UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 
 AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 BOOKSTACKS
 
 THE ORIGINS OF CONTEMPORARY FRANCE 
 
 THE 
 
 ANCIENT REGIME 
 
 BY 
 
 HIPPOLYTE ADOLPHE TAINE 
 
 Author of " A History of English Literature," "Italy," ttc. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 JOHN DURAND. 
 NEW EDITION, REVISED
 
 COPYBIGHT, 1876, BT 
 
 HENRY HOLT.
 
 /I 
 
 NOTE BY THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
 In the title of this work, L' Ancien Regime, I have translated 
 the French word ancien by the English word "ancient," not 
 because the latter accurately expresses the meaning of the 
 former, but because the French term ancien, as here used, 
 implies not merely an old but a special regime ; and because 
 since the publication of De Tocqueville's work, LAncien 
 Regime et la Revolution, the term " ancient " applied to 
 regime seems a naturalized translation of ancien, through its 
 ^f frequent use in conversation, as well as in print ; lastly, because 
 Webster seems to sanction the translation of ancien by " an- 
 cient" in giving the French term as one of the etymological 
 
 sources of the English term. 
 
 IV D. 
 
 E 
 ft 
 
 a 
 
 240068
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN 1849, being twenty-one years of age, and an elector, I was 
 very much puzzled, for I had to vote for fifteen or twenty 
 deputies, and, moreover, according to French custom, I had 
 not only to determine what candidate I would vote for, but 
 what theory I should adopt. I had to choose between a royalist 
 or a republican, a democrat or a conservative, a socialist or a 
 bonapartist; as I was neither one nor the other, nor even any- 
 thing, I often envied those around me who were so fortunate as 
 to have arrived at definite conclusions. After listening to various 
 doctrines, it seemed to me that I was laboring under some mental 
 defect. The motives that influenced others did not influence 
 me. I could not comprehend how, in political matters, a man 
 should be governed by his preferences. My affirmative friends 
 planned a constitution the same as a house, according to the 
 latest, simplest, and most complete notion of it, and many 
 were offered for acceptance the mansion of a marquis, the 
 house of a common citizen, the tenement of a laborer, the 
 barracks of a soldier, the philanstery of a socialist, and even the 
 camp of savages. Each claimed that his was "the true habi- 
 tation for man, the only one in which a sensible person could 
 live." I was not satisfied with such reasons, for I did not 
 regard personal tastes as authoritative. It seemed to me that a 
 house should not be built for the architect alone, nor for 
 itself, but for the owner who was to occupy it. Referring to the 
 owner for his advice, submitting to the French people the plans 
 of its future habitation, would evidently be either for show, or 
 to deceive them; such a question, in such a case, answers itself, 
 and, besides, were the answer allowable, France was scarcely 
 better prepared for it than myself; the combined ignorance of
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 ten millions is not the equivalent of one man's wisdom. A 
 people may be consulted and, in an extreme case, may deelare 
 what form of government it would like best, but not that which 
 it most needs. Nothing but experience can determine this; it 
 must have time to ascertain whether the political structure is 
 convenient, substantial, able to withstand inclemencies, and 
 adapted to customs, habits, occupations, characters, peculiarities 
 and caprices. For example, the one we have tried has never 
 satisfied us; we have demolished it thirteen times in twenty 
 years that we might set it up anew, and always in vain, for never 
 have we found one that suited us. If other people have been 
 more fortunate, or if various political structures abroad have 
 proved stable and enduring, it is because these have been erected 
 in a special way, around some primitive, massive pile, supported 
 by an old central edifice, often restored but always preserved, 
 gradually enlarged, and, after numerous trials and additions, 
 adapted to the wants of its occupants. Never has one been put 
 up instantaneously, after an entirely new design, and according 
 to the measurements of pure reason. It is well to admit, per- 
 haps, that there is no other way of erecting a permanent building, 
 and that the sudden contrivance of a new, suitable, and enduring 
 constitution is an enterprise beyond the forces of the human 
 mind. 
 
 In any event, I concluded for myself that, if we ever discover 
 the one we want, it will not be through the processes now in 
 vogue. In effect, the point is, to discover it, whether it exists, 
 and not to submit it to a vote. Our preferences, in this respect, 
 would be vain; nature and history have elected for us in advance; 
 we must accommodate ourselves to them as it is certain that they 
 will not accommodate themselves to us. The social and political 
 forms into which a people may enter and remain are not open to 
 arbitration, but are determined by its character and its past. All, 
 even down to the minutest details, should be moulded on the 
 living features for which they are designed; otherwise, they will 
 break and fall to pieces. Hence it is that, if we succeed in 
 finding our constitution, it will come to us only through a study 
 of ourselves, and the more thoroughly we know ourselves, the 
 greater our certainty in finding the one that suits us. We must, 
 accordingly, set aside the usual methods and have a clear con-
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 ception of the nation before drawing up its constitution. The 
 former is, undoubtedly, a more serious and more difficult task 
 than the latter. What time, what study, what observations 
 correcting each other, what researches into the past and the 
 present, in all the domains of thought and of action, what 
 manifold, secular efforts are necessary for acquiring a full and 
 precise idea of a great people, which has already lived to a great 
 age, and which still lives on ! Only in this way, however, can 
 what is sound be established after having resorted to empty 
 theories, and I resolved, for my own part, ai least, that, should 
 I ever attempt to form a political opinion, it would be only after 
 studying France. 
 
 What is contemporary France? To answer this question, 
 requires a knowledge of how France was formed, or, what is 
 much better, being present at her formation, as if a spectator. 
 At the close of the last century she undergoes a transformation, 
 like that of an insect shedding its coat. Her ancient organiza- 
 tion breaks up; she herself rends the most precious tissues and 
 falls into convulsions which seem mortal. And then, there is 
 recovery, after multiplied throes and a painful lethargy. But 
 her organization is no longer what it was; a new being, after 
 terrible internal travail, is substituted for the old one. In 1808, 
 all her leading features are definitely established: departments, 
 arrondissements, cantons and communes no change has since 
 taken place in her outward divisions and adjunctions; the Con- 
 cordat, the Code, the tribunals, the University, the Institute, the 
 prefects, the Council of State, the imposts, the tax-collectors, 
 the Cour des Comptes, with a centralized and uniform admin- 
 istration its principal organs remain the same; henceforth, 
 every class, the nobles, the commonalty, the laboring class, and 
 the peasants each has the place, interests, sentiments and 
 traditions that we now observe at the present day. Thus, the 
 new organism is at once stable and complete. Its structure, 
 its instincts, and its faculties indicate beforehand the circle 
 within which its thought or action will be exercised. Surround- 
 ing nations, some precocious, others backward, all with greater 
 caution, and many with more success, effect the same transfor- 
 mation in passing from the feudal to the modern State; the par- 
 turition is universal and nearly simultaneous. But in the new,
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 as well as under the old form, the weak are always the prey of 
 the strbng. Woe to those whose too tardy evolution has sub- 
 jected them to the neighbor suddenly emerged from his chrysalis 
 state fully armed ! Woe likewise to him whose too violent 
 and too brusque evolution has disturbed the balance of internal 
 economy, and who, exaggerating his governing means, radically 
 changing fundamental organs, impoverishing by degrees his 
 vital substance, is condemned to rash undertakings, to debility 
 and to impotence, surrounded by better proportioned and 
 healthier neighbors ! In the organization effected by France at 
 the beginning of the century all the main lines of her contempo- 
 raneous history are traceable, political revolutions, social 
 Utopias, the divisions of classes, the role of the Church, the con- 
 duct of the nobles, of the bourgeoisie and of the people, and the 
 development, direction or deviation of philosophy, literature 
 and science. Hence it is that, in striving to comprehend our 
 actual situation, we constantly revert back to the terrible and 
 fruitful crisis by which the Ancient Regime produced the Revo- 
 lution, and the Revolution the Modern Regime. 
 
 The Ancient Regime, the Revolution, the Modern Regime, 
 are the three conditions of things which I shall strive to describe 
 with exactitude. I have no hesitation in stating that this is my 
 sole object. A historian may be allowed the privilege of a natu- 
 ralist ; I have regarded my subject the same as the metamor- 
 phosis of an insect. The event, furthermore, is so interesting as 
 to render it worthy of study for itself alone ; no effort is neces- 
 sary to exclude mental reservations. Without taking any side, 
 curiosity becomes scientific and centres on the secret forces 
 which direct the wonderful process. These forces consist of the 
 situation, the passions, the ideas, and the wills of each group of 
 actors, and which can be defined and almost measured. They 
 are in full view ; we need not resort to conjecture about them, 
 to doubtful surmises, to vague indications. We enjoy the singu- 
 lar good fortune of seeing the men themselves, their exterior and 
 their interior. The Frenchmen of the ancient regime are still 
 within visual range. All of us, in our youth, have encountered 
 one or more of the survivors of this vanished society. Many of 
 their dwellings, with the furniture, still remain intact. Their pic- 
 tures and engravings enable us to take part in their domestic life,
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 see how they dress, observe their attitudes and follow their move- 
 ments. Through their literature, philosophy, scientific pursuits, 
 gazettes, and correspondence, we can reproduce their feeling and 
 thought, and even enjoy their familiar conversation. The multi- 
 tude of memoirs, issuing during the past thirty years from public 
 and private archives, lead us from one drawing-room to another, 
 as if we bore with us so many letters of introduction. The inde- 
 pendent descriptions by foreign travellers, in their journals and 
 correspondence, correct and complete the portraits which this 
 society has traced of itself. Everything that it could state has 
 been stated, except what was commonplace and well-known to 
 contemporaries, whatever seemed technical, tedious and vulgar, 
 whatever related to the provinces, to the bourgeoisie, to the peas- 
 ant, to the laboring man, to the government, and to the house- 
 hold. It has been my aim to supply these omissions, and make 
 France known to others outside the small circle of the literary 
 and the cultivated. Owing to the kindness of M. Maury and the 
 valuable indications of M. Boutaric I have been able to examine 
 a mass of manuscript documents, consisting of the correspond- 
 ence of numerous intendants, customs-directors, farmers-general, 
 magistrates, employees and private individuals, of every kind and 
 degree, during the last thirty years of the ancient regime, includ- 
 ing reports and memorials belonging to the various departments 
 of the royal household, the proch-verbaux and cahiers of the 
 States-General, contained in one hundred and seventy-six vol- 
 umes, the despatches of military officers in 1789 and 1790, the 
 letters, memoirs and detailed statistics, preserved in the one hun- 
 dred boxes of the ecclesiastical committee, the correspondence, 
 in ninety-four files, of the department and municipal authorities, 
 with the ministries from 1 790 to 1 799, the reports of the Coun- 
 cillors of State on mission at the end of 1801, the reports of pre- 
 fects under the Consulate, the Empire, and the Restoration down 
 to 1823, and such a quantity of unknown and instructive docu- 
 ments besides these that the history of the Revolution seems, 
 indeed, to be still unwritten. In any event, it is only such docu- 
 ments which can portray to us all these animated figures, the 
 lesser nobles, the curates, the monks, the nuns of the provinces, 
 the aldermen and bourgeoisie of the towns, the attorneys and 
 syndics of the country villages, the laborers and artisans, the offi-
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 cers and the soldiers. These alone enable us to contemplate and 
 appreciate in detail the various conditions of humanity, the in- 
 terior of a parsonage, of a convent, of a town-council, the wages 
 of a workman, the produce of a farm, the taxes levied on a peas- 
 ant, the duties of a tax-collector, the expenditure of a noble or 
 prelate, the budget, retinue and ceremonial of a court. Thanks 
 to such resources, we are able to give precise figures, to know 
 hour by hour the occupations of a day and, better still, read off 
 the bill of fare of a grand dinner, and recompose all parts of a 
 full-dress costume. We have again, on the one hand, samples 
 of the materials of the dresses worn by Marie Antoinette, pinned 
 on paper and classified by dates, and, on the other, we can tell 
 what clothes were worn by the peasant, describe the bread he ate, 
 specify the flour it was made of, and state the cost of a pound of 
 it in sous and deniers. With such resources one becomes almost 
 contemporary with the men whose history one writes and, more 
 than once, in the Archives, I have found myself speaking almost 
 aloud with them while tracing their old handwriting on the 
 time-stained paper before me. 
 
 August, 1875.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PKXFACK, . . . 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 
 
 CHAPTER I i 
 
 THK ORIGIN OF PRIVILEGES. I. Services and recompenses of the clergy, 
 p. i. II. Services and recompenses of the nobles, p. 4. III. Services 
 and recompenses of the king, p. 9. 
 
 CHAPTER II 13 
 
 PRIVILEGES. I. Number of the privileged classes, p. 13. II. Their pos- 
 sessions, capital, and revenue, p. 13. III. Their immunities, p 16. IV. 
 Their feudal rights. These advantages the remains of primitive sover- 
 eignty, p. 19. V. They may be justified by local and general services, 
 p. 26. 
 
 CHAPTER III 28 
 
 LOCAL SERVICES DUE BY THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. I. Examples in Ger- 
 many and England. These services not rendered by the privileged 
 classes in France, p. 28. II. Resident seigniors. Remains of the be- 
 neficent feudal spirit. They are not rigorous with their tenants but no 
 longer retain the local government. Their isolation. Insignificance or 
 mediocrity of their means of subsistence. Their expenditure. Not in 
 a condition to remit dues. Sentiments of the peasantry towards them, 
 p. 30. III. Absentee seigniors. Vast extent of their fortunes and 
 rights. Possessing greater advantages they owe greater services. 
 Reasons for their absenteeism. Effect of it. Apathy of the provinces. 
 Condition of their estates. They give no alms. Misery of their 
 tenantry. Exactions of then- farmers. Exigencies of their debts. 
 State of their justiciary. Effects of their hunting rights. Sentiments 
 of the peasantry towards them, p. 40. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 60 
 
 PUBLIC SERVICES DUE BY THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. I. An English ex- 
 ample. The privileged class renders no service in France. The influ- 
 ence and rights which remain to them. They use them only for them 
 selves, p. 60. II. Assemblies of the clergy. They serve only ecclesias
 
 Kfi CONTENTS. 
 
 tical interests. The clergy exempted from taxation. Solicitations of its 
 agents. Its zeal against the protestants, p. 61. III. Influence of the no- 
 bles. Regulations in their favor. Preferments obtained by them in the 
 church. Distribution of bishoprics and abbeys. Preferments obtained 
 by them from the State. Governments, offices, sinecures, pensions, gra 
 tuities. Instead of being useful they are an expense, p. 64. IV. Isolation 
 of the chiefs. Sentiments of subordinates. Provincial nobility. The 
 curates, p. 72. V. The king. The most privileged of all. Having mo- 
 nopolized all powers, he takes upon himself their functional activity. 
 The burden of this task. He evades it or is incompetent. His con- 
 science at ease. France is his property. How he abuses it Royalty 
 the center of abuses, p. 77. VI. Latent disorganization in France, p. 84. 
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 
 CHAPTER I 86 
 
 THE PRINCIPLE OF SOCIAL HABITS UNDER THE ANCIENT REGIME. The 
 Court and a life of pomp and parade. I. The physical aspect and the 
 moral character of Versailles, p. 87. II. The king's household. Its 
 officials and expenses. His military family, his stable, kennel, chapel, 
 attendants, table, chamber, wardrobe, outhouses, furniture, journeys, 
 p. 91. III. The society of the king. Officers of the household. In- 
 vited guests, p. 98. IV. The king's occupations. Rising in the morn- 
 ing, mass, dinner, walks, hunting, supper, play, evening receptions. 
 He is always on parade and before company, p. 104. V. Diversions of 
 the royal family and of the court. Louis XV. Louis XV., p. 109. 
 VI. Other similar lives. Princes and princesses. Seigniors of the 
 court. Financiers and parvenues. Ambassadors, ministers, governors, 
 officers-ge'ne'raux, p. 1 13. VII. Prelates, seigniors and minor provincial 
 nobles. The feudal aristocracy transformed into a drawing-room group, 
 p. 119. 
 
 CHAPTER II 123 
 
 DRAWING-ROOM LIFE. I. Perfect only in France. Reasons for this de- 
 rived from the French character. Reasons derived from the tone of the 
 court. This life becomes more and more agreeable and absorbing, p. 
 123. II. Subordination to it of other interests and duties. Indifference 
 to public affairs. They are merely a subject of jest. Neglect of private 
 affairs. Disorder in the household and abuse of money, p. 126. III. 
 Moral divorce of husband and wife. Gallantry. Separation of parents 
 and children. Education, its object and omissions. The tone of servants 
 and purveyors. Pleasure- seeking, universal, p. 131. IV. The charm 
 of this life. Good-breeding in the i8th Century. Its perfection and 
 its resources. Taught and prescribed under feminine authority, p. 138. 
 V. What constitutes happiness in the i8th Century. The fascination 
 of display. Indolence, recreations, light conversation, p. 143. VI. 
 Gayety in the i8th Century. Its causes and effects. Toleration and
 
 CONTENTS. rii 
 
 license. Balls, fetes, hunts, banquets, pictures. Freedom of thfl 
 magistrates and prelates, p. 147. VII. The principal diversion, elegant 
 comedy. Parades and extravagance, p. 152. 
 
 CHAPTER III ... - '57 
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF THIS DRAWING-ROOM LIFE. I. Its barrenness and 
 artificiality. Return to nature and sentiment, p. 157. II. Its impres- 
 sionability the final trait which completes the physiognomy of the 
 century. Date of its advent. Its symptoms in art and in literature. 
 Its dominion in private. Its affectations. Its sincerity. Its delicacy, 
 p. 160. III. The failings of character thus formed. Adapted to on* 
 situation but not to a contrary situation. Defects of intelligence. De- 
 fects of disposition. Such a character is disarmed by good- breeding, 
 p. 165. 
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I ' 170 
 
 THE COMPOSITION OF THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT. Scientific acquisitions 
 its first element. I. The accumulation and progress of discoveries in 
 science and in nature. They serve as a starting-point for the new phi- 
 Insophers, p. 170. II. Change of the point of view in the science of 
 man. It is detached from theology and is united with the natural 
 sciences, p. 175. III. The transformations of history. Voltaire. 
 Criticism and conceptions of unity. Montesquieu. An outline of social 
 laws, 177. IV. The transformation of psychology. Condillac. The 
 theory of sensation and of signs, p. 181. V. The analytical method. 
 Its principle. The conditions requisite to make it productive. These 
 conditions wanting or inadequate in the i8th century. The truth and 
 survival of the principle, p. 183. 
 
 CHAPTER II 184 
 
 THE CLASSIC SPIRIT, THE SECOND ELEMENT. I. Its signs, duration and 
 power. Its origin and public supporters. Its vocabulary, grammar and 
 style. Its method, merits and defects, p. 184. II. Its original de- 
 ficiency. Signs of this in the l8th century. It grows with time and 
 success. Proofs of this growth in the i8th century. Serious poetry, 
 the drama, history and romances. Short-sighted views of man and of 
 human existence, p. 194. III. The philosophic method in conformity 
 with it. Ideology. Abuse of the mathematical process. Condillac, 
 Rousseau, Mably, Condorcet, Volney, Sieyes, Cabanis, ard de Tracy, 
 Excesses of simplification and boldness of deduction, p. 201. 
 
 CHAPTER III 204 
 
 COMBINATION OF THE TWO ELEMENTS. I The doctrine, its pretensions, 
 
 and its character. A new authority for reason in the regulation of human 
 
 affairs. Government thus far traditional, p. 204. II. Origin, nature and 
 
 value of hereditary prejudice. How far custom, religion and government 
 
 b
 
 fft CONTENTS. 
 
 are legitimate, p. 207 III. The classic intellect incapable of accepting 
 this point of view. The past and present titles of tradition misunder- 
 stood. Reason undertakes to set them aside, p. 21 1. IV. Two stages 
 in this operation. Voltaire, Montesquieu, the deists and the reformers 
 represent the first one. What they destroy and what thej respect, p. 214. 
 V. The second stage, a return to nature. Diderot, d'Holbach and the 
 materialists. Theory of animated matter and spontaneous organization. 
 The moral of animal instinct and self-interest properly understood, p. 
 216. VI. Rousseau and the spiritualists. The original goodness of 
 man. The mistake committed by civilization. The injustice of property 
 and of society, p. 221. VII. The forlorn hope of the philosophic party. 
 Naigeon, Sylvain Mare'chal, Mably, Morelly. The entire discredit of 
 traditions and institutions derived from it, p. 230. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 232 
 
 THE ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY IN THE FUTURE. I. The mathematical 
 method. Definition of man in the abstract The social contract Inde- 
 pendence and equality of the contractors. All equal before the law and 
 each sharing in the sovereignty, p. 232. II. The first result The 
 theory easily applied. Confidence in it due to belief in man's inherent 
 goodness and reasonableness, p. 234. III. The inadequacy and fragility 
 of reason in man. The rarity and inadequacy of reason in humanity. 
 Subordination of reason in human conduct. Brutal and dangerous 
 forces. The nature and utility of government. Government impossible 
 under the new theory, p. 238. IV. The second result. The new theory 
 leads to despotism. Precedents for this theory. Administrative central- 
 ization. The Utopia of the Economists. Invalidity of preceding rights. 
 Collateral associations not tolerated. Complete surrender of the in- 
 dividual to the community. Rights of the State in relation to prop- 
 erty, education and religion. The State a Spartan convent, p. 244. 
 V. Complete triumph and last excesses of classic reason. How it be- 
 comes monomania. Why its work is not enduring, p. 250. 
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 
 
 CHAPTER I 252 
 
 SUCCESS OF THIS PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE. Failure of the same philoso- 
 phy in England. I. Causes of this difference. The art of writing in 
 France. Its superiority at this epoch. It serves as the vehicle of new 
 ideas. Books are written for people of the world. The philosophers are 
 people of the world and consequently writers. This accounts for philoso- 
 phy descending to the drawing-room, p. 253. II. Owing to this method 
 it becomes popular, p. 256. III. Owing to style it becomes pleasing. 
 Two stimulants peculiar to the i8th century, coarse humor and irony, p 
 257. IV. The art and processes of the masters. Montesquieu. Vo* 
 taire. Diderot Rousseau. " The Marriage of Figaro," p. 259.
 
 CONTENTS. vt 
 
 CHAPTER II 277 
 
 THE FRENCH PUBLIC. I. The Aristocracy. Novelty commonly repug- 
 nant to it. Conditions of this repugnance. Example in England, p. 
 277. II. The opposite conditions found in France. Indolence of the 
 upper class. Philosophy seems an intellectual drill. Besides this, 
 subject for conversation. Philosophic converse in the l8th century. 
 Its superiority and its charm. The influence it exercises, p. 279. III. 
 Further effects of indolence. The sceptical, licentious and seditious 
 spirit. Previous resentment and fresh discontent at the established 
 order of things. Sympathy for the theories against it. How far ac- 
 cepted, p. 284. IV. Their diffusion among the upper class. Progress of 
 incredulity in religion. Its causes. It breaks out under the Regency. 
 Increasing irritation against the clergy. Materialism in the drawing, 
 room. Estimate of the sciences. Final opinion on religion. Scepti- 
 cism of the higher clergy, p. 287. V. Progress of political opposition. 
 Its origin. The economists and the parliamentarians. They prepare 
 the way for the philosophers. Political fault-finding in the drawing- 
 rooms. Female liberalism, p. 294. VI. Infinite, vague aspirations. 
 Generosity of sentiments and of conduct. The mildness and good 
 intentions of the government. Its blindness and optimism, p. 297. 
 
 CHAPTER III ....... 305 
 
 THE MIDDLE CLASS. I. The former spirit of the Third-Estate. Public 
 matters concern the king only. Limits of the Jansenist and parliament- 
 arian opposition, p. 305. II. Change in the condition of the bourgeois. 
 He becomes wealthy. He makes loans to the State. The danger of his 
 creditorship. He interests himself in public matters, p. 307. III. He 
 rises on the social ladder. The noble draws near to him. He becomes 
 cultivated. He enters into society. He regards himself as the equal of 
 the noble. Privileges an annoyance, p. 311. IV. Philosophy in the 
 minds thus fitted for it. That of Rousseau prominent. This philosophy 
 in harmony with new necessities. It is adopted by the Third-Estate, p. 
 315. V. Its effect therein. The formation of revolutionary passions. 
 Levelling instincts. The craving for dominion. The Third-Estate de- 
 cides and it constitutes the nation. Chimeras, ignorance, exaltation, p. 
 319. VI. Summary, p. 327. 
 
 BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 THE PEOPLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I 329 
 
 I. Privations. Under Louis XIV. Under Louis XV. Under Louis 
 XVI, p. 329. II. The condition of the peasant during the last thirty 
 years of the Ancient Regime. His precarious subsistence. State of 
 agriculture. Uncultivated farms. Poor cultivation. Inadequate wa- 
 ges. Lack of comforts, p. 337. III. Aspects of the country and of the 
 peasantry, p. 342. IV. How the peasant becomes a proprietor. H
 
 rrf CONTENTS. 
 
 is no better off. Increase of taxes. He is the "mule" of the Ancient 
 Regime, p. 345. 
 
 CHAPTER II 349 
 
 TAXATION THE PRINCIPAL CAUSE OF MISERY. I. Direct taxes. State of 
 different domains at the end of the reign of Louis XV. Levies of the 
 tithe-owner and of the fisc. What remains to the proprietor, p. 349. 
 II. State of certain provinces on the outbreak of the Revolution. The 
 tattle, and other imposts. The proportion of these taxes in relation to 
 income. The sum total immense, p. 351. III. Four direct taxes on 
 the common laborer, p. 353. IV. Collections and seizures, p. 354. V. 
 Indirect taxes. The salt-tax and the excise, p. 358. VI. Why taxation 
 is so burdensome. Exemptions and privileges, p. 362. VII. The 
 octrois of towns. The poor the greatest sufferers, p. 368. VIII. Com- 
 plaints in the memorials, p. 370. 
 
 CHAPTER III 374 
 
 INTELLECTUAL STATE OF THE PEOPLE. I. Intellectual incapacity. How 
 ideas are transformed into marvellous stories, p. 374. II. Political in- 
 capacity. Interpretation of political rumors and of government action, 
 p. 377. III. Destructive impulses. The object of blind rage. Dis- 
 trust of natural leaders. Suspicion of them changed into hatred. Dis- 
 position of the people in 1789, p. 379. IV. Insurrectionary leaders and 
 recruits. Poachers. Smugglers and dealers in contraband salt. Ban- 
 ditti. Beggars and vagabonds. Advent of brigands. The people of 
 Paris, p. 380. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 390 
 
 I. Military force declines. How the army is recruited. How the soldier 
 is treated, p. 390. II. The social organization is dissolved. No centrai 
 rallying-point. Inertia of the provinces. Ascendency of Paris, p. 393. 
 III. Direction of the current. The people led by lawyers. Theories 
 and piques the sole surviving forces, p. 395. 
 
 CHAPTER V 398 
 
 I. P- 398. II, P. 400- 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note I, p. 403. Note 2, p. 404. Note 3, p. 409. Note 4, p. 410. Note 
 S* p. 4-
 
 THE ANCIENT REGIME. 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 Structure of &ocf**8 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ORIGIN OF PRIVILEGES. I. Services and Recompenses of the Clergy. ' 
 II. Services and Recompenses of the Nobles.4-111. Services and Recom- 
 penses of the King. ! 
 
 s\ 
 
 IN 1789 three classes of persons, the Clergy, the Nobles, and 
 the King, occupied the most prominent position in the State, 
 with all the advantages which it comports; namely, authority, 
 property, honors, or, at the very least, privileges, immunities, 
 favors, pensions, preferences, and the like. If they occupied 
 this position for so long a time, it is because for so long a time 
 they had deserved it. They had, in short, through an immense 
 and secular effort, constructed by degrees the three principal 
 foundations of modem society. 
 
 I. 
 
 Of the three superposed foundations the most ancient and 
 deepest was the work of the clergy. For twelve hundred years 
 and more they had labored upon it, both as architects and work- 
 men, at first alone and then almost alone. In the beginning, 
 during the first four centuries, they constituted religion and the 
 church. Let us ponder over these two words, in order to weigh 
 them well. On the one hand, in a society founded on conquest, 
 hard and cold like a machine of brass, forced by its very struct 
 f
 
 2 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 ure to destroy among its subjects all courage to act and all desire 
 to live, they had proclaimed the "glad tidings," held forth the 
 "kingdom of God," preached loving resignation in the hands of 
 a Heavenly Father, inspired patience, gentleness, humility, self- 
 abnegation, and charity, thus opening the only issues by which 
 man stifling in the Roman ergastulum could again breathe and 
 see daylight and this is religion. On the other hand, in a State 
 gradually undergoing depopulation, crumbling away, and fatally 
 becoming a prey, they had formed a living society governed by 
 laws and discipline, rallying around a common object and a 
 common doctrine, sustained by the devotion of chiefs and by 
 he obedience of believers, alone capable of subsisting beneath 
 the flood of barbarians which the empire in ruin, suffered to pour 
 in through its breaches and this is the church. 
 
