History of Civilization in England, Vol. 2 of 3

It would be impossible to relate all the original remarks of Voltaire, which, when he made them, were attacked as dangerous paradoxes, and are now valued as sober truths. He was the first historian who recommended universal freedom of trade; and, although he expresses himself with great caution,925 still the mere announcement of the idea in a popular history forms an epoch in the progress of the French mind. He is the originator of that important distinction between the increase of population and the increase of food, to which political economy has been greatly indebted;926 a principle adopted several years later by Townsend, and then used by Malthus as the basis of his celebrated work.927 He has, moreover, the merit of being the first who dispelled the childish admiration with which the Middle Ages had been hitherto regarded, and which they owed to those dull and learned writers, who, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, were the principal investigators of the early history of Europe. These industrious compilers had collected extensive materials, which Voltaire turned to good account, and by their aid overthrew the conclusions at which the authors had themselves arrived. In his works, the Middle Ages are, for the first time, represented as what they really were, – a period of ignorance, ferocity, and licentiousness; a period when injuries were unredressed, crime unpunished, and superstition unrebuked. It may be said, with some show of justice, that Voltaire, in the picture he drew, fell into the opposite extreme, and did not sufficiently recognize the merit of those truly great men, who, at long intervals, stood here and there, like solitary beacons, whose light only made the surrounding darkness more visible. Still, after every allowance for that exaggeration which a reaction of opinions always causes, it is certain that his view of the Middle Ages is not only far more accurate than that of any preceding writer, but conveys a much juster idea of the time than can be found in those subsequent compilations which we owe to the industry of modern antiquaries; a simple and plodding race, who admire the past because they are ignorant of the present, and who, spending their lives amid the dust of forgotten manuscripts, think themselves able, with the resources of their little learning, to speculate on the affairs of men, to trace the history of different periods, and even to assign to each the praise it ought to receive.

With such writers as these, Voltaire was always at war; and no one has done so much to lessen the influence they once exercised over even the highest branches of knowledge. There was also another class of dictators, whose authority this great man was equally successful in reducing, namely, the old class of classical scholars and commentators, who, from the middle of the fourteenth till early in the eighteenth century, were the chief dispensers of fame, and were respected as being by far the most distinguished men Europe had ever produced. The first great assaults made upon them were late in the seventeenth century, when two controversies sprung up, of which I shall hereafter give an account, – one in France, and one in England, – by both of which their power was considerably damaged. But their two most formidable opponents were, undoubtedly, Locke and Voltaire. The immense services rendered by Locke in lessening the reputation of the old classical school, will be examined in another part of this work; at present we are only concerned with the steps taken by Voltaire.

The authority wielded by the great classical scholars rested not only on their abilities, which are undeniable, but also on the supposed dignity of their pursuits. It was generally believed that ancient history possessed some inherent superiority over modern history; and this being taken for granted, the inference naturally followed, that the cultivators of the one were more praiseworthy than the cultivators of the other; and that a Frenchman, for instance, who should write the history of some Greek republic, displayed a nobler turn of mind than if he had written the history of his own country. This singular prejudice had for centuries been a traditional notion; which men accepted, because they had received it from their fathers, and which it would have been almost an impiety to dispute. The result was, that the few really able writers on history devoted themselves chiefly to that of the ancients; or, if they published an account of modern times, they handled their theme, not according to modern ideas, but according to ideas gathered from their more favourite pursuit. This confusion of the standard of one age with the standard of another, caused a double evil. Historians, by adopting this plan, injured the originality of their own minds; and, what was far worse, they set a bad example to the literature of their country. For every great nation has a mode of expression, and of thought, peculiar to itself, and with which its sympathies are intimately connected. To introduce any foreign model, however admirable it may be, is to violate this connexion, and to impair the value of literature by limiting the scope of its action. By such a course, the taste may possibly be refined, but the vigour will certainly be weakened. Indeed, the refinement of the taste may well be doubted, when we see what has taken place in our country, where our great scholars have corrupted the English language by a jargon so uncouth, that a plain man can hardly discern the real lack of ideas which their barbarous and mottled dialect strives to hide.928 At all events, it is certain, that every people worthy of being called a nation, possess in their own language ample resources for expressing the highest ideas they are able to form; and although, in matters of science, it may be convenient to coin such words as are more easily understood in foreign countries, it is a grave offence to depart on other subjects from the vernacular speech; and it is a still graver one, to introduce notions and standards for action, suited perhaps to former times, but which the march of society has left far behind, and with which we have no real sympathy, though they may excite that sickly and artificial interest which the classical prejudices of early education still contrive to create.

