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THE EVE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD J. LOWELL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the HESSIANS AND THE OTHER GERMAN AUXIUARIBS 
 OF GREAT BRITAIN IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR " 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 (2E6e MitoersiUe \Brm, (CamliriD0e 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 There are two ways in which the French Eevolution 
 may be considered. We may look at the great events 
 which astonished and horrified Europe and America : the 
 storming of the Bastille, the march on Versailles, the 
 massacres of September, the Terror, and the restoration 
 of order by Napoleon. The study of these events must 
 always be both interesting and profitable, and we cannot 
 wonder that historians, scenting the approaching battle, 
 have sometimes hurried over the comparatively peaceful 
 country that separated them from it. They have accepted 
 easy and ready - made solutions for the cause of the 
 trouble. Old France has been lurid in their eyes, in the 
 light of her burning country - houses. The Frenchmen 
 of the eighteenth century, they think, must have been 
 wretches, or they could not so have suffered. The social 
 fabric, they are sure, was rotten indeed, or it would never 
 have gone to pieces so suddenly. 
 
 There is, however, another way of looking at that great 
 revolution of which we habitually set the beginning in 
 1789. That date is, indeed, momentous; more so than 
 any other in modern history. It marks the outbreak in 
 legislation and politics of ideas which had already been 
 working for a century, and which have changed the face 
 of the civilized world. These ideas are not all true nor 
 
-Vi PREFACE. 
 
 all noble. They have in them a large admixture of spec- 
 ulative error and of spiritual baseness. They require 
 to-day to be modified and readjusted. But they repre- 
 sent sides of truth which in 1789, and still more in 
 1689, were too much overlooked and neglected. They 
 suited the stage of civilization which the world had 
 reached, and men needed to emphasize them. Their very 
 exaggeration was perhaps necessary to enable them to 
 fight, and in a measure to supplant, the older doctrines 
 which were in possession of the human mind. Induction, 
 as the sole method of reasoning, sensation as tM sole 
 origin of ideas, may not be the final and only truth ; but 
 they were very much needed in the world in the seven- 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries, and they found philoso- 
 phers to elaborate them, and enthusiasts to preach them. 
 They made their way chiefly on French soil in the de- 
 cades preceding 1789. 
 
 The history of French society at that time has of late 
 years attracted much attention in France. Diligent 
 scholars have studied it from many sides. I have used 
 their work freely, and acknowledgment will be found in 
 the foot-notes ; but I cannot resist the pleasure of men- 
 tioning in this preface a few of those to whom - 1 am most 
 indebted; and first M. Albert Babeau, without whose 
 careful researches several chapters of this book could 
 hardly have been written. His studies in archives, as 
 well as in printed memoirs and travels, have brought 
 much of the daily life of old France into the clearest 
 light. He has in an eminent degree the great and 
 thoroughly French quality of telling us what we want 
 to know. His impartiality rivals his lucidity, while his 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 thoroughness is such that it is hard gleaning the old 
 fields after him. 
 
 Hardly less is my indebtedness to the late M. Aime 
 Cherest, whose unfinished work, "La Chute de I'ancien 
 regime," gives the most interesting and philosophical 
 narrative of the later political events preceding the meet- 
 ing of the Estates General. To the great names of de 
 Tocqueville and of Taine I can but render a passing hom- 
 age. The former may be said to have opened the modern 
 mind to the proper method of studying the eighteenth cen- 
 tury in France, the latter is, perhaps, the most brilliant of 
 writers on the subject; and no one has recently written, 
 or will soon write, about the time when the Kevolution 
 was approaching without using the books of both of 
 them. And I must not forget the works of the Vicomte 
 de Broc, of M. Boiteau, and of M. Rambaud, to which I 
 have sometimes turned for suggestion or confirmation. 
 
 Passing to another branch of the subject, I gladly 
 acknowledge my debt to the Right Honorable John Mor- 
 ley. Differing from him in opinion almost wherever it is 
 possible to have an opinion, I have yet found him thor- 
 oughly fair and accurate in matters of fact. His books 
 on Voltaire, Rousseau, and the Encyclopaedists, taken 
 together, form the most satisfactory history of French 
 philosophy in the eighteenth century with which I am 
 acquainted. 
 
 Of the writers of monographs, and of the biographers, I 
 will not speak here in detail, although some of their books 
 have been of very great service to me. Such are those 
 of M. Bailly, M. de Lavergne, M. Horn, M. Stourm, 
 and M. Charles Gomel, on the financial history of France; 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 M. de Poncins and M. Desjardins, on the cahiers; M. 
 Rocquain on the revokitionary spirit before the revolution, 
 the Comte de Lu9ay and M. de Lavergne, on the min- 
 isterial power and on the provincial assemblies and es- 
 tates; M. Desnoiresterres, on Voltaire; M. Scherer, on 
 Diderot; M. de Lomenie, on Beaumarchais ; and many 
 others; and if, after all, it is the old writers, the contem- 
 poraries, on whom I have most relied, without the assist- 
 ance of these modern writers I certainly could not have 
 found them all. 
 
 In treating of the Philosophers and other writers of the 
 eighteenth century I have not endeavored to give an 
 abridgment of their books, but to explain such of their 
 doctrines as seemed to me most important and influential. 
 This I have done, where it was possible, in their own lan- 
 guage. I have quoted where I could ; and in many cases 
 where quotation marks will not be found, the only changes 
 from the actual expression of the author, beyond those 
 inevitable in translation, have been the transference from 
 direct to oblique speech, or some other trifling alterations 
 rendered necessary in my judgment by the exigencies of 
 grammar. On the other hand, I have tried to translate 
 ideas and phrases rather than words. 
 
 Edward J. LowelLo 
 
 June 24, 1892. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER FAOB 
 
 Introduction 1 
 
 I. The King and the Administration .... 4 
 
 II. Louis XVI. and his Court 11 
 
 III. The Clergy 25 
 
 IV. The Church and her Adversaries .... 40 
 V. The Church and Voltaire 51 
 
 VI. The Nobility 70 
 
 VII. The Army 83 
 
 Vin. The Courts of Law 103 
 
 IX. Equality and Liberty 119 
 
 X. Montesquieu 126 
 
 XI. Paris 154 
 
 XII. The Provincial Towns 175 
 
 Xm. The Country 18G 
 
 XIV. Taxation 207 
 
 XV. Finance 230 
 
 XVI. "The :Encyclop^dia " 243 
 
 XVII. Helvetius, Holbach, and Chastellux . . . .261 
 
 XVIII. Rousseau's Political Writings 274 
 
 XIX. "La Nouvelle Heloise " and "Emile" . . . 303 
 
 XX. The Pamphlets 322 
 
 XXI. The Cahiers 342 
 
 XXII. Social and Econorucal Matters in the Cahiers . 359 
 XXIII. Conclusion 377 
 
 Index of Editions cited 389 
 
 Index 399 
 
THE EVE OF THE FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is characteristic of the European family of nations, 
 as distinguished from the other great divisions of man- 
 kind, that among them different ideals of government and 
 of life arise from time to time, and that before the whole 
 of a coromunity has entirely adopted one set of principles, 
 the more advanced thinkers are already passing on to 
 another. Throughout the western part of continental Eu- 
 rope, from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century, abso- 
 lute monarchy was superseding feudalism; and in France 
 the victory of the newer over the older system was es- 
 pecially thorough. Then, suddenly, although not quite 
 without warning, a third system was brought face to face 
 with the two others. Democracy was born full-grown and 
 defiant. It appealed at once to two sides of men's minds, 
 to pure reason and to humanity. Why should a few men 
 be allowed to rule a great multitude as deserving as them- 
 selves? Why should the mass of mankind lead lives fuU 
 of labor and sorrow? These questions are difficult to 
 answer. The Philosophers of the eighteenth century pro- 
 nounced them unanswerable. They did not in all cases 
 advise the establishment of democratic government as a 
 cure for the wrongs which they saw in the world. But 
 they attacked the things that were, proposing other things, 
 more or less practicable, in their places. It seemed to 
 these men no very difficult task to reconstitute society and 
 
^A THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 civilization, if only the faulty arrangements of the past 
 could be done away. They believed that men and things 
 might be governed by a few simple laws, obvious and 
 uniform. These natural laws they did not make any great 
 effort to discover; they rather took them for granted; 
 and while they disagreed in their statement of principles, 
 they still believed their principles to be axiomatic. They 
 therefore undertook to demolish simultaneously all estab- 
 lished things which to their minds did not rest on absolute 
 logical right. They bent themselves to their task with ar- 
 dent faith and hope. 
 
 The larger number of people, who had been living 
 quietly in the existing order, were amused and interested. 
 The attacks of the Philosophers seemed to them just in 
 many cases, the reasoning conclusive. But in their hearts 
 they could not believe in the reality and importance of 
 the assault. Some of those most interested in keeping 
 the world as it was, honestly or frivolously joined in the 
 cry for reform and for destruction. 
 
 At last an attempt was made to put the new theories 
 into practice. The social edifice, slowly constructed 
 through centuries, to meet the various needs of different 
 generations, began to tumble about the astonished ears of 
 its occupants. Then all who recognized that they had 
 something at stake in civilization as it existed were star- 
 tled and alarmed. Believers in the old reliofion, in old 
 forms of government, in old manners and morals, men in 
 fear for their heads and men in fear for their estates, were 
 driven together. Absolutism and aristocracy, although 
 entirely opposed to each other in principle, were forced 
 into an unnatural alliance. From that day to this, the 
 history of the world has been largely made up of the 
 contests of the supporters of the new ideas, resting on 
 natural law and on logic, with those of the older forms 
 of thought and customs of life, having their sanctions in 
 experience. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 6 
 
 It was in France that the long struggle began and took 
 its form. It is therefore interesting to consider the gov- 
 ernment of that country, and its material and moral con- 
 dition, at the time when the new ideas first became prom- 
 inent and forced their way toward fulfiUment. 
 
 It is seldom in the time of the generation in which they 
 are propounded that new theories of life and its relations 
 bear their full fruit. Only those doctrines which a man 
 learns in his early youth seem to him so completely cer- 
 tain as to deserve to be pushed nearly to their last con- 
 clusions. The Frenchman of the reign of Louis XV. 
 listened eagerly to Voltaire, Montesquieu and Kousseau. 
 Their descendants, in the time of his grandson, first at- 
 tempted to apply the ideas of those teachers. While I 
 shall endeavor in this book to deal with social and political 
 conditions existing in the reign of Louis XVI., I shall 
 be obliged to turn to that of his predecessor for the origin 
 of French thoughts which acted only in the last quarter of 
 the century. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 THE KING AND THE ADMINISTKATION. 
 
 When Louis XVI. came to the throne in the year 
 1774, he inherited a power nearly absolute in theory over 
 all the temporal affairs of his kingdom. In certain parts 
 of the country the old assemblies or Provincial Estates still 
 met at fixed times, but their functions were very closely 
 limited. The Parliaments^ or high courts of justice, which 
 had claimed the right to impose some check on legislation, 
 had been browbeaten by Louis XIV., and the principal 
 one, that of Paris, had been dissolved by his successor. 
 The young king appeared, therefore, to be left face to 
 face with a nation over which he was to exercise direct 
 and despotic power. It was a recognized maxim that the 
 royal will was law.^ Moreover, for more than two cen- 
 turies, the tendency of continental governments had been 
 toward absolutism. Among the great desires of men in 
 those ages had been organization and strong government. 
 A despotism was considered more favorable to these things 
 than an aristocracy. Democracy existed as yet only in 
 the dreams of philosophers, the history of antiquity, and 
 the example of a few inconsiderable countries, like the 
 Swiss cantons. It was soon to be brought into greater 
 prominence by the American Kevolution. As yet, how- 
 ever, the French nation looked hopefully to the king for 
 government, and for such measures of reform as were 
 deemed necessary. A king of France who had reigned 
 justly and strongly would have received the moral support 
 of the most respectable part of his subjects. These longed 
 1 Si veut le roi, si veut la loi. 
 
THE KING AND THE ADMINISTRATION. 5 
 
 for a fair distribution of public burdens and for freedom 
 from unnecessary restraint, rather than for a share in the 
 government. The admiration for the English constitu- 
 tion, which was commonly expressed, was as yet rather 
 theoretic than practical, and was not of a nature to de- 
 tract from the loyalty undoubtedly felt for the French 
 crown. 
 
 Every monarch, however despotic in theory, is in fact 
 surrounded by many barriers which it takes a strong man 
 to overleap. And so it was with the king of France. 
 Although he was the fountain of justice, his judicial 
 powers were exercised through magistrates many of whom 
 had bought their places, and could therefore not be dis- 
 possessed without measures that were felt to be vmjust 
 and almost revolutionary. The breaking up of the Par- 
 liament of Paris, in the latter years of the preceding 
 reign, had thrown the whole body of judges and lawyers 
 into a state of discontent bordering on revolt. The new 
 court of justice which had superseded the old one, the 
 Parlement Maupeou as it was called, after the name of 
 the chancellor who had advised its formation, was neither 
 liked nor respected. It was one of the first acts of the 
 government of Louis XVI. to restore the ancient Parlia- 
 ment of Paris, whose rights over legislation will be con- 
 sidered later, but which exercised at least a certain moral 
 restraint on the royal authority. 
 
 But it was in the administrative part of the govern- 
 ment, where the king seemed most free, that he was in fact 
 most hampered. A vast system of public offices had been 
 gradually formed, with regulations, traditions, and a pro- 
 fessional spirit. This it was which had displaced the old 
 feudal order, substituting centralization for vigorous local 
 life. 
 
 The king's councils, which had become the central gov- 
 erning power of the state, were five in number. They 
 were, however, closely connected together. The king 
 
6 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 himself was supposed to sit in all of them, and appears 
 to have attended three with tolerable regularity. When 
 there was a prime minister, he also sat in the three that 
 were most important. The controller of the finances was a 
 member of four of the councils, and the chancellor of three 
 at least. As these were the most important men in the 
 government, their presence in the several councils secured 
 unity of action. The boards, moreover, were small, not 
 exceeding nine members in the case of the first four in dig- 
 nity and power : the Councils of State, of Despatches, of 
 Finance, and of Commerce. The fifth, the Privy Council, 
 or Council of Parties, was larger, and served in a measure 
 as a training-school for the others. It comprised, beside 
 all the members of the superior councils, thirty councilors 
 of state, several intendants of finance, and eighty lawyers 
 known as maitres cles requetes.^ 
 
 The functions of the various councils were not clearly 
 defined and distinguished. Many questions would be sub- 
 mitted to one or another of them as chance or influence 
 might direct. Under each there were a number of public 
 offices, called bureaux, where business was prepared, and 
 where the smaller matters were practically settled. By 
 the royal councils and their subordinate public offices, 
 France was governed to an extent and with a minuteness 
 hardly comprehensible to any one not accustomed to cen- 
 tralized government. 
 
 The councils did nothing in their own name. The king 
 it was who nominally settled everything with their advice. 
 The final decision of every question was supposed to rest 
 with the monarch himself. Every important matter was 
 in fact submitted to him. Thus in the government of the 
 country, the king could at any moment take as much of 
 the burden upon his own shoulders as they were strong 
 enough to bear. 
 
 The legislative power was exercised by the councils. It 
 
 1 De Lucay, Les Secretaires d'Etat, 418, 419, 424, 442, 448, 449. 
 
THE KING AND THE ADMINISTRATION. 7 
 
 was a question not entirely settled whether their edicts 
 possessed full force of law without the assent of the high 
 courts or parliaments. But with the councils rested, at 
 least, all the initiative of legislation. The process of law- 
 making began with them, and by them the laws were 
 shaped and drafted. 
 
 They also possessed no small part of the judiciary power. 
 The custom of removing private causes from the regular 
 courts, and trying them before one or another of the royal 
 councils, was a great and, I think, a growing one. This 
 appellate jurisdiction was due in theory partly to the doc- 
 trine that the king was the origin of justice ; and partly 
 to the idea- that political matters could not safely be left 
 to ordinary tribunals. The notion that the king owes jus- 
 tice to all his subjects and that it is an act of grace, per- 
 haps even a duty on his part, to administer it in person 
 when it is possible to do so, is as old as monarchy itself. 
 Solomon in his palace. Saint Louis under his oak, when 
 they decided between suitors before them, were exercising 
 the inherent rights of sovereignty, as understood in their 
 day. The late descendants of the royal saint did not 
 decide causes themselves except on rare occasions, but in 
 questions between parties followed the decision of the ma- 
 jority of the council that heard the case. Thus the an- 
 cient custom of seeking justice from a royal judge merely 
 served to transfer jurisdiction to an irregular tribunal.^ 
 
 The executive power was both nominally and actually in 
 the hands of the councils. Great questions of foreign and 
 domestic policy could be settled only in the Council of 
 State.2 But the whole administration tended more and 
 more in the same direction. Questions of detail were sub- 
 mitted from all parts of France. Hardly a bridge was 
 built or a steeple repaired in Burgundy or Provence with- 
 out a permission signed by the king in council and coun- 
 
 1 De Lucay, Les Secretaires (VEtat, 465. 
 
 2 Sometimes called Coiiseil d'en haut, or Upper Council. 
 
8 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tersignecl by a secretary of state. Tlie Council of De- 
 spatches exercised disciplinary jurisdiction over authors, 
 printers, and booksellers. It governed schools, and revised 
 their rules and regulations. It laid out roads, dredged 
 rivers, and built canals. It dealt with the clergy, decided 
 differences between bishops and their chapters, authorized 
 dioceses and parishes to borrow money. It took general 
 charge of towns and municipal organization. The Coun- 
 cil of Finance and the Council of Commerce had equally 
 minute questions to decide in their own departments. ^ 
 
 Evidently the king and his ministers could not give 
 their personal attention to all these matters. Minor ques- 
 tions were in fact settled by the bureaux and the secre- 
 taries of state, and the king did little more than sign the 
 necessary license. Thus matters of local interest were 
 practically decided by subordinate officers in Paris or 
 Versailles, instead of being arranged in the places where 
 they were really understood. If a village in Languedoc 
 wanted a new parsonage, neither the inhabitants of the 
 place, nor any one who had ever been within a hundred 
 miles of it, was allowed to decide on the plan and to reg- 
 ulate the expense, but the whole matter was reported to 
 an office in the capital and there settled by a clerk. This 
 barbarous system, which is by no means obsolete in Eu- 
 rope, is known in modern times by the barbarous name 
 of bureaucracy. 
 
 The royal councils and their subordinate bureaux had 
 their agents in the country. These were the intendants, 
 men who deserve attention, for by them a very large part 
 of the actual government was carried on. They were 
 thirty-two in number, and governed each a territory, 
 called a genemlite. The intendants were not great lords, 
 nor the owners of offices that had become assimilated to 
 
 1 De Lucay, Les Secretaires d'Etat, 418. For this excessive cen- 
 tralization, see, also, Do Tocqueville, Uancien Regime et la Revolu- 
 tion, passim. 
 
THE KING AND THE ADMINISTRATION. 9 
 
 property ; they were hard-working men, delegated by the 
 council, under the great seal, and liable to be promoted or 
 recalled at the royal pleasure. They were chosen from 
 the class of maitres des requetes, and were therefore all 
 la^v^^e^s and members of the Privy Council. Thus the 
 unity of the administration in Versailles and the provinces 
 was constantly maintained. 
 
 It had originally been the function of the intendants 
 to act as legal inspectors, making the circuit of the pro- 
 vincial towns for the purpose of securing uniformity and 
 the proper administration of justice in the various local 
 courts. 1 They retained to the end of the monarchy the 
 privilege of sitting in all the courts of law within their dis- 
 tricts.^ But their duties and powers had grown to be far 
 greater than those of any officer merely judicial. The in- 
 tendant had charge of the interests of the Catholic re- 
 ligion and w^orship, and the care of buildings devoted to 
 religious purposes. He also controlled the Protestants, 
 and all their affairs. He encouraged and regulated agri- 
 culture and commerce. He settled many questions con- 
 cerning military matters and garrisons. The militia was 
 entirely managed by him. He cooperated with the courts 
 of justice in the control of the police. He had charge of 
 post-roads and post-offices, stage coaches, books and 
 printing, royal or privileged lotteries, and the suppres- 
 sion of illegal gambling. He was, in fact, the direct 
 representative of the royal power, and was in constant 
 correspondence with the king's minister of state. And 
 as the power of the cro\\Ti had constantly grown for two 
 centuries, so the power of the intendant had constantly 
 grown with it, tending to the centralization and unity of 
 France and to the destruction of local liberties. 
 
 As the intendants were educated as lawyers rather 
 than as administrators, and as they were often transferred 
 
 1 Du Boys, i. 517. 
 
 ^ De Lucay, Les Assernbk'es provinciales, 31. 
 
10 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 from one province to another after a short term of ser- 
 vice, they did not acquire full knowledge of their busi- 
 ness. Moreover, they did not reside regularly in the part 
 of the country which they governed, but made only flying 
 visits to it, and spent most of their time near the centre 
 of influence, in Paris or Versailles. Yet their opportu- 
 nities for doing good or harm were almost unlimited. 
 Their executive command was nearly uncontrolled; for 
 where there were no provincial estates, the inhabitants 
 could not send a petition to the king except through the 
 hands of the intendant, and any complaint against that 
 officer was referred to himself for an answer.^ 
 
 The intendants were represented in their provinces by 
 subordinate officers called sub-delegates, each one of whom 
 ruled his petty district or election. These men were gen- 
 erally local lawyers or magistrates. Their pay was small, 
 they had no hope of advancement, and they were under 
 great temptation to use their extensive powers in a corrupt 
 and oppressive manner. ^ 
 
 Beside the intendant, we find in every province a royal 
 governor. The powers of this official had gradually 
 waned before those of his rival. He was always a great 
 lord, drawing a great salary and maintaining great state, 
 but doing little service, and really of far less importance 
 to the province than the new man. He was a survival of 
 the old feudal government, superseded by the centralized 
 monarchy of which the intendant was the representative.^ 
 
 ^ For the intendants, see Necker, De V administration, ii. 469, iii. 
 379. Ibid., Memoire au roi sur Vetahlissement des administrations 
 pruvinciales, passim. De Lucay, Les Assemblees provinciales, 29. Mer- 
 cier, Tableau de Paris, ix. 85. The official title of the intendant was 
 commissaire departi. 
 
 2 De Lucay, Les Assemblees provinciales, 42, etc. 
 
 * The generalite governed by the intendant, and the province to 
 which the royal governor was appointed, were not always coter- 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 
 
 A CENTRALIZED government, when it is well managed 
 and carefully watched from above, may reach a degree of 
 efficiency and quickness of action which a government of 
 distributed local powers cannot hope to equal. But if a 
 strong central government become disorganized, if ineffi- 
 ciency, or idleness, or, above all, dishonesty, once obtain 
 a ruling place in it, the whole governing body is diseased. 
 The honest men who may find themselves involved in any 
 inferior part of the administration will either fall into 
 discouraged acquiescence, or break their hearts and ruin 
 their fortunes in hopeless revolt. Nothing but long years 
 of untiring effort and inflexible will on the part of the 
 ruler, with power to change his agents at his discretion, 
 can restore order and honesty. 
 
 There is no doubt that the French administrative 
 body at the time when Louis XVI. began to reign, was 
 corrupt and self-seeking. In the management of the 
 finances and of the army, illegitimate profits were made. 
 But this was not the worst evil from which the public 
 service was suffering. France was in fact governed by 
 what in modern times is called "a ring." The members 
 of such an organization pretend to serve the sovereign, or 
 the public, and in some measure actually do so ; but their 
 rewards are determined by intrigue and favor, and are 
 entirely disproportionate to their services. They gener- 
 ally prefer jobbery to direct stealing, and will spend a 
 million of the state's money in a needless undertaking, 
 in order to divert a few thousands into their o^\^l pockets. 
 
12 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 They hold together against all the world, while trying to 
 circumvent each other. Such a ring in old France was 
 the court. By such a ring will every country be gov- 
 erned, where the sovereign who possesses the political 
 power is weak in moral character or careless of the public 
 interest; whether that sovereign be a monarch, a cham- 
 ber, or the mass of the people.^ 
 
 Louis XVI., king of France and of Navarre, was more 
 dull than stupid, and weaker in will than in intellect. In 
 him the hobbledehoy period had been unusually prolonged, 
 and strangers at court were astonished to see a prince of 
 nineteen years of age running after a footman to tickle 
 him while his hands were full of dirty clothes.^ The 
 clumsy youth grew up into a shy and awkward man, un- 
 able to find at will those accents of gracious politeness 
 which are most useful to the great. Yet people who had 
 been struck at first only with his awkwardness were some- 
 times astonished to find in him a certain amount of edu- 
 cation, a memory for facts, and a reasonable judgment.^ 
 Among his predecessors he had set himself Henry IV. as 
 a model, probably without any very accurate idea of the 
 character of that monarch ; and he had fully determined 
 that he would do what in him lay to make his people 
 happy. He was, moreover, thoroughly conscientious, 
 and had a high sense of the responsibility of his great 
 calling. He was not indolent, although heavy, and his 
 courage, which was sorely tested, was never broken. 
 With these virtues he might have made a good king, had 
 he possessed firmness of will enough to support a good 
 minister, or to adhere to a good policy. But such strength 
 
 ^ " Quand, dans un royaume, il y a plus d'avantage k faire sa 
 comr qu'k faire son devoir, tout est perdu." Montesquieu, vii. 176, 
 (Pensees diverses.) 
 
 2 Swinburne, i. 11. 
 
 * Campan, ii. 231. Bertrand de Moleville, Histoire, i. Introd. ; 
 Memoires, i. 221. 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 13 
 
 had not been given him. Totally incapable of standing 
 by himself, he leant successively, or simultaneously, on 
 his aunt, his wife, his ministers, his courtiers, as ready 
 to change his policy as his adviser. Yet it was part of 
 his weakness to be unwilling to believe himself under 
 the guidance of any particular person; he set a high 
 value on his own authority, and was inordinately jealous 
 of it. No one, therefore, could acquire a permanent 
 influence. Thus a well-meaning man became the worst 
 of sovereigns ; for the first virtue of a master is consis- 
 tency, and no subordinate can follow out with intelligent 
 zeal to-day a policy which he knows may be subverted 
 to-morrow. 
 
 The apologists of Louis XVI. are fond of speaking of 
 him as "virtuous." The adjective is singularly ill-chosen. 
 His faults were of the will more than of the understanding. 
 To have a vague notion of what is right, to desire it in a 
 general way, and to lack the moral force to do it, — surely 
 this is the very opposite of virtue. 
 
 The French court, which was destined to have a very 
 great influence on the course of events in this reign and 
 in the beginning of the French Revolution, was composed 
 of the people about the king's person. The royal family 
 and the members of the higher nobility were admitted into 
 the circle by right of birth, but a large place could be 
 obtained only by favor. It was the court that controlled 
 most appointments, for no king could know all applicants 
 personally and intimately. The stream of honor and 
 emolument from the royal fountain-head was diverted, 
 by the ministers and courtiers, into their own channels. 
 Louis XV. had been led by his mistresses ; Louis XVI. 
 was turned about by the last person who happened to 
 speak to him. The courtiers, in their turn, were swayed 
 by their feelings, or their interests. They formed parties 
 and combinations, and intrigued for or against each other. 
 They made bargains, they gave and took bribes. In all 
 
14 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 these intrigues, bribes, and bargains, the court ladies had 
 a great share. They were. as corrupt as the men, and as 
 frivolous. It is probable that in no government did 
 women ever exercise so great an influence. 
 
 The factions into which the court was divided tended 
 to group themselves round certain rich and influential 
 families. Such were the Noailles, an ambitious and 
 powerful house, with which Lafayette was connected by 
 marriage ; the Broglies, one of whom had held the thread 
 of the secret diplomacy which Louis XV. had carried 
 on behind the backs of his acknowledged ministers; the 
 Polignacs, new people, creatures of Queen Marie Antoi- 
 nette; the Rohans, through the influence of whose great 
 name an unworthy member of the family was to rise to 
 high dignity in the church and the state, and then to 
 cast a deep shadow on the darkening popularity of that 
 ill-starred princess. Such families as these formed an 
 upper class among nobles, and the members firmly be- 
 lieved in their own prescriptive right to the best places. 
 The poorer nobility, on the other hand, saw with great 
 jealousy the supremacy of the court families. They in- 
 sisted that there was and should be but one order of no- 
 bility, all whose members were equal among themselves.^ 
 
 The courtiers, on their side, thought themselves a differ- 
 ent order of beings from the rest of the nation. The cer- 
 emony of presentation was the passport into their society, 
 but by no means all who possessed this formal title were 
 held to belong to the inner circle. Women who came to 
 court but once a week, although of great family, were 
 known as " Sunday ladies." The true courtier lived 
 always in the refulgent presence of his sovereign.^ 
 
 The court was considered a perfectly legitimate power, 
 although much hated at times, and bearing, very properly, 
 
 1 See among other places the Instructions of the Nobility of Bloia 
 to the deputies, Archives parlementaires, ii. 385. 
 
 2 Campan, ill. 89. 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 15 
 
 a large share of the odium of misgovernment. The idea 
 of its legitimacy is impressed on the language of diplo- 
 macy, and we still speak of the Court of St. James, the 
 Court of Vienna, as powers to be dealt with. Under a 
 monarchy, people do not always distinguish in their own 
 minds between the good of the state and the personal 
 enjoyment of the monarch, nor is the doctrine that the 
 king exists for his people by any means fully recognized. 
 When the Count of Artois told the Parliament of Paris 
 in 1787 that they knew that the expenses of the king 
 could not be regulated by his receipts, but that his re- 
 ceipts must be governed by his expenses, he spoke a haK- 
 truth ; yet it had probably not occurred to him that there 
 was any difference between the necessity of keeping up 
 an efficient army, and the desirability of having hounds, 
 coaches, and palaces. He had not reflected that it might 
 be essential to the honor of France to feed the old soldiers 
 in the Hotel des Invalides, and quite superfluous to pay 
 large sums to generals who had never taken the field and 
 to colonels who seldom visited their regiments. The cour- 
 tiers fully believed that to interfere with their salaries 
 was to disturb the most sacred rights of property. In 
 1787, when the strictest economy was necessary, the king 
 united his "Great Stables" and "Small Stables," throw- 
 ing the Duke of Coigny, who had charge of the latter, 
 out of place. Although great pains were taken to spare 
 the duke's feelings and his pocket, he was very angry at 
 the change, and there was a violent scene between him 
 and the king. "We were really provoked, the Duke of 
 Coigny and I," said Louis good-naturedly afterwards, 
 "but I think if he had thrashed me, I should have for- 
 given him." The duke, however, was not so placable as 
 the king. Holding another appointment, he resigned it in 
 a huff. The queen was displeased at this mark of temper, 
 and remarked to a courtier that the Duke of Coigny did 
 not appreciate the consideration that had been shown him. 
 
16 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 "Madam," was the reply, "he is losing too much to be 
 content with compliments. It is too bad to live in a coun- 
 try where you are not sure of possessing to-day what you 
 had yesterday. Such things used to take place only in 
 Turkey."! 
 
 It is not easy, in looking at the French government 
 in the eighteenth century, to decide where the working 
 administration ended, and where the useless court that 
 answered no real purpose began. The ministers of state 
 were reckoned a part of the court. So were many of the 
 upper civil-servants, the king's military staff, and in a 
 sense, the guards and household troops. So were the 
 "great services, " partaking of the nature of public offices, 
 ceremonial honors, and domestic labors. Of this kind 
 were the Household, the Chamber, the Antechamber and 
 Closet, the Great and the Little Stables, with their Grand 
 Squire, First Squire and pages, who had to prove nobil- 
 ity to the satisfaction of the royal herald. There was the 
 department of hunting and that of buildings, a separate 
 one for royal journeys, one for the guard, another for 
 police, yet another for ceremonies. There were five hun- 
 dred officers "of the mouth," table-bearers distinct from 
 chair-bearers. There were tradesmen, from apothecaries 
 and armorers at one end of the list to saddle -makers, tail- 
 ors and violinists at the other. 
 
 When a baby is at last born to Marie Antoinette (only 
 a girl, to every one's disappointment), a rumor gets about 
 that the child will be tended with great simplicity. The 
 queen's mother, the Empress Maria Theresa, in distant 
 Vienna, takes alarm. She does not approve of "the 
 present fashion according to Kousseau" by which young 
 princes are brought up like peasants. Her ambassador 
 in Paris hastens to reassure her. The infant will not 
 lack reasonable ceremony. The service of her royal per- 
 son alone will employ nearly eighty attendants.'^ 
 
 1 Besenval, ii. 255. ^ Mercy- Argenteau, iii. 283, 292. 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 17 
 
 The military and civil households of the king and of 
 the royal family are said to have consisted of about fifteen 
 thousand souls, and to have cost forty -five million francs 
 per annum. The holders of many of the places served 
 but three months apiece out of every year, so that four 
 officers and four salaries were required, instead of one. 
 
 With such a system as this we cannot wonder that the 
 men who administered the French government were gen- 
 erally incapable and seK-seeking. Most of them were 
 politicians rather than administrators, and cared more for 
 their places than for their country. Of the few conscien- 
 tious and patriotic men who obtained power, the greater 
 number lost it very speedily. Turgot and Malesherbes 
 did not long remain in the Council. Necker, more cau- 
 tious and conservative, could keep his place no better. 
 The jealousy of Louis was excited, and he feared the 
 domination of a man of whom the general opinion of pos- 
 terity has been that he was wanting in decision. Calonne 
 was sent away as soon as he tried to turn from extrava- 
 gance to economy. Vergennes alone, of the good ser- 
 vants, retained his office ; perhaps because he had little to 
 do with financial matters ; perhaps, also, because he knew 
 how to keep himself decidedly subordinate to whatever 
 power was in the ascendant. The lasting influences were 
 that of Maurepas, an old man who cared for nothing but 
 himself, whose great object in government was to be 
 without a rival, and whose art was made up of tact and 
 gayety; and that of the rival factions of Lamballe and 
 Polignac, guiding the queen, which were simply rapacious. 
 
 The courtiers and the numerous people who were drawn 
 to Versailles by business or curiosity were governed by a 
 system of rules of gradual growth, constituting what was 
 known as "Etiquette." The word has passed into com- 
 mon speech. In this country it is an unpopular word, 
 and there is an impression in many people's minds that 
 the thing which it represents is unnecessary. This, how- 
 
18 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ever, is a great delusion. Etiquette is that code of rules, 
 not necessarily connected witli morals, by which mutual 
 intercourse is regulated. Every society, whether civilized 
 or barbarous, has such a code of its own. Without it 
 social life would be impossible, for no man would know 
 what to expect of his neighbors, nor be able promptly to 
 interpret the words and actions of his fellow-men. It is 
 in obedience to an unwritten law of this kind that an 
 American takes off his hat when he goes into a church, 
 and an Asiatic, when he enters a mosque, takes off his 
 shoes; that Englishmen shake hands, and Africans rub 
 noses. Where etiquette is well understood and well 
 adapted to the persons whom it governs, men are at ease, 
 for they know what they may do without offense. Where 
 it is too complicated it hampers them, making spontaneous 
 action difficult, and there is no doubt that the etiquette 
 that governed the French court was antiquated, unadvis- 
 able and cumbrous. Its rules had been devised to pre- 
 vent confusion and to regulate the approach of the cour- 
 tiers to the king. As all honors and emoluments came 
 from the royal pleasure, people were sure to crowd about 
 the monarch, and to jostle each other with unmannerly 
 and dangerous haste, unless they were strictly held in 
 check. Every one, therefore, must have his place defi- 
 nitely assigned to him. To be near the king at all times, 
 to have the opportunity of slipping a timely word into his 
 ear, was an invaluable privilege. To be employed in 
 menial offices about his person was a mark of confidence. 
 Rules could not easily be revised, for each of them con- 
 cerned a vested right. Those in force in the reign of 
 Louis XYI. had been established by his predecessors when 
 manners were different. 
 
 At the close of the Middle Ages privacy may be said to 
 have been a luxury almost unknown to any man. There 
 was not room for it in the largest castle. Solitude was 
 seldom either possible or safe. People were crowded to* 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 19 
 
 gether without means of escape from each other. The 
 greatest received their dependents, and often ate their 
 meals, in their bedrooms. A confidential interview would 
 be held in the embrasure of a window. Such customs 
 disappeared but gradually from the sixteenth century to 
 our own. But by the latter part of the eighteenth, mod- 
 ern ways and ideas were coming in. Yet the etiquette of 
 the French court was still old-fashioned. It infringed 
 too much on the king's privacy; it interfered seriously 
 with his freedom. It exposed him too familiarly to the 
 eyes of a nation overprone to ridicule. A man who is to 
 inspire awe should not dress and undress in public. A 
 woman who is to be regarded with veneration should be 
 allowed to take her bath and give birth to her children in 
 private.^ 
 
 Madame Campan, long a waiting-woman of Marie An- 
 toinette, has left an account of the toilet of the queen and 
 of the little occurrences that might interrupt it. The 
 whole performance, she says, was a masterpiece of eti- 
 quette ; everything about it was governed by rules. The 
 Lady of Honor and the Lady of the Bedchamber, both if 
 they were there together, assisted by the First Woman and 
 the two other women, did the principal service ; but there 
 were distinctions among them. The Lady of the Bed- 
 chamber put on the skirt and presented the gown. The 
 Lady of Honor poured out the water to wash the queen's 
 hands and put on the chemise. When a Princess of the 
 Koyal Family or a Princess of the Blood was present at 
 the toilet, the Lady of Honor gave up the latter fimction 
 to her. To a Princess of the Royal Family, that is to say 
 to the sister, sister-in-law, or aunt of the king, she handed 
 
 1 See the account of the birth of Marie Antoinette's first child, 
 when she was in danger from the mixed crowd that filled her room, 
 stood on chairs, etc., 19th Dec. 1778. Campan, i, 201. At her 
 later confinements only princes of the blood, the chancellor and the 
 ministers, and a few other persons were admitted. Ibid., 203. 
 
20 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the garment directly ; but to a Princess of the Blood (the 
 king's cousin by blood or marriage) she did not yield this 
 service. In the latter case, the Lady of Honor handed 
 the chemise to the First Woman, who presented it to the 
 Princess of the Blood. Every one of these ladies observed 
 these customs scrupulously, as appertaining to her rank. 
 
 One winter's day it happened that the Queen, entirely 
 undressed, was about to put on her chemise. Madame 
 Campan was holding it unfolded. The Lady of Honor 
 came in, made haste to take off her gloves and took the 
 chemise. While she still had it in her hands there came 
 a knock at the door, which was immediately opened. The 
 new-comer was the Duchess of Orleans, a Princess of the 
 Blood. Her Highness' s gloves were taken off, she ad- 
 vanced to take the shift, but the Lady of Honor must not 
 give it directly to her, and therefore passed it back to 
 Madame Campan, who gave it to the princess. Just then 
 there came another knock at the door, and the Countess 
 of Provence, known as Madame, and sister-in-law to the 
 king, was ushered in. The Duchess of Orleans presented 
 the chemise to her. Meanwhile the Queen kept her arms 
 crossed on her breast, and looked cold. Madame saw her 
 disagreeable position, and without waiting to take off her 
 gloves, merely threw away her handkerchief and put the 
 chemise on the Queen. In her haste she knocked down 
 the Queen's hair. The latter burst out laughing, to hide 
 her annoyance ; and only murmured several times between 
 her teeth: " This is odious ! What a nuisance ! " 
 
 This anecdote gives but an instance of the well-known 
 and not unfounded aversion of Marie Antoinette to the 
 etiquette of the French court. But the young queen made 
 no attempt to reform that etiquette; she tried only to 
 evade it. Much has been written about Marie Antoinette 
 as a woman, her terrible misfortunes and the fortitude 
 with which she bore them having evoked the sympathy of 
 mankind. Her conduct as a queen-consort has been less 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 21 
 
 considered. The woman was lively and amiable, possess- 
 ing a great personal cliarm, which impressed those who 
 approached her; but that mattered little to the nation, 
 whose dealings were with the queen. What were the 
 duties of her office and how did she fulfill them? 
 
 The first thing demanded of her was parade. She had 
 to keep up the splendor and attractiveness of the French 
 monarchy. This, in spite of her impatience of etiquette, 
 was of all her public duties the one which she best per- 
 formed. Her manners were dignified, gracious, and ap- 
 propriately discriminating. It is said that she could bow 
 to ten persons with one movement, giving, with her head 
 and eyes, the recognition due to each separately. 
 
 She had also the art of talking to several people at once, 
 so that each one felt as if her remarks had been addressed 
 to himself, and the equally important art (sometimes called 
 royal) of remembering faces and names. As she passed 
 from one part of her palace to another, surrounded by 
 the ladies of her court, she seemed to the spectator to 
 surpass them all in the nobility of her countenance and 
 the dignified grace of her carriage. She had the crown- 
 ing beauty of woman, a well-poised and proudly carried 
 head. Her gait was a gliding motion, in which the steps 
 were not clearly distinguishable. Foreigners generally 
 were enchanted with her, and to them she owes no small 
 part of her posthumous popularity. The French nobility, 
 on the other hand, complained, not unreasonably, that 
 the queen was too exclusively devoted to the society of a 
 few intimate companions, for whose sake she neglected 
 other people. Her court, on this account, was sometimes 
 comparatively deserted. But a young queen can hardly 
 be very severely blamed if she often j)refers her pleasures 
 and her friends to the tedious duties of her position. Ma- 
 rie Antoinette had had little education or guidance. Her 
 likes and dislikes were strong, nor was she entirely above 
 petty spite. ''You tell me," wrote Maria Theresa to her 
 
22 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 daughter on one occasion, "that for love of me you treat 
 the Broglies well, although they have been disrespectful 
 to you personally. That is another odd idea. Can a lit- 
 tle Broglie be disrespectful to you? I do not understand 
 that. No one was ever disrespectful to me, nor to any of 
 your ten brothers and sisters." It was no fair-weather 
 queen that wrote this most royal reproof. Marie An- 
 toinette never rose to this height of dignity, where the 
 great lady sits above the clouds. In her days of prosper- 
 ity she certainly never approached it. Perhaps no mortal 
 woman ever reached it in early life.^ 
 
 It is one of the most important duties of a queen-con- 
 sort to set a good example in morals. Here Marie An- 
 toinette was deficient. Her private conduct has probably 
 been slandered, but she brought the slanders on herself. 
 Beside the code of morals, there is in every country a code 
 of proprieties, and people who habitually do that which 
 is considered improper have only themselves to thank if 
 a harsh construction is put on their doubtful actions. The 
 scandals concerning Marie Antoinette were numberless 
 and public. The young queen of France chose for her 
 intimate companions men and women of bad reputation. 
 Her brother, Joseph II. , was shocked when he visited her, 
 at the familiar manners which she permitted. He wrote 
 to her that English travelers compared her court to Spa, 
 then a famous gambling-place, and he called the Jiouse of 
 the Princess of Guemenee, which she was in the habit 
 of frequenting, "a real gambling-hell." Accusations of 
 cheating at cards flew about the palace, and one courtier 
 had his pocket picked in the royal drawing-room. The 
 queen was constantly surrounded by dissipated young 
 noblemen, who on race days were allowed to come into 
 
 1 Mercy- Argenteau, passim, and especially i. 218, 265, 279 ; ii. 218, 
 232, 312, 525; iii. 56, 113, 132 and n., 157, 265, 490. Tilly, Memoires, 
 230. Cognel, 59, 84 ; Wraxall, i. 85 ; Walpole's Letters, vi. 245 (23d 
 Aug. 1776), etc. 
 
LOUIS XVI. AND HIS COURT. 23 
 
 her presence in costumes which shocked conservative peo- 
 ple. She herself was recognized at public masked balls, 
 where the worst women of the capital jostled the great 
 nobles of the court. When she had the measles, four 
 gentlemen of her especial friends were appointed nurses, 
 and hardly left her chamber during the day and evenings 
 People asked ironically what four ladies would be ap- 
 pointed to nurse the king if he were ill. In her amuse- 
 ments she was seldom accompanied by her husband. It 
 hardly told in her favor that the latter was a man for 
 whom a young and high - spirited woman could not be 
 expected to entertain any very passionate affection. 
 
 The country was deeply in debt, and during a part of 
 the reign an expensive war was going on. It was obvi- 
 ously the queen's duty to retrench her own expenses, and 
 to set an example of economy. Yet her demands on the 
 treasury were very great. Her personal allowance was 
 much larger than that of the previous queen, and she was 
 frequently in debt. Her losses at play were considerable, 
 in spite of her husband's well-known aversion to gam- 
 bling. She increased the number of expensive and use- 
 less offices about her court. She was constantly accessi- 
 ble to rapacious favorites. The feeble king coidd at least 
 recognize that he owed something to his subjects; the 
 queen appears to have thought that the revenues of France 
 were intended principally to provide means for the royal 
 bounty to people who had done nothing to deserve it. 
 On the other hand, she acknowledged the duty of private 
 charity, and believed that thereby she was earning the 
 gratitude of her subjects. That the taxpayer was en- 
 titled to any consideration is an idea that does not seem 
 to have entered her mind. 
 
 Had Marie Antoinette been the wife of a strong and 
 able king, she would probably have been quite right in 
 avoiding interference in the government of the state. 
 Being married to Louis XVI., it was inevitable that she 
 
24 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 should try to direct his vacillating will in public matters. 
 It therefore becomes pertinent to ask whether her influ- 
 ence was generally exerted on the right side. 
 
 It is evident that in the earlier part of her reign the 
 affairs of the state did not interest her, though her feel- 
 ings were often strongly moved for or against persons. 
 Her preference for Choiseul and his adherents, over 
 Aiguillon and his party, was natural and well founded. 
 The Duke of Choiseul was not only the author of the 
 Austrian alliance and of the queen's marriage, but was 
 also the ablest minister who had recently held favor in 
 France. Had Marie Antoinette possessed as much in- 
 fluence over her husband in 1774 as she obtained later, 
 she might perhaps have overcome what seems to have 
 been one of his strongest prejudices, and have brought 
 Choiseul back to power, to the benefit of the country. 
 But her efforts in that direction were unavailing. In her 
 relations with the other ministers, Turgot, Malesherbes, 
 and Necker, her voice was generally on the side of ex- 
 travagance and the court, and against economy and the 
 nation. This, far more than the intrigues of faction, was 
 the cause of the unpopularity that pursued her to her 
 grave. If the court of France was a corrupt ring living 
 on the country, Marie Antoinette was not far from being 
 its centre. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE CLERGY. 
 
 The inhabitants of France were divided into three 
 orders, differing in legal rights. These were the Clergy, 
 the Nobility, and the Commons, or Third Estate. The 
 first two, which are commonly spoken of as the privileged 
 orders, contained but a small fraction of the population 
 numerically, but their wealth and position gave them a 
 great importance. 
 
 The clergy formed, as the philosophers were never tired 
 of complaining, a state within a state. No accurate sta- 
 tistics concerning it can be obtained. The whole number 
 of persons vowed to religion in the country, both regular 
 and secular, would seem to have been between one hun- 
 dred and one hundred and thirty thousand. They owned 
 probably from one fifth to one quarter of the soil. The 
 proportion was excessive, but it does not appear that tho 
 lay inhabitants of the country were thereby crowded. 
 Like other landowners, the clergy had tenants, and they 
 were far from being the worst of landlords. For one 
 thing, they were seldo?ii absentees. The abbot of a mon- 
 astery might spend his time at Versailles, but the prior 
 and the monks remained, to do their duty by their farm- 
 ers. It is said that the church lands were the best cul- 
 tivated in the kingdom, and that the peasants that tilled 
 them were the best treated.^ In any case the church was 
 
 * Bartlidldmy, Erreurs et mensonges historiques, xv. 40. Article en- 
 titled La question des congregations il y a cent ans, quoting largely from 
 F^roux, Vues cfun Solitaire Patriote, 1784. See also Genlis, Diction- 
 naire d'is Etiquettes, ii. 79. ISlatliieii, 324. liabeaii, La vie rurale, 133. 
 
26 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 rich. Its income from invested property, principally 
 land, has been reckoned at one hundred and twenty-four 
 million livres a year. It received about as much more 
 from tithes, beside the amount, very variously reckoned, 
 which came in as fees, on such occasions as weddings, 
 christenings, and funerals. 
 
 Tithes were imposed throughout France for the support 
 of the clergy. They were not, however, taken upon all 
 articles of produce, nor did they usually amount to one 
 tenth of the increase. Sometimes the tithe was com- 
 pounded for a fixed rent in money ; sometimes for a given 
 number of sheaves, or measures of wine per acre. Oftener 
 it was a fixed proportion of the crop, varying from one 
 quarter to one fortieth. In some places wood, fruit, and 
 other commodities were exempt ; in other places they were 
 charged. Tithe was in some cases taken of calves, lambs, 
 chickens, sucking pigs, fleeces, or fish; and the clergy 
 or the tithe owners were bound to provide the necessary 
 bulls, rams, and boars. A distinction was usually made 
 between the Great tithes, levied on such common articles 
 as corn and wine, and the Small tithes, taken from less 
 important crops. Of these the former were often paid to 
 the bishops, the latter to the parish priest. The tithes 
 had in some cases been alienated by the church and w^ere 
 owned by lay proprietors. In general, it is believed that 
 this tax on the agricultural class in France amounted to 
 about one eighteenth of the gross product of the soil.^ 
 
 The whole body of the clergy, as it existed within the 
 boundaries of the kingdom, was not subject to the same 
 rules and laws. The larger part of it formed what was 
 known as the "Clergy of France," and possessed peculiar 
 rights and privileges presently to be described. Those 
 
 2 Chassin, Les cahiers du clerge, 36. Bailly, ii. 414, 419. Boiteau, 
 41. Rambaud, ii. 58 n. Taine, Uancien Regime (book i. chap. ii.). 
 The livre of the time of Louis XVI. is commonly reckoned to have 
 had at least twice the purchasing power of the franc of to-day. 
 
THE CLERGY. 27 
 
 ecclesiastics, however, who lived in certain provinces, 
 situated principally in the northern and eastern part of 
 the country, and annexed to the kingdom since the begin- 
 ning of the sixteenth century, were called the " Foreign 
 Clergy." These did not share the rights of the larger 
 body, but depended more directly on the papacy. They 
 paid certain taxes from which the Clergy of France were 
 exempt. The mode of appointment to bishoprics and 
 abbacies was different among them from what it was in 
 the rest of the country. Throughout France, and in all 
 affairs, ecclesiastical and secular, were anomalies such as 
 these. 
 
 The Church of France enjoyed great and peculiar priv- 
 ileges, both among the churches of Christendom, and 
 among the Estates of the French realm. By the Concor- 
 dat, or treaty of 1516, made between Pope Leo X. and 
 King Francis I., the nomination to bishroprics and to con- 
 siderable ecclesiastical benefices had been given to the 
 king, while the Holy Father kept only a right of veto on 
 appointments. The annates^ or first-fruits of the. bishop- 
 rics, taxes equal in theory to one year's revenue on every 
 change of incumbent, but in fact of less amount than that, 
 were paid to the Pope, and these, with other dues, made 
 up a sum of three or four million livres sent annually 
 from France to Rome. On the other hand, the Clergy of 
 France was the only body in the state which had undis- 
 puted constitutional rights independent of the throne. It's 
 ordinary assemblies were held once in ten years. The 
 country was divided into sixteen ecclesiastical provinces, 
 each under the superintendence of an archbishop. In 
 each of these provinces a meeting was held, composed of 
 delegates of the various dioceses. Each of these provin- 
 cial meetings elected two bishops and two other ecclesias- 
 tics, either regular or secular. These deputies received, 
 from their constituents, instructions called cahiers^ to be 
 taken by them to the Ordinary Assembly of the clergy, 
 
28 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 whicli was held in Paris. This body granted subsidies to 
 the king, managed the debt and other secular affairs of 
 the clergy, and pronounced unofficially even in matters 
 of doctrine. Smaller Assemblies, nearly equal in power, 
 came together at least once during the interval which 
 elapsed between the meetings of the Ordinary Assemblies ; 
 so that as often as once in five years the Church of France 
 exercised a true political activity. The sum voted to the 
 king was called a Free Gift,^ and the name was not alto- 
 gether inappropriate, for, although the amount required 
 was stated by the king's ministers, conditions were not 
 infrequently exacted of the crown. Thus in 1785, on the 
 occasion of a gift of eighteen million livres, the suppres- 
 sion of the works of Voltaire was demanded. And once 
 at least, as late as 1750, on the occasion of a squabble be- 
 tween the church and the court, the clergy had refused 
 to make any grant whatsoever. The total amount of the 
 Free Gift voted during the reign of Louis XVI. was 
 65,800,000 livres, or less than four and a half millions a 
 year on an average. Th© grant was not annual, but was 
 made in lump sums from time to time; a vote of two 
 thirds of the assembly being necessary for making it. The 
 assembly itself assessed the tax on the dioceses. A com- 
 mission managed the affairs of the clergy when no assem- 
 bly was sitting. The order had its treasury, and its credit 
 was good. The king was its debtor to the extent of about 
 a hundred million livres. 
 
 The clergy itself was in debt. Instead of raising di- 
 rectly, by taxation of its members, the money which it 
 paid to the state, it had acquired the habit of borrowing 
 the necessary sum. The debt thvis incurred appears to 
 have been about one hundred and thirty-four million 
 livres. In addition to the amount necessary for interest 
 on this debt, and for a provision for its gradual repay- 
 ment, the order had various expenses to meet. For these 
 ^ Don Gratuit. 
 
THE CLERGY. 29 
 
 purposes it taxed itself to an amount of more than ten 
 million livi-es a year. On the other hand it received back 
 from the king a subsidy of two and a half million livres. 
 From most of the regular, direct taxes paid by French- 
 men the Clergy of France was freed. ^ 
 
 The bishops were not subject to the secular tribunals, 
 but other clerks came under the royal jurisdiction in tem- 
 poral matters. In spiritual affairs they were judged by 
 the ecclesiastical courts. 
 
 The income of the clergy, had it been fairly distributed, 
 was amply sufficient for the support of every one connected 
 with the order. It was, however, divided with great par- 
 tiality. There were set over the clergy, both French and 
 foreign, eighteen archbishops and a hundred and twenty- 
 one bishops, beside eleven of those bishops in iKirtibus 
 injidelium, who, having no sees of their own in France, 
 might be expected to make themselves generally useful. 
 These hundred and fifty bishops were very highly, though 
 unequally paid. The bishoprics, with a very few excep- 
 tions, were reserved for members of the nobility, and this 
 rule was quite as strictly enforced under Louis XVI. as 
 under any of his predecessors. Nothing prevented the 
 cumulation of ecclesiastical benefices, and that prelate 
 was but a poor courtier who did not enjoy the revenue of 
 several rich abbeys. Nor was it in money and in eccle- 
 siastical preferment alone that the bishops were paid for 
 the services which they too often neglected to perform. 
 
 1 Revue des questions historiques, 1st July, 1890 (L'ahbd L. Bour- 
 gain, Contribution du clerge a Vimpot). Scioiit, i. 35. Boiteau, 195. 
 Rambaud, ii. 4-1. ^ec'kev,DeV Administration, ii. 308. The financial 
 statement given above refers to the Cler^^^y of France only. Its pecu- 
 niary affairs are as difficult and doubtful as those of every part of 
 the nation at this period, and have repeatedly been made the sub- 
 ject of confused statement and religious and political controversy. 
 The Foreign Clergy paid some of the regular taxes, giving the state 
 about one million livres a year on an income of twenty million livres. 
 Boiteau, 190. 
 
30 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Not a few of them were barons, counts, dukes, princes of 
 the Holy Roman Empire, or peers of France by virtue of 
 their sees. Several rose to be ministers of state. Even 
 in that age they were accused of worldliness. It was a 
 proverb that with Spanish bishops and French priests an 
 excellent clergy could be made. But not all the French 
 bishops were worldly, nor neglectful of their spiritual 
 duties. Among them might be found conscientious and 
 serious prelates, abounding both in faith and good works, 
 living simply and bestowing their wealth in charity. ^ 
 
 After the bishops came the abbots. As their offices 
 were in the gift of the king, and as no discipline was en- 
 forced upon them, they were chiefly to be found in the 
 antechambers of Versailles and in the drawing-rooms of 
 Paris. They were not even obliged to be members of the 
 religious orders they were supposed to govern.^ Leaving 
 the charge of their monasteries to the priors, they spent 
 the incomes where new preferment was to be looked for, 
 and devoted their time to intrigues rather than to prayers. 
 No small part of the revenues of the clergy was wasted in 
 the dissipations of these ecclesiastic courtiers. They were 
 imitated in their vices by a rabble of priests out of place, 
 to whom the title of abbot was given in politeness, the 
 little abUs of French biography and fiction. These men 
 lived in garrets, haunted cheap eating-houses, and ap- 
 peared on certain days of the week at rich men's tables, 
 picking up a living as best they could. They were to be 
 seen among the tradesmen and suitors who crowded the 
 levees of the great, distinguishable in the throng by their 
 black clothes, and a very small tonsure. They attended 
 
 1 Rambaud, ii. 37. Mathieu, 151. 
 
 2 The abbots of abbeys en commende were appointed by the king. 
 These appear to have been most of the rich abbeys. There were 
 also ahhayes regulieres, where the abbot was elected by the brethren- 
 Rambaud, ii. 53. The revenues of the monasteries w^ere divided into 
 two parts, the mense abbatiale, for the abbot, the mense conventuelle, foi 
 the brethren. Mathieu, 73. 
 
THE CLERGY. 31 
 
 the toilets of fashionable ladies, ever ready with the last 
 bit of literary gossip, or of social scandal. They sought 
 employment as secretaries, or as writers for the press. 
 The church, or indeed, the opposite party, eoidd find 
 literary champions among them at a moment's notice. 
 Nor was hope of professional preferment always lacking. 
 It is said that one of the number kept an ecclesiastical 
 intelligence office. This man was acquainted with the 
 incumbents of valuable livings; he watched the state of 
 their health, and calculated the chances of death among 
 them. He knew what patrons were likely to have pre- 
 ferment to give away, and how those patrons were to be 
 reached. His couriers were ever on the road to Rome, 
 for the Pope still had the gift of many rich places in 
 France, in spite of the Concordat.^ 
 
 Another large part of the revenues of the church was 
 devoted to the support of the convents. These contained 
 from sixty to seventy thousand persons, more of them 
 women than men. Owing to various causes, and especially 
 to the action of a commission appointed to examine all 
 convents, and to reform, close, or consolidate such as 
 might need to be so treated, the number of regiilar reli- 
 gious persons fell off more than one half during the last 
 twenty-five years of the monarchy. Yet many of the 
 functions which in modern countries are left to private 
 charity, or to the direct action of the state, were performed 
 in old France by persons of this kind. The care of the 
 poor and sick and the education of the young were 
 largely, although not entirely, in the hands of religious 
 orders. Some monks, like the Benedictines of St. Maur, 
 devoted their lives to the advancement of learninef. But 
 there were also monks and nuns who rendered no services 
 to the public, and were entirely occupied with their own 
 spiritual and temporal interests, giving alms, perhaps, 
 but only incidentally, like other citizens. Against these 
 * Mercier, ix. 350. 
 
32 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the indignation of the French Philosophers was much ex- 
 cited. Their celibacy was attacked, as contrary to the 
 interests of the state; they were accused of laziness and 
 greed. How far were the Philosophers right in their op- 
 position? It is impossible to discuss in detail here the 
 policy of allowing or discouraging religious corporations 
 in a state. Should men and women be permitted to retire 
 from the struggles and duties of active life in the world? 
 Is the monastery, with its steady and depressing routine, 
 its religious observances, often mechanical, and its quiet 
 life, more or less degrading than the wearing toil of the 
 world without, and the coarse pleasures of the club or 
 the tavern? Is it better that a woman, whom choice or 
 necessity has deprived of every probability of governing 
 a home of her own, should struggle against the chances 
 and temptations of city life, or the constant drudgery 
 of spinsterhood in the country; or that she should find 
 the stupefying protection of a convent ? These questions 
 have seldom been answered entirely on their own merits. 
 They have presented themselves in company with others 
 even more important ; with questions of freedom of con- 
 science and of national existence. The time seems not 
 far distant when they must be reconsidered for their own 
 sake. Already in France the persons leading a monastic 
 life are believed to be twice as numerous as they were at 
 the outbreak of the Revolution. It is difficult to ascer- 
 tain the number in our own country, but it is not incon- 
 siderable.^ 
 
 A pleasant life the inmates of some convents must have 
 had of it. The incomes were large, the duties easy. Cer- 
 
 1 Rambaud (ii. 52 and n.) reckons 100,000 in the 18th century and 
 158,500 to-day in France, but the figures for the last century are prob- 
 ably too high, at least if 1788 be taken as the point of comparison. 
 Sadlier's Catholic Directory, 1885, p. IIG, gives the number of Catho- 
 lic religious in the Archdiocese of New York at 117 regular priests, 
 271 brothers, 2136 religious women, in addition to 279 secular priests, 
 
THE CLERGY. 33 
 
 tain houses had been secularized and turned into noble 
 chapters. The ladies who inhabited them were freed from 
 the vow of poverty. They wore no religious vestment, 
 but appeared in the fashionable dress of the day. They 
 received their friends in the convent, and could leave it 
 themselves to reenter the secular life, and to marry if they 
 pleased. Such a chapter was that of Remiremont in Lor- 
 raine, whose abbess was a princess of the Holy Roman 
 Empire, by virtue of her office. Her crook was of gold. 
 Six horses were harnessed to her carriage. Her dominion 
 extended over two hundred villages, whose inhabitants 
 paid her both feudal dues and ecclesiastical tithes. Nor 
 were her duties onerous. She spent a large part of her 
 time in Strasburg, and went to the theatre without scru- 
 ple. She traveled a good deal in the neighborhood, and 
 was a familiar figure at some of the petty courts on the 
 Rhine. The canonesses followed her good example. 
 Some of them were continually on the road. Others 
 stayed at home in the convent, and entertained much good 
 company. They dressed like other people, in the fashion, 
 with nothing to mark their religious calling but a broad 
 ribbon over the right shoulder, blue bordered with red, 
 supporting a cross, with a figure of Saint Romaric. No 
 lady was received into this chapter who could not show 
 nine generations or two hundred and twenty-five years of 
 chivalric, noble descent, both on the father's and on the 
 mother's side. 
 
 Such requirements as this were extreme, but similar 
 conditions were not unusual. The Benedictines of Saint 
 Claude, transformed into a chapter of canonesses, required 
 sixteen quarterings for admission; that is to say, that 
 every canoness must show by proper heraldic proof, that 
 her sixteen great - grandfathers and great - grandmothers 
 were of noble blood. The Knights of Malta required 
 but four quarterings. They had two hundred and twenty 
 commanderies in France, with eight hundred Knights. 
 
34 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The Grand Priory gave an income of sixty thousand livres 
 to the Prior, who was always a prince. The revenues of 
 the order were 1,750,000 livres. 
 
 But very rich monasteries were exceptional after all. 
 Those where life was hard and labor continuous were far 
 more common. In some of them, forty men would be 
 found living on a joint income of six thousand livres a 
 year. They cultivated the soil, they built, they dug. 
 They were not afraid of great undertakings in architecture 
 or engineering, to be accomplished only after long years 
 and generations of labor, for was not their corporation 
 immortal? Then we have the begging orders, infesting 
 the roads and villages, and drawing several million livres 
 a year from the poorer classes, which supported and grum- 
 bled at them. And against the luxury of the noble chap- 
 ters must be set the silence, the vigils, the fasts of La 
 Trappe. This monastery stood in a gloomy valley, sunk 
 among wooded hills. The church and the surrounding 
 buildings were mostly old, and all sombre and uninviting. 
 Each narrow cell was furnished with but a mattress, a 
 blanket and a table, without chair or fire. The monks 
 were clad in a robe and a hood, and wore shoes and stock- 
 ings, but had neither shirt nor breeches. They shaved 
 three times a year. Their food consisted of boiled vege- 
 tables, with salad once a week ; never any butter nor eggs. 
 Twice in the night they rose, and hastened shivering to the 
 chapel. Never did they speak, but to their confessor; 
 until, in his last hour, each was privileged to give to the 
 prior his dying messages. Hither, from the active and 
 gay world of philosophy and frivolity would suddenly 
 retire from time to time some young officer, scholar, or 
 courtier. Here, bound by irrevocable vows, he could 
 weep over his sins, or gnash his teeth at the folly that had 
 brought him, until he found peace at last in life or in the 
 grave. 
 
 To enjoy the temporal privileges of the religious life 
 
THE CLERGY. 35 
 
 neither any great age nor any extensive learning was re- 
 quired. To hold a cure of souls or the abbacy of a " reg- 
 ular" convent (whose inmates chose their abbot), a man 
 must be twenty -five years old. But an abbot appointed 
 by the king need only be twenty -two, a canon of a cathe- 
 dral fourteen, and a chaplain seven. It cannot be doubted 
 that persons of either sex were obliged to make irrevoca- 
 ble vows, without any proof of free vocation, or any rea- 
 son to expect a fixed resolution. Daughters and younger 
 sons could thus be conveniently disposed of. A larger 
 share was left for the family, for the religious were civilly 
 dead, and did not take part in the inheritance. On the 
 other hand, misfortune and want need not be feared for 
 the inmate of the convent. If a nun were lost to the joys 
 of the world, she was lost to its cares. To make such a 
 choice, to commit temporal suicide, the very young should 
 surely not be admitted. Yet it was not until 1768 that 
 the time for taking final vows was advanced to the very 
 moderate age of twenty-one for young men and eighteen 
 for girls. ^ 
 
 The secular clergy was about as numerous as the regu- 
 lar. It was principally composed of the cures and vicaires 
 who had charge of parishes. ^ These men were mostly 
 drawn from the lower classes of society, or at any rate not 
 from the nobility. They had therefore very little chance 
 of promotion. Some of them in the country districts were 
 very poor; for the great tithes, levied on the principal 
 crops, generally belonged to the bishops, to the convents 
 
 1 Rambaud, ii. 45. Mathieu, 43. Chassin, 25. Boiteau, 176. Bailly, 
 421. Mme. d'Oberkirch, 127. Mme. de Genlis, Diet, des Etiquettes, 
 i. Ill n., Le Comte de Fersen et la Cour de France, I. xxix. Mercier, 
 xi. 358. 
 
 2 The bishops, of course, belonged to the secular clergy. So, in 
 fact, did the canons ; who, on account of the similarity of their mode 
 of life, have been treated with the regulars. In the French hierarchy 
 the cure comes above the vicaire. The relation is somewhat that of 
 parson and curate iu the church of England. 
 
36 THE EVE OF THE FKENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of regulars, or to laymen ; and only the lesser tithes, the 
 occasional fees,i and the product of a small glebe were 
 reserved for the parish priest, and the latter was liable 
 to continual squabbles with the peasants concerning his 
 dues. But the parish priest, with all other churchmen, 
 was exempt from the state taxes, although obliged to pay 
 a proportion of the cUchnes,^ or special tax laid by the 
 clergy on their own order. Moreover, the government set 
 a minimum ; ^ and if the income of the parish priest fell 
 below it, the owner of the great tithes was bound to make 
 up the difference. This minimum was set at five hundred 
 livres a year for a cure in 1768, and raised to seven hun- 
 dred in 1785. A vicaire received two hundred and three 
 hundred and fifty. These amounts do not seem large, but 
 they must have secured to the country priest a tolerable 
 condition, for we do not find that the clerical profession 
 was neglected. 
 
 Apart from considerations of material well being, the 
 condition of the parish priest was not undesirable. He 
 was fairly independent, and could not be deprived of his 
 living without due process of law. His house was larger 
 or smaller according to his means, but his authority and 
 influence might in any case be considerable. He had more 
 education and more dealings with the outer world than 
 most of his parishioners. To him the intendant of the 
 province might apply for information concerning the state 
 of his village, and the losses of the peasants by fire, or by 
 epidemics among their cattle. His sympathy with his 
 
 ^ Casuel. 
 
 2 Decime, in the singular, was an extraordinary tax levied on ec- 
 clesiastical revenue for some object deemed important. Decimes, in 
 the plural, was the tax paid annually by benefices. Dime, tithe (see 
 Littrd, Decime). It seems a question whether the proportion of the 
 decimes paid by the parish priests was too large. See Revue des 
 questions historiques, 1st July 1890, 102. Necker, De V Administratioyi, 
 
 a 313. 
 
 2 Portion congrue. 
 
THE CLERGY. 
 
 37 
 
 fellow-villagers was the warmer, that like them he had a 
 piece of ground to till, were it only a garden, an orchard, 
 or a bit of vineyard. Round his door, as round theirs, a 
 few hens were scratching; perhaps a cow lowed from her 
 shed, or followed the village herd to the common. The 
 priest's servant, a stout lass, did the milking and the 
 weeding. In 1788, a provincial synod was much dis- 
 turbed by a motion, made by some fanatic in the interest 
 of morals, that no priest should keep a serving-maid less 
 than forty -five years of age. The rule was rejected on 
 the ground that it would make it impossible to cidtivate 
 the glebes. Undoubtedly, the priests themselves often 
 tucked up the skirts of their cassocks, and lent a hand in 
 the work. They were treated by their flocks with a cer- 
 tain amount of respectful familiarity. They were ad- 
 dressed as messire. With the joys and sorrows of their 
 parishioners, their connection was at once intimate and 
 professional. Their ministrations were sought by the 
 sick and the sad, their congratulations by the happy. No 
 wedding party nor funeral feast was complete without 
 them.^ 
 
 The privileges and immunities which the Church of 
 France enjoyed had given to her clergy a tone of indepen- 
 dence both to the Pope and to the king. We have seen 
 them accompanying their " free gifts " to the latter by 
 requests and conditions. Toward the Holy See their at- 
 titude had once been quite as bold. In 1G82 an assembly 
 of the Church of France had promulgated four ]n"oposi- 
 tions which were considered the bulwarks of the Galilean 
 liberties. 
 
 1 Turgot, V. 364. This letter is very interesting, as showing the 
 importance of the cures and their possible dealings with the intend- 
 ant. Mathieu, 152. Babeau, La vie rurale, 157. A good study of 
 the clergy before the Revolution is found in an article by Marius 
 Sepet (La socicte franralse a la veille de la revolution), in the Revue 
 des questions historiques, 1st April and 1st July, 18S9. 
 
38 THE EVE OP THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 (1.) God has given to Saint Peter and his successors 
 no power, direct or indirect, over temporal affairs. 
 
 (2.) Ecumenical councils are superior to the Pope in 
 spiritual matters. 
 
 (3.) The rules, usages and statutes admitted by the 
 kingdom and the Church of France must remain invio- 
 late. 
 
 (4.) In matters of faith, decisions of the Sovereign 
 Pontiff are irrevocable only after having received the 
 consent of the church. 
 
 These propositions were undoubtedly a part of the law 
 of France, and were fully accepted by a portion of the 
 French clergy. But the spirit that dictated them had in 
 a measure died out during the corrupt reign of Louis 
 XV. The long quarrel between the Jesuits and the Jan- 
 senists, which agitated the Gallican church during the 
 latter part of the seventeenth and the earlier half of the 
 eighteenth century, had tended neither to strengthen nor 
 to purify that body. A large number of the most serious, 
 intelligent and devout Catholics in France had been put 
 into opposition to the most powerful section of the clergy 
 and to the Pope himself. Thus the Church of France was 
 in a bad position to repel the violent attacks made upon 
 her from without.^ 
 
 For a time of trial had come to the Catholic Church, 
 and the Church of France, although hardly aware of its 
 danger, was placed in the forefront of battle. It was 
 against her that the most persistent and violent assault of 
 the Philosophers was directed. Before considering the 
 doctrines of those men, who differed among themselves 
 very widely on many points, it is well to ask what was the 
 cause of the great excitement which their doctrines cre- 
 ated. Men as great have existed in other centuries, and 
 have exercised an enormous influence on the human mind. 
 
 1 Rambaud, ii. 40. For a Catholic account of the Jansenist quarrel, 
 see Carn^, La monarchie fran<;aise au 18me Steele, 407. 
 
THE CLERGY. 39 
 
 But that influence has generally been gradual ; percolat- 
 ing slowly, through the minds of scholars and thinkers, to 
 men of action and the people. The intellectual movement 
 of the eighteenth century in France was rapid. It was 
 the nature of the opposition which they encountered which 
 drew popular attention to the attacks of the Philosophers. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 
 
 The new birth of learning in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
 centuries had been followed by the strengthening and cen- 
 tralization of government, both in church and state. 
 France had its full share of this change. Its civil gov- 
 ernment became the strongest in Europe, putting down 
 every breath of opposition. Against the political con- 
 duct of Louis XIV. neither magistrate nor citizen dared 
 to raise his voice. The Church of France, on the other 
 hand, in close alliance with the civil power, became al- 
 most irresistible in her own sphere. The Catholic Church 
 throughout Europe had been the great schoolmaster of 
 civilization. It had fallen into the common fault of 
 schoolmasters, the assumption of infallibility. It was, 
 moreover, a state within all states. Its sovereign, the 
 Pope, the most powerful monarch in Christendom, is 
 chosen in accordance with a curious and elaborate set of 
 regulations, by electors appointed by his predecessors. 
 His rule, nominally despotic, is limited by powers and 
 influences understood by few persons outside of his palace. 
 His government, although highly centralized, is yet able 
 to work efficiently in all the countries of the earth. It is 
 served by a great body of officials, probably less corrupt 
 on the whole than those of any other state. They are 
 kept in order, not only by moral and spiritual sanctions, 
 but by a system of worldly promotion. They wield over 
 their subjects a tremendous weapon, sometimes borrowed, 
 but seldom long or very skillfully used by laymen, and 
 called, in clerical language, excommunication. This, 
 
THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 41 
 
 when it is confined to the denial of religious privileges, 
 may be considered a spiritual weapon. But in the eigh- 
 teenth century the temporal power of Catholic Europe 
 was still in great measure at the service of the ecclesias- 
 tical authorities. Obedience to the church was a law of 
 the state. Although Frenchmen were no longer executed 
 for heresy in the reign of Louis XVI., they still were per- 
 secuted. The property of Protestants was imsafe, their 
 marriages invalid. Their children might be taken from 
 them. Such toleration as existed was precarious, and the 
 Church of France was constantly urging the temporal 
 government to take stronger measures for the extirpation 
 of heresy. 
 
 The church had succeeded in implanting in the minds 
 of its votaries one opinion of enormous value in its strug- 
 gle for power. Originally and proj)erly an association 
 for the practice and spreading of religion, the corporation 
 had succeeded in making itself an object of worship. 
 One great reason why atheism took root in France was 
 the impossibility, induced by long habit, of distinguishing 
 between religion and Catholicism, and of conceiving that 
 the one may exist without the other. The by-laws of the 
 church had become as sacred as the primary duties of 
 piety ; and the injunction to refrain from meat on Fridays 
 was indistinguishable by most Catholics, in point of obli- 
 gation, from the injunction to love the Lord their God. 
 
 The Protestant churclies which separated themselves 
 from the Church of Rome in the sixteenth century carried 
 with them much of the intolerant spirit of the original 
 body. It is one of the commonplace sneers of the unre- 
 flecting to say that religious toleration has always been the 
 dogma of the weaker party. The saying, if it were true, 
 which it is not, yet would not be especially sagacious. 
 Toleration, like other things, has been most sought by 
 those whose need of it was greatest. But they have not 
 always recognized its value. It was no small step in the 
 
42 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 progress of the human mind that was taken when men 
 came to look on religious toleration as desirable or possi- 
 ble. That the state might treat with equal favor all 
 forms of worship was an opinion hardly accepted by wise 
 and liberal-minded men in the eighteenth century. It 
 may be that the fiery contests of the Reformation were 
 still too near in those days to let perfect peace be safe 
 or profitable. 
 
 Yet religious toleration was making its way in men's 
 minds. Cautiously, and with limitations, the doctrine is 
 stated, first by Locke, Bayle, and Fenelon in the last 
 quarter of the seventeenth century, then by almost all the 
 great writers of the eighteenth. The Protestants, with 
 their experience of persecution, assert that those persons 
 should not be tolerated who teach that faith should not be 
 kept with heretics, or that kings excommunicated forfeit 
 their crowns and kingdoms; or who attribute to them- 
 selves any peculiar privilege or power above other mortals 
 in civil affairs; in short, they exclude the Catholics. 
 Atheists also may be excluded, as being under no possible 
 conscientious obligation to dogmatize concerning their 
 negative creed. The Catholics maintain the right of the 
 sovereign to forbid the use of ceremonies, or the profes- 
 sion of opinions, which would disturb the public peace. 
 Montesquieu, a nominal Catholic only, declares that it is 
 the fundamental principle of political laws concerning re- 
 ligion, not to allow the establishment of a new form if it 
 can be prevented; but when one is once established, to 
 tolerate it. He refuses to say that heresy should not be 
 punished, but he says that it should be punished only with 
 great circumspection. This left the case of the French 
 Protestants to all appearances as bad as before ; for the 
 laws denied that they had been established in the king- 
 dom, and the church always asserted that it was mild and 
 circumspect in its dealings with heretics. Voltaire will 
 not say that those who are not of the same religion as the 
 
THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 43 
 
 prince should share in the honors of the state, or hold 
 public office. Such limitations as these would seem to 
 have deprived toleration of the greater part of its value, 
 by excluding from its benefits those persons who were 
 most likely to be persecuted. But the statement of a 
 great principle is far more effectual than the enumeration 
 of its limitations. Toleration, eloquently announced as 
 an ideal, made its way in men's minds. "Absolute lib- 
 erty, just and true liberty, equal and impartial liberty, is 
 the thing we stand in need of," cries Locke, and the say- 
 ing is retained when his exceptions concerning the Cath- 
 olics are forgotten. "When kings meddle with religion," 
 says Fenelon, "instead of protecting, they enslave her." ^ 
 The Church of France had long been cruel to her 
 opponents. The persecution of the French Protestants, 
 which preceded and followed the revocation of the Edict 
 of Nantes in 1685, is known to most readers. It was long 
 and bloody. But about the middle of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury it began to abate. The last execution for heresy in 
 France appears to have taken place in 1762. A Protes- 
 tant meeting was surprised and attacked by soldiers in 
 1767. Some eight or ten years later than this, the last 
 prisoner for conscience' sake was released from the gal- 
 leys at Toulon. But no religion except the Roman Cath- 
 olic was recognized by the state ; and to its clergy alone 
 were entrusted certain functions essential to the conduct 
 of civilized life. No marriage could be legally solem- 
 nized but by a Catholic priest. No public record of births 
 was kept but in the parish registers. As a consequence 
 of this, no faithful Protestant could be legally married at 
 
 1 Locke, vi. 45, 46 (Letter on Toleration). Bayle, Commentary 
 on the Text " Compelle intrare " (for atheists), ii. 431, a., Fdnelon, 
 (Euvres,\n. 123 {Essai philosophique sur le gouvernement civil). Mon- 
 tesquieu, CEuvres, iv. 68 ; v. 175 (Esprit des Lois, liv. xii. ch. v. 
 and liv. xxxv. ch. x.). Felice, Voltaire, xli. 247 (Essai sur la tole- 
 rance). 
 
44 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 all, and all children of Protestant parents were bastards, 
 whose property could be taken from them by the nearest 
 Catholic relative. It is true that the courts did much to 
 soften the execution of these laws; but the judges, with 
 the best intentions, were sometimes powerless; and all 
 judges did not mean to act fairly by heretics. 
 
 Slowly, during the lifetime of a generation, the Protes- 
 tants gained ground. The coronation-oath contained a 
 clause by which the king promised to exterminate heretics. 
 When Louis XVI. was to be crowned at Rheims, Turgot 
 desired to modify this part of the oath. He drew up a 
 new form. The clergy, however, resisted the innovation, 
 and Maurepas, the prime minister, agreed with them. 
 The young king, with characteristic weakness, is said to 
 have muttered some meaningless sounds, in place of the 
 disputed portion of the oath. 
 
 In 1778, an attempt was made to induce the Parliament 
 of Paris to interfere in behalf of the oppressed sectaries. 
 It was stated that since 1740, more than four hundred 
 thousand marriages had been contracted outside of the 
 church, and that these marriages were void in law and 
 the constant cause of scandalous suits. But the Parlia- 
 ment, by a great majority, rejected the proposal to apply 
 to the king for relief. In 1775, and again in 1780, the 
 assembly of the clergy protested against the toleration 
 accorded to heretics. It is not a little curious that at a 
 time when a measure of simple humanity was thus opposed 
 by the highest court of justice in the realm, and by the 
 Church of France in its corporate capacity, a foreign 
 Protestant, Necker, was the most important of the royal 
 servants. 
 
 The spirit of the church, or at least of her leading 
 men, is expressed in the Pastoral Instruction of Lefranc 
 de Pompignan, Archbishop of Vienne, perhaps the most 
 prominent French ecclesiastic of the century. The church, 
 he says, has never persecuted, although misguided men 
 
THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 45 
 
 have done so in her name. The sovereign should main- 
 tain the true religion, and is himself the judge of the best 
 means of doing it. But religion sets bounds to what a 
 monarch should do in her defense. She does not ask for 
 violent or sanguinary measures against simple heretics. 
 Such measures would do more harm than good. But 
 when men have the audacity to exercise a pretended and 
 forbidden ministry, injurious to the public peace, it would 
 be absurd to think that rigorous penalties applied to their 
 misdeeds are contrary to Christian charity. And in con- 
 nection with toleration, the prelate brings together the two 
 texts, "Judge not, that ye be not judged;" — "but he 
 that believeth not is condemned already." This plan of 
 dealing gently with Protestants, while so maltreating 
 their pastors as to make public worship or the administra- 
 tion of sacraments very difficult, was a favorite one with 
 French churchmen. 
 
 The great Revolution was close at hand. On the last 
 day of the first session of the Assembly of Notables, in 
 the spring of 1787, Lafayette proposed to petition the 
 king in favor of the Protestants. His motion was received 
 with almost unanimous approval by the committee to which 
 it was made, and the Count of Artois, president of that 
 committee, carried a petition to Louis XVI. accordingly. 
 His Majesty deigned to favor the proposal, and an edict 
 for giving a civil status to Protestants was included in 
 the batch of bills submitted to the Parliament of Paris 
 for reo-istration. The measure of relief was of the most 
 moderate character. It did not enable the sectaries of 
 the despised religion to hold any office in the state, nor 
 even to meet publicly for worship. Yet the opposition 
 to the proposed law was warm, and was fomented by part 
 of the nobility and of the clergy. One of the great ladies 
 of the court called on each counselor of the Parliament, 
 and left a note to remind him of his duty to the Catholic 
 religion and the laws. The Bishop of Dol told the king 
 
46 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of France that he would be answerable to God and man 
 for the misfortunes which the reestablishment of Protes- 
 tantism would bring on the kingdom. His Majesty's 
 sainted aunt, according to the bishop, was looking down 
 on him from that heaven where her virtues had placed 
 her, and blaming his conduct. Louis XVI. resented this 
 language and found manliness enough to send the Bishop 
 of Dol back to his see. On the 19th of January, 1788, 
 the matter was warmly debated in the Parliament itself. 
 D'Espremenil, one of the counselors, was filled with ex- 
 citement and wrath at the proposed toleration. Pointing 
 to the image of Christ, which hung on the wall of the 
 chamber, "would you," he indignantly exclaimed, "would 
 you crucify him again? " But the appeal of bigotry was 
 unavailing. The measure passed by a large majority.^ 
 
 It was not against Protestants alone that the clergy 
 showed their activity. The church, in its capacity of 
 guardian of the public morals and religion, passed con- 
 demnation on books supposed to be hostile to its claims. 
 In this matter it exercised concurrent jurisdiction with 
 the administrative branch of the government and with the 
 courts of law. A new book was liable to undergo a triple 
 ordeal. A license was required before publication, and 
 the manuscript was therefore submitted to an official cen- 
 sor, often an ecclesiastic. Thence it became the custom to 
 print in foreign countries, books which contained any- 
 thing to which anybody in authority might object, and to 
 bring them secretly into France. The presses of Holland 
 and of Geneva were thus used. Sometimes, instead of 
 this, a book would be published in Paris with a foreign 
 
 1 For the last persecution of the Protestants, see Felice, 422. 
 Howard, Lazzarettos, 55. Coquerel, 93. GefProy, i. 406. Chdrest, 
 i. 45, 382. For the oath, Turgot, i. 217 ; vii. 314, 317. See also 
 Dareste, vii. 20, Lefranc de Pompignan, i. 132. Geffroy, i. 410 ; ii. 
 85. Droz, ii. 38. Sallier, Annales fran<;aises, 136 n. The majority 
 was 94 to 17. Seven counselors and three bishops retired without 
 voting. 
 
THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 47 
 
 imprint. Thus "Boston " and "Philadelphia " are not in- 
 frequently found on the title-pages of books printed in 
 France in the reign of Louis XVI. Such books were sold 
 secretly, with greater or less precautions against discov- 
 ery, for the laws were severe; an ordinance passed as 
 late as 1757 forbade, under penalty of death, all publica- 
 tions which might tend to excite the public mind. So 
 loose an expression gave discretionary power to the au- 
 thorities. The extreme penalty was not enforced, but 
 imprisonment and exile were somewhat capriciously in- 
 flicted on authors and printers. 
 
 But a book that had received the imprimatur of the 
 censor was not yet safe. The clergy might denounce, or 
 the Parliament condemn it. The church was quick to 
 scent danger. An honest scholar, an upright and original 
 thinker, could hardly escape the reproach of irreligion or 
 of heresy. Nor were the laws fairly administered. It 
 might be more dangerous to be supposed to allude dis- 
 agreeably to the mistress of a prince, than to attack the 
 government of the kingdom. Had a severe law been 
 severely and consistently enforced, slander, heresy, and 
 political thought might have been stamped out together. 
 Such was in some measure the case in the reign of Louis 
 XIV. But under the misrule of the courtiers of his 
 feeble successors, no strict law was adhered to. There 
 was a common tendency to wink at illegal writings of 
 which half the public approved. Malesherbes, for in- 
 stance, was at one time at the head of the official censors. 
 He is said to have had a way of warning authors and pub- 
 lishers the day before a descent was to be made upon their 
 houses. Under laws thus enforced, authors who held new 
 doctrines learned to adapt their methods to those of the 
 government. Almost all the great French writers of the 
 eighteenth century framed some passages in their books 
 for the purpose of satisfying the censor or of avoiding 
 punislmient. They were profuse in expressions of loyalty 
 
48 , . THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 to church and state, in passages sometimes sounclitig lu- 
 dicrously hollow, sometimes conveying the most biting 
 mockery and satire, and again in words hardly to be 
 distinguished from the heartfelt language of devotion. 
 They became skillful at hinting, and masters of the art of 
 innuendo. They attacked Christianity under the name of 
 Mahometanism, and if they had occasion to blame French 
 ministers of state, would seem to be satirizing the viziers 
 of Turkey. Politics and theology are subjects of un- 
 ceasing and vivid interest, and their discussion cannot be 
 suppressed, unless minds are to be smothered altogether. 
 If any measure of free thought and speech is to be ad- 
 mitted, the engrossing topics will find expression. If 
 people are not allowed pamphlets and editorials, they will 
 bring out their ideas in poems and fables. Under Louis 
 XV. and Loiiis XVI., politics took possession of popular 
 songs, and theology of every conceivable kind of writing. 
 There was hardly an advertisement of the virtues of a 
 quack medicine, or a copy of verses to a man's mistress, 
 that did not contain a fling at the church or the govern- 
 ment. There can be no doubt that the moral nature of 
 authors and of the public suffered in such a course. Books 
 lost some of their real value. But for a time an element 
 of excitement was added to the pleasure both of writers 
 and readers. The author had all the advantage of being 
 persecuted, with the pleasing assurance that the persecu- 
 tion would not go very far. The reader, while perusing 
 what seemed to him true and right, enjoyed the satisfac- 
 tion of holding a forbidden book. He had the amusement 
 of eating stolen fruit, and the inward conviction that it 
 agreed with him.^ 
 
 The writers who adopted this course are mostly known 
 as the "Philosophers." It is hard to be consistent in the 
 
 1 Lomdnie, Vie de Beaumarchais, i. 324. Montesquieu, i. 464 (Let- 
 tres persanes, cxlv.). Mirabeau, Vami des hommes, 238 (pt. ii. ch. 
 iv.). Anciennes Lois, xxii. 272. Laufrey, 193. 
 
THE CHURCH AND HER ADVERSARIES. 49 
 
 use of this word as applied to Frenchmen of the eigh- 
 teenth century. The name was sometimes given to all 
 those who advocated reform or alteration in church or 
 state. In its stricter application, it belongs to a party 
 among them; to Voltaire and his immediate followers, 
 and especially to the Encyclopaedists. 
 
 "Never," says Voltaire, in his "English Letters," "will 
 our philosophers make a religious sect, for they are with- 
 out enthusiasm." This was a favorite idea with the dis- 
 ciples of the great cynic, but the event has disproved its 
 truth. The Philosophers in Voltaire's lifetime formed a 
 sect, although it could hardly be called a religious one. 
 The Patriarch of Ferney himself was something not un- 
 like its pontiff. Diderot and d' Alembert were its bishops, 
 with their attendant clergy of Encyclopaedists. Helvetius 
 and Holbach were its doctors of atheology. Most reading 
 and thinkino: Frenchmen were for a time its members. 
 Eousseau was its arch-heretic. The doctrines were ma- 
 terialism, fatalism, and hedonism. The sect still exists. 
 It has adhered, from the time of its formation, to a curi- 
 ous notion, its favorite superstition, which may be ex- 
 pressed somewhat has follows: "Human reason and good 
 sense were first invented from thirty to fifty years ago." 
 "When we consider," says Voltaire, "that Newton, 
 Locke, Clarke and Leibnitz, would have been persecuted 
 in France, imprisoned at Rome, burnt at Lisbon, what 
 must we think of human reason ? It was born in Eng- 
 land within this century." ^ And similar expressions are 
 frequent in his writings. The sectaries, from that day to 
 this, have never been wanting in the most glowing enthu- 
 siasm. In this respect they generally surpass the Catho- 
 
 1 Voltaire (Geneva ed. 1771) xv. 99 (Newton). Also (Beuehot's 
 ed.) XV. 351 (Essai sur les Moeurs) and passim. The date usually 
 set by Voltaire's modern followers is that of the publication of the 
 Origin of Species ; althoun^h no error is more opposed than this one 
 to the great theory of evolution. 
 
60 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 lies ; in fanaticism (or the quality of being cocksure) the 
 Protestants. They hold toleration as one of their chief 
 tenets, but never undertake to conceal their contempt for 
 any one who disagrees with them. The sect has always 
 contained many useful and excellent persons, and some of 
 the most dogmatic of mankind. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CHURCH AND VOLTAHIE. 
 
 The enemies of the Church of France were many and 
 bitter, but one man stands out prominent among them. 
 Voltaire was a poet, much admired in his day, an in- 
 dustrious and talented historian, a writer on all sorts of 
 subjects, a wit of dazzling brilliancy; but he was first, 
 last, and always an enemy of the Catholic Church, and 
 although not quite an atheist, an opponent of all forms of 
 religion. For more than forty years he was the head of 
 the party of the Philosophers. During all that time he 
 was the most conspicuous of literary Frenclunen. Two 
 others, Eousseau and Montesquieu, may rival him in 
 influence on the modern world, but his followers in the 
 regions of thought are numerous and aggressive to-day. 
 
 Voltaire was born in 1694, the son of a lawyer named 
 Arouet. There are doubts as to the origin of the name 
 he has made so famous ; whether it was derived from a 
 fief possessed by his mother, or from an anagram of 
 Arouet Le Jeune. At any rate, the name was adopted 
 by the young poet, at his own fancy, a case not without 
 parallel in the eighteenth century.^ 
 
 Voltaire began early to attract public attention. Be- 
 fore he was twenty -five years old he had established his 
 reputation as a wit, had spent nearly a year in the Bastile 
 on a charge of writing satirical verses, and had produced 
 a successful tragedy. In this play a couplet sneering at 
 priests might possibly have become a familiar quotation 
 
 1 As in the case of D'Alembert. For Voltaire's name, see Des- 
 noiresterres, Jeunesse de Voltaire^ IGl. 
 
62 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 even liad it been written by another pen.^ For several 
 years Yoltaire went on writing, with increasing reputa- 
 tion. In 1723, his great epic poem, "La Henriade," was 
 secretly circulated in Paris. ^ The author was one of the 
 marked men of the town. At the same time his reputa- 
 tion must have been to some extent that of a troublesome 
 fellow. And in December of that year an event occurred 
 which was destined to drive the rising author from France 
 for several years, and add bitterness to a mind naturally 
 acid. 
 
 The details of the story are variously told. It appears 
 that Voltaire was one evening at the theatre behind the 
 scenes, and had a dispute with the Chevalier de Chabot, 
 of the family of Rohan. "Monsieur de Voltaire, Mon- 
 sieur Arouet, what 's your name! " the chevalier is said to 
 have called out. "My name is not a great one, but I am 
 no discredit to it," answered the author. Chabot lifted 
 his cane, Voltaire laid his hand on his sword. Mademoi- 
 selle Lecouvreur, the actress, for whose benefit, perhaps, 
 the little dispute was enacted, took occasion to faint. 
 Chabot went off, muttering something about a stick. 
 
