SWITZERLAND AND THE RENAISSANCE. INFLUENCE OF VOLTAIRE AND ROUSSEAU.
Barren and uninviting is the waste of politics in Switzerland at this period of our story, and it seemed as if the republic was quietly crumbling out of active existence. But the literary and scientific renaissance runs through it all like a fertilizing stream, and saves it from utter sterility. Feeble though it was politically, Switzerland yet produced on all sides men of mark in science, in literature, in philosophy. Time would fail to tell of them all, and we must be content to follow briefly the three great currents of the movement, which centred respectively around Geneva, Zurich, and the Helvetic Society. The two former of these may indeed be said to form a part (and an important part) of the great general awakening of the eighteenth century, an awakening beginning with the French "period of enlightenment," and crowned by the era of German classicism. Yet the French movement itself was based on English influence. Just as, at the Restoration, England had copied the France of Louis Quatorze, so France in return drew intellectual strength from the England of the second half of the eighteenth century—England was then vastly ahead of the Continent—and brought forth the "siècle de la philosophie." Of the great Frenchmen who learned in the school of English thought, Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Voltaire stand foremost, and of these again Voltaire occupies indisputably the highest place. Voltaire was not only the founder, but the very heart of the philosophic school which reared its front against the statutes and traditions and pretensions of the Church. He had drunk deeply of the spirit of Newton and of Locke during his exile in England, and spread abroad their views and discoveries, assisted by his genius, his sparkling wit, his lashing satire, and his graceful style. None equally with him naturalized on the Continent English free thought and English rationalism. Voltaire and Rousseau were as two great beacons planted in the century guiding as they would the course of philosophy. Both were champions of personal freedom and religious tolerance in a benighted and down-trodden age. But the influence of the two men worked in very different ways, for in the one it was based on the head, in the other on the heart. Voltaire, the realist, by his venomous and even reckless satires on the Church and on Christianity, dealt a severe blow to religion at large. Rousseau, the idealist, plunged into the mystery of good and evil, and was wrecked by the very impracticability of his system.
Voltaire, as is well known, spent the last twenty years of his life—his "verte vieillesse"—almost at the gates of Geneva, and Rousseau, actually one of its citizens, passed the greater part of his life wandering abroad, though he loved Geneva so dearly that he once fainted with emotion on leaving it. Yet while both did battle so to speak from Geneva, neither of them was reckoned as a prophet in that city. After Voltaire had spent a couple of years at "Les Délices"—this was subsequent to his break with the great Frederick—he bought Tournay and Ferney, close to Geneva, to "keep aloof from monarchs and bishops, of whom he was afraid." Ferney, with its parc à la Versailles, and its fine castle, he made his residence; and there his niece did the honours of the house to the countless visitors who came from all parts to do homage to the illustrious "Aubergiste del' Europe," as he pleasantly styled himself. It was not the salons of Ferney that induced him to reside there, but care for his health and a wish to be free from all fear of bastilles.
