No More Learning

Everything that gives her pleasure seems to
her self-indulgent, even writing. She says, "I have renounced
poetry because I have seen that God did not ask it of me; but the
sacrifice has been so much the more painful, as in abandoning poetry,
poetry has not abandoned me. " Again she writes:-
-


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EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
6763
"Shall I tell you why I gave up the journal? Because I find the time lost
that I spend in writing. We owe an account of our minutes to God; and is it
not making a bad use of them to employ them in tracing the days that are
departing? Would to God that my thoughts, my spirit, had never taken their
flight beyond the narrow round in which it is my lot to live! In spite of all
that people say to the contrary, I feel that I cannot go beyond my needle-
work and my spinning without going too far; I feel it, I believe it: well then,
I will keep in my proper sphere; however much I am tempted, my spirit shall
not be allowed to occupy itself with great matters until it occupies itself with
them in heaven. »
And Maurice writes:-
:-
"So long as the wind wafts me from time to time whiffs of wild fragrance,
and my ear catches distant accents of the melodies of nature, what shall I
have to regret? Does the spider, which at evening-tide hangs suspended on
its thread between two leaves, concern itself with the flight of the eagle and
the pinions of the birds? And does the imagination of the bird, as it broods
over its nestlings well sheltered beneath some bush, regret the caprices of its
liberty and the soft undulations of its flight through the airy heights? Never
have I had the freedom of the bird, nor has my thought ever been as happy
as its wings; then let us fall asleep in resignation, as does the bird in its nest. »
Maurice was the one thought of Eugénie's life, and all her Jour-
nal' is addressed to him. Two days after his death she writes:-
"No, my dear, death shall not part us, shall not remove you from
my thoughts. Death only separates our bodies; the soul instead of
being there is in heaven, and the change of abodes takes nothing
away from its affections. Far from it; I trust one loves better in
heaven, where all becomes Divine. " Determined that the world
should know Maurice, she wrote to his friends and prepared a memoir
for his works; yet she died on May 31st, 1848, before their publica-
tion. Sainte-Beuve made her the subject of a 'Causerie de Lundi,'
and Trébutien published her 'Reliquæ' at Caen (1855). In 1862 this
tribute appeared for public circulation, was crowned by the French
Academy, and passed through sixteen editions in eight months.
-
FROM THE JOURNAL OF EUGÉNIE DE GUÉRIN
CHR
HRISTMAS is Come; the beautiful festival, the one I love most,
that gives me the same joy that it gave the shepherds of
Bethlehem. In real truth, one's whole soul sings with joy
at this beautiful coming of God upon earth,- a coming which
here is announced on all sides of us by music and by our charm-
ing nadalet. Nothing at Paris can give you a notion of what
*
* Chimes.


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6764
EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
Christmas is with us. You have not even the midnight mass.
We all of us went to it, papa at our head, on the most perfect
night possible. Never was there a finer sky than ours was that
midnight; so fine that papa kept perpetually throwing back the
hood of his cloak, that he might look up at the sky. The ground
was white with hoar-frost, but we were not cold; besides, the air,
as we met it, was warmed by the bundles of blazing torchwood
which our servants carried in front of us to light us on our way.
It was delightful, I do assure you; and I should like you to have
seen us there on our road to church, in those lanes with the
bushes along their banks as white as if they were in flower.
The hoar-frost makes the most lovely flowers. We saw a long
spray, so beautiful that we wanted to take it with us as a gar-
land for the communion table, but it melted in our hands: all
flowers fade so soon! I was very sorry about my garland; it
was mournful to see it drip away, and get smaller and smaller
every minute.
Он, ноw pleasant it is, when the rain is dropping from the
sky with a soft sound, to sit by one's fire, holding the tongs and
making sparks! That was my pastime just now; I am fond of
it: the sparks are so pretty; they are the flowers of the hearth.
Verily, charming things take place in the embers, and when I
am not busy I am amused with the phantasmagoria of the fire-
place. There are a thousand little forms in the ashes that come
and go, grow bigger, change, and vanish,-sometimes angels,
horned demons, children, old women, butterflies, dogs, sparrows,
everything, may be seen under the logs. I remember a figure
with an air of heavenly suffering, that seemed to me what a
soul might be in purgatory. I was struck, and wished an artist
had been near me: never was vision more perfect. Watch the
embers, and you will agree that there are beautiful things there,
and that unless one was blind one need never be weary by the
fire. Be sure you listen to the little whistling that comes out
of the embers like a voice of song. Nothing can be sweeter
or purer; it is like the singing of some tiny spirit of the fire.
These, my dear, are my evenings and their delights; add sleep,
which is not the slightest.
You will like to hear that I have just passed a nice quarter
of an hour on the terrace steps, sitting by a poor old woman who


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EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
6765
was singing me a lamentable ballad on an incident that once
happened at Cahuzac. It was apropos of a gold cross that was
stolen off the Holy Virgin's neck. The old woman recollects her
grandmother's telling her she had heard that there had been a
still more sacrilegious robbery in the same church; namely, of
the Host itself, one day when it was left alone in the chancel.
It was a girl, who while everybody was at harvest went to the
altar, and climbing upon it, put the monstrance into her apron
and placed it under a wild rose in the wood. The shepherds who
found it accused her, and nine priests came in procession to adore
the Holy Sacrament of the rose-bush and carry it back to the
wood; but the poor shepherdess was taken, tried, and condemned
to be burned. Just before her death she asked to confess, and
owned her theft to the priest; saying that she was not a thief,
but she wanted to have the Holy Sacrament in the forest: "I
thought that le bon Dieu would be as well pleased under a rose-
bush as on an altar! " At these words an angel descended from
heaven to announce her pardon and console the guilty saint, who
nevertheless was burned on a pile of which the wild rose formed
the first fagot! There is the story of the beggar, to whom I
listened as to a nightingale. I thanked her heartily and offered
her something as a recompense for her ditty, but she would only
take flowers: "Give me a bough of that beautiful lilac. " I gave
her four, as large as plumes, and the poor creature went off, her
stick in one hand and her nosegay in the other, and left me her
ballad.
NEVER have I seen a more beautiful effect of light on the
paper. But does not God make beauty for all the world? All
our birds were singing this morning whilst I was praying. The
accompaniment delights, though it distracts me. I stop to listen.
Then I resume with the thought that the birds and I are carol-
ing our hymns to God; and these little creatures sing, perhaps,
better than I. But the charm of prayer, the charm of communion
with God, they cannot taste: we must have a soul to feel that.
I have this happiness above theirs.
To-day, and now for a long time, I am tranquil: peace in
head and heart; a state of grace for which I bless God. My
window is open.
How calm it is! All the little noises outside
come to me. I love that of the stream. Now I hear a church
clock and the little pendule which answers it. This sound of