 A few days later, Voltaire was dining at the house of 
 the Duke of Sulli. A servant informed him that some one 
 wanted to see him at the door. So Voltaire went out, 
 and stepped quietly up to a coach that was standing in 
 front of the house. As he put his head in at the coach 
 door, he was seized by the collar of his coat and held fast, 
 while two men came up beliind and belabored him with 
 sticks. The Chevalier de Chabot, his noble adversary, 
 was looking on from another carriage. 
 
 When the tormentors let him go, Voltaire rushed back 
 into the house and appealed to the Duke of Sulli for ven- 
 
 1 GSdipe, written in 1718. 
 
 " Nos prttres ne sont point ce qu'iin vain peuple pense ; 
 N6tre crt5dulitt5 fait toute leur science." 
 
 Act IV., Scene I. 
 * Desnoiresterres, Jeunesse, 297. 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 53 
 
 geance, but in vain. It was no small matter to quarrel 
 with the family of Rohan. Then the poet applied to the 
 court for redress, but got none. It is said that Voltaire's 
 enemies had persuaded the prime minister that his peti- 
 tioner was the author of a certain epigram, addressed to 
 His Excellency's mistress, in which she was reminded 
 that it is easy to deceive a one-eyed Argus. (The min- 
 ister had but one eye.) Finally Voltaire, seeing that no 
 one else would take up his quarrel, began to take fencing 
 lessons and to keep boisterous company. It is probable 
 that he would have made little use of any skill he might 
 have acquired as a swordsman. Voltaire was not physi- 
 cally rash. The Chevalier de Chabot, although he held 
 the commission of a staff-officer, was certainly no braver 
 than his adversary, and was in a position to take no risks. 
 Voltaire was at first watched by the police ; then, perhaps 
 after sending a challenge, locked up in the Bastile. He 
 remained in that state prison for about a fortnight, re- 
 ceiving his friends and dining at the governor's table. 
 On the 5th of May, 1726, he was at Calais on his way to 
 exile in England.^ 
 
 Voltaire spent three years in England, years which 
 exercised a deep influence on his life. He learned the 
 English language exceptionally well, and practiced writ- 
 ing it in prose and verse. He associated on terms of 
 intimacy with Lord Bolingbroke, whom he had already 
 known in France, with Swift, Pope, and Gay. He drew 
 an epigram from Young. He brought out a new and 
 amended edition of the "Henriade," with a dedication in 
 English to Queen Caroline. He studied the writings of 
 Bacon, Newton, and Locke. Thus to the Chevalier de 
 Chabot, and his shameful assault, did French thinkers 
 owe, in no small measure, the influence which English 
 writers exercised upon them. 
 
 While in England, Voltaire was taking notes and writ- 
 ^ Desuoiresterres, Jeunessey 34o. 
 
54 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ing letters. These he probably worked over during the 
 years immediately following his return to France. The 
 "Lettres Philosophiques," or "Letters concerning the 
 English Nation," were first published in England in 1733. 
 They were allowed to slip into circulation in France in 
 the following year. Promptly condemned by the Parlia- 
 ment of Paris as "scandalous and contrary to religion 
 and morals, and to the respect due to the powers that 
 be," they were "torn and burned at the foot of the great 
 staircase," and read all the more for it. 
 
 It is no wonder that the church, and that conservative 
 if sometimes heterodox body, the Parliament of Paris, 
 should have condemned the "English Letters." A bitter 
 satire is leveled at France, with her religion and her gov- 
 ernment, under cover of candid praise of English ways 
 and English laws. What could the Catholic clergy say 
 to words like these, put into the mouth of a Quaker? 
 " God forbid that we should dare to command any one 
 to receive the Holy Ghost on Sunday to the exclusion of 
 the rest of the f aitlif ul ! Thank Heaven we are the only 
 people on earth who have no priests ! Would you rob us 
 of so happy a distinction ? Why should we abandon our 
 child to mercenary nurses when we have milk to give him? 
 These hirelings would soon govern the house and oppress 
 mother and child. God has said : ' Freely ye have received ; 
 freely give.' After that saying, shall we go chaffer with 
 the Gospel, sell the Holy Ghost, and turn a meeting 
 of Christians into a tradesman's shop? We do not give 
 money to men dressed in black, to assist our poor, to 
 bury our dead, to preach to the faitliful. Those holy 
 occupations are too dear to us to be cast off upon others." ^ 
 Having thus attacked the institution of priesthood in 
 general, Voltaire turns his attention in particular to the 
 priests of France and England. In morals, he says, the 
 Anglican clergy are more regular than the French. This 
 1 Voltaire, xxxvii. 124. 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 55 
 
 is because all ecclesiastics in England are educated at the 
 universities, far from the temptations of the capital, and 
 are called to the dignities of the church at an advanced 
 age, when men have no passions left but avarice and am- 
 bition. Advancement here is the recompense of long ser- 
 vice, in the church as well as in the army. You do not 
 see boys becoming bishops or colonels on leaving school. 
 Moreover, most English priests are married men. The 
 awkward manners contracted at the university, and the 
 slight intercourse with women usual in that coimtry, gen- 
 erally compel a bishop to be content with his own wife. 
 Priests sometimes go to the tavern in England, because 
 custom allow^s it ; but if they get drunk, they do so seri- 
 ously, and without making scandal. 
 
 "That indefinable being, who is neither a layman nor 
 an ecclesiastic, in a word, that which we call an ahhe^ is 
 an unknown species in England. Here all priests are re- 
 served, and nearly all are pedants. When they are told 
 that in France young men known for their debauched 
 lives and raised to the prelacy by the intrigues of women 
 make love publicly, amuse themselves by composing amo- 
 rous songs, give long and dainty suppers every night, and 
 go thence to ask the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit, 
 and boldly call themselves successors of the apostles, they 
 thank God that they are Protestants ; — but they are vile 
 heretics, to be burned by all the devils, as says Master 
 rran(;ois Eabelais. Which is why I have nothing to do 
 with them."i 
 
 While the evil lives of an important part of the French 
 clergy are thus assailed, the doctrines of the Church are 
 not spared. The following is from the letter on the 
 Socinians. " Do you remember a certain orthodox bishop, 
 who in order to convince the Emperor of the consub- 
 stantiality [of the three Persons of the Godhead] ventured 
 to chuck the Emperor's son under the chin, and to pull 
 1 Voltaire, xxxvii. 140. 
 
56 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Ms nose in his sacred majesty's presence? The Emperor 
 was going to have the bishop thrown out of the window, 
 when the good man addressed him in the following fine 
 and convincing words: 'Sir, if your Majesty is so angry 
 that your son should be treated with disrespect, how do 
 you think that God the Father will punish those who 
 refuse to give to Jesus Christ the titles that are due to 
 Him?' The people of whom I speak say that the holy 
 bishop was ill-advised, that his argument was far from 
 conclusive, and that the Emperor should have answered: 
 'Know that there are two ways of showing want of re- 
 spect for me ; the first is not to render sufficient honor to 
 my son, the other is to honor him as much as myseK.' "^ 
 Such words as these were hardly to be borne. But the 
 French authorities recognized that there was a greater and 
 more insidious danger to the church in certain other pas- 
 sages by which Frenchmen were made to learn some of 
 the results of English abstract thought. 
 
 Among the French writers of the eighteenth century 
 are several men of eminent talent ; one only whose sinis- 
 ter but original genius has given a new direction to the 
 human mind. I shall treat farther on of the ideas of 
 Rousseau. The others, and Voltaire among them, belong 
 to that class of great men who assimilate, express, and 
 popularize thought, rather than to the very small body 
 of original thinkers. Let us then pause for a moment, 
 while studying the French Philosophers and their action 
 on the church, and ask who were their masters. 
 
 Montaigne, Bayle, and Grotius may be considered the 
 predecessors on the Continent of the French Philosophic 
 movement, but its great impulse came from England. 
 Bacon had much to do with it ; Hooker and Hobbes were 
 not without influence; Newton's discoveries directed 
 men's minds towards physical science; but of the meta- 
 physical and political ideas of the century, John Locke 
 1 Voltaire, xxxvii. 144. 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 6T 
 
 was the fountain-head. Some Frenclunen have in modern 
 times disputed his claims. To refute these disputants it 
 is only necessary to turn from their books to those of Vol- 
 taire and his contemporaries. The services rendered by 
 France to the human race are so great that her sons need 
 never claim any glory which does not clearly belong to 
 them. All through modern history, Frenchmen have stood 
 in the front rank of civilization. They have stood there 
 side by side with Englishmen, Italians, and Germans. 
 International jealousy should spare the leaders of human 
 thought. They belong to the whole European family of 
 nations. The attempt to set aside Locke, Newton, and 
 Bacon, as guides of the eighteenth century belongs not to 
 that age but to our own. 
 
 The works of Locke are on the shelves of most consid- 
 erable libraries; but many men, now that the study of 
 metaphysics is out of fashion, are appalled at the sugges- 
 tion that they should read an essay in three volumes on 
 the human understanding, evidently considering their own 
 minds less worthy of study than their bodies or their es- 
 tates. It may be worth while, therefore, to give a short 
 summary of those theories, or discoveries of Locke which 
 most modified French thought in the eighteenth century. 
 The great thinker was born in 1632 and died in 1704. 
 Hispnncipal works were published shortly after the Eng- 
 lish Revolution of 1688, but had been long in preparation ; 
 and the "Essay on the Human Understanding " is said to 
 have occupied him not less than twenty years. 
 
 It is the principal doctrine of Locke that all ideas are 
 derived from sensation and reflection. He acknowledges 
 that "it is a received doctrine that men have native ideas 
 and original characters stamped upon their minds in their 
 very first being;" but he utterly rejects every such the- 
 ory. It is his principal business to protest and argue 
 against the existence of such "innate ideas." Virtue he 
 believes to be generally approved because it is profitable 
 
68 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 not on account of any natural leaning of the mind in its 
 direction. Conscience "is nothing else but our own opin- 
 ion or judgment of the moral rectitude or pravity of our 
 own actions." Memory is the power in the mind to re- 
 vive perceptions which it once had, with this additional 
 perception annexed to them, that it has had them before. 
 Wit lies in the assemblage of ideas, judgment in the care- 
 ful discrimination among them. "Things are good or 
 evil only in reference to pleasure or pain;" . . . "our 
 love and hatred of inanimate, insensible beings is com- 
 monly founded on that pleasure or pain which we receive 
 from their use and application any way to our senses, 
 though with their destruction ; but hatred or love of beings 
 capable of happiness or misery is often the uneasiness or 
 delight which we find in ourselves, arising from a consid- 
 eration of their very being or happiness. Thus the being 
 and welfare of a man's children or friends, producing 
 constant delight in him, he is said constantly to love them. 
 But it suffices to note that our ideas of love and hatred 
 are but dispositions of the mind in respect of pleasure or 
 pain in general, however caused in us." 
 
 We have no clear idea of substance nor of spirit. Sub- 
 stance is that wherein we conceive qualities of matter to 
 exist ; spirit, that in which we conceive qualities of mind, 
 as tliinking, knowing, and doubting. The primary ideas 
 of body are the cohesion of solid, and therefore separate 
 parts, and a power of communicating motion by impulse. 
 The ideas of spirit are thinking and will, or a power of 
 putting body into motion by thought, and, which is con- 
 sequent to it, liberty. The ideas of existence, mobility, 
 and duration are common to both. 
 
 Locke's intelligence was clear enough to perceive that 
 these two ideas, spirit and matter, stand on a similar foot- 
 ing. Less lucid thinkers have boldly denied the exis- 
 tence of spirit while asserting that of matter. Locke's 
 system would not allow him to believe that either concep- 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 59 
 
 tlon depended on the nature of the mind itself. He 
 therefore rejected the claims of substance as unequivo- 
 cally as those of spirit, declaring it to be "only an uncer- 
 tain supposition of we know not what, i. e., of something 
 whereof we have no particular, distinct, positive idea, 
 which we take to be the substratimi or support of those 
 ideas we know." Yet he inclines on the whole toward 
 materialism. "We have," he says, "the ideas of matter 
 and thinking, but possibly shall never be able to know 
 whether any mere material being thinks, or no ; it being 
 impossible for us, by the contemplation of our own ideas, 
 without revelation, to discover whether omnipotency has 
 not given to some system of matter, fitly disposed, a 
 power to perceive and think, or else joined and fixed to 
 matter so disposed a thinking immaterial substance, it 
 being, in respect of our notions, not much more remote 
 from our comprehension to conceive that God can, if he 
 pleases, superadd to matter a faculty of thinking, than 
 that he should superadd to it another substance, with a 
 f acidty of thinking ; since we know not wherein thinking 
 consists, nor to what sort of substances the Ahnighty has 
 been pleased to give that power, which cannot be in any 
 created being, but merely by the good pleasure and power 
 of the Creator." . . . "All the great ends of morality 
 and religion," he adds, "are well secured without philo- 
 sophical proof of the soul's immateriality." As to our 
 knowledge "of the actual existence of things, we have an 
 intuitive knowledge of our own existence, and a demon- 
 strative knowledge of the existence of God ; of the exis- 
 tence of anything else, we have no other but a sensitive 
 knowledge, which extends not beyond the objects present 
 to our senses." 1 
 
 ^ Is not an intuitive knowledge suspiciously like an innate idea ? 
 Locke's Works, i. 38, 39, 72, 82, 137, 145, 231 ; ii. 10, 11, 21, 
 331, 300, 372 (Book i. cli. 3, 4, Book ii. ch. 1, 10, 11, 20, 23, Book 
 iv. cb. 3). 
 
60 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Tlie eulogy of Locke in Voltaire's "Lettres Philoso- 
 phiques " gave especial offense to the French churchmen. 
 Voltaire writes to a friend that the censor might have 
 been brought to give his approbation to all the letters 
 but this one. "I confess," he adds, "that I do not un- 
 derstand this exception, but the theologians know more 
 about it than I do, and I must take their word for it."^ 
 The letter to which the censor objected was principally 
 taken up with the doctrine of the materiality of the soul. 
 "Never," says Voltaire, "was there perhaps a wiser or 
 a more methodical spirit, a more exact logician, than 
 Locke." . . "Before him great philosophers had posi- 
 tively decided what is the soul of man ; but as they knew 
 nothing at all about it, it is very natural that they should 
 all have been of different minds." And he adds in 
 another part of the letter, "Men have long disputed on 
 the nature and immortality of the soul. As to its immor- 
 tality, that cannot be demonstrated, since people are still 
 disputing about its nature; and since, surely, we must 
 thoroughly know a created being to decide whether it is 
 immortal or not. Human reason alone is so unable to 
 demonstrate the immortality of the soul, that religion 
 has been obliged to reveal it to us. The common good of 
 all men demands that we should believe the soul to be im- 
 mortal; faith commands it; no more is needed, and the 
 matter is ahnost decided. It is not the same as to its 
 nature; it matters little to religion of what substance is 
 the soul, if only it be virtuous. It is a clock that has 
 been given us to regulate, but the maker has not told us 
 of what springs this clock is composed. "^ 
 
 1 Voltaire, li. 356 {Letter to TUeriot, 24 Feb. 1733). 
 
 2 Voltaire, xxxvii. 177, 182 {Lettres philosophiques. In the vari- 
 ous editions of Voltaire's collected works published in the last century 
 these letters do not appear as a series, but their contents is distributed 
 among the miscellaneous articles, and those of the Dictionnaire phi- 
 losophique. The reason for this was that the letters, having been 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 61 
 
 The "Lettres pliilosophiques " may be considered the 
 first of Voltaire's polemic writings. They exhibit his 
 mordant wit, his clear-sightedness and his moral courage. 
 There is in them, perhaps, more real gayety, more sponta- 
 neous fun, than in his later books. Voltaire was between 
 thirty-five and forty years old when they were written, 
 and although he possessed to the end of his long life more 
 vitality than most men, yet he was physically something 
 of an invalid, and his many exiles and disappointments 
 told upon his temper. From 1734, when these letters 
 first appeared in France, to 1778, when he died, worn out 
 with years, labors, quarrels, and honors, his activity was 
 unceasing. He had many followers and many enemies, 
 but hardly a rival. Voltaire was and is the great repre- 
 sentative of a way of looking at life ; a way which was 
 enthusiastically followed in his own time, which is fol- 
 lowed with equal enthusiasm to-day. This view he ex- 
 pressed and enforced in his numberless poems, tragedies, 
 histories, and tales. It formed the burden of his volu- 
 minous correspondence. As we read any of them, his 
 creed becomes clear to us; it is written large in every 
 one of his more than ninety volumes. It may almost be 
 said to be on every page of them. That creed may be 
 stated as follows: We know truth only by our reason. 
 That reason is enlightened only by our senses. What 
 they do not tell us we cannot know, and it is mere folly 
 to waste time in conjecturing. Imagination and feeling 
 are blind leaders of the blind. All men who pretend to 
 supernatural revelation or inspiration are swindlers, and 
 those who believe them are dupes. It may be desirable, 
 for political or social purposes, to have a favored religion 
 in the state, but freedom of opinion and of expression 
 
 judicially condemned, might have brought their publishers into trouble 
 if they had appeared under their own title. Bengesco, ii. 9. Des- 
 noiresterres, Voltaire a Cirey, 28, Voltaire, xxxvii. 113. In Beuchot's 
 edition the letters appear in their original form). 
 
62 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 should be allowed to all men, at least to all educated 
 men ; for the populace, with their crude ideas and super- 
 stitions, may be held in slight regard. 
 
 Voltaire's hatred was especially warm against the reg- 
 ular clergy. "Religion," he says, "can still sharpen 
 daggers. There is within the nation a people which has 
 no dealings with honest folk, which does not belong to the 
 age, which is inaccessible to the progress of reason, and 
 over which the atrocity of fanaticism preserves its empire, 
 like certain diseases which attack only the vilest popu- 
 lace." The best monks are the worst, and those who sing 
 the "Pervigilium Veneris" in place of matins are less 
 dangerous than such as reason, preach, and plot. And in 
 another place he says that "a religious order should not 
 form a part of history." But it is well to notice that Vol- 
 taire's hatred of Catholicism and of Catholic monks is not 
 founded on a preference for any other church. He thinks 
 that theocracy must have been universal among early 
 tribes, "for as soon as a nation has chosen a tutelary god, 
 that god has priests. These priests govern the spirit 
 of the nation; they can govern only in the name of their 
 god, so they make him speak continually; they set forth 
 his oracles, and all things are done by God's express 
 commands." From this cause come human sacrifices and 
 the most atrocious tyranny; and the more divine such a 
 government calls itself, the more abominable it is. 
 
 All prophets are impostors. Mahomet may have begun 
 as an enthusiast, enamored of his own ideas ; but he was 
 soon led away by his reveries ; he deceived himself in de- 
 ceiving others ; and finally supported a doctrine which he 
 believed to be good, by necessary imposture. Socrates, 
 who pretended to have a familiar spirit, must have been 
 a little crazy, or a little given to swindling. As for Moses, 
 he is a myth, a form of the Indian Bacchus. The Koran 
 (and consequently the Bible) may be judged by the igno- 
 rance of physics which it displays. "This is the touch- 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 63 
 
 stone of the books which, according to false religions, 
 were written by the Deity, for God is neither absurd nor 
 ignorant." Several volumes are devoted by Voltaire to 
 showing the inconsistencies, absurdities and atrocities of 
 the Old and New Testaments, and the abominations of 
 the Jews. 
 
 The positive religious opinions of Voltaire are less im- 
 portant than his negations, for the work of this great 
 writer was mainly to destroy. He was a theist, of waver- 
 ing and doubtful faith. He was well aware that any pro- 
 fession of atheism might be dangerous, and likely to in- 
 jure him at court and with some of his friends. He thought 
 that belief in God and in a future life were important to 
 the safety of society, and is said to have sent the servant 
 out of the room on one occasion when one of the company 
 was doubting the existence of the Deity, giving as a rea- 
 son that he did not want to have his throat cut. Yet it 
 is probable that his theism went a little deeper than this. 
 He says that matter is probably eternal and self -existing, 
 and that God is everlasting, and self -existing likewise. 
 Are there other Gods for other worlds ? It may be so ; 
 some nations and some scholars have believed in the exis- 
 tence of two gods, one good and one evil. Surely, nature 
 can more easily suffer, in the immensity of space, several 
 independent beings, each absolute master of its own por- 
 tion, than two limited gods in this world, one confined to 
 doing good, the other to doing evil. If God and matter 
 both exist from eternity, "here are two necessary enti- 
 ties ; and if there be two there may be thirty. We must 
 confess our ignorance of the nature of divinity." 
 
 It is noticeable that, like most men on whom the idea of 
 God does not take a very strong hold, Voltaire imagined 
 powers in some respects superior to Deity. Thus he says 
 above that nature can more easily suffer several indepen- 
 dent gods than two opposed ones. Having supposed one 
 or several gods to put the universe in order, he supposes 
 
64 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 an order anterior to the gods. This idea of a superior 
 order, Fate, Necessity, or Nature, is a very old one. It 
 is probably tlie protest of the human mind against those 
 anthropomorphic conceptions of God, from which it is 
 almost incapable of escaping. Voltaire and the Philoso- 
 phers almost without exception believed that there was 
 a system of natural law and justice connected with this 
 superior order, taught to man by instinct. Sometimes in 
 their system God was placed above this law, as its origin ; 
 sometimes, as we have seen, He was conceived as subjected 
 to Nature. " God has given us a principle of universal 
 reason," says Voltaire, ''as He has given feathers to birds 
 and fur to bears ; and this principle is so lasting that it 
 exists in spite of all the passions which combat it, in 
 spite of the tyrants who would drown it in blood, in spite 
 of the impostors who would annihilate it in superstition. 
 Therefore the rudest nation always judges very well in 
 the long run concerning the laws that govern it ; because 
 it feels that these laws either agree or disagree with the 
 principles of pity and justice which are in its heart." 
 Here we have something which seems like an innate idea 
 of virtue. But we must not expect complete consistency 
 of Voltaire. In another place he says, "Virtue and vice, 
 moral good and evil, are in all countries that which is 
 useful or injurious to society; and in all times and in all 
 places he who sacrifices the most to the public is the man 
 who will be called the most virtuous. Whence it appears 
 that good actions are nothing else than actions from which 
 we derive an advantage, and crimes are but actions that 
 are against us. Virtue is the habit of doing the things 
 which please mankind, and vice the habit of doing things 
 which displease it. Liberty, he says elsewhere, is no- 
 thing but the power to do that which our wills neces- 
 sarily require of us.^ 
 
 1 Voltaire, xx. 439 (Siecle de Louis XIV., ch. xxxvii.), xxi. 369 
 {Louis XV., ch. xxxviii.), xv. 34, 40, 123,316 {Essai sur les moeurs), 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 65 
 
 The Church of France was both angered and alarmed 
 by the writings of Voltaire and his friends, and did her 
 feeble best to reply to them. But while strong in her 
 organization and her legal powers, her internal condition 
 was far from vigorous. Incredulity had become fashion- 
 able even before the attacks of Voltaire were dangerous. 
 An earlier satirist has put into the mouth of a priest an 
 account of the difficulties which beset the clergy in those 
 days. "Men of the world," he says, "are astonishing. 
 They can bear neither our approval nor our censure. If 
 we wish to correct them, they think us ridiculous. If we 
 api^rove of them, they consider us below our calling. No- 
 thing is so humiliating as to feel that you have shocked 
 the impious. We are therefore obliged to follow an 
 equivocal line of conduct, and to check libertines not by 
 decision of character but by keeping them in doubt as to 
 how we receive what they say. This requires much wit. 
 The state of neutrality is difficult. Men of the world, 
 who venture to say anything they please, who give free 
 vent to their humor, who follow it up or let it go accord- 
 ing to their success, get on much better. 
 
 " Nor is this all. That happy and tranquil condition 
 which is so much praised we do not enjoy in society. 
 As soon as we appear, we are obliged to discuss. "We are 
 forced, for instance, to undertake to prove the utility of 
 prayer to a man who does not believe in God ; the neces- 
 sity of fasting to another who all his life has denied the 
 immortality of the soul. The task is hard, and the laugh 
 is not on our side." ^ 
 
 xlili. 74 (Examen important de Lord BoUnghroke), xxxi. 13 (Did. 
 philos. Liberie) xxxvii. 336 (Traite de metaphysique). For general 
 attacks on the Bible and the Jews, see CEuvres, xv. 123-127, xliii. 
 39-205, xxxix. 454-^04. Morley's Diderot, ii. 178. Notice how many 
 of the arguments that are still repeated nowadays concerning the 
 Mosaic account of the creation, etc. etc., come from Voltaire. Notice 
 also that Voltaire, while too incredulous of ancient writers, was too 
 credulous of modern travelers. 
 
 ^ Montesquieu, Lettres persanes, i. 210, 211, Lettre Ixi. 
 
66 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH EEVOLUTION. 
 
 The prelates appointed to their high offices by Louis 
 XV. and his courtiers were not the men to make good 
 their cause by spiritual weapons. There was no Bossuet, 
 no Fenelon in the Church of France of the eighteenth 
 century. Her defense was intrusted to far weaker men. 
 First we have the archbishops, Lefranc de Pompignan 
 of Vienne and Elie de Beaumont of Paris. Then come 
 the Jesuit Nonnotte and the managers of the Memoires 
 de Trevoux, the Benedictine Chaudon, the Abbe Tru- 
 blet, the journalist Freron, and many others, lay and 
 clerical. The answers of the churchmen to their Philo- 
 sophic opponents are generally inconclusive. Lefranc de 
 Pompignan declared that the love of dry and speculative 
 truth was a delusive fancy, good to adorn an oration, but 
 never realized by the human heart. He sneered at Locke 
 and at the idea that the latter had invented metaphysics. 
 His objections and those of the Catholic church to that 
 philosopher's teachings were chiefly that the Englishman 
 maintained that thought might be an attribute of matter ; 
 that he encouraged Pyrrhonism, or universal doubt ; that 
 his theory of identity was doubtful, and that he denied the 
 existence of innate ideas. All these matters are well open 
 to discussion, and the advantage might not always be found 
 on Locke's side. But in general the Catholic theologians 
 and their opponents were not sufficiently agreed to be able 
 to argue profitably. They had no premises in common. 
 If one of two disputants assumes that all ideas are derived 
 from sensation and reflection, and the other, that the most 
 important of them are the result of the inspiration of God, 
 there is no use in their discussing minor points until those 
 great questions are settled. The attempt to reconcile 
 views so conflicting has frequently been made, and no 
 writings are more dreary than those which embody it. 
 But men who are too far apart to cross swords in argu- 
 ment may yet hurl at each other the missiles of vitupera- 
 tion, and there were plenty of combatants to engage in 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 67 
 
 that sort of warfare with Voltaire, Rousseau, and the En- 
 cyclopaedists. 
 
 On the two sides, treatises, comedies, tales, and epigrams 
 were written. It was not difficult to point out that the 
 sayings of the various opponents of the church were in- 
 consistent with each other; that Rousseau contradicted 
 Voltaire, that Voltaire contradicted himself. There were 
 many weak places in the armor of those warriors. Pom- 
 pignan discourses at great length, dwelling more espe- 
 cially on the worship which the Philosophers paid to phy- 
 sical science, on their love of doubt, and on their mistaken 
 theory that a good Christian cannot be a patriot. Chau- 
 don, perhaps the cleverest of the clerical writers, some- 
 times throws a well directed shaft. "That same Vol- 
 taire," he says, "who thinks that satires against God are 
 of no consequence, attaches great importance to satires 
 written against himself and his friends. He is unwilling 
 to see the pen snatched from the hands of the slanderers 
 of the Deity ; but he has often tried to excite the powers 
 that be against the least of his critics." This was very 
 true of Voltaire, who was as thin-skinned as he was vio- 
 lent; and who is believed to have tried sometimes to si- 
 lence his opponents by the arbitrary method of procuring 
 from some man in power a royal order to have them locked 
 up. Palissot, in a very readable comedy, makes fim of 
 Diderot and his friends. As for invective, the supply is 
 endless on both sides. The Archbishop of Paris condemns 
 the "Emile " of Rousseau as containing a great many pro- 
 positions that are "false, scandalous, full of hatred of the 
 church and her ministers, erroneous, impious, blasphe- 
 mous, and heretical. " The same prelate argues as follows : 
 "Who would not believe, my very dear brethren, from 
 what this impostor says, that the authority of the church 
 is proved only by her own decisions, and that she proceeds 
 thus: 'I decide that I am infallible, therefore so I am.' 
 A calumnious imputation, my very dear brethren! The 
 
68 THE EVE OF THE FKENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 constitution of Christianity, the spirit of the Scriptures, 
 the very errors and the weakness of the human mind tend 
 to show that the church established by Jesus Christ is 
 infallible. We declare that, as the Divine Legislator 
 always taught the truth, so his church always teaches it. 
 We therefore prove the authority of the church, not by 
 the church's authority, but by that of Jesus Christ, a 
 process as accurate as the other, with which we are re- 
 proached, is absurd and senseless." 
 
 The arguments of the clerical writers were not all on 
 this level. Chaudon and Nonnotte prepared a series of 
 articles, arranged in the form of a dictionary, in which the 
 Catholic doctrine is set forth, sometimes clearly and for- 
 cibly. But it is evident that the champions of Catholi- 
 cism in that age were no match in controversy for her 
 adversaries. 
 
 The streno-th of a church does not lie in her doctors and 
 her orators, still less in her wits and debaters, though 
 they all have their uses. The strength of a church lies in 
 her saints. While these have a large part in her councils 
 and a wide influence among her members, a church is 
 nearly irresistible. When they are few, timid and unin- 
 fluential, knowledge and power, nay, simple piety itseK, 
 can hardly support her. In the Church of France, through 
 the ages, there have been many saints ; but in the reigns 
 of Louis XVI. and his immediate predecessor there were 
 but few, and none of prominence. The persecution of 
 the Jansenists, petty as were the forms it took, had 
 
 1 Lef ranc de Pompignan, i. 27 (Instruction pastorale sur la pretendue 
 philosopkie des incredules). Dictionnaire antiphilosophique, republished 
 and enlarged by Grosse under the title Dictionnaire d'antiphilosophisme. 
 Talissot, Les philosophes. Beaumont's '' mandement" given in Rous- 
 seau, (Euvres, vii. 22, etc. See also Barth^leray, Erreurs et mensonges, 
 S"", IS"", 14"* S^rie, articles on Fre'ron^ Nonnotte, Trublet, and Pa^ 
 trouilleU Confessions de Freron. Nisard, Les ennemis de Voltaire. The 
 superiority of the Philosophers over the churchmen in argument is 
 too evident to be denied. Carnd, 408. 
 
THE CHURCH AND VOLTAIRE. 69 
 
 turned aside from ardent fellowship in the church many of 
 the most earnest, religious souls in France. The atmos- 
 phere of the country was not then favorable to any kind 
 of heroism. Such seK-devoted Christians as there were 
 went quietly on their ways ; their existence to be proved 
 only when, in the worst days of the Revolution, a few of 
 them should find the crown of martyrdom. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE NOBILITY. 
 
 The second order in the state was the Nobility. It is 
 fl mistake, however, to suppose that this word bears on 
 the Continent exactly the same meaning as in England. 
 Where all the children of a nobleman are nobles, a strict 
 class is created. An English peerage, descending only 
 to the eldest son, is more in the nature of an office. The 
 French noblesse in the latter years of the old monarchy 
 comprised nearly all persons living otherwise than by 
 their daily toil, together with the higher part of the legal 
 profession. While the clergy had political rights and a 
 corporate existence, and acted by means of an assembly, 
 the nobility had but privileges. This, however, was true 
 only of the older provinces, the "Lands of Elections," 
 whose ancient rights had been abolished. In some of the 
 "Lands of Estates," which still kept a remnant of self- 
 government, the order was to some extent a political body 
 with constitutional rights. 
 
 The nobility have been reckoned at about one hundred 
 thousand souls, forming twenty -five or thirty thousand 
 families, owning one fifth of the soil of France. Only a 
 part of this land, however, was occupied by the nobles 
 for their gardens, parks, and chases. The greater por- 
 tion was let to farmers, either at a fixed rent, or on the 
 metaijer system, by which the landlord was paid by a 
 share of the crops. And beside his rent or his portion, 
 the noble received other things from his tenants : pay- 
 ments and services according to ancient custom, days of 
 labor, and occasional dues. He could tramp over the 
 
THE NOBILITY. 71 
 
 ploughed lands with his servants in search of game, al- 
 though he might destroy the growing corn. The game 
 itself, which the peasant might not kill, was still more de- 
 structive. Such rights as these, especially where they 
 were harshly enforced, caused both loss and irritation to 
 the poor. Although there were far too many absentees 
 among the great families, yet the larger number of the 
 nobles spent most of their time at home on their estates, 
 looking after their farms and their tenants, attending to 
 local business, and saving up money to be spent in visits 
 to the towns, or to Paris. When they were absent, their 
 bailiffs were harder masters than themselves. Unfortu- 
 nately the eyes of the noble class were turned rather to 
 the enjoyments of the city and the court than to the du- 
 ties of country life on their estates, an inevitable conse- 
 quence of their loss of local power. 
 
 If the nobles had few political rights, they had plenty 
 of public privileges. They were exempt from the most 
 onerous taxes, and the best places under the government 
 were reserved for them. Therefore every man who rose 
 to eminence or to wealth in France strove to enter their 
 ranks, and since nobility was a purchasable commodity, 
 through the multiplication of venal offices which conferred 
 it, none who had much money to spend failed to secure 
 the coveted rank. Thus the order had come to comprise 
 almost all persons of note, and a great part of the educated 
 class. To describe its ideas and aspirations is to describe 
 those of most of the leaders of France. Nobility was no 
 longer a mark of high birth, nor a brevet of distinction ; 
 it was merely a sign that a man, or some of his ancestors, 
 had had property. Of course all persons in the order were 
 not equal. The descendants of the old families, which 
 had been great in the land for hundreds of years, de- 
 spised the mushroom noblemen of yesterday, and talked 
 contemptuously of "nobility of the gown." Theirs was 
 of the sword, and dated from the Crusades. And under 
 
72 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Louis XVI., after tlie first dismissal of Necker, there 
 was a reaction, and ground gained by the older nobility 
 over the newer, and by both over the inferior classes. As 
 the Kevolution draws near and financial embarrassment 
 grows more acute, the pickings of the favored class have 
 become scarcer, while the appetite for them has increased. 
 Preferment in church or state must no longer go to the 
 vulgar. 
 
 There is a distinction among nobles quite apart from 
 the length of their pedigree. We find a higher and 
 a lower nobility, with no clear line of division between 
 them. They are in fact the very rich, whose families 
 have some prominence, and the moderately well off. For 
 it may be noticed that among nobles of all times and coun- 
 tries, although wealth unaided may not give titles and 
 place, it is pretty much a condition precedent for acquir- 
 ing them. A man may be of excellent family, and poor; 
 but to be a great noble, a man must be rich. In old 
 France the road to preferment was through the court; 
 but to shine at court a considerable income was required ; 
 and so the noblesse de cour was more or less identical with 
 the richer nobility. 
 
 In this small but influential part of the nation, both the 
 good and the bad qualities which are favored by court life 
 had reached a high degree of development. The old 
 French nobility has sometimes been represented as ex- 
 hibiting the best of manners and the worst of morals. I 
 believe that both sides of the picture have been painted 
 in too high colors. The courtier was not always polite, 
 nor were all great nobles libertines. Faithful husbands 
 and wives were by no means exceptional ; although, as in 
 other places, well behaved people did not make a parade 
 of their morality. There is such a thing as a French 
 prig; but prigs are neither common nor popular in 
 France. Before the Revolution the art of pleasing was 
 more studied than it is to-day, — that art by which men 
 
THE NOBILITY. * 73 
 
 and women make themselves agreeable to their acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 "In old times, under Louis XV. and Louis XVI.," 
 says the Viscount of Segur, "a young man entering society 
 made what was called a cUhut. He cultivated accom- 
 plishments. His father suggested and directed this work, 
 for work it was ; but the mother, the mother only, could 
 bring her son to that last degree of politeness, of grace 
 and amiability, which completed his education. Beside 
 her natural tenderness, her pride was so much at stake 
 that you may judge what care, what studied pains, she 
 used in giving her children, on their entrance into soci- 
 ety, all the charm that she could develop in them, or be- 
 stow upon them. Thence came that rare politeness, that 
 exquisite taste, that moderation in speech and jest, that 
 graceful carriage, in short that combination which char- 
 acterized what was called good company, and which always 
 distinguished French society even among foreigners. If 
 a young man, because of his youth, had failed in attention 
 to a lady, in consideration for a man older than himself, 
 in deference for old age, the mother of the thoughtless 
 young feUow was informed of it by her friends the same 
 evening ; and on the following day he was sure to receive 
 advice and reproof."^ 
 
 The instruction thus early given was not confined to 
 forms. Indeed, French society in that day was probably 
 less formal in some ways than any other European soci- 
 ety ; and in Paris people were more free than in the prov- 
 inces. Although making a bow was a fine art, although 
 a lady's curtsey was exj3ected to be at once "natural, soft, 
 modest, gracious, and dignified," ceremonious greetings 
 were considered unnecessary, and few compliments were 
 paid. To praise a woman's beauty to her face would 
 have been to disparage her modesty. Good manners 
 
 1 The Viscount of Sdgur was brother to the Count of S^gur, from 
 the preface to whose Memoirs this extract is taken. 
 
74 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 consisted in no small part in distinguishing perfectly what 
 was due to every one, and in expressing that distinction 
 with lightness and grace. Different modes of address 
 were appropriate toward parents, relations, friends, ac- 
 quaintances, strangers, your superiors in rank, your poor 
 dependents, yet all must be treated with courtesy and 
 consideration. Such manners are possible only where 
 social distinctions are positively ascertained. In old 
 France, at least, every man had his place and knew where 
 he was. 
 
 But it was in their dealings with ladies that the French- 
 men of that day showed the perfection of their system. 
 Vicious they might be, but discourteous they were not. 
 No well-bred man would then appear in a lady's room care- 
 lessly dressed, or in boots. In speech between the sexes, 
 the third person was generally used, and a gentleman in 
 speaking to a lady dropped his voice to a lower tone than 
 he employed to men. Gentlemen were careful before 
 ladies not to treat even each other with familiarity. Still 
 less would one of them, however intimate he might be 
 with a lady's husband or brother, speak to her of his 
 friend by any name less formal than his title. These 
 habits have left their mark in France and elsewhere to 
 this day; but the mark is fast disappearing, not altogether 
 to the advantage of social life.^ 
 
 Friendship between men was sometimes carried so far 
 as to interfere with the claims of domestic affection. At 
 least it was faithful and sincere, and the man on whom 
 fortune had frowned, the fallen minister, or the disgraced 
 courtier, was followed in his adversity by the kindness of 
 his friends. Of all the virtues this is perhaps the one 
 which in our hurried age tends most to disappear. It is 
 left for the occupation of idle hours, and the smallest piece 
 of triviality which can be tortured into the name of busi- 
 ness, is allowed to crowd away those constantly repeated 
 1 Genlis, Dictionnaire des Etiquettes, i. 94, 218 ; ii. 194, 347. 
 
THE NOBILITY. 75 
 
 attentions which might add a true grace and refinement 
 to the lives of those who gave and of those who received 
 them. It is often said that friendships are formed only 
 in youth. Is not this partly because youth alone will take 
 time to form them? In France, before the Revolution, 
 men of all ages made friendships, and supported them 
 by the consideration for others which is at the bottom of 
 all politeness. The Frenchman is nervous and irritable. 
 When he lets his temper get beyond his control, he is 
 fierce and violent. He has little of the easy-going good- 
 nature under inconveniences, which some branches of the 
 Teutonic race believe themselves to possess. He has less 
 kindly merriment than the Tuscan. But he has trained 
 himself for social life ; and has learned, when on his good 
 behavior, to make others happy about him. And it is 
 part of the well-bred Frenchman's pride and happiness to 
 be almost always on his good behavior. 
 
 In one respect Paris in the eighteenth century was more 
 like a provincial town than like a great modern capital. 
 Acquaintanceship had not swallowed up intimacy. A 
 man or a woman did not undertake to keep on terms of 
 civility with so many people that he could not find time 
 to see his best friends oftener than once or twice a year. 
 The much vaunted saIo7isoi the old monarchy were charm- 
 ing, in great measure because they were reasonably organ- 
 ized. An agreeable woman would draw her friends about 
 her; they would meet in her parlor until they knew each 
 other, and would be together often enough to keep touch 
 intellectually. The talker knew his audience and felt at 
 home with it. The listener had learned to expect some- 
 thing worth hearing. The mistress of the house kept lan- 
 guage and men within bounds, and had her own way of 
 getting rid of bores. But even French wit and vivacity 
 were not always equal to the demands upon them. "I 
 remember," says Montesquieu, "that I once had the curi- 
 osity to count how many times I should hear a little story, 
 
76 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 which certainly did not deserve to be told or remembered ; 
 during three weeks that it occupied the polite world, 1 
 heard it repeated two hundred and twenty-five times, 
 which pleased me much."^ 
 
 Beside the tie of friendship we may set that of the fam- 
 ily. In old France this bond was much closer than it is 
 in modern America. If a man rose in the world, the ben- 
 efit to his relations was greater than now ; and there was 
 no theory current that a ruler, or a man in a position of 
 trust, shoidd exclude from the places under him those 
 persons with whom he is best acquainted, and of whose 
 fidelity to himself and to his employers he has most rea- 
 son to be sure. On the other hand, a disgrace to one 
 member of a family spread its blight on all the others, and 
 the judicial condemnation of one man might exclude his 
 near relations from the public service — a state of things 
 which was beginning to be repugnant to the public con- 
 science, but which had at least the merit of forming a 
 strong band to restrain the tempted from his contemplated 
 crime. 
 
 In fact, the old idea of the family as an organic whole, 
 with common joys, honors, and responsibilities, common 
 sorrows and disgraces, was giving way to the newer notion 
 of individualism. In France, however, the process never 
 went so far as it has done in some other countries, includ- 
 ing our own. 
 
 Good manners were certainly the rule at the French 
 court, but there were exceptions, and not inconspicuous 
 ones, for Louis XV. was an unfeeling man, and Louis 
 XVI. was an awkward one. When Mademoiselle Genet, 
 fifteen years old, was first engaged as reader to the former 
 king's daughters, she was in a state of agitation easy to 
 imagine. The court was in mourning, and the great 
 rooms hung with black, the state armchairs on platforms, 
 several steps above the floor, the feathers and the shoul- 
 ^ (Euvres, vii. 179 {Pensees diverses). 
 
THE NOBILITY. 77 
 
 der-knots embroidered with tinsel made a deep impres- 
 sion on her. When the king first approached, she thought 
 him very imposing. He was going a-hunting, and was 
 followed by a numerous train. He stopped short in front 
 of the young girl and the following dialogue took place : — 
 
 "Mademoiselle Genet, I am told that you are very 
 learned; that you know four or five foreign languages." 
 
 "I know only two, sir," trembling. 
 
 "Which are they?" 
 
 "English and Italian." 
 
 "Do you speak them fluently? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, very fluently." 
 
 "That 's quite enough to put a husband out of temper;" 
 and the king went on, followed by his laughing train, and 
 left the poor little girl standing abashed and disconsolate.^ 
 
 The memoirs of the time are full of stories proving that 
 the rigorous enforcement of etiquette and the general 
 training in good manners had not done away with eccen- 
 tricity of behavior. The Count of Osmont, for instance, 
 was continually fidgeting with anything that might come 
 under his hand, and could not see a snuff-box without 
 ladling out the snuff with three fingers, and sprinkling it 
 over his clothes like a Swiss porter. He sometimes va- 
 ried this pleasant performance by putting the box itseK 
 under his nose, to the great disgust of whomever happened 
 to be its owner. He once spent a week at the house of 
 Madame de Vassy, a lady who was young and good- 
 looking enough, but stiff and ceremonious. This lady 
 wore a skirt of crimson velvet over a big panier, and was 
 covered with pearls and diamonds. Madame de Vassy 
 would not reprove Monsieur d' Osmont in words for his 
 method of treating her magnificent golden snuff-box ; but 
 used to get up from her place at the card-table as soon as 
 he had so used it, empty all the snuff into the fireplace, 
 and ring for more. D' Osmont, meanwhile, would go on 
 1 Campan, i. pp. vi. viii. 
 
78 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 without noticing her, laugli and swear over liis cards, and 
 get in a passion with himself if the luck ran against him. 
 Yet when he was not playing, the man was lively, modest 
 and amiable, and except for his fidgety habits, had the 
 tone of the best society.-^ 
 
 That which above all things distinguished the French 
 nobility, and especially the highest ranks of it, from 
 the rest of mankind was the amount of leisure which it 
 enjoyed. Most people in the world have to work, most 
 aristocracies to govern. The English gentleman of the 
 eighteenth century farmed his estates, acted as a magis- 
 trate, took part in politics. Living in the country, he 
 was a mighty hunter. The French nobleman, unless he 
 were an officer in the army (and even the officers had in- 
 ordinately long leave of absence), had nothing to do but 
 to kill time. Only the poorer country gentlemen ever 
 thought of farming their own lands. For the unemployed 
 nobles of Paris, there was but occasional sport to be had. 
 Indeed, the Frenchman, although he likes the more violent 
 and tumultuous kinds of hunting, is not easily interested 
 in the quieter and more lasting varieties of sport. He 
 will joyfully chase the wild boar, when horses, dogs, and 
 horns, with the admiration of his friends and servants, 
 concur to keep his blood boiling ; but he will not care to 
 plod alone through the woods for a long afternoon on the 
 chance of bringing home a brace of woodcock ; nor can he 
 mention fishing without a sneer. Being thus deprived of 
 the chief resource by which Anglo-Saxons combine activity 
 and indolence, the French nobility cultivated to their high- 
 est pitch those human pleasures which are at once the most 
 vivid and the most delicate. They devoted themselves to 
 society and to love-making. Too quick-witted to fall into 
 sloth, too proud to become drunkards or gluttons, they 
 dissipated their lives in conversation and stained their 
 souls with intrigue. Never, probably, have the arts which 
 1 Dufort, ii. 46. 
 
THE NOBILITY. 79 
 
 make social intercourse delightful been carried to so high 
 a degree of excellence as among them. Kever perhaps, in 
 a Christian country, have offenses against the laws of mar- 
 riage been so readily condoned, where outward decency 
 was not violated, as in the upper circles of France in the 
 century preceding the Revolution. 
 
 The vice of Parisian society under Louis XV. and his 
 grandson presented a curious character. Adultery had 
 acquired a regular standing, and connections dependent 
 upon it were openly, if tacitly recognized. Such iUicit 
 alliances were even governed by a morality of their own, 
 and the attempt to induce a woman to be unfaithful to 
 her criminal lover might be treated as an insult. ^ But 
 this pedantry of vice was not always maintained. There 
 were men and women in high life who changed their con- 
 nections very frequently, yielding to the caprice of the 
 moment, as the senses or the wit might lead them. Such 
 people were not passionate, but simply depraved; yet the 
 mass of the community, deterred partly by fear of ridicule, 
 and partly by the Philosophic spirit which had decided 
 that chastity was not a part of natural morals, did not 
 visit them with very severe condemnation. 
 
 If eccentricity sometimes overrode etiquette and even 
 politeness, good morals and religion not infrequently made 
 a stand against corruption. There were loving wives and 
 careful mothers among the highest nobility. Of the 
 Duchess of Ayen we get a description from her children. 
 Her mansion was in the Rue St. Honore, and had a garden 
 running back ahnost to that of the Tuileries (for the Rue 
 de Rivoli was not then in existence). The house was 
 known for the beauty of its apartments, and for the superb 
 
 1 Witness Rousseau and Mine. d'Houdetot in the Confessions. 
 Mile. d'Aydie was accounted very virtuous for dissuading her lover 
 from marrying her, even after the birth of her child, for fear of in- 
 juring his prospects. Yet the match would not seemj to modern 
 ideas, to have been a very unequal one. 
 
80 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 collection of pictures which it contained. After dinner, 
 which was served at three o'clock, the duchess would re- 
 tire to her bedchamber, a large room hung with crimson 
 damask, and take her place in a great armchair by the 
 fire. Her books, her work, her snuff-box, were within 
 reach. She would call her five girls about her. These, 
 on chairs and footstools, squabbling gently at times for 
 the places next their mother, would tell of their excur- 
 sions, their lessons, the little events of every day. There 
 was nothing frivolous in their education. Their old nurse 
 had not filled their minds with fairy tales, but with sto- 
 ries from the Old Testament and with anecdotes of heroic 
 actions. 
 
 The pleasures of these girls were simple. Once or 
 twice in a summer they went on a visit to their ^grand- 
 father, the Marshal de Noailles at Saint Germain en Laye. 
 In the autumn they spent a week with their other grand- 
 father, Monsieur d'Aguesseau at Fresnes. An excursion 
 into the suburbs, a ride on donkeys on the slopes of Mont 
 Valerien, made up their innocent dissipations. Their 
 most frivolous excitement was to see their governess fall 
 off her donkey. 
 
 The piety of the duchess might in some respects appear 
 extravagant. Her fourth daughter had two beggars of 
 the parish for god-parents, as a constant reminder of hu- 
 mility. The same child was of a violent and willful dis- 
 position, but was converted at the age of eleven and be- 
 came mild, patient, and studious. The conversion of so 
 young a sinner, and the seriousness with which the event 
 was treated by the family, seem rather to belong to the 
 atmosphere of Puritanism than to that of the Catholi- 
 cism of the eighteenth century. But if the religion of 
 the Duchess of Ayen sometimes led her to fantastic ex- 
 tremes, these were not its principal characteristics. Her 
 piety was applied to the conduct of her daily life and to 
 the education of her daughters in honesty, reasonableness, 
 
THE NOBILITY. 81 
 
 and seK-devotion. Their faith and hers were to be tested 
 by the hardest trials, and to be victorious both iii prison 
 and on the scaffold. We are fortunate in possessing their 
 biographies. In how many cases at the same time and 
 in the same country did similar virtues go unrecorded ? ^ 
 
 As for the smaller nobility, the "sparrow hawks," ^ liv- 
 ing in the country, they dwelt among their less exalted 
 neighbors, doing good or evil as the character of each one 
 of them directed. Sometimes we find them on friendly 
 terms with the villagers, acting as godfathers and god- 
 mothers to the children, summoning the peasants to take 
 part in the chase, or to dance in the courtyard of the 
 castle. We find them endowing hospitals, giving alms, 
 keeping an eye on the conduct of the village priest. A 
 continual interchange of presents goes on between the 
 cottaofe and the o^reat house. A new lord is welcomed 
 by salvos of musketry, the ladies of his family are met by 
 young girls bearing flowers. Such relations as these are 
 said to have grown less common as the great Revolution 
 drew near. It has often been remarked of the Vendee 
 and Brittany, where a larger proportion of lords resided 
 on their estates than was the case elsewhere, that a 
 friendlier feeling was there cultivated between the upper 
 and the lower classes ; and that it was in those provinces 
 that a stand was made by lords and peasants alike for 
 the maintenance of the old order of things. In some 
 parts of the country the peasants and their lords were 
 continually quarreling and going to law. The royal in- 
 tendant was besieged with complaints. The poor could 
 not get their pay for their work. They received blows 
 instead of money. Arrogance and injustice on the one 
 side were met by im\Kidence and fraud on the other. 
 The old leadership had passed away. The upper class 
 had lost its power and its responsibility ; it insisted the 
 
 1 Vide Madame de Lafayette, Mme. de Montagu. 
 
 2 Hoberaux. 
 
82 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 more tenaciously on its privileges. Exemption from cer- 
 tain taxes was the chief of these, but there were others 
 as irritating if less important. Quarrels arose with the 
 priest about the lord's right to be first given the holy 
 water. One vicar in his wrath deluged his lordship's 
 new wig. 
 
 In general, we may conceive of the lesser nobles, de- 
 prived of their useful function of regulating and adminis- 
 tering the country, leading somewhat penurious and use- 
 less lives. They hunted a good deal, they slept long. 
 Generally they did not eat overmuch, for gluttony is not 
 a vice of their race. They grumbled at the ascendency 
 of the court, and at the new army-regulations. They 
 preserved in their families the noble virtues of dignity 
 and obedience. Children asked their parents' blessing on 
 their knees before they went to bed. The elder Mira- 
 beau, the grim Friend of Men, still knelt nightly before 
 his mother in his fiftieth year. The children honored 
 their parents in fact as well as in form, and took no im- 
 portant step in life without paternal consent. The boys 
 ran rather wild in their youth, but settled down at the ap- 
 proach of middle life; the oldest inheriting the few or 
 barren paternal acres; the younger sons equally noble, 
 and thus debarred from lucrative occupations, pushing 
 their fortunes in the army. The girls were married young 
 or went into a convent. Marriages were arranged en- 
 tirely by the parents. "My father," said a young noble- 
 man, " I am told that you have agreed on a marriage for 
 me. "Would you be kind enough to tell me if the report 
 be true, and what is the name of the lady? " "My son," 
 answered his parent, "be so good as to mind your own 
 business, and not to come to me with questions." ^ 
 
 1 Babeau, Le Village^ 158. Ch. de Ribbe, 169. Mme. de Mon- 
 tagu, 57. Genlis, Dictionnaire des Etiquettes ^ i. 71. Lavergne, Les 
 Economistes, 127. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ARMY. 
 
 The nobility of France was essentially a military class. 
 Its privileges were claimed on account of services rendered 
 in the field. The priests pray, the nobles fight, the com- 
 mons pay for all; such was the theory of the state. It is 
 true that the nobility no longer furnished the larger part 
 of the armies ; that the old feudal levies of ban and rear- 
 ban, in which the baron rode at the head of his vassals, 
 were no longer called out. But still the soldier's life was 
 considered the proper career of the nobleman. A large 
 proportion of the members of the order were commis- 
 sioned officers, and most officers were members of the 
 order. 
 
 The rule which required proofs of nobility as a prere- 
 quisite to obtaining a commission was not severely enforced 
 in the reign of Louis XV. , and in the earlier years of his 
 successor. In many regiments it was usual to promote 
 one or two deserving sergeants every year. In others the 
 necessary certificate of birth coidd be signed by any noble- 
 man and was often obtained from greed or good-nature. 
 Moreover, an order of 1750 had provided that officers of 
 plebeian extraction should sometimes be ennobled for dis- 
 tinguished services. But in 1781, a new rule was estab- 
 lished. No one could thenceforth receive a commission 
 as second lieutenant who could not show four generations 
 of nobility on his father's side, counting himself. Thus 
 were all members of families recently ennobled excluded 
 from the service, and no door was left open to the military 
 ambition of people belonging to the middle class ; although 
 
84 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 that class was yearly increasing in importance. More- 
 over, strict genealogical proofs were required, the candi- 
 date for a commission having to submit his papers to the 
 royal herald. Exceptions were made in favor of the sons 
 of members of the military order of Saint Louis. ^ 
 
 But all nobles were not on the same footing in the 
 army. Among the regimental officers two classes might 
 be distinguished. There were, on the one hand, the en- 
 signs, lieutenants, captains, majors, and lieutenant-colo- 
 nels, who generally belonged to the poorer nobility. They 
 served long and for small pay, with little hope of the more 
 brilliant rewards of the profession. They did their work 
 and stayed with their regiments, although leave of ab- 
 sence was not difficult to obtain in time of peace. Their 
 lives were hard and frugal, a captain's pay not exceeding 
 twenty -five hundred livres, which was perhaps doubled by 
 allowances. On the other hand were the colonels and 
 second colonels, young men of influential families, who, 
 at most, passed through the lower ranks to learn some- 
 thing of the duties of an officer. Their commissions were 
 procured by favor. There was scarce a bishop about the 
 court who did not have a candidate for a colonelcy, 
 scarcely a pretty woman who did not aspire to make her 
 friend a captain. The rich young men, thus promoted, 
 threw their money about freely in camp and garrison. 
 Thus if the nobility had exclusive privileges, the- court 
 had privileges that excluded those of the rest of the nobil- 
 ity, and in the very last days of the old monarchy, these 
 also were enhanced. The Board of War in 1788, decided 
 that no one should become a general officer who had not 
 
 ^ Sdgur, i. 82, 158. Cherest, i. 14. Anciennes lois fran^aises, 22d 
 May, 1781. The regiments to which the regulation applies are those 
 of French infantry (not foreign regiments), cavalry, light horse, 
 dragoons, and chasseurs a cheval. This would seem to exclude the 
 artillery and engineers . The foreign regiments appear to have been 
 included in a later order. Cherest, i. 24. 
 
THE ARMY. 85 
 
 previously been a colonel ; and colonels' commissions, be- 
 sides being very expensive, were given, as above stated, 
 by favor alone. Thus on the eve of the Revolution were 
 the bands of privilege drawn tighter in France.^ 
 
 The colonels thus appointed were generally not wanting 
 in courage. The French nobility of all degrees was 
 ready enough to give its blood on the battle-field. Thus 
 the son of the Duke of Boufflers, fourteen years old, had 
 been made colonel of the regiment which bore the name 
 of his family. The duke served as a lieutenant-general 
 in the same army. Fearing that the boy might not know 
 how to behave in battle, the father, on the first occasion, 
 obtained permission from the Marshal, Maurice de Saxe, 
 commander of the army, to accompany his son as a volun- 
 teer. The boy's regiment was ordered to attack the in- 
 trenched village of Raucoux. The young colonel and his 
 father, followed by two pages, led their men against the 
 intrenchments. When they reached the works, the duke 
 took his son in his arms and threw him over the parapet. 
 He himself followed, and both came off unhurt, but the 
 two pages were shot dead.^ 
 
 In America, as in Europe, the young favorites of for- 
 tune were ready enough to fight. Such men as Lauzim, 
 Segur, or the Viscount of Noailles asked nothing better 
 than adventures, whether of war or love; but in peace 
 they could not be looked on as satisfactory or hard-work- 
 ing officers. Yet they and their like continued to get ad- 
 vancement. Ordinances might be passed from time to 
 time, requiring age or length of service, but ordinances 
 in old France did not apply to the great. The poorer 
 nobility might grumble, but the court families continued 
 to get the good places. The lieutenant-colonels and the 
 other workinjr officers of the armv had but little chance 
 of rising to be general officers. Even before the order of 
 1788, promotion fell to the courtier colonels. The baton 
 
 1 S^gur, i. 154. Chdrest, u. 90. 2 Moutbarey, i. 38. 
 
86 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of the marshals of France was placed in the hands only of 
 the very highest nobility. All over Europe in the seven* 
 teenth and eighteenth centuries, armies were often com- 
 manded by men born to princely rank. That this did 
 not necessarily mean that they were ill commanded may 
 be shown by the names of Turenne and Conde, Maurice 
 de Saxe and Eugene of Savoy, Prince Henry of Prussia 
 and Frederick the Great. 
 
 While the higher commands were thus monopolized (or 
 nearly so) by the rich and powerful, the poorer nobility 
 flocked into the army, to occupy the subordinate ranks 
 of commissioned officers. Sometimes they came through 
 the military schools. The most important of these had 
 been founded at Paris in 1750, by the financier Paris-Du- 
 verney. Here several hundred young gentlemen, mostly 
 born poor and preferably the sons of officers, received 
 a military education. The boys came to the school from 
 their homes in the country between the ages of nine and 
 eleven, rustic little figures sometimes, in wooden shoes 
 and woolen caps, like the peasant lads who had been their 
 early playmates. They were taught the duties of gentle- 
 men and officers, cleanliness, an upright carriage, the 
 manual and tactics, and something of military science. 
 Other schools, kept by monks, existed in the provinces 
 where the young aspirants for commissions learned en- 
 gineering and the theory of artillery. But many young 
 noblemen entered their career by a process more in ac- 
 cordance with youthful tastes. We find boys in camp in 
 time of war, evading the orders which forbade entering 
 the service before the age of sixteen. Children of twelve 
 and thirteen are wounded in battle.^ 
 
 As the only form of active life in which most nobles 
 
 could take part was found in the army, there was always 
 
 too large a number of officers, and too great a proportion 
 
 of the military expenses was devoted to them. In 1787 
 
 1 Babeau, Vie militairet ii. 7, 45. Montbarey, i. 18.^. 
 
THE ARMY. 87 
 
 hardly more than one in three of those holding commis- 
 sions was in active service. The number of soldiers 
 under Louis XVI. was less than a hundred and fifty 
 thousand actually with the colors. There were thirty-six 
 thousand officers, on paper; thirteen thousand actively 
 employed. The soldiers cost the state 44,100,000 livres 
 a year, the officers 46,400,000 livres. ^ 
 
 The relation between the officers and the soldiers of the 
 old French army was more intimate and kindly than that 
 existing in any other European army of the time. For 
 both, their regiment was a home, and the military service 
 a lifelong profession. They had entered it young, and 
 they hoped to die in it. Their relation to each other had 
 become a part of the structure of their minds; a con- 
 dition of coherent thought. A soldier might rise from 
 the ranks and become a lieutenant, or even a captain, but 
 such promotion was infrequent ; few common soldiers had 
 the education or the means to aspire to it. On the other 
 hand, the command of a company was sometimes almost 
 hereditary. The captain might be lord of the village in 
 which his soldiers were born. In that case he would care 
 for them in sickness, and perhaps even grant a furlough 
 when the private was much needed by his family at home. 
 His own chance of promotion was small. He expected 
 to do the work of his life in that company, among those 
 soldiers, with perhaps his younger brother, or, in time, 
 his son, as his lieutenant. It would seem that in the 
 years immediately preceding the French Revolution these 
 kindly relations were in some measure dying out. The 
 captain was no longer so closely connected with his com- 
 pany as he had been. Officialism was taking the place of 
 those personal connections which had characterized the 
 feudal system. The gulf between soldiers and officers, if 
 nftt harder to cross for the ambitious, separated the com- 
 
 1 Babcau, Vie rnilitaire, i. 15 ; ii. 90, 145. Necker, De V Administra- 
 lion, ii. 415, 418. 
 
88 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 monplace members of each group more widely from those 
 of the other. ^ 
 
 The private soldiers of King Louis XVI., who stood 
 in lono- white lines on parade at Newport, while their 
 many colored flags floated above and the officers bran- 
 dished their spontoons in front, or who rushed in night 
 attack on the advanced redoubt at Yorktown, were not, 
 like modern European soldiers, brought together by con- 
 scription. They were, nominally at least, volunteers. 
 Unruly lads, mechanics out of work, runaway apprentices, 
 v/ere readily drawn into the service by skillful recruiting 
 officers. Thirty years before, it had been the custom of 
 these landsharks to cheat or bully young men into the 
 service. The raw youth, arriving in Paris from the coun- 
 try, had been offered by a chance acquaintance a place as 
 servant in a gentleman's family, and after signing an en- 
 gagement had found himself bound for eight years to serve 
 His Majesty, in one of his regiments of foot. The young 
 barber-surgeon had waked from a carouse with the king's 
 silver in his pocket. Such things were still common in 
 Germany. In France some effort had been made to reg- 
 ulate the activity of the recruiting officers. Complaints 
 of force or fraud in enlistment received attention from the 
 authorities. The soldiers of Louis XVL, therefore, were 
 engaged with comparative fairness. The infantry came 
 mostly from the towns, the cavalry and artillery from the 
 country. The soldiers were derived from the lowest part 
 of the population. Whether they improved or deterio- 
 rated in the service depended on their officers. In any 
 case they became entirely absorbed in it. The soldier did 
 not keep even the name by which he had been known in 
 common life. He assumed, or was given, a iiom de guerre 
 such as La Tulippe, La Tendresse, Pollux, Pot-de-Vin, 
 Vide-bouteille, or Ya-de-bon-coeur. His term of service 
 
 1 Babeau, Vie militaire, i. 43, 189. Montbarey, ii. 272. Moore'g 
 View, i. 365. 
 
THE ARMY. 89 
 
 was seven or eight years, but he was by no means sure 
 of getting a fair discharge at the end of it ; and was in 
 any case likely to reenlist. Thus the recruit had in fact 
 entered upon the profession of his life.^ 
 
 The uniforms of the day were ill adapted to campaign- 
 ing. The French soldier of the line wore white clothes 
 with colored trimmings, varying according to his regi- 
 ment. On his head was perched the triangular cocked hat 
 of the period, standing well out over his ears, but hardly 
 shading his eyes. Beneath it his hair was powdered, or 
 rather, pasted ; for the powder was sifted on to the wet 
 hair, and caked in the process. The condition of the mass 
 after a rainy night at the camp-fire may be imagined. In 
 some regiments the wearing of a moustache was required, 
 and those soldiers whom nature had not supplied with such 
 an ornament were obliged to put on a false one, fastened 
 with pitch, which was liable to cause abcesses on the 
 lip. Sometimes a fine, uniform color was produced in 
 the moustaches of a whole regiment by means of boot- 
 blacking. Broad white belts were crossed upon the breast. 
 The linen gaiters, white on parade, black for the march, 
 came well above the knee, and a superfluous number of 
 garters impeded the step. It was a tedious matter to put 
 these things on ; and if a pebble got in through a button- 
 hole, the soldier was tempted to leave it in his shoe, until 
 it had made his foot sore. Uniforms were seldom re- 
 newed. The coat was expected to last three years, the 
 hat two, the breeches one.^ 
 
 All parts of the soldier's uniform were tight and close 
 fitting. I think that this was learned from the Prussians. 
 The ideal of the army as a machine seems to have origi- 
 
 1 Babeau, Vie militaire, i. 55, 136, 182. Mercier, x. 273. Sdgur, i. 
 222 ; Encyc. meth. Art milit. ii. 177 {Desertion). 
 
 2 Babeau, Vie militaire, i. 93. Encyc. meth. Art milit. i. 589 (Chaus- 
 sure) ii. 179. Susane, ix. (Plates). See also a very interesting little 
 book by a great raau, Maurice de Saxe, Les Reveries. 
 
90 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 nated, or at least to have been first worked out in Ger- 
 many. Such an ideal was a natural consequence of the 
 military system of the age. Of the soldiers of Frederick 
 the Great only one-half were his born subjects. Other 
 German princes enlisted as many foreigners as they could. 
 In the French army were many regiments of foreign mer- 
 cenaries. Nowhere was the pay high, or the soldier well 
 treated. Desertion was very common. Under these cir- 
 cumstances mechanical precision became an invaluable 
 quality. The soldier must be held in very strict bands, 
 for if left free he might turn against the power that em- 
 ployed him. 
 
 The connection between a rigid system in which no- 
 thing is left to the soldier's intelligence or initiative, and a 
 tight uniform, which confines his movements, is both deep 
 and evident. If a man is never to have his own way, his 
 master will inevitably find means to make him needlessly 
 uncomfortable. As the modern owner of a horse some- 
 times diminishes the working power of the animal by 
 check-reins and martingales, so the despot of the eigh- 
 teenth century buckled and buttoned his military cattle 
 into shape, and made them take unnatural paces. But 
 even under these disadvantages the French soldiers sur- 
 passed all others in grace and ease of bearing. Officers 
 were sometimes accused of sacrificing the efficiency of 
 their commands to appearances. The evolutions of the 
 troops involved steps more appropriate to the dancing- 
 master than to the drill sergeant. ^ Such criticisms as 
 these have often been made on the French soldier by his 
 own countrymen and by foreigners. But those who think 
 he can be trifled with on this account, are apt to find 
 themselves terribly mistaken. 
 
 The food of the soldiers was coarse and barely suffi- 
 cient. The pay was so absorbed by the requirements of 
 the uniform, many of the smaller parts of which were at 
 1 Montbarey, ii. 272, 
 
THE ARMY. 91 
 
 the expense o£ the men, and by the diet, that little was 
 left for the almost necessary comforts of drink and to- 
 bacco. The barracks, handsome outside, were close and 
 crowded within. During this reign orders were given 
 that only two men should sleep in a bed. In some garri- 
 sons soldiers were still billeted on the inhabitants. In 
 sickness they were better cared for than civilians, the 
 military hospitals being decidedly better than those open 
 to the general public.^ 
 
 If we compare the material condition of the French sol- 
 dier in the latter years of the old monarchy with that of 
 other European soldiers of his day, we shall find him 
 about as well treated as they were. If we compare those 
 times with these, we shaU find that he is now better 
 clothed, but not better fed than he was then.^ 
 
 "The soldiers are very clean," writes an English traveler 
 in France in the year 1789; "so far from being meagre 
 and ill-looking fellows, as John Bull would persuade us, 
 they are well-formed, tall, handsome men, and have a 
 cheerfulness and civility in their countenances and man- 
 ner which is peculiarly pleasing. They also looked very 
 healthy, great care is taken of them."^ 
 
 The period of twenty -five years that preceded the Rev- 
 olution was a time of attempted reform in the French 
 army. The defeats of the Seven Years' War had served 
 as a lesson. The Duke of Choiseul, the able minister of 
 Louis XV., abolished many abuses. The manoeuvres of 
 the troops became more regular, the discipline stricter 
 and more exact for a time. The Duke of Aiguillon ousted 
 Choiseul, by making himseK the courtier of the strumpet 
 
 1 Lafayette told the Assembly of Notables in 1787 that the food of 
 the soldiers was insufficient for their maintenance. Mcmoires, i. 215. 
 S^gur, i. IGl. 
 
 2 Babeau, Vie militaire, i. 374. 
 « Rigby, 13. 
 
02 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Du Barry, and things appear to have slipped back. Then 
 the old king died, and Aiguillon followed his accomplice 
 into exile. Louis XVI. found his finances in disorder, 
 his army and navy demoralized. The death of the minis- 
 ter of war in 1775 gave him the opportunity to make one 
 of his well-meant and feeble attempts at reform. He 
 called to the ministry an old soldier, the Count of Saint- 
 Germain, who had for some time been living in retirement. 
 The count had seen much foreign service, was in full sym- 
 pathy neither with the French army nor with the French 
 court, and was moreover a man who had little knack at 
 getting on with anybody. He had written a paper on mili- 
 tary reforms, and thus attracted notice. In vain, when in 
 office, he attacked some crying abuses, especially the priv- 
 ileges granted to favored regiments and favored persons. 
 While he disgusted the court in this way, he raised a 
 storm of indignation in the army by his love of foreign 
 innovations, and especially of one practice considered 
 deeply degrading. This was the punishment of minor 
 offenses by flogging with the flat of the sword ; using a 
 weapon especially made for that purpose. The arguments 
 in favor of this punishment are obvious. It is expedi- 
 tious ; it is disagreeable to the sufferer, but does not rob 
 the state of his services, nor subject him to the bad influ- 
 ences and foul air of the guard-house. The objections 
 are equally apparent. Flogging, which seems the most 
 natural and simple of punishments to many men in an 
 advanced state of civilization, is hated by others, hardly 
 more civilized, with a deadly hatred. In the former case 
 it inflicts but a moderate injury upon the skin; in the 
 latter, it strikes deep into the mind and soul. It would 
 be hard to say beforehand in which way a nation will take 
 it. The English soldier of Waterloo, like the German of 
 Eossbach, received the lash almost as a joke. The French- 
 man, their unsuccessful opponent on those flelds, could 
 hardly endure it. Grenadiers wept at inflicting the sword 
 
THE ARMY. 93 
 
 stroke, and their colonel mingled his tears with theirs. 
 "Strike with the point," cried a soldier, "it hurts less! " 
 
 To some of the foreigners in the French service this 
 sensitiveness seemed absurd. The Count of Saint-Ger- 
 main consulted, on the subject, a major of the regiment 
 of Nassau, who had risen from the ranks. "Sir," said the 
 veteran, "I have received a great many blows; I have 
 given a great many, and all to my advantage." ^ 
 
 The spirit of reform was in the air, and ardent young 
 officers would let nothing pass untried. The Count of 
 Segur tells a story of such an one ; and although no name 
 be given, he seems to point to the brother-in-law of La- 
 fayette, the brave Viscount of Noailles. 
 
 "One morning," says Segur, "I saw a young man of 
 one of the first families of the court enter my bedroom. 
 I had been his friend from childhood. He had long hated 
 study, and thought only of pleasure, play, and women. 
 But recently he had been seized with military ardor, and 
 dreamed but of arms, horses, school of theory, exercises, 
 and German discipline. 
 
 " As he came into my room, he looked profoundly seri- 
 ous ; he begged me to send away my valet. When we 
 were alone: 'What is the meaning, my dear Viscount,' 
 said I, 'of so early a visit and so grave a beginning? Is 
 it some new affair of honor or of love? ' 
 
 "'By no means,' said he, 'but it is on account of a 
 very important matter, and of an experiment that I have 
 absolutely resolved to make. It will undoubtedly seem 
 very strange to you ; but it is necessary in order to en- 
 
 1 S^gur, i. 80. Mercier, vii. 212. Besenval, ii. 19. AUoiiville. 
 Mem. sec. 84. Montbarey, i. 311. Flogging in some form and Ger- 
 man ways in general seem to have been introduced into the French 
 army as early as Choiseul's time, and more or less practiced through 
 the reign of Louis XVI. ; but tlie great discontent appears to date 
 from the more rigorous application of such methods by Saint-Ger- 
 main. Montbarey. Dumouriez, i. 370 (liv. ii. ch. iii.). 
 
94 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 lighten me on the great subject we are all discussing; we 
 can judge well only of what we have ourselves undergone. 
 When I tell you my plan you will feel at once that I could 
 intrust it only to my best friend, and that none but he 
 can help me to execute it. In a word, here is the case : 
 I want to know positively what effect strokes with the flat 
 of the sword may have on a strong, courageous, well- 
 balanced man, and how far his obstinacy could bear this 
 punishment without weakening. So I beg you to lay on 
 until I say "Enough."' 
 
 "Bursting out laughing at this speech, I did all I could 
 to turn him aside from his strange plan, and to convince 
 him of the folly of his proposal ; but it was useless. He 
 insisted, begged and conjured me to do him this pleasure, 
 with as many entreaties as if it had been a question of 
 getting me to render him some great service. 
 
 "At last I consented and resolved to punish his fancy by 
 giving him his money's worth. So I set to work; but, to 
 my great astonishment, the sufferer, coldly meditating on 
 the effect of each blow, and collecting all his courage to 
 support it, spoke not a word and constrained himself to 
 appear unmoved ; so that it was only after letting me re- 
 peat the experiment a score of times that he said : 'Friend, 
 it is enough. I am contented; and I now understand 
 that this must be an efficacious method of conquering 
 many faults.' 
 
 "I thought all was over; and up to that point the 
 scene had seemed to me simply comic ; but just as I was 
 about to ring for my valet to dress me, the Viscount, sud- 
 denly stopping me, said: 'One moment, please; all is not 
 finished ; it is well that you should make this experiment, 
 too.' 
 
 "I assured him that I had no desire to do so, and that 
 it would by no means change my opinion, which was en- 
 tirely adverse to an innovation so opposed to the French 
 character. 
 
THE ARMY. 
 
 95 
 
 " *Very well,' answered he, 'but I ask it not for your 
 sake but for mine. I know you ; although you are a per- 
 fect friend, you are very lively, a little fond of poking 
 fun, and you would perhaps make a very amusing story 
 of what has just happened between us, at my expense, 
 among your ladies. ' 
 
 " 'But is not my word enough for you? ' I rejoined. 
 
 " 'Yes,' said he, 'in any more serious matter; but any- 
 way, if I am only afraid of an indiscretion, that fear is 
 too much. And so, in the name of friendship, I beg you, 
 set me completely at ease on that point by taking back 
 what you have been kind enough to lend me so gracefully. 
 Moreover, I repeat it, believe me, you will profit by it 
 and be glad to have judged for yourself this new method 
 that is so much discussed.' 
 
 "Overcome by his prayers, I let him take the fatal 
 weapon; but after he had given me the first stroke, far 
 from imitating his obstinate endurance, I quickly called 
 out that it was enough, and that I considered myself suffi- 
 ciently enlightened on this grave question. Thus ended 
 this mad scene ; we embraced at parting ; and in spite of 
 my desire to tell the story, I kept his secret as long as he 
 pleased."^ 
 
 The discipline of the French army, like that of other 
 bodies, military and civil, depended much less on regula- 
 tions than on the individual character of the men in com- 
 mand for the time being. France was engaged in but one 
 war during the reign of Louis XVI., and in that war the 
 land forces were occupied only in America. " The French 
 discipline is such," writes Lafayette to Washington from 
 Newport, "that chickens and pigs walk between the lines 
 without being disturbed, and that there is in the camp a 
 cornfield of which not one leaf has been touched." And 
 Rochambeau tells with honest pride of apples hanging on 
 1 S(5gur, i. &4. 
 
d6 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the trees which shaded the soldier's tents. "The disci- 
 pline of the French army," he says, "has always followed 
 it in all its campaigns. It was due to the zeal of the gen- 
 erals, of the superior and regimental officers, and espe- 
 cially to the good spirit of the soldier, which never failed." 
 But Rochambeau was a working general, and Lafayette 
 had done his best in France that, as far as was possible, 
 the French commander in America should have working 
 officers under him. Neither in war nor in peace have the 
 French always been famous for their discipline ; and the 
 discontent which had been caused by the changes above 
 mentioned had not tended to strengthen it in the closing 
 years of the monarchy. "Whatever idea I may have 
 formed of the want of discipline and of the anarchy which 
 reigned among the troops," says Besenval, "it was far 
 below what I found when I saw them close," and circum- 
 stances confirm the testimony of this not over-trustworthy 
 witness. 1 
 
 It was in the latter part of the previous reign that the 
 adventure of the Count of Brehan had taken place ; but 
 the story is too characteristic to be omitted, and the spirit 
 which it showed continued to exist down to the very end 
 of the old monarchy. 
 
 The Count of Brehan, after serving with distinction in 
 the Seven Years' War, had retired from the army, and 
 devoted his time to society and the fine arts. He was 
 called to Versailles one day by the Duke of Aiguillon, 
 prime minister to Louis XV., his friend and cousin. "I 
 have named you to the king," said the duke, "as the only 
 man who would be able to bring the Dauphiny regiment 
 into a state of discipline. The line officers, by their in- 
 subordinate behavior, have driven away several colonels 
 in succession. If I were offering you a favor, you might 
 refuse ; but this is an act of duty, and I have assured the 
 king that you would undertake it." 
 
 1 Washington, vii. 518. Rochambeau, i. 255, 314. Fersen, i. 39, 
 57. Besenval, ii. 36. 
 
THE ARMY. 97 
 
 "You do me justice," answered Brehan. "I will take 
 the command of the regiment, but I must make three con- 
 ditions. I must have unlimited power to reward and 
 punish ; I must be pardoned if I overstep the regulations ; 
 and if I succeed in bringing the regiment into good con- 
 dition, I am not to be obliged to keep it for more than 
 a year." 
 
 His conditions granted, Brehan set out for Marseilles, 
 where the regiment was quartered. On his arrival in that 
 city, he put up at a small and inconspicuous inn, and, 
 dressed as a civilian, made his way on foot to a coffee- 
 house, which was said to be a, favorite lounging-place of 
 the officers of the Dauphiny regiment. Taking a seat, he 
 listened to the conversation going on about him, and soon 
 made out that the insubordinate subalterns were talking: 
 about their new colonel, and of the fine tricks they would 
 play him on his arrival. Picking out two young officers 
 who were making themselves particularly conspicuous, he 
 interrupted their conversation. 
 
 "You do not know," he says, "the man whom you 
 want to drive away. I advise you to mind what you do, 
 or you may get into a scrape." 
 
 "Who is this jackanapes that dares to give us advice?" 
 
 "A man who will not stand any rudeness, and who de- 
 mands satisfaction I " cries Brehan, unbuttoning his civil- 
 ian's coat and showing his military order of Saint Louis. 
 
 So he goes out with the young fellows, and all the way 
 to the place where they are to fight, he chaffs and badgers 
 them. This puts them more and more out of temper, so 
 that when they reach the ground they are very much ex- 
 cited, while he is perfectly cool. He wounds them one 
 after the other ; then, turning to the witnesses : " Gentle- 
 men," says he, "I believe I have done enough, for a man 
 who has been traveling night and day all the way from 
 Paris. If anybody wants any more, lie can easily find me. 
 I am not one of the people who get out of the way." 
 
98 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Thereupon lie leaves them, goes back to his inn, puts on 
 his uniform, calls on the general commanding the garri- 
 son, and sends orders to the officers of the Dauphiny reg- 
 iment to come and see him. These presently arrive, and 
 are thorouglily astonished when they recognize the man 
 whom they met in the coffee-house, and who has just 
 wounded two of their comrades. But Brehan pretends 
 not to know any of them, speaks to all kindly, tells them 
 of the severe orders that he bears in case of insubordina- 
 tion, and expresses the hope and conviction that there 
 will be no trouble. He then asks if all the officers of the 
 regiment are present. Tkey answer that two gentlemen 
 are ill. "I will go to see them," says the new colonel, 
 "and make sure that they are well taken care of." He 
 does in fact visit his late adversaries, and finds them in 
 great trepidation. They try to make excuses, but Brehan 
 stops them. " I do not want to know about anything that 
 happened before I took command," he says, "and I am 
 quite sure that henceforth I shall have only a good report 
 to make to the king of all the officers of my regiment, 
 with whom I hope to live on the best of terms." 
 
 By this firm and conciliatory conduct, the Count of 
 Brehan inspired the Dauphiny regiment with respect and 
 affection. He restored its discipline and left it when his 
 service was over, much regretted by all its officers.^ 
 
 The lieutenants of the French army were united in 
 an association called the Calotte. The legitimate object 
 of this society was to lick young officers into shape, by 
 obliging them to conform to the rules of politeness and 
 proper behavior, as understood by their class. For this 
 purpose the senior lieutenant of each regiment was the 
 chief of the regimental club, and there was a general chief 
 for the whole army. Offenses against good manners, 
 faults of meanness, or oddity of behavior, were discour- 
 1 AUonville, i. 162. 
 
THE ARMY. 99 
 
 aged by admonitions, given privately by the chief, or 
 publicly in the convivial meetings of the club. Moral 
 pressure might be carried so far in an aggravated case, 
 as to cause the culprit to resign his commission. The 
 society in fact represented an organized professional 
 spirit; and although not recognized by the regulations, 
 was favored by the superior officers.^ 
 
 When discipline was relaxed, the Calotte assumed too 
 great powers. Not content with moral means, it under- 
 took to enforce its decrees by physical ones ; and it ex- 
 tended its jurisdiction far above the rank of lieutenant. 
 
 At the outbreak of the war between France and Eng- 
 land in 1778, two camps were formed in Normandy and 
 Brittany for the purpose of training the army, and per- 
 haps with some intention of making a descent on the 
 English coast. The young French officers swarmed to 
 these camps and divided their time between drill and 
 pleasure. On one occasion, seats had been reserved on a 
 hill for some Breton ladies, who were to see the manoeuvres. 
 Two colonels, escorting two ladies of the court who had 
 recently arrived from Paris, undertook to appropriate the 
 chairs for their companions. A squabble such as is com- 
 mon on such occasions was the result. 
 
 The Count of Segur, above mentioned, was acting as 
 aide-de-camp to the commanding general. A few days 
 after the quarrel about the chairs, just as he was going 
 to begin a game of prisoners' base, two officers who were 
 his friends informed him privately that the Calotte had 
 ordered the two colonels who had given offense on that 
 occasion to be publicly tossed in blankets and that the 
 sentence was about to be carried out. Segur, to gain 
 time, ordered the drummers to beat an alarm. The game 
 
 1 Calotte = scull cap, here fool's-cap. Concerning this society, see 
 a series of feuilletons in the Moniteur Universel, Nov. 25th to 30th, 
 1864 by Gen. Anibcrt ; also Enc//dopcdie mc'thodique, Art militaire. 
 Militaire, iv. 101-103 (article Calotte) ; S^gur, i. 132. 
 
100 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 was broken up, every officer ran to his colors, and the 
 aide-de-camp hastened to explain the matter to the aston- 
 ished general. The proposed punishment was deferred 
 and finally prevented ; but the escape from a scandalous 
 breach of discipline had been a narrow one. 
 
 As the Revolution drew nearer, its spirit became evi- 
 dent in the army. The Count of Guibert, the most tal- 
 ented and influential member of the Board of War in 
 1788, was the object of satire and epigram. The younger 
 officers conspired to spoil the success of his manoeuvres. 
 The experiments that had been tried, the frequent changes 
 in the regulations, had unsettled their ideas. In their 
 reaction against the disagreeable rigor of German disci- 
 pline, they protested that English officers alone, and not 
 the machine-like soldiers of a despot, were the models for 
 freemen. The common soldiers caught the spirit of insub- 
 ordination from those who commanded them. Especially, 
 the large regiment of French Guards, a highly privileged 
 body, permanently quartered in Paris, was infected with 
 the spirit of revolt. Its men were conspicuous in the 
 early troubles of the Revolution, acting on the side of the 
 mob.^ 
 
 The militia of old France does not call for a long notice. 
 It consisted of from sixty to eighty thousand men, whose 
 chief duty was in garrison in time of war, and who during 
 peace were not kept constantly together, but asembled 
 from time to time for drill. As the term of service was 
 six years, the number of men drawn did not exceed fifteen 
 thousand annually. This was surely no great drain on 
 a population of twenty-six millions. Militia duty was 
 greatly hated, however. This appears to have been be- 
 cause men did not volunteer for it, but were drafted ; and 
 because many persons were exempted from the draft. 
 This immunity covered not only the sons of aged parents 
 who were dependent on them for support, but privileged 
 1 Chdrest, i. 552. Miot de M^lito, i. 3. 
 
THE ARMY. 101 
 
 persons of all sorts, from apothecaries to advocates, gen- 
 tlemen and their servants and game-keepers. The bur- 
 den was thus thrown entirely on the poorer peasantry.^ 
 
 The navy in the time of Louis XVI. reached a high 
 state of efficiency. The war of 1778 to 1783 was in great 
 measure a naval war, and although the French and their 
 allies were worsted in some of the principal actions, the 
 general result may be held to have been favorable to them. 
 The navy at the outbreak of hostilities consisted of about 
 seventy ships of the line, and as many frigates and large 
 corvettes, with a hundred smaller vessels. These ships 
 were built on admirable models, for the French marine 
 architects were well-trained and skillful ; but the materials 
 and the construction were not equal in excellence to the 
 design. The invention of coppering the ships' bottoms, 
 and thus adding to their speed, although generally pracr 
 ticed in England, had been applied in France only to the 
 smaller part of the navy. The French, however, had an 
 advantage over the English in the fact that ships of the 
 same nominal class were in reality larger and broader of 
 beam among the former than among the latter, so that the 
 French were sometimes able to fight their lower batteries 
 in rough water, when the English had to keep their lower 
 ports closed. 
 
 The naval officers of France were almost all noblemen, 
 and received a careful professional training. Yet the 
 practice of transferring officers of high rank from the 
 army to the navy had not been completely abandoned. 
 Thus d'Estaing, who commanded with little distinction 
 on the North American coast in 1778, was no sailor, but 
 a lieutenant-general, artificially turned into a vice-admi- 
 ral. Such cases, however, were not common, and in gen- 
 eral the French commanders erred rather by adhering too 
 closely to naval rule, than by want of professional train- 
 ing. In the navy, as elsewhere, no great original talent 
 1 Broc, i. 117 ; Babeaii, Le Village, 259. 
 
102 THE EVE OF THE FKENCH KEVOLUTION. 
 
 was developed during tliis reign, which was a time of ex- 
 pectation rather than of action. 
 
 The men, like the officers, were good and well-trained, 
 except when the lack of sailors obliged the government to 
 employ soldiers on shipboard. It is noticeable that the 
 seamen bore the rope's end with equanimity, although the 
 landsmen were so much offended at flogging with the flat 
 of the sword. Nor do I find any complaint of want of 
 discipline at sea. 
 
 The administration of naval affairs was less satisfactory 
 than the ships or the crews. The magazines were not well 
 provided ; and the stores were probably bad, for the fleets 
 were subject to epidemics.^ 
 
 In general the navy appears to have suffered less than 
 the army from the fermentation of the public inind. 
 Marine affairs must always remain the concern of a spe- 
 cial class of men, cut off by absorbing occupations from 
 the interests and sympathies of the rest of mankind. 
 
 1 Chabaud- Arnault, 189, 196, 214. Charnock, iii. 222, 282. 
 S^gur, i. 138. Chevalier. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 THE COURTS OF LAW. 
 
 While the greater and more conspicuous part of the 
 French nobility lived by the sword, a highly respectable 
 portion of the order wore the judicial gown. Prominent 
 in French affairs in the eighteenth century we find the 
 Parliaments, a branch of the old feudal courts of the 
 kings of France, retaining the function of high courts of 
 justice, and playing, moreover, a certain political part. 
 In the Parliament of Paris, on solemn occasions, sat those 
 few members of the highest nobility who held the title of 
 Peers of France. With these came the legal hierarchy 
 of First President, presidents a mortier and counselors, 
 numbering about two hundred. The members were dis- 
 tributed, for the purposes of ordinary business, among 
 several courts, the Great Chamber, five courts of Inquest, 
 two courts of Petitions, etc.^ The Parliament of Paris 
 possessed original and appellate jurisdiction over a large 
 part of central France, — too large a part for the conven- 
 ience of suitors, — but there were twelve provincial par- 
 liaments set over other portions of the kingdom. The 
 members of these courts, and of several other tribunals of 
 inferior jurisdiction, formed the magistracy, a body of 
 great dignity and importance. 
 
 We have seen that the church possessed certain polit- 
 ical rights ; that it held assemblies and controlled taxes. 
 The political powers of the Parliaments were more limited, 
 amounting to little more than the right of solemn remon- 
 strance. Under a strong monarch, like Louis XIV., this 
 1 Grand' Chambre, Cour des Enquetes, Cour des Requetes. 
 
104 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 power remained dormant; under weak kings, like Ms 
 successors, it became important. 
 
 The method of passing a law in the French monarchy 
 was this. The king, in one of his councils, issued an 
 edict, and sent it to the Parliament of Paris, or to such 
 other Parliaments as it might concern, for registration. 
 If the Parliament accepted the edict, the latter was entered 
 in its books, and immediately promulgated as law. If the 
 Parliament did not approve, and was willing to enter on 
 a contest with the king and his advisers, it refused to reg- 
 ister. In that case the king might recede, or he might 
 force the registration. This was done by means of what 
 was called a bed of justice. His Majesty, sitting on a 
 throne (whence the name of the ceremony), and surrounded 
 by his officers of state, personally commanded the Parlia- 
 ment to register, and the Parliament was legally bound to 
 comply. As a matter of fact, it did sometimes continue 
 to remonstrate; it sometimes adjourned, or ceased to ad- 
 minister justice, by way of protest ; but such a course was 
 looked on as illegal, and severe measures on the part of 
 the king and his counselors — the court, as the phrase 
 went, — were to be expected. These measures might take 
 the form of imprisonment of recalcitrant judges, or of 
 exile of the Parliament in a body. Sometimes new courts 
 of justice, more closely dependent on the king's pleasure, 
 were temporarily established. Such were the Eoyal 
 Chamber and the famous Maupeou Parliament under 
 Louis XV., the Plenary Court of Louis XVI. Had these 
 monarchs been strong men, the new courts would undoubt- 
 edly have superseded the old Parliaments altogether ; as 
 it was, they led only to confusion and uncertainty.^ 
 
 Throuo'hout the reiorn of Louis XV. the Parliament of 
 
 Paris was fighting against the church, while the court 
 
 repeatedly changed sides, but oftener inclined to that of 
 
 the clergy. The controversy was theological in its origin, 
 
 1 Du Boys, Hist, du droit criminel de la France, ii. 225, 239. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 105 
 
 the magistrates being Janseriist in their proclivities, 
 while the Church of France was largely controlled by the 
 Molinist, or Jesuit party. The contest was long and 
 doubtful, neither side obtaining a full victory. It was 
 the fashion in the Philosophic party to represent the 
 whole matter as a miserable squabble. Yet, apart from 
 the importance of the original controversy, which touched 
 the mighty but insoluble questions of predestination and 
 free-will, the quarrel had a true interest for patriotic 
 Frenchmen. The Roman Church was contending for the 
 absolute and unlimited control of religious matters; the 
 Parliament for the supremacy of law in the state. 
 
 In the reign of Louis XYl. the Parliament was prin- 
 cipally engaged in struggles of another character. The 
 magistrates were members of a highly privileged class. 
 Their battle was arrayed for vested rights against re- 
 forms. From the time of Turgot to that of Lomenie de 
 Brienne and the Notables, the Parliament of Paris, some- 
 times in sympathy with the nation, sometimes against it, 
 was vigorously resisting innovations. Yet so great was 
 the irritation then felt against the royal court that the 
 Parliament generally gained a temporary popularity by 
 its course of opposition. 
 
 The courts of justice, and especially the Parliaments, 
 were controlled by men who had inherited or bought their 
 places.^ This, while offering no guarantee of capacity, 
 assured the independence of the judges. As the places 
 were looked on as property, they were commonly trans- 
 mitted from father to son, and became the basis of that 
 nobility of the gown which played a large part in French 
 
 1 Under Louis XIV. the price of a place of president a mortier 
 was fixed at 350,000 livres, that of a maitre des requetes at 150,000 
 livres, that of a counselor at 90,000 to 100,000 livres. The place of 
 First President was not venal, but held by appointment. Martin, 
 xiii. 53 and n. The general subject of the venality of offices is con- 
 sidered in the chapter on Taxation. 
 