Geneva was not inclined to bow in admiration before her famous neighbour, as has been already stated. She had by this time become a great intellectual centre. Men of science, naturalists, and philosophers there congregated, and a reaction against the everlasting study of theology, of which the fashion had been introduced by the Huguenot refugees, having come about, the study of nature had taken its place. Whilst France was being governed by the Pompadours, Geneva was ruled by a society of savants, inclined, it is true, to absolutism and narrow Calvinism, but still savants. It is a common error to suppose that Voltaire's influence took deep root in Geneva. Voltaire set the current running for the world at large indeed, but Geneva was not specially affected. In truth, most of her learned men were disinclined to do more than follow Voltaire half way, as it were, into his philosophy, whilst some of them, as, for instance, Charles Bonnet, were particularly narrow in their views, and were even heretic hunters.[79] Voltaire's contest with the city authorities respecting the establishing of a theatre is a good illustration of his want of real authority and influence there. It greatly tickled his fancy to seduce the "pedantic city still holding to her old reformers, and submitting to the tyrannical laws of Calvin" from the ancient path, and to make war on her orthodoxy. And as part of his plan he determined to introduce theatrical performances into the city. The ball was set rolling by an article in the "Encyclopédie" by D'Alembert, but the arguments there adduced in favour of the theatre proved of no avail. Rousseau made a furious reply, and averred that a theatre was injurious to the morals of a small town. In a large city, where the morals were already corrupt, it did not signify. The Consistoire was in a flutter, for it had pretended that the Genevans had a prodigious love for light amusements. However, one day Voltaire invited the city authorities to "Les Délices," and there treated them to a representation of his "Zaïre," and it was no little triumph to the wily old schemer that his audience were overcome with emotion. "We have moved to tears almost the whole council—Consistory and magistrates; I have never seen more tears," he delightedly reports; "never have the Calvinists been more tender! God be blessed! I have corrupted Geneva and the Republic." Nevertheless he was not to triumph. The theatre at "Les Délices" had to be closed. He opened his theatre several times elsewhere in Genevan territory, and began to draw crowds, but in every instance was compelled to close again. In truth, it was not till 1766 that Geneva had a theatre of its own, and even then it lasted but two years. The building was set on fire by some Puritans, and, being only of wood, was rapidly consumed. Crowds ran to the conflagration, but finding that it was only the theatre that was on fire, they emptied their buckets, shouting, "Let those who wanted a theatre put out the fire!" "Perruques or tignasses," exclaimed Voltaire, with irritation, "it is all the same with Geneva. If you think you have caught her, she escapes."
Rousseau (1712-1778) was the son of a Genevan watchmaker, and received but a very desultory education in his early days. Whilst yet but a boy he had drunk in the republican and Calvinistic spirit of his native town, hence his democratic leanings. He was a lover of nature, and fond of solitude, and was possessed of a deep religious feeling, even though his religion was based on sentiment. He witnessed the revolt of 1735-37, and, enfant du peuple as he was, rebelled against the tyranny of the patricians, and gave vent to his indignation in his writings. He thus became the mouthpiece of a down-trodden people craving for liberty, of a society satiated with culture. His prize essay on "Arts and Sciences" is an answer in the negative to the question propounded by the Dijon Academy, Whether the New Learning had resulted in an improvement to morals. His next essay on "L'origine et les fondements de l'inégalité" is a sally against the state of society. In it he advocates a return to the condition of nature, on which Voltaire sarcastically retorted, "I felt a great desire to go on all fours." "Emile" (1762), which Goethe calls the "gospel of education," declares against the hollowness of our distorted and over-refined civilization, and advocates a more rational training based on nature. And Pestalozzi, pedagogue and philanthropist, though he styled "Emile" a "book of dreams," was yet nourished on Rousseau's ideas. "Emile" is opposed to deism and materialism on the one hand, whilst on the other it objects to revelation and miracles, and declares that existing religion is one-sided and unable to save mankind from intellectual slavery. The excitement the book created was immense on both sides, and it was publicly burnt both at Paris and Geneva. Its author was compelled to flee.
ROUSSEAU.
PORTRAIT OF PESTALOZZI.
(From a photograph of the statue, at Yverdon, by Lanz.)
A similar untoward fate befel the same author's famous "Contrat Social," perhaps the most important political work of the eighteenth century. In this Rousseau advances much further than Montesquieu. Indeed the former was a strong Radical, whilst the latter might be more fittingly described as a Whig. Rousseau advocates republicanism, or rather a democracy, as the best form of government; whilst Montesquieu points to the constitutional government of England as his model, insisting on the right to equality of all before the law. The "Contrat Social," as is well known, did much to advance the revolutionary cause, and became indeed the textbook of the democracy, and formed the principal basis of the Constitution of 1793. But Rousseau himself was no agitator. On the contrary, when the burghers of Geneva rose on his behalf, to save "Emile" and the "Contrat" from the flames, he hesitated hardly a moment, but begged them to submit to order, as he disliked disorder and bloodshed.