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6766
EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
hours in the distance and in the room has in the night some-
thing mysterious. I think of the Trappists who wake to pray,
of the sick who count all the hours of their suffering, of the
afflicted who weep, of the dead who sleep still and frozen in
their beds.
FROM THE JOURNAL OF MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
T HAS just been raining. Nature is fresh and radiant; the earth
seems to taste with rapture the water which brings it life.
One would say that the throats of the birds had also been
refreshed by the rain; their song is purer, more vivacious, more
brilliant, and vibrates wonderfully in the air, which has become
more sonorous and resounding. The nightingales, the bullfinches,
the blackbirds, the thrushes, the golden orioles, the finches, the
wrens, all these sing and rejoice. A goose, shrieking like a trum-
pet, adds by contrast to the charm. The motionless trees seem
to listen to all these sounds. Innumerable apple-trees in full bloom
look like balls of snow in the distance; the cherry-trees, all white
as well, rise like pyramids or spread out like fans of flowers.
The birds seem at times to aim at those orchestral effects when
all the instruments are blended in a mass of harmony. Would
that we could identify ourselves with spring; that we could go
so far as to believe that in ourselves breathe all the life and all
the love that ferment in nature; hat we could feel ours es to
be at the same time verdure, bird, song, freshness, elasticity,
rapture, serenity! What then should I become? There are mo-
ments when by dint of concentrating ourselves upon this idea
and gazing fixedly on nature, we fancy that we experience some-
thing like this.
Nothing can more faithfully represent this state of the soul
than the shades of evening, falling at this very moment. Gray
clouds just edged with silver cover the whole face of the sky.
The sun, which set but a few moments ago, has left behind light
enough to temper for a while the black shadows, and to soften.
in a measure the fall of night. The winds are hushed, and the
peaceful ocean, as I come to listen on the threshold of the door,
sends me only a melodious murmur which softly spreads over
the soul like a beautiful wave over the beach. The birds, the
first to feel the influence of the night, fly toward the woods, and


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EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
6767
their wings rustle in the clouds. The coppice, which covers the
entire slope of the hill of Le Val, and resounds all day long with
the chirps of the wren, the gay whistle of the woodpecker, and
the various notes of a multitude of birds, has no more a sound
along its path or within its thickets, unless it be the shrill call
of the blackbirds as they play together and chase one another,
after the other birds have hidden their heads under their wings.
The noise of men, always the last to become silent, gradually
dies away over the face of the fields. The general uproar ceases,
and not a sound is heard except from the towns and hamlets,
where, far into the night, the children cry and the dogs bark.
Silence enwraps me; all things yearn for rest except my pen,
which disturbs perchance the slumber of some living atom asleep
in the folds of my note-book, for it makes its little sound as it
writes these idle thoughts. Then let it cease; for what I write,
have written, and shall write will never be worth the sleep of a
single atom.
THE THOUGHTS OF MACAREUS
From The Centaur,' by Maurice de Guérin
I
HAD my birth in the caves of these mountains. Like the
stream of this valley, whose first drops trickle from some
weeping rock in a deep cavern, the first moment of my life
fell in the darkness of a remote abode, and without breaking
the silence. When our mothers draw near to the time of their
delivery, they withdraw to the caverns, and in the depth of the
loneliest of them, in the thickest of its gloom, bring forth, with-
out uttering a plaint, offspring silent as themselves. Their puis-
sant milk makes us surmount without weakness or dubious
struggle the first difficulties of life; and yet we leave our cav-
erns later than you your cradles. The reason is, that we have
a doctrine that the early days of existence should be kept apart
and enshrouded, as days filled with the presence of the gods.
Nearly the whole term of my growth was passed in the dark-
ness where I was born. The recesses of my dwelling ran so far
under the mountain that I should not have known on which side
was the exit, had not the winds, when they sometimes made.
their way through the opening, sent fresh airs in, and a sudden
trouble. Sometimes too my mother came back to me, having


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6768
EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
about her the odors of the valleys, or streaming from the waters
which were her haunt. Her returning thus, without a word said
of the valleys or the rivers, but with the emanations from them.
hanging about her, troubled my spirit, and I moved up and
down restlessly in my darkness. "What is it," I cried, "this
outside world whither my mother is borne; and what reigns
there in it so potent as to attract her so often? " At these
moments my own force began to make me unquiet. I felt in it
a power which could not remain idle; and betaking myself either
to toss my arms, or to gallop backward and forward in the
spacious darkness of the cavern, I tried to make out, from the
blows which I dealt in the empty space or from the transport
of my course through it, in what direction my arms were meant
to reach or my feet to bear me. Since that day I have wound
my arms round the busts of centaurs, and round the bodies of
heroes, and round the trunks of oaks; my hands have essayed
the rocks, the waters, plants without number, and the subtlest
impressions of the air,-for I uplift them in the dark and still
nights to catch the breaths of wind, and to draw signs whereby
I may augur my road; my feet-look, O Melampus, how worn
they are! And yet, all benumbed as I am in this extremity of
age, there are days when in broad sunlight on the mountain-
tops I renew these gallopings of my youth in the cavern, and
with the same object, brandishing my arms and employing all
the fleetness which yet is left to me.
O Melampus, thou who wouldst know the life of the centaurs,
wherefore have the gods willed that thy steps should lead thee
to me, the oldest and most forlorn of them all?
It is long
since I have ceased to practice any part of their life. I quit no
more this mountain summit, to which age has confined me. The
point of my arrows now serves me only to uproot some tough-
fibred plant; the tranquil lakes know me still, but the rivers have
forgotten me. I will tell thee a little of my youth; but these
recollections, issuing from a worn memory, come like the drops
of a niggardly libation poured from a damaged urn.
The course of my youth was rapid and full of agitation.
Movement was my life, and my steps knew no bound.
One day
when I was following the course of a valley seldom entered by
the centaurs, I discovered a man making his way up the stream-
side on the opposite bank. He was the first whom my eyes had
lighted on: I despised him. "Behold," I cried, "at the utmost


