Theological Essays and Other Papers v2
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Thomas de Quincey >> Theological Essays and Other Papers v2
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More truly, and more philosophically, it may be said that there is
nothing old under the sun, no absolute repetition. It is the well-known
doctrine of Leibnitz, [Footnote 2] that amongst the familiar objects
of our daily experience, there is no perfect identity. All in external
nature proceeds by endless variety. Infinite change, illimitable
novelty, inexhaustible difference, these are the foundations upon which
nature builds and ratifies her purpose of _individuality_--so
indispensable, amongst a thousand other great uses, to the very elements
of social distinctions and social rights, But for the endless
circumstances of difference which characterize external objects, the
rights of property, for instance, would have stood upon no certain
basis, nor admitted of any general or comprehensive guarantee.
As with external objects, so with human actions; amidst their infinite
approximations and affinities, they are separated by circumstances of
never-ending diversity. History may furnish her striking
correspondences, Biography her splendid parallels, Rome may in certain
cases appear but the mirror of Athens, England of Rome,--and yet, after
all, no character can be cited, no great transaction, no revolution
of 'high-viced cities,' no catastrophe of nations, which, in the midst
of its resemblances to distant correspondences in other ages, docs not
include features of abundant distinction and individualizing
characteristics, so many and so important, as to yield its own peculiar
matter for philosophical meditation and its own separate moral. Rare
is the case in history, or (to speak with suitable boldness) there is
none, which does not involve circumstances capable to a learned eye,
without any external aid from chronology, of referring it to its own
age. The doctrine of Leibnitz, on the grounds of individuality in the
objects of sense, may, in fact, be profitably extended to all the great
political actions of mankind. Many pass, in a popular sense, for pure
transcripts or duplicates of similar cases in past times; but,
accurately speaking, none are such truly and substantially. Neither
are the differences, by which they are severally marked and featured,
interesting only to the curiosity or to the spirit of minute research.
All public acts in the degree in which they are great and comprehensive,
are steeped in living feelings, and saturated with the spirit of their
own age; and the features of their individuality, that is, the
circumstances which chiefly distinguish them from their nearest
parallels in other times, and chiefly prevent them from lapsing into
blank repetitions of the same identical case, are generally the very
cardinal points, the organs, and the depositories which lodge whatever
best expresses the temper and tendencies of the age to which they
belong. So far are these special points of distinction from being
slight or trivial, that in them _par excellence_ is gathered and
concentrated, whatever a political philosopher would be best pleased
to insulate and to converge within his field of view.
This, indeed, is evident upon consideration; and is in some sense
implied in the very verbal enunciation of the proposition; _vi termini_,
it should strike every man who reflects--that in great national
transactions of different ages, so far resembling each other as to
merit the description of _parallels_, all the circumstances of
agreement--all those which compose the resemblance for the very reason
that they are _common_ to both periods of time, specially and
characteristically belong to neither. It is the differential, and not
the common--the points of special dissimilitude, not those of general
similitude--which manifestly must be looked to, for the philosophic
valuation of the times or the people--for the adjudication of their
peculiar claims in a comparison with other times and other people--and
for the appraisement of the progress made, whether positively for its
total amount, or relatively to itself, for its rate of advance at each
separate stage.
It is in this way of critical examination, that comparison and the
collation of apparent parallels, from being a pure amusement of
ingenuity, rises to a philosophic labor, and that the study of History
becomes at once dignified and in a most practical sense profitable.
It is the opinion of the subtlest and the most combining (if not the
most useful) philosopher whom England has produced, that a true
knowledge of history confers the gift of prophecy; or that intelligently
and sagaciously to have looked backwards, is potentially to have looked
forwards. For example, he is of opinion that any student of the great
English civil war in the reign of Charles I., who should duly have
noted the signs precurrent and concurrent of those days, and should
also have read the contemporary political pamphlets, coming thus
prepared, could not have failed, after a corresponding study of the
French literature from 1750 to 1788, and in particular, after collecting
the general sense and temper of the French people from the _Cahiers_,
(or codes of instruction transmitted by the electoral bodies to the
members of the first National Assembly,) to foresee in clear succession
the long career of revolutionary frenzy, which soon afterwards deluged
Europe with tears and blood. This may perhaps be conceded, and without
prejudice to the doctrine just now delivered, of endless diversity in
political events. For it is certain that the political movements of
nations obey everlasting laws, and travel through the stages of known
cycles, which thus insure enough of resemblance to guarantee the general
outline of a sagacious prophecy; whilst on the other hand, the times,
the people, and the extraordinary minds which, in such critical eras,
soon reveal themselves at the head of affairs, never fail of producing
their appropriate and characteristic results of difference. Sameness
enough there will always be to encourage the true political seer; with
difference enough to confer upon each revolution its separate character
and its peculiar interest.