His novel, "La Nouvelle Heloïse" (1761), introduced the romantic element, and opened a new era in literature. It was, in fact, a manifesto against a bewigged and bepowdered civilization. Poetry was invited to withdraw from the salons and come once more to live with nature. But this sudden onslaught on the stiff conventionalism and narrowness of the time was too much, and there ensued an outburst of excitement and feeling such as we in our day can scarcely realize. A great stream of sentiment poured into literature, and gave rise to that tumultuous "storm and stress" (Sturm und Drang) period in Germany, out of which sprang Schiller's "Räuber" (Robbers). Goethe caught up the prevailing tone of sentimentality and supersensitiveness in his "Werther" (1774). This tearful, boisterous period is but the outrush of a nation's pent-up feelings on its sudden emancipation from the thraldom of conventionalism. And it led the way to the golden era in German literature, the era of Schiller and Goethe.
The brilliant literary court of Madame de Staël at Coppet succeeded that of Voltaire at Ferney. Though born in Geneva she was in heart a Frenchwoman, and her native country but little affected her character. "I would rather go miles to hear a clever man talk than open the windows of my rooms at Naples to see the beauties of the Gulf," is a characteristic speech of hers. Yet amongst women-writers Madame de Staël is perhaps the most generous, the most lofty, and the grandest figure. Her spirited opposition to Napoleon, her exile, her brilliant coterie at Coppet, and her famous literary productions, are topics of the greatest interest, but as they do not specially concern Switzerland, they cannot be more than hinted at here.
HALLER.
From the very depression, political and social, prevailing in Swiss lands arose the yearning for and proficiency in letters and scientific culture which in the period now before us produced so prolific a literature in the country. And it was not in West Switzerland alone that this revival of letters showed itself. Basel prided herself on her naturalists and mathematicians, Merian, Bernoulli, and Euler; while Zurich could boast of her botanists, Scheuchzer and John Gessner. Bern produced that most distinguished naturalist, Haller, who was also a poet; Schaffhausen claims Johannes von Müller, the brilliant historian; and Brugg (Aargau) Zimmermann, philosopher and royal physician at Hanover. Bodmer and Breitinger formed an æsthetic critical forum at Zurich. And no country of similar area had so many of its sons occupying positions of honour in foreign universities. A whole colony of Swiss savants had settled at Berlin, drawn thither by the great Frederick; others were to be found at Halle. Haller, who had lived at Göttingen ever since 1736, likewise received an invitation from Frederick, but found himself unable to accept it, being greatly averse to Voltaire and his influence. A perfect stream of Swiss intellect poured into Germany, and by its southern originality, greater power of expression, and its true German instinct, quickened German nationality, and witnesses to the fact that there is ever passing between the two countries an intellectual current.[80] It is impossible within the limits of the present volume to do more than touch upon the most characteristic literary movements of the period.
Amongst the upper classes in Switzerland, French culture reigned supreme, just as did French fashions, French manners, and it may almost be said, the French language. Nevertheless, the Swiss were the first to throw off the French supremacy in literature, turning rather to England as a more congenial guide and pattern. Bodmer speaks of Shakespeare and Milton "as the highest manifestations of Germanic genius." As for German literature itself, it was still in a state of helplessness—what with the Thirty Years' War, and the German nobility given over to French tastes and French influence—and fashioned itself in foreign modes till the close of the Seven Years' War, in 1763, when it took the leading position it has ever since maintained.
