art of making nosegays of flowers, entered into a contest with her lover, Pausias, who knew how to paint them. Goëthe has composed a charming idyl on that subject. The author of that idyl is also the author of Werther. Goëthe has run through all the shades and gradations of love, from the sentiment which confers grace and tenderness, to that despair which harrows up the soul but exalts genius. After having made himself a Greek in Pausias, Goëthe con ducts us to Asia in a most charming ballad, OF GERMAN POETRY. 353 1 called the Bayadere. An Indian deity ( Ma hadoch) clothes himself in a mortal form, in order to judge of the pleasures and pains of men from his own experience. He travels through Asia, observes both the great and the lower classes of people ; and as one even ing, on leaving a town, he was walking on the banks of the Ganges, he is stopped by a Bayadere, who persuades him to rest himself in her habitation. There is so much poetry, colours so truly oriental in his manner of painting the dances of this Bayadere, the perfumes and flowers with which she is sur rounded, that we cannot, from our own man ners, judge of a picture so perfectly foreign to them. The Indian deity inspires this err ing female with true love, and touched with that return towards virtue which sincere af fection should always inspire, he resolves to purify the soul of the Bayadere by the trials of misfortune. When she awakes, she finds her lover dead by her side : the priests of Brama carry off the lifeless body to consume it on the funeral pile : the Bayadere endeavours to throw her self on it with him she loves, but is repulsed by the priests, because, not being his wife, she VOL. I. 2 A 354 OF GERMANY. has no right to die with him. After having felt all the anguish of love and of shame, she throws herself on the pile in spite of the Bramins. The god receives her in his arms ; he darts through the flames, and carries the object of his tenderness, now rendered worthy of his choice, with him to heaven. Zelter, an original musician, has set this romance to an air by turns voluptuous and Solemn, which suits the words extremely well. When we hear it, we think ourselves in India, surrounded with all its wonders ; and let it not be said that a ballad is too short a poem to produce such an effect. The first notes of an air, the first verse of a poem, transports, the imagination to any distant age or country; but if a few words are thus powerful, a few words can also destroy the enchantment. Magicians formerly could perform or prevent prodigies by the help of a few magical words. It is the same with the poet : he may call up the past, or make the present appear again, according as the expressions he makes use of are, or are not, conformable to the time or country which is the subject of his verse, according as he observes or neglects local colouring, and those little circumstances so OF GERMAN POETRY. 355 ingeniously invented, which, both in fiction' and reality, exercise the mind in the endea vour to discover truth where it is not speci fically pointed out to us. ¿ A tes
- .
). Another ballad of Goethe's produces a de lightful effect by the most simple means : it is " the Fisherman." Apoor man, on a sum mer's evening, seats himself on the bank of a river, and, as he throws in his line, contém plates the clear and limpid tide which gently flows and bathes his naked feet. The nymph of the stream invites him to plunge himself into it ; she describes to him the delightful freshness of the water during the heat of summer, the pleasure which the sun takes in cooling itself at night in the sea, the calmness of the moon when its rays repose and sleep on the bosom of the stream : at length the fisherman attracted, seduced, drawn on, ad vances near the nymph, and for ever disap pears. The story on which this ballad is founded, is trifling ; but what is delightful in it is, the art of making us feel the mysteri ous power which may proceed from the phe nomena of nature. It is said there are per sons who discover springs hidden under the earth by the nervous agitation which they • د . } 2A2 356 OF GERMANY. cause in them : in German poetry we often think we discover that miraculous sympathy between man and the elements. The German poet comprehends nature not only as a poet, but as a brother ; and we might almost say that the bonds of family union connect him with the air, the water, flowers, trees, in short, all the primary beauties of the crea tion. There is no one who has not felt the unde finable attraction which we experience when looking on the waves of the sea, whether from the charm of their freshness, or from the ascendancy which an uniform and per petual motion insensibly acquires over our transient and perishable existence. This bal lad of Goethe's admirably expresses the in creasing pleasure we derive from contemplat ing the pure waters of a flowing stream : the measure of the rhythm and harmony is made to imitate the motion of the waves, and produ ces an analogous effect on the imagination . The soul of nature discovers itself to us in every place and under a thousand different forms. The fruitful country and the un peopled desert, the sea as well as the stars, are all subjected to the same laws, and man 1 OF GERMAN POETRY. 357 contains within himself sensations and occult powers, which correspond with the day, with the night, and with the storm it is this secret alliance of our being with the wonders of the universe which gives to poetry its true grandeur. The poet knows how to re store the union between the natural and the moral world his imagination forms a con necting tie between the one and the other. There is much gaiety in several of Goëthe's pieces ; but we seldom find in them that sort of pleasantry to which we have been accus tomed: he is sooner struck by the imagery of nature than by ridiculous circumstances ; with a singular instinct, he points out the originality of animals, always new yet never varying. " The Menagerie of Lily, " and " the Wed " ding Song in the Old Castle," describe ani mals, not like men, in La Fontaine's manner, but like fantastic creatures, the sports of Nature. Goëthe also finds in the marvellous a source of pleasantry, the more gratifying because we discover in it no serious aim. A song entitled " The Pupil of the Sorcerer also deserves to be mentioned . The pupil of a sorcerer having heard his master mutter some magical words, by the help of which he 翡 " 358 OF GERMANY. ? gets a broomstick to tend on him, recollects those words, and commands the broomstick to go and fetch him water from the river, to wash his house. The broomstick sets off and returns, brings one bucket, then another, and then another, and so on without ceasing. The pupil wants to stop it, but he has for got the words necessary for that purpose : the broomstick, faithful to its office, still goes to the river and still draws up water, which is thrown on the house at the risk of inundating it. The pupil, in his fury, takes an axe and cuts the broomstick in two ; the two parts of the stick then become two servants instead of one, and go for water which they throw into the apartments as if in emulation of each other, with more zeal than ever. In vain the pupil scolds these stupid sticks ; they continue their business without ceasing, and the house would have been lost, had not the master arrived in time to assist his pupil, at the same time laughing heartily at his ridiculous presump tion. An awkward imitation of the great secrets of art is very well depicted in this little scene. $ 700 55933 We have not yet spoken of an inexhaust J OF GERMAN POETRY. 359 ible source of poetical effect in Germany, which is terror : stories of apparitions and sorcerers are equally well received by the populace and by men of more enlightened minds it is a relick of the northern mytho logy ; a disposition naturally inspired by the long nights of a northern climate : and besides, though Christianity opposes all groundless fears, yet popular superstitions have always some sort of analogy to the prevailing religion . Almost every true opi nion has its attendant error, which like a shadow places itself at the side of the reality it is a luxuriance or excess of be lief, which is commonly attached both to re ligion and to history , and I know not why we should disdain to avail ourselves of it. Shakspeare has produced wonderful effects from the introduction of spectres and magic ; and poetry cannot be popular when it de spises that which exercises a spontaneous empire over the imagination . Genius and taste may preside over the arrangement of these tales, and in proportion to the com monness of the subject, the more skill is required in the manner of treating it ; per haps it is in this union alone that the great 360 OF GERMANY. A force of a poem consists. It is probable that the great events recorded in the Iliad and Odyssey were sung by nurses , before Homer rendered them the chef-d'œuvre of the poetical art. Of all German writers, Bürger has made the best use of this vein of superstition which carries us so far into the recesses of the heart. His tales are therefore well known throughout Germany. Leonora, which is most generally admired, is not, I believe, translated into French, or at least, it would be very difficult to relate it cir cumstantially either in our prose or verse . A young girl is alarmed at not hearing from her lover who is gone to the army : peace is made, and the soldiers return to their habitations, Mothers again meet their sons, sisters their brothers, and husbands their wives ; the warlike trumpet accompanies the songs of peace, and joy reigns in every heart. Leonora in vain surveys the ranks of the soldiers, she sees not her lover, and no one can tell her what is become of him. She is in despair : her mother attempts to calm her; but the youthful heart of Leonora revolts against the stroke of affliction, and 1 OF GERMAN POETRY. 361 in its frenzy she accuses Providence. From the moment in which the blasphemy is ut tered, we are sensible that the story is to have something fatal in it, and this idea keeps the mind in constant agitation. & At midnight, a knight stops at the door of Leonora's house ; she hears the neighing of the horse and the clinking of the spurs : the knight knocks, she goes down and be holds her lover. He tells her to follow him instantly, having not a moment to lose, he before he returns to the army. says, She presses forward ; he places her behind him on his horse, and sets off with the quickness of lightning. During the night he gallops through barren and desert coun tries his youthful companion is filled with terror, and continually asks him why he goes so fast ; the knight still presses on his horse by his hoarse and hollow cries, and in a low voice says, " The dead go quick, the " dead go quick : " Leonora answers, " Ah! " leave the dead in peace ! " But whenever she addresses to him any anxious question, he repeats the same appalling words. In approaching the church, where he says he is carrying her to complete their union, 362 OF GERMANY, a the frosts of winter seem to change nature herself into a frightful omen: priests carry a coffin in great pomp, and their black robes train slowly on the snow, the winding sheet of the earth ; Leonora's terror in creases, and her lover cheers her with a mixture of irony and carelessness which makes one shudder. All that he says is pronounced with a monotonous precipita tion, as if already, in his language, the ac cents of life were no longer heard : he pro mises to bring her to that narrow and si lent abode where their union was to be accomplished. We see at a distance the church-yard by the side of the church : the knight knocks, and the door opens ; he pushes forward with his horse, making him pass between the tombstones ; he then by degrees loses the appearance of a living being, is changed to a skeleton, and the earth opens to swallow up both him and his mistress. I certainly do not flatter myself that I have been able in this abridged recital to give a just idea of the astonishing merit of this tale ; all the imagery, all the sounds connected with the situation of the soul, are OF GERMAN POETRY. 363 wonderfully expressed by the poetry : the syllables, the rhymes, all the art of language is employed to excite terror. The rapidity of the horse's pace seems more solemn and more appalling than even the slowness of a funeral procession. The energy with which the knight quickens his course, that petu lance of death, causes an inexpressible emo tion ; and we feel ourselves carried off by the phantom, as well as the poor girl whom he drags with him into the abyss. € There are four English translations of this tale of Leonora, but the best beyond com parison is that of Wm. Spencer, who of all English poets is best acquainted with the true spirit of foreign languages. The analogy between the English and German allows a complete transfusion of the ori ginality of style and versification of Bür ger ; and we not only find in the translation the same ideas as in the original, but also the same sensations ; and nothing is more necessary than this to convey the true know ledge of a literary production. It would be difficult to obtain the same result in French, where nothing strange or odd seems natural. Bürger has written another story, less ce 4 364 OF GERMANY. 1 lebrated, but also extremely original, en titled " The Wild Huntsman." Followed by his servants and a large pack of hounds, he sets out for the chase on a Sunday, just as the village bell announces divine service. A knight in white armour presents himself, and conjures him not to profane the Lord's day ; another knight, arrayed in black ar mour, makes him ashamed of subjecting himself to prejudices which are suitable only to old men and children : the huntsman yields to these evil suggestions ; he sets off, and reaches the field of a poor widow : she throws herself at his feet, imploring him not to destroy her harvest by trampling down her corn with his attendants : the knight in white armour entreats the huntsman to listen to the voice of pity ; the black knight laughs at a sentiment so puerile ; the hunts man mistakes ferocity for energy, and his horses trample on the hope of the poor and the orphan. At length the stag, pursued, seeks refuge in the hut of an old hermit ; the huntsman wishes to set it on fire in order to drive out his prey ; the hermit embraces his knees, and endeavours to soften the fe rocious being who thus threatens his humble 3 1 OF GERMAN POETRY. 365 abode for the last time, the good genius, under the form of the white knight, again speaks to him : the evil genius , under that of the black knight, triumphs ; the hunts man kills the hermit, and is at once changed into a phantom, pursued by his own dogs, who seek to devour him. This story is de rived from a popular superstition : it is said, that at midnight, in certain seasons of the year, a huntsman is seen in the clouds, just over the forest where this event is supposed to have passed, and that he is pursued by a furious pack of hounds till day- break. What is truly fine in this poem of Bür ger's is his description of the ardent will. of the huntsman : it was at first innocent, as are all the faculties of the soul ; but it becomes more and more depraved, as often as he resists the voice of conscience and yields to his passions. His headstrong pur pose was at first only the intoxication of power ; it soon becomes that of guilt, and the earth can no longer sustain him. The good and evil inclinations of men are well characterized by the white and black knights ; the words, always the same, which are pro nounced by the white knight to stop the 366 OF GERMANY. the career of the huntsman, are also very ingeniously combined. The ancients , and the poets of the middle ages, were well ac quainted with the kind of terror caused in certain circumstances by the repetition of the same words ; it seems to awaken the sentiment of inflexible necessity. Appari tions, oracles, all supernatural powers, must he monotonous : what is immutable is uni form ; and in certain fictions it is a great art to imitate by words that solemn fixed ness which imagination assigns' to the empire of darkness and of death. 署 We also remark in Bürger a certain fa miliarity of expression, which does not lessen the dignity of the poetry, but, on the con trary, singularly increases its effect. When we succeed in exciting both terror and ad miration without weakening either, each of those sentiments is necessarily strengthened by the union : it is mixing, in the art of painting, what we see continually with that which we never see ; and from what we know, we are led to believe that which astonishes us. 6 • 捕 Goëthe has also made trial of his talents in those subjects which are at the same time OF GERMAN POETRY. 367 terrifying both to children and men ; but he has treated them with a depth of thought that leaves us also a wide field for reflection. I will endeavour to give an account of one of his poems on apparitions which is the most admired in Germany ; it is called " The Bride of Corinth." I certainly do not mean in any respect to defend this fiction, either as considered in itself, or in its ten dency but it seems to me scarcely possible not to be struck with the warmth of imagi nation which it indicates. Two friends, one of Athens and the other of Corinth, had resolved to unite their son and daughter to each other. The young man sets out for Corinth to see her who had! been promised to him, and whom he had never yet beheld : it was at the time when Christianity was first established. The family of the Athenian adhered to the old religion, but that of the Corinthian had adopted the new mode of faith; and the mother, during a lingering illness , had devoted her daughter to the altar. The youngest sister is destined to fill the place of the eldest, who is thus consecrated to religion.
• a
The young man arrives late at the house ; all the family had retired to rest : the servants 7 368 OF GERMANY. 1 a " bring some supper to his apartinent, and leave him alone ; but he is soon afterwards joined by a very singular guest : he sees, advancing to the middle of the room, young girl clothed in a veil and a white robe, her forehead bound with a black and gold ribbon ; and when she perceives the young man she draws back with timidity, and, lifting her white hands to heaven, cries out, Alas ! am I already become such a stranger in this house, that in the narrow " cell to which I am confined I am left igno " rant of the arrival of a new guest ? 99 She attempts to retire, but the young man holds her back ; he learns that she is the person who was destined to be his wife. Their fathers had sworn to unite them, and therefore every other vow appeared to him without effect. " Remain, my love, remain," said he, " and be no longer so pale with " terror ; partake with me in the gifts of " Ceres and Bacchus; Love accompanies thee, " and soon we shall experience how favourable are our gods to pleasure." The young man conjures his youthful companion to yield herself to his wishes. " I no longer belong " to joy," replies she ; the last step is taken ; "the brilliant company of our gods has 66 • OF GERMAN POETRY. 369 nd rds es ite es J a W -OT 30 he fe nd 7m ار th Etし, le an ld g 0: St I . "disappeared, and in this silent house they " adore only an invisible being residing in " the heavens, and a God dying on the cross. " No longer here do they sacrifice bulls or sheep ; but they have chosen me as a human victim ; my youth and nature her " self have been immolated on their altars . “ Get thee from hence, young man, O fly ! " White as the snow, and as frozen, is the " unfortunate being whom thou hast chosen " as mistress of thy heart." At midnight, which is called the hour of spectres, the young girl seems more uncon strained ; she eagerly drinks wine of the colour of blood, like that which is taken by the ghosts in the Odyssey to renew their lost memory ; but she obstinately refuses to taste a bit of bread : she gives a chain of gold to him whom she was to have married, and asks in return a lock of his hair : the young man, charmed with the beauty of his compa nion, presses her with transport in his arms, but he feels no heart beat responsive against his bosom ; her limbs are frozen. " I care not,' cries he, "for I would re-animate thee even if thou wast sent to me from the grave." And then begins a scene as extraordinary as the 99 VOL. I. 2 B 66 66 66 S 370 OF GERMANY. frenzied imagination can possibly conceive : a mixture of love and terror, a formidable union of life and death. There is, as it were, a funeral voluptuousness in this picture where love forms an alliance with the grave, where beauty itself seems only a terrifying appa rition. At length the mother arrives, and con vinced that one of her slaves has been intro duced to the stranger, she gives way to her just indignation : but immediately the young girl increases in size, till like a shadow she reaches the vaulted ceiling, and then re proaches her mother with having caused her death by obliging her to take the veil : " Oh! mother, mother," cries she, with a hollow voice, <c why do you disturb this hymeneal night ? is it not enough that young as I was, you had me covered with " a winding sheet and carried to the tomb? " A fatal malediction has expelled me from 66 my cold habitation ; the hymns murmured by your priests have not relieved my " heart ; the salt and water have not ap peased my youth : Ah! the earth itself "has not power to cool the ardour of love. This young man was promised to me when 66 = 66 "" <6 <a OF GERMAN POETRY. 371 ہے re Are CIL ere ed a 1 "the peaceful temple of Venus was not " overthrown. Ah ! mother, ought you to have broken your word to fulfil insensate Vows? No god listened to you when you swore to prevent the espousals of your daughter. And thou, beloved young man, thy life draws near its close ; thou wilt languish on the spot where thou receivedst my chain, where I took a lock of thy " hair; to-morrow thy hair will become grey, “ and thou wilt recover thy youth only by entering the region of departed spirits. is Oh, mother ! listen at least to the last prayer which I address to thee : order a " funeral pile to be prepared ; open the narrow coffin which encloses me ; bring the " lovers to their repose through surrounding " flames ; and when the sparkling fire shall " ascend and the ashes shall burn, we will hasten together, and rejoin our ancient gods ." ·"c ८८ << 66 &5 હું << << 66 Without doubt, a pure and chastened taste will find many things to blame in this piece ; but when it is read in the original, it is impossible not to admire the art with which every word is made to produce an increas C I2 B 2 372 OF GERMANY. ing degree of terror ; every word indicates, without explaining, the astonishing horror of this situation. A history, of which nothing in nature could have given the idea, is re lated in striking and natural details, as if the subject of it had really taken place ; and curiosity is constantly excited without our being willing to sacrifice a single circum stance in order to satisfy it the sooner"" .
.1 This piece, nevertheless, is the only one amongst the detached poems of celebrated German authors, against which French taste can find any thing to object : in all the others the two nations appear to agree. In the verses of Jacobi we almost discover the brilliancy and lightness of Gresset. Mat thissen has given to descriptive poetry (the. features of which are frequently too vague) e the character of a picture as striking in its 兼 秘 colouring as in its resemblance. The charm which pervades the poetry of Salis makes us love its author as if he were our friend. Tiedge is a moral poet, whose writings lead the soul to the purest devotional feelings. We should still, in short, have to mention a crowd of other poets if it were possible to 4 OF GERMAN POETRY. 379 point out every name deserving of applause, in a country where poetry is so natural to all cultivated minds. A. W. Schlegel, whose literary opinions. have made so much noise in Germany, has not in any of his poems allowed himself the slightest expression which can attract censure from the most severe taste. His elegies on the death of a young person ; his stanzas on the union of the church with the fine arts , his elegy on Rome, are written throughout with delicacy and dignity. The two speci mens I am about to give of his poetry will convey but a very imperfect idea of it, but they will serve at least to render the charac ter of the poet better known. The sonnet entitled "Attachment to the World" appears to me charming. '. " The soul, invigorated by the contem plation of divine subjects, often endeavours " to spread out her wings towards heaven. " In the narrow circle which she tra verses, her activity seems vain, and her knowledge an illusion ; an invincible de "sire presses her to rush forwards towards more elevated regions and spheres more <c << < c
166 1t 374 OF GERMANY. " unconfined : at the end of her career she "believes that a curtain will be withdrawn, " which will discover to her scenes of ever lasting light but when death really ap proaches her perishable tenement, she " casts a backward glance on terrestrial plea¬ sures and on her mortal companions. It " was thus in former times, when Proserpine was carried off in the arms of Pluto, far " from the meadows of Sicily, that, childish " in her complaints, she wept for the flowers " which fell from her bosom." 66 66 66 66 The following copy of verses must lose even more by a translation than the sonnet ; it is called " the Melodies of Life:" the swan is placed in opposition to the eagle ; the former as the emblem of contemplative existence, the latter as the image of active existence ; the rhythm of the verse changes. when the swan speaks, and when the eagle answers her ; and the strains of both are nevertheless comprised in the same stanza united by the rhyme : the true beauties of harmony are also found in this piece, not imitative harmony, but the internal music" of the soul. Our emotion discovers it with 1 OF GERMAN POETRY. 375 out having recourse to reflection ; and reflect 66 "" ing genius converts it into poetry, The Swan. My tranquil life is passed " in the waters, it traces on them only the slight furrow which is soon lost in the " distance ; while the wave, scarcely agitated, "like a pure mirror, reflects my image without impairing it.' 66 " The Eagle. The pointed rock is my abode, I skim through the air in the midst " of the storm ; in the chase, in battle, and " in dangers, I trust to the boldness of my flight.' 66 " The Swan. The bright azure of a serene sky delights me; the perfume of plants gently attracts me to the shore, " when, at the setting of the sun, I poise 66 my white wings over the purple waves,' "" 46 66 66 " The Eagle.—' I triumph in the tempest " when it roots up the oaks of the forest, " and I ask the thunder whether it takes pleasure in destruction .' " The Swan.-' Invited by a glance from Apollo, I also venture to bathe myself in " the tide of harmony ; and reposing at his " feet, I listen to the songs which resound through the valley of Tempé.' ( 6 " "" 3 W 376 OF GERMANY. I I reside " I reside on the The Eagle. even "throne of Jupiter ; at his nod I go to fetch " him the thunder-bolt ; and while I sleep, my heavy wings cover the sceptre of the " sovereign of the universe.' C " The Swan. My prophetic sight often "contemplates the stars, and the azure " firmament which is reflected on the stream, " and the tenderest regret recalls me to " wards my own country, in the celestial re gions.' it The Eagle. From my earliest years, it was with rapture that in my flight I fixed my steadfast gaze onthe immortal sun ; I " cannot descend to the dust of this terres "trial globe, I feel myself a fit companion " of the gods.' ca 爨 <<* << "6 - - "6 " The Swan.- A peaceful and gentle life yields willingly to the stroke of death ; "when it comes to disengage me from my " bonds, and to restore to my voice its native melody, with my latest breath' my songs " shall celebrate that solemn moment.' < " The Eagle. The soul, like a brilliant phoenix, rises from the funeral pile, free " and unveiled ; it embraces its divine - OF GERMAN POETRY. destiny ; the torch of death renews its youth.' "* It is a circumstance worthy of observa tion, that national taste in general differs much more in the dramatic art than in any other branch of literature. We will analyse the causes of this difference in the following chapters ; but before we enter on the ex amination of the German theatre, some ge neral observations on taste appear to me necessary. I shall not consider it abstract edly as an intellectual faculty ; several wri ters, and Montesquieu in particular, have exhausted that subject. I will only point out why literary taste is understood in so different a manner by the French and the nations of Germany. 66 1
- Amongst the ancients, an eagle rising from the funeral
pile was an emblem of the immortality of the soul, and not unfrequently also that of deification. sky OF GERMANY. . CHAPTER XIV. Of Taste. THOSE Who think themselves in possession ६ of taste are more proud of it than those who believe that they possess genius. Taste is in literature what the bon ton is in society ; we consider it as a proof of fortune and of birth, or at least of the habits which are found in connection with them; while genius may spring from the head of an artisan who has never had any intercourse with good com pany. In every country where there is vanity, taste will be placed in the highest rank of qualifications, because it separates different classes, and serves as a rallying point to all the individuals of the first class. In every country where the power of ridi OF GERMAN POETRY. 379 cule is felt, taste will be reckoned as one of the first advantages, for above all things it teaches us what we ought to avoid. A sense of the fitness of things, and of propriety, peculiarly belongs to taste ; and it is an ex cellent armour to ward off the blows of the various contending kinds of self-love, which we have to deal with ; in short, it may so happen, that a whole nation shall, with re spect to other nations, form itself into an aristocracy of good taste ; and this may be applied to France, where the spirit of society reigned in so eminent a manner, that it had some excuse for such a pretension. But taste, in its application to the fine arts, differs extremely from taste as applied to the relations of social life ; when the ob ject is to force men to grant us a reputa tion, ephemeral as our own lives, what we omit doing is at least as necessary as what we do ; for the higher orders of society are naturally so hostile to all pretension, that very extraordinary advantages are requisite to compensate that of not giving occa sion to the world to speak about us. Taste in poetry depends on nature, and, like nature, should be creative ; the principles... 3 " • 1 A 380 OF GERMANY.
of this taste are therefore quite different from those which depend on our social rela tions. It is by confounding these two kinds of taste that we find such opposite judgments formed on subjects of literature ; the French judge of the fine arts by the rules of social fitness and propriety, and the Germans judge of these as they would of the fine arts : in the relations of society we must study how to defend ourselves, but in those of poetry, we should yield ourselves up without reserve. If you consider surrounding objects as a nian of the world, you will not be sensible to the charms of nature ; if you survey them as an artist, you will lose that delicate and discriminating feeling which society alone can give. If we are to subject the arts to ? the regulations of good company, the French alone are truly capable of it ; but greater latitude of composition is necessary in order strongly to affect the imagination and the S 鼠 soul. I know it may be objected to me, and with reason, that our three best dramatic au thors are elevated to the most sublime height, without offending any established rule. Some men of genius, reaping a field before un 4 " OF GERMAN POETRY. 981 cultured, have indeed rendered themselves illustrious in spite of the difficulties they had to conquer ; but is not the cessation of all progress in the art since that time à strong proof that there are too many obsta cles in the road which they followed ? " Good taste in literature is in some re " spects like order under despotism; it is of consequence that we should know at " what price we purchase it." * In a poli tical point of view, Mr. Necker said, The utmost degree of liberty should be granted which is consistent with order. I would change the maxim, by saying that in litera ture we should have all the taste which is consistent with genius : for if in a state of society the chief object be order and quiet ness, that which is of most importance in literature is, on the contrary, interest, cu riosity, and that sort of emotion which taste alone would frequently disapprove. A treaty of peace might be proposed be tween the different modes of judgment . adopted by artists and men of the world, by Germans and Frenchmen. The French
- Suppressed by authority.
" · • 382 OF GERMANY. ought to abstain from condemning even a violation of rule, if an energetic thought or a true sentiment can be pleaded in its excuse. The Germans ought to prohibit all that is offensive to natural taste, all that retraces images repulsive to our feelings no philosophical theory, however ingenious it may be, can compensate for this defect ; as on the contrary, no established rule in litera ture can prevent the effect of involuntary emo tions. In vain do the most intelligent Ger man writers contend that in order to under stand the conduct of Lear's daughters to wards their father, it is necessary to show the barbarity of the times in which they lived, and therefore tolerate the action of the Duke ofCornwall who, excited by Regan, treads out the eye of Gloucester with his heel on the stage : our imaginations will al ways revolt at such a sight, and will demand other means of attaining the great beauties of composition. But were the French to direct the utmost force of their literary cri ticisms against the prediction of the witches. in Macbeth, the ghost of Banquo, &c. , we should not the less feel, with the most lively • + OF GERMAN POETRY. 383 C. Baldwin, Printer, New Bridge-street, London. emotion, the terrific effect which it is their endeavour to proscribe. We cannot teach good taste in the arts as we can bon ton in society ; for the know ledge of bon ton assists us to hide the points in which we fail, while in the arts it is above all things necessary to possess a cre ative spirit : good taste cannot supply the place of genius in literature, for the best proof of taste, when there is no genius, would be, not to write at all. If we dared to speak our opinion on this subject, per haps we should say, that in France there are too many curbs for coursers that have so little mettle, and that in Germany great li terary independence has not yet produced effects proportionably striking and brilliant. END OF VOL. I.
DO NOT CIRCULATE 14223
Volume 3
1814 V.3 CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS The person charging this material is re sponsible for its renewal or its return to the library from which it was borrowed on or before the Latest Date stamped below. You may be charged a minimum fee of $75.00 for each lost book . Theft, mutilation , and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University . TO RENEW CALL TELEPHONE CENTER , 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA - CHAMPAIGN MAY 15 1997 MAY 08 1997 FEB 1 5 2000 MAY 08 2012 NOV 27 2001 JAN 032002 0 3 MAY 21 MAR 0 2 2009 When renewing by phone, write new due date below previous due date. L162
-
GERMANY; BY THE BARONESS STAËL HOLSTEIN. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH . IN THREE VOLUMES.
- VOL. III.
A NEW EDITION. LONDON : PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1814. London : Printed by W.Clowes, Northumberland Court, Strand, 845 S 77 Cd 1914 V , 3 CONTENTS . PART THE THIRD. PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAP. I. Of Philosophy Page 1 CHAP. II . Of English Philosophy 10 CHAP. III. Of French Philosophy 32 CHAP. IV. Of the Ridicule introduced by a certain Species of Philosophy 46 CHAP. V. General Observations upon German Philosophy 56 CHAP. VI. Kant 70 CHAP. VII. Of the most celebrated Philosophers before and after Kant 99 CHAP. VIII. Influence of the new German Philo sophy over the Developement of the Mind 128 Chap. IX. Influence of the new German Philo sophy on Literature and the Arts 135 CHAP. X. Influence of the new Philosophy on the Sciences 146 Chap. XI. Influence of the new Philosophy upon the Character of the Germans 168 CHAP. XII. Of the moral System , founded upon personal Interest 175 CHAP. XIII. Ofthe moral System founded upon National Interest 186 CHAP. XIV. Of the Principle of Morals in the new German Philosophy 202 3 263311 , iv CONTENTS . CHAP. XV. Ofscientific Morality Page 213 CHAP. XVI. Jacobi 218 CHAP. XVII. Of Woldemar 226 Chap. XVIII. Of a romantic Bias in the Affec tions of the Heart 230 CHAP. XIX . Of Love in Marriage 236 CHAP. XX. Modern Writers of theancient School in Germany 247 CHAP. XXI. OfIgnorance and Frivolity of Spi rit in their Relations to Morals 257 PART THE FOURTH . RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM .. CHAP. I. General Considerations upon Religion in Germany 267 CHAP. II. Of Protestantism 278 CHAP. III. Moravian Mode of Worship 293 Chap. IV, Of Catholicism 300 CHAP. V. Of the Religious Disposition called Mysticism 316 CHAP. VI. Of Pain 336 CHAP. VII. Of the Religious Philosophers called Theosophists 351 CHAP. VIII. Ofthe Spirit of Sectarism in Germany 357 CHAP. IX. Of the Contemplation of Nature 368 CHAP. X. Of Enthusiasm 388 CHAP. XI. Of the Influence of Enthusiasm on Learning 395 CHAP. XII. Influence of Enthusiasm upon Hap piness 403 PART THE THIRD. ' t PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. اردو 12 CHAPTER 1. p.410. Of Philosophy. The world has been pleased , for some time past, to throw great discredit upon the very name of philosophy. The case is common with all those terms, the signification of which is capable of much extension : they become alternately the objects of benedic tion or blame among mankind, according to their use in fortunate or unhappy periods: in spite of the casual injustice or pane, gyric of individuals and of nations, philo sophy, liberty, religion, never change their value. Man has spoken evil things of the sun , of love, and of life : he has suffered , he has felt himself consumed , by these lights ofnature ; but would he therefore extinguish them ? but, VOL. III . B 2 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1 Every thing that has a tendency to set bounds to our faculties, bears the stamp of a degrading doctrine . We ought to direct those faculties to the lofty end of our existence - our advance to moral perfection . But it is not by the partial suicide of this or that power of our nature, that we shall be rendered ca pable of rising towards such an object : all our resources are not too numerous to for ward our approach to it ; and , if Heaven had granted more genius to man, he would have advanced so much the more in virtue. Among the different branches of philoso phy, metaphysics have, especially, occupied the attention of the Germans. The objects which this pursuit embraces, may be divided into three classes. The first relates to the mystery of the creation ; that is to say , to the Infinite in all things ; the second, to the formation of ideas in the human mind ; and the third , to the exercise of our faculties, without ascending to their source. The first of these studies, that which applies itself to the discovery of the secret of the universe , was cultivated among the Greeks, as it now is among the Germans. It is impossible to deny that such a pursuit, however sublime in its principle, makes us . و PHILOSOPHY. 8 > A feel our impotence at every step ; and dis couragement follows those efforts which cannot produce a result . The usefulness of the third sort of metaphysics, that which is included in the observation of the actions of our understanding, cannot be contested ; but this usefulness is confined to the circle of daily experience. The phi losophical reflections of the second class--- those which are directed to the nature of the human mind, and to the origin of our ideas - appear to me the most in teresting of all. It is not likely that we should ever be able to know the eternal truths which explain the existence of this world : the desire that we feel for such knowledge, is among the number of those noble thoughts which draw us towards another life : but it is not for nothing, that the faculty of self -examination has been given to us. Doubtless, to observe the progress of our intellect, such as it exists, is already to avail ourselves of this faculty ; nevertheless, in rising higher, in striving to learn whether that intellect acts sponta neously, or whether we can only think when thought is excited by external objects, we shall cast additional light upon the free- will of weich chuti ва 4 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1 of man, and consequently upon vice and virtue. A crowd of moral and religious questions depends upon the manner in which we con sider the origin and formation of our ideas. It is the diversity of their systems in this re spect, above all others, that distinguishes the German from the French philosophers. We may easily conceive, that if the difference is at the fountain -head, it must show itself in the derived streams : it is impossible, therefore, to become acquainted with Germany, with out tracing the progress of that philosophy, which, from the days of Leibnitz down to our own, has incessantly exerted so great a power over the republic of letters. There are two methods of considering the philosophy of the human mind ; either in its theory or in its results. The examination of the theory demands a capacity which be. longs not to me ; but it is easy to remark the influence which this or that metaphysi cal opinion exercises over the developement of the understanding and of the soul. The Gospel tells us, " that we must judge of prophets by their works : ” this, maxim may also guide our inquiry into the different systems of philosophy ; for every thing that G PIIILOSOPHY. 5 is of immoral tendency must be sophistical This life has no value, unless it is subservient to the religious education of our hearts ; unless it prepares us for a higher destiny , by our free choice of virtue upon earth . Meta physics, social institutions, arts, sciences, all ought to be appreciated accordingly as they contribute to the moral perfection of mankind this is the touchstone granted to the ignorant as well as to the learned For if the knowledge of the means belongs only to the initiated , the results are discernible by all the world . It is necessary to be accustomed to that mode of reasoning which is used in geome try, in order to gain a full comprehension of metaphysics. In this science, as in that of calculation , if we omit the least link in the chain of evidence, we destroy the whole connexion. - Metaphysical reasonings are more 'abstract, and not less precise, than mathematical ; and yet their 'object is in definite. We must unite , as metaphysi cians, two of the most opposite facultiesfancy , and the power of calculation : we have to measure a cloud with the same accuracy that we measure a field; and there is no study which requires such closeness of at - 6 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 66 The one ) tention ; nevertheless , in the most sublime questions there is always some point of view within the reach of every body, and it is that point which I design to seize and to present. I put a question one day to Fichte, who possesses one of the strongest and most thinking heads in Germany, whether he could not more easily tell me his moral system than his metaphysical ? depends upon the other,” he replied ; and the remark was very profound : it compre hends all the motives of that interest which we can take in philosophy. We have been accustomed to regard it as destructive of every belief of the heart ; it would then indeed be the enemy of man ; but it is not so with the doctrine of Plato, nor with that of the Germans : they consider sentiment as a fact, the primitive . phæno menon ofmind ; and they look upon the power of philosophical reasoning as destined solely to investigate the meaning of this fact. The enigma of the universe has wasted the meditations of inany, who have still deserved our admiration , because they felt themselves' summoned to something better
rii . PHILOSOPIŁY. : * 7 等 2 than the present world. Geniuses of a lofty kind love to wander unceasingly around the abyss of thoughts that are without an end ; but still they must turn themselves away from it, for the mind fatigụes itself in vain, in these efforts to scale the heavens. The origin of thought has occupied the attention of all true philosophers. Are there two natures in man ?, If there be but one, is it . mind or matter ? If there be two, do ideas come by the senses, or do they spring up in the soul ? Or, in truth , are they a mixture of the action of external objects ) ) upon us, and of the internal faculties which we possess ? To these three questions, which at all times have divided the philosophical world, is united the inquiry which most imme diately touches upon virtue=the inquiry, whether free - will or fatality decides the re solutions of man . Among the ancients, fatality arose from the will of the gods; among the moderns, it is attributed to the course of events. The ancient fatality gave a new evidence to free will ; for the will ofman struggled against the event, and moral resistance was unconquer able : the fatalism of the moderns, on the /) 8 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. contrary, necessarily destroys the belief in free-will : if circumstances make us what we are , we cannot oppose their empire ; if ex ternal objects are the cause of all that passes in our mind, what independent thought can free us from their ascendency ? The fatal ism which descended from heaven, filled the soul with a holy terror ; while that which attaches us to earth only works our degradation. It may be asked, to what purpose all these questions ? ItIt may be an swered, to what purpose any thing that bears no relation to them ? For what is there more important to man , than to know whether he really is responsible for his ac tions ; and what sort of a proportion there is between the power of the will and the em pire of circumstances over it ? What would become of conscience, if our habits alone gave birth to it ; if it was nothing but the product of colours, of sounds, of perfumes, of circumstances, in short, of every kind, with which we may have been surrounded from our infancy ? That species of metaphysics, which en deavours to discover what is the source of our ideas, has a powerful influence, by its con sequences, upon the the nature nature and and energy of our a PHILOSOPHY... 9 will ; that species is at once the most exalted and the most necessary of all our kinds of knowledge ; and the advocates of the highest utility, namely of moral utility, cannot un dervalue it. 3
10 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. . 1.1,
- CHAPTER II .
rikó 1911 " > Of English Philosophy. or Every VERY thing seems to testify in us the ex istence of a double nature . The influence of the senses and that of the mind share our being between them ; and, accordingly as Philosophy inclines towards the one the other, opinions and sentiments are in every respect diametrically opposite. We may also describe the dominion of the senses, and that of thought, by other terms : there is in man that which perishes with his earthly existence, and that which may survive him ; that which experience enables him to acquire, and that with which his moral instinct inspires him — the finite and infinite ; but in what manner soever we express ourselves, it is always necessary to grant that there are two different principles of life in a creature subject to death, and destined to immortality . A tendency to spiritualize has been always very manifest among the people of the North ; ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 11 f and even before the introduction of Chris tianity, this bias made itself perceptible through the violence of warlike passions, The Greeks had faith in external miracles ; the German nations believe the miracles of the soul. All their poetry is filled with misgivings,, with presages, with prophe cies of the heart ; and while the Greeks united themselves to nature by their in dulgence in pleasure, the inhabitants of the North raised themselves to their Creator by religious sentiments. In the South , Pagan ism deified the phænomena of nature; in the North , they were inclined to believe in ma. gic, because it attributes to the mind of man a boundless power over the material world . The soul and nature, liberty and necessity , divide the dominion of existence ; and just as we place the commanding force within ourselves or without us, we are the sons of heaven , or the slaves of earth . At the revival of letters, there were some who occupied themselves with the sub tilties of the schools in metaphysics,and others who believed in the superstitions of magic in the sciences : the art of observation reigned no more in the empire of the senses, than enthusiasm in the empire of the soul: 12 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1with very few exceptions, there was neither experience nor inspiration among the philo sophers. A giant appeared this was Bacon : never were the discoveries of thought, nor the wonders of nature, so well conceived by the same intelligence. There is not a phrase in his writings which does not imply years of reflection and of study ; he animates his metaphysics with his knowledge of the hu man heart ; he knows how to generalize facts by philosophy . In physical science he has created the art of experiment : but it does not at all follow , as it has been attempted to make us believe, that he was the advocate of that system exclusively, which grounds all our ideas upon our sensations . He admits inspiration in every thing that belongs to the soul ; and he thinks it even necessary , in or der to interpret natural phænomena accord ing to general principles. But, in his age, there were still alchemists, diviners, and sor cerers : they were ignorant enough ofReligion, in the greatest part of Europe, to believe that there were some truths of which she forbade the promulgation -- she who leads us into all truth . Bacon was struck with these errors ; had a bias towards superstition, as our age has towards incredulity. At the -his age ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY, 13 epoch in which he lived , it was right to en deavour to bring experimental philosophy into favour; in our æra, he would have felt the necessity of reanimating the internal source of moral beauty, and of recalling in cessantly this truth to the memory of man that he exists in himself, in his sentiment, and in his will. When the age is supersti tious, the genius of observation is timid ; the natural world is ill known : -when the age is incredulous, enthusiasm exists no more, and we are thenceforth ignorant of the soul and of heaven. Erity At a time when the progress of the hu man mind was unsure on every side, Bacon collected all his forces to trace out the way in which experimental philosophy ought to proceed ; and his writings, even yet, serve for conductors to those who study nature, As a minister of state, he was for a long time occupied with government and with politics. The strongest heads are those which unite the taste and the habit for meditation with a capacity for business. Bacon, under both these views, was a won derful genius ; but his philosophy and his character failed in the samepoint. He was not virtuous enough fully to feel the nioral . PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1! liberty of man : nevertheless, we cannot compare him to the materialists of the last age ; and his successors have pushed the theory of experience much beyond his in tention . He is far, I repeat it, from attri buting all our ideas to our sensations, and from considering analysis as the sole instru ment of discovery. He frequently follows a more daring path ; and if he adheres to experimental logic to remove all the preju dices which encumber his progress, it is to the spring of genius alone that he trusts to forward his advance. " The human mind," says Luther, " is " like a drunken peasant on horseback ; when " we put it up on one side, it falls down on -66 the other ." -- Thus man has incessantly fluctuated between his two natureś ; some times his thoughts have disentangled him from his sensations; sometimes his sensa tions have absorbed his thoughts, and he has wished; successively, to refer every thing to one or the other : it however appears to me, that the moment for a fixed doctrine has arrived . Metaphysics are about to un dergo a revolution , like that which Coperni cus has produced in the system of the world. They are about to replace the soul of man in а $ 1 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 15 the centre , and to make it , in every respect, like the sun ; round which external objects trace their circle, and from which they bor row their light. The genealogical tree of the different branches of human knowledge, in which every science is referred to a certain faculty , is doubtless one of the titles of Bacon to the admiration of posterity ; but that which constitutes his real glory is this that he has announced his opinion, that there was no absolute separation of one science from another ; but that general philosophy 're united them all. He is not the author of that' anatomical method, which consi ders the intellectual powers severally, or each by itself ; and which appears to be ignorant of the admirable unity in the moral being. Sensibility, imagination, reason, each is subservient to the other. Every one of these faculties would be nothing but à disease, but weakness, instead of strength, if it were not modified or completed by the collective character of our ' natúre . The exact seiencés, at a certain height, stand in need of the Imagination. She, 'in ' her turn, must support herself upon he accu räte knowledge of Nature. Reason, of all 2 16 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . our faculties, appears to be that which would most easily do without the assistance of the others ; and yet, if a person were en : tirely unprovided with imagination and sen sibility, he might by that very " want become,, if we may so express it, the foot of Reason ; and, seeing nothing in life but calculations and material interests, deceive himself as much concerning the characters agd affec tions of men, as the enthusiastic being whose fancy pictures all around him disinterested ness and love . We follow a bad system of education, when we aim at the exclusive developement of this or that quality of mind ; for, to de-. vote ourselves to one faculty , is to take up an intellectual trade. Milton says, with rea that our education is not good , excepting when it renders : us capable of every employ in peace or war : all that makes the man A Man, is the true object of instruction . :) Not to know any thing of a science but that portion of it which individually belongs to ,us, is to apply the division of labour (inculcated by Smith ) to the liberal studies, when it is only adapted to the mechanic arts, When we arrive at that height where every science touches upon all the rest in son, ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. ' . 17 some particulars, it is then that we approach the region of universal ideas: ; and the air which breathes from that region gives life to all our thoughts.
