Revolution and Reaction in Modern France

G. Lowes Dickinson

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• eBook ISBN: 9781317339168
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politics & International Relations
• Subtopic: Politics
• Index: Politics & International Relations

First published in 1892, this book describes the development of political thought and political parties in 'modern' France. It starts by discussing the French Revolution of 1789 and closes with the Paris Commune of 1871. The book is not written strictly in chronological order but rather focuses on explaining the general character of each successive period. It will be of interest to both the student, and the more general reader.

Chapter I
The Revolution of 1789

Of the histories of the Revolution that I have consulted I have found that of M. Taine by far the most instructive; that of Mr. H. Morse Stephen is the most recent and the most complete in its information. The condition of France before the Revolution has been minutely analysed and described by Tocqueville (L'ancien régime et la révolution), by M. Taine (L'ancien régime), and by M. de Broc (La France sous l'ancien régime, Paris, 1887). Its condition under the Directory has been examined by M. Felix Rocquain (L'état de la France au 18^me Brumaire).

CHAPTER I
THE REVOLUTION OF 1789

§ 1. Preliminary

The history of modern France is the history of the Revolution of 1789. That Revolution is not yet completed; 1793, 1799, 1814, 1830, 1848, 1851, 1870 are so many dates of its advance and recoil. Becoming transformed itself in the process of transforming France, it has been gradually defining in practice its own theoretic ideal, limiting itself by the act of realization, and substituting for its airy vision of Utopia the solid and measurable structure of the Third Republic. That that Republic is not the term of the process will probably be admitted by anyone who has studied the history of parties and ideas in France, but it is the present halting-place and the present verdict of the facts on the scope and achievement of the movement of which it is the latest expression. With the Revolution, then, must begin, as with the Third Republic it must end, a book whose endeavour is to render intelligible the history of modern France. But to add yet another to the many summaries of that unsummable period would be beside the plan of the present work; it will be sufficient for its purpose to develop two points: First, what were the conditions from which the Revolution proceeded and by which its character was fixed; secondly, what were its actual achievements up to the date when it passed under the tutelage of Napoleon I.

§ 2. The Origin of the Revolution

The movement which took the form of revolution in France was the movement common to all Europe, of the transformation of feudal institutions into those of the modern State. At the end of the eighteenth century it had proceeded far in England. It had been started in Austria, but in France no step had been made. Yet in no other country was there greater need of change, and, what is more important, in no other country was the need so keenly felt. A public opinion had been created which was at once acutely critical of the actual and absurdly credulous of the ideal; which perceived with inexorable lucidity not only that grievances existed, both material and sentimental, but that these grievances depended directly on the political and social organization; and which yet, having access to no machinery by which it could make itself felt as reform, was compelled by defect of experience and power to distort its vision and waste its force over imaginary constructions in the air. It is the conjunction of these two conditions—grievances dependent on political organization and opinion indignant but powerless for action—that explains at once the fact and the character of the Revolution of 1789.

§ 3. The Grievance of Privilege

That in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there was extreme poverty in France is a notorious fact, on which we need not dwell at length. A single quotation may suffice to recall the facts. "Our country people," writes a witness in 1740, "live in frightful destitution, without beds or furniture; most of them, during half the year, are without even the barley bread and hay which is their only food, and which they are obliged to snatch from their children's mouths in order to pay the taxes." This testimony might be qualified by others; it might also be emphasized. But there is poverty in all societies, and the point to notice about that of prerevolutionary France is not its extent, but its causal connection with the existence of politically privileged classes. The nobility, the clergy, and officials of the third estate were practically exempt from the burden of taxation, which therefore fell almost entirely upon those who were least able to support it, and who had to pay, in addition, to their feudal lords, innumerable dues in money or in kind. It is calculated that in this way an ordinary farmer was mulcted of over 80 per cent, of his income; so that, apart from the usual economic causes, the mere political relation of classes was sufficient to produce and perpetuate poverty. Privilege was thus a practical grievance; it was also a sentimental one. The nobility had no longer public functions corresponding to their public position; they took no part in the central or local government of the country; their superiority was that of birth, of manners, of access to the court, while the actual administration was in the hands of members of the third estate, who remained, even though they might be ennobled for their services, a distinct and inferior caste. The nobles held the highest position in the State, plebeians performed the highest functions, and this contradiction was a permanent cause of friction and discontent. And if these were the feelings of the higher bourgeoisie, they were only the more intense among the humbler members of the order, who, while they had neither wealth nor office to redeem their inferiority of birth, possessed, or imagined themselves to possess, qualities as distinguished as their position was obscure. The interpreter of all this class is the Figaro of Beaumarchais, who in his celebrated monologue apostrophizes his master thus: "Nobility, fortune, rank, office, how proud we are of them I What have you done to procure such blessings? You have taken the trouble to be born, no more! Otherwise, an ordinary man! Whereas I, an insignificant unit in the crowd, have had to employ more science and calculation, merely to gain my living, than has been devoted in the last hundred years to the government of all the Spains."