 The Clergy continues to build on these two first foundations, 
 and after the invasion, for over five hundred years, it saves what 
 it can still save of human culture. It sends missionaries to the 
 barbarians or converts them directly after their entrance; this is 
 of vast service ; we can estimate it by one fact alone : In Great 
 Britain, which like Gaul had become Latin, but whereof the 
 conquerors remained pagan during a century and a half, arts, 
 industries, society, language, all were destroyed; nothing re- 
 mained of an entire people, either massacred or fugitive, but 
 slaves. We have still to divine their traces ; reduced to the con- 
 dition of beasts of burden, they disappear from history. Such 
 might have been the fate of Europe if the clergy had not 
 promptly tamed the fierce brutes to which it belonged. Before 
 the bishop in his gilded cope, before the monk, " emaciated, clad 
 in skins," wan, "dirtier and more spotted than a chameleon," 1 
 the converted German stood fear-stricken as before a sorcerer 
 In his calm moments, after the chase or inebriety, the vague div- 
 ination of a mysterious and grandiose future, the dim conception 
 of an unknown tribunal, the rudiment of conscience "which he 
 already had in his forests beyond the Rhine, arouses in him 
 through sudden alarms half-formed, menacing visions. At the 
 moment of violating a sanctuary he asks himself whether he 
 
 may not fall on its threshold with vertigo and a broken neck. 1 
 s_ 
 
 1 "Les Moines d'Occident," by Montalembert, I. 277; St Lupicin before the Burgun- 
 dian King Chilperic, II. 416; St. Karileff before King Childebert; cf. /<tnV, Gregory of 
 Tours and the Bollandist collection. 
 
 * No legend is more frequently encountered ; we find it as late ac the twelfth century.
 
 CHAP. I. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. j 
 
 Convinced through his own perplexity, he stops and spares the 
 farm, the village, and the town which live under the priest's pro- 
 tection. If the animal impulse of rage, or of primitive lusts, 
 leads him to murder or to rob, later, after satiety, in times of 
 sickness or of misfortune, taking the advice of his concubine or 
 of his wife, he repents and makes restitution twofold, tenfold, a 
 hundredfold, unstinted in his gifts and immunities. 1 Thus, over 
 the whole territory the clergy maintain and enlarge its asylums 
 for the oppressed and the vanquished. On the other hand, 
 among the warrior chiefs with long hair, by the side of kings 
 clad in furs, the mitred bishop and abbot, with shaven brows, 
 take seats in the assemblies ; they alone know how to use the pen 
 and how to discuss. Secretaries, councillors, theologians, they par- 
 ticipate in all edicts ; they have their hand in the government ; 
 they strive through its agency to bring a little order out of im- 
 mense disorder; to render the law more rational and more hu- 
 mane, to re-establish or preserve piety, instruction, justice, prop- 
 erty, and especially marriage. To their ascendency is certainly 
 due the police system, such as it was, intermittent and incom- 
 plete, which prevented Europe from falling into a Mongolian an 
 archy. If, down to the end of the twelfth century, the clergy 
 bears heavily on the princes, it is especially to repress in them 
 and beneath them the brutal appetites, the rebellions of flesh and 
 blood, the outbursts and relapses of irresistible ferocity which are 
 undermining the social fabric. Meanwhile, in its churches and 
 in its convents, it preserves the ancient acquisitions of humanity, 
 the Latin tongue, Christian literature and theology, a portion of 
 pagan literature and science, architecture, sculpture, painting, the 
 arts and industries which aid worship, the more valuable indus- 
 tries which provide man with bread, clothing, and shelter, and 
 especially the greatest of all human acquisitions, and the most 
 opposed to the vagabond humor of the idle and plundering bar- 
 barian, the habit and taste for labor. In the rural districts 
 depopulated through Roman fisc, by the revolt of the Ba- 
 gaudes, by the invasion of the Germans, and by the raids of 
 brigands, the Benedictine monk built his cabin of boughs amid 
 briers and brambles; 2 large areas around him, formerly culti- 
 
 1 Chilperic, fo*-hunple, acting under the advice of Fredegonde after the death of thdl 
 ihildren. 
 
 * Montalembert, ibid, II. book 8; and especially "Les Forets de la France dans 1'antiq- 
 uit et au Moyen Age," by Alfred Maury. Spin* et refret is a phrase constantly recur 
 ring in the lives of the saints.
 
 4 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 vated, are nothing but abandoned thickets. Along with his as- 
 sociates he clears the ground and erects buildings ; he domesti- 
 cates half-tamed animals ; he establishes a farm, a mill, a forge, 
 an oven, and shops for shoes and clothing. According to the 
 rules of his order, he reads daily for two hours; he gives seven 
 hours to manual labor, and he neither eats nor drinks more than 
 is absolutely essential. Through his intelligent, voluntary labor, 
 conscientiously performed and with a view to the future, he pro- 
 duces more than the layman. Through his temperate, judicious, 
 ecor.omical system he consumes less than the layman. Hence 
 it is that where the layman had failed he sustains himself and 
 even prospers. 1 He welcomes the unfortunate, feeds them, sets 
 them to work, and unites them in matrimony; beggars, vaga- 
 bonds, and fugitive peasants gather around the sanctuary. Their 
 camp gradually becomes a village and next a small town ; man 
 ploughs as soon as he can be sure of his crops, and becomes the 
 father of a family as soon as he considers himself able to provide 
 for his offspring. In this way new centres of agriculture and in- 
 dustry are formed, which likewise become new centres of popu 
 lation. 2 
 
 To food for the body add food for the soul, not less essential ; 
 for, along with aliments, it was still necessary to furnish man 
 with inducements to live, or, at the very least, with the resigna- 
 tion which makes life endurable ; also with the affecting or poetic 
 reverie which supplies the place of absent felicity. Down to the 
 middle of the thirteenth century the clergy stands almost alone 
 in furnishing this. Through its innumerable legends of saints, 
 through its cathedrals and their construction, through its statues 
 and their expression, through its services and their still transpar- 
 ent meaning, it rendered visible "the kingdom of God," and 
 set up. an ideal world at the end of the actual world, like a 
 magnificent golden pavilion at the end of a miry morass. 3 The 
 
 1 We find the same thing to-day with the colonies of Trappists in Algiers. 
 
 * " Polyptique d'Inninon," by GueVard. In this work we see the prosperity of the domain 
 belonging to the Abbey of St. Germain des Pres at the end of the eighth century. Accord- 
 ing to M. Gu^rard's statistics, the peasantry of Paliseau were about as prosperous in the 
 time of Charlemagne as at the present day. 
 
 1 There are twentj -five thousand lives of the saints, between the sixth and tenth centu- 
 ries, collected by the Bollandists. The last that are truly inspired are those of St Francis 
 of Assisi and his companions at the beginning of the fourteenth century. The same vivid 
 sentiment extends down to the end of the fifteenth century in the works of Fra Angelicc 
 and Hans Memling. The Sainte Chapelle in Paris, the upper church at Assisi, Dante'i
 
 CHAP. i. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. f 
 
 saddened heart, athirst for tenderness and serenity, takes ref- 
 uge in this divine and gentle world. Persecutors there, about 
 to strike, are arrested by an invisible hand ; wild beasts become 
 docile; the stags of the forest come of their own accord every 
 morning to draw the chariots of the saints ; the country blooms 
 for them like a new Paradise; they die only when it pleases 
 them. Meanwhile they comfort mankind; goodness, piety, for- 
 giveness flows from their lips with ineffable sweetness ; with eyes 
 upturned to heaven, they see God, and without effort, as in a 
 dream, they ascend into the light and seat themselves at His 
 right hand. How divine the legend, how inestimable in value 
 under the universal reign of brute force, when, to endure this life, 
 it was necessary to imagine another, and to render the second as 
 visible to the spiritual eye as the first was to the physical eye. 
 The clergy thus nourished men for more than twelve centuries, 
 and in the grandeur of its recompense we can estimate the depth 
 of their gratitude; Its popes, for two hundred years, were the 
 dictators of Europe. It organized crusades, dethroned mon- 
 archs, and distributed kingdoms. Its bishops and abbots became 
 here, sovereign princes and there, veritable founders of dynasties. 
 It held in its grasp a third of the territory, one-half of the reve- 
 nue and two-thirds of the capital of Europe. Let us not be- 
 lieve that man counterfeits gratitude, or that he gives without a 
 valid motive; he is too egotistical and too envious for that. 
 Whatever may be the institution, ecclesiastic or secular, whatever 
 may be the clergy, Buddhist or Christian, the contemporaries 
 who observe it for forty generations are not bad judges; they 
 surrender to it their will and their possessions, just in proportion 
 to its services, and the excess of their devotion may measure the 
 juaiensity of its benefaction. 
 
 II. If 
 
 Up to this point no aid is found against the power of the 
 sword and the battle-axe except in persuasion and in patience. 
 Those States which, imitating the old empire, attempted to rise 
 up into compact organizations, and to interpose a barrier against 
 constant invasion, obtained no hold on the shifting soil; after 
 
 Paradise, and the Fioretti, furnish an idea of these visions. In the way of modem litera- 
 ture the state of a believer's soul in the middle ages is perfectly described in the " Pelerln. 
 age a Kevlaar," by Heine, and in " Les Reliques -ivantes," by Tourgueneff 
 I*
 
 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOKI. 
 
 Charlemagne everything melts away. There are no more sol- 
 diers after the battle of Fontanet ; during half a century bands 
 of four or five hundred brigands sweep over the country, killing, 
 burning, and devastating with impunity. But, by way of compen- 
 sation, the dissolution of the State raises up at this very time a 
 military generation. Each petty chieftain has planted his feet 
 firmly on the domain he occupies, or which he withholds ; he no 
 longer keeps it in trust, or for use, but as property, and an inher- 
 itance. It is his own manor, his own village, his own earldom ; 
 it no longer belongs to the king ; he contends for it in his own 
 right. The benefactor, the conservator at this time is the man 
 capable of fighting, of defending others, and such really is the 
 character of the newly established class. The noble, in the lan- 
 guage of the day, is the man of war, the soldier (miles), and it is 
 he who lays the second foundation of modern society. 
 
 In the tenth century his extraction is of little consequence. 
 He is oftentimes a Carlovingian count, a beneficiary of the king, 
 the sturdy proprietor of one of the latest free territories. In 
 one place he is a martial bishop or a valiant abbot ; in another 
 a converted pagan, a retired bandit, a prosperous adventurer, a 
 rude huntsman, a long time supporting himself on the chase and 
 on wild fruits. 1 The ancestors of Robert the Strong are un- 
 known, and later the story runs that the Capets are descended 
 from a Parisian butcher. In any event the noble of that epoch 
 is the brave, the powerful man, expert in the use of arms, who, 
 at the head of a troop, instead of flying or paying ransom, offers 
 his breast, stands firm, and protects a patch of the soil with his 
 sword. To perform this service he has no need of ancestors; 
 all that he requires is courage, for he is himself an ancestor; 
 security for the present, which he insures, is too acceptable to 
 permit any quibbling about his title. 
 
 Finally, after so many centuries, we find each canton pos- 
 sessing its armed men, a settled body of troops capable of 
 resisting nomadic invasion ; the community is no longer a prey 
 to strangers ; at the end of a century this Europe, which had 
 been sacked by flotillas of two-masted vessels, is to throw two 
 hundred thousand armed men into Asia, and henceforth, both 
 north and south, in the face of Mussulmans and of pagans, 
 
 1 As, for example, Tertullian, founder of the Plantagenet family, Rollo, Duke of No 
 mandy, Hughes, Abbot of St Martin, of Tours, and of St. Denis
 
 CHAP. i. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 7 
 
 instead of being conquered it is to conquer. For the second 
 time an ideal figure becomes apparent after that of the saint. 1 
 the hero, and the new-born sentiment, as efficacious as the old 
 one, thus groups men together into a stable society. This con- 
 sists of a resident corps of gendarmes, in which, from father to 
 son, one is always a gendarme. Each individual is born into it 
 with his hereditary rank, his local post, his pay in landed prop- 
 erty, with the certainty of never being abandoned by his chief- 
 tain, and with the obligation of giving his life for his chieftain in 
 tims of need. In this epoch of perpetual warfare only one 
 regimen is suitable, that of a body of men confronting the 
 enemy, and such is the feudal system; we can judge by this 
 trait alone of the perils which it wards off, and of the service 
 which it enjoins. "In those days," says the Spanish general- 
 chronicle, "kings, counts, nobles, and knights, in order to be 
 ready at all hours, kept their horses in the rooms in which they 
 slept with their wives." The viscount in his tower defending 
 the entrance to a valley or the passage of a ford, the marquis 
 thrown as a forlorn hope on the burning frontier, sleeps with his 
 hand on his weapon, like an American lieutenant among the Siom 
 behind a western stockade. His dwelling is simply a camp and 
 a refuge ; straw and heaps of leaves overspread the pavement of 
 the great hall ; here he rests with his cavaliers, taking off a spur 
 if he has a chance to sleep ; the loopholes in the wall scarcely 
 allow daylight to enter ; the main thing is not to be shot with 
 arrows. Every taste, every sentiment is subordinated to mill 
 tary service ; there are certain places on the European frontier 
 where a child of fourteen is required to march, and where the 
 widow up to sixty is required to remarry. Men to fill up the 
 ranks, men to mount guard, is the call which at this moment 
 proceeds from all institutions like the summons of a brazen 
 horn. 
 
 Thanks to these braves, the peasant (villanus) enjoys pro- 
 tection. He is no longer to be slaughtered, no longer to be led 
 captive with his family, in herds, with his neck in a pitchfork. 
 He ventures to plough and to sow, and to rely upon his crops ; 
 in case of danger he knows that he can find an asylum for 
 himself, and for his grain and cattle, in the circle of palisades at 
 
 I See the "Cantilenes" of the tenth century in which the "Chansons de Geste" an
 
 a THR ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 the base of the fortress. By degrees necessity establishes a tacit 
 contract between the military chieftain of the donjon and the 
 early settlers of the open country, and this becomes a recognized 
 custom. They work for him, cultivate his ground, do his cart- 
 ing, pay him quittances, so much for house, so much per head 
 for cattle, so much to inherit or to sell; he is compelled to 
 support his troop. But when these rights are discharged he errs 
 if, through pride or greediness, he takes more than his due. As 
 to the vagabonds, the wretched, who, in the universal disorder 
 and devastation, seek refuge under his guardianship, their con- 
 dition is harder; the soil belongs to him, because without him it 
 would be uninhabitable ; if he assigns them a plot of ground, 
 if he permits them merely to encamp on it, if he sets them to 
 work or furnishes them with seeds, it is on conditions which he 
 prescribes. They are to become his serfs, his mortmains ; wher- 
 ever they may go he is to have the right of fetching them back, 
 and from father to son they are his born domestics, assignable to 
 any pursuit he pleases, taxable and workable at his discretion, 
 and not allowed to transmit anything to a child unless the latter, 
 "living from their pot," can, after their death, continue their 
 service. "Not to be killed," says Stendhal, "and to have a 
 good sheepskin coat in winter, was, for many people in the 
 tenth century, the height of felicity"; let us add, for a woman, 
 that of not being violated by a whole band. When we clearly 
 represent to ourselves the condition of humanity in those days, 
 we can comprehend how men readily accepted the most obnox- 
 ious of feudal rights, even that of the droit du seigneur. The 
 risks to which they were daily subject were even worse. 1 The 
 proof of it is that the people flocked to the feudal structure as 
 soon as it was completed. In Normandy, for instance, when 
 Rollo had divided off the lands with a line, and hung the 
 robbers, the inhabitants of the neighboring provinces rushed in 
 to establish themselves. The slightest security sufficed to re- 
 populate a country. 
 
 People accordingly lived, or rather began to live, under the 
 rude, iron-gloved hand which used them roughly, but which af- 
 forded them protection. The seignior, sovereign and proprie- 
 
 1 See In the " Voyages de Caillaud," in Nubia and Abyssinia, tte raids /or slaves madf 
 by the Pacha's armies; Europe presented about the same spectacle Between the years 8o 
 and 900.
 
 CHAP. I. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. g 
 
 tor, maintains for himself under this double title, the moors, the 
 river, the forest, all the game ; it is no great evil, since the coun- 
 try is nearly a desert, and he devotes his leisure to exterminating 
 large wild beasts. He alone possessing the resources, is the 
 only one that is able to construct the mill, the oven, and the 
 wine-press; to establish the ferry, the bridge, or the highway; 
 to dike in a marsh, and to raise or purchase a bull; and to in 
 demnify himself he taxes for these or forces their use. If he is 
 intelligent and a good manager of men, if he seeks to derive the 
 greatest profit from his ground, he gradually relaxes, or allows 
 to become relaxed, the meshes of the net in which his villeins 
 and serfs work unprofitably because they are too tightly drawn. 
 Habit, necessity, a voluntary or forced conformity, have their 
 effect ; seigniors, villeins, serfs, and bourgeois, in the end adapted 
 to their condition, bound together by a common interest, form to- 
 gether a society, a veritable corporation. The seigniory, the 
 county, the duchy becomes a patrimony which is loved through a 
 blind instinct, and to which all are devoted. It is confounded 
 with the seignior and his family ; in this relation people are proud 
 of him ; they narrate his feats of arms ; they cheer him as his cav- 
 alcade passes along the street; they rejoice in his magnificence 
 through sympathy. 1 If he becomes a widower and has no chil- 
 dren, they send deputations to him to entreat him to remarry, in 
 order that at his death the country may not fall into a war of suc- 
 cession or be given up to the encroachments of neighbors. Thus 
 there is a revival, after a thousand years, of the most powerful and 
 the most vivacious of the sentiments that support human society. 
 This one is the more precious because it is capable of expanding : 
 for the small feudal patrimony to become the great national pat- 
 rimony, it now suffices for all the seigniories to be combined in 
 the hands of a single seignior, and that the king, chief of the 
 nobles, should overlay the work of the nobles with the third 
 foundation of France. 
 
 III. 
 
 The King built the whole of this foundation, one stone after 
 another. Hugues Capet laid the first one. Before him royalty 
 
 1 See the zeal of subjects for their lords in the historians of the middle ages ; Gaston Phoe- 
 bus, Comte de Foix, and Guy, Comte de Flandres in Froissart ; Raymond de B6ziers and 
 Raymond de Toulouse, in the chronicle of Toulouse. This profound sentiment for small 
 local patrimonies is apparent at each provincial assembly in Normandy, Brittany, Francb 
 Comt6, etc.
 
 io THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 conferred on the King no right to a province, not even Laon; he 
 is the first who added his domain to the title. During eight hun- 
 dred years, through conquest, craft, inheritance, the work of ac- 
 quisition goes on; even under Louis XV. France is augmented by 
 the acquisition of Lorraine and Corsica. Starting from nothing, 
 the King is the maker of a compact State, containing a population 
 of twenty-six millions, and then the most powerful in Europe. 
 Throughout this interval he is at the head of the public defence ; 
 the liberator of the country against foreigners, against the Pope 
 in the fourteenth century, against the English in the fifteenth, 
 against the Spaniards in the sixteenth. In the interior, from the 
 twelfth century onward, with the helmet on his brow, and always 
 on the road, he is the great justiciary, demolishing the towers of 
 the feudal brigands, repressing the excesses of the powerful, pro- 
 tecting the oppressed ; l he puts an end to private warfare ; he 
 establishes order and tranquillity ; an immense accomplishment, 
 which, from Louis le Gros to St. Louis, from Philippe le Bel to 
 Charles VII., and to Louis XL, from Henry IV. to Louis XIII. 
 and Louis XIV., continues uninterruptedly up to the middle of 
 the seventeenth century in the edict against duels and in the 
 " Grands Jours." * Meanwhile all useful projects carried out un- 
 der his orders, or developed under his patronage, roads, harbors, 
 canals, asylums, universities, academies, institutions of piety, of 
 refuge, of education, of science, of industry, and of commerce, 
 bear his imprint and proclaim the public benefactor. Services of 
 this character challenge a proportionate recompense ; it is allowed 
 that from father to son he is wedded to France ; that she acts only 
 through him ; that he acts only for her ; while every souvenir of 
 the past and every present interest combine to sanction this union. 
 The Church consecrates it at Rheims by a sort of eighth sacrament, 
 accompanied with legends and miracles; he is the anointed of 
 God. 3 The nobles, through an old instinct of military fealty, con- 
 sider themselves his body-guard, and down to August io (1789), 
 rush forward to die for him on his staircase ; he is their general by 
 birth. The people, down to 1789, regard him as the redresser 
 of abuses, the guardian of the right, the protector of the weak, 
 
 Suger, Life of Louis VI. 
 
 * " Les Grands Jours d'Auvergne," by Fleshier, ed. ChSrueL The last feudal brigand, 
 the Baron of Plumartin, in Poitou, was taken, tried, and executed under Louis XV. { 
 1756. 
 
 * As late as Louis XV. iprocti-verbal'v, made of the number of cures of the King'* rfi
 
 CHAP. i. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. n 
 
 the great almoner, the universal refuge. At the beginning of tha 
 reign of Louis XVI. "the shouts of Vive le rot, which began at 
 six o'clock in the morning, continued scarcely interrupted until 
 after sunset." * When the Dauphin was born the joy of France 
 was that of a whole family. " People stopped each other in the 
 streets, spoke together without any acquaintance, and everybody 
 embraced everybody he knew." 2 Every one, through vague 
 tradition, through immemorial respect, feels that France is a ves- 
 sel constructed by his hands and the hands of his ancestors ; 
 that, in this sense, the structure is his property ; that his right in 
 it is that of each passenger to his private goods ; and that his 
 whole duty consists in being expert and vigilant in the conduct 
 of the magnificent ship over the sea whereon the public welfare 
 floats beneath his banner. 
 
 Under the ascendency of such an idea he was allowed to do 
 everything. By fair means or foul, he so reduced ancient author- 
 ities as to make them a mere ruin, a semblance, a souvenir. The 
 nobles are simply his officials or his courtiers. Since the Con- 
 cordat he nominates the dignitaries of the Church. The States- 
 General were not convoked for a hundred and seventy-five 
 years; the provincial assemblies which continue to subsist do 
 nothing but apportion the taxes; the parliaments are exiled 
 when they risk a remonstrance. Through his council, his in- 
 tendants, his sub-delegates, he interposes in the most trifling of 
 local matters. He enjoys a revenue of four hundred and 
 seventy -seven millions. 3 He disburses one -half of that of the 
 Clergy. In short, he is absolute master, and he so declares 
 himself. 4 Possessions, freedom from taxation, the satisfactions 
 of vanity, a few remnants of local jurisdiction and authority, are 
 consequently all that is left to his ancient rivals ; in exchange for 
 these they enjoy his favors and marks of preference. 
 
 1 "Me'moires of Madame Campan," I. 89; II. 215. 
 
 In 1785 an Englishman visiting France boasts of the political liberty enjoyed in hi* 
 country. As an offset to this the French reproach the English for having decapitated 
 Charles I., and " glory in having always maintained an inviolable attachment to their own 
 king; a fidelity, a respect which no excess or severity on his part has ever shaken." ("A 
 Comparative View of the French and of the English Nation," by John Andrews, p. 357). 
 
 * Memoirs of D Augeard, private secretary of the Queen, and a former farmer-general. 
 
 * The following is the reply of Louis XV. to the Parliament of Paris, March 3, 1766, in a 
 Ut cU juttict: "The sovereign authority is vested in my person. . . . The legislative 
 power, without dependence and without division, exists in myself alone. Public security 
 emanates wholly from myself; I am its supreme custodian. My people are one only with 
 me ; national rights and interests, of which an attempt is made to form a body separate from 
 those of the monarch, an necessarily combined with my own and only test in my hands."
 
 12 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 Such, in brief, Is the history of the privileged classes, the 
 Clergy, the Nobles, and the King. It must be kept in mind to 
 comprehend their situation at the moment of their fall ; having 
 created France, they enjoy it. Let us see near by what becomes 
 of them at the end of the eighteenth century j what portion 
 of their advantages they preserved; what services they still 
 render, and what services they do not render.
 
 CHAPTER Ii 
 
 PRIVILEGES. I. Number of the Privileged Classes. II. Their Posses- 
 sions, Capital, and Revenue. III. Their Immunities. IV. Their Feudal 
 Rights. These advantages the remains of primitive sovereignty. V. They 
 may be justified by local and general services. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE privileged classes number about 270,000 persons, com- 
 prising of the nobility 140,000 and of the clergy ^OjOoo. 1 This 
 makes from 25,000 to 30,000 noble families; 23,000 monks in 
 2,500 monasteries, and 37,000 nuns in 1,500 convents, and 60,000 
 curates and vicars in as many churches and chapels. Should the 
 reader desire a more distinct impression of them, he may imagine 
 on each square league of territory, and to each thousand of in- 
 habitants, one noble family in its weathercock mansion, in each 
 village a curate and his church, and, every six or seven leagues, 
 a conventual body of men or of women. We have here the nn- 
 cient chieftains and founders of France ; thus entitled, they still 
 enjoy many possessions and many rights. 
 
 II. 
 
 Let us always keep in mind what they were in order to 
 comprehend what they are. Great as their advantages may 
 be, these are merely the remains of still greater advantages. 
 This or that bishop or abbot, this or that count or duke, 
 whose successors make their bows at Versailles were formerly 
 the equals of the Carlovingians and the first Capets. A Sire 
 de Montlh&ry held King Philippe I. in check. 2 The abbey 
 of St. Germain des Pres possessed four hundred and thirty thou- 
 sand hectares of land (about 900,000 acres), almost the extent 
 
 1 See note i at the end of the volume. 
 
 * Suger "Vie de Louis VI.," chap. viii. Philippt I. became master of the Chateau de 
 Montlheiy only by marrying one of his sons to the heiress of the fief. He thus addressed hi* 
 successor : " My child, take good care to keep this tower of which the annoyances have rnatk 
 m* grow old, and whose frauds and treasons have given me no peace nor rest" 
 2
 
 I 4 THE ANCTENT REGIME. BOOK i, 
 
 of an entire department. We need not be surprised that they 
 remained powerful, and, especially, rich ; no stability is greatel 
 than that of an associative body. After eight hundred years, in 
 spite of so many strokes of the royal axe, and the immense 
 change in the culture of society, the old feudal root lasts and 
 still vegetates. We remark it first in the distribution of prop- 
 erty. 1 A fifth of the soil belongs to the crown and the com- 
 munes, a fifth to the third estate, a fifth to the rural popula 
 tion, a fifth to the nobles and a fifth to the clergy. Accordingly, 
 if we deduct the public lands, the privileged classes own one- 
 half of the kingdom. This large portion, moreover, is at the 
 same time the richest, for it comprises almost all the large and 
 handsome buildings, the palaces, castles, convents, and cathe- 
 drals, and almost all the valuable movable property, such as fur- 
 niture, plate, objects of art, the accumulated masterpieces of 
 centuries. We can judge of it by an estimate of the portion be 
 longing to the clergy. Its possessions, capitalized, amount to 
 nearly 4,000,000,000 francs ; 2 the income from this amounts to 
 80 and 100 millions, to which must be added the dime, or tithes, 
 123 millions per annum, in all 200 millions, a sum which must 
 be doubled to show its equivalent at the present day, and to this 
 must be added the chance contributions and the usual church 
 collections. 3 To fully realize the breadth of this golden stream 
 
 1 Lonce de Lavergne, " Les Assemblies Provinciales," p. 19. Consult the official state- 
 ment of the provincial assemblies, and especially the chapters treating of the vingtieinet 
 (an old tax of one-twentieth on incomes. TR.) 
 
 * A report made by Treilhard in the name of the ecclesiastic committee, (Moniteur, igth 
 December, 1789) : The religious establishments for sale in Paris alone were valued at 150 
 millions. Later (in the session of the i3th February, 1791), Amelot estimates the property 
 sold and to be sold, not including forests, at 3,700 millions. M. de Bouill6 estimates the 
 revenue of the clergy at 180 millions. (Mmoires, p. 44). [French currency is so well 
 known to readers in general it is not deemed necessary to reduce statements of this kind to 
 the English or American standard, except in special cases. TR.] 
 
 1 A report by Chasset on Tithes, April, 1790. Out of 123 millions 23 go for the costs of 
 collection ; but, in estimating the revenue of an individual the sums he pays to bis intend- 
 ants, overseers and cashiers are not deducted. 
 
 Talleyrand (October 10, 1789) estimates the revenue of real property at 70 millions and itf 
 value at 2,100 millions. On examination however both capital and revenue are found con- 
 siderably larger than at first supposed. (Reports of Treilhard and Chasset). Moreover, in 
 his valuation, Talleyrand left out habitations and their enclosures as well as a reservation ot 
 one-fourth of the forests. Besides this there must be included in the revenue before 1789 
 the seigniorial rights enjoyed by the Church. Finally, according to Arthur Young, the 
 tents which the French proprietor received were not two and a half per cent as nowadays 
 but three and a half. 
 
 This necessity of doubling the figures to obtain a present money valuation is supported b) 
 innumerable facts, and among others the price of a day's labor which at that dme was nine- 
 teen sous. (Arthur Young).
 
