Part 20

As a protestant he could not be buried in sacred ground, he was therefore interred in the island of Poplars, in the gardens of Ermenonville. The funeral took place in the evening. The solitary spot shadowed over by trees, through whose foliage the moon shone, the calm of the evening hour, and the lonely grave, were in accordance with the singular but noble character of the man.

On his tomb was inscribed--

ICI REPOSE L'HOMME DE LA NATURE ET DE LA VÉRITÉ.

_Vitam impendere vero._

These last words he had adopted as his device. His grave ought to have been held sacred; but, in the rage for desecration that possessed the French at the period of the revolution, the body was exhumed and placed in the Pantheon. When the allies invaded France, out of respect for his memory, Ermenonville was exempted from contribution.

Rousseau has described himself; but, though sincere in an unexampled degree, it is difficult to appreciate his character from the "Confessions." A recent writer, Barante, founding his opinion on this work, considers him a proud and envious egotist, full of vague aspirations after virtue, incapable of a virtuous deed; yet we find Saint Pierre, who knew him during the latter years of his life, when the struggle between circumstances and his disposition had ceased, and his character was formed, applaud his firm probity, his mild benevolence, his frankness and natural gaiety of heart. One fact stamps Rousseau with nobleness of soul. We turn to the pages of Voltaire's Correspondence, and find it full of the most vilifying and insolent epithets applied to his great contemporary--the opprobrium and insult with which he loads his name bearing the stamp of the impurity and arrogance of his own heart. Rousseau never spoke ill of Voltaire: when others dispraised, he defended him; this might be the result of pride, but it was a noble and generous pride.

Rousseau was proud; nourished in dreams of ancient virtue or chivalrous romance, he respected himself, and he felt deeply aggrieved if he did not meet respect in others. It is a strange anomaly to find this proud man confessing the most degrading errors; but this arose from the highest pride of all, and the most mistaken: he declared his faults, and yet assumed himself to be better than other men.

Was Rousseau envious? Grimm says, that anger at finding men of greater genius preferred engendered most of his ill-humour against society. But who were these superior men? not Voltaire, with whom, as older than himself, he never competed: it was Helvetius, Thomas, and, above all, Diderot. Whatever merits Diderot had in society and conversation, he is so poor a writer that Rousseau could never have been really hurt by any mistaken preference shown him. Envy, base as it is, does not stoop to envy that which is immeasurably inferior. Rousseau had certainly sufficient cause to be displeased with Diderot, the tone of his letters being arrogant and presumptuous; but his real displeasure was caused by the belief that he had betrayed him, when he confided to him his sentiments for madame d'Houdetot: balked and trampled on all sides, he was stung to resent his disappointment somewhere, and he selected Diderot for his victim. This was very wrong and self-deceptive: he quotes good authority for proving the propriety of declaring to the world that he and Diderot wore no longer friends, and there was no great harm in so doing; but when he appended the quotation from Ecclesiastes in a note, accusing Diderot of a great social crime, the betraying the secret of a friend, he erred grossly, and cannot be defended.

Rousseau had passed his existence in romantic reveries. This abstraction of mind always engenders an indolence that concentrates the mind in self, and hates to be intruded upon by outward circumstances. Pride and indolence conjoined, created the independence of spirit for which he took praise to himself. Independence is of two sorts. When we sacrifice our pleasures and our tastes to preserve the dear privilege of not deferring our principles and feelings to others, we foster an exalted virtue; but the independence that finds duty an unwelcome clog--that regards the just claims of our fellow-creatures as injurious and intolerable, and that casts off the affections as troublesome shackles--is one of the greatest errors that the human heart can nourish; and such was the independence to which Rousseau aspired when he neglected the first duty of man by abandoning his children. He often dilates on simple pleasures--the charms of unsophisticated affections, and the ecstasy to be derived from virtuous sympathy--he, who never felt the noblest and most devoted passion of the human soul--the love of a parent for his child! We cannot help thinking that even while Rousseau defends himself by many baseless sophisms, that this crime, rankling at his heart, engendered much of the misery that he charged upon his fellow-creatures. Still Barante is unjust when he declares Rousseau's life to have been devoid of virtuous actions. He was unpretendingly charitable; and his fidelity to Thérèse, unworthy as she was, deserves praise. It would have been easy to cast her off, and gain a more suitable companion; but he bore her defects; and even to the last, when it has been suspected that her worthlessness drove him to suicide, he never complained. There was, with all his errors, great nobleness in Rousseau's soul. The pride and envy of which he is accused led him to cherish poverty, to repel benefits, to suspect his friends, but never to cringe, or grasp, or lie. Distrust was his chief error--a mighty one--but it did not injure others, while it destroyed himself.