- The soul is a fire that darts its rays through
all the senses : it is in this fire that existence consists : all the observations and all the efforts of philosophers ought to turn towards this point of individuality -- the centre and the moving power of our sentiments and our ideas. Doubtless, the imperfection of lan guage compels us to make use of erroneous expressions; we are obliged to repeat, accord ing to the customary phrase, such a person is endowed with the power of reason, of imagination , or of sensibility, &c.. ; but, if we wish to be understood in a single word, we ought to say, he has soulman abundance of soul*. It is this divine spirit that makes the whole man . Love is the instructor who teaches us more certainly what belongs to the mysteries of the soul , than the utmost metaphysical subtilty. We never attach ourselves to this
- M. Ancillon , of whom I shall have occasion to speak
in the Fourth Part of this work , has made use of this ex pression in a book , upon which one cannot grow tired of meditating VOL. III . с 18 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. or that qualification of the object of our pre ference ; and every madrigal reveals a great philosophical truth, when it says—“ I love “ I know not why ! ” for this “ I know not “ why,” is that collective character, and that harmony, which we recognise by love, by admiration, by all the sentiments which re veal to us what is most deep and most secret in the heart of another. The method of analysis, wbich can only examine by division, applies itself like the dissecting -knife to dead nature ; but it is a bad instrument to teach us to understand what is living ; and if we feel a difficulty in verbally defining that animated conception which represents whole objects to our mind, it is precisely because that conception clings more closely to the very essence of things . To divide, in order to comprehend, is a sign of weakness in philosophy ; as to divide, in order to rule, is a sign of weakness in political power. Bacon adhered much more than is believed to that ideal philosophy, which, from the days of Plato down to our own, has con stantly re-appeared under different forms. Nevertheless, the success of his analytical method in the exact sciences has necessarily ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 19 had an influence over his metaphysical sys tem . His doctrine of sensations, considered as the origin of ideas, has been understood in a much more positive sense than that in which he maintained it himself, We can clearly see the influence of this doctrine in the two schools which it has produced-- that of Hobbes, and that of Locke. Certainly they differ very much in their intent ; but their principles are alike in many respects. Hobbes embraced to the letter that philo sophy which derives all our ideas from the impressions of sense. He feared not the consequences ; and he has boldly said, “ that " the soul is as much subjected to necessity , “ as society to despotism .” He admits the fatalism of sensation as the controller of thought, and that of force as the controller of action. He annihilates moral as well as civil liberty ; thinking, with reason, that one depends upon the other. He was an Atheist and a slave, and nothing is more in the course of things ; for if there is in man but the impress of sensations received from without, earthly power is every thing, and our soul and our destiny equally depend upon it. The cultivation of all pure and elevated C 2 20 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS .
sentiments is so consolidated in England, by political and religious institutions, that the scepticisms of genius revolve around these imposing columns without ever shaking them . Hobbes, accordingly , has gained few parti sans in his country ; but the influence of Locke has been more universal. As his cha racter was moral and religious, he did not allow himself to use any of those dangerous reasonings which are necessarily derived from his metaphysical system ; and the greater part of his countrymen , in adopting that system , have shown the same glorious wantof consistency, which he did-have se parated results from principles-- until Hume, and the French philosophers, having ad mitted the system , made application of it in a much more logical manner. The metaphysical doctrines of Locke bave had no other effect upon the wits of Eng land , than to tarnish a little their natural originality: if they had even dried up the source of high philosophical reflection , they would not have destroyed that religious sen timent which can so well supply the want of it ; but these doctrines, so generally re ceived throughout the rest of Europe (Ger many excepted ), have been one of the prin ENGLISH PHILOSOPII Y. 21 cipal causes of that immorality, the advo cates of which have formed it into a theory, in order to make its practice more certain . Locke exerted his especial endeavours to prove that there is nothing innate in the mind. He was right in his own sense, for he always blended with the meaning of the word Idea that of a notion acquired by'ex perience : ideas thus conceived are the result of the objects that excite, of the compa risons that assemble them, and of the lan , guage that expedites their union . But this is not the case with the sentiments, with the dispositions, and the faculties which consti tute the laws of the human understanding, in the same manner that attraction and im. pulse constitute the laws of external nature. It is truly worth observing what kind of arguments Locke has been compelled to adopt, in order to prove that every thing in the mind came there by means of sensation . If these arguments led to the truth , doubt less we ought to overcome the moral aver sion with which they inspire us ; but, in ge neral, we may trust to this sort of aversion as an infallible token of what must be avoided. Locke wished to show that con science, or the sense of good and evil, was 22 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. not innate in man ; and that we know no . thing of justice or injustice, except from ex perience, as we learn to distinguish red from blue. To arrive at this conclusion, he has carefully inquired after all those countries where the laws and customs pay respect to crimes ; those, for instance, in which it is thought a duty to kill an enemy ; to despise marriage ; to put a father to death, when he has grown old . He attentively collects every thing that travellers have related of barbari, ties which have passed into daily practice. Of what nature then must that system be, which excites, in so virtuous a man as Locke, an eagerness for such narrations ? Let them be melancholy tales, or not, it may be said , the important thing is to know if they are true . - Allow them to be true, of what consequence are they ? Do we not know, by our own experience, that circum , stances, in other words external objects, have an influence over the manner in which we interpret our duties ? Amplify these circumstances, and you will find in them the causes of national error ; but is there any nation, or any man, that denies the obliga tion of all duty ? Has it ever been pretended that the ideas of justice and injustice have ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 23 no meaning ? Different explanations of them may prevail in different places ; but the conviction of the principle is every where the same ; and it is in this conviction that the primitive impression consists, which we recognise in every being of human birth . When the savage kills his aged father, bęhe believes that he renders the old man a ser vice ; he does not act for his own interest, but for that of his parent: the deed he com mits is horrible ; and yet he is not on that account devoid of conscience : because he is ignorant, he is not therefore vicious. The sensations, that is to say, the external objects with which he is surrounded, blind him ; the inward sentiment, which constitutes the hatred for vice and the love of virtue, does not the less exist within him, because he has been deceived by experience as to the manner in which this sentiment ought to be manifested in his lịfe. To prefer others to ourselves, when virtue commands the prefer ence, is precisely that in which the essence of moral beauty consists ; and this admirable instinct of the soul, the opponent of our physical instinct, is inherent in our nature ; if it could be acquired, it could also be lost ; but it is ' unchangeable, because it is innate. 24 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. It is possible for us to do evil, when we be, lieve we are doing good ; a man may be cul, pable knowingly and willingly ; but he can not admit a contradiction for a truth , that justice is injustice. There is such a thing as indifference to good and evil, and it is the ordinary result of civilization , when its coldness has reached the point of petrifaction, if the expression may be allowed ; this indifference is a much greater argument against an innate con science than the gross errors of savages : but the most sceptical of men, if they are sufferers from oppression in any relation of life, appeal to justice, as if they had be lieved in it all their days; and when they are seized with any vivid affection, and ty, rannical power is exerted to control it, they can invoke the sentiment of equity with as much force as the most severe of moralists, When the flame of any passion, whether it be indignation or love, takes possession of the soul, the sacred hand-writing of the eternal law may be seen hy that light re appearing in our bosoms: If the accident of birth and education de cided the morality of man, how could we accuse him for his actions ? If all that com ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY.. 25 poses our will comes to us from external objects, every one may appeal to his own particular relations for the motives of his whole conduct ; and frequently these rela tions differ as much between the inhabitants of the same country, as between an Asiatic and European. If circumstances then were to be the deities of mortals, it would be in order for every man to have his peculiar morality, or rather a want of morals accord ing to his respective practice ; and to coun teract the evil which sensation might sug gest, no efficient reason could be opposed to it, except the public power of punishment: now, if that public power commanded us to be unjust, the question would be resolved ; every sensation might be the parent of every idea , which would lead us on to the most complete depravity, The proofs of the spirituality of the soul cannot be discovered in the empire of the The visible world is abandoned to their dominion ; but the invisible will not be subjected to it ; and if wedo not ad mit that there are ideas of spontaneous growth, if thought and sentiment depend entirely upon sensations, how should the soul, that submits to such a state of servi senses . 26 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a tude, be an immaterial essence ? And if, as nobody denies , the greater part of the know , ledge transmitted by the senses is liable to error, what sort of a moral being must that be, who does not act until aroused by out ward objects, and by objects even whose appearances are often deceitful ? A French philosopher, making use of the most revolting expression , has said , “ that " thought is nothing but the material pro “ duct of the brain . ” This deplorable defi nition is the most natural result of that spe cies of metaphysics, which attributes to our sensations the origin of all our ideas . We are in the right, if it be so, to laugh at all that is intellectual, and to make what is impalpable synonymous with what is incomprehensible. If the human mind is but a subtle matter, put in motion by other elements, more or less gross, in comparison with which even it has the disadvantage of being passive ; if our impressions and ourrecollections are nothing but the prolonged vibrations of an instrument, which chance has played upon ; then there are only fibres in the brain , there is nothing but physical force in the world , and every thing can be explained according to the laws by which that force is governed. Still there ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 27 remain some little difficulties concerning the origin of things, and the end of our exist ence ; but the question has been much sim plified -- and reason now counsels us to sup press within our souls all the desires and all the hopes that genius, love, and religion call to life ; for, according to this system , man would only be another machine in the great mechanism of the universe ; his facul ties would be all wheel-work, his morality a matter of calculation , and his divinity success, Locke, believing from the bottom of his soul in the existence of God, established his conviction, without perceiving it, upon rea sonings which are all taken out of the sphere of experience : he asserts the exist ence of an eternal principle, the primary cause of all other causes ; thus he enters into the region of infinity, and that region lies beyond all experience : but Locke, at the same time, was so apprehensive lest the idea of God should pass for an innate idea in man, it appeared to him so absurd that the Crea tor should have deigned to inscribe his name, like that of a great painter, upon the tablet of the soul , that he set himself to discover, out of all the narratives of travellers, some 28 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. nations who were destitute of any religious belief. We may, I think, boldly affirm , that such nations do not exist. The inspulse that exalts us towards the Supreme Being disco vers itself in the genius of Newton, as it does in the soul of the poor savage, who worships the stone upon which he finds rest. No man clings exclusively to this world , such as it is at present ; and all have felt in their hearts, at some period of their lives , an undefinable inclination towards the su pernatural: but, how can it happen, that a being, so religious as Locke, should try to change the primitive characters of belief into an accidental knowledge, which chance may confer or take away ? I repeat it — the tendency of any doctrine ought always to be deemed of great account in the judgment which we form upon the truth of that doc trine ; for, in theory, the good and the true are inseparable. All that is visible talks to man of a begin ping and an end, of decline and destruction . A divine spark is the only indication of our immortality. From what sensation does this arise ? All our sensations fight against it, and yet it triumphs over them all. What ! it will be said, do not final causes, do not ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 29 the wonders of the universe, the splendour of heaven that strikes our eyes, all declare the magnificence and the goodness of our Creator ? The book of nature is contradic tory ; we see there the emblems of good and evil almost in equal proportion ; and things are thus constituted , in order that man may be able to exercise his liberty be tween opposite probabilities, between fears and hopes almost of equal power. The starry heaven appears to us like the threshold of the Divinity ; but all the evils and all the vices.of human nature obscure these celestial fires. A solitary voice, without speech, but not without ' harmony ; without force, but irresistible ; proclaims a God at the bot tom of the human heart : all that is truly beautiful in man springs from what he ex periences within himself, and spontane ously ; every heroic action is inspired by moral liberty : -- the act of devoting ourselves to the divine will, that act which every sen sation opposes, and which enthusiasm alone inspires, is so noble and so pure , that the angels themselves, virtuous as they are by nature , and without impediment, might envy it to man. That species of metaphysics which disa 30 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. places the centre of life, by supposing its impulse to come from without, despoils man of his liberty, and destroys itself ; for a spiritual nature no longer exists, when we unite it in such a manner to a corporeal nature, that it is only by consideration for religious opinion we consent to distinguish them : such a system shrinks from its own consequences, excepting when it derives from them, as it has done in France, materialism built upon sensation , and morality built upon interest. The abstract theory of this system was born in England ; but none of its consequences have been admitted there. In France they have not had the honour of the discovery, but in a great degree that of the application . In Germany, since the time of Leibnitz , they have opposed the system and its consequences : and , assuredly, it is worthy of enlightened and religious men of all countries, to inquire if those principles, whose results are so fatal, ought to be con sidered as incontestable truths. Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Smith , Reid, Dugald Stewart, &c. have studied the ope rations of the human mind with a rare saga city : the works of Dugald Stewart, in par ticular, contain so perfect a theory of the ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 31 1 intellectual faculties, that we may consider them, to use the expression, as the natural history of the moral being. Every indivi dual must recognise in them some portion of himself. Whatever opinion we may have adopted as to the origin of ideas, we must acknowledge the utility of a labour which has for its object the examination of their progress and direction : -- but it is not enough to observe the developement of our faculties, we must ascend to their source, in order to give an account of the nature , and of the independence, of the will of man. We cannot consider that question as an idle one, which endeavours to learn whether the soul has an independent faculty of feel ing and of thinking. It is the question of Hamlet " To be, or not to be ? " 32 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER III. Of French Philosophy. Descartes, for a long period, was at the head of French philosophers ; and if his physics had not been confessedly erroneous, perhaps his metaphysics would have pre served a more lasting ascendant. Bossuet, Fenelon, Pascal, all the great men of the age of Louis XIV. had adopted the Idealism of Descartes : and this system agreed much better with the Catholic religion than that philosophy which is purely experimental ; for it appeared singularly difficult to com bine a faith in the most mysterious doctrines with the sovereign empire of sensation over the soul. Among the French metaphysicians who have professed the doctrine of Locke, we must reckon, in the first class, Condillac, whose priestly office obliged hiin to use some caution in regard to religion ; and Bonnet, who, being naturally religious, lived at Geneva ; in a country where learning and FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 33 piety are inseparable . These two philoso phers, Bonnet especially, have established exceptions in favour of revelation ; but it appears to me, that one of the causes of the diminution of respect for Religion, is this custom of setting her apart from all the sciences ; as if philosophy, reasoning, every thing, in short, which is esteemed in earthly affairs, could not be applied to Religion : an ironical veneration removes her to a distance from all the interests of life ; it is , if we may so express ourselves, to bow her out of the circle of the human mind. In every coun try, where a religious belief is predominant, it is the centre of ideas ; and philosophy consists in the rational interpretation of di vine truths . When Descartes wrote, Bacon's philoso phy had not yet penetrated into France ; and that country was then in the same state of scholastic ignorance and superstition as at the epoch when the great English master of the art of thinking published his works. There are two methods of correcting the pre judices of men-the recourse to experience, and the appeal to reflection. Bacon adopted the first means ; Descartes the second. The one has rendered immense service to the VOL. III . D $4 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . sciences 1; the other to thought itself, which is the source of all the sciences. Bacon was a man of much greater genius, and of still ampler learning, than Descartés. He has known how to establish his philoso phy in the material world : that of Descartes was brought into discredit by the learned , who attacked with success his opinions upon the system of the world : he could reason justly in the examination of the mind , and deceived himself in relation to the physical laws of the universe : but the opinions of men resting almost entirely upon a blind and pre cipitate confidence in analogy, they believed that he who had observed so ill what passed without him , was no better instructed as to the world within . In his manner of writing, Descartes shows a simplicity and overflow ing goodness of nature, which inspires his readers with confidence ; and the energy of his genius will not be contested . Never theless, when we compare him, either to the German philosophers or to Plato, we can neither find in his works the theory of ideal ism in all its abstraction , nor the poetical imagination, which constitutes its beauty, Yet a ray of light had passed over the mind of Descartes, and his is the glory of having FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 35 directed the philosophy of his day towards the interior developement of the soul . He produced a great effect by referring all re ceived truths to the test of reflection : these axioms were admired " I think, therefore I “ exist ; therefore I have a Creator, the per “ fect source of my imperfect faculties : every os thing without us may be called in question : “ truth is only in themind , and the mind is “ the supreme judge of truth. ” Universal doubt is the A B C of philoso phy : every man begins to reason again by the aid of his own native light, when he at tempts to ascend to the principles of things ; butAthe authority of Aristotle had so com pletely introduced the dogmatic method into Europe, that the age was astonished at the boldness of Descartes, who submitted all opinions to natural judgment. The Port Royal writers were formed in his school; so that France produced men of a severer turn of thought in the seventeenth than in the eighteenth century. At the side of their graceful and engaging genius ap peared a certain gravity, wbich betrayed the natural influence of a system of philosophy that attributed all our ideas to the power of reflection . D 2 36 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . Mallebranche, the principal disciple of Descartes, was a man gifted with the ener gies of mind in an eminent degree. They have been pleased to consider him as a dreamer in the eighteenth century ; and in France it is all over with that writer who has the character of a dreamer ; for it im plies the idea of total inutility as to the pur poses of life , and this is peculiarly offensive to all reasonable persons , as they are en titled ; --but this word Utility -- is it quite no ble enough to be applied to all the cravings of the soul ? The French writers of the eighteenth cen tury excelled most in the study of political liberty ; those of the seventeenth in the study of moral liberty. The philosophers of the one period were combatants ; of the other anchorets. Under an absolute government, like that of Louis the XIVth, independence finds no asylum but in meditation : in the disorderly reigns of the last century, the men of letters were animated with the desire of winning over the government of their coun try to the liberal principles and ideas of which England displayed so fair an example. The writers who have not gone beyond this point, are very deserving of the esteem of FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 97 their countrymen ; but it is not the less true, that the works composed in the seventeenth century are more philosophical , in many re spects, than those which have since been published ; for philosophy especially consists in the study and the knowledge of our intel lectual existence. The philosophers of the eighteenth cen tury have busied themselves rather with so cial politics than with the primitive nature of man ; those of theseventeenth century, solely and precisely from their being religious men, had a more thorough knowledge of the human heart. During the decline of the French monarchy, the philosophers turned the direction of thought, which they used as a weapon, to what was passing without them : under the empire of Louis the XIVth, they were more attached to the ideal meta physics, because the exercise of recollection was more habitual to them , and they had more occasion for it . In order to raise the French genius to its highest degree of per fection, it would be requisite to learn, from the writers of the eighteenth century, how to use our faculties to advantage ; and from those of the seventeenth , how to study their . source. 38 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. Descartes, Pascal, and Mallebranche, bad much more resemblance to the German phi losophers than the French writers of the eighteenth century ; but Mallebranche and the Germans differ in this, that the one lays down as an article of faith what the others reduce into a scientific theory : -the one aims at clothing the forms inspired by his imagination in a dogmatic dress, because he is afraid of being accused of enthusiasm ; while the others, writing at the end of an æra when analysis has been extended to every object of study, know that they are enthusiasts, and are solely anxious to prove that reason and enthusiasm are of one ac cord . If the French had followed the metaphy sical bias of their great men of the seven teenth century, they would now have enter tained the same opinions as the Germans ; for in the progress of philosophy Leibnitz is the natural successor of Descartes and Malle branche, and Kant of Leibnitz, England had great influence over the writers of the eighteenth century ; the admi ration which they felt for that country in spired them with the wish of introducing into France her liberty and her philosophy. Eng FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 89 lish philosophy was then only void of danger when united with the religious sentiments of that people, with their liberty , and with their obedience to the laws. In the bosom of a nation where Newton and Clarke never pronounced the name of God without bow . ing their heads, let the metaphysical sys tems have been eyer so erroneous, they could not be fatal. That which is every way wanting in France, is the feeling and habit of veneration ; and the transition is there very quick from the examination which may enlighten , to the irony which reduces every thing to dust. It seems to me that we may observe two perfectly distinct epochs in the eighteenth century ; that in which the influence of Eng land was first acknowledged, and that in which the men of genius hurried themselves into destruction : light was then changed to conflagration ; and Philosophy, like an en aged enchantress, set fire to the palace where she had displayed her wonders. In politics, Montesquieu belongs to the first epach, Raynal to the second : in reli gion, the writings of Voltaire, which had the defence of toleration for their object, breathed the spirit of the first half of the century ; but 40 PHILOSOPHY AND MORAL$ . 1 his pitiable and ostentatious irreligion has been the disgrace of the second. Finally, in metaphysics, Condillac and Helvetius, al though they were contemporaries, both carry about them the impression of these very dif ferent æras ; for, although the entire system of the philosophy of sensation was wrong in its principle, yet the consequences which Helvetius has drawn from it ought not to be imputed to Condillac ; he was far from as senting to them. Condillac has rendered experimental me taphysics more clear and more striking than they are in Locke : he has truly levelled them to the comprehension of all the world ( he says, with Locke, that the soul can have no idea which does not come in from sensation ; he attributes to our wants the origin of knowledge and of language ; to words, that of. reflection : and thus, making us receive the entire developement of our moral being from external objects, he explains human nature as he would a positive science, in a clear, rapid, and, in some respects, con vincing manner ; for if we neither felt in our hearts the native impulses of belief, nor a conscience independent of experience, nor a creating spirit, in all the force of the term, FRENCH PHILOSOPHY 41 we might be well enough contented with this mechanical definition of the human soul . It is natural to be seduced by the easy solu tion of the greatest of problems ; but this apparent simplicity exists only in the mode of inquiry ; the object to which it is pretend ingly applied does not the less continue of an unknown immensity ; and the ænigma of ourselves swallows up,, like the sphinx, thou sands of systems which pretend to the glory of having guessed its meaning. The work of Condillac ought only to be considered as another book on an inexhausti ble subject, if the influence of this book had not been fatal. Helvetius, who deduces from the philosophy of sensations all the direct consequences which it can admit, asserts, that if the hands of man had been made like the hoofs of the horse, he would only have possessed the intelligence of this animal. Assuredly, if the case was so, it would be very unjust to attribute to ourselves any thing blameable or meritorious in our actions ; for the difference which may exist between the several organizations of indi viduals, would authorize and be the proper cause of the difference in their characters. To the opinions of Helvetius succeeded 42 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . those of the System of Nature, which tended to the annihilation of the Deity in the uni verse , and of free will in man, Locke, Con dillac, Helvetius, and the unhappy author of the System of Nature, have all progressively advanced in the same path : the first steps were innocent; neither Locke nor Condillac knew the dangers of their philosophy; but very soon this black spot, which was hardly visible in the intellectual horizon , grew to such a size as to be near plunging the uni verse and man back again into darkness. External objects, it was said , are the cause of all our impressions; nothing then appears more agreeable than to give ourselves up to the physical world, and to come, self -invited guests, to the banquet of nature ; but by degrees the internal source is dried up, and even as to the imagination that is requisite for luxury and pleasure, it goes on decaying to such a degree, that very shortly man will not retain soul enough to relish any enjoy ment, of however material a nature. The immortality of the soul, and the sen timent of duty, are suppositions entirelly gratuitous in the system which grounds all our ideas upon our sensations : for no sensa tion reveals to us immortality in If death FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. ' 43 external objects alone have formed our con science, from the nurse who receives us in her arms until the last act of an advanced old age, all our impressions are so linked to each other, that we cannot arraign with justice the pretended power of volition, which is only another instance of fatality. I shall endeavour to show, in the second part of this section, that the moral system , which is built upon interest, so strenuously preached up by the French writers of the last age, has an intimate connexion with that species of metaphysics which attributes all our ideas to our sensations, and that the con sequences of the one are as bad in practice, as those of the other in theory. Those who have been able to read the licentious works published in France towards the close of the eighteenth century, will bear witness, that when the writers of these culpable perform ances attempt to support themselves upon any speciesofreasoning, they all appeal to the influence of our physical over our moral constitution , they refer to our sensations for the origin of every the most blameable opinion ; they exbibit, in short, under all appearances, the doctrine which destroys free will and conscience. 44 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . We cannot deny, it may be said , that this is a degrading doctrine ; but, nevertheless, if it be true, must we reject it, and blind ourselves on purpose ?-- Assuredly those writers would have made a deplorable dis covery , who had dethroned the soul , and condemned the mind to sacrifice herself, by employing all her faculties to prove, that the laws which are common to every physical existence agree also to her—- but, thanks be to God ( and this expression is here in its pe culiar place) , thanks be to God, I say, this system is entirely false in its principle ; and the circumstance of those writers espousing it who have supported the cause of immo rality, is an additional proof of the errors which it contains. If the greater part of the profligate have upheld themselves by the doctrine of mate rialism , when they have wished to become degraded according to method, and to form a theory of their actions, it is because they believed that, by submitting the soul to sen sation , they would thus be delivered from the responsibility of their conduct. A virtuous being, convinced of this doctrine, would be deeply afflicted by it ; for he would inces santly fear that the all -powerful influence of FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 45 1 external objects would change the purity of his soul, and the force of his resolutions. But when we see men rejoicing to proclaim themselves the creatures of circumstances in all respects, and declaring that all these cir cumstances are combined by chance, we shudder from our very hearts at their per verse satisfaction . When the savage sets fire to a cottage, he is said to warm himself with pleasure at the conflagration which he has kindled ;; he ex ercises at least a sort of superiority over the disorder of which he is guilty ; he makes destruction of some use to him : but when man chooses to degrade human nature, who will thus be profited ? > 46 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS.. CHAPTER IV. Of the Ridicule introduced by a certain Species of Philosophy. Tue philosophical system , adopted in any country, exerts a great influence over the direction of mind ; it is the universal model after which all thought is cast ; -those per sons even , who have not studied the system , conform, unknowingly, to the general dis position which it inspires. We have seen for nearly a hundred years past, in Europe, the growth and increase of a sort.of scoffing scepticism , the foundation of which is the species of metaphysics that attributes all our ideas to our sensations. The first principle in this philosophy is , not to believe any thing which cannot be proved like a fact or a calculation : in union with this principle is contempt for all that bears the name of exalted sentiment ; and attachment to the pleasures of sense. These three points of the doctrine include all the sorts of irony , of which religion , sensibility, and morals, can become the object. FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 47 Bayle, whose learned Dictionary is hardly read by people of the world, is nevertheless the arsenal from which all the pleasantries of scepticism have been drawn ; Voltaire has given them a pungency by his wit and ele gance ;,but the foundation of all this jesting is, that every thing, not as evident as a phy sical experiment, ought to be reckoned in the number of dreams and idle thoughts. It is good management to dignify an inca pacity for attention by calling it a supreme sort of reason , which rejects all doubt and obscurity ;-in consequence, they turn the noblest thoughts into ridicule, if reflection is necessary to comprehend them , or a sincere examination of the heart to make them felt. We still speak with respect of Pascal, of Bossuet, of J. J. Rousseau, &c.; because authority has consecrated them , and authority, of every sort, is a thing easily discerned . But a great number of readers being con vinced that ignorance and idleness are the attributes of a man of wit, think it be neath them to take any trouble, and wish to read , like a paragraph in a newspaper, writings that have man and nature for their subject. 48 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . In a word, if by chance such writings were composed by a German, whose name was not a French one, and it was as difficult to pronounce this name as that of the Baron in Candide, what collections of pleasantries would not be formed upon this circumstance ! and the meaning of them all would be the following : “ I have grace and lightness of “ spirit ; while you, who have the misfor tune to think upon some subjects, and to “ hold by some sentiments, you do not jest upon all with nearly the same elegance “ and facility. ” The philosophy of sensation is one of the principal causes of this frivolity. Since the time that the soul has been considered pas sive, a great number of philosophical labours have been despised. The day on which it was said , there are no mysteries in the world , or at all events it is unnecessary to think about them ; all our ideas come by the eyes and by the ears, and the palpable only is the true ;-on that day the individuals who enjoyed all their senses in perfect health believed themselves the genuine philosophers. We hear it in cessantly said , by those who have ideas enough to get money when they are poor, . FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 49 and to spend it when they are rich , that they only possess a reasonable philosophy, and that none but enthusiasts would dream of any other. In effect, our sensations teach this philosophy alone ; and if we can gain no knowledge except by their means, every thing that is not subject to the evidence of matter must bear the name of folly. If it was admitted, on the contrary, that the soul acts by itself, and that we must draw up information out of ourselves to find the truth , and that this truth cannot be seized upon, except by the aid of profound meditation , because it is not within the range of terrestrial experience ; the whole course of men's minds would be changed ; they would not disdainfully reject the most sublime thoughts, because they demand a close attention ; but that which they found insupportable would be the superficial and the common ; for emptiness grows at length singularly burthensome. Voltaire so well perceived the influence that metaphysics exercise over the general bias of the mind, that he wrote Candide, to combat Leibnitz . He took up a curious whim against final causes, optimism , free will ; in short, against all the philosophical
VOL. III. E 50 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. opinions that exalt the dignity ofman ; and he composed Candide, that effort of a diabolical gaiety ; for it appears to be writ ten by a being of a different nature from ourselves, insensible to our condition , well pleased with our sufferings, and laughing, like a dæmon or an ape, at the miseries of that human species, with which he has nothing in common. The greatest poet of the age, the author of Alzire, Tancrède, Merope, Zaïre, and Brutus, showed himself in this work ignorant of all the great moral truths, which he had so wortbily celebrated . When Voltaire, as a tragic author, felt and thought in the character of another, he was admirable ; but, when he remains wholly himself, he is a jester and a cynic. The same versatility, which enabled him to adopt the part of the personages whom he wished to represent, only too well inspired the language which, in certain moments, was suited to Voltaire. Candide brings into action that scoffing philosophy, so indulgent in appearance, in reality so ferocious ; it presents human na ture under the most lamentable point of view, and offers us, in the room of every FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 51 consolation , the sardonic grin , which frees us from all compassion for others, by making us renounce it for ourselves. It is in consequence of this system that Voltaire, in his Universal History, has aimed at attributing virtuous actions, as well as great crimes, to those accidental events which deprive the former of all their merit, and the latter of all their guilt. In effect, if there is nothing in the soul but what our sensations have imprinted upon it, we ought no longer to recognise more than two real and lasting motives on earth strength applied to the agent, and the desire of well-being ; in other words, the law of tactics, and the law of appetite : but if the mind is still to be considered such as it has been formed by modern philosophy, it would very soon be reduced to wish that something of an exalted nature would re -appear, in order at least to fur-. nish it with an object for exercise and for attack . The Stoics have often repeated that we ought to brave all the assaults of fortune, and only to trouble ourselves with what depends. upon the soul , upon our sentiments and our thoughts. The philosophy of sensation would have a totally opposite result : it E 2 52 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 6 ness. would disembarrass us from our feelings and thoughts, with the design of turning our efforts towards our physical well-being : she would say to us “ Attach yourselves to the present moment; consider as a chimera “ everything which wanders out of the “ circle of the pleasures and affairs of this “ world , and pass your short career of life, “ as well as you may, taking care of your “ health, which is the foundation of happi These maxims have been known in all times ; but they were thought to be the esclusive property of valets in comedies ; and in our days they have been made the doctrine of reason , founded upon necessity ; a doctrine very different from that of reli gious resignation , for the one is as vulgar as the other is noble and exalted , The singularity of the attempt consists in deducing the theory of elegance from so plebeian a philosophy : -our poor nature is often low and selfish , as we must grieve to confess ; but it was novel enough to boast of it. Indifference and contempt for exalted subjects are becomethe type of the graceful ; and witticisms have been levelled against those who take a lively interest in any thing, which is without a positive result in the present world . FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 53 The argumentative principle of this frivo lity of heart and mind, is the metaphysical doctrine which refers all our ideas to our sensations ; for nothing but the superficial comes to us from without, and the serious ness of life dwells at the bottom of the soul . . If the fatality of materialism , admitted as a theory of the human mind, led to a distaste for every thing external, as well as to a dis belief of all within us ; there would still be something in this system of an inactive nobleness, of an oriental indolence, which might lay claim to a sort of grandeur ; -and some of the Greek philosophers have found means to infuse almost a dignity into apathy ; but the empire of sensation, while it has weakened sentiment by degrees, has left the activity of personal interest in full force ; and this spring of action has become so much the more powerful, as all the others have been broken into pieces . To incredu lity of mind, to selfishness of heart, must still be added the doctrine concerning conscience, which which Helvetius developed, when he asserted , that actions virtuous in themselves had for their object the attain ment of those physical enjoyments which we can taste here below : it has followed . 54 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . 1 from hence, that sacrifices made to the ideal worship of any opinion , or any sentiment whatever, have been considered as if those who offer them were dupes ; and as men dread nothing more than passing for dupes, they have been eager to cast ridicule upon every sort of unsuccessful enthusiasm ; for that which has been recompensed with good fortune, has escaped raillery : success is always in the right with the advocates of materialism . The dogmatic incredulity , that, namely, which calls in question the truth of every thing that is not proved by the senses, is the source of the chief irony of man against himself : all moral degradation comes from that quarter.--That philosophy, doubtless, ought to be considered an effect, as well as a cause, of the present state of public feeling ; nevertheless, there is an evil of which it is the principal author ; it has given to the carelessness of levity the appearance of re flective reasoning; it has furnished selfish ness with specious arguments; and has made the most noble sentiments be considered as an accidental malady, caused by external circumstances alone. It is of consequence then to examine whe FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 55 ther the nation , which has constantly guard ed itself against the metaphysical system, from which such inferences have been drawn, was not right in its principle, and still more so in the application which it has made of that principle, to the developement of the faculties of man, and to his moral conduct. 56 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . CHAPTER V. General Observations upon German Philosophy. SpecuLATIVE philosophy has always found numerous partisans among the German na tions, and experimental philosophy among those of Latin extraction. The Romans, expert as they were in the affairs of life , were no metaphysicians ; tbey knew nothing of this subject, except by their connexion with Greece ; and the nations civilized by them , have, for the most part, inherited their knowledge in politics , and their in difference for those studies which cannot be applied to the business of the world. This disposition shows itself in France in its greatest strength ; the Italians and the Spaniards have 'partaken of it ; but the imagination of the South has sometimes deviated from practical reason, to employ itself in theories purely abstract. GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 57 The greatness of soul that appeared among the Romans, gave a sublime character to . their patriotism and their morals ;; but this . consequence must be attributed to their republican institutions . When liberty no longer existed in Rome, a selfish and sensual luxury was seen to reign there, with almost an undivided empire ; excepting that of an adroit sort of political knowledge, which directed every mind towards observation and experience. The Romans retained nothing of their past study of. Grecian literature and philosophy but a taste for the arts ; and this taste itself very soon degenerated into gross enjoyments. The influence of Rome did not exert itself over the northern nations. They were al most entirely civilized by Christianity ; -and their ancient religion , which contained within it the principles of chivalry , bore no resemblance to the Paganism of the South. There was to be found a spirit of heroical and generous self -devotion ; an enthusiasın for women, which made a noble worship of love ; in a word , as the rigours of the climate prevented man from plunging himself into the delights of nature ; he had so much the keener relish for the pleasures of the soul 58 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . It may be objected to me, that the Greeks had the same religion and the same climate as the Romans ; and that yet they have given themselves up more than any other people to speculative philosophy ; but may we not attribute to the Indians sone of the intellectual systems developed among the Greeks ? The ideal , philosophy of Pytha goras and Plato ill agrees with Paganism, such as it appears to us ; historical iraditions also lead us to believe that Egypt was the medium through which the nations of southern Europe received the influence of the East. The philosophy of Epicurus is the only philosophy of truly Grecian origin . Whatever may become of these conjec tures, it is certain that the spirituality of the soul , and all the thoughts derived from it, have been easily naturalized peo ple of the North ; and of all these nations, the Germans have ever showed themselves the most inclined to contemplative philo sophy. Leibnitz is their Bacon and their Descartes. We find in this excellent genius all the qualities which the German philoso phers in general glory to aim at : immense erudition , perfect good faith , enthusiasm hidden under strict form and method. He among the GERMAN PHILOSOPHY, 59 had profoundly studied theology, jurispru dence, history, languages, mathematics, na tural philosophy, chemistry ; for he was con vinced that an universality of knowledge was necessary to constitute a superior being in any department : in short, every thing in Leibnitz displayed those virtues which are allied to sublimity of thought, and which deserve at once our admiration and our respect. His works may be divided into three branches--the exact sciences, theological philosophy, and the philosophy of the mind. Every one knows that Leibnitz was the rival of Newton, in the theory of calculation . The knowledge of mathematics is very useful in metaphysical studies ; abstract rea soning does not exist in perfection out of algebra and geometry ; I shall endeavour to show in another place the unsuitableness of this sort of reasoning, when we attempt to exercise it upon a subject that is allied in any manner to sensibility ; but it confers upon the humán mind a power of attention , that renders it much more capable of ana lysing itself : we must also know the laws and the forces of the universe, to study man under all his relations . There is such an 60 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a 1 analogy, and such a difference, between the physical and the moral world, their re semblances and their diversity lend each other such light, that it is impossible to be a learned man of the first rank without the assistance of speculative philosophy, nor a speculative philosopher without having stu died the positive sciences. Locke and Condillac had not sufficiently attended to these sciences ; but Leibnitz had in this respect an incontestable superiority . Descartes also was a very great mathema tician ; and it is to be remarked, that the greater part of the advocates for the ideal philosophy have made an unbounded use of their intellectual faculties. The exercise of the mind, as well as that of the heart, im parts a feeling of internal activity, of which all those beings who abandon themselves to the impressions that come from without are rarely capable. The first class of the writings of Leibnitz contains those which we call theological, because they are directed to truths which forma part of the support of religion ; and the theory of the human mind is included in the second class . In the first class he treats of the origin of good and evil - of the divine
GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 61 prescience ;-in a word, of those primitive questions which lie beyond the bounds of human intelligence. I do not pretend to cen sure, by this expression , those great men who, from the times of Pythagoras and Plato down to our own, have been attracted towards these lofty philosophical speculations. Genius does not set bounds to itself, until it has struggled for a long time against that hard necessity . Who can possess the faculty of thinking, and not endeavour to learn the origin and the end of the things of this world ? Every thing that lives upon earth, except ing man, seems to be ignorant of itself. He alone knows that he will die, and this awful truth awakens his interest for all the grand thoughts which are attached to it . From the time that we are capable of reflection we resolve, or rather we think we resolve, after our own manner, the philosophical questions which may explain the destiny of man ; but it has been granted to no one to compre hend that destiny altogether. Every man views it from a different point ; every man has his own philosophy, his poetry, his love. This philosophy is in accord with the peculiar bias of his character and his mind . When we raise ourselves towards infinity, a thou 62 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . sand explanations may be equally true, although different ; for questions without bounds have thousands of aspects, one of which may be sufficient to occupy the whole duration of existence. If the mystery of the universe is above the understanding of man, still the study of this mystery gives more expansion to the mind. It is in metaphysics as it is in alchemy : searching for the philosopher's stone, in en deavouring to discover an impossibility, we meet upon the road with truths which would have remained unknown to us : besides, we cannot hinder a meditative being from be stowing some time at least upon the tran scendent philosophy ; this ebullition of spi ritual nature cannot be kept back, without bringing that nature into disgrace. The pre-established harmony of Leibnitz, which he believed to be a great discovery, has been refuted with success ; he flattered himself that he could explain the relations betweep mind and matter, by considering them both as instruments tuned beforehand, which re- echo, and answer, and imitate each other mutually. His monads, of which he constitutes the simple elements of the uni verse, are but an hypothesis as gratuitous GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 68 as all those which have been used to explain the origin of things. But in what a singular state of perplexity is the human mind ! In cessantly attracted towards the secret of its being, it finds that secret equally impossible to be discovered, or to be banished from its thoughts. The Persians say, that Zoroaster interro gated the Deity, and asked how the world had begun, when it would end , what was the origin of good and evil ? The Deity an swered to all these questions— “ Do what is good, and gain immortality.” The point which particularly constitutes the excellence of this reply, is this that it does not dis courage man from the most sublime medi tations ; it only teaches him, that by con science and sentiment he may exalt himself to the most lofty conceptions of philosophy. Leibnitz was an idealist, who founded his system solely upon reasoning ; and from thence it arises, that he has pushed his ab stractions too far, and that he has not suffi ciently supported his theory upon inward persuasion - the only true foundation of that which is above the understanding : in short, reason upon the liberty of man, and you will not believe it ; lay your hand upon your 64 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS , conscience, and you will not be able to doubt it. Consequence and contradiction, in the sense that we attach to either of these terms, do not exist within the sphere of the great questions concerning the liberty of man, the origin of good and evil , the divine prescience, &c. In these questions senti ment is almost always in opposition to rea son ; in order to teach mankind , that what he calls incredible in the order of earthly things, is perhaps the supreme truth under universal relations . Dante has expressed a grand philosophical thought by this verse : A guisa del ver primo che l'uom crede * . We must believe certain truths as we believe our own existence ; it is the soul which re veals them to us ; and reasonings of every kind are never more than feeble streams de rived from this fountain . The Theodicea of Leibnitz treats of the divine prescience, and of the cause of good and evil : it is one of the most profound and argumentative works upon the theory of the infinite ; the author, however, too often арapa plies to that which is without bounds, a sort
- " It is thus that man believes in primitive truth. " .
GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 65 of logic to which circumscribed objects alone are amenable. Leibnitz was a perfectly re ligious character ; but, from this very cir cumstance, he believed it a duty to ground the truths of religion upon mathematical rea soning, in order to support them on such foundations as are admitted within the em pire of experience : this error proceeds from a respect, oftener felt than acknowledged, for men of cold and arid minds ; we attempt to convince them in their own manner ; we acknowledge that arguments in a logical form have more certainty than a proof from senti ment ; and it is not true. In the region of intellectual and religious truths, of which Leibnitz has treated , we must use consciousness in the room of de monstration. Leibnitz, wishing to adhere to abstract reasoning, demands a sort of stretch of attention which few minds can support. Metaphysical works, that are founded peither upon experience nor upon sentiment, singu. larly fatigue the thinking power ; and we may imbibe from them a physical and moral pain, so great, that by our obstinate en deavours to conquer it, we may shatter the organs of reason in our heads. Baggesen, has made Vertigo a divinity-we A poet, VOL. III . F 66 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. should recommend ourselves to the favour of that goddess, when we are about to study these works, which place us in such a man ner at the summit of ideas , that we have no longer any ladder-steps to re - descend into life . The metaphysical and religious writers, who are eloquent and feeling at the same time (such as we have seen in some exam ples), are much better adapted to our nature. Far from requiring the suppression of our faculties of feeling, in order to make our fa culty of abstraction more precise, they bid us think, feel, and wish, that all the strength of our souls may aid us to penetrate into the dępths of heaven ; but to cling close to ab straction is such an effort, that it is natural enough for the generality of men to have renounced the attempt, and to have thought it more easy to admit nothing beyond what is visible, The experimental philosophy is complete in itself ; it is a whole , sufficiently vulgar, but compact, circumscribed ,argumentative ; and while we adhere to the sort of reasoning which is received in the commerce of the world , we ought to be contented with it ; the immortal and the infinite are only felt ok 1 GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 67 through the medium of the soul ; the soul alone can diffuse an interest over the higher sort of metaphysics. We are very wrong to persuade ourselves that the more abstract a theory is, the more likely it is to guard us against all illusion ; for it is exactly by these means that it may lead us into error. We take the connexion of ideas for their proof ; we arrange our rank and file of chimeras with precision ; and we fancy that they are an army. There is nothing but the genius of sentiment that arises above experimental, as well as above speculative philosophy ; there is no other genius but that, which can carry conviction beyond the limits of human reason , It appears then to me, that, notwithstand ing my entire admiration for the strength of mind and depth of genius in Leibnitz, we should wish, in his writings upon questions of metaphysical theology, more imagination and sensibility ; that we might repose from thought by the indulgence of our feelings. Leibnitz almost made a scruple of recurring to it, fearing that he should have the ap pearance of using seductive arts in favour of the truth : he was wrong ; for sentiment is truth itself in questions of this nature. F 2 68 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. The objections which I have allowed my. self to make to those works of Leibnitz, which aim at the solution of truths insoluble hy reasoning, do not at all apply to his writings on the formation of ideas in the human mind ; those writings are of a most luminous clearness ; they refer to a mystery which man, to a certain degree, can pene trate ; for he knows more of himself than of the universe. The opinions of Leibnitz in this respect tend, above all , to our moral perfection , if it be true, as the German phi losophers have attempted to prove, that free will rests upon the doctrine which delivers the soul from external objects, and that virtue cannot exist without the perfect in dependence of the will. Leibnitz has opposed, with admirable force of logical reasoning, the system of Locke, who attributes all our ideas to our sensations . The advocates of this system had vaunted of that well-known axiom , that there is nothing in the intellect which has not first been in the senses ; and Leibnitz added to it this sublime restriction- " Except the intellect “ itself * . ” From this principle all the new philosophy is derived, which so much influ
- Nihil est in intellectu quod non fuerit in sensu, nisi in tellectus ipse .
66 GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 69
ences the men of genius in Germany. This philosophy also is experimental ; for it en deavours to learn what is passing within ourselves. It only substitutes the observation of internal feeling for that of our external sensations. The doctrine of Locke gained many par tisans in Germany among those who endea voured , like Bonnet at Geneva, and many other philosophers in England, to reconcile this doctrine with the religious sentiments which Locke himself always professed. The genius of Leibnitz foresaw all the conse quences of this sort of metaphysics; and that which has built his glory on an ever lasting foundation , is his having maintained in Germany the philosophy of moral liberty against that of sensual fatalism . While the rest of Europe adopted those principles which make the soul be considered as passive; Leibnitz, with unshaken constancy, was the defender of the ideal philosophy, such as his genius had conceived it . It had no con nexion with the system of Berkeley ; nor with the reveries of the Greek sceptics upon the non-existence of matter ; but it main tained the moral being in his independence and in his rights. 70 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER VI. Kant. 1 Kant lived even to a very advanced age , and never quitted Königsberg ; —there, in the midst of northern ice, he passed his whole life in meditation upon the laws of human intelligence. An indefatigable ardour for study enabled him to acquire stores of knowledge without number. Sciences, lan guages, literature, all were familiar to him ; and without seeking for glory, which he did not enjoy till a very late period (not having heard the noise of his renown before his old age ), he contented himself with the silent pleasure of reflection. In solitude he con templated his mind with close attention ; the examination of his thoughts lent him new 'strength to support his virtue ; and although he never intermeddled with the ar dent passions of men, he knew how to forge ' arms for those who should be summoned to combat those passions. Except among the Greeks, we have hardly any example of a life so strictly philosophi KANT, cal ; and that life itself answers for the sin cerity of the writer. To such an unstained sincerity, we must further add an acute and exact understanding, which served for a corrector to his genius, when he suffered it to carry himn too far. This is enough, it seems to me, to make us judge at least im partially of the persevering labours of such a man. Kant first published several works on th natural sciences ; and he showed, in this branch of study, so great a sagacity, that it was he who first foresaw the existence of the planet Uranus. Herschel himself, after having discovered it, acknowledged that it was Kant who announced the future event. His treatise upon the nature of the human understanding, entitled the “ Examination of pure Reason ," appeared near thirty years ago, and this work was for some time un known ; but when at length the treasures of thought, which it contains, were discovered, it produced such a sensation in Germany, that almost all which has been accomplished since, in literature as well as in philosophy, has flowed from the impulse given by this performance. 66 72 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . To this treatise upon the human under standing succeeded the ' “ Examination of “ practical Reason, ” which related to morals ; and the “ Examination of Judgment,” which had the nature of the beautiful for its object. The same theory serves for a foundation to these three treatises, which embrace the laws of intellect, the principles of virtue, and the contemplation of the beauties of nature and of the arts. I shall endeavour to give a sketch of the principal ideas which this doctrine contains ; - whatever care I may take to explain it clearly, I do not dissemble the necessity there is of incessant attention to comprehend it. A prince, who was learning mathema tics, grew impatient of the labour which that study demanded. “ It is indipensable," said his instructor, “ for your highness to “ take the pains of studying, in order to “ learn the science ; for there is no royal 6 road in mathematics. " The French pub lic, which has so many reasons to fancy it self a prince, will allow me to suggest that there is no royal road in metaphysics ; and that, to attain a conception of any theory whatever, we must pass through the inter KANT. 78 mediate ways which conducted the author himself to the results he exhibits. The philosophy of materialism gave up the human understanding to the empire of external objects, and morals to personal in terest ; and reduced the beautiful to the agreeable. Kant wished to re- establish pri mitive truths and spontaneous activity in the soul , conscience in morals, and the ideal in the arts . Let us now examine in what manner he has fulfilled these different under takings. At the time the “ Examination of pure “ Reason ” made its appearance, there ex isted only two systems concerning the hu man understanding among thinking men : the one, that of Locke, attributed all our ideas to our sensations ; the other, that of Descartes and Leibnitz, endeavoured to de monstrate the spirituality and the activity of the soul, free-will, in short, the whole doc trine of Idealism ; but these two philoso phers rested their opinions upon proofs purely speculative. I have exposed , in the preceding chapter, the inconveniences which result from these efforts of abstraction , that arrest, if we may use the expression , the very blood in our veins , until our intellectual 74 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. faculties alone reign within The alge us. braic method, applied to objects that we cannot embrace by mere reasoning, leaves no durable trace in the mind. W'nile we are in the act of perusing these writings upon high philosophical conceptions, we believe that we comprehend them ; we think that we believe them ; but the arguments which have appeared most convincing, very soon escape from the memory. If man,, wearied with these efforts, con fines himself to the knowledge wbich he gains by his senses , all will be melancholy indeed for his soul. Will he have any idea of immortality, when the forerunners of destruction are engraven so deeply on the countenance of mortals, and living nature falls incessantly into dust ? When all the senses talk of death , what feeble hope can we entertain of a resurrection ? If man only consulted his sensations, what idea would he form of the supreme goodness ? afflictions dispute the mastery over our life ; so many hideous objects disfigure nature, that the unfortunate created being curses his existence a thousand times before the last convulsion snatches it away. Let man , on the contrary, reject the testimony of his So many KANT. 75 senses, how will he guide himself on the earth ? and yet, if he trusts to them alone, what enthusiasm , what morals, what religion will be able to resist the repeated assaults to which pain and pleasure alternately expose him ? Reflection wandered over this vast region of uncertainty, when Kant endeavoured to trace the limits of the two empires, that of the senses and that of the soul; of external and of intellectual nature. The strength of thinking, and the wisdom with which he marked these limits, were perhaps never exhibited before : he did not lose himself new systems concerning the creation of the universe ; he recognised the bounds which the eternal mysteries set to the human understanding, and ( what will be new perhaps to those who have only heard Kant spoken of) there is no phi losopher more adverse, in numerous respects, to metaphysics ; he made himself so deeply learned in this science, only to employ against it the means it afforded him to demonstrate its own insufficiency. We might say of him, that, like a new Curtius, he threw himself into the gulf of abstrac tion , in order to fill it up. among the 1 76 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . 67: Locke had victoriously combated the doctrine of innate ideas in man ; because he has always represented ideas as making a part of our experimental knowledge. The examination of pure reason , that is to say of the primitive faculties of which the in tellect is composed, did not fix his attention . Leibnitz, as we have said above, pronounced this sublime axiom : - “ There is nothing 66 in the intellect which does not come by “ the senses, except the intellect itself.” Kant has acknowledged , as well as Locke, that there are no innate ideas ; but he has endeavoured to enter into the sense of the above axiom, by examining what are the laws and the sentiments which constitute the essence of the human soul, independently of all experience. The “ Examination of pure 6 Reason ” strives to show in what these laws consist, and what are the objects upon which they can be exercised . Scepticism; to which materialism almost always leads, was carried so far, that Hume finished by overturning the foundation of all reasoning, in his search after arguments against the axiom, “ that there is no effect 66 without a cause . " And such is the unstea diness of human nature when we do not KANT. 77 place the principle of conviction in the centre of the soul , that incredulity, which begins by attacking the existence of the moral world , at last gets rid of the material world also, which it first used as an instrument to destroy the other. Kant wished to know whether absolute certainty was attainable by the human un derstanding; and he only found it in our necessary notions— that is to say , in all the laws of our understanding, which are of such a nature that we cannot conceive any thing otherwise thau as those laws represent it. In the first class of the imperative forms of our understanding are space and time. Kant demonstrates that all our perceptions are submitted to these two forms ; he con cludes, from hence, that they exist in us, and not in objects ; and that, in this respect, it is our understanding which gives laws to ex ternal nature, instead of receiving them from it. Geometry, which measures space, and arithmetic, which divides time, are sciences of perfect demonstration, because they rest upon the necessary notions of our upder standing. Truths acquired by experience never carry absolute certainty with them : when we say, 78 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. “ the sun rises every day, ” — “ all men are “ mortal, " &c. the imagination could figure an exception to these truths, which experi ence alone makes us consider indubitable ; but Imagination herself cannot suppose any thing out of the sphere of space and time; and it is impossible to regard as the result of custom (that is to say, of the constant repe tition of the same phænomena) those forms of our thought which we impose upon things : sensations may be doubtful; but the prism through which we receive them is immoveable. To this primitive intuition of space and time, we must add, or rather give, as a foundation , the principles of reasoning, with out which we cannot comprehend any thing, and which are the laws of our understanding; the connexion of causes and effects - unity, plurality, totality, possibility, reality , neces sity,, && c. *. Kant considers them all as equally necessary notions ; and he only raises to the rank of real sciences such as are im mediately founded upon these notions, be cause it is in them alone that certainty can
- Kant gives the name of Category to the different
pecessary notions of the understanding, of which he gives a list. KANT. 79 exist. The forms of reasoning have no result, excepting when they are applied to our judgment of external objects, and in this application they are liable to error ; but they are not the less necessary in them selves ; —that is to say, we cannot depart from them in any of our thoughts : it is impossible for us to figure any thing out of the sphere of the relations of causes and effects, of possibility, quantity, & c .; and these notions are as inherent in our conception as space and time. We perceive nothing ex cepting through the medium of the immove able laws of our manner of reasoning ; there fore these laws also are placed within our selves, and not without us. In the German philosophy, those ideas are called subjective, which grow out of the na ture of our understanding and its faculties ; and all those ideas objective, which are excited by sensations. Whatever may be the deno niination which we adopt in this respect, it appears to me that the examination of our intellect agrees with the prevailing thought of Kant ; namely, the distinction he esta blishes between the forms of our under standing and the objects which we know according to those forms ; and whether 80 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. he adheres to abstract conceptions, or whe ther he appeals, in religion and morals, to sentiments which he also , considers as in dependent of experience, nothing is more luminous than the line of demarcation which he traces between what comes to us by sen sation, and what belongs to the spontaneous action of our souls, Some expressions in the doctrine of Kant having been ill interpreted, it has been pre tended that he believed in that doctrine of innate ideas, which describes them as en gràved upon the soul before we have dis covered them. Other German philosophers, more allied to the system of Plato, have, in effect, thought that the type of the world was in the human understanding, and that man could not conceive the universe if he had not in himself the innate image of it ; but this doctrine is not touched upon by Kant : he reduces the intellectual sciences to three-logic, metaphysics, and mathematics. Logic teaches nothing by itself ; but as it rests upon the laws of our understanding, it is incontestable in its principles, abstractedly considered : this science cannot lead to truth, excepting in its application to ideas and things ; its principles are innate, its applica KANT. 81 1 tion is experimental. In metaphysics, Kant denies its existence ; because he pretends that reasoning cannot find a place beyond the sphere of experience. Mathematics alone appear to him to depend immediately upon the notion of space and of time- that is to say , upon the laws of our understanding an terior to experience. He endeavours to prove, that mathematics are not a simple analysis, but a synthetic, positive, creative science, and certain of itself, without the necessity of our recurring to experience to be assured of its truth . We may study in tbe work of Kant the arguments upon which he supports this way of thinking ; but at least it is true, that there is no man more adverse to what is called the philosophy of the dreamers; and that he must rather have had an inclina tion for a dry and didactic mode of think ing, although the object of his doctrine be to raise the human species from its de gradation, under the philosophy of ma .terialism . Far from rejecting experience, Kant con siders the business of life as nothing but the action of our innate faculties upon the se veral sorts of knowledge which come to us from without. He believed that experience would be nothing but a chaos' without the
VOL. III . G 82 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . laws of the understanding ; but that the laws of the understanding have no other object than the elements of thought afforded it by experience. It follows, that metaphysics themselves can teach us nothing beyond these limits ; and that it is to sentiment that we ought to attribute the foreknowledge and the conviction of every thing that transcends the bounds of the visible world. When it is attempted to use reasoning alone for the establishment of religious truths, it becomes a most pliable instrument, which can equally attack and defend them ; be cause we cannot, on this occasion, find any point of support in experience. Kant places upon two parallel lines the arguments for and against the liberty of man, the immor tality of the soul , the temporary or eternal duration of the world ; and it is to sentiment that he appeals to weigh down the balance, for the metaphysical proofs appear to him of equal strength on either side * . Perhaps he was wrong to push the scepticism of rea- . soning to such an extent ; but it was to anni hilate this scepticism with more certainty, by keeping certain questions clear from the abstract discussions which gave it birth.
