LECTURE II. PRELIMINARY LECTURE, 1833. THE first course of my lectures on the French Revolution was given last year; I am now proceeding to the second and last. But before I do so, I know not how to avoid making a few preliminary observations. I have been, as I conceive, a friend to civil and religious liberty from the earliest period of my life; but this, on the established principles of the English constitution. This constitution, the more I have read and reflected, the more I have learnt to reverence and love. And I am grieved and mortified, I confess, in the extreme, to observe the various crude and wild theories, the unconstitutional doctrines, and what appear to me the shallow sophistries that are every where floating around us; and it would more than ever grieve and mortify me, if I could conceive, that the youth of this University were, any of them, likely to be influenced by reasonings and views, not worthy to be entertained by the people of England, much less by those who have had the benefit of a regular education. These mistakes and delusions, for such I deem them, are the noxious exhalations that naturally arise from those states of fermentation into which society is occasionally thrown. I have seen one of these situations of the world already, it was at the opening of the first French Revolution; and I consider myself, as on that account more fitted, than those who have had no such experience, to comprehend such situations; more fitted to understand the value of new opinions, when they are offered to us; more fitted to see the exact bearings of such sentiments of benevolence and patriotism as characterize the speeches and writings of those, who are anxious to make experiments on the condition of their fellow creatures. New opinions are always very attractive, particularly in any highly civilized state of society, and particularly to the young; that is, to the more effective portion of the public. In the useful and in the fine arts, wherever we turn, and even at last on graver subjects, in legislation and politics, the charm of novelty is deeply felt, and it is quite irresistible to those, who, rising into life, full of ardour, and with the consciousness of talents, are always eager to press forward, and are often enabled, by their superior activity, to shoulder out of the world those they find in it, to give the tone to society, and to influence the fortunes of their country. This passion for novelty is not without its use to a community in important respects; it gives scope, and offers rewards to the exertions of industry and genius, and is the source of much of the improvement we see in society, and of the advance of civilization: so far it is a blessing to the world. But, when the same rage for novelty enters into the vital subjects I have just alluded to, of legislation and politics, the working of the principle is then of a far different and very doubtful nature, and may not be the blessing of a community, but at particular seasons, the very torment and the curse. The rage for new opinions at the close of the last century, shook the civilized world to its centre, and destroyed France. Any similar passion for change, whenever it can be observed, will always be a subject of suspicion and dread to men of reflection and good sense; and while every applause is given, and every assistance afforded to those who would improve the condition of their countrymen by introducing political changes, it is only upon one condition, which is this: that such men seem careful and provident, and heave the lead often in seas that have now been shown to be of difficult navigation, and where shoals and quicksands abound. Against men like these, it is not to be understood, that I am directing any observations which you may hear in the ensuing lecture. Patriots and reformers have always their difficulties, and may and must hazard something, and allowances must be made for them. What says the most sensible of poets "Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land, Still, there is a certain spirit in which men may work, a certain air and manner in which they may march, that cannot well be mistaken by people of any thought and experience. And as you who hear me, though you may have the one, have not exactly the other, I shall proceed to direct your attention to a few of the phenomena that have appeared, and that are every day appearing, and which I think justify me, or rather require me, to leave for a moment the ordinary track of history, and put you on your guard, that your talents and good qualities may not contribute to your deception, and be an injury, instead of a blessing, to your country. The first description of persons against whom I could wish to guard you, are those whom I shall take the liberty to call the dreamers; those who would banish poverty from the world, and ignorance, and therefore all our vices and our crimes at once, by organizing the world anew. A specimen or two of these deceivers (deceivers perhaps even of themselves) I will allude to. The first that occurs to me is the philosopher of Lanark (Mr. Owen), one of the most active and indomitable of the kind. It is many years since I had the misery of a conversation with him; it lasted nearly two hours; and were I to meet him again to-morrow, the conversation would be just the same, if the courtesy, which at a first meeting I thought his due, could be still maintained. He had hit upon a general theorem, armed with which he defied all comers; and the theorem is no doubt his panoply and shield to this