Of his works, the "Emile" stands in the first rank for its utility: his theories however engendered some errors. The notion to which he was attached, that entire independence, even of natural duties, was the state congenial to man, mars many of his views. He would not allow a man to be a father, scarcely a woman to be a mother; yet such are the natural and imperative duties of life, even in the most primitive states of society. We may add a further defect, gathered partly from the continuation he projected. Sophie proves faithless; and Emile, meditating on the conduct he ought to pursue, makes himself the centre of his reflections, nor reverts to the claims which his unhappy wife and blameless child have still on him. He leaves both to the mercy of a hard world, and affords another proof of Rousseau's natural deficiency in a sense of duty. Barante well observes that the "Emile" is the less useful, because it gives no rules for public education; and public education is doubtless the best fitted to form the character of social man. Properly carried on, it prevents all need of having recourse to those plans and impostures which deface Rousseau's system. The little world of boys brings its own necessities and lessons with it: the chief care devolving on the master, to prevent the elder and stronger from domineering over the young and weak.

He perverts virtue and vice in the "Heloïse" still more glaringly, and clashes against the prejudices of every country. In France, the fault of an unmarried girl was regarded as peculiarly degrading and even ridiculous, and the early error of Julie therefore could find little sympathy in that country. In ours we commiserate such; but we turn disgusted from her wedding another man; and the marriage with the elderly Wolmar, which Rousseau makes the crown of her virtue, is to us the seal of her degradation. His ideas also of a perfect life are singularly faulty. It includes no instruction, no endeavours to acquire knowledge and refine the soul by study; but is contracted to mere domestic avocations, and to association with servants and labourers, on their own footing of ignorance, though such must lead to mean and trivial occupations and thoughts.

No author knows better than Rousseau how to spread a charm over the internal movements of the mind, over the struggles of passion, over romantic reveries that absorb the soul, abstracting it from real life and our fellow-creatures, and causing it to find its joys in itself. No author is more eloquent in paradox, and no man more sublime in inculcating virtue. While Voltaire taints and degrades all that is sacred and lovely by the grossness of his imagination, Rousseau embellishes even the impure, by painting it in colours that hide its real nature; and imparts to the emotions of sense all the elevation and intensity of delicate and exalted passion.

[Footnote 8: He describes this moment of spontaneous inspiration in one of his letters to M. de Malesherbes, and in his Confessions, with enthusiastic eloquence. Diderot denied the truth of the statement, saying, that in fact Rousseau had shown him the question in the newspaper, in the park of Vincennes, and said, that he meant to write in favour of the arts and sciences; but, on the representation of Diderot, he found that finer things might be said on the other side, and consequently adopted it. We doubt all this. Our own experience has shown us the great mistakes people can fall into, when they pretend to recount the thoughts and actions of others. Rousseau would never have written this detail to M. de Malesherbes, had he not believed it to be true; and we think that he is more likely to have known the truth than Diderot.]

[Footnote 9: There is an admirable letter addressed by the countess de Boufflers to Hume, which proves the ill-treatment which Rousseau met, and the general spirit of unkindness and treacherous ridicule in vogue against him; while at the same time the writer does not defend Rousseau's extravagant suspicions and conduct. The good sense and good taste of the whole letter is remarkable. Unfortunately placid David Hume had suffered himself to be led away by anger, and it was of no avail.]

CONDORCET

1744-1794.

Marie Jean Antoine de Caritat, marquis de Condorcet, was born at Saint Quentin, in Picardy, on the 17th of September, 1744. It is said that at an early age he gave tokens of the talents that distinguished him. The bent of his genius led him to the study of the exact sciences. It is the distinction of these pursuits that they lead at once to celebrity. A discovery in mathematics can neither be denied nor passed over.

Condorcet, at the age of twenty-one, was the author of a memoir on the integral calculus, one of the highest branches of the pure mathematics, in which at that time but small advances had been made, although it has since become one of the most powerful instruments of physical investigation. This essay gave him at once a title to be regarded as a successor worthy of Newton and Leibnitz, whose discoveries in the infinitesimal analysis he subsequently extended. This essay was published in the _Mémoires des Savants Étrangers_, and he was elected coadjutor of Grandjean de Fouchy, in the secretaryship of the Academy of Sciences. Eager to justify the choice of the Academy, he continued successfully to direct his labours to the higher mathematics. Among his essays on these branches of science may be mentioned a general method of finding the integral of an equation in finite terms whenever such an integral exists, and the general solution of the problem of maxima and minima. Had he continued to cultivate pure mathematics, there can be no doubt that he would have attained the greatest celebrity in that department of science.