 CHAP. I. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 15 
 
 let us look at some of its affluents. Three hundred and ninety- 
 nine monks at Pre*montre" estimate their revenue at more than 
 1,000,000 livres, and their capital at 45,000,000. The Provincial 
 of the Dominicans of Toulouse admits, for his two hundred and 
 thirty-six monks, "more than 200,000 livres net revenue, not in- 
 cluding the convent and its enclosure, also, in the colonies, real 
 estate, negroes and other effects, valued at several millions." The 
 Benedictines of Cluny, numbering two hundred and thirty-eight, 
 enjoy a revenue of 1,800,000 livres. Those of Saint-Maur, num- 
 bering sixteen hundred and seventy-two, estimate the movable 
 property of their churches and houses at 24,000,000, and their 
 net revenue at 8,000,000, " without including that which accrues 
 to Messieurs the abbots and priors commendatory," which 
 means as much and perhaps more. Dom Rocourt, abbot of 
 Clairvaux, has from 300,000 to 400,000 livres income; the Car- 
 dinal de Rohan, archbishop of Strasbourg, more than 1,000,000.* 
 In Franche-Comte", Alsace and Roussillon the clergy own one- 
 half of the territory; in Hainaut and Artois, three-quarters; in 
 Cambre'sis fourteen hundred plough-areas out of seventeen hun- 
 dred. 2 Almost the whole of Le Velay belongs to the Bishop 
 of Puy, the abbot of La Chaise-Dieu, the noble chapter of 
 Brionde and to the seigniors of Polignac. The canons of St. 
 Claude, in the Jura, are the proprietors of twelve thousand serfs 
 or mainmorts. 3 
 
 Through fortunes of the first class we can imagine those of 
 the second. As along with the noble it comprises the ennobled, 
 and as the magistrates for two centuries, and the financiers for 
 one century had acquired or purchased nobility, it is clear that 
 here are to be found almost all the great fortunes of France, old 
 or new, transmitted by inheritance, obtained through court fa- 
 vors, or acquired in business ; when a class reaches the summit 
 it is recruited out of those who are mounting or clambering up. 
 Here, too, there is colossal wealth. It has been calculated that 
 the appanages of the princes of the royal family, the Comtes of 
 Artois and of Provence, the Dues d'Orle'ans and de Penthievre 
 
 1 National archives, among the papers of the ecclesiastical committee, sections 10, n, 13, 
 S. Beugnot's Memoirs, I. 49, 79 ; Delbos, "L'Eglise de France," I. 399; Due de LeVis, 
 "Souvenirs et Portraits," p. 156. 
 
 8 Leonce de Lavergnc, "Economic Rurale en France," p. 24. Perin, "La Jeunesse de 
 Robespierre," (Memorial of grievances in Artois), p. 317. 
 
 Boiteau, "Etat de la France en 1789,' p. 47. Voltaire, "Politique et legislation," tin 
 petition of the serfs of St. Claude.
 
 16 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK L 
 
 then covered one- seventh of the territory. 1 The princes of the 
 blood have together a revenue of from 24,000,000 to 25,000,000; 
 the Due d'Orleans alone has a rental of n,5oo,ooo. 2 
 
 These are the vestiges of the feudal regime. Similar vestiges 
 are found in England, in Austria, in Germany and in Russia. 
 Proprietorship, indeed, a long time survives the circumstances 
 on which it is founded Sovereignty had constituted property; 
 divorced from sovereignty it has remained in the hands formerly 
 sovereign. In the bishop, the abbot and the count, the king 
 respected the proprietor while overthrowing the rival, and, in 
 the existing proprietor a hundred traits still indicate the annihi- 
 lated or modified sovereign. 
 
 III. 
 
 Such is the total or partial exemption from taxation. The 
 tax-collectors halt in their presence because the king well knows 
 that feudal property has the same origin as his own ; if royalty is 
 one privilege seigniory is another ; the king himself is simply the 
 most privileged among the privileged. The most absolute, the 
 most infatuated with his rights, Louis XIV., entertained scruples 
 when extreme necessity compelled him to enforce on everybody 
 the tax of the tenth. 3 Treaties, precedents, immemorial custom, 
 reminiscences of ancient rights again restrain the fiscal hand. 
 The clearer the resemblance of the proprietor to the ancient 
 
 1 Necker, "De 1' Administration des Finances," II. 272. 
 
 * De Boiiill6, " M6moires," p. 41. It must not be forgotten that these figures must ba 
 doubled to show corresponding sums of the present day. 10,000 livres (francs) rental in 
 1766 equal in value 20,000 in 1825. (Madame de Genlis, "Memoirs," chap. IX.) 
 
 Arthur Young, visiting a chateau in Seine-et-Marre, writes : " I have been sifting 
 Madame de Guerchy on the expenses of living . . . and I learn that to live in a chateau 
 like this with six men servants, five maids, eight horses, a garden and a regular table, with 
 company, but never go to Paris, might be done for 1,000 louis per annum. It would in 
 England cost 2,000. At the present day in France 24,000 francs would be 50,000 and more." 
 Arthur Young adds : " There are gentlemen (noblesse) that live in this country on 6,000 or 
 8000 livres, that keep two men, two maids, three horses and a cabriolet" To do this 
 nowadays would require from 20,000 to 25,000 francs. 
 
 Living in the provinces, especially, is dearer through the effect of rail-road communica. 
 don. "According to my friends du Rouergue," he says again, "I could live at Milhau 
 with my family ii: the greatest abundance on 100 louis (2,000 francs) ; there are noble 
 families supporting themselves on revenues of fifty and even twenty -five louis." At Mil. 
 hau, to-day, prices are triple and even quadruple. In Paris, a house in the Rue St 
 HonorS which was rented for 6,000 francs in 1787 is now rented for 16,000 francs. 
 
 1 " Rapports de 1'Agence du clergfi de 1780 a 1785." In relation to the feudal rights the 
 Abolition of which is demanded in Boncerf's work, the Chancellor Sguier said in 1775: 
 "Our Kings have themselves declared that they are, fortunately, impotent to make anj 
 attack on proper* y."
 
 CHAP. II. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 17 
 
 independent sovereign the greater his immunity. At one time 
 he is guaranteed by a recent treaty, by his position as a stranger, 
 by his almost royal extraction. "In Alsace foreign princes in 
 possession and the Teutonic order and the order of Malta, enjoy 
 exemption from all real and personal contributions." " In Lor- 
 raine the chapter of Remiremont has the privilege of assessing 
 itself in all state impositions." a Again, he is protected by the 
 maintenance of the provincial Assemblies, and through the in- 
 corporation of the nobility with the soil: in Languedoc and in 
 Brittany the plebeian estate alone paid the faille? Everywhere 
 else his quality preserved him from it, he, his chateau and the 
 chateau's dependences ; the faille reaches him only through his 
 formers. And better still, it is sufficient that he himself should 
 work, or a steward, to communicate to the land his original 
 independence ; so soon as he touches the soil, either personally 
 or through his agent, he screens of it four ploughing-areas (quatre 
 charrues), three hundred arpents, 3 which in other hands, would 
 pay two thousand francs tax, and besides this, "the woods, the 
 meadows, the vines, the ponds and the enclosed land belonging 
 to the chateau of whatever extent it may be." Consequently, 
 in Limousin and elsewhere, in regions principally devoted to 
 pasturage or to vineyards, he takes care to manage himself, 
 or to have managed, a notable portion of his domain; in this 
 way he exempts it from the tax-collector. 4 There is yet more. 
 In Alsace, through an express covenant he does not pay a cent 
 of tax. Thus, after the assaults of four hundred and fifty years, 
 taxation, the first of fiscal instrumentalities, the most burdensome 
 of all, leaves feudal property almost intact. 5 For a century 
 back, two new instrumentalities, the capitation-tax and the vingt- 
 iemes, seem more efficacious, and yet are but little more so. 
 
 1 Leonce de Lavergne, "Les Assemblies provinciales," p. 296. Report of M. Schweadt 
 on Alsace in 1787. Warroquier, "Etat de la France en 1789," I. 541. Necker, "De 1'Ad- 
 ministration des Finances," I. 19, 102. Turgot, (collection of economists), "Reponseaux 
 observations du garde des sceaux sur la suppression des corvees," I. 559. 
 
 1 This term embraces various taxes originating in feudal times, and rendered particularly 
 burdensome to the peasantry through the management of the privileged classes. TR. 
 
 * The arpeni measures between one and one and a half acres. 
 
 4 De Tocqueville, "L'Ancien Regime et la Revolution," p. 406. " The inhabitants ol 
 Montbazen had subjected to taxation the stewards of the duchy which belonged to the 
 Prince de Rohan. This prince caused this abuse tc be stopped and succeeded in recovering 
 the sum of 5,344 livres which he had been made to pay unlawfully under this right." 
 
 5 Necker, "Administration des Finances:" ordinary taxation produced 91,0005000; lef 
 vingtiemes, 76,500,000; the capitation-tax, 41,500,000.
 
 18 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i, 
 
 At first, throug.i a master-stroke of ecclesiastical diplomacy, the 
 clergy diverts or weakens the blow. Forming a body, and 
 holding assemblies, it is able to negotiate with the king, to buy 
 itself off, to avoid being taxed by others, to tax itself, to have it 
 understood that its payments aie not compulsory contributions, 
 but a " free gift," to obtain in exchange a mass of concessions, to 
 diminish this gift, sometimes not to make it, in any event to 
 reduce it to sixteen millions every five years, that is to say to a 
 little more than three millions per annum; in 1788 it is only 
 1,800,000 livres, and in 1789 it is refused altogether. 1 And still 
 better : as it borrows to provide for this tax, and as the declines 
 which it raises on its property do not suffice to reduce the capital 
 and meet the interest on its debt, it has the adroitness to secure, 
 besides, a grant from the king out of the royal treasury, each 
 year, of 2,500,000 livres, so that, instead of paying, it receives; 
 in 1787 it receives in this way 1,500,000 livres. In relation to 
 the nobles, they, unable to combine together, to have represent- 
 atives, to act in a public way, operate in a private way, con- 
 fronting ministers, intendants, sub-delegates, farmer-generals, and 
 all others clothed with authority, their quality securing attentions, 
 consideration and favors. In the first place, this quality ex- 
 empts them, they, their dependants, and the dependants of 
 their dependants, from drafting in the militia, from lodging 
 soldiers, from (la corvee) laboring on the highways. Next, 
 the capitation being fixed according to the tax system, they 
 pay little because their taxation is of little account. More- 
 over, each one brings all his credit to bear against assess- 
 ments ; " your sympathetic heart," writes one of them to the 
 intendant, "will never allow a father of my condition to be 
 taxed for the vingtiemes rigidly like a father of low birth." On 
 the other hand, as the tax-payer pays the capitation -tax instead 
 of his entire household, often far away from his estates, and no 
 one having any knowledge of his personal income, he may pay 
 whatever seems to him proper. There are no proceedings 
 against him, if he is a ncble; the greatest circumspection is 
 
 ' Raudot, "La France avant la Revolution," p. 51. De Bouill6, "Mmoires," p. 44. 
 Kecker> "De 1'Administration des Finances," v. II. p. 181. The above relates to what wai 
 called the clergy of France, (116 dioceses). The clergy called foreign, consisted of that of 
 the three bishoprics and of the countries acquired after Louis XIV.; it had a separate 
 regime and paid somewhat like the nobles. The lUcintes which the clergy of France levied 
 BO its property amounted to a sum of 10,500,000 livres.
 
 CHAP. II. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 19 
 
 used towards persons of high rank; "in the provinces," says 
 Turgot, " the capitation-tax of the privileged classes has been 
 successively reduced to an exceedingly small matter, whilst the 
 capitation-tax of those who are liable to the tailk, is almost equal 
 to the principal of that tax." And finally, "the collectors think 
 that they are obliged to act towards them with marked con- 
 sideration" even when they owe; "the result of which," says 
 Necker, "is that very ancient, and much too large amounts, 
 of their capitation-tax remain unpaid." Accordingly, not having 
 been able to repel the assault of the fisc in front they evaded it 
 or diminished it until it became almost unobjectionable. In 
 Champagne, "on nearly 1,500,000 livres provided by the capita- 
 tion-tax, they paid in only 14,000 livres," that is to say, " 2 sous 
 and 2 deniers for the same purpose which costs 12 sous per 
 livre to those chargeable with the taille." According to Calonne, 
 " if concessions and privileges had been suppressed the vingtitmes 
 would have furnished double the amount." In this respect the 
 most opulent were the most skilful in protecting themselves. 
 "With the intendants," said the Due d'Orleans, "I settle matters, 
 and pay about what I please," and he calculated that the pro- 
 vincial administration, rigorously taxing him, would cause him 
 to lose 300,000 livres rental. It has been proved that the 
 princes of the blood, paid, for their two-twentieths, 188,000 
 instead of 2,400,000 livres. In the main, in this regime, excep- 
 tion from taxation is the last remnant of sovereignty or, at least, 
 of independence. The privileged person avoids or repels taxa- 
 tion, not merely because it despoils him, but because it belittles 
 him ; it is a mark of plebeian condition, that is to say, of former 
 servitude, and he resists the fisc as much through pride as 
 through interest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let us follow him home to his own domain. A bishop, an 
 bbe", a chapter of the clergy, an abbess, each has one like a lay 
 seignior; for, in former times, the monastery and the church 
 were small governments like the county and the duchy. 
 
 Intact on the other bank of the Rhine, almost ruined in 
 France, the feudal structure everywhere discloses the same plan. 
 In certain places, better protected or less attacked, it has pre- 
 served all its ancient externals. At Cahors, the bishop-count of
 
 20 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 the town had the right, on solemnly officiating, "to place his 
 casque, cuirass, gauntlets and sword on the altar." l At Besan- 
 c.on, the archbishop-prince has six high officers, who owe him 
 homage for their fiefs, and who attend at his coronation and at 
 his obsequies. At Mende, 2 the bishop, seignior-suzerain for 
 Gdvaudan since the eleventh century, appoints " the courts, ordi- 
 nary judges and judges of appeal, the commissaries and syndics 
 of the country," disposes of all the places, "municipal and 
 judiciary," and, entreated to appear in the assembly of the three 
 orders of the province, "replies that his place, his possessions 
 and his rank exalting him above every individual in his diocese, 
 he cannot sit under the presidency of any person ; that, being 
 seignior-suzerain of all estates and particularly of the baronies, 
 he cannot give way to his vassals," in brief that he is king, or 
 but little short of it, in his own province. At Remiremont, the 
 noble chapter of canonesses has, " inferior, superior, and ordinary 
 judicature in fifty-two bans of seigniories," the gift of seventy- 
 five curacies and of ten male canonships, appointing the munici- 
 pal officers of the town and, besides this, three lower and highe: 
 courts and everywhere the officials in the jurisdiction over woods 
 and forests. Thirty-two bishops, without counting the chap- 
 ters, are thus temporal seigniors, in whole or in part, of their 
 episcopal town, sometimes of the surrounding district, and some- 
 times, like the bishop of St. Claude, of the entire country. Here 
 the feudal tower has been preserved. Elsewhere it is plastered 
 over anew, and more particularly in the appanages. In these 
 domains, comprising more than twelve of our departments, the 
 princes of the blood appoint to all offices in the judiciary and to 
 all clerical livings. Being substitutes of the king they enjoy his 
 serviceable and honorary rights. They are almost delegated 
 kings, amd for life; for they not only receive all that the king 
 would receive as seignior, but again a portion of that which he 
 would receive as monarch. For example, the house of Orleans 
 collects the excises, 3 that is to say the duty on liquors, on works 
 in gold or silver, on manufactures of iron, on steel, on cards, 
 
 1 See "La France ecclesiastique, 1788," for these details. 1 
 
 Official statements and manuscript reports of the States-General of 1789. "Archives 
 Rationales," vol. LXXXVIII. pp. 23, 85, iai, 122, 152. Proems-verbal of January 12, 1789. 
 
 Necker, "De 1* Administration des Finances," v. II. pp. 171, 272. "The house of 
 Orleans, he says, is in possession of the excises. He values thit tax at 51,000,000 for the 
 entire kingdom.
 
 CHAP. H. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. ^\ 
 
 on paper and starch, in short, on the entire sum-total of one of 
 the most onerous indirect imposts. It is not surprising, if, ap- 
 proximating to the sovereign condition, they have, like sover 
 eigns themselves, a council, a chancellor, an organized debt, a 
 court, 1 a domestic ceremonial system, and that the feudal edifice 
 in their hands should put on the luxurious and formal trappings 
 which it had assumed in the hands of the king. 
 
 Let us turn to its inferior personages, to a seignior of medium 
 rank, on his square league of ground, amidst the thousand in- 
 habitants which were formerly his villeins or his serfs, within 
 reach of the monastery, or chapter, or bishop whose rights inter- 
 mingle with his rights. Whatever may have been done to abase 
 him his position is still very high. He is yet, as the intendants 
 say, "the first inhabitant;" a prince whom they have about 
 despoiled of his public functions and consigned to his honorary 
 and available rights, but who nevertheless remains a prince. 2 He 
 has his bench in the church, and his right of sepulture in the 
 choir ; the tapestry bears his coat of arms ; they bestow on him 
 incense, "holy water by distinction." Often, having founded 
 the church, he is its patron, choosing the curate and pretending 
 to control him ; in the rural districts we see him advancing or 
 retarding the hour of the parochial mass according to his fancy. 
 If he bears a title he is supreme judge, and there are entire 
 provinces, Maine and Anjou, for example, where there is no fief 
 without the judge. In this case he appoints the bailiff, the 
 registrar, and other legal and judicial officers, attorneys, notaries, 
 seigniorial sergeants, constabulary on foot or mounted, who draw 
 up documents or decide in his name in civil and criminal cases 
 on the first trial. He appoints, moreover, a forest-warden, or 
 decides forest offences, and enforces the penalties which this 
 officer inflicts. He has his prison for delinquents of various 
 kinds, and sometimes his forked gibbets. On the other hand, as 
 
 1 Beugnot, " M6moires," v. I. p. 77. Observe the ceremonial system with the Due dt 
 Pcnthlevre, chapters I., III. The Due d'Orlans organizes a chapter and bands of canon- 
 esses. The post of chancellor to the Due d'Orleans is worth 100,000 livres per annum, 
 ( ; 'Gustave ill. et la cour de France," by Geffrey, I. 410.) 
 
 * De Tocqueville, ibid. p. 40. Renauldon, advocate in the bailiwick of Issoudun, " Traitfc 
 aistorique et pratique des droits seigneuriaux, 1765," pp. 8, 10, 81 and passim. Memorial 
 of a magistrate of the Chatelet on seigniorial judgments, 1789. DuvergJer, "Collection 
 des Lois," Decrees of the 15-28 March, 1790, on the abolition of the feudal regime, Merlin of 
 Douai, reporter, I. 114. Decrees of 19-23 July, 1790, *. 293. Decrees of the 13-^0 Aprl, 
 1791, I. 295.
 
 22 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK \ 
 
 compensation fur his judicial cc^ts, he obtains the property of 
 the man condemned to death and the confiscation of his estate; 
 he succeeds to the bastard born and dying in his seigniory with- 
 out leaving a testament or legitimate children ; he inherits from 
 the native, a legitimate child, dying intestate in his house with- 
 out apparent heirs; he appropriates to himself movable objects, 
 animate or inanimate, which are found astray and of which the 
 owner is unknown ; he claims one-half or one-third of treasure- 
 trove, and, on the coast, he takes for himself the waif of wrecks ; 
 and finally, what is more fruitful, in these times of misery, he be- 
 comes the possessor of abandoned lands that have remained un- 
 tilled for ten years. Other advantages demonstrate still more 
 clearly that he formerly possessed the government of the canton. 
 Such are, in Auvergne, in Flanders, in Hainaut, in Artois, in 
 Picardy, Alsace, and Lorraine, the dues for poursoin. ou dt 
 sauvement (care or safety within the walls of a town), paid to 
 him for his general protection ; those of guet et de garde (watch 
 and guard), claimed by him for military protection ; of afforage, 
 exacted of those who sell beer, wine and other beverages, whole- 
 sale or retail; of fouage, dues on fires, in money or grain, which, 
 according to many common-law systems, he levies on each fire- 
 side, house or family ; of pulverage y quite common in Dauphiny 
 and Provence, on passing flocks of sheep; the lods et ventes 
 (lord's due), an almost universal tax, consisting of the deduction 
 of a sixth, often of a fifth or even a fourth, of the price of every 
 piece of ground sold, and of every lease exceeding nine years ; 
 the dues for redemption or relief, equivalent to one year's in- 
 come and which he receives from collateral heirs, and often from 
 direct heirs ; and finally, a rarer due, but the most burdensome 
 of all, that of acapte ou de plait-a-merri, which is a double rent, 
 or a year's yield of fruits, payable as well on the death of the 
 seignior as on that of the copyholder. These are veritable taxes, 
 landed, on movables, personal, for licenses, for traffic, for muta- 
 tions, for successions, established formerly on the condition of per- 
 forming a public service which he is no longer obliged to perform. 
 Other dues are also ancient imposts, but he still performs the 
 service for which they are a quittance. The king, in fact, sup- 
 presses many of the tolls, twelve hundred in 1724, and the sup- 
 pression is kept up ; but a good many remain to the profit of the 
 seignior, on bridges, on highways, on fords, on boats ascending
 
 OU*. n. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 23 
 
 or descending, he being at the expense of keeping up bridge, 
 road, ford and tow-path, several being very lucrative, certain 
 tolls producing 90,000 livres. 1 In like manner, on condition 
 of maintaining the market-place and of providing scales and 
 weights gratis, he levies a tax on provisions and on merchandise 
 brought to his fair or to his market; at Angoulme a forty- 
 eighth of the grain sold, at Combourg near Saint-Malo, so much 
 per head of cattle, elsewhere so much on wine, eatables and 
 fish.* Having formerly built the oven, the wine-press, the mill 
 and the slaughter-house, he obliges the inhabitants to use these 
 or pay for their support, and he demolishes all constructions 
 which might enter into competition with him. 3 These, again, 
 are evidently monopolies and octrois going back to the time 
 when he was in possession of public authority. 
 
 Not only did he then possess the public authonty but he 
 possessed the soil and the men on it. Proprietor of men, he is 
 so still, at least in many respects and in many provinces. " In 
 Champagne proper, in the Senonais, in la Marche, in the Bour- 
 bonnais, in the Nivernais, in Burgundy, in Franche-Comte, there 
 are none, or very few domains, no signs remaining of ancient 
 servitude. ... A good many personal serfs, or so constituted 
 through their own gratitude, or that of their progenitors, are 
 still found." 4 There, man is a serf, sometimes by virtue of his 
 
 1 National archives, G, 300, (1787). " M. de Boullongne, seignior of Montereau, possesses 
 a toll-right consisting of 2 deniers (farthings) per ox, cow, calf or pig; i per sheep ; 2 for a 
 loaded animal ; i sou and 8 deniers for each four-wheeled vehicle ; 5 deniers for a two- 
 wheeled vehicle, and 10 deniers for a vehicle drawn by three, four, or five horses ; besides a 
 tax of 10 deniers for each barge, boat or skiff ascending the river; the same tax for each 
 team of horses dragging the boats up ; i denier for each empty cask going up." Analogous 
 taxes are enforced at Varennes for the benefit of the Due de Chatelet, seignior of Varennes. 
 
 * National archives, K, 1453, No. 1448: A letter by M. de Meulan, dated June 12, 1789. 
 This tax on grain belonged at that time to the Comte d'Artois. Chateaubriand, "M^moires," 
 
 1-73. 
 
 * Renauldon, ibid 249, 258. "There are few seignioral towns which do not have the lord'* 
 slaughter-houses. The butcher must obtain special permission from the seignior." Th 
 tax on grinding was an average of a sixteenth. In many provinces, Anjou, Berry, Maine. 
 Brittany, there was a lord's mill for cloths and barks. 
 
 1 Renauldon, ibid. pp. 181, 200, 203; obsfe that he wrote this in 1765. Louis XVI. 
 suppressed villeinage on the royal domains in 1778 ; and many of the seigniors, especially 
 to Franche-Comt6, followed his example. 
 
 Beugnot, " Memoires," v. I. p. 142. Voltaire, "Me'moire au roi sur les serfs du Jura." 
 "M6rr.oires de Bailly," II. 214, according to an official report of the Nat. Ass., August 
 j, 1789. I rely on this report and on the book of M. Clerget, curate of Onans in Franche- 
 ComtS, who is mentioned in it M. Clerget says that there are still at this time (178^ 
 1,500,000 subjects of the king in a state of servitude but he brings forward no proofs to sup. 
 pert these figures. Nevertheless it is certain that the number of serfs and mr rtraains is still
 
 24 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 birth and again through a territorial condition. Whether in 
 servitude, or as mortmains, or as cotters, one way or another, 
 fifteen hundred thousand individuals, it is said, wore about their 
 necks a remnant of the feudal collar ; this is not surprising since, 
 on the other side of the Rhine, almost all the peasantry still weai 
 it. The seignior, formerly master and proprietor of all their 
 goods and chattels and of all their labor, can still exact of them 
 from ten to twelve corvees per annum and a fixed annual tax. 
 In the barony of Choiseul near Chaumont in Champagne, "the 
 inhabitants are required to plough his lands, to sow and reap 
 them for his account and to put the products into his barns; 
 each plot of ground, each house, every head of cattle pays a 
 quit-claim ; children may inherit from their parents only on con- 
 dition of remaining with them ; if absent at the time of their 
 decease he is the inheritor." This is what was styled in the 
 language of the day an estate "with excellent dues." Elsewhere 
 the seignior inherits from collaterals, brothers or nephews, if 
 they were not in community with the defunct at the moment 
 of his death, which community is only valid through his consent. 
 In the Jura and the Nivernais, he may pursue fugitive serfs, and 
 demand at their death, not only the property left by them on 
 his domain, but, again, the pittance acquired by them elsewhere. 
 At Saint-Claude, he acquires this right over any person that 
 passes a year and a day in a house belonging to the seigniory. 
 As to ownership of the soil we see still more clearly that he once 
 had entire possession of it. In the district subject to his juris- 
 diction the public domain remains his private domain; roads, 
 streets and open squares form a part of it; he has the right 
 to plant trees in them and to take trees up. In many provinces, 
 through a pasturage rent, he obliges the inhabitants to pay for 
 permits to pasture their cattle in the fields after the crop, and in 
 the open common lands, ( les terres vaines etvagues). Unnavigable 
 streams belong to him, as well as islets and accumulations 
 formed in them and the fish that are found in them. He has the 
 right of the chase over the whole extent of his jurisdiction, this 
 
 very great National archives, H, 723, memorials on mortmains in Franche-Comtfi in 1788; 
 H, 200, memorials by Amelot on Burgundy in 1 785. "In the sub-delegation of Charolles the 
 inhabitants seem a century behind the age ; being subject to feudal tenures, such as mort- 
 main, neither mind nor body have any play. The redemption of mortmain, of which th 
 Icing himself has set the example, has been put at such an exorbitant price by laymen, th 
 unfortunate sufferers cannot, and will not be able to secure it."
 
 CHAP. II. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 25 
 
 or that plebeian being sometimes compelled to throw open to 
 him his park enclosed by walls. 
 
 One more trait serves to complete the picture. This head of 
 the State, a proprietor of man and of the soil, was once a resi- 
 dent cultivator on his own small farm amidst others of the same 
 class and, by this title, he reserved to himself certain working 
 privileges which he always retained. Such is the right of banvin, 
 still widely diffused, consisting of the privilege of selling his own 
 wine, to the exclusion of all others, during thirty or forty days 
 after gathering the crop. Such is, in Touraine, the right of 
 preage, which is the right to send his horses, cows and oxen " to 
 browse under guard in his subjects' meadows." Such is, finally, 
 the monopoly of the great dove-cot, from which thousands of 
 pigeons issue to feed at all times and seasons and on all grounds, 
 without any one daring to kill or take them. Through another 
 effect of the same qualification he imposes quit-claims on property 
 on which he has formerly given perpetual leases, and, under the 
 terms, cens, censives (quit-rents), carpot (share in wine), champart 
 (share in grain), agrier (a cash commission on general product), 
 terrage parciere (share of fruits), all these collections, in money or 
 in kind, are as various as the local situations, accidents and 
 transactions could possibly be. In the Bourbonnais he has one- 
 quarter of the crop ; in Berry twelve sheaves out of a hundred. 
 Occasionally his debtor or tenant is a community : one deputy 
 in the National Assembly owned a fief of two hundred casks of 
 wine on three thousand pieces of private property. 1 Besides, 
 through the retrait censttel (a species of right of redemption), he 
 can " retain for his own account all property sold on the condi- 
 tion of remunerating the purchaser, but previously deducting for 
 his benefit the lord's dues (lods et ventes)." The reader, finally, 
 must take note that all these zestrictions on property constitute, 
 for the seignior, a privileged credit as well on the product as on 
 the price of the ground, and, for the copyholders, an impre- 
 scriptible, indivisible and irredeemable debt. 
 
 Such are the feudal rights. To form an idea of them in their 
 totality ws must always imagine the count, bishop or abbot of 
 the tenth century as sovereign and proprietor in his own canton. 
 The form which human society then takes grows out of the 
 
 1 Boiteau, ibid, p 25, (April, 1790). Beugnot, "Mmoires," I, 142
 
 26 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 exigencies of near and constant danger with a view to loca 
 defence, by subordinating all interests to the necessities of 
 living, iii such a way as to protect the soil by fixing on the 
 soil, through property and its enjoyment, a troop of brave 
 men under the leadership of a brave chieftain. The danger 
 having passed away the structure became dilapidated. For 
 a pecuniary compensation the seigniors allowed the economical 
 and tenacious peasant to pick off it a good many stones. 
 Through constraint they suffered the king to appropriate to him- 
 self the public portion. The primitive foundation remains, prop- 
 erty as organized in ancient times, the fettered or exhausted land 
 supporting a social conformation that has melted away, in short, 
 an order of privileges and of thraldom of which the cause and 
 the purpose have disappeared. 1 
 
 V. 
 