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EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
6769
but the half of what I am! How short are his steps! and his
movement how full of labor! Doubtless he is a centaur over-
thrown by the gods, and reduced by them to drag himself along
thus. "
Wandering along at my own will like the rivers, feeling
wherever I went the presence of Cybele, whether in the bed of
the valleys or on the height of the mountains, I bounded whither
I would, like a blind and chainless life. But when Night, filled
with the charm of the gods, overtook me on the slopes of the
mountain, she guided me to the mouth of the caverns, and there
tranquillized me as she tranquillizes the billows of the sea.
Stretched across the threshold of my retreat, my flanks hidden
within the cave and my head under the open sky, I watched
the spectacle of the dark. The sea gods, it is said, quit during
the hours of darkness their palaces under the deep; they seat
themselves on the promontories, and their eyes wander over the
expanse of the waves. Even so I kept watch, having at my feet
an expanse of life like the hushed sea. My regards had free
range, and traveled to the most distant points. Like sea-beaches
which never lose their wetness, the line of mountains to the
west retained the imprint of gleams not perfectly wiped out by
the shadows. In that quarter still survived, in pale clearness,
mountain summits bare and pure. There I beheld at one time
the god Pan descend, ever solitary; at another, the choir of the
mystic divinities; or I saw pass some mountain nymph charm-
struck by the Night. Sometimes the eagles of Mount Olympus
traversed the upper sky, and were lost to view among the far-off
constellations, or in the shade of the dreaming forests.
Thou pursuest after wisdom, O Melampus, which is the science
of the will of the gods; and thou roamest from people to people
like a mortal driven by the Destinies. In the times when I
kept my night watches before the caverns, I have sometimes
believed that I was about to surprise the thought of the sleep-
ing Cybele, and that the mother of the gods, betrayed by her
dreams, would let fall some of her secrets; but I have never
made out more than sounds which faded away in the murmur of
night, or words inarticulate as the bubbling of the rivers.
<<
"O Macareus," one day said to me the great Chiron, whose
old age I tended, we are both of us centaurs of the mountain;
but how different are our lives! Of my days all the study is
(thou seest it) the search for plants; thou, thou art like those
XII-424


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6770
EUGÉNIE AND MAURICE DE GUÉRIN
mortals who have picked up on the waters or in the woods, and
carried to their lips, some pieces of the reed pipe thrown away
by the god Pan. From that hour these mortals, having caught
from their relics of the god a passion for wild life, or perhaps
smitten with some secret madness, enter into the wildness, plunge
among the forests, follow the course of the streams, bury them-
selves in the heart of the mountains, restless and haunted by an
unknown purpose.
The mares beloved of the winds in the far-
thest Scythia are not wilder than thou, nor more cast down at
nightfall, when the North Wind has departed. Seekest thou to
know the gods, O Macareus, and from what source men, animals,
and the elements of the universal fire have their origin? But the
aged Ocean, the father of all things, keeps locked within his own.
breast these secrets; and the nymphs who stand around sing as
they weave their eternal dance before him, to cover any sound
which might escape from his lips half opened by slumber. The
mortals dear to the gods for their virtue have received from
their hands lyres to give delight to man, or the seeds of new
plants to make him rich; but from their inexorable lips, nothing! "
Such were the lessons which old Chiron gave me. Waned to
the very extremity of life, the centaur yet nourished in his spirit
the most lofty discourse.
For me, O Melampus, I decline into my last days, calm as
the setting of the constellations. I still retain enterprise enough
to climb to the top of the rocks, and there I linger late, either
gazing on the wild and restless clouds, or to see come up from
the horizon the rainy Hyades, the Pleiades, or the great Orion;
but I feel myself perishing and passing quickly away, like a
snow-wreath floating on the stream; and soon shall I be mingled
with the waters which flow in the vast bosom of Earth.
Translation of Matthew Arnold.


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## p. 6770 (#148) ###########################################


F. P. GUIZOT.


## p. 6770 (#149) ###########################################

i
P.
his T
וזי


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FP. GUZT


## p. 6771 (#151) ###########################################

6771
FRANCOIS GUIZOT
(1787-1874)
BY CHARLES GROSS
RANÇOIS PIERRE GUILLAUME GUIZOT
born at Nîmes, Octo-
ber 4th, 1787. His career was eventful: he was a prolific
writer, a successful professor, a great historian, and an influ-
ential statesman. Though we are mainly concerned with his literary
activity, Guizot the author cannot be isolated from Guizot the patriot,
the Calvinist statesman, the political champion of the bourgeoisie
and of constitutional monarchy. He is one of the few great histo-
rians who have helped to make history. The polities and state-craft
of the past should be less mysterious to the experienced and judi-
cious statesman than to the secluded scholar. On the other hand,
Guizot's training in historical research may have reacted on his politi-
cal life, widening his mental horizon and helping to develop in him
the liberal spirit of catholicity and impartiality which he evinced in
his public life.
His father, a lawyer, was a victim of the Revolution in 1794. In
1812 Guizot was appointed professor of history at the Sorbonne. In
1814 he began his political career as Secretary-General of the Interior,
and in 1817 he became a Councilor of State. In 1822 his lectures at
the Sorbonne were suppressed on account of his liberal. ideas; in 1828
he recovered his chair at the Sorbonne, and during the next two
years lectured on the history of civilization in Europe and France.
Under Louis Philippe he was Minister of Instruction, and did much
to improve the French system of education. From 1840 to 1848 he
was at the head of the French Cabinet as Minister of Foreign Affairs.
With the dethronement of Louis Philippe in 1848 his political activ-
ity came to an end. Throughout his life he was a liberal. Though
he advocated the political preponderance of the middle classes and
the maintenance of a constitutional government he firmly combated
revolutionary and ultra-democratic theories; he tried to reconcile the
enjoyment of liberty with the preservation of social order. He died.
September 12th, 1874.
Of his numerous writings the most important are the 'History of
Civilization in Europe,' the 'History of Civilization in France,' the
'History of the English Revolution,' 'Shakespeare and his Times,' his