- These opposite arguments on great metaphysical ques
tions are called “ Antinomies " in Kant's writings. KANT. 83 It would be unjust to suspect the sincere piety of Kant, because he has maintained the equality of the reasonings for and against the great questions in the transcendental metaphysics. It appears to me, on the con trary, that there is candour in this avowal . Such few minds are able to comprehend these reasonings, and those who are able are so disposed to coinbat each other, that it is rendering a great service to religious faith to banish metaphysics from all questions that relate to the existence of God, to free -will, to the origin of good and evil . Some respectable persons have said , that we ought not to neglect any weapon, and that metaphysical arguments also ought to be employed , to persuade those over whom they have power ; but these arguments lead to discussion , and discussion to doubt upon every subject. The best ras for the race of man have ever been those, when truths of a certain class were uncontested in writing or dis The passions might then seduce into culpable acts ; but no one called in question the truth of that religion which he disobeyed. Sophisms of every kind, the abuses of a certain philosophy, have de course. G2 84 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. stroyed, in different countries and different ages, that noble firmness of belief, which was the source of the devotion of heroes. Then is it not a fine idea, for a philosopher to shut, even to the science which he pro fesses, the door of the sanctuary , and to employ all the power of abstraction to prove, that there are regions from which it ought to be banished ? Despots and fanatics have endeavoured to prevent human reason from examining cer tain subjects, and Reason has ever burst these unjust fetters. But the limits which she imposes on herself, far from enslaving her, give her a new strength—such strength as always results from the authority of laws, which are freely agreed to by those who are subjected to them . A deaf and dumb person , before he had been under the discipline of the Abbé Sicard , might feel a full conviction of the existence of the Divinity. Many men are as far re moved from those who think deeply, as the deaf and dumb are from other men, and still they are not less capable of experiencing ( if the expression may be allowed) within them selves primitive truths, because such truths spring from sentiment. KANT. 85 Physicians, in the physical study of man, recognise the principle which animates him, and yet no one knows what life is ; and if one set about reasoning, it would be easy to prove to men ( as several Greek philosophers have done), that they do not live at all . It is the same with God, with conscience, and with free-will. You must believe, because you feel : all argument will be inferior to this fact. The labours of anatomy cannot be prac tised on a living body without destroying it ; analysis, when attempted to be applied to indivisible truths, destroys them , because its first efforts are directed against their unity. We must divide our souls in two, in order that one half of us may contemplate the other. In whatever way this division takes place, it deprives our being of that sublime identity, without which we have not suffi cient strength to believe that of which con sciousness alone offers us assurance . Let a great number of men be assembled at a theatre or public place, and let some theorem of reasoning, however general, be proposed to them ;-as many different opi nions will immediately be formed as there are individuals assembled. But, if any actions, 86 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. displaying greatness of soul , are related, or the accents of generosity heard , the general burst will at once proclaim, that you have touched that instinct of the soul which is as lively and as powerful in our beings, as the instinct which preserves our existence. In referring to sentiment, which does not admit of doubts, the knowledge of transcend ent truths , in endeavouring to prove that rea soning avails only when exerted within the sphere of sensations , Kant is very far from considering this faculty of sentiment as an illusion ; on the contrary , he assigns to it the first rank in human nature ; he makes con science the innate principle of our moral existence and the feeling of right and wrong is , according to his ideas , the primi tive law of the heart, as space and time are of the understanding. 14 in i ti - Has not man ' been led by reasoning to deny the existence of free- will ? and yet he is so convinced of it, that he surprises him self in the act of feeling esteem or dislike even for the animals that surround him ; so forcibly does he believe in the spontaneous choice of good and evil in all beings. The assurance of our freedom is only the feeling we have of it ; and on this liberty, as " !! 1 KANT. 87 the corner - stone, is raised the doctrine of duty'; for if man is free, he ought to create to himself motives powerful enough to com bat against the operation of exterior objects, and to set his will free from the narrow tram mels of selfishness. Duty is at once the proof and the security of the metaphysical inde pendence of man. In the following chapters, we shall exa mine Kant's arguments against morality as founded upon self -interest, and the sublime theory which he substitutes in the place of this hypocritical sophism , or perverse doc trine. Different opinions may be enter tained as to Kant's first work , " The Era " mination of pure Reason :" having himself acknowledged reasoning to be insufficient and contradictory, he ought to have antici pated that it would be made use of against him ; but it appears to me impossible not to read with respect his “ Examination of prac “ tical Reason," and the different works that he has written on morality. Not only are Kant's principles of morality austere and. pure , as might be expected from the inflexibility of a philosopher, but he al ways connects the evidence of the heart with that of the understanding, and is singularly 66
. 88 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. happy in making his abstract theory, as to the nature of the understanding, serve as a support to sentiments at once the most simple and the most powerful. A conscience acquired by sensations may be stified by them ; and the dignity of duty is degraded, in being made to depend on exterior objects. Kant, therefore, is inces santly labouring to show, that a deep sense of this dignity is the necessary condition of our moral being, the law by which it exists . The empire of sensations, and the bad actions, to the commission of which they lead, can no more destroy in us the notion of good or of evil, than the idea of space and time can be changed by an erroneous application of it. There is always, in whatever situation we may be placed, a power of re-action against circumstances, which springs from the bottom of the soul ; and we cannot but -feel, that neither the laws of the understand ing, moral liberty, por conscience, are the result of experience. Inhis treatise on the sublime and beautiful , entitled, " The Examination of the Judgment," Kant applies to the pleasures of the ima gination the system from which he has developed such fruitful deductions in the KANT. 89 a sphere of intelligence and of sentiment; or rather it is the samesoul which he examines, and which shows itself in the sciences, in morality, and in the fine arts. Kant main tains, that there are in poetry, and in the arts which are capable, as poetry is, of painting sentiments by images, two kinds ofbeauty : one which may be referred to time and to this life ; the other, to eternity and infinity. And so impossible is it to say , that what is infinite and eternal is intelligible to our minds, that one is often tempted to take even what is finite and transient for a dream ; for thought can see no limits to any thing, neither can being have a conception of non existence. We cannot search deeply into the exact sciences themselves, without meet. ing, even there, with what is infinite and eternal ; and those things which are the most completely matters of fact, do, ' under some relations, belong to this infinity and eternity, asmuch as sentiment and imagination . From this application of the feeling of infinity to the fine arts, arises the system of idealbeauty ,that is to say, of beauty con sidered , inot. as the assemblage and imitation of whatever is most worthy in nature, but as ithe realization of that image which is 90 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 4 constantly present to the soul. Materialists judge of the beautiful according to the agree able impression which it causes, and there fore place it in the empire of sensations : immaterialists, who ascribe every thing to reason , see in the beautiful what they call the perfect, and find in it some analogy to the useful and the good, which they .con sider to be the first degrees of perfection. Kant has rejected both these explanations. Beauty, considered only as an agreeable thing, would be confined to the sphere of sen sations, and consequently subject to the dif ference of tastes ; it could never claim that universal acknowledgment, which is the true character of beauty : beauty, again, consi dered as perfection, would require a sort of judgment, like thaton which esteem is founded : the enthusiasm that ought to be inspired by the beautiful, belongs neither to sensations nor to judgment ; it is an innate disposition, like the feeling of duty, and those ideas which are essential to the understanding ; and we discover beauty. when we see it, because it is the outward image of that ideal beauty, the type of which exists in our mind. Difference of tastes may be applied to what is agreeable, for our sensations are the source of that kind KANT. 91
of pleasure ; but all men must admire what is beautiful, whether in art or in nature, because they have in their souls sentiments of celestial origin , which beauty awakens, and of which it excites the enjoyment. Kantpasses from the theory of the beau tiful to that of the sublime; and this second part of his “ Examination of the : Judgment”. is even more remarkable than the first : he makes the sublime, in moral liberty , consist in the struggles of man with his destiny, or with his nature. · Unlimited power excites our fear, greatness overwhelms us ; yet, by the vigour of the will , we escape from the sensation of our physical weakness. The power of destiny, and the immensity of nature, are placed in endless opposition to the miserable dependence of the creature upon earth ; but one spark of the sacred fire in our bosoms triumphs over the universe ; since with that one spark we are enabled to resist the impressions which all the powers in the world could make upon us. The first effect of the sublime is to over whelm a man, and the second to exalt him . When we contemplate a storm curling the billows of the sea ,, and seeming to threaten both earth and heaven, terror at 92 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. first takes possession of us, although we may be out of the reach of any personal danger ; but when the clouds, that have gathered, burst over our heads, when all the fury of nature is displayed, man feels an inward energy, which frees him from every fear, by his will, or by resignation, by the exercise, or by the relinquishment of his moral liberty ; and this consciousness of what is within him animates and encourages him . "; When we hear of a generous action , when we learn that men have borne unheard - of misfortunes to remain faithful to their opinion, even to the smallest swerving ; at first, the description of the miseries they have suffered confuses our ideas ; but, by degrees, we regain our strength, and the sympathy that we feel excited within ourselves, by great ness of soul, makes us hope that we ourselves could triumph over the miserable sensations of this life to remain faithful, noble, and proud to our latest day. Besides, no one can define, if I may so say , that which is at the summit of our existence ; “ We are too much elevated in 5 respect to ourselves, to comprehend our " selves ," says St. Augustin . He must be very poor in imagination who should think
3 ) KANT, 93 5 himself able to exhaust the contemplation even of the simplest flower ;; how then could we arrive at the knowledge of all that is comprised in the idea of the sublime ? ' ;'- I do not certainly fatter myself that I have been able, in a few pages, to give an account of a system which, for twenty years, has occupied allthinking heads in Germany ; but I hope to have said enough to show the general spirit of the philosophy of Kant, and to enable me to explain , in the following chapters, the influence which it has had upon literature, science, and morality. In order to reconcile experimental and ideal philosophy, Kant has 'not made the one subordinate to the other, but he has given to each of the two, separately, a new degree of force. Germany was threatened by that cold doctrine which regarded all enthusiasm as an error, and classed amongst prejudices those sentiments which form the consolation of our existence. It was a great satisfaction for men, at once so philosophical and so poetical , so capable of study and of exaltation, to see all the fine affections of the soul defended with the strictness of the most abstract reasonings. The force of the mind can never be long in a negative state ; 94 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. that is , it cannot long consist principally, in not believing, in not understanding, and in what it disdains. We must have a philo sophy of belief, of enthusiasm, a philosophy which confirms by reason, what sentiment reveals to us. The adversaries of Kant have accused him of having merely repeated the arguments of the ancient idealists ; they have pretended that the doctrine of the German philosopher was only an old system in a new language. This reproach has no foundation. There are not only new ideas, but a particular character, in the doctrine of Kant. It savours of the philosophy of the eigh teenth century, although it was intended to re fute the doctrines of that philosophy, because it is natural to man always to catch the spirit of the age in which he lives, even when his intention is to oppose it . The philosophy of Plato is more poetical than that of Kant, the philosophy of Mallebranche more reli gious; but the great inerit of the German philosopher has been to raise up moral dig nity, by setting all that is fine in the heart, on the basis of a theory deduced from the strongest reasoning. The opposition which it has been endeavoured to show between a KANT. 95 reason and sentiment, necessarily leads rea son on to selfishness, and reduces sentiment to folly ; but Kant, who seemed to be called to conclude all the grand intellectual al liances, has made the soul one focus, in which all our faculties are in contact with each other. The polemical part of the works of Kant, that in which he attacks the philosophy of the materialists, would be of itself a master piece. That philosophy has struck its roots so deeply into the mind, so much irreligion and selfishness has been the result of it, that those men ought to be regarded as benefac tors to their country , who have even com batted a system so pernicious, and revived the ideas of Plato, of Descartes, and of Leibnitz : but the philosophy of the new German school contains a crowd of ideas which are peculiar to it ; it is founded upon the greatest extent of scientific knowledge, which has been increasing every day, and upon a singularly abstract and logical mode of reasoning ; for, although Kant blames the use of such reasoning, in the examina tion of truths which are out of the circle of experience, he shows in his writings a power of mind, on metaphysical subjects, which . 96 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. places him, in that respect, in the first rank of thinkers. It cannot be denied that the style of Kant, in his “ Examination of pure Reason,” de serves almost all the reproaches with which his adversaries have treated it. He has made use of a phraseology very difficult to under stand, and of the most tiresome new crea tion of words. He lived alone with his own thoughts, and persuaded himself that it was necessary to have new words for new ideas, and yet there are words to express every thing In those objects which are in themselves the most clear, Kant is frequently guided by a very obscure system of metaphysics; and it is only in those regions of thought where darkness prevails in general, that he displays the torch of light: like the Israelites, who had for their guide a column of fire by night, and a pillar of a cloud by day. No one in France would give himself the trouble of studying works so thickly set with difficulties, as those of Kant ; but he had to do with patient and persevering readers.. This, certainly, was not a reason for his abusing their patience ; perhaps, however, he would not have been able to KANT. 97 search so deeply into the science of the hu man understanding, if he had attached more importance to the choice of the expressions which he made use of in explaining it, The ancient philosophers always divided their doctrines into two distinct parts ; one which they reserved for the initiated , and another which they professed in public. Kant’s manner of writing is quite different, when his theory, or the application of it, is the subject. In his metaphysical treatises, he makes use of words as arithmetical figures, and gives them whatever value he pleases, without troubling himself with that which they have derived from custom. This appears to me a great error ; for the attention of the reader is exhausted in efforts to understand the language, before he arrives at the ideas, and what is known never serves as a step to what is unknown . We must nevertheless give Kant the jus tice he deserves, even as a writer, when he lays aside his scientific language. In speak ing of the arts, and still more of morality, his style is almost always perfectly clear, energetic, and simple. How admirable does his doctrine then appear !. How well does VOL. III. H 98 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. he express the sentiment of the beautiful and the love of duty !! With what force does he separate them both from all calculations of interest or of utility ! How he ennobles actions by their source, and not by their suc cess ! In a word, what grandeur of morality does he not give to man, whether he exa mines him in himself, or whether he considers him in his relations towards others ;-to man, that exile of heaven , that prisoner upon earth, so great as an exile, so miserable as a captive ! We might extract from the writings of Kant a multitude of brilliant ideas on all subjects ; perhaps, indeed, it is to this doc trine alone, that, at the present day, we must look for conceptions at once ingenious and new ; for the notions of the materialists no longer offer, in any thing, what is interest ing or original. Smartness of wit against what is serious, noble, and divine, is worn out ; and in future it will be impossible to restore to the human race any of the qualities of youth, but by returning to religion by the road of philosophy, and to sentiment by the way of reason . GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 99 CHAPTER VII. Of the most celebrated Philosophers before and after Kant. a The spirit of philosophy, from its nature , cannot be generally diffused in any country. In Germany, however, there is such a tend ency towards habits of reflection, that the German nation may be considered, by dis tinction, as the nation of metaphysics. It possesses so many men capable of under standing the most abstract questions, that even the public are found to take an interest in the arguments usually employed in dis cussions of that nature. Every man of talent has his own way of thinking on philosophical questions. Writers of the second and third rank, in Germany, are sufficiently deep to be of the first rank in other countries . Those who are rivals, have the same hatred towards one another there as elsewhere ; but no one would dare to enter the lists, without having evinced, by serious study, a real love for the science in H 2 100 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a which he was engaged . It is not enough ardently to desire success ; it must be de served , before the candidate can be even admitted to start for it . The Germans, how ever indulgent they may be to defects of form in a work, are unmerciful with respect to its real value ; and, when they perceive any thing superficial, in the mind, the feel ing, or the knowledge of a writer, they try to borrow the very pleasantry of the French, to turn what is frivolous into ridicule. It is my intention to give, in this chapter, a hasty glimpse of the principal opinions of the philosophers who have attracted no tice before and since the time of Kant ; the course which his successors have taken cannot well be judged of, without turning back to see what was the state of opinions at the time when the doctrines of Kantism first prevailed in Germany ; it was opposed at the same time to the system of Locke, as tending to materialism , and to the school of Leibnitz, as reducing every thing to ab straction . The ideas of Leibnitz were lofty ; but his disciples, Wolf at their head, have encum bered them with forms of logic and meta physics. Leibnitz had said , our ideas that GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 101 . come by the senses are confused, and that those only which belong to the immediate perceptions of the mind are clear : without doubt his intention by that was to show , that truths, which are invisible, are more certain and more in harmony with our moral ' nature, than all that we learn by the evidence of the senses. Wolf and his dis ciples have drawn this consequence from it, that every thing, about which our mind can be employed, must be reduced into abstract ideas. Kant inspired interest and warmth into this lifeless idealism ; he assigned to exa perience, as well as to the innate faculties, its just proportion ; and the art with which he applied his theory to every thing that is interesting to mankind, to morality, to poetry, and to the fine arts, extended the influence of it. Three leading men, Lessing, Hemsterhuis, and Jacobi, preceded Kant in the career of philosophy. They had no school, because they founded no system ; but they began the attack against the doctrine of the materialists. Of these three, Lessing is the one whose opi nions, on this point, are the least decided ; however, he had too enlarged a mind to be confined within the narrow circle which is sa 102 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. + easily drawn, when we renounce the highest truths. Lessing's all-powerful polemics dis closed doubt upon the most important ques tions, and led to new inquiries of every kind ,. Lessing himself cannot be considered either as a materialist or as an idealist ; but the necessity of examination and study to the acquisition of knowledge, was the main spring of his doctrine. “ If the Almighty ," said he, “ were to hold Truth in one hand, " and the Search after truth in the other, " it is the latter I should ask of him in pre 66.ference." Lessing was not orthodox in religion. Christianity, in him , was not a necessary thing, like sentiment ; and yet he was ca pable of admiring it philosophically. He understood its relations with the human heart, and he ever considers all the different ways of thinking, from a point of view, where he is able to see them all . Nothing intolerant, no exclusion, is to be found in his writings. When we take our stand,, in the centre of universal ideas, we never fail to have sincerity, depth, and extent of mind. Whatever is unjust, vain, and nar row , is derived from the desire of refer ring every thing to certain partial views,
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 103 which we have taken and appropriated to ourselves, and which we make the objects of our self- love. Lessing expresses, in an acute and plain style, opinions full of warmth. Hemsterhuis, a Dutch philosopher, was the first who, in the niddle of the eighteenth century, showed, in his writings, the greater part of the liberal ideas, upon which the new German school is founded . His works are also very remark able, for the contrast which there is between the character of his style, and the thoughts which it conveys. Lessing is an enthusiast, with an ironical manner ; Hemsterhuis , an enthusiast, with the language of a mathema tician. Writers who devote the most abstract metaphysics to the defence of the most ex alted systems, and who conceal the liveliness of imagination under the austerity of logic, are a phenomenon which is scarcely to be found , except amongst the German nations. Men , who are always upon their guard against inagination , when they have it not, are more ready to trust those writers who banish talent and sensibility from philoso phical discussions, as if it were not, at least, as easy to be absurd , upon such subjects, in syllogisms as with eloquence. For a syllo a 1 . 104 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. gism, which always takes for its basis that such a thing is or is not, reduces the im mense crowd of our impressions to a simple alternative, in every case ; whilst eloquence embraces them all together. Nevertheless, although Hemsterhuis has too frequently'ex pressed philosophical truths, in an algebraic manner, there is a sentiment of morality, a real love of the beautiful, in his writings, which cannot but be admired ; he was one of the first to feel the union which exists be tween idealism , or (as I should rather say ) the free- will of man, and the stoic morality ; and it is in this point of view, above all, that the new doctrine of the Germans is of great importance. Even before the writings of Kant had ap peared, Jacobi had attacked the philosophy of sensation , and still more victoriously the system of morality founded upon interest. He did not confine himself strictly, in his philosophy, to abstract forms of reasoning. His analysis of the human soul is full of elo quence and of charms. In the following chapters, I shall examine the finest part of his works, that which relates to morality ; but, as a philosopher, he deserves separate honour. Better instructed than any one else GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. ' 105 con in the history of ancient and modern philo sophy, he devoted his studies to the support of the most simple truths . The first amongst the philosophers of his day, he made religious feeling the foundation of our whole intellec tual nature ; and, it may be said , that he has only learnt the language of metaphysi cians and learned men, to do homage, in it, to virtue and divinity. Jacobi has shown himself the opposer of the philosophy of Kant, but he does not attack it as if he was himself the partisan of the philosophy of sensation *. On the trary, his objection to Kant is, that he does not rely sufficiently upon the support of re ligion, considered as the only possible phi losophy in those truths which are beyond the reach of experience. The doctrine of Kant has met with many other opponents in Germany ; but it has not been attacked by those who have not under stood it, or by those who opposed the opi nions of Locke and Condillac, as a complete answer to it. Leibnitz still retained too . great an ascendant over the minds of his countrymen , for them not to pay respect to
- This philosophy has, in Germany, generally received
the namie of The Empiric Philosophy . 106 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. any opinion which was analogous to his .. A long list of writers have, for ten years, been incessantly engaged in writing commentaries on the works of Kant. But, at the present day, the German philosophers, although agreeing with Kant as to the spontaneous activity of thought, have adopted each a system of his own on that point. In fact, who is there who has never endeavoured , according to his abilities, to understand him self ? But, because man has given an innu. merable variety ofexplanations of his nature, does it therefore follow that such a philoso phical examination is useless ? Certainly not. This variety itself is a proof of the interest which such an examination ought to inspire. In our days, people would be glad to have done with moral nature, and would readily pay its reckoning to hear no more of it. Somesay, the language was fixed on such a day of such a month, and that, from that moment, the introduction of a new word became a barbarism ; others affirm , that the rules of the drama were definitely settled in such a year (and it is a great pity that a genius, which would now set about making any change in them , was not born before that year) , in which every literary discus GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS.T 107 3 sion , past, present, and future, was deter mined without appeal. : At last, it has been decided in metaphysics above all, that since the days of Condillac it has been impossible to take a single step more, without going out of the way. It is allowed that the phy sical sciences are making progress, because it cannot be denied ; but, in the career of phi losophy and literature, the human mind is to be obliged to be incessantly running the ring of vanity around the same circle. ' ini To remain attached to that experimental philosophy,which offers a species of evi dence, false in principle , although specious in form , is by no means to simplify the sys tem of the universe . By considering every thing as not existing which is beyond the reach of our sensations, it is easy to give light enough to a system , the limits of which we ourselves prescribe; it is a work which de pends upon the doer of it. But does every thing beyond those limits exist the less, be cause it is counted as nothing ? The imper fect :truth of speculative philosophy is ever much nearer to the essence of things, than that apparent light which belongs to the art of solving difficulties of a certain order. When one reads in the philosophical writings > 108 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . ! of the last century these phrases so frequently repeated, this is all the truth that exists, every thing else is chimerical, it puts one in mind of the well-known story of a French actor, who, before he would fight with a man much fatter than himself, proposed to chalk out on his adversary's body a line, the hits on the outside of which should go for nothing. Yet there was the same nature without that line as within it, and equally capable of receiving a mortal wound . In the same manner, those who place the pillars of Hercules on the boundary of their horizon, cannot prevent the existence of a nature be yond their own, in which there exists a higher degree of life, than in the sphere of matter to which they would confine us. The two most celebrated philosophers who have succeeded Kant, are Fichte and Schel ling. They too pretended to simplify, his system ; but it was by putting in its place a species of philosophy more elevated even than his, that they hoped to accomplish it. Kant had, with a firm ' hand , separated the two empires of the soul and of the senses. This philosophical duality was fatiguing to minds which love to repose in simple ideas. From the days of the Greeks to our own,
GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 109 a this axiom has often been repeated, that every thing is one, and the efforts of philosophers have always been directed to find in one single principle, either in the soul or in na ture, an explanation of the world . I shall, nevertheless, venture to say, thật it appears to me to be one of the titles which Kant's philosophy has to the confidence of enlight ened men, that it affirms, what we feel to be the case, that there exists both a soul and an external nature , and that they act mutually one upon the other by such or such laws . I know not why a greater degree of philoso phical elevation is to be found in the idea of one single principle, whether material or in tellectual ; there being one, or two, does not render the universe more easy of comprehen sion, and our feeling agrees better with those systems that acknowledge a distinction be tween physics and morality. Fichte and Schelling have divided between them the empire which Kant acknowledged to be a divided one, and each has chosen that his own half should be the whole. Both have gone out of the sphere of ourselves, and have been desirous of rising to a knowledge of the system of the universe. Very dif ferent in that from Kant, who has applied as 110 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. much power of mind so show those things, at the knowledge of which the human mind can never arrive, as to explain those which are within its reach. No philosopher, however, before Fichte, had extended the system of idealism with such scientific strictness; he makes the whole universe consist of the activity of mind. All conception, all imagination , proceeds from that ; it is on account of this system that he has been suspected of unbelief. He was heard to say, that, in his next lesson, he should create God, and the world was scan dalized with reason at such an expression. - What he meant by it was, that he should show how the idea of the Divinity arose, and was developed in the mind of man. The principal merit of Fichte's philosophy is, the incredible attention that it implies ; for he is not contented with referring every thing to the inward existence of man, to the self which forms the basis of every thing, but he goes to distinguish in this self what is transient and what is permanent. In fact, when we reflect on the operations of the understanding, we think ourselves eye-wit nesses of our own thoughts ; we think we see them pass before us like a stream , - on GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 111 whilst the portion of self, which is con templating them , is immoveable. It often happens to those who unite an impassioned character to an observing mind, to see themselves suffer, and to feel within them selves a being superior to its own pain, which observes it, and reproves or pities it by turns. We are subject to continual changes from the external circumstances of our life, and yet we always have the feeling of our iden tity. What is it, then, that attests this identity, if not that self, always the same, which sees another self, modified by im pressions from without, pass before its tri bunal ? It is to this immoveable soul , the witness of the moveable soul, that Fichte attributes the gift of immortality , and the power of creating, or (to translate more exactly ) of drawing to a focus in itself the image of the universe. This system , which makes every thing rest on the summit of our existence, and places a pyramid on its point, is singu larly difficult to follow . It strips our ideas of the colours which so well enable us to understand them ; and the fine arts, poetry , and the contemplation of nature, disappear 112 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a in abstractions which are without any mix ture of imagination or sensibility. Fichte considers the exterior world only as a boundary of our existence, on which thought is at work. In his system, this boundary is created by the soul itself, the activity of which is constantly exerted on the web it has formed . What Fichte has written upon the metaphysical self, is a little like the waking of Pygmalion's statue, which, touching alternately itself and the stone on which it was placed, says, by turns, This is 1, and This is not I ; but when , taking the hand of Pygmalion, it exclaims, This indeed is I that'excites a sentiment which is much be yond the sphere of abstract ideas. Idealism, stripped of sentiment, has nevertheless the advantage of exciting, to the highest degree, the activity of the mind ; but nature and love, by this system , lose all their charms ; for, if the objects which we see, and the beings whom we love, are nothing but the works of our own ideas, it is man himself that may be considered as the great cælibu tary of the world. It must be acknowledged, however, that the system of Fichte has two great advan tages ; the one is its stoic morality, which GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 113 admits of no excuses ; for, every thing pro ceeding from self, it is self alone which has to answer for the use it makes of the will : the other is an exercise of thought, at once so severe and so subtile , that a man who had mastered the system, even though he should not adopt it , would have acquired a capacity of attention , and a sagacity in analysis, which would afterwards make any other kind of study a plaything to him . In whatever manner the utility of meta physics is judged of, it cannot be denied, that it is the gymnastic exercise of the mind. It is usual to set children on different kinds of wrestling in their earliest years, although it may never be necessary for them to fight in that manner. It may be truly said , that the study of the ideal system of metaphysics is almost a certain means of developing the moral faculties of those who devote them selves to it. Thought, like every thing pre cious, resides at the bottom of ourselves ; for, on the surface, there is nothing but folly and insipidity . But when men are early obliged to dive into their own minds, and to see all that passes within them , they draw from thence a power, and plainness of judg ment, which are never lost. VOL. III . I 114 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1 For abstract ideas, Fichte has a mathe matical head , like Euler or La Grange. He has a singular contempt for all expressions which in any manner relate to substance ; existence even is too common a word for him. Being, principle, essence, are words scarcely airy enough to mark the subtile shades in his opinions. It might be said , that he was afraid of coming in contact with realities, and was always shrinking from them . In reading his works, or conversing with him, one loses the consciousness of this world , and feels it necessary, like the ghosts de scribed by Homer, to recall to one's self the remembrances of life. Materialism absorbs the soul by degrading it ; the idealism of Fichte, by exalting it, separates it from nature ; in both extremes, sentiment, which is the real beauty of exist ence, has not the rank it deserves . Schelling has much more knowledge of nature and the fine arts than Fichte , and his lively imagination could not be satisfied with abstract ideas ; but, like Fichte, his object is to reduce existence to a single principle. He treats with profound contempt all philo sophers who admit two principles ; and will not allow the name of Philosophy to any GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 115 system but that which unites every thing, and explains every thing. Unquestionably he is right in saying that system would be the best ; but where is it ? Schelling pre tends, that nothing is more absurd than the expression, so commonly used—the philoso phy of Plato - the philosophy of Aristotle . Should we say, The geometry of Euler - the geometry of La Grange ? There is but one philosophy, according to Schelling, or there must be none at all . Certainly, if by phi losophy we only understand the enigma of the universe, we may say, with truth , that there is no pbilosophy. The system of Kant appeared insufficient to Schelling, as it did to Fichte ; because he acknowledges two natures, two sources of our ideas external objects, and the faculties of the soul . But, in order to arrive at that unity, so much desired ; in order to get rid of that double life, physical and moral, which gives so much offence to the partisans simple ideas, Schelling refers every thing to nature, while Fichte makes every thing spring from the soul . Fichte sees nothing in nature but the opposite of mind : in his eyes it is only a limit or a chain , from which we are constantly to endeavour to free ourselves. I 2 116 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS .
The system of Schelling gives more rest, and greater delight, to the imagination ; never theless it necessarily returns into that of Spinosa ; but, instead of sinking the mind down to the level of matter, which is the practice in our days, Schelling endeavours to raise matter up to mind ; and although his theory entirely depends upon physical nature , it is, nevertheless, a very ideal one at the bottom, and still more so in its form . The ideal and the real supply, in his lan guage, the place of intelligence and matter, of imagination and experience ; and it is in the re -union of these two powers in complete harmony, that, in his opinion, the single principle of the organized world consists. This harmony, of which the two poles and the centre form the image, and which is comprised in the number three, so myste rious at all times , has supplied Schelling with the most ingenious applications. He believes it is to be found in the fine arts, as well as in nature ; and his works on physical science are thought highly of, even by those learned men who confine themselves to the consideration of facts, and their results . In deed, in examining the mind, he endeavours to demonstrate how sensations and intel GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS . 117 lectual conceptions are confounded in the sentiment which unites whatever is involun tary and reflective in both of them, and thus contains all the mystery of life. What is most interesting in these sys tems is their developements. The first basis of the pretended explanation of the world is equally true, and equally false, in the greater number of theories ; for all of them are comprised CO in the immense thought, which it is their object to embrace : but, in their application to the things of this world , these theories are very refined, and often throw great light on many particular objects. Schelling, it cannot be denied , approaches nearly to the philosophers called Pantheists, that is to say, who attribute to nature all the attributes of the Divinity. But what dis tinguishes him is , the astonishing sagacity with which he has managed to connect his doctrine with the arts and sciences ; he is instructive, and requires thought, in all his observations : and the depth of his mind is particularly surprising when he does not pre tend to apply it to the secret of the universe ; for no man can attain a superiority which cannot exist between beings of the same 118 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . 1 kind , at whatever distance they may be placed from each other. To keep up the ideas of religion in the midst of the apotheosis of nature, the school of Schelling supposes that the individual within us perishes , but that the inward qualities which we possess, enter again into the great whole of the eternal creation . Such an immortality is terribly like death ; for physical death itself is nothing but universal nature recalling to herself the gifts she had given to the individual . Schelling draws from his system some very noble conclusions on the necessity of cultivating in the soul its immortal qualities, those which are in relation with the uni verse, and of despising every thing in us which relates to our circumstances alone. But are not the affections of the heart, and even conscience itself, allied to the relations of this life ? In most situations we feel two distinct motions-- that which unites us with the general order, and that which leads us to our particular interests ; the sentiment of duty, and personality . The noblest of these motions is the universal. But it is, exactly, because we have an instinct which would preserve our existence, that it is a fine thing GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 119 - to sacrifice that instinct ; it is because we are beings, whose centre is in ourselves , that our attraction towards the assemblage of all things is generous ; in a word , it is because we exist individually and distinctly, that we can choose out and love one another. What then becomes of that abstract immortality which would strip us of our dearest recollec tions as mere accidental modifications ? Would you,,say they in Germany, rise again in all your present circumstances ? -Would you be revived a Baron, or a Marquis ? Certainly not. But who would not rise again a mother or a daughter ? and how could we be ourselves again , if we had no longer the same feelings of friendship ? Vague ideas of re- union with nature will, in time, destroy the empire of religion over our souls ; for re ligion is addressed to each of us individually. Providence protects us in all the details of our lot. Christianity is adapted to every mind, and sympathizes, like a confidential friend, with the wants , of every heart. Pantheism , on the contrary, that is, nature deified , by inspiring religion for every thing, disperses it over the world, instead of con centrating it in ourselves. This system has at all times had many 120 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS .
partisans amongst philosophers. Thought is always tending, more and more, to gene ralization ; and the labour of the mind, in extending its boundaries, is often taken for a new idea. We hope to arrive at a know ledge of the universe, as of space, by always removing fences, and setting difficulties far ther from us without resolving them ; and yet we are no nearer to infinity. Sentiment alone reveals it to us, without explaining it. What is truly admirable in German philo sophy is the examination of ourselves to which it leads ; it ascends even to the origin of the will , even to the unknown spring of the course of our life ; and then penetrating the deepest secrets of grief, and of faith , it enlightens and strengthens us . tems which aspire to the explanation of the universe, can hardly be analysed with clear ness by any expressions : words are not proper for ideas of this kind, and the con sequence is, that, in making use of them, all things are overshadowed by the darkness which preceded the creation, not illuminated by the light which succeeded it . Scientific expressions, lavished on a subject in which every one feels that he is interested , are re volting to self-love. These writings, so dif But all sys GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 121 ficult to comprehend, however serious one may be, give occasion to pleasantry ; for mistakes are always made in the dark. It is pleasing to reduce, to a few leading and accessible assertions , that crowd of shades and restrictions which appear quite sacred to the author of them , but which the profane soon forget or confound . The Orientalists have at all times been idealists, and Asia in no respect resembles the south of Europe. The excessive heat in those countries leads to contemplation , as the excessive cold of the north does. The religious systems of India are very melan choly and spiritual, whilst the people of the south of Europe have always had an inclina tion for rather a material kind of Paganism. The learned of England, who have travelled into India , have made deep researches about Asia ; and Germans who have not had oppor tunities, like the princes of the Ocean, to in form themselves with their own eyes, have, by dint of study alone, arrived at very inte resting discoveries on the religion , the lite rature, the languages, of the Asiatic nations ; they have been led to think , from many in dications, that supernatural light once shone upon the people of those countries, and that 122 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS , the traces of it still remain indelible . The philosophy of the Indians can only be suffi ciently understood by the German idealists ; a similarity of opinion assists them in com prehending it. Frederick Schlegel, not contented with the knowledge of almost all the languages of Europe, devoted unheard -of labours to ac quiring the knowledge of the country which was the cradle of the world . The work which he has just published on the language and philosophy of the Indians, contains pro found views and real information worthy the attention of enlightened men in Europe. He thinks, and many philosophers ( in the number of whom Bailly may be reckoned) have maintained the same opinion, that a primitive people inhabited some parts of the world , and particularly Asia, at a period an terior to all the documents of history . Fre derick Schlegel finds the traces of this people in the intellectual advancements of nations, and the formation of their languages. He observes a remarkable resemblance be tween the leading ideas, and even the words which express them , amongst many nations of the world, even when, so far as we are informed by history, they have never had any GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 199 connexion with each other. Frederick Schlegel does not adopt the very generally received opinion , that men began in the savage state, and that their mutual wants, by degrees, formed languages. Thus to attribute the developement of the human mind and soul to our animal nature, is to give it a very gross origin , and Reason combats the hypothesis, as much as Imagination rejects it. We can hardly conceive by what grada tion it would be possible, from the cry of the savage, to arrive at the perfection of the Greek language ; it would be said , that, in the progress necessary to traverse such an infinite distance, every step would cross an abyss ; we see, in our days, that savages do not civilize themselves , and that it is from neighbouring nations that they are taught, with great labour, what they themselves are ignorant of. One is much tempted, there fore, to think, that a primitive nation did establish the human race ; and whence was that people formed , if not from revelation ? All nations have, at all times, expressed regret for the loss of a state of happiness which preceded the period in which they existed : whence arises this idea, so widely spread ? will it be said , it is an error ? Errors that are 1 124 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . universal are always founded upon some truth, altered and disfigured perhaps, but bottomed on facts concealed in the night of ages, or some mysterious powers of nature. Those who attribute the civilization of the human race to the effects of physical wants uniting men with one another, will have difficulty in explaining how it happens, that the moral culture of the most ancient nations is more poetical , more favourable to the fine arts, in a word , more nobly useless, in the relations of materialism , than all the refine ments of modern civilization . The philo sophy of the Indians is ideal, and their reli gion mystical : certainly it is not the neces sity of maintaining order in society, which has given birth to that philosophy, or to that religion. Poetry has almost every where existed before prose ; and the introduction of metres, rhythm , and harmony, is anterior to the rigorous precision, and consequently to the useful employment of languages. Astronomy has not been studied for the service of agri culture alone : but the Chaldeans, Egyp tians , &c . have carried their researches much beyond the practical advantages which are to be derived from it ; and the love of heaven , GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. ' 125 and the worship of time, are supposed to be shown in these profound and exact obser vations, respecting the divisions of the year, the courses of the stars, and the periods of their junction, In China, the kings were the first astro nomers of their country. They passed nights in contemplating the progress of the stars, and their royal dignity consisted in those exalted species of knowledge, and in those disinterested occupations, which raised them above the vulgar. The magnificent system, which considers civilization as having for its origin a religious revelation , is supported by an erudition , of which the partisans of the materialist doctrines are seldom capable : to' be wholly devoted to study, is to be almost an idealist at once. Men accustomed to deep and solitary reflections, penetrate so forward into truth, that, in my opinion , a man must be ignorant or conceited to despise any of their writings, without having long considered them. There were formerly many errors and supersti tions, which were attributable to want of knowledge ; but when , with the light of our times , and the immense labours of indivi 126 PHILOSOPHY : AND MORALS. duals, opinions are propounded which are beyond the circle of our daily experience, it is a cause of rejoicing to the human race ; for its actual treasures are very scanty, at least if one may judge by the use made of it . In reading the account which I have given of the principal ideas of some of the German philosophers, on the one hand, their partisans will discover, with reason, that I have noticed, very superficially, researches of great importance ; and, on the other hand, the world will ask , Of what use is all this ? But of what use are the Apollo Bel videre, the pictures of Raphael, the tragedies of Racine ? Of what use is every thing fine, if not to the mind ? It is the same with philosophy ; it is the beauty of thought, it attests the dignity of man , who is able to occupy himself with what is external and invisible, although the gross particles of his nature would remove him from them , I might cite many other names justly dis tinguished in the lists of philosophy ; but it appears to me, that this sketch, however imperfect, is sufficient to serve as an intro duction to the examination of the influence GERMAN PHILOSOPHERS. 197 which the transcendant philosophy of the Germans has exercised over the develope ment of the mind, and over the character and morality of the nation in which that philosophy prevails ; and that, above all, is the object I propose to myself. 128 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER VIII. Influence of the new German Philosophy over the Developement of the Mind . Attention is, perhaps, the most powerful of all the faculties of the human mind ; and it cannot be denied, that the ideal system of metaphysics strengthens it in a surprising manner. Buffon pretended that genius might be acquired by patience ; that was saying too much ; but the homage thus rendered to attention , under the name of patience, does great honour to a man of so brilliant an ima gination . Abstract ideas require great efforts of meditation ; but when to them is joined the most exact and persevering observation of the inward actions of the will , the whole power of intelligence is at once employed. Subtilty is a great fault in the affairs of this world , but certainly the Germans are not suspected of it. The philosophical sub tilty, which enables us to unravel the mi. nulest threads of our thoughts, is exactly the best calculated to extend the genius ; for NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 129 a reflection, from which the sublimest in ventions, the most astonishing discoveries may result, passes unperceived within us, if we have not acquired the habit of examining with sagacity the consequences and con nexions of ideas apparently the most remote from each other. In Germany, a superior man seldom con fines himself to one line. Goëthe has made discoveries in science ; Schelling is an excel lent writer ; Frederick Schlegel, a poet full of originality. A great number of different talents cannot, perhaps, be united ; but the view of the understanding ought to embrace every thing. The new German philosophy is necessa rily more favourable than any other to the extension of the mind ; for, referring every thing to the focus of the soul , and consider ing the world itself as governed by laws, the type of which is in ourselves ; it does not admit the prejudice which destines every man exclusively to such or such a branch of study. The idealists believe, that an art, a science, or any other subject, cannot be understood without an universal knowledge, and that from the smallest phænomenon up to the greatest , nothing can be learnedly
VOL. III . K 130 PHILOSOPHY AXD MORALS: examined, or poetically described , without that elevation of mind which sees the whole, while it is describing the parts. Montesquieu ' says, ' that wit consists in knowing the resemblance of things which dif fer, and the difference of things which are alike. If there could exist a theory which would teach a man how to become a wit, it would be that of the understanding as the Germans conceive it ; there is no one more favourable to ingenious approximations be tween external objects and the faculties of the mind ; they are the different radii of the same centre. Most physical axioms corre spond with moral truths ; and universal phi losophy, in a thousand ways, represents Nature always the same, and always varying; who is reflected, at full length , in every one of her works, and gives the stamp of the universe to the blade of grass, as well as to the cedar. This philosophy gives a singular attraction to all kinds of study. The discoveries which we make within ourselves are always inte resting ; but if it is true that they would . enlighten us, on the mysteries even of a world created in our image, what curiosity do they not inspire ? The conversation of a NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 131 a German philosopher, such as those I have named, calls to mind the dialogues of Plato ; and when you question one of these men , upon any subject whatever, he throws so much light on it, that, in listening to him , you seem to think for the first time, if to think be, as Spinosa says, to identify one's self with Nature by intelligence, and to become one with her. So many new ideas, on literary and philo sophical subjects, have, for some years past, been in circulation in Germany, that a stranger might very well take a man , who should only repeat these ideas, for a superior genius. It has sometimes bappened to me, to give men, ordinary enough in other re spects, credit for prodigious minds, only be cause they had become familiarized with the system of the idealists, the day-star of a new life. The faults for which the Germans are com monly reproached in conversation, slowness and pedantry, are remarked infinitely less in the disciples of the modern school : persons of the first rank, in Germany, have formed themselves, for the most part, according to good French manners ; but now there is established amongst the philosophers and K 2 132 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . 重 men of letters, a sort of education , also in good taste, although of quite another kind. True elegance is considered as inseparable from a poetical imagination , and love for the fine arts, and politeness, ' as united to know ledge, and to the appreciation of talents and natural qualities. It cannot, however, be denied, that the new philosophical and literary systems have inspired their partisans with great contempt for those who do not understand them . The wit of the French always aims at hu miliating by ridicule ; its plan is to avoid the idea , in order to attack the person, and the substance, in order to laugh at the form . The Germans of the new school look upon ignorance and frivolity as diseases of pro longed infancy: they do not confine them selves to contests with strangers, but they attack each other with bitterness ; and to hear them , one would suppose, that to pos sess, a single additional degree, either of ab straction or of profundity, conferred a right to treat as vulgar and narrow -minded all those who would not or could not attain it. When men's minds are irritated by ob stacles, exaggeration becomes mixed with that philosophical revolution , which, in other NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 133
respects, is so salutary. The Germans of the new school penetrate into the interior of the soul, with the torch of genius. But when they are required to introduce their ideas into the minds of others, they are at a loss for the means, and begin to affect contempt for their hearers, because they are ignorant, nót of the truth itself, hut of the means of imparting it. Contempt, except for vice, argues almost always a limited mind ; for, with a greater share of understanding, we could make ourselves understood even by vulgar minds, or at least we might sincerely endeavour to do so . The talent of methodical and clear ex pression is very rare in Germany : it is not acquired by speculative studies . We must (as it were) place ourselves without our own thoughts, to judge of the form which should be given to them. Philosophy teaches the knowledge of man, rather than of men. Habits of society alone teach us the relation our minds bear to those of others. Sincere and serious philosophers are led, first by candour, and then by pride, to feel irritated against those who do not think or feel as they do. The Germans seek for truth con scientiously ; but they have a very warm 134 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 1spirit of party in favour of the doctrine which they adopt ; for, in the heart of man, every thing degenerates into passion. But notwithstanding the diversity of opi nions, which, in Germany, form schools in opposition to one another, they tend equally, for the most part, to display activity of mind ; so that there is no country where every man makes more advantage of him self, at least in regard to intellectual labours.
NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY 135 CHAPTER IX. Influence of the new German Philosophy on Literature and the Arts. What I have just said on the developement of the inind , applies likewise to literature ; yet it may be interesting to add some parti cular observations to these general reflec tions. In those countries where it is supposed that all our ideas have their origin in exter nal objects, it is natural to set a higher value on the observance of graces or forms, the empire of which is placed without us : but where, on the other hand, men feel con vinced of the immutable laws of moral ex istence, society has less power over every individual ; men treat of every thing with themselves ; and what is deemed essential, as well in the productions of thought as in the actions of life, is, that they spring from inward conviction and spontaneous feeling. 136 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. There are, in style, some qualities which are connected with truth in the sentiment expressed, and there are others which de pend on grammatical correctness . It would be difficult to make the Germans understand, that the first thing to look for in a work, is the manner in which it is written, and that the execution of it should be of more im portance than the conception. In experi mental philosophy, a work is esteemed , above all things, according to the ingenious and lucid form , under which it is presented ; in ideal philosophy, on the contrary , where all attraction is in the focus of the mind, those writers only are admired who approach the nearest to that point. It must be admitted too, that the habit of searching into the most hidden mysteries of our being, gives the mind a taste for what is deepest, and sometimes for what is most obscure in thought. Thus the Germans too often blend metaphysies with poetry . The new philosophy inspires us with the necessity of rising to thoughts and senti ments without bounds. This impulse may be favourable to genius , but it is so to genius alone, and it often gives to those who are destitute of genius very ridiculous pretensions. NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY, 197 In France, mediocrity finds every thing too powerful and too exalted ; in Germany, it finds nothing so high as the new doctrine. In France, mediocrity laughs at enthusiasm ; in Germany, it despises a certain sort of rea son. A writer can never do enough to con vince German readers that his ideas are not superficial, that he is occupied, in all things, with the immortal and the infinite. But as the faculties of the mind are not always correspondent to such vast desires, it often happens that gigantic efforts produce but common results. Ņevertheless, this general disposition assists the flight of thought ; and it is easier, in literature, to set bounds, than to give emulation . The taste which the Germans show for what is playful and simple, and of which I have already had occasion to speak, seems to be in contradiction to their inclination for metaphysics--an inclination which arisesa from the desire of knowing and of analysing one's self : at the same time, it is to the in fluence of a system that we are to refer this taste for playful simplicity ; for, in Germany, there is philosophy in every thing, even in the imagination. :: One of the first charac teristics of simplicity is to express what is 138 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. felt or thought, without reflecting on any result, or aiming at any object ; and it is in that respect that it agrees with the theory of the Germans on literature. In separating the beautiful from the useful, Kant clearly proves, that it is not in the na ture of the fine arts to give lessons. Un doubtedly, every thing that is beautiful ought to give birth to generous sentiments, and those sentiments excite to virtue ; but when the object is to put in proof a precept of morality, the free impression produced by masterpieces of art is necessarily destroyed ; for the object aimed at, be it what it will , when it is known, limits and confines the imagination . It is related , that Louis XIV. once said to a preacher, who had directed a sermon against him, “ I am ready enough to “ take to myself my share, but I will not “ have it allotted for me." These words might be applied to the fine arts in general : they ought to elevate the mind, and not to school it. · Nature often displays her magnificence without any aim , and often with a profuse ness, which the partisans of utility would call prodigal. She seems to delight in giving more splendour to the flowers to the trees NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 139 of the forest, than to the vegetables which serve for the food of man. If what is useful held the first rank in nature, would she not adorn the nutritious plants with more charms than roses, which are only beautiful ? And whence comes it, that to deck the altar of the Divinity with flowers which are useless, should be preferred to doing it with the pro ductions which are necessary to us ? How happens it, that what serves for the support of our lives, has less dignity than beauties which have no object ? It is because the beau tiful recalls to our minds an immortal and di vine existence, the recollection and the regret of which live at the same time in our hearts. It certainly is not from a want of under standing the moral value of what is useful, that Kant has separated it from the beauti ful ; it is to ground admiration of every kind on absolute disinterestedness ; it is in order to give sentiments which render vice impos sible, the preference over the lessons which only serve to correct it. The " mythological fables of the ancients were seldom intended as moral exhortations, or edifying examples ; and it does not at all argue that the moderns are better than the ancients, that they oftener endeavour to give 140 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. an useful result to their fictions , it is rather because they have less imagination , and carry into literature the habit which business gives, of always aiming at some object. Events, as they exist in reality, are not calculated beforehand, like a fiction , the winding up of which is moral. Life itself is conceived in quite a poetical manner ; for it is not, in general, because the guilty man is punished, and the virtuous man rewarded, that it makes a moral impression upon us ; it is because it developes in the mind indignation against the guilty, and enthusiasm towards the virtuous. The Germans do not, according to the common notion, consider the imitation of nature as the principal object of art ; it is ideal beauty which appears to them the prin ciple of all masterpieces ; and their poetical theory accords, in this respect, with their philosophy. The impression made on us by the fine arts has nothing whatever in com mon with the pleasure we feel from any imitation : man has in his soul innate senti ments which objects of reality will never satisfy, and it is to these sentiments that the imagination of painters and poets gives form and life. Of what is music, the first of all arts, an imitation ? And yet, of all NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY, 141 the gifts of the Divinity , it is the most noble ; for it may be said to be a superfluous one. The sun gives us light- we breathe the air of a serene atmosphere - all the beauties of nature are , in some way, serviceable to man ; music alone has à noble inutility, and it is for that reason that it affects us'so deeply ; the more it is without an object, the nearer it approaches to that inward source of our thoughts, which application to any object whatever checks in its course. - The literary theory of the Germans differs from all others, in not subjecting writers to customs, nor to tyrannical restrictions. It is a creative theory, a philosophy of the fine arts, which , instead of confining them, seeks, like Prometheus, to steal fire from heaven, to give it to the poets. Did Homer, Dante, or Shakespeare, I shall be asked , know any thing of all this ? Did they stand in need of all this metaphysical reasoning to be great writers ? Nature, undoubtedly, has not waited for philosophy ; which means only, that the fact preceded the observation of the fact ; but, as we have reached the epoch of theories, should we not be on our guard against those which may stifle talent? 142 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. It must, however, be allowed , that many essential inconveniencies result from the ap plication of these systems of philosophy, to literature. German readers, accustomed to peruse Kant, Fichte, &c. consider a less degree of obscurity as clearness itself ; and writers do not always give to works of art that striking clearness which is so necessary to them. Constant attention may, nay ought to , be exacted where abstract ideas are the subject; but emotions are involuntary. In the enjoyment of the arts, indulgence, effort, and reflection can have no place : what we have to deal with there is pleasure, and not reasoning : philosophy may require attentive examination, but poetical talent ought to carry us away with it. Ingenious ideas, derived from theories, cause illusion as to the real nature of talent. They prove, with wit, that such or such a piece ought not to have pleased, but still it did please ; and then they begin to despise those who like it. They prove, that another piece, composed according to certain prin ciples, ought to interest ; and yet, when they would have it performed, when they Arise, and .walk, ” the piece does not go off ; and then they despise those who > 66 say to it,
t NEWGERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 143 are not amused with a work composed ac cording to the laws of harmony, between the ideal and the real . People are generally wrong when they find fault with the judg ment of the public in the arts, for popular impressions are more philosophical than even philosophy itself ; and when the ideas of men of information do not agree with this impression, it is not because they are too profound, but rather because they are not deep enough. It appears to me, however, infinitely better for the literature of a country, that its poetical system should be founded upon philosophi cal notions, even if they are a little abstract, than upon simple external rules ; for these rules are but wooden bars , to prevent chil dren from falling. In their imitation of the ancients, the Germans have taken quite a different di rection from the rest of Europe. The con scientious character, from which they never depart, has prevented their mixing together modern and ancientgenius ; they treat fiction in some respects like truth, for they find means to be scrupulous even in regard to that; they apply the same disposition to ac quire an exact and thorough knowledge of 1 144 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. а . the monuments which are left us of past ages. In Germany, the study of antiquity, like that of the sciences and of philosophy, unites the scattered branches of the human mind. Heyne, with a wonderful quickness of ap prehension, embraces every thing that relates to literature, to history, and to the fine arts. From the most refined observations Wolf draws the boldest inferences, and, disdaining all submission to authority, adopts an opinion of his own of the worth and authenticity of the writings of the Greeks. In a late com position by M. Ch. de Villers, whom I have already mentioned with the high esteem he deserves, it may be seen what immense works are published every year in Germany on the classical authors. The Germans believe themselves called in every thing to act the part of observers ; and it may be said that they are not of the age they live in, so much do their reflections and inclinations turn towards another epoch of the world. It may be that the best time for poetry was during the age of ignorance, and that the youthful season of the human race is gone for ever ; but, in the writings of the Germans, we seem to feel a new youth again NEW GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 145 reviving and springing up from the noble choice which may be made by those to whom every thing is known. The age of light has its innocence, as well as the golden age ; and if man, during his infancy, believes only in his soul , he returns, when he has learnt every thing, to confide in nothing else. VOL. III. 146 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER X. Influence of the new Philosophy on the Sciences. There is no doubt that the ideal philosophy leads to the augmentation of knowledge ; and by disposing the mind to turn back upon itself, increases its penetration and perse verance in intellectual labour. But is this philosophy equally favourable to the sciences, which consist in the observation of nature ? It is to the examination of this question that the following reflections are destined : The progress of the sciences in the last century has generally been attributed to the experimental philosophy ; and as the ob servation is of great importance to this sub ject, men have been thought more certain of attaining to scientific truths , in proportion as they attached more importance to external objects ; yet the country of Keppler and Leibnitz is not be despised for science. The principal modern discoveries, gunpow der and the art of printing, have been made InflueNCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 147 by the Germans; and, nevertheless, nien's minds in Germany have always tended towards idealism. . Bacon compared speculative philosophy to the lark, who mounts to the sky, and descends again without bringing any thing back from her flight; and experimental phi losophy to the falcon, who soars as high, but returns with his prey. Perhaps in our days Bacon would have felt the inconveniencies of philosophy purely experimental; it has turned thought into sensation , morality into self-interest, and nature into mechanism ; it tends to degrade all things. The Germans have combatted its influence in the physical sciences, as well as in science of a higher order; and while they submit Nature to the fullest observation, they consider her phænomena, in general, in a vast and animated manner : the empire of an opinion over the imagination always af fords a presumption in its favour ; for every thing tells us, that beauty, in the sublime conception of the universe, is truth . The new philosophy has already exerted its influence, in many respects, over the phy sical sciences in Germany. In the first place, the samespirit of universality, which I have L 2 148 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. remarked in the men of literature and the philosophers, also discovers itself among the men of science. Humboldt relates, like an accurate observer, the perilous travels which he undertook like a brave chevalier ; and his writings are equally interesting to na turalists and to poets . Schelling, Bader, Schubert, &c. have published works, in which the sciences are presented under a point of view that captivates both our re flection and our imagination ; and, long previous to the existence of modern meta physicians, Keppler and Haller knew the art of observing Nature, and at the same time of conjecturing her operations. The attraction of society is so great in France, that it allows nobody much time for labour. It is natural then not to place re liance upon those who attempt to unite many studies of different denominations . But, in a country where the whole life of a man may be given up to meditation, it is reasonable to encourage the multifariousness of knowledge ; -the student eventually confines his atten tion to that pursuit which he prefers; but it is, perhaps, impossible to attain a thorough comprehension of one science, and not to touch upon all. Sir Humphry Davy, al INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 149 though the first chemist in England, studies literature with as much taste as success . Li terature and science reflect alternate light upon each other ; and the connexion which exists between all the objects in nature, must also be maintained among the ideas of man . Universality of knowledge necessarily leads to the desire of discovering the general laws of the order of nature. The Germans descend from theory to experience ; while the French ascend from experience to theory. The French reproach the Germans with having no beauties but those of detail in their literature, and with not understanding the composition of a work. The Germans re proach the French with considering only particular facts in the sciences, and with not referring them to a system ; in this consists the principal difference between the learned men of the two countries. In fact, if it was possible to discover the principles which govern the universe, this would be the point, indisputably, from which we ought to commence in studying all that is derived from those principles : but we are almost entirely ignorant of the collective cha racter of every thing, excepting in what detail teaches us ; and nature, for the eye
150 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . of man, is but the scattered Sibyl's leaves, out of which, even to this day, no, human being has composed a book . Nevertheless, the learned men of Germany, who are phi losophers at the same time, diffuse a sur prising interest over the phænomena of this world : they do not examine nature fortui tously, or according to the accidental course of what they experience ; but they predict, by reflection, whạt observation is about to confirm . Two great general opinions serve them for guides in studying the sciences ;-the one, that the universe is made after the model of the human soul ; the other, that the analogy of every part of the universe, with its whole, is so close, that the same idea is constantly reflected from the whole in every part, and from every part in the whole. It is a fine conception, that has a tendency to discover the resemblance between the laws of the human understanding and those of na ture, and that considers the physical world as the basso - relievo, of the moral. If the same genius was capable of composing the Iliad, and of carving like Phidias, the Jupiter of the sculptor would resemble the Jupiter of the poet. Why then should not the supreme . INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 151 Intelligence, which formed nature and the soul, have made one the emblem of the other ? There is no vain play of fancy in those continual metaphors, which aid us in com paring our sentiments with external phæno mena ; sadness, with the clouded heaven ; com posure, with the silver moonlight; anger, with the stormy sea : -it is the same thought of our Creator, transfused into two different languages ges, and capable of reciprocal inter pretation . Almost all the axioms of physics correspond with the maxims of morals . This species of parallel progress, which may be perceived between the world and the mind, is the indication of a great mystery ; and every understanding would be struck with it, if any positive discoveries had yet been drawn from this source ; but still, the uncertain lustre that already streams from it carries our views to a great distance . The analogies between the different ele ments of external nature together constitute the chief law of the creation -- variety in unity , and unity in variety . For example, What is there more astonishing than the connexion between sounds and forms, and between sounds and colours ? A German (Chladni) lately proved by experiment, that . 152 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . the vibrations of sound put grains of sand upon a glass plate in motion after such a manner, that when the tones are pure, the sand arranges itself into regular forms, and when the tones are discordant, there is no symmetry in the figures traced upon the glass. Sanderson, who was blind from his birth, said , that the colour of scarlet, in his idea, was like the sound of a trumpet ; and a mathematician wished to make a harpsi chord for the eyes, which might imitate, by the harmony of colours , the pleasure excited by music. We incessantly compare painting to music ; because the emotions we feel dis cover analogies where cold observation would only have seen differences, Every plant, every flower, contains the entire system of the universe ; an instant of life conceals eternity within it ; the weakest atom is a world , and the world itself, per chance, is but an atom. Every portion of the universe appears to be a mirror, in which the whole creation is represented ; and we hardly know which is most worthy of our admiration, thought always the same, or form always different. The learned among the Germans may be divided into two classes-those who entirely devote themselves to observation, and those .
INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 153 who aspire to the honour of foreseeing the secrets of nature. Of the former we ought first to mention Werner, who has drawn from mineralogy his knowledge of the formation of the globe, and of the epochs of history ; Herschel and Schroeter, who are incessantly making new discoveries in the heavenly re gions ; the calculating astronomers, such as Zach and Bode ; and great chemists, like Klaproth and Bucholz : while in the class of philosophical naturalists we must reckon Schelling, Ritter, Bader, Steffens, &c. The most distinguished geniuses of these two elasses approach and understand each other ; for the philosophical naturalists cannot de spise experience, and the profound observers do not deny the possible results of sublime contemplations. Attraction and impulse have already been the objects of novel inquiry ; and they have been happily applied to chemical affinities. Light, considered as a medium between mat ter and mind , has given occasion for several highly philosophical observations . A work of Goëthe upon colours is favourably men tioned , In short, throughout Germany emu lation is excited by the desire and the hope of uniting experimental and speculative > 154 PHOTHILOSOPHY AND MORALS.: philosophy, and thus enlarging our know ledge of man and of nature. Intellectual idealism makes the will (which is the soul) the centre of every thing : the principle of idealism in physical sciences is life. Man reaches the highest degree of analysis by chemistry as he does by reason ing ; but life escapes him in chemistry, as sentiment does in reasoning. A French writer had pretended , that “ thought was only the “ material product of the brain ; "-another learned man has said , that when we are more advanced in chemistry, we shall be able to tell 6 how life is made : " - the one out raged nature , as the other outraged the soul. “ We must,” said Fichte, “ comprehend “ what is incomprehensible, as such." This singular expression contains a profound meaning : we must feel and recognise what will ever remain inaccessible to analysis, and what the soaring flight of thought alone can approach. Three distinct modes of existence are thought to have been discovered in nature -vegetation, irritability, and sensibility. Plants, animals, and men are included in these three sorts of life ; and if we choose to apply even to individuals of our own species INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 155 this ingenious division , we shall find it equally discernible among their different cha racters. Some vegetate like plants; others enjoy themselves, or are irritated like ani mals ; and the more noble, in a word, pos sess and display the qualities that distinguish our human nature. However this may be, volition , which is life , and life, which also is volition, comprehend all the secret of the universe and of ourselves ; and at this secret (as we can neither deny nor explain it) we must necessarily arrive by a kind of divi nation . What an exertion of strength would it not require to overturn , with a lever made upon the model of the arm, the weight which the arm uplifts! Do we not see every day anger, or some other affection of the soul, augment ing, as by a miracle, the power of the human body ? What then is this mysterious power of nature , which manifests itself by the will of man ? and how, without studying its cause and effects, can we make any important dis covery in the theory of physical powers ? i The doctrine of the Scotch writer, Brown, more profoundly analysed in Germany than elsewhere, is founded upon this same system of centrat action and unity, which is so fruit 156 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . ful in its consequences. Brown believed that a state of suffering, or of health, did not depend upon partial evils , but upon the intenseness of the vital principle, which is lowered or exalted according to the different vicissitudes of existence. Among the learned English there is hardly one, besides Hartley and his disciple Priestley, who has considered metaphysics, as well as physics, under a point of view entirely ma terial . It will be said that physics can only be material : I presume not to be of that opinion . Those who make the soul itself a passive being, have the strongest reason to exclude every spontaneous action of the will of man from the positive sciences ; and yet there are many circumstances in which this power of willing influences the energy of life, and in which life acts upon matter. The principle of existence is, as it were, inter mediary between physics and morals ; and its power cannot be calculated , but yet can not be denied, unless we are ignorant of what constitutes animated nature, and reduce its laws purely to mechanism . Whatever opinion we may form of the system of Dr. Gall, he is respected by all men of science for his anatomical studies INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 157 and discoveries : and if we consider the organs of thought as different from thought itself, that is to say, as the faculties which it employs, it appears to me that we may admit memory and the power of calculation , the aptitude for this or that science, the talent for any particular art, every thing, ip short, which serves the understanding like an instrument, to depend in some measure on the structure of the brain . If there exists a graduated scale from a stone upwards to the life ofman , there must be certain faculties in us which partake of soul and body at once , and of this number are memory and the calculating power, the most physical of our intellectual, and the most intellectual of our physical faculties. But we should begin to err at the moment that we attributed an influence over our moral qualities to the structure of the brain .; for the will is abso lutely independent of our physical faculties : it is in the purely intellectual action of this will that conscience consists ; and conscience is, and ought to be, free from the influence of corporeal organization . A young physician of great ability, Koreff, has already attracted the attention of those who understand him, by some entirely new > 158 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 'observations upon the principle of life ; upon the action of death ; upon the causes of in sanity. All this restlessness among the men of genius announces some revolution in the very manner of studying the sciences. It is impossible, as yet, to foresee the results of this change ; but we may affirm with truth , that, if the Germans suffer imagination to guide them, they spare themselves no labour, no research, no study ; and that they unite, in the highest degree, two qualities which seem to exclude each other patience and enthusiasm. Some learned Germans, pushing their physical idealism too far, contest the truth of the axiom , that there is no action at a distance, and wish, on the contrary, to re establish spontaneous motion throughout nature. They reject the hypothesis of fluids, the effects of which would, in some points, depend upon mechanic forces ; pressing and re-pressing each other without the guidance of any independent organization. Those who consider nature in the light of an intellectual being, do not attach to this denomination the same sense which custom has authorized. For the thought of man consists in the faculty of turning back upon INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 159 1 itself ; and the intelligence of nature advances straight forward, like the instinct of animals. Thought has self- possession , for it can judge itself ;-intelligence without reflection is a power always attracted to things without. When Nature performs the work of crystal lization according to the most regular forms, it does not follow that she understands the mathenatics '; or, at all events, she is igno rant of her own knowledge, and wants self consciousness. The German men of science attribute a certain individual originality to physical forces ; and, on the other side, they appear to admit ( from their manner of exhibiting some phænomena of animal mag netism ), that the will of man, without any external act, exerts a very great influence over matter, and especially over metals. Pascal says , " that astrologers and alche “ mists have some principles, but that they “ abuse them ." There were, perhaps, of old, more intimate relations between man and nature than now exist. The mysteries of Eleusis ; the religion of the Egyptians ; the system of emanations among the Indians ; the Persian adoration of the elements and the sun ; the harmony of numbers, which was the basis of the Pythagorean doctrine - are 160 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. vestiges of some curious attraction which united man with the universe. The doctrines of spirituality, by fortifying the power of reflection, have separated man more from physical influences ; and the Re formation , by carrying still farther his tend ency towards analysis, has put reason on its guard against the primary impressions of the imagination. The Germans promote the true perfection of the human mind, when they endeavour to awaken the inspirations of nature by the light of thought. Experience every day leads the learned to recognise phænomena, which men had ceased to believe, because they were mingled with superstitions, and had been the subjects of presages. - The ancients have related that stones fell from heaven ; and in our days the accuracy of this fact, the existence of which had been denied, is established . The an cients have spoken of showers red as blood, and of earth -lightnings -- we have lately been convinced of the truth of their assertions in these respects . Astronomy and music are the science and art which men liave known from all anti quity : why should not sounds and the stars be connected by relations which the ancients INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 161 perceived, and which we may find out again ? Pythagoras maintained that the planets were proportionably at the same distance as the seven chords of the lyre ; and it is affirmed , that he predicted the new planet which has been discovered between Mars and Jupiter * . It appears that he was not ignorant of the true system of the heavens, the fixedness of the sun ; since Copernicus supports himself in this instance upon the opinion of Pytha goras, as recorded by Cicero. From whence then arose these astonishing discoveries, without the aid of experience, and of the new machines of which the moderns are in possession ? The reason is this — the ancients advanced boldly , lit by the sun of genius. They made use of reason, the resting - place of human intellect ; but they also consulted Imagination, the priestess of nature. Those which we call errors and super stitions may, perhaps, depend upon laws of the universe, yet unknown to man . The relations between the planets and metals, the influence of these relations, even oracles and
- M. Prevost, Professor of Philosophy at Geneva , has
published a very interesting pamphlet on this subject. This philosophical writer is as well known in Europe as esteemed in his country. . VOL. III . M 162 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. presages may they not be caused by occult powers, of which we have no idea ? And who knows whether there is not a germ of truth hidden under every apologue, under every mode of belief, which has been stig matized with the name of madness ? . It assuredly does not follow that we should re. nounce the experimental method, so necessary in the sciences. But why not furnish asupreme director for this method in a philosophy more comprehensive, which would embrace the universe in its collective churacter, and which would not despise the nocturnal side of nature, in the expectation of being able to throw light upon it ? It is the business of poetry (we may be answered) to consider the phy sical world in this manner ; but we can arrive at no certain knowledge except by expe rience ; and all that is not susceptible of proof may be an amusement to the mind, but cannot forward our real progress. Doubtless, the French are right in recom mending the Germans to have a respect for experience ; but they are wrong in turning into ridicule the presages of reflection, which perhaps will hereafter be confirmed by the knowledge of facts. The greater part ofgrand discoveries have at first appeared absurd ; and INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 163 the man of genius will never do any thing if he dreads being exposed toI ridicule. Ridicule is nerveless when despised , and ascends in influence just as it is feared . We see in fairy tales phantoms that oppose the enterprises of knights, and harass them until they have passed beyond the weird dominion. Then all the witchcraft vanishes, and the fruitful open country is spread before their sight. Envy and mediocrity have also their sorceries ; but we ought to march on towards the truth , without caring for the seeming obstacles that impede our progress. When Keppler had discovered the har monic laws that regulate the motion of the heavenly bodies, it was thus that he expressed his joy : - “ At length, after the lapse of “ eighteen months, the first dawn of light 5 has shone upon me; and on this remark “ able day I have perceived the pure irradia-. “ tion of sublime truth . Nothing now re presses me ;; I dare yield myself up to my “ holy ardour; I dare insult mankind by “ acknowledging, that I have turned worldly “ science to advantage; that I have robbed “ the vessels of Egypt, to erect a temple to 6“ the living God. If I am pardoned , I shall rejoice ; if blamed, I shall endure it. The 66 66 66 M 2 164 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a
- die is cast ; I have written this book :
“ whether it be read by posterity, or by my contemporaries, is of no consequence; it may well wait for a reader during one century, when God himself, during six 66 thousand years, has waited for an observer “ like myself.” This bold ebullition of a proud enthusiasm exhibits the internal force of genius. Goëthe has made a remark upon the per fectibility of the human understanding, which is full of sagacity— “ It is always advancing, “ but in a spiral line." - This comparison is so much the more just, because the improve ment of man seems to be checked at many æras, and then returns upon its own steps, having gained some degrees in advance. There are seasons when scepticism is neces sary to the progress of the sciences ; there are others when, according to Hemsterhuis, the marvellous spirit ought to supersede the mathematical. When man is swallowed up, or rather reduced into dust by infidelity , this marvellous spirit can alone restore the power of admiration to the soul, without which we cannot understand nature . The theory of the sciences in Germany has given the men of genius an impulse like INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 165 that which metaphysics had excited in the study of the mind ; and life holds the same rank in physical phænomena, that the will holds in moral order. If the relations be tween these two systems have caused certain persons to interdict them both, there are those who will discover in these relations the double guarantee of the same truth . It is at least certain, that the interest of the sciences is singularly increased by this manner of re ferring them all to some leading ideas. Poets might find in the sciences a crowd of useful thoughts, if the sciences held communication with each other in the philosophy of the universe ; and if this philosophy, instead of being abstract, was animated by the inex haustible source of sentiment. The universe resembles a poem more than a machine ; and if, in order to form a conception of the uni verse, we were compelled to avail ourselves of imagination , or of a mathematical spirit, imagination would lead us nearer' to the truth. But again let me repeat, we must not make such a choice ; since it is the totality of our moral being which ought to be employed in so important a kind of me ditation. The new system of general physics, which 166 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. in Germany serves for a guide to experi mental physics, can only be judged by its results. We must see whether it will conduct the human mind to new -established truths . But it is impossible to deny the connexion which it proves to exist between the different branches of study. One student usually revolts from the other when their occupations are different, because they are a reciprocal annoyance. The scholar has nothing to say to the poet; the poet to the natural philosopher: and even among the men of science, those whoare differently occupied avoid each other; taking no interest in what is out of their own circle . This cannot be when a central phi losophy establishes connexions of a sublime nature between all our thoughts. The scien tific penetrate nature by the aid of imagina tion , Poets find in the sciences the genuine beauties of the universe. The learned enrich poetry with the stores of recollection , and the men of science with those of analogý. The sciences, represented as insulated , and as a land unknown to the soul , attract not the exalted mind, The greater part of those who have devoted themselves to the sciences (with some honourable exceptions) have im printed upon our times that tendency towards INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 167 calculation which so well teaches us, in all changes, which is the strongest government. The German philosophy introduces the phy sical sciences into that universal sphere of ideas, which imparts so much interest to the most minute observations, as well as to the most important results. 168 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS, CHAPTER XI. Influence of the new Philosophy upon the Character of the Germans. It would appear that a system of philosophy , which attributes an all-powerful action to that which depends upon ourselves, namely, to our will, ought to strengthen the character, and to make it independent of external cir cumstances ; but there is reason to believe, that political and religious institutions alone can create public spirit, and that no abstract theory is efficacious enough to give a nation energy : for, it must be confessed , the Ger mans of our days have not that which can be called character. They are virtuous, upright, as private men, as fathers of families, as managers of affairs : but their gracious and complaisant forwardness to support the cause of power gives especial pain to those who love them , and who believe them to be the most enlightened speculative defenders of the dignity of man. The sagacity of the philosophical spirit INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHILOSOPHY. 169 alone has taught them in all circumstances the cause and the effects of what happens ; and they fancy, when they have found a theory for a fact, that it is all right. Mili tary spirit and patriotism have exalted many nations to the highest possible degree of energy ; but these two sources of self- devo tion hardly exist among the Germans, taken in a mass. They scarcely know any thing of military spirit, but a pedantic sort of tac tics, which sanctions their being defeated according to the rules ; and as little of liberty, beyond that subdivision into petty kingdoms, which, by accustoming the inha bitants to consider themselves weak as a nation , soon leads them to be weak as indi. viduals. Respect for forms is very favour able to the support of lawr ; but this respect, such as it exists in Germany, induces the habit of such punctual and precise proceed ings, that they hardly know how to open a new path to reach an object though it be straight before them . Philosophical speculations are only suited to a small number of thinking men ; and far from serving to combine the strength of a nation , they only place the ignorant and the enlightened at too great a distance from each 170 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. other. There are too many new, and not enough common, ideas circulating in Ger many, for the knowledge of men and things. Common ideas are necessary for the conduct of life ; business requires the spirit of execu tion rather than that of invention : whatever is odd in the different modes of thinking in Germany, tends to separate them from each other ; for the thoughts and interests which unite men together must be of a simple nature, and of striking truth. Contempt of danger, of suffering, and of death, is not sufficiently universal in all the classes of the German nation . Doubtless, life has more value for men capable of senti ments and ideas, than for those who leave be hind them neither trace nor remembrance; but, at the same time that poetical enthu siasm gathers fresh vigour from the highest degree of learning, rational courage ought to fill the place of the instinct of ignorance. It belongs alone to philosophy, founded upon religion, to inspire an unalterable resolution under all contingencies. If, however, Philosophy has not appeared to be all-powerful in this respect in Germany; we must not therefore despise her :-she supports, she enlightens every man , indi INFLUENCE OF THẾ NEW PHILOSOPHY. 171 vidually ; but a government alone can excite that moral electricity which makes the whole nation feel the same sentiment. We are more offended with the Germans, when we see them deficient in energy, than with the Italians , whose political situation has en feebled their character for several centuries. The Italians, through the whole of life, by their grace and their imagination, preserve a sort of prolonged right to childhood ; but the rude physiognomy and manners of the Germans appear to promise à manly soul, and we are disagreeably surprised not to find it. In a word, timidity of character is par doned when it is confessed ; and in this way the Italians have a peculiar frankness, which excites a kind of interest in their favour ; while the Germans, not daring to avow that weakness which suits so ill with them , are énergétic flatterers and vigorous slaves. They give a harsh accent to their words, to hide the suppleness of their opinions ; and theỳ make use of philosophical reasonings to explain that which is the most unphilosophi cal thing in the world - respect for power, and the effeminacy of fear, which turns that respect into admiration. To such contrasts as these we must attri 172 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. bute that German gracelessness which it is the fashion to mimic in the comedies of all countries. It is allowable to be heavy and stiff, wbile we remain severe and firm ; but, if this natural stiffness be clothed with the false smile of servility, then all that remains is to be exposed to merited ridicule . In short, there is a certain want of address in the German character, prejudicial even to those who have the selfish intent of sacrificing every thing to their interest ; and we are so much the more provoked with them, because they lose the honours of virtue, without attaining the profits of adroit management. While we confess the German philosophy to be inadequate to form a nation, we must also acknowledge that the disciples of the new school are much nearer than any of the others to the attainment of strength of character : they dream of it, they desire it, they conceive it ; but they often fail in the pursuit. There are few Germans who can even write upon politics. The greater portion of those who meddle with this subject are systematic, and frequently unintelligible. When we are busied with the transcendental metaphysics -when we attempt to plunge into the dark ness of nature, any view, however indefi INFLUENCE OF THE NEW PHÍLOSOPHY . 179 nite it may be, is not to be despised ; every presentiment may guide us ; every approach to the mark is something. It is not thus with the affairs of the world ; it is possible to know them ; it is necessary, therefore, to foresee them clearly. Obscurity of style, when we treat of thoughts without bounds, is sometimes the very indication of a com prehensive understanding ; but obscurity, in our analysis of the affairs of life, only proves that we do not comprehend them. When we introduce metaphysics into bu siness, they con found, for the sake of ex cusing every thing ; and we thus provide a dark fog for the asylum of conscience. This employment of metaphysics would re quire address, if every thing was not reduced in our times to two very simple and clear ideas, interest or duty . Men of energy, whichever of these two directions they fol low, go right onward to the mark, without embracing theories which no longer deceive nor persuade any body . “ See then , " it may be said, you are re “ duced to extol , like us, the names of expe “ rience and observation . ” — I have never denied that both were necessary for those who meddle with the interests of this world ; 174 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. but it is in the conscience of man that we ought to find the ideal principle of a conduct externally directed by sage calculations. Divine sentiments are subject here below to earthly things; it is the condition of our existence. The beautiful is within our souls, and the struggle is without. We must fight for the cause of eternity, but with the weapons of time ; no individual can attain the whole dignity of the human character, either by speculative philosophy, or by the knowledge of affairs, exclusively ; and free institutions alone have the advantage of building up a system of public morals in a nation, and of giving exalted sentiments an opportunity of displaying themselves in the practical conduct of life. OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 175 CHAPTER XII. Of the moral System , founded upon personal Interest. The French writers have been perfectly right in considering inorality alit founded founded upon in . terest, as the consequence of that metaphy , sical system which attributed all our ideas to our sensations. If there is nothing in the soul but what sensation has introduced, the agreeable, or the disagreeable, ought to be the sole motive of our volitions. Helvetius, Didelot, Saint- Lambert, have not deviated from this direction ; and they have explained all actions (including the devotion of mar tyrs) by self- love. The English , who for the most part profess the experimental phi losophy in metaphysics, have yet never brought themselves to support a moral sys tem founded upon interest. Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Smith, &c. have declared the moral sense and sympathy to be the source of all virtue. Hume himself, the most sceptical of the English philosophers, could 176 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . not read without disgust this theory of self love , which deformed the beauty of the soul. Nothing is more opposite than this system to the whole of their opinions in Germany : their philosophical and moral writers, in consequence ( at the head of whom we must place Kant, Fichte, and Jacobi), have com bated it with success. As the tendency of man towards happi ness is the most universal and active of all his inclinations, some have believed that they built morality on the most solid basis, when they said it consisted in the right un derstanding of our personal interest. This idea has misled men of integrity, and others have purposely abused it, and have only too well succeeded in that abuse. Doubtless, the general laws of nature and society make happiness and virtue harmonize; but their laws are subject to very numerous exceptions, and which appear to be more numerous than they really are. By making happiness consist in a quiet conscience, we elude the arguments drawn from the prosperity of vice and the misfor tunes of virtue ; but this inward joy, which is entirely of a religious kind, has no relation to that which we designate upon earth by OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 177 a the name of happiness. To call self-devotion or selfishness, guilt or innocence, our personal interest, well or ill understood , is to aim at filling up that abyss which separates the cri minal from the virtuous ; is to destroy re spect ; is to weaken indignation : -for if morality is nothing but right calculation , he who wants it can only be accused of a flaw in his understanding. It is impossible to feel the noble sentiment of esteem for any one because he is an accurate accountant ; nor an energetic contempt for him who errs in his arithmetic. Men have arrived , therefore, by means of this system , at the principal end of all the profligate, who wish to put justice and injustice upon a level , or, at least, to con sider both as a game well or ill played : the philosophers of this school, accordingly, more frequently use the word Fault than. Crime ; for, in their mode of thinking, there is nothing in the conduct of life but skilful or unskilful combinations. We can form no better conception how remorse can be admitted into such a system : -the criminal, when he is punished, ought to feel that sort of regret which is occasioned by the failure of a speculation ; for if our individual happiness is our principal object, VOL. III . N 178 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. > if we are the only end of ourselves, peace must soon be restored between these two near allies—he who has done wrong, and he who suffers from it . It is a proverb almost universally admitted, that every one is free in all that concerns himself alone : now, as in the moral system , founded upon interest, self is the only question , I know not what answer could be returned to such a speech as the following : - “ You give me, as the “ motive for my actions, my own individual 66 benefit - I am much obliged : but the man “ ner of conceiving what this benefit is, necessarily depends upon the variety of “ character. I am courageous ; I can there “ fore risk the dangers attached to an infrac “ tion of the laws better than another : - / am ingenious ; therefore I trust to more “ means of escaping punishment : -lastly, if “ it turns out ill , I have sufficient fortitude “ to endure the consequences of having de “ ceived myself ; and I prefer the pleasures “ and the chances of high play to the mo “ notony of a regular existence.” How many French works, in the last age, have commented upon these arguments, which cannot be completely refuted ; for, ip a matter of chance, one out of a thousand is 60 > > OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 179 . sufficient to rouse the imagination to every effort for obtaining it ;; and, certainly , the odds are not a thousand to one against the success of vice. “ But” (many of the ho nest partisans of the moral system founded upon interest will say) “ this morality does “ not exclude the influence of religion over " the soul.” How weak and inelancholy a part is left for it ! When all the acknow ledged philosophical and moral systems are contrary to religion—when metaphysics an nihilate the belief of what is invisible, and morals the sacrifice of ourselves, religion re mains, in our ideas, as the King remained in that constitution which was decreed by the Constituent Assembly ; it was a Republic, with a King ; and I say the same of all these systems of metaphysical materialism and selfish morality , they are Atheism, with a God . It is easy, then , to foresee what will be sacrificed in the construction of our thoughts, when we only assign a super fluous place to the central idea of the world and of ourselves. The conduct of man is not truly moral, excepting when he esteems as nothing the happy or unhappy consequences of those actions which his duty has enjoined him.- N 2 180 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. In directing the affairs of the world, we must always keep in our minds the con nexion of causes and effects, of the means and the end ; but this prudence is to virtue what good sense is to genius : -- all that is truly beautiful is inspired ; all that is dis interested is religious . Calculation is the labourer of genius, the servant of the soul ; but if it becomes the master, there is no longer any thing grand or noble in man. Calculation, in the conduct of life, ought always to be admitted as the guide, but never as the motive of our actions. It is a good instrument of execution ; but the source of the will ought to be of a more elevated nature, and to contain in itself an internal sentiment which compels us to the sacrifice of our personal interests. When an attempt was made to prevent St. Vincent de Paul from exposing himself to too great danger, in order to succour the unfortunate, he replied , you so base as to prefer my life to myself?”— If the advocates of the moral system founded upon interest would retrench from this in terest all that concerns earthly existence, they would then agree with the most reli gious men ; but still we might reproach them " Do think me OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 181 16 with the faulty expressions in which they convey their meaning. “ In fact, it may be said , “ this is only a dispute about words ; we call useful what you call virtuous, but we also place the “ well ' -understood interest of men in the “ sacrifice of their passions to their duties . ” Disputes about words are always disputes about things ; for every man of honesty will confess, that he only uses this or that word from preference for this or that idea . How should expressions, habitually employed upon the most vulgar matters, be capable of in spiring generous sentiments ? When we pro nounce the words Interest and Utility, shall we excite the same thoughts in our hearts , as when we adjure each other in the name of Devotion, and of Virtue ? When Sir Thomas More preferred. perish ing on the scaffold to re-ascending the sum mit of greatness, by the sacrifice of a scruple of conscience ; when, after a year's impri sonment, enfeebled by suffering, he refused to return to the wife and children whom he loved, and to give himself up again to those mental occupations which confer so much vivacity, and at the same time so much tran quillity upon existence ; when honour alone, 182 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . that worldly religion , made an aged King of France return to an English prison, because his son had not kept the promises by means of which he obtained his liberty ; when Christians lived in catacombs, renounced the light of day, and felt the heavens only in their souls ; if any one had said , “ they had “ a right understanding of their interest," what an icy chill would have run through the veins at hearing such a speech, and how much ' better would a compassionate look have revealed to us all that is sublime in such characters ! No, assuredly, life is not such a withered thing as selfishness has made it ; all is not prudence, all is not calculation ; and when a sublime action agitates all the powers of our nature, we do not consider whether the generous man, who sacrifices himself for a manifest good purpose, judiciously calculated his personal interest ; we think that he sa crifices all the pleasures, all the advantages of this world ; but that a celestial ray de scends into his heart, and excites a happiness within him, which has no more resemblance to what we usually adorn with that name, than immortality bas to life. It was not, however, without a motive, OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c . 183 that so much importance has been attached to this system of morals founded upon per sonal interest. Those who support it have the air of supporting a theory only ; and it is, in fact, a very ingenious contrivance, for the purpose of rivetting the yoke of every species . No man, however depraved he may be, will deny the necessity of morality ; for the very being who is most decidedly defi cient in it, would wish to be concerned with those dupes who maintain it . But what address was there in fixing upon prudence as the basis of morality ; what an opening it makes for the ascendency of power over the transactions of conscience, over all the springs in the human mind by which events are regulated ! If calculation ought to preside over every thing, the actions of men will be judged according to their success ; the man whose good feelings have been the cause of mis fortune, will be justly condemned ; the cor rupt, but adroit manager, will be justly commended . In a word, individuals, only considering each other as obstacles or instru : ments, will hate those who impede them , and will esteem those who serve them , only as means of their success . Guilt itself has 184 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . more grandeur when it arises from the dis order of inflamed passion , than when per sonal interest is its object; how then allege that to be the principle of virtue which would dishonour vice itself * !
- In Bentham's work on Legislation, published , or rather
illustrated , by M. Dumont, there are several arguments on the principle of utility, which agree in many respects with the system of morals founded upon personal interest. The well known anecdote of Aristides making the Athenians reject a project of Themistocles, by simply telling them it was advan tageous but unjust, is quoted by M. Dumont ; but he refers the consequences which may be drawn from this trait of character, as well as many others, to the general utility admitted by Bentham as the basis of all our duties. The advantage of each individual , he says, ought to be sacrificed to the advantage of the whole ; and that of the present moment to futurity, by taking one step in advance : we may confess, that virtue consists in the sacrifice of time to eternity, and this sort of calculation will certainly not be condemned by the advocates for enthusiasm ; but whatever effort so superior a man as M. Dumont may make, he never will be able to render utility and self -devotion synonymous. He asserts, that plea sure and pain are the first motives of human actions ; and he then supposes that the pleasure of noble minds consists in voluntarily exposing themselves to the sufferings of real life, in order to obtain enjoyments of a higher nature. Doubtless, we may make out of every word a mirror to reflect all ideas ; but, if we are pleased to adhere to the natural signification of each term, we shall perceive, that the man who is told that his own happiness ought to be the end of all his actions, will not be prevented from doing the evil which is expedient for him, except by the fear or the danger of punishment ; -fear, that passion braves ; danger, that ingenuity hopes to escape. Upon a OF THE MORAL SYSTEM , &c. 185 what will you found the idea of justice or injustice , it may be said, if not upon what is useful or hurtful to the greater number ? Justice, as to individuals, consists in the sacrifice of themselves to their families ; as to families, in their sacrifice to the state ; as to the state, in the respect for certain un changeable principles which constitute the happiness and the safety of the human species. Doubtless, the majority of the generations of men , in the course of ages, will find their account in having followed the path of justice ; but, in order to be truly and religiously honest, we ought always to keep in view the worship of moral beauty, independently of all the circumstances which may result from it. Utility is neces sarily modified by events ; virtue , ought never to be liable to this influence. 186 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER XIII. Of the moral System , founded upon national Interest. Not only does the moral system founded upon ersonal interest introduce into the mutual relations of individuals calculations of pru dence and selfishness, which banish sympathy, confidence, and generosity ; but the morals of public men, of those who act in the name of nations, must necessarily be perverted by this system . If it is true that the morals of individuals may be founded upon their in terest, it is because the entire society tends to order, and punishes those who violate it ; but a nation , and especially a powerful state, is an isolated existence, to which the laws of reciprocity cannot be applied. It may be said , with truth , that at the end of a certain num ber of years unjust nations yield to the ha tred which their injustice inspires ; but se veral generations may pass away before these great crimes are punished ; and I know not how we could convince a statesman, a OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 187 - under all circumstances, that an action , blameable in itself, is not useful, and that political wisdom and morality are ever in ac cord :-this point, therefore, is not proved ; and, on the contrary, it is almost a received axiom, that the two objects cannot be united. Nevertheless, what would become of the human race if morality was nothing but an old woman's tale, invented to console the weak, until they become stronger ? How should it be honoured in the private relations of life , if the government, upon which all turn their eyes, is allowed to dispense with it ? and how should this not be allowed, if interest is the foundation of morals ? No body can deny that there are contingencies, in which those great masses called empires ( those great masses which are in a state of nature with relation to each other) find a mo mentary advantage in committing an act of injustice ; and what is momentary with re gard to nations, is often a whole age. Kant, in his writings on political morality, shows, with the greatest force, that no ex ception can be admitted in the code of duty. In short, when we rely upon circumstances for the justification of an immoral action , 188 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. upon what principle can we stop at this or that point ? Would not the more impetuous of our ' natural passions be of much greater power than the calculations of reason, if we admitted public or private interest as an ex cuse for injustice ? When, at the most bloody æra of the Re volution , they wished to authorize all crimes, they gave their government the name of the Committee of Public Safety -- this was to il lustrate the received maxim, that the safety of the people is the supreme law-the su preme law is justice. When it shall be proved that the earthly interests of a nation may be promoted by an act of meanness or of injus tice, we shall still be equallyvile and criminal in committing it ; for the integrity of moral principles is of more consequence than the interests of nations. " Individuals, and so cieties, are answerable, in the first place, for thatdivine inheritance'which ought to be transmitted to the successive generations of mankind. Loftiness of mind, ' generosity, equity, every magnanimous sentiment, in a word , ought first to be préserved, at our own expense, and even at the expense of others ; since they, as well as we, are bound to sacrifice themselves to their sentiments. OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 189 Injustice always sacrifices one portion of society to another. According to what arithmetical calculation is this sacrifice en joined ? Can the majority dispose of the minority, if the former only exceeds, the latter by a few voices ? The membersof one and the same family, a company of mer chants, nobles, ecclesiastics, whatever may be their numbers, have, not the right of saying that every thing ought to yield to their several interests : but when any as sembly of men, let it be as inconsiderable as that of the Romans in their origin ; when this assembly, I say, calls itself a nation , then it should be allowed to do any thing for its own advantage ! This term Nation would thus become synonymous with that of Legion, which the deyil assumes in the Gospel ; but there is no more reason for giving up the ob ligations of duty for the sake of a nation, than for that of any other collective body of It is not the number of individuals which constitutes their importance in a moral point of view . When an innocent person dies on the scaffold , whole generations attend to his misfortune; while thousands: perish in a battle without any inquiry after their fate. Whence arises this astonishing dif . men. 190 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. ference which men make between an act of injustice committed against an individual, and the death of numbers ? The cause is, the importance which all attach to the moral law ; it is of a thousand times more con sequence than physical life in the universe , and in the soul of each of us, which also is itself an universe. If we make morality only a calculation of prudence and wisdom, a species of econo mical management, there is something like energy in not wishing to possess it . A sort of ridicule attaches to persons of condition , who still maintain what are called romantic maxims, fidelity in our engagements, respect for the rights of individuals, &c . We forgive these scruples in the case of individuals who are independent enough to be dupes at their own expense ; but when we consider those who direct the affairs of nations, there are circumstances in which they may be blamed for being just, and have their integrity ob jected to them ; for if private morals are founded upon personal interest, there is much more reason for public morals to be founded upon national interest; and these morals, upon occasion, may make a duty of the greatest crimes : so easy is it to reduce to an OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 191 66 a absurdity whatever wanders from the simple grounds of truth . Rousseau said , “ that it was not allowable for a nation to purchase " the most desirable revolution with the “ blood of one innocent person : ” these simple words comprehend all that is true, sacred , divine, in the destiny of man. It assuredly was not for the advantages of this life, to secure some additional enjoyments to some days of existence, and to delay a little the death of some dying creatures, that conscience and religion were bestowed upon man. It was for this ; that beings in posses sion of free will might choose justice, and sacrifice utility; might prefer the future to the present , the invisible to the visible, and the dignity of the human species to the mere preservation of individuals . Individuals are virtuous when they sacri fice their private interest to the general good ; but governments, in their turn , are indivi duals, who ought to sacrifice their personal advantages to the law of duty : if the morals of statesmen were only founded on the public good, their morals might lead them into sin , if not always, at least sometimes ; and a single justified exception would be sufficient to annihilate all the morality in 192 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. .
