In modern times, the French Revolution as an event, and the Emperor Napoleon I. as a man, have furnished and continue to furnish us with the absorbing interest of watching such a drama. I say, 'continue to furnish,' for, clearly, so far as either the French revolution or Napoleon is concerned, the drama is not ended, the final catastrophe of the plot is not yet known. In the great stream of events it is the final issue which decides as to the value of the source. There is a reckoning to be held with all great events and all great men,—a balance to be struck between what they have cost humanity, and that for which humanity is indebted to them; but this final account is not closed until late. Is there any one in the present day, who, even with a full knowledge of events, would venture to pass a final judgment on the French revolution and the Emperor Napoleon? Is there any one who could apportion their due share of esteem and reprobation to the great fact and the great man of this century, and whose judgment would be received with general and lasting assent? Could any one decide without hesitation to what extent their influence has been for good or for evil?

The answer to this question is in the hands of the generations to come. It is our successors who determine by a final analysis the good and evil in the works of their precursors; in this they will be guided by the impressions which they themselves receive from these actions, as well as by the principles and examples which have been bequeathed to them. One after the other the generations are called upon to take up their inheritance; one after the other they enter into their work, guided by their own light, their own liberty, and their own responsibility. It is for them to distinguish truth from falsehood, justice from injustice, that which is useful from that which is injurious, the practicable from the chimerical, and, according to right and reason, to accept or reject or modify the decisions and actions of their predecessors. It is only after these prolonged investigations by the intelligence and experience of mankind that the true worth of great events and great men can be determined, and history can pass sentence upon their claims to the gratitude or censure of the human race.

I do not intend, from any considerations of prudence, to take refuge in this obscurity of the future, or to keep back my thoughts and observe silence as to my hopes and fears. In one of the brightest moments of our epoch, forty years ago, when I recommenced my course of lectures on Modern History at the Sorbonne, I expressed my conviction that the youthful generation to which I addressed myself might, without too much self-confidence, use the words which Homer attributes to Sthenelus:—'We thank Heaven that we are better than our forefathers.'

In recent meditations on the union of Christianity and Liberty, and the difficulties which our recollections of the French revolution seem to oppose to the realization of this union, I said, 'Severity is necessary, but justice is due to different periods and to a different state of society. We have learnt as much morality and reason within the last century as we have forgotten, as much and more. Society in France has attained its actual condition by efforts more or less apparent and more or less rapid, but efforts which have never been altogether suspended, in spite of many interruptions and great vicissitudes. France has freed herself in turns from the feudal system, from the selfish ambitions and claims of the great nobles, from the predominance of court influence, and from the despotism, improvidence, and extravagance of absolute power. She has desired national unity, civil equality, and political liberty from the earliest period of her existence. All her great politicians, and the whole nation, in its unconscious but irresistible tendency, have aimed at and desired the same ends. The revolution of 1789 was the most violent and serious explosion of this unceasing national effort. Was it a fatal termination or a fruitful crisis? France then thought that she obtained a great victory, not only for herself, but for all humanity. Did she deceive herself? Have we walked for so many centuries in a good or an evil path, towards success or deception? Are we still making progress, or has our decline already commenced? Many eminent and honest thinkers hold very different opinions on this subject, and some of them utter dark and alarming prophecies, whilst others continue to chant songs of triumph.

'I have some right to say that no one has felt the crimes, faults, errors, and follies of word and deed which blazed out in the French revolution, more keenly than I have done. I have never hesitated to express what I thought of them; and my frankness on this subject may perhaps explain the heat of some of the controversies which I have had to sustain in my political career; my views irritated the prejudices and wounded the self-love of very many. I retract nothing,—neither sentiments nor language,— on that sad phase of our contemporary history.' [Footnote 54]

[Footnote 54: Meditations sur la Religion chrétienne dans ses Rapports avee l'État actuel des Sociétés et des Esprits, 1868, pp. 15-18.]

But, in spite of the many bitter recollections and painful mistakes of that time, I still retain my confidence that this age and my country have more to hope than to fear from the criticism of the future, and that the beneficial results of the French revolution, both for France and the whole world, will far exceed the errors into which it was the means of plunging them and the evils it has inflicted. I am not however at all astonished at the uncertainty and doubt to which this prolonged crisis has given rise; error and evil are still so prominent that the final issue cannot but appear uncertain; and the perils of the good cause —the cause of liberty, morality, and good sense—are still so great that it is impossible to look upon the question as decided, and to rest with confidence in the prospect of future success.

The religious reform which was the revolution of the sixteenth century has already been submitted to the test of time, and of great social and intellectual perils. It brought with it much suffering to the human race, it gave rise to great errors and great crimes, and was developed amidst cruel wars and the most deplorable troubles and disturbances. These facts, which we learn both from its partisans and opponents, cannot be contested, and they form the account which history lays to the charge of the event. But as the Roman Cornelia could point to her sons, so, after three centuries of trial, the Reformation of the sixteenth century can show the nations among which it has prevailed, and which have been formed under its influence—England, Holland, North Germany, the Scandinavian States, the United States of America—calling attention to their moral and social condition, their attitude with regard to reverence for right and reason, and their position so far as success and worldly prosperity are concerned. These, also, are well-known and definite facts. I do not hesitate to affirm that the revolution of the sixteenth century has nothing to fear from the investigations of the nineteenth: the children are an honour to their mother.

There are many different causes for the general and final success of this movement, but I wish now to point to only one of them. The Reformation of the sixteenth century was essentially and from the very first a religious reform; politics occupied a secondary position; they were necessary means, but not its chief aim. It was begun in the name of Christianity and from an impulse given by religion; liberty was only called in as a weapon to help faith. The strength of the movement was derived from its influence on the inner life of the soul, for both leaders and followers were much more engrossed by the future and eternal state of man than by his temporal condition. The reform of the sixteenth century embraced the whole man and his destiny: first his moral state in himself and before God, then his social condition among his fellows. This is the peculiar and great characteristic of the movement, the principal source of the good which it has done, and we must therefore place it by the side of the price which it has cost.