## p. 6772 (#152) ###########################################

6772
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
'Memoirs,' and the 'History of France, Related for my Grandchild-
ren. ' As a historian he is noted for his philosophic grasp of import-
ant historical questions, his clear discernment of the broad lines of
historical development, and his insight into the relations of cause and
effect. Paying little heed to amusing and dramatic details or per-
sonal exploits, he tries to determine the dominant ideas or principles
of each period of history. All his works are marked by a seriousness
of purpose which often assumes the form of ardent patriotism or
earnest religious conviction. He believed that the study of the past
has an ethical value, that an accurate knowledge of the past helps us
to comprehend the present and to provide for the future. He also
believed in the progressive development of mankind through the vari-
ous ages.
The fundamental idea contained in the word "civilization,"
he says, is progress or development, the carrying to higher perfec-
tion the relations between man and man.
Such a philosophic treatment of history, though stimulating to
thoughtful students, may easily degenerate into vague and mislead-
ing generalizations. The philosophic historian is tempted to weave
his subjective ideas into the tissue which he fabricates, allowing the
imagination to dominate over reason. The successful application of
the philosophic method presupposes not merely a high order of men-
tal capacity, but also an accurate knowledge of facts, which was less
attainable in Guizot's time than it is at present. When he wrote his
'Civilization in Europe' and 'Civilization in France' (1828-30), the
modern method of historical research was still in its infancy; Ranke
had just begun his epoch-making career. It must be admitted how-
ever that Guizot's books are still suggestive and instructive, despite
the fact that critical investigation during the past fifty years has
revolutionized our knowledge of events and institutions; many of the
broad lines of development that he laid down still remain unchanged.
It should also be said that Guizot did much for the advancement of
historical research by aiding to establish the Society for the His-
tory of France and by creating the Historical Commission, both of
which have actively promoted this branch of study in France since
1835.
Each of the fourteen brief lectures in his 'History of Civilization
in Europe' is the delineation of a cardinal event or principle, and
these principles are linked into one chain of development. At first
he considers the influence of the three main sources of modern civil-
ization the Christian Church, the Romans, and the Germans; in the
light of recent research we may safely say that he underrates the
influence of the Germanic element and overestimates that of Rome.
Next he examines four later cardinal factors in historical develop-
ment, - namely, feudalism, the Church, the communes, and royalty,-


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FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
6773
and traces their interaction down through the period of monarchical
centralization and of the Reformation to the French Revolution. He
regards France as the centre or focus of European civilization. He
admits that at various epochs Italy has outstripped France in the
arts, and that England has had the lead in developing political insti-
tutions; but even those leading ideas or institutions whose birth must
be referred to other countries, had to be clarified in France before
they were diffused throughout Europe. Therefore France is "emi-
nently qualified to march at the head of European civilization. "
Though France does not hold this leadership at present, what Gui-
zot says is certainly applicable in large measure to the past: for
centuries the influence of French civilization radiated in all direc-
tions, and no other country forms a better nucleus for the study of
general European history.
The prominence or dominance of French ideas in European history
is also emphasized in Guizot's 'History of Civilization in France. '
Though this series of lectures extends only to the fourteenth century,
it is a
more elaborate work than the History of Civilization in
Europe. The author gives a detailed account of the leading factors
which entered into the development of France, and shows how from
the relations between feudalism, the communes, and royalty, national
and political unity was gradually evolved. His portrayal of feudalism
is particularly detailed and attractive, though his account of the
origin of that institution is now antiquated. He believes that two
great lessons may be learned from the study of French history: (1)
that the rivalry of the nobility and the commons prevented their
union against despotism; and (2) that Frenchmen have a tendency to
follow an idea or principle to its logical conclusion, regardless of
consequences. These lessons help us to understand certain great
divergences in the constitutional development of France and England.
Guizot's account of what he calls "the English Revolution" com-
prises three separate works: The History of Charles I. ' (1826-27),
The History of Oliver Cromwell' (1854), and 'The History of Rich-
ard Cromwell' (1856). Like the German historian Gneist, he stud-
ied English history in order to determine what France could learn
from the annals of her neighbor. Passionately preoccupied with the
future of his country, he wished to ascertain just how a great people
succeeded in securing and conserving a free government. In dealing
with the history of England during the seventeenth century, Guizot
exhibits an admirable spirit of impartiality and a firm grasp of the
dominant political ideas of the whole period. He also presents much
new documentary evidence derived from the French archives. These
volumes are still instructive, though Gardiner and other recent writers
have overthrown some of Guizot's conclusions.


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6774
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
In the Memoirs of my Own Time' (1858-67) Guizot comments
upon contemporary political events, many of which he had helped to
shape. This work is particularly important for the study of Louis
Philippe's reign, and especially for the period of Guizot's ministry,
from 1840 to 1848.
In his extreme old age he wrote The History of France, Related
for my Grandchildren' (1870-75). In this work the octogenarian tries
to impress upon the rising generation of Frenchmen the need of a
lofty spirit of patriotism and a strong faith in their vanquished
country, a faith which the past history of France should nourish and
strengthen. He tries to awaken the interest of his readers by dwell-
ing upon great persons and great events, and he succeeds in giving
an admirable account of the general history of France.
Many of Guizot's books have been translated into English, but
most of the translations are marred by serious defects.
His style,
which has been assailed by some critics and admired by others, shows
an improvement in his later works. Though he was not a great his-
torical artist, his style is usually clear. All his writings are marked
by a Calvinistic soberness of tone, which, though it may repel those
in quest of picturesque historical details, attracts and stimulates
thoughtful students.
Char Gross
CIVILIZATION
From the General History of Civilization in Europe'
THE
HE situation in which we are placed, as Frenchmen, affords us
a great advantage for entering upon the study of European
civilization; for without intending to flatter the country to
which I am bound by so many ties, I cannot but regard France
as the centre, as the focus, of the civilization of Europe. It
would be going too far to say that she has always been, upon
every occasion, in advance of other nations. Italy at various
epochs has outstripped her in the arts; England, as regards
political institutions, is by far before her; and perhaps at certain
moments we may find other nations of Europe superior to her in
various particulars; but it must still be allowed that whenever
France has set forward in the career of civilization, she has