All this is strikingly illustrated in the history of those great
revolutionary events, which belong to the life and times of the Emperor
Charlemagne. If any one period in history might be supposed to offer a
barren and unprofitable picture of war, rapine, and bloodshed--unfeatured
by characteristic differences, and unimproved by any peculiar moral,
it is this section of the European annals. Removed from our present
times by a thousand years, divided from us by the profound gulf of what
we usually denominate the _dark ages_; placed, in fact, entirely upon
the farther [Footnote 3] side of that great barrier--this period of
history can hardly be expected to receive much light from contemporary
documents in an age so generally illiterate. Not from national archives,
or state papers, when diplomacy was so rare, when so large a proportion
of its simple transactions was conducted by personal intercourse, and
after the destruction wrought amongst its slender chancery of written
memorials by the revolution of one entire millenium. Still less could we
have reason to hope for much light from private memoirs at a period when
the means of writing were as slenderly diffused as the motives; when the
rare endowments, natural and acquired, for composing history could so
seldom happen to coincide with the opportunities for obtaining accurate
information; when the writers were so few, and the audience so limited
and so widely dispersed, to which they could then profitably address
themselves. With or without illustration, however, the age itself and
its rapid succession of wars between barbarous and semi-barbarous tribes,
might, if any one chapter in history, be presumed barren of either interest
or instruction, wearisomely monotonous; and, by comparison with any
parallel section from the records of other nations in the earliest
stages of dawning civilization, offering no one feature of novelty
beyond the names of the combatants, their local and chronological
relations, and the peculiar accidents and unimportant circumstances
of variety in the conduct or issue of the several battles which they
fought.
Yet, in contradiction to all these very plausible presumptions, even
this remote period teems with its own peculiar and separate instruction.
It is the first great station, so to speak, which we reach after
entering the portals of modern [Footnote 4] history. It presents us
with the evolution and propagation of Christianity in its present
central abodes; with the great march of civilization, and the gathering
within the pale of that mighty agency for elevating human nature, and
beneath the gentle yoke of the only true and beneficent religion, of
the last rebellious recusants among the European family of nations.
We meet also, in conjunction with the other steps of the vast humanizing
process then going on, the earliest efforts at legislation--recording
at the same time the barbarous condition of those for whom they were
designed, and the anti-barbarous views and aspirations of the legislator
in the midst of his condescensions to the infirmities of his subjects.
Here also we meet with the elementary state, growing and as yet
imperfectly rooted, of feudalism. Here, too, we behold in their
incunabula, forming and arranging themselves under the pressure of
circumstances, the existing kingdoms of Christendom. So far, then,
from being a mere echo, or repetition, of other passages in history,
the period of Charlemagne is rich and novel in its instruction, and
almost (we might say) unique in the quality of that instruction. For
here only perhaps we see the social system forming itself in the mine,
and the very process, as it were, of crystallization going on beneath
our eyes. Mr. James, therefore, may be regarded as not less fortunate
in the choice of his subject, than meritorious in its treatment; indeed,
his work is not so much the best, as the only history of Charlemagne
which will hereafter be cited. For it reposes upon a far greater body
of research and collation, than has hitherto been applied [Footnote
4] even in France to this interesting theme; and in effect it is the
first account of the great emperor and his times which can, with a due
valuation of the term, be complimented with the title of a _critical_
memoir. Charlemagne, 'the greatest man of the middle ages,' in the
judgment of his present biographer, was born A. D. 742--seven years
before his father assumed the _name_ of King. This date has been
disputed: but, on the whole, we may take it as settled, upon various
collateral computations, that the year now assigned is the true one.
The place is less certain: but we do not think Mr. James warranted in
saying that it is 'unknown.' If every thing is to be pronounced
'unknown,' for which there is no absolute proof of a kind to satisfy
forensic rules of evidence, or which has ever been made a question for
debate, in that case we may apply a sponge to the greater part of
history before the era of printing.