moment. It was this: " that every thing I said was perfectly true, constituted as the world at present was, but could not possibly take place in the state of society which he contemplated." What could be done? It was in vain that I controverted and confuted him, as I supposed, at every turn of the argument; he was still all tranquillity and smiles, and, retired behind his intrenchment, maintained the same happy countenance of triumph and repose; the stream of words with which he had begun still continued to flow on, mellifluous and undisturbed. And why should it not, for he was talking of the state of society which he contemplated, and of a world of his own creation; and I had no resource, but vanquished and despairing, as far at least as the noise of the battle was concerned, to leave him in possession of the field; though in the mean time I was perfectly satisfied, that the state of society which he contemplated, was never intended to take place by the Almighty Master, and would never be found to exist amongst the beings, that in his good providence he had thought proper to create and destine for our particular planet. Is it amusing, or is it melancholy to think, that this man with his parallelograms has been ever since (it must be now twenty years ago) tormenting the earth, year after year, and has still been able to retain his place among the wholesale dealers in the happiness of mankind? Mr. Owen is the wildest of our own dreamers (though we have many, and in every class of society), but another specimen of this sort of new-modelling the world has appeared in the neighbouring country of France, which I may also mention, with all its regular apparatus of lectures and lecturers, followers and audience, treatises published, a name given, and a sect established; I allude to the St. Simonians. I have thought it my duty to spend a week in the perusal of the lectures of these St. Simonians of France. No fatigue could be greater; for I could not but remember, that the world had been already assailed by effusions of this shadowy nature, from the eloquent pen of Rousseau; I could well remember that the world had already suffered from them. The writings of Rousseau contributed most materially to produce the unhappy folly and fatal madness of many of the French revolutionists; and what was now to be witnessed in this instance of the St. Simonians? In the same city and country, of Paris, and of France, beautiful sentences were again to be poured forth; that society, for instance, was to be so adjusted, that every one was to have his place and his rewards according to the measure of his capacity; and all those smoothly flowing streams that had issued from the capacious urn of the philosopher of Geneva, were now again to be diffused over a country that they had already saturated with blood, and left on their departure, heaped with carnage. But the truth is, that mankind have a pleasure in listening to those who describe with eloquence and force, the evils of our imperfect condition; it is a sort of philosophic tragedy, to which, as in a theatre, they delight to repair. It is easy for those who are the playwrights on these occasions, to find a sufficient quantity of truth to mix up, and render plausible these declamatory exhibitions. The evils of society are more readily seen than the inevitable necessity of them can be understood; and artists of this kind, who often want only a good receipt at the door, can never be without encouragement and an audience. I know not whether it may be the fortune of any of you to meet with any of these lectures of the St. Simonians; though fit for nothing else, they would be perfect models to you for your declamations, where eloquence and elegance of composition are all that are required. There are many publications on this subject in the public library, and Mr. Rose published a treatise on it last January, written with his usual ability. Human nature, it is said, is always the same; in its elementary principles no doubt it is; and thus it happens, that this system of the St. Simonians appeared in this country, soon after the opening of the French Revolution and when the times first became distempered, from the pen of Mr. Godwin. Considering his work (and I find rightly considering it) as one of a class from which the world could never be clear, I dedicated a lecture to the explication of it. You will shortly hear it, as it is one of the second course on the French Revolution, which I am now going to deliver. The system was regularly overthrown by Mr. Malthus, and it was some time after, in the main, virtually withdrawn by Mr. Godwin himself; yet is it now, it seems, hashed up and accommodated to the Parisian palate; nor need we despair of seeing it presented to us in England by some of the many enterprising performers that figure on our animated scene. Of all these schemes and systems, the drift and promise is the same; to new-model human nature, and banish ignorance from the world and poverty. The benevolent are thus attracted, the sanguine and all the dreamers, sometimes the student, and generally the young. I shall hope, that now and hereafter, like men of sense and real philosophy, you will take care to observe the laws which the Almighty Creator has imposed upon his creatures; the moral state of probation in which we are placed; the process by which human prosperity is to be worked out; and the play, and action, and reaction of those affections, interests, and passions from which our vices and virtues arise, and which must for ever make a part of our |