Now the point to notice about this inequality, which was becoming more and more an intolerable grievance, is that inasmuch as it was due to the existence of privilege transmitted by inheritance, it was a political, not an economic fact; that is to say, it resulted not from the free competition of individuals of different capacities and opportunities, but from the restrictions introduced into their mutual relations by the State. The remedy, therefore, lay in a political transformation which should distribute proportionally among all classes the burden of taxation, abolish the feudal dues and establish the possibility of a free passage from the lowest to the highest rank in the State. Such a transformation would appear to be the more immediately feasible that it had primarily to level barriers rather than to raise dykes; and it is this fact, not the mere existence of distress and discontent, that gives a peculiar character to the situation in 1789. Not only did real grievances exist, but they were due to political causes, and could be remedied by political transformation. This is the fact that day by day was making itself clearly felt, and all the time that the force of events was urging the necessity of reform, the force of thought was sapping the structure to which reform was to be applied.

§ 4. The Movement of Opinion

The government of France was an absolute monarchy and its theoretic basis was supernatural, not utilitarian; a special consecration was assumed in the person of the Sovereign and his descendants, and this consecration could only be derived from God Himself. Thus a belief in God, not merely as an abstract supreme being, but as an active intervening providence, was the speculative presupposition of the actually constituted authority, and the Catholic Church was its natural and indispensable ally. But the philosophy of the eighteenth century was the enemy of all supernaturalism, and especially, in France, of its concrete embodiment in the Church. Voltaire's écrasez l'infânte is an epitome of the whole movement. The Church was odious to the philosopher, not only in theory, but in practice; not only did it profess what was incredible, but it performed what was abominable. It persecuted Protestants and free-thinkers; it caused the execution, in particular, of Calas and La Barre; it produced and encouraged convulsionists "rolling on the ground half-naked, foaming at the mouth like Sibyls"; it suppressed the Encædia; it condemned and burnt Emile; it was the enemy, not only of light, but of justice, benevolence, and toleration. "Next to our own religion," says Voltaire, "next to our own holy religion, which is, of course, the only good one, which would be the least bad? Would it not be that which is the most simple? Would it not be that which includes in its teaching the maximum of morality and the minimum of dogma? That which would tend to make men just without making them ridiculous? That which would not insist upon the acceptance of impossible and contradictory beliefs, at once discreditable to the Deity and injurious to mankind? That which would not dare to threaten with damnation anyone who should be guilty of common sense? which would not maintain executioners in the service of its creed, nor deluge the earth with innocent blood in support of incomprehensible sophistries? which would not make use of an ambiguous phrase, a play upon words, and two or three imaginary charters, to convert into a sovereign and a god a priest who has often been guilty of incest and murder? which would not submit to that priest the authority of kings? which would exhort only to the worship of God, to justice, toleration, and human kindness?" To attack in this way the Church and Christianity was to expose to the criticism of reason the fabric of secular society. The existing institutions could not, henceforth, be defended on the ground of their supernatural origin, and it was plain that they could not be defended on the ground of practical expediency. The logical absurdity of a feudal system which had outgrown the circumstances for which it was created was no less apparent to the intellect of the privileged classes themselves than its actual working was oppressive to the interests and sentiments of the third estate. The incompetency of the Government; the exclusion of the nobility from public functions; the tyranny and superstition of the Church; the insurmountable impediments to the fruitful application of intellect and talent in the State; the disastrous operation of the financial system, with its dependence upon the existence of privileged orders—all this became more and more obvious and intolerable as the reason grew hardier to examine and judge; and thus everything was prepared for the destruction of the old, even had there been no enthusiasm for the creation of the new.