It was against these evils that Voltaire entered the field. The wit and the ridicule with which he attacked the dreaming scholars of his own time, can only be appreciated by those who have studied his works. Not, as some have supposed, that he used these weapons as a substitute for argument, still less that he fell into the error of making ridicule a test for truth. No one could reason more closely than Voltaire, when reasoning suited his purpose. But he had to deal with men impervious to argument; men whose inordinate reverence for antiquity had only left them two ideas, namely, that every thing old is right, and that every thing new is wrong. To argue against these opinions would be idle indeed; the only other resource was, to make them ridiculous, and weaken their influence, by holding up their authors to contempt. This was one of the tasks Voltaire set himself to perform; and he did it well.929 He, therefore, used ridicule, not as the test of truth, but as the scourge of folly. And with such effect was the punishment administered, that not only did the pedants and theologians of his own time wince under the lash, but even their successors feel their ears tingle when they read his biting words; and they revenge themselves by reviling the memory of that great writer, whose works are as a thorn in their side, and whose very name they hold in undisguised abhorrence.

These two classes have, indeed, reasons enough for the hatred with which they still regard the greatest Frenchman of the eighteenth century. For, Voltaire did more than any other man to sap the foundation of ecclesiastical power, and to destroy the supremacy of classical studies. This is not the place for discussing the theological opinions which he attacked; but of the state of classical opinions an idea may be formed, by considering some of those circumstances which were recorded by the ancients respecting their history, and which, until the appearance of Voltaire, were implicitly believed by modern scholars, and through them by the people at large.

It was believed that, in ancient times, Mars ravished a virgin, and that the offspring of the intrigue were no other than Romulus and Remus, both of whom it was intended to put to death; but they were fortunately saved by the attentions of a she-wolf and a woodpecker; the wolf giving them suck, and the woodpecker protecting them from insects. It was, moreover, believed that Romulus and Remus, when grown up to man's estate, determined to build a city, and that, being joined by the descendants of the Trojan warriors, they succeeded in erecting Rome. It was believed that both brothers came to an untimely end; Remus being murdered, and Romulus being taken up to heaven by his father, who descended for that purpose in the midst of a tempest. The great scholars then proceeded to relate the succession of several other kings; the most remarkable of whom was Numa, whose only communications with his wife were carried on in a sacred grove. Another of the sovereigns of Rome was Tullus Hostilius, who, having offended the clergy, perished from the effects of their anger; his death being caused by lightning, and preceded by pestilence. Then again, there was one Servius Tullius, who was also a king, and whose greatness was prognosticated by the appearance of flames round his head as he was sleeping in his cradle. After this, it was but a slight matter that the ordinary laws of mortality should be suspended; we were, therefore, assured that those ignorant barbarians, the early Romans, passed two hundred and forty-five years under the government of only seven kings, all of whom were elected in the prime of life, one of whom was expelled the city, and three of whom were put to death.