the world ; for all true principles are absolute : if two and two do not make four, the deepest algebraic computations are absurd ; and if, in theory, there is a single case in which a man ought not to do his duty, every philoso phical and religious maxim is overturned , and nothing remains but prudence or hy pocrisy. Let me be permitted to adducethe example of my father, since it is directly applicable to the point in question . It has been often repeated, that M. Necker was ignorant of human nature , because on many occasions he refused to avail himself of means of cor ruption or violence, the advantages of which were believed to be certain . I may venture to say, that nobody can read the works of M. Necker, entitled , “ The History of the “ French Revolution ," 66 The Executive “ Power in great Governments," & c . without finding in them enlightened views of the hu man heart ; and I shall not be contradicted by any of those who have lived in intimacy with M. Necker, when I assert, that, not withstanding his admirable goodness of dis position , he had to guard himself against a too lively talent'for ridicule, and rather a severe mode of estimating mediocrity 1 - OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 193 of mind and soul : what he has written upon the “ Happiness of Fools” appears to me enough to prove it . In a word,, as ,, in addition to all these qualities, he was emi nently a man of wit, nobody surpassed him in the delicate and profound knowledge of those with whom he was connected ; but he was determined, by a decision of his con science, never to shrink from any conse quences whatever, which might result from an obedience to the commands of duty. We inay judge differently concerning the events of the French Revolution ; but I believe it to be impossible for an impartial observer to deny that such a principle, generally adopted, would have saved France from the misfor tunes under which she has groaned, and from , what is still worse, the example which she has displayed . During the most fatal epochs of the reign of terror, many honest men accepted offices in the administration , and even in the cri minal tribunals, either to do good, or to dimi nish the evil which was committed in them ; and all defended themselves by a mode of reasoning very generally received -- that they prevented a villain from occupying the place they filled, and thus rendered service to the VOL. 111 . 0 194 PHILOSOPHY AND MORÁLS . 拿 1 oppressed . To allow ourselves the use of bad means for an end which we believe to be good , is a maxim of conduct singularly vi cious in its principle, Men know nothing of the future, nothing of themselves with re spect to the morrow ; in every circumstance, and at every moment, duty is imperative, and the calculations of wisdom, as to conse quences which it may foresee, ought to be of no account in the estimate of duty. What right have those who were the instru ments of a seditious authority to keep the title of honest men , because they coinmitted tinjust actions in a gentle manner ? Rude ness in the execution of injustice would have been much better, for the difficulty of sup Cortina it would have increased ; and the most mischievous of all alliances is that of a sanguinary decree and a polite executioner. The benevolence we may exercise in de tail is no coinpensation for the evil which we cause by lending the support of our'names to the party that uses them. We'ought to pro fess the worship of virtue upon earth, in order that not only our contemporaries, but our posterity, may feel its " iúfluence . The ascendency of a brave example endures many years after the objects of a transitorý charity OF THE MORAL SYSTEM , &c. 195 66 have ceased to exist. The most important lesson that we can inculcate into man in this world, and particularly with relation to pub lic affairs, is, not to compromise duty for any consideration . “ When we set about bargaining with cir “ cumstances, all is lost ; for there is nobody " who cannot plead this excuse. One has a $ wife, children, or nephews, who are in need “ of fortunes ; others want active employ ment; or allege I know not what virtuous pretexts, which all lead to the necessity of “ their having a place, to which money and power are attached. Are we not weary of these subterfuges, of wbich the Revolution “ furnished incessant examples ? We met none but persons who complained of having been forced to quit the repose they “ preferred to every thing — that domestic life “ into which they were impatient to return; " and we were well aware , that these very “ persons bad employed their days and nights “ in praying that they might be obliged to “ devote their days and nights to public “ affairs, which could have entirely dispensed “ with their services * . " which gave * This is thepassage greatest offence to the Literary Police . o 2 196 PHILOSOPUY AND MORALS, 3 The ancient lawgivers made it a duty for the citizens to be concerned in political in terests . The Christian religion ought to in spire a disposition of entirely another nature ; that of obeying authority, but of keeping ourselves detached from the affairs of state, when they may compromise our conscience. The difference which exists between the an cient and modern governments explains this opposite manner of considering the relations of men towards their country. The political science of the ancients was intimately united with their religion and morals ; the social state was a body full of life. Every individual considered himself as one of its members. The smallness of states, the number of slaves, which still further contracted that of the citizens, all made it a duty to act for a country which had need of every one of its children. Magistrates, war riors, artists, philosophers, almost the gods themselves, mingled together upon the pub lic arena ; and the same men by turns gained a batile , exhibited a masterpiece of art, gave laws to their country, or endeavoured to dis cover the laws of the universe. If we make an exception of the very small number of free governments, the greatness OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 197 of modern states, and the concentration of monarchical power, have rendered politics entirely negative, if we may so express our selves. The business is, to prevent one per son from annoying another ';; and government is charged with the high sort of police, which permits every one to enjoy the advantages of peace and social order, while he purchases this security by reasonable sacrifices. The divine Lawgiver of mankind , therefore, en joined that morality which was most adapted to the situation of the world under the Roman empire, when he laid down as a law the pay ment of tributes, and submission to govern ment in all that duty does not forbid ; but he also recommended a life of privacy in the strongest manner . Men who are ever desirous of theorizing their peculiar inclinations, adroitly confound ancient and Christian morals. It is neces sary, they say like the ancients), to serve our country, and to be useful citizens in the state'; it is necessary , they say (like the Christians), to submit ourselves to power established by the will of God. It is thus that a mixture of the system of quietness with that of action produces a double im morality ; when, taken singly, they had 198 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. both claims to respect. The activity of the Greek and Roman citizens, such as it could be exercised in a republic, was a noble virtue . The force of Christian quietness is also a virtue, and one of great power: ; for Chris tianity , which is accused of weakness, is in vincible in its own spirit, that is to say , in the. energy of refusal. But the tricking self isbness of ambitious men teaches them the art of combining opposite arguments ; so that they can meddle with every thing like Pagans, and submit to every thing like Christians. “ The universe, my friend , regards not thee," is, however, what we may say to all the universe, phænomena excepted . It would be a truly ridiculous vanity to assign as a motive for political activity in all cases, the pretext of that service which we may render our country, This sort of usefulness is hardly ever more than a pompous name, which covers personal interest. The art of sophists has always been to oppose one duty to another. We inces santly imagine circumstances in which this frightful perplexity may exist. The greater part of dramatic fictions are founded upon it. OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, &c. 199 66 Yet real life is more simple ; we there free quently see virtues opposed to interests ; but perhaps it is true, that no honest man could ever doubt, on any occasion, what his duty enjoined . The voice of conscience is so delicate, that it is easy to stifle it ; but it is so clear, that it is impossible to mis take it. Ą known maxim contains, under a simple form , all the theory of morals. “ Do what you ought, happen what will .” When we decide, on the contrary, that the probity of a public man consists in sacrificing every thing to the temporal advantages of his nation , then many occasions may be found, in which we may become immoral by our morality. This sophism is as contradictory in its substance as in its form : this would be to treat virtue as a conjectural science, and as entirely submitted to circumstances its application. May God guard the hu man heart from such a responsibility ! the light of our understanding is too uncertain , to enable us to judge of the moment when the eternal laws of duty may be suspended ; or, rather, this moment does not exist. If it was once generally acknowledged, that national interest itself ought to be in 200 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. subordinate to those nobler thoughts which constitute virtue, how would the conscien- : tious man be at his ease ! how would every thing in politics appear clear to him, when, before, a continual hesitation made him tremble at every step ! It is this very hesi tation which has caused honest men to be : thought incapable of state - affairs ; they have been accused of pusillanimity, of weakness, of fear ; and , on the contrary, those who have carelessly sacrificed the weak to the powerful, and their scruples to their interests, have been called men of an energetic nature. It is , however, an easy. energy which tends to our own advantage ; or, at least, to that of the ruling faction ; for every thing that is done according to the sense of the multi tude invariably partakes of weakness, let it appear ever so violent. The race of men , with a loud voice, demand the sacrifice of every thing to their interest ;; and finish by compromising this interest from the very wish for such a sacri fice : but it should now be inculcated into them, that their happiness itself, which has been made so general a pretext, is not sacred, excepting in its compatibility with morals ; for, without morals, of what conse OF THE MORAL SYSTEM, & c . 2014 quence would the whole body be to each individual ? When once we have said that morals ought to be sacrificed to national in terest, we are very liable to contract the sense of the word Nation from day to day, and to make it signify at first our own par tisans, then our friends, and then our fa mily ; which is but a decent synonyme for ourselves. 4
- $ ' } . 1
902 PHILOSOPHYAND MORALS. ، و Z 1 CHAPTER XIV. Of the Principle of Morals ' in the new German Philosophy. The ideal philosophy has a tendency, from its very nature, to refute the moral system , founded upon individual or national interest: it does not allow temporal happiness to be the end of our existence ; and, referring every thing to the life of the soul , it is to the exercise of the will , and of virtue, that it at taches our thoughts and actions . The works which Kant has written upon morals have a reputation at least equal to those which he has composed upon metaphysics. Two distinct inclinations, he says, appear manifest in man : personal interest, which he derives from the attraction of his sensa tions ; and universal justice, which arises from his relations to the human race , and to the Divinity : between these two impulses Conscience decides ; she resembles Minerva, who made the balance incline, when the votes were equal in the Areopagus. Have OF THE PRINCIPLE OP MORALS . 208 pot the most opposite opinions facts for their support ? Would not “ the for” and “ the against” be equally irue, if Conscience did not carry with her the supreme certainty ? Man, who is placed between visible and almost equal arguments, which direct the circumstances of his life in favour of good or evil ; man has received from Heaven the sentiment of duty, to decide his choice . Kant endeavours to demonstrate that this sentiment is the necessary condition of our moral being ; the truth which precedes all those, the knowledge of which is acquired by life. Can it be denied that conscience has more dignity, when we believe it to be an innate power, than when we consider it in the light of a faculty acquired, like all others, by experience and habit ? And it is in this point, especially, that the ideal me taphysics exert a great influence over the moral conduct of nian : they attribute the same primitive force to the notion of duty as to that of space and time ; and, considering them both as inherent in our pature, they admit no more doubt of one than of the other. All our esteem for ourselves and for others ought to be founded bn the relations which 204 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS: exist between our actions and the law of duty ; this law depends, in no case, on the desire of happiness ; on the contrary, it is often summoned to combat that desire. Kant goes still farther' ; he affirins, that the first effect of the power of virtue is to cause a noble pain by the sacrifices which it demands. The destination of man upon this earth is not happiness, but the advance towards moral perfection. It is in vain that, by a childish play of words, this improvement is called happiness ; we clearly feel the dif ference between enjoyments and sacrifices ; and if language was to adopt the same terms for such discordant ideas, our natural judg ment would reject the deception. It has been often said, that human nature had a tendency towards happiness : this is its involuntary instinct ; but the instinct of reflection is virtue. By giving man very little influence over his own happiness, and means of improvement without number, the in tention of the Creator was surely not to make the object of our lives an almost unat tainable end. Devote all your powers to the attainment of happiness ; control your character, if you can , to such a degree as not to feel those wandering desires, which OF THE . PRINCIPLE OF MORALS. 205 > . nothing can satisfy ; and, in spite of all these wise arrangements of self -love, you will be afflicted with disorders, you will be ruined , you will be imprisoned, and all the edifice of your selfish cares will be overturned . It may be replied to this—“ I will be so circumspect, that I will not have any ene 6 mies. " Let it be so ; you will not have to reproach yourself with any acts ofI gene rous imprudence; but sometimes we have seen the least courageous among the perse cuted . “ I will manage my fortune so well , “ that I will preserve it .” - I believe it ;-but there are universal disasters , which do not spare even those whose principle has been never to expose themselves for others ; and illness, and accidents of every kind, dispose of our condition in spite of ourselves. How then should happiness be the end of our moral liberty in this short life ; happiness, which chance, suffering, old age, and death , put out of our power ? The case is not the same with moral improvement ; every day, every hour, every minute, may contribute to it ; all fortunate and unfortunate events equally assist it ; and this work depends en tirely on ourselves, whatever may be our situation upon earth.
1 6 206 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . ' The moral system of Kant and Fichte is very analogous to that of the Stoics ; but the Stoics allowed more to the ascendency of natural qualities ; the Roman pride is disco verable in their manner of estimating man kind. The disciples of Kant believe in the necessary and continual action of the will against evil inclinations. They tolerate no exceptions in our obedience to duty, and re ject all excuses which can act as motives to such exceptions. The theory of Kant concerning veracity is an example of this ; he rightly considers it as the basis of all morality. When the Son of God called himself the Logos, or the Word , perhaps he wished to do honour to that ad mirable faculty in language of revealing what we think. Kant has carried his respect for truth so far, as not to permit a violation of it, even if a villain came and demanded , whether your friend, whom he pursued, was hidden in your house. He pretends, that we ought never to allow ourselves, in any particular instance, to do that which would be inadmissible as a general law ; but, on this occasion, he forgets that we may make a general law of not sacrificing truth, excepting to another virtue ;; for, as soon as OF THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALS. 207 4 personal interest is removed from a question , we need 'not fear sophisms, and conscience pronounces with equity upon all things . The theory of Kant in morals is severe, and sometimes dry ; for it excludes ' sensibi lity. He regards'it as a reflex act of sensa tion , and as certain to lead to passions in which there is always a mixture of selfish ness ; it is on this account that he does not admit sensibility for à guide, and that he places morals under the safeguard of un changeable principles. There is nothing more sevérethan this doctrine; butthere is a severity which softens us, even when it treats the im pulses of the heart as objects ofsuspicion, and endeavours to banish them all : however ri gorous amoralist ' may be, when he addresses our conscience, he is sure to touch us . He who says to man - Find every thing in your self - always raises up in the soul some noble object, which is connected with that very sensibility whose sacrifice it demands. In studying the philosophy of Kant, we must distinguish sentiment from sensibility ; he admits the former as the judge of philoso phical truth ; he considers the latter as pro perly subject to the conscience. Sentiment and conscience are terms employed almost 208 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. as synonymes in his writings ; hut sensibility approaches much nearer to the sphere of emotions, and consequently to that of the passions, which they originate. We cannot grow weary of admiring those writings of Kant, in which the supreme law of duty is held up as sacred : what genuine warmth , what animated eloquence, upon a subject, where the only ordinary endeavour is restraint ! We feel penetrated with a profound respect for the austerity of an aged philosopher, constantly submitted to the in visible power of virtue, which has no em pire but that of conscience, no arms but those of remorse ; no treasures to distribute but the inward enjoyments of the soul ; the hope of which cannot be offered as a motive for their attainment, because they are incom prehensible until they are experienced . Among the German philosophers, some men of virtue, not inferior to Kant, and who approach nearer to religion in their in clinations, have attributed the origin of the moral law to religious sentiment. This sentiment cannot be of the nature of those which may grow into passions. Seneca has depicted its calmness and profundity, by saying, “ In the bosom of the virtuous man ! OF THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALS. 209 ) " know not what God, but a God has ha “ bitation . " ; Kant pretended , that it was to impair the disinterested purity of morals, to present the perspective of a future life, as the end of our actions : many German writers have completely refuted him on this point . In effect, the immortality of heaven has no relation to the rewards and punishments, of which.. we form an idea on this earth . The sentiment which makes us aspire to iminor tality is as disinterested as that which makes us find our happiness in devoting ourselves to the happiness of others ; for the first offering to religious felicity is the sacrifice of self ; and it is thus necessarily removed from every species of selfishness. Whatever we may attempt, we must return to the ac knowledgment, that religion is the true foundation of morality ; it is that sensible and real object within us, which can alone divert our attention from external objects. If piety did not excite sublime emotions, who would sacrifice even sensual pleasures, how ever vulgar they might be, to the cold dignity of reason ? We must begin the internal history of man with religion, or with sensa tion ; for there is nothing animated besides. VOL. III . P 210 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS, The moral system , founded upon personal in terest, would be as evident as a mathematical truth , were it not for its exercising more control over the passions which overturn all calculations : nothing but a sentiment can triumph over a sentiment ; the violence of nature can only be conquered by its exalta , tion . Reasoning, in such a case, is like the schoolmaster in Fontaine ; nobody listens to him , and all the world is crying out for help. Jacobi, as I shall show in the analysis of his works, has opposed the arguments which Kant uses, in order to avoid the admission of religious sentiment as the basis of mora lity. He believes, on the contrary, that the Divinity reveals himself to every man in particular, as he revealed himself to the human race, when prayers and works have prepared the heart to comprehend him . Another philosopher asserts, that immorta, lity already commences upon this earth, for him who desires and feels in himself the taste for eternal things : another affirms, that nature forces man to understand the will of God ; and that there is in the uni verse a groaning and imprisoned voice, which invites us to deliver the world and ourselves, by combating the principle of evil, OF THE PRINCIPLE OF MORALS. 211 under all its fatal appearances. These dif, ferent systems are influenced by the imagina tion of each writer, and are adopted by those who sympathize with him ; but the general direction of these opinions is ever the same; to free the soul from the influence of external objects ; to place the empire of ourselves within us ; and to make duty the law ofthis empire, and its hope another life , Without doubt, the true Christians have taught the same doctrine at all periods ; but what distinguishes the new German school, is their uniting to all these sentiments, which they suppose to be equally inherited by the simple and ignorant, the highest philosophy and the most precise species of knowledge. The æra of pride had arrived , in which we were told , that reason and the sciences destroyed all the prospects of ima gination, all the terrors of conscience, every belief of the heart ; and we blushed for the half of our nature which was declared weak and almost foolish . But men have made their appearance, who, by dint of thinking, have found out the theory of all natural impres sions ; and, far from wishing to stifle them, they have discovered to us the noble source from which they spring. The German mo P 212 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. ralists have raised up sentiment and enthu siasm from the contempt of a tyrannical species of reason , which counted as gain only what is destroyed, and placed man and nature on the bed of Procrustes, that every part of them might be cut off, which the philosophy of materialism could not under stand. OF SCIENTIFIC MORALITY , 213 夏 CHAPTER XV. Of scientific Morality. Since the taste for the exact sciences has taken hold of men's minds, they have wished to prove every thing by demonstration ; and the calculation of probabilities allowing them to reduce even what is uncertain to rules, they have flattered themselves that they could resolve mathematically all the difficul ties offered by the nicest questions ; and ex tend the dominion of algebra over the uni verse . Some philosophers, in Germany, have also pretended to give to morality the ad vantages of a science rigorously proved in its principles as well as in its consequences, and not admitting either of objection or exception, if the first basis of it be adopted . Kant and Fichte have attempted thismetaphysical , labour, and Schleiermacher, the translator of Plato , and the author of several religious treatises, of which we shall speak in the next section , has published a very deep book, on the examination of different systems of . 214 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. morality considered as a science. He wished to find out one, all the reasonings of which should be perfectly linked together, in which the principle should involve all the conse quences, and every consequence reproduce the principle ; but, at present, it does not appear that this object is attainable . The ancients also were desirous of making á science of morality, but they included in that science laws and government: in fact, it is impossible to determine beforehand all the duties of life, when we do not know what may be required by the laws and man ners of the country in which we are placed ; it is in this point of view that Plato has imagined his republic. Man altogether is, in that work , considered in relation to re ligion, to politics, and to morality ; but, ás that republic could not exist, one cannot conceive how , in the midst of the abuses of human society , a code of morality, such as that would bey could supply the habitual interpretation of consciences :Philosophers aim at the scientific form in all things; obe should say , they flatter themselves that they shall thus chain downi the future , and withdraw themselves entirely from the yoke of circumstances but what frees,us from 1 + 1 OF SCIENTIFIC MORALITY. 215 . them , is, the soul ; the sincerity of our in ward love of virtue. The science of morality can no more teach us to be honest men , in - al! the magnificence of that expression, than geometry to draw, or literary rules to invent. Kant, who had admitted the necessity of sentiment in metaphysical truths, 'was will ing to dispense with it in morality, and he was never able to establish incontestably more than this one great fact of the human heart, that morality has duty , and not in terest, for its basis ; but to understand duty, conscience and religion mustbe our teachers. Kant, in separating religion from the motives of morality, could only see in conscience a judge, and not a divine voice, and therefore he has been incessantly presenting to that judge points of difficulty ; the solutions of them which he has given, and which he thought evident, have been attacked in a thousand ways ; for it is by sentiment alone that we ever arrive at unanimity of opinioni amongst men. Some German philosophers, perceiving the impossibility of reducing into law all the affections of which our nature is composed, and of making a science, as it were, of all the emotions of the heart, have contented 216 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . a themselves with affirming, that morality con sists in a feeling of harmony within ourselves.. Undoubtedly, when we feel po remorse , it is probable we are not criminal ; and even when we may have committed what are faults according to the opinions of others, if we have done our duty according to our own opinion, we are not guilty ; but we must nevertheless be cautious in relying on this self- satisfaction, which ought, it should seem , to be the best proof of virtue. There are men who have brought themselves to take their own pride for conscience ; fanaticism , in others, is a disinterested me dium , which justifies every thing in their eyes ; and in some characters, the habit of committing crimes gives a kind of strength , which frees them from repentance, at least as long as they are untouched by misfor tune. It does not follow from this impossibility of discovering a science in morality, or any universal signs, by which to know whether its precepts are observed , that there are not some positive duties which may serve as our guides ; but as there are in the destiny of man both necessity and liberty, so, in his conduct, there ought to be inspiration and OF SOIENTIFIC MORALITY. 217 A method . Nothing that belongs to virtue can be either altogether arbitrary, or altogether fixed : thus, it is one of the miracles of reli gion, that it unites, in the same degree, the exultation of love and submission to the law ; thus the heart of man is at once satisfied and directed . I shall not here give an account of all the systems of scientific morality which have been published in Germany ; there are some of thein so refined, that, although treating of our own nature, one does not know on what to rest for the conception of them . The . French philosophers have rendered morality singularly dry , by referring every thing to self-interest. Some German metaphysicians have arrived at the same result, by, never theless building all their doctrines on sacri fices. Neither systems of materialism , nor those of abstraction , can give a complete idea of virtue. + 1 218 PHILOSOPIIY AND MORALS.
CHAPTER XVI. Jacobi. It would be difficult in any country to nieet with a man of letters of a more distinguished nature than Jacobi : with every advantage of person and fortune , he devoted himself, from his youth, during forty years, to meditation. Philosophy is ordinarily a consolation or an asylum ; but he who makes choice of it when circumstances concur to promise him great success in the world, is the more worthy of respect. Led by his character to acknow ledge the power of sentiment, Jacobi bua sied himself with abstract ideas, principally to show their insufficiency. His writings on metaphysics are much esteemed in Germany; yet it is chiefly as a great moralist that his reputation is universal. He was the first who attacked morality founded on interest ; and, by assigning as the principle of his own system, religious sentiment considered philosophically, he has created a doctrine distinct from that of Kant, JACOBI. 219
who refers every thing to the inflexible law ‘ of duty, and from that of the new metaphy sicians , who aim , as I have just said , at applying the strictness of science to the theory of virtue. Schiller, in an epigram' against Kant's system of morality, says, s I take pleasure « in serving my friends; it is agreeable to me to perform my duty ; that makes me uneasy, for then I am not virtuous . " This pleasantry carries with it a deep sense ; for, although happiness ought never to be our object in fulfilling our duty, yet the inward satisfaction which it affords us is precisely what may be called the beatitude of virtue. This word Beatitude has lost something of its dignity : it must, however, be recurred to, for it is necessary to express that kind of impression which makes us sacrifice hap piness, or at least pleasure, to a gentler and a pürer state of mind. In fact, if sentiment does not second mo rality , how would the latter make itself respected ? How could reason and win be afited together, if notby sentiment, when the will has to control the passions ? A German philosopher has said, that " there is no philo * sophy : but the Christian religion ;" and $ cor 1 220 PHILOSOPHY, AND MORALS . certainly he did not so express himself to ex, clude philosophy, but because he was con- · vinced that the highest and the deepest ideas led to the discovery of the singular agree ment between that religion and the nature of man. Between these two classes ofmoralists, that which with Kant, and others still more abstracted, refers all the actions of morality to immutable precepts, and that which with Jacobi declares, that every thing is to be left to the decision of sentiment, Christianity seems to show the wonderful point, at which , the positive law has not excluded the inspi ration of the heart, nor that inspiration the positive law. Jacobi, who has so much reason to confide in the purity of his conscience, was wrong to lay down as a principle that we should yield entirely to wbatever the motions of our mind may suggest. The dryness of some intolerant writers, who admit no modification or in dulgence in the application of some precepts, has driven Jacobi into the contrary excess. When the French moralists are severe , they are so to a degree, which destroys in dividual character in man ; it is the spirit of the nation to love authority in every thing. The German philosophers, and Jacobi above JACOBI.C? ::: 221 3 all, respect what constitutes the particular existence ofevery being, and judge of actions by their source, that is to say, according to the good or bad impulse which causes them . There are a thousand ways of being a very bad man , without offending against any re ceived law, as a detestable tragedy 'may be written , without any neglect of theatrical rules and effect. When the soul has no na tural spring, it seeks to know what ought to be said , and what ought to be done, in every circumstance, that it may be acquitted towards itself, and towards others, by sub mitting to what is ordained. The law, how ever, in morality , as in poetry, can only teach what ought not to be done ; but, in all things, what is good and sublime, is only revealed to us by the divinity of our heart. Public utility , as I have explained it in the preceding chapter, might lead us to be im moral by morality. In the relations of pri vate life, on the contrary, it may sometimes happen, that a conduct which is perfect ac cording to worldly estimation, may proceed from a bad principle ; that is to say, may belong to something dry, malicious, and un charitable. Natural passions and superior talents are displeasing to those men who are 2 229 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS, 集 top easily dignified with the name of severe ; they avail themselves of their morality, which they say comes from God, as an enemy would take the sword of a father to destroy bis children . At the same time Jacobi's aversion to the inflexible rigour of law, leads him too far in freeing himself from it. Yes," says he, “ Į would be a liar like the dying Desde mona * ; I would deceive like Orestes, $ when he wished to die instead of Pylades ; “ I would be an assassin like Timoleon ; per “ jured like Epaminondasand Johọ de Witt ; " I could resolve to commit suicide like Cato ; or sacrilege like David ; for I have an assurance within me, that in pardoning 6.these things, which are crimes according “ to the letter, man exercises the sovereigó right which the majesty of his nature con “ fers upon him ; fixes the seal ofhis dignity, 6 the seal of his divine nature, to the pardon which beh grants. If you would establish a system universal 4 and strictly scientific, you must submit " conscience to that system which has pes 66 Desdemona, in order to save her husband from the disa grace and danger of the crime he has just committed , declares, as she is dying, that she has killed herself, Base JACOBI. 223 3 66 trified life : that conscience must become “ deaf, dumb, and insensible ; even the ^ smallest remains ofits raot ( that is, of the " human heart) must be torn up. Yes, as truly as your metaphysical forms fill the " place of Apollo and the Muses, it is only by imposing silence on your heart thatyou will be able implicitly to conform to laws “ without exception, and that you will adopt - the hard and servile obedience which they “ demapd; thus conscience will only serve 6.to teach you , like a professor in his chair, " the truth that is without you ; and this “$ inward light will soon be no more than a finger- post set up on the highway to direct “ travellers on their journey." Jacobi is so well guided by his own sen timents, that perhaps he has not sufficiently reflected on the consequences of this morality to ordinary men ; for what answer could be given to those whoshould pretend, in depart ing from duty, that they obey the sugges tions of their conscience ? Undoubtedly, we may discover that they are hypocrites who speak thus ; but we have furnished them with an argument which will serve to justify them, whatever they may do ; and it is a great thing for men to have 66 3 224 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . phrases to repeat in favour of their conduct : they make use of them at first to deceive others, and end with deceiving themselves. Will it be said that this independent doc trine can only suit characters which are truly virtuous ? There ought to be no privileges even for Virtue; for from the moment she desires them , it is probable she ceases to deserve them . · A sublime equality reigns in the empire of duty, and something passes at the bottom of the human heart which gives to every man, when he sincerely desires it , the means of performing all that enthusiasm inspires, without transgressing the limits of the Christian law, which is also the work of an holy enthusiasm. The doctrine of Kant may in effect be considered as too dry, because it does not attribute sufficient influence to religion ; but it is not surprising that he should have been inclined not to make sentiment the base of his morality, at a time when there was so widely diffused, and especially in Germany, an affectation ofsensibility, which necessarily weakened the spring of minds and characters. A genius like Kant's should have for its object, to give a new dye to the mind. The German moralists of the new school, JACOBI . 225 so pure in their sentiments, to whatever ab stract systems they abandon themselves, may be divided into three classes : those who, like Kant and Fichte, have aimed at giving to the law of duty a scientific theory, and an inflexible application ; those, at the head of whom Jacobi is to be placed, who take reli gious sentiment and natural conscience for their guides; and those who, making revela tion the basis of their belief, endeavour to . unite sentiment and duty, and seek to bind them together by a philosophical interpreta tion . These three classes of moralists equally attack morality founded on self- interest. That morality has now scarcely any partisans in Germany ; evil actions may be done there, but at least the theory of what is right is left untouched, VOL. III . Q 226 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. CHAPTER XVII. Of Woldemar. . The romance of Woldemar is the work of the same philosopher, Jacobi, of whom I havë spoken in the last chapter. This work contains philosophical discussions, in which the systems of morality. professed by the French writers are warmıly attacked, and the doctrine of Jacobi is explained in it with ad mirable eloquence. In that respect Wolde mar is a very fine book ; but as a novel I neither like the conduct nor the end of it. The author, who , as a philosopher, refers all human destiny to sentiment, describes in his work, as it appears to me,, sensibility differ ently from what it is in fact. An exagge rated delicacy, or rather a whimsical manner of considering the human heart, may interest in theory, but not when it is put in action, and thus attempted to be made soniething real. Woldemar feels a warın friendship for a person who will not marry him, although she partakes of his feeling : he marries a : WOLDEMAR. 227 woman he does not love, because he thinks he has found in her a submissive and gentle character, which is proper for marriage. Scarcely has he married her, when he is on the point of giving himself up to the love he feels for the other.' She, who would not be united to him , still loves him, but she revolts at the idea that it is possible for him to love her ; and yet she desires to live near him, to take care of his children , to treat his wife as her sister, and only to know the affections of nature by the sympathy of friendship. It is thus that a piece of Goëthe, much boasted of, Stella, finishes with a reso lution taken by two women, bound by sacred ties to the same man, to live with him in good understanding with each other. Such inventions only succeed in Germany, because in that country there is frequently more imagination than sensibility. Southern souls would understand nothing of this heroism ofsentiment ; passion is devoted, but jealous; and that pretended delicacy, which sacri fices love to friendship , without the injunc tions of duty, is nothing but an affected coldness. All this generosity at the expense of love is merely an artificial system. We must not Q 2 228 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. . 3 admit toleration, or rivality, into a sentiment which is then only sublime, when , like ma, ternal and filial tenderness, it is exclusive and all-powerful. We ought not, by our own choice, to place ourselves in a situation where morals and sensibility are not of one accord ; for what is involuntary is so beau tiful , that it is alarming to be condemned to give orders to ourselves in all our actions, and to live as if we were our own victims. It is , assuredly , neither from hypocrisy, por from dryness of character, that a writer of real and excellent genius has imagined , in the novel of Woldemar, situations in which every personage sacrifices sentiment by means of sentiment, and anxiously seeks a reason for not loving what he loves. But Jacobi, who had felt from his youth a lively inclina tion towards every species ofenthusiasm, has here sought out for a romantic mysterious ness in the attachments of the heart, which is very ingeniously described, but is quite foreign to nature. It seems to me that Jacobi understands religion better than love, for he is too de sirous of confounding them. It is not true that love, like religion, can find all its happiness in the renunciation of happiness WOLDEMAR. 229 itself. We change the idea that we ought to entertain of virtue, when we make it con sist in a sort of exalted feeling which has no object, and in sacrifices for which there is no necessity. All the characters in Jacobi's novel are continually tilting with their gene rosity against their love :-not only is this unlike what happens in life, but it has no moral beauty when virtue does not require it ; for strong and passionate feelings honour human nature ; and religion is so impressive as it is, precisely because it can triumph over such feelings. Would it have been necessary for God himself to condescend to address the human heart, if there were only found in that heart some cold and grace ful affections which it would be so easy to renounce ? 230 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Of a romantic Bias in the Affections of the Heart.
The English philosophers have founded virtue, as we have said , upon feeling, or rather
upon the moral sense ; but this system has
no connexion with the sentimental morality
of which we are here talking : this morality
(the name and idea of which hardly exist
out of Germany) has nothing philosophical
about it ; it only makes a duty of sensibility,
and leads to the contempt of those who are deficient in that quality.
Doubtless, the power of feeling love is
very closely connected with morality and
religion : it is possible then that our repugnance to cold and hard minds is a sublime
sort of instinct - an instinct which apprizes
us, that such beings, even when their con duct is estimable, act mechanically, or by
calculation ; and that it is impossible for any
sympathy to exist between us and them. In Germany, where it is attempted to reduce all impressions into precepts, every thing has
been deemed immoral which was destitute of sensibility nay , which was not of a romantic character. Werther had brought exalted sentiments so much into fashion, that hardly any body dared to show that he was dry and cold of nature, even when he was condemned to such a nature in reality. From thence arose that forced sort of enthusiasm for the moon, for forests, for the country, and for solitude ; from thence those nervous fits, that affectation in the very voice, those looks which wished to be seen; in a word, all that apparatus of sensibility, which vigorous and sincere minds disdain.
The author of Werther was the first to laugh at these affectations ; but, as ridicu lous practices must be found in all countries, perhaps it is better that they should consist in the somewhat silly exaggeration of what is good, than in the elegant pretension to what is evil. As the desire of success is unconquerable among men , and still more so among women, the pretensions of mediocrity are a certain sign of the ruling taste at such an epoch, and in such a society ; the same persons who displayed their sentimentality in Germany, would have 232 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. elsewhere exbibited a levity and supercilious ness of character. The extreme susceptibility of the German character is one of the great causes of the importance they attach to the least shades of sentiment ; and this susceptibility frequently arises from the truth of the affections. It is easy to be firm when we have no sensibility ; the sole quality which is then necessary is courage ; for a well-regulated severity must begin with self :-- but, when the proofs of interest in our welfare, which others give or refuse us, powerfully influence our happiness, we must have a thousand times more irrita bility in our hearts than those who use their friends as they would an estate, and endea vour solely to make them profitable. At the same time we ought to be on our guard against those codes of subtle and many shaded sentiment, which the German writers have multiplied in such various manners, and with which their romances are filled . The Germans, it must be confessed , are not always perfectly natural. Certain of their own uprightness, of their own sincerity in all the real relations of life, they are tempted to regard the affected love of the beautiful as united to the worship of the good, and to + OF A ROMANTIC BIAS, 233 1 ! indulge themselves, occasionally, in exagge rations of this sort, which spoil every thing. r This rivalship of sensibility, between some German ladies and authors, would at the bottom be innocent enough, if the ridiculous appearance which it gives to affectation did not always throw a kind of discredit upon sincerity itself. Cold and selfish persons find a peculiar pleasure in laughing at passionate affections ; and would wish to make every thing appear artificial which they do not ex perience. There are even persons of true sensibility whom this sugаred sort of exagge ration cloys with their own impressions ; and their feelings become exbausted , as we may exbaust their religion, by tedious sermons and superstitious practices. It is wrong to apply the positive ideas which we have of good and evil to the sub tilties of sensibility. To accuse this or that character of their deficiencies in this respect, is like making it a crime not to be a poet. The natural susceptibility of those ! who think more than they act, may render them unjust to persons of a different description. We must possess p imagination to conjecture all that theheart can make us suffer ; and the best sort of people in the world are often dull 284 PHILOSOPHY, AND MORALS. and stupid in this respect : they march right across our feelings, as if they were treading upon flowers, and wondering that they fade away. Are there not men who have no admiration for Raphael, who hear music without emotion, to whom the ocean and the heavens are but monotonous appearances? How then should they comprehend the tem pests of the soul ? Are not even those who are most endowed with sensibility sometimes discouraged in their hopes ? May they not be overcome by a sort of inward coldness, as if the God head was retiring from their bosoms? They remain not less faithful to their affections; but there is no more incense in the temple, no more music in the sanctuary, no more emo tion in the heart. Often also does misfor tune bid us silence in ourselves this voice of sentiment, harmonious or distracting in its tone, as it agrees, or not, with our destiny. It is then impossible to make a duty of sen sibility ; for those who own it suffer so much from its possession, as frequently to have the right and the desire to subject it to restraint. Nations of ardent character do not talk of sensibility without terror : a peaceable and dreaming people believe they can encourage OF A ROMANTIC . BIAS . 285 . it without alarm . For the rest, it is pos sible, that this subject has never been written upon with perfect sincerity ; for every one wishes to do himself honour by what he feels, or by what he inspires. Women en deavour to set themselves out like a romance ; men like a history ; but the human heart is still far from being penetrated in its most in timate relations. At one time or another, perhaps, somebody will tell us sincerely all he has felt; and we shall be quite astonished at discovering, that the greater part of maxims and observations are erroneous, and that there is an unknown soul at the bottom of that which we have been describing. $ 236 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS, $ 1 CHAPTER XIX. Of Love in Marriage. It is in marriage that sensibility is a duty : in 'every other relation virtue may suffice; but in that in which destinies are inter twined , where the same impulse, so to speak, serves for the beatings of two hearts, it seems that a profound affection is almost a ne cessary tie.. The levity of manners has in troduced so much misery into married life, that the moralists of the last age were ac customed to refer all the enjoyments of the heart to paternal and maternal love ; and ended by almost considering marriage only in the light of a requisite condition for en joying the happiness of having children . This is false in inorals, and still more false with regard to happiness. It is so easy to be good for the sake of our children , that we ought not to makea great merit of it. In their first years they can have no will but that of their parents ; and when they have arrived at youth , they OF LOVE IN MARRIAGE. 237 exist by themselves. Justice and goodness compose the principal duties of a relation which nature makes easy . It is not thus in our connexions with that half of ourselves, who may find happiness or unhappiness in the least of our actions, of our looks, and of our thoughts. It is there alone that mo rality can exert itself in its complete energy ; it is there also that is placed the true source of felicity A friend of the same age, in whose pre sence you are to live and die ; a friend whose every interest is your own ; all whose pro spects are partaken by yourself, including that of the grave : here is a feeling which constitutes all our fate . Sometimes, it is true, our children, and more often our parents, become our companions through life ; but this rare and sublime enjoyment is combated by the laws of nature ; while the marriage-union is in accord with the whole of human existence, Whence comes it , then , that this so holy union is so often profaned ? I will venture to sayit — the cause is, that remarkableinequality which the opinion of society establishes be-, tween the duties of the two parties. Chris tianity has drawn women out of a state that co 238 PHILOSOPHY AND MORAL'S. resembled slavery. Equality, in the sight of God, being the basis of this wondeful re ligion, it has a tendency towards maintain ing the equality of rights upon earth : -di vine justice, the only perfect justice, admits no kind of privilege, and, above all, refuses that of force. Nevertheless, there have been left, by the slavery of woinen , some preju dices, which, combining with the great li berty that society allows them, have occa sioned many evils. It is right to exclude women from politi cal and civil affairs ; nothing is more opposite to their natural destination than all that would bring them into rivalry with men ; and glory itself would be for woman only a splendid mourning-suit for happiness. But, if the destiny of women ought to consist in a continual act of devotion to conjugal love, the recompense of this devotion is the strict faithfulness of him who is its object. Religion makes no distinction between the duties of the two parties ; but the world establishes a wide difference ; and out of this difference grows intrigue in women, and re sentment in men. 2 “ What heart can give itself entirely up,
- Nor wish another heart alike entire ? "
