part i. p. 78; _Bulstrode's Memoirs_, p. 4; _Howell's Letters_,

p. 354; _Hunt's Hist. of Newspapers_, vol. i. p. 45; _Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion_, p. 81; _Nichols's Lit. Anec._ vol. iv. pp. 86, 102.

[261] Dugald Stewart (_Philos. of the Mind_, vol. i. p. 357) says, 'Nothing can be more just than the observation of Fontenelle, that "the number of those who believe in a system already established in the world, does not, in the least, add to its credibility; but that the number of those who doubt of it, has a tendency to diminish it."' Compare with this _Newman on Development_, Lond. 1845, p. 31; and the remark of Hylas in _Berkeley's Works_, edit. 1843, vol. i. pp. 151, 152, first dialogue.

Thus it fell out in France. In that country, as in every other, when theological convictions diminished, theological animosities subsided. Formerly religion had been the cause of war, and had also been the pretext under which it was conducted. Then there came a time when it ceased to be the cause: but so slow is the progress of society, that it was still found necessary to set it up as the pretext.[262] Finally, there came the great days of the Fronde, in which it was neither cause nor pretext,[263] and in which there was seen, for the first time in France, an arduous struggle by human beings avowedly for human purposes: a war waged by men who sought, not to enforce their opinions, but to increase their liberty. And, as if to make this change still more striking, the most eminent leader of the insurgents was the Cardinal de Retz; a man of vast ability, but whose contempt for his profession was notorious,[264] and of whom a great historian has said, 'he is the first bishop in France who carried on a civil war without making religion the pretence.'[265]

[262] Compare _Capefigue's Richelieu_, vol. i. p. 293, with a remarkable passage in _Mém. de Rohan_, vol. i. p. 317; where Rohan contrasts the religious wars he was engaged in during the administration of Richelieu, with those very different wars which had been waged in France a little earlier.

[263] 'L'esprit religieux ne s'était mêlé en aucune manière aux querelles de la Fronde.' _Capefigue_, vol. ii. p. 434. Lenet, who had great influence with what was called the party of the princes, says that he always avoided any attempt 'à faire aboutir notre parti à une guerre de religion.' _Mém. de Lenet_, vol. i. p. 619. Even the people said that it was unimportant whether or not a man died a Protestant; but that if he were a partizan of Mazarin he was sure to be damned: 'Ils disoient qu'étant mazarin, il falloit qu'il fût damné.' _Lenet_, vol. i. p. 434.

[264] Indeed he does not conceal this even in his memoirs. He says (_Mém._ vol. i. p. 3), he had 'l'âme peut-être la moins ecclésiastique qui fût dans l'univers.' At p. 13, 'le chagrin que ma profession ne laissoit pas de nourrir toujours dans le fonds de mon âme.' At p. 21, 'je haïssois ma profession plus que jamais.' At p. 48, 'le clergé, qui donne toujours l'exemple de la servitude, la prêchoit aux autres sous le titre d'obéissance.' See also the remark of his great friend Joly (_Mém. de Joly_, p. 209, edit. Petitot, 1825); and the account given by Tallemant des Réaux, who knew De Retz well, and had travelled with him, _Historiettes_, vol. vii. pp. 18-30. The same tendency is illustrated, though in a much smaller degree, by a conversation which Charles II., when in exile, held with De Retz, and which is preserved in _Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion_, p. 806, and is worth consulting merely as an instance of the purely secular view that De Retz always took of political affairs.

[265] 'Cet homme singulier est le premier évêque en France qui ait fait une guerre civile sans avoir la religion pour prétexte.' _Siècle de Louis XIV_, in _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xix. p. 261.