106 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 affairs. The owner of a judicial place was obliged to pass 
 an examination in law, before he could assume its duties 
 and emoluments. This examination differed in severity 
 at different times and in the different Parliaments. In 
 the latter part of the eighteenth century it would aj^pear 
 to have been very easy at Paris, but harder in some of the 
 provinces. The Parliaments, in any case, retained control 
 over admission to their own bodies. Although they could 
 not nominate, they could refuse certificates of capacity 
 and morality. They insisted that none but counselors 
 should be admitted to the higher places, and that candi- 
 dates should be men of means, "so that, in a condition 
 where honor should be the only guide, they might be able 
 to live independently of the profits accessory to their 
 labors, which should never have any influence." This 
 caution was especially necessary as the judges were paid 
 in great measure by the fees, or costs, which under the 
 quaint name of spices were borne by the parties. Origi- 
 nally these fees had in fact consisted of sugar plums, not 
 more than could be eaten in a day, but subsequently they 
 had been commuted and increased until they amounted to 
 considerable sums.^ 
 
 By requiring pecuniary independence and social posi- 
 tion, together with a certain amount of learning and of 
 2)ersonal character, the tone of the upper courts was kept 
 good, the magistrates being generally among the most 
 learned, solid, and respectable men in France. They 
 seem also to have been hard-working and honest, although 
 prejudiced in favor of their own privileged class. As the 
 Revolution drew near, they fell into the common weakness 
 of their age and country, the worship of public opinion, 
 and the love of popularity. We find the Parliament of 
 Paris undergoing, and even courting, the applause of the 
 mob in its own halls of justice. Like the great Assem- 
 bly which was soon to have in its hands the destinies of 
 1 Bastard d'Estaug, i. 122, 245 ; Du Boys, 535. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 107 
 
 France, the most dignified court of justice in the hmd 
 failed to perceive that the deliberative body that allows 
 itseK to be influenced or even interrupted by spectators, 
 will soon, and deservedly, lose respect and power. ^ 
 
 When we pass from the consideration of the political 
 functions of the Parliaments, and of their composition, 
 to that of the ordinary administration of justice, we are 
 struck by the diversity of the law in civil matters, and by 
 its severity in criminal affairs. The kingdom of France, 
 as it existed in the eighteenth century, was made up of 
 many provinces and cities, various in their history. Each 
 one had its local customs and privileges. The complica- 
 tion of rules of procedure and rights of property was 
 ahnost infinite. The body of the law was derived from 
 sources of two distinct kinds, from feudal custom and 
 from Koman jurisprudence. The customs which arose, 
 or were first noted, in the Middle Ages, originating as 
 they did in the manners of barbarian tribes, or in the exi- 
 gencies of a rude state of society, were products of a less 
 civilized condition of the human mind than the laws of 
 Rome. From a very early period, therefore, the most 
 intelligent and educated lawyers all over Europe were 
 struggling, more or less consciously, to bring customary 
 feudal law into conformity with Roman ideas. These 
 legists recognized that in many matters the custom had 
 definitely fixed the law ; but whenever a doubtful ques- 
 tion arose, they looked for guidance to the more perfect 
 system. "The Roman law," they said, "is observed 
 everywhere, not by reason of its authority, but by the 
 authority of reason." This idea was peculiarly congenial 
 to the tone of thought current in the eighteenth century. 
 
 1 De Tocqueville praises the independence of the old magistrates, 
 who could neither be degraded nor promoted by the government, 
 CEuvres, iv. 171 (Ancien Regime, ch. xi.). ISIontesquieu, iii. 217 {Esp. 
 des lois, liv. v. ch. xix.). Mirabeau, UAmi des hommes, 212, 219. 
 Bastard d'Estang, ii. Gil, G21. Grimm, xi. 314. 
 
108 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Even in England the common and customary law was 
 enlarged at that time and adapted to new conditions in 
 accordance with Latin principles, by the genius of Lord 
 Mansfield and other eminent lawyers. In France the 
 process began earlier and lasted longer. Domat, d' Agues- 
 seau, and Pothier were but the successors of a long line 
 of jurists. By the time of Louis XVI., some uniformity 
 of principle had been introduced ; but everywhere feudal 
 irregularity still worried the minds of Philosophers and 
 vexed the temper of litigants. The courts were numer- 
 ous and the jurisdiction often conflicting. The customs 
 were numberless, hardly the same for any two lordships. 
 To the subjects of Louis XVI., believing as they did that 
 there was a uniform, natural law of justice easily discov- 
 erable by man, this state of things seemed anomalous and 
 absurd. "ShaU the same case always be judged differ- 
 ently in the provinces and in the capital? Must the same 
 man be right in Brittany and wrong in Languedoc? " cries 
 Voltaire. And the inconvenience arising from this exces- 
 sive variety of legal rights, together with the vexatious 
 nature of some of them, did more perhaps than any other 
 single cause to engender in the men of that time their too 
 great love of uniformity.^ 
 
 It has been said that the judges of the higher courts 
 were generally honest. In the lower courts, and espe- 
 cially in those tribunals which still depended on the lords, 
 oppression and injustice appear to have been not uncom- 
 mon. The bailiffs who presided in them were often par- 
 tial where the interests of the lords whose salaries they 
 received were concerned. And even when we come to 
 
 1 " Servatur ubique jus romanum, non ratione imperii, sed rationis 
 imperio." Laferriere, i. 82, 532. See Ibid., i. 553 n., for a list of 
 eighteen courts of extraordinary jurisdiction, and of five courts of 
 ordinary jurisdiction, viz. ; 1, Parlemens, 2, Prdsidiaux, 3, Baillis et 
 s^ndchaux royaux, 4, Prdvots royaux, 5, Juges seigneuriaux. Vol- 
 taire, xxi. 419 {Louis XV.), Sorel, i. 148. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 109 
 
 the practice before the Parliaments, the American reader 
 will sometimes be struck with astonishment at the extent 
 to which members of those high tribunals were allowed by 
 custom to be influenced by the private and personal soli- 
 citation of parties. The whole spirit of the continental 
 system of civil and criminal law is here at variance with 
 tliat of the Anglo-Saxon system. English and Ameri- 
 can judges are like umpires in a conflict; French judges 
 like interested persons conducting an investigation. The 
 latter method is perhaps the better for unraveling intri- 
 cate cases, but the former would seem to expose the bench 
 to less temptation. A judge who is long closeted with 
 each of the contestants alternately must find it harder to 
 keep his fingers from bribes and his mind from prejudice 
 than a judge who is prevented by strict professional eti- 
 quette from seeing either party except in the full glare of 
 the court-room, and from listening to any argument of 
 counsel, save where both sides are represented. Accu- 
 sations of bribery, even of judges, were common in old 
 France. The lower officers of the court took fees openly. 
 Thick books, under the name of memoir es^ were pub- 
 lished, with the avowed intention of influencing the pub- 
 lic and the courts in pending cases. ^ 
 
 One judicial abuse especially contrary to fair dealing 
 had become very common. Powerful and influential 
 persons could have their cases removed from the tribunals 
 in which they were begam, and tried in other courts 
 where from personal influence they might expect a more 
 favorable result. It was not only the royal council 
 that could draw litigation to itself. The practice was 
 widespread. By a writ called com?7iittimn.% the tribunal 
 by which an action was to be tried could be changed. 
 
 1 For a statement that influential persons went unpunished in 
 criminal matters and got the better of their adversaries in civil 
 matters by means of lettres de cachet, and for instances, see Bos. 148; 
 a long list of iniquitous judgments, Ibid., liK), etc. 
 
110 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTIOlSr. 
 
 This appears to have been a frequent cause of failure of 
 justice. 
 
 As for the criminal proceedings of the age, there was 
 hardly a limit to their cruelty. Under Louis XV. the 
 prisons were filthy dens, crowded and un ventilated, true 
 fever-holes. A private cell ten feet square, for a man 
 awaiting trial, cost sixty francs a month. Large dogs 
 were trained to watch the prisoners and to prevent their 
 escape. Twice a year, in May and September, the more 
 desperate convicts left Paris for the galleys. They made 
 the journey chained together in long carts, so that eight 
 mounted policemen could watch a hundred and twenty of 
 them. The galleys at Toulon appear to have been less 
 bad than the prisons in Paris. They were kept clean 
 and well - aired, and the prisoners were fairly well fed 
 and clothed ; but some of them had been imprisoned for 
 forty, fifty, or even sixty years. They were allowed to 
 work for themselves and to earn a little money. They 
 were divided into three classes, deserters, smugglers, and 
 thieves, distinguished by the color of their caps.^ 
 
 Torture was regarded as a regular means for the discov- 
 ery of crime. It was administered in various ways, the 
 forms differing from province to province. They included 
 the application of fire to various parts of the body, the 
 distension of the stomach and lungs by water poured into 
 the mouth, thumbscrews, the rack, the boot. These were 
 but methods of investigation, used on men and women 
 whose crime was not proved. They might be repeated 
 after conviction for the discovery of accomplices. The 
 greater part of the examination of accused persons was 
 carried on in private, and during it they were not allowed 
 counsel for their defense. They were confronted but 
 once with the witnesses against them, and that only after 
 those witnesses had given their evidence and were liable 
 to the penalties of perjury if they retracted it. Many 
 1 Mercier, iii. 265, x. 151. Howard, Lazarettos^ 54. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. Ill 
 
 offenses were punishable with death. Thieving servants 
 might be executed, but under Louis XVI. public feeling 
 rightly judged the punishment too severe for the offense, 
 so that masters would not prosecute nor judges condemn 
 for it.i 
 
 Other criminals did not escape so easily. A most bar- 
 barous method of execution was in use. The wheel was 
 set up in the principal cities of France. The voice of the 
 crier was heard in the streets as he peddled copies of the 
 sentence. The common people crowded about the scaf- 
 fold, and the rich did not always scorn to hire windows 
 overlooking the scene. The condemned man was first 
 etretched upon a cross and struck by the executioner 
 eleven times with an iron bar, every stroke breaking a 
 bone. The poor wretch was then laid on his back on 
 a cart wheel, his broken bones protruding through his 
 flesh, his head hanging, his brow dripping bloody sweat, 
 and left to die. A priest muttered religious consolation 
 by his side. By such sights as these was the populace 
 of the French cities trained to enjoy the far less inhu- 
 man spectacle of the guillotine. ^ 
 
 It was not until the middle of the century that men's 
 minds were fairly turned toward the reform of the crim- 
 inal law. Yet eminent writers had long pointed out the 
 
 1 CouDsel were not allowed in France for that important part of the 
 proceedings which was carried on in secret. Voltaire, xlviii. 132. In 
 England, at that time, counsel were not allowed of right to prisoners 
 in cases of felony ; but judges were in the habit of straining the law 
 to admit them. Strictly they could only instruct the prisoner in 
 matters of law. Blackstone iv. fol. 355 (ch. 27). The English seem 
 for a long time to have entertained a wholesome distrust of confes- 
 sions. Blackstone, ubi supra. How far is the Continental love of con- 
 fessions derived from the church; and how far is the love of the 
 church for confessions a result of the ever present busybody in hu- 
 man nature ? ' 
 
 2 Mercier, iii. 267. Howard says that the gaoler at Avignon told 
 him that he had seen prisoners under torture sweat blood. Lazaret* 
 ios, 53. 
 
112 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 inutility of torture. " Torture -chambers are a dangerous 
 invention, and seem to make trial of patience rather than 
 of truth," says Montaigne; but he thinks them the least 
 evil that human weakness has invented under the cir- 
 cumstances. Montesquieu advanced a step farther. He 
 pointed out that torture was not necessary. "We see 
 to-day a very well governed nation [the English] reject it 
 without inconvenience." . . . "So many clever people 
 and so many men of genius have written against this 
 practice," he continues, "that I dare not speak after 
 them. I was about to say that it might be admissible 
 under despotic governments, where all that inspires fear 
 forms a greater part of the administration ; I was about 
 to say that slaves among the Greeks and Romans, — but 
 I hear the voice of nature crying out against me." Vol- 
 taire attacked the practice in his usual vivacious manner; 
 but, with characteristic prudence suggested that torture 
 might still be applied in cases of regicide.^ 
 
 Such scattered expressions as these might long have 
 remained unfruitful. But in 1764 appeared the admir- 
 able book of the Milanese Marquis Beccaria, and about 
 thirteen years later the Englishman John Howard pub- 
 lished his first book on the State of the Prisons. Beccaria 
 shared the ideas of the Philosophers on most subjects. 
 Where he differed from them, it was as Rousseau differed, 
 in the direction of 'socialism. But in usefulness to man- 
 kind few of them can compare with him. From him does 
 the modern world derive some of its most important ideas 
 concerning the treatment of crime. Extreme, like most of 
 the Philosophers of his age ; unable, like them, to recog- 
 nize the proper limitations of his theories, he has yet 
 transformed the thought of civilized men on one of the 
 
 1 Montaigne, ii. 36 (liv. ii. ch. v). So I interpret the last words of 
 the chapter. Montesquieu, iii. 260 (Esprit des Lois, hv. vi. ch. 
 17). Voltaire, xxxii. 52 {Diet, philos. Question), xxxii. 391 {Ibid., 
 Torture). 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 113 
 
 most momentous subjects witli which they have to deal. 
 So great is the change wrought in a hundred years by 
 his little book, that it is hard to remember as we read it 
 that it could ever have been thought to contain novelties. 
 '' The end of punishment ... is no other than to prevent 
 the criminal from doing farther injury to society, and to 
 prevent others from conunitting the like offense." "All 
 trials should be public." "The more immediately after 
 tlie commission of a crime the punishment is inflicted, the 
 more just and useful it will be." "Crimes are more 
 effectually prevented by the certai/iti/ th^n by the severity 
 of punishment." These are the commonplaces of modern 
 criminal legislation. The difficulty lies in applying them. 
 In the eighteenth century their enunciation was necessary. 
 "The torture of a criminal during his trial is a cruelty 
 consecrated by custom in ahnost every nation," says Bec- 
 caria. Indeed it seems to have been legal in his day aU 
 over the Continent, although restricted in Prussia and 
 obsolete in practice in Holland. Beccaria opposed torture 
 entirely, on broad grounds. As to torture before con- 
 demnation he holds it a grievous wrong to the innocent, 
 "for in the eye of the law, every man is innocent whose 
 crime has not been proved. Besides, it is confounding all 
 relations to expect that a man should be both the accuser 
 and the accused, and that pain should be the test of truth ; 
 as if truth resided in the muscles and sinews of a wretch 
 in torture. By this method the robust will escape and 
 the weak will be condemned." The penalties proposed 
 by Beccaria are generally mild, — he would have abol- 
 ished that of death altogether, — his reliance being on 
 certainty and not on severity of punishment. ^ 
 
 It was not to be expected that Beccaria' s book should 
 work an immediate change in the manners of Christen- 
 dom. The criminal law remained unaltered at first, in 
 theory and practice. But the consciences of the more 
 ^ Beccaria, passim. Lea, Superstition and Force, 515. 
 
114 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 advanced thinkers were affected. In 1766, at Abbeville, 
 a young man named La Barre was convicted of standing 
 and wearing his hat while a religious procession was pass- 
 ing, singing blasphemous songs, speaking blasphemous 
 words, and making blasphemous gestures. There was 
 much popular excitement at the time on account of the 
 mutilation of a crucifix standing on a bridge in the town, 
 but La Barre was not shown to have been concerned in 
 this outrage. The judges at Abbeville appear to have laid 
 themselves open to the accusation of personal hostility to 
 him. The young man, having been tortured, was con- 
 demned to make public confession with a rope round his 
 neck, before the church of Saint Vulfran, where the in- 
 jured crucifix had been placed, to have his tongue cut 
 out, to be beheaded, and to have his body burned. This 
 outrageous sentence was confirmed by the Parliament of 
 Paris. The superstitious king, Louis XY., would not 
 grant a pardon. The capital sentence was executed, but 
 the cutting out of the tongue was omitted, the executioner 
 only pretending to do that part of his work. La Barre' s 
 head fell, amid the applause of a cruel crowd which ad- 
 mired the skillful stroke of the headsman. A thrill of 
 indignation, not mimixed with fear, ran through the lib- 
 eral party in France. The anger and grief of Voltaire 
 were loudly expressed. It was at least an improvement 
 on the state of public feeling in former generations that 
 such severity should not have met with universal acqui- 
 
 escence.^ 
 
 The practice of torture was not without defenders. 
 One of them asked what could be done to find stolen 
 money if the thief refused to say where he had hidden it. 
 But this was not his only argument. "The accused him- 
 self," he said, "has a guarantee in torture, which makes 
 him a judge in his own case, so that he becomes able to 
 
 1 The best account of the affair of La Barre which I have met is 
 in Desuoiresterres, Voltaire et Eousseau, 465. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 115 
 
 avoid the capital punishment attached to the crime of 
 which he is accused." And this writer confidently asserts 
 that for a single example which might be cited in two or 
 three centuries of an innocent man yielding to the violence 
 of torture, a million cases of rightful punishment could be 
 mentioned.^ 
 
 Yet the march of progress was fairly rapid in the latter 
 part of the eighteenth century. In the jurisprudence 
 of that age a distinction was made between preparatory 
 torture, which was administered to suspected persons to 
 make them confess, and previous torture, which was in- 
 flicted on the condemned, previous to execution, to obtain 
 the accusation of accomplices. The former of these, by 
 far the greater disgrace to civilization, was abolished in 
 France on the 24th of August, 1780 ; the latter not until 
 1788, and then only provisionally. Thus was one of the 
 greatest of modern reforms accomplished before the Eev- 
 olution. About the same time many ordinances were 
 passed for the amelioration of French prisons. They were 
 about as bad as those of other countries, and that was 
 very bad indeed.^ 
 
 The courts of law did not act against persons alone. 
 The Parliament of Paris was in the habit of passing con- 
 demnation on books supposed to contain dangerous matter. 
 The suspected volume was brought to the bar of the court 
 by the advocate general, the objectionable passages were 
 read, and the book declared to be "heretical, schismati- 
 cal, erroneous, blasphemous, violent, impious," and con- 
 
 1 Muyard de Vougland, quoted in Du Boys, ii. 205. 
 
 2 Question preparatoire ; question prealable, sometimes called q. de" 
 finitive. Desmaze, Supplices, 177. Desjardins, p. xx. Howard, pas- 
 sim. The English have long boasted that torture is not allowed by 
 their law ; and although the peine forte et dure was undoubted tor- 
 ture, the boast is in general not unfounded. Torture was abolished 
 in several parts of Germany in the eighteenth century, but lingered 
 in other parts until the nineteenth. It was not done away in Baden 
 until 1831. Lea, Superstition and Force, 517. 
 
116 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 demned to be burned by the public executioner. Then a 
 fagot was lighted at the foot of the great steps which may- 
 still be seen in front of the court-house in Paris. The 
 street boys and vagabonds ran to see the show. The 
 clerk of the court, if we may believe a contemporary, 
 threw a dusty old Bible into the fire, and locked the con- 
 demned book, doubly valuable for its condemnation, safely 
 away in his book-case.^ 
 
 As for the author, the Parliament would sometimes 
 proceed directly against him, but oftener he was dealt 
 with by an order under the royal hand and seal, known as 
 a lettre de cachet."^ Arbitrary imprisonment, without 
 trial, is a thing so outrageous to Anglo-Saxon feelings 
 that we are apt to forget that it has until recent years 
 formed a part of the regular practice of most civilized 
 nations. It is considered necessary to what is called the 
 police of the country, a word for which we have in Eng- 
 lish no exact equivalent. Police, in this sense, not only 
 punishes crime, but averts danger. Acts which may 
 injure the public are prevented by guessing at evil inten- 
 tions ; and criminal enterprises are not allowed to come 
 to action. 
 
 This sort of protection is a part of the function of every 
 government; but on the Continent, in old times, and still 
 in some countries, long and painful imprisonment of men 
 who had never been convicted of any crime was consid- 
 ered one of the proper methods of police. It was justified 
 in some measure in French eyes by the fact that secrecy 
 saved the f eelino^s of innocent families, which thus did not 
 suffer in the public estimation for the misdeeds of one 
 unruly member. In France, where the family is much 
 
 ^ Mercier, iv. 241. 
 
 2 The lettre de cachet was written on paper, signed by the king, 
 and countersigned by a minister. It was so sealed that it could not 
 be opened without breaking the seal. It was reputed a private 
 order. Larousse. 
 
THE COURTS OF LAW. 117 
 
 more of a unit than in English-speaking countries, the 
 disgrace of one person belonging to it affects the others 
 far more seriously. The httre de cachet of old France, 
 confining its victim in a state prison, was too elaborate 
 a method to be used with the turbulent lower classes — for 
 them there were less dignified forms of proceeding; but 
 it was freely employed against persons of any consequence. 
 Spendthrifts and licentious youths were shut up at the 
 request of their relations. Authors of dangerous books 
 were readily clapped into the Bastille, Yincennes or Fors 
 I'Eveque. Voltaire, Diderot, Mirabeau, and many others 
 underwent that sort of confmement; and the first of them 
 is said to have procured by his influence the incarceration 
 of one of his own literary enemies. Fallen statesmen 
 were fortunate when they did not pass from the cabinet 
 to the prison, but were allowed the alternative of exile, 
 or of seclusion in their own country houses. But this 
 was not the worst. The lettre de cachet was too often the 
 instrument of private hate. Signed carelessly, or even 
 in blank, by the king, it could be procured by the favo- 
 rite or the favorite's favorite, for his own purposes. And 
 if the victim had no protector to plead his cause, he might 
 be forgotten in captivity and waste a lifetime. 
 
 For such abuses as this, there is no remedy but publi- 
 city. If, on the one hand, too much has been made of the 
 romantic story of the Bastille, which was certainly not a 
 standing menace to most peaceable Frenchmen, too gi'eat 
 stress, on the other hand, may be laid on the undoubted 
 fact that under Louis XVI. the grim old fortress con- 
 tained but few prisoners, and that some of them were 
 persons who might have been cast into prison under any 
 system of government. In the reign of that king's im- 
 mediate predecessor great injustice had been committed. 
 Nor had arbitrary proceedings been entirely renounced 
 by the government of Louis XVI. itself. In the very 
 last year before that in which the Estates General met at 
 
118 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Versailles, the royal ministers imprisoned in the Bastille 
 twelve Breton gentlemen, whose crime was that they im- 
 portunately presented a petition from the nobles of their 
 province. The apartments which they were to occupy 
 were filled with other prisoners, so room was made by 
 removing these unhappy occupants to the madhouse at 
 Charenton, whence they were released only in the fol- 
 lowing year by order of a committee of the National 
 Assembly.^ 
 
 1 Barere, i. 281. Perhaps the most terrifying thing about the 
 Bastille was that no one really knew what went on inside. Mereier 
 thinks that the common people were not afraid of it, iii. 287, 289. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EQUALITY AND LIBERTY. 
 
 It was as a privileged order tliat the Nobility of France 
 principally excited the ill-will of the common people. 
 The more thoughtful Frenchmen of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, all of them at least who have come to be known by 
 the name of Philosophers, set before themselves two great 
 ideals. These were equality and liberty. The aspiration 
 after these was accompanied in their minds by contempt 
 for the past and its lessons, misunderstanding of the ben- 
 efits which former ages had bequeathed to them, and 
 hatred of the wrongs and abuses which had come down 
 from earlier times. Among them the word gothic was a 
 violent term of reproach, aimed indiscriminately at build- 
 ings, laws, and customs. History, with the exception of 
 that of Sparta, was thought to consist far more of warn- 
 ings than of models. Just before the Revolution, a num- 
 ber of persons who had met in a lady's parlor were dis- 
 cussing the education of the Dauphin. "I think," said 
 Lafayette, "that he would do well to begin his History of 
 France with the year 1787." 
 
 This tendency to depreciate the past was due in a mea* 
 sure to the preference, natural to lively minds, for deduc- 
 tive over inductive methods of thought. It is so much 
 easier and pleasanter to assimie a few plausible general 
 principles and meditate upon them, than to amass and com- 
 pare endless series of dry facts, that not by long chasten- 
 ing will the greater part of the world be brought to the 
 more arduous method. Nor should enthusiasm for one 
 of the great processes of thought cause contempt of the 
 
120 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 other. Even the great inductive French philosopher of 
 the eighteenth century, Montesquieu, failed in a measure 
 to grasp the continuity of history ; and drew the facts for 
 his study rather from China and from England than 
 from France, rather from the Roman republic than the 
 existing monarchy. Fear of the censor and of the civil 
 and ecclesiastical tribunals, which would not bear the 
 open discussion of questions of present interest, doubt- 
 less added to this tendency. 
 
 The idea of equality at first seems simple, but equality 
 may be of many kinds. Absolute equality in all respects 
 between two human beings, no one has ever seen, and 
 no one perhaps has ever thought of desiring. All the re- 
 lations of life are founded on inequality. By their differ- 
 ences husband and wife, friend and friend, are made 
 necessary and endeared to each other ; the parent protects 
 and serves the child, the child obeys and helps the par- 
 ent ; the citizen calls on the magistrate to guard his rights, 
 the magistrate enforces the laws which have their sanction 
 in the consent of the body of citizens. Equality as a 
 political ideal is therefore a limited equality. It may ex- 
 tend to condition, it may be confined to civil rights, or to 
 opportunities. 
 
 The Philosophers of the eighteenth century, followed 
 by a school in our day, universally assumed that an 
 approximate equality of condition was desirable. Rous- 
 seau agreed with Montesquieu, in believing that a small 
 republic, none of whose citizens were either very rich or 
 very poor, was likely to be in a desirable condition. Vir- 
 tue, they thought, would be its especial characteristic. 
 In some of the Swiss cantons, and later in the struggling 
 American colonies of Great Britain, Frenchmen discov- 
 ered communities apj)roaching their ideal in respect to the 
 equal distribution of wealth; and their discovery in the 
 latter case was not without great results. This kind of 
 equality has since passed away from large portions of 
 
EQUALITY AND LIBERTY. 121 
 
 America, as it must always disappear where civilization 
 increases. Good people mourn its departure; some few, 
 perhaps, would patiently endure its return. They are 
 about as numerous as those who abandon city life to dwell 
 permanently in the country, also the home of comparative 
 equality of condition. The theoretic admiration for this 
 sort of equality was shared by a large and enlightened 
 part of the French nobility. Thus the order was weak- 
 ened by the fact that many of its own members did not 
 believe in its claims. 
 
 Another kind of equality is that of civil rights. Be- 
 fore the Revolution, France was ruled by law, but all 
 Frenchmen were not ruled by the same law. There were 
 privileged persons and privileged localities. Of these 
 anomalies, sometimes working hardship, the minds of in- 
 telligent men at that time were especially impatient. 
 They believed, as has been said, in natural laws, im- 
 planted in every breast, finding their expression in every 
 conscience ; and many of them entertained a crude notion 
 that such laws could easily be applied to the enormously 
 complicated facts of actual life. Assuming such laws to 
 exist, as absolute as mathematical axioms and far easier 
 of application, all variation was error, all anomaly absurd, 
 all claims of a privileged class unfair and unfounded. 
 
 Equality of civil rights is also desired from the fear of 
 oppression; a very important motive in the eighteenth 
 century, when the great still had the power to be very 
 oppressive at times. We have seen the treatment which 
 Voltaire received at the hands of a member of one of the 
 great families. Outrages still more flagrant appear to 
 have been not uncommon in the reign of Louis XV., and 
 although there had probably never been a time in France 
 so free from them as that of his sucesssor, their memory 
 was still fresh. It is in their decrepitude that political 
 abuses are most ferociously attacked. When young and 
 lusty they are formidable. 
 
122 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Again, there is equality of opportunity. This is de- 
 sired as a means of subverting equality of condition to 
 our own advantage, as a chance to be more than equal to 
 our fellow-men. This kind is longed for by the able and 
 ambitious. Where it is denied, the strongest good men 
 will be less useful to the state, unless they happen to be 
 favorably placed at birth ; the strongest bad men perhaps 
 more dangerous, because more discontented. It is this 
 sort of equality, more than any other, which the French 
 Philosophers and their followers actually secured for 
 Frenchmen, and in a less degree for other Europeans of 
 to-day. By their efforts, the chance of the poor but tal- 
 ented child to rise to power and wealth has been somewhat 
 increased. This chance, when they began their labors, 
 was not so hopeless as it is often represented. It is not 
 now so great as it is sometimes assumed to be. Still, 
 there has been one decided advance. We have seen that 
 under the old monarchy many important places were 
 reserved for members of the noble class, and practically 
 for a few families among them. Since that monarchy 
 passed away, the opportunity to serve the state, with the 
 great prizes which public life offers to the strong and the 
 aspiring, has been thrown open, theoretically at least, to 
 all Frenchmen. 
 
 If the idea of equality be comparatively simple, that of 
 liberty is very much the reverse. The word, in its gen- 
 eral sense, signifies little more than the absence of external 
 control. In politics it is used, in the first place, for the 
 absence of foreign conquest, and in this sense a country 
 may be called free although it is governed by a despot. 
 The next signification of liberty is political right, and 
 this is the sense in which it has been most used until re- 
 cent years. When a tyrant overthrew the liberties of a 
 Greek city, he substituted his own personal rule for the 
 rights of an oligarchy. The mass of the inhabitants may 
 have been neither better nor worse off than before. When 
 
EQUALITY AND LTBEKTY. 123 
 
 Hampden resisted the encroachments of King Charles I., 
 he was fighting the battle of the upper and middle classes 
 against despotism, and we hold him one of the principal 
 champions of liberty. Indeed, liberty in this sense is so 
 far from being identical with equality, that many of those 
 who have been foremost in its defense have been members 
 of aristocracies and holders of slaves. To accuse them of 
 inconsistency is to be misled by the ambiguous meaning 
 of a word. They fought for rights which they believed to 
 be their own ; they denied that the rights of all men were 
 identical. During the eighteenth century in France, cer- 
 tain bodies, such as the clergy and the Parliament of Paris, 
 were struggling for political liberties in this older sense, 
 and before the outbreak of the French Revolution many 
 of the most enlightened of the nobility hoped to acquire 
 such liberties. Much blood and confusion might have 
 been spared, and many useful reforms accomplished, had 
 Frenchmen clutched less wildly at the phantom of equal- 
 ity, and sought the safer goal of political liberty. 
 
 Another sort of liberty, although it has undoubtedly 
 been desired by individuals in all ages, is almost entirely 
 modern as an ideal for civilized communities. This is the 
 absence of interference, not only of a foreign power, or 
 of a lawless oppressor, but of the very law itself. The 
 desire for such freedom as this, would in almost all ages of 
 the world have been held inconsistent with proper respect 
 for order and security. It would have been considered no 
 more than the wicked longing of an unchastened spirit, 
 the temptation of the Evil One himself. In the eigh- 
 teenth century, however, we see the rise of new opinions. 
 It may be that order had become so firmly established 
 in the European world that a reaction could safely set 
 in. At any rate we find a new way of looking at thingSc 
 "Independence, "a word which had been often used by the 
 clerical party, and always as a term of reproach, is treated 
 by the Philosophers with favor. Toleration of all kinds 
 
124 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of opinions, and of most kinds of spoken words, is mak- 
 ino- way.^ A new school of thinkers is adapting the new 
 form of thought to economical matters. Laissez faire; 
 laissez passer. Restrict the functions of government. 
 Order will arise from the average of contending interests ; 
 the right direction is produced by the sum of conflicting 
 forces. The doctrine has exerted enormous influence 
 since the French Revolution in resisting the claims of 
 socialism, — that new form of tyranny in which all are to 
 be the despot and each the slave. But few of the Phi- 
 losophers accepted it entirely. Most of them desired the 
 constant interference of the government for one purpose 
 or another, and many believed in the power, almost the 
 omnipotence, of a mythical personage, borrowed in part 
 from Plutarch and commonly called the Legislator. 
 
 The history and action of this personage may be roughly 
 stated as follows. Every nation now civilized was in 
 early days in a barbarous condition. Once upon a time, 
 a great man came from somewhere, and brought a com- 
 plete set of laws, morals, and manners with him. To 
 these laws and customs he generally ascribed a divine 
 origin. The nation to which they were proclaimed 
 adopted them, and the people's subsequent happiness and 
 prosperity were in proportion to their excellence. The 
 reasons which are supposed to have induced the barbarous 
 tribe to change all its habits at the bidding of one man 
 are seldom given, or if given, are ludicrously inadequate. 
 The theory of the legislator is now out of date. It is 
 generally held that the institutions of every race have 
 grown up with it, that they are appropriate to its nature 
 and history, gradually modified sometimes by act of the 
 national will, and more or less changed under foreign 
 influences, but that their general character cannot sud- 
 
 1 In spite of the impatience shown by Voltaire of any criticism of 
 himself, he and his followers did more than any other men that ever 
 lived to make criticism free to all writers. 
 
EQUALITY AND LIBERTY. 125 
 
 denly be subverted. Its institutions thus as truly belong 
 to a civilized race, as the skin without fur or the erect 
 position belong to mankind. There is some evidence in 
 support of either theory, and the truth will probably be 
 found to lie between them, although nearer to the latter. 
 Yet the effect of a higher civilization implanted on a lower 
 one seems at times singidarly rapid. The story of the 
 legislator is a part of most early histories and mytholo- 
 gies. The classical model has generally been held to be 
 either Minos or Lycurgus. There were few clever men 
 in France between the years 1740 and 1790 who did not 
 dream of trying on the sandals of those worthies. 
 
 While the ideas attached to equality and to liberty were 
 vague and indefinite, it was generally assumed that they 
 would coincide. Liberty and equality, however, have 
 tendencies naturally opposed to each other. Remove the 
 exterior forces which control the wills of men, overturn 
 foreign domination, give every citizen political rights, 
 reduce the interference of laws to a minimum, and the 
 natural differences and inequalities of physical, mental, 
 and moral strength, or power of will, inherent in man- 
 kind, will have the fuller opportunity to act. The strong 
 improve their natural advantage, they acquire dominion 
 over their weaker neighbors, they monopolize opportuni- 
 ties for themselves, their friends and their children. Only 
 by keeping all men in strict subjection to something out- 
 side of themselves can all be kept in comparative equality. 
 This fact was instinctively apprehended by one school 
 of French thinkers. AVe shall see that tlie followers of 
 Rousseau, while posing as champions of Liberty, were in 
 fact the founders of a system which is the very antithesis 
 of individual freedom. ^ 
 
 ^ It is perhaps needless to remark that I have touched here only 
 on the political meanings of the word Liberty. In the eighteenth 
 century the word was much used in its philosophical sense, and the 
 eternal problem of necessity and free-will was warmly discussed. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 MONTESQUIEU. 
 
 One man stands out among tte French nobility of 
 the gown in the eighteenth century, influencing human 
 thought beyond the walls of the court-room ; one Philoso- 
 pher who looks on existing society as something to be saved 
 and directed. The work of Voltaire and his followers was 
 principally negative. Their favorite task was demolition. 
 The ugly and uninhabitable edifices of Rousseau's genius 
 required for their erection a field from which all possible 
 traces of civilized building had been removed. But Mon- 
 tesquieu, while he satirized the vices of the society which 
 he saw about him, yet appreciated at their full value the 
 benefits of civilization. He recognized that change is 
 always accompanied by evil, even if its preponderating 
 result be good, and that it should be attempted only with 
 care and caution. His ideas influenced the leading men 
 of the second half of the century somewhat in proportion 
 to their judgment and in inverse proportion to their enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 Charles Louis de Secondat, Baron of Montesquieu, 
 born in 1689, was by inheritance one of the presidents of 
 the Parliament of Bordeaux. ^ He was recognized in 
 early life as a rising man, a respectable magistrate, sensi- 
 ble and brilliant rather than learned ; a man of the world, 
 rich and thrifty, not very happily married, and fond of 
 
 1 111 his youth he was known as Charles Louis de la Br^de, the 
 name being taken from a fief of his mother. The name of Mon- 
 tesquieu he inherited from an uncle, together with his place of 
 president a mortier. Vian, Histoire de Montesquieu, 16, 30. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 127 
 
 the society of ladies. In appearance he was ugly, with 
 a large head, weak eyes, a big nose, a retreating forehead 
 and chin. In temperament he was calm and cheerful. 
 "I have had very few sorrows," he says, "and still less 
 ennui." — "Study has been to me a sovereign remedy 
 against the troubles of life, and I have never had a grief 
 that an hour's reading would not dissipate." He was shy, 
 he tells us, but less among bright people than among 
 stupid ones. Good-natured he appears to have been, 
 and somewhat selfish ; easily amused, less by what people 
 said than by their way of saying it. He was a good land- 
 lord and a kind master. It is told of him that one day, 
 while scolding one of his servants, he turned round with a 
 laugh to a friend standing by. "They are like clocks," 
 said he, "and need winding up now and then.^ 
 
 Montesquieu set himself a high standard of duty. In 
 a paper intended only for his son, he writes : " If I knew 
 something which was useful to myself and injurious to my 
 family, I should reject it from my mind. If I knew of 
 anything which was useful to my family and which was 
 not so to my country, I should try to forget it. If I 
 knew something useful to my country, which was injuri- 
 ous to Europe and the human race, I should consider it a 
 crime." ^ 
 
 Montesquieu's first book appeared in 1721, a book very 
 different from those which followed it. It is witty and 
 licentious after a rather stately fashion, full of keen obser- 
 vation and cutting satire. In contrast to the books of 
 other famous writers of the century, the " Persian Letters " 
 are eminently the work of a gentleman; — of a French 
 gentleman, when the Duke of Orleans was Regent. 
 
 ^ See the medallion given in Vian, and said by the Biographie 
 universelle to be the only authentic portrait. Also Montesq. vii. 150, 
 (Pensees diverses. Portrait de M. par lui-imme, apparently written 
 when he was about forty). Also Vian, 141. 
 
 ^ Montesq., vii. 157. 
 
128 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The "Lettres Persanes " are, as their name suggests, the 
 supposed correspondence of two rich Persians, Usbek and 
 Rica, traveling in France and exchanging letters with 
 their friends and their eunuchs in Persia. The letters 
 which the travelers receive, containing the gossip of their 
 harems, form but the smaller portion of the book, and are 
 evidently intended to give it variety and lightness. In 
 the letters which they write to their Persian correspondents 
 we have the satirical picture of French society. How far 
 had the ruling, infallible church sunk in the minds of 
 Frenchmen, when a well-placed and rather selfish man 
 could write what follows. 
 
 "The Pope is the chief of the Christians. He is an old 
 idol, to which people burn incense from the force of habit. 
 In old times he was formidable even to princes; for he 
 deposed them as easily as our magnificent Sultans depose 
 the kings of Irimette and of Georgia. But he is no longer 
 feared. He calls himself the successor of one of the ear- 
 liest Christians, known as Saint Peter ; and it is certainly 
 a rich inheritance, for he has enormous treasures and a 
 rich country under his dominion." 
 
 The bishops are legists, subordinate to the Pope. They 
 have two functions. When assembled they make articles 
 of faith as he does. When separate, they dispense people 
 from obeying the law. For the Christian religion is full 
 of difficult observances ; and it is thought to be harder to 
 do your duty than to have bishops to give you dispensation. 
 The doctors, bishops, and monks are constantly raising 
 questions on religious subjects, and dispute for a long 
 time, until at last an assembly is held to decide among 
 them. In no kingdom have there been as many civil wars 
 as in that of Christ.^ 
 
 Farther on we have a picture of the way in which reli- 
 gion is regarded in French society. It is less a subject 
 of sanctification than of dispute. Courtiers, soldiers, even 
 ^ Montesq., i. 124. Letter xxix. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 129 
 
 women, rise up against ecclesiastics and ask them to prove 
 what the others have resolved not to believe. This is not 
 because people have determined their minds by reason, 
 nor that they have taken the trouble to examine the truth 
 or falsehood of this religion which they reject. They are 
 rebels who have felt the yoke and who have shaken it off 
 before they have known it. They are, therefore, no 
 firmer in their unbelief than in their faith. They live in 
 an ebbing and flowing tide, which unceasingly carries 
 them from one to the other. ^ Making a large allowance 
 for satire, we have yet an interesting and doleful picture 
 of a small but important part of the French nation. And 
 it is noticeable that the Persian Letters precede by thir- 
 teen years Voltaire's "Philosophical," or "English Let- 
 ters." 2 
 
 Montesquieu argues that it is well to have several sects 
 in a country, as they keep a watch on each other, and 
 every man is anxious not to disgrace his party. But it is 
 for toleration and not for equality that the author pleads. 
 A state church seemed almost necessary to thought in the 
 early part of the eighteenth century. Yet Montesquieu 
 has no great liking for any form of dogmatic religion; 
 in this he belongs distinctly with the Philosophers; 
 morality is, in his eyes, the great, perhaps the only 
 thing to be desired; obedience to law, love to men, filial 
 piety, these he says are the first acts of all religions; 
 ceremonies are good only on the supposition that God has 
 commanded them; but about the commands of God it is 
 easy to be mistaken, for there are two thousand religions, 
 each of which puts in its claim. Thus was the great 
 argument of the Catholics, that the multiplicity of Prot- 
 estant sects proved their falsity, turned against its inven- 
 tors.^ 
 
 1 Montesq., i. 251. Letter Ixxv. 2 1721-1734. 
 
 8 Ibid., i. 164. Letter xlvi. Compare with Montesquieu's opinion, 
 expressed in the Spirit of the Laws, that the sovereign should neither 
 
130 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The licentiousness of the "Persian Letters" has been 
 mentioned. It is one of the most noticeable features of 
 the writings of the Philosophers of the eighteenth century 
 that the whole subject of sexual morality is viewed by 
 them from a standpoint different from that taken by our° 
 selves. The thinking Frenchmen of that age believed 
 that there was a system of natural morals, imposed on 
 man by his own nature and the nature of things. They 
 believed that there was also an artificial system resting 
 only on positive law, or on the ordinances of the church. 
 It was the tendency of the ecclesiastical mind to ignore 
 that distinction. That tendency had been pushed too far 
 and had produced a reaction. 
 
 The distinction is one which is not quite disregarded 
 even by men of those races which have most respect for 
 law. Nobody feels that the injunction to keep off the 
 grass in a public park, or the rule to pass to the right in 
 driving, is of quite the same sort of obligation as the pre- 
 cept to keep your hands from picking and stealing. A far 
 greater amount of odium is incurred by the known breach 
 of a rule of natural morals, than by that of a rule depend- 
 ing solely on the ordinance of the legislative power. 
 Smuggling may be mentioned as a crime coming near the 
 dividing line in the popular feeling of most countries. 
 Few men would feel as much disgraced at being caught 
 by a custom-house officer, with a box of cigars hidden 
 under the trowsers at the bottom of their trunk, as at 
 being seized in the act of stealing the same box from the 
 counter of a tobacconist. In countries where the laws 
 are arbitrary and the law-making power distrusted, this 
 distinction is more strongly marked than where the gov- 
 ernment has the full confidence and approbation of the 
 community. The more progressive Frenchmen of a hun- 
 dred and fifty years ago believed the laws of their country 
 
 allow the establishment of a new form of religion, nor persecute one 
 already established. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 131 
 
 to be bad in many respects. They therefore thought that 
 there was a great difference between what jurists call 
 prohibited wrong and lorong in itself. 
 
 Now, admitting this distinction to exist in men's minds, 
 there is one large class of crimes and vices which is put in 
 one category by most Anglo-Saxons and which was put in 
 the other by the French Philosophers. These are the 
 breaches of the sexual laws. It is one of the greatest 
 services of the church to Christendom that she has always 
 laid particular emphasis on the duty of chastity. It is 
 one of her greatest errors, that she has exalted the prac- 
 tice of celibacy over that of conjugal fidelity. The Philo- 
 sophers, as was their custom, looked abroad on the prac- 
 tice of various nations. They found that some of the 
 ancients granted divorce freely at the request of either 
 party. They learned that Orientals generally allowed 
 polygamy. They saw in their own country a low state of 
 sexual morals amoijg the highest classes, partly due per- 
 haps to the example of a depraved court. Observation 
 and desire concurred with hatred of the clergy to warp 
 their judgments. They forgot, at least in part, that 
 chastity is the foundation of the family and the civilized 
 state ; that divorce and polygamy, although of momentous 
 importance, are but secondary questions; that on sexual 
 self-restraint civilization rests, as much as on respect for 
 life and property. On the false theory that unchastity 
 is but an artificial crime, the delusive invention of an 
 ascetic church, will, I think, be found to depend much 
 that has been worst in the practice of Frenchmen, much 
 that is most disgusting in their literature.^ 
 
 This theory is seldom held unreservedly. In the " Per- 
 sian Letters" it goes no farther than an elaborate apol- 
 
 ^ The commandment " Thou shalt not commit adultery " is 
 equally applicable to polygamists and monogamists. It was origi- 
 nally promulgated to the former, and to a nation in which a man 
 could put away his wife. 
 
132 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ogy for divorce, a scathing denunciation of celibacy, and 
 a general licentiousness of tone. The later writings of 
 Montesquieu are free from indecency. But it is noticeable 
 of him, perhaps the most high-minded of the Philosophers, 
 and of the rest of them, that while they constantly insist 
 on the importance of virtue, they hardly rank chastity 
 among the virtues.^ 
 
 The monarchy fares little better than the church in the 
 "Persian Letters." "The King of France," says Rica, 
 "is the most powerful prince in Europe. He has no gold- 
 mines like his neighbor the King of Spain ; but he has 
 more wealth than the latter, for he draws it from the van- 
 ity of his subjects, more inexhaustible than mines. He 
 has been known to undertake and carry on great wars, 
 with no other resource than titles of honor to sell ; and 
 by a prodigy of human pride, his troops were paid, his 
 forts furnished, his fleets equipped." 
 
 " Moreover, this king is a great magician ; he rules the 
 very minds of his subjects; he makes them think as he 
 pleases. If he has only one million dollars in his treas- 
 ury and needs two, he has but to assure them that one 
 dollar is worth two, and they believe him. If he has a 
 difficult war to carry on, and has no money, he has but 
 to put it into their heads that a piece of paper is bullion, 
 and immediately they are convinced. He even goes so far 
 as to make them believe that he cures them of all manner 
 of diseases by touching them. Such is the strength and 
 power that he has over their minds." ^ 
 
 "What I tell you of this prince need not astonish you. 
 There is another magician stronger than he ; who is no 
 
 1 See the story of a Guebir who marries his sister, Montesq., i. 226, 
 Letter Ixvii. The point appears to be that the laws forbidding 
 marriage in cases of consanguinity are arbitrary. 
 
 2 Ibid., i. 110, Letter xxiv. Referring to the sale of offices and 
 titles, to the habit of debasing the coinage, and to that of touching 
 for scrofula. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 133 
 
 less master of the king's spirit, than the king himself 
 is of that of others. This magician is called the Pope. 
 Sometimes he makes the king believe that three are only 
 one ; that the bread people eat is not bread, that the wine 
 that they drink is not wine, and many things of the same 
 kind." 
 
 Rica has seen the young king, Louis XV. His coun- 
 tenance is majestic and charming; a good education, added 
 to a good natural disposition, gives promise of a great 
 sovereign. But Rica is informed that you cannot tell 
 about these western kings until you know of their mistress 
 and their confessor. Under a young prince these exercise 
 rival powers ; under an old one, they are united. The 
 strength of a young king makes the dervish weak ; but the 
 mistress turns both strength and weakness to account."^ 
 
 The Christian princes long ago freed all the slaves in 
 their states ; saying that Christianity made all men equal. 
 This religious action was very useful to them, for it 
 abridged the power of their chief lords. Since then, they 
 have conquered new countries where slavery was profit- 
 able. They have forgotten their religion and allowed 
 slaves to be bought and sold.^ 
 
 The French are more governed by the laws of honor 
 than the Persians, because they are more free. But the 
 sanctuary of honor, reputation, and virtue seems to be 
 built in republics, where a man may feel that he has 
 indeed a country. In Greece and Rome a crown of 
 leaves, a statue, the praise of the state, were recompense 
 enough for a battle won or a city taken. Switzerland 
 and Holland, with the poorest soil in Europe, are the 
 most populous countries for their area. Liberty — and 
 opulence, which always follows it — draws strangers to the 
 country. Political equality among citizens generally pro- 
 duces equality of fortune, and scatters abundance and life. 
 
 1 Montesq., i. 339, Letter cvii. 
 
 2 Ibid., i. 252, Letter Ixxv. 
 
134 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 But under an arbitrary government, the prince, his cour- 
 tiers, and a few individuals, possess all the wealth, while 
 the rest of the country suffers from extreme poverty. ^ 
 
 The satirical character of the "Persian Letters " is suffi- 
 ciently evident from the extracts given above. But Mon- 
 tesquieu is far more widely and justly known as a wise 
 and learned writer on government than as a satirist. The 
 book we have been considering was by far the lightest, as 
 it was the earliest, of his considerable writings. The good 
 sense, caution, and conservatism of his nature appear in 
 the "Persian Letters " less conspicuously than in his later 
 works; yet, even there, are in marked contrast to the 
 haste and shallowness of many of the Philosophers. "It 
 is true," he says, "that laws must sometimes be altered, 
 but the case h rare ; and when it happens, they should be 
 touched with a trembling hand; and so many solemni- 
 ties should be observed, and so many precautions used, 
 that the people may naturally conclude that the laws are 
 very sacred, since so many formalities are necessary to 
 abrogate them."^ 
 
 Here is an opinion, overstated perhaps, but not with- 
 out its frequent illustrations since he wrote it. "It seems 
 . . . that the largest heads grow narrow when they are 
 assembled, and that where there are most wise men, there 
 is least wisdom. Large bodies are always deeply at- 
 tached to details, to vain customs ; and essential matters 
 are always postponed. I have heard that a king of 
 Aragon, having assembled the Estates of Aragon and 
 Catalonia, the first meetings were taken up in deciding 
 in what language the deliberations should be held. The 
 dispute was lively, and the Estates would have broken up 
 a thousand times, had not an expedient been hit upon, 
 
 1 Montesq., i. 291, Letter Ixxxix. See also pp. 381, 386, Letters 
 cxxii., cxxiv. 
 
 2 Ibid., i. 401, Letter exxix. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 135 
 
 which was that the questions should be put in Catalonian 
 and the answers given in Aragonese."^ 
 
 "I have never heard people talk about public law," he 
 says in another letter, "that they did not inquire carefully 
 what was the origin of society; which strikes me as ab- 
 surd. If men did not form a society, if they separated 
 and fled from each other, we should have to ask the 
 reason of it, and to seek out why they kept apart. But 
 they are created all bound to each other, the son is born 
 near his father and stays there; this is society, and the 
 cause of society." ^ 
 
 A satirical book, like the "Persian Letters," could not 
 have been openly published in France under Louis XV. 
 The first edition was in fact printed at Amsterdam, 
 although Cologne appeared on the title-page as the place of 
 publication. The book was anonymous, but Montesquieu 
 was well known to be the author, and speedily acquired 
 a great reputation. After several years, for things did 
 not move fast in Old France, he was proposed for election 
 to the Academy. To be one of the forty members of that 
 body is the legitimate ambition of the literary French- 
 man. The Cardinal de Fleury, who was prime minister, 
 is said to have announced that the king would never con- 
 sent to the election of the author of the "Persian Letters." 
 He added that he had not read the book, but that people 
 in whom he had confidence assured him that it was dan- 
 gerous. According to Voltaire, Montesquieu thereupon 
 had a garbled edition of the Letters hastily printed, him- 
 seK took a copy to the Cardinal, induced His Eminence 
 to read a part of it, and, with the help of friends, pre- 
 
 ^ Montesq., i. 344, Letter cix. See several of the principal delib- 
 erative bodies of the world so bound by their own rules that they 
 can scarcely move ; and compare with them in point of efficiency the 
 small legislatures and boards which manage many important and 
 complicated interests promptly, sitting with closed doors. 
 
 * Ibid., i. 301, Letter xciv. 
 
136 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 vailed on him to alter his decision. Such a trick is more 
 worthy of Voltaire, who continually denied his own 
 works, than of Montesquieu, who, I believe, never did so. 
 D'Alembert tells the story in a way entirely creditable 
 to the latter. He says that Montesquieu saw the minister, 
 told him that for private reasons he did not give his name 
 to the "Persian Letters," but that he was far from disown- 
 ing a book of which he did not think he had cause to be 
 ashamed. He then insisted that the Letters should be 
 judged after reading them, and not on hearsay. There- 
 upon the Cardinal read the book, was pleased with it and 
 with its author, and withdrew his opposition to the lat- 
 ter 's election to the Academy.^ 
 
 A little before, this time Montesquieu resigned his 
 place as one of the presidents of the Parliament of Bor- 
 deaux, selling the life estate in it, but reserving the rever- 
 sion for his son. Having thus obtained leisure, he set 
 out on a long course of travel, lasting three years. "In 
 France," said he later, "I make friends with everybody; 
 in England with nobody ; in Italy I make compliments to 
 every one ; in Germany I drink with every one." "When 
 I go into a country, I do not look to see if there are good 
 laws, but whether they execute those they have ; for there 
 are good laws everywhere."^ 
 
 Montesquieu arrived in England in the autumn of 1729, 
 sailing from Holland in the yacht of Lord Chesterfield, 
 
 1 Nouvelle Biographic Universelle. Voltaire {Siecle de Louis XI V. 
 liste des ecrivains). D'Alembert, vi. 252. The date of Montesquieu's 
 election was Jan. 24, 1728. See a discussion of the whole story in 
 Vian, 100. Montesquieu is there said to have threatened to leave 
 France, and to have declined a pension at this time. Montesquieu 
 tells the story of the pension, but without fixing a date: *' Je dis que 
 n'ayant pas fait de bassesse, je n'avais pas besoin d'etre console par 
 des graces," vii. 157. Voltaire was always jealous of Montesquieu's 
 reputation ; and also, at this time, out of temper with the Academy, 
 to which he was elected only in 1746. 
 
 2 Vian, 90. Montesq. vii. 186, 189. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 137 
 
 whose acquaintance he had made on the Continent. He 
 spent seventeen months in the country, and, in spite of 
 his epigram about making friends with nobody, saw some 
 of the most eminent men, inchiding Swift and Pope, was 
 received by the Royal Society, and presented at Court. 
 At a time when England and the English language were 
 little known in France, he studied them in a way which 
 deeply influenced all his views of government. "In 
 London," he says, "liberty and equality. The liberty 
 of London is the liberty of the best people,^ in which it 
 differs from the liberty of Venice," which is the liberty 
 of debauchery. "The equality of London is also the 
 equality of ihe best people, in which it differs from 
 the liberty of Holland, which is the liberty of the popu- 
 lace.^' 
 
 "England is at present the most free country in the 
 world; I do not except any republic. I call it free 
 because the prince can do no conceivable harm to any- 
 body ; because his power is controlled and limited by a 
 law. But if the lower chamber should become the mis- 
 tress, its power would be unlimited and dangerous, because 
 it would have executive power also ; whereas now unlim- 
 ited power is in the parliament and the king, and the ex- 
 ecutive power in the king, whose power is limited. A 
 good Englishman must, therefore, seek to defend liberty 
 equally against the attacks of the crown and those of the 
 chamber. "2 
 
 Montesquieu brought back from England an admira- 
 tion of what he had seen there as genuine, and far more 
 discriminating than that of Voltaire. While the studies 
 of Montesquieu were principally directed to the political 
 institutions of the country, those of Voltaire embraced 
 the jihilosophy and social life of England. Through 
 
 1 Honnestes geyis, which cannot be exactly translated. Montesq., 
 vii. 185. Vian, 112. 
 "^ Montesq., vii. 195 {Notes sur VAngleterre). 
 
138 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 these two great men, more perhaps than through any 
 others, English ideas were spread in France in the middle 
 of the eighteenth century. ^ 
 
 Montesquieu now went on with his studies with an 
 enlarged mind. He would appear, before he started on 
 his travels, to have already formed the project of writing 
 a great work on the Spirit of the Laws. But in 1734 he 
 published a smaller book, the " Greatness and Decadence 
 of the Komans." It is said that this essay was composed 
 of a part of the material collected for the Spirit of the 
 Laws, and was published separately in order not to give 
 the Komans too large a place in the more important work. 
 This has been doubted, but there is nothing either in the 
 subject or in the treatment to make it improbable. Nor 
 is it important, so long as between the two books there is 
 unity of purpose and agreement of method. 
 
 The "Greatness and Decadence of the Eomans " is a 
 study of philosophic history. In form it is not unlike 
 Machiavelli's Discourses on the first ten books of Livy. 
 That remarkable work would have been most profitable 
 reading for Frenchmen of the eighteenth century, as it 
 must be in all times for students of the science of poli- 
 tics. Of republics Machiavelli had more experience than 
 Montesquieu. Both considered the republican form of 
 government the most desirable ; both thought it impossi- 
 ble without the preservation of substantial equality of 
 property among the citizens. Montesquieu, who knew 
 more of monarchy than Machiavelli, had also more faith 
 in it. Both hated the rule of the Roman Church. ^ The 
 Frenchman excels the Italian in practical wisdom ; he is 
 also more brilliant. By his brilliancy he may sometimes 
 have been led away, but I think not often. While we 
 feel in reading Voltaire that the sparkling point is often 
 
 1 Voltaire returned from England a few months before Montes- 
 quieu went there in 1729. 
 
 2 Machiavelli, ii. 210. Montesq., ii. 136, 140. Mach., ii. 130- 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 139 
 
 tlie cause of the saying, with Montesquieu we are gen- 
 erally struck with the weight of thought in what we 
 read. 
 
 "The tyranny of a prince," says Montesquieu, "does 
 not bring him nearer to ruin, than indifference to the 
 public good brings a republic. The advantage of a free 
 state is that the revenues are better administered — but 
 how if they are worse? The advantage of a free state 
 is that there are no favorites; but when that is not the 
 case, and when instead of enriching the prince's friends 
 and relations, all the friends and relations of all those 
 who share in the government have to be enriched, all is 
 lost; the laws are evaded more dangerously than they 
 are violated by a prince, who, being always the greatest 
 citizen of a state, has the most interest in its preserva- 
 tion."! 
 
 Kings, as Montesquieu points out, are less envied than 
 aristocracies; for the king is too far above most of his 
 subjects to excite comparisons, while the nobility is not 
 so placed. Eepublics, where birth confers no privileges, 
 are, he thinks, happier in this respect than other coun- 
 tries; for the people can enyj but little an authority 
 which it grants and withdraws at its pleasure. Montes- 
 quieu forgets that every chance to rise which excites in 
 the strong and virtuous a noble emulation, will cause in 
 the weak and sour the corresponding base passion of envy. 
 Complete despotism he believes to be impossible. There 
 is in every nation a general spirit on which all power is 
 founded. Against this, the ruler is powerless. It is wise 
 not to disturb established forms and institutions, for the 
 very causes which have made them last hitherto may 
 maintain them in the future, and these causes are often 
 complicated and unknown. When the system is changed, 
 theoretic difficulties may be overcome, but drawbacks 
 remain which only use can show. It is folly in conquer- 
 
 ^ Montesq., ii. 139. 
 
140 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ors to wish to make the conquered adopt new laws and 
 customs, and it is useless ; for under any form of govern- 
 ment, subjects can obey. Men are never more offended 
 than when their ceremonies and customs are interfered 
 with. Oppression is sometimes a proof of the esteem in 
 which they are held ; interference with their customs is 
 always a mark of contempt.^ 
 
 Such are some of the general opinions of Montesquieu, 
 found in the "Greatness and Decadence of the Romans.'^ 
 In the same book occurs the expression of an idea (after- 
 wards repeated and worked out), which was to be perhaps 
 the most fruitful of his teachings. "The laws of Eome," 
 he says, "had wisely divided the public power among a 
 great number of offices, which sustained, arrested, and 
 moderated each other; and as each had but a limited 
 power, every citizen was capable of attaining to any one 
 of them; and the people, seeing several persons pass 
 before it one after the other, became accustomed to none 
 of them." 2 
 
 This idea that the division of power was highly desira- 
 ble, that a system of checks and balances in government 
 would tend to secure freedom, never took firm root in 
 France. Indeed, Montesquieu, as he himself had partly 
 foreseen, was more praised than read in his own country.^ 
 But in the distant colonies of America the " Greatness 
 and Decadence of the Romans" and the "Spirit of the 
 Laws " found eager students. The thoughts of Montes- 
 quieu were embodied in the constitutions of new states, 
 whose social and economic condition was not far removed 
 from that which he considered the most desirable. In 
 these states the doctrine of the division of powers was 
 consciously and carefully adopted, with the most benefi- 
 cent results. This division was not a new idea to the 
 
 1 Montesq., ii. 181, 315, 316, 266, 174, 209. 
 
 2 Ibid., ii. 200. 
 
 8 Ibid., vii. 157 {Pensees diverses. Portrait de M par Ini-meme). 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 141 
 
 American colonists: it was already in a measure a part of 
 their institutions. But there can be little doubt that the 
 idea was enforced in their minds by being clearly stated 
 by one of the writers on political subjects whom they most 
 admired.^ 
 
 Fourteen years had passed from the time of the publi- 
 cation of the "Greatness and Decadence of the Komans,"' 
 when in 1748 appeared the great work of Montesquieu, 
 the ''Spirit of the Laws." The book is announced by its 
 author as something entirely original, "a child without 
 a mother." ^ Nor is the claim altogether unfounded, 
 although any reader familiar with the "Politics" of Aris- 
 totle can hardly fail to observe the resemblance between 
 that o:reat book and the other. Nor is it a detraction from 
 the genius of Montesquieu to say that the comparison will 
 not be altogether in his favor. 
 
 Montesquieu's scheme is announced in the title origi- 
 nally given to his book. " Of the Spirit of the Laws, or 
 of the relation which the laws should have to the con- 
 stitution of every government, manners, climate, religion, 
 commerce, etc. To which the author has added new 
 researches into the Roman laws concerning inheritance, 
 into French laws, and into feudal laws." Thus we see 
 that the principal subject of the book is the relation of 
 laws to the circumstances of the country in which they 
 exist. In this also is its chief value and its claim to 
 originality. The Philosophers of the eighteenth century, 
 following the example of the churches, believed that there 
 
 1 We have seen that Montesquieu had arrived at this idea from 
 the study of the English Constitution as it existed in his day. In 
 respect to the division of powers, the government of the United 
 States conforms far more nearly to his idea than does the present 
 government of f^ngland, in which the system of balanced powers has 
 been superseded by that of government by the Lower Chamber, of 
 which he pointed out the danger. The full results of this change 
 will be known only to future generations. 
 
 '^ Prolem sine matre creatam^ on the title-page. 
 
142 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 was an absolute standard of justice to which all laws could 
 easily be referred, independently of the country in which 
 the laws existed. If the laws of Naples differed from 
 those of Prussia, the laws which governed the phlegmatic 
 Dutchman from those which contained the excitable in- 
 habitant of Marseilles, one or the other set of laws, or 
 both of them, must be wrong. The Civil Law of the 
 Latin races, the Common Law of England, each claimed 
 to be the expression of perfect abstract reason. The 
 church with its canon, the same for all races and climates, 
 confirmed the theory. To all these came Montesquieu 
 with a teaching that would reconcile their claims. 
 
 " Law in general is human reason, in so far as it gov- 
 erns all the nations of the earth ; and the political and 
 civil laws of each nation should be but the particular cases 
 to which that human reason is applied." 
 
 "They should be so adapted to the people for whom 
 they are made, that it is a very great chance if those of 
 one nation will apply to another." 
 
 "They must be in relation to the nature and the prin- 
 ciple of the government which is established, or about to 
 be established ; whether they form it, as do political laws ; 
 or maintain it, as do civil laws." 
 
 "They must be in relation to the iihyucal nature of 
 the country; to the frozen, burning, or temperate cli- 
 mate; to the quality of the soil, the situation and size 
 of the country; to the style of life of the people, as 
 farmers, hunters, or shepherds; they should be in rela- 
 tion to the amount of liberty which the constitution may 
 allow, to the religion of the inhabitants, their inclina- 
 tions, their wealth, their numbers, their customs, their 
 morals, and their manners. Finally, they have relations 
 to each other; they have them to their own origin, to 
 the object of the legislator, to the order of things on 
 which they are established. They should be considered 
 from all these points of view." 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 143 
 
 "This is what I undertake to do in this work. I will 
 examine all these relations. They form together what is 
 called 'the Spirit of the Laws.' "^ 
 
 It will be noticed that Montesquieu by no means denies 
 that there are general principles of justice. On the con- 
 trary, he positively asserts it.^ But the great value of 
 his teaching consists in the other lesson. "It is better to 
 say that the government most in conformity with nature 
 is that whose particular disposition is most in relation 
 to the disposition of the people for which it is estab- 
 lished." This principle may certainly be deduced from 
 Aristotle ; but it was none the less necessary to teach it 
 in the eighteenth century; it is none the less necessary to 
 teach it to-day. ^ 
 
 The conception was a great one, so simple that it seems 
 impossible that it could ever have been missed ; but it was 
 combated with violence on its announcement, and many 
 brilliant and learned men have failed to grasp it.* Such 
 are the persons in our own time who praise despotism in 
 France, or who would set up parliamentary government in 
 India. Montesquieu probably carried his theories too 
 far. To the north he assigned energy and valor, as if 
 the most widely conquering nations that Europe had then 
 known had been the Norwegian and the Finn, instead of 
 the Macedonian, the Italian, and the Spaniard. Steril- 
 ity of soil he considered favorable to republics, fertility to 
 monarchies. It was natural that a man in revolt against 
 the long spiritual tyranny that had oppressed thought in 
 Europe should have attributed excessive importance to 
 material causes. Not the less did the idea contain its 
 share of truth. Nor was his statement of this, which we 
 may call his favorite theory, always excessive. "Several 
 
 1 Montesq., iii. 99 (liv. i. c. 3). 
 
 2 Ibid., iii. 91 (liv. i. c. 1). 
 
 2 Ibid., iii. 99 ; Aristotle, Politics, liv. vii. c. ii. 
 * Montesq., iv. 145 n. 
 
144 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 things," he says, "govern man; climate, religion, laws, 
 the maxims of government, the examples of things past, 
 morals, manners; whence comes a general spirit which 
 is their result. " Sometimes one of these forces dominates 
 and sometimes another." ^ 
 
 It may be noted of Montesquieu, and as often of Vol= 
 taire, that each of them is constantly led astray by imper«> 
 feet knowledge of foreign, and especially of barbarous and 
 savage nations. Since the voyages and conquests of the 
 Eenaissance, accounts of strange countries had abounded 
 in Europe, written in many cases by men anything but 
 accurate, if not, in the words of Macaulay, "liars by a 
 double right, as travellers and as Jesuits." ^ The writers 
 of a hundred and fifty years ago coyld use no better 
 material than was to be had. They wished to draw in- 
 struction from distant objects, and their spy-glasses dis- 
 torted shapes and modified colors. Imperfect knowledge 
 of foreign countries sometimes led Montesquieu into curi- 
 ous mistakes ; yet these affected his illustrations oftener 
 than his theories. 
 
 Having stated his general doctrine, Montesquieu pro- 
 ceeds to apply it. As laws should be adapted to the 
 nature of the government of each country, it is essential 
 to study that nature, and to consider what is the j)rinci- 
 ple^ or motive force of each form of government. "There 
 is this difference," he says, "between the nature of the 
 government and its principle: that its nature is what 
 makes it such as it is, and its principle what makes it 
 act. One is its especial structure, and the other the 
 human passions which cause it to operate." ^ 
 
 Four kinds of government are recognized by Montes- 
 quieu : democratic, aristocratic, monarchical, and despotic. 
 The principle of democracy he holds to be virtue, without 
 
 1 Montesq., iv. 307 (liv. xix. c. 4). 
 
 2 Essay on Machiavelli. 
 
 3 Moiitesq., iii. 120 (liv. iii. c. 1). 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 145 
 
 which popular government cannot continue to exist. ^ An 
 aristocratic state needs less virtue, because the people is 
 kept in check by the nobles. But the nobility can with 
 difficulty repress the members of their own order, and do 
 justice for their crimes. In default of great virtue, how- 
 ever, an aristocratic state can exist if the ruling class will 
 practice moderation.'^ In monarchies great things can be 
 done with little virtue, for in them there is another moving 
 principle, which is honor.^ This sort of government is 
 founded on the prejudice of each person and each sort of 
 men; it rests on ranks, preferences, and distinctions, so 
 that emulation often supplies the place of virtue. In 
 a monarchy there will be many tolerable citizens, but sel- 
 dom a very good nian, who loves the state better than him- 
 self. The motive principle of a despotism i^fear ; ^ for in 
 despotic states virtue is unnecessary, and honor would be 
 dangerous. These qualities of virtue, honor, and fear, 
 may not exist in every republic, monarchy, and despotism ; 
 but they should do so, if the government is to be perfect 
 of its kind.^ 
 
 It is worth while to remember, when considering the 
 "Spirit of the Laws," that Montesquieu oftenest had in 
 his mind, when speaking of democratic republics, those of 
 Greece; when speaking of aristocratic republics, early 
 Rome and Venice ; of monarchies, France and England ; 
 of despotisms, the East.^ 
 
 Under each form of government, education and the 
 laws should work together to strengthen the motive prin- 
 ciple belonging to that form. Especially is this neces- 
 sary in republics, for honor, which sustains monarchies, is 
 
 1 Montesq., iii. 122 (liv. iii. c. 3). ^ ibid., iii. 126 (liv. c. 4). 
 
 8 Ibid., iii. 128 (liv. iii. c. 5, 6, and 7). 
 
 * Ibid., iii. 135 (liv. iii. c. 9). « Ibid., iii. 140 (liv. iii. c. 11). 
 
 ^ But be sometimes refers to England as a country where a repub- 
 lic is hidden under the forms of a monarchy. Montesq., iii. 21G (liv. 
 V. c. 19). 
 
146 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 favored by the passions; but virtue, on which democra- 
 cies depend, imj^lies renunciation of self. Virtue, in a 
 rej)ublic, is love of the republic itself, which leads to 
 good morals ; the public good is set above private gratifi- 
 cation. Thus we see that monks love their order the 
 more, the more austere is its rule. The love of the state, 
 in a democracy, becomes the love of equality, and thus 
 limits ambition to the desire to render great services to 
 the republic. The love of equality and frugality are 
 principally excited by equality and frugality themselves, 
 when both are established by law. The laws of a demo- 
 cratic state should encourage equality in every way ; as 
 by forbidding last wills, and preventing the acquisition of 
 large landed estates. In a democracy all men contract 
 an enormous debt to the state at their birth, and, do what 
 they may, they can never repay it. There should be no 
 great wealth in the hands of private persons, because such 
 wealth confers power and furnishes delights which are 
 contrary to equality. Domestic frugality should make 
 public expenditure possible. Even talents should be but 
 moderate. But if a democratic republic be founded on 
 commerce, individuals may safely possess great riches; 
 for the spirit of commerce brings with it that of frugality, 
 economy, moderation, labor, wisdom, tranquillity, and 
 order. 
 
 It is very important in a democracy to keep old laws 
 and customs; for things tend to degenerate, and a cor- 
 rupted nation seldom does anything great. To maintain 
 an aristocratic republic, moderation is necessary. The 
 nobles should be simple in their lives and hardly distin- 
 guishable from plebeians. Distinctions offensive to pride, 
 such as laws forbidding intermarriage, are to be avoided. 
 Privileges should belong to the senate as a body and sim- 
 ple respect only be paid to the individual senators.^ 
 
 1 Montesq., iii. 151 (liv. iv. c. 5). Ibid., iii. 165-183 (liv. v. c. 
 2-8). 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 147 
 
 As honor is the motive principle of monarchy, the laws 
 should support it, and be adapted to sustain that nobility 
 which is the parent and the child of honor. Nobility 
 must be hereditary ; it must have prerogatives and rights ; 
 it forms the link between the prince and the nation. 
 Monarchical government has the great advantage over the 
 republican form, that, as affairs are in a single hand, 
 there is the greater promptitude of execution. But there 
 should still be something to moderate the will of the 
 prince. This is best found, not in the nobility itself, but 
 in such bodies as courts of law with constitutional rights, 
 like the French Parliaments. ^ 
 
 Montesquieu has been much blamed, both in his own 
 age and since, for his partiality to the monarchy as he 
 found it existing in France. While recognizing that a 
 republic was a more just and equal form of government, 
 he thought that monarchy was that best suited to his 
 time and country. Many people who have watched the 
 history of France since his day will be found to agree 
 with him. While defending some practices which are 
 now considered among the flagrant abuses of old France, 
 he recommended some reforms which would have been 
 very salutary. It is often wiser to find excuses for retain- 
 ing an old custom than reasons for introducing a new one ; 
 and Montesquieu was a conservative, made so by his 
 nature, his social position, his wealth, his education as a 
 lawyer, his age and his experience. When he wrote the 
 "Persian Letters " he might possibly have been willing to 
 overthrow the principal institutions of his country for the 
 sake of remedying abuses ; but when he had spent twenty 
 years over the "Spirit of the Laws," when he had realized 
 the complication of life, and the interdependence of things, 
 he was more ready to reform than to destroy. 
 
 In a despotic government the motive principle is fear. 
 The governor of the town must be absolutely responsible 
 1 Montesq., iii. 191 (liv. v. c. 10). 
 
148 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 to the governor of the province, or the latter cannot be 
 entirely responsible to the sovereign. Thus absolutism 
 extends throughout the state. As there is no law but 
 the will of the prince, and as that law cannot be known 
 in detail to every one, there must be a great number of 
 petty tyrants dependent on those immediately above 
 them.^ 
 
 After a not very successful attempt to define liberty, 
 which he decides to be the power to do that which we 
 ought to desire and not to do that which we ought not to 
 desire, 2 Montesquieu tells us that political liberty is found 
 only in limited governments, for all men who have power 
 will tend to abuse it, and will go on until they meet with 
 obstacles ; as virtue itself needs to be restrained. Various 
 nations, he then says, have various objects : conquest was 
 that of Rome, war of Sparta, commerce of Marseilles; 
 there is a country the direct object of whose constitution 
 is political liberty. That country is England.^ 
 
 There are in every state three kinds of power, the legis- 
 lative, the executive, and the judicial. Political liberty 
 in a citizen is the tranquillity of mind which comes from 
 the opinion he has of his own security; and to give him 
 this liberty the government must be such that no citizen 
 can be afraid of another. Now this security can exist 
 only where the legislative, executive, and judicial powers 
 are in different hands. In most of the monarchies of Eu- 
 rope the goverment is limited, because the prince, who 
 has the first two powers, leaves the third to others ; he 
 makes laws and executes them, but he appoints other men 
 to act as judges in his place. In the republics of Italy all 
 three powers are united. The same body of magistrates 
 
 1 Montesq., iii. 209 (Uv. v. c. 16). 
 
 2 Ibid., iv. 2-4 (liv. xi. c. 2, 3). 
 
 8 Montesquieu, here and elsewhere, avoids mentioning England 
 or France by name ; a curious affectation. The references, however, 
 are unmistakable. 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 149 
 
 makes the laws, executes them, and judges every citizen 
 according to its pleasure ; such a body is as despotic as an 
 eastern prince.^ The judicial power, says Montesquieu 
 (with the English jury in his mind), should not be given 
 to a permanent senate, but exercised by persons drawn 
 from the body of the people, forming a tribunal which 
 lasts only as long as necessity may require it. In serious 
 cases the criminal should combine with the law to choose 
 his judges, or at least should have a right of challenge. 
 The legislative and executive powers can with less danger 
 be given to permanent bodies, because they are not exer- 
 cised against individuals. He then commends representa- 
 tive frovernment and the freedom left to members of Par- 
 liament in the English system. He believes the people 
 more capable of choosing representatives wisely than of 
 deciding questions, an opinion on which modern experi- 
 ence may have thrown some doubt. He approves of the 
 existence of a second chamber, composed of persons distin- 
 guished by birth, wealth, or honors; for if such were 
 mixed with the people and given only one vote apiece like 
 the others, the common liberty would be their slavery, 
 and they would have no interest in defending it, because 
 it would oftenest be turned against themselves. ^ 
 
 The government of France, says Montesquieu, has not, 
 like that of England, liberty for its direct object; it tends 
 only to the glory of the citizen, the state, and the prince. 
 But from this glory comes a spirit of liberty, which in 
 France can do great things, and can contribute as much 
 to happiness as liberty itself. The three powers are not 
 there distributed as in England ; but they have a distri- 
 bution of their own, according to which they approach 
 more or less to political liberty; and if they did not 
 
 ^ This judgment is somewhat softened as to Venice. The most 
 conspicuous example in modern times of the tyranny of a single 
 popular body is that of France under the Convention. 
 
 2 Montesq., iv. 7 (liv. xi. c. 63. 
 
150 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 approach it, the monarchy would degenerate into des- 
 potism.^ This sounds somewhat like an empty phrase; 
 yet there undoubtedly were in Montesquieu's time some 
 checks on the absolutism of a French monarch. "If sub- 
 jects owe obedience to kings, kings on their part owe 
 obedience to the laws," said the Parliament of Paris in 
 1753. And outside of its own boundaries France had 
 long been considered a limited monarchy. ^ Apart from 
 the limitations imposed by the privileges of the church 
 and of the Parliaments, there appear to have been some 
 acknowledged fundamental laws (the succession of the 
 crown in the male line was one of them) which it would 
 have been beyond the power of the sovereign for the time 
 being to destroy. And public opinion, as Montesquieu 
 has already told us, has power even in the most despotic 
 countries. In a European nation, not broken in spirit 
 by long-continued tyranny, and possessing the printing- 
 press, this power must always be very great. 
 
 As for Montesquieu's admiration of the English form 
 of government, it doubtless concurred with other causes 
 to encourage on the Continent the study of English polit- 
 ical methods. Those methods have since been adopted 
 by many continental states, with hardly as many modifi- 
 cations to adapt them to local circumstances as might have 
 been desirable. But it is the modern English constitu- 
 tion, in which power lies almost entirely in the House 
 of Commons, and is exercised by its officers, that has 
 been thus copied. In America the principle of the divi- 
 sion of powers has been carried farther than it ever was 
 in England; and is, of all parts of their form of govern- 
 ment, that from which many intelligent Americans would 
 be most loath to part. 
 
 We have seen enough of Montesquieu's attacks on the 
 
 1 Montesq'., iv. 24. (liv. xi. c. 7). 
 
 2 Rocquain, 170. Machiavelli, ii. 140, 215, 322 (Discourses on the 
 Jirst ten looks of Livy). 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 151 
 
 church. The most violent of them were made in his 
 youth, and in a book avowedly satirical. In mature life, 
 writing in a more philosophical spirit, his language is 
 temperate and wise. "It is bad reasoning against reli- 
 gion," he says, "to bring together in a great work a long 
 enumeration of the evils which she has produced, unless 
 you also recount the good she has done. If I shoidd teU 
 all the harm which civil laws, monarchy, or republican 
 government have done in the world, I should say frightful 
 things." 1 This idea was far beyond the reach of Voltaire. 
 Montesquieu goes on to argue about different forms of 
 religion. Mahometanism he holds especially suited to 
 despotism, Christianity to limited governments. Cathol- 
 icism is adapted to monarchies, Protestantism, and espe- 
 cially Calvinism, to republics. Where fatalism is a re- 
 ligious dogma, the penalties imposed by law must be 
 more severe, and the watch kept on the commmiity more 
 vigilant, so that men may be driven by these motives 
 who otherwise would abandon self-restraint; but if the 
 dogma of liberty be established, the case is otherwise. 
 Climate is not without influence on religion. The ablu- 
 tions required of a Mahometan are useful in his warm 
 country. The Protestant of Northern Europe has to 
 work harder for a living than the Catholic of the South, 
 and therefore desires fewer religious holidays. If a state 
 can prevent the establishment of a new form of religion 
 within its borders, it will find it well to do so; but if 
 several religions are established, they should not be 
 allowed to interfere with each other. Penal laws in reli- 
 gious matters should be avoided ; for each religion has its 
 own spiritual penalties, and to put a man between the fear 
 of temporal punishment, on the one hand, and the fear of 
 spiritual punishment on the other, degrades his soul. The 
 possessions of the clergy should be limited by laws of 
 mortmain.^ 
 
 1 Montesq., v. 117 (liv. xxiv. c. 2). 
 
 2 Ibid., V. 124-136 (liv. xxiv. c. 5-14). 
 
152 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The spirit of moderation should be the spirit of the 
 legislator. This Montesquieu declared to be the great 
 theme of his book. Political good, like moral good, is 
 always found between extremes.^ 
 
 It was this moderation which made the " Spirit of the 
 Laws " distasteful to the more ardent Philosophers. Shar- 
 ing in many of the feelings of his contemporaries, and 
 especially in their distrust of the church, Montesquieu 
 was yet unwilling to go to the same extremes as they. 
 His chapter on Uniformity and the criticisms made on it 
 by Condorcet, form an admirable instance of this. 
 
 "There are certain ideas of uniformity," says Montes- 
 quieu, "which sometimes take possession of great minds 
 (for they touched Charlemagne), but which invariably 
 strike small ones. These find in them a kind of perfec- 
 tion which they recognize, because it is impossible not to 
 see it; the same weights in matters of police, the same 
 measures in commerce, the same laws in the state, the same 
 religion in all its parts. But is this always desirable with- 
 out exceptions? Is the evil of changing always less than 
 the evil of suffering? And would not the greatness of 
 genius rather consist in knowing in what case uniformity 
 is necessary, and in what case difference? In China, the 
 Chinese are governed by the Chinese ceremonies, and the 
 Tartars by Tartar ceremonies ; yet this is the nation in aU 
 the world which is most devoted to tranquillity. So long 
 as the citizens obey the law, what matters it that they 
 shall all obey the same? " 
 
 This chapter (the whole of it is given above, and it may 
 pass in the "Spirit of the Laws" for one of middling 
 length), is, according to Condorcet, " one of those which 
 have acquired for Montesquieu the indulgence of all preju- 
 diced people, of all who hate intellectual light ; of all pro- 
 tectors of abuses, etc." And after going on with his invec- 
 tive for some time, Condorcet states the substance of his 
 1 Montesq., v. 379 (liv. xxix. c. 1). 
 
MONTESQUIEU. 153 
 
 argument as follows: "As truth, reason, justice, the 
 rights of men, the interest of property, of liberty, of 
 security, are the same everywhere, we do not see why all 
 the provinces of one state, or even why all states should 
 not have the same criminal laws, the same civil laws, the 
 same laws of commerce, etc. A good law must be good 
 for all men, as a true proposition is true for all. The 
 laws which appear as if they should be different for differ- 
 ent countries, either pronounce on objects which should 
 not be regulated by laws, like most commercial regula- 
 tions, or are founded on prejudices and habits which 
 should be uprooted ; and one of the best means of destroy- 
 ing them is to cease to sustain them by laws." ^ 
 
 In these two passages we have the issue between Mon- 
 tesquieu and the Philosophic party fairly joined. He 
 alone of the great Frenchmen of his century recognized 
 the enormous complication of human life and human 
 affairs. Not denying that there are fundamental princi- 
 ples of justice, he saw that those principles are hard to 
 formulate truly, harder to apply wisely. For their appli- 
 cation he offered many valuable suggestions. These were 
 lost in the rush and hurry of approaching revolution. 
 The superb simplicity of mind which could ignore the 
 diversities of human nature was perhaps necessary for 
 the uprootino- of old abuses. But the delicate task of 
 constructing a permanent government cannot succeed 
 unless the differences as well as the resemblances among 
 men be taken into account. 
 
 1 Montesq., v. 412 (liv. xxix. c. 18). Condorcet, i. 377. Yet Con- 
 dorcet speaks elsewhere of Montesquieu as having made a revolution 
 in men's minds on the subject of law. D'Alerabert, i. 64 (Condorcet's 
 Eloge de d'Alemhert). Rousseau also teaches that all laws and institu- 
 tions are not adapted to all nations, but it is because he considers 
 most nations childish or effete. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PARIS. 
 
 The members of the Third Estate differed among them- 
 selves far more than did those of the Clergy or the No- 
 bility. This order comprised the rich banker and the 
 beggar at his gate, the learned encyclopaedist and the 
 water-carrier that could not spell his name. Every lay- 
 man, not of noble blood, belonged tt) the Third Estate. 
 And although this was the unprivileged order, there were 
 privileged bodies and privileged persons within it. Cor- 
 porations, guilds, cities, and whole provinces possessed 
 rights distinct from those of the rest of the country. 
 
 In the reign of Louis XVI. the city of Paris held a 
 position in the world even more prominent than that 
 which it holds to-day. For France was then incontesta- 
 bly the first European power, and Paris was then, as it is 
 now, not only the capital and the metropolis, but the 
 heart and centre of life in France. The population was 
 variously estimated at from six to nine hundred thousand. 
 The city was growing in size, and new houses were contin- 
 ually erected. There was so much building at times dur- 
 ing this reign, that masons worked at night, receiving 
 double wages. Architects and master masons were be- 
 coming rich, and rents were high when compared to those 
 of other places. Strangers and provincials flocked to 
 Paris for the winter and returned to the country during 
 the fine season. Sentimentalists read the works of Rous- 
 seau and praised a country life, but then as now few peo- 
 
PARIS. 
 
 155 
 
 pie that could afford to stay in the city, and had once 
 been caught by its fascination, cared to live permanently 
 out of town.^ 
 
 The public buildings and gardens were worthy of the 
 first city in Europe. With some of them travelers of 
 to-day are familiar. The larger number of the remark- 
 able churches now standing were in existence before the 
 Revolution. Of the palaces then in the city, the three 
 most famous have met with varied fates. The Luxem- 
 bourg, which was the residence of the king's eldest 
 brother, is the least changed. To the building itseK but 
 small additions have been made. Its garden was and is 
 a quiet, orderly place where respectable family groups sit 
 about in the shade. The Louvre has been much enlarged. 
 Under Louis XVI. it consisted of the buildings surround- 
 ing the eastern court, of a wing extending toward the 
 river (the gallery of Apollo), and of a long gallery, since 
 rebuilt, running near the river bank and connecting this 
 older palace with the Tuileries. About one-half of the 
 space now enclosed between the two sides of the enormous 
 edifice, and known as the Place du Carrousel, was then 
 covered with houses and streets. The land immediately 
 to the east of the Tuileries palace was not built upon, but 
 part of it was enclosed by a tail iron railing. Such a 
 railing, either the original one or its successor, was to be 
 seen in the same place until recent times and may be 
 standing to-day. The Place du Carrousel, as it then ex- 
 isted outside of this railing, was a square of moderate size 
 surrounded by houses. 
 
 The Palace of the Tuileries itself has had an eventful 
 history since Louis XVI. came to the throne, and has 
 only in recent years been utterly swept from the ground. 
 But the gardens which bear its name are little changed. 
 The long raised terraces ran along their sides then as 
 now; although there was no Rue de Rivoli, and the only 
 1 Mercier, iv. 205, vii. 190. Babeau, Paris en 1789, 27. 
 
156 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 access to the gardens on the north side was by two or 
 three streets or lanes from the Rue Saint-Honore. Within 
 the garden the arrangement of broad, sunny walks and of 
 shady horse-chestnuts was much the same as now. Well- 
 dressed persons walked about or sat under the trees, and 
 the unwashed crowd was admitted only on two or three 
 holidays every year. In consequence of this exclusion 
 the wives of respectable citizens used to come unattended 
 to take the air in the gardens. They were brought in 
 sedan-chairs, from which they alighted at the gate. What 
 is now the Place de la Concorde was then the Place Louis 
 Quinze, with an equestrian statue of that "well-beloved" 
 monarch where the obelisk stands. Not far from the 
 pedestal of that statue overturned, — not far from the 
 entrance of the street called Royal, — near the place 
 where many people had been crushed to death in the 
 crowd assembled to see the fireworks in honor of the mar- 
 riage of the Dauphin and the Princess Marie Antoinette 
 of Austria, — was to stand the scaffold on which that 
 Dauphin and that princess, after reaching the height of 
 earthly splendor, were to pay for their own sins and weak- 
 nesses and for those of their country. 
 
 To the west of the square came the Champs Elysees, 
 still somewhat rough in condition, but with people sit- 
 ting on chairs even then to watch the carriages rolling 
 by, as they still do on any fine afternoon. The Boule- 
 vards stretched their shady length all round the city, 
 and were a fashionable drive and walk, near which the 
 smaller theatres rose and throve, evading the monopoly 
 of the opera and the rran9ais. But the boulevards 
 were almost the only broad streets. Those interminable, 
 straight avenues, which even the brilliancy and movement 
 of Paris can hardly make anything but tiresome, had not 
 yet been cut. The streets were narrow and shady ; most 
 of them not very long, nor mathematically straight, but 
 keeping a general direction and widening here and there 
 
PARIS. 157 
 
 into a little square before a church door, or curving to 
 follow an irregularity of the ground. Such streets were 
 not in accordance with the taste of the age and caused 
 progressive people to complain of Paris. Rousseau, who 
 had seen Turin, was disappointed in the French capital. 
 On arriving he saw at first only small, dirty, and stinking 
 streets, ugly black houses, poverty, beggars, and working 
 people ; and the impression thus made was never entirely 
 effaced from his mind, in spite of the magnificence which 
 he recognized at a later time. Young thought that Paris 
 was not to be compared with London ; and Thomas Jeffer- 
 son wrote that the latter, though handsomer than Paris, 
 was not so handsome as Philadelphia. But the Parisian 
 liked his uneven streets well enough. There were fine 
 things to be seen in them. Although the city was crowded, 
 there were gardens in many places, belonging to convents 
 and even to private persons. And once in your walk you 
 might come out upon a bridge, where, if there were not 
 houses built upon it, you might catch a breath of the fresh 
 breeze, and watch the sun disappearing behind the distant 
 village of Chaillot ; for nowhere does he set more glori- 
 ously than along the Seine. ^ 
 
 The houses were tall and dark, and the streets narrow 
 and muddy. There was little water to use, and none to 
 waste, for the larger part of the city depended upon wells 
 or upon the supply brought in buckets from the Seine. 
 The scarcity was hardly to be regretted, for there were 
 few drains to carry dirty water away, and the gutter was 
 full enough already. It ran down the middle of the 
 street, which sloped gently toward it, and there were no 
 sidewalks. When it rained, this street-gutter would rise 
 and overflow, and enterprising men would come out with 
 little wooden bridges on wheels and slip them in between 
 
 ^ Paris a travers les ages. Babeau, Paris en 1789. Cog^el, 27, 74. 
 Kousseau, xvii. 274 (Confessions, Part i. liv. iv.). Young, i. 60; Ran- 
 dall's Jefferson^ i. 447. 
 
158 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the carriages, and give the quick-footed walker an oppor- 
 tunity to cross the torrent, if he did not slip in from the 
 wet plank; while a pretty woman would sometimes trust 
 herself to the arms of a burly porter.^ The houses had 
 gutters along the eaves, but no conductors coming down 
 the walls, so that the water from the roofs was collected 
 and came down once in every few yards in a torrent, 
 bursting umbrellas, and deluging cloaks and hats. The 
 manure spread before sick men's doors to deaden the 
 sound of wheels was washed down the street to add to the 
 destructive qualities which already characterized the mud 
 of Paris. An exceptionally heavy fall of snow would en- 
 tirely get the better of the authorities, filling the streets 
 from side to side with pools of slush, in which fallen horses 
 had been known to drown. When the sun shone again all 
 was lively as before ; the innumerable vehicles crowded 
 the streets from wall to wall, with their great hubs stand- 
 ing well out beyond the wheels, and threatened to evis- 
 cerate the pedestrian, as he flattened himself against the 
 house. The carriages of the nobility dashed through the 
 press, the drivers calling out to make room; they were 
 now seldom preceded by runners in splendid livery, as 
 had been the fashion under the former reign, but some- 
 times one or two huge dogs careered in front, and the 
 Parisians complained that they were first knocked down 
 by the dogs and then run over by the wheels. At times 
 came street cleaners and swept up some of the mud, and 
 carted it away, having first freely spattered the clothes of 
 all who passed near them. In some streets were slaugh- 
 ter-houses, and terrified cattle occasionally made their 
 way into the neighboring shops. The signs swung mer- 
 rily overhead. They appealed to the most careless eye, 
 being often gigantic boots, or swords, or gloves, marking 
 what was for sale within ; or if in words, they might be 
 
 1 See the print in Fournel, 539, after Granier. Conductors were 
 coming into use before the Revolution. Encyc. meth. Jurisp., x. 716. 
 
PARIS. 159 
 
 misspelt, and thus adapted to a rude understanding. 
 Large placards on the walls advertised the theatres. 
 Street musicians performed on their instruments. Ballad- 
 singers howled forth the story of the last great crime. 
 Amid all the hubbub, the nimble citizen who had prac- 
 ticed walking as a fine art, picked his careful way in low 
 shoes and white silk stockings ; hoping to avoid the neces- 
 sity of calling for the services of the men with clothes- 
 brush and blacking who waited at the street corners.^ 
 
 They were a fine sight, these citizens of Paris, before 
 the male half of the world had adopted, even in its hours 
 of play, the black and gray livery of toil. The Parisians 
 of the latter part of King Louis XVI.'s reign affected 
 simplicity of attire, but not gloom. The cocked hat was 
 believed to have permanently driven out the less graceful 
 round hat. It was jauntily placed on the wearer's own 
 hair, which was powdered and tied behind with a black 
 ribbon. For the coat, stripes were in fashion, of light 
 blue and pink, or other brilliant colors. The waistcoat 
 and breeches might be pale yellow, with pink bindings 
 and blue buttons ; the garters and the clocks of the white 
 stockings, blue; the shoes black, with plain steel buckles. 
 This would be an appropriate costume for the street; 
 although many people wore court-mourning from econ- 
 omy, and forgot to take it off when the court did. A 
 handsome snuff-box, often changed, and a ring, were part 
 of the costume of a well-dressed man ; and it was usual to 
 wear two watches, probably from an excessive effort after 
 symmetry ; while it is intimated by the satirist that clean 
 lace cuffs were sometimes sewn upon a dirty shirt. ^ 
 
 1 Mercier, xii. 71, i. 107, 123, 215, 216. Young, i. 76. In 1761 the 
 signs in the principal streets were reduced to a projection of three 
 feet. Later, they were ordered to be set flat against the walls. 
 Babeau, Paris, 42 ; but see Mercier. Names were first put on the 
 street corners in 1728. Babeau, Paris, 43. Franklin, U Hygiene. 
 