Aix-la-Chapelle, Mr. James goes on to tell us, is _implied_ as the
birth-place of one of the chief authorities. But our own impression
is, that according to the general belief of succeeding ages, it was
not Aix-la-Chapelle, but Ingelheim, a village near Mentz, to which
that honor belonged. Some have supposed that Carlsburg, in Bavaria,
was the true place of his birth; and, indeed, that it drew its name
from that distinguished event. Frantzius, in particular, says, that
in his day the castle of that place was still shown to travellers with
the reverential interest attached to such a pretension. But, after
all, he gives his own vote for Ingelheim; and it is singular that he
does not so much as mention Aix-la-Chapelle. Of his education and his
early years, Mr. James is of opinion that we know as little as of his
birth-place. Certainly our information upon these particulars is neither
full nor circumstantial; yet we know as much, perhaps, in these
respects, of Charlemagne as of Napoleon Bonaparte. And remarkable
enough it is, that not relatively, (or making allowances for the age,)
but absolutely, Charlemagne was much more accomplished than Napoleon
in the ordinary business of a _modern_ education; Charlemagne, in the
middle of the 8th century, than Napoleon in the latter end of the 18th.
Charlemagne was, in fact, the most accomplished man of his age; Napoleon
a sciolist for any age. The tutor of Charlemagne was Peter of Pisa,
a man eminent at that time for his attainments in literature (_in re
grammatica_). From him it was that Charlemagne learned Latin and Greek;
Greek in such a degree 'ut sufficienter intelligeret,' and Latin to
the extent of using it familiarly and fluently in conversation. Now,
as to the man of the 18th century, Greek was to him as much a sealed
language as Chinese; and, even with regard to Latin, his own secretary
doubts, upon one occasion, whether he were sufficiently master of it
to translate Juvenal's expressive words of _Panem et Circenses_. Yet
he had enjoyed the benefits of an education in a Royal College, in a
country which regards itself self-complacently as at the head of
civilization. Again, there is a pretty strong tradition, (which could
hardly arise but upon some foundation,) that Charlemagne had cultivated
the Arabic so far as to talk it; [Footnote 6] having no motive to that
attainment more urgent than that political considerations made it
eligible for him to undertake an expedition against those who could
negotiate in no other language. Now, let it be considered how very
much more powerful arguments there were in Napoleon's position for
mastering the German and the English. His continental policy moved
entirely upon the pivot of central Europe, that is, the German system
of nations--the great federation of powers upon the Rhine and the
Danube. And, as to England, his policy and his passions alike pointed
in that direction as uniformly and as inevitably as the needle to the
Pole: every morning, we are told, tossing aside the Paris journals as
so many babbling echoes of his own public illusions, expressing rather
what was desired, than what was probable, he required of his secretary
that he should read off into French the leading newspapers of England.
And many were the times when he started up in fury, and passionately
taxed his interpreter with mistranslation; sometimes as softening the
expressions, sometimes as over-coloring their violence. Evidently he
lay at the mercy of one whom he knew to be wanting in honor, and who
had it in his power, either by way of abetting any sinister views of
his own, or in collusion with others, to suppress--to add--to
garble--and in every possible way to color and distort what he was
interpreting. Yet neither could this humiliating sense of dependency
on the one hand, nor the instant pressure of political interest on the
other, ever urge Napoleon to the effort of learning English in the
first case, German or Spanish in the second. Charlemagne again
cultivated most strenuously and successfully, as an accomplishment
peculiarly belonging to the functions of his high station, the art and
practice of eloquence; and he had this reward of his exertions--that
he was accounted the most eloquent man of his age: 'totis viribus ad
orationem exercendam conversus naturalem facundiam ita roboravit studio,
ut praeter [l. _propter_] promptum ac profluens sermonis genus _facile
aevi sui eloquentissimus crederetur.'
Turn to Bonaparte. It was a saying of his sycophants, that he sometimes
spoke like a god, and sometimes worse than the feeblest of mortals.
But, says one who knew him well,--the mortal I have often heard,
unfortunately never yet the god. He who sent down this sneer to
posterity, was at Napoleon's right hand on the most memorable occasion
of his whole career--that cardinal occasion, as we may aptly term it,
(for upon _that_ his whole fortunes hinged,) when he intruded violently
upon the legislative body, dissolved the Directory and effected the
revolution of the 18th Brumaire. That revolution it was which raised
him to the Consular power; and by that revolution, considered in its
manner and style, we may judge of Napoleon in several of his chief
pretensions--courage, presence of mind, dignity, and eloquence; for
then, if ever, these qualities were all in instant requisition; one
word effectually urged by the antagonist parties, a breath, a gesture,
a nod, suitably followed up, would have made the total difference
between ruler of France and a traitor hurried away _a la lanterne_.