 All this does not suffice to render this order detrimental or 
 even useless. In reality, the local chief who no longer performs 
 his ancient service may perform a new one in exchange for it. 
 Instituted for war when life was militant, he may serve in quiet 
 times when the regime is pacific, while the advantage to the 
 nation is great in which this transformation is accomplished ; for, 
 retaining its chiefs, it is relieved of the uncertain and perilous 
 operation which consists in creating others. There is nothing 
 more difficult to establish than a government, that is to say, 
 a stable government : this involves the command of some and 
 the obedience of all, which is against nature. That a man in 
 his cabinet, often a feeble old person, should dispose of the lives 
 and property of twenty or thirty thousand men, most of whom 
 he has never seen ; that he should order them to pay away the 
 tenth or a fifth of their income and they should do it ; that 
 ne should order them to go and slaughter or be slaughtered and 
 that they should go; that they should thus continue for ten 
 years, twenty years, through every kind of trial, defeat, misery 
 and invasion, as with the French under Louis XIV., the English 
 under Pitt, the Prussians under Frederick II., without either 
 sedition or internal disturbances, is certainly a marvellous thing, 
 and, for a people to remain free it is essential that they should 
 
 1 S note 2 at the end of the volume.
 
 CHAP. ii. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 2) 
 
 be ready to do this daily. Neither this fidelity nor this concord 
 are due to sober reflection (la raison raisonnante ) ; reason is too 
 vacillating and too feeble to bring about such a universal and ener- 
 getic result. Abandoned to itself and suddenly restored to a nat- 
 ural condition, the human flock is capable only of agitation, of mut- 
 ual strife until pure force at length predominates, as in barbarous 
 times, and until, amidst the dust and outcry, some military leader 
 rises up who is, generally, a butcher. Historically considered it is 
 better to continue on than to begin over again. Hence, especially 
 when the majority is uncultivated, it is beneficial to have chiefs 
 designated beforehand through the hereditary custom by which 
 people follow them, and through the special education by which 
 they are qualified. In this case the public has no need to seek 
 for them to obtain them. They are already on hand, in each 
 canton, visible, accepted beforehand; they are known by their 
 names, their title, their fortune, their way of living ; deference to 
 their authority is established. They are almost always deserving 
 of this authority ; born and brought up to exercise it they find in 
 tradition, in family example and in family pride, powerful ties 
 that nourish public spirit in them ; there is some probability of 
 their comprehending the duties with which their prerogative 
 endows them. 
 
 Such is the renovation which the feudal regime comports. 
 The ancient chieftain can still guarantee his pre-eminence by 
 his services, and remain popular without ceasing to be privileged. 
 Once a captaii in his district and a permanent gendarme he is 
 to become the resident and beneficent proprietor, the voluntary 
 promoter of useful undertakings, the obligatory tutor of the 
 poor, the gratuitous administrator and judge of the canton, the 
 unsalaried deputy to the king, that is to say, a leader and pro- 
 tector as formerly, through a new system of patronage accom- 
 modated to new circumstances. Local magistrate and central 
 representative, these are his two principal functions, and, if we 
 extend our observation beyond France we find that he exercise* 
 either one or the other, or both togethe'.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LOCAL SERVICES DUE BY THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. I. Examples in Ger 
 many and England. These services not rendered by the privileged classe* 
 hi France. II. Resident Seigniors. Remains of the beneficent feudal spirit. 
 They are not rigorous with their tenants but no longer retain the local 
 government. Their isolation. Insignificance or mediocrity of their means 
 of subsistence. Their expenditure. Not in a condition to remit dues. 
 Sentiments of the peasantry towards them. III. Absentee Seigniors. Vast 
 extent of their fortunes and rights. Possessing greater advantages they owe 
 greater services. Reasons for their absenteeism. Effect of it. Apathy of 
 the provinces. Condition of their estates. They give no alms. Misery of 
 their tenantry. Exactions of their agents. Exigencies of their debts. 
 State of their justiciary. Effects of their hunting rights. Sentiments of the 
 peasantry towards them. 
 
 I. 
 
 LET us consider the first one, local government. There are 
 countries at the gates of France in which feudal subjection, more 
 burdensome than in France, seems lighter because, in the other 
 scale, the benefits counterbalance disadvantages. At Munster, in 
 1809, Beugnot finds a sovereign bishop, a town of convents and 
 a large seigniorial mansion, a few merchants for indispensable 
 trade, a small bourgeoisie, and, all around, a peasantry composed 
 of either colons or serfs. The seignior deducts a portion of all 
 their crops in provisions or in cattle, and, at their deaths, a por- 
 tion of their inheritances ; if they go away their property reverts 
 to him. His servants are chastised like Russian moujiks, and in 
 each outhouse is a trestle for this purpose "without prejudice t > 
 graver penalties," probably the bastinade and the like. Bit 
 "never did the culprit entertain the slightest idea of complaint 
 or appeal." For if the seignior whips them as the father of a 
 family he protects them "as the father of a family, ever coming 
 to their assistance when misfortune befalls them and taking care 
 of them in their illness ; " he provides an asylum for them in old 
 age; he looks after their widows, and rejoices when they hav
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 29 
 
 plenty of children ; he is bound to them by common sympathies ; 
 they are neither miserable nor uneasy ; they know that, in every 
 extreme or unforeseen necessity, he will be their refuge. 1 In the 
 Prussian states, and according to the code of Frederick the Great, 
 a still more rigorous servitude is atoned for by similar obligations. 
 The peasantry, without their seignior's permission, cannot alienate 
 a field, mortgage it, cultivate it differently, change their occupa- 
 tion or marry. If they leave the seigniory he can pursue there 
 in every direction and bring them back by force. He has the 
 right of surveillance over their private life and he chastises them 
 if drunk or lazy. When young they serve for years as servants 
 in his mansion ; as cultivators they owe him corvees and, in cer- 
 tain places, three times a week. But, according to both law and 
 custom, he is obliged " to see that they are educated, to succoi 
 them in indigence, and, as far as possible, to provide them with 
 the means of support." Accordingly he is charged with the 
 duties of the government of which he enjoys the advantages, 
 and, under the heavy hand which curbs them, but which sustains 
 them, we do not find his subjects recalcitrant. In England, the 
 upper class attain to the same result by other ways. There also 
 the soil still pays the ecclesiastic tithe, strictly the tenth, which 
 is much more than in France. 2 The squire, the nobleman, pos- 
 sesses a still larger portion of the soil than his French neighbor 
 and, in truth, exercises greater authority in his canton. But his 
 tenants, the lessees and the farmers, are no longer his serfs, nor 
 even his vassals ; they are free. If he governs it is through in- 
 fluence and not by virtue of a command. Proprietor and patron, 
 he is held in respect ; lord-lieutenant, officer in the militia, ad- 
 ministrator, justice, he is visibly useful. And, above all, he lives 
 at home, from father to son ; he belongs to the canton ; he is in 
 hereditary and constant relation with the local public, through 
 his occupations and through his pleasures, through the chase and 
 caring for the poor, through his farmers whom he admits at his 
 table and through his neighbors whom he meets in committee or 
 in the vestry. This shows how the old hierarchies are main- 
 
 1 Beugnot, "M6moires," v. I. p. 292. De Tocqueville, "L'Ancien Regime et la ReVoIu- 
 tton." 
 
 * Arthur Young, "Travels In France," II. 456. In France, he says, it is from the eleventh 
 to the thirty-second. "But nothing is known like the enormities connrtted in England 
 where the tenth is really taken." 
 
 3*
 
 30 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 tained : it is necessary, and it suffices, that they should change 
 their military into a civil order of things and find modern em- 
 ployment for the chieftain of feudal times. 
 
 II. 
 
 If we go back a little way in our history we find here and 
 there similar nobles. 1 Such was the Due de Saint-Simon, father 
 of the writer, a real sovereign in his government of Blaye, and 
 respected by the king himself. Such was the grandfather of 
 Mirabeau, in his chateau of Mirabeau in Provence, the haugh- 
 tiest, most absolute, most intractable of men, "demanding that 
 the officers whom he appointed in his regiment should be favor- 
 ably received by the king and by his ministers," tolerating the 
 inspectors only as a matter of form, but heroic, generous, faithful, 
 distributing the pension offered to himself among six wounded 
 captains under his command, mediating for poor litigants in the 
 mountain, driving off his grounds the wandering attorneys who 
 come to practise their chicanery, "the natural protector of man," 
 even against ministers and the king. A party of tobacco in- 
 spectors having searched his curate's house, he pursues them 
 so energetically on horseback that they hardly escape him by 
 fording the Durance, whereupon, "he wrote to demand the dis- 
 missal of the officers, declaring that unless this was done every 
 person employed in the Excise should be driven into the Rhine 
 or the sea ; some of them were dismissed and the director him- 
 self came to give him satisfaction." Finding his canton sterile 
 and the settlers on it idle he organizes them into companies, 
 men, women and children, and, in the foulest weather, puts 
 himself at their head, with his twenty severe wounds and his 
 neck supported by a piece of silver; he pays them to work, 
 making them clear off the lands, which he gives them on leases 
 of a hundred years, and he makes them enclose a mountain 
 of rocks with high walls and plant it with olive trees. " No one, 
 under any pretext could be excused from working unless he was ill, 
 
 1 Salot-Simon, "Memoires," ed. Ch6ruel, vol. I. Lucas de Montigny, "M6mcires dt 
 Mirabeau," I. 53-182. Marshal Marmont, "M6moires," I. 9, n. Chateaubriand, "Mi*- 
 moires," I. 17. De Montlosier, "Meinoires," 2 vol. passim. Mme. de Larochejacquelein, 
 " Souvenirs," passim. Many details concerning the types of the old nobility will be found 
 in these passages. They are truly and forcibly depicted in two novels by Balzac, in 
 "Beatrix," the Baron de Gunic, and in the "Cabinet Jes Antiques," the Marquu d'E 
 grignon.
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 31 
 
 and in this case under treatment, or occupied on his own property, 
 a point in which my father could not be deceived, and nobody 
 would have dared to do it." These are the last offshoots of the 
 old, knotty, savage trunk, but still capable of affording shelter. 
 Others could still be found in remote cantons, in Brittany and 
 in Auvergne, veritable district commanders, and I am sure that 
 in time of need the peasants would obey them as much out 
 of respect as from fear. Vigor of heart and of body justifies its 
 own ascendency, while the superabundance of energy which 
 begins in violence ends in beneficence. 
 
 Less independent and less harsh a paternal government sub- 
 sists elsewhere, if not in the law at least through custom. In 
 Brittany, near Tre"guier and Lannion, says the bailly of Mira- 
 beau, 1 " the entire staff of the coast-guard is composed of peo- 
 ple of quality and of races of a thousand years. I have not 
 seen one of them get irritated with a peasant-soldier, while, at 
 the same time, I have seen on the part of the latter an air of 
 filial respect for them. . . . It is a terrestrial paradise with respect 
 to patriarchal manners, simplicity and true grandeur : the atti- 
 tude of the peasants towards the seigniors is that of an affection- 
 ate son with his father; and the seigniors in talking with the 
 peasants use their rude and coarse language and speak only in a 
 kind and genial way. We see mutual regard between masters 
 and servants." Farther south, in the Bocage a wholly agricultural 
 region, and with no roads, where ladies are obliged to travel on 
 horseback and in ox-carts, where the seignior has no farmers, but 
 only twenty-five or thirty metayers who work for him on shares, 
 the supremacy of the great is no offence to their inferiors. 
 People live together harmoniously when living together from 
 birth to death, familiarly, and with the same interests, occupa- 
 tions and pleasures ; like soldiers with their officers, on campaigns 
 and under tents, in subordination although in companionship, 
 familiarity never endangering respect. " The seignior often visits 
 them on their small farms, 2 talks with them about their affairs, 
 about taking care of their cattle, sharing in the accidents and 
 mishaps which likewise seriously affect him. He attends their 
 
 1 A letter of the bailly of Mirabeau, 1760, published by M. de Lom6nie in the "Corre*. 
 pendant," v. XLXIX. p. 132. 
 
 * Mme. de Larochejacquelein, ibid. I. 84. " As M. de Marigny had some kn owledge of 
 fce veterinary art the peasants of the canton came after him when th f had sicV animal* "
 
 J2 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 childrens' weddings and drinks with the guests. On Sunday 
 there are dances in the chateau court and the ladies take part in 
 them." When he is about to hunt wolves or boars the curate 
 gives notice of it at the sermon ; the peasants, with their guns, 
 gayly assemble at the rendezvous, finding the seignior who assigns 
 them their posts, and strictly observing the directions he gives 
 them. Here are soldiers and a captain ready made A little 
 later, and of their own accord, they will choose him for com 
 mandant in the national guard, mayor of the commune, chief 
 of the insurrection, and, in 1792, the marksmen of the parish 
 are to march under him against "the blues" as, at this epoch, 
 against the wolves. Such are the remnants of the good feudal 
 spirit, like the scattered remnants of a submerged continent. 
 Before Louis XIV., the spectacle was similar throughout France. 
 "The rural nobility of former days," says the Marquis of Mira- 
 beau, "spent too much time over their cups, slept on old chairs 
 or pallets, mounted and started off to hunt before daybreak, met 
 together on St. Hubert's and did not part until after the octave 
 of St. Martin. . . . These nobles led a gay and hard life, volun- 
 tarily, costing the State very little and producing more for it by 
 staying at home and utilizing manure-heaps than we of to-day 
 with our tastes, our researches, our cholics and our vapors. . . . 
 The custom, and it may be said, the passion of constantly 
 making presents to the seigniors, is well known. I have, in my 
 time, seen this custom everywhere disappear, and properly. . . . 
 The seigniors are no longer of any consequence to them; it 
 is quite natural that they should be forgotten by them as they 
 forget. . . . The seignior being no longer known on his estates 
 everybody pillages him, which is right." 1 Everywhere, except 
 in remote corners, the affection and unity of the two classes has 
 disappeared ; the shepherd is separated from his flock, and the 
 pastors of the people end in being considered its parasites. 
 
 Let us first follow them into the provinces. We here find 
 only the minor class of nobles and a portion of those of medium 
 rank ; the rest are in Paris. 2 There is the same line of separation 
 in the church : abbeVcommendatory, bishops and archbishops 
 very seldom live at home ; the grand-vicars and canons live in 
 
 1 Marquis de Mirabeau, "Trait6 de la Population," p. 57. 
 
 * De Tocqueville, ibid. p. 180. This is proved by the registers of the capitation-Mr 
 which was paid at the actual domicile.
 
 CHAP. ill. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 33 
 
 the large towns ; only priors and curates dwell in the rural dis- 
 tricts ; ordinarily the entire ecclesiastic or lay staff is absent ; 
 residents are furnished only by the secondary or inferior grades. 
 What are their relations with the peasant ? One point is certain, 
 and that is that they are not usually hard, nor even indifferent, *o 
 h:m. Separated by rank they are not so by distance; neighbor- 
 hood is of itself a bond among men. I have read in vain ; [ 
 have not found in them the rural tyrants depicted by the de 
 claimers of the Revolution. Haughty with the bourgeois they 
 are generally kind to the villager. " Let any one travel through 
 the provinces," says a contemporary advocate, "over the estates 
 occupied by the seigniors; out of a hundred one may be found 
 where they tyrannize over their dependants; all the others 
 patiently share the misery of those subject to their jurisdiction. 
 . . . They give their debtors time, remit sums due and afford 
 them every facility for settlement. They mollify and temper 
 the sometimes over-rigorous proceedings of ihefermiers, stewards 
 and other men of business." l An Englishwoman, who observes 
 them in Provence just after the Revolution, says that, detested 
 at Aix, they are much beloved on their estates. "Whilst they 
 pass the first citizens with their heads erect and an air of disdain, 
 they salute peasants with extreme courtesy and affability." One 
 of them distributes among the women, children and the aged on 
 his domain wool and flax to spin during the bad season and, at 
 the end of the year, he offers a prize of one hundred livres for 
 the best two pieces of cloth. In numerous instances the peasant- 
 purchasers of their land voluntarily restore it for the purchase 
 money. Around Paris, near Romainville, after the terrible storm 
 of 1788 there is prodigal alms-giving; " a very wealthy man im- 
 mediately distributes forty thousand francs among the surround- 
 ing unfortunates;" during the winter, in Alsace and in Paris, 
 everybody is giving; "in front of each hotel belonging to a well- 
 known family a big log is burning to which, night and day, the 
 poor can come and warm themselves." In the way of charity, 
 the monks who remain on their premises and witness the public 
 misery, continue faithful to the spirit of their institution. On 
 
 1 Renauldon, ibid., Preface p. 5. Anne Plumptre, "A narrative of three years residence 
 In France from 1802 to 1805," II. 357. Baroness Oberkirk, "Mejnoires," II. 389. "D 
 r^tat religieux," by the abbe's Bocnefol and Bernard, 1784 p. 295. Mme Vigee-Lebrun 
 Souvenirs," p. 171.
 
 34 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 the birth of the Dauphin the Augustins of Montmorillon in 
 Poitou pay out of their own resources the tallies and corvees of 
 nineteen poor families. In 1781, in Provence, the Dominicans 
 of Saint Maximin support the population of their district in 
 w.iich the tempest had destroyed the 'vines and the olive ttees. 
 "The Carthusians of Paris furnish the poor with eighteen hun- 
 dred pounds of bread per week. During the winter of 1784 
 there is an increase of alms-giving in all the religious establish- 
 ments; their farmers distribute aid among the poor people of 
 the country, and, to provide for these extra necessities, many of 
 the communities increase the rigor of their abstinences." When, 
 at the end of 1789, their suppression is in question, I find a 
 number of protests in their favor, written by municipal officers, 
 by prominent individuals, by a crowd of inhabitants, workmen 
 and peasants, and these columns of rustic signatures are truly 
 eloquent. Seven hundred families of Cateau-Cambre'sis 1 send in 
 a petition to retain "the worthy abbe's and monks of the Abbey 
 of St. Andrew, their common fathers and benefactors, who fed 
 them during the tempest." The inhabitants of St. Savin, in the 
 Pyrenees, "portray with tears of grief their consternation" at 
 the prospect of suppressing their abbey of Benedictines, the sole 
 charitable organization in this poor country. At Sierk, near 
 Thionville, "the Chartreuse," say the leading citizens, "is, for us, 
 in every respect, the Ark of the Lord ; it is the main support of 
 from more than twelve to fifteen hundred persons who come to 
 it every day in the week. This year the monks have distributed 
 amongst them their own store of grain at sixteen livres less than 
 the current price." The regular canons of Domievre, in Lor- 
 raine, feed sixty poor persons twice a week ; it is essential to re- 
 tain them, says the petition, " out of pity and compassion for the 
 poor beings whose misery cannot be imagined ; where there are 
 no regular convents and canons in their dependency, the poor 
 cry with misery." 2 At Moutiers-Saint-John, near Semur in Bur- 
 gundy, the Benedictines of Saint-Maur support the entire village 
 
 1 Archives nationales, D, XIX. portfolios 14, 15, 25. Five bundles of papers are filled 
 with these petitions. 
 
 1 Ibid, D, XIX. portfolio u. An admirable letter by Joseph of Saintignon, abb6 of 
 Domievre, general of the regular canons of Salnt-Sauveur and a resident He has 23,000 
 livres income, of which 6,066 livres is a pension from the government, in recompense for his 
 tervices. His personal expenditure not being over 5,000 livres "he is in a situation to 
 distribute among the poor and the workmen, in the space cf eleven yean, mote than 250,000 
 Ivre*."
 
 CHAP. ni. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 35 
 
 and supply it this year with food during the famine. Near 
 Morley in Barrois, the abbey of Auvey, of the Cistercian 
 order, "was always, for every village in the neighborhood, a 
 bureau of charity." At Airvault, in Poitou, the municipal offi- 
 cers, the colonel of the national guard, and numbers of "rustics 
 and inhabitants" demand the conservation of the regular canons 
 of St. Augustin. "Their existence," says the petition, "is abso- 
 lutely essential, as well for our town as for the country and we 
 should suffer an irreparable loss in their suppression." The 
 municipality and permanent council of Soissons write that the 
 establishment of Saint-Jean des Vignes "has always earnestly 
 claimed its share of the public charges. This is the institution 
 which, in times of calamity, welcomes shelterless citizens and 
 provides them with subsistence. It alone bears the expenses of 
 the assembly of the bailiwick at the time of the election of 
 deputies to the National Assembly. A company of the regiment 
 of Armagnac is actually lodged under its roof. This institution 
 is always found wherever sacrifices are to be made." In scores 
 of places declarations are made that the monks are " the fathers 
 of the poor." In the diocese of Auxerre, during the summer of 
 3789, the Bernardines of Rigny, "stripped themselves of all they 
 possessed in favor of the inhabitants of neighboring villages : 
 bread, grain, money and other supplies, have all been lavished 
 on about twelve hundred persons who, for more than six weeks, 
 never failed to present themselves at their door daily. . . . 
 Loans, advances made on farms, credit with the purveyors of the 
 house, all has contributed to facilitating their means for relieving 
 the people." I omit many other traits equally forcible ; we see 
 that the ecclesiastical and lay seigniors are not simple egoists 
 when they live at home. Man is compassionate for ills of which 
 he is a witness ; absence is necessary to deaden their vivid im- 
 pression ; the heart is moved by them when the eye contemplates 
 them. Familiarity, moreover, engenders sympathy ; one cannot 
 retrain insensible to the trials of a poor man to whom, for over 
 twenty years, one says good-morning every day on passing him, 
 with whose life one is acquainted, who is not an abstract unit in 
 the imagination, a statistical cipher, but a sorrowing soul and 
 \ suffering body. And so much the more because, since the 
 writings of Rousseau and the economists, a spirit of humanity, 
 daily growing stronger, more penetrating and more universal, has
 
 36 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 arisen to soften fc .e heart. Henceforth the poor are thought of; 
 and it is esteemed an honor to think of them. We have only 
 to read the memorials of the States-General l to see that the 
 spirit of philanthropy spreads from Paris even to the chateaux 
 and abbeys of the provinces. I am satisfied that, excepting 
 scattered country squires, either huntsmen or drinkers, carried 
 away by the need of physical exercise, and confined through 
 their rusticity to an animal life, most of the resident seigniors 
 resembled, in fact or in intention, the gentry whom Marmontel, 
 in his moral tales, then brought on the stage ; for fashion took 
 this direction, and people in France always follow the fashion. 
 There is nothing feudal in their characters; they are "sen- 
 sible" folks, mild, very courteous, tolerably cultivated, fond 
 of generalities and easily and quickly roused and very much 
 in earnest, like that amiable logician the Marquis de Ferrieres, an 
 old light-horseman, deputy from Saumur in the National Assem- 
 bly, author of an article on Theism, a moral romance and genial 
 memoirs of no great importance; nothing could be more re- 
 mote from the ancient harsh and despotic temperament. They 
 would be glad to relieve the people and they try to favor them 
 as much as they can. 2 They are found detrimental, but they are 
 not wicked ; the evil is in their situation and not in their charac- 
 ter. It is their situation, in fact, which, allowing them rights 
 without exacting services, debars them from the public offices, 
 the beneficial influence, the effective patronage by which they 
 might justify their advantages and attach the peasantry to them. 
 But on this ground the central government occupies their place. 
 For a long time they are very feeble against the intendant, ut- 
 terly powerless to protect their parish. Twenty gentlemen can- 
 not assemble and deliberate without the king's special permis- 
 sion. 3 If those of Franche-Comte" happen to dine together and 
 hear a mass once a year, it is through tolerance, and even then 
 this harmless coterie may assemble only in the presence of the 
 intendant. Separated from his equals, the seignior again is sep- 
 
 1 On the conduct and sentiments of lay and ecclesiastical seigniors cf. Leonce de L 
 vergne, "Les Assemblies provinciales," i vol. Legrand, " L'intendance du Hainaut," I 
 roL Hippeau, " Le Gouvernement de Normandie," 9 vols. 
 
 * " The most active sympathy filled their breasts ; that which an opulent man most 
 dreaded was to be regarded as insensible." Lacretelle, voL V. p. a. 
 
 1 Floquet, "Histoire du Parlement de Normandie," vol. VI. p. 696. In 1772 twenty-fiv* 
 (enCer.en ate imprisoned or exiled for having signed a protest against the orders c' tht 
 Hart
 
 THAV. m. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 37 
 
 arated from his inferiors. The administration of a village is of 
 no concern to him ; he has not even its superintendence. The 
 apportionment of taxes, the militia contingent, the repairs of the 
 church, the summoning and presiding over a parish assembly, 
 the making of roads, the establishment of charity workshops, all 
 this is the intendant's business or that of the communal officers 
 which the intendant appoints or directs. 1 Except through his 
 justiciary rights, so much curtailed, the seignior is an idler in 
 public matters. 2 If, by chance, he should desire to act in an 
 official capacity, to make some reclamation for the community, 
 the bureaux of administration would soon close his mouth. 
 Since Louis XIV., the clerks have things their own way ; all leg- 
 islation and the entire administrative system operate against the 
 local seignior to deprive him of his functional efficacy and to 
 confine him to his naked title. Through this separation of func- 
 tions and title his pride increases as he becomes less useful. His 
 self-love, deprived of its broad pasture-ground falls back on a 
 small one ; henceforth he seeks distinctions and not influence ; 
 he thinks only of precedence and not of government. 3 In 
 short, the local government, in the hands of clowns brutalized 
 oy men of the pen, is a plebeian, scribbling affair which seems 
 to him offensive. " His pride would be wounded if he were 
 asked to attend to it. Raising taxes, levying the militia, regula- 
 ting the corvees, are servile acts, the works of a syndic." He ac- 
 cordingly abstains, remains isolated on his manor and leaves to 
 others a task from which he is excluded and which he disdains. 
 Far from protecting his peasantry he is scarcely able to protect 
 himself, to preserve his immunities, to have his poll-tax and 
 vingtiemes reduced, to obtain exemption from the militia for his 
 domestics, and to keep his own person, dwelling, dependants, and 
 hunting and fishing rights from the universal usurpation which 
 places all possessions and all privileges in the hands of " Mon- 
 seigneur 1'intendant" and Messieurs the sub-delegates. And 
 
 1 De Tocqueville, ibid. pp. 39, 56, 75, 119, 184. He has developed this point with admira- 
 ble force and insight 
 
 * De Tocqueville, ibid. p. 376. Complaints of the provincial assembly of Haute-Guyenne. 
 " People complain daily that there is no police in the rural districts. How could there be 
 one ? The noble takes no interest in anything, excepting a few just and benevolent 
 seigniors who take advantage of their influence with their vassals to prevent affrays." 
 
 1 Records of the States-General of 1789. Many of the memorials of the noblesse consist 
 of the requests by nobles, men and women, of some honorary distinctive mark, for instaiw 
 ft cross or a ribbon which will make them recognizable.
 
 38 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK J 
 
 oftener is this the case because he is poor. Bouille estimates that 
 all the old families, save two or three hundred, are ruined. 1 In 
 Rouergue several of them live on an income of fifty and even 
 twenty-five louis, (1000 and 500 francs). In Limousin, says an in- 
 tendant at the beginning of the century, out of several thousands 
 there are not fifteen who have twenty thousand livres income. In 
 Berry, towards 1754, "three-fourths of them die of hunger." In 
 Franche-Comte" the fraternity to which we have alluded, appears 
 in a humorous light, "after the mass each one returning to his 
 domicile, some on foot and others on their Rosinantes." In 
 Brittany "there is a crowd of gentlemen cellar-rats on the farms 
 in the lowest occupations." An M. de la Morandais becomes 
 the overseer of an estate. A certain family with nothing but a 
 small farm, " attests its nobility only by the dove-cote; it lives 
 like the peasants, eating nothing but brown bread." Another 
 gentleman, a widower, "passes his time in drinking, living licen- 
 tiously with his servants and covering butter-pots with the hand- 
 somest title-deeds of his lineage." "All the chevaliers de Chat- 
 eaubriand," says the father, were drunkards and whippers of 
 hares." He himself just makes shift to live in a miserable 
 way, with five domestics, a hound and two old mares "in a 
 chateau capable of accommodating a hundred seigniors with 
 their suites." Here and there in the various memoirs we see these 
 strange superannuated figures passing before the eye, for in- 
 siance, in Burgundy, "gentlemen huntsmeu wearing gaiters and 
 hob-nailed shoes, carrying an old rusty sword under their arms, 
 .lying with hunger and refusing to work;" 2 elsewhere, "M. de 
 Perignan, in dress attire, with sandy perruque and visage, hav- 
 ing dry stone walls built on his domain, and getting intoxicated 
 with the blacksmith of the place ; " related to Cardinal Fleury he 
 is made the first Due de Fleury. 
 
 Everything contributes to this downfall, the law, habits and 
 customs, and, above all, the right of primogeniture. Instituted 
 for the purpose of maintaining undivided sovereignty and pat- 
 ronage it ruins the nobles since sovereignty and patronage have 
 
 1 De Bouilld, "Mmoires," p. 50. De Tocqu:ville, ibid. pp. 118, 119. De Lomenie, 
 " Les Mirabeau," p. 132. A letter of the bailly of Mirabeau, 1760. De Chateaubriand, 
 "Mmoires," I. 14, 15, 29, 76, 80, 125. Lucas de Montigny, " Memoires de Mirabeau," L 
 160. Reports of the Soci6t6 du Berry, " Bourges en 1753 et 1754," according to a diary (i> 
 the national archives), written by one of the exiled parliamer tarians, p. 273. 
 
 1 "La vie de mon pere," by Rtif de la Bretonne, I. 146.
 