 ^ Babeau, Paris, 214. Fashion plates in various books. For 
 
160 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The costume of gentlemen in this reign was as graceful 
 in shape as any that has been worn in modern Europe. 
 The coat and waistcoat were rather long and followed 
 the lines of the person ; the tight breeches met the long 
 stockings just below the knee, showing the figure to 
 advantage. The dress of ladies, on the other hand, was 
 stiff, grotesque, and ungainly; waists were worn very 
 long, and hoops were large and stiff. But the most 
 noticeable thing was the huge structure which, almost 
 throughout the reign, was built upon ladies' heads. As 
 it varied between one and three feet in height, and was 
 very elaborate in design, it could not often be taken down. 
 No little skill was required to construct it, and poor girls 
 could sometimes earn a living by letting out their heads 
 by the hour to undergo the practice of clumsy barbers' 
 apprentices. At one time red hair came into fashion and 
 was simulated by the use of red powder. The colors for 
 clothes varied with the invention of the milliners, and the 
 habit of giving grotesque names to new colors had already 
 arisen in Paris. About 1782, "fleas' back and belly," 
 "goose dung," and "Paris mud "were the last new thing. 
 Caps "a la Boston," and "a la Philadelphie," had gone 
 out. Instead of the fashion-plates with which Paris has 
 since supplied the world, but which under Louis XVI. 
 were only just coming into use, dolls were dressed in the 
 latest style by the milliners and sent to London, Berlin, 
 and Vienna.^ 
 
 The dress of the common people was more brilliant and 
 varied than it is in our time, but probably less neat. 
 Cleanliness of person has never been a leading virtue 
 evening dress, suits all of black were beginning to come in towards 
 1789. In the street gentlemen were beginning to dress like grooms, 
 aping the English. The sword was still worn at times, even by- 
 upper servants, but the cane was fast superseding it. Women also 
 carried canes, which helped them to walk in their high-heeled shoes. 
 Mercier, xi. 229, i. 293. 
 
 1 Franklin, Les soins de toilette. Mercier, viii. 295, ii. 197, 198, 2ia 
 
PARIS. 161 
 
 among the French poor. Although there were elaborate 
 bathing establishments in the river, a large proportion of 
 the people hardly knew what it was to take a bath.^ The 
 sentimental milkmaids of Greuze are no more like the 
 tanned and wrinkled women that sold milk in the streets 
 of Paris, than the court-shepherdesses of Watteau and Bou- 
 cher were like the rude peasants that watched their sheep 
 on the Jura mountains. But the Parisian cockney was 
 fond of dress, and would rather starve his stomach than 
 his back. The milliners' shops, where the pretty seam- 
 stresses sat sewing all day in sight of the street, remind- 
 ing the Parisians of seraglios, were never empty of those 
 who had money to spend. For leaner purses, the women 
 who sat under umbrellas in front of the Colonnade of the 
 Louvre had bargains of cast-off clothing ; and there were 
 booths along the quays on Sunday, and a fair in the 
 Place de la Greve on Monday. ^ 
 
 It is sometimes said of our own times that the rich have 
 become richer and the poor poorer than in former days. 
 I believe that this is entirely untrue, and that in the sec- 
 ond half of the nineteenth century a smaller proportion of 
 the inhabitants of civilized countries suffers from hunger 
 and cold than ever before. Whatever be the figures by 
 which fortunes are counted, there is no doubt that the visi- 
 ble difference between the rich and the poor was greater in 
 the reign of Louis XVI. than in our own time.^ In spite 
 of the fashion of simplicity which was one of the affecta- 
 
 1 But Young says, *' In point of cleanliness I think the merit 
 of the two nations is divided ; the French are cleaner in their per- 
 sons, and the English in their houses." Young, i. 291. The whole 
 comparison there given of French and English customs is most inter- 
 esting. 
 
 2 Mercier, viii. 269, ix. 294, v. 281, ii. 267. 
 
 ^ Mercier mentions fortunes varying from 100,000 to 900,000 
 livres income, and speaks of the former as common, i, 172. Mean- 
 while clerks got from 800 to 1500 livres and even less. Those with 
 1200 wore velvet coats, ii. 118. 
 
162 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tions of those days, the courtier still on occasion glittered 
 in brocade. His liveried servants waited about his door. 
 His lackeys climbed behind his coach, and awoke the dimly 
 lighted streets with the glare of their torches, as the 
 heavy vehicle bore him homeward from the supper and 
 the card-table. The luxuries of great houses were rela- 
 tively more expensive. A dish of early peas might cost 
 six hundred francs. Six different officials (a word less 
 dignified would hardly suit the importance of the subject), 
 had charge of the preparation of his lordship's food and 
 drink, and bullied the numerous train of serving-men, 
 kitchen - boys, and scullions. There was the maitre 
 d' hotel., or housekeeper, who attended to purchases and to 
 storing the food; the chief cook, for soups, Jiors d''oeuvre, 
 entrees., and entremets; the pastry-cook, with general 
 charge of the oven ; the roaster, who fattened the poultry 
 and larded the meat before he put the turnspit dog into the 
 wheel; an Italian confectioner for sweet dishes; and a 
 butler to look after the wine. Bread was usually brought 
 from the bakers, even to great houses, and was charged 
 for by keeping tally with notches on a stick. Baking was 
 an important trade in Paris, and in times of scarcity the 
 bakers were given the first chance to buy wood. For del- 
 icacies, there was the great shop at the Hotel d'Aligre in 
 the Rue Saint Honore, a "famous temple of gluttony," 
 where truffles from Perigord, potted partridges from 
 Nerac, and carp from Strasbourg were piled beside dates, 
 figs, and pots of orange jelly; and where the foreigner 
 from beyond the Rhine, or the Alps, could find his own 
 sauerkraut or macaroni.^ 
 
 At the tables of the rich it was usual to entertain many 
 guests; not in the modern way, by asking people for a 
 particular day and hour, but by general invitation. The 
 host opened his house two or three times a week for din- 
 
 1 Mercier, x. 208, xi. 229, 346, xii. 243. 
 
PARIS. 
 
 163 
 
 ner or supper, and anybody who had once been invited 
 was always at liberty to drop in. Thus arose a class of 
 respectably dressed people who were in the habit of dining 
 daily at the cost of their acquaintance. After dinner it 
 was the fashion to slip away; the hostess called out a 
 polite phrase across the table to the retreating guest, who 
 replied with a single word.^ ' It was of course but a small 
 part of the inhabitants of Paris that ate at rich men's 
 tables. The fare of the middle classes was far less elab- 
 orate; but it generally included meat once or twice a day. 
 The markets were dirty, and fish was dear and bad. 
 The duties which were levied at the entrance of the town 
 raised the price of food, and of the wine which Frenchmen 
 find equally essential. Provisions were usually bought 
 in very small quantities, less than a pound of sugar at a 
 time. Enough for one meal only was brought home, in 
 a piece of printed paper, or an old letter. Unsuccess- 
 fid books thus found their use at the grocer's. Before 
 dinner the supply for dinner was bought ; before supper, 
 that for supper. After the meal nothing was left. The 
 poorer citizens carried their dinners to be baked at the 
 cook-shops, and saved something in the price of wood. 
 The lower classes had their meat chopped fine and packed 
 in sausages, as is still done in Germany, an economical 
 measure by which many shortcomings are covered up and 
 no scrap is lost.^ 
 
 The use of coffee had become universal. It was sold 
 about the streets for two sous a cup, including the milk 
 and a tiny bit of sugar. While the rich drank punch and 
 ate ices, the poor slaked their thirst with liquorice water, 
 
 1 Mercier, i. 176, ii. 225. La Robe dine, La f nance soiipe. Mercier 
 says that a man who was a whole year without calling at a house 
 where he had once been admitted had to be presented over again, and 
 make some excuse, as that he had traveled, etc. This the hostess 
 pretended to believe. 
 
 2 Ibid., i. 219, xii. 128. 
 
164 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 drawn from a shining cylinder carried on a man's back. 
 The cups were fastened to this itinerant fountain by long 
 chains, and were liable to be dashed from thirsty lips in a 
 crowd by any one passing between the drinker and the 
 water-seller.^ 
 
 For the very poor there was second-hand food, the 
 rejected scraps of the rich. In Paris they were nasty 
 enough ; but at Versailles, where the king and the princes 
 lived, even people that were well to do did not scorn to 
 buy dishes that had been carried untouched from a royal 
 table. Near the poultry market in Paris, a great pot was 
 always hanging on the fire, with capons boiling in it; 
 you bought a boiled fowl with its broth, a savory mess. 
 In general the variety of food was increasing. Within 
 forty years the number of sorts of fruit and vegetables in 
 use had almost doubled.^ 
 
 The population was divided into many distinct classes, 
 but there was a good deal of intercourse from class to 
 class, nor was it extremely difficult for the able and am- 
 bitious to rise in the world. The financiers had become 
 rich and important, but were regarded with jealousy. In 
 an aristocratic state the nobles think it all wrong that 
 any one else should have as much money as themselves. 
 This is not strange; but it is more remarkable that the 
 common people are generally of the same opinion, and 
 that, while the profusion of the great noble is looked on 
 as no more than the liberality which belongs to his station, 
 the extravagance of the mere man of money is condemned 
 and derided. This tendency was increased in France by 
 the fact that many of the greatest fortunes were made by 
 the farmers of the revenue, who were hated as publicans 
 
 1 Mercier, viii. 270, n., iv. 154, xii. 296, v. 310. See plates in Four- 
 nel, 509, 516. 
 
 2 Ibid., V. 85, 249. Genlis, Dictionnaire des Etiquettes, ii. 40, n., 
 citing Buffon. Scraps of food are still sold in the Central Market of 
 Paris. 
 
PARIS. 165 
 
 even more than they were envied as rich men. Yet one 
 financier, Necker, although of foreign birth, was perhaps 
 the most popular man in France during this reign, and it 
 was not the least of Louis's follies or misfortunes that he 
 could not bring himself to share the admiration of his 
 people for his Director General of the Treasury. 
 
 The mercantile class in Paris did not hold a high posi- 
 tion. The merchant was too much of a shopkeeper, and 
 the shopkeeper was too much of a huckster. The small- 
 est sale involved a long course of bargaining. This was 
 perhaps partly due to the fact, admirable in itseK, that the 
 wife was generally united with her husband in the manage- 
 ment of the shop. The customary law of Paris was favor- 
 able to the rights of property of married women ; and the 
 latter were associated with their husbands in commerce 
 and consulted in all affairs. This habit is still observed 
 in France. It tends to draw husband and wife together, 
 by uniting their occupations and their interests. Unfor- 
 tunately it tends also to the neglect of children, especially 
 in infancy, when their claims are exacting. Thus the 
 Frenchwoman of the middle class is in some respects more 
 of a wife and less of a mother than the corresponding 
 Anglo-Saxon. The babies, even of people of very mod- 
 erate means, were generally sent out from Paris into the 
 country to be nursed. Later in the lives of children, girls 
 were kept continually with their mothers, watched and 
 guarded with a care of which we have little conception. 
 Boys were much more separated from their parents, and 
 left to schoolmasters. Neither boys nor girls were trusted 
 or allowed to gain experience for themselves nearly as 
 much as we consider desirable.^ 
 
 Marriages were generally left to the discretion of par- 
 ents, except in the lowest classes ; and parents were too 
 often governed by pecuniary, rather than by personal 
 considerations in choosing the wives and husbands of their 
 1 Mercier, i. 53, v. 231, ix. 173, vi. 325. 
 
166 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 sons and daughters. Such a system of marriage would 
 seem unbearable, did we not know that it is borne and 
 approved by the greater part of mankind. It is possible 
 that the chief objection to it is to be found less in the 
 want of attachment between married people, which might 
 be supposed to be its natural result, than in the diminu- 
 tion of the sense of loyalty. In England and America it 
 is felt to be disgraceful to break a contract which both 
 parties have freely made, with their eyes open ; and this 
 feeling greatly reenforces the other motives to fidelity. 
 Yet while the rich and idle class in France, if the stories 
 of French writers may be trusted, has always been honey- 
 combed with marital unfaithfulness, there are probably 
 no people in the world more united than the husbands and 
 wives of the French lower and middle classes. Working 
 side by side all the week with tireless industry, sharing a 
 frugal but not a sordid life, they seek their innocent 
 pleasures together on Sundays and holidays. The whole 
 neighborhood of Paris is enlivened with their not un- 
 seemly gayety, as freely shared as the toil by which it was 
 earned. The rowdyism of the sports in which men are 
 not accompanied by women, the concentrated vulgarity of 
 the summer boarding-house, where women live apart from 
 the men of their families, are almost equally unknown in 
 France. In the latter part of the eighteenth century 
 many of the comfortable burghers of Paris owned little 
 villas in the suburbs, whither the family retired on Sun- 
 days, sometimes taking the shop-boy as an especial favor. 
 The common people also were to be found in great num- 
 bers in the suburban villages, such as Passy, Auteuil, or 
 in the Bois de Boulogne, dancing on the green ; although 
 in the reign of Louis XVI. they are said to have been less 
 gay than before.^ 
 
 Artists, artisans, and journeymen, in their various 
 degrees, formed classes of great importance, for Paris was 
 1 Mercier, iii. 143, iv. 162, xii. 101. 
 
PARIS. 167 
 
 famous for many sorts of manufactures, and especially 
 for those which required good taste. But it was noticed 
 that on account of the abridgment of the power of the 
 trade-guilds, and the consequent rise of competition, 
 French goods were losing in excellence, while they gained 
 in cheapness ; so that it was said that workmanship was 
 becoming less thorough in Paris than in London. 
 
 The police of Paris was already remarkable for its 
 efficiency. The inhabitants of the capital of France lived 
 secure in their houses, or rode freely into the country, 
 while those of London were in danger of being stopped 
 by highwaymen on suburban roads, or robbed at night by 
 housebreakers in town. From riots, also, the Parisians 
 had long been singularly free, and for more than a cen- 
 tury had seen none of importance, while London was ter- 
 rified, and much property destroyed in 1780 by the Gordon 
 ii'iots. In spite of the forebodings of some few pessimists, 
 people did not expect any great revolution, but rather 
 social and economic reforms. It was believed that the 
 powers of repression were too strong for the powers of 
 insurrection. The crash came at last, not through the 
 failure of the ordinary police, but from demoralization at 
 the centre of government and in the army. While Louis 
 still reigned in peace at Versailles, the administration of 
 Paris went on efficiently. Correspondence was maintained 
 with the police of other cities. Criminals and suspected 
 persons, when arrested, could be condemned by summary 
 process. The Lieutenant General of Police had it in his 
 discretion to punish without publicity. The more scan- 
 dalous crimes were systematically hidden from the public ; 
 ft process more favorable to morality than to civil liberty. 
 For the criminal classes in Paris arbitrary imprisonment 
 vvas the common fate, and disreputable men and women 
 were brought in by bands. ^ 
 
 The liability to arbitrary arrest affected the lives of but 
 1 Mercier, vi. 206. Monier, 396. 
 
168 THE EVE OF THE FHENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 a small proportion of the citizens after all. To most 
 Parisians it was far more important that the streets were 
 safe by day and night; that fire-engines were provided, 
 and Capuchin monks trained to use them, while soldiers 
 hastened to the fire and would press all able-bodied men 
 into the service of passing buckets ; that small civil cases 
 were promptly and justly disposed of.^ 
 
 The increase of humane ideas which marked the age 
 was beginning in the course of this reign to affect the 
 hospitals and poor-houses as well as the prisons, and to 
 diminish their horrors. At the Hotel Dieu, the greatest 
 hospital in Paris, six patients were sometimes wedged 
 into one filthy bed. Yet even there, some improvement 
 had taken place. And while Howard considered that 
 hospital a disgrace to Paris, he found many other chari- 
 table foundations in the city which did it honor. Here as 
 elsewhere there was no uniformity.^ 
 
 In the medical profession, the regular physicians held 
 themselves far above the surgeons, many of whom had 
 been barbers' apprentices; but it would appear that the 
 science of surgery was better taught and was really in a 
 more advanced state than that of medicine. More than 
 eight hundred students attended the school of surgery. 
 In medicine, inoculation was slowly making its way, but 
 was resorted to only by the upper classes. Excessive 
 bleeding and purgation were going out of fashion, but the 
 poor still employed quacks, or swallowed the coarse drugs 
 which the grocers sold cheaper than the regular apothe- 
 caries, or relied on the universal remedy of the lower 
 classes in Paris, a cordial of black currants.^ 
 
 1 Mercier, i. 197, 210, ix. 220, xii. 162 (Jurisdiction consulaire). 
 
 2 Mercier, vii. 7, iii. 225. Howard, State of the Prisons, 176, 177. 
 Babeau, La Ville, 435. Cognel, 88. A horrible description of the 
 Hotel Dieu, written in 1788 by Tenon, a member of Academy oi 
 Sciences, is given in A. Franklin, UHygihie, 181. 
 
 8 It was called Cassis. Mercier, xii. 126, vii. 126. 
 
• PARTS. 169 
 
 Near the Hotel Dieu was the asylum for foundlings, 
 whither they were brought not only from Paris, but from 
 distant towns, and whence they were sent out to be nursed 
 in the country. They were brought to Paris done up 
 tightly in their swaddling clothes, little crying bundles, 
 packed three at a time into wadded boxes, carried on 
 men's backs. The habit of dressing children loosely, 
 recommended by Rousseau, had not yet reached the poor; 
 as the habit of having babies nursed by their own 
 mothers, which he had also striven to introduce, had been 
 speedily abandoned by the rich. The mortality among 
 the foundlings was great, for two hundred of them were 
 sometimes kept in one ward during their stay at the 
 asylum.^ 
 
 Although some falling off in the ardor of religious 
 practices was noticed as the Revolution drew near, the 
 ceremonies of the church were still visible in all their 
 splendor. On the feast of Corpus Christi a long proces- 
 sion passed through the streets, where doors and windows 
 were hung with carpets and tapestry. The worsted pic- 
 tures, it is true, were adapted rather to a decorative than 
 to a pious purpose, and over-scrupulous persons might be 
 shocked at seeing Europa on her bull, or Ps^^che admiring 
 the sleejDing Cupid, on the route of a religious procession. 
 Such anomalies, however, could well be disregarded. 
 Around the sacred Host were gathered the dignitaries of 
 the state and the city in their robes of office, marshaled 
 by the priests, who for that day seemed to command the 
 town. In some cases, it is said, the great lords contented 
 themselves with sending their liveried servants to repre- 
 sent them. Soldiers formed the escort. The crowd in 
 the street fell on its knees as the procession passed. Flow- 
 ers, incense, music, the faithful with their foreheads in 
 the dust, aU contributed to the picturesqueness of the 
 
 ^ Mercier, iii. 239, viii. 188. Cognel found the asylum very clean, 
 Cognel, 87» 
 
170 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 scene. A week later the ceremony was repeated with 
 almost equal pomp. On the Sunday following, there was 
 another procession in the northern suburbs. Naked boys, 
 leading lambs, represented Saint John the Baptist; Mag- 
 dalens eight years old, walking by their nurses' side, wept 
 over their sins; the pupils of the school of the Sacred 
 Heart marched with downcast eyes. The Host was car- 
 ried under a dais of which the cords were held by respected 
 citizens, and was escorted by forty Swiss guards. A 
 hundred and fifty censers swung incense on the air. The 
 diplomatic corps watched the procession from the balcony 
 of the Venetian ambassador, even the Protestants bowing 
 or kneeling with the rest.^ 
 
 From time to time, through the year, these great cere- 
 monies were renewed, either on a regularly returning day, 
 or as occasion might demand. On the 3d of July the 
 Swiss of the rue aux Ours was publicly carried in proces- 
 sion. There was a legend that a Swiss Protestant soldier 
 had once struck the statue of the Holy Virgin on the cor- 
 ner of this street with his sword, and that blood had 
 flowed from the wounded image. Therefore, on the anni- 
 versary of the outrage, a wicker figure was carried about 
 the town, bobbing at all the sacred images at the street 
 corners, with a curious mixture of piety and fun. Orig- 
 inally it had been dressed like a Swiss, but the people 
 of Switzerland, who were numerous and useful in Paris, 
 remonstrated at a custom likely to bring them into con- 
 tempt; and the grotesque giant was thereupon arrayed in 
 a wig and a long coat, with a wooden dagger painted red 
 in his hand. The grammarian Du Marsais once got into 
 trouble on the occasion of this procession. He was walk- 
 ing in the street when one woman elbowed another in try- 
 ing to get near the statue. "If you want to pray," said 
 the woman who had been pushed, "go on your knees 
 where you are; the Holy Virgin is everywhere." Du 
 1 Mercier, iii. 78. Cognel, 101. 
 
PARIS. 171 
 
 Marsais was so indiscreet as to interfere. Being a gram- 
 marian, he was probably of a disputatious turn of mind. 
 "My good woman," said he, "you have spoken heresy. 
 Only God is everywhere; not the Virgin." The woman 
 turned on him and cried out : " See this old wretch, this 
 Huguenot, this Calvinist, who says that the Holy Virgin 
 is not everywhere ! " Thereupon Du Marsais was attacked 
 by the mob and forced to take refuge in a house, whence 
 he was rescued by the guard, which kept him shut up for 
 his own safety until after nightfall. ^ 
 
 For an occasional procession, we have one in October, 
 1785, when three hundred and thirteen prisoners, re- 
 deemed from slavery among the Algerines, were led for 
 three days about the streets with great pomp by brothers 
 of the orders of the Redemption. Each captive was con- 
 ducted by two angels, to whom he was bound with red and 
 blue ribbons, and the angels carried scrolls emblazoned 
 with the arms of the orders. There was the usual display 
 of banners and crosses, guards and policemen ; there were 
 bands of music and palm-branches. The long march re- 
 quired frequent refreshment, which was offered by the 
 faithful, and it is said that many of the captives and some 
 of the professionally religious persons indulged too freely. 
 A drunken angel must have been a cheerful sight indeed. 
 The object of this procession was to raise money to re- 
 deem more prisoners from slavery, for the Barbary pirates 
 were still suffered by the European powers to plunder the 
 commerce of the Mediterranean and to kidnap Christian 
 sailors.^ 
 
 Nor was it in great festivals alone that the religious 
 spirit of the people was manifested. On Sundays aU 
 
 1 Mercier, iv. 97. Fournel, 176. This procession was abolished 
 by order of the police, June 27, 1789. Fournel, 177. 
 
 2 Bachaumont, xxx. 24. Compare Lesage, i. 347 {Le diable hoiteux, 
 eh. xix). For a procession of persons delivered by charity from im- 
 prisoiuueut for not paying their wet nurses, see Mercier, xii. 85. 
 
172 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 shops were shut, and the common people heard at least 
 the morning mass, although they were getting careless 
 about vespers. Every spring for a fortnight about Eas- 
 ter, there was a great revival of religious observance, and 
 churches and confessionals were crowded. But through- 
 out the year, one humble kind of procession might be met 
 in the streets of Paris. A poor priest, in a worn sur- 
 plice, reverently carries the Host under an old dii-ty can- 
 opy. A beadle plods along in front, with an acolyte to 
 ring the bell, at the sound of which the passers-by kneel 
 in the streets and cabs and coaches are stopped. Louis 
 XV. once met the "Good God," as the eucharistic wafer 
 was piously called, and earned a short-lived popularity by 
 going down on his silken knees in the mud. All persons 
 may follow the viaticum into the chamber of the dying. 
 The watch, if it meets the procession on its return, will 
 escort it back to its church.^ 
 
 Let us follow it in the early morning, and, taking our 
 stand under the porch where the broken statues of the 
 saints are still crowned with the faded flowers of yester- 
 day's festival, or wandering thence about the streets of 
 the city, let us watch the stream of life as it flows now 
 stronger, now more gently hour by hour. 
 
 It is seven o'clock. The market gardeners, with their 
 empty baskets, are jogging on their weary horses toward 
 the suburbs. Already they have supplied the markets. 
 They meet only the early clerks, fresh shaven and pow- 
 dered, hastening to their offices. At nine, the town is 
 decidedly awake. The young barber-surgeons ("whit- 
 ing " as the Parisians call them), sprinkled from head to 
 foot with hair powder, carry the curling-iron in one hand, 
 the wig in the other, on their way to the houses of their 
 customers. The waiters from the lemonade - shops are 
 bringing coffee and cakes to the occupants of furnished 
 
 1 Ordonnance de la police du Chatelel concernant Vobservation dei 
 dlmanches etjetes, du 18 Novembre, 1782. Mouin, 403. 
 
PARIS. 173 
 
 lodgings. On tlie boulevards, young dandies, struck with 
 Anglomania, contend awkwardly with their saddle-horses. 
 
 At ten lawyers in black and clients of all colors flock 
 to the island in the river where are the courts of law. 
 The Palace, as the great court-house is called, is a large 
 and imposing pile of buildings, with fine halls and strong 
 prisons, and the most beautiful of gothic chapels. But 
 the passages are blocked with the stalls of hucksters who 
 sell stationery, books, and knicknacks.^ 
 
 In the rue Neuve des Petits Champs they are drawing 
 the royal lottery. The Lieutenant-General of Police, 
 accompanied by several officers, appears on a platform. 
 Near him is the wheel of fortune. The wheel is turned, 
 it stops, and a boy with blindfolded eyes puts his hand 
 into an opening in the wheel, and pulls out a ticket, 
 which he hands to the official. The latter opens it, hold- 
 ing it up conspicuously in front of him to avert suspicion 
 of foul play. The ticket is then posted on a board, and 
 the boy pulls out another. The crowd is noisy and ex- 
 cited at first, then sombre and discouraged as all the 
 chances are exhausted. 
 
 Noon is the time when the Exchange is most active, and 
 when lazy people hang about the Palais Royal, whose 
 gardens are the centre of news and gossip. The ante- 
 chambers of bankers and men in place are crowded with 
 anxious clients. At two the streets are full of diners- 
 out, and all the cabs are taken. They are heavy and 
 clumsy vehicles, dirty inside and out, and the coachmen 
 are drunken fellows. Clerks and upper servants dash 
 about in cabriolets, and sober people are scandalized at 
 seeing women in these frivolous vehicles unescorted. 
 "They go alone; they go in pairs! " cries one, "without 
 any men. You would think they wanted to change their 
 sex." Dandies drive the high-built English "whiski." 
 All are blocked among carts and drays, with sacks, and 
 1 Mercier, vi. 72, iv. 146, ix. 171. Cognel, 41. 
 
174 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 beams, and casks of wine. For people that would go out 
 of town there are comfortable traveling chaises, or the 
 cheap and wretched carrahas, in which twenty persons 
 are jolted together, and the rate of travel is but two or 
 three miles an hour; while on the road to Versailles, the 
 active postillions known as e7irages will take you to the 
 royal town and back, a distance of twenty miles, and give 
 you time to call on a minister of state, all within three 
 hours. ^ 
 
 Between half past two and three, people of fashion are 
 sitting down to dinner, following the mysterious law of 
 their nature which makes them do everything an hour or 
 two later in the day than other mortals. At quarter past 
 five the streets are full again. People are on their way 
 to the theatre, or going for a drive in the boulevards, and 
 the coffee-houses are filling. As daylight fails, bands of 
 carpenters and masons plod heavily toward the suburbs, 
 shaking the lime from their heavy shoes. At nine in the 
 evening people are going to supper, and the streets are 
 more disorderly than at any time in the day. The scan- 
 dalous scenes which have disappeared from modern Paris, 
 but which are still visible in London, were in the last 
 century allowed early in the evening; but long before 
 midnight the police had driven all disorderly characters 
 from the streets. At eleven the coffee-houses are clos- 
 ing; the town is quiet, only to be awakened from time 
 to time by the carriages of the rich going home after late 
 suppers, or by the tramp of the beasts of burden of the 
 six thousand peasants who nightly bring vegetables, fruit, 
 and flowers into the great city.^ 
 
 1 Mercier, vii. 114, 228, ix. 1, 266, xi. 17, xii. 253. Chdrest, ii. 166. 
 
 2 Ibid., iv. 148. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS. 
 
 The provincial towns in France under Louis XVI. were 
 only beginning to assume a modern appearance. Built 
 originally within walls, their houses had been tall, their 
 streets narrow, crooked, and dirty. But in the eighteenth 
 century most of the walls had been pulled down, and 
 public walks or drives laid out on their sites. The idea 
 that the beauty of cities consists largely in the breadth 
 and straightness of their streets had taken a firm hold on 
 the public mind. This idea, if not more thoroughly car- 
 ried out than it can be in an old town, has much in its 
 favor. Before the French Revolution the broad, dusty, 
 modern avenues, which allow free passage to men and 
 carriages and free entrance to light and air, but where 
 there is little shade from the sun or shelter from the wind, 
 were beginning to supersede the cooler and less windy, but 
 malodorous lanes where the busy life of the Middle Ages 
 had found shelter. Large and imposing public buildings 
 were constructed in many towns, facing on the public 
 squares. With the artistic thoroughness which belongs 
 to the French mind, the fronts of the surrounding private 
 houses were made to conform in style to those of their 
 prouder neighbors. The streets were lighted, although 
 rather dimly ; their names were written at their corners, 
 and in some instances the houses were numbered. 
 
 But such innovations did not touch every provincial 
 town, nor cover the whole of the places which they entered. 
 More commonly, the old appearance of the streets was 
 little changed. The houses jutted out into the narrow 
 
176 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 way, with all manner of inexplicable corners and angles. 
 The shop windows were unglazed, and shaded only by a 
 wooden pent-house, or by the upper half of a shutter. 
 The other half might be lowered to form a shelf, from 
 which the wares could overrun well into the roadway. 
 Near the wooden sign which creaked overhead stood a 
 statue of the Virgin or a saint. Glancing into the dimly- 
 lighted shop, you might see the master working at his 
 trade, with a journeyman and an apprentice. The busy 
 housewife bustled to and fro; now chaffering with a cus- 
 tomer at the shop-door, now cooking the dinner, or scold- 
 ing the red-armed maid, in the kitchen. ^ 
 
 The house was only one room wide, but several stories 
 high. Upstairs were the chambers and perhaps a sitting- 
 room. Even among people of moderate means the modern 
 division of rooms was coming into fashion, and beds were 
 being banished from kitchens and parlors. There were 
 more beds also, and fewer people in each, than in former 
 years. On the walls of the rooms paint and paper were 
 taking the place of tapestry, and light colors, with bright- 
 ness and cleanliness, were displacing soft dark tones, dirt^ 
 and vermin. 2 
 
 Houses were thinly built and doors and windows rattled 
 in their frames. The rooms in the greater part of France 
 were heated only by open fires, although stoves of brick 
 or glazed pottery were in common use in Switzerland and 
 Germany; and wood was scarce and dear. In countries 
 where the winter is short and sharp, people bear it with 
 what patience they may, instead of providing against it, 
 as is necessary where the cold is more severe and pro- 
 longed. Thicker clothes were worn in the house than 
 when moving about in the streets. Wadded slippers pro- 
 tected the feet against the chill of the brick floors, and 
 
 1 Babeau, La Ville, 363. Ibid., Les Artisans, 73, 82. Viollet le 
 Due, Diet, d' Architecture (Boutique.) 
 
 2 Babeau, Les Bourgeois, 9, 19, 37. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS. 177 
 
 the old sat in high-backed chairs to cut off the draft, with 
 footstools under their feet. Chilblains were, and are still, 
 a constant annoyance of European winter. The dressing- 
 gown was in fashion in France as in America, where we 
 frequently see it in portraits of the last century. Similar 
 garments had been in use in the Middle Ages. They 
 belong to cold houses.^ 
 
 The dress of the working-classes, which had been very 
 brilliant at the time of the Kenaissance, had become 
 sombre in the seventeenth century, but was regaining 
 brilliancy in the eighteenth. The townspeople dressed 
 in less bright colors than the peasants of the country, but 
 not cheaply in proportion to their means. Already social 
 distinctions were disappearing from costume, and it was 
 remarked that a master-workman, of a Sunday, in his 
 black coat and powdered hair, might be mistaken for a 
 magistrate ; while the wife of a rich burgher was hardly 
 distinguishable from a noblewoman.^ 
 
 Great thrift was practiced by the poorer townspeople of 
 the middle class, but their lives were not without comfort. 
 We read of a family in a small town of Auvergne before 
 the middle of the century, composed of a man and his 
 wife, with a large number of children, the wife's mother, 
 her two grandmothers, her three aunts, and her sister, all 
 sitting about one table, and living on one modest income. 
 The husband and father had a small business and o^vned 
 a garden and a little farm. In the garden almost enough 
 vegetables were raised for the use of the family. Quinces, 
 apples, and pears were preserved in honey for the winter. 
 The wool of their own sheep was spun by the women, and 
 so was the flax of their field, which the neighbors helped 
 
 ^ Babeau, Les Artisans, 123. In 1695 the water and wine froze 
 on the king's table at Versailles, Les Bourgeois, 23. 
 
 ^ Babeau, Les Artisans, 13, 199. Handiwork was very cheap. 
 Babeau gives the bill for a black gown costing 210 livres 15 sous, of 
 which only 3 livres was for the making ; Les Bourgeois, 169 n. 
 
178 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tliem to strip of an evening. From the walnuts of their 
 trees they pressed oil for the table and for the lamp. 
 The great chestnuts were boiled for food. The bread 
 also was made of their own grain, and the wine of their 
 own grapes. 
 
 In the country towns, among people of small means, a 
 healthy freedom was allowed to boys and girls. There 
 were moonlight walks and singing parties. Love matches 
 resulted from thus throwing the young people together, 
 and were found not to turn out worse than other mar- 
 riages. But in large towns matches were still arranged 
 by parents, and the girls were educated rather to please 
 the older people than the young men, for it was the elders 
 who would find husbands for them.^ 
 
 Amusements were simple and rational in the cultivated 
 middle class. People in the provinces were not above 
 enjoying amateur music and recitation, and the fashion 
 of singing songs at table, which was going out of vogue in 
 Paris, still held its own in smaller places. A literary 
 flavor, which has now disappeared, pervaded provincial 
 society. People wrote verses and made quotations. But 
 this did not prevent less intellectual pleasures. Players 
 sometimes spent eighteen out of the twenty -four hours 
 at the card -table. Balls were given either by private 
 persons or by subscription. Dancing would begin at six 
 and last well into the next morning ; for the dwellers in 
 small towns will give themselves up to an occupation 
 or an amusement with a thoroughness which the more 
 hurried life of a capital will not allow. The local no- 
 bility, and the upper ranks of the burgher class, the offi- 
 cers, magistrates, civil functionaries and their families, 
 met at these balls ; for social equality was gaining ground 
 in France. The shopkeepers and attorneys contented 
 themselves, as a rule, with quieter pleasures, excursions 
 into the country, theatres, visits, and little supper par- 
 1 Marmontel, i. 10, 51. Babeau, Les Bourgeois, 315. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS. 179 
 
 ties. Dancing in the open air and street shows, in 
 which once all classes had taken part, were now left to 
 the poor.^ 
 
 The journeyman sometimes lived v/ith his master, some- 
 times had a room of his own in another part of the town. 
 He dressed poorly and lived hard ; but generally had his 
 wine. Bread and vegetables formed the solid part of 
 his diet, beans being a favorite article of food. Wages 
 appear to have been about twenty-six sous a day for 
 men, and fifteen for women on an average, the value of 
 money being perhaps twice what it is now, but the varia- 
 tions were great from town to town. The hours of work 
 were long. People were up at four in the summer morn- 
 ings, in provincial towns, and did not stop working until 
 nine at night. But the work was the varied and leisurely 
 work of home, not the monotonous drudgery of the great 
 factory. Moreover, holidays were more than plenty, 
 averaging two a week throughout the year. The French 
 workman kept them with song and dance and wine ; but 
 drunkenness and riot were uncommon. ^ 
 
 The workman's chance of rising in his trade was far 
 better than it is now. There were not twice as many 
 journeymen as masters.^ The capital required for set- 
 ting up in business was small, although the fees were 
 relatively large ; the police had to be paid for a license ; 
 and the guilds for admission. 
 
 These jruilds reg^ulated all the trade and manufactures 
 of the country. They held strict monopolies, and no man 
 was allowed to exercise any handicraft as a master with- 
 out being a member of one of them. The guilds were 
 
 1 Babeau, Les Bourgeois, 209, 225, 241, 305. 
 
 2 Babeau, Les Artisans, 21, 34. A. Young, i. 565. 
 
 8 Babeau, Les Artisans, 63. Perhaps more workmen under Louis 
 XVI. Manufactures on a larger scale were coming in. At Mar- 
 seilles, 65 soap factories employed 1000 men ; 60 hatters, 800 men and 
 400 women. Julliany, i. 85. But Marseilles was a large city. In 
 smaller places the old domestic trades still held their ground. 
 
180 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 continually squabbling. Thus it was an unceasing com- 
 plaint of the shoemakers against the cobblers that the 
 latter sold new shoes as well as second-hand, a practice 
 contrary to the high privileges of the shoemakers' corpo- 
 ration. Sometimes the civil authorities were called on to 
 interfere. We find the trimming-makers of Paris, who 
 have the right to make silk buttons, obtaining a regula= 
 tion which forbids all persons wearing buttons of the 
 same cloth as their coats, or buttons that are cast, turned 
 or made of horn. 
 
 Minute regulations governed manufactures exercised 
 within the guilds. The number of threads to the inch 
 in cloth of various names and kinds was strictly regulated. 
 New inventions made their way with difficulty against the 
 vested rights of these corporations. Thus Le Prevost, 
 who invented the use of silk in making hats, was exposed 
 to all sorts of opposition from the other hatters, who said 
 that he infringed their privileges; but he overcame it 
 by perseverance, and finally made a large fortune. The 
 regulations served to keep up the standard of excellence 
 in manufacture, which probably fell in some respects on 
 their abolition. They were often made to benefit the 
 masters at the exj)ense of the workmen, who on their side 
 formed secret combinations of their own, fighting by 
 much the same methods as such unions employ to-day. 
 Thus in 1783 the journeymen paper -makers instituted a 
 system of fines on their masters, which they enforced by 
 deserting in a body the service of those who resisted 
 them.^ 
 
 The successful master of a trade, as he grew rich, might 
 pass into the upper middle class, the haute bourgeoisie. 
 He became a manufacturer, a merchant, perhaps even, 
 when he retired on his fortune, a royal secretary, with a 
 patent of hereditary nobility. His children, instead of 
 
 ^ Babeau, Les Artisans, 51, 108, 202, 239. Levasseur, ii. 353. 
 Turgot, iii. 328, 347. (Eloge de M. de Gournay), Mercier, xi. 363. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS. 181 
 
 leaving school when they had learned to read, write and 
 cipher, and had taken their first communion, stayed on, 
 or were promoted to a higher school, to learn Latin and 
 Greek. His wife was called Madame, like a duchess. 
 She had probably assisted in his rise, not only by good 
 advice and domestic frugality, but by the arts of a sales- 
 woman and by her talent for business. Should he die 
 while his sons were young, she understood his affairs and 
 could carry them on for her own benefit and for that of 
 her children. No longer a single maidservant, red in the 
 face and slatternly about the skirts, clatters among the 
 pots in the little dark kitchen behind the shop, or stands 
 with her arms akimbo giving advice to her mistress. The 
 successful man has mounted his house on a larger scale, 
 and if the insolent lackeys of the great do not hang about 
 his door, there are at least one or two of those quiet 
 and attentive old men-servants, whose respectful and self- 
 respecting familiarity adds at once to the comfort and the 
 dignity of life.^ 
 
 It was not within the walls of his own house alone that 
 the burgher might be a man of importance. The towns 
 retained to the end of the monarchy a few of the rights 
 for which they had struggled in earlier and rougher times. 
 Assemblies differently composed in different places, but 
 sometimes representing the guilds and fraternities and 
 sometimes made up of the whole body of citizens, took a 
 part in the government of the town. They voted on 
 loans, on the conduct of the city's lawsuits, and on muni- 
 cipal business generally. Officers were chosen in various 
 ways, some of them by very complicated forms of election, 
 and some by throwing of lots. These officers bore different 
 titles in different places, as consuls, echevins, syndics, or 
 jurats. They sometimes exercised considerable executive 
 and judicial powers, controlling the ordinary police of the 
 city. Their perquisites and privileges varied from town 
 1 Babeau, Les Artisans, 158, 1G7, 181, 204, 271. 
 
182 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 to town, with the color of their official robes, and the 
 ceremonies of their installation. The cities valued their 
 ancient rights, shorn as they were of much substantial 
 importance by the centralizing servants of the crown ; and 
 repeatedly bought them back from the king, as time after 
 time the old offices were abolished, and new-fashioned 
 purchasable mayoralties set up in their stead. ^ 
 
 The municipal authorities shared with the clergy the 
 control of education and the care of the poor and the sick. 
 The last were collected in large hospitals, many of which 
 were inefficiently managed. ^ It must always be borne in 
 mind, when thinking of the daily life of the past, that in 
 old times, and even so late as the second haK of the last 
 century, a high degree of civilization and a great deal of 
 luxury were not inconsistent with an almost entire disre- 
 gard of what we are in the habit of considering essential 
 conveniences. Comfort, indeed, has been well said to be 
 a modern word for a modern idea. Dirt and smells were 
 so common, even a hundred years ago, as hardly to be 
 noticed, and diseases arising from filth and foul air were 
 borne as unavoidable dispensations of divine wrath. Yet 
 some advance had been made. Baths had been absolutely 
 essential in the Middle Ages when every one wore wool ; 
 the result of the common use of linen had been at first to 
 put them out of fashion; under Louis XVI. they were 
 coming in again. The itch, so common in Auvergne 
 early in the century that in the schools a separate bench 
 
 1 Babeau, La Ville, 39. When the towns bought in the office of 
 mayor, they had to name an incumbent, and the town owned the office 
 only for his lifetime and had to buy it in again on his death. Ibid., 
 81. This looks as if the royal office of mayor were not hereditary, 
 in spite of the Edit de la Paulette. Where no other purchaser came 
 forward, the towns were obliged to buy the office. Ihid.^ 79. 
 
 2 There were great differences from place to place. Howard, 
 passim. The hospital, poor-house, etc., at Dijon were good ; the hos- 
 pital at Lyons large, but close and dirty. Rigby, 102, 113. Muir- 
 head, 156. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL TOA\T^S. 183 
 
 was set apart for the pupils who had it, was almost un- 
 known in 1786. Leprosy had nearly disappeared from 
 France before the end of the seventeenth century. The 
 plague was still an occasional visitant in the first quarter 
 of the eighteenth, in spite of rigorous quarantine regula- 
 tions. On its approach towns shut their gates and manned 
 their walls, and the startled authorities took to cleansing 
 and whitewashing. In 1722, the doctors of Marseilles 
 went about dressed in Turkey morocco, with gloves and a 
 mask of the same material; the mask had glass eyes, 
 and a big nose full of disinfectants. How the sight of 
 this costume affected the patients is not mentioned. When 
 the plague was over, the Te Deum was sung, and pro- 
 cessions took their way to the shrine of Saint Roch.^ 
 
 Schools were established in every town. The school- 
 masters formed a guild, the writing-masters another, and 
 neither was allowed to infringe the prerogatives of its 
 rival. The schoolmasters in towns were generally ap- 
 pointed by the clergy, but the municipal government kept 
 a certain control. A good deal of the teaching of boys 
 was done by Brotherhoods, while that of girls was almost 
 entirely entrusted to Sisters. In many places primary 
 instruction was free and obligatory, at least in name. 
 The law making it so had been passed under Louis XIV. , 
 for the purpose of bringing the children of Protestants 
 under Catholic teaching; but this law was not always 
 ■ mf orced. In northern France, there were evening schools 
 for adults, and Sunday schools where reading and writing 
 was taught, probably to children employed in trades dur- 
 ing the week. A certain amount of religious instruction 
 jyreceded the ceremony of the "first communion." As 
 to secondary or advanced schools, they are said to have 
 been more numerous and accessible in the eighteenth cen- 
 tury than now, when they have mostly been consolidated 
 in the larger cities. There were five hundred and sixty- 
 1 Babeau, Les Bourgeois, 111. Ibid., La V'dle, 443. 
 
184 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 two establishments reckoned as secondary in France in 
 1789, about one third of them being in the hands of Bro- 
 therhoods. There were also many private schools licensed 
 by the municipal authorities. The boys when away from 
 home lived very simply indeed. Marmontel, who was 
 sent from his own little towTi to attend the school at a 
 neighboring one, has left a description of his mode of life. 
 "I was lodged according to the custom of the school with 
 five other scholars, at the house of an honest artisan of 
 the town ; and my father, sad enough at going away with- 
 out me, left with me my package of provisions for the 
 week. They consisted of a big loaf of rye-bread, a small 
 cheese, a piece of bacon and two or three pounds of beef; 
 my mother had added a dozen apples. This, once for all, 
 was the allowance of the best fed scholars in the school. 
 The woman of the house cooked for us ; and for her trouble, 
 her fire, her lamp, her beds, her lodging and even the veg- 
 etables from her little garden which she put in the pot, we 
 gave her twenty-five sous apiece a month ; so ttiat all told, 
 except for my clothing, I might cost my father from four 
 to five louis a year." This was about 1733, and the style 
 of living may have risen a little, even for schoolboys, dur- 
 ing the following half century. The sons of professional 
 men and people of the middle class were better off in 
 respect to education than most young nobles; as the 
 former were sent to good schools, while the latter were 
 brought up at home by incompetent tutors. It would 
 appear to have been easy enough for a boy to get an edu- 
 cation ; harder for a girl. But no one who has glanced at 
 the literature of the time will imagine that France was 
 then destitute of clever women. ^ 
 
 In the eighteenth century great changes were taking 
 place in the national life. Simple artisans presumed to 
 be more comfortable in 1789 than the first people of the 
 
 1 Babeau, La Ville, 482. Ibid., Les Bourgeois, 369. Marmontel, 
 i. 16. Moutbarey, i. 280. Ch. de Ribbe, i. 320. 
 
THE PROVINCIAL TOWNS. 185 
 
 town had been fifty years before. The middle class lived 
 in many respects like the nobility, with material luxuries 
 and intellectual pleasures. Yet the artificial barriers were 
 still maintained. The citizen, unless of noble birth, was 
 excluded not only from the army, but from the higher 
 positions in the administration and in the legal profession. 
 The nobility of the gown was liable to be treated with 
 alternate familiarity and impertinence by that of the sword 
 or by that of the court. The last held most of the posi- 
 tions which strongly appealed to vanity, many of those 
 which bore the largest profit. Jealousy is possible only 
 where persons or classes come near each other, and before 
 the Revolution the various classes in France were rapidly 
 drawing together. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE COUNTRY. 
 
 There is perhaps no great country inhabited by civil- 
 ized man more favored by nature than France. Possess- 
 ing every variety of surface from the sublime mountain 
 to the shifting sand-dune, from the loamy plain to the 
 precipitous rock, the land is smiled upon by a climate in 
 which the extremes of heat and cold are of rare occur- 
 rence. The grape will ripen over the greater part of the 
 country, the orange and the olive in its southeastern cor- 
 ner. The deep soil of many provinces gives ample return 
 to the labor of the husbandman. If the inhabitants of 
 such a country are not prosperous, surely the fault lies 
 rather with man than with nature. 
 
 It has been the fashion to represent the French peasant 
 before the Revolution as a miserable and starving crea- 
 ture. "One sees certain wild animals, male and female, 
 scattered about the country; black, livid and all burnt 
 by the sun ; attached to the earth in which they dig with 
 invincible obstinacy. They have something like an artic- 
 ulate voice, and when they rise on their feet they show a 
 human face ; and in fact they are men. They retire at 
 night into dens, where they live on black bread, water, 
 and roots. They spare other men the trouble of sowing, 
 digging and harvesting to live, and thus deserve not to 
 lack that bread which they have sown." This description, 
 eloquently written by La Bruyere, has been quoted by a 
 hundred authors. Some have used it to embellish their 
 books with a sensational paragraph ; others, and they are 
 many, to show from what wretchedness the French nation 
 has been delivered by its Revolution. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 187 
 
 The advances o£ the last hundred years are many and 
 great, but it is not necessary therefore to believe that in 
 three generations a great nation has emerged from sav- 
 agery. Let us see what part of La Bruyere's description 
 may be set down to rhetoric, and to the astonishment of the 
 scholar who looks hard at a countryman for the first time. 
 Undoubtedly the peasant is sunburnt ; unquestionably he 
 is dirty. His speech falls roughly on a town -bred ear ; 
 his features have been made coarse by exposure. His hut 
 is far less comfortable than a city house. His food is 
 coarse, and not always j^lentiful. All these things may 
 be true, and yet the peasant may be intelligent and civil- 
 ized. He may be as happy as most of the toilers upon 
 earth. He may have his days of comfort, his hours of 
 enjoyment. 
 
 While the French writers of the eighteenth century find 
 fault with many things in the condition of the peasant, 
 their general opinion of his lot is not unfavorable. Vol- 
 taire thinks him well off on the whole. Eousseau is con- 
 stantly vauntmg not only the morality but the happiness 
 of rural life. Mirabeau the elder says that gayety is dis- 
 appearing, perhaps because the people are too rich, and 
 argues that France is not decrej^it but vigorous.^ 
 
 " The general appearance of the people is different to 
 what I expected," writes an English traveler, to his fam- 
 ily, in 1789; "they are strong and well made. We saw 
 many most agreeable scenes as we passed along in the 
 evening before we came to Lisle : little parties sitting at 
 their doors; some of the men smoking, some playing at 
 cards in the open air, and others spinning cotton. Every- 
 thing we see bears the mark of industry, and all the 
 people look happy. We have indeed seen few signs of 
 opulence in individuals, for we do not see so many gen- 
 
 ^ La BruY^re, Caracterea, ii. Gl (de Vhomme). Voltaire, passim, 
 xxxi. 481, Diet, philos. {Population). Mirabeau, Uami des hommes, 
 31G, 325, 328. 
 
188 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tlemen's seats as in England, but we have seen few of 
 the lower classes in rags, idleness, and misery. What 
 strange prejudices we are apt to take concerning foreign- 
 ers ! I will own that I used to think that the French were 
 a trifling, insignificant people, that they were meagre in 
 their appearance, and lived in a state of wretchedness 
 from being oppressed by their superiors. What we have 
 already seen contradicts this;^ the men are strong and 
 athletic, and the face of the country shows that industry 
 is not discouraged. The women, too, — I speak of the 
 lower class, which in all countries is the largest and the 
 most useful, — are strong and well made, and seem to do 
 a great deal of labor, especially in the country. They 
 carry great loads and seem to be employed to go to market 
 with the produce of the fields and gardens on their backs. 
 An Englishwoman would, perhaps, think this hard, but 
 the cottagers in England are certainly not so well off ; I 
 am sure they do not look so happy. These women with 
 large and heavy baskets on their backs have all very good 
 caps on, their hair powdered, earrings, necklaces, and 
 crosses. We have not yet seen one with a hat on. What 
 strikes me most in what I have seen is the wonderful 
 difference between this country and England. I don't 
 know what we may think by and by, but at present the 
 difference seems to be in favor of the former ; if they are 
 not happy they look at least very like it." 
 
 "We have now traveled between four and five hundred 
 miles in France," says the same traveler in another 
 place, "and have hardly seen an acre uncultivated, except 
 two forests and parks, the one belonging to the Prince of 
 Conde, as I mentioned in a former letter, the other to the 
 king of France at Fontainebleau, and these are covered 
 with woods. In every place almost every inch has been 
 ploughed or dug, and at this time appears to be pressed 
 
 1 Observe that this was written in French Flanders. Note by Dr. 
 Rigby. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 189 
 
 with the weight of the incumbent crop. On the roads, to 
 the very edge where the travelers' wheels pass, and on the 
 hills to the very summit, may be seen the effects of human 
 industry. Since we left Paris we have come through a 
 country where the vine is cidtivated. This grows on the 
 sides and even on the tops of the highest hills. It will 
 also flourish where the soil is too poor to bear corn, and 
 on the sides of precipices where no animal could draw the 
 plough."! 
 
 Let us now turn to the other end of France, and hear 
 another traveler, one generally less enthusiastic than the 
 last. "The vintage itself," says Arthur Young, "can 
 hardly be such a scene of activity and animation, as this 
 universal one of treading out the corn, with which all the 
 towns and villages in Languedoc are now alive. The 
 corn is all roughly stacked around a dry, firm spot, where 
 great nmnbers of mules and horses are driven on a trot 
 round a centre, a woman holding the reins, and another, 
 or a girl or two, with whips drive ; the men supply and 
 clear the floor; other parties are dressing, by throwing 
 the corn into the air for the wind to blow away the chaff. 
 Every soul is employed, and with such an air of cheerful- 
 ness, that the people seem as well pleased with their labor, 
 as the farmer himself with his great heaps of wheat. The 
 scene is uncommonly animated and joyous. I stopped 
 and alighted often to see their method; I was always 
 very civilly treated, and my wishes for a good price for 
 the farmer, and not too good a one for the poor, well 
 received. "2 
 
 These descriptions would give too favorable an idea if 
 they were taken for the whole of France. All peasant 
 women did not powder their hair and wear earrings. 
 Those of France did much more field - work than those 
 of England. Their figures became bent, their general 
 
 1 Dr. Rigby, 11, 96. See also Sir George Collier, 21. 
 
 2 Arthur Young, i. 45 (July 24, 1787). 
 
190 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 appearance worn; an English observer, accustomed to 
 the more ruddy faces of his countrywomen, might set 
 them down for twice their age. They often went barefoot, 
 and on their way to market carried their shoes on a stick 
 until they drew near the town. They had to be thrifty, 
 and might be seen picking weeds on the wayside into their 
 aprons, to feed their cows. All provinces were not so 
 rich as Flanders. There were vast stretches of waste land 
 in France, given up to broom and heath. Wolves and 
 bears were still a terror to remote farms. There were, 
 moreover, times of famine, which the foolish regulations 
 of the government aggravated, by preventing the free 
 movement of provisions within the country. In some 
 provinces these seasons of famine were often repeated. 
 Then the wretched inhabitants sank into despair. Young 
 people would refuse to marry, saying that it was not 
 worth while to bring unfortunate children into the world. 
 But in general the country people were laborious and 
 happy, with enough for their daily needs, and often 
 merry, — resembling in that respect the English before 
 the Puritan revival rather than the Anglo-Saxons of more 
 modern times. ^ 
 
 In the country, as in the towns, prosperity and material 
 well-being were slowly increasing. The latter years of 
 King Louis XIV. had been years of depression and mis- 
 ery. External wars, and the persecution of the Protest- 
 ants at home, heavy taxation and bad government, had 
 reduced the numbers and the wealth of the French nation. 
 But with the accession of Louis XY. in 1715, a time of 
 
 1 A. Young, i. 6 (May 22,1787). Ibid., i. 45 (July 24, 1787), i. 18, 
 (June 10, 1787), i. 28 (June 28, 1787). D'Argenson, vi. 49 (Oct. 
 4, 1749), vi. 322 (Dec. 28, 1850), vii. 55 (Dec. 22, 1751), viii. 8, 
 35, 233, ix. 160. Turgot (iv. 274) reckons that in Limousin, 1766, the 
 laborers' families did not have more than 25 to 30 livres per person 
 per annum for their support, counting all they got. This is but 
 l^Vo sou a day, and bread cost 21 sous per lb. A. Young, i. 439. 
 This does not seem possible. The people lived partly ou chestnuts. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 191 
 
 recuperation had begun. During the seventy years that 
 followed, the population increased from about sixteen to 
 about twenty-six millions. The rent of land rose also. 
 The natural excellence of the soil, the natural intelligence 
 of the people, were bringing about a slow and uneven im- 
 provement. 1 
 
 One third of the soil was covered with small farms, 
 which at the death of every proprietor were subdivided 
 among his children. By a curious custom (arising in I 
 know not what form of jealousy or caprice), the subdivi- 
 sion was wantonly made more disastrous. It was usual 
 to divide not only the whole estate, but every part of it 
 among the heirs. Thus, if a peasant died possessed of six 
 fields and left three children, it was not the custom that 
 each child should take two fields, and that he who got 
 the best should make up the difference in money to his 
 brethren. Perhaps cash was too scarce for that. But 
 every one of the six fields would be divided into three 
 parts, one of which was given to each child, so that 
 instead of six separate plots of ground, there were now 
 eighteen. This process had been repeated until a farm 
 might almost be shaded by a single cherry-tree.''^ 
 
 The class of middling proprietors was very small. The 
 incidents to the holding of land by all who were not noble 
 drove rising families to the towns. The great change 
 that has come over the French country during the last 
 hundred years consists, in a measure, in the formation of 
 a class of men owning farms of moderate size. 
 
 A large part of the soil belonged to the nobles and the 
 
 ^ Clamageran, iii. 464. Bois-Guillebert, 179, and passim. Horn, 1. 
 The improvement was not universal. Lorraine is said to have lost 
 prosperity from the time of its union with France in 1737. Mathieu, 
 316. 
 
 2 Sybel, i. 22. Ch^rest, ii. 532. Turgot, iv. 260. English writers, 
 from Arthur Young to Lady Verney, wax eloquent over the evils of 
 small holdings. 
 
192 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 clero-y. The exact proportion cannot be ascertained. It 
 has been stated as high as two thirds ; but this is proba- 
 bly an exaggeration. These proprietors of the privileged 
 classes seldom cultivated any very large part of their 
 land themselves, by hired workmen, although certain 
 privileges and exemptions were allowed to such as chose 
 to keep their farms in their own hands. A few of them 
 let their lands for a fixed rent in money. But the greater 
 part of the cultivated soil which was owned by the nobil- 
 ity and clergy was in the hands of metayers^ lessees who 
 paid their rent in the shape of a proportionate part of the 
 crops. Sometimes the landlord made himself responsible 
 for a portion of the taxes ; sometimes he furnished cattle 
 or farming implements. His share of the gross crop was 
 usually one half. The system, which is still common in 
 some parts of France, is considered a good one neither 
 for the landlord nor for the tenant, but is devised princi- 
 pally to meet the want of capital on the part of thelatter.^ 
 - We may imagine the country-houses of the nobles scat- 
 tered over the face of the country so that the traveler 
 would come upon one of them once in two or three miles. 
 Sometimes the seat of the lord was an ancient castle, 
 with walls eight feet thick, rising above the surrounding 
 forest from the top of a steep hill, dark and threatening, 
 
 1 Young reckons that the price of arable land and its rent are 
 about the same in France as in England. The net revenue is larger 
 in France, because there are no poor-rates and the tithe is more 
 moderate in that country. The price of arable land he calculates to 
 be on an average £20 per acre ; rent 15 shillings 7d. per acre = 3^^^ 
 per cent, of the salable value. From this deduct the two vingti^mes 
 and 4 sous per livre (taxes paid by the landlord) and other expenses, 
 and the net revenue remains between 3 and 3^ per cent. The prod- 
 uct of wheat in France is, however, much worse than in England, so 
 that the proportion obtained by the landlord is greater and that of 
 the tenant less. In France the landlord gets one half of the crop ; 
 in England, one fourth to one sixth, sometimes only one tenth. 
 A. Young, i. 353. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 193 
 
 but no longer formidable. Within, the great hall was 
 stone-paved. Its walls were hung with dusky portraits 
 and rusty armor. From the hall would open a spacious 
 bedroom, with tapestried walls and a monumental bed- 
 stead. Curtains and coverlets showed the delicate em- 
 broidery of some ancestress, long since laid to rest in the 
 family chapel. The very sheets had perhaps been woven 
 by her shuttle. This bedroom, according to old custom, 
 was still the living-room of the family. Sometimes the 
 lord's house was modern, elegant, and symmetrical; it 
 was flanked with pavilions and in front of it was a stone 
 terrace, with a balustrade, on which stood vases for grow- 
 ing plants. Inside the house were high-studded rooms 
 with white waUs and gilded mouldings. High - backed, 
 crooked-legged chairs, in the style of the last reign, were 
 ranged against the walls ; and near the middle of the dark, 
 slippery, well- waxed floor, were lighter seats and stools. 
 The grandmother's armchair with its footstool stood at the 
 chimney corner, where the fire was religiously lighted on 
 All Saints and put out at Easter, regardless of weather. 
 Through the tall windows that opened down to the ground 
 might be seen the long straight garden-walks, none too 
 well kept, and clipped shrubs, with here and there a mar- 
 ble nymph, moss-grown and broken, or a fountain out of 
 repair. The family did not spend much money in the 
 place. There was little to do except in the season for 
 shooting. 1 
 
 In order that this last occupation may be left to the 
 lord and his friends, game is strictly preserved, to the 
 great detriment of the crops. Poachers are sharply dealt 
 with, and the peasant may not have a gun to protect him 
 from wolves. There are laws enough against the wrongs 
 wrought by landlords and gamekeepers, against the tram- 
 pling down of young wheat, against vexatious complaints 
 and fines, but the country people say that such laws are 
 1 Taine, Uancien regime^ 17. Mmc. de Montagu, 59. 
 
194 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 not fairly enforced. Especially is the case hard of those 
 who live near the capitaineries or royal hunting-grounds. 
 Here rural proprietors may not raise a new wall without 
 permission, lest the hares be restrained of their liberty of 
 eating cabbages. No crops can be cut until the appointed 
 day, that the young partridges be not disturbed. Deer 
 and rabbits live at free quarters in the cultivated fields. 
 They are the peasants' personal enemies, and among the 
 first unlawful acts of the Revolution will be their whole- 
 sale destruction.^ 
 
 In every village there is a church, sometimes even in 
 small places a beautiful gothic building, oftener modest 
 in size and of plain architecture. Once or twice in a 
 day's ride the red roofs and high walls of a convent come 
 in sight, not very different in appearance from a group 
 of farm buildings, — were it not for the chapel and its 
 belfry ; — for here in France the farms are surrounded by 
 high walls. The interminable straight roads, fine pieces 
 of engineering, but little traveled, stretch out between 
 the ploughed fields, with rows of Lombardy poplars on 
 either hand, that tantalize the sun-baked traveler with a 
 suo^o^estion of shade. 
 
 The peasants live in villages oftener than in detached 
 farms, and the village itself is apt to have a rudely for- 
 tified appearance. The fields that stretch about it belong 
 to the peasants, but with a modified ownership. Over 
 them the lords exercise their feudal rights. There is the 
 cens^ a fixed rent, annual, perpetual, inseparably attached 
 to the soil. It is paid sometimes in money, sometimes in 
 grain, fruits, or chickens, according to deed, or to long 
 established custom. There is the champart^ a rent pro- 
 portional to the crop, also payable to the lord ; and there 
 
 1 Olivier, 78, mentions the laws protecting the crops. The uni- 
 versal complaint of the cahiers proves the grievance. See the chapter 
 on the cahiers. The capitainerie of Chantilly was said to be over 100 
 miles in circumference. A. Young, i. 8 (May 25, 1787). 
 
THE COUNTRY. 195 
 
 is the tithe which must be given to the clergy. Should 
 the peasant wish to sell his holding, a fine called lads ct 
 vetites, amounting in some cases to one sixth of the price, 
 must be paid to the lord by the purchaser, and on some 
 estates the lord has also the right to refuse to accept 
 the new tenant, and to take the bargain on his own ac- 
 count. ^ 
 
 These are the common incidents of feudal tenure. 
 Eights analogous to them may be found in England or in 
 Germany, wherever that system has existed. And the 
 vestijres of a state of thino^s far older than feudalism have 
 not entirely disappeared. The commons of wood and of 
 pasturage yet recall the time when agi'icultural lands 
 were held by a common tenure. Even that tenure itself, 
 with its annual redistribution of the fields, may be found 
 in Lorraine. 2 
 
 There were, moreover, many irksome restrictions on the 
 peasant. In the lord's mill he must grind his corn; in 
 the lord's oven he must bake his bread; to the lord's 
 bull his cow must be taken. Days of labor on the lord's 
 land might be demanded of him. Ridiculous customs, 
 offensive to his dignity or his vanity, might be enforced. 
 Newly married couples were in some parishes made to 
 jump over the churchyard wall. In other places, on cer- 
 tain nights in the year, the peasants were obliged to beat 
 the water in the castle ditch to keep the frogs quiet. 
 These customs have been considered very grievous by 
 democratic writers, nor were they so indifferent to the 
 peasants themselves as the lovers of the good old times 
 would have us believe.^ * 
 
 It was not always the lord of the soil who enjoyed and 
 
 1 Prudhomme, 37, 137, 515. 
 
 2 Mathieu, 322. 
 
 * See the rural cahiers, passim. Mathieu gives the text of a cus- 
 tomary right of hanalitt. The fee of the four banal was ^^ of the 
 bread by weight ; the moulin banal, -^ of the tiour ; the pressoir 
 
196 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 exercised the feudal rights. He had sometimes sold them 
 to strangers, in whose hands they were merely revenue, 
 and who demanded them harshly. 
 
 The origin of these customs lay in a form of civilization 
 that had long passed away. To understand the conditions 
 on which the French peasants held their lands little more 
 than a hundred years ago, we must glance back over many 
 centuries. Feudalism began in military conquest. When 
 the barbarians overran the Koman Empire, the victorious 
 chiefs divided the land among their principal followers ; 
 and the titles thus conferred, although personal at first, 
 soon became hereditary. The man who received or in- 
 herited land was expected to appear in the field with his 
 followers at the call of his chief. The tenant, in his turn, 
 distributed the land among his friends on conditions sim- 
 ilar to those on which he had himself received it ; and the 
 process might be indefinitely repeated. Thus there came 
 to be a hierarchy in the state, in which every member was 
 responsible to his immediate superiors and obliged within 
 certain limits to obey the man next above him, rather 
 than the king who was supposed to rule them all. The 
 obligations were various, according to the conditions on 
 which the lands had been granted, but they always in- 
 volved military service on the part of the grantee, and 
 protection on the part of the grantor. The services 
 being mutual, and the tenure the usual, or fashionable 
 one, most persons who held land in any other way saw 
 fit to conform to the feudal method; and absolute, or 
 allodial owners, where the tide of conquest had left any, 
 generally, in the course of time, surrendered their lands 
 to some neighboring lord, and received them back again 
 on feudal conditions. 
 
 banal, ^V ^^ iV ®^ ^^^ wine ; but the fees varied in different places 
 even in one province. It was complained that presses enough for 
 the work were not furnished, and that grapes spoiled in consequence. 
 Mathieu,285. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 197 
 
 But the tenure here described existed only among the 
 comparatively rich and great. When the last feudal 
 division had been accomplished, when the chief had made 
 his last grant to his captains and the soil was divided 
 among them, there still remained by far the larger pai-t 
 of the population which owed no feudal duty and held 
 no feudal estate. The common soldiers of the invading 
 army, the native people of the conquered country and 
 their descendants, inextricably mixed together, remained 
 upon the soil and cultivated it as free tenants, or as serfs. 
 They paid for the use of the land on which they lived in 
 money or in a share of the crops, or in services. They 
 acknowledged the title of the feudal lords over them, and 
 while struggling to make good bargains with their masters, 
 they seldom set up a claim to equality, or to indej^en- 
 dence. The peasants came to think it the natural and 
 divinely appointed order of things that they should obey 
 and serve their lords, with a partial obedience and a lim- 
 ited service. To ask why they were content so to serve, 
 would be to open one of the greatest problems of history. 
 Whatever the reason, over a large part of the world, and 
 through the greater part of historical time, men have con- 
 sented to obey other men whom they have not selected, 
 and have generally preferred the hereditary principle to 
 any other in determining to whom they would look up as 
 their rulers. 
 
 So the French peasants and their lords went on for cen- 
 turies, living side by side, rendering each other mutual 
 services, sometimes quarreling and sometimes making 
 bargains. The peasants were called on for military 
 service, but they and their families took refuge in the 
 lord's castle when the frequent wars swept over the land. 
 The mill, whose rough machinery was still an improve- 
 ment on the rude hand-mill, or on the yet more primitive 
 mortar and pestle ; the oven where the peasant could bake 
 his bread without lighting a fire on his own hearth, after 
 
198 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the toil of the long summer's day; the bull of famous 
 breed in all the country-side, were the lord's, and all his 
 tenants must use them and pay for them, at rates fixed 
 by immemorial custom, or perhaps by some long forgotten 
 bargain, made when these conveniences were first fur- 
 nished to the dwellers in the land. The lord led his 
 peasants to battle, he protected them from the inhabi- 
 tants of the next valley, he decided their differences in 
 his court, where the more considerable of his tenants sat 
 beside him ; he governed his people, well or ill, according 
 to his character, but on the whole to their reasonable 
 satisfaction. His government, such as it might be, was 
 their only refuge from anarchy. The lord was governed, 
 not very strictly, by a greater lord, who in his turn owed 
 duty to a greater than he ; until, after one or more steps, 
 came the king, or overlord of the land. 
 
 The long struggle by which the kings of France had 
 transformed this loose chain of allegiance into the tight- 
 ened band of almost absolute monarchy, is not to be told 
 here. From the tenth century to the seventeenth the 
 combat was waged with varied success. The feudal lords 
 lost much of their power, but kept much of their wealth 
 and many of their privileges. The dukes and counts, 
 whose fathers, in their own domains, had been as power- 
 ful as the king himself, retained their titles, and drew 
 their incomes, but they spent their time in attendance 
 on their sovereign. The petty lord still held his court 
 of justice, over which his bailiff usually presided, but 
 its functions had been gradually usurped by the royal 
 judges. The castle, no longer needed for protection, was 
 transformed into a country house. But many old customs 
 and old rights were maintained, although their origin was 
 forgotten. The peasants still worked for several days in 
 the year on the lands of their lord, or paid a part of their 
 crops in rent for their farms, although these had been in 
 the possession of their forefathers for a thousand years. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 199 
 
 This rent, or some rent, the peasants under Louis XVI. 
 believed to be just, for they did not claim absolute owner- 
 ship, but they considered' the services onerous and degrad - 
 ing. Their ideas on these subjects were not very definite; 
 but of late years a general sense of wrong had been 
 growing in their minds. The long-lived quarrels which 
 ever exist in the country-side were envenomed by stronger 
 suspicions of injustice. It was a common complaint that 
 the last survey and apportionment of rent had been 
 unfair. The lords were no longer so far removed from 
 their poorer neighbors as to be above envy. They were 
 no longer so useful as to be considered necessary evils, as 
 a large part of the community everywhere is prone to 
 think of its governors. 
 
 Let us look at the life of the peasant. His cottage is 
 not attractive ; a low thatched building, perhaps without 
 a floor. The barn is close against it, and the family is 
 not averse to seeking the warmth of the cattle and of the 
 dunghiU. The windows are without glass, and pigs and 
 chickens wander in and out at the open door. But the 
 house belongs to the peasant, and is his home. He dares 
 not improve it for fear of increased taxes. He cares not 
 much to do so. It keeps him warm at night and dry when 
 it rains ; daylight and fine weather will find him out of 
 doors. If he can hide away a few pieces of silver in an 
 old stocking, he will more readily bring them out to buy 
 another bit of ground, than waste them in useless comforts 
 and luxuries of building. 
 
 The furniture was generally better than the house. A 
 great bedstead, with curtains of green serge, was the prin- 
 cipal piece, the centre of family life, the birthplace of the 
 children, the death - bed of the parents. It was made 
 as high as possible, to lift the sleepers above the damp 
 ground. A feather-bed helped to keep them warm. A 
 few cupboards and chests stood about the walls of the 
 room, dark with age and grime. They were made of oak, 
 
200 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 or pear wood, and sometimes rudely carved. In tlie 
 eighteentli century comfort had much increased in the 
 towns, but the country had seen little change. 
 
 The dress, again, was generally better than the furni- 
 ture. The costumes of the provinces are often the copy 
 of some long-forgotten fashion of the court, simplified or 
 changed to adapt it to rural skill and country needs. To 
 be well dressed is a sign of respectability ; to be modestly 
 housed may pass for a sign of thrift. On Sundays, 
 bright coats, blue, gray, or olive, made their appearance. 
 The women came out in good gowns and clean caps. 
 There were flowered damask waists, sleeves of white serge, 
 wine-colored petticoats. A gold cross was a sign of com- 
 parative wealth, but silver jewelry was common. Leather 
 shoes were worn by both sexes. On week days there 
 were wooden shoes, or bare feet in the southern provinces, 
 and overalls of gray linen. Under Louis XVI., cotton 
 bee:an to drive out the linen and woolen cloths of former 
 years. Being cheaper and less strong, clothes were oftener 
 renewed. The change was contrary to beauty, but favor- 
 able to cleanliness. 
 
 The food of the peasant depended much on his harvest. 
 In good years and on good soils he was well fed ; in bad 
 years and in poor districts, ill. Bread, the chief article 
 of his diet, was cheaper and less good than in England, 
 the wheat flour being mixed with rye, barley, oats, chest- 
 nuts or pease. The women made a soup, or porridge, by 
 boiling this bread in water, adding milk perhaps, or a 
 little bit of pork for a relish. Cheese and butter were 
 fairly plenty, for common lands were extensive. Beef 
 and mutton would be eaten at Easter-tide or at the festi- 
 val of the patron saint, and most at wedding-feasts. Wine 
 appears to have been considered a luxury, but a common 
 one. It would seem that a peasant who did not taste it 
 several times a week was accounted poor ; one who drank 
 it freely but temperately twice a day would have been 
 
THE COUNTRY. 201 
 
 called rich. Tobacco, the comforter of the poor, was in 
 common use. This description of the food of the country 
 people applies rather to the poorer peasants, or to those 
 whose condition was not above the average, than to those 
 who were best off. In Normandy, good bread, meat, 
 eggs, vegetables, and fruit, with plenty of cider, formed 
 the daily fare in prosperous farm-houses.^ 
 
 The peasants were not cut off from all social and polit- 
 ical activity. Every rural parish formed a separate little 
 community, very restricted in its rights and functions, 
 yet not without valuable corporate powers. ^ It could 
 hold property, both real and personal ; it could sue and 
 be sued ; it could elect its own officers and manage its 
 own affairs. In the eighteenth century it became the 
 fashion in France, as in many other countries, to divide 
 the common lands, but many parishes stiU held large 
 tracts in the reign of Louis XVI. The sale of their 
 woods, the letting of their pastures, of fishing rights, or 
 of the office of wine-taster in grape-growing districts, 
 formed the revenues of the rural community. Its expenses 
 were many and various. It repaired the nave of the 
 church, the choir being kept in order at the cost of the 
 priest. The parsonage and the wall round the church- 
 yard were maintained by the parish. The drawing for 
 the militia was at the expense of the community. So 
 were some of the roads. It paid the schoolmaster and 
 the syndic. Then there were incidental expenses, such as 
 the annual mass, the carriage of letters, the keej^ing in 
 order of the church clock. Sometimes the accounts of a 
 community show a charge for a present to some influential 
 person, capable of helping in a lawsuit, or of effecting a 
 reduction of the taxes assessed on the parish. It was a 
 
 ^ This description of the condition of the peasants is taken chiefly 
 from Babeau, La vie rurale. 
 
 2 The parish and the community were generally coterminous, but 
 were not always so. Ibid., Le Village, 97. 
 
202 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 notable feature of the communal expenses, tliat the lord 
 of the village shared them with his poorer neighbors. 
 Into these rural matters privilege did not extend. ^ 
 
 The public meetings of these little communities were 
 held on certain Sundays of the year after mass, or after 
 vespers. Sometimes the meeting took place in the church 
 itself, oftener in front of it, on the green. There the 
 men of the village, streaming from the porch, stood or 
 sat in groups on the grass, under the trees. Their own 
 elected syndic presided. Ten was a quorum for ordinary 
 business, but two thirds of the whole number was neces- 
 sary to confirm a loan. A fine could be imposed for ab- 
 sence, or for leaving the assembly before adjournment. 
 
 In these town meetings the aifairs of the community 
 were discussed and decided. Sales were made, land was 
 let, repairs of public buildings or of roads were voted. 
 The syndic was elected. A record of the proceedings was 
 kept, and was afterwards submitted to the royal intendant 
 for his approval, without which no action was valid. 
 This system lasted to the eve of the Eevolution, but was 
 at that time giving way to another. Under pretense that 
 the public meetings were disorderly, they were gradually 
 obliged to surrender their functions to boards partly or 
 wholly elected. But certain important matters, such as 
 the election of a schoolmaster, were still left to the general 
 assembly. At the same time the right of suffrage was 
 somewhat curtailed. Voters were required to be twenty- 
 five years old and to pay certain taxes. 
 
 The village had Its elected head, the syndic, ^ whose 
 functions were not unlike those of an American selectman. 
 
 1 But this was not always the case. See the caUer of the Artig- 
 nosc in Provence, Archives parlementaires, vi. 249. " Clochers et autres 
 batiments g^n^raux. (Les seigneurs n'en payent rien, meme pour 
 leurs biens roturiers, pour les differentes charges cles communantds)." 
 
 2 So called in the north of France. In the south, consul. Babeau, 
 M Village, 45. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 203 
 
 He was the executive officer of the community, who con- 
 ducted its business and had charge of its papers. The 
 central government of the country also laid tasks upon 
 him. He had to attend to the drawing of the militia, to 
 report epidemics among the cattle, to enforce the laws for 
 the destruction of caterpillars. Beside him were other 
 officers, also elected by the inhabitants, but more directly 
 the servants of the central power than he. These were 
 the collectors of taxes. The syndics and collectors had 
 much work and responsibility, with little pay and no 
 chance of promotion. Honest and capable men were 
 much averse to taking such places and often tried to es- 
 cape it. The dishonest acquired illicit gain in them, at 
 the expense of their fellow-subjects. Serving the com- 
 munity was considered less an honor than a duty, and 
 service could be forced on the unwilling citizen ; but the 
 inhabitants in easy circumstances often found means to 
 avoid the task, and the syndics and collectors were then 
 chosen from among the poorer and less educated peasants. 
 Some of them could neither read nor write. ^ A public 
 body that wishes to be well-served must not make public 
 service too disagreeable. France suffered at once from 
 overpaid courtiers, and from ill-treated syndics and col- 
 lectors. 
 
 The chief layman of the village was the lord's steward 
 (bailU\ who exercised the judicial functions of his master. 
 He held, himself above the common peasants and his wife 
 was called "Madame." Her kitchen showed a greater 
 array of pots and pans than that of her neighbors ; her 
 linen and her jewelry were more abundant than theirs. 
 The steward and the parish priest were the most impor- 
 tant persons in the hamlet.^ 
 
 ^ The above description of the political life of the village is taken 
 chiefly from Babeaii, Le Village. See also tlie cahier of the village 
 of Pin (Paris extra nmrosy Archives parlementaireSj v. 22, § 1). 
 
 2 Babeau, La vie rurale, 15G. 
 
204 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The schoolmaster came far below the priest, who had 
 over him a right of supervision. The main control of 
 the schools, however, was in the hands of the communi- 
 ties, which elected the masters from candidates approved 
 by the clergy. The latter insisted more strongly on 
 orthodoxy than on competence. The position of the vil- 
 lage schoolmaster was not brilliant. His house usually 
 consisted of two rooms, one for the school and one for 
 the family; his books were few, his clothes shabby. 
 He was paid in part by the scholars, at the rate of three 
 or five sous a month for reading, higher for writing and 
 arithmetic. In some cases a tax of a hundred and fifty 
 livres was laid on the parish for his benefit. But school 
 was not held during the whole year; the scholars would 
 desert in a body early in Lent, and be kept busy in the 
 fields until November. The master might act as surgeon, 
 or attorney, or surveyor; he might cultivate a plot of 
 ground. He was expected to assist the priest at divine 
 service, to lead the choir, or even to ring the bells. 
 Simple primary schools were abundant in the country, 
 especially in some of the northern provinces. In some 
 villages the boys and girls went together, but the higher 
 civil and ecclesiastical authorities, the king and the 
 bishops, more familiar with the manners of the court than 
 with those of the village, looked on these mixed schools 
 with disfavor. In general it was harder for girls to get 
 an education than for boys.^ 
 
 The ambitious lad found means by which to rise. In 
 
 1 Babeau, La vie rurale, 143. Ibid., Le Village, 277. Ibid., L'Ecole 
 de village, 17, 18. Matliieu, 262. Cahier of the " Instituteurs des petites 
 villes, hourgs, et villages de Bourgogne,^' Rev. des deux Mondes, April 15, 
 1881, 874. Statistics are imperfect, but from an examination of mar- 
 riage registers, Babeau gathers that the proportion of persons married 
 who could sign their names varied from nearly 89 per cent, of the 
 men and nearly 65 per cent, of the women in Lorraine, to 13 per cent, 
 of the men and nearly 6 per cent, of the women in the Nivernois. 
 The central provinces and Brittany were the most illiterate parts of 
 the country. L'Ecole, 3 n. 187. Le Village, 282 n. 3. 
 
THE COUNTRY. 205 
 
 spite of the heavy and badly levied taxes, he might grow 
 rich, add new fields to his father's farm, attain in some 
 degree to comfort and to that consideration in his neigh- 
 borhood which is perhaps the most legitimately dear to 
 the heart of all the worldly consequences of success. Nor 
 was it necessary to confine himself entirely to agriculture. 
 The lower walks of the law and of medicine might be 
 attained by the son of a peasant, and if one generation of 
 labor were hardly long enough to reach the higher, no 
 career, except the few reserved for the upper nobility, 
 was beyond the aspiration of the rising man for his chil- 
 dren or his children's children. There was more modest 
 promotion nearer at hand. The blacksmith and the inn- 
 keeper stood in the eyes of their poorer neighbors as in- 
 stances of prosperity. The studious boy, with good luck, 
 might become a schoohnaster, even a parish priest. The 
 active and pushing might, with favor, aspire to some petty 
 place under the central government; or to stewardship 
 for the lord. To what eminence of fortune might not 
 these prove the paths. ^ 
 
 Meanwhile for the unambitious, for the mass of rural 
 mankind, there were simpler pleasures, the dance on the 
 green of a Sunday afternoon, the weddings with their 
 feasts and merry-makings, the fairs and the festival of 
 the patron saint of the village. There were games, 
 ploughing matches, grinning matches. Holidays were 
 frequent, — too frequent, said the learned ; but probably 
 they did not often come amiss to the peasants. On those 
 days they could throw off their cares and play as heartily 
 as they had worked. It is generally believed that the 
 Frenchman, and especially the French peasant, was 
 livelier before the Revolution than he has ever been since.'* 
 
 ^ Babeau, La vie rurale, 128, etc. 
 
 2 Ibid.j 187. See Goldsmith's Traveller, the lines beginning: — 
 
 •' To kinder Bkies. where pentler manners reijjn, 
 I turn ; aud France displays her bright domain." 
 
206 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 There was much that was hard in the condition of the 
 rural classes, but it was better than that of the greater 
 part of mankind. On the continent of Europe only 
 the inhabitants of some small states equaled in prosperity 
 those of the more fortunate of the French provinces. ^ 
 And in France prosperity was growing. The peasant's 
 taxes were constantly getting heavier, but his means of 
 bearing them increased faster yet. The rising tide of 
 material prosperity, the great change of modern times, 
 could be felt, though feebly as yet, in the provinces of 
 France. 
 
 1 Holland and Lombardy were the richest countries in Europe. 
 Tuscany was especially well governed just then. A. Young, i. 480. 
 Serfdom still existed in some remote French provinces, especially in 
 the Jura mountains. Its principal characteristic was the escheating 
 to the lord of the property of all serfs dying childless. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TAXATION. 1 
 
 The gross amount paid in taxes by the French nation 
 before the Revolution will never be accurately known ; the 
 subject is too vast and complicated, and the accounts were 
 too loosely kept. Necker in his work on the "Administra- 
 tion of the Finances " reckons the sum annually paid by 
 the people at five hundred and eighty -five million livres. 
 Bailly (whose book appeared in 1830 and has not been 
 superseded) makes the gross amount eight hundred and 
 eighty millions. But from this should be deducted feudal 
 dues and fees for membership of trade guilds, which Bailly 
 includes in his estimate, and which were certainly private 
 property, however objectionable in their character. 
 There will remain less than eight hundred and thirty- 
 seven million livres as the amount paid by about twenty- 
 six million Frenchmen, in general and local taxation, in- 
 cluding tithes; an average of about thirty -two livres a 
 head. Was this amount excessive ? Probably not, if the 
 load had been rightly distributed. If we allow the franc 
 of to-day one haK of the purchasing power of the livre of 
 1789, the modern Frenchman yet pays more than his 
 great-grandfather did. But there can be little doubt 
 that he pays it more easily to himself. In the eigh- 
 teenth century the Englishman was probably better off 
 than his French neighbor, but his advantage was not 
 
 1 " I must again remark that clear accounts are not to be looked 
 for in the complex mountain of Frencli finances." A. Youngf, i. 578. 
 Young reckons the revenue at the entire command of Louis XVI. 
 at 680,664,943 livres, i. 575. See also Stourm, ii. 182. 
 
208 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 undoubted. Grenville, in 1769, speaks of the compar- 
 ative lightness of taxes and cheapness of living which, 
 he says, must make France an asylum for British man- 
 ufacturers and artificers. Young, twenty years later, 
 asserts that the taxes in England are much more than 
 double those in France, but more easily borne. Necker 
 says that England bears as large a burden of taxation as 
 France, in spite of a smaller number of inhabitants and 
 a less amount of money in circulation ; but bears it more 
 readily because it is better distributed. And Chastellux, 
 while arriving at a similar conclusion, remarks that after 
 all the French is, of all nations, the one that suffers most 
 from taxation.^ 
 
 Under the old monarchy the taxes were unequally as- 
 sessed in two ways. There were differences of places 
 and differences of persons. This is pretty sure to be true 
 of all countries, but in France the differences were very 
 large and were not sanctioned by the popular conscience. 
 In a country which had become strongly conscious of its 
 unity, and which was full of national feeling, some prov- 
 inces were taxed much more heavily than others, not for 
 their own local purposes, but for the support of the cen- 
 tral government. In the first place came those provinces 
 which were included in the general assessment of taxes. 
 These were divided into twenty-four districts {genera- 
 lites\ over each of which was an intendant. Twenty of 
 these districts formed the heart of old France, extending 
 irregularly from Amiens on the north to Bordeaux on the 
 south, and from Grenoble on the east to the sea. To 
 
 1 Necker, DeZMc?mm^s^m«^■on, i. 35,51. Bailly, ii. 275. Grenville, 
 The Present State of the Nation, 35 ; but this statement is made in 
 a political pamphlet, answered and apparently refuted by Burke, 
 Observations on a Late State of the Nation. A. Young, i. 596. Chas- 
 tellux, ii. 169. For 1891 the average taxation per head amounts to 
 86 francs, for 1789 to 34 livres, Statesman's Year Book, 1891, p. 472, 
 and Bailly. 
 
TAXATION. 
 
 20d 
 
 these were added the conquered or ceded provinces: 
 Alsace, Lorraine, Bar, the Three Bishoprics, Franche 
 Comte, Flanders, and Hainault, forming among them 
 four districts and enjoying privileges superior to those 
 of old France. All these formed the Lands of Elec- 
 tion {pays d' Electioii). On the other hand were the 
 Lands of Estates {j)ays cV Etats)^ provinces which had 
 retained their assemblies, and with them some of their 
 ancient rights of taxing themselves, or at least of levy- 
 ing in their own way those taxes which the central gov- 
 ernment imposed. This was a privilege highly prized 
 by the provinces which possessed it. These provinces 
 formed a fringe round France, and included Languedoc, 
 Provence, the duchy of Burgundy, Artois, Brittany, and 
 some others. The central administration was so oppres- 
 sive, at the same time that it was clumsy and inefficient, 
 that every province and city was anxious to compound for 
 its taxes, and to settle them at a fixed rate, though a high 
 one. This was accomplished on the largest scale by the 
 Lands of Estates, but similar privileges, to a greater or 
 less extent, were maintained by most of the cities. We 
 must remember, here as elsewhere, that France had not 
 sprung into \Q\ng as a homogeneous nation with her 
 modern boundaries. From the accession of the House 
 of Capet in the tenth century, province after province 
 had been added to the dominions of the crown. Many 
 of them had preserved ancient rights. Customs and 
 tolls differed among them, duties were exacted in pass- 
 ing from one to the other. Privileges, the prizes of old 
 wars, rights assured in some cases by solemn treaties, 
 had to be regarded. The wars of the Middle Ages were 
 waged chiefly concerning legal claims. The end of the 
 period found all Europe full of privileged territories, 
 persons, or corporations. Privileges and rights were re- 
 garded as property. Modern struggles have been for 
 ideas, and among the most cherished of these have been 
 
'210 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 equality and uniformity. The sacredness of property and 
 of contract have in a measure gone down before them.^ 
 
 Although the Provincial Estates differed in the various 
 provinces which possessed them, they included in almost 
 every case members of the three orders. The Clergy were 
 usually represented by bishops, abbots, and persons de- 
 puted by chapters ; the Nobility either by all nobles whose 
 title was not less than a hundred years old, or by the pos- 
 sessors of certain fiefs ; the third estate, or Commons, by 
 the mayors and deputies of the towns. The three Orders 
 sometimes sat apart, sometimes together. In the intervals 
 between their sessions their powers were delegated to in- 
 termediate commissions, small boards for the regulation 
 of current affairs. There was nothing democratic in such 
 a constitution. Even the representatives of the common- 
 alty were taken from among the most privileged members 
 of their order. Nor were the powers of the Estates exten- 
 sive. They bargained with the royal intendants for the 
 gross amount of the taxes to be assessed on their provinces. 
 They divided this sum and charged it to the various sub- 
 divisions of their territory. They levied it by taxes simi- 
 lar to those of the general government.^ 
 
 But in spite of all drawbacks the Provincial Estates 
 were much valued by the provinces which possessed them. 
 They were at least a guarantee that some local knowledge 
 and local patriotism would be applied to local affairs. 
 Moreover, they had the right of petition, a right essential 
 to good government, both for the information of rulers 
 and for giving vent to the feelings of subjects. This right 
 is, and has long been, so nearly free in English-speaking 
 
 1 Necker, De V Administration, i. ix. Bailly, ii. 276. Horn, 258, 
 Bois-Guillebert, 207. {La detail de la France Partie, ii. c. vii.) ; 
 Stubbs Lectures, 217. Walloon Flanders was in the anomalous posi- 
 tion of forming part of a generalite, but possessing Estates. Bailly, 
 ii. 327. 
 
 2 Luq-ay, Les assemhlees provinciales, 111. Necker, Memoire au roi 
 sur Vctablissement des adminisirations provinciates, passim. 
 
TAXATION. 211 
 
 countries, that it is hard to realize that there are civilized 
 lands where men may not quietly and respectfully express 
 their wishes. Yet in old France, as in a large part of 
 Continental Europe to-day, the citizen who publicly gave 
 an opinion on public matters, or who pointed out a well- 
 known public grievance, was considered a disturber of the 
 peace. Under such circumstances, a body of men who 
 were allowed to discuss and recommend might render a 
 great service to their country by simply using that freedom. 
 The complaints of the Estates of each province were trans- 
 mitted to the king in council, by a document known as a 
 cahier, and the wishes thus expressed often formed a basis 
 of legislation, or of administrative orders. 
 
 Among the spasmodic efforts at reform made under 
 Louis XVI. were two attempts to extend the system of 
 local self-government. The first was made by Necker in 
 1778 and 1779. Provincial assemblies were established 
 in those years by way of experiment in two provinces. 
 Berry and Haute Guyenne. These assemblies were com- 
 posed of forty-eight and fifty-two members respectively, 
 one half being taken from among the clergy and nobility, 
 one haK from the Third Estate of the towns and the coun- 
 try. A third of the members of the Assembly of Berry 
 were appointed by the king, and these elected their fel- 
 low-members, care being taken to preserve the equality of 
 classes. One third of the members were to be renewed 
 by the assembly itself once in three years. The body 
 was, therefore, in no way dependent on popular election. 
 The assembly met and voted as one chamber. Its func- 
 tions were almost purely administrative, the assessment of 
 taxes, the care of roads and the management of charitable 
 institutions. All this was done under close supervision 
 of the intendant and, through him, of the minister. The 
 assembly sat only once in two years, for a time not exceed- 
 ing one month, but an intermediate commission carried on 
 its work between its sessions. The general plan of the 
 
212 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Assembly of Haute Guyenne was similar to that of the 
 Assembly of Berry. 
 