## p. 6775 (#155) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
6775
sprung forth with new vigor, and has soon
passed by all her rivals.
come up with or
Not only is this the case, but those ideas, those institutions.
which promote civilization but whose birth must be referred to
other countries, have, before they could become general or pro-
duce fruit, before they could be transplanted to other lands or
benefit the common stock of European civilization, been obliged
to undergo in France a new preparation; it is from France, as
from a second country more rich and fertile, that they have
started forth to make the conquest of Europe. There is not a
single great idea, not a single great principle of civilization,
which in order to become universally spread has not first passed
through France.
There is indeed in the genius of the French something of a
sociableness, of a sympathy, something which spreads itself
with more facility and energy than in the genius of any other
people: it may be in the language or the particular turn of mind
of the French nation; it may be in their manners, or that their
ideas, being more popular, present themselves more clearly to the
masses, penetrate among them with greater ease: but in a word,
clearness, sociability, sympathy, are the particular characteristics
of France, of its civilization; and these qualities render it emi-
nently qualified to march at the head of European civilization.
In studying then the history of this great fact, it is neither
an arbitrary choice nor a convention that leads us to make
France the central point from which we shall study it; but it is
because we feel that in so doing we in a manner place ourselves
in the very heart of civilization itself—in the heart of the very
fact which we desire to investigate.
-
Civilization is just one of this kind of facts: it is so general
in its nature that it can scarcely be seized, so complicated that it
can scarcely be unraveled, so hidden as to be scarcely discerni-
ble. The difficulty of describing it, of recounting its history, is
apparent and acknowledged; but its existence, its worthiness to
be described and to be recounted, are not less certain and mani-
fest. Then, respecting civilization, what a number of problems
remain to be solved! It may be asked, it is even now disputed,
whether civilization be a good or an evil. One party decries it
as teeming with mischief to man, while another lauds it as the
means by which he will attain his highest dignity and excellence.
Again, it is asked whether this fact is universal; whether there


## p. 6776 (#156) ###########################################

6776
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
is a general civilization of the whole human race, a course for
humanity to run, a destiny for it to accomplish; whether nations.
have not transmitted from age to age something to their suc-
cessors which is never lost, but which grows and continues as a
common stock, and will thus be carried on to the end of all
things. For my part, I feel assured that human nature has such
a destiny; that a general civilization pervades the human race;
that at every epoch it augments, and that consequently there
is a universal history of civilization yet to be written. Nor
have I any hesitation in asserting that this history is the most
noble, the most interesting of any, and that it comprehends every
other.
Is it not indeed clear that civilization is the great fact in
which all others merge; in which they all end, in which they are
all condensed, in which all others find their importance? Take
all the facts of which the history of a nation is composed, all the
facts which we are accustomed to consider as the elements of
its existence-take its institutions, its commerce, its industry, its
wars, the various details of its government; and if you would
form some idea of them as a whole, if you would see their vari-
ous bearings on each other, if you would appreciate their value,
if you would pass a judgment upon them, what is it you desire
to know? Why, what they have done to forward the progress of
civilization; what part they have acted in this great drama; what
influence they have exercised in aiding its advance. It is not
only by this that we form a general opinion of these facts, but it
is by this standard that we try them, that we estimate their true
value. These are as it were the rivers, of which we ask how
much water they have carried to the ocean. Civilization is as it
were the grand emporium of a people, in which all its wealth,
all the elements of its life, all the powers of its existence, are
stored up. It is so true that we judge of minor facts accordingly
as they affect this greater one, that even some which are nat-
urally detested and hated, which prove a heavy calamity to the
nation upon which they fall,-say for instance despotism, anarchy,
and so forth,-even these are partly forgiven, their evil nature is
partly overlooked, if they have aided in any considerable degree
the march of civilization. Wherever the progress of this princi-
ple is visible, together with the facts which have urged it for-
ward, we are tempted to forget the price it has cost; we overlook
the dearness of the purchase.


## p. 6777 (#157) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
6777
Again, there are certain facts which properly speaking cannot
be called social - individual facts which rather concern the human
intellect than public life; such are religious doctrines, philosophi-
cal opinions, literature, the sciences and arts. All these seem to
offer themselves to individual man for his improvement, instruc-
tion, or amusement, and to be directed rather to his intellectual
melioration and pleasure than to his social condition. Yet still,
how often do these facts come before us - how often are we
compelled to consider them as influencing civilization! In all
times, in all countries, it has been the boast of religion that it
has civilized the people among whom it has dwelt. Literature,
the arts and sciences, have put in their claim for a share of this
glory; and mankind has been ready to laud and honor them
whenever it has felt that this praise was fairly their due. In the
same manner, facts the most important-facts of themselves, and
independently of their exterior consequences, the most sublime
in their nature-have increased in importance, have reached a
higher degree of sublimity, by their connection with civiliza-
tion. Such is the worth of this great principle that it gives a
value to all it touches. Not only so, but there are even cases
in which the facts of which we have spoken-in which philoso-
phy, literature, the sciences, and the arts- are especially judged
and condemned or applauded according to their influence upon
civilization.
THE EXAMPLE OF SHAKESPEARE
From Shakespeare and his Times'
VOLTA
AIRE was the first person in France who spoke of Shake-
speare's genius; and although he spoke of him merely as a
barbarian genius, the French public were of opinion that
Voltaire had said too much in his favor. Indeed, they thought
it nothing less than profanation to apply the words "genius
and glory" to dramas which they considered as crude as they
<<
(
were coarse.
At the present day, all controversy regarding Shakespeare's
genius and glory has come to an end. No one ventures any
longer to dispute them; but a greater question has arisen,-
namely, whether Shakespeare's dramatic system is not far supe-
rior to that of Voltaire. This question I do not presume to