These are a few of the idle stories in which the great scholars took intense delight, and which, during many centuries, were supposed to form a necessary part of the annals of the Latin empire. Indeed, so universal was the credulity, that, until they were destroyed by Voltaire, there were only four writers who had ventured openly to attack them. Cluverius, Perizonius, Pouilly, and Beaufort were the names of these bold innovators; but by none of them was any impression made on the public mind. The works of Cluverius and Perizonius, being composed in Latin, were addressed entirely to a class of readers who, infatuated with a love of antiquity, would listen to nothing that diminished the reputation of its history. Pouilly and Beaufort wrote in French; both of them, and especially Beaufort, were men of considerable ability; but their powers were not versatile enough to enable them to extirpate prejudices which were so strongly protected, and which had been fostered by the education of many successive generations.

The service, therefore, rendered by Voltaire in purging history of these foolish conceits, is, not that he was the first by whom they were attacked, but that he was the first to attack them with success; and this because he was also the first who mingled ridicule with argument, thus not only assailing the system, but also weakening the authority of those by whom the system was supported. His irony, his wit, his pungent and telling sarcasms, produced more effect than the gravest arguments could have done; and there can be no doubt that he was fully justified in using those great resources with which nature had endowed him, since by their aid he advanced the interests of truth, and relieved men from some of their most inveterate prejudices.

It is not, however, to be supposed that ridicule was the only means employed by Voltaire in effecting this important object. So far from that, I can say with confidence, after a careful comparison of both writers, that the most decisive arguments advanced by Niebuhr against the early history of Rome, had all been anticipated by Voltaire; in whose works they may be found, by whoever will take the trouble of reading what this great man has written, instead of ignorantly railing against him. Without entering into needless detail, it is enough to mention that, amidst a great variety of very ingenious and very learned discussion, Niebuhr has put forward several views with which later critics have been dissatisfied; but that there are three, and only three, principles which are fundamental to his history, and which it is impossible to refute. These are: – I. That, on account of the inevitable intermixture of fable essential to a rude people, no nation can possess trustworthy details respecting its own origin. II. That even such early documents as the Romans might have possessed, had been destroyed before they were incorporated into a regular history. III. That ceremonies established in honour of certain events alleged to have taken place in former times, were a proof, not that the events had happened, but that they were believed to have happened. The whole fabric of the early history of Rome at once fell to pieces, as soon as these three principles were applied to it. What, however, is most remarkable, is, that not only are all three laid down by Voltaire, but their bearing upon Roman history is distinctly shown. He says that no nation is acquainted with its own origin; so that all primitive history is necessarily an invention.930 He remarks, that since even such historical works as the Romans once possessed, were all destroyed when their city was burned, no confidence can be placed in the accounts which, at a much later period, are given by Livy and other compilers.931 And, as innumerable scholars busied themselves in collecting evidence respecting ceremonies instituted in celebration of certain events, and then appealed to the evidence in order to prove the events, Voltaire makes a reflection which now seems very obvious, but which these learned men had entirely overlooked. He notices, that their labour is bootless, because the date of the evidence is, with extremely few exceptions, much later than the date of the event to which it refers. In such cases, the existence of a festival, or of a monument, proves, indeed, the belief which men entertain, but by no means proves the reality of the occurrence concerning which the belief is held.932 This simple, but important maxim, is, even in our own days, constantly lost sight of, while before the eighteenth century it was universally neglected. Hence it was that historians were able to accumulate fables which were believed without examination;933 it being altogether forgotten, that fables, as Voltaire says, begin to be current in one generation, are established in the second, become respectable in the third, while in the fourth generation temples are raised in honour of them.934

I have been the more particular in stating the immense obligations history is under to Voltaire, because in England there exists against him a prejudice, which nothing but ignorance, or something worse than ignorance, can excuse;935 and because, taking him on the whole, he is probably the greatest historian Europe has yet produced. In reference, however, to the mental habits of the eighteenth century, it is important to show, that in the same period similar comprehensiveness was being displayed by other French historians; so that in this case, as in all others, we shall find that a large share of what is effected, even by the most eminent men, is due to the character of the age in which they live.