 Eight years passed between the establishment of these 
 experimental assemblies and the convocation of the first 
 Assembly of Notables at Versailles, — eight important 
 years in French history. Necker was driven from power, 
 but the two new bodies survived the reactionary policy of 
 his successors, and did some good service. The fallen 
 minister kept his popularity and his influence with the 
 public at large. His great book on the "Administra- 
 tion of the Finances " was in all hands, eighty thousand 
 copies having been rapidly sold. In it he expounds his 
 favorite scheme of Provincial Assemblies, and praises 
 the working of the two that have been established. He 
 points out that they are not representative bodies, empow- 
 ered to make bargains with the king and to impede the 
 government, but administrative boards, entrusted by the 
 sovereign with the duty of watching over the interests of 
 the people of their districts. The Assembly of Notables 
 of 1787 and the minister Brienne adopted Necker's views, 
 but not completely. They established provincial assem- 
 blies throughout France on a plan of their own. One 
 half of the members of these new bodies were to be chosen 
 in the first place by the king; the second haK being 
 elected by the first. But at the end of three years one 
 quarter part of the assembly was to retire, and its place 
 was to be filled by a true election. This, however, was 
 not to be direct, but in three stages. A parochial board 
 was to be created in every village, composed of the lord 
 and the priest ex officio, and of several elected members. 
 These parochial boards were to elect the district boards, 
 (assemhlees d' election) smd. the latter were to elect the new 
 members of the Provincial Assembly. The march of 
 events after 1787 prevented these elections from taking 
 place. But the nominated assemblies met twice, once for 
 organization and once for business. They came too late 
 
TAXATION. 213 
 
 to prevent a catastrophe, but lasted long enough to give 
 well-founded hopes of usefulness. The great National 
 Assembly of 1789 and its successors might have had a 
 far less stormy history, had all France been accustomed, 
 though only for one generation, to political bodies re- 
 strained by law.^ 
 
 Within a given province or district, there was no pro- 
 portional equality among persons in the matter of taxa- 
 tion. It was sometimes said that the noble paid with his 
 blood, the villein with his money. But the order of the 
 Nobility had come to include many persons who never 
 thought of shedding their blood for their country; to 
 include, in fact, the rich and prosperous generally. These 
 were not (as they are sometimes represented to have been), 
 quite free from taxation. Something like one haK of the 
 taxes were indirect, and might be supposed to be paid by 
 all classes in proportion to their consumption. Yet even 
 for the indirect taxes, privileged persons managed to find 
 ways partially to escape. Some of the direct taxes were 
 deducted from salaries, or imposed on incomes, but it was 
 said that the rich and powerful often succeeded in having 
 their incomes lightly assessed. By way of increasing the 
 inequality of taxation, the government had a habit, when 
 in need of more money than usual, of adding a percentage 
 to some old tax, instead of devising a new one, thus bear- 
 ing most heavily with the new impost on those classes 
 which were most severely taxed already. 
 
 First among French taxes, both in blundering unfair- 
 ness and in evil fame, came the Land Tax or Taille, 
 producing for the twenty -four districts a revenue of about 
 forty-five million livres, or with its accessory taxes, of 
 about seventy -five millions. ^ 
 
 1 Necker, Compte rendu, 74. Ibid., De V Administration, ii. 225, 
 292. Lavergne, Les Assemblees provinciales sous Louis XVI. Lugay, 
 Les Assemblees provinciales sous Louis XVI., 163. 
 
 2 Bailly, ii. 307. Necker, De V Administration, i. G, 35, puts the 
 
214 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The taille was of feudal origin, and in tlie Middle Ages 
 was paid to the lord by his tenants. In the fifteenth cen- 
 tury, however, it had already been diverted to the royal 
 treasury, and its product was employed in the maintenance 
 of troops. It was therefore paid only by villeins, for the 
 nobles served in person, and the clergy by substitute, if 
 at all. 
 
 The exemption of the upper orders from liability to the 
 taille clung to that tax after the reason for such freedom 
 had ceased to exist. The tax itself early grew to be of 
 two kinds, real and personal. The taille reele^ common 
 in the southern provinces of France, was a true land-tax, 
 assessed according to a survey and valuation on all lands 
 not accounted noble, nor belonging to the church, nor to 
 the public. The distinction between noble and peasant 
 lands was an old one ; and the peasant lands paid the tax 
 even when owned by privileged persons.^ 
 
 Over the greater part of France, however, the taille 
 reele did not exist, and only the taille personelle was in 
 force. This bore on the profits of the land and on all 
 forms of industry; but the churchmen and the nobles 
 were exempt, at least in part.^ Owing to its personal 
 nature, the tax was payable at the residence of the person 
 taxed. If a peasant lived in one parish and derived most 
 of his income from land situated in another, he was taxa- 
 ble at the place of his residence, at a rate perhaps entirely 
 different from that of the parish in which his farm was 
 situated. It might happen that a large part of the lands 
 of a parish were owned by non-residents, and that the 
 ability of the parish to pay its taxes was thus reduced. 
 But there were exceptions to the rule by which the tax f ol- 
 
 taille at 91 millions, but I think he includes the failles abonnees, paid 
 by the Pays d'etats, although not those paid by cities. 
 
 1 Turgot, iv. 74. 
 
 2 There appears to have been a limit to the exemption of nobles 
 cultivating their own lands. 
 
TAXATION. 215 
 
 lowed the person, and the whole matter was so complicated 
 as to be a fertile cause of dispute and of double taxa- 
 tion. ^ 
 
 The method of assessment and levy was peculiar. The 
 gross amount of the taille was determined twice a year by 
 the royal council, and apportioned arbitrarily among the 
 twenty-four districts (generalites) of France, and then 
 subdivided by various officials among the sub -districts 
 (elections) and the parishes. The divisions thus made 
 were very unequal; some provinces, sub-districts, and 
 parishes being treated much more severely than others, 
 apparently rather by accident or custom than for any 
 equitable reason. An influential person could often obtain 
 a diminution of the tax of his village. When the work 
 of subdivision was completed, the syndics and other par- 
 ish officers were notified of the tax laid on their parishes, 
 which were thenceforth liable for the amount. But the 
 taille had still to be apportioned among the inhabitants. 
 For this purpose from three to seven collectors were 
 elected in every rural community by poptdar vote. The 
 collectors assessed their neighbors at their own discretion, 
 and were personally responsible to the government for 
 the whole amount assessed on the parish. In considera- 
 tion of this, and of their labor, they were allowed to collect 
 a percentage in addition to the taille, for their own pay.^ 
 The whole process was the cause of endless bickerings 
 and disputes, lawsuits and appeals, and the collectors were 
 frequently ruined in spite of all their efforts. They were 
 ignorant peasants, unused to accounts, sometimes unable 
 to read. In some of the moimtain parishes of the Pyre- 
 nees their accounts were kept on notched sticks to a period 
 not very long before the Revolution. ^ 
 
 ^ Turgot, iv. 76. 
 
 2 " Six deniers par livre " = 2^ per cent. Turgot, vii. 125. Some- 
 times 5 per cent. Babeau, Le Village, 225. 
 
 a Bailly, ii. 159. Horn, 224. Babeau, Le Village, 222, 224. Turgot, 
 
216 THE EVE OF THE FKENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The liability to the taille was joint. A gross sum was 
 laid on the parish, and if one person escaped, or was 
 unable to pay, his share had to be borne by the rest. 
 On the other hand, if one man were overcharged, the 
 burden of his neighbors was lightened. Thus it was 
 every one's interest to seem poor. And the taxes were 
 so important a matter, taking so large a part of the yearly 
 income, that they modified the whole conduct of life. 
 People dared not appear at their ease, lest their shares 
 should be increased. They hid their wealth and took 
 their luxuries in secret. One day, Jean Jacques Rous- 
 seau, traveling on foot, as was his wont, entered a soli- 
 tary farm-house, and asked for a meal. A pot of 
 skimmed milk and some coarse barley bread were set be- 
 fore him, the peasant who lived in the house saying that 
 this was all he had. After a while, however, the man 
 took courage on observing the manners and the appetite 
 of his guest. Telling Eousseau that he was sure he was 
 a good, honest feUow, and no spy, he disappeared through 
 a trap-door, and presently came back with good wheaten 
 bread, a little dark with bran, a ham, and a bottle of 
 wine. An omelet was soon sizzling in the dish. When 
 the time came for Rousseau to pay and depart, the peas- 
 ant's fears returned. He refused money, he was evi- 
 dently distressed. Rousseau made out that the bread and 
 the wine were hidden for fear of the tax-gatherer; that 
 the man believed he would be ruined, if he were known to 
 have anything.^ 
 
 As it was for the advantage of individuals to be thought 
 poor, so it was best for villages to appear squalid. The 
 Marquis of Argenson writes in his journal; "An officer 
 of the election has come into the village where my coun- 
 
 vii. 122, iv. 51. Encyclopedie, xv. 841 (Taille). A similar practice ex- 
 isted in the English Court of Exchequer, to a later date. 
 
 2 Rousseau, xvii. 281 (Confessions, Part i. liv. iv.). Vauban, 51, 
 ysid passim. Bois-Guillebert, 191. 
 
TAXATION. 217 
 
 try-house is, and has said that the taille of the parish 
 would be much raised this year ; he had noticed that the 
 peasants looked fatter than elsewhere, had seen hens' 
 feathers lying about the doors, that people were living 
 well and were comfortable, that I spent a great deal of 
 money in the village for my household expenses, etc. 
 This is what discourages the peasants. This is what 
 causes the misfortunes of the kingdom. This is what 
 Henry IV. would weep over were he living now." ^ 
 
 The country people had grown to be very distrustful 
 and suspicious wherever officials of the government were 
 concerned. " I remember a singular feature of this sub- 
 ject," says Necker. "I think it was twenty years ago that 
 an intendant, with the laudable intention of encouraging 
 the manufacture of honey and the cultivation of bees, 
 began by asking for statistics as to the niunber of hives 
 kept in the province. The people did not understand his 
 intentions, they were, perhaps, suspicious of them, and in 
 a few days almost all the hives were destroyed." ^ 
 
 No one could be induced to pay promptly, lest he should 
 be thought to have money. The tax was due in four pay- 
 ments, from the first of October to the last of April, but 
 the collection of one instalment was seldom completed 
 before the following one was due; that of one year 
 seldom made before the next had come. The peasants 
 obliged the collectors to wring out the hard-earned copper 
 pieces one or two at a time. The tardy were vexed with 
 fines and distraints. Furniture, doors, the very rafters 
 and floors were sold for unpaid taxes. In the time of 
 Louis XV. , if a whole village fell too much behindhand, 
 its four principal inhabitants might be seized and carried 
 off to jail. This corporal joint-liability was ended by a 
 
 1 D'Argenson, vi. 25G (Sept. 12, 1750). See also vi. 425, vii. 55, 
 viii. 8, 35, 53. 
 
 2 De V Administratiorit iii. 232. 
 
218 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 law passed under the ministry of Turgot, and apparently 
 not rej)ealed on his fall.^ 
 
 The assessment and collection of the taille presented 
 many anomalies. In some places commissioners had 
 been appointed by the intendant, for the purpose of 
 assessing estates and of reckoning the value of day's labor 
 of artisans. This method worked well and gave satisfac- 
 tion, but it extended only to a few provinces.^ 
 
 From the land tax we pass to the Twentieths (vingt' 
 iemes^\ which, as their name implies, were in theory 
 taxes of five per cent, on incomes. From these the clergy 
 only were freed (having bought of the crown a perpetual 
 exemption). Two twentieths and four sous in the livre 
 of the first twentieth, or eleven per cent., was the regular 
 rate in the reign of Louis XVI., and was expected to 
 bring in from fifty -five to sixty million livres a year. A 
 third twentieth was laid in 1782, to last for three years 
 after the end of the war of the American Revolution, then 
 in progress. This twentieth brought in twenty-one and 
 a half millions only, on account of various exemptions 
 that were allowed. The liability to the twentieths was 
 not joint but individual; so that when a deduction was 
 made from the amount charged to one tax -payer, the sum 
 demanded of the others was not increased. 
 
 An attempt was made to levy the twentieths on the 
 various sorts of income. The product of agriculture paid 
 the largest part, but a percentage was retained on salaries 
 and pensions paid by the government, and the incomes of 
 public officers receiving fees was estimated. In spite of 
 the desire to include every income in the operation of this 
 
 1 Horn, 238 ; Vauban ; Bailly, ii. 203 ; Stourm, i. 52 ; Turgot, 
 vii. 119. 
 
 2 Babeau, Le Village, 214. 
 
 3 Not to be confounded with the Droit de vingtieme, an indirect 
 tax on wine. Kaufmann, 33. Notice that the two vingti'emes are con- 
 stantly spoken of as the dlxieme. 
 
TAXATION. 219 
 
 tax, it was generally believed that valuations were habit- 
 ually made too low, and that unfair discrimination took 
 place. The inhabitants of some provinces, on the other 
 hand, were thought to be overcharged. Attempts at rec- 
 tification were resisted by the courts of law, the doctrine 
 being asserted that the valuation of a man's income for 
 the purposes of this tax could not legally be increased. 
 It is instructive to compare the interest thus shown in the 
 rights of the upper classes, who shared in the payment of 
 the twentieths, with the indifference manifested to the 
 arbitrary manner in which the common people were treated 
 in levying the Land Tax.^ 
 
 The poll tax (capitatioii) was one only in name. It 
 was in fact a roughly reckoned income tax, and the inhab- 
 itants of France were for its purposes divided into twenty- 
 two classes, according to their supposed ability to pay. 
 In the country, the amount demanded for this tax was 
 usually proportioned to that of the personal taille. Peo- 
 ple who paid no taille were assessed according to their 
 public office, military rank, business, or profession. The 
 rules were complicated, giving rise to endless disputes. 
 In theory the very poor were exempt, but the exemption 
 was not very generous, for maid-servants were charged at 
 the rate of three livres and twelve sous a year, and there 
 were yet poorer people who paid less than half that amount. 
 If the poor man failed to pay, a garrison (garnisoii) was 
 lodged upon him. A man in blue, with a gun, came and 
 sat by his fire, slept in his bed, and laid hands on any 
 money that might come into the house, thus collecting the 
 
 ^ Necker reckons the two vmgtiemes and four sous at 55,000,000 
 livres. De V Administration, \.b,(S. Compte rendu, Gl. Ih'id., Memoire 
 au roi sur V dstablissement des administrations provinciales, 25. Necker 
 abolished the vingtieme dHndustrie applied to manufactures and com- 
 merce. Compte rendu, 64. In his later book he speaks of it as sub- 
 sisting in a few provinces only. De V Administration, i. 159. Turgot, 
 iv. 289. Stourm, i. 54. 
 
220 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tax and his own wages. The amount levied by the poll- 
 tax and accessories was from thirty-six to forty -two mil- 
 lion livres a year.^ 
 
 The indirect taxes of France were mostly farmed. 
 Once in six years the Controller General of the Finances 
 for the time being entered into a contract, nominally 
 with a man of straw, but actually with a body of rich 
 financiers, who appeared as the man's sureties, and who 
 were known as the Farmers General. The first opera- 
 tion of the Farmers, after entering into the contract, was 
 to raise a capital sum for the purpose of buying out their 
 predecessors, of taking over the material on hand, and of 
 paying an advance to the government; for although many 
 individual Farmers General held over from one contract 
 to the next, the association was a new one for each lease. 
 In 1774, just before the death of King Louis XV., a new 
 contract was made, and the capital advanced amounted 
 to 93,600,000 livres. The Farmers were allowed interest 
 on this sum at the rate of ten per cent, for the first sixty 
 millions, and of seven percent, for the remaining 33,600,- 
 000 livres. This interest was, however, taxed by the 
 government for the two twentieths. 
 
 The rent paid by the Farmers under this contract was 
 152,000,000 livres a year, for which consideration they 
 were allowed to collect the indirect taxes and keep the 
 product. This system, which is at least as old as the 
 New Testament, is now generally condemned, but in 
 the eighteenth century it found defenders even among 
 liberal writers. 
 
 The Farmers General in the contract of 1774 were sixty 
 in number, but they did not divide among themselves all 
 
 1 Bailly, ii. 307. Necker, DeV Administration, i. 8. Mercier, iii. 98, 
 xi. 96. Mercier thinks that the capitation was more feared than the 
 dixieme, and than the entrees, because it attached more directly to the 
 individual and to his person. Does this mean greater severity in 
 collection ? Notice that he writes of Paris, where there is no taille. 
 
TAXATION. 221 
 
 the profits of the enterprise. It was the habit to accord 
 to many people a share in the operations of the farm, 
 without any voice in its management. The people thus 
 favored were called croupiers ; king Louis XV. himself 
 was one of them. His Controller General, the Abbe 
 Terray, received a fee of three hundred thousand livres 
 on concluding the contract, and the promise of one thou- 
 sand livres for every million of profits. When the bar- 
 gain had been struck and the advance paid, he announced 
 to the Farmers that further croupes would be granted, 
 and that sundry payments must be made to the treasury. 
 The profits of the undertaking were thus materially re- 
 duced. The Farmers at first threatened to throw up their 
 bargain, but the Controller told them that if they did so 
 he would not return their advances, but only pay interest 
 on them. In spite of this swindle, the lease turned out 
 on the whole much to the benefit of the Farmers. 
 
 In 1780, when the lease above mentioned expired, 
 Necker was Director of the Finances. He introduced 
 reforms into the General Farm, cutting down the number 
 of Farmers from sixty to forty, and reducing their gains. 
 The collection of certain taxes was taken from them, and 
 entrusted to new companies. His contract was for a rent 
 of 122,900,000 livres and the advance was forty-eight 
 millions, for which the Farmers received seven per cent. 
 Moreover, the latter were not to take the whole profit 
 above the rent of the Farm. The first three millions of 
 that profit went to the treasury, which also received one 
 half of the remaining gains, but croupes and pensions on 
 the Farm were totally abolished. Necker reckons the total 
 sum drawn yearly by the Farmers from the people under 
 his administration at 184,000,000 livres, and the sums 
 collected by the two new companies of his own devising, 
 for the collection of the excise on drinkables and for the 
 administration of the royal domains at 92,000,000 more. 
 
 The Farmers General were the most conspicuous repre- 
 
222 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 sentatives in France of the moneyed class, which was just 
 rising into importance beside the old aristocracy, by 
 whose members it was despised but courted. Many of 
 the Farmers were of low origin and had risen to fortune 
 by their own abilities. Others belonged to families which 
 had long made a mark in the financial world. Their lux- 
 urious style of life was admired by the vulgar and derided 
 by the envious. The offices of the Farm occupied several 
 historic houses in Paris. In the chief of these the French 
 Academy had once held its sittings under the presidency 
 of Seguier, and the walls and ceilings shone with pictures 
 from the brushes of Lebrun and Mignard. The ware- 
 houses and offices for the monopoly of tobacco occupied 
 a fine building between the Louvre and the Tuileries, 
 where once the duchesses of Chevreuse and of Longue- 
 ville had prosecuted their political and amorous intrigues. 
 The discontented tax -payers grumbled the louder at seeing 
 the hated publicans so handsomely lodged. ^ 
 
 The first and most dreaded of the indirect taxes was 
 the Salt Tax (cjahelle). As salt is necessary for all, it 
 has from early days been considered by some governments 
 a good article for a tax, no one being able to escape pay- 
 ment by going entirely without it. To make the revenue 
 more secure, every householder in certain parts of France 
 was obliged to buy seven pounds of salt a year at the 
 warehouses of the Farm, for every member of his family 
 more than seven years old. In spite of this, a certain 
 economy in the use of the article became the habit of the 
 
 1 The total receipts of the Farm, according to Necker, were 186,- 
 000,000 livres. Against this sum must be set 2,000,000 for salt and 
 tobacco sold to foreigners ; 16,000,000 for the cost of salt and to- 
 bacco, and 8,000,000 for the cost of other articles to the Farm. The 
 amount of actual taxation collected by the Farm would therefore 
 seem to have been about 160,000,000. Necker, De V Administration^ 
 i. 9, 14, iii. 122. Lemoine, Les derniers fermiers generaux, passim. 
 Bailly, ii. 185, n. and passim. Encyclopedic, vi. 515 (Fermes, Cinq 
 grosses) vi. 513, etc. (Fermes du roi). Bertiu, 480. M^rcier, xii. 89. 
 
TAXATION. 223 
 
 French nation, and the traveler of the nineteenth century- 
 may bless the government of the Bourbons when for once 
 in his life he finds himself in a country where the cooks 
 do not habitually oversalt the soup. 
 
 The unfortunate Frenchmen of the eighteenth century- 
 had to pay dear for this culinary lesson. But in this mat- 
 ter as in others they did not all pay alike. The whole 
 product of the salt tax to the treasury was about sixty mil- 
 lion livres, of which two thirds, or forty millions, was taken 
 from provinces containing a little more than one third of 
 the population of the kingdom. Necker, who much de- 
 sired to equalize the impost, mentions six principal cate- 
 gories of provinces in regard to the salt tax ; varying from 
 those in which the sale was free, and the article worth 
 from two to nine livres the hundred weight, to those where 
 it was a monopoly of the Farm, and the salt cost the con- 
 sumer about sixty -two livres. Salt being thus worth thirty 
 times as much in one province as in another, it was pos- 
 sible for a successful smuggler to make a living by a very- 
 few trips. The opportunity was largely used; children 
 were trained by their parents for the illicit traffic, but the 
 penalties were very severe. In the galleys were many- 
 salt-smugglers; people were shut up on mere suspicion, 
 and in the crowded prisons of that day were carried off by- 
 jail-fevers.^ 
 
 Of all known stimulants, tobacco is perhaps the most 
 agreeable and the least injurious to the person who takes 
 it ; but no method of taking it has yet been devised which 
 is not liable to be offensive to the delicate nerves of some 
 bystander. It is probably on this account that a certain 
 
 ^ Necker, De V Administration, ii. 1. Ibid., Compte rendu, 82, and 
 see the map of France divided according^ to the gahelle in the same 
 vohune. Bailly, ii. 163. Clamageran, iii. 84 n., 29G, 406. For the 
 numerous officers and complicated system of the gahelle, see Encyclo- 
 ■pedie, vii. 942 (Grenier a sel) ; Quintal = 100 French pounds j but 
 which of the numerous French pounds, I know not. 
 
224 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 discredit has always attached to this most soothing herb, 
 and that it seldom gets fair treatment in the matter of 
 taxation. Over a large part of France, containing some 
 twenty-two millions of inhabitants, tobacco had been sub- 
 ject to monopoly for a hundred years when Louis XVI. 
 came to the tlirone,^ yet the use of the article had become 
 so general that this population bought fifteen million 
 pounds yearly, or between five eighths and three quarters 
 of a pound per head. Of this amount about one twelfth 
 was used for smoking in pipes, and the remainder was 
 consumed in the pleasant form of snuff. Three livres 
 fifteen sous a pound was the price set by the government 
 and collected by the Farmers, and the tobacco was often 
 mouldy.^ 
 
 The excise on wine and cider (aides) was levied not 
 only on the producer, but also on the consmner, in a most 
 vexatious manner, so that the revenue officers were con- 
 tinually forcing their way into private houses, and so that 
 the poor peasant who quietly diluted his measure of cider 
 with two measures of water was lucky if he got off with 
 a triple tax, and did not undergo fine and forfeiture for 
 having untaxed cider in his house. It was moreover a 
 principle with the officers of the excise that wine was 
 never given away ; and as a tax was due on every sale the 
 poor vine-dresser could not give a part of the produce of 
 his vineyard to his married children, or even bestow a few 
 bottles in alms on a poor, sick woman without getting 
 into trouble, and all this notwithstanding the fact that 
 in France in the eighteenth century, when tea and coffee 
 were unknown to the rural classes, and when drinking 
 water was often taken from polluted wells, wine or cider 
 was generally considered necessary to health and to life. 
 
 It is needless to consider in detail the duties on imports 
 
 ^ With an interval of two years, during which it was subject to a 
 high duty. Stourm, i. 361. 
 
 2 Necker, De V Administration, ii. 100. Babeau, La vie rurale, 78. 
 
TAXATION. 225 
 
 and exports {traites). From the beginning of the eigh- 
 teenth century until three years after the end of the 
 American War, commerce between France and England 
 was totally prohibited as to most articles, and subjected 
 to prohibitory duties in the case of the few that remained. 
 This state of things was tempered by a great system of 
 smuggling, so successfully conducted that insurance in 
 many cases was as low as ten and even as five per cent. 
 Goods were sometimes taken directly from one coast to 
 the other on dark nights, and no reader of the literature 
 of the last century will need to be reminded that the 
 "free traders" who brought them were favorably received 
 by the people among whom they might come to land. 
 Sometimes the articles were sent by circuitous routes 
 through Holland or Germany, on whose frontiers the 
 same walls of prohibition did not exist. But there were 
 many things which could not conveniently be smuggled, 
 and in their case the want of competition, and still more 
 the lack of standards of comparison, tended to retard and 
 injure production. While improved machinery for spin- 
 ning and weaving was common in England, the old spin- 
 dle, wheel, and house-loom still held their own in France. 
 
 In the year 1786, a commercial treaty was signed be- 
 tween the two countries. By its provisions French wines 
 were put on a better footing, and many manufactured 
 articles, as hardware, cutlery, linen, gauze, and milli- 
 nery were to pay but ten or twelve per cent. The confu- 
 sion of business which was the natural result of so great a 
 change had not ceased to be felt when the great Ke volu- 
 tion began to disturb all commercial relations. 
 
 It was not at the frontiers alone that commerce was 
 subject to tolls and duties. Trade was hampered on 
 every road and river in the kingdom, and so compli- 
 cated were these local dues that it was said that not more 
 than two or three men in a generation understood them 
 thoroughly. 
 
226 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Duties on food were then as now collected at the en- 
 trance of many French cities (octrois). In the last century 
 they were often partial in their operation; such of the 
 burghers as owned farms or gardens outside the walls 
 being allowed to bring in their produce without charge, 
 while their poorer neighbors were obliged to pay duties 
 on all they ate. In Paris some kinds of food, and nota= 
 bly fish, were both bad and dear, because the charges at 
 the city gate were many times as great as the original 
 value. ^ 
 
 There was another burden which shared with the taille 
 and the gabelle the especial hatred of the French peas- 
 antry. This was the villein service (corvee) which was 
 exacted of the farmers and agricultural laborers. The 
 service was of feudal origin, and, while stiU demanded 
 in many cases by the lords, in accordance with ancient 
 charters or customs, was now also required by the state for 
 the building of roads and the transportation of soldiers' 
 baggage. The demand was based on no general law, but 
 was imposed arbitrarily by intendants and military com- 
 manders. The amount due by every parish was settled 
 without appeal by the same authorities. The peasant and 
 his draft-cattle were ordered away from home, perhaps 
 just at the time of harvest. On the roads might be seen 
 the overloaded carts, where the tired soldiers had piled 
 themselves on top of their baggage, while their comrades 
 goaded the slow teams with swords and bayonets, and 
 jeered at the remonstrances of the unhappy owner. The 
 oxen were often injured by unusual labor and harsh treat- 
 ment, and one sick ox would throw a whole team out of 
 work. The burden, imposed on the parish collectively, 
 
 1 See the pathetic cahier of the village of Pavaut, Archives park- 
 mentaires, v. 9. Vauban, Dime royale, 26, 51. Montesquieu, iv. 122 
 {Esprit des Lois, liv. xiii. c. 7). Necker, De V Administration, ii. 113. 
 Encylopedie meViodique, Finance, iii. 709 (Traites). Turgot, vii. 37. 
 Mercier, xi. 100. Stourm, i. 325. 
 
TAXATION. 227 
 
 was distributed among the peasants by their syndics, 
 political officers, often partial, who were sometimes ac- 
 companied in their work of selection by files of soldiers, 
 equally rough and impatient with the refractory peasants 
 and the wretched official. Turgot, who was keenly alive 
 to the hardships of the corvee^ abolished it during his 
 short term of power, substituting a tax, but it was restored 
 by his successor immediately on his fall, and was not 
 discontinued until the end of the monarchy. ^ 
 
 It is entirely impossible to discover, even approximately, 
 what proportion of a Frenchman's income was taken in 
 taxes by the government of Louis XVI. We may g-uess 
 that the burden was too large, we may be sure that it 
 was iU distributed, yet under it prosperity and popula- 
 tion were slowly increasing. 
 
 Let us take the figures of Necker, as the most moder- 
 ate. It is the fashion to make light of Necker, and he 
 certainly was not a man of sufficient strength and genius 
 to overcome all the difficulties with which he was sur- 
 rounded, but he probably knew more about the condition 
 of France than any other man then living. Let us then 
 take his figures and suppose that the two twentieths, and 
 the four sous per livre of the first twentieth, produced 
 the eleven per cent, which they should theoretically have 
 given. In that case eleven per cent, of the country's in- 
 come was equal to fifty-five million livres. But at that 
 rate the direct taxes and tithes would have taken more 
 than half the income, and the indirect taxes more than 
 the other half, and French subjects would have been left 
 
 1 The corvees owned by the lords were limited by legal custom to 
 twelve days a year. Encydopedie, iv. 280 (Corvee). I can find no 
 such limitations of corvees imposed by the government. Some 
 regard seems to have been paid to peasants' convenience in fixing the 
 season of corvees of road building, but none in those of military trans- 
 portation. Compensation was given for the latter, but it was inade- 
 quate, hardly amounting to one fourth of the market price of such 
 labor. Turgot, iv. 367. Bailly, ii. 215. 
 
228 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 with less than nothing to live on. Clearly, then, the twen- 
 tieths did not produce anything like the theoretical eleven 
 per cent. 
 
 M. Taine has gone into the question with apparent care, 
 and his figures are adopted by recent writers, but they 
 would seem to be open to the same objection. He reck- 
 ons that some of the peasants paid over eighty per cent, of 
 their income. But if a man could pay that proportion 
 to the government year after year and not die of want, 
 how very prosperous a man living on the same land must 
 be to-day if his taxes amount only to one quarter or one 
 third of his income. The real difficulty is one of assess- 
 ment. We can tell approximately how much the country 
 paid; we can never know the amount of its wealth. 
 
 How far did the rich escape taxation ? The clergy of 
 Trance as a body did so in a great measure. They paid 
 none of the direct taxes levied on their fellow subjects. 
 They made gifts and loans to the state, however, and 
 borrowed money for the purpose. For this money they 
 paid interest, which must be looked on as their real con- 
 tribution to the expenses of the state. But in this again 
 they were assisted by the treasury. The amount which 
 finally came out of the pockets of the clergy by direct 
 taxation would appear to have been less than ten per cent, 
 of their income from invested property. 
 
 The nobility bore a larger share. The only great tax 
 from which the members of that order were exempted was 
 the taille, forming less than one half of the direct taxa- 
 tion, less than one sixth of the whole. But in the other 
 direct taxes, their wealth and influence sometimes enabled 
 them to escape a fair assessment. 
 
 The indirect taxes also bore heavily on the poor. 
 They were levied largely on necessaries, such as salt and 
 food, or on those simple luxuries, wine and tobacco, on 
 which Frenchmen of all classes depend for their daily 
 sense of well-being. The gabelle, with its obligatory 
 
TAXATION. 229 
 
 seven pounds of salt, approached a poll-tax in its opera- 
 tion. 
 
 The worst features of French taxation were the arbi- 
 trary spirit which pervaded the financial administration, 
 the regulations never submitted to public criticism, and 
 the tyranny and fraud of subordinates, for which redress 
 was seldom attainable. ^ We groan sometimes, and with 
 reason, at the publicity with which all life is carried on 
 to-day. We turn wearily from the wilderness of printed 
 words which surrounds the simplest matters. But only 
 publicity and free discussion will prevent every unscru- 
 pulous assessor and every arbitrary clerk in the custom- 
 house from being a petty tyrant. They will not by them- 
 selves procure good government, but they will prevent 
 bad government from growing intolerable. In France, 
 as we have seen, to print anything which might stir the 
 public mind was a capital offense ; and while the writer 
 of an abstract treatise subversive of religion and gov- 
 ernment might hope to escape punishment, the citizen 
 who earned the resentment of a petty official was likely 
 to be prosecuted with virulence. 
 
 1 Horn, 254. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FINANCE. 
 
 Certain financial practices, not immediately connected 
 with taxation, call for a short notice ; for they are among 
 the most famous errors of the government of old France. 
 One of these was the habit of issuing what were called 
 anticipations. 1 These were securities with a limited time 
 to run, payable from a definite portion of the future rev- 
 enue. They were a favorite form of investment with cer- 
 tain people, and a great convenience to the treasury, but 
 they constantly tended to increase to an amount which 
 was considered dangerous. Thus the revenue of each 
 year was spent before it was collected; and loans were 
 contracted, not for any urgent and exceptional necessity 
 of the state, but for ordinary running expenses. Another 
 practice was the issuing by the king in person of drafts 
 on the treasury. Such drafts {acquits de comptaiif) were 
 made payable to bearer, and it was therefore impossible 
 for the controller of the finances to know for what pur- 
 pose they had been drawn. Originally a device for the 
 payment of the private expenses of the king, these drafts 
 had become favorite objects of the cupidity of the cour- 
 tiers ; because from their form it was impossible to trace 
 them and discover the recipient. Under Louis XVI. 
 
 1 Anticipations. " On entendait par Ik des assignations sur les re- 
 venus futurs, remises aux fournisseurs et autres creanciers du Trdsor 
 et ndgociables entre leurs mains." Clamageran, iii. 30. Necker, 
 Compte rendu, 20. Stourm (ii. 200) thinks the amount not excessive, 
 while acknowledging that it was so considered. The Anticipations 
 formed in fact the floating debt of the government. Gomel, 287. 
 
FINANCE. 231 
 
 they absorbed more money than ever before. It was very 
 easy for that weak prince to give a check to any one who 
 might ask him. Turgot made him promise to stop doing 
 so, but he had not the strength to keep his word.^ 
 
 From an early time the custom of selling public offices 
 had taken root in France. Before the middle of the four- 
 teenth century we find Louis X. selling judicial places to 
 the highest bidder, and less than a hundred years later 
 the practice had extended so that all manner of petty 
 offices were sold by the government. This method of 
 raising money was so easy that, in spite of the remon- 
 strances of estates general and the promises of kings, it 
 was continually extended. In the sixteenth century, as a 
 greater inducement to purchasers, the offices were made 
 transferable on certain conditions, and in 1605 they be- 
 came subjects of inheritance. Places under government 
 were thus assimilated to other property and passed from 
 the holder to his heirs. The law which established this 
 state of things was called Edit de la Paulette^ after one 
 Paulet, a farmer of the revenue. 
 
 This sale of offices bore a certain resemblance to a loan 
 and to a tax. The services to be performed were often 
 unimportant, sometimes worse than useless. But the sal- 
 ary attached to the office might be considered the interest 
 of money lent to the crown; or if the office-holder were 
 paid by fees, he was enabled to make good to himself the 
 advance made to the government by drawing money from 
 the tax-payers. Very generally the two forms of profit 
 to the incumbent were combined, together with a third, 
 the possession, namely, of privileges, or exemption from 
 taxation, attached to the office. 
 
 In managing its revenue from this source, the treasury 
 
 1 Clamageran, iii. 380, n. Bailly, i. 221, ii. 214, 259. The foreign 
 office made use of ordonnances de comptant to the amount of several 
 millions annually, for subsidies to foreign governments, expenses of 
 ambassadors, secret service, etc. Stourra, ii. 153. 
 
232 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 dealt fairly neither with the office holders nor with the 
 public. Places were created only to be sold, and before 
 long were abolished, either without any promise of com- 
 pensation to the buyers, or with promises destined never 
 to be fulfilled. This want of faith kept down the price, 
 which was often but ten years' purchase of the income of 
 the place. Yet rich and poor were eager to buy. "Sir," 
 said a minister of finance to King Louis XIV., "as often 
 as it pleases your Majesty to make an office, it pleases 
 God to make a fool to fill it." 
 
 Thus it came to pass that most places about the royal 
 person, in the courts of justice and in the treasury, and 
 many in the municipal governments, the professions, and 
 the trades, were subject to sale and purchase. Number- 
 less persons waited at the royal table, sat in the high 
 courts of Parliament, weighed, measured, gauged, sold 
 horses, oysters, fish, or sucking pigs, shaved customers or 
 gave hot baths, as public functionaries and by virtue of 
 letters patent sold to them by the crown. The clerk kept 
 his register, not because the information it contained 
 would be useful to the government, but because he or some 
 one else had lent money, on which the public was now 
 paying interest in the form of registration fees. Thus 
 the custom of selling offices was cumbrous and objection- 
 able.i 
 
 While the taxes of France were thus devised without 
 
 1 Montesquieu defends the custom, however. He maintains that 
 the offices in a monarchy should be venal ; because people do as a 
 family business what they would not undertake from virtue ; every 
 one is irained to his duty, and orders in the state are more perma- 
 nent. If offices were not sold by the government they would be by 
 the courtiers. Montesquieu, iii. 217 {Esprit des Lois, liv. v. cxix.). 
 See also De Tocqueville, iv. 171 (Atic. Reg. ch. xi.). In many cases 
 offices were desired more for the sake of distinction and privilege 
 than for profit. The income was often very small. Clamageran, ii. 
 196, 378, 569, 615, 665 ; iii. 23, 24, 102, 155, 200, 319. Necker, D& 
 V Administration, iii. 147. Thierry, i. 163. Pierre de Lestoile, 390, n. 
 
FINANCE. 233 
 
 system and levied without skill, the attention of a 
 thoughtful part of the nation had been turned to financial 
 matters. About the middle of the century arose the 
 Physiocrats, the founders of modern political economy. 
 Their leader, Quesnay, believed that positive legislation 
 shoidd consist in the declaration of the natural laws con- 
 stituting the order evidently most advantageous for men 
 in society. When once these were understood, all would 
 be well, for the absurdity of all unreasonable legislation 
 would become manifest. He taught two cardinal princi- 
 ples; first, "that the land was the only source of riches, 
 and that these were multiplied by agriculture; " and, sec- 
 ond, that agriculture and commerce should be entirely 
 free. The former of these doctrines, after exercising a 
 good deal of influence by calling attention to the injustice 
 and oppression with which the agricultural class in France 
 was treated, has ceased to be believed as a statement of 
 absolute truth. The latter, adopted with great enthu- 
 siasm by many generous minds, has exercised a deep in- 
 fluence on modern thought. 
 
 Manufactures, according to Quesnay, do no more than 
 pay the wages and expenses fti the workmen engaged in 
 them. But agriculture not only pays wages and expenses, 
 but produces a surplus, which is the revenue of the land. 
 He divides the nation into three classes : (1) the produc- 
 tive, which cultivates the soil ; (2) the proprietary, which 
 includes the sovereign, the land-owners, and those who 
 live by tithes, in other words the nobility and the clergy; 
 and (8) the sterile, which embraces all men who labor 
 otherwise than in agriculture, and whose expenses are 
 paid by the productive and proprietary classes. There- 
 fore he argues that taxes should be based directly on the 
 net product of real estate, and not on wages nor on chat- 
 tels. In other words, all taxes should be levied directly 
 on the income derived from land, and indirect taxation in 
 every shape should be abolished. 
 
234 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Liberty of agriculture, liberty of commerce! "Let 
 every man be free to cultivate in his field such crops as 
 his interest, his means, the nature of the ground may 
 suggest as rendering the greatest possible return." "Let 
 complete liberty of commerce be maintained ; for the reg- 
 ulation of commerce, both internal and external, which is 
 most safe, most accurate, most profitable to the nation, 
 consists in full liberty of competition." These doctrines 
 of Quesnay, joined with the ideas of property and secu- 
 rity, form the basis of the modern school of individualism.^ 
 
 The body of doctrines long known as "political econ- 
 omy," (for the words seem now to be used in a larger 
 sense), bore the mark of their origin in the eighteenth 
 century. Here, as elsewhere, it was the belief of French- 
 men of that age that the application of a few simple rules 
 derived from natural laws would solve the difficulties of a 
 complicated subject. The principles of political economy 
 were conceived as forming "a true science, which does 
 not yield to geometry itself in the conviction which it car- 
 ries to the soul, and which certainly surpasses all others 
 in its object, since that is the greatest well-being, the 
 greatest prosperity of the human race upon the earth." ^ 
 Quesnay and Gournay founded branches of the economic 
 school. The latter, who printed nothing, is chiefly known 
 through the encomiums of Turgot. Gournay was a mer- 
 chant, and recognized that commerce and manufactures 
 are hardly less advantageous to a state than agriculture. 
 This is the chief difference of his teaching from that of 
 Quesnay. Gournay is the author of the famous maxim : 
 Laissez faire; laissez passer; and his whole system de- 
 
 1 Lavergne, Les Economistes, 105. Quesnay, (Euvres, 233, 306, 331 
 {Afaximes du goiivernement economique d^un royaume agricole Maxime, 
 iii. V. xiii. xxv.). Turgot, iv. 305. Bois-Guillebert appears to have 
 been the principal precursor of the Physiocrats. Horn, VEconomie 
 politique avant les Physiocrates, passim - (pvais = nature, nparos = 
 power. 
 
 2 Abbd Beaudeau, quoted in Lavergne, Les Economistes^ 179. 
 
FINANCE. 235 
 
 pended on the idea "that in general every man knows his 
 own interest better than another man to whom that inter- 
 est is entirely indifferent;" and that "hence, when the 
 interest of individuals is exactly the same as the general 
 interest, the best thing to do is to leave every man to do 
 as he likes." 1 
 
 The best known member of the economic school in 
 France was Anne Robert Jacques Turgot, born in Paris 
 on the 10th of May, 1727, of a family belonging to the 
 higher middle class. His father was prevost des mar- 
 chands, or chief magistrate of the city. Young Turgot 
 was at first educated for the ecclesiastical life, and indeed 
 pursued his studies in that direction imtil a bishopric 
 seemed close at hand. But he felt no vocation to enter 
 the priesthood. Turgot was too much the child of his 
 century to be content to put his great powers into the 
 harness of the Eoman Church; he was, as he told his 
 friends who remonstrated with him on abandoninsf his 
 brilliant prospects, too honest a man to wear a mask all 
 his life. 
 
 At the age of twenty-four, Turgot turned finally from 
 the study of divinity to that of law and administration. 
 He was rapidly promoted to the place of a maitre des re- 
 quetes, a member of the lowest board of the royal council, 
 and nine years later he became intendant of the district 
 of Limoges. It was the poorest in France, but Turgot 
 soon became so much interested in its weKare that he 
 refused to exchange it for a richer one. In spite of years 
 of dearth and of the extraordinary measures of relief 
 which they made necessary, he went energetically to work 
 at all manner of permanent reforms. He effected im- 
 provements in the apportionment and levy of the taille. 
 He abolished the onerous corvee. He diminished the ter- 
 ror of compulsory service in the militia, by permitting 
 the engagement of substitutes. He encouraged agricul- 
 1 Turgot, iii. 336 (Eloge de M. de Goumay). 
 
236 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ture by distributing seeds and offering prizes for the 
 destruction of wolves, which were still numerous in his 
 district, and he waged a successful war on a moth that 
 was ravaging the wheat crop. He assisted in the intro- 
 duction of the manufacture of pottery, still one of the 
 leading industries of Limoges. His reports are among 
 the most valuable material in existence for the study of 
 the condition of old France. 
 
 Soon after the accession of Louis XVL, Turgot was 
 called to the ministry, first, for a very short time, as 
 secretary of the navy, and then as Controller of the 
 Finances. Two courses were open to the new minister. 
 Malesherbes, his close adherent, standing in high official 
 position, urged him to summon the Estates General, or 
 at least the Provincial Estates, and rule constitutionally. 
 Such action would have been a great, a serious innovation, 
 but it was not on this ground that Turgot opposed it. 
 Like most of the economists of his day, he believed at 
 once in freedom and in despotism. "The republican 
 constitution of England," he had said, "sets obstacles in 
 the way of the reform of certain abuses." Turgot had a 
 plan for the benefit of mankind. None but a desj)ot 
 could carry it out for him. France and the world were 
 to be set right ; and it would take absolute power to com- 
 pel them into the best course. 
 
 The new Controller of the Finances could not afford to 
 wait. "You accuse me of too great haste," he said to a 
 friend, " and you forget that in my family we die of the 
 gout at fifty." But this haste, combined with his awk- 
 ward and haughty manners, proved the cause of his ruin. 
 The courtiers, whose perquisites were in danger, were 
 disgusted at his simplicity and economy. Although he 
 was the friend of absolute government, he was accused of 
 republican austerity. And his measures were not more 
 popular than his manners. The harvest of 1774 had been 
 bad, and famine was in the land. Turgot met the situation 
 
FINANCE. 237 
 
 by declaring commerce in grain free throughout the king- 
 dom. The harvest was again bad in 1775, and riots broke 
 out, for the common people had it firmly in their minds 
 that the price of bread was fixed by the government. Tur- 
 got put down disturbances with a high hand, and perse- 
 vered in his measures. He abolished the corvee on roads 
 and public works throughout France. In truth it would 
 have been better to modify and regulate it, for in poor 
 countries many men had rather work on the roads than 
 pay for them, but such considerations as this were foreign 
 to his mind. He, moreover, abolished the trade-guilds 
 {jurandes)^ which possessed the monopoly of most kinds of 
 manufactures and trades, saying that God, in giving man 
 needs and making labor his necessary resource, had made 
 the right to work the property of every man, and that 
 this property is the most sacred and inalienable of all.^ 
 But Turgot's ideal of freedom was entirely industrial and 
 commercial, and not at all political or social. He forbade 
 all associations or assemblies of masters or workmen, 
 holding that the faculty granted to artisans of the same 
 trade to meet and join in one body is a source of evil. 
 Under Turgot's system, the individual workman would 
 not have escaped the tyranny of the masters' guild only to 
 fall under that of the trades-union ; but one of the most 
 essential privileges of a freeman would have been denied 
 him. Individual liberty to work, and political liberty to 
 combine, have not yet been made perfectly to coincide. 
 
 The innovations thus introduced were great ; the inter- 
 ests threatened were powerful. The Parliament of Paris 
 rallied to the defense of vested rights. It refused to 
 register the edicts issued to enforce the minister's innova- 
 
 ^ Turgot, viii. 330. Yet the monopolies in certain trades, as those 
 of apothecaries, jewelers, printers, and booksellers, were retained, 
 probably because their strict regulation and supervision was considered 
 necessary. The guilds were reestablished, with modifications, on the 
 fall of Turgot. Eiicyclopedie mtthodique, Commerce, ii. 760, 790. 
 
238 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tions. The king held a bed of justice and forced their 
 registration ; but his weak nature was tiring of the strug- 
 gle. Turgot was unpopular on all sides, and Louis never 
 supported a truly unpopular minister. "Only M. Tur- 
 got and I love the people," he cried, in his impotent 
 despair ; and then he gave way. Malesherbes, the prin- 
 cipal supporter in the royal council of the Controller Gen- 
 eral of the Finances, was the first to go. Thereupon Tur- 
 got wrote the king a long and harsh letter, blaming him 
 for Malesherbes's resignation. "Do not forget, sir," 
 said he, "that it was weakness which put the head of 
 Charles I. on the block ; it was weakness which formed 
 the League under Henry IIL, which made crowned 
 slaves of Louis XIII. and of the present king of Portu- 
 gal ; it was weakness which caused all the misfortunes of 
 the late reign." Kings to whom such language as this 
 can be used are not strong enough to bear it. Turgot was 
 dismissed twelve days after sending the letter.^ 
 
 The financial situation of France was undoubtedly seri- 
 ous. The cause of this was far less the amount of the 
 debt, or the excess of expenditure over revenue, than the 
 total demoralization of the public service. The annual 
 deficit at the accession of Louis XVI. is variously stated 
 at from twenty to forty million livres a year.^ Such a 
 deficiency would have nothing very appalling for a strong 
 minister of finance, supported by a determined sovereign, 
 and could have been overcome by economy alone. The 
 expenses of the court were not less than thirty millions. 
 Turgot proposed to reduce them by five millions immedi- 
 ately and by nine millions more in the course of a few 
 years. Twenty-eight millions were spent in pensions, and 
 it requires but a superficial knowledge of the state of 
 France to assure us that many of these were bestowed 
 
 1 May 12, 1776. Lavergne, les Economistes, 219. Turgot, iii. 335 ; 
 viii. 273, 330. Bailly, ii. 210. 
 
 ^ From four to eight million dollars. 
 
FINANCE. 239 
 
 without sufficient reason. ^ Important reductions might 
 have been made in the expenditures of most of the depart- 
 ments without impairing their efficiency. But to have 
 done this many interests would have had to be disturbed, 
 many hardships inflicted. Amiable persons, living with- 
 out labor at the i^ublic cost, would have been deprived of 
 their revenues. Other agreeable and influential men and 
 women would have had to live without pleasant things 
 which they had been brought up to expect. The good- 
 nature of the king made him shrink from inflicting pain. 
 He would approve of the best plans of economy, he would 
 promise his minister of finance to adhere to them, he 
 would depart from them secretly at the solicitation of his 
 wife or of his courtiers. The poor man wanted "to make 
 his people happy," and he could not bear to see those of 
 his people who came nearest to him discontented. The 
 successor of Turgot was a mere courtier, not even person- 
 ally honest, whose career was fortunately cut short by 
 death within a few months of his nomination. 
 
 The war of the American Revolution was drawing near, 
 and old Maurepas, the prime minister, felt the need of a 
 competent man to take charge of the finances. A name 
 was suggested to him, — that of Necker, a successful 
 banker. But Necker was a Protestant, a Swiss, a nobody. 
 The title of Controller was too high for him, so a new post 
 was created, and he was made Director -General of the 
 Finances, coming into office in October, 1776. 
 
 It has been the fate of Necker to excite strong enthusi- 
 asm and violent objurgation; but in fact he was little 
 more than commonplace. An ambitious man, he wanted 
 to make a reputation, to build up the royal credit, to 
 found a national debt, like that of England. Did he 
 really believe that such a debt would pay its own interest, 
 without additional taxes, or did he rely on economy of 
 
 ^ Stourm sets the pensions at thirty-two millions, and thinks that 
 the improper ones did not exceed six or seven millions, ii. 134. 
 
240 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 expenditure and good administration, not only to balance 
 the ordinary accounts, but to cover the interest of the war- 
 loans which he was obliged to contract? How far did his 
 cheerful manifestoes deceive himself? What might he 
 not really have accomplished if the royal support had been 
 anything more solid than a shifting quicksand? These 
 questions cannot be answered satisfactorily. Neither 
 Necker, nor anybody else, knew exactly what the govern- 
 ment owed, or what it borrowed. The loans contracted 
 by Necker himself are believed to have amounted to five 
 hundred and thirty million livres. Of this sum it is 
 thought that about two hundred millions were employed 
 in covering the annual deficit for five years, and that three 
 hundred and thirty millions were spent for the extraordi- 
 nary demands of the war. The money was raised chiefly 
 by state lotteries and by the sale of life annuities, although 
 many other means also were employed. 
 
 The royal lottery had been a favorite device earlier in 
 the century. As practiced by Necker and some of his 
 predecessors it combined the features of gambling and 
 of investment. Every ticket, in addition to its chance of 
 drawing a prize, was in itself a pecuniary obligation of 
 the government, either carrying perpetual interest at four 
 per cent. , or to be repaid at its full price in seven or nine 
 years without interest. The prizes were sums of money 
 or annuities. Thus the ticket-holder did not lose his 
 whole stake, and ran the chance of winning a fortune. 
 But the operation was not brilliant for the government. 
 
 Nor was the sale of annuities more judiciously managed. 
 Here, as in the lotteries, Necker copied old models, with- 
 out making any improvements of importance. No account 
 was taken of the age of the annuitants, but incomes were 
 sold at a fixed rate of ten per cent, of the capital deposited 
 for one life, nine per cent, for two lives, eight and a half 
 for three, e'mht for four. The bankers and financiers of 
 the day were shrewd enough to profit by this arrangement. 
 
FINANCE. 241 
 
 They bought up the obligations, and named healthy chil- 
 dren as the annuitants. The chance of life of these 
 selected persons was more than fifty years, and as the 
 children were usually chosen at about the age of seven, 
 the treasury would be called on to pay its annuities for an 
 average term of between forty and forty -five years. As 
 the current rate of interest on good security was about 
 six per cent, the operation was not a very promising one 
 for the state. 
 
 In spite of all these blunders Necker was liked by the 
 nation. He recognized the need of economy and honestly 
 tried to reduce expenses. He succeeded in cutting off a 
 little of the extravagance of the court and in simplifying 
 the collection of the revenue. He tried to establish pro- 
 vincial assemblies and to equalize the incidence of the 
 salt-tax. And above all, in order to sustain the royal 
 credit, he took the country into his confidence to some 
 extent, and prophesied pleasant things. But he did not 
 stop there. The national accounts had long been con- 
 sidered a government secret; Necker resolved to publish 
 them to the world. His famous "Compte rendu au roi " 
 appeared in February, 1781. The portrait of the author, 
 excellently engraved on copper, stares complacently from 
 the frontispiece, above an allegorical picture, where we 
 can make out Justice and Abundance, while Avarice ap- 
 pears to bring her treasures, and a lady in high, powdered 
 hair, and no visible clothing, gazes astonished from the 
 background. The contents of the report are not such as 
 we are in the habit of expecting in financial documents, 
 but are rhetorical and self-complacent. The ordinary rev- 
 enues of the country are said to exceed the expenditures 
 by ten million livres. As a matter of fact, no such sur- 
 plus existed, but Necker was an o2)timist by temperament, 
 and was moreover anxious to bolster credit. The nation 
 was delighted, but Maure])as and the court were shocked. 
 The cupidity of the courtiers was painted in the account 
 
242 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 in glowing language. Such a publication was dangerous 
 in itself, and the economical measures already taken, with 
 those announced as to follow, threatened many interests. 
 Even the old prime minister trembled for his personal 
 power. Necker had obtained the removal from office of 
 one of the adherents of Maurepas, while the latter was 
 kept in Paris by the gout. So the usual machinery of 
 detraction was put in motion. Letters, pamphlets, and 
 epigrams flew about. While the larger part of the public 
 was singing Necker 's praises, the smaller and more in- 
 fluential inner circle was conspiring against him. He 
 might yet have prevailed but for an act of imprudence. 
 Although the most conspicuous and popular man in the 
 kingdom, he had hitherto been excluded from the Coun- 
 cil of State. He now asked to be admitted to it. Louis 
 XVI., whose Catholicism was his strongest conviction, 
 replied that Necker, as a Protestant, was inadmissible by 
 law. Thereupon the latter offered to resign his place as 
 Director of the Finances, and the king, by the advice of 
 Maurepas, accepted his resignation.^ 
 
 From this time all real chance of the extrication of 
 Louis XYI. from his financial difficulties, without a rad- 
 ical change of government, disappeared forever. The 
 controllers that succeeded Necker only plunged deeper 
 and deeper into debt and deficit. It is needless to follow 
 them in their flounder ings. A long experience of the 
 vacillation of the government both as to persons and as 
 to systems had discouraged the hopes of conscientious 
 patriotism, and strengthened the opposition to reform of 
 all those who were interested in abuses. From the well- 
 meaning king, if left to his own ways, nothing more could 
 be hoped. Pecuniary embarrassment, with Louis, as 
 with many less important people, was quite as much a 
 symptom of weakness as a result of unmerited misfortune. 
 ^ Gomel, passim. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 We have seen that the church had an irreconcilable 
 enemy in Voltaire ; that the government of France had 
 found a critic of weight and importance in Montesquieu ; 
 that the Economists had attacked the financial organiza- 
 tion of the country. But the assaults of the Philosophic 
 school were not leveled at the religious and civil adminis- 
 tration alone. The very foundations of French thought, 
 slowly laid through previous ages, were made in the reign 
 of Louis XV. the subject of examination, and by a very 
 dogmatic set of thinkers were pronounced to be valueless. 
 Nor were men left at a loss for something to put in the 
 place of what was thus destroyed. The teachings of 
 Locke, explained and amplified by Condillac and many 
 others, obtained an authority which was but feebly dis- 
 puted. The laws against free speech and free printing, 
 intended for the defense of the old doctrines, deterred no 
 one from expressing radical opinions. Only persons of 
 conservative and law-abiding temperament, the natural 
 defenders of things existing, were restrained by legal and 
 ecclesiastical terrors. The champions of the old modes of 
 thousrht stood like mediaeval men at arms before a dis- 
 charge of artillery, prevented from rushing on the guns of 
 the enemy by the weight of the armor that protected them 
 no longer. The new philosophy, stimulated and hardly 
 impeded by feeble attempts at persecution, was therefore 
 able to overrun the intellectual life of the nation, until it 
 found its most formidable opponent in one who was half 
 its ally, and who had sprung from its midst, the mighty 
 heretic, Rousseau. 
 
244 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The most voluminous work of the Philosophers is the 
 " Encyclopaedia," a book of great importance in the his- 
 tory of the human mind. The conception of its originators 
 was not a new one. The attempt to bring human know- 
 ledge into a system, and to set it forth in a series of folio 
 volumes, had been made before. The endeavor is one 
 which can never meet with complete success, yet which 
 should sometimes be made in a philosophic spirit. The 
 universe is too vast and too varied to be successfully clas- 
 sified and described by one man, or under the supervision 
 of one editor. But the attempt may bring to light some 
 relation of things hitherto unnoticed, and the task is one 
 of practical utility. 
 
 The great French "Encyclopaedia " may claim two im- 
 mediate progenitors. The first is found in the works of 
 Lord Bacon, where there is a "Description of a Natural 
 and Experimental History, such as may serve for the 
 foundation of a true philosophy," with a "Catalogue of 
 particular histories by titles." The second is Chambers's 
 Cyclopaedia, first published in 1727, a translation of which 
 Diderot was engaged to edit by the publisher Le Breton. 
 Diderot, who freely acknowledges his obligation to Bacon, 
 makes light of that to Chambers, saying in his prospectus 
 that the latter owed much to French sources, that his work 
 is not the basis of the one proposed, that many of the ar- 
 ticles have been rewritten, and almost all the others cor- 
 rected and altered. There is no doubt that the whole plan 
 of the "Encyclopaedia" was much enlarged by Denis 
 Diderot himself.^ 
 
 This eminent man was born at Langres in 1713, the 
 son of a worthy cutler. He was educated by the Jesuits, 
 
 1 Bacon, iv. 251, 265. Morley, Diderot, i., 116. Diderot, (Euvres, 
 xiii. 6, 8. " If we come out successfully we shall be principally in- 
 debted to Chancellor Bacon, who laid out the plan of a universal dic- 
 tionary of sciences and arts at a time when there were, so to speak, neither 
 tciences nor arts." 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 245 
 
 and on his refusal to enter either of the learned profes- 
 sions of law or medicine, was set adrift by his father, — 
 who hoped that a little hardship would bring him to rea- 
 son, — and found himself in Paris with no resource but 
 the precarious one of letters. Diderot lived from hand to 
 mouth for a time, sleeping sometimes in a garret of his 
 own, sometimes on the floor of a friend's room. Once he 
 got a place of tutor to the children of a financier, but could 
 not bear the life of confinement, and soon threw up his 
 appointment and returned to freedom. When any friend 
 of his father turned up on a visit to the town, he would 
 borrow, and the old cutler at Langres would grumble and 
 repay. Gradually the young author rose above want. 
 He became one of the first literary men of his day and one 
 of the most brilliant talkers, rich in ideas, overflowing in 
 language, subtle without obscurity, suggestive, and satisfy- 
 ing; yet always retaining a certain shyness, and "able to 
 say anything, but good-morning." Yet he was soon car- 
 ried away by the excitement of conversation and of discus- 
 sion. He had a trick of tapping his interlocutor on the 
 knee, by way of giving point to his remarks, and the Em- 
 press Catharine II. of Russia complained that he mauled 
 her black and blue by the use of this familiar gesture, so 
 that she had to put a table between herself and him for pro- 
 tection. Diderot was fond of the young, and especially of 
 struggling authors. To them his purse and his literary 
 assistance were freely given. He was delighted when a 
 writer came to consult him on his work. If the subject 
 were interesting he would recognize its capabilities at a 
 glance. As the author read, Diderot's imagination would 
 fill in all deficiencies, construct new scenes in the tragedy, 
 new incidents, new characters in the tale. To him all 
 these beauties would seem to belong to the work itself, 
 and his friends would be astonished, after hearing him 
 praise some new book, to find in it but few of the good 
 things which he had quoted from it. 
 
246 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Diderot's good nature was boundless. One morning a 
 young man, quite unknown to him, came with a manu- 
 script, and begged him to read and correct it. He pre- 
 pared to comply with the request on the spot. The paper, 
 when opened, turned out to be a satire on himself and 
 his writings. 
 
 "Sir," said Diderot to the young man, "I do not know 
 you; I can never have offended you. Will you tell me 
 the motive which has impelled you to make me read a 
 libel for the first time in my life ? I generally throw such 
 things into the waste-paper basket." 
 
 "I am starving. I hoped that you would give me a 
 few crowns not to print it." 
 
 Instead of flying into a passion, Diderot simply re- 
 marked: "You would not be the first author that ever was 
 bought off; but you can do better with this stuff. The 
 brother of the Duke of Orleans is in retreat at Saint Gene- 
 vieve. He is religious ; he hates me. Dedicate your satire 
 to him ; have it bound with his arms on the cover ; carry it 
 to him yourself some fine morning, and he will help you." 
 
 "But I don't know the prince; and I don't see how I 
 can write the dedicatory epistle." 
 
 "Sit down; I '11 do it for you." 
 
 And Diderot writes the dedication, and gives it to the 
 young man, who carries the libel to the prince, receives a 
 present of twenty -five louis, and comes back after a few 
 days to thank Diderot, who advises him to find a more 
 decent means of living. 
 
 The people whom the great writer helped were not al- 
 ways so polite. One day he was seeing to the door a 
 young man who had deceived him, and to whom, after 
 discovering it, he had given both assistance and advice. 
 
 "Monsieur Diderot," said the swindler, "do you know 
 natural history?" 
 
 " A little ; I can distinguish an aloe from a head of let- 
 tuce, and a pigeon from a humming-bird." 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 247 
 
 "Do you know the fonnica leof^ 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It is a very clever little insect. It digs a hole in the 
 ground, shaped like a funnel. It covers the surface with 
 fine, light sand. It attracts silly insects and gets them to 
 tumble in. It seizes them, sucks them dry, and then 
 says: 'Monsieur Diderot, I have the honor to wish you 
 good-morning.' " Whereupon the young man ran down- 
 stairs, leaving the philosopher in fits of laughter.^ 
 
 As a writer, the great fault of Diderot is one not com- 
 mon in France. He is verbose. As we read his produc- 
 tions, even the cleverest, we feel that the same thing could 
 have been better said in fewer words. There is also a 
 lack of arrangement. Diderot would never take time to 
 plan his books before writing them. But these faults, 
 although probably fatal to the permanent fame of an 
 author, are less injurious to his immediate success than 
 might be expected. A large part of the public does not 
 dislike a copious admixture of water in its intellectual 
 drink. And Diderot reconciles the reader to his exces- 
 sive flow of words by the effervescence of his enthusiasm. 
 It is because his mind is overfull of his subject that the 
 sentences burst forth so copiously. 
 
 The first writing of Diderot that need engage our atten- 
 tion is his "Letter on the Blind," published in 1749. 
 This letter deals with the question, how far congenital 
 deprivation of one of the senses, and especially blind- 
 ness, would modify the conceptions of the person affected ; 
 how far the ideas of one born blind would differ from the 
 ideas of those who can see. The bearing of this question 
 on Locke's theory that all our ideas are derived from sen- 
 sation and reflection is obvious. Diderot, in a manner 
 
 1 Morley, Diderot and the Encyclopaedists. Scherer, Diderot, passim. 
 Morrellet, i. 29. Marinontel, ii. 313. Mc'moire sur Diderot, par Mme. 
 de Vandeul, sa fille (a charming sketch only 64 pages long) in Dide- 
 rot, Me'moireSf Corresp.j etc., vol. i. 
 
248 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 quite characteristic of him, took pains to examine the 
 cases of persons who had actually been blind and had re- 
 covered their sight, and where these failed him, supplied 
 their places by inventions of his own.^ 
 
 Diderot's principal witness is Nicholas Saunderson, a 
 blind man with a talent for mathematics, who between 
 1711 and 1739 was a professor at the University of Cam- 
 bridge. Diderot quotes at some length the atheistic opin- 
 ions of Saunderson, giving as his authority the Life of the 
 latter by "Dr. Inchlif." No such book ever existed, and 
 the opinions are the product of Diderot's own reasoning. 
 When an author treats us in this way our confidence in 
 his facts is hopelessly lost. His reasons, however, remain, 
 and the most striking of these, in the "Letter on the 
 Blind," is the answer given to one who attempts to prove 
 the existence of God by pointing out the order found in 
 nature, whence an intelligent Creator is presumed. In 
 answer to this, the dying Saunderson is made to say: 
 "Let me believe . . . that if we were to go back to the 
 birth of things and of times, and if we should feel matter 
 move and chaos arrange itself, we should meet a multi- 
 tude of shapeless beings, instead of a few beings tliat were 
 well organized. ... I can maintain that these had no 
 stomach, and those no intestines ; that some, to which their 
 stomach, palate, and teeth seemed to promise duration, 
 have ceased to exist from some vice of the heart or the 
 lungs; that the abortions were successively destroyed; 
 that all the faulty combinations of matter have disap- 
 peared, and that only those have survived whose mechan- 
 ism implied no important contradiction, and which could 
 
 1 Condorcet says of Diderot, " faisant toujours aimer la vdrit^, 
 meme lorsqu'entraind par son imagination il avait le malheur de la 
 m^connaitre. D'Alembert, CEuvres, i. 79 (Eloge par Condorcet). 
 There is a great deal in this remark. Unless we can enter into the 
 state of mind of men who tell great lies from a genuine love of ab- 
 stract truth, we shall never understand the French Philosophers of 
 the 18th century. 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 249 
 
 live by themselves and perpetuate their species."^ The 
 step from the idea here conveyed to that of the struggle 
 for existence and of the survival of the most fit is not a 
 very long one. 
 
 For his "Letter on the Blind," Diderot was imprisoned 
 at Vincennes. The real cause of this punishment is said 
 to have been a slight allusion in the "Letter" to the mis- 
 tress of a minister of state. But this may not have been 
 the only cause. There occurred about this time one of 
 those temporary seasons of severity which are necessary 
 under all governments to meet occasional outbursts of 
 crime, but to which weak and corrupt governments are 
 liable with capricious frequency. Diderot sturdily denied 
 the authorship of the "Letter," lying as thoroughly as he 
 had done in that piece of writing itself, when he invented 
 the name of Inchlif and forged the ideas of Saunderson. 
 This time there was more excuse for his untruth; for 
 the disclosure of his printer's name might have sent that 
 unfortunate man to prison or to the galleys. The impris- 
 onment of Diderot himself, at first severe, was soon light- 
 ened at the instance of Voltaire's mistress, Madame du 
 Chatelet. Diderot was allowed to see his friends, and 
 even to wander about the park of Vincennes on parole. 
 After three months of captivity he was released by the 
 influence of the booksellers interested in the "Encyclo- 
 paedia."'^ 
 
 The first volume of that great work was in preparation. 
 Diderot, whose untiring energy was unequal to the task of 
 editing the whole, and who was, moreover, insufficiently 
 trained for the work in some branches, and notably in 
 mathematics, gathered about him a band of workers which 
 increased as time went on, until it included a great number 
 of remarkable men. First in importance to the enter- 
 prise, acting with Diderot on equal terms, was D'Alem- 
 bert, an almost typical example of the gentle scholar, who 
 1 Diderot, i. 328. « Morley, Diderot, i. 105. 
 
250 THE EVE OF THE FKENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 refused one brilliant position after another to devote him- 
 self to mathematics and to literature. Next, perhaps, 
 should be mentioned the Chevalier de Jaucourt, a man 
 of encyclopsedio learning, who helped in the preparation 
 of the book with patient enthusiasm, reading, dictating, 
 and working with three or four secretaries for thirteen or 
 fourteen hours a day. Montesquieu, whose end was ap- 
 proaching, left behind him an unfinished article on Taste. 
 Voltaire not only sent in contributions of his own, but 
 constantly gave encouragement and advice, as became the 
 recognized head of the Philosophic school. Rousseau, 
 whose literary reputation had recently been made by his 
 "Discourses," contributed articles on music for a time; 
 but subsequently chose to quarrel with the Encyclopaedists, 
 whose minds worked very differently from his. Turgot 
 wrote several papers on economic subjects, and in the 
 latter part of the work, Haller, the physiologist, and Con- 
 dorcet were engaged. 
 
 The publication of the "Encyclopaedia" lasted many 
 years, and met with many vicissitudes. The first volume 
 appeared in 1751, the second in January, 1752. The 
 book immediately excited the antagonism of the church 
 and of conservative Frenchmen generally. On the 12th 
 of February, 1752, the two volumes were suppressed by 
 an edict of the Council, as containing maxims contrary to 
 royal authority and to religion. The edict forbade their 
 being reprinted and their being delivered to such subscrib- 
 ers as had not already received their copies. The contin- 
 uation of the work, however, was not forbidden. It was 
 believed at the time that the administration took this step 
 in order to silence the Jesuits, to please the Archbishop 
 of Paris, and perhaps to be beforehand with the Parlia- 
 ment, which might have taken severer measures. It was 
 also intimated that certain booksellers, jealous of the suc- 
 cess of the undertaking, were exerting influence on the 
 authorities. All these enemies of the "Encyclopaedia" 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 251 
 
 were not content with their first triumph. A few days 
 after the appearance of the edict, the manuscripts and 
 plates were seized by the police. They were restored to 
 the editors three months later. The work was one in the 
 performance of which many Frenchmen took pride. It is 
 said that the Jesuits had tried to continue it, but had 
 failed even to decipher the papers that had been taken 
 from Diderot. The attack of the archbishop, who had 
 fulminated against the great book in an episcopal charge, 
 had served the purpose of an advertisement; such was the 
 wisdom and consistency of the rej)ressive police of that 
 age. 
 
 From 1753 to 1757 the publication went on without 
 interruption, one volume appearing every year. Seven 
 volumes had now been published, bringing the work to 
 the end of the letter G. The subscription list, originally 
 consisting of less than two thousand names, had nearly 
 doubled. But the forces of conservatism rallied. In 
 1758 appeared Helvetius's book "De I'Esjirit," of which 
 an account will be given in the next chapter, and which 
 shocked the feelings of many persons, even of the Philo- 
 sophic school. Few things could, indeed, have made the 
 Philosophers more unpopular than the publication by one 
 of their own party of a very readable book, in which the 
 attempt was made to push their favorite ideas to their last 
 conclusions. This is a process which few abstract theories 
 can bear, for the limitations of any statement are in fact 
 essential parts of it. But human laziness so loves formu- 
 las, so hates distinctions, that extreme and unmodified 
 expressions are seized with avidity by injudicious friends 
 and exulting foes. 
 
 The feeling of indignation awakened in the public by 
 the doctrines of Helvetius gave opportunity to the oppo- 
 nents of the "Encyclopaedia." That work was denounced 
 to the Parliament of Paris, together with the book "De 
 r Esprit." The learned court promptly condemned the 
 
252 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 latter to the flames. The great compilation, on the other 
 hand, of which the volume of Helvetius was said to be a 
 mere abridgment, was submitted to nine commissioners 
 for examination, and further publication was suspended 
 until they should report. While proceedings before the 
 Parliament were still pending, the Council of State inter- 
 vened, and the "Encyclopaedia" was arbitrarily inter- 
 dicted, its privilege taken away, the sale of the volumes 
 already printed, and the printing of any more, alike for- 
 bidden. 
 
 It is characteristic of the condition of things existing 
 under the weak and vacillating government of Louis XV. 
 that the interdict pronounced against the "Encyclopaedia'* 
 did not stop its printing. The editor and the publishers 
 determined to prepare in private the ten volumes that 
 were still unmade, and to launch them on the world at one 
 time. To this work Diderot turned with boundless 
 energy. D'Alembert, however, was discouraged, and 
 retired from the undertaking. For six years Diderot 
 labored on, never safe from interference on the part of 
 the government, and managing a great enterprise, with its 
 staff of contributors and its scores of workmen, while con- 
 stantly liable to arrest and imprisonment. Diderot 
 worked indef atigably also with his pen ; writing articles 
 on all sorts of subjects, — philosophy, arts, trades, and 
 manufactures. To learn how things were made he visited 
 workshops and handled tools, baffled at times by the jeal- 
 ousy and distrust of the workmen, who were afraid of his 
 disclosing their secret processes, or of his giving informa- 
 tion to the tax-gatherer. 
 
 The sharpest blow was yet to fall. The "Encyclo- 
 paedia " was issued by an association of publishers which 
 paid Diderot a moderate salary for his services. Of these 
 publishers one, named Le Breton, was the chief. He 
 is said to have been a dull man, incapable of understand- 
 ing any work of literature. It was his maxim that liter- 
 
THE ENCYCLOPiEDIA. 253 
 
 ary men labor for glory, and publishers for pay, and con- 
 sequently he divided the income of the " Encyclopsedia " 
 into two parts, giving to Diderot the glory, the danger, 
 and the persecution, and reserving the money for himself 
 and his partners. From his position in Paris he felt sure 
 of being able to foresee any new order launched against 
 the "Encyclopsedia" while the printing was in progi'ess, 
 and of providing against it. But the time of publication 
 was likely to be marked by a new storm. Under these 
 circumstances Le Breton resorted to a trick. After Dide- 
 rot had read the last proof of every sheet, the publisher 
 and his foreman secretly took it in hand, erased and cut 
 out all that seemed rash or calculated to excite the anger 
 of religious or conservative people, and thus reduced many 
 of the principal articles to fragments. Then, to make 
 the wrong irremediable, they burned the manuscripts, 
 and quietly proceeded with the printing. This process 
 would seem to have been continued for more than a year. 
 One day in 1764, when the time of publication was draw- 
 ing near, Diderot, having occasion to consult an article 
 under the letter S, found it badly mutilated. Puzzled at 
 first, he presently recognized the nature of the trick that 
 had been played him. He turned to various parts of the 
 book, to his own articles and to those of other writers, and 
 found in many places the marks of the outrage. Diderot 
 was in despair. His first thought was to throw up the 
 undertaking and to announce the fraud to the public. 
 The injury that would have been done to Le Breton's in- 
 nocent partners, the danger of publishing the fact that 
 the "Encyclopaedia" was still in process of printing, — a 
 fact of which the officers of the government had only per- 
 sonal and not official knowled2:e, — determined him to jro 
 on with the publication. It may be that Le Breton's 
 changes had been less extensive than Diderot, in his first 
 excitement on making the discover^^ had been led to be- 
 lieve. In examining the "Encyclopaedia" no alteration 
 
254 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of tone is observable between the first seven and the sub- 
 sequent vokimes ; and Grimm, to whom we owe the story, 
 acknowledges that none of the authors engaged with 
 Diderot in the work complained or even noticed that 
 their articles had been altered. 
 
 In 1765 the ten volumes which completed the alphabet 
 (making seventeen of this part of the work) were deliv- 
 ered to the subscribers. As a precautionary measure, 
 those for foreign countries were sent out first, then those 
 for the provinces, and lastly those for Paris. The eleven 
 volumes of plates were not published until 1772. A sup- 
 plement of four volumes of text and one of plates appeared 
 in 1776 and 1777, and three years later a table of con- 
 tents in two volumes.^ 
 
 What was the great book whose history was so full of 
 vicissitudes? Why did the French government, the 
 church, and the literary world so excite themselves about 
 a dictionary? The " Encj^clopsedia " had in fact two 
 
 1 Several volumes of the original edition have the imprint of Neuf- 
 chatel, and the supplement has that of Amsterdam, although all were 
 actually printed in Paris. The Encydopczdia was reprinted as a 
 whole at Geneva and at Lausanne. Editions also appeared at Leg- 
 horn and at Lucca ; besides volumes of selections and abbreviations. 
 Morley, Diderot, i. 169. For the Encydopoedia, see Morley, Diderot, 
 passim. Scherer, Diderot; the correspondence of D'Alembert and 
 Voltaire in the works of the latter. Diderot, Memoires, i. 431 (Nov. 
 10, 1760). Grimm, vii. 44, and especially ix. 203-217, an excellent 
 article. Barbier, v. 159, 169 ; vii. 125, 138, 141 ; also in the work 
 itself the word Encydopedie in vol. v. Mr. Morley thinks that the 
 article Geneve, in vol. vii. of the Encydopcedia, especially excited the 
 church and the Parliament to desire its suppression. The same arti- 
 cle drew from Rousseau his letter to D'Alembert on the theatre at 
 Geneva, which marks the separation between Rousseau and the Phi- 
 losophers. But in the Discours preliminaire D'Alembert had attacked 
 Rousseau's First Discourse. For the excitement caused at Geneva by 
 the article, see Voltaire, Ivii. 438 (Voltaire to D'Alembert, Jan. 8, 
 1758). It is perhaps superfluous to remark that Grimm's account 
 of the character and ideas of Le Breton, which has been followed 
 above, is probably not unbiased. 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 255 
 
 functions ; it was a repository of information and a polem- 
 ical writing. Condorcet has thus stated the purpose of 
 the book. Diderot, he says, "intended to bring together 
 in a dictionary all that had been discovered in the sci- 
 ences, what was known of the productions of the globe, 
 the details of the arts which men have invented, the 
 principles of morals, those of legislation, the laws which 
 govern society, the metaphysics of language and the rules 
 of grammar, the analysis of our faculties, and even the 
 history of our opinions."^ So comprehensive a scheme 
 was not without danger to those classes which claimed an 
 exclusive right to direct men's minds. As for the double 
 nature of the book, we have the words of two of the men 
 most concerned in its preparation. First there is an an- 
 ecdote by Voltaire, certainly inaccurate, probably quite 
 imaginary, but setting forth most clearly one cause of the 
 interest which the " Encyclopsedia " excited. 
 
 "A servant of Louis XV. has told me that one day 
 when the king his master was supping at Trianon with a 
 small party, the conversation turned on shooting and then 
 on gimpowder. Somebody said that the best powder was 
 made of equal parts of saltpetre, sulphur, and charcoal. 
 The Duke of La Valliere, better informed, maintained 
 that for cannon the proper proportion was one part of sul- 
 phur, one of charcoal, and five of well-filtered, well-evap- 
 orated, and well-crystallized saltpetre. 
 
 " 'It is absurd,' said the Duke of Nivernois, 'that we 
 should amuse ourselves every day with killing partridges 
 in the park of Versailles, and sometimes with killing 
 men or getting ourselves killed on the frontier, and not 
 know exactly what we kill with. ' 
 
 "'Alas! we are in the same state about all things in the 
 world,' answered Madame de Poni])adour. 'I don't know 
 of what the rouge is composed that I put on my cheeks, 
 and I should be much puzzled to say how my stockings are 
 made. ' 
 
 ^ D'Alembert, OJuvres, i. 79 (Eloge par Condorcet). 
 
256 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 "'It is a pity,' then said the Duke of La Valliere, 'that 
 His Majesty should have confiscated our encyclopaedic 
 dictionaries, which cost us a hundred pistoles apiece. 
 We should soon find in them the answers to all our ques- 
 tions.' 
 
 "The king justified his confiscation. He had been 
 warned that the twenty-one volumes in folio, that were 
 to be found on all the ladies' dressing-tables, were the 
 most dangerous thing in the world for the French mon- 
 archy ; and he wished to see for himself if that were true 
 before he allowed the book to be read. After supper he 
 sent for a copy, by three servants of his bed-chamber, 
 each of whom brought in seven volumes, with a good deal 
 of difficulty. 
 
 " They saw, in the article on gunpowder, that the Duke 
 of La Valliere was right. Madame de Pompadour soon 
 learned the difference between the old-fashioned Spanish 
 rouge, with which the ladies of Madrid colored their 
 cheeks, and the rouge of the ladies of Paris. She learned 
 that the Greek and Roman ladies were painted with the 
 purple that came from the murex^ and consequently that 
 our scarlet was the purple of the ancients ; that there was 
 more saffron in the Spanish rouge and more cochineal in 
 the French. 
 
 " She saw how her stockings were made on the loom, 
 and the machine used for the purpose filled her with 
 astonishment. ' Oh, what a fine book, sir ! ' she cried. 
 'Have you confiscated this store-house of all useful things 
 in order to own it alone, and to be the only wise man iii 
 your kingdom? ' 
 
 " They all threw themselves upon the volumes, like the 
 daughters of Lycomedes on the jewels of Ulysses. Each 
 found at once whatever he sought. Those that had law- 
 suits on hand were surprised to find the decision of their 
 cases. The king read all the rights of his crown. 'But, 
 really,' said he, 'I don't know why they spoke so ill of 
 this book.' 
 
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA. 257 
 
 "'Do you not see, sir,' said the Duke of Nivernois, 
 *tliat it is because it is very good? People do not attack 
 poor and flat things of any kind. When the women try 
 to make a new-comer appear ridiculous, she is sure to be 
 prettier than they are. ' 
 
 "All this time they were turning over the pages, and 
 
 the Count of C said aloud, 'Sir, you are too happy 
 
 that men should have been found in your reign able to 
 know all the arts and to transmit them to posterity. 
 Everything is here, from the way of making a pin to that 
 of casting and of aiming your cannon ; from the infinitesi- 
 mal to the infinite. Thank God for having given birth 
 in your kingdom to men who have thus served the whole 
 world. Other nations are obliged to buy the " Encyclo- 
 paedia," or to imitate it. Take all I have, if you like, 
 but give me back my "Encyclopaedia." ' 
 
 "'But they say,' rejoined the king, 'that this necessary 
 and admirable work has many faults.' 
 
 "'Sir,' replied the Count of C , 'at your supper 
 
 there were two ragouts that were failures. We did not 
 eat them, but we had a very good supper. Would you 
 have had the whole of it thrown out of the window on 
 account of those two ragouts? ' The king felt the force 
 of this reasoning, each one took back his book, and it was 
 a happy day. 
 
 " But Envy and Ignorance did not consider themselves 
 beaten; those two immortal sisters kept up their cries, 
 their cabals, their persecutions. Ignorance is very 
 learned in that way. 
 
 ' ' What happened ? Foreigners bought out four editions 
 of this French work which was proscribed in France, 
 and made about eighteen hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 "Frenchmen, try hereafter to understand your own 
 interests."^ 
 
 * This story is printed among '' Face ties." Morley points out 
 that Mme. de Pompadour died before the volumes containing 
 « Poudre " and " Kouge " were published. Voltaire, xlviii. 57. 
 
258 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 We see by this anecdote, written probably to puff the 
 book, that the "Encyclopaedia" was recommended for the 
 same advantages which have since given value to scores of 
 similar works. No other collection of general informa- 
 tion so large and so useful was then in existence. Elab- 
 orate descriptions of mechanism abound in it, and are 
 illustrated by beautiful plates. We see before us the sim- 
 ple beginnings of the great manufacturing movement of 
 modern times. There are articles on looms, on cabinet 
 work, on jewelry, side by side with all that the science of 
 that day could teach of anatomy, medicine, and natural 
 history. Nor were more frivolous subjects forgotten. 
 Nine plates are given to billiards and tennis. Choregra- 
 phy, or the art of expressing the figures of the dance on 
 paper, occupies six pages of text and two of illustrations, 
 with the remark that it is one of the arts of which the 
 ancients were ignorant, or which they have not transmitted 
 to us. There is a proposal for a new and universal lan- 
 guage, based of course on French; and we are reminded 
 by an article on Alcahest, a mysterious drug of the al- 
 chemists, to which two columns and a half are devoted, 
 that the eighteenth century was nearer to the Middle Ages 
 than the nineteenth. It was an idea of the compilers 
 of the "Encyclopaedia" that if ever civilization should be 
 destroyed mankind might turn to their volumes to learn 
 to restore it.^ 
 
 Yet all this mere learning was not what came nearest 
 to the heart of Diderot and his fellow-workers. In a 
 moment of excitement, when smarting from the excisions 
 of the publisher Le Breton, he was able to write that the 
 success of the book was owing in no degree to ordinary, 
 sensible, and common things ; that perhaps there were not 
 
 ^ History and geography are almost passed over in the Encyclop(B' 
 dia, while the arts and sciences are fully treated. The contempt for 
 history, as the tale of human errors, was common among the Phi- 
 losophers. 
 
THE ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 259 
 
 t\Yo men in the world who had taken the trouble to read 
 in it a line of history, geography, mathematics, or even 
 of the arts; and that what all sought in the "Encyclo- 
 paedia " was the firm and bold philosophy of some of its 
 writers.^ 
 
 This philosophy appears in the Preliminary Discourse 
 by D'Alembert; it comes up again time after time 
 throughout the volumes. The metaphysics are founded 
 chiefly on those of Locke, who "may be said to have 
 created metaphysics as Newton created physics," by redu- 
 cing them to "what in fact they should be, the experi- 
 mental physics of the soul." Beyond this there is little 
 unity of opinion, although much agreement of spirit. We 
 have articles on government and on taxation, liberally con- 
 ceived, but not agreeing as to actual measures. We 
 have a prejudice in favor of democracy, as the ideal form 
 of government, and the worship of theoretical equality, 
 but contempt for the populace, "which discerns no- 
 thing; " the reduction of religion to the sentiments of mo- 
 rality and benevolence, and great dislike for its ministers 
 and especially for the members of monastic orders; the 
 belief in the Legislator, in natural laws and liberties, in- 
 cluding the inalienable right of every man to dispose of 
 his own person and property and to do all things that the 
 laws allow ; faith in the Philosopher, a man governed en- 
 tirely by reason as the Christian is governed by grace. To 
 him. Truth is not a mistress corrupting his imagination. 
 He knows how to distinguish what is true, what is false, 
 what is doubtful, and he glories in being willing to re- 
 main undetermined when he has not the material for judg- 
 ment. The Philosopher understands as well the doctrines 
 that he rejects as those that he adopts. His spirit brings 
 everything to its true principles. The nations will be 
 
 1 When in a cooler mood Diderot boasts that there are people who 
 have read the book through. See the word Encycloptdie, vol. v. 
 
260 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 happy when kings are Philosophers, or when Philosophers 
 are kings. 
 
 There was no uniformity of execution in the "Encyclo- 
 paedia." The editors were not free to reject all that they 
 did not approve. They had to consider the feelings of 
 their writers, and sometimes, no doubt, to print a poor 
 article by a valued hand. There were many long disser- 
 tations where short articles would have been more to 
 the purpose. Diderot was not the man to repress the nat- 
 ural tendency of contributors to wordiness. Then official 
 censors and possible prosecutors had to be considered. 
 "Doubtless," says D'Alembert to Voltaire, in reply to the 
 latter's remonstrances, "doubtless we have bad articles on 
 theology and metaphysics; but with theological censors 
 and a privilege, I defy you to make them better. There 
 are other articles less conspicuous where all is repaired. 
 Time will enable people to distinguish what we thought 
 from what we have said." ... "It is certain," he says in 
 another place, "that several of our workers have put in 
 worthless things, and sometimes declamation; but it is 
 still more certain that I have not had it in my power to 
 alter this state of things. I flatter myself that the same 
 judgment will not be passed on what several of our au- 
 thors and I myself have furnished for this work, which 
 apparently will go down to posterity as a monument of 
 what we would and what we could not do." On the 
 whole the chief of the Philosophers was satisfied. " Oh, 
 how sorry I am," he exclaims, "to see so much paste 
 among your fine diamonds ; but you shed your lustre on 
 the paste." ^ 
 
 1 Correspondence of Voltaire and D'Alembert (A. to V., July 21, 
 1757 ; Jan. 11, 1758 ; V. to A., Dec. 29, 1757). Voltaire, Ivii. 296, 
 4M, 421. 
 
CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 HELVETIUS, HOLBACH AND CHASTELLUX. 
 
 There are two books issuing so directly from what may 
 be called the orthodox school of Philosophers, and so 
 closely connected with the "Encyclopaedia" and its au- 
 thors, that they should be noticed next to the great com- 
 pilation itself. One of them has already been mentioned. 
 It bears the untranslatable title "De 1' Esprit," a word 
 which in this simple and unmodified form means exactly 
 neither wit nor spirit, but something between the two and 
 different from either. 
 
 The author, Helvetius, was one of those clever men 
 whose ambition it is to shine. The son of a fashionable 
 physician, he had made a fortune as a farmer of the rev- 
 enue. He had been addicted, in his youth, to the pur- 
 suit of women and of literature, and had subsequently 
 shown moderation in leaving his lucrative office and the 
 dissipations of the town and retiring into the country with 
 a charming wife. For eight months in the year they lived 
 at Vore, not unvisited by Philosophers ; for four they kept 
 open house in Paris. Both were good natured, charita- 
 ble, and benevolent. Among the Philosophers Helvetius 
 held the place of the rich and clever worldling, so often 
 found in literary circles. 
 
 The treatise "De I'Esprit " has for its object the setting 
 forth of the doctrine of utility in its extreme form. As 
 a preliminary argument all the operations of the mind are 
 reduced to sensation. "When by a succession of my 
 ideas, or by the vibration which certain sounds cause in 
 the organ of my ears, I recall the image of an oak, then 
 
262 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 my interior organs must necessarily be nearly in the same 
 situation as they were at the sight of that oak. Now this 
 situation of the organs must necessarily produce a sensa- 
 tion; it is, therefore, evident that memory is sensation. 
 
 "Having stated this principle, I say further that it is 
 in the capacity which we have of perceiving the resem- 
 blances or the differences, the agreement or the disagree- 
 ment, which different objects have with each other, that 
 all the operations of the mind consist. Now this capacity 
 is nothing else than physical sensibility ; therefore every- 
 thing is reduced to sensation." 
 
 Utility, according to Helvetius, is the foundation of all 
 our moral feelings. Each person praises as just in others 
 only those actions which are useful to himseK; every na- 
 tion or society praises what is useful to it in its corporate 
 capacity. "If a judge acquits a guilty man, if a minister 
 of state promotes an unworthy one, each is just, according 
 to the man protected. But if the judge punishes, or the 
 minister refuses, they will always be unjust in the eyes of 
 the criminal and of the unsuccessful." . . . "The Chris- 
 tians who justly spoke of the cruelties practiced on them 
 by the pagans as barbarity and crime, did they not give 
 the name of zeal to the cruelties which they, in their turn, 
 practiced on these same pagans? " As the physical world 
 is subject to laws of motion, so is the moral world to those 
 of interest. All men alike strive after their own happi- 
 ness. It is the diversity of passions and tastes, some of 
 which are in accordance with the public interest and oth- 
 ers in opposition to it, which form our virtues and our 
 vices. We should, therefore, not despise the wicked, but 
 pity them, and thank heaven that it has given us none of 
 those tastes and passions which would have obliged us to 
 seek our happiness in other people's misfortunes. This 
 opinion, although extravagantly stated, was, as we have 
 seen, but the caricature of the doctrine of utility, as taught 
 by Locke and held by his followers. 
 
HELVETIUS, HOLBACH, AND CHASTELLUX. 263 
 
 Helvetius took great pains to make the treatment of his 
 theme interesting. He labored long over every chapter. 
 His pages overflow with anecdotes, with sneers at monks, 
 and with excuses for lust. They show the belief in the 
 omnipotence of legislation which was common in his day. 
 A large space is devoted to minimizing the natural in- 
 equality of mankind, and attributing the differences ob- 
 servable among men to chance or to education. If Galileo 
 had not happened to be walking in a garden in Florence 
 where certain workmen asked him a question about a pump, 
 he would not, according to Helvetius, have discovered the 
 weight of the atmosphere. It was the fall of the apple 
 which gave Newton his theory of gravitation. Such puer- 
 ilities as these disgust U3 in the book; yet the theory 
 that greatness is but the result of an inconsiderable acci- 
 dent, was not unnatural in one who had probably hit on 
 an idea which struck him as telling, and believed that he 
 had thereby achieved greatness.^ 
 
 Helvetius had endeavored to carry the doctrines of the 
 French followers of Locke to their last logical conclusions, 
 but the successful accomplishment of that task was reserved 
 for a stronger and steadier hand than his. Baron Holbach 
 was an amiable and good man, the constant friend of the 
 Encyclopaedists. At his house they often met, so that it 
 came to be known among them as the Cafe de 1' Europe, 
 and its master as the ''maitre d'hotel" of Philosophy. 
 But these nicknames were used in good part. Holbach 
 had none of the flippancy of Helvetius. His book, the 
 1 Helvetius, i. 130, 183 ; ii. 7, and passbn. For Helvetius, see 
 Nouvelle Biographie universelle. Morley, Diderot, ii. 141. Grimui, iv. 
 80. Morellet, i. 71, 140. Morellet represents himself as a tame cat 
 in Helvetius's house. Marmontel, ii. 115 (liv. vi.) an excellent de- 
 scription. Compare Locke, i. 261, ii. 97. The doctrine of utility 
 is probably nearly as old as philosophy itself. It has been well sug- 
 gested that although not the ultimate motive of virtue, utility may 
 be the test of morals. It was, in a measure, Helvetius that inspired 
 Bontham. Morley, Diderot, ii. 154. 
 
264 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 "System of Nature," is a solemn, earnest argument, pro- 
 ceeding from a clear brain and a pure heart. Our nature 
 may revolt at his theories, but we cannot question his 
 honesty or his benevolence. The book, published, as 
 the fashion was, under a false name, yet expresses the 
 inmost convictions of the writer.^ 
 
 "Men," he says, "will always make mistakes, when 
 they abandon experience for systems born of the imagina- 
 tion." Man exists in nature and can imagine nothing 
 outside of nature. Let him, therefore, cease to seek be- 
 yond the world he inhabits for beings which shall procure 
 for him that happiness which nature refuses to give him. 
 "Man is a being purely physical. Moral man is but that 
 being considered from a certain point of view, that is to 
 say, relatively to some of his ways of acting, due to his 
 particular organization." All human actions, visible and 
 invisible, are the necessary consequences of man's mechan- 
 ism, and of the impulsions which it receives from surround- 
 ing entities. 
 