Condorcet's mind was one of those in which reason preponderates to the exclusion of the imagination, so that whatever could not be definitively proved to his understanding he considered absurd. This texture of intellect, at a time when philosophy was at work to discard, not only the errors of Catholicism, but to subvert Christianity itself, led him to ally himself with men who, while they exerted themselves to enlighten and enfranchise their fellow-creatures from the miseries of superstition, unfortunately went a step beyond, and overthrew, though they knew it not, the boundaries of morals as well as of religion. These men, for the most part, benevolent, studious, and virtuous, believed it easy to lead their fellow-creatures into the same road which they themselves trod; and that, bigotry and superstition being overthrown, persecution would vanish, and mankind live in a brotherhood of peace. Their passions being under their control, they supposed that, could reason be equally developed in all men, they would become, like themselves, dispassionate and tolerant. Condorcet was the intimate friend of D'Alembert; he visited Voltaire with him at Ferney, and was hailed as the youngest and most promising of his disciples. The latter certainly did not possess the calmness and disciplined mind of D'Alembert, but his genius and ardent benevolence brought excuses for the errors of his temper; and Condorcet, while he saw his faults, paid the tribute of flattery which the patriarch of French literature considered his due. As he became intimate with these philosophers, and participated in their views, he began to consider that there were truths of more importance than mathematical demonstrations,--truths that would subvert the impostures of priests, and give men nobler and higher rules of action than those instituted by the papal church. It is the misfortune of Catholicism that, by entangling the absurd and the true, those who throw off its errors are too apt, without examination, to cast away the truths which it has overgrown and distorted; but which minds of truer discernment can see and acknowledge. Condorcet, on first engaging in the labours of moral philosophy, took the easier path of refuting others, rather than developing novel ideas of his own. His application and his memory had caused his mind to be richly stored with every kind of knowledge--add to this he was a profound logician. His first work of polemical philosophy was a refutation of the "Dictionnaire des Trois Siècles," by Sabathier de Castres. He assumed the epistolary form of argument, which is at once the easiest, and affords the fairest scope for the various arms of ridicule and reasoning. Voltaire hailed his work with delight, and bestowed a degree of praise highly encouraging to the young author.

His next labour was the arrangement and examination of the "Pensées" of Pascal. That illustrious Christian founded his system on the original weakness and sin of man. He represented him as a miserable, feeble, suffering being; spawned, as it were, by eternity, and cast on a narrow shoal of time; unknowing of the past, terrified by the future, helpless and lost in the present; and showed that the knowledge and the promises of the Redeemer were the only stay and the only consolation of his trembling, painful, and yet sinful existence. Condorcet took an opposite view of human nature. He regarded it as a power that by its laws assimilated all reason, all good, all knowledge, to its essence, but that tyranny and error stepped between; and the frauds of priests and the oppression of political institutions, taking from this being leisure and freedom of thought, reduced him to the feeble, ignorant, erring state in which most men are sunk. Casting the blame of the faults and ignorance of man on governments, he declared that these ought to be the objects of improvement and enlightenment to the philosopher; for, if these were in the advance of human knowledge, instead of lagging so far behind, mankind would speedily rise to a higher level, and grow, like the laws they obeyed, wise, just, and equal. This work appeared of such importance to Voltaire that he reprinted it himself, adding a preface, in which he said, "This true philosopher holds Pascal in the scales, and is the weightier of the two."

