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her right to plead honestly her claim to be excepted . - All the more let as distrust these dangerous appeals in matters -which bear only oh philosophy and history . Would a judge be the more just , the more he should put Mmself in the place of the accused persons brought before him ? All well , acting as a Christian and a p rivate person ; but in the discharge of a public duty—and criticism is that—the first point is to calf good good , and evil evil . " We have dwelt on this shameless disregard of the first princi p les of translation fa knowledge at least of one of the languages being considered a first principle ) , because this boo k hears on the , title-page what is meant for a guarantee , the words " authorised translation . " Dad as translations are now-ardays , we think , on the whole , we prefer the unauthorised .
Turning from the manner to the matter , the book , in spite of its affectation , and the incompetence ^ af its author to . th e serious appreciation of the eighteenth century , is , by -virtue of the indestructible interest in Voltaire , not a , book to be thrown aside . If read by easy stages , it will even greatly interest . The anecdote , the literary gossip , and the occasional acuteness of the remarks , render it very agreeable—to read a little of ; and it would be difficult for anyone to write upon Voltaire in the present day without repeating a great deal of excellent criticism :. There is a great deal that M . Bungener repeats , which , is worth reading ; but he also repeats things which have been said because they are epigrammatic , rather than because they are true . There is a great deal of both in the following passage : — "The incarnation of an age in one ' man takes place , according to the times , in tvro differenfcways . . . "
"Sometimes it is the man that takes the lead . He calls to other minds , and those other minds follow him . He lays hold of all the vital forces of society , and gathers them into his hand . Such is the reign of genius ; such the lot of young and . vigorous generations . " Sometimes it is the age itself that lias selected from among its men the one who is to be its leader . This chosen chief is condemned thenceforth to have but one thought—that of maintaining his seat . All his faculties , all his genius perhaps—for it is not impossible that lie naay have genius—he will be found to consecrate to the ' study and the service of the . tastes of the multitude . He will acquire an astonishing ability for anticipating everything that is wanted from him . He will guess men ' s longings before they are expressed ; nay , before they are felt . He will have the air of one that leads , but only because he will contrive never to advance , unless precisely in the way that is wished for . Unity , in the . one case ,
arose rrotn all men becoming fused in one ; in the other , it arises from there being one man to make himself all things to all . This is the reign of talent , this the lot of ages sunk in anility and weakness . . . . , . . . , " Such , then , shall we find to have 1 > een evidently the part that belonged to Voltaire in the eighteenth century . Ask not from him those bursts of genius , those powerful inspirationswhich seize a people ' s inmost feelings ; agitate them , temper them anew , create for fhein a life ' and & faith . Possibly—and it is a praise we cannot refuse him—possibly he mightin other times have had these regenerating' inspirations . Even his everlasting Jaugh did aot . proye him incapable of enthusiasm . He would weep at the theatFe ;; rhardw , it is true ,. at any play that was not his own ,, and always so far that he might set the example ; bat , after all , he-wept , and one does not weep at Will . Jn an epoch where , in order to be powerful one must haye been great , I believe . Voltaire Would lave been great . ' i That , however , he never was'j 'he served his age as that age desired to be served . Wit
n *« a WanniMAfi *\ 4 ^ Vtiw * nn / 1 nr «( - V »«* «/ intiAkA < 4 wwafrl * m llLn . nl 1 . amJ TM — ! * m % was required ot Aim , and wit he scattered with a liberal hand . Fine verses were wanted of him—these he made ; but he was never asked for poetry , that of the heart J mean , and heiad it not . * I admit in him the perfection of mediocrity , ' said one of his enemies , the AbMTrublet ; and though mediocrity sounds ill , I agree , when treating of Voltaire , that this judgment is in some respects one of the best that nas been passed upon him . l Had I to repeat it , I should not understand by it any more , no doubt , than the Abbe' Trublet , that Voltmire was a mediocre person ; my notion would be this , that even in the pages where he is fatie ; pure , noble , even , in a word , in those in which y , ou find nothing reprehensible , in whichi you feel that he has reached perfectionin its kind , yoa never feel yourself , notwithstanding , placed among the loftiest elevations of genius or of virtue , never in that high atmosphere to which a Bossuct , or a Pascal , or a Newton , would lift you by a word . "