 The universe is made up of matter and motion, cause 
 and effect. Nature is the great whole, resulting from the 
 assemblage of different matters, combinations, and mo- 
 tions. By motion only do we know the existence and 
 properties of other beings and distinguish them from each 
 other. There is continual action and reaction in all things. 
 Love and hate in men are like attraction and repulsion in 
 physics, with causes more obscure. All beings, organic 
 and inorganic, tend to self-preservation. This tendency 
 in man is called self-love. 
 
 1 The name assumed was that of Mirabaud, once secretary to the 
 Academy, who had died before the book appeared. See Morley, 
 Diderot, ii. 173, as to the authorship of the System of Nature. It has 
 sometimes been attributed to Diderot, but it seems clear from in- 
 ternal evidence that Diderot could not have written it. The style 
 and the thought are both too compact to proceed from that diffuse 
 thinker and writer. But Diderot, who had great influence on many 
 men, may have suggested some of the ideas. 
 
ITELVETIUS, IIOLBACH, AND CIIASTELLUX. 2G5 
 
 There is in reality no order nor disorder, since all things 
 are necessary. It is only in our minds that there exists 
 the model of what we call order ; like other abstract ideas, 
 it corresponds to nothing outside of ourselves. Order is 
 no more than the faculty of coordinating ourselves with 
 the beings that surround us, or with the whole of which 
 we form a part. But if we wish to apply the word to 
 nature, it may stand for a succession of actions or motions 
 which we suppose to contribute to a given end. We call 
 beings intelligent when they are organized like ourselves, 
 and can act toward an end which we understand. 
 
 No two beings are exactly alike ; differences, whether 
 called physical or moral, being the result of their bodily 
 qualities. These differences are the cause and the sup- 
 port of human society. If all men were alike they would 
 not need each other. It is a mistake to complain of this 
 inequality, by which we are put under the fortunate 
 necessity of combining. In coming together men have 
 made an explicit or implied compact, by which they have 
 bound themselves to render mutual services and not to 
 injure each other. But as each man's nature leads him 
 to seek to satisfy his own passions or caprices without re- 
 gard to others, law was established to bring him back to 
 his duty. This law is the sum of the wills of the society, 
 united to fix the conduct of its members, or to direct 
 their actions towards the common aim of the association. 
 For convenience, certain citizens are made executors of 
 the popular will, and are called monarchs, magistrates, 
 or representatives, according to the form of the govern- 
 ment. But that form may be changed, and all the powers 
 of all persons under it revoked, at the will of the society 
 itself, by wliich and for which all government is estab- 
 lished. Laws, to be just, must have for their invariable 
 end the general interests of society; they must procure 
 for the greatest number of citizens the advantages for 
 which those citizens have combined. A society whose 
 
266 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 chiefs and whose laws do not benefit its members loses 
 all rights over them. Chiefs who do harm to any society 
 lose the right to command it. By not applying these 
 maxims the nations are made unhappy. By the impru- 
 dence of nations, and by the craft of those to whom power 
 had been entrusted, sovereigns have become absolute 
 masters. They have claimed to hold their powers from 
 Heaven and not to be resjjonsible to any one on earth. 
 Hence politics have become corrupt and no more than a 
 form of brigandage. Man unrestrained soon turns to 
 evil. Only by fear can society control the passions of its 
 rulers. It must, therefore, confer but limited powers on 
 any one of them, and divide those forces which, if united, 
 would necessarily crush it.^ 
 
 Government influences alike, and necessarily, the physi- 
 cal and moral welfare of nations. As its care produces 
 labor, activity, abundance, and health, its neglect and its 
 injustice produce indolence, discouragement, famine, con- 
 tagion, vices, and crimes. It can bring to light, or can 
 smother talents, skill, and virtue. In fact the govern- 
 ment, distributing rank, wealth, rewards and punish- 
 ments ; master of the things in which men have learned 
 from childhood to place their happiness, acquires a neces- 
 sary influence on their conduct, inflames their passions, 
 turns them as it will, modifies and settles their manners and 
 customs.2 These are, in whole nations, as in individuals, 
 but the conduct, or general system of will and action 
 which necessarily results from their education, their gov- 
 ernment, their laws, their religious opinions, their wise or 
 foolish institutions. In short, manners and customs are 
 the habits of nations ; good when they produce solid and 
 true happiness for society, and detestable in the eyes of 
 reason, in spite of the sanction of laws, usage, religion, 
 
 ^ Holbach is clearly indebted both to Rousseau and to Montesquieu. 
 ^ Mceurs, a word for which we have no exact equivalent. It in- 
 cludes the idea of morals as well as that of customs. 
 
HELVETIUS, HOLBACH, AND CIIASTELLUX. 267 
 
 public opinion or example, when they have the support 
 only of habit and prejudice, which seldom consult experi- 
 ence and good sense. No action is so abominable that it is 
 not, or has not been, approved by some nation. Parricide, 
 infanticide, theft, usurpation, cruelty, intolerance, prosti- 
 tution, have been allowed and even considered meritorious 
 by some of the peoples of the earth. Religion especially 
 has consecrated the most revolting and unreasonable cus- 
 toms. 
 
 The cause of the wickedness and corruption of men is 
 that nowhere are they governed according to their nature. 
 Men are bad, not because they are born bad, but because 
 they are made so. The great and powerful safely crush 
 the poor and unfortunate, who try, at the risk of their 
 lives, to return the evil they have suffered. The poor 
 attack openly, or in secret, that unjust society which 
 gives all to some of its children and takes all from others. 
 
 The rights of a man over his fellows can be founded 
 only on the happiness which he procures for them, or for 
 which he gives them cause to hope. No mortal receives 
 from nature the right to command. The authority which 
 the father exercises over his family is founded on the ad- 
 vantages which he is supposed to bestow upon it. Ranks 
 in political society have their basis in real or imaginary 
 utility. The rich man has rights over the poor man solely 
 by virtue of the well-being which he may bestow upon 
 him. Genius, talents, art, and skill have claims only on 
 account of the pleasant and useful things with which they 
 furnish society. To be virtuous is to make people happy. 
 
 A society enjoys all the happiness of which it is capable 
 when the greater number of its members is fed, clothed, 
 and lodged ; when most men can, without excessive labor, 
 satisfy the cravings of nature. Men's imagination should 
 be satisfied when they are sure that the fruits of their 
 labor cannot be taken from them, and that they are work- 
 ing for themselves. Beyond this all is superfluity, and it 
 
268 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 is foolish that a whole nation should sweat to give luxuries 
 to a few persons who can never be content because their 
 imaginations have become boundless. 
 
 Keligion is a delusion. The soul, born with the body, 
 is childish in children, adult in manhood, grows old with 
 advancing years. It is vain to suppose that the soul sur- 
 vives the body. To die is to think, to feel, to enjoy, to 
 suffer, no more. Let us reflect on death, not to encourage 
 fear and. melancholy, but to accustom ourselves to look at 
 it with peaceful eyes, and to throw off the false terror 
 with which the enemies of our peace try to inspire us. 
 
 Utility is the touchstone of systems, opinions, and 
 actions ; it is the measure of our very love of truth. The 
 most useful truths are the most admired ; we call those 
 truths great which most concern the human race ; those 
 futile which concern only a few men whose ideas we do 
 not share. 
 
 The doctrine of utility is combined with that of neces- 
 sity. Most of the French Philosophers were necessarians, 
 but Holbach expressed the doctrine in a more extreme 
 form than the others. Will, according to him, is a mod- 
 ification of the brain by which it is disposed, or prepared, 
 to set our other organs in motion. The will is necessarily 
 determined by the quality and pleasantness of the ideas 
 which act upon it. Deliberation is the oscillation of the 
 will when moved in different directions by opposing 
 forces ; determination is the final prevalence of one force 
 over the other. There is no difference between the man 
 who throws himseK out of a window and the man who is 
 thrown out, except that the impulse on the latter comes 
 from something outside of himself, and that of the former 
 from something within his own mechanism.^ 
 
 ^ Chaudon, the Benedictine, probably the cleverest of the clerical 
 writers of the time, thus attacks the doctrine of necessity, as set forth 
 by Holbach. The author of the System has certainly given out very 
 fine maxims of morality, very pathetic exhortations to virtue ; but with 
 
HELVETIUS, HOLBACH, AND CHASTELLUX. 269 
 
 Nature has made men neither good nor bad ; it has made 
 them machines. Man is virtuous only in obedience to 
 the call of interest. Morals are founded on our approba- 
 tion of those actions which are advantageous to the race. 
 When good actions benefit others and not ourselves our 
 approbation of them is similar to the admiration we feel 
 for a fine picture belonging to some one else. The good 
 man is he whose true ideas have shown him that his hap- 
 piness lies in a line of conduct which others are forced by 
 their own interests to like and approve. By virtue we 
 acquire the good will of our neighbors, and no man can 
 be happy without it. Our self-love becomes a hundred 
 times more delightful when to it is joined the love of 
 others for us. Let us remember that the most impractica- 
 ble of all designs is that of being happy alone. 
 
 To this point in his argument Holbach had only re- 
 peated with strength, clearness and consistency what the 
 school of the Philosophers from Voltaire to Helvetius had 
 either affirmed or hinted. In his second volume, how- 
 ever, he boldly cut loose from his predecessors and avowed 
 his disbelief in any God. Voltaire and Kousseau were 
 theists, with different sorts of faith, and the Philosophers, 
 although treating all churches, and especially all priests, 
 with contempt, had retained, at least in speech, some rem- 
 nant of theism. But Holbach declared that God was an 
 illusion, devised by the fears and the ignorance of man- 
 kind. "The idea of Divinity," he says, "always awakens 
 afflicting ideas in our minds." By the word "God" men 
 mean the most hidden or remote cause ; they use the word 
 only when the chain of material and known causes ceases 
 
 his principles this can be but a joke. It is an absurdity, like that of 
 a man who, recognizing that his watch was only a machine, should 
 not fail to exhort it every day to prevent its getting out of order. 
 Grosse, Diet. (Vantiphllosophlsme, 923. Holbach would probably have 
 replied that he was necessarily obliged to exhort, and that Chaudon 
 was fatally forced to answer. 
 
270 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 to be visible to them. It is a vague name wliieli they ap- 
 ply to a cause short of which their indolence, or the limits 
 of their knowledge, forces them to stop. Men found 
 nature deaf to their cries; they therefore imagined an in- 
 telligent master over it, hoping that he would listen to 
 them. 
 
 This theme is elaborated by Holbach throughout his 
 second volume. Here as elsewhere he writes with serious- 
 ness and conviction, although some of his logical positions 
 are assailable. Never before in France had materialism, 
 necessarianism and atheism been so clearly and forcibly 
 expounded. The very Philosophers were alarmed. Vol- 
 taire hastened to write an article on God so unconvincing, 
 that it can hardly have convinced himself. It amounts 
 to little more than an argument that God is the most 
 probable of hypotheses, and it admits that there may be 
 two or several gods as well as one. It is not unlikely 
 that Voltaire thought it necessary for his peace in the 
 world to protest against so outspoken a book as the " Sys- 
 tem of Nature." 
 
 The true answer to Holbach is to be found in a differ- 
 ent order of ideas from any that Voltaire was prepared to 
 accept. Yet Locke might have taught him that if there 
 is no logical reason to believe in the existence of mind, 
 there is as little to believe in the existence of matter. Ex- 
 perience might have shown him that men do not always 
 seek the thing which they believe most useful to them- 
 selves. The old and favorite doctrine of utility labors 
 under the disadvantage that it has never shown, nor ever 
 can show, an adequate reason why any man should care 
 for another or for the race. And as for the existence of 
 God, — that can no more be proved by argument than the 
 existence of matter, mind, or the non-ego. 
 
 Helvetius and Holbach had worked out the theories of 
 the school to their last philosophical conclusion. A 
 younger writer in the last years of the reign of Louis 
 
HELVETIUS, HOLBACH, AND CHASTELLUX. 271 
 
 XV. was to furnish the complete application of them. 
 The Chevalier de Chastellux is well known in America by 
 the book of travels which he wrote when he accompanied 
 the Marquis of Rochambeau in the Revolutionary War. 
 Chastellux was just then at the height of his reputation. 
 He had published in 1772 a book which, although now 
 ahuost forgotten, is still interesting as a link between the 
 thought of the last century and that of a large school of 
 thinkers to-day. The title is "Of Public Felicity, or 
 considerations on the fate of men in the different Epochs 
 of History," and the motto is Nil Des'pevanduni. "So 
 many people have written the history of men,'' says Chas- 
 tellux; "will not that of humanity be read with pleasure ? " 
 And again : " Several authors have carefully examined if 
 such a Nation were more religious, more sober, more war- 
 like than another ; none has yet sought to discover which 
 was the happiest." 
 
 The object of inquiry being thus indicated, it becomes 
 of the first importance to consider what test of happiness 
 Chastellux will propose. He leaves us in no doubt on this 
 point. ■ " A happy nation is not one which lives with little ; 
 the Goths and Vandals lived with little, and they sought 
 abundance in other regions. A happy nation is not one 
 which is hardened to trouble and labor; the Goths and 
 Vandals were hardened to labor, and they sought elsewhere 
 for softness and rest. A happy nation is not one which is 
 strongest in battle ; it fights only to obtain peace and the 
 commodities of life. A happy nation is one which enjoys 
 ease and liberty, which is attached to its possessions, and, 
 above all things, which does not desire to change its con- 
 dition." And in another place he asks, what are some of 
 the indications, the symptoms of public felicity. Two of 
 them, he says, are naturally presented : agriculture and 
 population. "I name agriculture before population," he 
 continues, "because if it happens that a nation which is 
 not numerous cultivates carefully a great quantity of land, 
 
272 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 it will result that this nation consumes much, and adds 
 to the food necessary to life the ease and commodity 
 which make its happiness. If, on the other hand, the 
 increase of the people is in proportion to that of the agri- 
 culture, what can we conclude except that this multiplica- 
 tion of the human race, as of all other species, comes solely 
 from its well-being. Agriculture is, therefore, an indica- 
 tion of the happiness of the nations anterior and preferable 
 to population." The most certain indication of felicity is 
 a large proportional consumption of products ; a high rate 
 of living. The marvelous and even the sublime are to be 
 dreaded; but "all that multiplies men in the nations, and 
 harvests on the surface of the earth, is good in itself, is 
 good above all things, and preferable to all that seems 
 fine in the eyes of prejudice." ^ 
 
 And as material good is the only good, so it is in mod- 
 ern times and in civilized countries that the highest point 
 reached by humanity is to be found. " If wisdom be the 
 art of happy living ; if philosophy be truly the love of wis- 
 dom, as its name alone would give us to understand, the 
 Greeks were never philosophers." 
 
 To show that modern nations are increasing the ease 
 and comfort of life to a point unknown before is no diffi- 
 cult task. Chastellux enumerates the discoveries of phy- 
 sical science, and touches on the achievements of learning 
 and the arts, then calls on his readers to look on all these 
 but as payments on account in the progress of our know- 
 ledge ; as so much of the road already passed in the vast 
 course of the human mind. Here we have the truly mod- 
 
 1 Chastellux finds it hard to stick quite close to his definition of 
 felicity. Of the English he says, " Such are the true advantages of 
 this nation ; which, joined to the safety of its property and the ines- 
 timable privilege of depending only on the law, would make it the 
 happiest on earth, if its climate, its ancient manners and customs, 
 and its frequent revolutions had not turned it toward discontent and 
 melancholy. But these considerations do not belong to our subject." 
 ii. 144. 
 
HELVETIUS, HOLBACH, AND CHASTELLUX. 273 
 
 em ideal of progress ; the end of government the greatest 
 happiness of the greatest number, and happiness depend- 
 ent merely on material conditions. Morals under this 
 system are but a branch of medicine. Religion is an old- 
 fashioned prejudice. Let us push on and unite the world 
 in one great, comfortable, well-fed family. Such is the 
 last practical advice of the French Philosophic school of 
 the eighteenth century and of its unconscious followers in 
 this. If the conclusion does not satisfy the highest aspi- 
 rations of the human race, that is perhaps because of some 
 flaw in the premises. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Rousseau's political writings. 
 
 In passing from the study of the Philosophers to that 
 of Rousseau, we turn from talent to genius, from system 
 to impulse. The theories of the great Genevan were 
 drawn from his own strange nature, with little regard for 
 consistency. They belong together much as the features 
 of a distorted and changeful countenance may do ; their 
 unity is personal rather than systematic. And while 
 Rousseau was, from certain aspects and chiefly in respect 
 to his conduct, the most contemptible of the great thinkers 
 of his day, he surpassed most of the others in constant lit- 
 erary sincerity, and in occasional elevation of thought and 
 feeling. Voltaire, although never swerving long from his 
 own general philosophical scheme, would lie without hesi- 
 tation for any purpose. Diderot would quote from non- 
 existent books to establish his theories. But no one can 
 read Rousseau without being convinced that he believed 
 what he wrote, at least at the moment of writing it. 
 Truthfulness of this kind is quite consistent with inaccu- 
 racy, and it is probable that some incidents in Rousseau's 
 autobiographical writings have been wrongly remembered, 
 colored by prejudice, or embellished by vanity. Some of 
 them may even be completely fictitious ; the author caring 
 little for facts except as the ornaments and illustrations of 
 ideas. But what he thought in the abstract Rousseau was 
 quite ready to write down, caring little for the feelings or 
 the opinions of any sect or party ; or even of that great 
 public whose thought was as law to the Philosophers. He 
 deserved to profit by his sincerity, and he has done so. His 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 275 
 
 many and great faults were well known to his contempo- 
 raries; they are told in his posthumous "Confessions" in 
 a way to show them more dark than any contemporary 
 could have imagined; yet such is the evident frankness 
 of those evil and repugnant volumes that many decent men 
 have got from them a sneaking kindness for Kousseau, and 
 an inclination to take him at his own estimate, as one no 
 worse than other people. 
 
 This estimate of himself is never to be forgotten in 
 reading his books. "You see what I am, " he seems to 
 say at every turn; "now, I am a good man." In the 
 belief in his own comparative goodness he was firmly fixed. 
 His theories of life were largely founded on it. For 
 Kousseau was an introspective thinker, and thus in seem- 
 ing opposition to the intellectual tendency of his age. 
 Voltaire and Diderot were interested chiefly in the world 
 around them. Locke had viewed his own mind objec- 
 tively ; he had attempted the feat of getting outside of it, 
 in order to take a good look at it ; and in so doing he had 
 missed seeing some important parts of it, because they 
 were internal. Rousseau studied himself and the world 
 within himself. Thus while he was as immoral in his 
 actions as any of the Philosophers, he was more religious 
 than any of them. Voltaire's theism was little more than 
 a remnant of early habit, strengthened by a notion that 
 some sort of religion was necessary for purposes of police. 
 To Eousseau, a world without a God would have been 
 truly empty. But as his religion was theistic, and not or- 
 thodox ; as, with characteristic meanness, he was ready to 
 profess Catholicism or Calvinism as he might find it con- 
 venient, he has been classed among atheists by churchmen. 
 In so far as this is mere vituperation it is perhaps deserved, 
 for Rousseau's life deserved almost any conceivable vitu- 
 peration; but as an historical fact, Rousseau's faith was 
 quite as living as that of many of his revilers. 
 
 1 Rousseau looked on Catholicism and Calvinism rather as civil 
 
276 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Every thinking human being has a philosophy and a 
 theology, — a metaphysical foundation for his beliefs, and 
 an opinion concerning the Deity. The only escape from 
 having these is to think of nothing outside of the daily 
 routine of life. The attempt to be without them on 
 any other terms generally ends in having but crude and 
 contradictory opinions on the most important subjects of 
 human interest. The theology of Rousseau will be con- 
 sidered later. Philosophical systems were his especial 
 bugbear, and it is only incidentally that he formulates his 
 metaphysical ideas. His general tendency of belief was 
 toward intuition. Justice and virtue he believed to be 
 written in the hearts of men, disturbed rather than eluci- 
 dated by the observation of the learned and the reflection 
 of the ingenious. As to the ground of our actions he 
 was less at one with himself. Sometimes, in agreement 
 with the prevalent philosophy of his day, he assumed that 
 men are moved only by their own interest. At times, 
 however, he recognized two principles of human action 
 anterior to reason ; the first of which is care for our own 
 well-being ; the second, a natural repugnance to see others 
 suffer. In making this distinction he separated from the 
 school of thinkers to whom pity and affection are but re- 
 fined forms of self-love. This is characteristic of Rous- 
 seau, who was free from that craving for system which is 
 the snare of those minds in which logic and pure reason 
 prevail over acuteness of self -observation. 
 
 The society of the eighteenth century had grown very 
 rigid and artificial. The struggle of the Philosophers 
 was to bring men back in one way and another to a life 
 founded rationally on a few simple laws derived from the 
 nature of things. Of these laws the leaders themselves 
 had not always a true perception, nor did they always 
 
 systems than as ideas, and accepted them in the same way in which 
 a man may live under a foreign government, of whose principles he 
 does not approve. 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 277 
 
 derive the right rules from such laws as they perceived. 
 But their struggle was ever for reason, as they understood 
 it, and generally for simplicity. In this work Rousseau 
 was a leader. He was constantly preaching the merits and 
 the charms of a simple life. In his denunciations of elab- 
 orateness, of luxury, and even of civilization, he was often 
 mistaken, sometimes absurd. But his authority was 
 great. He set a fashion of simplicity, and he exerted an 
 influence which went far beyond fashion, and has helped 
 to modify the world to this day. 
 
 There was another quality beside introspection in which 
 Rousseau was the precursor of the literary men of the 
 nineteenth century, and that is the love of nature. To 
 say that he was the first great writer to enjoy and describe 
 natural scenery would be a gross exaggeration. But most 
 of Rousseau's predecessors valued the world out of doors 
 principally for its usefulness, and in proportion to its fer- 
 tility. Rousseau is perhaps the first great writer who fairly 
 reveled in country life ; for whom lake and mountain, rock 
 and <jloud, tree and flower, had a constant joy and mean- 
 ing. The true enjoyment of natural scenery, generally 
 affected nowadays, is not given in a high degree to most 
 people ; in a very few it may be as intense as the enjoy- 
 ment of music is in many more ; but most people can get 
 from scenery, as from other beautiful things, a reasonable 
 and modest enjoyment, if the object for their admiration 
 be well pointed out to them. Rousseau needed no such 
 instruction. To some extent he furnished it to the mod- 
 ern world. The genuineness of his love of nature is 
 partly shown by the fact that she was as dear to him in 
 her simpler as in her grander aspects. The grass filled 
 him with delight as truly as the mountain -peak ; indeed, 
 he felt contempt for those who look afar for the beauty 
 that is all about us, and his admiration was not reserved 
 for the unusual. Nor did he fill his pages with descrip- 
 tion. It is in his autobiographical writings and in refer- 
 
278 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ence to its effect on himself that he most often mentions 
 natural scenery. Recognizing instinctively that the prin- 
 cipal subjects of language are thought and action, as the 
 chief interests of painting are form and color, this writer 
 so keenly alive to natural beauty is guiltless of word 
 painting. 
 
 Jean Jacques Rousseau was born at Geneva on the 28th 
 of June, 1712. His mother, the daughter of a Protestant 
 minister, died at his birth. His father, a clockmaker by 
 trade, a man of eccentric disposition, had little real con- 
 trol over the boy, and, moreover, soon moved away from 
 the city on account of a quarrel with its government, 
 leaving his son behind him. Jean Jacques was first put 
 under the care of a minister in a neighboring village ; then 
 passed two or three years with an uncle in the town. At 
 the age of eleven he was sent to a notary's office, whence 
 he was dismissed for dullness and inaptitude. He was 
 next apprenticed to an engraver, a man of violent temper, 
 who by his cruelty brought out the meanness inherent in 
 the boy's weak nature. Rousseau had not been incapable 
 of generosity ; perhaps he never quite became so. But, 
 with a cowardly temperament, he especially needed firm 
 kindness and judicious reproof, and these he did not re- 
 ceive. He took to pilfering from his master, who, in 
 return, used to beat him. Rousseau's thefts were, in fact, 
 not very considerable, — apples from the larder, graving 
 tools from the closet. His worst offenses at this time 
 were not such as would make us condemn very harshly a 
 lad of spirit. But Jean Jacques was not such a lad. The 
 last of his scrapes as an apprentice was important only 
 from its consequences. One afternoon he had gone with 
 some comrades on an expedition beyond the city gates. 
 "Half a league from the town," say the "Confessions," 
 "I hear the retreat sounded, and hasten my steps; I hear 
 the drum beat, and run with all my might ; I arrive out of 
 breath, all in a sweat; my heart beats; I see from a dis- 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 279 
 
 tance the soldiers at their posts ; I rush on ; I cry with a 
 failing voice. It was too late. When twenty yards from 
 the outpost I see the first drawbridge going up. I 
 tremble as I see in the air those terrible horns, sinister 
 and fatal augury of that terrible fate which was at that 
 moment beginning for me. 
 
 "In the first violence of my grief I threw myself on 
 the glacis and bit the earth. My comrades laughed at 
 their misfortune and made the best of it at once. I also 
 made up my mind, but in another way. On the very spot 
 I swore that I would never go back to my master, and on 
 the morrow, when the gates were opened and they returned 
 to town, I bade them adieu forever." 
 
 Thus did Rousseau become a wanderer at the age of 
 sixteen. The duchy of Savoy, into which he first passed, 
 adjoined the republic of Geneva, and was a country as 
 fervently Catholic as the other was ardently Calvinistic. 
 The young runaway soon fell in with a proselytizing priest, 
 who gave him a good dinner and dispatched him, for the 
 furtherance of his conversion, to a singular lady, living 
 not far off, at Annecy. This lady, named Madame de 
 Warens, about twelve years older than Rousseau, was not 
 long after to occupy a large place in his life. She be- 
 longed to a Protestant family of Vevay, on the north side 
 of the Lake of Geneva. She, like him, had fled from 
 her country, and apparently for no more serious reason. 
 In her flight she had left her husband and abjured her 
 religion. In morals she had a system of her own, and 
 gave herself to many men, without interested motives, 
 but with little passion. She was a sentimental, active- 
 minded woman, of small judgment; pleasing rather than 
 beautiful, short of stature, thickset, but with a fine head 
 and arms. Madame de Warens received the boy kindly, 
 and on this first occasion of their meeting did little more 
 than speed him on his way to Turin, where he entered a 
 monastery for the express purpose of being converted to 
 
280 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Catholicism. In nine days the farce was completed, and 
 the new Catholic turned out into the town, with about 
 twenty francs of small change in his pocket, charitably 
 contributed by the witnesses of the ceremony of his abju- 
 ration. It is needless to dwell on his adventures at this 
 time. He was a servant in two different families. After 
 something more than a year he left Turin on foot, and 
 wandered back to Annecy and to Madame de Warens. 
 
 The period of Rousseau's life in which that lady was 
 the ruling influence lasted ten or twelve years. The sit- 
 uation was one from which any man of manly instincts 
 would have shrunk, a condition of dependence on a mis- 
 tress, and on a mistress who made no pretense of fidelity. 
 In a desultory way Rousseau learned something of music 
 at this time, and made some long journeys on foot, one of 
 them taking him as far as Paris. This man, morally of 
 soft fibre, was able to endure and enjoy moderate physical 
 hardship ; and from early education felt most at home in 
 simple houses and amid rude surroundings. At last, dis- 
 gusted with the appearance of a new rival in Madame de 
 Warens 's changeable household, Rousseau left that lady 
 and drifted off to Lyons ; then, after once trying the ex- 
 periment of returning to his mistress and finding it a fail- 
 ure, to Paris. 
 
 For more than eight years after his final separation 
 from Madame de Warens, Rousseau did nothing to make 
 any one suppose him to be a man of genius. He obtained 
 and threw up the position of secretary to the French am- 
 bassador at Venice ; he supported himself as a musician 
 and as a private secretary; he lived from hand to mouth, 
 having as a companion one Therese Levasseur, a gro- 
 tesquely illiterate maid servant, picked up at an inn. 
 Their five children he successively took to the Foundling, 
 losing sight of them forever. To the mother he was faith- 
 ful for the most part, although not without some amorous 
 vanderings, for many years. 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 281 
 
 Up to 1749, then, when Rousseau was thirty-seven years 
 old, he had published nothing of importance. He had, 
 however, some acquaintance with literary men, being 
 known merely as one of those adventurers without any 
 settled means of existence, who may always be found in 
 cities, and with whom Paris at this time appears to have 
 been over-furnished. In features he was plain, in man- 
 ners awkward; much given to making compliments to 
 women, but generally displeasing to them, although at 
 times interesting when roused to excitement. The Swiss 
 Jean Jacques had little of the sparkling wit which the 
 Frenchmen of his day rated very high, but he had much 
 subtlety of observation and many ideas. He constantly 
 applauded himself in his writings on being sensible rather 
 than witty. In fact he was neither, but very ingenious 
 and eloquent. In character he was self-indulgent but 
 not luxurious, sensitive, vain, and sentimental. To this 
 man, — if we may believe his own account, and I think 
 in the main we may do so, — there came by a sudden flash 
 an idea which altered his whole life, and which has mate- 
 rially affected millions of lives since he died. The idea 
 was an evil seed, and it found an evil soil to grow in. 
 
 The summer of 1749 was a hot one. Diderot, just 
 rising into notice as a man of letters, had been impris- 
 oned in the Castle of Vincennes, for his "Letter on the 
 Blind," and his friends were allowed to come and see him. 
 Rousseau used to visit him every other afternoon, walking 
 the four or five miles which lie between the centre of Paris 
 and the castle. The trees along the road were trimmed 
 after the dreary French fashion, and gave little shade. 
 From time to time Rousseau would stop, lie down on the 
 grass and rest, and he had got into the habit of taking a 
 book or a newspaper in his pocket. It was in this way 
 that his eye happened to fall on a paragraph in the " ]\Ier- 
 cure de France," announcing that the Academy of Dijon 
 would give a prize the next year for the best essay on the 
 
282 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 following subject : " Whether the Progress of the Arts and 
 Sciences has tended to corrupt or to improve Morals." 
 
 From that moment, according to Rousseau, a complete 
 change came over him. Struck with sudden giddiness, 
 he was like a drunken man. His heart palpitated and he 
 could hardly walk or draw breath. Throwing himself at 
 the foot of a tree, he spent half an hour in such agitation 
 that when he arose he found the whole front of his waist- 
 coat wet with tears, although he had not known that he 
 was shedding any. Thus did his great theory of the de- 
 generacy of man under civilization burst upon him.^ 
 
 The very question asked by the academy suggests the 
 possibility of an answer unfavorable to civilization, but 
 Eousseau's treatment of it was such as to form the begin- 
 ning of an epoch in the history of thought. It is under 
 the rough coat of the laborer, he says, and not under the 
 tinsel of the courtier, that strength and vigor of body will 
 be found. Before art had shaped our manners, they were 
 rustic but natural, and men's actions freely expressed 
 their feelings. Human nature was no better, at bottom, 
 than now, but men were safer because they could more 
 easily read each other's minds, and thus they avoided 
 many vices. The advance of civilization brings increase 
 of corruption. Constantinople, where learning was pre- 
 served during the dark ages, was full of murder, debauch- 
 
 1 Rousseau, xviii. 135 (Confessions, Part. ii. liv. viii) ; xix. 358 
 (Seconde Lettre a, M. de Malesherbes). Exaggerated as the above story 
 probably is, we may reasonably believe that it comes nearer the truth 
 than that told by Diderot in after years, when he and Rousseau had 
 quarreled. In that version, Rousseau, desiring to compete for the 
 prize, consulted Diderot as to which side he should take, and was 
 advised to assume that which other people would avoid. Diderot, 
 (Euvres, xi. 148. Rousseau's thoughts had been wandering into sub- 
 jects akin to that of the prize essay before he had seen the announce- 
 ment in the Mercure de France. Musset-Pathay, ii. 363. Moreover, if 
 Rousseau was imaginative, and not always to be believed about facts, 
 Diderot was a tremendous liar. 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 283 
 
 ery, and crime. Contrast with its inhabitants those 
 primitive nations which have been kept from the conta- 
 gion of vain knowledge : the early Persians, the Germans 
 described by Tacitus, the modern Swiss, the American 
 Indians, whose simple institutions Montaigne prefers to 
 all the laws of Plato. These nations know well that in 
 other lands idle men spend their time in disputing about 
 vice and virtue, but they have considered the morals of 
 these argumentative persons and have learned to despise 
 their doctrine. 
 
 "Astronomy is born of superstition; eloquence of am- 
 bition, hatred, flattery, and lying; geometry of avarice; 
 physics of a vain curiosity ; all, and morals themselves, of 
 human pride. The arts and sciences, therefore, owe their 
 birth in our vices ; we should have less doubt of the ad- 
 vantage to be derived from them if they sprang from our 
 virtues." . . . "Answer me, illustrious philosophers, you 
 from whom we know why bodies attract each other in a 
 vacuum ; what are the relations of areas traversed in equal 
 times in the revolutions of the planets ; what curves have 
 conjugate points, points of inflection and reflection; how 
 man sees all things in God ; how the soul and body cor- 
 respond without communication, as two clocks would do ; 
 what stars may be inhabited ; what insects reproduce their 
 kind in extraordinary ways, — tell me, I say, you to 
 whom we owe so much sublime knowledge — if you had 
 taught us none of these things, should we be less numerous, 
 less well-governed, less redoubtable, less flourishing, or 
 more perverse?" 
 
 This is the theme of the First Discourse, a theme most 
 congenial to the nature of Rousseau. His ill-health, his 
 dreamy habit of mind, his vanity, all made him long for 
 a state of things as different as possible from that about 
 him. 
 
 "Among us," he says, "it is true that Socrates would 
 not have drunk the hemlock ; but he woidd have drunk 
 
284 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 from a more bitter cup of insulting mockery and of con- 
 tempt a hundred times worse than death." Such sensi- 
 tiveness as this belongs to Rousseau himself. With what 
 disdain would the healthy-minded Socrates have laughed 
 at the suggestion that he was troubled by the contempt 
 or the mockery of those about him. How gayly would he 
 have turned the weapons of the mockers on themselves. 
 Rousseau had neither the sense of humor nor the joy of 
 living, which added so much to the greatness of the Athe- 
 nian. His theories are especially pleasing to the disap- 
 pointed and the weak, and therein lies their danger; for 
 they tend, not- to manly effort for the improvement of 
 individual circumstances or of mankind, but to vain 
 dreaming of impossible ideals. There is a luxury that 
 softens, but there is also a luxury that causes labor. A 
 nation without astronomy, or geography, or physics, is 
 generally less numerous, less redoubtable, less flourishing, 
 and sometimes less well governed than a civilized nation. 
 It is true that in the arts and sciences, in the deeds and 
 in the condition of men, there is an admixture of what is 
 base ; but there is no baser nor more dangerous habit of 
 mind than that which for every action seeks out the worst 
 motive, for every state the most selfish reason.^ 
 
 While Rousseau's First Discourse is pernicious in its 
 general teaching, it is rich in eloquent passages, and it 
 contains some of those sensible remarks which we seldom 
 fail to find in its author's works. At the time of writing 
 it, as later, he was interested in education, — the subject 
 on which his influence has been, on the whole, most use- 
 
 1 Long after the publication of the First Discourse, Rousseau in- 
 sisted that he had never intended to plunge civilized states into bar- 
 barism, but only to arrest the decay of primitive ones, and perhaps 
 to retard that of the more advanced, by changing their ideals. 
 (Euvres, xx. 275 (II. Dialogue) ; xxi. 34 (III. Dialogue). Rousseau's 
 writings generally must be taken as expressions of feeling, quite as 
 much as attempts to change the world. They are growls or sighs, 
 rather than sermons. 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 
 
 285 
 
 ful. "I see on every side," he says, "enormous estab- 
 lishments where youth is brought up at great expense to 
 learn everything but its duties. Your children will be 
 ignorant of their own language, but will speak others 
 which are not in use anywhere ; they will know how to 
 make verses which they will hardly be able to understand 
 themselves; without knowing how to distinguish truth 
 from falsehood, they will possess the art of disguising both 
 from others by specious arguments; but those words, 
 magnanimity, equity, temperance, humanity, courage, 
 will be unknown to them; that sweet name of country ^ 
 will never strike their ears; and if they hear of God, 
 it will be less to fear Him than to be afraid of Him. 'I 
 would as lief,' said a sage, Hhat my schoolboy had spent 
 his time in a tennis-court; at least his body would be 
 more active. ' I know that children must be kept busy, 
 and that idleness is the danger most to be feared for them. 
 What, then, should they learn? A fine question surely! 
 Let them learn what they must do when they are men, 
 and not what they must forget." ^ 
 
 The First Discourse not only took the prize at Dijon, 
 but attracted a great deal of notice in Paris, and im- 
 mediately gave Rousseau a distinguished place among 
 men of letters. Controversy was excited, refutations at- 
 tempted. In 1753 the Academy of Dijon again offered a 
 prize for an essay on a subject evidently connected with 
 the former one : " What is the Origin of Inequality among 
 Men, and whether it is authorized by Natural Law." 
 Again Rousseau competed, and this time the prize was 
 given to some one else, but Rousseau's essay was pub- 
 lished, and takes rank among the important writings of 
 its author and of its time. In the Second Discourse we 
 see the development of the ideas of the First. Rousseau 
 
 1 Patrie, — a word seemingly necessary, but which the English 
 language manages to do without. 
 
 '-* Compare Montaigne, i. 135 (liv. i. chap. xxv.). 
 
286 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 composed an imaginary history of mankind, starting from 
 that being of his own creation, the happy savage. He 
 thinks that man in the primitive condition, having no 
 moral relations nor known duties, could be neither good 
 nor bad ; unless these words are taken in a purely physical 
 sense, and those things are called vices in the individual 
 which may interfere with his own preservation, and those 
 are called virtues which may contribute to it. In this 
 case, Kousseau believes that he must be called the most 
 virtuous who least resists the simple impulses of nature ; 
 a mistake surely, for what natural impulses are more 
 simple than those which turn a man aside from all sus- 
 tained exertion, and what impulses tend more than these 
 to the destruction of the individual and of the species? 
 
 Rousseau's savage has but few desires, and those of the 
 simplest, and he is dependent on no one for their satis- 
 faction. In him natural pity is awake, although obscure, 
 while in civilized man it is developed, but weak. The 
 Philosopher will not leave his bed although his feUow- 
 beings be slaughtered under his window, but will clap 
 his hands to his ears and quiet himself with argmnents. 
 The savage is not so tranquil, and gives way to the first 
 impulse. In street fights the populace assembles and pru- 
 dent folk get out of the way. It is the rabble and the 
 fishwives who separate the combatants, and prevent re- 
 spectable people from cutting each other's throats.^ 
 
 Love, he says, is physical and moral. The physical 
 side is that general desire which leads to the union of the 
 sexes. The moral side is that which fixes that desire on 
 one exclusive object, or at least that which gives the ex- 
 
 1 Rousseau says in his Confessions (CEuvres, xviii. 205 n. Part. ii. 
 liv. viii.), that this heartless philosopher was suggested to him by 
 Diderot, who abused his confidence, and gave his writings at this 
 time a hard tone and a black appearance. The abuse of confidence 
 is nonsense, but the comic picture of the philosopher, with his hands 
 on his ears, may well have come from Diderot. Kousseau was always 
 in deadly earnest. 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 287 
 
 elusive desire a greater energy. Now it is easy to see 
 that this moral side of love is a factitious feeling, born of 
 the usage of society, and vaunted by women with much 
 skill and care in order to establish their empire, and to 
 give dominion to the sex which ought to obey. This feel- 
 ing is dull in the savage, who has no abstract ideas of 
 regularity or beauty ; he is not troubled with imagination, 
 which causes so many woes to civilized man. "Let us 
 conclude that the savage man, wandering in forests, with- 
 out manufactures, without language, without a home, 
 without war, and without connections, with no need of his 
 kind, and no desire to injure it, perhaps never recogiiizing 
 one person individually, subject to few passions, and 
 sufficient to himself, had only the feeling and the intelli- 
 gence proper to his state ; that he felt only his real needs ; 
 he looked only at those things which he thought it was for 
 his interest to see, and his intelligence made no more pro- 
 gress than his vanity. If, by chance, he made some dis- 
 covery, he could not communicate it, not recognizing even 
 his own children. The art perished with the inventor. 
 There was neither education nor progress ; the generations 
 multiplied uselessly; and, as all started from the same 
 point, the centuries went by with all the rudeness of the 
 first age ; the species was already old, and man still re- 
 mained a child." 
 
 Inequalities among savage men would be small. Those 
 which are physical are often caused by a hardening or an 
 eifeminate life; those of the mind, by education, which 
 not only divides men into the rude and the cultivated, 
 but increases the natural differences which nature has 
 allowed among the latter ; for if a giant and a dwarf walk 
 in the same road, every step they take will separate them 
 more widely. And if there are no relations among men, 
 their inequalities will trouble them very little. "Where 
 there is no love, what is the use of beauty? What advan- 
 tage can people who do not speak derive from wit; or 
 
288 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 those who have no dealings from craft? "I constantly 
 hear it said," cries Kousseau, "that the strong will oppress 
 the weak. But explain to me what is meant by the word 
 "oppression." Some men will rule with violence, others 
 will groan in their service, obeying all their caprices. 
 This is exactly what I observe among us; but I do not see 
 how it could be said of savage men, who could hardly be 
 made to understand the meaning of servitude and domi- 
 nation. One man may well take away the fruit that an- 
 other has picked, the game he has killed, the cave that 
 was his shelter ; but how will he ever succeed in making 
 him obey? And what can be the chains of dependence 
 among men that possess nothing? If I am driven from 
 one tree, I need only go to another ; if I am tormented in 
 any place, who will prevent my moving elsewhere? Is 
 there a man so much stronger than I, and moreover so 
 depraved, so lazy, and so fierce as to compel me to pro- 
 vide for his maintenance while he remains idle? He must 
 make up his mind not to lose sight of me for a single 
 moment, to have me tied up with great care while he is 
 asleep, for fear I should escape or kill him ; that is to say, 
 he is obliged to expose himself willingly to much greater 
 trouble than that which he wishes to avoid, and than that 
 which he gives me. And after all, if his vigilance is 
 relaxed for a moment, if he turns his head at a sudden 
 noise, I take twenty steps through the forest, my chains 
 are broken, and he never sees me again as long as he 
 lives." 
 
 Rousseau recognized that his state of nature was not 
 like anything that had existed on our planet.^ But that 
 
 1 This concession probably took the form it did, partly to satisfy 
 the censor, or the Academy of Dijon, jealous for Genesis. " Religion 
 commands us to believe that God himself having removed men from 
 the state of nature, immediately after the creation, they are unequal 
 because he has vs^illed that they should be so." Such remarks as this 
 are common in all the writings of the time, although less so in those 
 of Rousseau than in those of most of his contemporaries. They are 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 289 
 
 consideration troubled him not at all. Let us begin, he 
 says, by putting aside all facts; they do not touch the 
 question. This is the constant practice of the philoso- 
 phers of certain schools, but few of them acknowledge it 
 as frankly as Rousseau. Had the facts of human nature 
 and human history been seriously considered, we should 
 have no Republic of Plato, no Utopia of More ; the world 
 would be a very different place from what it is ; for these 
 cloudy cities, the laws of whose architecture seem con- 
 trary to all the teachings of physics, yet gild with their 
 glory and darken with their shadows the solid temples and 
 streets beneath them. 
 
 In the second part of his essay, Rousseau follows the 
 development of human society. "The first man," he says, 
 "who, having enclosed a piece of ground, undertook to 
 say, 'This is mine,' and found people simple enough to 
 believe him, was the true founder of civil society. How 
 many crimes, wars, murders, how much misery and horror 
 would not he have spared the human race, who, pulling up 
 the stakes or filling the ditch, should have cried to his fel- 
 lows, 'Beware of listening to that impostor. You are 
 lost if you forget that the fruits belong to all, and the land 
 to none.' " 
 
 But this benefactor did not make his appearance. Soon 
 all the land was divided among a certain number of occu- 
 piers. Those whose weakness or indolence had prevented 
 their getting a share were obliged to sink into slavery, or 
 to rob their richer neighbors. Then followed civil wars, 
 tumult and rapine. At last those who had the land con- 
 ceived the most deliberate plot that ever entered into the 
 human mind. They persuaded the poorer people to join 
 with them in establishing an association which should de- 
 fend all its members and ensure to each one the peaceful 
 possession of his property. " Such was the origin of so- 
 
 evidently intended to satisfy the authorities, and to be simply over- 
 looked by the intelligent reader. 
 
290 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ciety and laws, which gave new bonds to the weak, new 
 strength to the rich, irrevocably destroyed natural liberty, 
 established forever the laws of property and inequality, 
 turned adroit usurpation into settled right, and, for the 
 profit of a few ambitious men, subjected thenceforth all 
 the human race to labor, servitude, and misery." 
 
 But on the whole the stage of development which seemed 
 to Rousseau the happiest was not the state of complete 
 isolation. He supposes that at one time mankind had 
 assembled in herds, and had made some simple inventions. 
 A rude language had been formed, huts were built. Men 
 had become more fierce and cruel than at first. The con- 
 dition was intermediate between the indolence of the prim- 
 itive state, and the petulant activity of self-love now seen 
 in the world. This, he thought, was the stage reached 
 by most savages known to Europeans ; it was the most 
 desirable ; and he remarks that no savage has yet adopted 
 civilization, whereas many Frenchmen have joined Indian 
 tribes, and taken up a savage mode of life. 
 
 In closing the Second Discourse, Rousseau thus sums 
 up his conclusions. "It follows from this exposition that 
 inequality, being almost nothing in the state of nature, 
 draws its force and growth from the development of our 
 faculties and from the progress of the human spirit, and 
 becomes at last stable and legal by the establishment of 
 property and the laws. It follows also that moral inequal- 
 ity, authorized by positive law only, is contrary to natural 
 law whenever it does not coincide in the same proportion 
 with physical inequality ; a distinction which shows suffi- 
 ciently what should be thought in this respect of the kind 
 of inequality which reigns among all civilized nations, 
 since it is manifestly contrary to the law of nature, how- 
 ever defined, that a child should command an old man, a 
 fool lead a wise man, and a handful of people be glutted 
 with superfluity, while the hungry multitude is in want 
 of necessaries." 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 291 
 
 The Discourse on Inequality was sent by Kousseau to 
 Voltaire, and drew forth a characteristic letter from the 
 pontiff of the Philosophers. "I have received, sir, your 
 new book against the human race. I thank you for it. 
 You will please the men to whom you tell disagreeable 
 truths, but you will not correct them. It is impossible 
 to paint in stronger colors the horrors of human society, 
 from which our ignorance and weakness promise them- 
 selves so many consolations. No one ever spent so much 
 wit in trying to make us stupid ; when we read your book 
 we feel like going on aU fours. Nevertheless, as it is 
 more, than sixty years since I lost the habit, I am con- 
 scious that it is impossible for me to take it up again, and 
 I leave this natural attitude to those who are more worthy 
 of it than you and I. Nor can I take ship to go out and 
 join the savages in Canada; first, because the diseases 
 which bear me down oblige me to stay near the greatest 
 physician in Europe, and because I should not find the 
 same relief among the Missouris ; secondly, because there 
 is war in those regions, and the example of our nations 
 has made the savages almost as cruel as we are." Vol- 
 taire then goes on to complain of his own sufferings as an 
 author, but to vaunt the influence of letters. It is not 
 Petrarch and Boccaccio, he says, that made the wars of 
 Italy ; the pleasantries of Marot did not cause the massacre 
 of Saint Bartholomew's Day; nor the tragedy of the Cid 
 produce the riots of the Fronde. Great crimes have 
 generally been committed by ignorant great men. It is 
 the insatiable cupidity, the indomitable pride of mankind, 
 which have made this world a vale of tears ; from Thamas 
 Kouli-Kan, who could not read, to the custom-house clerk, 
 who only knows how to cipher.^ 
 
 This letter is neither very complimentary nor very con- 
 clusive in its treatment of Rousseau's position, but it may 
 be said to mark his official reception into the guild of lit- 
 1 August 30, 1755. Voltaire, Ivi. 714. 
 
292 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 erary men. He was presently engaged in new work. He 
 wrote an article on Political Economy for the great "En- 
 cyclopaedia," in wliicli, reversing tlie teaching of the Sec- 
 ond Discourse, he maintains that "it is certain that the 
 right of property is the most sacred of all the rights of cit- 
 izens, and more important in some respects than liberty 
 itself ; either because it more closely concerns the preser- 
 vation of life, or because, property being easier to take 
 away and harder to defend than persons, that should be 
 most respected which is most easily ravished ; or again, be- 
 cause property is the true foundation of civil society, and 
 the true guarantee of the engagements of the citizens ; for 
 if property did not answer for persons, nothing would be 
 so easy as to elude duties and to laugh at the laws." ^ And 
 further on, in the same article, he calls property the foun- 
 dation of the social compact, whose first condition is that 
 every one be maintained in the peaceful enjoyment of what 
 belongs to him. We must not wonder at seeing Rous- 
 seau thus change sides from day to day. A dreamer and 
 not a philosophic thinker, he perceived some truths and 
 uttered many sophistries, speaking always with the fire of 
 conviction and a fatal eloquence. 
 
 It is needless to enter into the detail of Rousseau's life 
 at this time, the time when his most remarkable work was 
 done. Labor was always painful and irritating to him, 
 and it was perhaps the irksomeness of his tasks that drove 
 him into something not unlike madness.^ Yet he kept 
 on writing with enthusiasm. He speaks of himself as 
 moved in these years by the contemplation of great objects ; 
 ridiculously hoping to bring about the triumph of reason 
 
 1 Rousseau, CEuvres, xii. 41. 
 
 2 There is little doubt that Rousseau was at one time really insane, 
 subject to the delusion that he was being persecuted. His insanity 
 did not become very marked until the time of the real persecutions 
 undergone after the publication of Emile. See his Biographies and 
 Le Docteur Chatelain, La folie de J. J . Rousseau, Paris, 1890. He 
 
Rousseau's political writings. 293 
 
 and truth over prejudice and lies, and to make men wiser 
 by showing them their true interests. He learned at this 
 time, he says, to meditate profoundly, and for a moment 
 astonished Europe by productions in which vulgar souls 
 saw only eloquence and wit, but in which those persons 
 who inhabit ethereal regions joyfully recognized one of 
 their own kind.^ 
 
 The best known and probably the most important of 
 Rousseau's political writings is the "Contrat Social," or 
 "Social Compact," which followed the Second Discourse 
 after an interval of eight years, thus coming out near the 
 end of the period of its author's greatest literary activity. 
 In this essay, which is intended to be but a fragment of a 
 larger work on government, Rousseau lays down the con- 
 ditions which should, as he thinks, govern the lives of 
 men united to form a true state. Indeed, he believes 
 that any government not founded on these principles is 
 illegitimate, resting merely on force and not on right. A 
 nation thus wrongly governed is but an aggregation, not 
 an association. It is without public weal or body politic. 
 
 There was nothing original with Rousseau in the idea 
 of a social compact. That idea may be traced in the 
 writings of Plato, who speaks of it as one already familiar. 
 But it did not become a leading doctrine with writers on 
 politics until the publication of Hooker's "Ecclesiastical 
 Polity" in 1594. In that book it was contended that 
 there is no escape from the anarchy which exists before 
 the establishment of law, but by men "growing into com- 
 position and agreement amongst themselves, by ordaining 
 some kind of government public, and yielding themselves 
 
 was, of course, always eccentric and ill balanced; and was often 
 rendered irritable by a painful disease, caused by a malformation of 
 the bladder. Morley, Rousseau, i. 277, etc. (Euvres, xviii. 155 
 {Conf. Part. ii. liv. viii.). 
 
 ^ Rousseau, (Euvres, xx. 275 (II. Dialogue). 
 
294 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 subject thereunto." Through the seventeenth century the 
 theory grew and flourished. It was treated as the foun- 
 dation of absolute government by Hobbes, of free govern- 
 ment by Locke; it was recognized by Grotius. It re- 
 ceived its embodiment in the cabin of the Mayflower, 
 when the Pilgrims did solemnly and mutually, in the 
 presence of God and one another, covenant and combine 
 themselves together into a civil body politic. By the 
 time of Rousseau the social compact had become one of 
 the commonplaces of political thought. ^ Men recognized, 
 more or less vaguely, that in the case of most countries 
 no definite solemn agreement could actually be shown to 
 have been made, but in their inability to find the record 
 of such a contract writers were willing to assume one, 
 express or implied. What, then, were the exact condi- 
 tions of the compact ? Rousseau put the question as fol- 
 lows: "To find a form of association which shall protect 
 with all the common strength the person and property of 
 each associate, and by which each one, uniting himself to 
 all, may yet obey only himself and remain as free as be- 
 fore." And he undertook to solve the problem by pro- 
 posing "the total alienation of every associate, with all 
 his rights, to the whole community," which he supported 
 by saying that, as every one gave himself up entirely, the 
 condition was equal for all ; and that as the condition was 
 equal for aU, no one was interested in making it onerous 
 for others. 
 
 It will be noticed that there is a variation between the 
 thing sought and the thing found. Rousseau, having 
 promised that each man shall obey only himseK, presently 
 puts us off with a condition equal for all. That is to 
 say, instead of liberty we are given equality. The dif- 
 
 1 See a history of the social compact in A. Lawrence Lowell, 
 Essays on Government. Plato, ii. 229 (The Republic, Book ii.). Hooker, 
 i. 241. Uohhes, Leviathan, passim. Locke, \. SSS (Of Civil Govern- 
 mentf § 87). Morton's New England's Memorial, 37. 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 295 
 
 ference is one generally recognized by Anglo-Saxons and 
 often invisible to Continentals. It was seldom seen by 
 Frenelimen in the eighteenth century. This confusion 
 of thought was a cause of many of the troubles of the 
 French Revolution. We shall see that Rousseau, who 
 had been carried by the love of liberty beyond the verge 
 of the ridiculous in his Discourses, was brought back, in 
 his "Social Compact," by his love of equality, so far as 
 to become the advocate of an intolerable tyranny, yet was 
 quite unaware that he was inconsistent. He composed, 
 in fact, a description of liberty strangely compounded of 
 truth and falsehood. He reckoned that man to be free 
 who was not under the control of any person, but only of 
 the law, and then he provided for the most arbitrary and 
 capricious kind of law-making. 
 
 The first task of Rousseau, after settling the conditions 
 of his compact, is to provide a sovereign power in the 
 state. This he finds in the association of the citizens 
 united, as above described, in a body politic. This sover- 
 eign cannot be bound by its own actions or resolves, except 
 in case of an agreement with strangers, for none can 
 make a contract with himself. By the original compact 
 the action of the individual citizens as independent agents 
 was exhausted. They can act henceforth only as parts 
 of the whole. There is no contract possible between one 
 or several of them and the community of which they form 
 a part.^ The sovereign must not, however, act directly 
 on individuals, for in so doing it would represent a part 
 only of the community acting on another part, and it 
 would thus lose its moral right. It must act in general 
 matters exclusively, by means of general decrees, which 
 
 1 In an epitome of the Social Compact, inserted by Rousseau in the 
 fifth book of Emile, he thus defines the terms of that compact. " Each 
 of us puts into a common stock his property, his person, his life and 
 all his power, under the supreme direction of the general will, and 
 we receive as a body each member as an indivisible part of the whole." 
 (EuvreSy y. 254. 
 
296 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 only can properly be called laws. "Now the sovereign, 
 being made up only of the individuals which compose it, 
 has and can have no interest opposed to theirs ; therefore 
 the sovereign power need not provide its subject with any 
 guarantee, because it is impossible that the body should 
 wish to injure its members," and as the nature of its 
 action is general and not particular, it cannot injure one 
 individual without doing harm to all the others at the 
 same time. "The sovereign, by the very fact of its ex- 
 istence, is always what it ought to be." 
 
 The general will is always, right and always tends to 
 public utility, says Kousseau, but it does not follow that 
 the decisions of the people are always equally correct. 
 Man always wills his own good, but does not always see 
 it. The people is never corrupt, but often deceived, and 
 in the latter case only does it seem to will what is evil. If 
 there were no parties in the state, the people, if suffi- 
 ciently informed, would always vote rightly, for the little 
 differences in private interests would balance each other, 
 and the resulting average woidd be the general will. But 
 through parties and associations this result is prevented. 
 A nation may change its laws when it pleases, even the 
 best of them ; for if it likes to hurt itseK, who has the 
 right to say it nay ? 
 
 Sovereignty is inalienable, for power is transmissible, 
 but not will. Sovereignty consists essentially in the gen- 
 eral will, and the general will cannot be represented. It is 
 the same, or it is other; there is no intermediate point. 
 The deputies of the people cannot be its representatives ; 
 they can only be its agents; they can conclude nothing 
 definitely. Any law that the people has not ratified in 
 its assembly is null; it is not a law. The English nation 
 thinks itself free. It is much mistaken. It is free only 
 during the election of members of Parliament. As soon 
 as these are elected the nation is enslaved ; it is nothing. 
 Sovereignty is indivisible, its powers being legislative 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 297 
 
 only, and the executive function of the state being but 
 its emanation. 
 
 Such being the essential conditions of the social com- 
 pact, what are the states to which it maybe applied? 
 Although Rousseau gives many directions for the govern- 
 ment of larger countries, we see that his system is truly 
 applicable only to nations so small that the whole body 
 of voters can be united in one meeting. These popular 
 assemblies, he says, should be held frequently, at times 
 fixed by law and independent of any summons, and also 
 at irregular times when needed. Let no one object that 
 such frequent meetings would take up too much time. 
 He answers that "as soon as the public service ceases to 
 be the principal business of the citizens, and they prefer 
 to serve with their purses rather than with their persons, 
 the state is already near to ruin. If it be necessary to 
 march to battle, they pay soldiers and stay at home ; if it 
 be necessary to attend the council, they choose deputies 
 and stay at home. By laziness and money they have at 
 last got troops to enslave their country and representatives 
 to betray her." 
 
 The only law that requires unanimity is the social com- 
 pact itseK. When that is once formed, each citizen con- 
 sents to every law, even to those which are passed in spite 
 of him. When a law is proposed in the assembly of the 
 people, the question is not exactly whether the proposal 
 is approved or rejected, but whether it is in accordance 
 with the general will, which is the will of the people. 
 Every man by his vote declares his opinion on that point, 
 and by counting the votes the declaration of the general 
 will is ascertained. When, therefore, the opinion which 
 is opposed to mine prevails, it proves nothing more than 
 that I was mistaken, and that what I took to be the gen- 
 eral will was not so. If my private opinion had carried 
 the day against the general wdll, I should have done what 
 I did not wish ; and then I should not have been free. 
 
298 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 It has been said that the sovereign must not act in par- 
 ticular cases. To do so would be to confound law and 
 fact, and thebody politic would soon be a prey to violence. 
 It is, therefore, necessary to institute an executive branch, 
 which Rousseau calls indifferently government or prince, 
 explaining that the latter word may be used collectively. 
 But, differing in this from older writers, he denies that 
 the establishment of an executive power gives rise to any 
 contract between the body of the people and the persons 
 appointed to govern. He considers these persons to be 
 intermediate between the nation considered as sovereign, 
 and the people considered as subject, and to hold but a 
 delegated power. In this opinion, Rousseau has been 
 followed by most liberal governments instituted since his 
 day. But he carries this theory much farther than it is 
 safe to do in practice. The sovereign, he says, may at 
 any moment revoke the powers of its agents, and the first 
 act of every public assembly should be to answer these 
 two questions: first, whether it pleases the sovereign to 
 maintain the present form of government; and second, 
 whether it pleases the people to leave the administration 
 to those persons who now exercise it. 
 
 The chapters on the form of government are far less 
 important than those on sovereignty. Rousseau recog- 
 nized democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy as applicable 
 respectively to small, middle-sized, and large states. He 
 says that democracy is the most difficult form to manage, 
 requiring for its perfect working a state so small that 
 every citizen can know every other personally, and also 
 great simplicity of manners, great equality of ranks and 
 fortunes, and little luxury. This applies, of course, only 
 to democracy in its extreme form, in which the people ex- 
 ercises all the functions of government without delegating 
 any of them. Rousseau's preference was for what he 
 calls aristocracy, a government of the most wise and ex- 
 perienced. The first societies, he says, were thus gov* 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 299 
 
 ernecl, and the American Indians are so governed still. 
 It is noticeable that the Indians take in the works of 
 Rousseau a place similar to that taken by the Chinese in 
 those of Voltaire; they are distant people, living in an 
 ideal condition. The freedom of the savage, the literary 
 civilization of the Oriental, were held up to admiration 
 by these two writers, diametrically opposed in their way 
 of looking at life, but similar in their utter want of com- 
 prehension of all that was not European and contempo- 
 rary. Next after the government of the sages and the 
 elders Rousseau placed elective government, which, in 
 common with some other abstract writers, he classes as 
 aristocratic. An hereditary aristocracy he calls the worst 
 of all governments. He intimated that his remedy for 
 the weakness of small countries, as against foreign ene- 
 mies, would be found in federation, but he postponed the 
 discussion of this subject to a larger treatise, which was 
 never written.^ 
 
 Rousseau pointed out very forcibly the incompatibility 
 with civil government of a religion depending on a priest- 
 hood whose organization extends beyond the territory of 
 the country itself and forms a body politic. Yet he did 
 not propose to apply the only true remedy for this condi- 
 tion of things, which is the complete separation of church 
 
 1 Rousseau has himself given two summaries of the Social Com- 
 pact ; one very short, in the Sixth Letter from the Mountain 
 (CEuvres, vii. 378). This was written after the condemnation of the 
 book by the authorities of Geneva, and he points out in his remon- 
 strance that he has taken Geneva as the model state, in the Social 
 Compact. The other summary, much fuller, is in the fifth book of 
 Emile ((Euvres, v. 248). Here we find the following growl at the 
 whole social order: "Nous examinerons si Ton n'a pas fait trop ou 
 trop pen dans I'institution sociale. Si les individus soumis aux 
 loix et aux hommes, tandis que les socidtds gardent entre elles 
 I'ind^pendance de la nature, ne restent pas exposes aux maux des deux 
 etats sans en avoir les avantages, et s'il ne vaudrait pas mieux qu'il 
 n'y eut point de socidtd civile au monde que d'y en avoir plusieurs." 
 
300 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 and state, combined with liberty of speech both for the 
 clergy and the laity. He recognized as possible only three 
 sorts of religion, of which the first, without temples, altars, 
 or rites, confined inwardly to the worship of God and ex- 
 ternally to the moral duties, was, as he thought, the pure 
 and simple religion of the Gospels, the true theism, and 
 miofht be called the natural divine law. The next is a 
 national religion, belonging to one country. It has its 
 gods, its rites, its altars, all within its own land, outside 
 of which everything is infidel, strange, and barbarian. 
 Man's duties extend no farther than the boundaries of his 
 own country. Such were the religions of the early nations. 
 The third kind gives to its votaries two systems of legis- 
 lation, two chiefs, two homes, makes them submit to con- 
 tradictory duties, prevents their being at once devout 
 worshipers and good citizens. Such a religion is the 
 Roman Catholic. 
 
 The Roman clergy, he says, is united, not by its formal 
 assemblies, but by communion and excommunication, 
 which are its social compact, and by means of which it 
 will always retain the mastery over kings and nations. 
 All the priests who are in communion are citizens, 
 although at the ends of the earth. This invention is a 
 masterpiece of politics. 
 
 On some religion our author believes that the state has 
 a right to insist. There is a purely civil profession of 
 faith, whose articles the sovereign may fix, not exactly as 
 dogmas of religion, but as principles of sociability. These 
 must be few, simple and clear, and announced without 
 explanation or commentary. The existence of a deity, 
 powerful, intelligent, beneficent, foreseeing, and provid- 
 ing ; the life to come, with the happiness of the good and 
 the punishment of the wicked ; the sacredness of the Social 
 Compact and of the laws, — these are the positive dogmas. 
 Of things forbidden there should be but one : intolerance. 
 Whosoever says that there is no salvation but in the 
 
ROUSSEAU'S POLITICAL WRITINGS. 301 
 
 church should be driven from the state ; for such teach- 
 ino- is dangerous to the sovereign, except, indeed, in a 
 theocracy. Any one who does not hold to the simple creed 
 above described may properly be banished, not as impi- 
 ous, but as unsociable, incapable of loving justice and 
 the laws sincerely, or of sacrificing his life to his duty. 
 And if any one, after having publicly accepted these dog- 
 mas, behaves as if he did not believe them, let him be 
 put to death; he has committed the greatest of crimes; 
 he has lied before the laws. 
 
 In the short essay on the Social Compact, Rousseau has 
 brought together, as we have seen, several of the most 
 dangerous errors which have afflicted modern society. 
 The people, according to him, is not only all powerful, 
 but always righteous ; sometimes deceived, but never cor- 
 rupt. Why the whole community should be better or 
 wiser than the best of the persons who compose it; why 
 our errors should balance or counteract each other and 
 our virtues not do so, Eousseau probably never asked 
 himself ; or if the question occurred to his mind, he dis- 
 missed it with a merely specious answer. There is hardly 
 a limit to the tyranny which he allows to the multitude. 
 The individual citizen is made free from the interference 
 of a single master only that he may be the more depend- 
 ent on that corporate despot who is to control his every 
 action and his very thoughts. Manners, customs, above 
 all public opinion, are declared to be the most important 
 of laws. Individuality is, therefore, to be absolutely ban- 
 ished. Nor is security provided for. It is the advantage 
 of a stationary system tliat a man may know this year 
 what the world will expect of him ten years hence and 
 may lay his plans accordingly. Human laws may some- 
 times be pardoned for being as inflexible as the laws of 
 physics if they are as surely to be relied on. But Rous- 
 seau, while hoping that his state will change very little, 
 
302 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 carefully reserves for his tyrant the right to be capricious. 
 And lest that right should ever be forgotten he takes care 
 that the whole form of government shall be brought in 
 question at every public meeting. What the multitude has 
 to-day decided it may reverse to-morrow. The unfortu- 
 nate citizen is not left even the right to protest. The 
 general will, when once proved by the popular vote, is 
 his own will. The very desires of his heart must loyally 
 follow the changing caprices of his many-headed master. 
 
 Yet here as elsewhere Rousseau has joined a noble con- 
 ception to a base one. The law, once promulgated by the 
 sovereign power, is to be universal throughout the state 
 and superior to all human rulers. The idea was not 
 novel, but it was well that it should again be distinctly 
 formulated. 
 
 It is quite in accordance with the general spirit of the 
 essay that while intolerance is said to be the only religious 
 crime, it is in fact the foundation of the whole ecclesias- 
 tical system of the republic. Whoever dares to say that 
 there is no salvation outside of the church is to be driven 
 from the state. By this means Rousseau would have ex- 
 iled nearly every Christian of the eighteenth century. 
 On the other hand, whoever doubts the existence of God, 
 His providence, and His rewards and punishments, is to 
 be treated in the same manner. Some of the Philosophers 
 of the age are thus excluded. Verily, few are the just 
 that remain, and Rousseau is quite right in his opinion 
 that those who distinguish between civil and theological 
 intolerance are mistaken. In his system, at least, the 
 two are closely connected. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 "la nouvelle iieloise" and "emile." 
 
 It was not alone by his political writings that Jean 
 Jacques Rousseau exercised a great influence over Europe. 
 Of all his books, the two which are perhaps most famous 
 take the form of loose and disjointed fiction, and deal not 
 with government, but with life, passion, society, and ed- 
 ucation. Yet the characters of "La Nouvelle Heloise," 
 and of "Emile," are not mere frames of scarecrows clothed 
 with abstract qualities and fine sentiments. Saint-Preux, 
 Emile and the Tutor, Julie, Sophie, Claire, and Lord Ed- 
 ward Bomston are live persons, whom the reader may like 
 or dislike. In the first three Rousseau would seem to have 
 incorporated himself, and the result is interesting, but re- 
 pulsive. In Julie we have Jean Jacques' ideal woman, 
 a being of a noble nature, tinged and defiled with some- 
 thing low and morbid ; but Clair^ and Sophie seem taken 
 only from observation, not introspection, and although far 
 from faultless are often charming. 
 
 "La Nouvelle Heloise" is a novel written in letters, a 
 form of writing more tedious than any other. But it 
 should be remembered that in the early days of fiction 
 novels were so few that to occupy a long time in the read- 
 ing was not an impediment to the popularity of one of 
 them. If we may believe Rousseau, the "New Heloisa " 
 produced a great sensation. All Paris was impatient for 
 its appearance. When at last it was published, men of 
 letters were divided in opinion, but society was unani- 
 mous in its praise, and women were so much delighted 
 with it that there were few even of hi^h rank whose con- 
 
304 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 quest the author might not have achieved had he chosen 
 to undertake it. While making due allowance for the 
 morbid vanity of Jean Jacques, we may entirely believe 
 him when he says that the book captivated the reading 
 public. One lady, he tells us, had dressed after supper 
 for the ball at the Opera House, and sat down to read the 
 new novel while waiting for the time to go. At midnight 
 she ordered her carriage, but did not put down the book. 
 The coach came to the door, but she kept on. At two 
 her servants warned her of the hour. She answered that 
 there was no hurry. At four she undressed, and continued 
 to read for the rest of the night. On the first appearance 
 of the story the booksellers used to let out copies at twelve 
 sous the hour.^ To-day its charm is gone. Few indeed 
 are the works of pure literature which are read a hundred 
 years after publication, except by the authors of literary 
 histories and the unfortunate pupils of injudicious school- 
 mistresses (and the "New Heloisa" will not form a part 
 of any scheme of female education) ; but a good style and 
 a true enthusiasm may lighten the task even of these suf- 
 ferers. 
 
 It is a singular fact that in some matters of feeling no 
 age seems so far from our own as that of our great-grand- 
 fathers. The lovers of the Middle Ages and of the six- 
 teenth century appear to us natural and healthy beings. 
 Those of the eio^hteenth seem sentimental and foolish. 
 In the case of Kousseau's great novel this effect is in- 
 creased by the morbid strain of the author's mind. With 
 him all passion tends to assume unhealthy shapes, and the 
 very breezes of Lake Leman come laden with close and 
 sickly odors. 
 
 It is not worth while to deal here with the story of the 
 
 "New Heloisa," — a story of illicit passion in the first 
 
 part; and in the second, of the happy marriage of the 
 
 heroine to a man who is not her lover. The visit paid by 
 
 1 Rousseau, xix. 101 {Confessions, liv. xi.). 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 305 
 
 that lover to his old mistress and her husband in their 
 home at Clarens, with all the trials of virtue which it in- 
 volves, is a disagreeable piece of sentimentality. The 
 members of the trio fall on each other's necks with un- 
 pleasant frequency and fervor. But the picture of that 
 home itself, with its well-ordered housekeeping, its liberal- 
 ity and its plainness, is interesting and attractive. " Since 
 the masters of this house have taken it for their dwelling, 
 they have turned to their use all that served only for orna- 
 ment ; it is no longer a house made to be seen, but to be 
 lived in. They have built up the long lines of doors by 
 which rooms opened one out of another, and made new 
 doorways in convenient places ; they have cut up rooms that 
 were too large, and improved the arrangement ; they have 
 substituted simple and convenient furniture for what was 
 old and expensive. Everything is agreeable and smiling, 
 everything breathes abundance and cleanliness; nothing 
 shows costliness or luxury; there is no room where you 
 do not feel yourseK in the country and where you do not 
 find all the conveniences of town. The same changes are 
 'noticeable outside; the poultry -yard has been enlarged at 
 the expense of the carriage-house. In the place of an old 
 broken-down billiard-table they have built a fine wine- 
 press, and they have got rid of some screeching peacocks 
 to make room for a dairy. The kitchen garden was too 
 small for the kitchen; a second one has been made of the 
 parterre, but so neat and so well laid out that thus trans- 
 formed it is more pleasing to the eye than before. Good 
 espaliers have been substituted for the doleful yews that 
 covered the wall. Instead of the useless horse-chestnut 
 tree, young black mulberries are beginning to shade the 
 courtyard, and two rows of walnut trees, running to the 
 road, have been planted in place of the old lindens which 
 bordered the avenue. Everywhere the useful has been 
 substituted for the agreeable, and almost everywhere the 
 agreeable has gained by it." The description is masterly, 
 
306 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 but we cannot quite forgive Rousseau for sacrificing the 
 horse -chestnut and the lindens. ^ 
 
 But not quite all the land is treated in this utilitarian 
 manner. The heroine has an "Elysium." This place 
 is near the house, but separated from the rest of the 
 grounds by a thick hedge. It is full of native plants 
 forming a deep shade, yet the ground is covered with 
 grass like velvet, and flowers spring up on all sides. 
 Vines climb from tree to tree, rooted, it may be, in the 
 trunks of the trees themselves. A stream of clear water 
 meanders through the place, sometimes divided into sev- 
 eral channels, sometimes united in one, rippling here over 
 a bed of gravel, there reflecting the trees and the sky. A 
 colony of birds, protected from all disturbance, charms 
 the solitude with song. Nature is here encouraged, not 
 thwarted ; little is left to the gardener ; much to the in- 
 telligent and loving care of the mistress. 
 
 The account of the garden covers r^iany pages of the 
 "New Heloisa," pages at once eloquent and interesting. 
 Artificial as are many of its details, the letter is a plea 
 for nature against artificiality. The readers in the eigh- 
 teenth century were charmed, and hastened to imitate 
 Rousseau's heroine. The straight gravel walks, the 
 formal flower-beds, the clipped hedges of old France, be- 
 came tiresome in the eyes of their possessors. A dreamer 
 had told them that all these things made a very fine place, 
 where the owner would scarcely care to go, and they 
 believed him. The new fashion brought with it a new 
 affectation, perhaps the most offensive of all, the affecta- 
 tion of simplicity. The garden, as truly a product of 
 man's hand and brain as the house or the picture-gallery, 
 was made to mimic the forest, losing, in too many cases, 
 its own peculiar beauty, without gaining the true charm 
 of wild nature. On the other hand, the eyes of Rous- 
 seau's admirers were opened to many things not noticed 
 1 Rousseau, ix. 235 (Nouv. He I. Part, iv. Let. x.). 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 307 
 
 before. The real woods received tlieir appropriate wor- 
 ship. The novel of Jean Jacques combined with the 
 exhortations of the economists to turn the attention of the 
 educated classes to rural matters. 
 
 The life led by the model couple in the "New Heloisa " 
 is one of humdrum, conscientious respectability. It is a 
 country life, fairly simple and without ostentation; but it 
 is as far removed as possible from all that can be con- 
 nected with the noble savage. Julie and Monsieur de 
 Wolmar, her husband, rule their little world strictly and 
 kindly. They try to make life profitable and pleasant to 
 their children and their servants. To the poor they are 
 patronizing and benevolent. Apart from their overflow- 
 ing sentimentality they are honest, self-sufficient, com- 
 monplace people. Rousseau, born in the middle class, 
 had a middle-class, respectable ideal, lying beside many 
 very different ideals in his ill-ordered brain. And this 
 novel which begins with passion ends with something not 
 far removed from priggishness. 
 
 It is quite needless to discuss here how much Rousseau 
 owed in his "Emile" to the teachings of Locke, of Mon- 
 taigne, or of others. His ideas, wherever he may have 
 got them, were always sufficiently colored by his own per- 
 sonality. "Emile," which has even less structure of 
 fiction than the "New Heloisa," is a treatise on education, 
 or rather on the ideal education, for Rousseau distinctly 
 disclaims the intention of writing a handbook. It is on 
 the whole the most agreeable and the most useful of the 
 works of its author; although not without deplorable 
 marks of his baseness. The book shows an amount of 
 careful observation of children not a little astonishing in a 
 man who sent his own infants to the Foundling lest they 
 should disturb him ; it contains remarks about good women 
 equally remarkable in one whose dealings in life were 
 principally with bad ones. 
 
 "All is good coming from the hands of the Author of 
 
308 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 things; everything degenerates in the hands of man;'* 
 thus begins '^Emile." "He makes one land nourish the 
 productions of another, one tree bear another's fruit; he 
 mixes and confounds the climates, the elements, the sea- 
 sons ; he mutilates his dog, his horse, his slave ; he over- 
 turns, he disfigures everything; he loves deformity and 
 monstrosities ; he wants nothing such as nature made it, 
 not even man, who has to be trained for him like a man- 
 aged horse, trimmed to his fashion, like a tree of his 
 garden." 
 
 Ignorance is harmless ; error only is pernicious. Men 
 do not go astray on account of the things of which they are 
 ignorant, but of those which they think they know. The 
 time which we spend in learning what others have thought 
 is lost for learning to think ourselves ; we have more in- 
 formation and less vigor of mind. 
 
 Let us seek out the kind of education proper for the 
 formation of a vigorous and, above all, of an independent 
 man. We will call our pupil Emile. The author him- 
 self shall be his tutor and shall devote himself exclusively 
 to the education of this single boy. A father, however, 
 is the best of tutors, for zeal is far more valuable in this 
 place than talent. But whoever it be that undertakes the 
 education, he must be always the same and always abso- 
 lute. If a child ever gets the idea that there are grown 
 people that have no more reason than children, the author- 
 ity of age is lost, the education has failed. 
 
 The position of the tutor is one of the most curious and 
 one of the most mistaken things in "Emile." While in 
 many respects the training described in the book would 
 tend to make a manly and independent boy, the pervad- 
 ing presence of the tutor would perhaps undo all the good 
 of the system. It is true that absolute truth is recom- 
 mended, that " a single lie which the master was shown to 
 have told the pupil would ruin forever the fruit of the 
 education." Yet the tutor is to interfere openly or se- 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 309 
 
 cretly in every part of Emile's life. "It is important 
 that the disciple shall do nothing without the master's 
 knowing and willing it, not even what is wrong ; and it is 
 a hundred times better that the governor approve of a 
 fault and be mistaken, than that he should be deceived by 
 his pupil and the fault committed without his knowledge." 
 Let the tutor, therefore, be the pupil's confidant, even, 
 if necessary, his companion in vice. You must be a man 
 to speak strongly to the human heart. The tutor is con- 
 stantly deceiving Emile, and some of his tricks are so 
 transparent that it is wonderful that Rousseau could have 
 expected the simplest of boys to be taken in by them. 
 Here is an instance. 
 
 The object is to show Emile the origin of property, and 
 to give him the first idea of its obligations. "The child, 
 living in the coimtry, will have got some notion of field- 
 work; for that he will need only eyes and leisure, and 
 both of these he will have. It belongs to every age, and 
 especially to his, to wish to create, to imitate, to produce, 
 to show signs of power and activity. He wiU not twice 
 have seen a garden dug, vegetables sown, sprouting and 
 growing, before he will want to be gardening too. 
 
 "On the principles heretofore established, I do not 
 oppose his desire ; on the contrary, I favor it, I share his 
 taste, I work with him, not for his pleasure, but for mine ; 
 at least he thinks so; I become his under-gardener ; as 
 his arms are not strong yet, I dig the earth for him ; he 
 takes possession of it by planting a bean ; and surely that 
 possession is more sacred and worthy of respect than that 
 which Nunes Balbao took of South America, in the name 
 of the king of Spain, by planting his standard on the 
 shores of the South Sea. 
 
 "We come every day to water the beans, we see them 
 sprout with ecstasies of joy. I increase that joy by tell- 
 ing him, 'This belongs to you;' and by explaining to him 
 this term, Ho belong,' I make him feel that he has spent 
 
310 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 here his time, his labor, his pains, his very person; that 
 in this earth there is something of himself, which he can 
 claim against every one, as he could draw his arm from 
 the hand of a man who should try to hold it in spite of 
 him. 
 
 " One fine day he comes out eagerly, with his watering- 
 pot in his hand. Oh horrible sight ! Oh grief ! All the 
 beans are torn up, all the ground is turned over; you 
 could not recognize the very place. *0h, what has be- 
 come of my labor, my work, the sweet fruit of my care 
 and of my sweat ? Who has robbed me of my property ? 
 Who has taken my beans ? ' His young heart rises ; the 
 first feeling of injustice comes to pour its sad bitterness 
 into it ; tears flow in streams ; the desolate child fills the 
 air with groans and cries. I share his pain, his indigna- 
 tion; we seek, we inquire, we examine. At last we dis- 
 cover that the gardener has done the deed ; we summon 
 him. 
 
 " But here we are very far out of our reckoning. The 
 gardener, learning of what we complain, begins to com- 
 plain louder than we. 'What! gentlemen; it is you that 
 have thus spoiled my work ! I had sown in that place 
 some Maltese melons, whose seed had been given me as 
 a treasure, and which I hoped to serve up to you for 
 a feast when they were ripe ; but now, to plant your miser- 
 able beans, you have destroyed my melons after they had 
 sprouted, and I can never replace them. You have done 
 me an irreparable injury, and you have deprived your- 
 selves of the pleasure of eating delicious melons.' 
 
 ''''Jean Jacques. Excuse us, my poor Robert. You 
 had put there your labor and your pains. I see that we 
 were wrong to spoil your work; we will get you some 
 more Maltese seed, and we will dig no more in the 
 ground, without knowing if some one has not set his hand 
 to it before us. 
 
 ''^Robert. Well, gentlemen, at that rate you may take 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 311 
 
 your rest, for there is very little wild land left. I work 
 on what my father improved; everybody does the same 
 by his own, and all the land you see has long been occu- 
 pied. 
 
 ''^ Emile. In that case, Robert, is melon seed often lost? 
 
 " Mohert. I beg your pardon, my young sir ; little gen- 
 tlemen do not often come along who are so thoughtless as 
 you. No one touches his neighbor's garden; each man 
 respects the work of others, so that his own may be safe. 
 
 '''' Emile. But I have no garden. 
 
 ^''Robert. What difference does that make to me? If 
 you spoil mine, I will no longer let you walk in it ; for, 
 you see, I do not want to lose my labor. 
 
 ''''Jean Jacques. Could we not make an arrangement 
 with our good Robert ? Let him grant my young friend 
 and me a corner of his garden to cultivate, on condition 
 that he shall have half the produce. 
 
 '''' Rohert. I grant it without conditions. But remem- 
 ber that I shall go and dig up your beans if you touch my 
 melons." 
 
 It is perhaps wi-ong to hold Rousseau in any part of 
 his writings to any approach to consistency. We have 
 seen some of the mistakes in Emile 's education. Let us 
 look at some of its strong points. Yet we shall find the 
 tares so thoroughly mixed with the wheat that to separate 
 them entirely may be impossible. Rousseau insists that 
 from the earliest infancy the child's body shall be free. 
 The swaddling bands, common all over the continent in 
 the last century, in which the poor little being was bound 
 and bundled so that he could not move hand or foot, 
 were to be absolutely discontinued. The child, nursed 
 if possible by its own mother, was to have free limbs. It 
 was to be brought up in the country, and as it grew older 
 was to run about bareheaded and barefoot. Too much 
 clothing, thought Rousseau, makes the body tender; and 
 he seems to have carried the theory unreasonably far. 
 
312 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Cleanliness and cold baths were recommended to a gener- 
 ation singularly in need of tliem. Emile was brought up 
 to enjoy fresli air, perhaps to be almost a slave to the 
 need of it. He was given plenty of sleep, but his bed 
 was hard, his food coarse. Everything was done to make 
 him strong, hardy, and active. 
 
 "The only habit which the child should be allowed to 
 form is that of forming none." He should not use one 
 hand more than the other ; he should not be accustomed 
 to want to eat or to sleep at the same hours every day, 
 nor should he fear to be alone. He should be gradually 
 taught not to be afraid of masks, to overcome his fright 
 at firearms. He should be helped in all that is really 
 useful, but not encouraged to indulge vain fancies. Chil- 
 dren should be given as much real liberty as possible, and 
 as little dominion over others as may be. They should 
 do as much as possible by themselves, and ask as little as 
 they can of others. " The only person who does his own 
 will is he who does not need, in doing it, to put another's 
 arms at the end of his own ; whence it follows that the 
 first of all good things is not authority, but liberty." 
 
 Emile's desire to learn is to be excited. He is to see 
 the reason for the steps he takes. The talent of teaching 
 is that of making the pupil pleased with the instruction. 
 Something must be left to the boy's own mind and reflec- 
 tion. He is not to be given much to read. For a long 
 time, let "Robinson Crusoe" be his only book. But 
 Emile shall learn a trade, a good mechanical trade, which 
 is always needed, in which there is always employment. 
 He shall also learn to draw ; less for the art itself than 
 to make his eye accurate and his hand obedient ; for in 
 general it is less important for him to know this or that 
 than to acquire the clearness of sense and the good habit 
 of body which the various studies give. 
 
 Having brought up Emile to manhood, it becomes ne- 
 cessary to provide him with a wife. Here the +utor is still 
 
LA NOUVELLE IIELOISE AND EMILE. 313 
 
 active, and prepares the meeting with Sophie which Emile 
 takes for accidental. It is needless to remark aaain on 
 the young man's gullibility. He is Rousseau's creature, 
 and fashioned as his maker pleases. Nothing is more 
 disturbing than to submit the dreams of such a man as 
 Jean Jacques to the unsympathetic rules of common sense o 
 Our concern is with the effect they produced on the minds 
 of other people, who undertook in some measure to live 
 them out. Let us then pause over some of the considera- 
 tions suggested by the necessity of admitting into the 
 scheme of education a being so disturbing as a woman. 
 
 Rousseau saw more, I think, than most persons who 
 have undertaken to deal with the subject in a reforming 
 spirit, what is the true and proper relation between the 
 sexes. While boys are to exercise the manly trades that 
 require physical strength, he would leave to women the 
 lighter employments, and more especially those connected 
 with dress and its materials. It is the usual mistake of 
 those who in our day set themselves up as champions of 
 woman, to seek to make the sexes not coordinate and 
 mutually helpful, but identical and competing. "It is 
 perhaps one of the marvels of nature," says Rousseau, "to 
 have made two beings so similar while forming them so 
 difPerently."! 
 
 On the whole, Sophie is a more attractive person than 
 Emile; perhaps because she has been brought up by her 
 mother, and not given over in her babyhood to the vigi- 
 lance of Jean Jacques. The artistic quality of the au- 
 thor's mind has obliged him to make his heroine more 
 true to nature than his theories have allowed him to make 
 his hero. And his theories about girls are quite as good 
 and quite as different from the fashionable practice of his 
 day as those about boys. It is curious how his ideas 
 
 1 (Euvres, v. 5 (Emile, liv. v.). Compare viii. 203 (Nouv. Hel. 
 Letter). " A perfect man and a perfect woman should not resemble 
 each other any more in their souls than in their faces." 
 
314 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 approach the American customs. A certain coquetry, he 
 says, is allowable in marriageable girls; amusement is 
 their principal business. Married women have the cares 
 of home to occupy them, and have no longer to seek hus- 
 bands. Rousseau would let the girls appear in public, 
 would take them to balls, entertainments, the theatre. 
 Sophie is not only more vivacious than Emile, she has 
 also more self-control than he ; who, in spite of his virile 
 education, is entirely overcome when the ever-meddling 
 tutor insists on two years of travel for his pupil, in order 
 that the young people may grow older and that Emile 
 may learn to master his passions. The day of parting 
 arrives, and Emile, in true eighteenth century style, utters 
 shrieks, sheds torrents of tears on the hands of Soi3hie's 
 father, of her mother, of the heroine herself, embraces 
 with sobs all the servants of the family, and repeats the 
 same things a thousand times with a disorder which, even 
 to Jean Jacques's rudimentary sense of humor, would be 
 laughable under circumstances less desperate. Sophie, 
 on the other hand is quiet, pale and sad, without tears, 
 insensible to the cries and caresses of her lover. 
 
 It is in "Emile " that Rousseau gives the most elaborate 
 expression of his religious opinions, putting them in the 
 mouth of a poor curate in Savoy. ^ The pupil has been 
 kept ignorant of all religion to the age of eighteen, "for 
 if he learns it earlier than he should, he runs the risk of 
 never knowing it." Without stopping to consider the 
 dangers of this course, let us see what answer Rousseau 
 gives to the greatest questions that perplex mankind. We 
 may expect much sublime feeling, some moral perversion, 
 little logical thought. 
 
 The Roman Church, he says, by calling on us to believe 
 too much, may prevent our believing anything. We 
 
 ^ The passage is known as "Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savo- 
 yard " and is found in the fourth book of Emile, CEuvres, iv. 136-254 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 315 
 
 know not where to stop. But doubt on matters so impor- 
 tant to us is a state unbearable to the human mind. It 
 decides one way or another in spite of itself, and prefers 
 to make a mistake rather than to believe nothing. 
 
 Motion can originate only in will. "I believe, then, 
 that a will moves the universe and animates nature." . . , 
 " How does a will produce a physical and corporeal action? 
 I do not know, but I feel within myself that it does pro- 
 duce it. I will to act, and I act ; I wish to move my 
 body, and my body moves ; but that an inanimate body in 
 repose should move itself, or should produce motion, is 
 incomprehensible and without example." . . . "If matter 
 moved shows me will, matter moved according to certain 
 laws shows me intelligence ; this is my second article of 
 faith." We see that the universe has a plan, although 
 we do not see to what it tends. I cannot believe that 
 dead matter has produced living and feeling beings, that 
 blind chance has produced intelligent beings, that what 
 does not think has produced what thinks. "Whether 
 matter is eternal or created, whether or not there is a pas- 
 sive principle, it is certain that all is one and proclaims a 
 single intelligence ; for I see nothing which is not ordered 
 in the same system, and which does not concur to the same 
 end, namely, the preservation of the whole in the estab- 
 lished order. This Being who wills and who can, this 
 Being active in Himself, this Being, whatever he may be, 
 who moves the universe and orders all things, I call God. 
 I attach to this name the ideas of intelligence, power and 
 will, which I have united [to form the conception], and 
 that of goodness which is their necessary consequence; 
 but I know no better the Being to whom I have given it; 
 He hides HimseK alike from my senses and my under- 
 standing; the more I think of it, the more I am con- 
 fused; I know very certainly that He exists and that 
 He exists by himself ; I know that my existence is subor- 
 dinated to His, and that all things that I know of are in 
 
816 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the same case. I perceive God everywhere in His works ; 
 I feel Him in myself, I see Him about me; but as soon 
 as I want to contemplate Him in HimseK, as soon as I 
 want to seek where He is, what He is, what is His sub- 
 stance, He escapes from me, and my troubled spirit per- 
 ceives nothing more." 
 
 Having considered the attributes of God, the Savoyard 
 curate turns to himself. He finds that he can observe 
 and govern other creatures; whence he infers that they 
 may all be made for him. But mankind differs from all 
 other things in nature by being inharmonious, disorderly, 
 and miserable. Man has in himself two distinct princi- 
 ples, one of which lifts him to the study of eternal truth, 
 to the love of justice and moral beauty ; the other enslaves 
 him under the rule of the senses, and the passions which 
 are their servants. "No! " cries the curate, "man is not 
 one ; I will, and I will not ; I feel myself at once enslaved, 
 and free ; I see good, I love it, and I do evil ; I am active 
 when I listen to reason, passive when my passions carry 
 me away; my worst torture, when I fail, is to feel that 
 I could have resisted." 
 
 Man is free in his actions, and, therefore, animated by 
 an immaterial substance. This is the third article of the 
 curate's faith. Conscience is the voice of the soul; the 
 passions are the voices of the body. Immortality of the 
 soul is a pleasing doctrine and there is nothing to contra- 
 dict it. " When, delivered from the illusions caused by 
 the body and the senses, we shall enjoy the contemplation 
 of the Supreme Being, and of the eternal truths whose 
 source He is, when the beauty of order shall strike all the 
 powers of our soul, and we shall be solely occupied in 
 comparing what we have done with what we ought to have 
 done, then will the voice of conscience resume its force 
 and its empire ; then will the pure bliss which is born of 
 self -content, and the bitter regret for self -debasement, dis- 
 tinguish by inexhaustible feelings the fate which each man 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 317 
 
 will have prepared for liimseK. Ask me not, O my good 
 friend, if there will be other sources of happiness and of 
 misery; I do not know, and the one I imagine is enough 
 to console me for this life and to make me hope for an- 
 other. I do not say that the good will be rewarded ; for 
 what other reward can await an excellent being than to 
 live in accordance with his nature; but I say that they 
 will be happy, because the Author of their being, the 
 Author of all justice, having made them to feel, has not 
 made them to suffer ; and because, not having abused 
 their liberty on the earth, they have not changed their 
 destiny by their own fault; yet they have suffered in this 
 life, and so they will have it made up to them in another. 
 This feeling is less founded on the merit of man than on 
 the notion of goodness which seems to me inseparable from 
 the divine essence. I only suppose the laws of order to 
 be observed, and God consistent with HimseK."^ 
 
 "Neither ask me if the torments of the wicked will be 
 eternal, and whether it is consistent with the goodness of 
 the Author of their being to condemn them to suffer for- 
 ever; I do not know that either, and have not the vain 
 curiosity to examine useless questions. What matters it 
 to me what becomes of the wicked ? I take little interest 
 in their fate. Nevertheless I find it hard to believe that 
 they are condemned to endless torments. If Supreme 
 Justice avenges itself, it avenges itself in this life. You 
 and your errors, O nations, are its ministers ! It employs 
 the ills which you make to pimish the crimes which 
 brought them about. It is in your insatiable hearts, 
 gnawed with envy, avarice, and ambition, that the aveng- 
 ing passions punish your crimes, in the midst of your false 
 prosperity. What need to seek hell in the other life? 
 It is already here, in the hearts of the wicked." 
 