But the thought of the eighteenth century was not only critical and solvent; it was also, itself, a new creed and, at last, a new fanaticism. The belief which it refused to the traditions of Church and State it transferred to its own abstractions and ideals. Because, in the France of the eighteenth century, there were evils which could be traced to institutions as their cause, the conclusion was drawn that institutions are the cause of all evil. In accordance with this conception, a "natural man" was imagined peaceful, happy, and nude; and though all that was assumed at first was the probability of his existence in the past, it was an easy transition to assume the possibility of his existence in the future. If customs and laws had introduced corruption, their abolition, it might be supposed, would restore to innocence. " If man is good by nature," says Rousseau, "as I am confident that I have proved him to be, it follows that he will continue so, as long as he is not perverted by alien influences. If, then, men are wicked, as I am so earnestly instructed that they are, it follows that this wickedness must come to them from without. Close, therefore, the door to vice, and the human heart will be always good." It is thus that the theory of the "natural man" was connected with that of human perfectibility. If the intellect and passions were allowed to expand, unhampered by artificial barriers, they would, it was supposed, of themselves evolve into happiness and virtue. The condition of such expansion was the destruction of the old order, which was thus, in all its notorious deformity, confronted with the beauty of the ideal.

The enthusiasm thus aroused was deepened at once, and darkened, by the doctrines of the Social Contract, which, in professing to explain the origin of society, produced, in effect, both an indictment against the existing Government of France and a passionate appeal for a new and juster organization. At a certain moment, according to this book, certain men, being at that time all of them equal and free, had met together and deliberately agreed, for their common convenience and profit, to submit each his individual will to the general will of the Whole. This deliberate compact was the only basis and justification of all political authority; every actual ruler, or ruling body, was only a delegate of the people, which was unable, even if it should so desire, to divest itself of the sovereignty. It follows that in any State, and at any given moment, the whole body of citizens has the right to resume its original powers; that is to say, to dissolve the existing Government and to set up any other in its place. Such a theory as this not only stultified and sapped the absolute monarchy in France, but it also proclaimed an alternative ideal as a necessary and absolute truth. Existing institutions, which were already conceived as the origin of all evil, were now regarded, over and above, as the formal negation of a prior and inalienable right. Thus to the passion for happiness and virtue was added the passion for abstract justice; reason was invoked in support of sentiment, and the enthusiast converted into the fanatic of an idea.

§ 5. The Absolutism of the Government

The prevalence, however, even of such a public opinion as this is not enough of itself to account for a revolution. It must be considered in connection with the character of the Government, which may be illustrated by the following address delivered in 1787 to the Parliament of Paris: "To the King alone belongs the sovereign authority in his kingdom, and he is accountable only to God for his exercise of the supreme power; the legislative power resides in the person of the Sovereign; it is dependent on none and shared with none. The representatives of the three orders of the State can be to him nothing but a larger council, whose members are selected from a family of which he is the head, and of whose representations and grievances he must be the supreme arbiter." From this statement it will be perceived that a representative assembly in France was simply a council to give advice which might or might not be accepted; and even such an assembly had not been held for more than a century and a half. National affairs were transacted by the King and his council; local affairs by officials appointed by the central authority. With the exception of these officials and of the members of the council there was, broadly speaking, no one in France who had any experience of public affairs. Neither were there any facilities for hearing or judging of current political events; the Press was subject to strict censorship; the communication between Paris and the provinces was tardy and defective; there was no such thing as public meeting and discussion of national interests. There were thus no means whereby the revolutionary opinion we have analysed could be brought to bear with effect upon actual facts. It could neither modify circumstances nor be modified by them; it remained like a thunderbolt, suspended in the air, and fell only to consume the fabric it had been forbidden to illumine.