OF LOVE IN MARRIAGE. 239 ) Who then , in good faith, accepts friendship as the price of love ? Who, sincerely, pro mises constancy to voluntary infidelity ? Re ligion, without doubt, can demand it ; for she alone knows the secret of that mysterious land where sacrifices are enjoyments :-but how unjust is the exchange to wliich man endeavours to make his companion submit ! “ I will love you,'” he says, “ passion ately, for two or three years ; ' and then, " at the end of that time, I will talk reason “ to you.” And this, which they call reason, is the disenchantment of life: “ I will show, " in my own house, coldness and weari someness of spirit ; I will try to please else 6.where : but you, who are ordinarily pos “ sessed of more imagination and sensibility “ - than I am ; you , who have nothing to em ploy, nor to distract you, while the world 6 offers me every sort of avocation ; you, “ who only exist for me, while I have a " thousand other thoughts ; you will be sa " - tisfied with that subordinate, icý, divided « affection, which it is convenient to me to grant you ; and you will reject with dis “ dain all the homage which expresses more 66 exalted and more tender sentiments . " How unjust a treaty ! all human feeling 60 66 240. * PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. 3 revolts from it. There is a singular con trast between the forms of respect towards women, which the spirit of chivalry intro duced in Europe, and the tyrannical sort of liberty which men have allotted to them selves, This contrast produces all the mis fortunes of sentiment, unlawful attachments, perfidy, abandonment, and despair. The German nations have been less afflicted than others with these fatal events ; but they ought, upon this point, to fear the influence which is sure to be exerted at length by mo dern civilization . It would be better to shut up women like slaves, neither to rouse their understanding nor their imagination, than to launch them into the middle of the world, and to develope all their faculties, in order to refuse them at last the happiness which those faculties render necessary to then. There is an excess of wretchedness in an unhappy marriage which transcends every other misery in the world . The whole soul of a wife reposes upon the attachment of her husband :-to struggle alone against for tune ; to advance towards the grave without the friend who should regret us ; this is an isolated state, of which the Arabian desert gives but a faint idea :--and , when all the OF LOVE IN MARRIAGE. 241 treasure of your youthful years has been re signed in vain ; when you hope no longer, at the end of life, the reflection of those early rays ; when the twilight has nothing more that can recall the dawn, but is pale and discoloured as the phantom that fore runs the night : -then your heart revolts ; and if you still love the being who treats you as a slave, since he does not belong to you, and yet disposes of you, despair seizes all your faculties, and Conscience herself grows troubled at the intensity of your distress . Women might address those husbands who treat their fate with levity in these lines of the fable : “ Yes ! for you it is but play 6 But it steals lives away.” And until some revolution of ideas shall take place, which changes the opinion of men as to the constancy which the marriage-tie im poses upon them, there will be always war between the two sexes ; secret, eternal, cun ning, perfidious war ; and the morals of both will equally suffer by it . In Germany there is hardly any inequality in marriage between the two sexes ; but it is because the women, as often as the men , break the most holy bonds. The facility of our VOL. III . R 242 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. divorce introduces in family connexions a sort of anarchy which suffers nothing to remain in its proper truth or strength. It would be much better, in order to maintain something sacred upon earth , that there were one slave in marriage, rather than two free- thinkers. Purity of mind and conduct is the first glory of a woman. What a degraded being would she be, deprived of both these qua lities ! But general happiness, and the dig nity of the buman species, would perhaps not gain less by the fidelity of man in mar riage. In a word, what is there more beau tiful in moral order than a young man who respects this sacred tie ? Opinion does not require it of him ; society leaves him free : a sort of savage pleasantry would endeavour to ridicule even the complaints of the heart which he had broken: ; for censure is easily turned upon the sufferer. He then is the master, but he imposes duties on himself ; no disagreeable result can arise to himself from his faults ; but he dreads the evil he may do to her who has intrusted herself to his heart ; and generosity attaches him so much the more, because society dissolves bis attachment. Fidelity is enjoined to women by .a thou OF LOVE IN MARRIAGE. 243 sand different considerations. They may dread the dangers and the disgraces which are the inevitable consequences of one error. The voice of Conscience alone is audible by man ; he knows he causes suffering to an other ; he knows that he is destroying, by his inconstancy, a sentiment which ought to last till death, and to be renewed in heaven : alone with himself, alone in the midst of se ductions of every kind, he remains pure as an angel ; for if angels have not been repre sented under the characters of women, it is because the union of strength and purity is more beautiful, and also more celestial, than even the most perfect modesty itself in a feeble being Imagination, when it has not memory for a bridle, detracts from what we possess, em bellishes what we fear we shall not obtain, and turns sentiment into a conquered diffi culty. But, in the same manner as in the arts, difficulties vanquished do not require real genius ; so in sentiment security is ne cessary, in order to experience those affec tions which are the pledges of eternity, be cause they alone give us an idea of that which cannot come to an end. To the young man who remains faithful, R 2 244 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. every day seems to increase the preference he feels towards her he loves ; nature has be stowed on him unbounded freedom, and for a long time, at least, he never looks forward to evil days : his horse can carry him to the end of the world ; war, when to that he devotes himself, frees him ( at least at the moment) from domestic relations, and seems to reduce all the interest of existence to vic tory or death . The earth is his own, all its pleasures are offered to him ; no fatigue in tiniidates him , no intimate association is ne cessary to him ; he clasps the hand of a com panion in arms, and the only tie he thinks necessary to him is formed . A time will, no doubt, arrive when Destiny will reveal to him her dreadful secrets ; but, as yet, he sus pects them not. Every time that a new ge neration comes into possession of its domain, does it not think that all the misfortunes of its predecessors arose from their weakness? Is it not persuaded that they were born weak and trembling, as they now are seen ? Well! From the midst of so many illusions, how virtuous and sensible is he who devotes him self to a lasting attachment ; the tie which binds this life to the other ! Ah, how noble is a manly and dignified expression, when, OF LOVE IN MARRIAGE. 245 at the same time, it is modest and pure ! There we behold a ray of that heavenly shame which beams from the crown of holy virgins, to light up even the warrior's brow. If a young man chooses to share with one object the bright days of youth, he will , doubtless, amongst his contemporaries, meet with some who will pronounce the sentence of dupery upon him, the terror of the children of our times. But is he, who alone will be truly loved , a dupe ? for the distresses , or the enjoyments of self -love, form the whole tissue of the frivolous and deceitful affections. Is he a dupe who does not amuse himself in deceiving others ? to be, in his turn, still more deceived, more deeply ruined perhaps than his victim ? In short, is he a dupe who has not sought for happiness in the wretched combinations of vanity, but in the eternal beauties of nature, which all proceed from constancy, from duration, and from depth ? No ; God, in creating man the first, has made him the noblest of his creatures ; and the most noble creature is that one which has the greater number of duties to perform . It is a singular abuse of the prerogative of a 246 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . superior nature to make it serve as an in strument to free itself from the most sacred ties, whereas true superiority consists in the power of the soul; and the power of the soul is virtue. MODERN WRITERS , &c 247 CHAPTER XX. Modern Writers of the ancient School in Germany. Before the new school had given birth in Germany to two inclinations, which seem to exclude each other, metaphysics and poetry, scientific method and enthusiasm, there were some writers who deserved an honourable place by the side of the English moralists. Mendelsohn, Garve, Sulzer, Engel, &c. have written upon sentiments and duties with sensibility, religion, and candour. We do not, in their works, meet with that ingenious knowledge of the world, which characterizes the French authors, La Rochefoucault, La Bruyère, &c. German moralists paint so ciety with a certain degree of ignorance which is interesting at first, but at last be comes monotonous. Garve is the writer, of all others, who has attached the highest importance to speak ing well of good company, fashion , polite ness, & c . There is, throughout his manner 248 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. a of expressing himself on this head, a great desire to appear a man of the world, to know the reason of every thing, to be knowing like a Frenchman, and to judge favourably of the court and of the town ; but the common-place ideas which he displays in his writings on these different subjects prove , that he knows nothing but by hearsay, and has never taken those refined and delicate views which the relations of society afford . When Garve speaks of virtue, he shows a pure understanding and a tranquil mind : he is particularly engaging, and original, in his treatise on Patience. Borne down by a cruel malady, he supported it with admirable fortitude ; and whatever we have felt our selves inspires new ideas. Mendelsohn, a Jew by birth , devoted himself, from commerce, to the study of the fine arts , and of philosophy, without re ' nouncing, in the smallest degree, either the belief or the rites of his religion ; and being a sincere admirer of the Phædon, of which he was the translator, he retained the ideas and the sentiments which were the pre cursors of Jesus Christ; and, educated in the Psalms and in the Bible, his 'writings MODERN WRITERS, &c. 249 preserve the character of Hebrew simplicity. He delighted in making morality perceptible, by parables in the eastern style ; and that style is certainly the more pleasing, as it deprives precepts of the tone of reproach . Among these fables, I shall translate one, which appears to me remarkable :-“ Under “ the tyrannical government of the Greeks, 66. the Israelites were once forbidden, under pain of death, to read amongst themselves “ the divine laws. Rabbi Akiba, notwith standing this prohibition, held assemblies, “ where he gave lectures on this law. Pappus “ heard of it, and said to him , “ Akiba, dost 66 thou not fear the threats of these cruel men ?_ I will relate thee a fable ,' re • plied the Rabbi. - A Fox was walking on “ the bank of a river, and saw the Fishes col lecting together, in terror, at the bottom of 56 the river. “ What causes your alarm ?" $ 6 said the Fox.- " The children of men , " re plied the Fishes, “ are throwing their lines s into the river, to catch us, and we are 65s trying to escape from them .'” _ " Do you “ know what you ought to do ?" said the 6.« Fox. “ Go there , upon the rock, where men 66 cannot reach you .” Is it possible, ” cried "“ the Fishes, “ that thou canst be the Fox, 250 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. “ esteemed the most cunning amongst ani " mals ? If thou seriously givest us this “ advice, thou showest thyself the most ignorant of them all . The water is to us " the element of life ; and is it possible for “ us to give it up because we are threateued “ by dangers ? .” - Pappus, the application of “ this fable is easy : religious doctrine is to us the source of all good ; by that, and for " that alone, we exist ; if we are pursued “ into that refuge, we will not withdraw “ ourselves from danger, by seeking shelter “ in death ." " The greater part of the world give no better advice than the fox : when they see persons of sensibility agitated by heart-aches, they always propose to them to quit the air where the storm is, to enter into the vacuum which destroys life. Engel, like Mendelsohn, teaches morality in a dramatic manner : his fictions are tri fling ; but they bear an intimate relation to the mind . In one of them he represents an old man become mad by the ingratitude of his son ; and the old man's smile, while his misfortune is being related , is painted with heart -rending truth . The man who is no longer conscious of his own existence , is as MODERN WRITERS,, & c .. 251 frightful an object as a corpse walking with out life. “ It is a tree ," says Engel, 66 the “ branches of which are withered ; its roots " are still fixed in the earth , but its top is already seized upon by death.” A young man, at the sight of this unfortunate crea ture, asks his father, if there is on earth a destiny more dreadful than that of this poor maniac ?-All the sufferings which destroy, all those of which our reason is witness, seem to him nothing when compared with this deplorable self-ignorance. The father leaves, his son to unfold all the horrors of the situation before him ; and then suddenly asks him , if that of the wretch who has been the cause of it, is not a thousand times more dreadful ? The gradation of the ideas is very well kept up in this recital, and the picture of the agonies of the mind is repre sented with eloquence that redoubles the terror caused by the most dreadful of all remorse . I have in another place quoted a passage from the Messiah , in which the poet sup poses, that, in a distant planet, where the inhabitants are immortal, an angel arrived with intelligence, that there existed a world where human beings were subject to death. 252 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS . 1 Klopstock draws an admirable picture of the astonishment of those beings who knew not the grief of losing those they loved . Engel ingeniously displays an idea not less striking. A man has seen all he held most dear, his wife and his daughter, perish. A sentiment of bitterness and of revolt against Providence takes possession of him : an old friend en deavours to re -open his heart to that deep but resigned grief, which pours itself out on the bosom of God ; he shows him that death is the source of all the moral enjoynients of man, Would there be affection between parent and child if man's existence was not at once lasting and transitory ; fixed by sentiment, hurried away by time ? If there was no longer any decline in the world, there would be no longer any progress : how then should we experience fear and hope ? In short, in every action, in every sentiment, in every thought, death has its share. And not only in reality, but in imagination also, the joys and sorrows, which arise from the instability of life, are inseparable. Existence consists entirely in those sentiments of confidence, and of anxiety, with which the soul is filled , wandering between heaven and earth, and MODERN WRITERS, &c. 253 a death is the principal cause of our actions in life. A woman, alarmed at the storms of the South, wished to remove to the frigid zone, where thunder is not heard, nor lightning seen : -our complaints against our lots are much of the same sort, says Engel. In fact, nature must be disenchanted, if all its dan gers are to be removed . The charm of the world seems to belong to pain as much as to pleasure, to fear as much as to hope ; and it may be said, that human destiny is ordered like a drama, in which terror and pity are necessary. Undoubtedly, these thoughts are not suf ficient to heal up the wounds of the heart : whatever we feel we consider as the over turning of nature, and no one ever suffered without thinking that a great disorder existed in the universe. But, when a long space of time has given room for reflection, repose is found in general considerations, and we unite ourselves to the laws of the universe by de taching ourselves from ourselves. The German moralists of the ancient school are, for the most part, religious and feeling ; their theory of virtue is disinterested ; they do not admit that doctrine of utility, which 254 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. would lead us, as it does in China, to throw children into the river, if the population became too numerous. Their works are filled with philosophical ideas, and with me lancholy and tender affections; but this was not enough to struggle against the selfish morality, armed with its sarcastic irony. This was not enough to refute sophisms, which were used against the truest and the best principles. The soft, and sometimes even timid , sensibility of the ancient German moralists was not sufficient to combat, with success, an adroit system of logic, and an elegant style of raillery, which, like all bad sentiments, bowed to nothing but force. More pointed weapons are necessary to op pose those arms which the world has forged ; it is therefore with reason that the philoso phers of the new school have thought that a more severe doctrine was requisite, a doctrine of more energy , and closer in its arguments, in order to triumph over the depravity of the age. Assuredly, all that is simple is sufficient for all that is good ; but when we live at a time in which it has been attempted to range wit on the side of immorality, it is necessary to attempt to gain over genius as the defender MODERN WRITERS, &c. 255 of virtue. Doubtless it is a matter of much indifference whether we are accused of silli ness, when we express what we feel ; but this word silliness causes so much alarm among understandings of mediocrity, that we ought, if possible, to preserve them from its infection . The Germans, fearing that we may turn their integrity to ridicule, sometimes attempt, although much against their natural dispo sition , to take a flight towards immorality, that they may acquire a brilliant and easy air. The new philosophers, by elevating their style and their ideas to a great height, have skilfully flattered the self - love of their adepts ; and we ought to praise them for this innocent species of art ; for the Germans have need of a sentiment of superiority over others to strengthen their minds. There is too much milk of human kindness in their character, as well as in their understanding. They are perhaps the only men to whom we could recommend pride, as the means of moral improvement. We cannot deny the fact, that the disciples of the new school have followed this advice to rather too great a length ; but they are, nevertheless, the 1 256 · PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. most enlightened and the most courageous authors of their country. What discovery have they made ? it will be asked. No doubt, what was true in morals two thousand years ago, is true at the pre sent moment ; but, during this period, the arguments of meanness and corruption have been multiplied to such an excess, that a philosopher of good feeling ought to pro portion his efforts to this fatal progress. Common ideas cannot struggle against a systematic immorality ; we must dig deeper inwards, when the exterior veins of the pre cious metals are exhausted . We have so often seen , in our days, weakness united to a large proportion of virtue, that we have been accustomed to believe in the energy of immorality. The German philosophers ( and let them receive the glory of the deed) have been the first in the eighteenth century, who have ranged free-thinking on the side of faith, genius on the side of morality, and character on the side of duty. IGNORANCE AND FRIVOLITY OF SPIRIT.257 CHAPTER XXI. Of Ignorance and Frivolity of Spirit in their Relations to Morals. IGNORANCE, such as it appeared some ages past, respected knowledge, and was desirous of attaining it. The ignorance of our days is contemptuous, and endeavours to turn into ridicule the labours and the meditations of enlightened men. The philosophical spirit has spread over almost all classes a facility of reasoning, which is used to depreciate every thing that is great and serious in human nature, and we are at that epoch of civilization, in which all the beauties of the soul are mouldering into dust. When the barbarians of the North seized upon the possession of the most fertile countries in Europe, they brought with them some fierce and manly virtues ; and in their endeavours at self -improvement, they asked from the South, her sun, and her arts and sciences. But our civilized barbarians esteem nothing except address in the manage ment of worldly affairs ;و and only instruct VOL. III . S 258 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. а . themselves just enough to ridicule, by a few set phrases, the meditations of a whole life. Those who deny the perfectibility of the human understanding, pretend that progres-? sion and decline follow each other by turns , and that the wheel of thought rolls round like that of fortune. What a sad spectacle is this ! the generations of men employing themselves upon earth, like Sisyphus in hell, in constant and useless labour ! and what would then be the destiny of the human race, when it resembled the most cruel pu nishment which the imagination of poetry has conceived ? But it is not thus ; and we can perceive a destiny always the same, always consequential, always progressive, in the history of man. The contest between the interests of this world and more elevated sentiments has existed, at every period, in nations as well as in individuals. Superstition sometimes drives the enlightened into the opposite party of incredulity ; and sometimes, on the contrary, knowledge itself awakens every belief of the heart. At the present æra, philosophers take refuge in religion , in order to discover the source of high conceptions, and of disinterested sentiments ; at this æra, ! IGNORANCE AND FRIVOLITY OF SPIRIT. 259 prepared by ages, the alliance between phi losophy and religion may be intimate and sincere. The ignorant are not, as formerly, the enemies of doubt, and determined to reject all the false lights which might disturb their religious hopes, and their chivalrous self-devotion ; the ignorant of our days are incredulous, frivolous, superficial; they know all that selfishness has need to know ; and their ignorance is only extended to ' those sublime studies, which excite in the soul a feeling of admiration for nature and for the Deity. Warlike occupations formerly filled up the life of the nobility, and formed their minds for action ; but since, in our days, men of the first rank have ceased to study any science profoundly, all the activity of their genius, which ought to have been employed in the circle of affairs, or in intellectual labours, is directed to the observation of manners, and to the knowledge of anecdotes. Young persons, just come from school, hasten to put on idleness as soon as the manly robe : men and women act as spies upon each other in the minutest events, not exactly from maliciousness , but in order that they may have something to say , when s 2 260 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. they have nothing to employ their thoughts. This sort of daily censoriousness destroys good -nature and integrity. We are not satisfied with ourselves when we abuse the hospitality which we exercise or receive, by criticising those with whom we live ; and we thus prevent the growth and the continuance of all sincere affection ; for in listening to the ridicule of those who are dear to us, we tarnish all that is pure and exalted in that affection : sentiments, in which we do not maintain perfect sincerity, do more mischief than indifference. Every one has his ridiculous side ; it is only at a distance that a character appears perfect; but that which constitutes the in dividuality of each person being always some singularity, this singularity affords an opening to ridicule : man, therefore, who fears ridi- , cule above every thing, endeavours, as much as possible, to remove the appearance of alt that may signalize him in any manner, whe ther it be good or bad . This sort of effaced nature, in however good taste it may seem to be, has also enough of the ridiculous about it ; but few have a sufficiently delicate tact to seize its absurdities. Ridicule has this peculiarity ; it is essen IGNORANCE AND FRIVOLITYOF SPIRIT. 261 tially attached to goodness, but not to power. Power has something fierce and triumphant about it, which puts ridicule to death ;-be sides, the men of frivolous mind respect the wisdom of the flesh , according to the expres sion of a moralist of the sixteenth century ; and we are astonished to discover all the depth of personal interest in those who ap peared incapable of pursuing an idea , or a feeling, when nothing could result from either, advantageous to their calculations of fortune, or of vanity. Frivolity of understanding does not lead men to neglect the affairs of this world . We find, on the contrary, a much more noble carelessness, in this respect, in serious characters than in men of a trivial nature ; for their levity, in most cases, only consists in the contempt of general ideas, for the pur pose of more close attention to their personal concerns. There is sometimes a species of wicked ness in men of wit ; but genius is almost always full of goodness. Wickedness does not arise from a superfluity of understanding, but from a deficiency. If we could talk upon ideas, we should leave persons at rest if we believed that we could excel others by 262 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS.. our natural talents, we should not wish to level the walk that we are ambitious to command. There are common and mode rate minds disguised under a poignant and malicious style of sarcasm ; but true supe riority is radiant with good feeling as well as with lofty thoughts. The habit of intellectual employment in spires an enlightened benevolence towards men and things. We no longer cling to ourselves as privileged beings , when we know much of the destiny of man ; . we are not offended with every event, as if it were unexampled ; and as justice only consists in the custom of considering the mutual rela tions of men under a general point of view, comprehensiveness of understanding serves to detach us from selfish calculations. We have ranged in thought over our own exist ence as well as that of others, when we have given ourselves up to the contemplation of the universe . Another great disadvantage of ignorance, in the present times, is , that it renders us entirely incapable of having an opinion of our own upon the larger portion of subjects which require reflection : consequently, when this or that manner of thinking becomes IGNORANCE AND PRIVOLITY OF SPIRIT . 263 fashionable from the ascendancy of events , the greater part of mankind believe that these words, “ all the world acts, or thinks, in this manner,” ought to influence every claim of reason and of conscience. In the idle class of society, it is almost impossible to have any soul without the cul. tivation of the mind. Formerly nature was sufficient to instruct man, and to expand his imagination ; but, since thought ( that fading shadow of feeling) has turned all things into abstractions, it is necessary to have a great deal of knowledge to have any good sentiment. Our choice is no longer balanced between the bursts of the soul , devoid of instruction, and philosophical studies ; but between the importunate noise of common and frivolous society , and that language which has been holden by men of real genius from age to age, even to our own times . How then can we, without the knowledge of languages, without the habit of reading, communicate with these men who are no more, and whom we feel so thoroughly our friends, our fellow - citizens, and our allies ? We must be mean and narrow of soul to refuse such noble enjoyments. Those only, 264 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. who fill their lives with good actions, can dispense with study : the ignorance of idle men proves their dryness of soul, as well as their frivolity of understanding. After all , there yet remains something truly beautiful and moral, which ignorance and emptiness cannot enjoy : this is the union of all thinking men, from one end of Europe to the other. Often they have no mutual relations ; often they are dispersed to a great distance from each other ; but when they meet, a word is enough for recognition . It is not this religion , or that opinion, or such a sort of study ; it is the veneration of truth that forms their bond of union . Sometimes, like miners, they dig into the foundations of the earth , to penetrate the mysteries of the world of darkness, in the bosom of eternal night: sometimes they mount to the summit of Chimboraco, to discover, at the loftiest point of the globe, some hitherto unknown phænomena; sometimes they study the lan guages of the East, to find in them the primitive history of man : sometimes they journey to Jerusalem , to call forth from the holy ruins a spark, which reanimates reli gion and poetry : in a word, they truly are the people of God ; they who do not yet IGNORANCE AND PRIVOLITY OF SPIRIT.265 despair of the human race , and wish to pre serve to man the dominion of reflection . The Germans demand our especial grati tude in this respect. Ignorance and indif ference, as to literature and the fine arts, is shameful with them ; and their example proves, that, in our days, the cultivation of the understanding preserves, in the inde pendent classes of society, some sentiments and some principles. The direction of literature and philosophy was not good in France during the last part of the eighteenth century ; but, if we may so express ourselves, the direction of igno rance is still more formidable : for no book does harm to him who reads every book. If idle men of the world , on the contrary, are busy for a few moments, the work they meet with is an event in their heads, like that of a stranger's arrival in the desert ; and when this work contains dangerous sophistries, they have no arguments to oppose to it. The discovery of printing is truly fatal for those who only read by halves, or by hazard ; for knowledge, like the spear of Achilles, ought to cure the wounds which it has in Alicted . Ignorance, in the midst of the refinements 266 PHILOSOPHY AND MORALS. of society, is the most hateful of all mix tures : it makes us, in some respects, like the vulgar, who value intrigue and cunning alone : it leads us to look but for good living and physical enjoyments ; to make use of a little wit, in order to destroy a great deal of soul ; to boast of our ignorance ; to demand ap plause for what we do not feel; in a word, to unite a limited understanding with a hard heart, to such a degree, as to be deprived of that looking upwards to heaven , which Ovid has recorded as the noblest attribute of human nature . a Os homini sublime dedit ; cælumque tueri Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus. He, who to man a form erect has given, Bade his exalted looks be fix'd on heaven . END OF THE THIRD PART. PART THE FOURTH . RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. CHAPTER I. General Considerations upon Religion in Germany. TheHE nations of German extraction are all naturally religious; and the zealousness of this feeling has given occasion to many wars amongst them . Nevertheless, in Germany, above all other countries , the bias of mind leans more towards enthusiasın than fanati cism. The sectarian spirit must manifest itself under a variety of forms, in a country where the activity of thought is most ob servable ; but, in general, they do not mix theological discussions with human passions ; and the different opinions in regard to reli gion seldom wander out of that ideal world which enjoys a profound peace. For a long time they were occupied, as I shall show in the following chapter, with 268 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. the inquiry into the doctrines of Christianity ; but, for the last twenty years , since the writings of Kant have had great influence upon the public mind, there have prevailed a liberty and a comprehensiveness in the manner of considering religion , which nei ther require nor reject any form of wor ship in particular, but which derive from heavenly things the ruling principle of ex istence. Many persons think that the religion of the Germans is too indefinite ; and that it is better to rally round the standard of a more positive and severe mode of worship. Les sing says, in his Essay on the Education of the human Race, that religious revelations have been always proportioned to the degree of knowledge which existed at the time of their appearance. The Old Testament, the Gospel, and, in many respects, the Reforma tion, were, according to their seasons, per fectly in harmony with the progress of the understanding ; and , perhaps, we are on the eve of a developement of Christianity, which will collect all the scattered rays in the same focus, and which will make us perceive in religion more than morality, more than hap piness, more than philosophy, more than . RELIGION IN GERMANY. 269 sentiment itself, since every one of these gifts will be multiplied by its union with all the others. However this may be, it is perhaps in teresting to know under what point of view religion is considered in Germany, and how they have found means to connect it with the whole literary and philosophical system, of which I have sketched the outline. There is something imposing in this collective mass of thought, which lays the whole moral order completely open to our eyes ; and gives this sublime edifice self-devotion for its base, and the Divinity for its capital. It is to the feeling of the infinite that the greater portion of German writers refer all their religious ideas ; but it may be asked, Can we conceive infinity ? Do we not con ceive it, at least in a negative manner, when, in the mathematics, we are unable to sup pose any boundary to duration or to space ? This infinity consists in the absence of limits ; but the feeling of the infinite, such as the imagination and the heart experience it, is positive and creative. The enthusiasm, which the beautiful in idea makes us feel (that emotion, so full of agitation and of purity at the same time), is 270 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. excited by the sentiment of infinity. We feel ourselves, as it were, disengaged by ad miration from the shackles ofhuman destiny ; and it seems as if some wondrous secret was revealed to us, to free the soul for ever from languor and decline. When we contemplate the starry heaven, where the sparks of light are universes like our own, where the bril liant dust of the milky way traces, with its worlds, a circle in the firmament, our thoughts are lost in the infinite, our hearts beat for the unknown, for the immense, and we feel that it is only on the other side of earthly experience that our real life will commence. In a word, religious emotions, more than all others together, awaken in us the feel ing of the infinite ; but when they awaken they satisfy it ; and it is for this reason, doubtless, that a man of great genius has said : “ That a thinking being was not happy, until the idea of infinity became an enjoyment instead of a burthen to his 66. mind. ” In effect, when we give ourselves entirely up to reflections, to images, to desires which extend beyond the limits of experience, it is then only that we freely breathe. When we wish to confine ourselves to the interests, > RELIGION IN GERMANY, 271 the conveniencies, the laws of this world, genius, sensibility, enthusiasm , painfully agi tate the soul ; but they overflow . it with enjoyment when we consecrate them to this remembrance, to this expectation of infinity , which appears in metaphysics under the form of innate dispositions, in virtue under that of self-devotion, in the arts under that of the ideal , and in Religion herself under that of divine love. The feeling of the infinite is the true attri bute of the soul : all that is beautiful of every kind excites in us the hope, and the desire, of an eternal futurity , and of a sublime ex istence : we cannot hear the wind in the forest, nor the delicious concords of human voices ; we cannot feel the enchantment of eloquence or of poetry ; in a word , above all, we cannot innocently, deeply love, without being penetrated with religion and immor tality. All the sacrifices of personal interest arise from our wish to bring ourselves into accord with this feeling of the infinite, of which we experience all the charm , without being able to express it. If the power of duty was confined to the short duration of this life, how then would it have more com mand than the passions over the soul ? Who 272 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . would sacrifice what is bounded to what is bounded ? “ All limited things are so short," says St. Augustin ;; the moments of enjoy ment that earthly inclinations may induce, and the days of peace that a moral conduct ensures, would differ very little, if emotions without limit, and without end, did not spon taneously spring up in the bottom of that human being's heart who devotes himself to virtue. Many persons will deny this feeling of the infinite ; and ,assuredly , they have very good ground to deny it, for we cannot possibly explain it to them : a few additional words will not succeed in making them understand what the universe has failed to teach them. Nature has arrayed the infinite in symbols which may bring it down to us : light and darkness, storm and silence, pleasure and pain , all inspire man with this uni versal religion, of which his heart is the sanctuary . A writer, of whom I have already had occasion to speak , M. Ancillon, has lately published a work upon the new German philosophy, which unites the perspicuity of French wit with the depth of German genius. M. Ancillon had before acquired a RELIGION IN GERMANY. 278 1 celebrated name as an historian ; he is, incon testably, what we are accustomed to call in France a good head'; his understanding itself is positive and methodical ; and it is by hiş soul that he has seized all that the thought of the infinite can present most comprehensive and most exalted. What he has written on this subject bears a character entirely original ; it is, to use the expression, the sublime re duced to logic : he traces, with precision , the boundary where experimental knowledge is stopped, whether in the arts , or in phi losophy, or in religion ; he shows that sen timent goes much farther than knowledge ; and that, beyond demonstrative proofs, there is a natural evidence in it ; beyond analysis, an inspiration ; beyond words, ideas ; be yond ideas, emotions ; and that the feeling of the infinite is a phænomenon of mind, a primitive phænomenon, without which there would be nothing in man but physical in . stinct and calculation , It is difficult to be religious according to the manner introduced by some dry cha racters, or some well-meaning persons, who would wish to confer upon religion the bo nours of scientific demonstration . That which so intimately touches upon the mystery of VOL. III . T 274 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . existence, cannot be expressed by the re gular forms of speech. Reasoning on such subjects serves to show where reasoning comes to an end ; and at that conclusion commences true certainty ; for the truths of feeling have an intensity of strength which calls all our being to their support. The in finite acts upon the soul so as to exalt and to disengage it from time. The business of life is to sacrifice the interests of our transitory existence to that imınortality which even now commences for us, if we are already worthy of it ; and not only the greater part of religions have this same object, but the fine arts, poetry, glory, love, are religions, into which there enters more or less alloy. This expression , “ it is divine, " which has become general , in order to extol the beau ties of nature and of art - this expression is a species of belief among the Germans : it is not from indifference that they are tolerant ; it is because there is an universality in their
- manner of feeling and conceiving religion.
In fact, every man may find , in some dif ferent wonder of the universe, that which most powerfully addresses his soul :-one admires the Divinity in the character of a father ; another in the innocence of a child ; RELIGION IN GERMANY. 275 1
a third in the heavenly aspect of Raphaels virgins, in music, in poetry, in nature, it matters not in what - for all are agreed in admiring (if all are animated by a religious principle) the genius of the world, and of every human being, Men of superior genius have raised doubts concerning this or that doctrine ; and it is a great misfortune, that the subtilty of logic, or the pretences of self-love, should be able to disturb and to chill the feeling of faith . Frequently also reflection has found itself at a loss in those intolerant religions, of which , as we may say, a penal code has been formed , and which have impressed upon theology all the forms of a despotic govern ment : but how sublime is that worship, which gives us a foretaste of celestial happi ness in the inspiration of genius, as in the most obscure of virtues ; in the tenderest af fections as in the severest pains ; in the tem pest as in the fairest skies ; in the flower as in the oak ; in every thing except calculation, except the deadly chill of selfishness, which separates us from the benevolence of nature, which makes vanity alone the motive of our actions- vanity, whose root is ever venom ous ! How beautiful is that religion which 2 T 2 276 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. consecrates the whole world to its Author, and makes all our faculties subservient to the celebration of the holy rites of this wonder ful universe ! Far from such a belief interdicting litera ture or science, the theory of all ideas, the secret of all talents, belong to it ; nature and the Divinity would necessarily be in contra diction to each other, if sincere piety forbade men to make use of their faculties, and to taste the pleasure that results from their exer cise. There is religion in all the works of ge nius ; there is genius in all religious thoughts. Wit is of a less illustrious origin ; it serves for an instrument of contention ; but genius is creative. The inexhaustible source of ta lents and of virtues , is this feeling of infi nity , which claims its share in all generous actions, and in all profound thoughts. Religion is nothing if it is not every thing ; if existence is not filled with it ; if we do not incessantly maintain in the soul this -belief in the invisible ; this self-devotion , this elevation of desire, which ought to triumph over the low inclinations to which our nature exposes us . But how can religion be incessantly pre sent to our thoughts, if we do not unite it RELIGION IN GERMANY. 277 a
to every thing which ought to form the oc cupation of a noble existence, devoted affec tions, philosophical meditations, and the pleasures of the imagination ? A great num ber of practices are recommended to the faithful, that their religion may be recalled to their minds every moment of the day by the obligations which it imposes ; but if the whole life could be naturally, and without effort, an act of worship at every moment, would not this be still better ? Since the admiration of the beautiful always has rela tion to the Divinity, and since the very spring of energetic thought makes us remount to our origin , why should not the feeling love, poetry, philosophy, form the columns of the Temple of Faith ? power of 278 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . CHAPTER II . Of Protestantism. It was natural for a revolution, prepared by ideas, to take place in Germany ; for the prominent trait of this thinking people is the energy of internal conviction . When once an opinion has taken possession of German heads, their patience, and their perseverance in supporting it, do singular honour to the force of human volition . When we read the details of the death of John Huss, and of Jerome of Prague, the forerunners of the Reformation, we see a striking example of that which characterized the Protestant leaders in Germany, the union of a lively faith with the spirit of inquiry. Their reason did no injury to their belief, nor their belief any to their reason ; and their moral faculties were always put into simul taneous action. Throughout Germany we find traces of the different religious struggles, which, for many ages, occupied the whole nation. They PROTESTANTISM. 279 still show, in the cathedral at Prague, bas reliefs where the devastations committed by the Hussites are represented ;; and that part of the church which the Swedes set fire to in the thirty years' war, is not yet rebuilt. Not far from thence, on the bridge, is placed the statue of St. John Nepomucenes, who preferred perishing in the waves to revealing the weaknesses which an unfortunate queen had confessed to him . The monuments, and even the ruins, which testify the influence of religion over man, interest the soul in a lively manner ; for the wars of opinion, however cruel they may be, do more honour to na tions than the wars of interest. Of all the great men produced by Ger ' many, Luther is the one whose character is the most German : his firmness had something rude about it ; his conviction arose even to infatuation ; the courage of the mind was in him the principle of the courage of action ; what there was passionate in his soul did not divert him from abstract studies ; and although he attacked certain abuses, and considered certain doctrines as prejudices, it was not a philosophical incredulity , but a species of fanaticism , that excited him. Nevertheless, the Reformation has intro 280 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. duced into the world inquiry in matters of religion . In some minds its result has been scepticism ; in others, a stronger conviction ✓ of religious truths : the human mind had arrived at an epoch when it was necessary for it to examine in order to believe. The discovery of printing, the multiplicity of every sort of knowledge, and the philoso phical investigation of truth, did not allow any longer that blind faith which was for merly so profitable to its teachers. Religious enthusiasm could not grow again except by i inquiry and meditation . It was Luther who put the Old Testament and the Gospel into the hands of all the world ; it was he who gave its impulse to the study of antiquity ; for in learning Hebrew to read the Old, and Greek to read the New Testament, the stu dents cultivated the ancient languages, and their minds were turned towards historical researches. Examination may weaken that habitual faith which men do well to preserve as much as they can ; but when man comes out of his inquiries more religious than he was when he entered into them, it is then that Religion is built upon an immutable basis ;) it is then that harmony exists between her and Know PROTESTANTISM. 281 ledge, and that they mutually assist each other. Some writers have largely declaimed against the system of perfectibility ; and , to hear them , we should think that it was a real crime to believe our species capable of perfection. It is enough in France that an individual of such a party should have main tained this or that opinion, to make it bad taste to adopt it ; and all the sheep of the same flock , one after the other, hasten to level their wise attacks at ideas, which still remain exactly what they are by nature. It is very probable that the human species is susceptible of education, as well as each man in particular ; and that there are epochs marked for the progress of thought in the eternal career of time. The Reformation was the æra of inquiry, and of that enlight ened conviction which inquiry produces. Christianity was first established , then al tered, then examined , then understood ; and these different periods were necessary to its developement ; they have sometimes lasted a hundred, sometimes a thousand years. The Supreme Being, who draws time out of eternity, does not economize that time after our manner. $ 282 RELIGION AND ENTUUSIASM . When Luther appeared , religion was no more than a political power, attacked or de fended as an interest of this world. Luther recalled it to the land of thought. The his torical progress of the human mind, in this respect, in Germany, is worthy of remark . When the wars occasioned by the Reforma tion were set at rest, and the Protestant refugees were naturalized in the different northern states of the German empire, the philosophical studies, which had always made the interior of the soul their object, were naturally directed towards religion ; and there is no literature of the eighteenth century in which we find so many religious books as in the literature of Germany. Lessing, one of the most powerful ge niuses of his nation, never ceased to attack , with all the strength of his logic, that maxim so commonly repeated , " that there are some dangerous truths." In fact, it is a singular instance of presumption, in certain individuals, to think they have the right of concealing the truth from their fellow -men , and to arrogate the prerogative of placing themselves ( like Alexander before Diogenes) in a situation to veil from our eyes that sun which belongs alike to all : this pretended PROTESTANTISM. 283 prudence is but the theory of imposture ; is but an attempt to play the juggler with ideas, in order to secure the subjection of mankind. Truth is ' the work of God ; lies are the works of man. If we study those æras of history in which truth has been an object of fear, we shall always find them when partial interests contended in some manner against the universal tendency. The search for truth is the noblest of em ployments, and its promulgation is a duty. There is nothing to fear for society , or for religion , in this search , if it is sincere ; and if it is not sincere, truth no longer, but false hood ; causes the evil. There is not a sen timent in man of which we cannot find the philosophical reason ; not an opinion, not even a prejudice, generally diffused, which has not its root in nature . We ought then to examine, not with the object of destroying, but to build our behef upon internal, not upon borrowed conviction . We see errors lasting for a long time ; but they always cause a painful uneasiness. When we look at the tower of Pisa, which leans over its base, we iinagine that it is about to fall, although it has stood for ages ; and our imagination is not at its ease, except 284 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. 66 in the sight of firm and regular edifices. It is the same with our belief in certain prin ciples ; that which is founded upon preju dices makes us uneasy ; and we love to see reason supporting, with all its power, the ele vated conceptions of the soul. The understanding contains in itself the principle of every thing which it acquires by experience. Fontenelle has justly said , that “ we think we recognise a truth when first we hear it . ” How then can we imagine, that sooner or later just ideas, and the in ternal conviction which they cause, will not reappear ? There is a pre-established har mony between truth and human reason , which always ends by bringing each nearer to the other. Proposing to men not to interchange their thoughts, is what is commonly called keeping the secret of the play . We only continue in ignorance because we are uncon sciously ignorant ; but from the moment that we have commanded silence, it appears that somebody has spoken ; and to stifle the thoughts which those words have excited , we must degrade Reason herself. There are men, full of energy and good faith , who never dreamt of this or that philosophical PROTESTANTISM . 285 truth ; but those who know and conceal their knowledge, are hypocrites, or, at least, are most arrogant and most irreligious beings. Most arrogant ; for what right have they to think themselves of the class of the initiated , and the rest of the world excluded from it ? Most irreligious ; for if there is a philoso pbical or natural truth , a truth , in short, which contradicts religion , religion would not be what it is, the light of lights . We must be very ignorant of Christianity, that is to say, of the revelation of the moral laws of man and the universe , to recommend to those who wish to believe in it, ignorance, se crecy, and darkness. Open the gates of the temple ; call to your support genius, the fine arts,, the sciences, philosophy ; assemble them in one focus to honour and to com prehend the Author ofcreation ; and if Love has said , that the name of those we love seems written on the leaves of every flower, how should not the impress of the Godhead appear in every thought that attaches itself to the eternal chain ? The right of examining what we ought to believe, is the foundation of Protestantism . The first reformers did not so understand it : they thought they could fix the pillars of 7 286 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. Hercules of the human mind at the boundary of their own knowledge ; but they were wrong in fancying that men would submit to their decisions as if they were infallible ; they who rejected all authority of this sort in the Catholic religion . Protestantism then was sure to follow the developement and the progress of knowledge; while Catholicisin boasted of being immoveable in the midst of the waves of time. Among the German writers of the Pro testant religion, different ways of thinking have prevailed, which have successively oc cupied attention. Many learned men have made inquiries , unheard of before, into the Old and New Testament. Michaëlis has studied the languages, the antiquities, and the natural history of Asia, to interpret the Bible ; and while the spirit of French phi losophy was making a jest of the Christian religion, they made it in Germany the object of erudition . However this sort of labour in some respects, insure religious minds, what veneration does it not imply for the book which is the object of so se rious an inquiry ! These learned men at tacked neither doctrines, nor prophecies, nor miracles ; but a great number of writers may, in PROTESTANTISM. 287 a have followed them, who have attempted to give an entirely physical explanation to the Old and New Testament ; and who, con sidering them both in the light only of goud writings of an instructive kind, see nothing in the mysteries butoriental metaphors. These theologians called themselves rational interpreters, because they believed they could disperse every sort of obscurity : but it was a wrong direction of the spirit of inquiry to attempt applying it to truths, of which we can have no presentiment, except by eleva tion and meditation of soul. The spirit of inquiry ought to serve for the demarcation of what is superior to reason, in the same manner that an astronomer defines the heights to which the sight of man cannot attain : thus therefore to point out the in comprehensible regions, without pretending to deny their existence, or to describe them by words, is to make use of the spirit of in quiry, according to its measure, and its destination . The learned mode of interpretation is not more satisfactory than dogmatic authority. The imagination and the sensibility of the Germans could not content itself with this sort of prosaic religion, which paid the 288 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . respect of reason to Christianity . Herder was the first to regenerate faith by poetry : deeply instructed in the eastern languages, he felt a kind of admiration for the Bible like that which a sanctified Homer would in spire . The natural bias of the mind in Ger many is to consider poetry as a sort of prophetic gift, the forerunner of divine en joyments ; so that it was not profanation to ✓ unite to religious faith the enthusiasm which poetry inspires. Herder was not scrupulously orthodox ; but he rejected , as well as his partisans, the learned commentaries which had the simpli fication of the Bible for their object, and which, by simplifying, annihilated it. А sort of poetical theology, vague but animated, free but feeling, takes the place of that pe . dantic school which thought it was advancing towards reason, when it retrenched some of the miracles of this universe ; though, at the same time, the marvellous is, in some respects, perhaps, still more easy to con ceive, than that which it has been agreed to call the natural. Schleiermacher, the translator of Plato, has written discourses of extraordinary eloquence upon religion ; he combatted that indiffer PROTESTANTISM . 289 ence which has been called toleration , and that destructive labour which has passed for impartial inquiry. Schleiermacher is not the more on this account an orthodox theologian ; but he shows, in the religious doctrines which he adopts, the power of belief, and a great vigour of metaphy sical conception. He has developed , with much warmth and clearness , the feeling of the infinite, of which I have spoken in the preceding chapter. We may call the religious opinions of Schleiermacher, and of his disciples, a philosophical the ology. At length Lavater, and many men of ta lent, attached themselves to the mystical opinions, such as Fenelon in France, and different writers in all countries, conceived them. Lavater preceded some of the authors whom I have cited ; but it is only for these few years past, that the doctrine, of which he may be considered one of the principal supporters , has gained any great popularity among the Germans. The work of Lavater upon physiognomy is more celebrated than his religious writings ; but that which ren dered him especially remarkable was his per sonal character. There was in this man a VOL. III. U 290 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. rare mixture of penetration and of enthu siasm ; he observed mankind with a peculiar sagacity of understanding, and yet aban doned himself, with entire confidence , to a set of ideas which might be called supersti. tious. He had sufficient self-love ; and this self -love, perhaps, was the cause of those whimsical opinions about himself, and his miraculous calling . Nevertheless, nothing could equal the religious simplicity and the candour of bis soul. We could not see with out astonishment, in a drawing- room of our own times, a minister of the holy Gospel inspired like an apostle, and animated as a man of the world . The warrant of Lavater's sincerity was to be found in his good actions, and in his fine countenance, which bore the stamp of inimitable truth . The religious writers of Germany, pro perly so called , are divided into two very distinct classes -- the defenders of the Re formation, and the partisans of Catholicism. I shall examine separately the writers who are of these different opinions ; but the as sertion which it is important to make before every thing is this, that if northern Ger many is the country where theological ques. tions have been most agitated, it is also that PROTESTANTISM. 291 in which religious sentinyents are most uni versal; the national character is impressed with them, and it is from them that the ge nius of the arts and of literature draws all its inspiration , In short, among the lower orders, religion in the north of Germany bears an ideal and sweet character, which singularly surprises us in a country where we have been accustomed to think the manners а . very rude. Once, as I was travelling from Dresden to Leipsic, I stopped for the evening at Meissen , a little village placed upon an eminence over the river, and the church of which contains tombs consecrated to illustrious recollections. I walked upon the Esplanade, and suffered myself to sink into that sort of reverie which the setting sun, the distant view of the land scape, and the sound of the stream that flows at the bottom of the valley, so easily excite in our souls : -I then caught the voices of some common persons, and I was afraid of hearing such vulgar words as are elsewhere sung in the streets . What was my astonish ment, when I understood the burthen of their song ! - " They loved each other, and they died , hoping one day to meet again !". U 2 292 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . Happy that country where such feelings are popular ; and spread abroad, even into the air we breathe, I know not what religious fellowship, of which love for heaven, and pity for man, form the touching union ! AIORAVIAN MODE OF WORSHIP 293 CHAPTER III . $ Moravian Mode of Worship. There is perhaps too much freedom in Protestantism to satisfy a certain religious austerity , which may seize upon the man who is overwhelmed by great misfortunes ; sometimes even in the habitual course of life, the reality of this world disappears all at once, and we feel ourselves in the middle of its interests as we should at a ball , where we did not hear the music ; the dancing that we saw there would appear insane. A species of dreaming apathy equally seizes upon the bramin and the savage, when one by the force of thought, and the other by the force of ignorance, passes entire hours in the dumb contemplation of destiny. The only activity of which the human being is then suscepti ble, is that which has divine worship for its object. He loves to do something for Hea ven every moment ; and it is this disposition which gives their attraction to convents, how 294 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . ? ever great may be their inconvenience in other respects . The Moravians are the monks of Pro testantism ; and the religious enthusiasm of northern Germany gave them birth , about a hundred years ago. But although this asso ciation is as severe as a Catholic convent, it is more liberal in its principles. No vows are taken there ; all is voluntary ; men and women are not separated, and inarriage is not forbidden. Nevertheless the whole so ciety is ecclesiastical ; that is to say, every thing is done there by religion and for it ; the authority of the church rules this com munity of the faithful, but this church is without priests, and the sacred office is ful filled there in turn , by the most religious and venerable persons. Men and women , before marriage, livé separately from each other in assemblies, where the most perfect equality reigns. The entire day is filled with labour ; the same for every rank ; the idea of Providence, con stantly present, directs all the actions of the life of the Moravians. When a young man chooses to take a companion, he addresses himself to the fe male superintendants of girls or widows,
MORAVIAN MODE OF WORSHIP . 295 and demands of them the person he wishes to espouse. They draw lots in the church, to know whether he ought to marry the woman whom he prefers ; and if the lot is against him, he gives up his demand. The Moravians have such a habit of resignation, that they do not resist this decision ; and as they only see the women at church, it costs them leșs to renounce their choice. This manner of deciding upon marriage, and upon many other circumstances of life, indicates the general spirit of the Moravian worship. Instead of keeping themselves submitted to the will of Heaven, they fancy they can learn it by inspirations, or, what is still more strange, by interrogating Chance. Duty and events manifest to man the views of God concerning the earth ; how can we flatter ourselves with the notion of penetrating them by other means ? We observe, in other respects, among the generality of Moravians, evangelical man bers, such as they must have existed from the time of the Apostles, in Christian com munities. Neither extraordinary doctrines nor scrupulous practices constitute the bond of this association : the Gospel is there in terpreted in the most natural and clear 296 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. . a manner ; but they are there faithful to the consequences of this doctrine, and they make their conduct, under all relations, har monize with their religious principles. The Moravian communities serve, above all, to prove that Protestantism , in its simplicity, may lead to the most austere sort of life , and the most enthusiastic religion ; death and immortality, well understood , are suffi cient to occupy and to direct the whole of existence. I was some time ago at Dintendorf, a little village near Erfurth, where a Moravian community is established . This village is three leagues distant from every great road ; it is situated between two mountains, upon the banks of a rivulet ; willows and lofty poplars environ it : there is something tran quil and sweet in the look of the country, which prepares the soul to free itself from the turbulence of life. The buildings and the streets are marked by perfect cleanliness ; the women , all clothed alike, hide their hair, and bind their head with a ribạnd, whose colour indicates whether they are married, • maidens, or widows : the men are clothed in brown, i almost like the Quakers. Mer cantile industry employs nearly all of them ; MORAVIAN MODE OF WORSHIP. 297 but one does not hear the least' noise in the village. Every body works in regularity and silence ; and the internal action of re ligious feeling lulls to rest every other im pulse . The girls . and widows live together in a large dormitory, and, during the night, one of them has her turn to watch, for the pur pose of praying, or of taking care of those who may be ill . The unmarried men live in the same manner. Thus, there exists a great family for him who has none of his own ; and the name of brother and sister is common to all Christians . Instead of bells, wind instruments, of a very sweet harmony, summon them to di vine service . As we proceeded to church, by the sound of this imposing music, we felt ourselves carried away from the earth ; we fancied that we heard the trumpets of the last judgment, not such as remorse makes us fear them , but such as a pious confidence makes us hope them ; it seemed as if the divine compassion manifested itself in this appeal, and pronounced beforehand the par don of regeneration . The church was dressed out in white roses, and blossoms of white thorn : pictures were 998 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . not banished from the temple ; and music was cultivated as a constituent part of re ligion : they only sáng psalms; there was neither sermon , nor mass, nor argument, nor theological discussion ; it was the wor ship of God in spirit and in truth . The women , all in white, were ranged by each other without any distinction whatever ; they looked like the innocent shadows who were about to appear together before the tribunal of the Divinity. The burying-ground of the Moravians is a garden, the walks of which are marked out by funeral stones ; and by the side of each is planted a flowering shrub. All these grave- stones are equal; not one of these shrubs rises above the other ; and the same epitaph serves for all the dead . 66 He was " born on such a day ; and on such another 6 he returned into his native country." Excellent expression to designate the end of our life! The ancients said, “ He lived ;" and thus threw a veil over the tomb, to divest themselves of its idea ; the Christians place over it the star of hope. On Easter-day, divine service is performed in the burying- ground, which is close to the church , and the resurrection is announced MORAVIAN MODE OF WORSHIP. 299 in the middle of the tombs. All those who are present at this act of worship , know the stone that is to be placed over their coffin ; and already breathe the perfume of the young tree, whose leaves and flowers will penetrate into their tombs. It is thus that we have seen , in modern times, an entire army assisting at its own funeral rites, pro nouncing for ' itself the service of the dead , decided in belief that it was to conquer imi mortality * The communion of the Moravians cannot adapt itself to the social state, such as cir cumstances ordain it to be but as it has been long and frequently asserted that Ca tholicism alone addressed the imagination, it is of consequence to remark, that'what truly touches the soul in religion is common to all Christian churcheś. A sépulchré and 'à prayer exhaust all the power of the pathetic ; and the more simple the faith , the more emotion is caused by the worship. • The allusion in this passage is to the siege of Saragossa.