It is true that the miserable imbecility of all who should have led
the hostile parties, the irresolution and the quiet-loving temper of
Moreau, the base timidity of Bernadotte, in fact, the total defect of
heroic minds amongst the French of that day, neutralized the defects
and more than compensated the blunders of Napoleon. But these were
advantages that could not be depended on: a glass of brandy
extraordinary might have emboldened the greatest poltroon to do that
which, by once rousing a movement of popular enthusiasm, once making
a beginning in that direction, would have precipitated the whole affair
into hands which must have carried it far beyond the power of any party
to control. Never, according to all human calculation, were eloquence
and presence of mind so requisite: never was either so deplorably
wanting. A passionate exposition of the national degradations inflicted
by the imbecility of the Directors, an appeal to the Assembly as
Frenchmen, contrasting the glories of 1796 with the humiliating
campaigns that had followed, might, by connecting the new candidate
for power with the public glory, and the existing rulers with all the
dishonors which had settled on the French banners, have given an
electric shock to the patriotism of the audience, such as would have
been capable for the moment of absorbing their feelings as partisans.
In a French assembly, movements of that nature, under a momentary
impulse, are far from being uncommon. Here, then, if never before, and
never again, the grandeur of the occasion demanded--almost, we might
say, implored, and clamorously invoked, the effectual powers of
eloquence and perfect self-possession. How was the occasion met? Let
us turn to the actual scene, as painted in lively colors by a friend
and an eye-witness: [Footnote 7]--'The accounts brought every instant
to General Bonaparte determined him to enter the hall [of the Ancients]
and take part in the debate. His entrance was hasty and in anger--no
favorable prognostics of what he would say. The passage by which we
entered led directly forward into the middle of the house; our backs
were towards the door; Bonaparte had the President on his right; he
could not see him quite in front. I found myself on the General's
right; our clothes touched: Berthier was on his left.
'All the harangues composed for Bonaparte after the event differ from
each other;--no miracle that. There was, in fact, none pronounced to
the Ancients; unless a broken conversation with the President, carried
on without nobleness, propriety, or dignity, may be called a speech.
We heard only these words--"_Brothers in arms--frankness of a soldier_."
The interrogatories of the President were clear. Nothing could be more
confused or worse enounced, than the ambiguous and disjointed replies
of Bonaparte. He spoke incoherently of volcanoes--secret
agitations--victories--constitution violated. He found fault even
with the 18th Fructidor, of which he had himself been the prime
instigator and most powerful upholder.' [Not, reader, observe, from
bold time-serving neglect of his own principles, but from absolute
distraction of mind, and incoherency of purpose.] 'Then came
_Caesar_--_Cromwell_--_Tyrant_'--[allusions which, of all others, were
the most unseasonable for that crisis, and for his position.] 'He
repeated several times--_I have no more than that to tell you_; and
he had told them nothing. Then out came the words,--_Liberty, Equality:_
for these every one saw he had not come to St. Cloud. Then his action
became animated, and we lost him--comprehending nothing beyond _18th
Fructidor, 30 Prairial, hypocrites, intriguers; I am not so; I shall
declare all; I will abdicate the power when the danger which threatens
the Republic has passed_.' Then, after further instances of Napoleon's
falsehood, and the self-contradictory movements of his disjointed
babble, the secretary goes on thus: 'These interruptions, apostrophes,
and interrogations, overwhelmed him; he believed himself lost. The
disapprobation became more violent, and his discourse still more wanting
in method and coherence. Sometimes he addressed the representatives,
quite stultified; sometimes the military in the court,' [_i. e._
outside,] 'who were beyond hearing; then, without any transition, he
spoke of the thunder of war--saying, _I am accompanied by the god of
war and fortune_. The President then calmly observed to him that he
found nothing, absolutely nothing, upon which they could deliberate;
that all he had said was vague. _Explain yourself, unfold the plots
into which you have been invited to enter_. Bonaparte repeated the
same things; and in what style! No idea in truth can be formed of the
whole scene, unless by those present. There was not the least order
in all he stammered out (to speak sincerely) with the most inconceivable
incoherence. Bonaparte was no orator. Perceiving the bad effect produced
upon the meeting by this rhapsody, and the progressive confusion of
the speaker, I whispered (pulling his coat gently at the same
time)--'Retire, General, you no longer know what you are saying.' I
made a sign to Berthier to second me in persuading him to leave the
place; when suddenly, after stammering out a few words more, he turned
round, saying, 'Let all who love me follow.' So ended this famous
scene--in which, more than in any other upon record, eloquence and
presence of mind were needful. And if it should be said that vagueness
was not altogether the least eligible feature in a speech whose very
purpose was to confuse, and to leave no room for answer, we reply--true;
but then it was the vagueness of art, which promised to be serviceable,
and that of preconcerted perplexity, not the vagueness of incoherence,
and a rhapsody of utter contradiction. [Footnote 8]
What a contrast all this to the indefeasible majesty of Charlemagne--to
his courage and presence of mind, which always rose with the occasion,
and, above all, to his promptitude of winning eloquence, that _promptum
ac praftuens genus sermonis_, which caused him to be accounted _evi
sui eloquentissimus!_
Passing for a moment to minor accomplishments, we find that Charlemagne
excelled in athletic and gymnastic exercises; he was a _pancratiast_.