The vast labours of Voltaire towards reforming the old method of writing history, were greatly aided by those important works which Montesquieu put forward during the same period. In 1734,936 this remarkable man published what may be truly called the first book in which there can be found any information concerning the real history of Rome; because it is also the first in which the affairs of the ancient world are treated in a large and comprehensive spirit.937 Fourteen years later, there appeared, by the same author, the Spirit of Laws; a more famous production, but, as it seems to me, not a greater one. The immense merit of the Spirit of Laws is, indeed, incontestable, and cannot be affected by the captious attempts made to diminish it by those minute critics, who seem to think that when they detect the occasional errors of a great man, they in some degree reduce him to their own level. It is not such petty cavilling which can destroy an European reputation; and the noble work of Montesquieu will long survive all attacks of this kind, because its large and suggestive generalizations would retain their value even if the particular facts of which the illustrations consist were all unfounded.938 Still, I am inclined to believe, that in point of original thought it is barely equal to his earlier work, though it is unquestionably the fruit of much greater reading. Without, however, instituting a comparison between them, our present object is merely to consider the contributions they jointly contain towards a right understanding of history, and the way in which those contributions are connected with the general spirit of the eighteenth century.

In this point of view, there are, in the works of Montesquieu, two leading peculiarities. The first is, the complete rejection of those personal anecdotes, and those trivial details respecting individuals, which belong to biography, but with which, as Montesquieu clearly saw, history has no concern. The other peculiarity is, the very remarkable attempt which he first made to effect an union between the history of man and those sciences which deal with the external world. As these are the two great characteristics of the method adopted by Montesquieu, it will be necessary to give some account of them, before we can understand the place he really occupies, as one of the founders of the philosophy of history.

We have already seen that Voltaire had strongly insisted on the necessity of reforming history, by paying more attention to the history of the people, and less attention to that of their political and military rulers. We have also seen, that this great improvement was so agreeable to the spirit of the time, that it was generally and quickly adopted, and thus became an indication of those democratic tendencies, of which it was in reality a result. It is not, therefore, surprising that Montesquieu should have taken the same course, even before the movement had been clearly declared; since he, like most great thinkers, was a representative of the intellectual condition, and a satisfier of the intellectual wants, of the age in which he lived.

But, what constitutes the peculiarity of Montesquieu in this matter, is, that with him a contempt for those details respecting courts, ministers, and princes, in which ordinary compilers take great delight, was accompanied by an equal contempt for other details which are really interesting, because they concern the mental habits of the few truly eminent men who, from time to time, have appeared on the stage of public life. This was because Montesquieu perceived that, though these things are very interesting, they are also very unimportant. He knew, what no historian before him had even suspected, that in the great march of human affairs, individual peculiarities count for nothing; and that, therefore, the historian has no business with them, but should leave them to the biographer, to whose province they properly belong. The consequence is, that not only does he treat the most powerful princes with such disregard as to relate the reigns of six emperors in two lines,939 but he constantly enforces the necessity, even in the case of eminent men, of subordinating their special influence to the more general influence of the surrounding society. Thus, many writers had ascribed the ruin of the Roman Republic to the ambition of Cæsar and Pompey, and particularly to the deep schemes of Cæsar. This, Montesquieu totally denies. According to his view of history, no great alteration can be effected, except by virtue of a long train of antecedents, where alone we are to seek the cause of what to a superficial eye is the work of individuals. The republic, therefore, was overthrown, not by Cæsar and Pompey, but by that state of things which made the success of Cæsar and Pompey possible.940 It is thus that the events which ordinary historians relate are utterly valueless. Such events, instead of being causes, are merely the occasions on which the real causes act.941 They may be called the accidents of history; and they must be treated as subservient to those vast and comprehensive conditions, by which alone the rise and fall of nations are ultimately governed.942

This, then, was the first great merit of Montesquieu, that he effected a complete separation between biography and history, and taught historians to study, not the pecularities of individual character, but the general aspect of the society in which the peculiarities appeared. If this remarkable man had accomplished nothing further, he would have rendered an incalculable service to history, by pointing out how one of its most fertile sources of error might be safely removed. And although, unhappily, we have not yet reaped the full benefit of his example, this is because his successors have really had the capacity of rising to so high a generalization: it is, however, certain, that since his time, an approximation towards such elevated views may be noticed, even among those inferior writers who, for want of sufficient grasp, are unable to adopt them to their full extent.