'When , however , he says that Rousseau had no conviction , and that there was no conviction in his school , that ncpne read Rousseau , seriously , or believed , in his opinions , he is about as near the truth as if one should say that English people have no love for music , because a few listless " heavies " were talking during the whole of the overture to Fidelio . Rousseau was " the fashion , " and of course manv people pretended enthusiasm for his ideas , simply because he was the fashion . But if he had not first stirred the serious minds , the frivolous would never have pretended to be stirred . Yet M . Bungener says : —
" It was not from any want of consciousness of the same thing in themselves , or that at bottom they really differed from Voltaire , that people would say of him , that he was ' factitious from head to foot . ' Let us lid ourselves of the idea that the eighteenth century at least until the approaches of the Revolution , took up Rousseau seriously . The poor Abbe * de . St . Pierre , who had Baid nearly the same things , but really believing them , had met with nothing bat raillery . There was no love felt for men of conviction ; they wore instinctivel y repelled as living protests against the levity of the age . Rousseau had the forms of conviction : these men forgave him because they were sensible that he had none of the reality . They felt a certain pleasure in abandoning themselves to him , but this because there was seen to be nothing more in it than a play of the intellect ; the moment one could hare had the idea that he was preaching seriously , his reign was at an end . He was listened to as , in . the days of the schoolmen , one would have listened to their subtle syllogisers ; and in the field of morals , all whom he might have frightened by the auatereness of his precepts he but too well reassured by the spectacle of his manners . " '
Why , if M . Bungener thought of anything beyond turning a phrase , the most obvious reflection would " occur to him , that the great mass of French people in Rousseau ' s day could never have been " reassured by the spectacle of his manners , " for the simple reason that they could know nothing of them ; and if M . Bungener would extend his survey to England , Germany , Holland , and even Italy , he would see that Rousseau ' s influence extended even there , and was very seriously operating among thinking
At the same time we quite agree with him when he says : " Here , perhaps , there is a fresh paradox ; but it strikes me that Voltaire , with his levity ot tone and las never-ending sarcasms , was mor « the serious man of the ago than his crave and sententious rival . AH his sayings , for him , hit the mark ; all his shafts pierced to the quick Tho work of the ago was Im ; none more entirely devoted to it . He does not say so but people know it , and nobody in Europe doubts it ; while what Rousseau seeks , above all things , is Itouaseau . Voltaire lifcerall y put his glory at tho service of tho oauae ; Rousjeft u always let it be seen in Berving it , that he ever ttought moro of himself than it , and Uaat , m reality , he cared httlo about it * triumph . Voltaire asked not for martyrdom but nLVv ^ U fc ° ? « u ™ , ? only the struggle , , and in it sought only for the name of S Sterlcc- ' WOU g ° bohun e V <^< i Voltaire , ' provided his namo were in And there are somo good traits in this CONritAST BKTWKKN VOLTAIRE ANO KOUSSKAU . " In their whole character and movements we see the same diversity , tho suino contrasts .
The one does his best to add to the influence of talents , that of position and riches ; the other glories in being nothing , and in having nothing . Voltaire speaks of my chateau * and » none the prouder at Uttom : Rousseau complain ? of the higl p ^ of brtoS , andjSiSSe see pnde pe * ping through the holes in his mantle . They bothljend their lives in coSSto - £ tfo : poor man of his voluntary poverty , the rich on / of his filing health , . SllS after Imfig eighty . years . But Voltaire passes jests on his maladies , wen when ^ 3 ^ Rousseau would &n that the wholejuman race sliould weep with himover , his , eve * w ^ eA \ imaginary . Often , moreover , they both make themselves ridiculous—the one b 7 his seriousness about . tribes , the other bv his levity on the gravest subjects . But tha . Utter , witli his inexhaustible inahee , is sometimes kindly ; the former , with his universal philanthropy , h * s \ always some will m his ink , andsometunes a good deal . liven whemhe 3 s in the riefcLfci * tone is that of a sophist rather than of the man who is himself convinced Voltaire evenwhen in the wrong , js natural , and , in some sort , candid . . Yom find him lie , ' and that often "' but he does not mix up with his lies fervent apostrophes to truth and Virtue . He makes victims , and boasts of doing so ; Rousseau tries to make them , yet , to Hear him spealc , Vbtt would thiitk there is no victim but himself . He loves to say-and to believe that heis ' surwiwenemieB / wj