300 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. CHAPTER IV. Of Catholicism . Tue Catholic religion is more tolerant in Germany than in any other country. The peace of Westphalia having fixed the rights of the different religions, they no longer feared their mutual invasions ; and, besides, this mixture of inodes of worship, in a great number of towns, has necessarily induced the occasion of observing and judging each other. In religious as well as in political opinions, we make a phantom of our adver saries, which is almost always dissipated by their presence ; sympathy presents a fellow creature in him whom we believed an enemy. Protestantism being much more favour able to knowledge than Catholicism , the Catholics in Germany have put themselves in a sort of defensive position , which is very injurious to the progress of information. In the countries where the Catholic religion reigned alone, such as France and Italy, they have known how to unite it to litera CATHOLICISM . 301 ture and to the fine arts ; but in Germany, where the Protestants have taken possession , by means of the universities, and by their natural tendency to every thing which be longs to literary and philosophical study, the Catholics have fancied themselves obliged to oppose to them a certain sort of reserve , which destroys almost all the means of dis tinction , in the career of imagination and of reflection . Music is the only one of the fine arts which is carried to a greater degree of perfection in the south of Germany than in the north ; unless we reckon in thenumber of the fine arts a certain convenient mode of life, the enjoyments of which agree well enough with repose of mind .. Among the Catholics in Germany there is à sincere, tranquil, and charitable piety ; but there are no famous preachers, nor reli gious authors who are quoted : nothing there excites the emotions of the soul ; they con sider religion as a matter of fact, in which enthusiasm has no share ; and one might say, that in a mode of religious worship so well consolidated , the future life itself became a positive truth, upon which we no longer exerciseour thoughts. The revolution which has taken place ✓ 30% RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . among the philosophical minds in Germany, during the last thirty years, has brought them almost all back to religious sentiments, They had wandered a little from them ; when the impulse necessary to propagate toleration had exceeded its proper bounds : but, by recalling idealism iņ metaphysics, inspiration in poetry, contemplation in the sciences, they have restored the empire of religion ; and the reform of the Reformation, or rather the philosophical direction of liberty which it has occasioned, has banished for ever (at least in theory) materialism , and all its fatal consequences. In the midst of this intellectual revolution, so fruitful in · noble results, some writers have gone too far ; as it always happens in the oscillations of thought. . : We might say, that the human mind is continually hurrying from one extreme to another ; as if the opinions which it has just deserted, were changed into regrets to pursue it. The Reformation, according to some authors of the new school, has been the cause of many religious wars; it has sepa rated the north from the south of Germany ; it has given the Germans the fatal habit of fighting with each other ; and these divisions CATHOLICISM. 303 have robbed them of the right of being denominated one nation . Lastly, the Re formation, by giving birth to the spirit of inquiry, has dried up the imagination , and introduced scepticism in the place of faith : it is necessary then, say the same advocates, to return to the unity of the church , by re turning to Catholicism . In the first place, if Charles the Fifth had adopted Lutheranism , there would have been the same unity in Germany; and the whole country , like the northern portion of it, would have formed an asylum for the arts and sciences . : Perhaps this harmony would have given birth to free institutions, combined with a real strength ; and perhaps that sad separation of character and know ledge would have been avoided, which has yielded up the north to reverie, and kept the south in ignorance. But without losing ourselves in conjectures as to what would have happened, a sort of calculation always very uncertain, we cannot deny that the æra of the Reformation was that in which learning and philosophy were introduced into Germany. This country is not perhaps raised to the first rank in war, in the arts , in political liberty : it is knowledge of 304 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. which Germany has a right to be proud, and its influence upon the thinking part of Europe takes its date from Protestantism . Such revolutions neither proceed nor are brought to an end by arguments ; they be long to the historical progress of the human mind ; and the men who appear to be their authors, are never more than their conse quences. Catholicism , disarmed in the present day, has the majesty of an old lion, which once made the world tremble ;—but when the abuses of its power brought on the Refor mation, it put fetters on the human mind ; and far from want of feeling being then the cause of the opposition to its ascendancy, it was in order to make use of all the faculties of the understanding and of the imagination that the freedom of thought was so loudly demanded again . If circumstances, of en tirely divine origin , and in which the hand of man was not in the least operative, were hereafter to bring about a reunion between the two churches, we should pray to God, it appears to me, with new emotion, by the side of those venerable priests, who, in the latter years of the last century , have suffered so much for conscience sake. But, . CATHOLICISM. 305 سی assuredly, it is not the change of religion in a few individuals, nor, above all , the unjust discredit which their writings have a tend ency to throw upon the reformed religion, that can lead to the unity of religious opi nions. There are in the human mind two very distinct impulses ; one makes us feel the want of faith, the other that of examination . One of these tendencies ought not to be satisfied at the expense of the other : Pro testantism and Catholicism do not arise from the different character of the Popes, and of a Luther : it is a poor mode of exanining history to attribute it to accidents. . Protest antism and Catholicism exist in the human heart ; -- they are moral powers which are developed in nations, because they are in herent in every individual . If in religion, as in other human affections, we can unite what the imagination and the reason sug gest, there is harmony in the whole man ; but in man, as in the universe, the power of creating and that of destroying, faith and inquiry, succeed and combat each other. It has been attempted, in order to har monize these two inclinations, to penetrate deeper into the soul ; and from that attempt VOL. III . X 306 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM .
have arisen the mystical opinions of which we shall speak in the following chapter ; but the small number of persons who have ab jured Protestantism have done nothing but revive resentments , Ancient denominations reanimate ancient quarrels ; magic makes use of certain words to call up'apparitions ; we may say, that úpbn all subjects there are terms which exert this power ; these are the watch-words which serve for a rallying point to party spirit ; we cannot pronounce them without agitating afresh the torches of discord . The German Catholics have, to the present moment, shown themselves very ig norant of what was passing upon these points in the North . The literary opinions seemed to be the cause of the small number of per sons who changed their religion ; and the ancient church has hardly regained any pro selytes. Count Frederic Stolberg, a man of great respectability, both from his character and his talents, celebrated from his youth as a poet, as a passionate admiter of antiquity, and as a translator of Homer, was the first in Germany to set the example of these new conversions, and he has had some imitators.. The most illustrious friends of the Count , : ; a - ; ; ; ܵܕ݂ܵ ܘ CATHOLICISM . 307 逢 Stolberg, Klopstock, Voss, and Jacobi, sepa rated themselves from him in consequence of this action, which seemed to disavow the misfortunes and the struggles which the re formed have endured during three centuries ; nevertheless, M. de Stolberg has lately pub lished a History of the Religion of Jesus Christ, which is calculated to merit the ap probation of all Christian communities. It is the first time that we have seen the Catholic opinions defended in this manner ; and if Count Stolberg had not been educated as a Protestant, perhaps he would nothavehad thật independence of mind which enables him to make an impression upon enlightened men. We find in this book a perfect knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, and very interesting re searches into the different religions of Asia, which bear relation to Christianity. The Germans of the North, even when they sub mit to the most positive doctrines, know how to give them the stamp of their philo sophy. 2. Count Stolberg, in his publication , attri buted to the Old Testament a much greater importance than Protestant writers in general assign to it. I consider sacrifices as the basis of all religion ; and the death of Abel as the Ist. Christ . x 2 308 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. first type of that sacrifice which forms the groundwork of Christianity. In whatever way we decide upon this opinion , it affords much room for thought. The greater part of ancient religions instituted human sacri fices ; but in this barbarity there was some thing remarkable, namely, the necessity of a' solemn expiation . Nothing, in effect, can obliterate from the soul the idea , that there is a mysterious efficacy in the blood of the innocent, and that heaven and earth are moved by it. Men have always believed that the just could obtain , in this life or the other, the pardon of the guilty. There are some primitive ideas in the human species which re- appear with more or less disfigure ment, in all times , and among all nations . These are the ideas upon which we cannot grow weary of reflecting ; for they assuredly preserve some traces of the lost dignities of our nature . The persuasion, that the prayers and the self-devotion of the just can save the guilty, is doubtless derived from the feelings that we experience in the relations of life; but nothing obliges us,, in respect to religious belief, to reject these inferences. What do we know better than our feelings ? and why CATHOLICISM. 309 should we pretend that they are inapplicable to the truths of religion ? What can there be in man but himself, and why, under the pretext of anthropomorphisni, hipder , him from forming an image of the Deity after his own soul ? No other messenger, I think, can bring him news from heaven. Count Stolberg endeavours to show, that the tradition of the fall of man has existed among all the nations of the earth, and par ticularly in the East ; and that all men have in their hearts the remembrance of a happi ness of which they have been deprived.' In effect, there are in the human mind two tendencies as distinct as gravitation and at traction in the natural world ; these are the ideas of decay, and of advance to perfection . One should say, that we feel at once a regret for the loss of some excellent qualities which were gratuitously conferred upon us, and a hope of some advantages which we may acquire by our own efforts ; in such a manner, that the doctrine of perfectibility, andthat of the golden age, united and confounded , excite at the same time in man grief for having lost these blessings, and emulation to recover them . The sentiment is melancholy, and the spirit is daring ; and from this reverie 310 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. and this energy together, 'springs the true superiority of man ; that mixture of contem plation and of activity, of resignation and of will, which allows him to connect his worldly existence with heaven . Stolberg calls those persons alone Christians who receive the words of the Holy Scrip tures with the simplicity of children ; but he bestows upon the signification of these words a philosophical spirit which takes away all their dogmatism and intolerance from the Catholic opinions. In what then do they differ , these religious men by whom Germany is honoured , and why should the names of Catholic and Protestant divide them ? Why should they be. unfaithful to the tombs of their ancestors, by giving up these names, or by resuming them ? Has not Klopstock consecrated his whole life to the purpose of making a fine poem the temple of the Gospel ? Is not Herder, as well as Stolberg, the adorer of the Bible ? Does he not penetrate into all the beauties of the primitive language, and of those senti ments of celestial origin which it expresses ? Jacobi-- does he not recognise the Divinity in ali the great thoughts of man ? Would any of these men' recommend religion merely as 1 CATHOLICISM.. 311 aa restraint upon the people, as an instrument of public safety, as an additional guarantee in the contracts of this world ? Do they not all know that every superior mind has more need of piety than the common herd ? For the labour ordained by the authority of society may occupy and direct the working class in all the moments of life, whilst idle men are incessantly the prey of the passions and the sophistries that disturb existence, and put every thing into uncertainty. It has been pretended that it was a sort of frivolity in the German writers to represent as one of the merits of the Christian religion, the favourable influence that it exercised over the arts, imagination , and poetry : and the same reproach, with respect to this point, has been cast upon that beautiful work of M. de Chateaubriant, the Genius of Christianity. The truly frivolous minds are those which take rapid glances for profound examinations, and persuade themselves that we can proceed with nature upon an exclu șive principle, and suppress the greater part of the desires and wants of the soul. One of the great proofs of the divinity of the Christian religion is its perfect analogy with all our moral faculties ; at least it does not 312 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . appear to me that we can consider the poetry - of Christianity under the same aspect as the poetry of Paganism . As every thing was external in the Pagan worship, the pomp of images was there prodigally exhibited ; the sanctuary of Chris tianity being at the bottom of the heart, the poetry which it inspires must always flow from tenderniss. It is not the splendour of the Christian heaven that we can oppose to Olympus, but grief and innocence, old age and death, which assume a character of ex altation and of repose,, under the shelter of those religious hopes, whose wings are spread over the miseries of life. It is not then true, it appears to me, that the Protestant religion is unprovided with poetry , because the ritual of its worship has less eclat than that of the Catholics. Ceremonies, better or worse, per formed according to the richness of towns, and the magnificence of buildings, cannot be the principal cause of the impression which divine service produces ; its connexion with our internal feelings is that which touches us, a connexion which can subsist in sim plicity as well as in pomp. Some time ago I was present at a church in the country, deprived of all ornament : . CATHOLICISM . 313 1 no picture adorned its white walls ; it was newly built, and no remembrance of a long antiquity rendered it venerable : music itself, which the most austere saints have placed in heaven as the employment of the happy, was hardly heard ; and the psalms were sung by voices without harmony, which the la bour of the world , and the weight of years , rendered hoarse and confused : but in the midst of this rustic assembly, where all hu man splendour was deficient, one saw a pious man , whose heart was profoundly moved by the mission which he fulfilled * . His looks, his physiognomy, might serve for a model to some of the pictures with which other temples are adorned ; bis accents made the responses to an angelic concert. There was before us a mortal creature convinced of our immortality ; of that of our friends whom we have lost ; of that of our children, who will survive us by so little in the career of time ! and the convincing persuasion of a pure heart appeared a new revelation. He descended from his pulpit to give the communion to the faithful, who live under the shelter of his example. His son was with him , 'a minister of the church ; and, Mr. ' Celerier, preacher of Céligoy, near Geneva . er ' $14 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . . with more youthful features, his countenance also, like that of his father, had a pious and thoughtful expression. Then, according to custom , the father and the son gave each other the bread and wine, which, among Protestants, serve for the commemoration of the most affecting of mysteries. The son only saw in his father a pastor more ad, vanced than himself in the religious state that he had chosen to adopt ; the father re spected in his son the holy calling he had embraced . They mutually addressed each other, as they took the Sacrament, in those passages of the Gospel which are calculated to unite in one bond strangers and friends ; and, both feeling in their hearts the same inward impulses, they appeared to forget their personal relations in the presence of the Divinity, before whom fathers and sons are alike servants of the tombs, and children of hope. What poetical effect, what emotion, the source of all poetry , could be wanting to the divine service at such a moment !. Men , whose affections are disinterested , and their thoughts religious ; men who live in the sanctuary of their conscience, and know how to concentrate in it, as in a burn CATHOLICISM . 315
ing -glass, all the rays of the universe ; these men, I say, are the priests of the religion of the soul ; and nothing ought ever to disunite them. An abyss separates those who conduct themselves according to calculation , and those who are guided by feeling. All other differences of opinion are nothing ; this alone is radical . It is possible that one day a cry of union may be raised , and that all Chris tians may aspire to profess the same theolo gical, political, and moral religion ; but be fore this miracle is accomplished, all men who have a heart, and who obey it, ought mutually to respect each other ... 7 , st gi 916 ' RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . CHAPTER V. Of the religious Disposition called Mysticism . THE religious disposition called Mysticism , is only a more inward manner of feeling and of conceiving Christianity. As in the word Mysticism is comprehended that of Mystery, it has been believed that the Mystics pro fessed extraordinary doctrines, and formed a separate sect. There are no mysteries among them , but the mysteries of sentiment applied to religion ; and sentiment is at once the clearest, the most simple, and the most in explicable of things : it is necessary, at the same time, to distinguish the Theosophists, that is to say, those who are busied with phi Josophical theology, such as Jacob Boëhinen , St. Martin, &c. from the simple Mystics ; the former wish to penetrate the secret of the creation ; the second confine them selves to their own hearts. Many fathers of the Church, Thomas -à - Kempis, Fenelon, St. François-de-Sales, &c. į and among the Protestants a great number of English and
- German writers, have been Mystics ; that
i MYSTICISM . 317 is to say, men who have made religion a sort of affection , and have infused it into all their thoughts, as well as all their actions. The religious feeling, which is the foun dation of the whole doctrine of the Mystics, consists in an internal peace full of life . The agitations of the passions leave no calm ; thie tranquillity of a dry and moderate under standing destroys the animation of the soul ; it is only in religious feeling that we find a perfect union of repose and motion . This disposition is not continual, I think, in any man, however pious he may be ; but the re membrance and the hope of these holy emo tions decide the conduct of those who have experienced them . If we consider the pains and the pleasures of life as the effect of chance, or of a well -played game, then de spair and joy ought to be (if we may use the expression ) convulsive motions. For what a chance is that which disposes of our existence ! what pride, or what respect, ought we not to feel, when we have been considering a mode of action which may influence our destiny ? To what torments of uncertainty must we' not be delivered up, if our reason alone disposed of our fate in this world ? But if we believe, on the contrary , that there are 318 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . but two things important to happiness, purity of intention, and resignation to the event, whatever it may be, when it no longer depends upon ourselves ; doubtless many cir cumstances will still make us cruelly suffer, but none will break our ties to Heaven . To struggle against the impossible, is that which begets in us the most bitter feelings; and the angerof Satan is nothing else than liberty quarrelling with necessity, and unable either to subdue or to submit to it. The ruling opinion among the mystical Christians is this , that the only homage which can please God is that of the will, which he gave to man : what more disinterested of fering can we, in effect, offer to the Divinity ? Worship, incense, hymns, have almost always for their object the attainment of the good things of this world ; and it is on this account that worldly flattery surrounds monarchs : but to resign ourselves to the will of God, to wish nothing but that which he wishes, is the most pure religious act of which the soul is capable. Thrice is man summoned to yield this resignation ; in youth , in man hood, and in age : happy are they who şub mit at first! It is pride in every thing which puts the 3 MYSTICISM . 319 venom into the wound : the rebellious soul accuses Heaven ; the religious man suffers grief to act upon him as the intention of Him who sent it; he makes use of all the means in his power to avoid or to console it ; but when the event is irrevocable, the sacred characters of the supreme will are imprinted there. What accidental malady can be compared to age and death ? And yet almost all men resign themselves to age and death, because they have no defence against them : whence then does it arise that every one revolts against particular misfortunes, when all ac quiesce in universal evil ? It is because we treat destiny as a government which weallow to make all the world suffers provided that it grants no privileges to any one. The mis fortunes that we endure in company with our fellows are as severe, and cause as much misery, as our individual sufferings ; and yet they hardly ever excite in us the same re bellious feeling . Why do not men teach themselves that they ought to support that -which concerns them personally, as they support the condition of humanity in general ? It is because we fancy there is injustice in 320 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. our particular allotment.--- Singular pride of man ! to wish to judge the Deity with that instrument which he has received from him ! What does he know of the feelings of an other ? What does he know of himself ? What does he know at all , except bis internal feeling ? And this feeling, the more inward it is, the more it contains the secret of our felicity ; for is it not in the bottom of our soul that we feel happiness or unhappiness ? Re ligious love, or self- love, alone penetrates to the source of our most hidden thoughts. Under the name of religious love are included all the disinterested affections ; and under that of self -love all egotistical propensities : in whatever manner fortune may favour or thwart us , it is always the ascendancy of one of these affections over the other, upon which calm enjoyment, or uneasy disquiet, depends. It is to be wanting entirely in respect for Providence, as it appears to me, to suppose ourselves a prey to those phantoms which we call events : their reality consists in their effect upon the soul ; and there is a perfect equality between all situations and all cir cumstances, not viewed externally, but } MYSTICISM . ; ? iii. 321 1 judged according to their influence upon res ligious improvement... If each of us would attentively examine the texture of his life, we should find there two tissues perfectly distinct : the one which appears entirely sub ject to natural causes and effects ; the other, whose mysterious tendency is not intelligible except by dint of time. It is like a suit of tapestry hangings, whose figures are worked, in on the wrong side, until , being put in a proper position , we can judge of their effect. We, end by perceiving, even in this life, , why we have suffered ; why we have not obtained what we desired. lioration of our own hearts reveals to us the benevolent intention which subjected us to pain ; for the prosperities of the earth them , selves would have something dreadful about them , if they fell upon us after we had been guilty of great faults : we should then think ourselves abandoned by the hand of Him, who delivered us up to happiness here below , as to our sole futurity, Either every thing is chance, or there is no such thing in the world ; and, if there is not, religious feeling, consists in making our selves harmonize with the universal order, in spite of that spirit of rebellion and of usurpa The me VOL. III . Y 322 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM.
tion with which selfishness inspires each of us individually. All doctrines, and all modes of worship, are the different forms which this religious feeling has assumed according to times and countries ; it may be depraved by fear, although it is built upon confident hope ; but it always consists in the convic tion , that there is nothing accidental in the events of life, and that our sole manner of influencing our fate lies in our internal com merce with ourselves. Reason is not the less operative in all that relates to the conduct of life ; but when this housekeeper of existence has managed matters as well as it can, the bottom of our heart is after all the seat of love ; and that which is called Mysticism, is this love in its most perfect purity. The elevation of the soul towards its Creator is the supreme act of worship among the Christian Mystics ; but they do not ad dress the Deity to pray for this or that worldly advantage. A French writer, who has some sublimely bright passages, M. de Saint-Martin, has said, that prayer was the breathing of the soul. The Mystics are, for the most part, convinced, that an answer is given to this prayer ; and that the grand re velation of Christianity may be in some de MYSTICISM . 329 . ܐ gree renewed in the soul, every timethat it exalts itself with fervour towards Heaven. When we believe that there no longer exists any immediate communication between the Supreme Being and man, prayer is only a monologue, if we may be allowed the ex pression ; but it becomes an act much more beneficial, when we are persuaded that the Divinity makes himself sensibly felt at the bottom of our hearts. In fact, it does not appear to me possible to deny, that there are emotions within us which do not, in the least, take their origin from external things, and which soothe and support us without the possibility of our attributing them to the ordinary concatenation of the events of life. Men who have introduced self - love into a doctrine entirely founded on the renunciation of self-love, have taken advantage of these unexpected instances of divine support, to deceive themselves with illusions of every de scription : they have fancied that they were elect persons, or prophets ; they have be lieved in visions ; in a word, they have become superstitious in looking at them selves. What must not be the power of human pride, when it insinuates itself Y 2 324 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. into the heart, under the very shape of hu mility ! But it is not the less true, that there is nothing more simple and more pure than the connexions of the soul with the Deity, such as they are conceived by those whom it is the custom to call Mystics ; that is to say, the Christians who introduce love into religion . In reading the spiritual works of Fenelon, who is not softened ? where can we find so much knowledge, consolation , indulgence ? There no fanaticism , no austerities but those of virtue, no intolerance, no exclusion ap pear. The differences of Christian commu nities cannot be felt at that height which is above all the accidental forms created and destroyed by time. .: He would be very rasb , assuredly, who was to hazard foreseeing any thing relating to such important matters : nevertheless, I will ven ture to say, that every thing tends to establish the triumph of religious feeling in the soul. Calculation has gained such an empire over the affairs of the world , that those who do not embrace it are naturally thrown into the opposite extreme. It is for this reason that solitary thinkers , from one end of the world to the other, endeavour to assemble in one . 1 . MYSTICISM. 825 fucus the scattered rays of literature, philo sophy, and religion. It is generally feared that the doctrine of religious resignation, called Quietism in the last ages , will disgust us with the necessary activity of this life. But nature takes care to raise individual passions in us sufficiently to prevent our entertaining much fears of the sentiment that is to tranquillize them . We neither dispose of our birth , nor of our death ; and more than three fourths of our destiny is decided by these two events. No one can change the primitive effects of his nativity, of his country, of his period , &c . No one can acquire the shape or the genius that he has not gained from nature ; and of how many more commanding circumstances still is not life composed ? If our fate consists of a hundred different lots, there are ninety nine which do not depend upon ourselves ; and all the fury of our will turns upon the weak portion which yet seems to be in our favour, Now the action of the will itself upon this weak portion is singularly incom plete. The only act of liberty of the man who always attains his end, is the fulfilment of duty : the issue of all other resolutions depends entirely upon accidents, over which 326 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. , prudence itself has no command. The greater part of mankind does not obtain that which it vehemently wishes ; and pro sperity itself, when it comes, often comes from an unexpected quarter. The doctrine of Mysticism passes for a se vere doctrine, because it enjoins us to dis card selfishness, and this with reason appears very difficult to be done. But, in fact, Mysticism is the gentlest of all doctrines ; it consists in this proverb, make a virtue of ne cessity. Making a virtue of necessity, in the religious sense, is to attribute to Providence the government of the world , and to find an inward consolation in this thought. The Mystic writers exact nothing beyond the line of duty, such as honest men have marked it out ; they do not enjoin us to create troubles for ourselves ; they think that man ought neither to invite affliction , nor be im patient under it when it arrives . What evil then can result from this belief, which unites the calm of stoicism with the sensibility of Christians ? “ It prevents us from loving," some one may say . Ah ! it is not religious exaltation which chills the soul : a single in terest of vanity has done more to annihilate the affections than any kind of austere opi MYSTICISM. 327 u nion : even the deserts of the Thebaïd do not weaken the power of sentiment ; and nothing prevents us from loving but the mi sery of the heart. A very weighty inconvenience is falsely attributed to Mysticism . It has been said that it renders us too indulgent in relation to actions, by referring religion to the internal impressions of the soul; and that it induces men to resign themselves to their defects as to inevitable events. Nothing, assuredly, would be more contrary to the Gospel than this manner of interpreting submission to the will of God. If we admitted that re ligious feeling, in any respect, dispensed with action, there would not only result from this a crowd of hypocrites, who pretended that we must not judge them by the vulgar proofs of religion , which are called works, and that their secret communications with the Deity are of an order greatly superior to the fulfilment of duties ; but there would be also hypocrites with themselves, and we should destroy in this manner the power of remorse. In fact, who has not some moments of re ligious tenderness, however limited his ima gination may be ? Who has not sometimes prayed with fervour ? And if this was suf 328 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. v ficient for us to be released from the strict observance of duty, the greater part of poets might fancy themselves more religious than St. Vincent de Paul. But the Mystics have been wrongfully accused of this manner of thinking. Their writings and their lives attest, that they are as regular in their moral conduct as those who are subjected to the practices of the njost severe mode of worship : that which is called indulgence in them , is the penetration which makes us analyse the nature of man, instead of confining ourselves to the injunc tion of obedience. The Mystics, always considering the bottom of the heart , have the air of pardoning its mistakes, because they study the causes of them . The Mystics, and almost all Christians, have been frequently accused of a tendency towards passive obedience to authority , wbat ever it may be ; and it has been pretended, that submission to the will of God, ill under stood , leads a little too often to submission to the will of man. Nothing, however, is less like condescension to power than reli gious resignation . Without doubt it may console us in slavery, but it is because it then gives to the sout all the virtues of indepen 1 MYSTICISM. 329 1 3 dence. To be indifferent by religion to the liberty or the oppression of mankind , would be to mistake weakness of character for Christian humility, and no two things are more different. Christian humility bends before the poor and the unhappy ; and weak ness of character always keeps well with guilt, because it is powerful in the world . In the times of chivalry, when Christianity had more ascendancy, it never demanded the sacrifice of honour ; but, for citizens, justice and liberty are also honour. God confounds human pride, but not the dignity of the human race ; for this pride consists in the opinion we have of ourselves ; and this dig nity in our respect for the rights of others. Religious men have an inclination not to meddle with the affairs of this world, without being compelled to do so by some manifest duty ; and it must be confessed, that so many passions are excited by political interests, that it is rare to mix in politics without having to reproach ourselves with any wrong action : but when the courage of conscience is called forth, there is nothing which can contend with it . Of all nations, that which has the greatest inclination to Mysticism is the German. Be 890 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. fore Luther, many authors, among whom we must cite Tauler, had written upon religion in this sense. Since Luther, the Moravians have shown this disposition more than any other sect. Towards the end of the eigh teenth century , Lavater combated with great strength the system of rational Christianity, which the theologians of Berlin had sup ported ; and his manner of feeling religion is, in many respects, completely like that of Fenelon. Several lyric poets, from Klop stock down to our days, have a taint of Mysticism in their compositions. The Pro testant religion , which reigns in the North, does not satisfy the imagination of the Ger mans ; and Catholicism being opposed by its nature to philosophical researches, the reli gious and thinking among the Germans were necessarily obliged to have recourse to a method of feeling religion, which might be applied to every form of worship. Besides, idealism in philosophy has much analogy with Mysticism in religion ; the one places all the reality of things in this world in thought, and the other all the reality of things in heaven in feeling. The Mystics penetrate, with an incon ceivable sagacity, into every thing which MYSTICISM. 331 gives birth in the human mind to fear or hope, to suffering or to happiness ; and no sect ascends as they do to the origin of emo tions in the soul . There is so much interest in this sort of inquiry , that even those who are otherwise of moderate understanding enough, when they have the least mystical inclination in their hearts, attract and cap tivate by their conversation, as if they were endowed with transcendent genius. That which makes society so subject to ennui, is, that the greater portion of those with whom we live , talk only of external objects ; and upon this class of things the want of the spirit of conversation is very perceptible. But religious Mysticism includes so extensive a knowledge, that it gives a decided moral superiority to those who have not received it from nature : they apply themselves to the study of the human heart , which is the first of sciences , and give themselves as much trouble to understand the passions, that they may lull them to rest, as the men of the world do to turn them to advantage, Without doubt, great faults may still ap pear in the character of those whose doc trine is the most pure ; but is it to their doctrine that we should refer them ? We > 392 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. pay especial homage to religion by the ex actions we make from all religious men the moment we know they are so. We call them inconsistent if they commit any trans gressions, or have any weaknesses ; and yet nothing can entirely change the conditions of humanity. If religion always conferred moral perfection upon us, and if virtue always led to happiness, freedom of will would no longer exist ; for the motives which acted upon volition , would be too powerful for liberty. Dogmatical religion is a commandment ; mystical religion is built upon the inward experience of our heart: the mode of preach ing must necessarily be influenced by the di rection which the ministers of the Gospel may take in this respect; and perhaps it would be desirable for us to perceive in their discourses more of the influence of those feelings which begin to penetrate all hearts. In Germany, where every sect abounds, Zol likoffer, Jerusalem , and many others, have gained themselves a great reputation by the eloquence of the pulpit ; and we may read upon all subjects à quantity of sermons which contain excellent things : nevertheless, al though it is very wise to teach morality, it is MYSTICISM . 333 still more important to inspire motives to be moral ; and these motives consist, above every thing, in religious emotion. Almost all men are nearly equally informed as to the incon veniencies and the advantages of vice and virtue ; but that which all the world wants, is the strengthening of the internal disposi tion with which we struggle against the vio lent inclinations of our nature. • If the whole business : was to argue well with mankind, why should those parts of the service, which are only songs and cere monies, lead us so much more than sermons to meditation and to piety ? The greater part of preachers confine themselves to de claiming against evil inclinations, instead of showing how we yield to them , and how we resist them ; the greater part of preachers are judges who direct the trial of men : but the priests of God ought to tell us what they suffer and what they hope ; how they have modified their characters by certain thoughts ; in a word, we expect from them the secret memoirs of the soul in its relations with the Deity. Prohibitory laws are no more sufficient for the government of individuals than of states . The social system is obliged to put animated 334 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. interests into action, to give aliment to hu man life : it is the same with the religious instructors of man ; they can only preserve him from his passions by exciting a living and pure ecstacy in his heart : the passions are much better, in many respects, than a servile apathy ; and nothing can moderate them but a profound sentiment, the enjoy ments of which we ought to describe, if we cán, with as much force and truth as we have introduced into our descriptions of the charm of earthly affections. Whatever men of wit may have said , there exists a natural alliance between reli gion and genius. The Mystics have almost all a bias towards poetry and the fine arts ; their ideas are in accord with true superiority of every sort, while incredulous and worldly minded mediocrity is its enemy : -that me diocrity cannot endure those who wish to penetrate into the soul : as it has put its best qualities on the surface, to touch the core is to discover its wretchedness. The philosophy of Idealism , the Chris tianity of Mysticism, and the poetry of na ture , have, in many respects, all the same end and the same origin : these philosophers, these Christians, and these poets, all unite MYSTICISM . $35 in one common desire. They would wish to substitute for the factitious system of society, not the ignorance of barbarous times , but an intellectual culture, which leads us back to simplicity by the very perfection of know ledge : they would, in short, wish to make energetic and reflecting, sincere and generous men, out of all these characters without dig nity '; these minds without ideas ; these jest ers without gaiety ; these Epicureans without imagination, who, for want of better, are called the human species.
336 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. CHAPTER VI. Of Pain. THAT HAT axiom of the Mystics has been much blamed, which asserts that pain is a good . Some philosophers of antiquity have pro nounced it not an evil ; it is, however, much more difficult to consider it with indifference than with hope. In effect, if we were not convinced that pain was the means of moral improvement, to what an excess of irritation would it not carry us ? Why in that case summon us into life to be consumed by pain ? Why concentrate all the torments and all the wonders of the universe in a weak heart, which fears and which desires ? Why give power of loving, and snatch from us at last all that we hold dear ? In short, why bring us to death, terrific death ? When the illusion of the world has made us forget it, how is it recalled to our minds ! It is in the midst of the splendours of this world that Death unfurls his fatal ensign. us the OF PAIN.. 337 Cosi trapassa al trapassar d' un giorno Della vita mortal il fiore e'l verde ; Ne perchè faccia indietro April ritorno, Si rinfiora ella Mai ne si rinverde
We have seen at a fête that Princess , who, although the mother of eight children, still united the charm of perfect beauty to all the dignity of the maternal character. She opened the ball ; and the melodious sounds of music gave a signal for the moments con secrated to joy. Flowers adorned her lovely head ; and dress and the dance must have recalled to her the first days of her youth : nevertheless, she appeared already to fear the very pleasures to which so much success might have attached her. Alas ! in what a manner was this vague presentiment realized ! -On a sudden the numberless torches, which restored the splendour of the day, are about to be changed into devouring flames, and the most dreadful sufferings will take place of the gorgeous luxury of the fête. -What a contrast ! and who can grow weary of re a
- “ Thus withers in a day the verdure and the flower of
“ mortal life ; it is in vain that the month of spring returns " in its season ; life never resumes her verdure or her “ flowers . " --Verses of Tasso, sung in the gardens of Ar. mida. 4 The Princess Paulina of Schwartzenberg. C VOL. III . Z 338 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. flecting upon it ? No, never have the gran deur and the misery of man so closely ap proached each other ; and our fickle thoughts, so easily diverted from the dark threatenings of futurity, have been struck in the same hour with all the brilliant and terrible images which destiny , in general , scatters at a dis tance from each other over the path of time. No accident, however, had reached her, who would not have died but for her own choice. She was in safety ; she might have renewed the thread of that life' of virtue which she had been leading for fifteen years ; but one of her daughters was still in danger, and the most delicate and timid of beings precipitates herself into the midst of flames which would have made warriors recoil. Every mother would have felt what she did ! But who thinks she has sufficient strength to imitate her ? Who can reckon so much upon their soul, as noť to fear those shudderings which Nature bids us feel at the sight of a violent death ? AA woman woman braved them ; her hand seized that of her daughter, her hand saved her daughter ; and although the fatal blow then struck her, her last act was maternal ; her last act préserved the object of her affection ; it was at this sublime in OF PAIN . 339 stant that she appeared before God ; and it was impossible to recognise what remained of her upon earth except by the impression on a medal, given by her children , which also marked the place where this angel perished . Ah ! all that is horrible in this picture is softened by the rays of a celestial glory.. This generous Paulina will hereafter be the saint of mothers ; and if their looks do not dare to rise to Heaven, they will rest them upon her sweet figure, and will ask her to implore the blessing of God upon their children . If we had gone so far as to dry up the source of religion upon earth , what should we say to those who see the purest of victims fall ? What should we say to those who loved this victim ? and with what despair, with what horror for Fortune and her perfi dious secrets, would not the soul be filled ? Not only what we see, but what we ima gine, would strike our minds like a thunder bolt, if there was nothing within us free from the power of chance. Have not men lived in an obscure dungeon, where every moment was a pang, where there was no air but what was sufficient for them to begin suffering again ? Death , according to the 2 % 340 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. a incredulous, will deliver us from every thing ; but do they know what death is ? do they know whether this death is annihilation ? or into what a labyrinth of terrors reflection without a guide may drag us ? · If an honest man ( and the events of a life exposed to the passions may bring on this misfortune)-if an honest man , I say, had done an irreparable injury to an innocent being, how could he ever be consoled for it without the assistance of religious expiation ? When his, victim is in the coffin , to whom must he address his sorrows if there is no communication with that victim ; ifGod him self does not niake the dead hear the lamen tations of the living ; if the sovereign Me diator for man did not say to Grief, It is enough ; and to Repentance,-You are for given ?-It is thought that the chief advan tage of religion is its efficacy in awakening remorse ; but it is also very frequently the means of lulling remorse to sleep . There are souls in which the past is predominant ; there are those which regret tears to pieces like an active death, and upon which memory falls as furiously as a vulture ;; it is for them that religion operates as the alleviation of . remorse. ? OF PAIN . 341 An idea always the same, and yet as suming a thousand different dresses, fatigues at once, by its agitation and its monotony. The fine arts, which redoubled the power of imagination , augment with it the viva city of pain . Nature herself becomes im portunate when the soul is no longer in harmony with her ; her tranquillity, which we once found so sweet, irritates us like in difference ; the wonders of the universe grow dim as we gaze upon them ; all looks like a vision , even in mid- day splendour. Night troubles us , as if the darkness con cealed some secret misfortune of our own ; and the shining sun appears to insult the mourning of our hearts . Whither shall we fly then from so many sufferings ? Is it to death ? Butthe anxiety of happiness makes us doubt whether there is rest in the tomb ; and despair, even for atheists, is as a sha dowy revelation of an eternity of pains . What shall we do then, what shall we do, O my God ! if we cannot throw ourselves into your paternal bosom ? He who first called God our Father, knew . more of the human heart than the most profound thinkers of the age. It is not true that religion narrows the 342 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. heart ; it is still less so , that the severity of * religious principles is to be feared. I only know one sort of severity which is to be
- dreaded by feeling minds ; it is that of the
men of the world. These are the persons who conceive nothing, who excuse nothing that is involuntary ; they have made a human heart according to their own will , in order to judge it at their leisure . We might address to them what was said to Messrs. de Port Royal, who, otherwise, deserved much ad miration : “ It is easy for you to comprehend
- 66 the man you have created ; but, as to the
“ real being, you know him not." The greater part of men of the world are accustomed to frame certain dilemmas upon all the unhappy situations in life, in order to disencumber themselves as much as pos sible from the compassion which these situ ations demand from them . There are but “ two parts to take,” they say : " you must “ be entirely one thing, or the other ; you “ must support what you cannot prevent ; you must console yourself for what is “ irrevocable. ” Or rather, " He who wishes “ an end, wishes the means also ; you must “ do every thing to preserve that which you “ cannot do without;" &c. and a thousand c . OF PAIN . 343 other axioms of this sort, which all of them have the form of proverbs, and which are in effect the code of vulgar wisdom. But what connexion is there between these axioms and the severe afflictions of the heart ? All this serves very well in the common affairs of life ; but how apply such counsels to moral pains ? They all vary according to the individual, and are composed of a thou sand different circumstances, unknown to every one but our most intimate friend, if there is one who knows how to identify himself with us. Every character is almost a new world for him who can observe it with sagacity ; and I know not in the science of the human heart one general idea which is completely applicable to particular ex amples. The language of religion can alone suit every situation and every mode of feeling. When we read the reveries of J. J. Rousseau, that eloquent picture of a being, preyed upon by an imagination stronger than him-. self, I have asked myself how a man whose understanding was formed by the world, and a religious recluse, would have endea voured to console Rousseau ? He would have complained of beinghated and persecuted ; le 344 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. a 66 1 would have called himself the object of uni versal envy , and the victim of a conspiracy, which extended even from the people to their monarchs; he would have pretended that all his friends had betrayed him ; and that the very services, which they had ren dered him , were so many snares : what then would the man of an understanding formed by society have answered to all these com plaints ? “ You strangely exaggerate," he would have said, 66 the effect that you fancy you produce ; you are doubtless a very distin guished person ; but, however, as each of us has his own affairs, and also his own ideas , a book does not fill all heads ; " the events of war or of peace, and still “ less interests, but which personally con cern ourselves , occupy us much more than any writer, however celebrated he may 66 be. They have banished you , it is true ; 66 but all countries ought to be alike to a philosopher such as you are; and to what “ purpose indeed can the morals and the re ligion , which you develope so well in your writings, be turned, if you are not able " to support the reverses which have bem 6 fallen you ? .CO 66 OF PAIN . 345 66 Without doubt there are some ' persons “ who envy you among the fraternity of “ learned men ; but this cannot extend to 6.the classes of society, who trouble them “ selves very little with literature ; besides, “ if celebrity 'really annoys you, nothing is so easy as to escape from it. ' Write no more ; at the end of a few years you will “ be forgotten ; and you will be as quiet as “ if you never had published any thing. “ You say that your friends lay snares for you , while they pretend to serve you. In “ the first place, is it not possible that there “ should be a slight degree of romantic “ exaltation in your manner of considering your personal relations ? Your fine ima gination was necessary to compose the “ New Heloise ; but a little reason is requi 66 site in the affairs of this world, and when « we choose to do so, we see things as they “ are. If, however, your friends deceive you, you must break with them ; but you “ will be very unwise to grieve on this ac count ; for, one of two things, either they are worthy of your esteem, and in that case you are wrong to suspect them ; or, your suspicions are well founded, then you ought not to regret such friends. ” 66 66 66 66.if 346 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . CC و 46 > After having heard this dilemma, J. J. Rousseau might very well have taken aa third part, that of throwing himself into the river ; but what would the religious recluse have said to him ? My son, I know not the world , and I am ignorant if it be true that they wish you ill in that world ; but if it were so, you would share this fate with all good men, who nevertheless have pardoned 6 their enemies ; for Jesus Christ and So crates, the God and the man, have set “ the example. It is necessary for hateful passions to exist here below, in order that “ the trial of the just should be accom plished . Saint Theresa has said of the “ wicked - Unhappy men, they do not love ! " and yet they live, long enough to have 6 time for repentance. “ You have received admirable gifts from “ Heaven ; if they have made you love what “ is good, have you not already enjoyed the “ reward of having been a soldier of Truth “ upon earth ?. If you have softened hearts " by your persuasive eloquence, you will “ obtain for yourself some of those tears “ which you have caused to flow . You “ have enemies near you ; but friends at a - OF PAIN. 347 “ distance, among A the votaries of solitude, “ who read you ; and you have consoled the “ unfortunate better than we can console yourself. Why have I not your talent to “ make you listen to me ? That talent, my son, is a noble gift ; men often try to asperse it ; they tell you, wrongfully, that “ we condemn it in the name of God : this “ is not true. It is a divine emotion, which “ inspires eloquence ; and if you have not “ abused it, learn to endure envy, for such a superiority is well worth the pain it may 66 make you suffer. “ Nevertheless, my son, I fear that pride “ is mixed with your sufferings ; and this it " is which gives them their bitterness ; for “ all the griefs that continue humble make our tears flow gently ; but there is a poison “ in pride, and man becomes senseless when " he yields to it : it is an enemy that makes “ her own champion, the better to destroy 6 him. “ Genius ought only to serve for the display of the supreme goodness of the t6 soul . There are many " men who have -“ this goodness, without the talent of ex " pressing it : thank God, from whom you “ inherit the charm of language, which is 348 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM .
you, 66 “ formed to enchant the imagination of man. “ But be not proud , except of the feeling “66 which dictates it. Every thing in life will 6 be rendered calın for if you always “ continue religiously good : the wicked “ themselves grow tired of doing evil ; their “ own poison exhausts them ; and, besides, “ is not God above, to take care of the sparrow that falls, and of the heart of man " that suffers ? “ You say that your friends wish to betray you. Take care that you do not accuse them unjustly : woe to him that has repelled a sincere affection ; for they are “ the angels of heaven who send it us ; they “ have reserved this part to themselves in " the destiny of man. Suffer not your “ imagination to lead you astray : you must permit her to wander in the regions of the “ clouds ; but nothing except one heart can judge another ; and you would be very culpable if you were to forget a sincere friendship ; for the beauty of the soul “ consists in its generous confidence, and “ human prudence is figured by a serpent. “ It is possible, however, that in expia “ tion of some transgressions, into which your great abilities have led you, you will . OF PAIN . 349 66 “ be condemned upon this earth to drink "“ that empoisoned cup,, the treachery of a “ friend. If it is so, I lament your fate : “ the Divinity himself laments it, while he “ punishes you. But do not revolt against “ bis blows .; still love, although love has " distracted your heart. In : the most ipro “ found solitude, in the cruellest isolation , we must not suffer the source of the de “ voted affections to be dried up within us. “ For a long while it was not believed that 66 God could be loved as we love those who 66 resemble ourselves. A voice which answers “ us, looks which are interchanged with our own, appear full of life, while the immense “ Heaven is silent, but by degrees the soul “ exalts itself even to feel its God near it as " a friend. “ My son , we ought to pray as “ love, by mingling prayer with all our “ thoughts ; we ought to pray, for then we are no more alone ; and when resignation “ shall descend softly into your heart, turn your eyes upon nature ; it might be said, " that every one there finds again his past life, when no traces of it exist among I think of your regrets as well as your pleasures, when you contemplate а we 66 men. 350 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. “ those clouds, sometimes dark and some “ times brilliant, which the wind scatters ; 6 and whether death has snatched your “ friends from you, or life , still more cruel, “ has broken asunder your bonds of union “ with them , you will perceive in the stars " their deified images ; they will appear to you 'such as you will see them again here 6 after . ” 2 THEOSOPHIST PHILOSOPHERS 351 CHAPTER VII. Of the religious Philosophers called Theosophists. When I gave an account of the modern philosophy of the Germans, I endeavoured to trace the line of demarcation between that philosophy which attempts to penetrate the secrets of the universe, and that which is confined to an inquiry into the nature of our own souls . The same distinction may be remarked among religious writers ; those of whom I have already spoken in the pre ceding chapters have kept to the influence of religion upon our hearts ; others, such as Jacob Boëhmen in Germany, St. Martin in France, and very inany more, have believed , that they found in the relation of Chris tianity mysterious words, which might serve to develope the laws of creation. We must confess, when we begin to think, it is difficult to stop ; and whether reflection leads to scepticism or to the most universal faith, we are sometimes tempted to pass 952 RELIGION AND ENTII USIASM . whole hours, like the Faquirs, in asking ourselves what is life ? Far from despising those who are thus devoured by contempla tion, we cannot help considering them as the true lords of the human species , in whose presence those who exist without re flection , are only vassals attached to the soil. But how can we flatter ourselves with the hope of giving any consistency to these thoughts, which, like flashes of lightning, plunge themselves again into darkness, after having for a moment thrown an uncertain brilliance upon surrounding objects ? It may, however, be interesting to point out the principal direction of the systems of the Theosophists ; that is to say, of those religious philosophers who have always ex isted in Germany from the establishment of Christianity , and particularly since the re vival of letters. The greater part of the Greek philosophers have built the system of the world upon the action of the elements ; and if we except Pythagoras and Plato, who derived from the East their tendency to idealism , the thinking men of antiquity ex plain all the organization of the universe by physical laws. Christianity , by lighting up the internal life in the breast of man, na THEOSOPHIST PHILOSOPHERS, 353 turally excited the mind to exaggerate its power over the body. The abuses to which the most pure doctrines are subject, have in troduced visions and white magic ( that is to say, the magic which attributes to the will of man the power of acting upon the elements without the intervention of infernal spirits), . all the whimsical reveries, in short, which spring from the conviction that the soul is more powerful than nature. The sects of Alchymists, of Magnetizers, and of the Illu minated, are almost all supported upon this ascendancy of the will, which they carry much too far, but which , nevertheless, in some manner, belongs to the moral gran deur of man. Not only has Christianity, by affirming the spiritual nature of the soul, led them to be . lieve the unlimited power of religious or phi losophical faith, but revelation has seemed, to some men, a continual miracle, which is capable of being renewed for every one of them ; and some have sincerely believed, that a supernatural power of divination was granted them, and that truths were manj. fested in them, to which they testified more clearly than the inventors. The most famous of these religious philo VOL . III. A A 354 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM.