 CHAP. m. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 39 
 
 no material to work on. " In Brittany," says Chateaubriand, 
 "the elder sons of the nobles swept away two-thirds of the 
 property while the younger sons .shared in one-third of the 
 paternal heritage." 1 Consequently, "the younger sons of 
 younger sons soon come to the sharing of a pigeon, rabbit, 
 hound and fowling-piece. The entire fortune of my grandfather 
 did not exceed five thousand livres income, of which his elder 
 son had two-thirds, three thousand three hundred livres, leaving 
 one thousand six hundred and sixty-six livres for the three 
 younger ones upon which sum the elder still had a precipui 
 claim." 2 This fortune, which crumbles away and dies out, they 
 neither know how, nor are they disposed, to restore by com- 
 merce, manufactures or proper administration of it ; it would be 
 derogatory. "High and mighty seigniors of dove-cote, frog- 
 pond and rabbit-warren," the more substance they lack the 
 more value they set on the name. Add to all this the winter 
 sojourn in town, the ceremonial and expenses comportable with 
 vanity and social requirements, and the visits to the governor and 
 the intendant : a man must be either a German or an English- 
 man to be able to pass three gloomy, rainy months in a castle or 
 on a farm, alone, in companionship with rustics, at the risk 
 of becoming as awkward and as fantastic as they. 3 They ac- 
 cordingly run in debt, become involved, sell one piece of ground 
 and then another piece : a good many alienate the whole, ex- 
 cepting their small manor and their seigniorial dues, the cens 
 and the lods etventes, and their hunting and justiciary rights on 
 the territory of which they were formerly proprietors. 4 Since 
 they must support themselves on these privileges they must 
 necessarily enforce them, even when the privilege is burdensome, 
 and even when the debtor is a poor man. How could they 
 
 ' The rule is analogous with the other coutumes (common-law rules), of other places and 
 specially in Paris. (Renauldon, ibid. p. 134.) 
 
 * A sort of dower right 
 
 * Mme. d'Oberkirk, " Memoires," I. 395. 
 
 De BouillS, "Memoires," p. 50. According to him, "all the noble old families, except- 
 .ng two or three hundred, were ruined. A larger portion of the great tided estates had be- 
 come the appanage of financiers, merchants and their descendants. The fiefs, for the mos< 
 part, were in the hands of the bourgeoisie of the towns." Le'once de Lavergne, "Econo- 
 mic rurale en France," p. 26. "The greatest number vegetated in poverty in small country 
 fiefs often not vorth more than 2,000 or 3,000 francs a year." In the apportionment of the 
 Indemnity in 1025, many received less than 1,000 francs. The greater number of indemnities 
 do not exceed 50,000 francs. "The throne," rays Mirabeau, "is surrot*rded only by ruined 
 aobles."
 
 40 THE ANCIENT REGIME. POOK I 
 
 remit dues in grain and in wine when these con&itute their 
 bread and wine for the entire year ? How could they dispense 
 with the fifth and the fifth of the fifth (du quint et du requint) 
 when this is the only coin they obtain? why, being needy, 
 should they not be exacting ? Accordingly, in relation to the 
 peasant, they are simply his creditors; and to this end comes 
 the feudal regime transformed by the monarchy. Around the 
 chateau I see sympathies declining, envy raising its head, and 
 hatreds on the increase. Set aside in public matters, freed 
 from taxation, the seignior remains isolated and a stranger 
 among his vassals; his extinct authority with his unimpaired 
 privileges form for him an existence apart. When he emerges 
 from it, it is to forcibly add to the public misery. On this soil, 
 ruined by the fisc, he takes a portion of its product, so much in 
 sheaves of wheat and so many measures of wine. His pigeons 
 and his game eat up the crops. People are obliged to grind in 
 his mill, and to leave with him a sixteenth of the flour. The 
 sale of a field for the sum of six hundred livres puts one hun- 
 dred livres into his pocket. A brother's inheritance reaches 
 a brother only after he has gnawed out of it a year's income. 
 A score of other dues, formerly of public benefit, no longer 
 serve but to support a useless private individual. The peasant, 
 then as at the present day, eager for gain, determined and 
 accustomed to do and to suffer everything to save or gain a 
 crown, ends by bestowing side glances of anger on the turret in 
 which is preserved the archives, the rent-roll, the detested parch- 
 ments by means of which a man of another species, favored to 
 the detriment of the rest, a universal creditor and paid to do 
 nothing, grazes over all the ground and feeds on all the products. 
 Let the opportunity come to enkindle all this covetousness and 
 the rent-roll will burn and with it the turret, and with the turret, 
 the chateau. 
 
 III. 
 
 The spectacle becomes still more gloomy, on passing from the 
 estates on which the seigniors reside to those on which they are 
 non-residents. Noble or ennobled, lay and ecclesiastic, the latte? 
 are privileged among the privileged and form an aristocrac/ 
 inside of an aristocracy. Almost all the powerful and accredited 
 %milies belong to it whatever may be their origin and their
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 41 
 
 date. 1 Through their habitual or frequent residence near the 
 court, through their alliances or mutual visits, through their 
 habits and their luxuries, through the influence which they 
 exercise and the enmities which they provoke, they form a 
 group apart, and are those who possess the most extensive 
 estates, the leading suzerainties, and the completest and most 
 comprehensive jurisdictions. Of the court nobility and of the 
 higher clergy, they number, perhaps, a thousand in each order, 
 while their small number only brings out in higher relief the 
 enormity of their advantages. We have seen that the appanages 
 of the princes of the blood comprise a seventh of the territory ; 
 Necker estimates the revenue of the estates enjoyed by the 
 king's two brothers at two millions. 2 The domains of the Dues 
 de Bouillon, d'Aiguillon, and some others cover entire leagues 
 and in immensity and continuity, remind one of those which 
 the Duke of Sutherland and the Duke of Bedford now possess 
 in England. With nothing else than his forests and his canal, 
 the Duke of Orleans, before marrying his wife, as rich as himself, 
 obtains an income of a million. A certain seigniory, le Cler- 
 montois, belonging to the Prince de Cond6, contains forty 
 thousand inhabitants, which is the extent of a German principal- 
 ity; "moreover all the taxes or subsidies occurring in le Cler- 
 montois are imposed for the benefit of His Serene Highness, 
 the king receiving absolutely nothing." 3 Naturally authority 
 and wealth go together, and, the more an estate yields, the more 
 its owner resembles a sovereign. The archbishop of Cambray, 
 Due de Cambray, Comte de Cambresis, possesses the suzerainty 
 over all the fiefs of a region which numbers over seventy- 
 five thousand inhabitants; he appoints one-half of the alder- 
 men of Cambray and the whole of the administrators of Ca- 
 teau ; he has the nomination to two great abbeys, and pre- 
 
 1 De Bouill6, "M6moires," p. 50. Cherin, "Abreg6 chronologique des dits" (1788). 
 " Of this innumerable multitude composing the privileged order scarcely a twentieth part of 
 it can really pretend to nobility of an immemorial and ancient date." 4,070 financial, ad- 
 ministrative, and judicial offices conferred nobility. Turgot, " Collection des Economistes," 
 II. 276. " Through the facilities for acquiring nobility by means of money there is no rich 
 man who does not at oice become noble." D'Argenson, " M6moires," III. 402. 
 
 2 Necker, "De 1'Administration des Finances," II. 271. Legrand, "L'Intendance de 
 Hainaut," pp. 104, 118, 152, 412. 
 
 8 Even after the exchange of 1784, the prince retains for himself " ill personal imposition! 
 as well as subventions on the inhabitants," except a sum of 6,000 liv ef for roads. Aichivet 
 nationrJes, G, 192, a memorial of April i4th, 1781, on the state of th pgs in the Clernr jtois 
 Report of the provincial assembly of the Three Bishoprics (1787), p 380. 
 
 4*
 
 42 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK L 
 
 sides over the provincial assemblies and the permanent bureau 
 which succeeds them; in short, under the intendant, or at his 
 side, he maintains a pre-eminence, and better still, an influence, 
 somewhat like that to-day maintained over his domain by a 
 grand-duke incorporated into the new German empire. Near 
 him, in Hainaut, the abbe" of Saint-Amand possesses seven- 
 eighths of the territory of the provostship while levying on 
 the other eighth the seigniorial taxes of the corvees and the 
 dime; and more besides, he nominates the provost of the al- 
 dermen, so that, in the words of the grievances, "he composes 
 the entire State, or rather he is himself the State." 1 I should 
 never end if I were to specify all these big prizes. Let us select 
 only those of the prelacy, and but one particular side, that 
 of money. In the "Almanach Royal," and in "La France Ec- 
 cle"siastique" for 1788, we may read their admitted revenues; but 
 the veritable revenue is one-half more for the bishoprics, and 
 double and triple for the abbeys; and we must again double 
 the veritable revenue in order to estimate its value in the money 
 of to-day. 2 The one hundred and thirty-one bishops and arch- 
 bishops possess in the aggregate 5,600,000 livres of episcopal in- 
 come and 1,200,000 livres in abbeys, averaging 50,000 livres per 
 head as in the printed record, and in reality 100,000; a bishop 
 thus, in the eyes of his contemporaries, according to the state- 
 ment of spectators cognizant of the actual truth, was "a grand 
 seignior, with an income of 100,000 livres." 3 Some of the most 
 important sees are magnificently endowed. That of Sens brings 
 in 70,000 livres; Verdun, 74,000; Tours, 82,000; Beauvais, 
 Toulouse and Bayeux, 90,000; Rouen, 100,000; Auch, Metz 
 and Albi, 120,000; Narbonne, 160,000; Paris and Cambray, 
 200,000 according to official reports, and probably half as much 
 more in sums actually collected. Other sees, less lucrative, are, 
 proportionately, still better provided. Imagine a small provincial 
 town, oftentimes not even a petty sub-prefecture of our times, 
 Conserans, Mirepoix, Lavaur, Rieux, Lombez, Saint-Papoul, 
 Comminges, Lu$on, Sarlat, Mende, Frejus, Lescar, Belley, Saint- 
 Malo, Tre"guier, Embrun, Saint-Claude, and, in the neighbor- 
 hood, less than two hundred, one hundred, and sometimes even 
 
 1 The town of St. Amand, alone, contain? to-day 10,210 inhabitants. 
 
 2 See note 3 at the end of the volume. 
 * De Ferrieres, "Me'moires," II. 57. "All had 100,000. some zoo, 300, and even
 
 CHAP. III. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 43 
 
 less than fifty parishes, and, as recompense for this slight ecaesi- 
 astical surveillance, a prelate receiving from 25,000 to 70,000 
 livres, according to official statements; from 37,000 to- 105,000 
 livres in actual receipts; and from 74,000 to 105,000 livres 
 in the money of to-day. As to the abbeys, I count thirty- 
 three of them producing to the abb6 from 25,000 to i2:,ooo 
 livres, and twenty-seven which bring from 20,000 to icc,ooo 
 livres to the abbess ; weigh these sums taken from the Almanach, 
 and bear in mind that they must be doubled, and more, to 
 obtain the real revenue, and be quadrupled, and more, to 
 obtain the actual revenue. It is evident, that, with such 
 revenues, coupled with the feudal rights, police, justiciary and 
 administrative, which accompany them, an ecclesiastic or lay 
 grand seignior is, in fact, a sort of prince in his district ; that he 
 bears too close a resemblance to the ancient sovereign to be 
 entitled to live as an ordinary individual ; that his private ad- 
 vantages impose on him a public character; that his rank, and 
 his enormous profits, make it incumbent on him to perform 
 proportionate services, and that, even under the sway of the 
 intendant, he owes to his vassals, to his tenants, to his feudato- 
 ries the support of his mediation, of his patronage and of his 
 gains. 
 
 This requires a home residence, but, generally, he is an ab- 
 sentee. For a hundred and fifty years a kind of all-powerful 
 attraction diverts the grandees from the provinces and impels 
 them towards the capital ; and the movement is irresistible for it 
 is the effect of two forces, the greatest and most universal that 
 influence mankind, one, a social position, and the other the 
 national character. A tree is not to be severed from its roots 
 with impunity. An aristocracy organized to rule becomes de- 
 tached from the soil when it no longer rules; and it ceases to 
 rule the moment when, through increasing and constant en- 
 croachments, almost the entire justiciary, the entire administra- 
 tion, the entire police, each detail of the local or general gov- 
 ernment, the power of initiating, of collaboration, of control 
 regarding taxation, elections, roads, public works and charities, 
 passes over into the hands of the intendant or of the sub-delegate, 
 under the supreme direction of the comptroller-general or of the 
 king's council. 1 Clerks, gentiy "of the robe and the quill,' 
 
 1 De Tocqueville, ibid, book 2, chap. 2. p. 182. Letter of the bailly of Mirabesti, AugusJ 
 t^, 1770. " This feudal order wai merely vigorous, and they have pronounced it ba barcus
 
 44 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 plebeians enjoying no consideration, perform the work ; there 
 is no way to prevent it. Even with the king's delegates, a pro- 
 vincial governor, were he hereditary, a prince of the blood, 
 like the Conde"s in Burgundy, must efface himself before the 
 intendant ; he holds no efficient office ; his public duties consist 
 of self-parade and in giving entertainments. And yet he would 
 badly perform others ; the administrative machine, with its thou- 
 sands of hard, creaking and dirty wheels, as Richelieu and Louis 
 XIV. fashioned it, can work only in the hands of workmen re- 
 movable at pleasure, unscrupulous and prompt to give way to 
 the judgment of the State. It is impossible to commit oneself 
 with rogues of that description. He accordingly abstains, and 
 abandons public affairs to them. Unemployed, enervated, what 
 could he now do on his domain, where he no longer reigns, and 
 where dulness overpowers him ? He betakes himself to the 
 city, and especially to the court. After all, this is the only career 
 open to him ; to be successful he has to become a courtier. It 
 is the will of the king, one must frequent his apartments to ob- 
 tain his favors; otherwise, on the first application for them the 
 answer will be, " Who is he? He is a man that I never see." In 
 his eyes there is no excuse for absence, even when the cause 
 is a conversion, with penitence for a motive ; God is preferred 
 to him and it is desertion. The ministers write to the intend- 
 ants to ascertain if the gentlemen of their province "like to stay 
 at home," and if they " refuse to appear and perform their duties 
 to the king." Consider how great the attraction was ; govern- 
 ments, commands, bishoprics, benefices, court-offices, survivor- 
 ships, pensions, credit, favors of every kind and degree for self 
 and family, all that a State of twenty or twenty-five millions of 
 men can offer that is desirable to ambition, to vanity, to interest, is 
 found here collected as in a reservoir. They rush to it and draw 
 from it. And the more readily because it is an agreeable place, 
 arranged just as they would have it, and purposely to suit the 
 
 because France, which had the vices of strength has only those of feebleness, and because 
 the flock which was formerly devoured by wolves is now eaten up with lice. . . . Three or 
 four kicks or blows with a stick were not half so injurious to a poor man's family, nor ta 
 himself, as being devoured by six rolls of handwriting." "The nobility," says St Simon, 
 In his day, " has become another people with no choice left it but to crouch down in mortal 
 and ruinous indolence, which renders it a charge and contemptible, or to go and be killed in 
 warfare subject to the insults of clerks, secretaries of the state and the secretaries of in. 
 tendants." Such are the complaints of feudal spirits. The details which follow are al 
 derived from Saint Simon, Dangeau, de Luynes, d'Argenson and other court historians.
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 45 
 
 social aptitudes of the French character. The court is a vast 
 permanent drawing-room to which " access is easy and free to 
 the king's subjects ; " where they live with him, " in gentle and 
 virtuous society in spite of the almost infinite distance of rank 
 and power ; " where the monarch prides himself on being the per- 
 fect master of a household. 1 In fact, no drawing-room was ever 
 so well kept up, nor so well calculated to retain its guests by 
 every kind of enjoyment, by the beauty, the dignity and the 
 charm of its decoration, by the selection of its company and by 
 the interest of the spectacle. Versailles is the only place to show 
 oneself off, to make a figure, to push one's way, to be amused, 
 to converse or gossip at the head-quarters of news, of activity 
 and of public matters, with the elite of the kingdom and the 
 arbiters of fashion, elegance and taste; "Sire," said M. de Vardes 
 to Louis XIV., "away from Your Majesty one not only feels mis- 
 erable but ridiculous." None remain in the provinces except the 
 poor rural nobility; to live there one must be behind the age, 
 disheartened or in exile. The king's banishment of a seignior 
 to his estates is the highest disgrace; to the humiliation of this 
 fall is added the insupportable weight of ennui. The finest chat- 
 eau on the most beautiful site is a frightful " desert "; nobody is 
 seen there save the grotesques of z small town or the village rus- 
 tics. 2 " Exile alone," says Arthur Young, " forces the French 
 oobility to do what the English prefer to do, and that is to live 
 on their estates and embellish them." Saint-Simon and other 
 court historians, on mentioning a ceremony, repeatedly state that 
 "all France was there"; in fact, every one of consequence in 
 France is there, and each recognizes the other by this sign. 
 Paris and the court becomes, accordingly, the necessary sojourn 
 of all fine people. In such a situation departure begets depart- 
 ure; the more a province is forsaken the more they forsake it. 
 " There is not in the kingdom," says the Marquis of Mirabeau, 
 " a single estate of any size of which the proprietor is not in Paris 
 and who, consequently, neglects his buildings and chateaux." 1 
 
 1 Works of Louis XIV. and his own words. Mme. Vig6e-Lebrun, " Souvenirs," I. 71 : 
 " I have seen the queen (Marie Antoinette), obliging Madame to dine, then six years of 
 ge, with a little peasant girl whora she vas taking care of, and insisting that this little on* 
 ihould be served first, saying to her daughter : 'You must do the honors.' " 
 
 * Moliere, "Misanthrope." This is the " iesert" in which Celimeue refuses to be buried 
 with Alceste. See also in the "Tartuffe " the pictu - e which Dorine 'Vaws of a small town 
 Arthur Young, " Voyages en France," I. 78. 
 
 * "Trait6 de la Population," p. 108, (1756).
 
 46 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK L 
 
 The lay grand seigniors have their hotels in the capital, their en- 
 tresol at Versailles, and their pleasure-house within a circuit of 
 twenty leagues ; if they visit their estates at long intervals, it is 
 to hunt. The fifteen hundred commendatory abbe's and priors 
 enjoy their benefices as if they were so many remote farms. The 
 two thousand seven hundred vicars and canons visit each other 
 and dine out. With the exception of a few apostolic characters 
 the one hundred and thirty-one bishops stay at home as little as 
 they can; nearly all of them being nobles, all of them men of 
 society, what could they do out of the world, confined to a pro- 
 vincial town ? Can we imagine a grand seignior, once a gay and 
 galla-nt abb6 and now a bishop with a hundred thousand livres 
 income, voluntarily burying himself for the entire year at Mende, 
 at Comminges, in a paltry cloister ? The interval has become 
 too great between the refined, varied and literary life of the 
 great centre, and the monotonous, inert, practical life of the prov- 
 inces. Hence it is that the grand seignior who withdraws from 
 the former cannot enter into the latter, and he remains an ab- 
 sentee, at least in feeling. 
 
 A country in which the heart ceases to impel the blood 
 through its veins presents a sombre aspect. Arthur Young, who 
 travelled over France between 1787 and 1789, is surprised to 
 find at once such a vital centre and such dead extremities. Be- 
 tween Paris and Versailles the double file of vehicles going and 
 coming extends uninterruptedly for five leagues from morning 
 till night. 1 The contrast on other roads is very great. Leav- 
 ing Paris by the Orleans road, says Arthur Young, " we met not 
 one stage or diligence for ten miles ; only two messageries and 
 very few chaises, not a tenth of what would have been met had we 
 been leaving London at the same hour." On the highroad 
 near Narbonne, " for thirty-six miles," he says, " I came across 
 but one cabriolet, half a dozen carts and a few women leading 
 asses." Elsewhere, near St. Girons, he notices that in two hun- 
 dred and fifty miles he encountered in all, "two cabriolets and 
 three miserable things similar to our old one-horse post chaise, 
 and not one gentleman." Throughout this country the inns are 
 execrable ; it is impossible to hire a wagon, while in England, 
 even in a town of fifteen hundred or two thousand inhabitants, 
 
 ' I have this from old people who witnessed it before 1789.
 
 CHAP. ni. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 47 
 
 there are comfortable hotels and every means of transport 
 This proves that in France "there is no circulation." It is only 
 in very large towns that there is any civilization and comfort. 
 At Nantes there is a superb theatre " twice as large as Drury- 
 Lane and five times as magnificent. Mon Dieu / I cried to my- 
 self, do all these wastes, the deserts, the heath, ling, furze, 
 broom, and bog, that I have passed for 300 miles lead to this 
 spectacle? . . . You pass at once from beggary to profusion, 
 . . . the country deserted, or if a gentleman in it, you find him 
 in some wretched hole to save that money which is lavished 
 with profusion in the luxuries of a capital." "A coach," says 
 M. de Montlosier, "set out weekly from the principal towns in 
 the provinces for Paris and was not always full, which represents 
 the activity in business. There was a single journal called the 
 Gazette de France, appearing twice a week, which represents 
 the activity of minds." : Some of the magistrates of Paris in exile 
 at Bourges in 1753 and 1754, give the following picture of that 
 place. "A town in which no one can be found with whom you 
 can talk at your ease on any topic whatever, reasonably or sen- 
 sibly; nobles, three-fourths of them dying of hunger, rotting 
 with pride of birth, keeping apart from men of the robe and of 
 finance, and finding it strange that the daughter of a tax-col- 
 lector, married to a counsellor of the parliament of Paris, should 
 presume to be intelligent and entertain company; citizens of 
 the grossest ignorance, the sole support of this species of leth- 
 argy in which the minds of most of the inhabitants are plunged; 
 women, bigoted and pretensions, ind much given to play and to 
 gallantry;" 2 in this impoverished and benumbed society, among 
 these Messieurs Thibaudeau the counsellor and Harpin the tax- 
 collector, among these vicomtes of Sotenville and Countesses 
 d'Escarbagnas, lives the Archbishop, Cardinal de Larochefou- 
 cauld, grand almoner to the king, provided with four great ab- 
 beys, possessing five hundred thousand livres income, a man of 
 the world, generally an absentee, and when at home, finding 
 amusement in the embellishing of his gardens and palace, in 
 short, the golden pheasant of an aviary in a poultry yard of 
 geese. 3 Naturally there is an entire absence of political thought. 
 
 1 "Me'moires de M. de Montlosier," I. p. 161. 
 
 * Reports of the Sooie'tcS de Berry, "Bourges en 1753 et 1754," p. 273. 
 
 * Ibid. p. 271 One day the cardinal, showing his guests over his palace just completed, 
 fed them to th bottom of a corridor where he had placed water clofteU, at that time
 
 48 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK L 
 
 * You cannot imagine," says the manuscript, " a person more in- 
 different to all public matters." At a later period, in the very 
 midst of events of the gravest character, and which most nearly 
 concern them, there is the same apathy. At Chateau-Thierry, 
 on the 4th of July, 1789,' there is not a caf6 in which a news- 
 paper can be found; there is but one at Dijon; at Moulins, the 
 7th of August, "in the best cafe" in the town, where I found 
 near twenty tables set for company, but as for a newspaper I 
 might as well have demanded an elephant." Between Stras- 
 bourg and Besangon there is not a gazette. At Besancon 
 there is " nothing but the Gazette de France, for which, at 
 this period, a man of common sense would not give one sol, 
 ... and the Courier de r Europe a fortnight old; and well- 
 dressed people are now talking of the news of two or three 
 weeks past and plainly by their discourse know nothing of 
 what is passing." At Clermont " I dined, or supped, five times 
 at the table d'h6te with from twenty to thirty merchants, trades- 
 men, officers, etc., and it is not easy for me to express the insig- 
 nificance, the inanity of their conversation. Scarcely any pol- 
 itics at a moment when every bosom ought to beat with none 
 but political sensations. The ignorance or the stupidity of these 
 people must be absolutely incredible ; not a week passes with- 
 out their country abounding with events that are analyzed and 
 debated by the carpenters and blacksmiths of England." The 
 cause of this inertia is manifest ; interrogated on their opinions, 
 all reply : " We are of the provinces and we must wait to know 
 what is going on in Paris." Never having acted, they do not 
 know how to act. But, thanks to this inertia, they let them- 
 selves be driven. The provinces form an immense stagnant 
 pond, which, by a terrible inundation, may be emptied exclu- 
 sively on one side, and suddenly; the fault lies with the engi- 
 neers who failed to provide it with either dikes or outlets. 
 
 Such is the languor or, rather, the prostration, into which loca] 
 life falls when the local chiefs deprive it of their presence, action, 
 
 novelty. M. Boutin de la Coul Mnmiere, the son of a receiver-general of the finances, mad* 
 an exclamation at the sight of the ingenious mechanism which it pleased him to keep 
 moving, and, turning towards the abb de Caniilac, he says: "That is really admirable, bul 
 what seems to me still more admirable is that His Eminence, being above all human weak' 
 ness, should condescend to make use of it." This anecdote is valuable, as it serves to 
 llustrate the rank and position of a grand-seignior prelate in the provinces. 
 1 Arthur Young, v. II. p. 330 and the following pages.
 
 CHAP. Hi. THE STRUCTURE. OF SOCIETY. 49 
 
 or sympathy. I find only three or four grand seigniors taking a 
 part in it, practical philanthropists following the example of 
 English noblemen; the Due d'Harcourt, who settles the law- 
 suits of his peasants; the Due de Larochefoucauld-Liancourt 
 who establishes a model farm on his domain, and a school of in 
 dustrial pursuits for the children of poor soldiers; and the Comte 
 de Brienne, whose thirty villages are to demand liberty of the 
 Convention. 1 The rest, for the most part liberals, content them- 
 selves with discussions on public affairs and on political econo- 
 my. In fact, the difference in manners, the separation of inter- 
 ests, the remoteness of ideas are so great that contact between 
 those most exempt from haughtiness and their immediate ten- 
 antry is rare, and at long intervals. Arthur Young, needing some 
 information at the house of the Due de Larochefoucauld him- 
 self, the steward is sent for. " At an English nobleman's, there 
 would have been three or four farmers asked to meet me who 
 would have dined with the family amongst the ladies of the first 
 rank. I do not exaggerate when I say that I have had this at 
 least an hundred times in the first houses of our islands. It is, 
 however, a thing that in the present style of manners in France 
 would not be met with from Calais to Bayonne except, by chance, 
 in the house of some great lord that had been much in England, 
 and then not unless it was asked for. The nobility in France 
 have no more idea of practising agriculture, and making it a 
 subject of conversation, except on the mere theory, as they 
 would speak of a loom or a bowsprit, than of any other object 
 the most remote from their habits and pursuits." Through tradi- 
 tion, fashion and deliberately, they are, and wish only to be, 
 people of society; their sole concern is to talk and to hunt. 
 Never have the leaders of men so unlearned the art of leading 
 men ; the art which consists of marching along the same pathway 
 with them but at the head, and directing their labor by sharing in 
 it. Our Englishman, an eye-witness and competent, again writes : 
 "Thus it is whenever you stumble on a grand seignior, even one 
 
 1 De Lom^nie, "Les Mirabeau," p. 134. A letter of the bailly September 25, 1760: "I 
 am at Harcourt, where I admire the master's honest, benevolent greatness. You cannot 
 imagine toy pleasure on fete days at seeing the people everywhere around the chateau, 
 and the good little peasant boys and girls looking right in the face of their good landlord 
 and almost pulling his watch off to examine the trinkets on the chain, and all with a frater- 
 nal air, without familiarity. The good duke does not allow his vassals to go to law; L 
 listens to them and decides for them, humoring them with admirable patience." Lacrctclic, 
 "Dix ans d'e'preuve," p. 58.
 
 50 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK U 
 
 that was worth millions, you are sure to find his property deseiL 
 Those of the Due de Bouillon and of the Prince de Soubise are 
 two of the greatest 'properties in France; and all the signs I have 
 yet seen of their greatness are wastes, landes, deserts, fern, ling. 
 Go to their residence, wherever it may be and you would prob- 
 ably find them in the midst of a forest very well peopled with 
 deer, wild boars and wolves." " The great proprietors," says 
 another contemporary, 1 " attracted to and kept in our cities by 
 luxurious enjoyments know nothing of their estates," save "of 
 their agents whom they harass for the support of a ruinous os- 
 tentation. How can ameliorations be looked for from those who 
 even refuse to keep things up and make indispensable repairs?" 
 A sure proof that their absence is the cause of the evil is found 
 in the visible difference between the domain worked under an 
 absent abbe"-commendatory and a domain superintended by 
 monks living on the spot. "The intelligent traveller recognizes 
 it " at first sight by the state of cultivation. " If he finds fields 
 well enclosed by ditches, carefully planted, and covered with 
 rich crops, these fields, he says to himself, belong to the monks. 
 Almost always, alongside of these fertile plains, is an area of 
 ground badly tilled and almost barren, presenting a painful con- 
 trast; and yet the soil is the same, being two portions of the 
 same domain ; he sees that the latter is the portion of the abb6 
 commendatory." "Theabbatial manse," said Lefranc de Pom- 
 pignan, "frequently looks like the patrimony of a spendthrift ; the 
 monastic manse is like a patrimony whereon nothing is neglected 
 for its amelioration," to such an extent that "the two-thirds" 
 which the abb6 enjoys bring him less than the third reserved by 
 his monks. The ruin or impoverishment of agriculture is, again, 
 one of the effects of absenteeism; there was, perhaps, one-third 
 of the soil in France, which, deserted as in Ireland, was as badly 
 tilled, as little productive as in Ireland in the hands of the rich 
 absentees, the English bishops, deans and nobles. 
 