## p. 6778 (#158) ###########################################

6778
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
decide. I merely say that it is now open for discussion. We
have been led to it by the onward progress of ideas. I shall
endeavor to point out the causes which have brought it about;
but at present I insist merely upon the fact itself, and deduce
from it one simple consequence, that literary criticism has changed
its ground, and can no longer remain restricted to the limits
within which it was formerly confined.
Literature does not escape from the revolutions of the human
mind; it is compelled to follow it in its course, to transport
itself beneath the horizon under which it is conveyed, to gain
elevation and extension with the ideas which occupy its notice,
and to consider the questions which it discusses, under the new
aspects and novel circumstances in which they are placed by the
new state of thought and of society.
When we embrace human destiny in all its aspects, and
human nature in all the conditions of man upon earth, we enter
into possession of an exhaustless treasure. It is the peculiar
advantage of such a system that it escapes, by its extent, from
the dominion of any particular genius. We may discover its prin-
ciples in Shakespeare's works; but he was not fully acquainted
with them, nor did he always respect them. He should serve as
an example, not as a model. Some men, even of superior tal-
ent, have attempted to write plays according to Shakespeare's
taste, without perceiving that they were deficient in one import-
ant qualification for the task; and that was to write as he did,
to write them for our age just as Shakespeare's plays were writ-
ten for the age in which he lived. This is an enterprise the
difficulties of which have hitherto, perhaps, been maturely consid-
ered by no one. We have seen how much art and effort were
employed by Shakespeare to surmount those which are inherent
in his system. They are still greater in our times, and would
unveil themselves much more completely to the spirit of criti-
cism which now accompanies the boldest essays of genius. It is
not only with spectators of more fastidious taste and of more
idle and inattentive imagination, that the poet would have to do
who should venture to follow in Shakespeare's footsteps. He
would be called upon to give movement to personages embar-
rassed in much more complicated interests, preoccupied with
much more various feelings, and subject to less simple habits
of mind and to less decided tendencies. Neither science, nor
reflection, nor the scruples of conscience, nor the uncertainties of


## p. 6779 (#159) ###########################################

FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
6779
thought frequently incumber Shakespeare's heroes; doubt is of
little use among them, and the violence of their passions speedily
transfers their belief to the side of their desires, or sets their
actions above their belief. Hamlet alone presents the confused
spectacle of a mind formed by the enlightenment of society, in
conflict with a position contrary to its laws; and he needs a
supernatural apparition to determine him to act, and a fortuitous
event to accomplish his project. If incessantly placed in an anal-
ogous position, the personages of a tragedy conceived at the
present day according to the Romantic system would offer us
the same picture of indecision. Ideas now crowd and intersect
each other in the mind of man, duties multiply in his conscience
and obstacles and bonds around his life. Instead of those elec-
tric brains, prompt to communicate the spark which they have
received; instead of those ardent and simple-minded men, whose
projects like Macbeth's "will to hand," the world now presents
to the poet minds like Hamlet's, deep in the observation of those
inward conflicts which our classical system has derived from a
state of society more advanced than that of the time in which
Shakespeare lived. So many feelings, interests, and ideas, the
necessary consequences of modern civilization, might become.
even in their simplest form of expression a troublesome burden,
which it would be difficult to carry through the rapid evolutions
and bold advances of the Romantic system.
―――
We must however satisfy every demand; success itself requires
it. The reason must be contented at the same time that the im-
agination is occupied. The progress of taste, of enlightenment, of
society, and of mankind, must serve not to diminish or disturb our
enjoyment, but to render them worthy of ourselves and capable
of supplying the new wants which we have contracted. Advance
without rule and art in the Romantic system, and you will pro-
duce melodramas calculated to excite a passing emotion in the
multitude, but in the multitude alone, and for a few days; just as
by dragging along without originality in the Classical system, you
will satisfy only that cold literary class who are acquainted with
nothing in nature which is more important than the interests of
versification, or more imposing than the three unities. This is
not the work of the poet who is called to power and destined for
glory: he acts upon a grander scale, and can address the superior.
intellects as well as the general and simple faculties of all men.
It is doubtless necessary that the crowd should throng to behold


## p. 6780 (#160) ###########################################

6780
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
those dramatic works of which you desire to make a national
spectacle; but do not hope to become national, if you do not
unite in your festivities all those classes of persons and minds
whose well-arranged hierarchy raises a nation to its loftiest dig-
nity. Genius is bound to follow human nature in all its develop-
ments; its strength consists in finding within itself the means for
constantly satisfying the whole of the public. The same task is
now imposed upon government and upon poetry: both should
exist for all, and suffice at once for the wants of the masses and
for the requirements of the most exalted minds.
Doubtless stopped in its course by these conditions, the full
severity of which will only be revealed to the talent that can
comply with them, dramatic art, even in England, where under
the protection of Shakespeare it would have liberty to attempt
anything, scarcely ventures at the present day even to try timidly
to follow him. Meanwhile England, France, and the whole of
Europe demand of the drama pleasures and emotions that can no
longer be supplied by the inanimate representation of a world
that has ceased to exist. The Classical system had its origin
in the life of its time: that time has passed; its image subsists
in brilliant colors in its works, but can no more be reproduced.
Near the monuments of past ages, the monuments of another
age are
now beginning to arise. What will be their form? I
cannot tell; but the ground upon which their foundations may
rest is already perceptible. This ground is not the ground of
Corneille and Racine, nor is it that of Shakespeare; it is our own;
but Shakespeare's system, as it appears to me, may furnish the
plans according to which genius ought now to work. This
system alone includes all those social conditions and all those
general or diverse feelings, the simultaneous conjunction and activ-
ity of which constitute for us at the present day the spectacle
of human things. Witnesses during thirty years of the greatest
revolutions of society, we shall no longer willingly confine the
movement of our mind within the narrow space of some family
event, or the agitations of a purely individual passion. The
nature and destiny of man have appeared to us under their most
striking and their simplest aspect, in all their extent and in all
their variableness. We require pictures in which this spectacle
is reproduced, in which man is displayed in his completeness and
excites our entire sympathy.