Founaea —u « masw » mo jjiur agree wua upoouy ; ana Yo . taire ^ Ott' the < contrary , lobes to repeat that everybody is of hia way of- th | oking ,: except some doworigUfc fools , to whom public reason will soon have done-justice .- An independent and great lo « U , he is ihankful rqr the serrices of the smallest persons : & > n . sseau , on the contrary , needs Kelp from everybody ^ and you cannot be of use to him , Brit forthwith he sets himself t » hate you . He is , on the whole , sot so good as his writings ; Voltaire is often better tlian his . ¦ ¦ . ¦ ¦• • ¦ - ' - .. ' . L .- * d- -- . . „ ¦ . j . . ¦¦ ..:, / .. . . ¦ V The same diversity , in fine , appears in the ianuence , which they proceeded ,, in parallel lines : to exercbe on : the epoch in which they lived . ( Voltelie ,, camed opinion alone withrr hum : bat , as he taught men only to deny , and preached in fapt no system , he had npt » ' and could not have , disciples properly ' so called . Bonsseau had disciples , and even enthusia 8 tic ones . To say the truth , he could hardly have aiiyipther , for there ^ is no middle course with him . People love him , or they hate him ; he k listened to as an'oracle ; orthrustroffia » x fool . Voltaire , on the contrary , ' will be found to have i influenced evf u those who ; detested - him—that clergy whom he lashed , those old magistrates who would iaia have had it in thei ^ rv . powerto burn hun along with his books . " .. ' ' ' ! ' , "
We have no space to follow'M . Bungener through the mass of anecdotes ^ which he has collected as illustrative of the age ; ^ but we will content oiir ^/ selves with a couple of extracts . . , , ; . , j
-: . ACTORS m XHE mQUTKKKTU CKlCrUitT . , . . , ^ - was a mo st singular existence , tba ^ , of ... Qie actors , and acttesse * in ¦ £ x / eo ^ 3 faL Chnrcb , wlich candemaed them , doret not ask ^ the State to _(« a 8 e eiviag them encqaraiement ; , the State , which encouraged them , d ^ rst not- aslc'ihei Church ti cease conda » nuVg ; - them . Pariahs as a class , ' they Were received , even in' ^^ covered witb laurels , glistfering all over with jg ^ ld , tueVrethained ^ pan remains th « Archbishop of Pans refused the rights of fhunal ,. ^ a » the man irho so Jongadmifed and almost ; loved ; . it was . Mqli ^ e » , . That woman ; whope -mortal retnj ^ n % ¦ were iu lite manner > refused admission intone , common barjin ^ gronnd , yaa ^ oq ^ wfiiy ^ 411 France adtnired as ode who lent new oeautiiTs " eirMi ib I&cine ; "it was A ^ enne Leconvrj ^^ When the Italians and the English , ' wrote Voltaire on'this occasion , 'learn that we excommunicate persons who are m the pay of the Ko ' gi * thkt we ivondenin ^ impious a . drams ^ uiaii iw ln rninn crr
vuiuu u wtcttiu wiifcuw , iib iinwwiuiwagiwiw ^ w .: uiaiiuuuuriijiia u ^ w ^^ y princes have been actors , that we declare those plays to be ? works , of , tlie deyiljwhich ^ ijlve jassed under , the censorship of the severest magistrates ,. and which have been acted befpra , a virtuous queen , — . what would you nave them think of diir-nation , and hW can they con- ' « eive eitHer that our laws can give thek ssinctibn to an art declated to b > sbii ^ anibuii or th « # anybody alould dare to put a mark of infamy ons an aft wiich has tieen isanctionedrb y ^ onr sovereigns ^ and cultivated bjj our greatest : men ?' u In 1765 , 1 MademoiJBelle Churbu < having ' been sent , to prison for refusing to f lay : Z , It is top absurd a , ^ contradiction , ' , he . wrote , again 1 1 to be seat . tp Eprt j l'Ey ^ ue -it \ von do nojyplay , and jto , be ^ commuijicated if you do . ' :. '& # another oddity , as Italian players were uot Srcototounicttte ^ M ibeir ovfri wuhtryi ^ ose oF the Ccimddie-ItaHennQ Theatre in Paris were no jnbreso , eVeh when they happened to be Frenchmen . " /