 Doing nothing for the soil how could they do anything for 
 men? Now and then, undoubtedly, especially with farms that 
 pay no rent, the steward writes a letter, alleging the misery of the 
 farmer. There is no doubt, also, and especially for thirty years 
 back, they desire to be humane; they descant among themselves 
 
 ' "De l'tat religieux," by the abbes de Bonnefoi et Bernard, 1784, pp. 287, api.
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 51 
 
 about the rights of man; the sight of the pale face of a hungry 
 peasant would give them pain. But they never see him; does 
 it ever occur to them to fancy what it is like under the awkward 
 and complimentary phrases of their agent? Moreover, do they 
 know what hunger is? Who amongst them has had any rural 
 experiences? And how could they picture to themselves the 
 misery of this forlorn being ? They are too remote from him to 
 do that, too ignorant of his mode of life. The portrait they 
 conceive of him is imaginary; never was there a falser repre 
 sentation of the peasant ; accordingly the awakening is to be ter- 
 rible. They view him as the amiable swain, gentle, humble and 
 grateful, simple-hearted and right-minded, easily led, being con- 
 ceived according to Rousseau and the idyls performed at this 
 very epoch in all private drawing-rooms. 1 Lacking a knowledge 
 of him they overlook him; they read the steward's letter and 
 immediately the whirl of high life again seizes them and, after a 
 sigh bestowed on the distress of the poor, they make up their 
 minds that their income for the year will be short. A disposi- 
 tion of this kind is not favorable to charity. Accordingly, 
 complaints arise, not against the residents but against the 
 absentees. 2 " The possessions of the Church, says a memorial, 
 serve only to nourish the passions of their holders." " According 
 to the canons, says another memorial, every beneficiary must 
 give a quarter of his income to the poor; nevertheless in our 
 parish there is a revenue of more than twelve thousand livres, 
 and none of it is given to the poor unless it is some small matter 
 at the hands of the curate." "The abbe" de Conches gets one- 
 half of the tithes and contributes nothing to the relief of the 
 parish." Elsewhere, " the chapter of Ecouis, which owns the 
 benefice of the tithes is of no advantage to the poor, and only 
 seeks to augment its income." Near by, the abbe" of Croix-Leu- 
 froy, " a heavy tithe-owner, and the abbe" de Bernay, who gets 
 fifty- seven thousand livres from his benefice, and who is a non- 
 resident, keep all and scarcely give enough to their officiating 
 curates to keep them alive." " I have in my parish, says a cur- 
 ate of Berry, 3 six simple benefices of which the titularies are al- 
 
 1 See on this subject "La partie de chasse de Henri IV.," by Coll6. Cf. Berquin, Florian, 
 Marmontel, etc., and likewise the engravings of that day. 
 
 * Boivin-Champeaux, " Notice historique sur la Revolution dans le dcpartement de 1'Eure," 
 pp. 63, 61. 
 
 Archives nation les, Reports of the States-General of 1789, T, XXXIX., p. in. Letta
 
 52 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 ways absent, and they enjoy together an income of nine thou- 
 sand livres; I sent them in writing the most urgent entreaties 
 during the calamity of the past year; I received from one of 
 them two louis only, and most of them did not even answer me.' 
 Stronger is the reason for a conviction that in ordinary times 
 they will make no remission of their dues. Moreover, these 
 dues, the censives, the lods et ventes, tithes, and the like, are in the 
 hands of a steward, and he is a good steward who returns a large 
 amount of money. He has no right to be generous at his mas- 
 ter's expense, and he is tempted to turn the subjects of his mas- 
 ter to his own profit. In vain might the soft seignorial hand be 
 disposed to be easy or paternal; the hard hand of the proxy 
 bears down on the peasants with all its weight, and the cautious- 
 ness of a chief gives place to the exactions of a clerk. How is 
 it then when, instead of a clerk on the domain, a fermier is 
 found, an adjudicator who, for an annual sum, purchases of the 
 seignior the management and product of his dues? In the 
 election of Mayenne, 1 and certainly also in many others, the 
 principal domains are rented in this way. Moreover there are 
 a number of dues, like the tolls, the market-place tax, that on 
 the flock apart, the monopoly of the oven and of the mill which 
 can scarcely be managed otherwise ; the seignior must necessa- 
 rily employ an adjudicator who spares him the disputes and the 
 trouble of collecting. 2 In this case, so frequent, the pressure 
 and the rapacity of the contractor, who is determined to gain or, 
 at least, not to lose, falls on the peasantry : " He is a ravenous 
 wolf," says Renauldon, " let loose on the estate, who draws upon 
 it to the last sou, who crushes the subjects, reduces them to beg- 
 gary, forces the cultivators to desert, and renders odious the 
 master who finds himself obliged to tolerate his exactions to be 
 able to profit by them." Imagine, if you can, the evil which a 
 country usurer exercises, armed against them with such bur- 
 densome rights; it is the feudal seigniory in the hands of Har- 
 pagon, or rather of old Grandet. When, indeed, a tax becomes 
 insupportable we see, by the local complaints, that it is nearly 
 
 f the 6th March, 1789, from the curat: of St. Pierre de Ponsigny, In Berry. D'Argenson, 
 6th July, 1756. "The late cardinal de Soubise had three millions in cash and he gav 
 nothing to the poor." 
 
 1 De Tocqueville, ibid. 405. Renauldon, ibid. 628. 
 
 2 The example is set by the king who sells to the farmer-generals, for an anr lal su JO, th 
 management and product of the principal indirect taxes.
 
 CHAP. HI. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 53 
 
 always z.fermier who enforces it : l it is one of these, acting for a 
 body of canons, who claims Jeanne Mermet's paternal inheritance 
 on the pretence that she had passed her wedding night at her 
 husband's house. It would be difficult to find parallel exactions 
 in the Ireland of 1830, on those estates where, the farmer-gen- 
 eral renting to sub-farmers, and the latter to others still below 
 them, the poor tenant at the foot of the ladder himself bore the 
 full weight of it, so much the more crushed because his creditor, 
 crushed himself, measured the requirements he exacted by those 
 he had to submit to. 
 
 Suppose that, seeing this abuse of his name, the seignior is de- 
 sirous of withdrawing the administration of his domains from 
 these mercenary hands ; in most cases he is unable to do it : he 
 is too deeply in debt, having appropriated to his creditors a cer- 
 tain portion of his land, a certain branch of his income. For 
 centuries, the nobles are involved through their luxuriousness, 
 their prodigality, their carelessness, and through that false sense 
 of honor which consists in looking upon attention to accounts 
 as the occupation of an accountant. They take pride in their 
 negligence, regarding it, as they say, living nobly. 2 " Monsieur 
 the archbishop," said Louis XVI. to M. de Dillon, " they say 
 that you are in debt, and even largely." "Sire," replied the 
 prelate, with the irony of a grand seignior, " I will ask my intend- 
 ant and inform Your Majesty." Marshal de Soubise has five 
 hundred thousand livres income, which is not sufficient for him. 
 We know the debts of the Cardinal de Rohan and of the Comte 
 d'Artois ; their millions of income were vainly thrown into this 
 gulf. The Prince de Guem6n6e fails on an indebtedness of 
 thirty-five millions. The Duke of Orleans, the richest proprietor 
 in the kingdom, owed at his death seventy-four millions. When 
 it became necessary to pay the creditors of the emigrants out of 
 the proceeds of their possessions, it was proved that most of the 
 
 1 Voltaire, "Politique et Legislation, La voix du Cure 1 ," (in relation to the serfs of St. 
 Claude). A speech of the Duke d'Aiguillon, August 4th, 1789, in the National Assembly: 
 "The proprietors of fiefs, of seigniorial estates, are rarely guilty of the excesses of whicfr 
 their vassals complain ; but their agents are often pitiless." 
 
 1 Beugnot, " Memoires," r. I. p. 136. Due de Levis, " Souvenirs et portraits," p. 156^ 
 " Moniteur," the session of November 22, 1872, M. Bocher says : "According to the state- 
 ment drawn up by order of the Convention the Duke of Orleans's fortune consisted of 
 74,000,000 of indebtedness and 140,000,000 of assets. On the 8th January, T"p2, he h*4 
 usigned to his creditors 38,000,000 to obtain his dischaige." 
 
 5*
 
 54 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 large fortunes were eaten up with mortgages. 1 Readers of the 
 various memoirs know that, for two hundred years, the deficien- 
 cies had to be supplied by marriages for money and by the 
 favors of the king. This explains why, following the king's ex- 
 ample, the nobles converted everything into money, and espe- 
 cially the places at their disposition, and, in relaxing authority 
 for profit, why they alienated the last fragment of government 
 remaining in their hands. Everywhere they thus laid aside the 
 venerated character of a chief to put on the odious character of 
 a trafficker. " Not only," says a contemporary, 2 " do they give 
 no pay to their officers of justice, or take them at a discount, 
 but, what is worse, the greater portion of them make a sale of 
 these offices." In spite of the edict of 1693, the judges thus ap- 
 pointed take no steps to be admitted into the royal courts and 
 they take no oaths. " What is the result ? Justice, too often 
 administered by knaves, degenerates into brigandage or into a 
 frightful impunity." Ordinarily the seignior who sells the office 
 on a financial basis, deducts, in addition, the hundredth, the fif- 
 tieth, the tenth of the price, when it passes into other hands ; 
 and at other times he disposes of the survivorship. He creates 
 these offices and survivorships purposely to sell them. " All the 
 seigniorial courts, say the memorials, are infested with a crowd 
 of officials of every description, seigniorial sergeants, mounted 
 and unmounted officers, keepers of the provostship of the funds, 
 guards of the constabulary; it is by no means rare to find as 
 many as ten in an arrondissement which could hardly maintain 
 two if they confined themselves within the limits of their duties." 
 Also "they are at the same time judges, attorneys, fiscal-attor- 
 neys, registrars, notaries," each in a different place, each prac- 
 tising in several seigniories under various titles, all perambulat- 
 ing, all in league like thieves at a fair, and assembling together 
 in the taverns to plan, prosecute and decide. Sometimes the 
 seignior, to economize, confers the title on one of his own de- 
 pendants: "At Hautemont, in Hainaut, the fiscal-attorney is a 
 domestic." More frequently he intrusts it to some starveling 
 advocate of a petty village in the neighborhood on wages which 
 
 1 In 1785, the Duke de Choiseul in his testament estimated his property at fourteen 
 millions and his debts at ten millions. Corate de Tilly, "M6moires," II. 215. 
 
 * Renauldon, ibid. 45, 52,628. Duvergier, " Collection des Lois," II. 391; law of August 
 31; October 18, 1792. Memorial of a magistrate of the Chatelet on se gniorial court! 
 (1789), p. 29. Leg! ir*4, "1'Intendance du Hainan," p. 119.
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 55 
 
 "would not suffice to keep him alive a week." He indennifies 
 himself out of the peasants. Processes of chicanery, delays and 
 wilful complications in the proceedings, sittings at three livres 
 the hour for the advocate, and three livres the hour for the bailly : 
 the black brood of judicial leeches suck so much the more 
 eagerly, because the more numerous, a still more meagre prey, 
 having paid for the privilege of sucking it. 1 The arbitrariness. 
 the corruption, the laxity of such a regime can be divined. 
 " Impunity," says Renauldon, " is nowhere greater than in the 
 seigniorial tribunals. . . . There is no investigation into the foul- 
 est crimes," for the seignior dreads supplying the means for a 
 crimina 1 trial, while his judges or prosecuting attorneys fear that 
 they will not be paid for their proceedings. Moreover, his jail is 
 often a cellar under the chateau ; " there is not one tribunal out 
 of a hundred in conformity with the law on the side of prisons ; " 
 their keepers shut their eyes or stretch out their hands. Hence 
 it is that "his estates become the refuge of all the scoundrels in 
 the canton." The effect of his indifference is terrible and it is to 
 react against him : to-morrow, at the club, the attorneys whom 
 be has multiplied will demand his head, and the bandits whom 
 he has tolerated will place it on the end of a pike. 
 
 One point remains, the chase, wherein the noble's jurisdiction 
 is still active and severe, and it is just the point which is found the 
 most offensive. Formerly, when one-half of the canton con- 
 sisted of forest, or waste land, while the other half was being 
 ravaged by wild beasts, he was justified in reserving the right to 
 hunt them; it entered into his function as local captain. He 
 was the hereditary gendarme, always armed, always on horse- 
 back, as well against wild boars and wolves as against rovers and 
 brigands. Now that nothing is left to him of the gendarme but 
 the title and the epaulettes he maintains his privilege through tra- 
 dition, thus converting a service into an annoyance. Hunt he 
 must, and he must hunt by himself; it is a physical necessity 
 and, at the same time, a sign of his blood. A Rohan, a Dillon, 
 chases the stag although belonging to the church, in spite of edicts 
 
 Archives nationales, H, 614 ("M6moire" by Ren6 de Hauteville, advocate to the 
 Parliament, Saint-Brieuc, October 5, 1776.) In Brittany the number of seigniorial courts 
 Is immense, the pleaders being obliged to pass through four or five jurisdictions before reach- 
 ing the Parliament " Where is justice rendered ? In the cabaret, in the tavern, where, in 
 the bosom of intoxication and dcba 1 ichery, the judge sells justice to whoever pays the most 
 'or it"
 
 56 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 and in spite of the canons. "You hunt too much," said Louis 
 XV., 1 to the latter; "I know something about it. How can you 
 prohibit your curates from hunting if you pass your life in setting 
 them such an example ? Sire, for my curates the chase is a 
 fault, for myself it is the fault of my ancestors." When the self- 
 love of caste thus mounts guard over a right it is with obstinate 
 vigilance. Accordingly, their captains of the chase, their game- 
 keepers, their wood-rangers, their forest- wardens protect brutes as 
 if they were men and men as if they were brutes. In the baili- 
 wick of Pont-1'Ev^que in 1789 four instances are cited "of recent 
 
 assassinations committed by the game-keepers of Mme. d'A , 
 
 Mme. N , a prelate and a marshal of France, on ple- 
 beians caught breaking the game laws or carrying guns. All 
 four publicly escape punishment." In Artois, a parish makes 
 declaration that "on the lands of the chattellany the game de- 
 vours all the avetis (pine saplings) and that the growers of them 
 will be obliged to abandon their business." Not far off, al 
 Rumancourt, at Bellone, "the hares, rabbits and partridges en- 
 tirely devour them, Count d'Oisy never hunting nor having, 
 hunts." In twenty villages in the neighborhood around Oisy 
 where he hunts it is on horseback and across the crops. " His 
 game-keepers, always armed, have killed several persons unde* 
 the pretence of watching over their master's rights. . . . The 
 game, which greatly exceeds that of the royal captainries, con- 
 sumes annually all prospects of a crop, twenty thousand raztires 
 of wheat and as many of other grains." In the bailiwick of 
 Evreux "the game has just destroyed everything up to the very 
 houses. . . . On account of the game the citizen is not free to 
 pull up the weeds in summer which clog the grain and injure the 
 seed sown. . . . How many women are there without husbands, 
 and children without fathers, on account of a poor hare or rab- 
 bit ! " The game-keepers of the forest of Goufrray in Nor- 
 mandy " are so terrible that they maltreat, insult and kill men. 
 ... I know of farmers who, having pleaded against the lady to 
 he indemnified for the loss of their wheat, not only lost their 
 time but their crops and the expenses of the trial. . . . Stags 
 and deer are seen roving around our houses in open daylight." 
 In the bailiwick of Domfront, "the inhabitants of more than ten 
 parishes are obliged to watch all night for more than six months 
 
 1 Beugnot, " Mmoires," vol. I. p. 35.
 
 CHAP. in. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 57 
 
 of the year in order to preserve their crops. " 1 Such is the effect 
 of the right of the chase in the provinces. The most deplorable 
 spectacle, however, is in the Ile-de-France, where the captain- 
 ries abound and increase in size. A proces-verbal shows that in 
 the parish of Vaux alone, near Meulan, the rabbits of the neigh- 
 boring warrens ravaged eight hundred arpents of cultivated 
 ground, and destroyed the crops of two thousand fou-r hundred 
 sellers (three acres each), that is to say, the supply of food for 
 one year of eight hundred persons. Not far off, at La Ro- 
 chette, herds of deer and stags devour everything on the fields 
 during the day, and, at night, even invade the small gardens 
 of the inhabitants, consuming their vegetables and breaking 
 down their young trees. It is found impossible to gather 
 in the crops of vegetables in any territory subject to a 
 captainry, except in gardens protected by high walls. At 
 Farcy, of five hundred peach trees planted in a vineyard and 
 browsed on by stags, only twenty remain at the end of three 
 years. Over the whole territory of Fontainebleau, the commu- 
 nities, to save their vines, are obliged to maintain, with the 
 assent always of the captainry, a gang of watchmen who, with 
 licensed dogs, keep watch and make a hubbub all night from the 
 first of May to the middle of October. At Chartrettes the deer 
 cross the Seine, approach the doors of the Comtesse de Laroche- 
 foucauld and destroy entire plantations of poplars. A domain 
 rented for two thousand livres brings in only four hundred after 
 the establishment of the captainry of Versailles. In short, 
 eleven regiments of an enemy's cavalry, quartered on the eleven 
 captainries near the capital, and starting out daily to forage, 
 could not do more mischief. We need not be surprised if, in the 
 neighborhood of these lairs, the people become weary of culti- 
 vating. 2 Near Fontainebleau and Melun, at Bois-le-Roi, three- 
 
 1 Boivin-Champeaux, ibid. 48. Renauldon, 26, 416. Manuscript reports of the States- 
 General (Archives rationales) t. CXXXII. pp. 896 and 901. Hippeau, " Le Gouvemement de 
 Normandie," VII. 61, 74. P6rin, " La Jeunesse de Robespierre," pp. 314-324. " Essai sui 
 es capitaineries royales et autres," (1789) passim. De Lome'nie, " Beaumarchais et son 
 temps," I. 125. Beaumarchais having purchased the office of lieutenant-general of the 
 :hase in the bailiwicks of the Louvre warren (twelve to fifteen leagues in circumference) 
 tries delinquents under this title. July isth, 1766, he sentences Ragondet, a farmer, to a 
 fine of one hundred livres together with the demolition of the walls around an enclosure, 
 also of his shed newly built without license, as tending to restrict the pleasures of the king. 
 
 * LVArgenson, "Mfimoires," ed. Rathery, January 21, 1757. "The sieur de Montmorin, 
 captain of the game-preserves of Fontainebleau, derives from his office enormous sums, and 
 behaves himself like a brigand. The population of more than a hundred villages around 
 to longer sow their land, the fruits and grain being eaten by deer, stags and other gam*
 
 58 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 quarters of the ground remains waste ; almost al the houses in 
 Brolle are in ruins, only half-crumbling gables being visible ; at 
 Coutilles and at Chapelle-Rablay, five farms are abandoned; 
 at Arbonne, numerous fields are neglected ; at Villiers, and at 
 Dame-Marie, where there were four farming companies and a 
 number of special cultures, eight hundred arpents remain un- 
 tilled. Strange to say, as the century becomes more polished 
 the system of the chase becomes more imperious. The officers 
 of the captainry are zealous because they labor under the eye 
 and for the "pleasures" of their master. In 1789, eight hun- 
 dred preserves had just been planted in one 'ingle canton of the 
 captainry of Fontainebleau, and in spite of the proprietors of 
 the soil. According to the regulations of 1762 every private in- 
 dividual domiciled on the reservation of a captainry is inter- 
 dicted from enclosing his homestead or any ground whatever 
 with hedges or ditches, or walls without a special permit. In 
 case of a permit being given he must leave a wide, open, and 
 continuous space in order to let the huntsmen easily pass 
 through. He is not allowed to keep any ferret, any fire-arm, 
 any instrument adapted to the chase, nor to be followed by any 
 dog even if not trained for it, unless the dog be held by a leash 
 or clog fastened around its neck. And better still. He is for- 
 bidden to reap his meadow or his luzerne before St. John's day, 
 to enter his own field between the first of May and the twenty- 
 fourth of June, to visit any island in the Seine, to cut grass on it 
 or osiers, even if the grass and osiers belong to him. The rea- 
 son is, that now the partridge is hatching and the legislator 
 protects it ; he would take less pains for a woman in confine- 
 ment; the old chroniclers would say of him, as with William 
 Rufus, that his bowels are paternal only for animals. Now, in 
 France, four hundred square leagues of territory are subject to 
 the control of the captainries, and, over all France, game, large 
 or small, is the tyrant of the peasant. The conclusion is, 
 rather, listen to the people's conclusion. " Every time," says M. 
 Montlosier, in 1789, "that I chanced to encounter herds of deer 
 
 They keep only a few vines which they preserve six months of the year by mounting guard 
 day and night with drums, making a general turmoil to frighten off the destructive animals." 
 January 23, 1753. "M. le Prince de Conti has established a captainry of eleven league* 
 around He-Adam and where everybody is vexed at it." September 23, 1753. "Since 
 M. le Due d'Or!6ans came to Villers-Cotterets, he has revived tne capta 1 ary ; there are more 
 Wan sixty places for sale on account of these princely annoyances."
 
 CHAP. ill. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 59 
 
 or does on my road my guides immediately shouted, There 
 goes the nobility ! alluding to the ravages committed by these 
 animals on their grounds." Accordingly, in the eyes of their 
 subjects, they are wild animals. 
 
 This shows to what privileges lead when divorced from ser 
 vices. It is thus that an obligation to protect degenerates into a 
 right of devastation ; thus do humane and rational beings act, 
 unconsciously, like irrational and inhuman beings. Divorced 
 from the people they misuse them; nominal chiefs, they have un- 
 learned the function of an effective chief; having lost all public 
 character they abate nothing of their private advantages. So 
 much the worse for the canton, and so much the worse for 
 themselves ! The thirty or forty poachers whom they prosecute 
 to-day on their estates will march to-morrow to attack their 
 chateaux at the head of an insurrection. The absence of the 
 masters, the apathy of the provinces, the bad state of cultivation, 
 the exactions of agents, the corruption of the tribunals, the vex- 
 ations of the captainries, indolence, the indebtedness and exi- 
 gencies of the seignior, desertion, misery, the brutality and hos- 
 tility of vassals, all proceeds from the same cause and terminates 
 in the same effect. When sovereignty becomes transformed into 
 a sinecure it becomes burdensome without being useful, and 
 on becoming burdensome without being useful it is overthrown
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PUBLIC SERVICES DITE BY THE PRIVILEGED CLASSES. I. An English ex 
 simple. The privileged ciass renders no service in France. The influence 
 and rights which remain to them. They use them only for themselves. 
 II. Assemblies of the clergy. They serve only ecclesiastical interests. 
 The clergy exempted from taxation. Solicitations of its agents. Its zeai 
 against the Protestants. III. Influence of the nobles. Regulations in theit 
 favor. Preferments obtained by them in the Church. Distribution of bish- 
 oprics and abbeys. Preferments obtained by them from the State. Gov- 
 ernments, offices, sinecures, pensions, gratuities. Instead of being useful 
 they are an expense. IV. Isolation of the chiefs. Sentiments of subordi- 
 nates. Provincial nobility. The Curates. V. The King. The most priv- 
 ileged of all. Having monopolized all powers, he takes upon himself their 
 functional activity. The burden of this task. He evades it or is incompe- 
 tent. His conscience at ease. France is his property. How he abuses it. 
 Royalty the centre of abuses. Latent disorganization in France. 
 
 I. 
 
 USELESS in the canton they might have been useful at the 
 centre of the State, and, without taking part in the local govern- 
 ment, they might have served in the general government. Thus 
 does a lord, a baronet, a squire act in England, even when not a 
 "justice" of his county or a committee-man in his parish. Elected 
 a member of the lower house, a hereditary member of the upper 
 house, he holds the strings of the public purse and prevents the 
 sovereign from spending too freely. Such is the regime in coun- 
 tries where the feudal seigniors, instead of allowing the sovereign 
 to ally himself with the people against them, allied themselves 
 with the people against the sovereign. To protect their own in- 
 terests better they secured protection for the interests of others, 
 and, after having served as the representatives of their com- 
 peers they became the representatives of the nation. Nothing 
 of this kind takes place in France. The States- General are 
 fallen into desuetude and the king may with truth declare him- 
 self ths sole representative of the country. Like trees rendered
 
 CHAP. V. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 61 
 
 lifeless under the shadow of a gigantic oak, other public powers 
 perish through his growth ; whatever still remains of these en- 
 cumbers the ground, and forms around him a circle of clamber- 
 ing briers or of decaying trunks. One of them, the Parliament, 
 in offshoot simply of the great oak, sometimes imagined itself in 
 possession of a root of its own ; but its sap was too evidently de- 
 rivative for it to stand by itself and provide the people with an 
 independent shelter. Other bodies, surviving, although stunted, 
 the assembly of the clergy and the provincial assemblies, still 
 protect one order, and four or five provinces ; but this protection 
 extends only to the order itself or to the province, and, if it pro- 
 tects a special interest it is commonly at the expense of the gen- 
 eral interest. 
 
 II. 
 
 Let us observe the most vigorous and the best-rooted of these 
 bodies, the assembly of the clergy. It meets every five years, 
 and, during the interval, two agents selected by it, watch over 
 the interests of the order. Convoked by the government, sub- 
 ject to its guidance, retained or dismissed when necessary, al- 
 ways in its hands, used by it for political ends, it nevertheless 
 continues to be a refuge for the clergy, which it represents. But 
 it is an asylum solely for that body and, in the series of transac- 
 tions by which it defends itself against fiscal demands, it eases its 
 own shoulders of the load only to make it heavier on the shoul- 
 ders of others. We have seen how its diplomacy saved clerical 
 immunities, how it bought off the body from the poll-tax and the 
 vingtiernes, how it converted its portion of taxation into a " free 
 gift," how this gift is annually applied to refunding the capital 
 which it has borrowed to obtain this exemption, by which deli- 
 cate art it succeeds, not only in not contributing to the treasury, 
 but in withdrawing from it every year about 1,500,000 livres, all 
 of which is so much the better for the church but so much the 
 worse for the people. Now run through the file of folios in 
 which from one period of five years to another the reports of its 
 agents follow each other, so many clever men thus preparing 
 themselves for the highest positions in the church, the abbe's de 
 Boisgelin, de Perigord, de Barral, de Montesquieu ; at each mo- 
 ment, owing to their solicitations with judges and the council, 
 owing to the authority, which the discontent of the powerful or- 
 6
 
 62 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 der felt to be behind them gives to their complaints, some ec- 
 clesiastical matter is decided in an ecclesiastical sense; some 
 feudal right is maintained in favor of a chapter or of a bishop 
 some public demand is thrown out. 1 In 1781, notwithstanding 
 decision of the Parliament of Rennes, the canons of St. Main 
 are sustained in their monopoly of the district oven, to the det- 
 riment of the bakers who prefer to bake at their own domiciles 
 as well as of the inhabitants who would have to pay less for breao 
 made by the bakers In 1773, Gue'nin, a schoolmaster, dis- 
 charged by the bishop of Langres, and supported in vain by the 
 inhabitants, is compelled to hand his place over to a successor 
 appointed by the bishop. In 1770, Rastel, a Protestant, having 
 opened a public school at Saint-Affrique, is prosecuted at the de- 
 mand of the bishop and of clerical agents ; his school is closed 
 and he is imprisoned. When an organized body keeps the 
 purse-strings in its own hands it secures many favors; these are 
 the equivalent for the money it grants. The commanding tone 
 of the king and the submissive air of the clergy effect no funda- 
 mental change ; with both of them it is a bargain, 2 giving and 
 taking on both sides, this or that law against the Protestants 
 going for one or two millions added to the free gift. In this 
 way the revocation of the Edict of Nantes is gradually brought 
 about, article by article, one turn of the rack after another turn, 
 each fresh persecution purchased by a fresh largess, the clergy 
 helping the State on condition that the State becomes an execu- 
 tioner. Throughout the eighteenth century the church sees that 
 this operation continues. 3 In 1717, an assemblage of seventy- 
 four persons having been surprised at Andure the men are sent 
 to the galleys and the women are imprisoned. In 1724, an edict 
 declares that all who are present at any meeting, or who shall 
 have any intercourse, direct or indirect, with preachers, shall be 
 condemned to the confiscation of their property, the women to 
 have their heads shaved and be shut up for life, and the men to be 
 sent to the galleys for life. In 1745 and 1746, in Dauphiny, two 
 
 1 "Rapport de 1'agence du clerg," fror. 1775 to 1780, pp. 31-34. Ibid, from 1780 to 1785. 
 p. 237- 
 
 1 Lanfrey, "L'Eglise et les philosophes," passim. 
 
 * Boitea\H "Etat de la France en 1789," pp. 205, 207. D'Argenson, "Me'moires," May 
 5, 1752, pp. 3, 22; September 25, 1753; October 17, '753, and October 26, 1775. Prud- 
 'homme, "Resume gnral des cahiers des Etats-G6neraux," 1789, (Memorials of th 
 Clergy). ' Histoire des 6glises du de'sert, ' par Charles Coquerel, I. 151 and those following
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 63 
 
 hundred and seventy-seven Protestants are condemned to the 
 galleys, and numbers of women are whipped. Between 1744 
 and 1752, in the east and in the south, six hundred Protestants 
 are imprisoned and eight hundred condemned to various penal- 
 ties. In 1774, the two children of Roux, a Calvinist of Nimes, 
 are carried off. Up to nearly the beginning of the Revolution, 
 in Languedoc, ministers are hung, while dragoons are despatched 
 against congregations assembled to worship God in deserted 
 places; the mother of M. Guizot here received shots in the 
 skirts of her dress ; this is owing to the fact that, in Languedoc, 
 through the provincial States-Assembly " the bishops control tem- 
 poral affairs more than elsewhere, their disposition being always 
 to dragoon and make converts at the point of the bayonet." 
 In 1775, at the coronation of the king, archbishop Lonemie of 
 Brienne, a well-known unbeliever, addresses the young king: 
 " You will disapprove of the culpable systems of toleration. . . . 
 Complete the work undertaken by Louis the Great. To you is 
 reserved the privilege of giving the final blow to Calvinism in 
 your kingdom." In 1780, the assembly of the clergy declares 
 " that the altar and the throne would equally be in danger if 
 heresy were allowed to throw off its shackles." Even in 1789, 
 the clergy in its memorials, while consenting to the toleration of 
 non-Catholics, finds the edict of 1788 too liberal; it desires 
 that they should be excluded from judicial offices, that they 
 should never be allowed to worship in public, and that mixed 
 marriages should be interdicted ; and much more than this ; they 
 demand preliminary censure of all works issued by the book- 
 sellers, an ecclesiastical committee to act as informers, and igno- 
 minious punishment to be awarded to the authors of irreligious 
 books ; and lastly they claim for their body the direction of pub- 
 lic schools and the oversight of private schools. There is noth- 
 ing strange in this intolerance and in this egoism. A collective 
 body, as with an individual, thinks of itself first of all and above 
 all. If, now and then, it sacrifices some one of its privileges it 
 is for the purpose of securing the alliance of some other b^dy. 
 In that case, which is that of England, all these privileges, which 
 compound with each other and afford each other mutual support, 
 form, through their combination, the public liberties. In this 
 case, only one body being represented, its deputies are neither 
 directed nor tempted to make concession to others; the interest
 
 64 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 of the body is their sole guide; they subordinate the common in 
 terest to it and serve it at any cost, even to criminal attacks on 
 the public welfare. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thus do public bodies work when, instead of being associated 
 together, they are separate. The same spectacle is apparent on 
 contemplating castes and coteries; their isolation is the cause 
 of their egoism. From the top to the bottom of the scale the 
 legal and moral powers which should represent the nation repre- 
 sent themselves only, while each one is busy in its own behalf at 
 the expense of the nation. The nobility, in default of the right 
 to meet together and to vote, exercises its influence, and, to 
 know how it uses this, it is sufficient to read over the edicts and 
 the Almanach. A regulation imposed on Marshal de S6gur l has 
 just restored the old barrier which excluded plebeians from mil- 
 itary rank, and thenceforward, to be a captain, it is necessary to 
 prove four degrees of nobility. In like manner, in late days, 
 one must be a noble to be a master of requests, and it is secretly 
 determined that in future " all ecclesiastical property, from the 
 humblest priory to the richest abbeys, shall be reserved to the 
 nobility." In fact, all the high places, ecclesiastic or laic, are 
 theirs; all the sinecures, ecclesiastic or laic, are theirs, or for 
 their relations, adherents, protege's, and servitors. France is 
 like a vast stable in which the blood-horses obtain double 
 and triple rations for doing nothing, or for only half-work, 
 whilst the draft-horses perform full service on half a ration and 
 that often not supplied. Again, it must be noted, that among 
 these blood-horses is a privileged set which, born near the man- 
 ger, keeps its fellows away and feeds bountifully, fat, shining, 
 with their skins polished, and up to their bellies in litter, and 
 with no other occupation than that of appropriating everything 
 to themselves. These are the court nobles, who live within 
 reach of favors, brought up from infancy to ask for them, to ob- 
 tain and to ask again, solely attentive to royal condescension 
 and frowns, for whom the (Ell de bceuf 2 forms the universe, "in- 
 
 1 De Sgur, "M6moires," vol. I. pp. -6 41. De Bouilte, "M6moires," p. 54. Mnae. 
 Campan, " M6moires," v. I. p. 237, proofs i.i detail. 
 