§ 6. The Principles of the Revolution and their Immediate Interpretation in Fact

From the conditions which have just been examined it resulted that the transition from the feudal to the modern State, which was progressive in other countries, in France was revolutionary. In little more than three years the whole of the ancient organization of society was destroyed—feudal dues, titles of nobility, tithes, clerical corporations trade guilds, the administrative system, the fiscal system the division of the country into provinces, lastly the monarchy itself. With equal expedition were formulated the principles of the new order—the sovereignty of the people, the supremacy of the law, the responsibility of public servants, liberty of thought, of person, and of the Press, security of property, proportional taxation, the right of every citizen to assist in the formation of the law and to control the assessment of the taxes and the employment of public funds. All these, the axioms of the modern democratic State, were formally and precisely enunciated in the Declaration of Rights. The ideal of modern France was thus defined, and her history for the next hundred years was an attempt to realize in practice what a week or two had sufficed to elaborate in theory. After the enunciation of principles came their conversion into fact, and here was the real problem of the Revolution. The first attempt to solve it was that of the Constituent Assembly, whose constructive work may be summed up as follows:—

In place of the absolute monarchy it established a constitutional Government, vesting the executive power in the King and the legislative in a single representative assembly, and exacting, both for deputies and electors, a property qualification.

In place of the centralized administration it established a system of local government, based upon a new division of the country into departments, districts, and communes. Each of these divisions had its representative council and executive, the commune being subject, in theory, to the district, and the district to the department.

In place of the independent Church, possessing its own property and deriving its consecration from Rome, it established a body of elected officials, salaried by the State and instituted by the metropolitan bishops.

But this work of the Constituent Assembly was open to obvious criticism from the point of view of the principles it had itself proclaimed. It had declared the people to be sovereign, yet it retained a King; it had declared that every citizen had a right to take part in the formation of the law, yet it retained a property qualification. Plainly, both liberty and equality had been violated by those who had been the first to proclaim them, and the work thus marred must be amended by more consistent revolutionists. Accordingly, the constitution of was abolished by the insurrection of August 10, and a new one adopted which admitted the principle of manhood suffrage and a direct veto of the people on laws proposed by the Assembly. Such a constitution, if it had ever taken effect, would have been at least a logical interpretation of the principle of the sovereignty of the people; but, as a matter of fact, it remained, and was intended to remain, a dead letter; and the interpretation actually adopted in its place was the despotism of the Committee of Public Safety. How this came about is described in the histories of the Revolution. Here it will be sufficient to indicate briefly the logical process it implies.

§ 7. The Transition from 1789 to 1793

The chiefs of the Revolution had proceeded upon what they conceived to be absolute principles; it followed that they were infallible, and that if their views appeared to conflict with experience, it must be experience that was wrong. This attitude is noted by contemporary observers. "They imagined," says one, "that they were assembled to retrieve every fault of the past, to correct every error of the human mind, and to secure the happiness of future generations. Doubt had no place in their minds, and infallibility presided perpetually over all their contradictory decrees." Such an attitude already implies that no terms will be made with opposition; but it was not expected, at first, that any opposition would be maintained. The hypothesis still prevailed that men are naturally reasonable and good, and that they would resume these orig...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Original Title
• Original Copyright
• Contents
• CHAPTER I THE REVOLUTION of 1789
• CHAPTER II THE FIRST EMPIRE
• CHAPTER III THE RESTORATION
• CHAPTER IV THE MONARCHY OF JULY
• CHAPTER V The Revolution of 1848
• CHAPTER VI THE SECOND REPUBLIC
• CHAPTER VII THE SECOND EMPIRE
• CHAPTER VIII The Paris Commune of 1871
• CHAPTER IX CONCLUSION