 ^ " Non pas pour nous, non pas pour nous, Seigneur, 
 Mais pour ton nom, mais pour ton propre honneur, 
 O Dieu ! fais nous revivre ! Ps. 115." 
 
 (Rousseau's note). 
 
318 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Revelation is unnecessary. Miracles need proof more 
 than they give it. As soon as the nations undertook to 
 make God speak, each made Him speak in its own way. 
 If men had listened only to what He says in their hearts, 
 there had been but one religion upon earth. " I meditate 
 on the order of the universe, not to explain it by vain 
 systems, but to admire it unceasingly, to adore the wise 
 Author who is felt in it. I converse with Him, I let His 
 divine essence penetrate all my faculties, I tenderly re- 
 member His benefits, I bless Him for His gifts ; but I do 
 not pray to Him. What should I ask Him? That He 
 should change the course of things on my account ; that 
 He should perform miracles in my favor? I, who should 
 love more than all things the order established by His 
 wisdom, and maintained by His Providence, should I wish 
 to see that order interfered with for me? No, that rash 
 prayer would deserve to be punished rather than to be 
 answered. Nor do I ask Him for the power to do good ; 
 why ask Him for what He has given me ? Has He not 
 given me a conscience to love the good ; reason, to know 
 it; liberty, to choose it? If I do evil, I have no excuse; 
 I do it because I will ; to ask him to change my will is to 
 ask of Him what He demands of me ; it is wanting Him 
 to do my work, and let me take the reward; not to be 
 content with my state is to want to be a man no longer, it 
 is to want things otherwise than they are, it is to want dis- 
 order and evil. Source of justice and truth, clement and 
 kind God ! in my trust in Thee the supreme wish of my 
 heart is that Thy will may be done. In uniting mine to 
 it, I do what thou doest, I acquiesce in Thy goodness ; I 
 seem to share beforehand the supreme felicity which is its 
 price." 
 
 This appears to have been Rousseau's deliberate opinion 
 on the subject of prayer. He has, however, expressed in 
 the "New Heloisa" quite another view, which is found in 
 a letter from Julie to Saint-Preux, and is inserted princi- 
 
LA NOUVELLE IIELOISE AND EMILE. 319 
 
 pally, perhaps, to give the latter an opportunity to answer 
 it. Yet Rousseau, as we have often seen, although unable 
 to understand that any one could honestly differ from 
 himself, was quite capable of holding conflicting opinions. 
 And the value of any one of his sayings is not much 
 diminished by the fact that it is contradicted in the next 
 chapter. "You have religion," says Julie, ^ "but I am 
 afraid that you do not get from it all the advantage which 
 it offers in the conduct of life, and that philosophical 
 pride may disdain the simplicity of the Christian. I have 
 seen you hold opinions on prayer which are not to my 
 taste. According to you, this act of humility is fruitless 
 for us; and God, having given us, in our consciences, all 
 that can lead us to good, afterwards leaves us to ourselves 
 and allows our liberty to act. That is not, as you know, 
 the doctrine of Saint Paul, nor that which is professed in 
 our church. We are free, it is true, but we are ignorant, 
 weak, inclined to evil. And whence should light and 
 strength come to us, if not from Him who is their 
 source? And why should we obtain them, if we do not 
 deign to ask for them? Beware, my friend, lest to your 
 sublime conceptions of the Great Being, human pride join 
 low ideas, which belong but to mankind ; as if the means 
 which relieve our weakness were suitable to divine Power, 
 and as if, like us. It required art to generalize things, so 
 as to treat them more easily ! It seems, to listen to you, 
 that this Power would be embarrassed should It watch 
 over every individual ; you fear that a divided and con- 
 tinual attention might fatigue It, and you think it much 
 finer that It should do everything by general laws, doubt- 
 less because they cost It less care. O great philosophers! 
 How much God is obliged to you for your easy methods 
 and for sparing Him work." 
 
 Enough has been said of the theism of Rousseau to 
 show its great difference from that of Voltaire and of his 
 1 Nouvelle Heloise^ Part. vi. Let. vi. ((Euvres, x. 261). 
 
320 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 followers. His attitude toward them is not unlike that 
 of Socrates toward the Sophists. Indeed, Jean Jacques, 
 by whomever inspired, is far more of a prophet than of a 
 philosopher. He speaks by an authority which he feels to 
 be above argument. In opposition to Locke and to all 
 his school, he dares to believe in innate ideas, although 
 he calls them feelings. ^ These innate ideas are love of 
 self, fear of pain, horror of death, the desire for well- 
 being. Conscience may well be one of them. 
 
 "My son," cries the Savoyard curate, "keep your soul 
 always in a state to desire that there may be a God, and 
 you will never doubt it. Moreover, whatever course you 
 may adopt, consider that the true duties of religion are 
 independent of the institutions of men ; that a just heart is 
 the true temple of Divinity ; that in all countries and all 
 sects, to love God above all things, and your neighbor as 
 yourself, is the sum of the law ; that no religion dispenses 
 with the moral duties; that these are the only duties 
 really essential; that the inward worship is the first of 
 these duties, and that without faith no true virtue exists. 
 
 "Flee from those who, under the pretense of explain- 
 ing nature, sow desolating doctrines in the hearts of men, 
 and whose apparent skepticism is a hundred times more 
 affirmative and more dogmatic than the decided tone of 
 their adversaries." 
 
 At the time when "Emile" was written, Jean Jacques 
 had quarreled personally with most of his old associates 
 of the Philosophic school. Diderot, D'Alembert, Grimm, 
 and their master, Voltaire, — Rousseau had some real or 
 fancied grievance against them all. But the difference 
 between him and them was intrinsic, not accidental. By 
 
 1 " When, first occupied with the object, we think of ourselves only 
 by reflection, it is an idea ; on the other hand, when the impression 
 received excites our first attention and we think only by reflection on 
 the object which causes it, it is a sensation." (Euvres, iv. 195 n. 
 (^Emile, liv. iv.). 
 
LA NOUVELLE HELOISE AND EMILE. 321 
 
 nature and training they belonged to the rather thin 
 rationalism of the eighteenth century ; a rationalism which 
 was so eager to believe nothing not acquired through the 
 senses that it preferred to leave half the phenomena of life 
 not only unaccounted for but unconsidered, because to 
 account for them by its own methods was difficult, if not 
 impossible. Rousseau, at least, contemplated the whole 
 of human nature, its affections, aspirations, and passions, 
 as well as its observations and reflections, and this was 
 the secret of his influence over men. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE PAMPHLETS. 
 
 The reign of Louis XVI. was a time of great and 
 rapid change. The old order was passing away, and the 
 Revolution was taking place both in manners and laws, for 
 fifteen years before the assembling of the Estates General. 
 In the previous reigns the rich middle class had ap- 
 proached social equality with the nobles; and the sons 
 of great families had consented to repair their broken 
 fortunes by marrying the daughters of financiers ; — 
 "manuring their land," they called it. 
 
 Next a new set of persons claimed a place in the social 
 scale. The men of letters were courted even by courtiers. 
 The doctrines of the Philosophers had fairly entered the 
 public mind. The nobility and the middle class, with 
 such of the poor as could read and think, had been deeply 
 impressed by Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists. All men 
 had not been affected in the same way. Some were blind 
 followers of these leaders, eager to push the doctrines of 
 the school to the last possible results, partisans of Helve- 
 tius and Holbach. These were the most logical. Beside 
 them came the sentimentalists, the worshipers of Rous- 
 seau. They were not a whit less dogmatic than the 
 others, but their dogmatism took more fanciful and less 
 consistent forms. They believed in their ideal republics 
 or their social compacts with a religious faith. Some of 
 them were ready to persecute others and to die them- 
 selves for their chimeras, and subsequently proved it. 
 And in not a few minds the teachings of Holbach and 
 those of Rousseau were more or less confused, and co- 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 323 
 
 existed with a lingering belief in the church and her 
 doctrines. People still went to mass from habit, from 
 education, from an uneasy feeling that it was a good thing 
 to do; doubting all the while with Voltaire, dreaming 
 with Rousseau, wondering what might be coming, believ- 
 ing that the world was speedily to be improved, having no 
 very definite idea as to how the improvement was to be 
 brought about, but trusting vaguely to the enlightenment 
 of the age, which was taken for granted. 
 
 For this reign of the last absolute king of France was a 
 time of hope and of belief in human perfectibilit5^ One 
 after another, the schemers had come forward with their 
 plans for regenerating society. There were the econo- 
 mists, ready to swear that the world, and especially France, 
 would be rich, if free trade were adopted, and the taxes 
 were laid — they could not quite agree how. There were 
 the army reformers, burning to introduce Prussian disci- 
 pline ; if only you could reconcile blows and good feel- 
 ing. There were people calling for Equality, and for 
 government by the most enlightened ; quite unaware that 
 their demahds were inconsistent. There were the philan- 
 thropists, perhaps the most genuine of all the reformers, 
 working at the hospitals and prisons, and reducing in no 
 small measure the sum of misery in France*^ 
 
 These changes in men's minds began to bear fruit in 
 action. The attempted reforms of Turgot, of Necker, 
 
 1 Among other instances of this spirit of hopefulness, notice those 
 volumes of the Encyclopedie Methodique which were published as 
 early as 1789. They are largely devoted to telling how things ought 
 to be. See also the correspondence of Lafayette, who was thoroughly 
 steeped in the spirit of this time. The feeling of hope was not the 
 only feeling, there was despondency also. But we must be careful 
 not to be deceived by the tone of many people who wrote long after- 
 ward, when they had undergone the shock of the great Revolution. 
 In the study of this period, more perhaps than in that of any other, 
 it is important to distinguish between contemporary evidence and the 
 evidence of contemporaries given subsequently. 
 
324 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of the Notables; the abolition of the corvee^ of monopo- 
 lies in trade, of judicial torture, the establishment of 
 provincial assemblies, the civil rights given to Protestants, 
 have been mentioned already. These things were done in 
 a weak and inconsistent manner because of the character 
 of the king, who was drawn in one direction by his cour- 
 tiers and in another by his conscience, and satisfied neither. 
 Man must always look outside of himself for a standard 
 of right and wrong. He must have something with which 
 to compare the dictates of his own conscience, some chro- 
 nometer to set his watch by. In the decay of religious 
 ideas, the Frenchmen of the eighteenth century had set 
 up a standard of comparison independent of revelation. 
 They had found it in public opinion. The sociable popu- 
 lation of Paris was ready to accept the common voice as 
 arbiter. It had always been powerful in France, where 
 the desire for sympathy is strong. A pamphlet published 
 in 1730 says that if the episcopate falls into error it 
 should be "instructed, corrected, even judged by the 
 people." "A halberd leads a kingdom," cried a courtier 
 to Quesnay the economist. "And who leads the hal- 
 berd? " retorted the latter. "Public opinion." "There 
 are circumstances," say the venerable and conservative 
 lawyers of the Parliament, "when magistrates may look 
 on their loss of court favor as an honor. It is when they 
 are consoled by public esteem." Poor Louis himself, 
 catching the fever of longing for popularity, proposes to 
 "raise the results of public opinion to the rank of laws, 
 after they have been submitted to ripe and profound 
 examination." ^ The appeal is constantly made from old- 
 fashioned prejudice to some new notion supposed to be 
 generally current, as if the one proved more than the 
 other. From this worship of public opinion come extreme 
 irritation under criticism and cowardly fear of ridicule ; 
 
 1 Rocquain, 54. Lavergne, Economistes, 103. Chdrest, i. 454 
 (May 1, 1788). 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 325 
 
 Voltaire himself asking for lettres de cachet against a 
 literary opponent. Seldom, indeed, do we find any one 
 ready to say: "This is right; thus men ought to think; 
 and if mankind thinks differently, mankind is mistaken." 
 Such a tone comes chiefly from the mouth of that excep- 
 tion for good and evil, Jean Jacques Rousseau. 
 
 This dependent state of mind is far removed from vir- 
 tue. But human nature is often better than it represents 
 itself to be. Both Quesnay and the magistrates had in 
 fact a higher standard of right and wrong than the aver- 
 age feeling of the multitude. Every sect and every party 
 makes, in a measure, its own public opinion, and the 
 consent for which we seek is chiefly the consent of those 
 persons whose ideas we respect. The thinkers of the 
 eighteenth century, after appealing to public opinion, 
 were quite ready to cast off their allegiance to it when it 
 decided against them. 
 
 Yet Frenchmen paid the penalty for setting up a false 
 god. Having agreed to worship public opinion, without 
 asking themselves definitely who were the public, they 
 fell into frequent and fatal errors. The mob often claimed 
 the place on the pedestal of opinion, and its claims were 
 allowed. The turbulent populace of Paris, clamorous now 
 for cheap bread, now for the return of the Parliament 
 from exile, anon for the blood of men and women whom 
 it chose to consider its enemies, was supposed to be the 
 voice of the French nation, which was superstitiously 
 assumed to be the voice of God. 
 
 The inhabitants of great cities love to be amused. 
 Those of Paris, being quicker witted than most mortals, 
 care much to have something happening. They detest 
 dullness and are fond of wit. In countries where speech 
 and the press are free, a witticism, or a clever book, is 
 seldom a great event. But under Louis XVI., as has 
 been said, you could never quite tell what would come of 
 a paragraph. A minister of state might lose his temper. 
 
326 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 A writer might have to spend a few weeks in Holland, or 
 even in the Bastille. This was not much to suffer for the 
 sake of notoriety, but it gave the charm of uncertainty. 
 There was just enough danger in saying "strong things" 
 to make them attractive, and to make it popular to say 
 them. With a free press, men whose opinions are either 
 valuable or dangerous get very tired of "strong things," 
 and prefer less spice in their intellectual fare. 
 
 The most famous satirical piece of the reign is also its 
 most remarkable literary production. The "Mariage de 
 Figaro," of Beaumarchais, has acquired importance apart 
 from its merits as a comedy, both from its political his- 
 tory and from its good fortune in being set to immortal 
 music. The plot is poor and intricate, but the dialogue 
 is uniformly sparkling, and two of the characters will live 
 as typical. In Cherubin we have the dissolute boy whose 
 vice has not yet wrinkled into ugliness, best known to 
 English readers under the name of Don Juan, but fresher 
 and more ingenuous than Byron's young rake. Figaro, 
 the hero of the play, is the comic servant, familiar to the 
 stage from the time of Plautus, impudent, daring, plaus- 
 ible; likely to be overreached, if at all, by his own un~ 
 scrupulousness. But he is also the adventurer of the last 
 age of the French monarchy, full of liberal ideas and 
 ready to give a decided opinion on anything that concerns 
 society or politics ; a Scapin, who has brushed the clothes 
 of Voltaire. He is a shabby, younger brother of Beau- 
 marchais himself, immensely clever and not without kindly 
 feeling, a rascal you can be fond of. "Intrigue and 
 money; you are in your element!" cries Susanne to Fi- 
 garo, in the first act. "A hundred times I have seen you 
 march on to fortune, but never walk straight," says the 
 Count to him, in the third. We laugh when the blows 
 meant for others smack loud on his cheeks ; but we grudge 
 him neither his money nor his pretty wife. 
 
 It is through this character that Beaumarchais tells 
 the nobility, the court, and the government of France what 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 327 
 
 is being said about them in the street. He repays with 
 bitter gibes the insolence which he himself, the clever, 
 ambitious man of the middle class, has received, in his 
 long struggle for notoriety and wealth, from people whose 
 personal claims to respect were no better than his own. 
 "What have you done to have so much wealth?" cries 
 Figaro in his soliloquy, apostrophizing the Count, who is 
 trying to steal his mistress, "You have taken the trouble 
 to be born, nothing more ! " "I was spoken of, for an 
 office," he says again, "but unfortunately I was fitted for 
 it. An accountant was needed, and a dancer got it." 
 And in another place: "I was born to be a courtier; re- 
 ceiving, taking and asking, are the whole secret in three 
 words." 
 
 As for the limitations on the liberty of the press : "They 
 tell me," says Figaro, "that if in my writing I will men- 
 tion neither the government, nor public worship, nor 
 politics, nor morals, nor people in office, nor influential 
 corporations, nor the Opera, nor the other theatres, nor 
 anybody that belongs to anything, I may print everything 
 freely, subject to the approval of two or three censors." 
 "How I should like to get hold of one of those people 
 that are powerful for a few days, and that give evil orders 
 so lightly, after a good reverse of favor had sobered him 
 of his pride ! I would tell him, that foolish things in print 
 are important only where their circulation is interfered 
 with ; that without freedom to blame, no praise is flattering, 
 and that none but little men are afraid^of little writings." 
 
 The "Marriage of Figaro" was accepted by the great 
 Parisian theatre, the Comedie Franc^aise, toward the end 
 of 1781. The wit of the piece itself and the notoriety of 
 the author made its success almost inevitable. The per- 
 mission of the censor was of course necessary before the 
 play could be put on the boards ; but the first censor to 
 whom the work was submitted pronounced that, with a 
 few alterations, it might be given. The piece was already 
 
328 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 exciting much attention. As an advertisement, Beau- 
 marchais had read it aloud in several houses of note. It 
 was the talk of the town and of the court. The nobles 
 were enchanted. To be laughed at so wittily was a new 
 sensation. Old Maurepas, the prime minister, heard the 
 play and spoke of it to his royal master. The king's 
 curiosity was excited. He sent for a copy, and the 
 queen's waiting woman, Madame Campan, was ordered 
 to be at Her Majesty's apartment at three o'clock in the 
 afternoon, but to be sure and take her dinner first, as she 
 would be kept a long time. 
 
 At the appointed hour, Madame Campan found no one 
 in the chamber but the king and the queen. A big pile 
 of manuscript, covered with corrections, was on the table. 
 As Madame Campan read, the king frequently interrupted. 
 He praised some passages, and blamed others as in bad 
 taste. At last, however, near the end of the play, occurred 
 the long soliloquy in which Figaro has brought together 
 his bitterest complaints. Early in the scene there is a 
 description of the arbitrary imprisonment which was so 
 common in those days. "A question arises concerning 
 the nature of riches," says Figaro, "and as you do not 
 need to have a thing in order to talk about it, I, who have 
 not a penny, write on the value of money and its net 
 product. Presently, from the inside of a cab, I see the 
 drawbridge of a prison let down for me ; and leave, as I 
 go in, both hope and liberty behind." On hearing this 
 tirade. King Louis XVI. leaped from his chair, and ex- 
 claimed : " It is detestable ; it shall never be played ! Not 
 to have the production of this play a dangerous piece of 
 inconsistency, we should have to destroy the Bastille. 
 This man makes sport of everything that should be re- 
 spected in a government." 
 
 "Then it will not be played? " asked the queen. 
 "Certainly not ! " answered Louis; "you may be sure 
 of it." 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 329 
 
 For two years a contest was kept up between the king of 
 France and the dramatic author as to whether the "Mar- 
 riage of Figaro" should be acted or not. The king had 
 on his side absohite power to forbid the performance or to 
 impose any conditions he pleased; but he stood almost 
 alone in his opinion, and Louis XVI. never could stand 
 Ions: alone. The author had for auxiliaries some of the 
 princes, most of the nobility, the court and the town. 
 Public curiosity was aroused, and no one knew better than 
 Beaumarchais how to keep it awake. He continued to 
 read the play at private parties, but it required so much 
 besfa'injr to induce him to do so that the favor never be- 
 came a cheap one. Those people who heard it were loud 
 in its praise, and less favored persons talked of tyranny 
 and oppression, because they were not permitted to see 
 themselves and their neighbors delightfully laughed at by 
 Figfaro. Poor Louis held out against the solicitations of 
 the people about him with a pertinacity which he seldom 
 showed in greater matters. At last his resolution weak- 
 ened, and permission was accorded to play the piece at a 
 private entertainment given by the Count of Vaudreuil. 
 After that, the public performance became only a question 
 of time and of the suppression of obnoxious passages. On 
 the 27th of April, 1784, the theatre-goers of Paris thronged 
 from early morning about the doors of the Comedie Fran- 
 ^aise ; three persons were crushed to death ; great ladies 
 dined in the theatre, to keep their places. At haK past 
 five the curtain rose. The success was unbounded, in 
 spite of savage criticism, which spared neither the play 
 nor the author.^ 
 
 As the people of Paris liked violent language, they also 
 enjoyed opposition to the government, whatever form that 
 opposition might assume. The Parliament, as we have 
 seen, although contending for privileges and against mea- 
 
 1 Campan, i. 277. Lomdnie, Beaumarchais^ ii. 293. Grimm, xiii. 
 517. La Harpe, Corresp. Hit. iv. 227. 
 
330 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 sures beneficial to most people in the country, was yet 
 popular, for it was continually defying the court. But 
 many privileged persons went farther than the conserva- 
 tive lawyers of the city. It was indeed such people who 
 took the lead both in proclaiming equality and in de- 
 nouncing courtiers. From the nobility and the rich citi- 
 zens of Paris, discontent with existing conditions and the 
 habit of opposition to constituted authorities spread to 
 the lower classes and to the inhabitants of provincial 
 towns. 
 
 Louis XYI. had not been long on the throne when a 
 series of events occurred in a distant part of the world 
 which excited in a high degree both the spirit of insubor- 
 dination and the love of equality in French minds. The 
 American colonies of Great Britain broke into open re- 
 volt, and presently declared their independence of the 
 mother country. The sympathy of Frenchmen was almost 
 universal and was loudly expressed. Here was a nation 
 of farmers constituting little communities that Rousseau 
 might not have disowned, at least if he had looked at 
 them no nearer than across the ocean. They were in arms 
 for their rights and liberties, and in revolt against arbi- 
 trary power. And the oppressor was the king of Eng- 
 land, the monarch of the nation that had inflicted on 
 France, only a few years before, a humiliating defeat. 
 Much that was generous in French character, and much 
 that was sentimental, love of liberty, admiration of equal- 
 ity, hatred of the hereditary enemy, conspired to favor the 
 cause of the "Insurgents." The people who wished for 
 political reforms could point to the model commonwealths 
 of the New World. Their constitutions were translated 
 into French, and several editions were sold in Paris. ^ 
 The people that adored King Louis could cry out for the 
 
 ^ Recueil des loix constitutives. Constitutions des treize Etats Uni^ 
 de VAmerique. Franklin to Samuel Cooper, May 1, 1777. Works^ 
 vi. 96. 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 331 
 
 abasement of King George. A few prudent heads in 
 high places were shaken at the thought of assisting rebel- 
 lion. The Emperor Joseph II., brother-in-law to the 
 king of France, was not quite the only man whose business 
 it was to be a royalist. Ministers might deprecate war 
 on economical grounds, and advise that just enough help 
 be given to the Americans to prolong their struggle with 
 England until both parties should be exhausted. But the 
 heart of the French nation had gone into the war. It 
 was for the sake of his own country that the Count of 
 Vergennes, the foreign minister of Louis XVI., induced 
 her to take up arms against Great Britain, and in the 
 negotiations for peace he would willingly have sacrificed 
 the interests of his American to those of his Spanish 
 allies ; yet the part taken by France was the almost in- 
 evitable result of the sympathy and enthusiasm of the 
 French nation. Never was a war not strictly of defense 
 more completely national in its character. Frenchmen 
 fought in Virginia because they loved American ideas, 
 and hated the enemy of America.^ 
 
 Thus France, while still an absolute monarchy, under- 
 took a war in defense of political rights. Such an action 
 could not be without results. Writers of a later time, 
 belonging to the monarchical party, have not liked the 
 results and have blamed the course of the French upper 
 classes in embarking in the war. But it was because they 
 were already inclined to revolutionary ideas in politics that 
 the nobility did so embark. Poor Louis was dragged 
 along, feebly protesting. He was no radical, and to him 
 change could mean nothing but harm ; if it be harm to be 
 deprived of authority beyond your strength, and of re- 
 sponsibility exceeding your moral power. The war, in its 
 turn, fed the prevailing passions. Young Frenchmen, 
 who had first become warlike because they were adventur- 
 ous and high-spirited, adopted the cries of "liberty'' and 
 ^ Rosenthal, A merica and France, — an excellent monograph. 
 
332 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 "equality " as the watchwords of the struggle into which 
 they entered, and were then interested to study the prin- 
 ciples which they so loudly proclaimed. Voltaire, Rous- 
 seau, d'Alembert, even Montesquieu, became more widely 
 read than ever. Officers returning from the capture of 
 Yorktown were flushed with success and ready to praise 
 all they had seen. They told of the simplicity of repub- 
 lican manners, of the respect shown for virtuous women. 
 Even Lauzun forgot to be lewd in speaking of the ladies 
 of Newport. So unusual a state of mind could not last 
 long. A reaction set in after the peace with England. 
 Anglomania became the ruling fashion. The change 
 was more apparent than real. London was nearer than 
 Philadelphia and more easily visited. Political freedom 
 existed there also, if not in so perfect a form, yet in one 
 quite as well suited to the tastes of fashionable young 
 men. Had not Montesquieu looked on England as the 
 model state ? ^ 
 
 Thus English political ideas were adopted with more or 
 less accuracy and were accompanied by English fashions : 
 horses and horseracing, short stirrups, plain clothes, linen 
 dresses, and bread and butter. Clubs also are an Eng- 
 lish invention. The first one in Paris was opened in 
 1782. The Duke of Chartres had recently cut down the 
 trees of his garden to build the porticoes and shops of 
 the Palais Royal. The people who had been in the habit 
 of lounging under the trees were thus dispossessed. A 
 speculator opened a reading-room for their benefit, and 
 provided them with newspapers, pamphlets, and current 
 literature. The duke himself encouraged the enterprise, 
 
 1 Segnr, i. 87. The French officers who were in the Revolutionary 
 war often express dissatisfaction with the Americans, but their voices 
 appear to have been drowned in France in the chorus of praise. 
 See Kalb's letters to Broglie in Stevens's MSS., vii., and Mauroy to 
 Broglie, ibid., No. 838. The foreign politics of the reign of Louis 
 XVI. are admirably considered by Albert Sorel, UEurope et la 
 Revolution franfaisCf i. 297. 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 333 
 
 and overcame the resistance which the police naturally- 
 made to any new project. The reading-room, which 
 seems to have had a regular list of subscribers, was called 
 the Political Club. In spite of the name, the regulations 
 of the police forbade conversation within its walls on the 
 subjects of religion and politics ; but such rules were sel- 
 dom enforced in Paris. Other clubs were soon founded, 
 some large and open, some small and private. A certain 
 number of them took the name of literary, scientific, 
 or benevolent associations. Some appear to have been 
 secret societies with oaths and pledges. The habit of 
 talking about matters of government spread more and 
 more.^ 
 
 It was on the approach of the meeting of the Estates 
 General that the habit of political reading assmned the 
 greatest importance. In the latter part of 1788 and the 
 earlier months of 1789 a deluge of pamphlets, such as the 
 world had not seen and is never likely to see again, burst 
 over Paris. The newspapers of the day were few and 
 completely under the control of the government, but 
 French heads were seething with ideas. In vain the ad- 
 ministration and the courts made feeble attempts to limit 
 the activity of the press. From the princes of the blood 
 royal (who issued a reactionary manifesto), to the most 
 obscure writer who might hope for a moment's notoriety, 
 all were rushing into print. The booksellers' shops were 
 crowded from morning until night. The price of printing 
 was doubled. One collector is said to have got together 
 twenty-five hundred different political pamphlets in the 
 
 1 Chdrest, ii. 101. Droz, i. 326. See in Brissot ii. 415, an account 
 of a club to discuss political questions, under pretense of studying 
 animal magnetism. Lafayette, d'Esprdsraenil, and others were 
 members. Their ideas were vague enough. Brissot was for a re- 
 public, D'Espr^smenil for giving the power to the Parliament, 
 Bergasse for a new form of government of which he was to be the 
 Lycurgus. Morellet, i. 34G. Lameth, i. 34 n. Sainte-Beuve, x. 104 
 {Senac de Meilhan). 
 
334 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 last months of 1788, and to have stopped in despair at 
 the impossibility of completing his collection.^ 
 
 In most political crises there is but one great question 
 of the hour; but in France at this time all matters of 
 government and social life were in doubt ; and every man 
 believed that he could settle them all by the easy and 
 speedy application of pure reason, if only all other men 
 would lay down their prejudices. And a special subject 
 was not wanting. The question which called loudest for 
 an answer was that of representation. Should there be one 
 chamber in the Estates General, in which the Commons 
 should have a number of votes equal to that of the other 
 two orders combined, or should there be three chambers ? 
 This matter (which is more particularly discussed in the 
 next chapter) and the general political constitution occu- 
 pied the chief attention of the pamphleteers, but law 
 reform and feudal abuses were not forgotten. 
 
 The pamphlets came from all quarters and bore all 
 sorts of titles. "Detached Thoughts;" "The Forty 
 Wishes of the Nation;" "What has surely been forgot- 
 ten;" "Discourse on the Estates General; " "Letter of a 
 Burgundian Gentleman to a Breton Gentleman, on the 
 Attack of the Third Estate, the Division of the Nobility, 
 and the Interest of the Husbandmen ; " "Letter of a Peas- 
 ant;" "Plan for a Matrimonial Alliance between Mon- 
 sieur Third Estate and Madam Nobility;" "When the 
 Cock crows, look out for the Old Hens; " "Ultimatum of 
 a Citizen of the Third Estate on the Memoire of the 
 Princes;" "Te Deum of the Third Estate as it will be 
 sung at the First Mass of the Estates General, with the 
 Confession of the Nobility;" "Creed of the Third Es- 
 tate;" "Magnificat of the Third Estate;" and "Requiem 
 of the Farmers General." 
 
 1 Droz, ii. 93. " Thirteen came out to-day, sixteen yesterday, and 
 ninety-two last week." A. Young, i. 118 (June 9, 1789). Cher* 
 est. ii. 248, etc. 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 335 
 
 The pamphlets are generally anonymous, from a linger- 
 ing fear of the police. The place of printing is seldom 
 mentioned; at least, few of the pamplilets bear the true 
 one. The imprint, where one appears, is London, 
 Ispahan, or Concordopolis. One humorous and distinctly 
 libelous publication is "sold at the Islands of Saint Mar- 
 garet, and distributed gratis at Paris." The pamphlet 
 entitled "Diogenes and the Estates General " is "sold by 
 Diogenes in his Tub." 
 
 In spite of the stringent orders against printed attacks 
 on the government, in spite of the spasmodic activity of 
 the police, the boldness of some of the pamphlets is re- 
 markable. One of them, for instance, begins as follows : 
 "There was once, I know not where, a king born with an 
 upright spirit and a heart that loved justice, but a bad 
 education had left his good qualities uncultivated and use- 
 less." The king is then accused of eating and hunting 
 too much, and of swearing. And when we pass from 
 personal to political subjects there is almost no limit 
 to the rashness of the pamphleteers. It was not the most 
 sane and judicious part of the nation which became most 
 conspicuous by its writings at this time and in this man- 
 ner. The pamphlets are noticeably less conservative 
 than the cahiers, which were likewise produced in the 
 spring of 1789. 
 
 Yet the subversionary writers were not left to occupy 
 the field alone. Nobles and magistrates took up their 
 pens to defend old institutions. Moderate men tried to 
 get a hearing in behalf of peace and good will. But, 
 alas, the old constitution was a dream. France was in 
 fact a despotism with civilized traditions and with a few 
 customs that had almost the force of fundamental laws, 
 and her people wanted a liberal government. As to the 
 form of that government they were not entirely agreed; 
 although they were not quite so subversionary as many of 
 the pamplileteers wished them to be, or as their subse- 
 
336 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 quent history would lead us to believe them to have been. 
 But no leader appeared, for a long time, strong enough 
 to dominate the factions and to keep the peace. 
 
 Of the mass of political literature which saw the light 
 in 1788 and 1789, three lines only are commonly remem- 
 bered. They are on the first page of a pamphlet by the 
 famous Abbe Sieyes. Of the many persons who in our 
 own time have wondered how to pronounce his name, all 
 are aware that he asked and answered the following ques= 
 tions : — 
 
 "(1.) What is the Third Estate? Everything. 
 "(2.) What has it been hitherto in the political order? 
 Nothing. 
 
 "(3.) What does it ask? To become something." 
 Few have followed him farther in his inquiries. Yet 
 his pamphlet excited great interest and admiration in its 
 day. It is an eloquent and well-written paper, as strong 
 in rhetoric as it is weak in statesmanship. 
 
 In agriculture, manufactures, and trade, and in those 
 services which are directly useful and agreeable to per- 
 sons, and which include the most distinguished scientific 
 and literary professions and the most menial service, the 
 Commons, according to Sieyes, do all the work. In the 
 army, the church, the law, and the administration of gov- 
 ernment, they furnish nineteen twentieths of the men 
 employed, and these do all that is really onerous. Only 
 the lucrative and honorary places are occupied by mem- 
 bers of the nobility. These upper places would be infin- 
 itely better filled if they were the rewards of talents and 
 services recognized in the lower ranks. The Third Estate 
 is quite able to do all that is needful. Were the privi- 
 leged orders taken away, the nation would not be some- 
 thing less than it is, but something more. 
 
 "What is a nation? " asks Sieyes; and he answers that 
 it is "a body of associates living together under a common 
 law and represented by the same legislature." But the 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 337 
 
 order of the nobility has privileges, dispensations, differ- 
 ent rights from the great body of the citizens. It is out- 
 side of the common order and the common law. It is a 
 state within a state. 
 
 The Third Estate, therefore, embraces everything which 
 belongs to the nation ; and all that is not a part of the 
 Commons cannot be considered a part of the nation. 
 What, then, is the Third Estate? Everything. 
 
 What has the Third Estate hitherto been? Nothing. 
 It is but too true that you are nothing in France if you 
 have only the protection of the common law. AVithout 
 some privilege or other, you must make up your mind 
 to suffer contempt, contumely, and all sorts of vexation. 
 The unfortunate j^erson who has no privileges of his own 
 can only attach himself to some great man, by all sorts of 
 meanness, and thus get the chance, on occasion, to de- 
 mand the assistance of somehody. 
 
 What does the Third Estate ask? To become some- 
 thing in the state. And in truth the people asks but little. 
 It wants true representatives in the Estates, taken from 
 its own order, able to interpret its wishes, and defend 
 its interests. But what would it gain by taking part in 
 the Estates General, if its own side were not to prevail 
 there? It must, therefore, have an influence at least 
 equal to that of the privileged orders ; it must have half 
 the representatives. This equality would be illusory if 
 the chambers voted separately ; therefore, the voting must 
 be by heads. Can the Third Estate ask for less than 
 this? And is it not clear that if its influence is less than 
 that of the privileged orders combined, there is no hope 
 of its emerging from its political nullity and becoming 
 something? 
 
 Sieyes goes on to argue that the Third Estate should 
 be allowed to choose its representatives only from its own 
 body. He has persuaded himself, by what seems to be a 
 process of mental juggling, that men of one order cannot 
 
838 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 be truly represented by men of another. Suppose, he 
 says, that France is at war with England, and that hostil- 
 ities are conducted on our side by a Directory composed 
 of national rei^resentatives. In that case, I ask, would 
 any province be permitted, in the name of freedom, to 
 choose for its delegates to the Directory the members of 
 the English ministry? Surely the privileged classes shov/ 
 themselves no less hostile to the common order of people, 
 than the English to the French in time of war. 
 
 Three further questions are stated by Sieyes. 
 
 (4.) What the ministers have attempted and what the 
 privileged classes propose in favor of the Third Estate? 
 
 (5.) What should have been done? 
 
 (6.) What is still to be done? 
 
 Under the fourth head, Sieyes considers the Provincial 
 Assemblies recently established, and the Assembly of 
 Notables, both of which he considers entirely incapable of 
 doing good, because they are composed of privileged per- 
 sons. He scorns the proposal of the nobility to pay a 
 fair share of the taxes, being unwilling to accept as a 
 favor what he wishes to take as a right. He fears that 
 the Commons will be content with too little and will not 
 sweep away all privilege. He attacks the English Con- 
 stitution, which the liberal nobles of France were in the 
 habit of setting up as a model, saying that it is not good 
 in itself, but only as a prodigious system of props and 
 makeshifts against disorder. The right of trial by jury 
 he considers its best feature. 
 
 He then passes to the question : What should have been 
 done? and here he gives us the foundation of his system. 
 Without naming Kousseau he has adopted the Social 
 Compact as the basis of government. A nation is made 
 up of individuals ; these unite to form a community ; for 
 convenience they depute persons to represent them and 
 to exercise the common power. ^ The constitution of the 
 
 1 It need hardly be pointed out that Sieyes falls short of the full 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 339 
 
 state is the body of rules by which these representatives 
 are governed when they legislate or administer the public 
 affairs. The constitution is fundamental, not as binding 
 the national will, but only as binding the bodies existing 
 within the state. The nation itself is free from all such 
 bonds. No constitution can control it. Its will cannot 
 be limited. The nation assembling to consider its con- 
 stitution is not controlled by ordinary forms. Its dele- 
 gates meeting for that especial purpose are independent of 
 the constitution. They represent the national will, and 
 questions are settled by them not in accordance with 
 constitutional laws, but as they might be in a meeting 
 of the whole nation were it small enough to be brought 
 together in one place ; that is to say, by a vote of the 
 majority.^ 
 
 But where find the nation ? Where it is : in the forty 
 thousand parishes which comprise all the territory and all 
 the inhabitants of the country. They should have been 
 arranged in groups of twenty or thirty parishes, and have 
 thus formed representative districts, which should have 
 united to make provinces, which should have sent true 
 delegates, with special power to settle the constitution of 
 the Estates General. 
 
 This correct course has not been followed, but what 
 now remains to be done? Let the Commons assemble 
 apart from the other orders. Let them join with the 
 Nobility and the Clergy neither by orders, as a part of a 
 legislature of three chambers, nor by heads, in one com- 
 mon assembly. Two courses are open. Either let them 
 appeal to the nation for increased powers, wliich would 
 
 measure of Rousseau's doctrine when he allows the law - making, 
 or more correctly the constitution-making power, to be delegated 
 at all. 
 
 ^ Siey^s and his master do not see tliat if unanimity cannot be 
 secured, and if constitutional law be once done away, men are reduced 
 under their system to a state of nature, and the will of a majority 
 has no binding force but that of the strong arm. 
 
340 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 be the most frank and generous way ; or let tliem only 
 consider the enormous difference that exists between the 
 assembly of the Third Estate and that of the other two 
 orders. "The former represents twenty -five millions of 
 men and deliberates on the interests of the nation. The 
 other two, were they united, have received their powers 
 from but about two hundred thousand individuals, and 
 think only of their privileges. The Third Estate alone, 
 you will say, cannot form the Estates General. So much 
 the better! It will make a National Assembly.''^ 
 
 I have considered this famous pamphlet at some 
 length, because it was eminently timely, expressing, as 
 it did, the doctrines and the aspirations of the subversion- 
 ary party in France. I believe, and principally on the 
 evidence of the cahiers, that this party did not form a 
 majority, or even, numerically, a very large minority, of 
 the French nation. A constitutional convention, organ- 
 ized from the Commons alone as Sieyes would have had 
 it, if left to itself and uncontrolled by the Parisian mob, 
 would undoubtedly have settled the question of a single 
 chamber in a popular sense, but it would have preserved 
 the privileges of the nobility to an extent which would 
 have disgusted the extremists, and perhaps have saved the 
 country from years of violence and decades of reaction. 
 But the people of violent ideas were predominant in Paris 
 and in some of the towns, and were destined, for a time, 
 to be the chief force in the French Revolution. The pas- 
 sions of this party were love of equality and hatred of 
 privilege. To men of this stamp despotism may be com- 
 paratively indifferent ; liberty is a word of sweet sound, 
 but little meaning. Sieyes hardly refers to the king in 
 his pamphlet. "The time is past," he says, "when the 
 three orders, thinking only of defending themselves from 
 ministerial despotism, were ready to unite against the 
 common enemy." This comparative indifference to the 
 tyranny of the court was not the feeling of the country, 
 
THE PAMPHLETS. 341 
 
 but it was that of the enthusiasts. Nothing is too bad 
 according to these last, for men who hold privileges. 
 They have no right to assemblies of their own, nor to a 
 voice in the assemblies of the people. To ask what place 
 they should occupy in the social order "is to ask what place 
 should be assigned in a sick body to the malignant humor 
 which undermines and torments it." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE CAHIERS. 
 
 It is seldom, indeed, that a great nation can express 
 fully, frankly, and yet officially, all its complaints, wishes, 
 and hopes in respect to its own government. Our know- 
 ledge of national ideas must generally be derived from 
 the words of particular classes of men: statesmen, politi- 
 cians, authors, or writers in the newspapers. The ideas 
 of these classes are more or less in accord with those of 
 the great mass of the people which they undertake to rep- 
 resent; yet their expressions are necessarily tinged by 
 their own professional way of looking at things. But in 
 the spring of 1789 all Frenchmen, with few exceptions, 
 were called on to unite, not merely in choosing represen- 
 tatives, but in giving them minute instructions. The 
 occasion was most solemn. The Estates General, the 
 great central legislature of France, which had not met for 
 nearly two centuries, was summoned to assemble at Ver- 
 sailles. It should be the old body and something more. 
 It was to partake of the nature of a constitutional con- 
 vention. It was not only to legislate, but to settle the 
 principles of government. It was called by the king to 
 advise and consent to all that might concern the needs of 
 the state, the reform of abuses, the establishment of a fixed 
 and lasting order in all parts of the administration, the 
 general prosperity of his kingdom, and the welfare of all 
 and each of his subjects.^ 
 
 1 Royal Letter of Convocation, January 24, 1789, ^. P. i. 611. The 
 principal printed collection of cahiers, together with much preliminary- 
 matter, may be found in the first six volumes of the Archives Parle- 
 
THE CAHIERS. 343 
 
 The three orders of men, the Clergy, the Nobility, and 
 the Commons, or Third Estate, were to hold their elec- 
 tions separately in every district, ^ unless they should, 
 by separate votes, agree to unite. ^ In accordance with 
 ancient custom they were to draw up petitions, com- 
 plaints, and remonstrances, which were intended to form 
 a basis for legislation. These complaints were to be 
 brought to the Estates, and were to serve as instructions, 
 more or less positive, to the deputies who brought them. 
 They were known in French political language as Caliiers. 
 
 The cahiers of the Clergy and of the Nobility were 
 drawn up in the electoral meetings which took place in 
 every district. To these local assemblies of the Clergy, 
 all bishops, abbots, and parish priests, holding benefices, 
 were smnmoned. Chapters and monasteries sent only 
 representatives. The result of this arrangement was that 
 the parish priests far outnumbered the regular ecclesias- 
 tics and dignitaries, and that the clerical cahiers oftenest 
 express the wishes of the lower portion of the secular 
 clergy. This preponderance of the lower clergy appears 
 
 mentaires, edited by MM. Mavidal et Laurent, Paris. The seventh 
 volume consists of an index, which, although very imperfect, is 
 necessary to an intelligent study of the cahiers. The cahiers printed 
 in these volumes occupy about 4,000 large octavo pages in double 
 column. These volumes will be referred to in this chapter and the 
 next us A. P. Many cahiers and extracts from cahiers are also found 
 printed in other places. I have not undertaken to give references to 
 all the cahiers on which my conclusions are founded, but only to a 
 few typical examples. The letters C., N., and T indicate the three 
 orders. Where no such letter occurs the cahier is generally that of 
 a town or village. 
 
 1 Baillage, senechaussee. 
 
 ^ The three orders did not often unite, but there is often evidence 
 of communication between them. They all united at Bayonne, A. P. 
 iii. 98. Montfort TAmaury, A. P. iv. 37. Rozieres, A. P. iv. 91. 
 Fenestrange, A. P. v. 710. Mohon, A. P. v. 729. Tlie Clergy and 
 the Nobility united at Lixheim, A. P. v. 713 ; the Nobility and the 
 Third Estate at Pdronne, A . P. v. 355. 
 
344 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 to have been foreseen and desired by the royal advisers. 
 The king had expressed his wish to call to the assemblies 
 of the Clergy "all those good and faithful pastors who 
 are occupied closely and every day with the poverty and 
 the assistance of the people and who are more intimately 
 acquainted with its ills and its apprehensions." ^ 
 
 To the local assemblies of the nobles, all Frenchmen of 
 the order, not less than twenty-five years of age, were 
 summoned. Men, women, or children possessing fiefs 
 might appear by proxy. The latter provision did not 
 suffice to take the meetings out of the control of the more 
 numerous part of the order, — the poorer nobility. To 
 pride of race and intense loyalty to the king, these coun- 
 try gentlemen united distrust and dislike of the court, and 
 the desire that all nobles at least should have equal rights 
 and chances. Their cahiers differ somewhat from place 
 to place, but are wonderfully alike in general current. ^ 
 
 For the Third Estate a more complicated system was 
 adopted. The franchise extended to every French sub- 
 ject, neither clerical nor noble, twenty-five years of age, 
 and entered on the tax roUs.^ Every town, parish, or 
 village, drew up its cahier and sent it, by deputies, either 
 to the assembly of the district or to an intermediate assem- 
 bly. Here a committee was appointed to consider all the 
 local cahiers and consolidate them ; those of the interme- 
 diate assemblies being again worked over for the general 
 cahier of the Third Estate of each electoral district. 
 Thus the cahiers of the Commons finally carried to the 
 Estates General at Versailles were less directly the ex- 
 pression of the opinions of the order from which they 
 
 1 Reglement du 24 Jan. 1789, A. P. i. 644. Parish priests were 
 not allowed to leave their parishes to go to the assemblies if more 
 than two leagues distant, unless they left curates to do their work. 
 But this provision did not keep enough of them away to alter the 
 character of the assemblies. 
 
 2 N., Pdrigord, A. P., v. 341. 
 
 3 In Paris only, a small property qualification was exacted. 
 
THE CAHIERS. 345 
 
 came than were the cahiers of the Clergy and of the No- 
 bility. Fortunately, however, large numbers of the pri- 
 mary or village cahiers have been preserved and printed. 
 
 The cahiers of the Third Estate differ far more among 
 themselves than do those of the upper orders. Some of 
 them, drawn up in the villages, are very simple, dealing 
 merely with local grievances and the woes of peasant life. 
 The long absence of the lord of the place causes more loss 
 to one village than even the price of salt, or than the taille, 
 with which the people are overburdened. Then follows 
 the enumeration of broken bridges, of pastures overflowed 
 because the bed of the stream is obstructed, of robbery 
 and violence and refusal of justice, with no one to protect 
 the poor, nor to direct repairs and improvements. ^ 
 
 In another place we have the touching humility of the 
 peasant. " The inhabitants of this parish have no other 
 complaints to make than those which are common to folk 
 of their rank and condition, namely, that they pay too 
 many taxes of different kinds already ; that they would 
 wish that the disorder of the finances might not be the 
 cause of new burdens upon them, because they were not 
 able to bear any more, having a great deal of trouble to 
 pay those which are now levied, but that it much rather 
 belono^ed to those who are rich to contribute toward set- 
 ting up the affairs of the kingdom. 
 
 "As for remonstrances, they have no other wishes nor 
 other desires than peace and public tranquillity : that they 
 wish the assembly of the Estates General may restore the 
 order of the finances, and bring about in France the or- 
 der and prosperity of the state ; that they are not skillful 
 enoujrh about the matters which are to be treated in the 
 said assembly to give their opinion, and they trust to the 
 intelligence and the gfood intentions of those who will be 
 sent there as deputies. 
 
 "Finally, that they know no means of providing for 
 1 Paroisse de Longpont, A. P., v. 334. 
 
346 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 the necessities of the state, but a great economy in ex- 
 penses and reciprocal love between the king and his sub- 
 jects." ^ 
 
 Not many of the cahiers are so modest as this one. 
 Some of them are many pages long, arranged under heads, 
 divided into numbered paragraphs. These contain a gen= 
 eral scheme of legislation, and often also particular and 
 local petitions. They ask that such a lawsuit be reviewed, 
 that such a dispute be favorably settled. Many localities 
 complain, not only that the country in general is over- 
 taxed, but that their particular neighborhood pays more 
 than its share. Their soil is poor, they say, water is 
 scarce or too plenty. The cahiers of the country villages 
 contain more complaints of feudal exactions, while those 
 of the towns and of the electoral districts give more space 
 to political and social reforms. 
 
 Many models of cahiers were prepared in Paris and 
 sent to the country towns. Thus the famous Abbe Sieyes, 
 whose violent doctrines were considered in the last chap- 
 ter, composed and distributed a form. It was brought to 
 Chaumont in Champagne by the Viscount of Laval, who 
 undertook to manage the election in that town in the in- 
 terest of democracy and the Duke of Orleans. Dinners 
 and balls were given to the voters ; promises were made. 
 The badges of an order of canonesses, which the duke 
 proposed to found, were distributed among the ladies. 
 The abbe's cahier was accepted, but the peasants of Cham- 
 pagne appended to its demands for constitutional reforms 
 the petition that their dogs might not be obliged to carry 
 a log fastened to their collars to prevent their rimning 
 after game, and that they themselves might be allowed to 
 have guns to kill the wolves.^ 
 
 Some of the cahiers were entirely of home manufacture, 
 
 1 Paroisse de Pas-Sain t-Lomer, A. P., v. 334. 
 
 2 Beugnot, MemoireSj i. 110. 
 
THE CAHIERS. 347 
 
 drawn up by the lawyer or the priest of the village. The 
 people of Essy-les-Nancy, in Lorraine, describe the pro- 
 cess. "Each one of us proposed what he thought proper, 
 and then we chose our deputies, Imbert Perrin and Jo- 
 seph Jacques, whom we thought best able well to repre- 
 sent us. The only thing left was to express our wishes 
 well, and to draw up the official report of the meeting. 
 But our priest, in whom we trust, who feels our woes so 
 well, and who expresses our feelings so rightly, had been 
 obliged to go away. We said: 'We must wait for him; 
 we will first beg his assistant to begin, and then, when 
 the priest comes back, we will give him the whole thing 
 to correct, and have our affairs ready to be taken to the 
 assembly of the district.' He came back in fact; we 
 asked him to draw it all up. We told him all we wanted. 
 He kept writing, and scratching out, and writing over, 
 until we saw that he had got our ideas. Everything 
 seemed ready for the fifteenth. But we heard that the 
 district assembly would be put off until the thirtieth. We 
 said to him: 'Sir, wait again, let us profit by the delay, 
 we shall think of something more, you will add it ; ' he 
 consented."^ 
 
 There was evidently some concert among the different 
 districts, but also much freedom and originality. There 
 are many protests on the part of minorities. Bishops or 
 chapters complain of clauses which attack their rights ; 
 monasteries remonstrate against the proposed diversion of 
 their funds to pay parish priests. Individuals take this 
 opportunity to give their views on public matters. An 
 old officer would have nobility of the sword confined to 
 families in which the men bear arms in every generation. 
 A commoner, having bought noble lands, complains of 
 the additional taxes laid on him on this account. The 
 peasants of Mcnil-la-Horgne say that the lawyers have 
 captui'ed the electoral assembly of their district, and cut 
 1 Mathieu, 423. 
 
348 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 out their remonstrances from tlie general cahier; that 
 although there are thirty-two rural communities in the 
 bailiwick, and all agreed, the six deputies of the towns 
 have managed things in their own way ; and that thus the 
 poor inhabitants of the country can never bring their 
 wishes to the notice of their sovereign, who desires their 
 good, and takes all means to accomplish it.^ 
 
 The meetings in which the cahiers were composed were 
 sometimes stormy. At Nemours the economist Dupont 
 was one of the committee especially engaged in the task. 
 The question of abolishing the old courts of law was a 
 cause of strong feeling. The excitement rose so high that 
 the crowd threatened to throw Dupont out of the window. 
 Matters looked serious, for the room was a flight above 
 ground, the window was already open, and angry men 
 were laying hands on the economist. The latter, however, 
 picked out one inoffensive person, a very fat man, who 
 happened to be standing by. Dupont managed to get 
 near him and suddenly grasped him round the body. 
 "What do you want?" cried the startled fat man. 
 "Sir," answered Dupont, "every one for himself. They 
 are going to throw me out of the window, and you must 
 serve as a mattress." The crowd laughed, and not only 
 let Dupont alone, but came round to his opinion, and 
 chose him deputy. ^ 
 
 The agreement of general ideas in the cahiers is all the 
 more striking on account of the diversity in their details, 
 and of the freedom of discussion and protest enjoyed by 
 those concerned in composing them. They have been 
 constantly referred to by writers on history, politics, and 
 
 ^ No strict line appears to have been drawn as to who might and 
 who might not properly issue a cahier. Jean Baptiste Lardier, 
 seigneur de Saint-Gervais de Pierrefitte, A. P. v. 17. Messire Carrd, 
 A. P., V. 21; ^.P. ii. 224. 
 
 2 Another politician under similar circumstances was frightened 
 out of the room, and lost all political influence. Beugnot, i. 118. 
 
THE CAHIERS. 349 
 
 economics for information as to the state of France at the 
 time when they were written. They are, indeed, capable 
 of teaching a very great deal, but they will prove mislead- 
 ing if the purpose for which they were composed be for- 
 gotten. This purpose was to express the complaints and 
 desires of the nation. It appears in their very name, 
 "Cahiers of Lamentations, Complaints, and Remon- 
 strances." ^ We must not, therefore, look to the cahiers 
 for mention of anything good in the condition of old 
 France ; and we must remember that people who are ad- 
 vocating a change are likely to bring forward the worst 
 side of the things they wish to see altered. Two political 
 ideas coexisted in the minds of Frenchmen in 1789 as 
 to what they and their Estates General were to do and to 
 be. They were to resume their ancient constitution. 
 They were to make a new one, in accordance with reason 
 and justice. Both of these desires may well be present 
 in the minds of practical legislators, even if their recon- 
 ciliation be at the expense of strict logic and historical 
 accuracy. But unfortunately the historical and the ideal 
 constitutions in France were too far separated to be easily 
 united. The chasm between the feudal monarchy grad- 
 ually transformed into a despotism, which had existed, 
 and the well governed limited monarchy, which the most 
 judicious Frenchmen desired, was too wide to be bridged. 
 "The throne of France is inherited only in the male line ; " 
 to that all men agreed. They agreed also that all exist- 
 ing taxes were illegal, because they had not been allowed 
 by the nation, and that such taxes should remain in force 
 only for convenience, and for a limited time, unless voted 
 by the legislature. The legislative power resides, or is 
 to reside in the king and the nation, the latter being 
 represented by its lawful assembly or Estates General;'* 
 here also they were in accord. But how are those Estates 
 
 ^ The titles vary, but generally bear this meaning. 
 
 2 Some say in the Estates General, without mentioning the king. 
 
350 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 General to be composed ? " Of three orders, deliberating 
 and voting separately, tlie concurrence of all three being 
 necessary to the passage of a law," said the nobles. "Of 
 one chamber," answered the Third Estate, "in which our 
 numbers are to be equal to those of the other orders 
 united, and in which the vote is to be counted by heads." 
 Here was the first and most dangerous divergence of opin-= 
 ion, on a question which should have been answered be- 
 fore it was even fairly asked, by the king who called the 
 assembly. But neither Louis nor Necker, his adviser, 
 had the strength and foresight to settle the matter on a 
 firm basis while it was yet time. Were the old form of 
 voting by three chambers intended, it was folly to make 
 the popular one as numerous as the other two together. 
 Were a new form of National Assembly, with only one 
 chamber, to be brought into being, it was culpable to 
 allow the old orders to misunderstand their fall from 
 power. "We are an essential part of the monarchy," 
 said the nobles. " We are twenty-three twenty -fourths of 
 the nation, and the more useful part at that," retorted the 
 Commons. "Our claim rests on law and history," cried 
 the one. "And ours on reason and justice," shouted the 
 other. And many of the deputies on either side held the 
 positive instructions of their constituents not to yield in 
 this matter. But while the Commons were practically a 
 unit on this question, the nobles were more divided. 
 About half of them insisted on their ancient rights, de- 
 claring, in many instances, that should the vote by heads 
 be adopted their deputies were immediately to retire from 
 the Estates. Others wavered, or allowed discussion by 
 a single, united chamber under certain circumstances, or 
 on questions which did not concern the privileges of the 
 superior Orders. In a few provinces the nobles frankly 
 took the popular side. The Clergy joined in some cases 
 with one party, in some with the other, but oftenest gave 
 no opinion. 1 
 
 ^ I have found one cahier of the Third Estate asking for the vote 
 
THE CAHIERS. 351 
 
 The caliiers on both sides took this question as settled, 
 and proceeded, with a tolerable agreement, to the other 
 parts of the constitution. The king, in addition to his 
 concurrence in legislation, was to have nominally the whole 
 executive power. Many are the expressions of love and 
 gratitude for Louis XVI. He is requested to adopt 
 the title of "Father of the People," of "Emulator of 
 Charlemagne." In the latter connection we are treated 
 to a bit of history. It appears that Egbert, King of 
 Kent, came to France in the year 799, to learn the art 
 of reigning from Charlemagne himself. He bore back to 
 England the plan of the French constitution. The next 
 year he acquired the kingdom of Wessex, in 808 that of 
 the Mercians, and in time his reputation brought under his 
 rule the four remaining kingdoms of Great Britain. Thus 
 it is the basis of our French constitution which for nearly 
 a thousand years has made the happiness and strength of 
 all England, and which is the true origin of the rightful 
 privileges of the province of Brittany.^ 
 
 The royal power was to be exercised through respon- 
 sible ministers, but we must not be misled by words. 
 The ministerial responsibility contemplated by Frenchmen 
 in the cahiers was something quite different from what is 
 
 by orders. T"., Mantes et Meulan, A. P., iii. 666, art. 4, § 3. A 
 suggestion of two coordinate chambers, in one cahier of the Clergy 
 and Nobility, and in one of the Third Estate. T., Bigorre, A. P., 
 ii. 359, § 3. 
 
 1 T., Ballainvilliers, A. P., iv. 336, art. 35. Triel, A. P.y. 147, art. 
 104. For the title of Pere du Peuple, St. Cloud, A. P. v. 68. Montai- 
 gut, A.P.v. 577. T., Rouen, A. P. y. 602. T., Vannes, A. P., vi. 
 107. For blessings on the king and on Neeker, see Mathieu, 425. The 
 sole expression of disrespect for Louis XVI. which I have found 
 is given in Beugnot, i. 116. " Let us give power to our deputies to 
 solicit from our lord the king his consent to the above requests ; in 
 case he accords them, to thank him ; in case he refuses, to unking him " 
 (deroiter). This, according to Beugnot, was in a rural cahier and he 
 sewns to quote from memory. The pamphlets, as has been said, were 
 much more violent than the cahiers. 
 
352 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 known by that name in modern times. Under tlie sys- 
 tem of government which was forming in England in the 
 last century, and which has since been extensively copied 
 on the Continent, the ministers, although nominally the 
 advisers of the king, form in fact a governing committee, 
 selected by the legislature among its own members. The 
 ministers are at once the creatures and the leaders of the 
 Parliament from which they spring. To it they are re- 
 sponsible not only for malfeasance in office, but for mat- 
 ters of opinion or policy. As soon as they are shown to 
 be in disagreement with the majority of their fellow-mem- 
 bers, they fall from power ; but their fall is attended with 
 no disgrace, and no one is shocked or astonished to see 
 them continue to take part in public life, and regain, by a 
 turn of popular favor, those places which they may have 
 lost almost by accident. 
 
 The idea of such a system as this had not entered the 
 minds of the Frenchmen of 1789. They knew ministers 
 only as servants of a monarch, chosen by him alone, to 
 carry out his orders, or to advise him in affairs of which 
 the final decision lay with him. They knew but too well 
 that kings and their servants are sometimes law-breakers. 
 They knew, moreover, that their own actual king was 
 weak and well-meaning. The pious fiction by which the 
 king was always spoken of as good, and his aberrations 
 were ascribed to defective knowledge or to bad advice, had 
 taken some real hold on the popular imagination. The 
 nation felt that the person of a king should be inviolable. 
 But the breaches of law committed by the king's unaided 
 strength could not be far-reaching. Frenchmen, there- 
 fore, desired to make all those persons responsible who 
 might abet the king in illegal acts, or who might commit 
 any such acts under his orders or in his name. They 
 feared the levy of illegal taxes, and it was against mal- 
 feasance of that sort that they especially wished to pro- 
 vide. They therefore asked in their cahiers that the 
 
THE CAHIERS. 
 
 353 
 
 ministers should be made responsible to the civil tribunals 
 or to the Estates General. The voters did not conceive 
 of royal ministers as members of their legislature. In 
 fact, some cahiers carefully provided that deputies shoidd 
 accept no office nor favor of the court either during the 
 continuance of their service in the Estates, or for some 
 years thereafter. The demand for ministerial responsi- 
 bility was a demand that ministers, and their master 
 throudi them, should be amenable to law ; and was in the 
 same line with the demand, also made in some cahiers, 
 that soldiers should not be used in suppressing riots, ex- 
 cept at the request of the civil power. ^ 
 
 It was universally demanded that the Estates General 
 should meet at regular intervals of two, three, or five 
 years, and should vote taxes for a limited time only. 
 Thus it was hoped to keep power in the hands of the 
 nation. And all debates were to be public ; the proceed-, 
 ings were to be reported from day to day.^ Such provi- 
 sions were not unnatural, for jealousy and distrust are 
 common in political matters, and the less the experience 
 of the people, the greater their dread of plots and cabals. 
 But only two years before the cahiers were drawn up, 
 another nation, which it had recently been the fashion 
 much to admire in France, had appointed its deputies to 
 draw up its constitution. This nation was at least as 
 superior to the French in political experience as it was 
 inferior in the arts and sciences that adorn life. Its 
 attempts at constitution making might, therefore, well 
 have served as a guide. The American convention of 
 1787 had many difficulties to encounter and many jeal- 
 ousies to excite; but these were less threatening than 
 those which confronted the French Estates. Yet in Phil- 
 adelphia precautions had been taken which were scorned 
 
 1 r., St-Gervais (Paris), A. P., v. 308, § 3. N. Agenois, A. P., L 
 680, § 15. Ch^rest, ii. 475. 
 
 2 ChdreBt, ii. 401. 
 
354 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 at Versailles. The American deputies did not number 
 twelve hundred, but less than sixty. The Americans sat 
 with closed doors, and exacted of each other a pledge, 
 most religiously kept, that their proceedings shoidd be 
 secret. The French admitted all manner of persons, not 
 only to listen to their debates, but to applaud and hiss 
 them. Their chamber came in a short time to be influ- 
 enced, if not controlled, by its galleries ; so that France 
 was no longer governed by her chosen representatives, but 
 by the mob of her capital. The American deputies, for the 
 most part, came unpledged to their work. The French 
 in many instances were commanded by their constituents 
 to retire unless such and such of their demands were com- 
 plied with. The American constitution was accepted with 
 difficulty, and could probably never have been accepted 
 at all if the public mind had been inflamed by discussion 
 of each part before the whole was known. That constitu- 
 tion, with but few important amendments, is to-day re- 
 garded with a veneration incomprehensible to foreigners, 
 by a nation twenty times as large as that which originally 
 adopted it.^ The French constitution made by the body 
 which met in 1789, with the name of Estates General, 
 Constituent, or National Assembly, was hailed with clam- 
 orous joy by a part of the nation, and met with angry 
 incredulity by another part. Many of its provisions 
 have remained ; but the constitution itself did not last two 
 years. Could the sober deliberation of a small body of 
 authorized men, sitting with closed doors, have produced 
 in France in 1789 a constitution under which the nation 
 could have prospered, and which could have been grad- 
 ually improved and adapted to modern civilization ? Was 
 the enthusiasm and rush of a large popular assembly ne- 
 
 1 An eminent foreign historian would almost seem to have written 
 his book on the Constitutional History of tlie United States for the 
 purpose of showing that a man may know all about a subject without 
 understanding it. 
 
THE CAHIERS. 355 
 
 cessary to overcome the interested opposition of the court 
 and the weak nervelessness of the monarch? It will 
 never be known. Louis XVI. was too feeble to try the 
 experiment, and no one else had the legal authority. 
 
 While the Estates General were to have the exclusive 
 right of legislation, and France was thus to remain a cen- 
 tralized monarchy, Provincial Estates were to be estab- 
 lished all over the country, unless where local bodies of 
 the same character already existed. These Provincial 
 Estates were to exercise large administrative powers, in 
 the assessment and levy of taxes, in laying out roads, 
 granting licenses, encouraging commerce and manvifac- 
 tures. It was the prayer of many of the cahiers that 
 offices of one sort and another, civil or military, or that 
 nobility itseK, should be granted only on the nomination 
 of the Provincial Estates. Many cahiers ask for elective 
 municipal or village authorities. Many would sweep 
 away the old officers of the crown, the intendants and 
 military governors, the farmers general, and the very 
 clerks. These men were hated as tax-gatherers, and dis- 
 trusted as members of the old ring which had misgoverned 
 the country. There are, says one cahier, more than forty 
 thousand of them in the kingdom, whose sole business it 
 is to vex and molest the king's subjects, by false decla- 
 rations and other means, and all for the hope of a share in 
 the fines and confiscations that may be exacted.^ 
 
 It is a mistake to assume that the Frenchmen of 1789 
 cared chiefly for civil and social reforms, and only inci- 
 dentally for reforms of a political character. In most of 
 the cahiers the political reforms are first mentioned and are 
 as elaborately insisted on as any others. If there be any 
 
 1 T., Perche, A . P., v. 325, § 13. Several cahiers ask that the 
 rights and privileges of the old Estates of the Pays (VEtats be retained. 
 iV., Amont, A. P., i. 764. Officers of government called " vampires." 
 Domfront. A.P.,'\ 724, § 21. See also T., Amiens, ^. P., i. 751, § 40. 
 Desjardius, xxxix. 
 
356 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 difference in this resjDect among the Orders, it is that the 
 Nobility are more urgent for the political part of the pro- 
 gramme than either the Clergy or the Third Estate. The 
 priests were much occupied with their own affairs. The 
 peasantry were thinking of the hardships they suffered. 
 But all intelligent men felt that social and economic re- 
 forms would be unstable unless an adequate political 
 reform were made also. The deputies of the three 
 orders were in many cases instructed not to consider 
 questions of state debt or taxation until the proposed con- 
 stitution had been adopted. ^ 
 
 Having thus fixed the legislative power in the Estates 
 General, and divided the executive and administrative 
 branches of the government between the king with his re- 
 sponsible ministers and the Provincial Estates, the cahiers 
 turned to the judicial function. On the reforms to be 
 here accomplished there was substantial agreement; 
 although the Third Order was most emphatic in its de- 
 mands, as the expensive and complicated machinery of 
 law weighs more heavily on the poor than on the rich, on 
 the commercial class than on the land-owner. The great 
 influence of lawyers among the Commons at this time 
 was also a cause of the attention given to legal mat- 
 ters in the cahiers of the Third Estate. The common 
 demand was for the simplification of courts and jurisdic- 
 tions, the abolition of the purchase of judicial place, more 
 uniform laws and customs. The codification of the laws, 
 both civil and criminal, was sometimes called for. It was 
 an usual request that there shoidd be only two degrees in 
 the administration of justice: a simple court in every 
 district of sufficient size to warrant it, and parliaments in 
 reasonable numbers, with final appellate jurisdiction. 
 Commercial courts (consulats) were, however, to be re- 
 tained. The nation was unanimous that the writ of com- 
 
 1 T., Briey, A, P., ii. 204. N., Ponthieu, ^. P., v. 431. N., Agenois, 
 A. P., i. 680. 
 
THE CAHIERS. 357 
 
 mittimus, by which cases could be removed by privileged 
 persons from the regular courts to be tried by exceptional 
 tribunals, or by distant parliaments, should be totally 
 abolished. Justices of the peace, or informal courts with 
 summary processes, were to have the settlement of small 
 cases. The jurisdiction of the lords' bailiffs was to be 
 much abridged or entirely done away.^ 
 
 In the criminal law, changes were recommended in the 
 direction of giving a better chance to accused persons. 
 Trials were to be prompt and public, and counsel were to 
 be allowed. The prisons were to be improved. The 
 Third Estate desired that punishment should be the same 
 for all classes, and that the death penalty should be de- 
 capitation, a form of execution which had previously been 
 reserved for the nobility. The thoroughness with which 
 this reform was carried out some years later is very 
 noticeable. The guillotine treated all sorts of men and 
 women alike. It was a common request of the cahiers 
 that the family of a man convicted and punished for crime 
 should not be held to be disgraced, nor the relations of 
 the culprit shut out from preferment. The former re- 
 quest shows a curious ignorance of what can and what 
 cannot be done by legislation. Persons acquitted were to 
 receive damages, either from the accuser, or from the 
 state. Judges were to give reasons for their decisions. 
 Arbitrary imprisonment by lettre de cachet was, accord- 
 ing to some cahiers, to be suppressed altogether ; accord- 
 ing to others it was to be regulated, but the practice 
 retained where public policy or family discipline might 
 require it.^ 
 
 1 T., AlenQon, A. P., i. 717, § 4. T., Amiens, A. P., i. 747, § 1. 
 This cahier gives a very full statement of existing judicial abuses. 
 Desjardins, xxxv. Poncins, 286. Desjardins (xl.) says that the 
 Nobility tried to save the jurisdiction of the bailiffs, and in some 
 cases persuaded the Third Estate. I do not find the instances. 
 
 2 Domfront, A. P., i. 723, § G. Amiens, A. P., i. 747, § 7. The 
 
358 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 cahiers show that everybody was opposed to the use of lettres de cachet 
 as they then existed ; but most of the cahiers that had anything to 
 say about them expressed a desire to keep something of the kind. 
 They are considered necessary for reasons of state, or in the interest 
 of families. Desjardins, 407. The author of the Histoire du gouvern- 
 ment de France depuis VAssemblee des Notables, a good, sensible, middle- 
 class man, approves of them (260). Mercier (viii. 242) considers' 
 them useful and even necessary. 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SOCIAL AND ECONOMICAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 
 
 1 
 
 As we pass from political and administrative questions 
 to social and economical ones, the difficulty of an ami- 
 cable arrangement is seen to increase. All agree that 
 property is sacred ; but the greater part of the nation is 
 firmly persuaded that privilege must be destroyed; and 
 in a vast number of cases, privilege is property. This 
 difficulty will not stand long in the way of the Commons 
 of France. It is just where privilege has this private 
 character that it is the most odious to some classes of 
 the population. The possession of land is connected with 
 feudal obligations of all sorts ; a violent separation must 
 be made between them. The services to be rendered by 
 the tenant to the landlord may be the most important part 
 of the latter 's ownership; and by the system of tenure 
 maintained for centuries over the greater part of Chris- 
 tendom, every landholder has been some one's tenant. 
 With the exception of a very few sovereign princes there 
 has been no man in possession of an acre of land who 
 has not rendered therefor, theoretically if not practically, 
 some rent or service. The service might be merely nom- 
 inal ; in the case of noble lands in the eighteenth century, 
 it generally was so; but nominal or real, the right to 
 exact it was some one's property. If such a right did not 
 put money in his purse, it yet added to his dignity and 
 self-satisfaction. But such rights as this had come to be 
 looked on with deep distrust by a large part of the French 
 nation. Ideas of independence and of the abstract rights 
 of man had struck deep root. It was felt that land should 
 
360 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 be owned absolutely, — by allodial possession, as the 
 phrase is. The feudal services, in fact, were often more 
 onerous to those who paid them than they were beneficial 
 to those who received them. It was time that they should 
 be abolished. Those which were purely honorific, al- 
 though valued by the nobility, who possessed them, out- 
 raged the sense of equality in the nation. They were felt 
 to be badges and marks of the inferiority of the tenant 
 to the landlord, of the poor to the rich. There is but one 
 king, and we cannot all be noble, but let every man hold 
 his farm in peace ; such was the impatient cry of the com- 
 mon people. The feudal rights', which are merely hon- 
 orific, offend man as man; some of them are degrading, 
 some ridiculous. They must be abolished as fast as pos- 
 sible.^ 
 
 Belief from the operation of one set of privileges, 
 neither strictly pecuniary nor entirely honorific, was 
 almost unanimously demanded by the farmers. These 
 were the rights of the nobles concerning the preservation 
 of game, and the cognate right of keeping pigeons. The 
 country-folk speak of doves as "the scourge of laborers," 
 and ask that they may be destroyed, or at least shut up 
 during seed-time and harvest. One gentleman answers 
 with the remonstrance that, being very warm, they are 
 used in medicine, but that sparrows devour every year a 
 bushel of grain apiece, and that each village should be 
 obliged to kill a certain quantity of them. The peasants 
 ask that wild boars and rabbits be alike destroyed. The 
 royal preserves are particularly hated by all the agricul- 
 tural population living near Paris. Land naturally of the 
 
 1 T., Aix en Provence, A. P., i. 697, § 8. T., Draguignan, A. P., iii. 
 260. Clidrest (ii. 424) points out that the cahiers of the districts 
 {haillages) are more moderate than those of the villages in matters 
 concerning feudal rights, and thinks that this moderation was assumed 
 from politic motives, not to frighten the privileged orders too much 
 at this stage. But it seems improbable that such a piece of policy 
 could have been so widely practiced. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 361 
 
 first class is said to be made almost worthless by the 
 abundance of the game. The hare feeds on the tender 
 shoots of the growing grain. The partridge half destroys 
 the wheat. Kabbits and other vermin browse on the vines, 
 fruit-trees, and vegetables. Farmers are not allowed to 
 destroy weeds for fear of disturbing game. Mounted 
 keepers ride all over the fields, trampling down the crops. 
 The king is begged to reduce his preserves, in so far as 
 he can do so without interfering with his own amusement, 
 or even to suppress them altogether. ^ 
 
 As for the feudal rights which brought in money to their 
 owners, it was generally felt, at least by the Commons, 
 that they must be redeemable ; that the persons liable to 
 pay on their account must be allowed to buy them off by 
 the payment of a certain sum down, where the ownership 
 was true and fair. Here, however, a great trouble seemed 
 likely to arise from an important divergence of ideas. The 
 French nobles believed, as the vast mass of property hold- 
 ers has believed in all ages, that prescription or ancient 
 use was sufficient evidence of property. If it could be 
 shown that a man, or his predecessors in title, had held a 
 certain piece of land or a certain right over the land of 
 another, from time immemorial, or for a very long time, 
 nothing more was needed to establish his property. Un- 
 less this theory be admitted, at least to some extent, it 
 would seem that all rights of property must perish. In 
 respect therefore to land in actual possession the French 
 nation held firmly to prescription. But in respect to 
 those more subtle rights in land which had been enor- 
 mously favored by the feudal system, another theory came 
 
 1 T., Pecqueuse (Paris, extra muros), A. P., v. 11, § 36. T., Alen- 
 Qon, A. P., i. 719, ch. viii. § 3. Exmes, A. P., i. 728, §§ 20, 21. 
 Verneuil, A. P., i. 731, § 44. Seigneur de Pierrefitt^, A. P., v. 19, 
 § 16. Port au Pecq (Paris, ex. m.), A. P., v. 12, § 18. Plaisir (Paris, 
 ex. m.) A. P.\. 25. Amont-Gray, A. P., i. 780. P^rigny en Brie 
 (Paris, ex. m.) A. P., v. 14, § 5-11, and many others. 
 
362 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 in. Those rights were thought in the eighteenth century 
 to be unnatural in themselves, and therefore abusive. It 
 was believed, moreover, that many of them had been 
 usurped without reason or justice.^ It was commonly 
 held by the Third Estate that unless an express charter 
 or agreement could be shown establishing such rights, they 
 should be abolished without compensation, and that some 
 of them were so unjust and objectionable that not even an 
 agreement or a charter could sanction them. Such were 
 many feudal payments and monopolies; common bulls, 
 common ovens, rights to labor and to services. Such 
 above all, where it lingered, was serfdom. ^ 
 
 When we pass from the property of private persons to 
 that of clerical corporations, whether sole or aggregate, 
 we find the case still stronger. It has been said that the 
 greater number of the cahiers of the clergy were composed 
 under the prevailing influence of the parish priests. 
 These men felt themselves to be wronged in the distribu- 
 tion of church property. They thought it outrageous that 
 the working part of the clergy should receive but a pit- 
 tance, while useless drones fattened in idleness.^ Their 
 proposals were radical. They would take from the few 
 who had much and give to the many who had little. The 
 salaries of those who ministered in parishes should be 
 increased, by fixing a minimum, and the money should 
 come out of the pockets of abbots, chapters, and monas- 
 teries. Not only are future appointments to be made so 
 
 1 T., B^arn, A. P., vi. 500. Rennes, A. P., v. 646. 
 
 2 For the desire to retain feudal rights, see N., Condom, A. P., iii. 
 38, § 5. N., Dax, A. P., iii. 94, § 21. N., Etain, A. P., ii. 215, § 10. 
 iV., Bas Vivarais, A . P., vi. 180, § 19. For the desire to abolish them, 
 T., Avesnes, A. P., ii. 153, §§ 34-40. T., Bar-le-duc, A. P., ii. 200, 
 §§ 49, 50. T., Beau jolais, A . P., ii. 285, § 22. T., Cambrai, A . P., ii. 
 520, §§ 14-16. C, Clermont en Beauvoisis, A. P., ii. 746. T., Crdpy, 
 A. P., iii. 74, § 21. T., Linas, A. P., iv. 649, § 17. 7\, Ploermel, 
 A. P., V. 379, §§ 14-20 (a very full exposition), and many others. 
 
 8 C, Paroisse de St. Paul, A. P., v. 270, § 11. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAIIIERS. 363 
 
 as to favor the parish priests, but for their benefit the 
 present incumbents of fat livings are to be dispossessed. 
 The schemes for this purpose were not identical every- 
 where, but the spirit was the same throughout the popular 
 part of the order. 
 
 While the Third Estate agreed with the Clergy in 
 wishing to readjust clerical incomes, an attack was made 
 in some quarters on the payment of the tithe itseK. This, 
 however, was not general. The people were willing to 
 pay a reasonable tithe, although some of them woidd have 
 preferred that the priests should receive salaries, paid 
 from the product of ordinary taxation. Compulsory fees 
 for religious ceremonies, such as weddings and funerals, 
 were very unpopular. It was repeatedly asked that such 
 fees should be abolished, when the incomes of the priests 
 were made sufficient.^ 
 
 Thus the cahiers do not attack the right of property in 
 the abstract; on the contrary, they maintain it. But 
 they shake its foundations by blows aimed at vested rights 
 and at prescription. 
 
 The question of taxation is postponed in the cahiers to 
 that of constitutional rights. But financial necessities 
 were the very cause of the existence of the Estates Gen- 
 eral, the opportunity for all reforms. On the most impor- 
 tant principle of taxation the country was almost unani- 
 mous. Thenceforth the burdens were to be borne by all. 
 Only here and there did some privileged body contend 
 for old immunities, some chapter put in a claim that the 
 Clergy should still pay only in the form of a voluntary gift. 
 The privileged orders generally relinquish their freedom 
 from taxation. Sometimes they applaud themselves for 
 so doing. The Clergy, in many cases, undertake to bear 
 their share of taxation only on condition that their corpo- 
 rate debt shall be made a part of the debt of the nation. 
 
 1 Poncins, 179. T., Ploermel, A. P., v. 380, § 22. Soissy-sous- 
 Etioles, A. P., V. 121, § 10. 
 
364 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 The Third Estate, on the other hand, maintains that it 
 is but fair and right that all citizens shall be taxed alike. 
 Its cahiers demand as a right what those of the higher 
 orders offer as a gift.^ 
 
 As to the method of taxation to be employed there was 
 some approach to agreement. Many of the old taxes 
 were utterly condemned, at least in their old forms. The 
 salt tax was to be equalized, if it were not entirely done 
 away. The monopoly of tobacco, that "article of first 
 necessity," was to receive the same treatment. Many 
 demands were made concerning the excise on wine. " We 
 find it hard to believe," cry the people of the village of 
 Pavaut, "that all this multitude of duties goes into the 
 king's strong-box; we rather believe that it serves to 
 fatten those who are at the head of the excise ; and that 
 at the expense of the poor vine-dresser." All the taxes 
 were to be converted as fast as possible into one on land 
 and one on personal property. But the minds of the 
 reformers had not grasped the real difficulties of the sub- 
 ject. They were in that stage of thought in which great 
 questions are answered off-hand because the thinker has 
 not fully apprehended them. Should the personal tax 
 be based on capital or on incomes, and how should these 
 be ascertained? It is far easier to formulate general 
 principles of taxation than to apply them successfully.^ 
 
 A common demand is for the taxation of luxuries, such 
 as servants, carriages, or dogs. The people of Segonzac 
 propose a charge on rouge, "which destroys beauty," and 
 strike at a fashionable folly of the day by suggesting a 
 special payment by those "who allow themselves to wear 
 two watches." This is perhaps not the place to mention the 
 
 1 A few cahiers of the Nobility request that a certain part of the 
 property of poor nobles be exempt from taxation. iV., Clermont- 
 Ferrand, A. P., ii. 767, § 23. N., Bas Limousin, A. P., iii. 538, § 14 
 
 2 Salt and tobacco, T., Perche, A. P., v. 327, § 38. Loisail, A. R 
 V. 334, § 7. Wine, Pavaut, A . P., v. 9. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IX THE CAHIERS. 365 
 
 proposal to impose an additional tax on persons of both 
 sexes who are unmarried after "a certain age." The great 
 movement from the country to the cities was already excit- 
 ing alarm. The people of Albret think that a tax on luxu- 
 ries will have the double advantage of weighing on the rich- 
 est and least useful citizens, and of sending the population 
 back to the country from the cities, which wdll receive just 
 limits. And the people of Domfront speak of Paris as 
 an ''a^vful chasm," in which the wealth, population, and 
 morals of the provinces are swallowed up together. ^ 
 
 Theoretical attacks on luxury are common in all ages, 
 and not very significant. Far more so are proposals for 
 progressive taxation. These are of occasional occurrence 
 in the cahiers. The Third Estate of Rennes, whose 
 cahier is considered typical of the more revolutionary 
 aspirations of the times, ^ asks that "the tax on persons 
 shall be established and assessed with reference to their 
 powers, so that he that is twice as well off as the well to 
 do people of his class shall pay three times the tax, and so 
 following." The spirit of this demand is more clear than 
 its application. The town of Bellocq, in the province of 
 Beam, is more explicit. It would pay the public debt by 
 a special tax, justly assessed, first on farmers general and 
 other collectors of the revenue, who have made fortunes 
 quickly for themselves and their relations, by money 
 drawn from the nation ; next on all persons wdio have an 
 income exceeding two hundred pistoles, whether from 
 lands, contracts, or manufactures ; then on the feoffees of 
 tolls, where the amount of the tolls is more than double 
 the rent paid for them; and lastly, if the above do not 
 
 1 Taxation of luxuries in general, C, Douai, A. P., iii, 174, § 19. 
 N., Ale^non, A. P., i. 715. C, Amiens, A. P., i. 735. T., Aix, A. P., 
 i. 696. T., Langon, A. P., ii. 270, §§ 26, 27, and many others. 
 Bachelors, T., Rennes, A. P., v. 544, § 115. Vicheray, ^ . P., vi. 24, 
 § 30. Cities, T., Albret, A. P., i. 706, § 38. Domifront, A. P., i. 
 724, § 14. 
 
3o6 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 suffice, it is proposed to obtain a sum of money by seizing 
 a part of all articles of luxury and superfluity, wherever 
 found; and it is explained that the plate of the rich and 
 the ornaments of churches are especially intended.^ 
 
 The financial scheme outlined in the cahiers is, in the 
 main, as follows. As soon as the constitution shall have 
 been settled, the deputies shall call on the royal ministers 
 for accounts and estimates. The latter shall be furnished 
 in two parts. First shall come those for the necessary, 
 current expenses of the government, including those of 
 the king and his family and court, to be maintained in a 
 style suitable to the splendor of a great monarchy. It 
 shall then be considered what economies can be introduced 
 into every department. Among these economies, the sup- 
 pression or reduction of extravagant pensions, especially 
 of such as are bestowed for mere favor, and not for service 
 to the state, shall take a prominent place. When the es- 
 timates have been duly considered, special appropriations 
 shall be made by the Estates, and ministers shall be held 
 to a strict responsibility in expending them. 
 
 Next, concerning the debts of the state, a separate and 
 detailed account shall be rendered to the Estates General. 
 This also shall be scrutinized, the justice of the various 
 claims considered, and means provided for their gradual 
 payment. It is taken for granted that, henceforth, the 
 French nation is usually to live within its income ; but if 
 debts are contracted at any time, special provision must 
 be made for the repayment of principal and interest.^ 
 
 Having considered the general matters of constitutional 
 government, law, property, and taxation, we may pass to 
 those questions which more particularly interested one of 
 the great orders of the state, or on which the opinions of 
 one order might be expected to differ from those of an- 
 other. In general policy the clergy agreed with the 
 
 1 A. P., ii. 275, § 42 n. 
 
 2 N., Amont, A. P., i. 766. N., Agenois, A. P., '.. 682. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 367 
 
 nobility and the Third Estate, but in some matters they 
 differed. Yet the differences were greater in degree than 
 in kind. I mean that the clergy, as was natural, had 
 most to say about ecclesiastical, religious, and moral 
 questions, and differed from the nobility and the com- 
 mons more by the relative prominence which it gave to 
 these, than by the nature of its opinions concerning them. 
 
 The Roman Catholic and Apostolic Religion is the re- 
 ligion of the state; and the public worship of no other 
 shall be allowed in France. This was the universal de- 
 mand of the clergy, and in it the other orders usually 
 acquiesced. As for the granting of civil rights to those 
 who are not Catholic, the clergy is of opinion that quite 
 enough, perhaps too much, has already been done in that 
 direction. Such rights as have already been granted must 
 be limited and defined, and a stop put to the encroach- 
 ments of heresy. Sometimes the lay orders would go 
 farther in toleration. One cahier of the nobility proposes 
 a military cross for distinguished Protestant officers, an- 
 other that non-Catholics may be electors, but not elected, 
 to the Estates General. The inhabitants of some of the 
 central provinces would restore the property of exiles for 
 religion's sake to their families. The people of one quar- 
 ter of Paris would allow the free worship of all religions. 
 Expressions of approval of the recent concession of a 
 civil status to Protestants are not unusual in the cahiers. 
 But the country and all the orders are undoubtedly and 
 overwhelmingly Catholic. ^ 
 
 The clergy asks that the observance of Sundays and 
 holidays be enforced. Tlie Third Estate, in some places, 
 thinks that there are too many holidays already. It would 
 
 1 For toleration, Bellocq, A. P., ii. 276, § 59. N., Agen, A. P., i. 
 684, § 14. r., P^rigord, A. P., v. ^43, § 45. T., Poitou, A. P., v. 
 414. Vouvant, ^. P., V. 427, § 18. T. Paris-Thdatins, ^. P., v. 
 316, § 29. T., Montargis, A. P., iv. 23, § 10. 
 
368 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 abolish many of them, transferring their religious observ- 
 ances to the Sunday to which they fall nearest.^ 
 
 In regard to the liberty of the press the clergy is at 
 variance with the other orders. It would maintain a 
 stricter censorship than heretofore, and is inclined to attrib- 
 ute all the immorality of the age to the unbridled license 
 of authors. The nobility and the Third Estate, on the 
 other hand, would generally allow the press to be free, 
 but would exact responsibility on the part of authors and 
 printers, one or both of whom should always be required 
 to sign their publications. Thus anonymous libels should 
 no longer be suffered to appear, and bad books generally 
 should bring down punishment on their authors. 
 
 The cahiers of the clergy, more, perhaps, than any 
 others, insist on the importance of education; and the 
 ecclesiastics generally wish to control it themselves. 
 Here the commons sometimes go farther than they ; ask- 
 ing that all monks and nuns be obliged to give free in- 
 struction. ^ 
 
 As for the administration of their own order the clergy, 
 under the lead of the parish priests, demand extensive re- 
 forms. There must be no more absenteeism ; no bishops 
 and abbots drawing large incomes and amusing themselves 
 in Paris or Versailles. There must be no more plural- 
 ities, which are contrary to the decrees of the Council of 
 Trent. Promotion must be thrown open to the parochial 
 clergy. Faithful clergymen must be provided for in their 
 old age. Frequent synods and provincial councils must 
 be held. The laity agree with the clergy in calling for 
 these reforms, and would in many cases go a great way in 
 the suppression and consolidation of monasteries. ^ 
 
 1 T., St. Pierre-le-Moutier, A. P., v. 640, §63. T., Paris-liors-les- 
 murs, A. P., 241, § 2. 
 
 2 C, Aix, A. P., i. 692, § 6. C, Labourt, iii. A. P., 424, § 27. 
 Ornaus, A, P., iii. 172, § 4. T., Douai, A. P., iii. 181, §§ 28, 29. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 369 
 
 Both clergy and laity are intensely Gallican. They 
 do not wish to pay tribute to Kome, but desire that the 
 church of France shall preserve her privileges and immu- 
 nities. Dispensations for the marriage of relatives should, 
 they think, be granted by French bishops, and the fees 
 payable therefor should be kept in the country. An- 
 nats, or payments to the Pope on the occasion of appoint- 
 ment to French benefices, should be discontinued. An 
 importance far beyond what their amount alone would 
 seem to justify was attached in French minds to these 
 payments to the Holy See. They were repugnant to the 
 national sense of dignity. In some places the idea that 
 the church of France was to govern herself went so far as 
 to threaten orthodoxy. The clergy of the province of 
 Poitou ask for the composition by the French bishops, 
 " who would doubtless think proper to consult the univer- 
 sities," of a body of theology, "divested of all useless 
 questions," which shall be exclusively taught in all semi- 
 naries, schools, and monasteries. We have here an in- 
 stance of that impatience of all complicated and difficult 
 thought, of that simple faith that all questions admit of 
 short and sensible answers, which characterized the eigh- 
 teenth century. The clergy of Poitou ask also for a great 
 and little catechism, common to all dioceses. " Uniform 
 instruction throughout all the Gallican Church," they say, 
 "would have so many advantages that the bishops will not 
 fail to apply themselves to obtain it. A common breviary 
 and a common liturgy would be equally desirable." ^ 
 
 The election of bishops is asked for in several cahiers, 
 and many parishes wish to elect their priests. These 
 requests were not as radical as they may now seem to 
 have been, — at least they did not interfere with the pre- 
 rogatives of Rome, — for the bishops in France were nom- 
 inated by the crown, as they still are by the French gov- 
 
 1 Poncins, 190, A. P., passim. N., Ageuois, A. P., i. G82, § 8. 
 
 2 yl. P., V. 391, § 19. 
 
370 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ernment, and tlie appointment of the priests, then in 
 France as now in England, was often in the hands of lay 
 patrons. 
 
 The French nation in general wished to retain its no- 
 bility as a distinct part of the state. In but few cahiers 
 do we find so much as a hint of the suppression of the 
 order. 2 The Third Estate would, however, reduce the 
 advantage of the nobility to little more than a distinction 
 and a political weight. The nobles, being in numbers 
 perhaps one hundredth part of the nation, are to be 
 allowed one quarter of the representatives in the Estates 
 General and in the Provincial Estates. They are to have 
 a large share of honors, offices, and emoluments. Their 
 order is to be made more exclusive than it has been. No- 
 bility is no longer to be bought and sold, but shall be 
 accorded only for merit or long service, perhaps only on 
 the nomination of the Provincial Estates. Except in the 
 most democratic cahiers, these concessions are not dis- 
 puted. 
 
 On the other hand, the Commons ask for a share of the 
 chances hitherto reserved for the nobles. The exclusive 
 right held by the upper order, of serving as judges in 
 the higher courts of justice, or as officers in the army, is 
 to disappear. To the latter right the nobles strongly 
 cling. The career of arms, they say, is their natural, 
 their only vocation. In some cases, however, they ask 
 to be allowed to practice other means of earning a liveli- 
 hood without derogating from their nobility. But they 
 join with the other orders in the cry for reforms in the 
 army.^ 
 
 1 Poncins, 168. 
 
 2 Poncins, 111. Hippeau, p. x., etc. My own study of the cahiers 
 confirms this opinion. See, however, a lon^, argumentative article 
 in the cahier of the Third Estate of Rennes, A. P., v. 540, §§ 48-50. 
 See also that of Bellocq, A. P., ii. 276, § 61. T. A[x,A. P., i. 697. 
 Villiers-sur-Marne, A. P., v. 216. Carri, A. P., vi. 280 § 35, etc. 
 
 3 r., Perche, A. P., 326, § 17. N., Agenois, A. P., i. 683, § 14. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 371 
 
 The general irritation caused by the new military 
 regulations has been noticed in another chapter. The 
 cahiers unanimously give it voice. The French soldier 
 shall no longer be insulted with blows. The organization 
 of the army shall be amended. It must not be subjected 
 "to the versatility of the spirit of system and to the 
 caprice of ministers." Many are the requests that the 
 soldier be better treated. Not a few, that his necessary 
 leisure be turned to good account by employment in road- 
 building or in other public works.^ More nmuerous, 
 perhaps, are those for fairness of promotion. It was in 
 this matter that the poorer nobility was most bitter in its 
 jealousy of the great court families. AVith but one path 
 for their ambition, the country nobles saw their way 
 blocked by the glittering figures of men no better born 
 than themselves. The wrinkled old soldier, descended 
 from Crusaders, personally distinguished in twenty bat- 
 tles, stood on his wounded legs and presented his halberd 
 as a captain at fifty; while a Noailles, or a Carignan, 
 with no more quarterings and no service at all, perhaps 
 hardly a Frenchman and only twenty years old, but with 
 a duke for an uncle, or a queen's favorite for a sister, 
 pranced on his managed charger at the head of the regi- 
 ment as its colonel. Nor was this all. The worthy vet- 
 eran might, on some trifling quarrel, be deprived of the 
 rank he had won with his sweat and his blood, and sent 
 back to his paternal hawk's nest, a broken and disgraced 
 man. The cahiers demand that there shall be no more 
 dismissals without trial ; and many of them ask that par- 
 ticular cases of hardship may be rectified. For now the 
 world is to be set right again ; commissions and appoint- 
 
 1 N., Ponthieu, A . P., v. 434, §§ 40-42. T., Perche, A. P., v. 326, 
 § 19. Soldiers to work on roads, etc., Poncins, 212. Aries, A. P., ii. 
 Gl, § 3. r., Bourbonnais, A. P., ii. 449, § vi., 1. N., Chateau- 
 Thierry,^. P., ii. GGo, § 5G. T., Etampes, A. P., iii. 287, § 12, etc. 
 