Bern and Zurich, which had both risen to wealth and independence, were stout opponents of the French policy. Both cities were homes of the belles lettres, and Zurich was a veritable "poets' corner." The chief figure there was Bodmer, who wielded the literary sceptre in Switzerland and Germany for well-nigh half a century. A fellow-worker with him, and his well-nigh inseparable companion, was Breitinger, and these two more than any others helped to break the French spell. Bodmer (1698-1783), was the son of a pastor of Greifensee, and had himself been at first destined for the church, though he was at length put to the silk trade. But neither calling could keep him from his beloved letters, and in 1725 he became professor of history and political science at the Zurich Carolinum. His aim was to raise literature from its lifeless condition. As far back as 1721, he had joined with Breitinger and others, in establishing a weekly journal on the model of Addison's Spectator—"Discurse der Maler." Breitinger was professor of Hebrew, and later on, canon of the minster of Zurich, and was a man of profound learning and refined taste. The new paper treated not only of social matters, but discussed poetry and belles lettres generally. Gottsched (1700-1766), who occupied the chair of rhetoric at Leipzig, was supreme as a literary critic. His tastes were French, and he held up the French classics as models. In his "Critical Art of Poetry" (1730), he tries to teach what may be called the mechanics of poetry based on reason, and pretends that it is in the power of any really clever man to produce masterpieces in poetry. In 1732, appeared Bodmer's translation of "Paradise Lost," to the chagrin of Gottsched, who, feeling that he was losing ground, furiously attacked the Miltonian following. His mockery of the blind poet roused Bodmer's anger, and he replied with his work the "Wonderful in Poetry." A fierce controversy raged for ten years. In the name of Milton the young men of talent took the side of Zurich, that is, of the German, as opposed to the French influence in literature. The result was that by the efforts of such men as Haller, Klopstock, Wieland, and Kleist, the French influence was ousted and the national German influence came to the front.
Albrecht von Haller (1708-1777), whom Goethe calls "the father of national poetry," was the first representative of the new school of poets which began to turn to nature for inspiration and illustration rather than to mere dead forms. His poems on the Alps (1732) paint the majestic beauty of the Bernese highlands, and contrast the humble and peaceful but natural life of the shepherd with the luxurious and artificial life of the patrician, and the dweller in cities. Haller's writings made a great impression on the polite world.[81] Klopstock it was, however, whom Bodmer welcomed as the harbinger of a new era, as the German Milton. Klopstock had been trained in the Swiss school of thought, and regarded Breitinger's "Critical Art" as his æsthetic bible, whilst Bodmer's translation of "Paradise Lost" inspired his epic, "Messiah." The first three cantos appeared in the "Bremer Beiträge" in 1748, and created such a furore that he was declared to be an immortal poet. Wieland's first poems were, in 1751, published in the "Swiss Critic," and met with a reception hardly less favourable if somewhat less enthusiastic. A strong friendship springing up between Bodmer and the young Klopstock, the former offered the poet a temporary home at his Tusculum (still standing) on the slopes of Zurichberg, that he might go on with his great epic. The fine view of the lake and mountains, the "highly cultivated city beneath," was greatly prized by Goethe who sounds its praises in "Wahrheit und Dichtung." However, Bodmer was disappointed with his young guest, for Klopstock loved the society of the young men and young women of his own age, and the progress made with the "Messiah" was well-nigh nil. However, it is to Klopstock's sojourn there, that we owe some of his fine odes, especially that on Zurich lake. But meanwhile Bodmer's friendship had cooled, and Klopstock went to the house (in Zurich itself) of Hartmann Rahn, who later on married the poet's sister. With this same Rahn was some years afterwards associated the philosopher Fichte, when he lived at Zurich (1788). Fichte in fact married Rahn's daughter, Johanna. In 1752, Wieland[82] repaid Bodmer for his previous disappointments, by staying with him for some two years.
Bodmer's zeal for the advance of literature was unremitting. Though he could not himself boast of much poetic genius, he was a prolific writer in both prose and verse. His great merit is his bringing to light again the fine old mediæval poetry long since forgotten. The manuscript of the "Minnesänger" and the famous "Nibelungen" he had dug up from the lumber-room of Hohenems Castle. He moved heaven and earth to obtain royal protection and patronage for German literature. But little did he gain at the court of the great Frederick. To Müller, who presented the "Nibelungen," his majesty replied in characteristic fashion that the piece was not worth a single "charge of powder." Not less characteristic was Voltaire's reply when a request was made for the royal favour to Klopstock. "A new 'Messiah' is too much of a good thing, the old one has not been read yet."
