to have been of incalculable
benefit to the cause of humanity and civilisation.

From England, finally, about the middle of the eighteenth century, went
forth--promulgated by English noblemen--that freemasonry which seems to
have been the true parent of all the secret societies of Europe. Of this
curious question, more hereafter. But enough has been said to show that
England, instead of falling, at any period, into the stagnation of the
Ancien Regime, was, from the middle of the seventeenth century, in a
state of intellectual growth and ferment which communicated itself
finally to the continental nations. This is the special honour of
England; universally confessed at the time. It was to England that the
slowly-awakening nations looked, as the source of all which was noble,
true, and free, in the dawning future.

It will be seen, from what I have said, that I consider the Ancien Regime
to begin in the seventeenth century. I should date its commencement--as
far as that of anything so vague, unsystematic, indeed anarchic, can be
defined--from the end of the Thirty Years' War, and the peace of
Westphalia in 1648.

For by that time the mighty spiritual struggles and fierce religious
animosities of the preceding century had worn themselves out. And, as
always happens, to a period of earnest excitement had succeeded one of
weariness, disgust, half-unbelief in the many questions for which so much
blood had been shed. No man had come out of the battle with altogether
clean hands; some not without changing sides more than once. The war had
ended as one, not of nations, not even of zealots, but of mercenaries.
The body of Europe had been pulled in pieces between them all; and the
poor soul thereof--as was to be expected--had fled out through the gaping
wounds. Life, mere existence, was the most pressing need. If men
could--in the old prophet's words--find the life of their hand, they were
content. High and low only asked to be let live. The poor asked
it--slaughtered on a hundred battle-fields, burnt out of house and home:
vast tracts of the centre of Europe were lying desert; the population was
diminished for several generations. The trading classes, ruined by the
long war, only asked to be let live, and make a little money. The
nobility, too, only asked to be let live. They had lost, in the long
struggle, not only often lands and power, but their ablest and bravest
men; and a weaker and meaner generation was le