Bonaparte wanted those even which were essential to his own daily
security. Charlemagne swam well; Bonaparte not at all. Charlemagne was
a first-rate horseman even amongst the Franks; Napoleon rode ill
originally, and no practice availed to give him a firm seat, a graceful
equestrian deportment, or a skilful bridle hand. In a barbarous age
the one possessed all the elegances and ornamental accomplishments of
a gentleman; the other, in a most polished age, and in a nation of
even false refinement, was the sole barbarian of his time; presenting,
in his deficiencies, the picture of a low mechanic--and, in his positive
qualities, the violence and brutality of a savage. [Footnote 9] Hence,
by the way, the extreme folly of those who have attempted to trace a
parallel between Napoleon and the first Caesar. The heaven-born Julius,
as beyond all dispute the greatest man of ancient history in moral
grandeur, and therefore raised unspeakably above comparison with one
who was eminent, even amongst ordinary men, for the pettiness of his
passions--so also, upon an intellectual trial, will be found to
challenge pretty nearly an equal precedency. Meantime, allowing for
the inequality of their advantages, even Caesar would not have disdained
a comparison with Charlemagne. All the knowledge current in Rome,
Athens, or Rhodes, at the period of Caesar's youth, the entire cycle
of a nobleman's education in a republic where all noblemen were from
their birth dedicated to public services, this--together with much and
various knowledge peculiar to himself and his own separate objects--had
Caesar mastered; whilst, in an age of science, and in a country where
the fundamental science of mathematics was generally diffused in
unrivalled perfection, it is well ascertained that Bonaparte's knowledge
did not go beyond an elementary acquaintance with the first six books
of Euclid; but, on the other hand, Charlemagne, even in that early
age, was familiar with the intricate mathematics and the elaborate
_computus_ of Practical Astronomy.
But these collations, it will be said, are upon questions not primarily
affecting their peculiar functions. They are questions more or less
extra-judicial. The true point of comparison is upon the talents of
policy in the first place, and strategies in the second. A trial between
two celebrated performers in these departments, is at any rate
difficult; and much more so when they are separated by vast intervals
of time. Allowances must be made, so many and so various; compensations
or balances struck upon so many diversities of situation; there is so
much difference in the modes of warfare--offensive and defensive; the
financial means, the available alliances, and other resources, are
with so much difficulty appraised--in order to raise ourselves to that
station from which the whole question can be overlooked, that nothing
short of a general acquaintance with the history, statistics, and
diplomacy of the two periods, can lay a ground for the solid
adjudication of so large a comparison. Meantime, in the absence of
such an investigation, pursued upon a scale of suitable proportions,
what if we should sketch a rapid outline [Greek Text: os en tupo
pexilabeln] of its _elements_, (to speak by a metaphor borrowed from
practical astronomy)--_i. e._ of the principal and most conspicuous
points which its path would traverse? How much these two men, each
central to a mighty system in his own days, how largely and essentially
they differed--whether in kind or in degree of merit, will appear in
the course even of the hastiest sketch. The circumstances in which
they agreed, and that these were sufficient to challenge an inquiry
into their characteristic differences, and to support the interest of
such an inquiry, will probably be familiar to most readers, as among
the common places of general history which survive even in the daily
records of conversation. Few people can fail to know--that each of
these memorable men stood at the head of a new era in European history,
and of a great movement in the social development of nations; that
each laid the foundations for a new dynasty in his own family, the one
by building forwards upon a basis already formed by his two immediate
progenitors, the other by dexterously applying to a great political
crisis his own military preponderance; and finally, that each forfeited
within a very brief period--the one in his own person, the other in
the persons of his immediate descendants--the giddy ascent which he
had mastered, and all the distinctions which it conferred; in short,
that 'Time, which gave, did his own gifts confound ;' [Footnote 10]
but with this mighty difference--that Time co-operated in the one case
with extravagant folly in the individual, and in the other with the
irresistible decrees of Providence.
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