## p. 6781 (#161) ###########################################

6781
—
ERNST HAECKEL
(1834-)
RNST HAECKEL, the German naturalist, is a scholar who unites
to eminence in scientific research and discovery the gift of
attractive literary presentation. In his own country his
position is that of one who has made valuable original contributions
to the study of morphology and been the ablest exponent of the Dar-
winian theory. His more untechnical writings have a charm, a lit-
erary value, rarely to be found in the work of a specialist in science.
Born in Potsdam, Germany, February 16th, 1834, Haeckel studied
the natural sciences at Berlin, Würzburg,
and Vienna, taking his medical degree in
1858 and practicing that profession a short.
time in the former city. During 1859 and
1860 he made a journey through Italy and
Sicily in the interest of science, his work
on 'The Radiata' (1862) being a result.
Later portions were added in 1887 and 1888.
In 1861 he settled in Jena for the study of
comparative anatomy, but soon turned to
the specific investigation of zoölogy. After
holding subordinate positions, he was ap-
pointed in 1865 full professor at Jena; and
his lectures embraced, besides zoölogy, the
subjects of comparative anatomy, evolution,
histology, and palæontology. His researches had to do especially
with the lower ranks of marine animals, and above all, with deep-sea
life in its simplest forms. The material for such study was gathered
from many and extended experiences in the North Sea, the Mediter-
ranean, the Canary Isles, and the Indian Ocean. These travels and
researches were the basis of works like that On the History of the
Development of the Siphonophora' (1869), and his 'Biological Studies'
(1870). Books of this nature too were introductory to greater repre-
sentative works on natural philosophy and the development theory,
such as Calcareous Sponges (1872), Natural History of Creation'
(1868), which has received the honor of translation into twelve lan-
guages, and the master work 'General Morphology of Organisms'
(1866).

ERNST HAECKEL


## p. 6782 (#162) ###########################################

6782
ERNST HAECKEL
More popular writings, making him known to a public much wider
than the biologist ever addresses, are those 'On the Division of
Labor in Nature and Human Life' (1869), On the Origin and Gen-
ealogy of the Human Race (1870), 'Life in the Great Marine Animals'
(1870), The Arabian Corals' (1873), based on studies in the Red Sea,
( The System of the Medusa' (1880), and 'A Visit to Ceylon,' the
latter a work which in English translation has won many admiring
readers.
For the last dozen years or more, Professor Haeckel has given
much of his time to the deep-sea explorations of the H. M. S. Chal-
lenger expedition, and his voluminous reports written in the English
tongue, with accompanying illustrations, contain descriptions of no
less than four thousand new kinds of marine animals. His 'Plankton
Studies (1890) state his general biologic conclusions upon the life
and growth of sea organisms; and his very interesting Monism as
the Link between Religion and Science' constitutes a great naturalist's
confession of faith.
(
A man of many travels and much culture, of immense energy,
learning, and power of original research, Professor Haeckel holds a
dominant position in his own land among the savants of science.
His great work in morphology brought into a systematic philosophy
the brilliant hypothesis of Darwin, whom he was the first German to
defend and expound at a time when the development theory was
looked at askance. And in writings like that from which the selec-
tions are made, he adds æsthetic and human interest to subjects more
often treated after the manner of the arid and technical specialist.
The Ceylon sketches have picturesqueness, color, enthusiasm: they
impart a sense not only of the order, but of the wonder and beauty
of science.
AT PERADENIA
From A Visit to Ceylon'
IN
IN THE central province of Ceylon, and at a height of fifteen hun-
dred feet above the sea, stands the capital, formerly the resi-
dence of the kings of the island, the famous town of Kandy;
and only a few miles away from it is a small town, which was
also for a short time a royal residence five centuries ago. At
this place the English government made a botanical garden in
1819, and Dr. Gardner was the first director. His successor, the
late Dr. Thwaites, the very meritorious compiler of the first 'Flora
Zeylanica,' for thirty years did all he could to improve and carry


## p. 6783 (#163) ###########################################

ERNST HAECKEL
6783
out the purpose of this garden in a manner worthy of its advan-
tages of climate and position. When he retired, a year or two
before his death, Dr. Henry Trimen was appointed director; and
from him, immediately on my arrival, I received a most friendly
invitation. I accepted it all the more gladly, because in Europe
I had already read and heard much of the marvels of plant life
at Peradenia. Nor were my high anticipations disappointed. If
Ceylon is a Paradise for every botanist and lover of flowers, then
Peradenia deserves to be called the very heart of Paradise.
Peradenia and Kandy are connected with Colombo by a rail-
way, the first made in Ceylon; the journey occupying from first to
last between four and five hours. I started from Colombo at seven
in the morning of the 4th of December, and reached Peradenia
at about eleven. Like all Europeans in Ceylon, I found I must
travel in the first-class-not noblesse, but whiteness, oblige. The
second-class is used only by the yellow and tawny burghers and
half-breeds, the descendants of the Portuguese and Dutch; the
third-class of course carries the natives, the dark Cinghalese and
the nearly black Tamils. The only wonder to me is that there is
not a fourth for these last, and a fifth for the despised low-caste
Hindoos. The natives are always great patrons of railway travel-
ing; it is the only pleasure on which they are prepared to spend
money, all the more so as it is a cheap one. Directly after the
railway was opened, the natives began traveling by the wonder-
ful road every day and all day long, for the mere pleasure of it.
The carriages are airy and light; the first-class well provided with
protection against the heat, with wide eaves and Venetian blinds.
The engine-drivers and the guards, in their white clothes with
sola helmets, are Englishmen. The line is worked with order
and punctuality, like all the English railways.
The first two-hours' ride from Colombo to Peradenia lies
across a level country, most of it covered with marshy jungle,
varied by rice fields and water meadows. In these, herds of
black buffaloes lie half in the water, while graceful white herons
pick the insects off their backs; farther on, the line gradually
approaches the hills, and after Rambukana station begins to
work upwards. For an hour, between this and the next station,
Kaduganawa, the line is in point of scenery one of the most
beautiful I have ever seen. The road winds with many zigzags
up the steep northern face of a vast basin or cirque. At first
the eye is fascinated by the changing aspect of the immediate