Bodmer's influence on the young man of parts is noticeable. He gathered round him a large following of young Zürcher who had a taste for letters. Crowds of them would accompany him in his evening walks in the avenue Platzspitz, drinking in his words of wit and wisdom. Of the disciples thus gathered round "Father" Bodmer—for so he was affectionately styled—some attained no little eminence in later life. Amongst them we may mention Sulzer, who became art professor at Berlin, and stood in high favour with the king; and Solomon Gessner, the painter poet, whose word pictures are hardly less beautiful than the productions of his brush. His "Idylls," published in 1756, gave him a European reputation. The work was translated into all the literary languages, and in France and Italy was read with great eagerness, a first edition in French being sold out within a fortnight. Another important work is Hirzel's "Kleinjogg," or the "Socrates of the Fields." In this Hirzel, who was a physician and a philanthropist, brings to the fore the despised peasantry. "Kleinjogg" is not a work of fiction solely, but an account of Jakob Gujer who lived in a small Zurich village. Jakob was a man of great intelligence, indomitable resolution, and practical wisdom, who by his admirable management raised a wretched country home into a model farm. Goethe, who on a visit ate at his table, was delighted with the philosophic peasant, and called him "one of the most delicious creatures earth ever produced."
Heinrich Pestalozzi, the philanthropist, but better known for his efforts in the cause of education, was also a Zurich man. His principles of education are embodied in his novel of rural life, "Lienhard and Gertrude" (1781). His ideas are partly borrowed from Rousseau, but he failed to realize them in practice. The work at once won for Pestalozzi European fame. Ludwig Meyer von Knonau, a country magnate, was a poet and a painter, and wrote "Fables." Johannes Casper Lavater, Bodmer's favourite pupil, stirred to their depth the patriotic feelings of his countrymen by his famous "Schweizerlieder," which he composed for the Helvetic Society, in 1767. Indeed literary tastes seem to have been very prevalent amongst the Swiss at that time. More of Winkelmann's great work on Æsthetics were sold in Zurich and Basel then would in our own day probably be sold in such cities as Berlin and Vienna. And Solothurn, we find, produced thrice as many subscribers to Goethe's works as the great cities just mentioned.
LAVATER.
After Bodmer Lavater became the chief attraction at Zurich, and strangers flocked thither in great numbers to see him. He was the founder of the study of physiognomy, and his works on it were very largely read at the time. Goethe himself joined with Lavater in his "Essays on Physiognomy." The philosopher's personality being singularly charming and fascinating, he was one of the most influential men of his time. He was the pastor of St. Peter's church, and was full of high religious enthusiasm. He desired to take Christianity from its lifeless condition and make it a living thing, and was strongly opposed to rationalism—Anglo-French deism—then slowly creeping in, notwithstanding severe repressive measures against it. Goethe was for many years the close friend of Lavater, and carried on with him a brilliant correspondence. The great poet, it may be stated, paid no fewer than three visits to Zurich, viz., in 1775, 1779, and 1797. He considered his intercourse with Lavater the "seal and crown" of the whole trip to Switzerland in 1779, and calls the divine the "crown of mankind," "the best among the best," and compares his friendship with "pastureland on heaven's border." Lavater's later years were marked by many eccentricities, and he fell into religious mysticism. But his sterling merits will not readily be forgotten by the Swiss.
A word respecting the Helvetic Society must close the present chapter. This society was founded in 1762, with the view of gathering together those who were stirred by political aspiration. It gradually united all those who desired the political regeneration of their fatherland, and the most prominent men of both East and West Switzerland, and of both confessions, joined the new society. The young patriots regularly met to discuss methods of improving the country and its institutions, and this in spite of the prohibitions of a narrow-minded executive, and the close control of the press. Stockar's scheme for amalgamating the free states into one republic mightily swelled the hearts of both Catholic and Protestant, and their efforts gave rise to many practical reforms. The most prominent result of these efforts was the rise of national education. Zurich with its higher schools occupied a leading position in the work of reform, and Pestalozzi established on his own estate a school for the poor. Unfortunately this admirable institution failed for want of a proper manager. Later on, after the Revolution, when the soil was better prepared for it, Pestalozzi's system took vigorous root.