We have thus seen that, during the seventy years which succeeded the accession of Henry IV., the French intellect developed itself in a manner remarkably similar to that which took place in England. We have seen that, in both countries, the mind, according to the natural conditions of its growth, first doubted what it had long believed, and then tolerated what it had long hated. That this was by no means an accidental or capricious combination, is evident, not only from general arguments, and from the analogy of the two countries, but also from another circumstance of great interest. This is, that the order of events, and as it were their relative proportions, were the same, not only in reference to the increase of toleration, but also in reference to the increase of literature and science. In both countries, the progress of knowledge bore the same ratio to the decline of ecclesiastical influence, although they manifested that ratio at different periods. We had begun to throw off our superstitions somewhat earlier than the French were able to do; and thus, being the first in the field, we anticipated that great people in producing a secular literature. Whoever will take the pains to compare the growth of the French and English minds, will see that, in all the most important departments, we were the first, I do not say in merit, but in the order of time. In prose, in poetry, and in every branch of intellectual excellence, it will be found, on comparison, that we were before the French nearly a whole generation; and that, chronologically, the same proportion was preserved as that between Bacon and Descartes, Hooker and Pascal,[266] Shakespeare and Corneille, Massinger and Racine, Ben Jonson and Molière, Harvey and Pecquet. These eminent men were all justly celebrated in their respective countries; and it would perhaps be invidious to institute a comparison between them. But what we have here to observe is, that among those who cultivated the same department, the greatest Englishman, in every instance, preceded the greatest Frenchman by many years. The difference, running as it does, through all the leading topics, is far too regular to be considered accidental. And as few Englishmen of the present day will be so presumptuous as to suppose that we possess any native and inherent superiority over the French, it is evident that there must be some marked peculiarity in which the two countries differed, and which has produced this difference, not in their knowledge, but in the time at which their knowledge appeared. Nor does the discovery of this peculiarity require much penetration. For, notwithstanding that the French were more tardy than the English, still, when the development had fairly begun, the antecedents of its success were among both people precisely the same. It is, therefore, clear, according to the commonest principles of inductive reasoning, that the lateness of the development must be owing to the lateness of the antecedent. It is clear that the French knew less because they believed more.[267] It is clear that their progress was checked by the prevalence of those feelings which are fatal to all knowledge, because, looking on antiquity as the sole receptacle of wisdom, they degrade the present in order that they may exaggerate the past: feelings which destroy the prospects of man, stifle his hopes, damp his curiosity, chill his energies, impair his judgment, and, under pretence of humbling the pride of his reason, seek to throw him back into that more than midnight darkness from which his reason alone has enabled him to emerge.

[266] Hooker and Pascal may properly be classed together, as the two most sublime theological writers either country has produced; for Bossuet is as inferior to Pascal as Jeremy Taylor is inferior to Hooker.

[267] One of the most remarkable men they have ever possessed notices this connexion, which he expresses conversely, but with equal truth: 'moins on sait, moins on doute; moins on a découvert, moins on voit ce qui reste à découvrir.... Quand les hommes sont ignorans, il est aisé de tout savoir.' _Discours en Sorbonne_, in _[OE]uvres de Turgot_, vol. ii. pp. 65, 70.

The analogy thus existing between France and England, is, indeed, very striking, and, so far as we have yet considered it, seems complete in all its parts. To sum up the similarities in a few words, it may be said, that both countries followed the same order of development in their scepticism, in their knowledge, in their literature, and in their toleration. In both countries, there broke out a civil war at the same time, for the same object, and, in many respects, under the same circumstances. In both, the insurgents, at first triumphant, were afterwards defeated; and the rebellion being put down, the governments of the two nations were fully restored almost at the same moment: in 1660 by Charles II.; in 1661, by Louis XIV.[268] But there the similarity stopped. At this point there began a marked divergence between the two countries;[269] which continued to increase for more than a century, until it ended in England by the consolidation of the national prosperity, in France by a revolution more sanguinary, more complete, and more destructive, than any the world has ever seen. This difference between the fortunes of such great and civilized nations is so remarkable, that a knowledge of its causes becomes essential to a right understanding of European history, and will be found to throw considerable light on other events not immediately connected with it. Besides this, such an inquiry, independently of its scientific interest, will have a high practical value. It will show, what men seem only recently to have begun to understand, that, in politics, no certain principles having yet been discovered, the first conditions of success are compromise, barter, expediency, and concession. It will show the utter helplessness even of the ablest rulers, when they try to meet new emergencies by old maxims. It will show the intimate connexion between knowledge and liberty; between an increasing civilization and an advancing democracy. It will show that, for a progressive nation, there is required a progressive polity; that within certain limits, innovation is the sole ground of security; that no institution can withstand the flux and movements of society, unless it not only repairs its structure, but also widens its entrance; and that, even in a material point of view, no country can long remain either prosperous or safe, in which the people are not gradually extending their power, enlarging their privileges, and, so to say, incorporating themselves with the functions of the state.