372 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 ments to the military school are to be fairly distributed ; 
 promotion is to be by merit and term of service ; and the 
 loyal nobility of France is once more to be the bulwark of 
 an adored king and a grateful nation. 
 
 The Commons also have their particular wishes. They 
 desire not only to be rid of feudal oppression, but of ad= 
 ministrative regulations. These are sometimes so com= 
 bined with privileges, or with taxation, that it is not easy 
 to distinguish their cause. The fishermen of Albret, for 
 instance, ask to be allowed to use any kind of boat that 
 may suit their convenience. ^ We can only guess why 
 any one should have interfered with their boats. Was it 
 a corporation of boat - builders having a monopoly that 
 restricted them, or was it only the paternal fussiness of 
 Continental police regulations ? 
 
 In matters of commerce the national feeling was far 
 from unanimous. Most of the cahiers asked that trade 
 be free within the kingdom ; although some of the border 
 provinces, which had enjoyed a comparatively free trade 
 with Germany and had been cut off from France, preferred 
 the maintenance of that state of things, ^ and although 
 the retention of the octrois, or custom - houses at the 
 town gates, was sometimes contemplated. Uniformity of 
 weights and measures was also desired ; but was sometimes 
 asked for in a half hopeless tone, as if so great a change 
 could hardly be expected. The request was made that 
 all loans with interest be not considered usurious ; a re- 
 quest resisted in some cases by the clergy, which clung to 
 the old laws of usury. The abolition of monopolies is 
 generally called for ; certain odious restrictions, such as 
 the mark on leather and on iron, are condemned, but 
 rather as taxes than as commercial regulations. On eco- 
 nomic questions the nation has no very fixed opinions, nor 
 
 1 A.P.,i. 706, §57. 
 
 2 Alsace, Lorraine, and the Three Bishoprics. Poncins, 282. 
 Mathieu, 441. C, Verdun, A. P., vi. 130. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 373 
 
 have definite parties been formed. Free trade and free 
 manufactures commend themselves to the ear ; but regula- 
 tions as to quality and protection against English compe- 
 tition may be highly desirable. Agriculture needs more 
 hands, and is the first, the most necessary, the noblest of 
 arts. Furnaces and foundries use wood, and make fuel 
 dear. Trade should be entirely free, — but peddlers are 
 nuisances, and interfere with regular shop-keepers. Man- 
 ufactures are a source of wealth, — but dangerous unless 
 well managed; none of them should be established with- 
 out the consent of the Provincial Estates. If only our 
 king and "his august companion " would wear none but 
 French stuffs, and set a fashion that way, our languishing 
 factories woidd soon be active again. ^ 
 
 Certain demands of the cahiers excite surprise by their 
 frequent recurrence. Among them is that for the more 
 severe treatment of bankrupts, who were able in old 
 France to evade the law of the land and even to take 
 sanctuary. Some cahiers go so far as to ask that those 
 convicted of fraud be made habitually to wear a green cap 
 in public, or that they be whipped, or sent to the galleys 
 for life, or even put to death. ^ 
 
 All orders ask for the suppression of begging. The 
 demand is commonly accompanied by one looking to some 
 humane pro\asion for the poor, sometimes by a request for 
 a regular poor-law, or even for regulation of wages. The 
 peoi)le of the parish of Pecqueuse ask that there be public 
 works always going on, where the poor may earn wages 
 
 1 Concerning usury, 7"., Agenois, A.P.,\. GOO. T., Comminges, A. 
 P., iii. 27, § 24. St.-Jean-rles-Agneaux, A. P., iii. Go, § 4. C, N., 
 and T., Dole, A. P., iii. 152, § 14 ; 158, § 57 ; 1G5, § xiv. 6. Paris, 
 St. Eustaclie, A . P., v. 304, § 52. C, Soule, v. 774, § 17, etc. See 
 also A^., Agenois, A. P., i. G84, § 7. T., Paris, A. P., v. 285, §§ 3, 
 4, and n. 
 
 •' Poncins, 285. T., Pont-.VMousson, A. P., ii. 232, § 11. N., 
 Lille, A. P., iii. 531, § 54. T., Lyon, A. P., iii. 613. T., Mantes et 
 Meulan, A. P., iii. G72, § ix. 2. C, Lille, A. P., iii. 524, 
 
874 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 calculated on the price of grain ; and, what is more signi- 
 ficant, the Third Estate of Paris makes a similar request 
 for public work-shops.^ Yet the universal cry for the 
 suppression of mendicity, and the form in which it was 
 made, show that begging was considered a great evil on 
 its own account, whether mendicant monks or less author- 
 ized persons were the beggars. The begging monks, 
 indeed, were either to be abolished, or their maintenance 
 in their own monasteries was to be provided for in the 
 general readjustment of ecclesiastical benefices. 
 
 Another common request is that letters in the post- 
 office be not tampered with. All readers who are famil- 
 iar with the history, and particularly with the diplomatic 
 history of the last century, know how common was the 
 practice of breaking open and taking copies of polit- 
 ical correspondence. The letters of Franklin and Silas 
 Deane, and of many less prominent persons, were contin- 
 ually opened in the mail, both in France and in England. 
 Regular ambassadors were driven to the habitual use of 
 bearers of dispatches ; and even these might be waylaid 
 and robbed, by the agents of friendly governments dis- 
 guised as highwaymen.^ But it is astonishing to find that 
 the evil had gone so far as to excite the fears of private 
 persons for the maintenance of that privacy of which all 
 decent Frenchmen, with their strong feeling of the sanc- 
 tity of the family and their great dread of ridicule, are 
 peculiarly jealous.^ 
 
 1 yl.A, V. 11, §§17, 18. ^. P., V. 287, §28. 
 
 2 Ciphers were in common use, and governments employed deci- 
 pherers. Great skill had been attained in opening letters and closing 
 them again so that they might not appear to have been tampered 
 with. " This institution, if well directed, has the property of serving 
 as a compass to those who hold the reins of government," writes, 
 with a fine jumbling of metaphors, one who has been a clerk in the 
 post-office. Sorel, i. 77. The Facsimiles of MSS. in European Ar- 
 chives relating to America, now in process of publication by Stevens, 
 furnish numerous examples of these practices. 
 
 8 r., Agenois,^.P., i. 690. 
 
SOCIAL MATTERS IN THE CAHIERS. 375 
 
 Again, the frequent recurrence of tlie request for the 
 restraint of quack doctors is somewhat surprising. The 
 need of competent surgeons and midwives was much felt 
 in the country, and recourse was had to the Estates Gen- 
 eral to provide them. In calling for legislation to pro- 
 hibit quackery and to forbid lotteries, the people asked 
 to be protected against themselves, any extravagant theo- 
 ries of the liberty of man to the contrary notwithstanding. ^ 
 
 Such were the desires of the French nation in the spring 
 of 1789. In them we may note several important points 
 of agreement. First, government by the nation and the 
 kino- too-ether. France was stiU to be a monarchy ; not 
 a republic, open or disguised ; but it was to be a limited 
 and not an absolute monarchy. In this all the orders were 
 agreed, and the king, by the mere summoning of the 
 Estates General, as well as by his whole attitude, seemed 
 to acquiesce. 
 
 Then, the desires of the nation included a diminution 
 of the privileges of the upper orders, not a complete aboli- 
 tion of them. Like all Catholics, Frenchmen wished to 
 leave the control of religious affairs largely in the hands 
 of the clergy. To the nobility, all but a few extremists 
 were willing to concede many privileges, honors, and ad- 
 vantages. 
 
 But while retaining a government of limited monarchy 
 and moderate aristocracy, the nation in all its branches 
 had determined that public burdens and public benefits 
 should be more equally divided than they had ever been 
 before. Proportionate equality of taxation, and a chance 
 to rise — these the Commons were determined to have, 
 and the higher orders were ready to concede. 
 
 In another feeling all France shared. Churchmen, 
 
 1 Quack doctors, C, Nemours, A. P., iv. 108, § 31. Cormeilles- 
 en-Parisis, A. P., iv. 4C3, § 17. N., Troyes, A. P., vi. 79, § 80. T., 
 Chalons-aur-Marue, A. P., ii. 595, § 24. 
 
376 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 nobles, and common people alike dreaded and hated tlie 
 little ring of courtiers. These had grown great on the 
 substance of the nation. They should be restrained here- 
 after, and obliged as far as possible to surrender their ill- 
 gotten gains. 
 
 And all men wanted administrative reforms. The 
 courts of justice, the army, the finances, were to be put in 
 order and improved. Here all agreed as to the end sought, 
 and if there was much difference of opinion as to the 
 methods, parties had not yet formed, nor had feeling run 
 very high on these subjects. 
 
 What, then, were the dangers threatening France? 
 They were to be looked for in the very magnitude of the 
 changes proposed, changes which could not fail to startle 
 and alarm all Europe. They were to be seen in the oppo- 
 sition of the nobles, who were ready to give up much, but 
 were asked to give up more. They were to be feared 
 most of all in a monarch so weak and an administration 
 so faulty, that the first attempt at reform was likely to 
 destroy them altogether. 
 
CHAPTER XXin. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 France had become a despotism in the attempt to 
 escape from mediaeval anarchy. What she asked of her 
 kings was security from external enemies, and good gov- 
 ernment at home. The first of these they had given her. 
 No country in Europe was more respected and feared. 
 In spite of occasional and temporary reverses, her borders 
 had been enlarged from reign to reign, and her fields, for 
 nearly three centuries, had seldom been trodden by foreign 
 armies. 
 
 Within the country the house of Capet had been par- 
 tially successful. It had put down armed opposition, it 
 had taken away the power of the feudal nobility, it had 
 maintained tolerable security against violent crime. But 
 here its zeal had slackened. Civilization was advancing 
 rapidly, and the French internal government was not 
 keeping pace with it. 
 
 This better performance of its external than of its inter- 
 nal tasks is almost inevitable in a despotism. To protect 
 his country, and to add to it, is the obvious duty and the 
 natural ambition of a despot. His dignity is concerned ; 
 his pride is flattered by success; and whether he has suc- 
 ceeded or failed is obvious to himself and to every one else. 
 To control and improve the internal administration is a 
 hard and ungrateful labor, in which mistakes are sure to 
 occur; and the greatest and truest reform when accom- 
 plished will injure and displease some persons. The most 
 beneficent improvements are sometimes those which in- 
 volve the most labor and bring the least reputation. 
 
378 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Moreover, it is not the people who surround kings 
 that are chiefly benefited by the good administration of a 
 country. Courtiers are likely to be interested in abuses, 
 and in the absence of a free press courtiers are the pub- 
 lic of monarchs. If we compare the facilities possessed 
 by Louis XVI. for ascertaining the true condition of his 
 country with those possessed by the sovereigns of our own 
 day, an emperor of Germany or of Austria, or even a 
 Eussian Czar, we shaU find that the king of France was 
 far worse off than they are. There were no undisputed 
 national accounts or statistics in France. There was no 
 serious periodical press in any country, watching events 
 and collecting facts. There were no newspapers endeav- 
 oring at once to direct and to be directed by public opin- 
 ion. True, the satirists were everywhere, with their 
 epigrams and their songs ; but who can form a policy by 
 listening to the jeers of the splenetic? 
 
 The absolute monarchy, therefore, while it protected the 
 French nation, was failing to secure to it the reasonable 
 and civilized government to which it felt itself to be enti- 
 tled. It was failing partly from lack of information, but 
 largely also from lack of will. The kings in the sixteenth 
 and seventeenth centuries had beaten down the power of 
 the nobility and of the Parliaments; the kings of the 
 eighteenth century shrank before the influence of the very 
 bodies which their ancestors had defeated. It is vain 
 to try to eliminate the personal element from history. 
 France would have been a very different country in 1789 
 from what she was, had Louis XV. and Louis XVI. been 
 strong and able men. The education of a prince is not 
 necessarily enfeebling. Perhaps the commonest vice of 
 despots is willfulness ; but the last absolute king of France 
 might have known a far happier fate if he had had a little 
 more of it. 
 
 The French government was not aristocratic. There 
 was no class in the country, unless it were the clergy, 
 
CONCLUSION. 879 
 
 that was in the habit of exercising important political 
 rights. But the nobility comprised all those men and all 
 those families which were trained to occupy high adminis- 
 trative place. The secretaries of state, the judges of the 
 higher courts, the officers in the army, were noblemen. 
 The order also included a large proportion of the edu- 
 cated men and the possessors of a considerable part of the 
 wealth of the country. It was, therefore, a true power, 
 which might appropriately be considered. Moreover, it 
 was popularly supposed to have political rights, although 
 in fact these were mostly obsolete. Could a good deal of 
 weight have been given, for a time at least, to the nobil- 
 ity, the result woidd probably have been favorable to the 
 national order and prosperity. 
 
 Government, to be stable, should represent the true 
 forces of the state. In a country where all men are of 
 the same race, and where a large portion of the popula- 
 tion has some property and some education, nmnbers 
 should be given weight in government; for the simple 
 reason that, in such a country, many men are stronger 
 than a few, and may choose to use their strength rather 
 than that a few should govern them. What a large ma- 
 jority of the people desires, it can enforce. It is often 
 agreed, in favor of peace and to end controversy, that what 
 a small majority decides shall be taken as decided for all. 
 On this agreement rests the legitimacy of democracy. 
 The compromise is an arbitrary one in itself, but reason- 
 able and sensible ; and in a nation that has a good deal of 
 practical good sense, a feeling of loyalty may gather about 
 it. But sensible and practical as it may be, it remains a 
 compromise after all. There is no divine right in one 
 half the voters plus one. Some other proportion may be, 
 and often is agreed on ; or some compromise entirely dif- 
 ferent may be found to be more in accordance with the 
 national will. 
 
 In old France the conditions required for democratic 
 
380 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 government were but partially fulfilled. The population 
 was fairly lioniogeneous. Property and education were 
 more or less diffused. But of political experience there 
 was little, and the democratic compromise, to be thor- 
 oughly successful, requires a great deal. It was rightly 
 felt that a proper regard was not had to the desires of the 
 more numerous part of the inhabitants of the country; 
 that a few persons had privileges far beyond their public 
 deserts or their true powers; but how was this state of 
 things to be remedied ? What new relations were to take 
 the place of the old? No actual compromise had been 
 effected, and the idea of the rights of a majority, with the 
 limitations to which those rights are subject, was not 
 clearly defined in men's minds. 
 
 A government should represent the sense of duty of a 
 country. All men believe that something better is ima- 
 ginable than that which exists, and that the better things 
 would be attainable if only men would act as they ought. 
 Most men strive somewhat to improve their own condition 
 and conduct. Every man believes at least that others 
 should do so. But in making laws men are trying to reg- 
 ulate the conduct of others, and are willing, therefore, 
 that the laws should be a little nearer to their ideals than 
 their own practice is. All sensible men believe that they 
 ought to obey the laws, and that if they suffer for not 
 doing so their suffering is righteous. This opinion is one 
 of the forces in the world that makes for good. 
 
 Now what were the qualities considered really moral 
 and desirable by the Frenchmen of 1789, and how far did 
 the government of the Bourbons tend toward them? The 
 duty first recognized by the whole country was patriotism. 
 The love of France has never grown cold in French hearts. 
 It is needless to insist on this, for no one who has ever 
 met a Frenchman worthy of the name, or read a French 
 book of any value, can doubt it. With all its noble and 
 all its petty incidents, patriotism is a French virtue. 
 
CONCLUSION. 381 
 
 Under the kings of France its aspirations were satisfied. 
 The country was great and glorious. 
 
 That loyalty was held to be a duty will perhaps be less 
 generally recognized, but I think that enough has been 
 written in this book to show it. The evidence of the 
 cahiers is chiefly on that side. Most Frenchmen believed 
 that a king should govern, and that they had a good and 
 well-meanino' kins:. Toward him their hearts "were still 
 warm and their sense of duty alive. He was misled, 
 thwarted, overruled, by selfish and designing courtiers. 
 If he could but have his way all would be well. Only a 
 very few persons had eyes strong enough to see that they 
 were worshiping a stuffed scarecrow. A man inside those 
 clothes could really have led them. 
 
 Next among the ideals of France, and far above loyalty 
 in many bosoms, came liberty and equality. They were 
 not very clearly comprehended. By liberty was chiefly 
 meant a share of political power ; few Frenchmen believed 
 then, or ever have believed, in letting every man do what 
 seemed good in his eyes. Such a theory of liberty does 
 not take a very strong hold on a race so sociable as theirs ; 
 nor does such unbridled liberty seem consistent with civ- 
 ilization to men accustomed to the rigid system of Con- 
 tinental police. Equality of rights was an ideal, but 
 most people in France were not prepared to demand its 
 entire carrying out. Equality of property and of enjoy- 
 ment many persons, especially such as considered them- 
 selves Philosophers, — persons who had read Rousseau or 
 Montesquieu, — considered desirable ; but no one of any 
 weight had the most distant intention of trying to bring 
 about such a state of things in the work-a-day world. 
 Communistic schemes were not quite unknown in the 
 eighteenth century, but they belong to the nineteenth. ^ 
 
 AVith the general growth of comfort, with the general 
 
 ^ See for eighteenth century communism the curious essay of 
 Morelly. 
 
382 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 hope of an improved world, humanity^ the hatred of seeing 
 others suffer, had begun to bestir itself. For many ages 
 people had believed that another life, and not this one, 
 was really to be considered. Kind-hearted men had tried 
 to draw souls to heaven, stern men to drive them thither. 
 The effort had absorbed the energy and enthusiasm of a 
 great proportion of those persons who were willing to think 
 of anything but their own concerns. But in the eigh- 
 teenth century heaven was clouded. Men's eyes were 
 fixed on a promised land nearer their own level. This 
 world, which was known by experience to be but too often 
 a vale of tears, was soon, very soon, by the operation of 
 the fashionable philosophy, to be turned into something 
 like a paradise. To bring about so desirable a condition 
 of things, the tears must be stopped at their source. Nor 
 was this all. The world had acquired a new interest. It 
 was capable of improvement. Hope in temporal matters 
 had led to Faith, — Faith in progress and happiness here 
 below. The new direction given to Faith and Hope was 
 followed by Charity. The task of relieving human pain 
 was fairly undertaken. Sickness and insanity were better 
 cared for; torture was abolished, punishment lightened. 
 In these matters the government rather followed than led 
 the popular aspirations. In its general inefficiency, it 
 came halting behind the good intentions of the people. 
 
 The virtues toward which the government of old France 
 tried to lead the French nation were not, as we have seen, 
 exactly the virtues toward which the national conscience 
 led. The government upheld loyalty and humanity, and 
 the people agreed with it ; the government upheld a cen- 
 tralized despotism and privileges, and the popular con- 
 science called for liberty and equality. In religion there 
 was both agreement and divergence. The country, in 
 spite of Voltaire and the Encyclopsedists, believed itself 
 to be fervently Catholic ; but its ideal of Catholicism was 
 of a reformed and regenerated type; while chat main- 
 
CONCLUSION. 383 
 
 tained by the government was corrupt and lifeless in high 
 places. The country wanted provincial councils, resident 
 bishops, a purified church. 
 
 And in so far as the ideals of the government differed 
 from those of the people, the monarchy did not stand for 
 something nobler and higher than the moral forces that 
 attacked it. The French nation was in fact better than 
 its government, more honest and more generous. The 
 country priests were more self -devoted than the bishops 
 who ruled over them ; the poorer nobles were more public - 
 spirited and more moral than the favored nobility of the 
 court; the citizens of the Third Estate conducted their 
 private business more honorably than the administration 
 conducted the business of the country. 
 
 If the stability and legitimacy of government depend on 
 its correspondence with the real powers of the nation and 
 with the national conscience, the functions of government 
 embrace something harder to attain even than this agree- 
 ment. No sovereign power, be it that of an autocrat 
 on his throne or of a nation in its councils, can directly 
 carry out the policy which it desires to adopt. The sover- 
 eign must act through agents ; and on the proper selection 
 of these the success of his undertakings will largely de- 
 pend. Jurists must draft the laws, judges must interpret 
 them, officers must enforce obedience. Generals, com- 
 manding soldiers, must defend the land. Engineers must 
 construct forts and roads ; marine architects must furnish 
 plans for practical ship- builders. Financiers must devise 
 schemes of taxation, to be submitted to the sovereign; 
 collectors of various kinds must levy the taxes on the 
 people. All these should be experts, trained to do their 
 especial work. The choice of experts, then, is one of the 
 most important functions of government. 
 
 In this respect the administration of King Louis XVI. 
 and his immediate predecessor was usually, although not 
 uniformly bad. The army and navy, until the last years 
 
384 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 of disorganization, were reasonably efficient, the naval 
 engineers in particular being the best then at work in the 
 world. The civil and criminal laws were chaotic, more 
 from a defect of legislation than of administration. Old 
 privileges and anomalies were supported by the govern- 
 ment, but good jurists and magistrates were produced. 
 Those lawyers can hardly have been incompetent in whose 
 school were trained the framers of the Code Napoleon, 
 the model of modern Europe. Internal order and police 
 were maintained with a thoroughness that was remarkable 
 in an age when the possession of a good horse put the 
 highwayman very nearly on an equality with the officer. 
 The worst experts employed by the government appear to 
 have been those connected with taxation and expenditure, 
 from the Controller of the Finances to the last clerk in 
 the Excise. The schemes of most of them were blunder- 
 ing, their actions were too often dishonest. They never 
 reached the art of keeping accurate accounts. 
 
 The condition of the people of France, both in Paris 
 and in the provinces, was far less bad than it is often 
 represented to have been. The foregoing chapters should 
 have given the impression of a great, prosperous, modern 
 country. The face of Europe has changed since 1789 
 more through the enormous number and variety of me- 
 chanical inventions that have marked the nineteenth cen- 
 tury than through a corresponding increase in mental 
 or moral growth. While production and wealth have 
 advanced by strides, education has taken a few falter- 
 ing steps forward. Pecuniary honesty has probably in- 
 creased, honesty and industry being the virtues especially 
 fostered by commerce and manufactures. Bigotry, the 
 unwillingness to permit in others thought and language 
 unpalatable to ourselves, has become less virulent, but 
 has not disappeared. It is shown alike by the church 
 and by her enemies. Yet the tone of controversy has 
 softened even in France. There are fewer Voltairean 
 
CONCLUSION. 385 
 
 sneers, fewer episcopal anathemas. Humanity has been 
 growing ; the rich and prosperous becoming more alive to 
 the suffering around them. But it is the material pro- 
 gress that is most striking, after all. The poor are better 
 off' than they were a hundred years ago, and the rich also. 
 The minimum required by custom for the decent support 
 of life has risen. The earners of wages are better housed, 
 fed, and clothed in return for fewer hours of labor. In 
 France, as in the world, there are many more things to 
 divide, and things are, on the whole, more evenly divided. 
 
 If we compare the France of 1789 no longer with the 
 France of 1892, but with the other countries of Continen- 
 tal Europe as they were in the days preceding the great 
 Revolution, we find that she was worse governed than a 
 few of them. The administration of Prussia while the 
 great King Frederick sat on the throne was probably 
 better than that of France. After his death it rapidly 
 fell off, until a series of defeats had been earned by mis- 
 government at Berlin. In a few of the smaller states, 
 such as Holland, the Swiss cantons, or Tuscany, the citi- 
 zen was perhaps better governed than in France. But in 
 general, life and property appear to have been less safe 
 beyond the French border than within it. A small des- 
 potism, when it is bad, is more searching and interfering 
 than a large one. The lords of France were tyrannous 
 enough at times, but there were always courts of law and 
 a royal court above them, and appeals for justice, al- 
 though doubtful, might yet be attempted with a hope of 
 success. 
 
 The intellectual leadership of France in Europe was 
 very clearly marked under Louis XV. French was un- 
 questionably the language of the well-born and the witty 
 as it was the favorite language of the learned all over the 
 Continent. The reputation of Voltaire, Diderot, d'Alem- 
 bert, and Rousseau, was distinctly European. Frederick 
 of Prussia was glad to compose his academy at Berlin of 
 
386 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 second-rate French men of letters, and to make his own 
 attempts at literary distinction in the French language. 
 Smaller German princes modeled their courts on that of 
 Versailles, and ruined themselves in palaces and gardens 
 that were distant copies of those of that famous suburb. 
 This spirit lasted well down to 1789, although the master- 
 pieces of Lessing were already twenty years old, and 
 those of Goethe and Schiller had begun to aj)pear. 
 
 But while France was great, prosperous, and growing, 
 and a model to her neighbors, she was deeply discon- 
 tented. The condition of other countries was less good 
 than hers, but the minds of the people of those countries 
 had not risen above their condition. France had become 
 conscious that her government did not correspond to her 
 degree of civilization. * The fact was emphasized in the 
 national mind by the mediocrity of Louis XY. as a sover- 
 eign and by the utter incompetence of his well-meaning 
 successor. In hands so feeble, the smallest excess of ex- 
 penditure over income was important as a symptom of 
 weakness, and for many years the deficit had in fact been 
 increasing. The financial situation gave the nation a 
 ground of attack against its government ; it was not the 
 cause of the Eevolution, but its occasion. All the ma- 
 chinery of the state needed to be inspected, repaired, or 
 renewed. The people entered into the task with good 
 will, and the warmest interest. But they were entirely 
 without experience. They knew and believed that old 
 forms were to be respected as far as might be compatible 
 with new conditions ; they thought that the improvements 
 needed were so obvious that nothing but fairness was 
 required to recognize them. In their ignorance of the 
 working of popular assemblies they supposed them to be 
 inspired with wisdom and virtue beyond that of the in- 
 dividuals who compose them. 
 
 This is a mistake not likely to occur to any one who has 
 experience of public meetings; but among the twelve 
 
CONCLUSION. 387 
 
 hundred deputies to the Estates General, and among their 
 constituents all over France, no one had much experience. 
 A hundred and forty Notables, in 1787 and 1788, had 
 deliberated on public questions ; but their work had been 
 done principally in committee, and their conclusions were 
 without binding force on anybody, their functions being 
 merely advisory. A good many delegates had been mem- 
 bers of provincial assemblies or provincial estates; but 
 these, in most of the provinces, had met but a few times, 
 and their powers had been very limited. Such assemblies 
 could do some good, and were carefully hedged from do- 
 ing much harm. As training for membership in a body 
 which was to discuss all sorts of questions and possess al- 
 most absolute power, experience among the Notables or in 
 the provincial assemblies and estates, although valuable, 
 was insufficient, and comparatively few of the members 
 had even so much. Nor was foreign example of avail. 
 No great scholar had published in French a study of 
 the parliamentary history of England, nor were French- 
 men prepared to profit by English experience. Absolute 
 right, according to his own ideas, was what every man 
 expected to obtain. 
 
 A public body, although less wise than the best of its 
 members, has one great advantage over a natural person, 
 and experience has taught the nations that have made self- 
 government successful to profit by this advantage. A 
 public body may be so tied by its own rules that it can 
 act but slowly. Thus the hot desire of to-day may be 
 moderated by the cool reflection of to-morrow. To this 
 end are arranged the three readings of bills and the vari- 
 ous other dilatory devices of most parliaments and con- 
 gresses. But when great constitutional changes are to be 
 attempted, such measures as these are insufficient. Great 
 changes should be introduced one by one, separately de- 
 bated and fought over. Elections should be repeated dur- 
 ing the process ; much time should be allowed and many 
 
388 THE EVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 tedious forms observed. Under these circumstances the 
 legislature may be no wiser than a common man, but how 
 often would a common man do anything very foolish if he 
 took several years to think about it ? 
 
 The French assembly did not and could not take the 
 necessary time and precautions. The country was seeth- 
 ing and bubbling. The deputies were honest and patri- 
 otic. They were generally men of local reputation who 
 had pushed themselves forward by political agitation and 
 by activity in the elections. It is probable that the pro- 
 portion of violent men among them was larger than in the 
 nation, for they were chosen in a time of excitement, 
 when violence of thought and language was likely to be 
 popular; yet the assembly comprised als($ most of the 
 truly distinguished men in France. What was wanting 
 was not natural ability, but experience, calmness, and 
 patience. 
 
 It is not the purpose of this book to follow them in their 
 great undertaking. They accomplished for France much 
 that was good ; they prepared the way for much that was 
 evil. Enough if the condition of the country before the 
 great Eevolution began has been here set down. 
 
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INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 391 
 
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392 INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 
 
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INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 393 
 
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 1859. 
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394 INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 
 
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 M^moire de M. Necker au roi sur I'^tablissement des administra- 
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 1889. 
 
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 Paris, 1788. 
 
 ■ Ce qu'on a surement oubli^. 1789. 
 
 Cr^do du Tiers-Etat, ou Symbole politico-moral. A I'usage de 
 
 tons les amis de I'Etat et de 1' Humanity. 1789. 
 
 Diog^ne aux Etats G^n^raux. Se vend chez Diog^ne dans son 
 
 tonneau. 
 
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 ler, Avocat G^n^ral au Parlement du Dauphin^. 1789. 
 
 Lettre d'un gentilhomme bourguignon k un gentilhomme breton, 
 
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INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 395 
 
 (Pamphlets of 1788 and 1789.) Lettre d'un paysan; h. Messieurs les 
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 Le Mag'iiificat du Tiei-s-Etat, Tel qu'on doit le chauter le 20 
 
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 Le monstre d^chir^. Vision proph^tique d'un Persan qui ne dort 
 
 pas toujours. A Ispahan et se trouve h Paris chez les marchands de 
 \6Tit6. 1789. 
 
 Pens^es d^taeli^es h, I'usage de la nation frangaise depuis le 1'" 
 
 Mai, 1788. 
 
 Projet d'alliance matrimonial e entre M. Tiers-Etat et Madame 
 
 Noblesse. (1789.) 
 
 Quand le coq chantera, gare aux vieilles poules. L. C. D. S. F. 
 
 Harangue de Gros-Jean sur les lettres de convocation des Etats G^n^- 
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 Les quarante voeux principaux de la nation. 1*789. 
 
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 Le Requiem des Fermiers G^n^raux, ou plan de revolution dans 
 
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 Le retour de Babouc k Pers^polis, ou la suite du monde comma il 
 
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 Le Te Deum du Tiers-Etat. Tel qu'il sera chants k la premiere 
 
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396 INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 
 
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 1813. 
 
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 Scherer, Edmond. Diderot. Paris, 1880. 
 
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INDEX OF EDITIONS CITED. 397 
 
 Paris, 1768-96. (One reference only to this edition ; all others to Beu- 
 chot's edition.) 
 (Euvres, ed. Beuchot. 72 vols. Paris, 1829-40. 
 
 Walpole, Horace. Letters. 9 vols. London, 1866. 
 
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 taken more particularly with a view of asceri;aining the Cultivation, 
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 2 vols. London, 1794. (The only complete edition of this much-quoted 
 book.) 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Acquits de eomptant, abuse of, 230. 
 
 Aguesseau, d', helps to introduce Roman 
 law, 108. 
 
 Aides, 224. See Ezcise. 
 
 Aiguillon, duke of, disliked by Marie An- 
 toinette, 24 ; supersedes Choiseul, 91 ; 
 appoints the Count of Brehan, 96. 
 
 Alembert, d', his version of the story of 
 Montesquieu and Cardinal de Fleury, 
 136 ; assists in editing the Encyclopaedia, 
 249 ; retires from the editorship, 252 ; 
 his Preliminary Discourse, 259; corre- 
 spondence with Voltaire, 260; quarrel 
 with Rousseau, 320; more widely read 
 on account of the American war, 332 ; 
 his reputation was European, 385. See 
 Encyclopsedia, Philosophers. 
 
 Alsace, how taxed, 209; prefers to have 
 free trade with Germany rather than 
 with France, 372 and n. 
 
 American colonies, approached the French 
 ideal as to equality of condition, 120; 
 adopted Montesquieu's theory of the 
 division of powers, 140 ; their attach- 
 ment to it, 150 ; causes of the aid ren- 
 dered them by France, 330 ; and its re- 
 sults, 331. See United States. 
 
 American Indians, their place in the works 
 of Rousseau, 299. 
 
 Annuities, sale of, under Necker, 240. 
 
 Anticipations, or floating debt, 230. 
 
 Argenson, marquis of, hia account of the 
 taiUe, 216. 
 
 Aristocracy. See Nobility. 
 
 Aristotle, his "Politics" the model for 
 Montesquieu's " Spirit of the Laws," 
 141, 143. 
 
 Army, 83 ; Officers must be noble, 83 ; 
 higher and lower, 84; miUtary schools, 
 86; numbers, relation to soldiers, 87. 
 Privates, recruiting, 88 ; nom de guerre, 
 88 ; uniforms, 89 ; food, pay and bar- 
 racks, 90 ; general condition, 91. Re- 
 forms, Clioiseul, 91 ; Saint Germain, 92 ; 
 the Viscount de Noailles's flogging, 93. 
 Discipline, 95; the Count of Brehan's 
 duels, 90 ; the Calotte, 98. MUitia, 100. 
 Reforms demanded by the cahiers, 371. 
 See MUitia, Aaty. 
 
 Arouet, family name of Voltaire, 51 ; in 
 the quarrel with Chabot, 52. See Vol- 
 taire. 
 
 Artisans, in Paris, 1G6 ; in the Provinces, 
 176, 179, See Guilds. 
 
 Artois, count of, his speech to the Parlia- 
 ment, 15 ; carries the petition of the No- 
 
 tables in favor of the Protestants to the 
 King, 45. 
 
 Assemblies. See Clergy, Electoral Assem- 
 blies, Lands of Estates, Notables, Pro- 
 vincial Assemblies. 
 
 Atheism, how far held by Voltaire, 63 ; of 
 Holbach, 269 ; Holbach answered by Vol- 
 taire, 270 ; atheism condemned by Rous- 
 seau, 320. 
 
 Ayen, duchess of, her family life, 79. 
 
 Babeau, M. Albert, iv., 389. 
 
 Bachelors, proposed tax on, 365. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, an originator of the French 
 philosophic movement, 56; and of the 
 Encyclopsedia, 244. 
 
 Bailli, the lord's steward, 203 ; attempt to 
 save his jurisdiction, 357 n. 
 
 BaiUy, M. V., 379 ; his estimate of the gross 
 amount of taxation, 207. 
 
 Bankrupts, the cahiers call for severity 
 against them, 373. 
 
 Bastille under Louis XVI. , 117. See Letlre 
 de cachet. 
 
 Bayle, advocates toleration, 42 ; a prede- 
 cessor of the French philosophic move- 
 ment, 56. 
 
 Beaumarchais, his " Marriage of Figaro," 
 the plot and characters, 326; cutting 
 speeches, 327 ; the King opposes the act- 
 ing of the piece, 328; but is overcome, 329. 
 
 Beaumont, Elie de, Arclibishop of Paris, 
 defends the church, 66, 67 ; condemns 
 Emile, 67. 
 
 Beccaria, his book on crime and punish- 
 ment, 112. 
 
 Bees destroyed for fear of the taille, 217. 
 
 Begging orders, 34; the caliiers ask for 
 the suppression of begging, 373. 
 
 Benedictines, of Saint Claude, demand 
 quarterings for admission, 33 ; of Saint 
 Maur, devoted to learning, 31. 
 
 Bergasse aspires to be a Lycurgus, 333 n. 
 
 Berry, Provincial Assemblies established 
 by Necker, 211. See Provincial Assem- 
 blies. 
 
 Boats, regulations concerning them, 372. 
 
 Boiteau, M., v., 390. 
 
 Books. See Censorship. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Lord, a friend of Voltaire, 53. 
 
 " Boston " as an imprint on French books, 
 47. Name of a cap, 1(30. 
 
 Boulevards under Louis XVI. 156. 
 
 Boufliers, duke of, throws his son over the 
 parapet, 85. 
 
 Brehan, count of, discipline by duels, 96. 
 
400 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Brienne, Lom^nie de, establishes Provin- 
 cial assemblies, 212. 
 
 Broc, Vicomte de, v., 390. 
 
 Broglie, a great family at court, carries on 
 the secret diplomacy of Louis XV., 14; 
 the couut disrespectful to Marie Antoi- 
 nette, 22. 
 
 Bureaucracy imder Louis XVI., 8. 
 
 Bureaux, under the royal councils, 6 ; ex- 
 ercise great powers, 8. 
 
 Burke, Edmund, answers Grenville con- 
 cerning French taxes, 208 n. 
 
 Cahiers, of Provincial Estates, 211. 
 
 Cahiers of the Estates General, 342 ; how 
 drawn up, 343, 347 ; a cahier of the Third 
 Estate, 345 ; models, Abb6 Sieyes, 346 ; 
 stormy electoral meetings, general agree- 
 ment of the cahiers, 348 ; they are com- 
 plaints, 349. Question of one or three 
 chambers, 350 ; of the royal power ; 
 praise of Louis XVI. ; responsible minis- 
 ters, 351 ; meetings of the Estates, pub- 
 licity, 353; Provincial Estates, elective 
 village officers, the dismissal of old offi- 
 cials, political and social reforms, 355; 
 judicial reforms, 356 ; property and privi- 
 lege, 359, 362 ; game, 360 ; prescription, 
 361 ; tithes, taxation, 363 ; luxuries, 364 ; 
 progressive taxation, 365 ; finance, 366. 
 Questions interesting particular orders, 
 366; the clergy, religion and hoUdays, 
 367 ; liberty of the press, education, ec- 
 clesiastical reforms, 368; Gallican tone, 
 election of bishops and priests, 369. No- 
 bility and its privileges, 370 ; army re- 
 forms, 371. Third Estate, freedom from 
 regulations, commerce, 372 ; bankrupts, 
 begging, 373; post oflfice, 374; doctors, 
 375. General summary of the cahiers, 
 375. See Electoral Assemblies, Estates 
 General. ^ 
 
 Calonne, dismissed, 17. 
 
 Calotte, the, a military society, 98. 
 
 Campan, Mme., her account of the queen's 
 toilet, 19; she reads the "Marriage of 
 Figaro" to the king and queen, 328. 
 See Genet. 
 
 Capitaineries, royal preserves, injuries 
 done by them to agriculture, 194 ; com- 
 plaints of the cahiers, 360. 
 
 Capitation, or poU tax, 219. 
 
 Caroline, Queen, an edition of the " Henri- 
 ade " dedicated to her, 53. 
 
 Carrousel, Place du, imder Louis XVL, 
 155. 
 
 Catharine II. of Russia, Diderot taps her 
 knee, 245. 
 
 Catholic Church, its constitution and pow- 
 er, 40 ; identified in men's minds with 
 religion, 41 ; Voltaire always its enemy, 
 51 ; the strength of the church in its 
 saints, 68 ; attacked in the " Persian Let- 
 ters," 128 ; Rousseau considers it incom- 
 patible with freedom in the state, 299 ; 
 its maintenance demanded by the ca- 
 hiers, 367 ; France Catholic, 382. See 
 Clergy, Pope, Protestants, Toleration. 
 
 Cens, a feudal rent, 194. 
 
 Censorship of the press, 46 ; its effect on 
 style, 47 ; Voltaire's "English Letters," 
 
 54, 60 ; books condemned by the Parlia- 
 ment, 115 ; Montesquieu's "Persian Let- 
 ters," 135; Diderot's "Letter on the 
 Blind," 249; the " Encyclopaedia," 250 ; 
 Helvetius's " de I'Esprit," 251 ; censor- 
 ship in the cahiers, 368. See Males- 
 herbes. 
 
 Chabot, M. de, his quarrel with Voltaire, 
 52. 
 
 Chambers' Cyclopaedia a progenitor of the 
 Encyclopaedia, 244. 
 
 Champart, a feudal rent, 194. 
 
 Champs Elys^es under Louis XVL, 156. 
 
 Chartres, duke of, builds the porticoes of 
 the Palais Royal, and encourages clubs, 
 332. 
 
 Chastellux, Chevalier de, his opinion con- 
 cerning taxation in France, 208 ; accom- 
 panies Rochambeau to America, his book 
 "Of Public Felicity," material comfort 
 the test of public happiness, 271 ; the 
 modern ideal of progress, 272. 
 
 ChStelet, Mme. du, procures the release of 
 Diderot from Viucennes, 249. 
 
 Chaudon, defends the church, 66 ; his dic- 
 tionary, 68. 
 
 Ch^rest, M. Aim6, v. 390. 
 
 Chinese, the, admired at a distance by Vol- 
 taire, 299. 
 
 Choiseul, duke of, favored by Marie An- 
 toinette, an able minister, 24 ; remedies 
 abuses in the army, superseded by d'Ai- 
 guillon, 91. 
 
 Church of France. See Catholic Church, 
 Clergy. 
 
 Clergy, numbers and property, 25 ; tithes ; 
 " Clergy of France " and " Foreign Cler- 
 gy," 26; assemblies; immunities and 
 powers, 27, 37, 40 ; free gift ; demands 
 the suppression of the works of Voltaire ; 
 debt, 28 ; distribution of income ; bish- 
 ops, 29 ; abbots, 30 ; convents, 31 ; noble 
 chapters, 33 ; secular clergy, parish 
 priests, 35 ; decimes, 36 ; propositions of 
 1682, 37 ; the clergy and the Protestants, 
 43 ; condemnation of books, 46 ; attacks 
 of the Philosophers, 48 ; Voltaire always 
 an enemy of the church, 51 ; he attacks 
 the clergy in the " English Letters," 54 ; 
 Montesquieu in the "Persian Letters," 
 65, 128 ; replies of the clergy, 66 ; the 
 strength of a church is in its saints, 68 ; 
 quarrel of the clergy with the Parlia- 
 ment, 104 ; the clergy generally appoints 
 the schoolmaster in towns, 183; super- 
 vises him in the country, 204 ; how rep- 
 resented in Provincial Estates, 210 ; and 
 in Provincial Assemblies, 211 ; elections 
 to the Estates General, preponderance of 
 the lower clergy, 343; divided on the 
 question of one or three chambers, 350 ; 
 the cahiers of the clergy ask for a redis- 
 tribution of church property, 362 ; gen- 
 erally agree to equal taxation, 363; 
 maintain Catholic supremacy; Simdays 
 and hoUdays, 367 ; oppose liberty of the 
 press, ask for education, ecclesiastical 
 reforms, 368 ; Gallican tone, election of 
 bishops and priests, 309 ; usury, 372 ; the 
 Third Estate and tithe, 363 ; the Third 
 Estate asks for the suppression of men- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 401 
 
 dicant orders, 374. See Catholic Church, 
 Censorship, Protestants, 3fonks. 
 
 Clothes. See Costume. 
 
 Clubs in Paris, 332. 
 
 Coip^ny, duke of, his scene with the King, 
 15. 
 
 Collectors of taxes, elected by village com- 
 munities, their work and their pay, 203, 
 215. See Tazes. 
 
 Commerce, external and internal ; with 
 England long prohibited, smuggling, 
 treaty of 1786, 225 ; octrois, 220 ; free 
 trade demanded by the Physiocrats, 233 ; 
 commerce in the caliiers, 372. See Oc- 
 trois. 
 
 Committimus, writ of, 109 ; the cahiers de- 
 mand its abolition, 356. 
 
 Common lands, large tracts still held in 
 the 18th century, 201. 
 
 Commons. See Third Estate. 
 
 Concordat, the, its provisions, 27. 
 
 Condillac amplifies the teachings of Locke, 
 243. 
 
 Condorcet, his criticism of Montesquieu, 
 152 ; he contributes to the Encyclopaedia, 
 250 ; his statement of its purpose, 255. 
 
 Confessions in criminal law. 111 n. 
 
 Consuls, town officers, 181. See Syndic. 
 
 Consulats, commercial courts, 356. 
 
 Controller General of the Finances, sits in 
 the councils, 6; his contract with the 
 Farmers General, 220 ; Turgot, 236 ; his 
 successor, 239. See Necker. 
 
 Convents, their property and rules, 31. 
 See Monks. 
 
 Corvee, described, 226 ; abolished by Tur- 
 got, 227, 237. See Feudal tenures. 
 
 Costume, in Paris, 159 ; in provincial towns, 
 177 ; of peasants, 200 ; uniforms, 89, 
 
 Councils, royal, their composition and 
 functions, 6; legislation by them, 104; 
 Council of Commerce, 6 ; of Despatches, 
 6, 8 ; of Finance, 6 ; of Parties, or Privy 
 Comicil, 6 ; of State, 6, 7 ; it suppresses 
 the Encyclopsedia, 250, 252. 
 
 Counsel, in criminal cases in France, 110 ; 
 in England, 111 n. 
 
 Country, the, general description, 186 ; 
 prosperity slowly increasing, 190. See 
 Farms, Land, Metayers, Game, Roads, 
 Villages, Feudal tenures. Peasant. 
 
 Court. See Courtiers, Courts of Law. 
 
 Courtiers, form a ring, 11 ; composition of 
 the Court, 13 ; great families, Sunday la- 
 dies, 14 ; offices at court, 16 ; etiquette, 
 17 ; court of Marie Antomette, 21 ; eccle- 
 siastical courtiers, 30 ; noblesse de cour, 
 manners and morals, 72 ; courtier colo- 
 nels, 84, 371 ; share of the court and of 
 the Parliament in making laws, 104 ; lux- 
 urious life of the courtiers, 162 ; the 
 court conspires against Necker, 242 ; is 
 defied by the Parliament. 330 ; hated and 
 dreaded by the nation, 376 ; courtiers in- 
 terested in abuses, are the public of mon- 
 archs, 378. 
 Courts of Law, 103; Parliaments, 103; 
 lower courts, 108 and n.; comparison of 
 English and Continental systems, cor- 
 ruption, writ of committimus, 109 ; re- 
 forms demanded in the cahiers, 356. See 
 Lmw, Parliament of Paris. 
 
 Criminal Law. See Latv, Torture. 
 Croupiers on the General Farm, 221. 
 
 Deane, Silas, his letters opened in the post- 
 office, 374. 
 
 Decimes, 36 and n. 
 
 Deficit, under Louis XVI. , 238 ; the occa- 
 sion, not the cause of the Revolution, 
 386. See Finance. 
 
 Democracy, in the 18th century, 1 ; Montes- 
 quieu, on its danger, 139 ; on its motive 
 principle, which is virtue, 144 ; on the 
 importance to it of conservatism, 146; 
 the conditions on which democracy rests, 
 and how far they were fulfilled in old 
 France, 379. See Equality, Liberty, 
 Rousseau. 
 
 Desjardins, M., vi., 391. 
 
 Desnoiresterres, M. , vi., 391. 
 
 Diderot, Denis, ridiculed by Palissot, 67 ; 
 imprisoned by a lettre de cachet, 117; ed- 
 itor of the Encyclopfrdia, his history and 
 character, 244 ; anecdotes of a libel and 
 of the formica leo, 246; verboseness, the 
 " Letter on the Blind," 247 ; Diderot a 
 great liar, 248, 274, 282 n. ; imprison- 
 ment, publication of the Encyclopaedia, 
 249 ; Diderot interested in external mat- 
 ters, 275 ; his connection with Rousseau's 
 " First Discourse," 281 ; with his " Sec- 
 ond Discourse," 286 n.; quarrel with 
 Rousseau, 320 ; his reputation was Euro- 
 pean, o85. See Encyclopaedia. 
 
 Director General of the Finances. See 
 Keeker. 
 
 Dizieme, equal to two ringtiemes, 218 n. 
 
 Doctors, surgeons in Paris better taught 
 than physicians, 168 ; of Marseilles in 
 morocco and masks, 183 ; the cahiers ask 
 for the suppression of quacks, 375. See 
 Hospitals. 
 
 Dogs, petition in a cahier that they be not 
 obliged to carry weights, 346 ; proposed 
 tax on them, 364. 
 
 Dol, bishop of, warns Louis XVI. not to 
 grant a civil status to Protestants, 45. 
 
 Domat, influential in introducing Roman 
 Law, 108. 
 
 Don gratuit, or tax of the clergy, 28. 
 
 Du Marsais, the grammarian, gets into 
 trouble, 170. 
 
 Dupont de Nemours in danger of being 
 thrown out of a window, 348. 
 
 Duties. See Commerce, Taxes. 
 
 Echevins, town officers, 181. See Syndic. 
 
 Edit de la Paulette, 231. 
 
 Education of middle class better than of 
 nobles, 184 ; Rousseau in the " First Dis- 
 course," 284 ; in " Emile," 307 ; the 
 clergy in tlie cahiers, 368. See School- 
 masters, Schools. 
 
 Election, a district, 10. See Lands of 
 Election. 
 
 Electoral Assemblies, for the Estates Gen- 
 eral, of tlie clergy, 343 ; of the nobility 
 and of the Tliinl Estate, 344 ; an assem- 
 bly captured, 347 ; stormy, 348. See 
 Cahiers, Estates General. 
 
 Enryclopa'dia, the, its origin, 244 ; Diderot, 
 244 ; d'Alembert, 249 ; other contribu- 
 tors; vicissitudes of publication, 250; 
 
402 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 bibliographical note, 254 n.; nature of 
 the book, 254, 258; anecdote of Louis 
 XV., 255 -, philosophy, 259 ; uneven exe- 
 cution, 260 ; Rousseau's article on Polit- 
 ical Economy, 292. See Alembert, Dide- 
 rot, Jaucourt, Montesquieu, Voltaire, 
 Turgot, Haller, Condorcet. Helvetius. 
 
 Encyclopedie methodique, its didactic ten- 
 dency, 323 n. 
 
 England, the most free country, according 
 to Montesquieu, 137 ; one of his models 
 for a monarchy, and for a republic, 145 
 and n. ; adoption of English forms of 
 government in the 19th century, 150 ; 
 commerce vt^ith France prohibited ; treaty 
 of 1786, 225; war with American colo- 
 nies, 330 ; English ideas in France in 18th 
 century, 332; constitution attacked by 
 Rousseau, 296 ; and by Sieyes, 338. 
 
 E7iquetes, cour des, a department of the 
 Parliament, 103 n. 
 
 Equality, of many kinds, 120 ; equality and 
 liberty naturally opposed to each other, 
 125 ; difference of equality in England 
 and Holland, according to Montesquieu, 
 137 ; Rousseau on inequality, 285 ; equal- 
 ity, how desired in France, 381. See Lib- 
 erty. 
 
 Espr^sm^nil, d', protests against granting 
 civil status to Protestants, 46 ; member 
 of a club, 333 n. 
 
 Estaing, count of, no sailor, 101. 
 
 Estates. See Lands of Estates. 
 
 Estates General, question of one or three 
 chambers, in the pamphlets, 334, 337 ; in 
 the cahiers, 350 ; in 1789, a constitutional 
 convention, 342 ; composition and elec- 
 tions, 343 ; what they were to be and to 
 do, 349 ; meetings, publicity, 353 ; influ- 
 enced by their galleries, 354 ; to make 
 special appropriations, 366 ; want of ex- 
 perience of the members, their qualifica- 
 tions and difficulties, 387. See Cahiers, 
 Electoral Assemblies. 
 
 Etiquette, its uses, 17 ; that of the French 
 court antiquated, 18 ; Marie Antoinette, 
 her chemise, 19 ; her attempts to evade 
 etiquette, 20, 22. 
 
 Excise on -mne and cider, 224 ; in the ca- 
 hiers, 364. See Taxes. 
 
 Family, the tie close in France, but loosen- 
 ing, 76 ; among the country nobles, 82 ; 
 command of a company almost heredi- 
 tary, 87 ; judicial place inherited, 105 ; 
 request of the cahiers that the family of 
 a criminal be not disgraced, 357. See 
 Marriage, Married women, Morals. 
 
 Farmers General, their financial operations, 
 220 ; their social position, 221. See Fi- 
 nanciers. 
 
 Farms, small, large, and of moderate size, 
 191. See Country, Land, Metayers, Vil- 
 lages, Feudal tenures. Peasant. 
 
 Fatalism of the Philosophers, 49 ; of Hol- 
 bach, 268. See Philosophers. 
 
 F^nelon advocates toleration, 42, 43. 
 
 Feudal tenures, described, 194 ; their ori- 
 gin, 196 ; in the cahiers, 359. See Cens, 
 Champart, Lods et rentes. 
 
 Finance, anticipations, or floating debt, 
 acquits de comptant, 230 ; sale of public 
 
 offices, Panlette, 231 ; the Physiocrats, 
 Quesnay, 233 ; Gournay, 234 ; Turgot, 
 235 ; the deficit, 238 ; Necker, 239 ; lot- 
 teries and annuities, 240 ; compte rendu, 
 241 ; finance in the cahiers, 366 ; finance 
 the occasion, not the cause, of the Rev- 
 olution, 386. See Commerce, Taxes, 
 Necker, Tuigot. 
 
 Financiers, regarded with jealousy, 164* 
 See Farmers General. 
 
 Flanders, how taxed, 209 ; anomalous posi- 
 tion of Walloon de Flanders, 210 n. 
 
 Fleury, Cardinal, and Montesquieu's elec- 
 tion to the Academy, 135. 
 
 Flogging in the army, 92 ; anecdote, 93 ; in 
 the navy, 102. 
 
 Food, of soldiers, 90 ; sailors, 102 ; in Paris, 
 162 ; of journeymen in provincial towns, 
 179 ; of peasants, 200. 
 
 Foundlings in Paris, 169. See Hospitals. 
 
 Francis I., King of France, makes the Con- 
 cordat, 27. 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin, his letters opened in 
 the maU, 374. 
 
 Frederick the Great, as a commander, 86 ; 
 one half his soldiers are foreigners, 90 ; 
 composes his Academy of Frenchmen, 
 386. 
 
 Free-trade. See Commerce, Smuggling. 
 
 French Guards, regiment of, loses its disci- 
 pline, 100. 
 
 Fr^ron, defends the church, 66. 
 
 Friendship, close among the nobility, 74. 
 
 Furniture, in noblemen's country houses, 
 193 ; in peasants' cottages, 199. 
 
 Gabelle, or salt-tax, 222. 
 
 Galleys at Toulon, last prisoner for Protes- 
 tantism released, 43; condition of the 
 galleys, 110. 
 
 Gallican Church. See Catholic Church, 
 Clergy. 
 
 Game, the French idea of sport, 78 ; abun- 
 dance of game, 193 ; hated by the peas- 
 ants, 194; complaints of the cahiers, 
 360. 
 
 Gay, associates with "Voltaire, 53. 
 
 Garrison, to collect the poll-tax, 219. 
 
 GenSralitS, a district, 8, 208. See Lands 
 of Election. 
 
 Genet, Mile., snubbed by Louis XV., 76. 
 See Mme. Campan. 
 
 Geneva, books printed there for the French 
 market, 46 ; an article on Geneva in the 
 Encyclopaedia makes trouble, 254 n. ; the 
 model for Rousseau's Social Compact, 
 299 n. 
 
 Gomel, M. Charles, v., 392. 
 
 Gournay, de, and his doctrines, 234. 
 
 Governor of a province, 10. 
 
 Grand^ Chambre, a department of the 
 Parliament, 103 n. 
 
 Grenville, George, his comparison of taxa- 
 tion in France and in England, 208. 
 
 Grimm, tells the story of Diderot and Le 
 Breton, 252 ; quarrel with Rousseau, 
 320. 
 
 Grotius, a predecessor of the French Philo- 
 sophic movement, 56. 
 
 Gut5mt5n6e, Princess of, her house called « 
 gambling hell, 22. 
 
 Guibert, count of, hated in the army, 100. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 403 
 
 Guilds, described, 179 ; abolished by Tur- 
 got, 237 ; reestablished, 237 u. 
 
 Haller, contributes to the Encyclopaedia, 
 250. 
 
 H;iute Guyenne, Provincial Assemblies es- 
 tablished by Necker, 211. 
 
 Hedonism, a doctrine of the Philosophers, 
 49. See Utility, Philosophers. 
 
 Helvetius, his book " de I'Esprit," com- 
 promises the Encyclopa'dists, 251 ; char- 
 acter of the man and of the book, the 
 doctrine of utility, 2G1. See Utility. 
 
 Henry IV. the model of Louis XVI., 12. 
 
 Hobbes, influences the French Philosophic 
 movement, 56. 
 
 Holbach, Baron, his character, 263 ; the 
 "System of Nature," materialism, 264 ; 
 government, 265 ; happiness, 267 ; reli- 
 gion a delusion, utility, fatalism, 268 ; 
 atheism, 269 ; alarm of the Philosophers, 
 the answer to Holbach, 270. 
 
 Holidays, frequent, 179, 205; in the ca- 
 hiers, 367. 
 
 Holland, books printed there for the French 
 market, 46 ; torture obsolete, 113 ; com- 
 pared with England by Montesquieu, 
 137 ; and with France, 385. 
 
 Hooker, Richard, influences the French 
 Philosophers, 56. 
 
 Horn, M., v., 392. 
 
 Hospitals, in Paris, 168 ; in provincial 
 towns, 182. See Doctors. 
 
 Houses, in Paris, 157 ; in provincial towns, 
 176 ; in the country, of nobles, 192 ; of 
 peasants, 199. 
 
 Howard, John, story of tortured men 
 sweating blood, 111 n. ; his book on the 
 "State of the Prisons," 112; he consid- 
 ers the HStel Dieu a disgrace to Paris, 
 168. 
 
 Humanity, an ideal in France, 382 ; its 
 growth since 1789, 385. See Hospitals, 
 Beccaria, Howard.^ 
 
 Indians. See American Indians. 
 
 Inequality, Rousseau's discourse on, 285; 
 Voltaire's answer, 291. See Equality, 
 Philosophers. 
 
 Intendants, their functions, 8 ; maitres des 
 requctes and members of the Privy Coun- 
 cil, 9 ; supervision of Provincial Assem- 
 blies, 211. 
 
 Itch, common early in the 18th century, 
 disappears, 182. 
 
 Jansenist quarrel, 38 ; its effect on the 
 
 church, 68 ; its nature, 104. 
 Jaucourt, Chev. de, aseists in editing the 
 
 Eiicyclopa-dia, 250. 
 Jefferson, Thomas, his opinion of Paris, 
 
 157. 
 Jesuits, their quarrel with the Jansenists, 
 
 38 ; its nature, 104 ; they try to continue 
 
 the Encyclopaidia, 251. 
 Journeymen. See Artisans. 
 
 King, the, his powers, 4 ; he sits in the 
 councils, 5 ; the fountain of justice, 7 ; 
 his powers in the cahiers, 349, 351 ; to 
 be maintained in suitable splendor, 366 ; 
 successes and failures of the kings of 
 
 France, 377 ; their inability to get infor- 
 mation, 378. See Louis X., Francis I., 
 Louis A'lV., Louis XV., Louis XVI. 
 Knights of Malta, 33. 
 
 La Barre, his crime and punishment, 114. 
 
 La Bruyere, description of the French 
 peasant, 186 ; comment on it, 187. 
 
 Lafayette, marquis of, connected with the 
 family of Noailles, 14 ; would begin his- 
 tory with 1787, 119 ; hopeful tone of his 
 letters, 323 n. ; member of a club, 333 n. 
 
 Lamballe, faction rapacious, 17. 
 
 Land, how divided, 191 ; price, rent and 
 product, according to A. Young, 192 n. 
 See Farms, Metayers, Villages, Peasant. 
 
 Lands of Election, what they were and 
 how taxed, 208. 
 
 Lands of Estates, what they were and how 
 taxed, 209 ; Estates, 210. See Provin- 
 cial Estates. 
 
 La Trappe, account of the monastery, 34. 
 
 Lauzun, duke of, fond of adventure, 85; 
 speaks respectfully of American women, 
 332. 
 
 Laval, viscount of, manages the election at 
 Chaumont, 346. 
 
 Lavergne, M. L6once de, v., vi. 392. 
 
 Law, method of passing a law, 104 ; vari- 
 ety of laws and jurisdictions, 107, 384 ; 
 the civil and the customary law, 107 ; 
 comparison of Continental and Anglo- 
 Saxon systems, 109 ; criminal law, tor- 
 ture, death penalty, the wheel, 111 ; Bec- 
 caria, 112 ; reforms, 113 ; lettres de ca- 
 chet, police, 116 ; reforms demanded by 
 the cahiers, 356. See Lawyers, Parlia- 
 ment of Paris, Parliaments, Torture. 
 
 Lawyers, in Paris, 173 ; not incompetent, 
 384. See Law, Parliament of Paris. 
 
 Le Breton, the pubhsher, engages Diderot 
 to edit the Encyclopaedia, 244 ; his trick, 
 252. See Encyclopaidia. 
 
 Lecouvreur, Mile., present at the quarrel 
 between Voltaire and Chabot, 52. 
 
 Lefranc de Pompignan, pastoral letter on 
 toleration, 44 ; a defender of the church, 
 66. 
 
 Legislator, the, 124 ; in the Encyclopaedia, 
 259 ; aspirations of Bergasse, 333 n. 
 
 Leprosy, disappeared from France, 183. 
 
 Letters, the cahiers ask that they be not 
 opened in the mail, 374. 
 
 Lettres de cachet, described, 116, in the ca- 
 hiers, 357. 
 
 Leo X., pope, makes the Concordat, 27. 
 
 Liberty, not a simple idea, political rights, 
 122 ; absence of interference, 123 ; lib- 
 erty and equality naturally opposed to 
 each other, 125 ; Montesquieu on liberty 
 in England, 137; his definition, 148; 
 Rousseau, the Social Compact, 294 ; lib- 
 erty of agriculture and of commerce, 
 233 ; of the press in the cahiers, 368 ; 
 how desired, 381. See Equality, Ine- 
 quality, Free-trade, Physiocrats, Censor- 
 ship. 
 
 Licentiousness, in Paris, 72, 79 ; regarded 
 by the Philosophers as an artificial wrong, 
 130. See Morals. 
 
 Locke, John, advocates toleration, 42, 43; 
 the fountain-head of the French Philo* 
 
404 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 sophic movement, 56 ; his doctrines, 57 ; 
 Voltaire ou Locke, 60 ; authority of 
 Locke's teachmgrs in France, 2-43 ; the 
 Encyclopaedia, 259 ; views his own mind 
 objectively, 275. 
 
 Lods et rentes, a feudal due, 195. 
 
 Lomt^nie, M. de, vi., 393. 
 
 Lorraine, said to have lost prosperity, 191 ; 
 how taxed, 209 ; prefers to have free 
 trade with Germany rather than with 
 France, 372. 
 
 Lotteries, how drawn in Paris, 173 ; state 
 lotteries, how managed, 240 ; cahiers ask 
 for the suppression of lotteries, 375. 
 
 Louis X., sells public offices, 231. 
 
 Louis XIV. , his absolute power, 40 ; law 
 for compulsory education, 183 ; poverty 
 of France in his latter years, 190 ; sale 
 of offices, 232. 
 
 Louis XV., led by his mistresses, 13 ; his 
 secret diplomacy, 14 ; rudeness to Mile. 
 Genet, 76 ; refuses to commute La Bar- 
 re's sentence, 114 ; statue, 156 ; kneels 
 to a religious procession, 172 ; recuper- 
 ation of France under his reign, 190 ; 
 anecdote concerning him and the En- 
 cyclopaedia, 255; effects of his medioc- 
 rity, 386. 
 
 Louis XVI. , his accession, position, 4 ; 
 character, 12 ; mumbles the coronation 
 oath, 44 ; an awkward man, 76 ; place of 
 his execution, 156 ; distrust of Necker, 
 165 ; promises Turgot not to issue acquits 
 de comptant, 231 ; weakness in dealing 
 with the deficit, 238, 242; pubUc opin- 
 ion, 324 ; attempt to suppress the " Mar- 
 riage of Figaro," 328 ; dragged into the 
 American war, 331 ; attacked in a pam- 
 phlet, 335 ; fails to arrange the composi- 
 tion of the Estates General, 350 ; praised 
 in the cahiers, 351 ; threatened in a ca- 
 hier, 351 n, ; requested to wear French 
 stuffs, 373 ; his want of opportunity of 
 knowing the true condition of France, 
 378 ; effects of his incompetence, 386, 
 
 Louvre, under Louis XVI. , 155. 
 
 Lucay, comte de, vi. , 393. 
 
 Luxembourg, palace and garden, 155. 
 
 Luxuries, of the rich in Paris, 162 ; cahiers 
 demand the taxation of luxuries, 364. 
 
 Macchiavelli, comparison of his " Dis- 
 courses " with Montesquieu's " Great- 
 ness of the Romans," 138. 
 
 Macaulay, Lord, quoted (" liars by a double 
 right"), 144. 
 
 Madame. See Provence, Countess of. 
 
 Maitres des requetes, sit in the Privy Coun- 
 cil, 6; the intendants chosen among 
 them, 9. 
 
 Malesherbes, does not remain long in office, 
 17 ; opposed by Marie Antoinette, 24 ; 
 conduct as censor, 47 ; dismissed from 
 the council, 17, 238. 
 
 Mansfield, Lord, enlarges the common law 
 of England, 108. 
 
 Manufactures. See Guilds. 
 
 Maria Theresa, Empress, fears too much 
 simplicity, 16 ; never treated without re- 
 spect, 22. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, the Polignacs her favor- 
 ites, injured by a Rohan, 14 ; her first 
 
 baby and its attendants, 16, 19 n. ; eti- 
 quette, 17 ; her chemise, 19 ; her charac- 
 ter and influence, 20 ; place of her exe- 
 cution, 156; hears the "Marriage of 
 Figaro," 328 ; requested to wear French 
 stuffs, 373. See Louis XVI., Etiquette. 
 
 Marriage, of country nobles, 82 ; in Paris, 
 165 ; in provincial towns, 178. See Fam- 
 ily, Married ivomen. Morals. 
 
 Married women, their business education, 
 165, 182. See Marriage. 
 
 Materialism, a doctrine of the Philosophic 
 school, 49 ; Locke inclines to it, 59 ; Vol- 
 taire, 63; Holbach, 264. See Philoso- 
 phers. 
 
 Marmontel at school, 184. 
 
 Marseilles, doctors with masks, 183. 
 
 Maurepas, his selfishness, his influence, 17 ; 
 advises Louis XVI. not to change the 
 coronation oath, 44 ; quarrel with Necker, 
 241 ; mentions the " Marriage of Figa- 
 ro," 328. 
 
 Maurice de Saxe, commands at Raucoux, 
 85 ; as a commander, 86. 
 
 Medicine. See Doctors, Hospitals. 
 
 Memoires de Trt^voux, defend the church, 
 66. 
 
 Metayers, farmers, 70, 192. 
 
 Military schools described, 86. 
 
 Militia, numbers, composition, and term of 
 service, 100 ; drawing for the militia, 
 201. See Army. 
 
 Ministers, their seats in the council, 6 ; 
 the cahiers demand that they be respon- 
 sible ; what this means, 351. 
 
 Mirabaud, secretary of the Academy, his 
 name assumed by Holbach, 262 n. 
 
 Mirabeau the elder, kneels before his 
 mother, 82 ; his opinion of peasant life, 
 187. 
 
 Mirabeau the younger, confined by a lettre 
 de cachet, 117. 
 
 Molinist. See Jesuit. 
 
 Monarchy. See King. 
 
 Monks, their property and rules, 31 ; policy 
 of allowing them, 32 ; hated by Voltaire 
 and the Philosophers, 32, 62, 263. 
 
 Montaigne, a predecessor of tlie French 
 Philosophic movement, 56 ; opposes tor- 
 ture, 112. 
 
 Montesquieu, on toleration, 41 ; may rival 
 Voltaire in influence, 51 ; remarks on 
 condition of the clergy, 65; opposed to 
 torture, 112 ; failed to grasp the continu- 
 ity of history, approves of equality of 
 condition, 120 ; the work of Montesquieu, 
 his character, 126; the '■'■Persian Let- 
 ters,'^ 65, 127 ; the church, 128 ; licen- 
 tiousness, 130 ; the monarchy, 132 ; re- 
 publics, 133 ; sacredness of laws ; large 
 assemblies, 134 ; origin of society ; Mon- 
 tesquieu and the Academy, 135 ; in Eng- 
 land, 136 ; liberty and equality in Eng- 
 land, Holland, and Venice, 137 ; the 
 '■'■Greatness and Decadence of the Ro- 
 mans ; " Montesquieu compared with 
 Macchiavelli, 138 ; danger to republics ; 
 danger of change, 139 ; the division of 
 powers, 140, 148 ; the Spirit of the Laws, 
 141 ; relation of laws to circumstances, 
 142 ; Montesquieu sometimes misled by 
 I ignorance of foreign customs ; the nature 
 
INDEX. 
 
 405 
 
 and principle of povemment, 144 ; liberty 
 and the division of powers, 148 ; relijjion, 
 151 ; moderation, uniformity, criticism 
 by Condorcet, 152 ; ditl'erence between 
 Montesquieu and the Philosophers, 153 ; 
 Montesquieu defends the sale of offices, 
 232 n.; contributes to the Encyclopfedia, 
 250 ; more widely read, 332^ See Amer- 
 ican Colonies, England, United States, 
 Venice. 
 
 Morals, of Louis XVI., 12; of Marie Antoi- 
 nette, 22 ; of the bishops and clergy, 30 ; 
 of French and English priests, according 
 to Voltaire, 54; of the nobility, 72, 79, 
 81 ; independence and honesty of judges, 
 lOG; sexual morals considered couven- 
 tional, 130 ; relation of laws to morals, 
 according to Montesquieu, 142; morals 
 of the middle classes, IGG ; in the Ency- 
 clopaedia, 255 ; reduced to utility, by Hel- 
 vetius, 2G2 ; dependent on government, 
 Holbach, 2GG; spoiled by civilization, 
 Rousseau, 282 ; American morals ad- 
 mired, 332; the clergy in the cahiers, 
 3G7 ; the government and the country on 
 moral questions, 380. See Ilumaiiity, 
 Licentiousness. 
 
 Morley, Rt. Hon. John, his books on the 
 French Philosophers, v., 394. 
 
 National Assembly, proposed by Sieyes, 
 340 ; fate of the constitution made by it, 
 354; inexperience of its members, 387. 
 See Estates General. 
 
 Navy, its composition, officers, 101 ; naval 
 architects excellent, 101, 384; men, flog- 
 ging, administration, 102. 
 
 Necker, does not remain long in office, 17 ; 
 opposed by Marie Antoinette, 24 ; a Pro- 
 testant but important, 44; popularity, 
 1G5; estimate of taxation, 207, 227 ; com- 
 parison of taxes in France and England, 
 208; his Provincial Assemblies, 211 ; his 
 book on the Administration of the Finan- 
 ces, 212 ; story about bees, 217 ; contract 
 with the Farmers General, 221 ; figures 
 concerning taxation, 227 ; Director Gen- 
 eral of the Finances, character and finan- 
 cial devices, 239 ; compte rendu, 241 ; 
 fall, 242 ; fails to determine the compo- 
 sition of the Estates General, 350 ; blessed 
 in the cahiers, 351 n. 
 
 Newton, Sir Isaac, influences the French 
 Philosophic movement, 5G. 
 
 Noailles, a great family at court, 14 ; vis- 
 count of, fond of adventure, 85 ; insists 
 on being flogged, 93. 
 
 Nobility, bishops generally noblemen, 20 ; 
 numbers and property of the nobles, 70 ; 
 privileges and distinctions; nobility easily 
 acquired ; of tlie sword and of tl»e gown, 
 71 , of the court, manners, 72, 7G ; friend- 
 ship, 74 ; leisure, 78 ; vice and virtue, 79 ; 
 country nobles, 81 ; a military class, 83 ; 
 of the gown, 103; the nobility hated 
 chiefly on account of its privileges, 119 ; 
 luxurious life, 1G2 ; how represented in 
 Provincial E.'^t!iteg,210; and in Provincial 
 Assemblies, 211 ; exemption from taxa- 
 tion, 213, 228 ; the nobility and the middle 
 class approach each other socially ; influ- 
 ence of the Philosophers, S22 ; nobility 
 
 attacked by Sieyes, 33G ; the feeling not 
 shared by the bulk of tlie nation, 340 ; 
 elections to the Estates General, predomi- 
 nance of the poorer nobility, 344 ; in the 
 cahiers, question of one or three cham- 
 bers, 350 ; the nobility urgent for political 
 reforms, 35G ; respective attitude of the 
 nobiUty and the Third Estate, 370. ; army 
 reform, 371 ; the nobility not a governing 
 class, but contains most men trained to 
 govern, 378. See Army, Parliament oj 
 Paris. 
 
 Noni de guerre of private soldiers, 88. 
 
 Nonnotte, a defender of the church, 66 5 
 his dictionary, 68. 
 
 Normandy, rich peasants, 201 . 
 
 Notables, petition the King about Protes- 
 tants, 45; establish Provincial Assem- 
 blies, 212 ; Sieyes considers them useless, 
 338 ; their work merely advisory, 387. 
 
 Octrois, their operation, 226; in the ca- 
 hiers, 372. 
 
 Offices, at court, 16 ; judicial, 105 ; mimici- 
 pal, 181 ; rural, 202 ; sale of offices, 231. 
 
 Officers. See Army. 
 
 Orders, three in France, 25.- See Clergy, 
 Nobility. Third Estate. 
 
 Orleans, duke of, election at Chaumont, 
 346. 
 
 Orleans, duchess of, and the Queen's che- 
 mise, 20. 
 
 Osmont, count of, his peculiar manners, 
 77. 
 
 Palais Royal, a centre of gossip, 173 ; the 
 porticoes and shops built, 332. 
 
 Palissot, his comedy, "The Philosophers," 
 67. 
 
 Pamphlets, enormous number, 333; sub- 
 jects and titles, 334, 394 ; Sieyes's " What 
 is the Third Estate," 33G. 
 
 Paris, importance, size, and growth, 154 ; 
 buildings and streets, 155 ; dress, 159 ; 
 food, 1G2; classes of population, 164'. 
 marriage and married women, 165; po- 
 lice, 167 ; hospitals and doctors, 168 ; 
 foundlings, religious processions, 169 ; 
 Sundays, 171 ; the ^-iaticum, a day in 
 Paris, 172 ; public opinion, love of excite- 
 ment, 325; an "awful chasm," 3t)5. 
 
 Paris-Duvemey, founds the military school, 
 86. 
 
 Parlement Mavprou, its unpopularity, 5 ; 
 under Louis XV., 104. 
 
 Parliament of Paris, trouble under Louis 
 XV., restored by Louis XVI., 5; refuses 
 to interftMo in behalf of Protestants, 44 ; 
 condemns Voltaire's " English Letters," 
 54 ; composition, origin, political powers, 
 103; legislation, remonstrance, bed of 
 justice, struggle with tlie church, 104 ; 
 struggle for privileges, venal offices, 105 ; 
 love of applause, lOt! ; administration of 
 justice, Roman and Feudal law, 107 ; 
 condenmation of books, 115; the Encyclo- 
 papdia,250,252; Helvetius's "de I'EspVit," 
 251 ; worsliip of opinion, 324 ; popular 
 because it opposes the court, 329. 
 
 Parliaments browbeaten by Louis XIV. 
 and dissolved by Louis XV., 4 ; new 
 courts in their place, 104; judges, 105. 
 
406 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 See Courts of Law, Law, Parliament of 
 Paris, Censorship. 
 Patriotism a French virtue, 380. 
 Paulet, the edict named after him, 231. 
 Pays d' Election, described, 209. 
 Pays d'Etats, 209. 
 
 Peasant, La Bruyere's description, 186 ; Dr. 
 Rigby, 187 ; A. Yomig and others, 189 ; 
 mode of life, 199 ; political rights, 201 ; 
 chance in life, 204 ; amusements, 205 ; 
 comparative condition, 206. See Coun- 
 try, Farms, Land, Metayers, Game, 
 Roads, Villages, Feudal tenures. 
 Peers of France sit in Parliament of Paris, 
 
 103. 
 Pensions excessive, 238 ; in the cahiers, 
 
 366. 
 " Philadelphia " as an imprint for French 
 
 books, 47 ; name of a cap, 160. 
 Philosophers of the 18th century, propose 
 to reconstitute society, 1 ; ambiguity of 
 the word "Philosopher," 48; the Phi- 
 losophers form a sect, 49 ; their masters, 
 56 ; their ideals, 119 ; secured equality 
 for Frenchmen, 122 ; in the Encyclopae- 
 dia, 259 ; alarmed by Holbach, 270 ; dif- 
 ference between them and Rousseau, 274, 
 320 ; struggle for simpUcity, 276 ; their 
 hold on the public mind, 322. See Vol- 
 taire, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Diderot, 
 Alembert, Helvetius, Holbach, Chastel- 
 lux, Turgot, Jaucourt, Haller, Condor- 
 cet, Condillac, Sieyes, Beaumarchais, 
 Quesnay, Gournay, Hooker, Bacon, 
 Hobbes, Newton, Locke, Descartes, Bayle, 
 Grotius, Howard, Beccaria, Atheism, 
 Fatalism, Democracy, Equality, Hedon- 
 ism, Humanity, Legislator, Liberty, Ma- 
 terialism, Toleration, Utility, Encyclo- 
 paedia, Physiocrats, Clergy, Catholic 
 Church, Monks, Censorship, Lefranc de 
 Pompignan, Beaumont, Chaudon, Non- 
 notte, Freron, Trublet, Palissot, Me- 
 woiresde Trevoux, Malesherbes. 
 
 Physiocrats, their doctrines, 233. See Ques- 
 nay, Gournay. 
 
 Place de la Concorde, or Place Louis XV., 
 execution of the King and Queen there, 
 156. 
 
 Plas;ue, the, and precautions, 183. 
 
 Police, ite nature, 116; in Paris, 167; in 
 France, 384. 
 
 Polignac, family dependent on the favor of 
 Marie Antoinette, 14 ; rapacious, 17. 
 
 Political Economy, its origin, 234; Rous- 
 seau in the Encyclopaedia, 292. 
 
 Poll tax {capitation) described, 219. 
 
 Pompadour, Mme. de, anecdote concerning 
 her and the Encyclopaedia, 255. 
 
 Poncins, M. de, vi., 395. 
 
 Pope, the, Leo X. makes the Concordat, 
 27 ; election of the pope, 40 ; sneers of 
 Montesquieu, 128, 132. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, associates with Voltaire, 
 53. 
 
 Post-office, the cahiers ask that letters be 
 not opened, 374. 
 
 Pothier, introduces Roman law, 108. 
 
 Prescription, as a ground of property, 361. 
 
 Prime minister, the, sits in the coun- 
 cils, 6. 
 
 Princes as generals, 86. 
 
 Princesses of the Royal Family and of the 
 
 Blood, distinction, 19. 
 Prisons, filthy, the galleys, 110. 
 Privileges, of the Church of France, 27; 
 Galilean liberties, 37 ; privileges of the 
 nobility, 71 ; of the magistrates, efforts 
 of the Parliament of Paris in behalf of 
 privileges, 105 ; of persons and bodies in 
 the Third Estate, 154 ; of municipal offi- 
 cers, 181 ; of persons and places concern- 
 ing taxation, 208 ; privileges attacked by 
 Sieyes, 336 ; some of the nobles ready to 
 vote with the other orders as one cham- 
 ber on questions which do not concern 
 privileges, .350 ; privilege and property in 
 the cahiers, 359; readiness to abandon 
 privileges concerning taxation, 363 ; other 
 privileges, 370. See Clergy, Nobility, 
 Feudal tenures, Equality, 
 Privy council, 6. 
 Processions in Paris, 169. 
 Progress, material, asserted by Chastellux, 
 272 ; more noticeable than moral prog- 
 ress since 1789, 385. 
 Progressive taxation. See Taxes. 
 Property, how regarded in the cahiers, 359. 
 Protestants, their precarious condition, 
 their intolerance, 41 ; gradual adoption 
 of toleration, 42 ; persecuted, 43 ; meas- 
 ures proposed in their favor, 44; civil 
 status granted them, 46; law to bring 
 their children under Catholic teaching, 
 183 ; in the cahiers, 367. See Toleration. 
 Provence, Countess of, and the queen's 
 
 chemise, 20. 
 Provincial Assemblies, established by Nec- 
 ker, 211 ; and by the Notables, 212 ; 
 Sieyes thinks them useless, 338 ; the ca- 
 hiers demand them, 355. See Lands of 
 Estates. 
 Provincial Estates. See Lands of Estates. 
 Provincial towns, streets and houses, 175 ; 
 dress, a thrifty family, 177 ; marriage, 
 amusements, 178; journeymen, guilds, 
 179 ; masters, business education of wo- 
 men, town government, 181 ; hospitals 
 and diseases, 182 ; schools, 183 ; changes 
 in the national life, 184. 
 Prussia, torture restricted there, 113 ; com- 
 pared with France, 385. 
 Public opinion, as a standard of right and 
 wrong, 324. 
 
 Quack doctors, the cahiers ask for their 
 
 suppression, 375. 
 Quakers, in Voltaire's " English Letters," 
 
 54. 
 Quesnay, his doctrines, 233; the halberd 
 
 and public opinion, 324. 
 
 Rambaud, M., v. 395. 
 
 Recruiting, of soldiers, 88. 
 
 Remiremont, wealth of the chapter, 33. 
 
 Rennes, its cahier typical ; asks for pro- 
 gressive taxation, 3G5. 
 
 Requetes, cour des, 103 n. 
 
 Rigby, Dr. , description of France, 187. 
 
 Roads, fine but little traveled, 194. 
 
 Rochambeau, marquis of, praises discipline 
 of his troops in America, 95 ; has Chas- 
 tellux with him there, 271. 
 
 Bocquaiu, M., vi., 395. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 407 
 
 Rohan, a preat family, one member injures 
 Marie Antoinette, 14. See Chabot. 
 
 Rouge, in the Encyclopaedia, 25G ; proposed 
 tax on, 3G4. 
 
 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, may rival Voltaire 
 in influence, 51 ; originality, 56 ; ap- 
 proves of equality of condition, 120 ; his 
 opinion of Paris, 157 ; praises rural life, 
 187 ; story of the peasant hiding food, 
 216 ; Rousseau an opponent of tlie new 
 philosophy, 243 ; contributes to the En- 
 cyclopaedia an article on Political Econ- 
 omy, 250, 292; sincerity of Rousseau, 
 274 ; the " Confessions," introspection 
 and religion, 275 ; philosophy, 27G ; sim- 
 plicity, love of nature, 277 ; early life, 
 278 ; Mme. de Warens, 279 ; Tiitirese Le- 
 vasseur, 280 ; mode of life and character 
 of Rousseau, sudden inspiration, the 
 ^^ First Discourse,''' degeneracy of man 
 under civilization, 281 ; education in the 
 "First Discourse," 284; '■'■Second Dis- 
 course,-'' inequality, 285; the happy sav- 
 age, 286 ; the development of society, 
 289 ; Voltaire on the " Second Discourse," 
 291 ; madness of Rousseau, 292 and n. ; 
 the '■^Social Compact,'''' the idea not ori- 
 ginal, 293 ; sovereignty, 295 ; form of 
 government, 298 ; an official religion, 
 299 ; equahty in tyranny, 301. Fiction, 
 Rousseau's characters ; the " New He- 
 Inisn,''' sensation caused by the book, 
 303 ; sentimentality, 304 ; the country- 
 house and the garden, 305 ; respectabil- 
 ity, 307; "£'7?ii7e," on education, con- 
 formity to nature, 307 ; the tutor, 308 ; 
 a lesson on the origin of property, 309 ; 
 the hardening process, 311 ; Sophie and 
 female education, 313 ; religion, the Sa- 
 voyard Curate, 314 ; Rousseau's quarrel 
 with the Pliilosophers, difference, 320 ; 
 he dares to oppose public opinion, 325 ; 
 more widely read on account of the 
 American war, 332; the "Social Com- 
 pact " taken by Sieyes as the basis of 
 government, 338 ; Rousseau's reputa- 
 tion European, 385. See American In- 
 dians. 
 
 Royal Chamber, established by Louis XV., 
 104. 
 
 Saint-Germain, count of, minister of war, 
 his measures, 92. 
 
 Sale of pubhc offices, 231. 
 
 Salons, why attractive, 75. 
 
 Salt tax igabelle), its operation, 222; in 
 the cahiers, 364. 
 
 Saunderson, Nicholas, opinions attributed 
 to him by Diderot, 248. 
 
 Scherer, M., vi.,396. 
 
 School, of surgery in Paris, 168 ; school in 
 provincial towns, 183 ; Marmontel at 
 school, 184 ; country schools, 204. See 
 Education. 
 
 Schoolmasters, boys in Paris too much left 
 to them, 165 ; in towns generally ap- 
 pointed by the clergy, 183 ; in villages 
 paid by the community, 201 ; and elect- 
 ed, 202 •, mode of life, 204. 
 
 86gur, count of, fond of adventure, 85 ; 
 story about flogging, 93 ; of the Calotte, 
 
 S^gur, viscount of, his account of the edu- 
 cation of a young nobleman, 73. 
 
 Servants, thieving, might be executed. 111 ; 
 proposed tax, 364. 
 
 Shopkeepers, in Paris, 1G5 ; in the prov- 
 inces, 176. See Guilds. 
 
 Sieyes, Abbo, his pamphlet, " "What is the 
 Third Estate," 336 ; draws up a form for 
 a cahier, 346. 
 
 Smuggling, how regarded, 130 ; of salt, 
 
 223 ; between France and England, 225. 
 Social compact, the idea an old one, Rous- 
 seau's essay, 293. 
 
 Socinians in Voltaire's " English Letters," 
 55. 
 
 Socrates and ridicule, 283. 
 
 Soldiers. See Army. 
 
 Stourm, M., v., 396. 
 
 Streets, of Paris, 157 ; of provincial towns, 
 175. 
 
 Sub-delegates, subordinate to intendants, 
 10. 
 
 Sulli, duke of, refuses to take up Voltaire's 
 quarrel with Chabot, 52. 
 
 Sunday, observed in Paris, 171 ; in the ca- 
 hiers, 307. 
 
 Sunday ladies, at court, 14. 
 
 Surgeons. See Doctors, Hospitals. 
 
 Swift, associates with Voltaire, 53. 
 
 Swiss of the rue aux Ours, 170. 
 
 S^vitzerland, its government compared with 
 that of France, 385. 
 
 Syndic, a town officer, 181 ; a village offi- 
 cer, paid by the community, 201 ; his 
 functions, 202 ; distributes the corvee 
 among the peasants, 227. 
 
 Taille, the, its nature and operation, 213. 
 
 Taine, M. Henri, v., 396; his figures con- 
 cerning taxation considered, 228. 
 
 Taxes, paid by the clergy, 27 ; decimes, 36 ; 
 amount of taxes paid by the nation, 207 ; 
 unequally assessed, 208 ; Lands of Elec- 
 tion and Lands of Estates, privileges, 
 209 ; Provincial Assemblies, 211 ; persons 
 taxed unequally, direct taxes, taille, 213 ; 
 twentieths, 218; poll-tax, 219; indirect 
 taxes, the Farmers General, 220; salt 
 tax, 222; tobacco, 223; excise, duties, 
 
 224 ; internal duties, 225 ; corvee, 226 ; 
 proportion of income paid in taxes, 227 ; 
 arbitrariness and publicity, 229 ; in the 
 cahiers, 363; luxuries, 364; progressive 
 taxation, 365 ; incompetence of officials, 
 384. See Decimes, Tithe, Farmers Gen- 
 eral. 
 
 Terray, Abb6, his contract with the Farm- 
 ers General, 220. 
 
 Th^rese Levasseur, Rousseau's mistress, 
 280. 
 
 Third Estate, one of the three orders, 25 ; 
 variety of persons included in it, 154 ; 
 how represented in Provincial Estates, 
 210; and in Provincial Assemblies, 211 ; 
 Sieyes's pamphlet, "What is the Third 
 Estate," 336; elections to the Estates 
 General, in the cahiers, 344 ; desire that 
 the Estates General meet as one cham- 
 ber, 350; law reform, 356; abolition of 
 privilege and of feudal tlues, 359 ; tithe, 
 363 ; equal taxation, 3t>i ; fewer holi- 
 days, 367 ; free and responsible press, 
 
408 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Sr.O -, attitude toward the nobility, 370 ; 
 particular wisfie.'! of tite order, freedom 
 from administrative regulations, com- 
 merce, 372 ; bankrupts, suppression of 
 begging, 373 ; public workshops, 374 ; 
 more doctors, 375. 
 
 Three Bishoprics, the, how taxed, 209; 
 prefer to have free trade with Germany 
 rather than with France, 372 and n. 
 
 Tithes, how levied, 26 ; in the cahiers, 363. 
 
 Tobacco in common use, 201 ; monopoly, 
 223 ; snuff, 224 ; in the cahiers, 364. 
 
 Tocqueville, M. Alexis de, v., 396. 
 
 Toleration, spreads in the 18th century, 41. 
 See Protestants. 
 
 Torture, its metliods, 110 ; the wheel, 111 ; 
 protests ; Beccaria, 112 ; defense of tor- 
 ture, 114; preparatory and previous, 
 abolition, 115. 
 
 Towns. See Pans, Provincial Towns. 
 
 Traites (duties), 225. 
 
 Trublet, Abbe, defends the church, 66. 
 
 Tuileries, palace and garden, 155. 
 
 Turgot, Anne Robert Jacques, does not 
 remain long in office, 17 ; opposed by the 
 queen, 24; tries to induce the king to 
 modify the coronation oath, 44 ; makes 
 him promise not to issue acquits de comp- 
 tant, 231 ; life of Turgot, 235 ; he con- 
 tributes to the Encyclopaedia, 250. 
 
 Tuscany, its government compared with 
 that of France, 385. 
 
 Twentieths {vingtieines), 218. 
 
 Uniforms, described, 89. 
 
 United States, their attachment to Mon- 
 tesquieu's theory of the division of pow- 
 ers, 150 ; their constitutional convention, 
 353. See American Colonies. 
 
 Utility, doctrine of, taught by Voltaire, 
 64 ; by Helvetius, 261 ; its antiquity ; 
 not the motive but the test of morals, 
 263 n. ; taught by Holbach, 268. See 
 Hedonism, Philosophers. 
 
 Vassy, Mme. de, and her snuff-box, 77. 
 
 Vaudreuil, Count of, the "Marriage of 
 Figaro " played at his house, 329. 
 
 Venalite des charges, 231. 
 
 Venice, the liberty of debauchery, 137 ; 
 one of Montesquieu's models for an aris- 
 tocratic republic, 145, 149 n. 
 
 Vcrgeunes, Count of, retains his office, 17 ; 
 
 induces France to make war on Englan5, 
 331. 
 
 Villages, 194; political rights, 201. See 
 Peasant, Country. 
 
 Villein service. See Corvee. 
 
 Vingtieme, droit de, distinguished from 
 vingtiemes, 218, n. 
 
 Vingtiemes, their operation, 218. 
 
 Voltaire, tlie clergy demand the suppres- 
 sion of his works, 28 ; on toleration, 42 ; 
 chiefly an enemy of the church ; his 
 early history, 51 ; quarrel with Chabot, 
 52 ; stay in England, 53 ; " English Let- 
 ters," Quakers, French and English 
 priests, 54 ; Socinians, 55 ; Voltaire a 
 popularizer of thought, 56 ; his eulogy of 
 Locke, 60 ; his philosophy, 61 ; hatred of 
 the clergy, and of the supernatural, 62 ; 
 his religious opinions, 63; he opposes 
 torture, 112 ; La Barre, 114 ; imprisoned 
 by Lettre de cachet, 117 ; said to have 
 procured a lettre de cachet, 117, 325 ; his 
 story of Montesquieu and Cardinal de 
 Fleury, 135 ; he is often led astray by 
 ignorance of foreign nations, 144 ; thinks 
 the French peasants well off, 187 ; con- 
 tributes to the Encyclopaedia, 250 ; tells 
 an anecdote about it, 255; correspond- 
 ence with d'Alembert about it, 260 ; an- 
 swers Holbach's " System of Nature," 
 270 ; a great liar, 274 ; interested in ex- 
 ternal matters, 275; letter to Rousseau 
 on the "Second Discourse," 291 ; quar- 
 rel with Rousseau, 320; more widely 
 read on account of the American war, 
 332 ; his reputation European, 385. 
 
 Wages, in the provinces, 179. 
 Warens, Mme. de, 279. See Rousseau. 
 Wheel, the, punishment described. 111. 
 Women. See Marriage, Married women, 
 
 Education, Poiisseau (Sophie). 
 Workshops, public, asked for in a cahier, 
 
 374. 
 
 Young, Arthur, his opinion of Paris, 157 ; 
 his description of treading out the corn, 
 189; on the revenue of arable land, 
 192 n. ; clear accounts of French finances 
 not to be expected, 207 n. ; taxes in Eng- 
 land and in France, 208. 
 
 Young, Edward, writes an epigram on Vol- 
 taire, 53. 
 
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