 * An antechamber in the palace of Versailles in which there was a round or bull's-ey 
 window, where courtiers assembled to await the opening of the tiuor into .he king's apar*- 
 ajenL TR.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 65 
 
 different to the affairs of the State as to their own affairs, allow- 
 ing one to be governed by provincial intendants as they allowed 
 the other to be governed by their own intendants." 
 
 Let us contemplate them at work on the budget. We know 
 how large that of the church is ; I estimate that they absorb at 
 least one-half of it. Nineteen chapters of male nobles, twenty- 
 five chapters of female nobles, two hundred and sixty command- 
 cries of Malta belong to them by institution. They occupy, by 
 favor, all the archbishoprics, and, except five, all the bishoprics. 1 
 They furnish three out of four abbes-commendatory and vicars- 
 general. If, among the abbeys of females royally nominated, we 
 set apart those bringing in twenty thousand livres and more, we 
 find that they all have ladies of rank for abbesses. One fact 
 alone shows the extent of these favors : I have counted eighty- 
 three abbeys of men possessed by the almoners, chaplains, pre- 
 ceptors or readers to the king, queen, princes, and princesses; 
 one of them, the abbe* de Vermont, has 80,000 livres income in 
 benefices. In short, large or small, the fifteen hundred ecclesi- 
 astical sinecures under royal appointment constitute a currency 
 for the service of the great, whether they pour it out in golden 
 rain to recompense the assiduity of their intimates and followers, 
 or keep it in large reservoirs to maintain the dignity of their 
 rank. Besides, according to the fashion of giving more to those 
 who have already enough, the richest prelates possess, above 
 their episcopal revenues, the wealthiest abbeys. According to 
 the Almanach. M. d'Argentre", bishop of Seez, 2 thus enjoys an 
 extra income of 34,000 livres ; M. de Suffren, bishop of Sisteron, 
 36,000; M. de Girac, bishop of Rennes, 40,000; M. de Bour- 
 deille, bishop of Soissons, 42,000 ; M. d'Agout de Bonneval, 
 bishop of Pamiers, 45,000 ; M. de Marbceuf, bishop of Autun, 
 50,000; M. de Rohan, bishop of Strasbourg, 60,000; M. de 
 Clce", archbishop of Bordeaux, 63,000; M. de Luynes, arch- 
 bishop of Sens, 82,000; M. de Bernis, archbishop of Alby, 
 100,000; M. de Brienne, archbishop of Toulouse, 106,000; M. 
 de Dillon, archbishop of Narbonne, 120,000; M. de Laroche- 
 foucauld, archbishop of Rouen, 130,000, that is to say, double 
 and sometimes triple the sums stated, and quadruple, and often 
 six times as much, according to the present standard. M. de 
 
 1 "La France eccl&iastique," 1788. 
 * Gianisr de Cassagnac, "Des causes de la ReVolutlor Francalse," III 58. 
 
 6*
 
 66 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i, 
 
 Rohan derived from his abbeys not 60,000 livres but 400,000, 
 and M. de Brienne, the most opulent of H, next to M. de Ro- 
 han, the 24th of August, 1788, at the time of leaving the min- 
 istry, 1 sent to withdraw from the treasury, " the 20,000 livres of 
 His month's salary which had not yet fallen due, a punctuality 
 he more remarkable that, without taking into account the 
 salary of his place, with the 6,000 livres pension attached to his 
 blue ribbon, he possessed, in benefices, 678,000 livres income 
 and that, still quite recently, a cutting of wood on one of his 
 abbey domains yielded him a million." 
 
 Let us pass on to the lay budget ; here also are prolific sine- 
 cures, and almost all belong to the nobles. Of this class there 
 are in the provinces the thirty-seven great governments-general, 
 the seven small governments-general, the sixty-six lieutenancies- 
 general, the four hundred and seven special governments, the 
 thirteen governorships of royal palaces, and a number of others, 
 all of them for ostentation and empty honors, all in the hands of 
 the nobles, all lucrative, not only through salaries paid by the 
 treasury, but also through local profits. Here, again, the nobility 
 allowed itself to evade the authority, the activity and the useful- 
 ness of its charge on the condition of retaining its title, pomp 
 and money. 2 The intendant is really the governor; "the titu- 
 lar governor exercising a function with special letters of com- 
 mand," is only there to give dinners ; and again he must have 
 permission to do that, "the permission to go and reside at his 
 place of government." The place, however, yields fruit: the 
 government-general of Berry is worth 35,000 livres income, that 
 of Guyenne 120,000, that of Languedoc 160,000 ; a small special 
 government, like that of Havre, brings in 35,000 livres, besides 
 the accessories ; a medium lieutenancy-general, like that of Rous- 
 
 J Marmontel, " Me'moires," v. II. book xiii. p. 221. 
 
 1 Boiteau, " Etat de la France en 1789, ' pp. 55, 248. D'Argenson, " Considerations sut 
 1 gouvernement de la France," p. 177. De Luynis, "Journal," XIII. 226, XIV. 287, 
 XIII. 33, 158, i6a, 118, 233, 237, XV. 268, XVI. 304. The government of Ham is wortli 
 11,250 livres, That of Auxerre 12,000, that of Brianjon 12,000, that of the islands of Ste. 
 Marguerite 16000, that of Schelestadt 15,000, that of Brisach from 15 to 16,000, that of 
 Grarelines 18,000. The ordinance of 1776 had reduced these various places as follows: 
 (Warroquier, II. 467). 18 general governments to 60,000 livres, 21 to 30,000; 114 special 
 governments; 25 to 12,000 livres, 25 to 10,000 and 64 to 8,000; 176 lieutenants and com- 
 mandants of towns, places, etc., of which 35 were reduced to 16,600 and 141 from a,ooo to 
 6,000. The ordinance of 1788 established, besides these, 17 commands in chief with from 
 20,000 to 30,000 livres fixed salary and from 4,000 to 6,000 a month for residence, and com- 
 mands of a secondary grade.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 67 
 
 sillon, 13,000 to 14,000 livres; one special government from 
 12,000 to 18,000 livres; and observe that, in the Isle of France 
 alone, there are thirty-four, at Vervins, Senlis, Melun, Fcntaine- 
 bleau, Dourdan, Sens, Limours, Etampes, Dreux, Houdan and 
 other towns as insignificant as they are pacific; it is the staff of 
 the Valois dynasty which, since the time of Richelieu, has ceased 
 to perform any service, but which the treasury continues to pay. 
 Consider these sinecures in one province alone, in Languedoc, 
 a country of provincial assemblies where it seems as if the tax 
 payer's purse ought to be better protected. There are three 
 sub-commandants at Tournon, Alais, and Montpelier, " each one 
 paid 16,000 livres, although without any functions since their 
 places were established at the time of the religious wars and 
 troubles, to keep down the Protestants." Twelve royal lieuten 
 ants are equally useless, and only for parade. The same with 
 three lieutenants-general, each one " receiving in his turn, every 
 three years, a gratuity of 30,000 livres, for services rendered in 
 that said province, which are vain and chimerical, and which are 
 not specified ; " because none of them reside there, and if they 
 are paid, it is to secure their support at the court. " Thus the 
 Comte de Caraman, who has more than 600,000 livres income 
 as proprietor of the Languedoc canal, receives 30,000 livres 
 every three years, without legitimate cause, and independently 
 of frequent and ample gifts which the province awards to him 
 for repairs on his canal." The province likewise gives to tht 
 commandant, Comte de Pe'rigord, a gratuity of 12,000 livres in 
 addition to his salary, and to his wife another gratuity of 12,000 
 livres on her honoring the states for the first time with her pres- 
 ence. It again pays, for the same commandant, forty guards, 
 " of which twenty-four only serve during his short appearance at 
 the Assembly," and who, with their captain, annually cost 15,000 
 livres. It pays likewise for the Governor from eighty to one 
 hundred guards, " who each receive 300 or 400 livres, besides many 
 exemptions, and who are never on service, since the Governor is 
 a non-resident." The expense of these lazy subalterns is about 
 24,000 livres, besides 5,000 to 6,000 for their captain, to which 
 must be added 7,500 for gubernatorial secretaries, besides 60,000 
 livres salaries, and untold profits for the Governor himself. I 
 find everywhere secondary idlers swarming in the shadow of 
 idlers in chief, and deriving their vigor f om the public purs*
 
 68 THE ANt'lENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 which is the common nurse All these people parade and 
 drink and eat copiously, in grand style: it is their principal 
 service, and they attend to it conscientious^. The sessions 
 of the Assembly are junketings of six weeks' duration, in which 
 the intendant expends 25,000 livres in dinners and receptions. 1 
 
 Equally lucrative and useless are the court offices 2 so many 
 domestic sinecures, the profits and accessories of which largely 
 exceed the emoluments. I find in the printed register 295 
 cooks, without counting the table-waiters of the king and his 
 people, while "the head butler obtains 84,000 livres a year in 
 billets and supplies," without counting his salary and the "grand 
 liveries " which he receives in money. The head chambermaids 
 to the queen, inscribed in the Almanach for 150 livres and paid 
 12,000 francs, make in reality 50,000 francs by the sale of the 
 candles lighted during the day. Augeard, private secretary, and 
 whose place is set down at 900 livres a year, confesses that it is 
 worth to him 200,000. The head huntsman at Fontainebleau 
 sells for his own benefit each year 20,000 francs worth of 
 rabbits. " On each journey to the king's country residences the 
 ladies of the bedchamber gain eighty per cent, on the expenses 
 of moving ; it is said that the coffee and bread for each of these 
 ladies costs 2,000 francs a year, and so on with other things." 
 "Mme. de Tallard made 115,000 livres income out of her place 
 of governess to the children of France, because her salary was 
 increased 35,000 livres for each child." The Due de Penthievre, 
 as grand admiral, received an anchorage due on all vessels " en- 
 tering the ports and rivers of France," which produced annually 
 91,484 francs. Mme. de Lamballe, superintendent of the 
 queen's household, inscribed for 6,000 francs, gets 150,000.* 
 The Due de Gevres gets 50,000 crowns by one piece of fire- 
 works out of the fragments and scaffolding which belong to him 
 by virtue of his office. 4 Grand officers of the palace, governors 
 
 1 Archives nationales, H, 944, April 25, and September 20, 1786. Letters and Memoirs 
 of Furgole, advocate at Toulouse, 
 
 * Archives nationales, O, 738 (Reports made to the bureau-general of the king's house- 
 hold, March, 1780, by M. Mesnard de Chousy). Augeaixl, W ess-ires," 97. Mme. 
 Campan, "Me'moires," I. 291. D'Argenson, "Memoires," February *o, ..December 9, 1751, 
 "Essai sur les Capitaineries royales et autres" (1789), p. 80. Wirroquier, "Etat de la 
 France en 1789," I. 266. 
 
 ' "Marie Antoinette," by D'Ameth and Geffroy, II. 377. 
 
 Mme. Campan, " Me'moires,* I. 296, 298, 300, 301 ; III. 78. Hippeau, " Le Gouveme- 
 ment de Nonnandie," IV. 171 (Letter from Paris, December 13, 1780). D'Argenson, 
 " Memoires," September 5, 1755. Bachaumont, January 19, 1758. "Memoire sur 1'impo- 
 sidon territoriale," by M. de Calonne (1787), p. 54.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 69 
 
 of royal establishments, captains of captainries, chamberlains, 
 equerries, gentlemen in waiting, gentlemen in ordinary, pages, 
 governors, almoners, chaplains, ladies of honor, ladies of the bed 
 chamber, ladies in waiting on the King, the Queen, on Monsieur, 
 on Madame, on the Comte D'Artois, on the Comtesse D'Artois, 
 on Mesdames, on Madame Royale, on Madame Elisabeth, in each 
 princely establishment and elsewhere hundreds of places pro- 
 vided with salaries and accessories are without any service to per- 
 form, or simply answer a decorative purpose. " Mme. de Laborde 
 has just been appointed keeper of the queen's bed, with 12,000 
 francs pension out of the king's privy purse ; nothing is known of 
 the duties of this position, as there has been no place of this kind 
 since Anne of Austria." The eldest son of M. de Machault is 
 appointed intendant of the classes. " This is one of the employ- 
 ments called complimentary : it is worth 18,000 livres income to 
 sign one's name twice a year." And likewise with the post of 
 secretary-general of the Swiss guards, worth 30,000 livres a year 
 and assigned to the Abbe Barthelemy; and the same with the 
 post of secretary-general of the dragoons, worth 20,000 livres a 
 year, held in turn by Gentil Bernard and by Laujon, two small 
 pocket poets. It would be simpler to give the money without the 
 place. There is indeed no end to them. On reading various 
 memoirs day after day it seems as if the treasury was open to 
 plunder. The courtiers, unremitting in their attentions to the 
 king, force him to sympathize with their troubles. They are his 
 intimates, the guests of his drawing-room; men of the same 
 stamp as himself, his natural clients, the only ones with whom he 
 can converse, and whom it is necessary to make contented ; he 
 cannot avoid helping them. He must necessarily contribute to 
 the dowries of their children since he has signed their marriage 
 contracts ; he must necessarily enrich them since their profusion 
 serves for the embellishment of his court. Nobility being one of 
 the glories of the throne, the occupant of the throne is obliged to 
 regild it as often as is necessary. 1 In this connection a few 
 Sgures and anecdotes among a thousand speak most eloquently. 8 
 
 1 D'Argenson, "M^moires," December 9, 1751. "The expense to courtiers of two new 
 and magnificent coats, each for two fte days, ordered by the king, completely ruins them." 
 
 2 DC Luynes, "Journal," XIV. pp. 147-295, XV. 36, 119. D'Argenson, " Me'moirea," 
 April 8, 1752, March 30 and July 28, 1753, July 2, 1735, June 23, 1756. Hippeau, ibid. .V. 
 p. 153 (Letter of May 15, 1730). Necker, "De 1' Administration des Financ ," II. pp. *6j 
 169, 270, 271, 228. Augeard, "Mlmoires," p. 249.
 
 70 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 The Prince de Pons, had a pension of 25,000 livres, out of the 
 king's bounty on which his Majesty was pleased to give 6,000 
 to Mme. de Marsan, his daughter, Canoness of Remiremont. 
 The family represented to the king the bad state of the Prince de 
 Pons's affairs, and his Majesty was pleased to grant to his son, 
 Prince Camille, 15,000 livres of the pension vacated by the death 
 of his father, and 5,000 livres increase to Mme. de Marsan. M. 
 de Conflans espouses Mile. Portail. " In honor of this marriage 
 the king was pleased to order that out of the pension of 10,000 
 livres granted to Mme. la Presidente Portail, 6,000 of it should 
 pass to M. de Conflans after the death of Mme. Portail." M. de 
 S6chelles, a retiring minister, had 12,000 livres in an old pension 
 which the king continued ; he has, besides this, 20,000 livres pen- 
 sion as minister ; and the king gives him in addition to all this a 
 pension of 40,000 livres. The motives which prompt these 
 favors are often remarkable. M. de Rouille" has to be consoled 
 for not having participated in the treaty of Vienna ; this explains 
 why " a pension of 6,000 livres is given to his niece, Mme. de Cas- 
 tellane, and another of 10,000 to his daughter, Mme. de Beuvron, 
 who is very rich." "M. de Puisieux enjoys about 76,000 or 
 77,000 livres income from the bounty of the king; it is true that 
 he has considerable property, but the revenue of this property is 
 uncertain, being for the most part in vines." "A pension of 
 ro,ooo livres has just been awarded to the Marquise de Lede be- 
 cause she is disagreeable to Mme. Infante, and to secure her 
 resignation." The most opulent stretch out their hands and take 
 accordingly. "It is estimated that last week 128,000 livres in 
 pensions were bestowed on ladies of the court, while for the past 
 two years the officers have not received the slightest pension : 
 eight thousand livres to the Duchesse de Chevreuse, whose hus- 
 band has an income of 500,000 livres; 12,000 livres to Mme. de 
 Luynes, that she may not be jealous; 10,000 to the Duchesse de 
 Brancas; 10,000 to the dowager Duchesse de Brancas, mother 
 of the preceding," etc. At the head of these leeches come the 
 princes of the blood. "The king has just given 1,500,000 livres 
 to M. le Prince de Conti to pay his debts, 1,000,000 of which is 
 under the pretext of indemnifying him for the injury done him by 
 the sale of Orange, and 500,000 livres as a gratuity." "The Due 
 d'Orlans formerly had 50,000 crowns pension, as a poor man, 
 and awaiting his father's inheritance. This event making him
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. Jl 
 
 rich, with an income of more than 3,000,000 livres, he gave up 
 his pension. But having since represented to the king that his 
 expenditure exceeded his income, the king gave him back his 
 50,000 crowns." Twenty years later, in 1780, when Louis XVI., 
 desirous of relieving the treasury, signs " the great reformation of 
 the table, 600,000 livres are given to Mesdames for their tables." 
 This is what the dinners, cut down, of three old ladies, cost the 
 public! For the king's two brothers, 8,300,000 livres, besides 
 2,000,000 income in appanages; for the Dauphin, Madame 
 Royale, Madame Elisabeth, and Mesdames 3,500,000 livres; for 
 the queen, 4,000,000; such is the statement of Necker in 1784. 
 Add to this the casual donations, admitted or concealed; 200,000 
 francs to M. de Sartines, to aid him in paying his debts; 200,000 
 to M. Lamoignon, keeper of the seals; 100,000 to M. de 
 Miromesnil for expenses in establishing himself; 166,000 to the 
 widow of M. de Maurepas; 400,000 to the Prince de Salm; 
 1,200,000 to the Due de Polignac for the pledge on the county 
 of Fenestranges ; 754,337 to Mesdames to pay for Bellevue. 1 
 "M. de Calonne," says Augeard, a reliable witness, 2 "scarcely en- 
 tered on his duties, raised a loan of 100,000,000 livres, one-quar- 
 ter of which did not find its way into the royal treasury ; the rest 
 was eaten up by people at the court ; his donations to the Comte 
 d'Artois are estimated at 56,000,000 ; the portion of Monsieur is 
 25,000,000; he gave to the Prince de Cond6, in exchange for 
 300,000 livres income, 12,000,000 paid down and 600,000 livres 
 annuity, and he causes the most burdensome acquisition to be 
 made for the State, in exchanges of which the damage is more 
 than five to one." We must not forget that in actual rates all 
 these donations, pensions, and salaries are worth double the 
 amount. 
 
 Such is the use of the great in relation to the central power ; 
 
 1 Ntcolardot, " Journal de Louis XVI.," p. 228. Appropriations in the Red Book of 1774 
 to 1789: 227,985,716 livres, of which 80,000,000 are in acquisitions and gifts to the royal 
 family. Among others there are 14,600,000 to the Comte d'Artois and 14,450,000 to Mon- 
 sieur; 7,726,253 are given to the Queen for Saint-Cloud ; 8,700,000 for the acquisidon of Ile- 
 Adain. 
 
 * Cf. " Compte g^n^ral des revenus et de'penses fixes au icr Mai, 1789 " (Imprimerie roy- 
 ale, 1789, In 4). Estate of Ile-Dieu, acquired in 1783 of the Due de Mortemart, 1,000,000; 
 estate of Viviers, acquired of the Prince de Soubise in 1784, 1,500,000; estates of St Priest 
 and of St. Etienne, acquired in 1787 of M. Gilbert das Voisius, 1,335,935; the forests of 
 Camors and of Floranges, acquired of the Due de Liancourt in 1785, 1,300,000; fie county 
 f Montgommery, acquired of M. Clement de Basville in 1785, 3,306,604.
 
 72 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BCO 
 
 instead of constituting themselves representatives of the peopl*, 
 they aimed to be the favorites of the sovereign, and they shear 
 the flock which they ought to preserve. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The excoriated flock is to discover finally what is done with 
 its wool. "Sooner or later," says a parliament of 1764^ "the 
 people will learn that the remnants of our finances continue to 
 be wasted in donations which are frequently undeserved ; in ex- 
 cessive and multiplied pensions for the same persons ; in dow- 
 ries and promises of dowry, and in useless offices and salaries." 
 Sooner or later they will thrust back " these greedy hands which 
 are always open and never full; that insatiable crowd which 
 seems to be born only to seize all and possess nothing, and as 
 pitiless as it is shameless." And when this day arrives the ex- 
 tortioners will find that they stand alone. For the characteristic 
 of an aristocracy which cares only for itself is to lapse into a co- 
 terie. Having forgotten the public, it additionally neglects its 
 subordinates ; after being separated from the nation it separates 
 itself from its own adherents. It is a set of staff-officers on fur- 
 lough, indulging in sports without giving themselves further con- 
 cern about inferior officers ; when the hour of battle comes no- 
 body will march under their orders, and chieftains are sought 
 elsewhere. Such is the isolation of the seigniors of the court, 
 and of the prelates among the lower grades of the nobility and 
 the clergy ; they appropriate to themselves too large a share, and 
 give nothing, or almost nothing, to the people who are not of 
 their society. For a century a steady murmur against them is 
 rising, and goes on expanding until it becomes an uproar, in 
 which the old and the new spirit, feudal ideas and philosophic 
 ideas, threaten in unison. " I see," said the bailly of Mirabeau,* 
 "that the nobility is demeaning itself and becoming a wreck. 
 It is extended to all those children of bloodsuckers, the vaga- 
 bonds of finance, introduced by La Pompadour, herself the off- 
 
 ' " Le President des Brosses," by Foisset (Remonstrances to the king by the Parliament 
 D Dijon, Jan. 19, 1764). 
 
 'Lucas de Mondgny, "M6moires de Mirabeau." Letter of the bailly, May 26, 1781. 
 D'Argenson, " Me'moires," IV. 156, 157, 160, 76; VI. p. 320. Marshal Marmont, "MA- 
 moires," I. 9. De Ferrieres, " Memoires," preface. See, on the difficulty in succeeding, 
 the Memoirs of Dumourier. Chateaubriand's father is likewise one of the discontented, " 
 political frnnrtfiir, and very inimical to the court ' (I, 206). Records of the Stales-General 
 f 1789, a general summary by Prud'homme 1 1 frissim.
 
 CHAP. IV THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 73 
 
 spring of this foulness. One portion of it demeans itself in its 
 servility to the court; the other portion is amalgamated with 
 that quill-driving rabble who are converting the blood of the 
 king's subjects into ink; another perishes stifled beneath vile 
 robes, the ignoble atoms of cabinet-dust which an office drags up 
 out of the mire ; " and all, parvenues of ancient or of the new 
 race, form a band called the court. "The court!" exclaims 
 D : Argenson. "The entire evil is found in this word. The 
 court has become the senate of the nation; the least of the 
 ralets at Versailles is a senator ; chambermaids take part in the 
 government, if not to legislate, at least to impede laws and reg- 
 ulations ; and by dint of hindrance there are no longer either 
 laws, or rules, or law-makers. . . . Under Henry IV. courtiers 
 remained each one at home ; they had not entered into ruinous 
 expenditure to belong to the court ; favors were not thus due to 
 them as at the present day. . . . The court is the sepulchre of 
 the nation." Many noble officers, finding that high grades are 
 only for courtiers, abandon the service, and betake themselves 
 with their discontent to their estates. Others, who have not left 
 their domains, brood there in discomfort, idleness, and ennui, 
 theL ambition embittered by their powerlessness. In 1789, said 
 the Marquis de Ferrieres, most of them " are so weary of the 
 court and of the ministers they are almost democrats." At least, 
 "they want to withdraw the government from the ministerial 
 oligarchy in whose hands it is concentrated ; " there are no grand 
 seigniors for deputies ; they set them aside and "absolutely reject 
 them, saying that they would traffic with the interests of the 
 nobles ; " they themselves, in their memorials, insist that there 
 be no more court nobility. 
 
 The same sentiments prevail among the lower clergy, and still 
 more actively ; for they are excluded from the high offices, not 
 only as inferiors, but again as plebeian. 1 Already, in 1766, the 
 Marquis de Mirabeau writes : " It would be an insult to most of 
 our pretentious ecclesiastics to offer them a curacy. Revenues 
 and honors are for the abbeVcommendatory, for tonsured bene- 
 ficiaries not in orders, for the numerous chapters." On the 
 contrary, "the true pastors of souls, the collaborators in the 
 
 1 "Ephemrides du citoyen," II. 202, 203. Voltaire, " Dictionnaire philosophique," 
 trticle "Cur de Campagne." Abbe GuettSe, "Histoire de 1'Eglise de France," XII. 130
 
 74 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i 
 
 holy ministry, scarcely obtain a subsistence." The first class 
 "drawn from the nobility and from the best of the bourgeoisie 
 have pretensions only, without being of the true ministry. The 
 other, only having duties to fulfil without expectations and 
 almost without income . . . can be recruited only from the 
 lowest ranks of civil society," while the parasites who despoil 
 the laborers "affect to subjugate them and to degrade them 
 more and more." "I pity," said Voltaire, "the lot of a countiy 
 curate, obliged to contend for a sheaf of wheat with his un- 
 fortunate parishioner, to plead against him, to exact the tithe of 
 peas and lentils, to waste his miserable existence in constant 
 strife. ... I pity still more the curate with a fixed allowance to 
 whom monks, called gros dedmateursf dare offer a salary of forty 
 ducats, to go about during the year, two or three miles from his 
 home, day and night, in sunshine and in rain, in the snow and 
 in the ice, exercising the most trying and most disagreeable 
 functions." Attempts are made for thirty years to secure them 
 salaries and raise them a little ; in case of their inadequacy the 
 beneficiary, collator or tithe-owner of the parish is required 
 to add to them until the curate obtains 500 livres (1768), then 
 700 livres (1785), the vicar 200 livres (1768), then 250 (1778), 
 and finally 350 (1785). Strictly, at the prices at which things 
 are, a man may support himself on that. 2 But he must live 
 among the destitute to whom he owes alms, and he cherishes at 
 the bottom of his heart a secret bitterness towards the indolent 
 Dives who, with full pockets, despatches him, with empty 
 pockets, on a mission of charity. At Saint- Pierre de Barjouville, 
 in the Toulousain, the archbishop of Toulouse appropriates to 
 himself one-half of the tithes and gives away eight livres a year 
 in alms; at Bretx, the chapter of Isle Jourdain, which retains 
 one-half of certain tithes and three-quarters of others, gives ten 
 livres ; at Croix Falgarde, the Benedictines, to whom a half of 
 the tithes belong, give ten livres per annum. 3 At Sainte-Croix 
 de Bernay in Normandy, 4 the non-resident abbe", who receives 
 
 1 Those entitled to tithes in cereals. TR. 
 
 * A curate's salary at the present day is, at the minimum, 900 francs with a house and 
 perquisites. 
 