[268] Mazarin, until his death in 1661, exercised complete authority over Louis. See _Siècle de Louis XIV_, in _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol. xix. pp. 318, 319; and _Lavallée_, _Hist. des Français_, vol. iii. p. 195; so that, as Montglat says (_Mém._ vol. iii. p. 111), 'On doit appeler ce temps-là le commencement du règne de Louis XIV.' The pompous manner in which, directly after the death of Mazarin, the king assumed the government, is related by Brienne, who was present. _Mém. de Brienne_, vol. ii. pp. 154-158.

[269] By this I mean, that the divergence now first became clear to every observer; but the origin of the divergence dates from a much earlier period, as we shall see in the next chapter.

The tranquillity of England, and her freedom from civil war, are to be ascribed to the recognition of these great truths;[270] while the neglect of them has entailed upon other countries the most woful calamities. On this account, therefore, if on no other, it becomes interesting to ascertain how it was that the two nations we have been comparing should, in regard to these truths, have adopted views diametrically opposite, although, in other matters, their opinions, as we have already seen, were very similar. Or, to state the question in other words, we have to inquire how it was that the French, after pursuing precisely the same course as the English, in their knowledge, in their scepticism, and in their toleration, should have stopped short in their politics; how it was that their minds, which had effected such great things, should, nevertheless, have been so unprepared for liberty, that, in spite of the heroic efforts of the Fronde, they not only fell under the despotism of Louis XIV., but never cared to resist it; and, at length, becoming slaves in their souls as well as in their bodies, they grew proud of a condition which the meanest Englishman would have spurned as an intolerable bondage.

[270] That is to say, their practical recognition; theoretically, they are still denied by innumerable politicians, who, nevertheless, assist in carrying them into effect, fondly hoping that each innovation will be the last, and enticing men into reform under the pretext that by each change they are returning to the spirit of the ancient British constitution.

The cause of this difference is to be sought in the existence of that spirit of protection which is so dangerous and yet so plausible, that it forms the most serious obstacle with which advancing civilization has to contend. This, which may truly be called an evil spirit, has always been far stronger in France than in England. Indeed, among the French, it continues, even to the present day, to produce the most mischievous results. It is, as I shall hereafter point out, intimately connected with that love of centralization which appears in the machinery of their government, and in the spirit of their literature. It is this which induces them to retain restrictions by which their trade has long been troubled, and to preserve monopolies which, in our country, a freer system has effectually destroyed. It is this which causes them to interfere with the natural relation between producers and consumers; to force into existence manufactures which otherwise would never arise, and which, for that very reason, are not required; to disturb the ordinary march of industry, and, under pretence of protecting their native labourers, diminish the produce of labour by diverting it from those profitable channels into which its own instincts always compel it to flow.

When the protective principle is carried into trade, these are its inevitable results. When it is carried into politics, there is formed what is called a paternal government, in which supreme power is vested in the sovereign, or in a few privileged classes. When it is carried into theology, it produces a powerful church, and a numerous clergy, who are supposed to be the necessary guardians of religion, and every opposition to whom is resented as an insult to the public morals. These are the marks by which protection may be recognized; and from a very early period they have displayed themselves in France much more clearly than in England. Without pretending to discover their precise origin, I will, in the next chapter, endeavour to trace them back to a time sufficiently remote to explain some of the discrepancies which, in this respect existed between the two countries.

* * * * *

_Note to p. 93._ Descartes died in Sweden on a visit to Christina; so that, strictly speaking, there is an error in the text. But this does not affect the argument; because the works of Descartes, being eagerly read in France, and not being prohibited, we must suppose that his person would have been safe, had he remained in his own country. To burn a heretic is a more decisive step than to suppress a book; and as the French clergy were not strong enough to effect the latter, it is hardly likely that they could have accomplished the former.