BRAMATIO AUTHORS .. ' * In this universal fever , If the success made a-great noise , the failures were torribl ^ r A matt ; that-was hissed , waa a man annihilated , \ To ^ hink that the re vras < still something > tolerable in a play that had failed , was an actxif courage of which tho tnost ^ devotodiHejidT was not always capable , and there was hardly any medium between success and failure . " ~ " Xtow , it was impossible to know , not a day , not even an hour before ; : what was'to be the fate o-f the play . Precautions , protections , nothing was sure , ' and-What seenied-thei best founded hopes were-often followed bv the worst failures * In 1752 , 'tMe fiiendsVpf 5 Marmontel made so sure of the success of his Iferaclidek th £ t the financier , Iia P 6 p « lihi ^ re , ; had prepared for him an ovation in his chateau . Thither he w «( nt , in fact , witn oeitfailn ^ bis soul , for the play tad fallen flat to the ground . ' La P « peliniere , ia total igoomnce o ^ this , had not countermanded his feast , ana the hissed author'was received by « troop or ^ ahepherdesses , who presented him with a hiurel crowni ¦ i - ,,: >
;*• a piay mignt rea « q tne tutn act oerore iqa puDJio Having pronounced , without showing symptbns of being prepared to pronounce , and often , in fact , without its having any leaning either for or against tie play . But as custom required that , before separating , the spectators should settle its fate , no more was wanted , at that last moment , than ' ' any circumstance , however slight—a verse , a word , a nothing- ^ -to make the multitude determine one or other way , so as to overwhelm the author either with condemnation or applause . It was universal suffrage preluding , on the playhouse benches , to those more serious caprices 1 of wbicnit is now giving us the spectacle . The mob became intoxicated with this sovereignty of ah evening . It seemed t « fear lest its right might not be sufficiently vindicated ; " if it was'hot exercised with the suddenness of tyranny . Hence those frightful throes wpich Plron has so admirably portrayed , and which Marmontel has described with still more graphic effect . ' In those days , ' says he , * the author of a new play had set apart for himself and his friends a small barred box , in the third tier , over the proscenium , the seat in which , I may say truly , was . like a bundle of . thorns . I repaired to it half an hour before the rise of the curtain .
and , tilt then , preserved sufficient fortitude amid my fears . But at the noise made by the curtain as it rose , tny blood froze in my veins . In vain they tried to revive me with liqueurs , I swooned quite away . It was only at the end of the first monologue , at the noise of the plaudits , that I regained my consciousness . From that moment all went on well , and from"better to better , until there came the passage in the fourth act with which I had been so threatened . But as that moment approached , I was seize-d with such a nt of trembling , ! that , without exaggeration , my teeth chattered in my mouth . Were the great ¦ revolution * that tak « place in the soul and in the senses mortal , I should have died from that whichtook place within me when—at the happy violence done to the spectators by the sublime : Olairon in pronouncing the verse : ' Go . then , fear nothing , ' &c . —the whole playhouse ' shook with redoubled applause . Never from a . more sensible fear did one pass to so sudden and sensible a joy : and , during all that remained of the play , this latter feeling agitated ray heart and . soul witli such violence , that I could breathe only in sobs . ' But , likewise , the most brilliant prospect that his fancy could anticipate in ease of success , was exceeded br the reality . ' In a single day , 1 had almost said in a moment , I found myself at once rich and celebrated . '
" Hence , too , sometimes , after an unfavourable verdict , tho despair of an author was more comical or more tragical , as tho case might be , than anything in tho play that had ocett * sioned it . Sometimes , in printing it , half arrogant , halt humble , tho author tried tojprovtr , in the preface , how tho public ought not to have hissed ; sometimes lie would reclaim , in full theatre , like that M . Morand , who , in justification of the part of a mother-in-law , which tlio public had thought ludicrously ovcrdonei j djirted upon the stage , declaring that he . had painted after nature—that that mother-in-law was his own mother-in-law , and that , if faulty in any way , it waa rathor in having softened down the traits , than in having exaggerated them . Tho spectators laughed : he was furious . They only laughed tho more ; on which ho tossed his hat into the pit , calling out that he would fight the first that took it ap . "
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May , VI y 1854 . ] THE LEADER ^
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), May 27, 1854, page 497, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2040/page/17/
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