## p. 6784 (#164) ###########################################

6784
ERNST HAECKEL
foreground: immense blocks of gneiss stand up amid the luxu-
riant masses of dense forest which fill the ravines on each side;
creepers of the loveliest species fling themselves from one tree-
top to the next, as they tower above the undergrowth; enchant-
ing little cascades tumble down the cliffs, and close by the
railroad we often come upon the old high-road from Colombo to
Kandy, formerly so busy a scene, which was constructed by the
English government to enable them to keep possession of the
ancient capital.
Further on we command wider views, now of the vast park-like
valley which grows below us as we mount higher, and now of
the lofty blue mountain range which stands up calm and proud
beyond its southern wall. Although the forms of the higher
hills are monotonous and not particularly picturesque, — for the
most part low, undulating shoulders of granite and gneiss,- still
a few more prominent peaks rise conspicuous; as for instance,
the curious table rock known as the "Bible Rock. " "Sensation
Rock," as it is called, is one of the most striking and impressive
features of the scenery. The railway, after passing through sev-
eral tunnels, here runs under overhanging rocks along the very
edge of a cliff, with a fall of from twelve to fourteen hundred
feet, almost perpendicular, into the verdurous abyss below. Dash-
ing waterfalls come foaming down from the mountain wall on
the left, rush under the bridges over which the line is carried,
and throwing themselves with a mighty leap into mid-air, are
lost in mist before they reach the bottom of the gorge, making
floating rainbows where the sun falls upon them.
The green depths below and the valley at our feet are cov-
ered partly with jungle and partly with cultivation; scattered
huts, gardens, and terraced rice fields can be discerned. The
lofty head of the talipot palm, the proud queen of the tribe in
Ceylon, towers above the scrub on every side. Its trunk is
perfectly straight and white, like a slender marble column, and
often more than a hundred feet high. Each of the fans that
compose its crown of leaves covers a semicircle of from twelve
to sixteen feet radius, a surface of one hundred and fifty to two
hundred square feet; and they like every part of the plant have
their uses, particularly for thatching roofs: but they are more
famous because they were formerly used exclusively instead of
paper by the Cinghalese, and even now often serve this purpose.
The ancient Puskola manuscripts in the Buddhist monasteries are


## p. 6785 (#165) ###########################################

ERNST HAECKEL
6785
all written with an iron stylus on this ola paper, made of narrow
strips of talipot leaves boiled and then dried. The proud tali-
pot palm flowers but once in its life, usually between its fiftieth
and eightieth year. The tall pyramidal spike of bloom rises.
immediately above the sheaf of leaves to a height of thirty or
forty feet, and is composed of myriads of small yellowish-white
blossoms; as soon as the nuts are ripe the tree dies. By a
happy accident, an unusual number of talipot palms were in
flower at the time of my visit; I counted sixty between Rambu-
kana and Kaduganawa, and above a hundred in my whole jour-
ney. Excursions are frequently made to this point from Colombo,
to see the strange and magnificent scene.
The railroad, like the old high-road, is at its highest level
above the sea at the Kaduganawa pass, and a lighthouse-shaped
column stands here in memory of the engineer of the carriage
road, Captain Dawson. We here are on the dividing ridge of
two water-sheds. All the hundred little streams which we have
hitherto passed, threading their silver way through the velvet
verdure of the valley, flow either to the Kelany Ganga or to the
Maha-Oya, both reaching the sea on the western coast. The
brooks which tumble from the eastern shoulder of Kaduganawa
all join the Mahavelli Ganga, which flows southward not far
below. This is the largest river in the island, being about one
hundred and thirty-four miles long, and it enters the sea on the
east coast near Trincomalee. The railway runs along its banks,
which are crowded with plantations of sugar-cane, and in a
quarter of an hour from the pass we reach Peradenia, the last
station before Kandy.
The entrance to the garden is through a fine avenue of old
india-rubber trees. This is the same as the Indian species, of
which the milky juice when inspissated becomes caoutchouc, and
of which young plants are frequently grown in sitting-rooms in
our cold Northern climate, for the sake of the bright polished
green of its oval leathery leaves. But while with us these india-
rubber plants are greatly admired when their inch-thick stems
reach the ceiling, and their rare branches bear fifty leaves, more
or less, in the hot moisture of their native land they attain the
size of a noble forest tree, worthy to compare with our oaks. An
enormous crown of thousands of leaves growing on horizontal
boughs, spreading forty to fifty feet on every side, covers a sur-
face as wide as a good-sized mansion, and the base of the trunk
XII-425
•


## p. 6786 (#166) ###########################################

6786
ERNST HAECKEL
throws out a circle of roots often from one hundred to two hun-
dred feet in diameter, more than the whole height of the tree.
These very remarkable roots generally consist of twenty or thirty
main roots, thrown out from strongly marked ribs in the lower
part of the trunk, and spreading like huge creeping snakes over
the surface of the soil. The india-rubber tree is indeed called
the "snake-tree" by the natives, and has been compared by
poets to Laocoön entwined by serpents. Very often however the
roots grow up from the ground like strong upright poles, and so
form stout props, enabling the parent tree to defy all storms
unmoved. The spaces between these props form perfect little
rooms or sentry boxes, in which a man can stand upright and be
hidden. These pillar-roots are developed here in many other
gigantic trees of very different families.
I had scarcely exhausted my surprise at this avenue of snake-
trees, when exactly in the middle, beyond the entrance of the
gate, my eye was caught by another wonderful sight. An im-
mense bouquet there greets the visitor-a clump of all the palms
indigenous to the island, together with many foreign members of
this noblest growth of the tropics; all wreathed with flowering
creepers, and their trunks covered with graceful parasitical ferns.
Another but even larger and finer group of palms stood further
on at the end of the entrance avenue, and was moreover sur-
rounded by a splendid parterre of flowering plants. The path
here divided, that to the left leading to the director's bungalow,
situated on a slight rise. This inviting home is like most of the
villa residences in Ceylon, a low one-storied building surrounded
by an airy veranda, with a projecting roof supported on light
white columns. Both pillars and roof are covered with garlands
of the loveliest climbers; large-flowered orchids, fragrant vanilla,
splendid fuchsias, and other brilliant blossoms, and a choice col-
lection of flowering plants and ferns, decorate the beds which.
lie near the house. Above it wave the shadowy boughs of the
finest Indian trees, and numbers of butterflies and chafers, lizards
and birds, animate the beautiful spot. I was especially delighted
with the small barred squirrels, which looked particularly pretty
here, though they are common and very tame in all the gardens
of Ceylon.