The Philosophy of History, Vol. 2 of 2

by Friedrich von Schlegel

success; although sometimes, in looking at the language of such a man as the mild Melancthon, we are almost perplexed to discover the few points which do not coincide with the old Catholic doctrines—so nearly akin, and almost identical do the two religious systems appear, when we merely consider their separate parts. Equally fruitless were all those honest attempts at pacification, incessantly made by the Emperor Charles, who sought by his interim to create delay, while he indulged a secret hope, that the agitated waves of anarchy,—all that mighty tempest of opinion, would be allayed by time, and would finally be stilled. But that interim has been of longer duration than was at first calculated, and it still awaits the judgment of God for its great day of termination.

When we consider Luther’s original powers of mind, independently of the use and employment which he made of those extraordinary powers, (for even the greatest comet, though it should cover half the heavens with the splendour of its light, can never possess, or be supposed to possess, the sun’s genial warmth;)—when I say, we consider the intellectual endowments of this extraordinary man solely in themselves; the boldness of his speculations and the vigour of his eloquence will be found to form an epoch, not only (as is universally acknowledged) in the history of the German language, but in the progress of European science and European culture. After the first period in the intellectual

history of Europe, which I denominated the scholastico-romantic epoch, and after the second, which I termed the epoch of enthusiasm for Pagan Antiquity, and in which a Christian simplicity of eloquence and a depth of scientific enquiry appear as only happy and occasional exceptions; a third epoch now arose, which from the general spirit of the age, and the tone of the writings, which exerted a commanding influence over the times, cannot be otherwise designated than as the era of a polemico-barbarous eloquence. This rude polemic spirit which had its origin in the Reformation, and in that concussion of faith, and consequently of all thought and all science which Protestantism occasioned, continued, down to the end of the seventeenth century, to prevail in the controversial writings and philosophic speculations both of Germany and England. This spirit was not incompatible with a sort of deep mystical sensibility, and a certain original boldness of thought and expression, such, for instance, as Luther’s writings display; yet we cannot at all regard in a favourable light the general spirit of that intellectual epoch, or consider it as one by any means adapted to the intellectual exigencies of that age. But with respect to the language and literature of Germany, so far as these are of general interest, I should wish to make one observation. Besides Thomas à Kempis, whom I have already mentioned, I might cite several other religious

writers of the fifteenth century and even of an earlier period, who though less known, were distinguished by a similar spirit, partly among those who made use of the Latin language, then universally current, and partly among those who, like Taulerus, for example, made the German the vehicle of their thoughts. And indeed were we to compare the gentle simplicity, the charming clearness of thought and expression which reign in the works of these writers, with the productions of the following age of barbarous polemic strife, we should then be furnished with the best criterion for duly appreciating the earlier and the later period.

With respect to those institutes of the church, which had early devoted themselves to the task of the propagation of the gospel, or of the defence and support of religion, and made this spiritual conflict and holy engagement the business of their lives; it now happened, as it had often occurred before, that the proper defenders of the church arose at that moment, and adopted that course and mode of defence which the circumstances of the church precisely required. The powerful prelates of the old Episcopal sees, who had rendered such high and imperishable services to the cause of European civilization, though they might not be unfaithful to the original spirit of their calling, and might be no strangers to science, were, however, much too dependant on government, and mixed up in affairs of state. The more popular and mendicant

orders, from their very nature and character, and their peculiar habits of life and modes of speech, were not always calculated to exert due influence on government and the upper classes of society, while their ardent zeal, unmindful of times and circumstances, often transgressed the bounds of moderation. The great want of the age was a religious order, which established in opposition to Protestantism, should not be dependant on the state, but devoted exclusively to the interests of the church; a religious order, which well equipped with modern learning, science and accomplishment, possessing a knowledge of the world, acquainted with the spirit of the times, and pursuing the course which expediency dictated, with prudence and circumspection, should undertake the defence of the Catholic religion, and the propagation of the gospel in foreign countries, and worthily and successfully prosecute this twofold object. Such an order was the society of the Jesuits in its first institution; and that among the founders and first members of this order, there were men of undoubted piety and eminent sanctity, men animated by the sublimest principles of Christian self-denial, possessed of great intellectual endowments, and favoured by God with high preternatural powers, no unprejudiced historical enquirer will deny. Whether the reproaches which have been made to many members of this order, of having exerted an undue political influence, and displayed a spirit of

intrigue and ambition in the history of this period, be well-founded or not, I shall not stop to enquire; because such charges at best can affect individuals only, and not the society, whose very name indeed has become in our times the watch-word of party strife and contention. The severest condemnation of the Jesuits proceeds from a quarter where we clearly discern the most implacable hostility to Christianity and to all religion; and this circumstance ought to furnish the Jesuits with an additional claim to our good opinion; but any judgment on the merits of this society, as this is a question which more immediately regards the present age, is quite foreign to the purpose of the present work. If some members of the order adopted at this period those absolute maxims and principles of policy and government, which in general characterized that age; and if the writings of others were distinguished by that rude polemic tone and spirit spoken of above, and which was equally characteristic of those times; it would be unjust to lay to the charge of the order, or even of particular members, failings and defects which were common to the age, and a perfect exemption from which is the most rare of human excellencies.

A violent insurrection can be put down only by forcible means; but every system of terror, of whatsoever nature, is sure to provoke, sooner or later, a re-action equally terrible. And if the

dangerous disease be checked by means merely external, and no healing remedy be applied to the root and principle of the disorder, nor used to renovate the impaired organs of life—if the fire be smothered in its own flames—it will lie concealed beneath the ashes, and will burn in secret, till the first casual and unlucky spark shall kindle it anew into a fiercer blaze. Such, in my opinion, are the plain and obvious principles which the historian should bear in mind, while passing in review periods of revolution like the one under consideration; principles, which even now are susceptible of no very remote application.

In that first period of ferment which marked the birth of the reformation, the revolt of the peasants had been put down with amazing promptitude and vigour. It was but ten years later, when in the north of Germany, a new insurrection broke out, which from its religious complexion, seemed still more revolting, whose adherents sought to establish on earth the invisible empire of God by fire and sword, and whose new spiritual monarch, John of Leyden, made his triumphant entry into Munster, amid many and dreadful excesses; till at last this savage fanaticism was crushed, and (as invariably happens in similar cases), met with a bloody end.