In addition to this, Montesquieu made another great advance in the method of treating history. He was the first who, in an inquiry into the relations between the social conditions of a country and its jurisprudence, called in the aid of physical knowledge, in order to ascertain how the character of any given civilization is modified by the action of the external world. In his work on the Spirit of Laws, he studies the way in which both the civil and political legislation of a people are naturally connected with their climate, soil, and food.943 It is true, that in this vast enterprise he almost entirely failed; but this was because meteorology, chemistry, and physiology, were still too backward to admit of such an undertaking. This, however, affects the value only of his conclusions, not of his method; and here, as elsewhere, we see the great thinker tracing the outline of a plan, which, in the then state of knowledge, it was impossible to fill up, and the completion of which he was obliged to leave to the riper experience and more powerful resources of a later age. Thus to anticipate the march of the human intellect, and, as it were, forestal its subsequent acquisitions, is the peculiar prerogative of minds of the highest order; and it is this which gives to the writings of Montesquieu a certain fragmentary and provisional appearance, which was the necessary consequence of a profoundly speculative genius dealing with materials that were intractable, simply because science had not yet reduced them to order by generalizing the laws of their phenomena. Hence it is, that many of the inferences drawn by Montesquieu are untenable; such, for instance, as those regarding the effect of diet in stimulating population by increasing the fecundity of women,944 and the effect of climate in altering the proportion between the births of the sexes.945 In other cases, an increased acquaintance with barbarous nations has sufficed to correct his conclusions, particularly those concerning the effect which he supposed climate to produce on individual character; for we have now the most decisive evidence, that he was wrong in asserting946 that hot climates make people unchaste and cowardly, while cold climates make them virtuous and brave.

These, indeed, are comparatively trifling objections, because, in all the highest branches of knowledge, the main difficulty is, not to discover facts, but to discover the true method according to which the laws of the facts may be ascertained.947 In this, Montesquieu performed a double service, since he not only enriched history, but also strengthened its foundation. He enriched history by incorporating with it physical inquiries; and he strengthened history by separating it from biography, and thus freeing it from details which are always unimportant, and often unauthentic. And although he committed the error of studying the influence of nature over men considered as individuals,948 rather than over men considered as an aggregate society, this arose principally from the fact that, in his time, the resources necessary for the more complicated study had not yet been created. Those resources, as I have shown, are political economy and statistics; political economy supplying the means of connecting the laws of physical agents with the laws of the inequality of wealth, and, therefore, with a great variety of social disturbances; while statistics enable us to verify those laws in their widest extent, and to prove how completely the volition of individual men is controlled by their antecedents, and by the circumstances in which they are placed. It was, therefore, not only natural, but inevitable, that Montesquieu should fail in his magnificent attempt to unite the laws of the human mind with the laws of external nature. He failed, partly because the sciences of external nature were too backward, and partly because those other branches of knowledge which connect nature with men were still unformed. For, as to political economy, it had no existence as a science until the publication of the Wealth of Nations in 1776, twenty-one years after the death of Montesquieu. As to statistics, their philosophy is a still more recent creation, since it is only during the last thirty years that they have been systematically applied to social phenomena; the earlier statisticians being merely a body of industrious collectors, groping in the dark, bringing together facts of every kind without selection or method, and whose labours were consequently unavailable for those important purposes to which they have been successfully applied during the present generation.