Condorcet was the friend of Turgot, a minister whose virtues and genius attached to him all the more enlightened men of the day. His ministry, however, was stormy, since he was among the first who endeavoured to bring a remedy to the ruined finances of France, without being permitted to strike at the root of the evil--unequal taxation and extravagant expenditure. His edict touching the sale of corn excited popular commotions, and was attacked by Necker. Condorcet undertook to answer Necker's book, but was on the unpopular side, and therefore not read. He wrote a series of laudatory biographical essays on various academicians, and men of science and celebrity, Euler, Franklin, D'Alembert, and others. In these he, at the same time, developed his scientific knowledge and his theory of the perfectibility of the human species. Every useful and liberal cause found him its partisan. He was one among the opponents of negro slavery; and, feeling that diatribes against the cruelty and wickedness of the slave trade would not avail with those who regarded it as advantageous to the country, he argued to prove its political and commercial inexpediency. He was a laborious and prolific writer, urged on by a strong sense of duty; for, firmly believing that the wisdom of philosophers was of vast influence in improving the moral condition of mankind, he believed it to be the primal duty of thinking men to propagate their opinions. In his life of Turgot he details his theories of the perfectibility of his species, which the minister had also entertained. He undertook an edition of the works of Voltaire, and wrote the life of that great wit, one of the best and most elegant of his works. To escape persecution, or to give greater force to his writings, he published several of his writings under fictitious names. In this manner, he brought out his "Reflections on Negro Slavery" under the name of Swartz, a pastor of Bienne. A biographer observes on this work, that "the simplicity, elegance, and precision of the style; the forcible arguments, respect for misfortune, and indignation at crime; the tone which inviolable probity inspires, and which art cannot imitate, obtained signal success for this work. Those who were fortunate enough to be intimate with Condorcet easily raised the veil under which he concealed himself." In the same way, he adopted the name of a citizen of Newhaven, when he wrote to refute a book by De Lolme, in praise of the English constitution, insisting, in particular, on the benefits arising from two legislative chambers. Condorcet argued that all just government ought to be founded on giving preponderance to the majority; and he brought all his logic to prove that to confide the task of legislation to two chambers, one of which should propose and the other sanction laws, was to give to the minority a power superior to that enjoyed by the majority; since that which had been proposed unanimously in one chamber might be rejected by a slight majority in the other. He went on to establish maxims and legal fictions by which it would be possible to ascertain the desires of the majority in a state,--a question that occupied his serious consideration in other works. Condorcet, in these writings, showed his attachment to all that should ameliorate the social condition, and enlarge the sphere of intellect among his fellow-creatures. He did not, in his reasonings, give sufficient force to the influence of passion, especially when exerted over masses, nor the vast power which the many have when they assert themselves, nor the facility with which the interested few can lead assembled numbers into error and crime. D'Alembert called Condorcet a volcano covered by snow. There are men of great personal susceptibility, uncontrollable passions, and excitable imaginations, who have the same power over their fellow-creatures that fire has over materials cast upon it--they impart their energy, even though it be for self-destruction, to all around. There are others, and among such was Condorcet, of great but regulated enthusiasm of soul;--which enthusiasm, derived from abstract principles and founded on severe reason, is more steady, more disinterested, and more enduring than that springing from passion; but it exercises little immediate influence over others, and is acknowledged and appreciated only in hours of calm. Amidst the tempest of political struggles it is passed by as timid, cold, and impotent.

A philosopher of this sort was destined to have great influence at the commencement of the French Revolution, while men acted from a sense of right and a virtuous desire to found the changes they brought about on reason, justice, and the good of mankind. His integrity caused him to be respected, and his powers of mind to receive attention.

He anticipated change, and had contributed to it by spreading abroad his opinions for the enfranchisement of the French people from the laws and customs that ground them to the earth. When the ferment began he assisted in directing it by his writings, and assembled at his house the most distinguished men of the liberal party. He was now no longer a young man. Habit had confirmed all his opinions, while mature years imparted that calm which caused him to see clearly and act firmly, but without precipitation or violence. On the convocation of the states general, he wrote a declaration of the rights of man, to serve as a guide and model to the future legislators of his country. He caused it to be translated into English by Dr. Gems, and brought it out as the work of an American. [Sidenote: 1788. Ætat. 44.] When the states general met, he became more and more absorbed by the political state of his country. He did not make one of the assembly; but the influence from without was of vast importance, not only to inspire the members with energy and constancy, but to daunt the court and the nobles, who scarcely understood and longed to spurn the claimants of a power of which they had long held possession, while they misused it to the ruin first of their country and then of themselves. Condorcet wrote a refutation of an address presented in favour of the court and the privileged orders, and demanded a partial confiscation of church property to pay the national debt. He published a pamphlet, entitled "On what has been done, and what remains to do," full of clear and useful views for the future. He thus became a portion of the revolution, and allied himself with its more illustrious chiefs, who afterwards formed the girondist party,--a sect which was republican in heart, but which would have been satisfied with a limited monarchy, could they have depended on the fidelity of the king to the constitution. The chief object of Condorcet's attacks was the church. He was an infidel, and believed philosophy to be a better guide than religion both for states and individuals; besides this, he looked on the French clergy as a peculiarly obnoxious priesthood. The quarrels of the molinists and jansenists,--the extermination of the huguenots,--the war they carried on against all knowledge and freedom,--made him ardently desire to limit their power within strict bounds, and he was eager to lessen their wealth, as the first sure step towards decreasing their influence.

On every occasion he came forward to enlighten and guide the decisions of the assembly by his published arguments. He discussed the injury to arise from a division of the legislative power into two chambers, and showed great sagacity when he demonstrated the evils attendant on the system of assignats.