$ sophers was Jacob Boëhmen, who lived at the beginning of the seventeenth century : he made so much noise in his time, that Charles' the First sent a person express to Gorlitz , the place of his abode, to study his work, and briog it back to England. Some of his writings have been translated into French by Monsieur de St. Martin ; they are very difficult to comprehend ; nevertheless , we cannot but , be astonished that a man without cultivation of mind should have gone so far in the study of nature. He con siders it in general as an emblem of the prin cipal doctrines of Christianity ; he fancies he sees every where, in the phænomena of the world, traces of the fall of man, and of his regeneration ; the effects of the principle of anger, and of that of pity ; and while the Greek philosophers attempted to explain the world , by the mixture of the elements of air, water, and fire, Jacob Boëhmen only admits the combination of moral forces, and has recourse to passages of the Gospel to in terpret the universe. 1 . In whatever manner we consider those singular writings, which for two hundred years have always found readers, or rather adepts, we cannot avoid remarking the two THEOSOPHIST PHILOSOPHERS. 355 opposite roads which are followed, in order to arrive at the truth, by the spiritual philo sophers, and by the philosophers of mate rialism . The former imagine, that it is by divesting ourselves of all impressions from without, and by plunging into the ecstacy of thought, that we can interpret nature. The latter pretend, that we cannot too much guard against enthusiasm and imagination in our inquiry into the phænomena of the uni verse. They would seem to say, that the human understanding must be freed from matter or from mind to comprehend nature , while it is in the mysterious union of these two that the secret of existence consists. Some learned men in Germany assert, that we find , in the works of Jacob Boëhmen, very profound views upon the physical world. may say, at least, that there is as much originality in the theories of the religious philosophers concerning creation , as in those of Thales, of Xenophon, of Aristotle, of Descartes, and Leibnitz. The Theosophists declare, that what they think , has been re vealed to them , while philosophers, in ge neral, believe they are solely conducted by their own reason. But, as both one and the other aspire to know the mystery of mys a a We 356 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. teries, of what signification , at this high point, are the words of reason and folly ? and why disgrace with the name of insensate persons those who believe they find great lights in their exaltation of mind ? It is a movement of the soul of a very remarkable nature, and which assuredly has not been conferred upon us only for the sake of op posing it. SPIRIT OF SECTARISM. 357 CHAPTER VIII. Of the Spirit of Sectarism in Germany. The habit of meditation leads us to reveries of every kind upon human destiny ; active life alone can divert our interest from the source of things ; but all that is grand or absurd in respect to ideas is the result of that internal emotion which we cannot expend upon external objects. Many people are very angry with religious or philosophical sects, and give them the name of follies, and of dangerous follies. It appears to me that the wanderings even of thought are much less to be feared than the absence of thought, in respect to the repose and mo rality of men. When we have not within ourselves that power of reflection which sup plies material activity, we must be inces santly in action , and frequently at random . The fanaticism of ideas has sometimes led , it is true, to violent actions, but it has al most always been because the advantages of this world have been sought for by the 358 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . may have, a aid of abstract opinions. Metaphysical sys tems are very little to be feared in them selves ; they do not become dangerous till they are united to the interests of ambition , and it is therefore upon these interests that we must gain a hold , if we wish to modify such systems ; but men who are capable of a lively attachment to an opinion, inde pendently of the results which are always of a noble nature. The philoso phical and religious sects, which , under dif ferent names, have existed in Germany, have hardly had any connexion with political affairs ; and the sort of talent necessary to lead men to vigorous resolutions, has been rarely manifested in this country. We may dispute upon the philosophy of Kant, upon theological questions, upon idealism or em : piricism , without producing any thing but books. The spirit of sect and the spirit of party differ in many points. The spirit of party represents opinions by that which is most prominent about them , in order to make the vulgar understand them ; and the spirit of sect, particularly in Germany, al ways leads to what is most abstract. In the spirit of party we' must seize the points of view taken by the multitude to place our SPIRIT OF SECTARISM . 359
selves among them ; the Germans only think of Theory, and if she was to lose herself in the clouds, they would follow her. there. The spirit of party stirs up certain common passions in men which unite them in a mass. The Germans subdivide everything by means of distinction and comment. They have a philosophical sincerity singularly adapted to the inquiry after Truth , but not at all to the art of putting her into action. The spirit of sect aspires only to convince ; that of party wishes to rally men round it., The former disputes about ideas, the latter wishes for power over men. There is dis cipline in the party spirit, and anarchy in the sectarian spirit. Authority, of whatever kind it may be, has hardly any thing to fear from the spirit of sectarism ; we satisfy it by leaving a great latitude for thought at its dis posal. But the spirit of party is not so easily contented, and does not confine itself to these intellectual contests, in which every individual may create an empire for bimself without expelling one present possessor. In France , they are much more suscep : tible of the party spirit than of the sectarian : every one there too well understands the reality of life, not to turn his wishes into > 360 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. actions, and his thoughts into practice. But perhaps they are too foreign from the secta rian spirit : they do not sufficiently hold to abstract ideas, to have any warmth in de fending them ; besides, they do not choose to be bound by any sort of opinions, for the purpose of advancing the more freely in the face of all circumstances. There is more good faith in the spirit of sect than in the party spirit ; the Germans, therefore, are naturally more fitted for one than the other. We must distinguish three sorts of reli gious and philosophical sects in Germany ; first, the different Christian communities which have existed ( particularly at the epoch of the Reformation ), when all writings have been directed towards theological questions ; secondly, the secret associations ; and lastly, the adepts of some particular systems, of - which one man is the chief. We must range the Anabaptists and the Moravians in the first class ; in the second, that most ancient of secret associations, the Free Masons; and in the third, the different sorts of the Illu minated . The Anabaptists were rather a revolu tionary than a religious sect ; and as they owed their existence to political passions,
SPIRIT TOT SECTARISM . 361 and not to opinions, they passed away with circumstances. The Moravians, entirely strangers to the interests of this world, are, as I have said , a Christian community of the greatest purity. The Quakers carry into the midst of society the principles of the Mora vians : the Moravians withdraw from the world, to be the more sure of remaining faithful to their principles. Free -masonry is an institution much more serious in Scotland and in Gerinany than in France. It has existed in all countries ; but it nevertheless appears, that it was from Germany especially that this association took its origin ; that it was afterwards transported to England by the Anglo -Saxons, and re newed at the death of Charles the First by the partisans of the Restoration , who assem bled somewhere near St. Paul's Church for the purpose of recalling Charles the Second to the throne. It is also believed that the Free Masons, especially in Scotland , are, in some manner, connected with theorderof Templars. Lessing has written a dialogue upon Free masonry, in which his luminous genius is very remarkable. He believes that this associa tion has for its object the union of men , in spite of the barriers of society ; for if, in 362 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . certain respects, the social state forms a bond of connexion between men, by subjecting them to the empire of the laws, it separates them by the differences of rank and govern ment : this sort of brotherhood, the true image of the golden age, has been mingled with many other ideas equally good and moral in Free-masonry. However, we cannot dissemble that there is something in the na ture of secret associations which leads the mind to independence ; but these associations are very favourable to the developement of knowledge for every thing which men do by themselves, and spontaneously gives their judgment nuore strength and more compre hensiveness. It is also possible that the prin ciples of democratical equality may be pro pagated by this species of institution , which exhibits. mankind according to their real value, and not according to their several ranks in the world . Secret associations teach us what is the power of number, and of union, while insulated citizens are , if we may use the expression, abstract beings with relation to each other. In this point of view these associations may have a great influence in the state ; but it is, nevertheless, just to acknowledge, that Free-masonry, in gene 1 SPIRIT OF SECTARISM . S63 ral , is only occupied with religious and phi losophical interests : its members are di vided into two classes, the Philosophical Free-masonry, and the Hermetic or Egyptian Free- masonry. The first has for its object the internal church, or the developement of the spirituality of the soul ; the second is con nected with the sciences with those sci ences which are employed upon the secrets of nature. The Rosicrucian brotherhood , among others, is one of the degrees of Free -masonry, and this brotherhood ori ginally consisted of Alchymists. At all times, and in every country, secret associations have existed , whose members have aimed at mutually strengthening each other in their belief of the soul's spirituality. The mys teries of Eleusis among the Pagans, the sect of the Essenes among the Hebrews, were founded upon this doctrine, which they did not choose to profane by exposing it to the ridicule of the vulgar. It is nearly thirty years since there was an assembly of Free masons, presided over by the Duke of Brunswick, át Wilhelms-Bad . This assembly had for its object the "reform of the Free Masons in Germany ; and it appears, that the opinions of the Mystics in general, and
964 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. those of St. Martin in particular, had muchi influence over this society. Political institu tions, social relations, and often even those of our family, comprehend only the exterior of life. It is then natural , that at all times men should have sought some intimate man ner of knowing and understanding each other, and also those whose characters have any depth, believe they are adepts, and en deavour to distinguish themselves, by some signs, from the rest of mankind. Secret as sociations degenerate with time, but their principle is almost always an enthusiastic feeling restrained by society. There are three classes of the Illuminated , the Mystical, the Visionary, and the Illumi nated : the first class, that of which Jacob Boëhmen, and in the last age Paschal and St. Martin, might be considered as the chiefs, is united by many ties to that internal church which is the sanctuary of re-union for all religious philosophers : these illumi nated are only occupied with religion and with nature, interpreted by the doctrines of religion. The Visionary Illuminated , at the head of whom we must place the Swedish Swedenborg, believe, that, by the power of the will, they can make the dead appear, and SPIRIT OF SECTARISM . 365 work other miracles. The late King of Prussia, Frederick -William , has been led into error by the credulity of these men, or by their artifices, which had the appearance of credulity. The Ideal Illuminated look down upon these visionaries as empirics ; they despise their pretended prodigies, and think that the wonderful sentiments of the soul belong to them only in an especial manner: in a word , men who have had no other object than that of securing the chief authority in all states, and of getting places for them selves, have taken the name of the Illumi nated. Their chief was a Bavarian , Weiss haupt, a man of superior understanding, and who had thoroughly felt the power that we may acquire, by uniting the scattered strength of individuals , and by directing them all to the same object. The possession of a secret, whatever it may be, flatters the self-love of men ; and when they are told that they are something that their equals are not, they always gain a command over them . Self - love is hurt by resembling the multitude ; and, from the moment that we choose to assume public or private marks of distinc tion , we are sure to set in motion the fancy of vanity, which is the most active of all 366 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . In fancies. The political Illuminated have only borrowed from the others some signs of re cognition ; but interests, and not opinions, are their rallying points : their object, it is true, was to reform the social order upon new principles ; but while they waited the accomplishment of this great work, their first aim was to seize upon public offices. Such a sect has adepts enough in every country, who initiate themselves into its secrets. Germany, however, perhaps this sect is the only one which has been founded upon a po litical combination ; all the others have taken their rise from some sort of enthusiasm, and have only had for their object the inquiry after truth. Amongst these men who en deavour to penetrate the secrets of nature , we must reckon the Magnetizers, the Alchy mists, &c. It is probable that there is much folly in these pretended discoveries, but what can we find alarming in them ? If we come to the detection of that which is called mar vellous in physical phænomena, we shall have reason to think there are moments when Nature appears a machine which is constantly moved by the same springs, and it is then that her inflexible regularity alarms us ; but when we fancy we occasionally see SPIRIT OF SECTARISM . 367 in her something voluntary, like thought, a confused hope seizes upon the soul, and steals us away from the fixed regard of necessity. At the bottom of all these attempts, and of all these scientific and philosophical sys tems, there is always a very marked bias towards the spirituality of the soul . Those who wish to divine the secrets of nature, are entirely opposed to the materialists ; for it is always in thought that they seek the solu tion of the enigma of the physical world . Doubtless, such a movement in the mind may lead to great errors, but it is so with every thing animated-as soon as there is life there is danger. Individual efforts would end by being interdicted , if we were to sub ject ourselves to that method which aims at regulating the movements of the mind, as discipline commands those of the body. The difficulty then consists in directing the fa culties without restraining them , and we should wish that it was possible to adapt to the imagination of men, the art yet unknown of still rising on wings, and of directing our flight in the air. 1 368 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. CHAPTER IX. Of the Contemplation of Nature. In speaking of the influence of the new philosophy upon the sciences, I have already made mention of some of the new principles adopted in Germany, relative to the study of nature. But as religion and enthusiasm ✓ have a great share in the contemplation of the universe, I shall point out, in a general manner, the political and religious views that we may collect upon this point in the writings of the Germans. Many naturalists, guided by a pious feeling, have thought it. their duty to limit themselves to the exa mination of final causes . They have endea voured to prove that everything in the world tends to the support and the physical well -being of individuals and of classes. It appears to me that we may make very strong objections to this system . Without doubt it is easy to see, that, in the order of things, the means are admirably adapted to their ends. But in this universal concatena CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 369 tion, where are those causes bounded , which are effects, and those effects which are causes ? If we choose to refer every thing to the preservation of man, we shall find it difficult to conceive what he has in common with the majority of beings : be sides, it is to attach too much value to ma terial existence, to assign that as the ulti mate object of creation . Those who, not withstanding the great crowd of particular misfortunes, attribute a certain sort of good ness to Nature, consider her as a merchant, who, making speculations on a large scale, balances small losses by greater advantages. This system is not suitable even to the go vernments of men ; and scrupulous writers in political economy have opposed it. What then will be the case, if we consider the in tentions of the Deity ? A man, regarded in a religious light, is as much as the human race ; and from the moment that we have conceived the idea of an immortal soul, we have no right to decide what is the degree of importance which an individual holds in his relation to the whole body. Every in telligent being is of an infinite value, be cause his soul is eternal. It is then in the most elevated point of view that the VOL. III , B B 370 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. . German philosophers have considered the universe. There are those who believe they see in every thing two principles, that of good and that of evil, continually op posing each other ; and whether we attribute this contest to an infernal power, or whe ther, according to a simpler thought, the natural world may be the image of the good and bad propensities of man, it is true that the universe always offers to our observation two faces , which are absolutely contrary to each other. There is, we cannot deny it, a terrible side in nature as well as in the human heart, and we feel there a dreadful power of anger. However good may be the intention of the partisans of optimism , more depth is apparent, I think, in those who do not deny evil, but who acknow . ledge the connexion of this evil with the liberty of man, with the immortality which he may deserve by the right use of that liberty. The mystical writers, of whom I have spoken in the preceding chapter, see in man the abridgment of the world , and in the world , the emblem of the doctrines of Christianity. Nature seems to them the cor poreal image of the Deity, and they are continually plunging further into the p¥ o CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 371 found signification of things and beings. Amongst the German writers, who have been employed upon the contemplation of nature under a religious point ofview , there are two who merit particular attention : Novalis as a poet, and Schubert as a naturalist. Novalis, who was a man of noble birth , was initiated from his youth in the studies of every kind, wbich the new school has developed in Germany ; but his pious soul has given a great character of simplicity to his poems. He died at the age of twenty -six ; and , when he was no more, the religious hymns, which he had composed, acquired a striking cele , brity in Germany. This young man's father is a Moravian ; and, some time after the death of his son, be went to visit a commu nity of that persuasion, and heard his son's hymns sung in their church ; the Moravians having chosen them for their own edification, without knowing the author of them . Amongst the works of Novalis, some Hymns to Night are distinguished , which very forcibly depict the train of recollections which it awakens in the mind. The blaze of day may agree with the joyous doctrines of Paganism ; but the starry heaven seems the real temple of the purest worship. It is BB 2 372 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. 董 in the darkness of night, says a German poet, that immortality is revealed to man ; the light of the sun dazzles the eyes, which imagine they see. Some stanzas of No valis, on the life of Miners, contain some spirited poetry, of very great effect. He questions the earth which is found in the deep caverns, because it has been the wit ness of the different revolutions which na ture has undergone ; and he expresses a vehement desire to penetrate still farther to wards the centre of the globe. The con trast, of this boundless curiosity with the frail life, which is to be exposed to gratify it , causes a sublime emotion . Man is placed on earth between infinity in the heavens and infinity in the abysses ; and his life, spent under the influence of time, is likewise between two eternities. Surrounded on all sides by boundless ideas and objects, innu . merable thoughts appear to him like millions of lights, which throw their blaze together to, dazzle him . Novalis has written, much. apon nature in general ; he calls himself, with reason, the disciple of Saïs, because in this city, the temple of Isis was built, and the traditions that remain of the Egyptian inyşteries Jead us to believe that their priesta, CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 373 had a profound knowledge of the laws of the universe. “ .Man,” says Novalis, “ is united to Na. ture by relations almost as various, almost as inconceivable, as those which he main “ tains with his kind : as she brings herself “ down to the comprehension of children , “ and takes delight in their simple hearts, so “ does she appear sublime to exalted minds, “ and divine to divine beings. The love of “ Nature assumes various forms, and while 6 it excites in some persons nothing but joy “ and pleasure, it inspires the arts with the “ most pious religion, with that which gives a direction and a support to the whole of “ life. Long since, among the ancient na " tions, there have been men of serious spirit, for whom the universe was the “ image of the Deity ; and others, who be “ lieved they were only invited to the ban quet of the world : the air, for these con “ vivial guests of existence , was only a re freshing draught ; the stars were only “ torches which lit the dance during the “ night ; and plants and animals only the magnificent 'preparations for a splendid “ feast : Nature did not present herself to “their eyes as a majestic and tranquil temple, 16 66 574 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. " but as the brilliant theatre of ever novel « entertainments. « At the same time, however, some more profound minds were employed, without « relaxation , in rebuilding that ideal world ,
- the traces of which had already disap
peared ; they partook, like brothers, the “ most sacred labours ; some endeavoured to reproduce, in music, the voice of the woods 6 and winds ; others impressed the image " and the presentiment of a more noble race “ upon stone and brass ; changed the rocks “ into edifices ; and brought to light the e treasures hidden under the earth . Nature , &c civilized by man , seemed to answer his de ás sires : the imagination of the artist dared " to question her, and the golden age seemed to reappear, by the help of thought. 4.6 In order to understand Nature, we must
- be incorporated with her. A poetical and « reflective life, a holy and religious soul,
" all the strength and all the bloom of hu man existence, are necessary to attain * this comprehension ; and the true observer
- is he who can discover the analogy of that
es nature with man, and that of man with 5 Heaven." 46 Schubert has composed a book upon ! Na 1 CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 375 ture, that never tires in the perusal ; so filled is it with ideas that excite meditation : he presents the picture of new facts, the concatenation of which is conceived under new points of view. We derive two prin cipal ideas from his work. The Indians believe in a descending metempsychosis, that is, in the condemnation of the soul of man to pass into animals and plants, as a punishment for having misused this life. It would be difficult for us to imagine a system of more profound misery ; and the writings of the Indians bear the melancholy stamp of their doctrine. They believe they see every where, in animals as in plants, thought as as a captive, and feeling enslaved , vainly endeavouring to disengage themselves from the gross and silent forms which imprison them. The system of Schubert is more consolatory He represents Nature as an ascending metempsychosis, in which, from the stone to human life, there is a continual promotion, which makes the vital principle advance by degrees, even to the most com plete perfection . Schubert also believes that there have been epochs, where man had so lively and so delicate a feeling of existing phænomena, 376 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . that, by his own impressions, he conjec tured the most bidden secrets of Nature . These primitive faculties have become dull ; and it is often the sickly irritability of the nerves, which , while it weakens the power of reasoning, restores to man that instinct which he formerly owed to the very pleni tude of his strength. The labours of philo sophers, of learned men, and of poets, in Germany, aim at diminishing the dry power of argumentation, without in the least ob scuring knowledge. It is thus that the ima gination of the ancient world may be born again , like the phonix, from the ashes of all errors , The greater number of naturalists have attempted to explain Nature like a good go vernment, in which every thing is conducted according to wise principles of administra tion ; but it is in vain that we try to transfer this prosaic system to creation. Neither the terrible , nor even the beautiful, can be explained by this circumscribed theory ; and Nature is by turns too cruel and too magni ficent to permit us to subject. her to that sort of calculation which directs our judgment in the affairs of this world . There are objects hideous in themselves, CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 377 whose impression upon us is inexplicable. Certain figures of animals, certain forms of plants, certain combinations of colours, re volt our senses, without our being at all able to give an account of the causes of this repugnance : we would say, that these un graceful contours, these repulsive images, suggest the ideas of baseness and perfidy ; although nothing in the analogies of reason can explain such an association of ideas. The physiognomy of man does not exclu sively depend (as some writers have pre tended) upon the stronger or weaker cha racter of the features ; there is transmitted through the look and the change of counte nance, I know not what expression of the soul, impossible to be mistaken ; and it is above all, in the human form , that we are taught what is extraordinary and unknown in the harmonies of mind and body. Accidents and misfortunès, in the course of nature, have something so rapid , so piti less, and so unexpected about them , that they appear to be miraculous. · Disease and its furies are like a wicked life, which seizes on a sudden upon a life of tranquillity. The affections of the heart make us feel the cruelty of that nature , which it is attempted 578 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . to represent as so sweet and so gentle. What dangers threaten a beloved person ! under how many shapes is death disguised around us ! there is not a fine day which may not conceal the thunderbolt ; not a flower whose juices may not be empoisoned ; not a breath of air which may not bring a fatal contagion : and Nature appears like a jealous mistress, ready to pierce the bosom of man at the very moment that she ani mates him with her kindness. How can we comprehend the object of all these phæno mena, if we confine ourselves to the ordi nary connexion of our thoughts on these subjects ? How can we consider animals without being plunged into the astonishment which their mysterious existence causes ? A poet has called them the dreams of Nature, and man her waking. For what end were they created? what mean those looks which seem covered with an obscure cloud, behind which an idea strives to show itself ? what connexion have they with us ? what part of life is it they enjoy ? A bird survives a man of genius, and I know not what strange sort of despair seizes the heart when we have lost what we love, and when we see the breath of existence still animate an insect which 18 CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 379 moves upon the earth, from which the most noble object has disappeared. The conteni plation of Nature overwhelms our thoughts. We feel ourselves in a state of relation with her, which does not depend upon the good or evil which she can do ; but her visible soul endeavours to find ours in her bosom , and holds converse with us. When dark ness alarms us,, it is not always the peril to which it exposes us that we dread , but it is the sympathy of night with every sort of privation, or grief, with which we are pe netrated . The sun, on the contrary, is like an emanation from the Deity, like a glorious messenger, who tells us that our prayer is heard : his rays descend upon the earth not only to direct the labours of man, but to express a feeling of love for Nature. The flowers turn towards the light, in order to receive it ; they are closed during the night, and at morn and eve they seem in aromatic perfume to breathe their hymns of praise. When these flowers are reared in the shade, they are of pallid hue, and no longer clad in their accustomed colours ; but when we restore them to the day, in them the Sun reflects his varied beams, as in the rain, bow . . And one should say, that he gazes 380 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . upon himself with pride, in the mirror of that beauty which he has conferred upon them . The sleep of vegetables, during cer tain hours, and at certain seasons of the year, is in accord with the motion of the earth : the globe, in its revolving motion, hurries away, through various regions, the half of plants, of animals, and of men, asleep : the passengers in this great vessel , which we call the world , suffer themselves to be rocked in the circle which their journeying habitation describes. The peace and discord, the harmony and dissonance, which a secret bond unites, are the first laws of Nature ; and whether she appears fearful, terrible, or attractive, the sublime unity, which is her character, always makes her known. Fire rushes in waves, like the torrent : the clouds that travel through the air some times assume the form of mountains and of valleys, and appear to imitate in their sport the image of the earth . It is said in Genesis, that the Almighty divided the waters of the earth from the waters of heaven , and suspended these last in the air. The heavens are in “fact a noble ally of the ocean. The azure of the firmament is reflected in the CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 381 а waters, and the waves are painted in the clouds. Sometimes, when the storm is pre paring in the atmosphere, the - sea trembles at a distance, and one should say, that it answers, by the agitation of its waves, to the mysterious signal of the tempest which it has received . M. De Humboldt says, in his scientific and poetical Views of Southern America, that he has witnessed a phænomenon, which is also to be observed in Egypt, and which is called mirage. On a sudden, in the most arid deserts, the reverberation of the air as sumes the appearance of a lake, or of the sea ; and the very animals, panting with thirst, rush towards these deceitful images , hoping to allay , that thirst. The different figures that the hoar--frost traces on the window, present another example of these strange analogies. The vapours.condensed by the cold designate landscapes, like those which are remarked in northern countries : forests of pines, mountains bristling with ice, Feappear in their robes of white, and frozen , Nature takes pleasure in counterfeiting the productions of animated nature , Not only does Nature reflect herself, but she seems to wish to imitate the works of 382 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM man ; and to give them, by these means, a singular testimony of her correspondence with them . It is related , that in the islands near Japan, the clouds assume the appear ance of regular fortifications. The fine arts also have their type in Na ture ; and this luxury of existence is more the object of her care than existence itself : the symmetry of forms, in the vegetable and mineral kingdoms, has served for a model to arehitects ; and the reflection of objects and colours in the water, gives an idea of the illusions of painting : the wind (whose murmurs are prolonged in the trembling leaves) discovers the secret of music. And, it has been said , on the shores of Asia, where the atmosphere is most pure , that sometimes, in the evening, a plaintive and sweet har mony is heard, which Nature seems to address to man , in order to tell him that she herself breathes, that she herself loves, that she herself suffers. Often at the sight of a lovely country we are tempted to believe that its only object is to excite in man exalted and spotless senti ments : I know not what connexion it is which exists between the heavens and the pride of the human heart ; between the rays CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 383 of the moon, that repose upon the moun tain , and the calm of conscience ; but these objects hold a beautiful language to man, and we are capable of wholly yielding to the agitation which they cause : this aban donment would be good for the soul. When, at eve, at the boundary of the landscape, the heaven appears to recline so closely on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the hori zon an asylum of hope, a native land of love, and Nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal. The continual succession of birth and death, of which the natural world is the theatre, would produce the most mournful impression , if we did not fancy we saw in that world the indication of the resurrec tion of all things; and it is the truly religious point of view, in the comtemplation of Na ture, to regard it in this manner. We should end by dying of compassion, if we were confined in every thing to the terrible idea of what is irreparable : no animal pe rishes without our feeling it possible to re gret it ; no tree falls, without the idea that we shall never see it again in its beauty, exciting in us a mournful reflection . In a word, inanimate objects themselves affect 384 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. us when their decay obliges us to quit them : the house, the chair, the table, which have been used by those we loved, interest us ; and these objects even excite in us sometimes a sort of compassion, independent of the re collections which they awaken ; we regret their well-known form , as if by this form they were made into beings who have seen our daily life, and who ought to have seen us die. If eternity was not the antidote to time, we should attach ourselves to every moment in order to retain it ; to every sound, to prolong its vibrations ; to every look, to fix its radiance ; and our enjoyments would only last for that instant which is necessary to make us feel that they are going, and to bedew their traces with tears, traces which the abyss of days must also swallow up. A new thought struck me in some writings which were communicated to me by an author of a pensive and profound imagina tion : he is comparing the ruins of nature with those of art, and of the human species. “ The first ," he says, “ are philosophical ; “ the second poetical; the third mysterious. A thing highly worthy of remark, in fact, is the very different action of years upon na ture , upon the works of genius, and upon . CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE, 385 living creatures . Time injures man alone : when rocks are overturned, when mountains sink into rallies , the earth only changes her appearance ; her new aspect excites new thoughts in our minds, and the vivifying force undergoes a metamorphose, but not a destruction . The ruins of the fine arts ad. dress the imagination : Art rebuilds what time has defaced, and never, perhaps, did a master- piece of art, in all its splendour, im press us with such grand ideas as its own ruins. We picture to ourselves half-destroyed monuments adornect with all that beauty which ever clothes the objects of our regret : but how different is this from the ravages of I old age ! 9 Scarcely.can we believe that youth oncé embellished that countenance, ofwhich death has already seized possession : some physi ognomies escape degradation by the lustre of the soul ; but the human figure, in its de cline, often assumes a vulgar expression which lrardly allows even of pity . Animals, it is true, lose their strength and their activity with years, but the glowing hue of life does not with them change into livid colours, and their dim eyes do not resemble funeral lamps, VOL. III . сс 386 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. throwing their pallid flashes over'a withered cheek. Even when, in the flower of age, life is withdrawn from the bosom of man, neither the admiration excited by the convulsions of nature, nor the interest awakened by the wreck of monuments, can be made to belong to the inanimate corpse of the most lovely of created beings. The love which cherished this enchanting form , love itself cannot en dure the remains of it ; and nothing of man exists after him on earth but what miakes even his friends tremble. Ah ! what a lesson do the horrors of de struction thus incarnate in the human race afford ! Is not this to announce to man that his life is to be elsewhere ? Would nature humble him so low, if the Divinity were not willing to raise him up again ? The true final causes of nature are these relations with our soul and our immortal destiny. Physical objects themselves have a destination which is not bounded by the contracted existence of man below ; they are placed here to assist in the developement of our thoughts to the work of our moral life. The phænomena of nature must not be CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 387 understood according to the laws of matter alone, however well combined those laws may be ; they have a philosophical sense and a religious end , of which the most attentive contemplation will never know the extent. сс22 388 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. 1 CHAPTER X. Of Enthusiasm . Many people are prejudiced against En thusiasm ; they confound it with Fanaticism, which is a great mistake. Fanaticism is an exclusive passion , the object of which is an opinion ; enthusiasm is connected with the harmony of the universe : it is the love of the beautiful, elevation of soul , enjoyment of devotion , all united in one single feeling which combines grandeur and repose. The sense of this word amongst the Greeks affords the noblest definition of it : enthusiasm sig nifies God in us. In fact, when the existence of man is expansive, it has something divine. Whatever leads us to sacrifice our own comfort, or our own life, is almost always enthusiasm ; for the high road of reason , to the selfish , must be to make themselves the object of all their efforts, and to value no thing in the world but health, ' riches, and power. Without doubt, conscience is suf ENTHUSIASM. 889 a ficient to lead the coldest character into the track of virtue ; but enthusiasm is to con science what honour is to duty : there is in us a superfluity of soul which it is sweet to consecrate to what is fine, when what is good has been accomplished . Genius and imagination also stand in need of a little care for their welfare in the world ; and the law of duty , however sublime it may be, is not sufficient to enable us to taste all the won ders of the heart, and of the thought. It cannot be denied that his own interests, as an individual, surround a man on all sides ; there is even in what is vulgar a certain en joyment, of which many people are very sus ceptible, and the traces of ignoble passions are often found under the appearance of the most distinguished manners. Superior talents are not always a guarantee against that de gradation of nature which disposes blindly of the existence of men, and leads them to , place their happiness lower than themselves. Enthusiasm alone can counterbalance the tendency to selfishness ; and it is by this di vine sign that we recognise the creatures of immortality. When you speak to any one on subjects worthy of holy respect, you per ceive at once if he feels aa noble trembling ; 390 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. if his heart beats with elevated sentiments ; if he has formed an alliance with the other life, or if he has only that little portion of mind which serves him to direct the me chanism of existence . And what then is human nature when we see in it nothing . but a prudence, of which its own advantage is the object? The instinct of animals is of more worth, for it is sometimes generous and proud ; but this calculation , which seems the attribute of reason , ends by ren dering us incapable of the first of virtues, self -devotion . Amongst those who endeavour to turn exalted sentiments into ridicule, many are , nevertheless, susceptible of them , though . unknown to themselves. War, undertaken with personal views, always affords some of the enjoyments of enthusiasm ; the trans port of a day of battle, the singular plea sure of exposing ourselves to death , when our whole nature would enjoin to us the love of life, can only be attributed to en thusiasm . The martial music, the neighing of the steeds, the roar of the cannon, the multitude of soldiers clothed in the same co lours, moved by the same desire, assembled around the same banners, inspire an emo ENTHUSIASM. 391, tion capable of triumphing over that instinct which would preserve existence ; and so strong is this enjoyment, that neither fatigues, nor sufferings, nor dangers, can withdraw the soul from it. Whoever has once led this lifel loves no other. The attainment of our object never satisfies us ; it is the action of risking ourselves, which is necessary, it is that which introduces enthusiasm into the blood ; and although it may be more pure at the bottom of the soul, it is still of a noble nature, when it is able to become an impulse almost physical. Sincere enthusiasm is often reproached with what belongs only to affected enthu siasm : the more pure a sentiment is , the more odious is a false imitation of it. To tyrannize over the admiration of men is what is most culpable, for we dry up in them the source of good emotions when we make them blush for having felt them. Besides, nothing is more painful than the false sounds which appear to proceed from the sanctuary of the soul itself : Vanity may possess her self of whatever is external; conceit and dis grace are the only evils which will result from it ; but when she counterfeits our 392 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASDI. in ward feelings, she appears to violate the last asylum in which we can hope to escape her. It is easy, nevertheless, to discover sincerity in enthusiasm ; it is a melody so pure, that the smallest discord destroys its whole charm ; a word, an accent, a look, express the concentrated emotion which an swers to a whole life . Persons who are called severe in the world , very often have in them something exalted . The strength which reduces others to subjection may be no more than cold calculation . The strength which triumphs over ourselves is always in spired by a generous sentiment. Enthusiasm , far from exciting a just sus picion of its excesses, perhaps leads in ge neral to a contemplative disposition , which impairs the power of acting : the Germans are a proof of it ; no nation is more capable of feeling or thinking; but when the moment of taking a side is arrived, the very extent of their conceptions detracts from the decision of their character. Character and enthusiasm differ in many respects'; we ought to choose our object by enthusiasm , but to approach it by character : thought is nothing without enthusiasm, and action without character ; + ENTHUSIASM. 393 enthusiasm is every thing for literary nations, character is every thing to those which are active ; free nations stand in need of both. Selfishness takes pleasure in speaking in cessantly of the dangers of enthusiasm ; this ' affected fear is in truth derision ; if the cun ning men of the world would be sincere , they would say, that nothing suits them þetter than to have to do with persons with whom so many means are impossible , and who can so easily renounce what occupies the greater part of mankind. This disposition of the mind has strength , notwithstanding its sweetness ; and he who feels it knows how to draw froin it a noble constancy. The storms of the passions sub side, the pleasures of self -love fade away, enthusiasm alone is unalterable ; the mind itself would be lost in physical existence, if something proud and animated did not snatch it away from the vulgar ascendancy of self ishness : that moral dignity, which is proof against all attempts, is what is most ad mirable in the gift of existence ; it is for this that in the bitterest pains it is still noble to have lived as it would be noble to die. 394 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. Let us now examine the influence of en thusiasm upon learning and happiness. These last reflections will terminate the train of thoughts to which the different subjects that I had to discuss have led me. INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM, &c . 395 CHAPTER XI. Of the Influence of Enthusiasm on Learning. This chapter is, in some respects , the reca pitulation of my whole work ; for enthusiasm being the quality which really distinguishes the German nation , we may judge of the influence it exerts over learning, according to the progress of human nature in Germany. Enthusiasm gives life to what is invisible, and interest to whathas no immediate action on our comfort in this world ; no sentiment, therefore, is more adapted to the pursuit of abstract truths; they are, therefore, culti vated in Germany with a remarkable ardour and firmness. The philosophers who are inspired by en thusiasm are those, perhaps, who have the most exactness and patience in their labours, and at the same time those who the least endeavour to shine ; they love science for itself, and set no value upon themselves, when the object of their pursuit is in ques tion : physical nature pursues its own inva 396 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . riable march over the destruction of indi viduals ; the thought of man assumes a sub lime character when it arrives at the power of examining itself from an universal point of view ; it then silently assists the triumphs of truth , and truth is, like nature, a force which acts only by a progressive and regular developement. It may be said , with some reason , that enthusiasm leads to a systematizing spirit ; when we are much attached to our ideas, we endeavour to connect every thing with them ; but, in general, it is easier to deal with sincere opinions, than with opinions adopted through vanity. If, in our relations with men, we had to do only with what they really think , we should easily understand one another ; it is what they affect to think that breeds discord . Enthusiasm has been often accused of leading to error, but perhaps a superficial interest is much more deceitful; for, to pe netrate the essence of things, it is necessary there should be an impulse to excite our at tention to them with ardour. Besides, in considering human destiny in general, I be lieve it may be affirmed, that we shall never arrive at truth, but by elevation of soul ; INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM , &c. 397 every thing that tends to lower us is false hood, and, whatever they may say of it, the error lies on the side of vulgar sentiments. Enthusiasm , I repeat, has no resemblance to fanaticism , and cannot mislead as it does. Enthusiasm is tolerant, not through indiffer ence, but because it makes us feel the in terest and the beauty of all things. Reason does not give happiness in the place of that which it deprives us of ; enthusiasm finds, in the musing of the heart, and in depth of thought, what fanaticism and passion com prise in a single idea, or a single object. This sentiment, on account even of its universality, is very favourable to thought and to imagi nation . Society developes wit, but it is conten plation alone that forms genius. Self -love is the spring of countries where society pre vails, and self - love necessarily leads to jest ing, which destroys all enthusiasm. It is amusing enough, it cannot be denied, to have a quick perception of what is ridi culous, and to paint it with grace and gaiety ; perhaps it would be better to deny ourselves this pleasure, but, nevertheless, that is not the kind ofjesting the consequences of which are the most to be feared ; that which is at í 998 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . tached to ideas and to sentiments is the most fatal of all , for it insinuates itself into the source of strong and devoted affections. Man has a great empire over man ; and of all the evils he can do to his fellow - creature, the greatest perhaps is to place the phantoms of ridicule between generous emotions and the actions they would inspire. Love, genius, talent, distress itself, all these sacred things are exposed to irony , and it is impossible to calculate to what point the empire of this irony may extend. There is a relish in wickedness : there is something weak in goodness. Admiration for great things may be made the sport of wit ; and he who attaches no importance to any thing, has the air of being superior to every thing : if, therefore, our heart and our mind are not defended by enthusiasm , they are exposed on all sides to be surprised by this darkest shade of the beautiful, which unites insolence to gaiety. The social spirit is so formed that we are often commanded to laugh, and much oftener are made ashamed of weeping : from what does this proceed ? . From this -- that self love thinks itself safer in pleasantry than in emotion, A man must be able to rely well INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM, &c . 399 on his wit before he can dare to be serious against a jest ; it requires much strength to disclose sentiments which may be turned into ridicule. Fontenelle said , “ I am eighty years old ; I am a Frenchman , and I have never, through all my life, treated the “ smallest virtue with the smallest ridicule . ” This sentence argued a profound knowledge of society. Fontenelle was not a sensible man , but he had a great deal of wit ; and whenever a man is endowed with any su periority, he feels the necessity of serious ness in human nature. It is only persons of middling understanding who would wish that the foundation of every thing should be sand , in order that no man might leave upon the earth a trace more durable than their own. The Germans have not to struggle amongst themselves against the enemies of enthusiasm , which is a great obstacle at least to distin guished men. Wit grows sharper by con test, but talent has need of confidence . It is necessary to expect admiration, glory, in mortality , in order to experience the inspira tion of genius ; and what makes the distinc tion between different ages is not nature, which is always lavish of the same gifts, but 400 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . the opinion which prevails at the epoch in which we live : if the tendency of that opi nion is towards enthusiasm , great men spring up on all sides ; if discouragement is pro claimed in one country, when in others noble efforts would be excited, nothing remains in literature but judges of the time past. The terrible events of which we have been witnesses have dried up men's hearts, and every thing that belongs to thought appeared tarnished by the side of the omnipotence of action . Difference of circumstances has led mind's to support all sides of the same ques tions ; the consequence has been,, that people no longer believe in ideas, or consider them , at best , as means. Conviction does not seem to belong to our times ; and when a man says he is of such an opinion , that is under stood to be a delicate manner of expressing that he has such an interest.
- The most honest men, then , make to
themselves a system which changes their idleness into dignity : they say that nothing can be done with nothing; they repeat, with the Hermit of Prague, in Shakspeare, that what is, is, and that theories have no influ ence on the world . Such men leave off with making what they say true ; for with such a INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM, &c. 401 mode of thinking they cannot act upon others ; and if wit consisted in seeing the for and against of every subject, it would make the objects which encompass us turn round such a manner that we could not walk with a firm step upon this tottering ground . a We also see young people, ambitious of appearing free from all enthusiasm, affect á philosophical contempt for exalted senti ments ; they think by that to display a pre cocious force of reason ; but it is a premature decay of which they are boasting. They treat talent like the old man who asked, if Love still existed ? The mind deprived of imagination would gladly treat even Nature with disdain , if Nature were not too strong for it. We certainly do great mischief to those persons who are yet animated with noble desires, by incessantly opposing them with all the argument which can disturb the most confiding hope ; nevertheless, good faith cannot grow weary of itself, for it is not the appearance, but the reality of things which employs her. With whatever atmo sphere we may be surrounded, a sincere word was never completely lost ; if there is but one day on which success can be gained, VOL. III . D D 402 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . there are ages for the operation of the good which may be done by truth . The inhabitants of Mexico , as they pass along the great road, each of them carry a small stone to the grand pyramid which they are raising in the midst of their country. No individual will confer his name upon it : but all will have contributed to this monu ment, which must survive them all .
5 5 INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 403 CHAPTER XII. AND LAST. Of the Influence of Enthusiasm upon Happiness. The course of my subject necessarily leads me here to treat of happiness. I have hitherto studiously avoided the word, because now for almost a century it has been the custom to place it principally in pleasures so gross, in a way of life so selfish , in calcula tions so narrow and confined , that its very image is sullied and profaned. It, however, may be pronounced with confidence, that of all the feelings of the human heart enthu siasm confers the greatest happiness, that indeed it alone confers real happiness, alone can enable us to bear the lot of mortality in every situation in which fortune has the power to place us. Vainly would we reduce ourselves to sen sual enjoyments ; the soul asserts itself on every side. Pride, ambition, self - love, all these are still from the soul, although in them a poisonous and pestilential blast mixes DD 2 404 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . Meanwhile, how wretched is the existence of that crowd of mortals, who, playing the hypocrite with themselves almost as much as with others, are con tinually employed in repressing the generous emotions, which struggle to revive within their bosoms, as diseases of the imagination, which the open air should at once dispel. How impoverished is the existence of those, who content themselves with abstaining from doing evil, and treat as weakness and delusion the source of the most beautiful deeds and the most noble conceptions ! From mere vanity they imprison themselves in obstinate mediocrity, which they might easily have opened to the light of know ledge, which every where surrounds them ; they sentence and condemn themselves to that monotony of ideas , to that deadness of feeling, which suffers the days to pass , one after the other, without deriving from them any advantage, without making in them any progress, without treasuring úp any matter for fature recollection. If tine in its course had not cast a change upon their features, what proofs would they have preserved of its having passed at all? If to grow old and to die'were not the necessary law of our with its essence. INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 405 nature, what serious reflection would ever have arisen in their minds ? Some reasoners there are, who object that enthusiasm produces a distaste for ordinary life ; and that as we cannot always remain in the same frame of mind, it is more for our advantage never to indulge it : and why then, I would ask them, have they accepted the gift of truth , why of life itself, since they well knew that they were not to last for ever ? Why have they loved (if indeed they ever have loved ), since death at any moment might separate them from the ob jects of their affection ? Can there be a more wretched economy than of the faculties of the soul ? They were given us to be im proved and expanded , to be carried as near as possible to perfection, even to be prodi gally lavished for a high and noble end . The more we benumb our feelings and render ourselves insensible, the nearer (it will be said ) we approach to a state ofma terial existence, and the more we diminish the dominion of pain and sorrow over us . This argument imposes upon many ; it con sists, in fact, in recommending to us to make an attempt to live with as little of life as possible. But our own degradation is al 406 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . ways accompanied by an uneasiness of mind, for which we cannot account, and which unremittingly attends upon us in se cret. The discontent, the shame, and the weariness, which it causes, are arranged by vanity in the garb of impertinence and con tempt ; but it is very rare that any man can settle peaceably in this confined and desert sphere of being, which leaves him without resource in himself when he is abandoned by the prosperity of the world . Man has a consciousness of the beautiful as well as of the virtuous ; and in the absence of the for mer he feels a void , as in a deviation from the latter he finds remorse. It is a common accusation against enthu siasm, that it is transitory ; man were too much blessed , if he could fix and retain emotions so beautiful ; but it is because they are so easily dissipated and lost, that we should strive and exert ourselves to pre serve them . Poetry and the fine arts are the means of calling forth in man this hap piness of illustrious origin , which raises the depressed heart ; and , instead of an unquiet satiety of life, gives an babitual feeling of the divine harmony, in which nature and { ourselves claim a part. INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 407 There is no duty, there is no pleasure, there is no sentiment, which does not bor: row from enthusiasm I know not what charm, which is still in perfect unison with the simple beauty of truth . All men take up arms indeed for the de fence of the land which they inhabit, when circumstances demand this duty of them ; but if they are inspired by the enthusiasm of their country, what warm emotions do they not feel within them ? The sun, which shone upon their birth , the land of their fathers, the sea which bathes their rocks * , their many recollections of the past, their many hopes for the future, every thing around them presents itself as a summons and en couragement for battle, and in every pulsa tion of the heart rises a thought of affection and of honour. God has given this country to men who can defend it ; to women, who, for its sake, consent to the dangers of their brothers, their husbands, and their sons. At the approach of the perils which threaten it,
- It is easy to perceive, that by this phrase, and by those which follow , I have been trying to designate England ; in fact, I could not speak of war with enthusiasm , without representing it to myself as the contest of a free nation for her
independence. 408 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . a fever, exempt from shuddering as from delirium , quickens the blood in the veins. Every effort, in such a struggle, comes from the deepest source of inward thought. As yet nothing can be seen in the features of these generous citizens but tranquillity ; there is too much dignity in their emotions for outward demonstration ; but let the sig nal once be heard, let the banner of their country wave in the air, and you will see those looks, before so gentle, and so ready to resume that character at the sight of mis fortune, at once animated ' by a determina tion holy and terrible ! They shudder no more, neither at wounds nor 'at blood ; it is no longer pain , it is no longer death, it is an offering to the God of armies ; no regret, no hesitation, now intrudes itself into the most desperate resolutions ; and when the heart is entirely in its object, then is the highest en joyment of existence ! As soon as man bas , within his own mind, separated himself from himself, to him life is only an evil ; and if it : be true, that of all the feelings enthusiasm confers the greatest happiness, it is because, more than any other, it unites all the forces . of the soul in thesame direction for the same end , INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 409 The labours of the understanding are con sidered by many writers as an occupation almost merely mechanical , and which fills up their life in the same manner as any other profession. It is still something that their choicehasfallen upon literature ; but have such men even an idea of the sublime happiness of thought when it is animated by enthu siasm ? Do they know the hope which pe netrates the soul, when there arises in it the confident belief, that by the gift of eloquence we are about to demonstrate and declare some profound truth , some truth which will be at once a generous bond of union between us . and every soul that sympathizes with ours ? : Writers without enthusiasm , know of the career of literature nothing but the criti cisms, the reviling, the jealousies which at tend upon it, and which necessarily must endanger our peace of mind, if we allow ourselves to be entangled amongst the pas sions of men . Unjust attacks of this nature may, indeed, sometimes do us injury ; but the true, the heartfelt internal enjoyment which belongs to talent, cannot be affected by them . Even at the moment of the first public appearance of a work , and before its character is yet decided , how many hours of 410 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM , . happiness has it not already been worth to him who wrote it from his heart, and as an act and office of his worship ! How many tears of rapture has he not shed in his soli tude over those wonders of life, love, glory, and religion ? Has he not, in his trans ports, enjoyed the air of heaven like a bird ; the waters like a thirsty hunter ; the flowers like a lover, who believes that he is breath , ing the sweets which surrouod his mistress ? In the world, we have the feeling of being oppressed beneath our own faculties, and we often suffer from the consciousness that we are the only one of our own disposition, in the midst of so many beings, who exist $ 0 easily , and at the expense of so little in tellectual exertion ; but the creative talent of imagination , for some moments at least, są : tisfies all our wishes and desires ; it opens to us treasures of wealth ; it offers to us crowns of glory ; it raises before our eyes the pure and bright image of an ideal world ; and so mighty sometimes is its power , that by it we hear in our hearts the very voice and accents of one whom we have loved20 :"; ! C3 Does he who is not endowed with an en thusiastic imagination flatter himself that he is, in any degree, acquainted with the earth INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 411 upon which he lives, or that he has travelled through any of its various countries ? Does his heart beat at the echo of the mountains ? or has the air of the south lulled his senses in its voluptuous softness ? Does he per ceive wherein countries differ, the one from the other ? Does he remark the accent, and does he understand the peculiar character of the idioms of their languages ? Does he hear in the popular song, and see in the national dance, the manners and the genius of the people ? Does one single sensation at once fill his mind with a crowd of recollections ? Is Nature to be felt without enthusiasm ? Can common men address to her the tale of their mean interests and low desires ? What have the sea and the stars to answer to the little vanities with which each individual is content to fill up each day ? But if the soul be really moved within us, if in the universe it seeks a God, even if it be still sensible to glory and to love, the clouds of heaven will hold converse with it, the torrents will listen to its voice, and the breeze that passes through the grove seems to deign to whisper to us something of those we love. There are some wlio, although devoid of enthusiasmn , still believe that they have a 1 412 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . taste and relish for the fine arts ; and indeed they do love the refinement of luxury, and they wish to acquire a knowledge of music and of painting, that they may be able to converse upon them with ease and with taste , and even with that confidence which be comes the man of the world , when the sub ject turns upon imagination, or upon Na ture ; but what are these barren pleasures , when compared with true enthusiasm ? What an einotion runs through the brain when we contemplate in the Niobe that settled look of calm and terrible despair which seems to reproach the gods with their jealousy of her maternal happiness ? What consolation does the sight of beauty breathe upon us ! Beauty also is from the soul , and pure and noble is the admiration it inspires. To feel the grandeur of the Apollo demands in the spectator a pride which tramples under foot all the serpents of the earth . None but a Christian can penetrate the countenance of the Virgins of Raphaël, and the St. Jerome of Domenichino. None but a Christian can recognise the same expression in fascinating beauty, and in the depressed and grief -worn visage ; in the brilliancy of youth, and in features changed by age and disfigured 5
INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 413 by suffering ! -the same expression which springs from the soul , and which, like a ráy of celestial light, shoots across the early morning of life, or the closing darkness of age ! Can it be said that there is such an art as that of music for those who cannot feel en thusiasm ? Habit may render harmonious sounds, as it were, a necessary gratification to them, and they enjoy them as they do the flavour of fruits, or the ornament of colours ; but has their whole being vibrated and trembled responsively, like a lyre, if at any time the midnight silence has been suddenly broken by the song, or by any of those in struments which resemble the human voice ? Have they in that moment felt the mystery of their existence in that softening emotion which reunites our separate natures , and blends in the same enjoyment the senses of the soul ? Have the beatings of the heart followed the cadence of the music ? Have they learned , under the influence of these emotions so full of charms, to shed those tears which have nothing of self in them '; those tears which do not ask for the compassion of others , but which relieve ourselves from the inquietude which arises . 414 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . from the need of something to admire and to love ? The taste for public spectacles is universal, for the greater part of mankind have more imagination than they themselves think ; and that which they consider as the allurement of pleasure, as a remnant of the weakness of childhood which still hangs about them, is often the better part of their nature : while they are beholding the scenes of fic tions , they are true, natural, and feeling ; whereas in the world dissimulation , calcu lation , and vanity, are the absolute masters of their words, sentiments, and actions. But do they think that they have felt all that a really fine tragedy can inspire, who find in the representation of the strongest affections nothing but a diversion and amusement? Do they doubt and disbelieve that rapturous agitation, which the passions, purified by poetry, excite within us?. Ah ! how many and how great are the pleasures which spring from fictions ! The interest they raise is without either apprehension or remorse ; and the sensibility which they call forth has none of that painful harshness from which real passions are hardly ever exempt. Wbat enchantment does not the language INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM . 415 2 of love borrow from poetry and the fine arts ! How beautiful is it to love at once with the heart and with the mind ! thus to vary in a thousand fashions a sentiment which one word is indeed sufficient to express, but for which all the words of the world are but poverty and weakness ! to submit entirely to the influence of those master- pieces of the imagination, which all depend upon love, and to discover in the wonders of nature and genius new expressions to declare the feel ings of our own heart ! Wbat have they known of love, who have not reverenced and admired the woman whom they loved, in whom the sentiment is not a hymn breathed from the heart, and who do not perceive in grace and beauty the heavenly image ofthemost touching passions ? What has she felt of love, who has not seen in the object of her choice an exalted protec tor, a powerful and a gentle guide, whose look at once commandsand supplicates, and who receives upon his knees the right of disposing of her fate ? How inexpressible is the delight which serious reflections, united and blended a with warm and lively impres sions, produce! The tenderness of a friend , in whose hands our happiness is deposited ,
416 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM. ought, at the gates of the tomb, in the same manner as in the beautiful days of our youth, to form our chief blessing ; and every thing most serious and solemn in our existence transforms itself into emotions of delight; when , as in the fable of the ancients , it is the office of love to light and to extinguish the torch of life . If enthusiasm fills the soul with happiness, by a strange and wondrous charm, it forms also its chief support under misfortune; it leaves behind it a deep trace and a path of light, which do not allow absence itself to efface us from the hearts of our friends. It affords also to ourselves an asylum from the utmost bitterness of sorrow, and is the only feeling which can give tranquillity without indifference . Even the most simple passions, which every heart believes itself capable of feeling, even filial and maternal love, cannot be felt in their full strength , unless enthusiasm be blended with them . How can we love a son without indulging the flattering hope that he will be generous and gallant, without wishing him that renown which may, as it were, multiply his existence, and make us hear from every side the name which our INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM. 417 own : heart is continually repeating ? Why should we not enjoy with rapture the talents of a son, the beauty of a daughter ? Can there be a more strange ingratitude towards the Deity, than indifference for his gifts ? Are they not from Heaven, since they render it a more easy task for us to please him whom we love ? Meanwhile, should some misfortune de prive our child of these advantages, the same sentiment would then assume another form : it would increase and exalt within us the feeling of compassion, of sympathy, the hap piness of being necessary to him. Under all circumstances, enthusiasm either animates or consoles ; and even in the moment when the blow, the most cruel that can be struck, reaches us, when we lose him to whom we owe our own being, him whom we loved as a tutelary angel, and who inspired us at once with a fearless respect and a boundless con fidence, still enthusiasm comes to our assist ance and support. It brings together within us some sparks of that soul which has passed away to heaven ; westill live before him, and we promise ourselves that we will one day transmit to posterity the history of his life. Never, we feel assured, never will his paternal VOL. III , E E 418 RELIGION AND ENTHUSIASM . hand abandon us entirely in this world ; and his image, affectionate and tender, still in clines towards us, to support us, until we are called unto him. And in the end, when the hour of trial comes, when it is for us in our turn to meet the struggle of death , the increasing weak ness of our faculties ; the loss and ruin of our hopes ; this life, before so strong, which now begins to give way within us ; the crowd of feelings and ideas which lived with in our bosom , and which the shades of the tomb already surround and envelope ; our interests , our passions, this existence itself, which lessens to a shadow , before it vanishes away, all deeply distress. us ; and the com mon man appears, when he expires, to have less of death to undergo. Blessed be God, however, for the assistance which he has prepared for us even in that moment ; our utterance shall be imperfect, our eyes shall no longer distinguish the light, our reflections, before clear and connected, shall wander vague and confused ; but Enthusiasm will not abandon us, her brilliant wings shall wave over the funeral couch ; she will lift the veil of death ; she will recall to our recollection those moments, when, in the fulness of و 2 INFLUENCE OF ENTHUSIASM. 419 -; energy, we felt that the heart wasimperish able ; and our last sigh shall be a high and generous thought, reascending to that heaven from which it had its birth . “ O France ! land of glory and of love ! “ if the day should ever come when enthu 66“ siasm shall be extinct upon your soil, when - all shall be governed and disposed upon “ calculation, and even the contempt of danger shall be founded only upon the “ conclusions of reason, in that day what 66 will avail you the loveliness ofyour climate, “ the splendour of your intellect, the general fertility of your nature ? Their intelligent activity, and an impetuosity directed by “ prudence and knowledge, may indeed give your children the empire of the world ; “ but the only traces you will leave on the 6 face of that world will be like those of the sandy whirlpool , terrible as the waves, 66 and sterile as the desert ** !"
- This last sentence is that which excited in the French
police the greatest indignation against my book. It seems to me, that Frenchmen at least cannot be displeased with it. END OF THE THIRD AND LAST VOLUME. Printed by W. CLOWES, Northumberlaud- court, Strand, London . مر
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS- URBANA
3 0112 004224678
米諾
We