 3 Theron de Montaug6, " L' agriculture et les classes rurales dans le pays Toulousain," 
 p. 86. 
 
 4 Perin, "la Jc.messe de Robespierre," complaints of the rural parishes of Artois, p. 3*0 
 Boivin-Champeaux, ibid. pp. 65, 68. Hippeau, ibid. VI. p. 79 et VII. 177. Lettw flf M
 
 CHAP. IV. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 75 
 
 57,000 livres gives 1,050 livres to the curate without a parson- 
 age and whose parish contains 1,000 communicants. At Saint- 
 Aubin-sur-Gaillon, the abbe", a gros decimateur, gives 350 livres to 
 the vicar who is obliged to go into the village and obtain con- 
 tributions of flour, bread ind apples. At Plessis Hebert, "the 
 substitute deportuaire? not having enough to live on is obliged to 
 get his meals in the houses of neighboring curates." In Artois, 
 where the tithes are often seven and a half and eight per cent, on 
 the product of the soil, a number of curates have a fixed rate 
 and no parsonage ; their church goes to ruin and the beneficiary 
 gives nothing to the poor. "At Saint- Laurent, in Normandy, 
 the curacy is worth not more than 400 livres, which the curate 
 shares with an obitier? and there are 500 inhabitants, three- 
 quarters of whom receive alms." As the repairs on a parsonage 
 or on a church are usually at the expense of a seignior or of 
 a beneficiary often far off, and in debt or indifferent, it sometimes 
 happens that the priest does not know where to lodge nor to say 
 mass. " I arrived," says a curate of the Touraine, " in the month 
 of June, 1788. . . . The parsonage would resemble a hideous 
 cave were it not open to all the winds and the frosts; below 
 there are two rooms with stone floors, without doors or windows, 
 and five feet high ; a third room six feet high, paved with stone, 
 serving as parlor, hall, kitchen, wash-house, bakery and sink for 
 the water of the court and garden; above are three similar 
 rooms, the whole cracking and tumbling in ruins, absolutely 
 threatening to fall, without either doors and windows that hold," 
 and. in 1790, the repairs are not yet made. See by way of con- 
 trast the luxury of the prelates possessing half a million income, 
 the pomp of their palaces, the hunting equipment of M. de 
 Dillon, bishop of Evreux, the confessionals lined with satin of 
 M. de Barral, bishop of Troyes, and the innumerable culinary 
 utensils in massive silver of M. de Rohan, bishop of Strasbourg. 
 Such is the lot of curates at the established rates, and there 
 are "a great many" who do not get the established rates, withheld 
 from them through the ill-will of the higher clergy : who, with 
 
 Sergent curate of Vallers, January 27, 1790. (Archives nationales, DXIX. portfolio 24.) 
 Letter of M. Briscard, curate of Beaumont-la-Roger, diocese of Evreux, December 19, 1789. 
 {Ibid. DXIX. portfolio 6.) " Tableau moral du clerg de France" (1785), p. 2. 
 
 1 He who has the right of receiving the first year's income of a parish church after 
 vacancy caused by death. TR. 
 
 * One wb.o performs masses for the dead at fixed epochs. TR.
 
 76 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I 
 
 their perquisites, get only from 400 to 500 livres, and who 
 vainly ask for the meagre pittance to which they are entitled by 
 the late edict. " Ought not such a request," says a curate, " be 
 willingly granted by Messieurs of the upper clergy who suffer 
 monks to enjoy from five to six thousand livres income each 
 person, whilst they see curates, who are at least as necessary, 
 reduced to the lighter portion as well for themselves as for their 
 parish." And they yet gnaw on this slight pittance to pay the 
 free gift. In this as in the rest, the poor are charged to discharge 
 the rich. In the diocese of Clermont, "the curates, even with 
 the simple fixed rates, are subject to a tax of 60, 80, 100, 120 
 livres and even more ; the vicars, who live only by the sweat of 
 their brows, are taxed 22 livres." The prelates, on the contrary, 
 pay but little and "it is still a custom to present bishops on 
 New-Year's day with a receipt for their taxes." 1 No issue is 
 open to the curates. Save two or three small bishoprics "with 
 lackeys," all the dignities of the church are reserved to the 
 nobles ; " to be a bishop nowadays," says one of them, " a man 
 must be a gentleman." I regard them as sergeants who, like 
 their fellows in the army, have lost all hope of becoming officers. 
 Hence there are some whose anger bursts its bounds: "We, 
 unfortunate curates at fixed rates; we, commonly assigned to 
 the largest parishes, like my own which, for two leagues in the 
 woods, includes hamlets that would form another; we, whose 
 lot makes even the stones and beams of our miserable dwellings 
 cry aloud," we have to endure prelates " who would still, through 
 their forest-keepers prosecute a poor curate for cutting a stick 
 in their forests, his sole support on his long journeys over the 
 road." On their passing, the poor man " is obliged to jump close 
 against a slope to protect himself from the feet and the spat 
 terings of the horses as likewise from the wheels and, perhaps, 
 the whip of an insolent coachman," and then, "begrimed with 
 dirt, with his stick in one hand and his hat, such as it is, in the 
 other, he must salute, humbly and quickly, through the door of 
 the close, gilded carriage, the counterfeit hierophant who is snor- 
 ing on the wool of the flock the poor curate is feeding, and 
 of which he merely leaves him the dung and the grease." The 
 whole letter is one long cry of rage; it is rancor of this stamp 
 which is to fashion Joseph I ebons and Fouche"s. In this situa 
 
 1 Complaints on the additional burdens which the Third- Estate have to support, by Gauti 
 ie Bianzat (1788), p. 237.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 77 
 
 tion and with these sentiments it is evident that the lower clergy 
 will treat its chiefs as the provincial nobility treated theirs. 1 
 They will not select " for representatives those who swim in opu- 
 lence and who have always regarded their sufferings with tran- 
 quillity." The curates, on all sides "will confederate together" 
 to send only curates to the States- General, and to exclude "not 
 only canons, abbs, priors and other beneficiaries, but again the 
 principal superiors, the heads of the hierarchy," that is to say, the 
 bishops. In fact, in the States-General out of three hundred 
 clerical deputies we count two hundred and eight curates, and, 
 like the provincial nobles, they bring along with them the distrust 
 and the ill-will which they have so long entertained against their 
 chiefs. We shall soon see a test of it. If the first two orders 
 are constrained to combine against the communes it is at the 
 critical moment when the curates withdraw. If the institution 
 of an upper chamber is rejected it is owing to the commonalty 
 of the gentry (la plebe des gentilshommes ) being unwilling to 
 allow the great families a prerogative which they have abused. 
 
 V. 
 
 One privilege remains, the most considerable of all, that of 
 the king ; for, in this staff of hereditary nobles he is the heredi- 
 tary general. His office, indeed, is not a sinecure, like theii 
 rank; but it comports quite as grave disadvantages and worse 
 temptations. Two things are pernicious to man, the lack of 
 occupation and the lack of restraint; neither inactivity nor 
 omnipotency are comportable with his nature, the absolute prince 
 who is all-powerful, like the listless aristocracy with nothing to 
 do, ending in becoming useless and mischievous. In grasping 
 all powers the king insensibly took upon himself all functions, 
 an immense undertaking and one surpassing human strength 
 For it is the Monarchy, and not the Revolution, which endowed 
 France with administrative centralization. 2 Three functionaries, 
 one above the other, manage all public business under the di- 
 rection of the king's council; the comptroller-general at the 
 
 1 Hippeau, ibid. VI. 164. (Letter of the curate of Marolles and of thirteen others. Letter 
 of the bishop of Evreu.x, March 20, 1789. Letter of the abh6 d'Osraond, April 2, 1789). 
 Archives rationales, manuscript documents (procte-vertaiix) of the States-General, V. 148. 
 pp. 245-247. Memorials of the curatss of Toulouse, t 150, p. 282, in the representation! 
 of the Dijon chapter. 
 
 3 De Tocqueville, book II. Tliis capital truth has been established by M. de Tocquevllh 
 with superior discernment 
 
 7*
 
 78 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 centre, the intendant in each gtnfralite, the sub-delegate in 
 each flection, manage everything ; they fix, rate, and collect 
 taxes, draft the militia,- lay out and build roads, hire the 
 police, distribute charities, regulate cultivation, impose their 
 tutelage on the parishes, and treat the municipal magistrates 
 as valets. "A village," says Turgot, 2 "is simply an assemblage 
 of houses and huts, and of inhabitants equally passive. ... Your 
 Majesty is obliged to decide wholly by yourself or through your 
 mandataries. . . . Each awaits your special instructions to con- 
 tribute to the public good, to respect the rights of others, and 
 even sometimes to exercise his own." Consequently, adds 
 -: ^Wecker, " the government of France is carried on in the bureaux. 
 . . . The clerks relishing their influence, never fail to persuade 
 the minister that he cannot separate himself from command in a 
 single detail." Bureaucratic at the centre, arbitrariness, ex- 
 ceptions and favors everywhere, such is a summary of the 
 system. " Sub-delegates, officers of elections, receivers and comp 
 trollers of the vingttimes, commissaries and collectors of the 
 : tallies, officers of the salt-tax, process-servers, voituriers-buralistes, 
 overseers of the corv&s, clerks of the excise, of the registry, and 
 of dues reserved, all these men belonging to the tax-service, each 
 according to his disposition, subject to their petty authority, 
 and overwhelm with their fiscal knowledge, the ignorant and 
 inexperienced tax-payers incapable of recognizing when they are 
 cheated." 3 A rude species of centralization, with no control over 
 it, with no publicity, without uniformity, thus installs over the 
 whole country an army of petty pachas who, as judges, decide 
 causes in which they are themselves the contestants, ruling by 
 delegation, and, to sanction their stealings or their insolence, 
 always having on their lips the name of the king who is obliged 
 to let them do as they please. In short, the machine, through 
 
 1 A term Indicating a certain division of the kingdom of France to facilitate the collection 
 ?f taxes. Each generalship was subdivided into elections, in which there was a tribunal 
 called the bureau of finances. 
 
 * Remonstrances of Malesherbes ; Memorials by Turgot and Necker to the king, (La- 
 boulaye, "De 1'administration francaise sous Louis XVI.," Revue des cours litteraires, IV. 
 
 1*3, 759. 8l 4-> 
 
 * Financiers have been known to tell citizens: "The ferine (revenue-agency), ought tc 
 grant you favors, you ought to be forced to come and ask for them. He who pays nevei 
 knows what he owes. The fermier is sovereign legislator in matters relating to his persona' 
 Interest. Every petition, in which the interests of a province, or those of the whole n 
 tion are concerned, is regarded as penal temerity if it is signed by a person in his piivatf 
 capacity and as illicit association if it be signed by several." Malesherbes, ibid.
 
 CHAP. IV. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 7 
 
 its complexity, irregularity, and dimensions escapes from his 
 grasp. A Frederick II., who rises at four o'clock in the morning, 
 a Napoleon who dictates half the night in his bath, and who 
 works eighteen hours a day, would scarcely suffice for its needs. 
 Such a regime cannot operate without constant strain, without 
 indefatigable energy, without infallible discernment, without mil- 
 itary rigidity, without superior genius; on these conditions alone 
 can one convert twenty-five millions of men into automatons and 
 substitute his own will, lucid throughout, coherent throughout and 
 everywhere present for the wills of those he abolishes. Louis 
 XV. lets "the good machine" work by itself, while he settles 
 down into apathy. "They would have it so, they thought it 
 all for the best," 1 is his manner of speaking when ministerial 
 measures prove unsuccessful. "If I were a lieutenant of the 
 police," he would say again, " I would prohibit cabs." In vain 
 is he aware of the machine being dislocated for he can do nothing 
 and he causes nothing to be done. In the event of misfortune 
 he has a private reserve, his purse apart. "The king," said 
 Mme. de Pompadour, " would sign away a million without think- 
 ing of it, but he would scarcely bestow a hundred louis out 
 of his own little treasury." Louis XVI. strives for some time to 
 remove some of the wheels, to introduce better ones and to 
 reduce the friction of the rest ; but the pieces are too rusty, and 
 too weighty; he cannot adjust them, or harmonize them and 
 keep them in their places ; his hand falls by his side wearied and 
 powerless. He is content to practise economy himself; he re- 
 cords in his journal the mending of his watch, and allows the 
 public vehicle in the hands of Calonne to be loaded with fresh 
 abuses that it may revert back to the old rut from which it is 
 to issue only by breaking down. 
 
 Undoubtedly the wrong they do, or which is done in their name, 
 dissatisfies and chagrins them, but, at bottom, their conscience is 
 not disturbed. They may feel compassion for the people but 
 they do not feel themselves culpable ; they are its sovereigns and 
 not its mandators. France, to them, is as a domain to its seign- 
 ior, while a seignior is not derelict to honor in being prodigal and 
 neglectful. He merely dissipates away his own property and no- 
 body has a right to call him to account. Founded on feudal 
 
 1 Mme. Campan, "Mgmoires," v. I. p. 13. Mme. du Hausset, "M6moires," p. 114.
 
 So THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK I. 
 
 seigniory royalty is like an estate, an inheritance, and it would be 
 infidelity, almost treachery in a prince, in any event weak and 
 base, to allow any portion of the trust received by him intact 
 from his ancestors for transmission to his children, to pass into the 
 hands of his subjects. Not only according to mediaeval traditions 
 is he proprietor-commandant of the French and of France, but 
 again, according to the theory of the legists, he is, like Caesar, the 
 sole and perpetual representative of the nation, and, according to 
 the theological doctrine, like David, the sacred and special dele- 
 gate of God himself. It would be astonishing, if, with all these 
 titles, he did not consider the public revenue as his personal reve- 
 nue, and if, in many cases, he did not act accordingly. Our 
 point of view, in this matter, is so essentially opposed to his, we 
 can scarcely put ourselves in his place; but at that time his point 
 of view was everybody's point of view. It seemed, then, as 
 strange to meddle with the king's business as to meddle with that 
 of a private person. Only at the end of the year I788 1 the fa- 
 mous salon of the Palais-Royal " with boldness and unimaginable 
 folly, asserts that in a true monarchy the revenues of the State 
 should not be at the sovereign's disposition ; that he should be 
 granted merely a sum sufficient to defray the expenses of his 
 establishment, of his donations, and for favors to his servants as 
 well as for his pleasures, while the surplus should be deposited in 
 the royal treasury to be devoted only to purposes sanctioned by 
 the National Assembly." To reduce the sovereign to a civil list, 
 to seize nine-tenths of his income, to forbid him cash acquittances, 
 what an outrage! The surprise would be no greater if at the 
 present day it were proposed to divide the income of each mill- 
 ionaire into two portions, the smallest to go for the owner's sup- 
 port, and the largest to be placed in the hands of the government 
 to be expended in works of public utility. An old farmer-gene- 
 ral, an intellectual and unprejudiced man, gravely attempts to 
 justify the purchase of Saint-Cloud by calling it " a ring for the 
 queen's finger." The ring cost, indeed, 7,700,000 francs, but 
 " the king of France then had an income of 477,000,000. Wha* 
 could be said of any private individual who, with 477,000 Hvres 
 income, should for once in his life, give his wife diamonds worth 
 
 1 "Gustave III. et la cour de France," by Gffroy, II. 474. ("Archives de Dresde- 
 French correspondence, November 20, 1788.)
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 81 
 
 7,000 or 8,000 livres ? " * People would say that the gift is mod- 
 erate and that the husband is reasonable. 
 
 To properly understand the history of our kings, let the funda- 
 mental principle be always recognized that France is their territory, 
 a farm transmitted from father to son, at first small, then slowly 
 enlarged, and, at last, prodigiously enlarged, because the proprie- 
 tor, always on the watch, has found means to make favorable ad- 
 ditions to it at the expense of his neighbors ; at the end of eight 
 hundred years it comprises about 27,000 square leagues of ter- 
 ritory. His interests and his self-love certainly harmonize at cerr 
 tain points with the public welfare ; in the aggregate, he is not a 
 poor administrator, and, since he has always aggrandized himself, 
 he has done better than many others. Moreover, around him, a 
 number of expert individuals, old family councillors, withdrawn 
 from business and devoted to the domain, with good heads and 
 gray beards, respectfully remonstrate with him when he spends 
 too freely; they often interest him in public improvements, 
 in roads, canals, hotels for invalids, military schools, scien- 
 tific institutions and charity workshops, in the limitation- of main- 
 morts, in the toleration of heretics, in the postponement of mo- 
 nastic vows to the age of twenty-one, in provincial assemblies, and 
 in other reforms by which a feudal domain becomes transformed 
 into a modern domain. Nevertheless, the domain, feudal or 
 modern, remains his property which he can abuse as well as use ; 
 now, whoever uses with full sway ends by abusing with full 
 license. If, in his ordinary conduct, personal motives do not pre- 
 vail over public motives, he might be a saint like Louis IX., a 
 stoic like Marcus Aurelius, while remaining a seignior, a man of 
 the world like the people of his court, yet more badly brought 
 up, worse surrounded, more solicited, more tempted and more 
 blindfolded. At the very least he has, like them, his own self-love, 
 his own tastes, his own kindred, his mistress, his wife, his friends, all 
 intimate and influential solicitors who must first be satisfied, while 
 the nation only comes after them. The result is, that, for a hun- 
 dred years, from 1672 to 1774, whenever he makes war it is 
 through pique, through vanity, through family interest, through 
 calculation of private advantages, or to gratify a woman. Louis 
 XV. maintains his wars yet worse than in undertaking them ; J 
 
 1 Augeard, " M6moires," p. 133. 
 
 1 " Mme. de Pompadour, writing to Marshal d'Estrfes, in the army, about the campaign
 
 82 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK l 
 
 while Louis XVI., during the whole of his foreign policy, finds a 
 trammel in the conjugal netting. Internally, he lives like other 
 seigniors, but more grandly, because he is the greatest seignior in 
 France ; I shall describe his course presently, and farther on we 
 shall see by what exactions this pomp is supported. In the mean- 
 time, let us note two or three details. According to authentic 
 statements, Louis XV. expended on Mme. de Pompadour thirty- 
 six millions of francs, which is at least seventy-two millions now- 
 adays. 1 According to d'Argenson, 2 in 1751, he has four thou- 
 sand horses in his stable, and we are assured that his household 
 alone, or his personality " cost this year 68,000,000," almost a quar- 
 ter of the public revenue. Why be astonished if we look upon 
 the sovereign in the manner of the day, that is to say, as a cas- 
 tellan in the enjoyment of his hereditary property ? He con- 
 structs, he entertains, he gives festivals, he hunts, he spends 
 money according to his station. Moreover, being the master of 
 his own funds, he gives to whomsoever he pleases, and all his 
 selections are favors. "Your Majesty knows better than myself," 
 writes the abb6 de Vermond to the empress Maria Theresa, 3 
 "that, according to immemorial custom, three-fourths of the 
 places, honors and pensions are awarded not on account of ser- 
 vices but out of favor and through influence. This favor was 
 originally prompted by birth, alliance, and fortune ; it rarely has 
 any other basis than patronage and intrigue. This course of 
 things, so well established, is respected as a sort of justice even 
 by those who suffer the most from it ; a man of worth not able to 
 dazzle by his court alliances, nor through a bewildering expendi- 
 ture, would not dare to demand a regiment, however ancient and 
 illustrious his services, or his birth. Twenty years ago, the 
 sons of dukes and of ministers, of people attached to the court, 
 the relations and protege's of mistresses, became colonels at the 
 age of sixteen ; M. de Choiseul excited loud complaints on ex- 
 operations, and tracing foi him a sort of plan, had marked on the paper with tntmc/tes (face- 
 patches), the different places which she advised him to attack or defend." Mme. de Genlis, 
 "Souvenirs de F^licie," p. 329. Narrative by Mme. de Puisieux, the mother-in-law of 
 Marshal d'Estrees. 
 
 1 According to the manuscript register of Mme. de Pompadour's expenses, in the archives 
 of the prefecture of Versailles, she had expended 36,327,268 livres. Granier de Cassagnac, 
 I. 9 i. 
 
 'DArgenson, "M^moires," VI. 398 (April 24, 1751). "M. du Barry declared openly 
 *hat he had consumed 18,000,000 belonging to the State." (Correspondence by Metra, I. 27. 
 
 * " Marie Antoinette," by d' Vrneth and Geflroy, vol. II. p. 168 (June 5. '774).
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY. 83 
 
 tending this age to twenty-three years; but to compensate 
 favoritism and absolutism he assigned to the pure grace oi 
 the king, or rather to that of his ministers, the appointment of 
 the lieutenant-colonelcies and to the majorities which, until that 
 time, belonged of right to priority of services in the govern- 
 ment, also the commands of provinces and of towns. You 
 are aware that these places have been largely multiplied, and 
 that they are bestowed through favor and credit, like the regi 
 ments. The cordon bleu and the cordon rouge are in the like po- 
 sition, and even sometimes the cross of St. Louis. Bishoprics 
 and abbeys are still more constantly subject to the regime of in- 
 fluence. As to positions in the finances, I dare not allude to 
 them. Appointments in the judiciary are the most conditioned 
 by services rendered ; and yet how much do not credit and rec- 
 ommendation influence the nomination of intendants, first presi- 
 dents" and others? Necker, entering on his duties, finds 
 twenty-eight millions in pensions paid from the royal treasury, 
 and, at his fall, there is an outflow of money scattered by mil- 
 lions on the people of the court. Even during his term of office 
 tne king allows himself to make the fortunes of his wife's friends 
 of both sexes ; the Countess de Polignac obtains 400,000 francs 
 to pay her debts, 800,000 francs dowry for her daughter, and, 
 besides, for herself, the promise of an estate of 35,000 livres in- 
 come, and, for her lover, the Count de Vaudreil, a pension of 
 30,000 livres; the Princess de Lamballe obtains 100,000 crowns 
 per annum, as much for the post of superintendent of the 
 queen's household, which is revived in her behalf, as for a po- 
 sition for her brother. 1 But it is under Calonne that prodigality 
 reaches insanity. The king is reproached for his parsimony; 
 why should he be sparing of his purse ? Started on a course 
 not his own, he gives, buys, builds, and exchanges; he as- 
 sists those belonging to his own society, doing everything in a 
 style becoming to a grand seignior, that is to say, throwing 
 money away by handfuls. One instance enables us to judge of 
 this: in order to assist the bankrupts Gu6me'ne'e, he purchases 
 of them three estates for about 12,500,000 livres, which they had 
 just purchased for 4,000,000; moreover, in exchange for two 
 domains in Brittany, which produce 33,758 livres income, he 
 
 1 "Marie Antoinette," ibid. vol. II. p. 377; voL III. p. 391.
 
 84 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK i. 
 
 makes over to them the principality of Dombes which produces 
 nearly 70,000 livres income. 1 When we come to read the Red 
 Book further on we shall find 700,000 livres of pensions for the 
 Polignac family, most of them reversionary from one member to 
 another, and nearly 2,000,000 of annual benefactions to the 
 Noailles family. The king has forgotten that his favors are 
 mortal blows, " the courtier who obtains 6,000 livres pension, re 
 ceiving the faille of six villages." z Each largess of the monarchy 
 considering the state of the taxes, is based 'on the privation of 
 the peasants, the sovereign through his clerks, taking bread from 
 the poor to give coaches to the rich. The centre of the govern- 
 ment, in short, is the centre of the evil ; all the wrongs and all 
 the miseries start from it as from a centre of pain and in- 
 flammation ; here it is that the public abscess comes to a head, 
 and here will it break. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Such is the just and fatal effect of privileges turned to selfish 
 purposes instead of being exercised for the advantage of others. 
 To him who utters the word, sire or seignior means " the protec- 
 tor who feeds, the ancient who leads ; " 3 with this title and for 
 this purpose too much cannot be granted to him, for there is no 
 more difficult nor more exalted function. But he must fulfil its 
 duties ; otherwise in the day of peril he will be left to himself. 
 Already, and long before the day arrives, his flock is no longer 
 his own ; if it marches onward it is through routine ; it is simply 
 a multitude of persons, but no longer an organized body. Whilst 
 in Germany and in England the feudal regime, retained or trans- 
 formed, still composes a living society, in France its mechanical 
 framework encloses only so many human particles. We still find 
 the material order, but we no longer find the moral order of 
 things. A lingering, deep-seated revolution has destroyed the 
 close hierarchical union of recognized supremacies and of volun- 
 tary deferences. It is like an army in which the sentiments that 
 form its chiefs and those that form its subordinates have disap- 
 peared ; grades are indicated by uniforms, but they have no hold 
 
 1 Archives Rationales, H, 1456, Memoir for M. Bouret de Vezelay, syndic for the creditors 
 ' Marquis de Mirabeau, " Trait^ de la population," p. 81. 
 
 1 Lord, in Old Saxon, signifies "he who provides food ; " seignior, In the Latin of thf 
 middle ages, signifies "the ancient," the head or chief of che flock.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE STRUCTURE OF SOCIETY 85 
 
 on consciences; all that constitutes a well-founded army, the 
 legitimate ascendency of officers, the justified trust of soldiers, 
 the daily interchange of mutual obligations, the conviction of 
 each being useful to all and that the chiefs are the most useful of 
 all, is wanting to it. How could we encounter this conviction in 
 an army whose staff-officers have no other occupation but to dine 
 out, to display their epaulettes and to receive double pay ? Long 
 before the final crash France is in a state of dissolution, and she 
 is in a state of dissolution because the privileged classes had for- 
 gotten their characters as public men. 
 8
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 Jftattts anti <f)aract0. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE pRiNapLE OF SOCIAL HABITS UNDER THE ANCIENT REGIME. The 
 Court and a life of pomp and parade. I. The physical aspect and the 
 moral character of Versailles. II. The king's household. Its officials 
 and expenses. His military family, his stable, kennel, chapel, attendants, 
 table, chamber, wardrobe, outhouses, furniture, journeys. III. The soci- 
 ety of the king. Officers of the household. Invited guests. IV. The 
 king's occupations. Rising in the morning, mass, dinner, walks, hunting, 
 supper, play, evening receptions. He is always on parade and in com- 
 pany. V. Diversions of the royal family and of the court. Louis XV. 
 Louis XVI. VI. Other similar lives. Princes and princesses. Seigniors 
 of the court. Financiers and parvenues. Ambassadors, ministers, govern- 
 ors, general officers. VII. Prelates, seigniors and minor provincial nobles. 
 The feudal aristocracy transformed into a drawing-room group. 
 
 A MILITARY staff on furlough for a century and more, around a 
 commander-in-chief who gives fashionable entertainments is the 
 principle and summary of the habits of society under the ancient 
 regime. Hence, if we seek to comprehend them, we must first 
 study them at their centre and their source, that is to say, in the 
 court itself. Like the whole ancient regime the court is the 
 empty form, the surviving adornment of a military institution, 
 the causes of which have disappeared while the effects remain, 
 custom surviving utility. Formerly, in the early times of feudal- 
 ism, in the companionship and simplicity of the camp and the cas- 
 tle, the nobles served the king with their own hands, one providing 
 for his house, another bringing a dish to his table, another disrob- 
 ing him at night, and another looking after his falcons and horsei
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 8j 
 
 Still later, under Richelieu and during the Fronde, 1 amid the 
 sudden attacks and the rude exigencies of constant danger they 
 constitute the garrison of his hotel, forming an armed escort for 
 him, and a retinue of ever-ready swordsmen. Now as formerly 
 they are equally assiduous around his person, wearing their 
 swords, awaiting a word, and eager to do his bidding, while those 
 of highest rank seemingly perform domestic service in his house- 
 held. Pompous parade, however, has been substituted for effi- 
 cient surface ; they are elegant adornments only, and no longer 
 useful instrumentalities ; they act along with the king who is him- 
 self an actor, their persons serving as royal decoration. 
 
 I. 
 
 It must be admitted that the decoration is successful, and, that 
 since the f^tes of the Italian Renaissance, more magnificent 
 displays have not been seen. Let us follow the file of carriages 
 which, from Paris to Versailles, rolls steadily along like a river. 
 Certain horses called "des enrages" fed in a particular way, go 
 and come in three hours. 2 One feels, at the first glance, as if he 
 were in a city of a particular stamp, suddenly erected and at one 
 stroke, like a prize-medal for a special purpose, of which only one 
 is made, its form being a thing apart as well as its origin and use. 
 In vain is it one of the largest cities of the kingdom, with its 
 population of eighty thousand souls ; 3 it is filled, peopled, and 
 occupied by the life of a single man ; it is simply a royal residence, 
 arranged entirely to provide for the wants, the pleasures, the 
 service, the guardianship, the society, the display of a king. 
 Here and there, in corners and around it, are inns, stalls, taverns, 
 hovels for laborers and for drudges, for dilapidated soldiers and 
 accessory menials; these tenements necessarily exist, since 
 mechanicians are essential to the most magnificent apotheosis. 
 
 "M&noires de Laporte" (1632). "M. d'Epemon came to Bordeaux, where he found 
 His Eminence very ill. He visited him regularly every morning, having two hundred 
 guards to accompany him to the door of his chamber." " M^moires de Retz." " Wecame 
 to the audience, M. de Beaufort and myself, with a corps of nobles which might number 
 three hundred gentlemen ; MM. the princes had with them nearly a thousand gentlemen." 
 All the memoirs of the time show on jvery page >Jiat these escorts were necessary to male* 
 or repel sudden attacks. 
 
 Mercier, "Tableau de Paris," IX. 3. 
 
 * Leroi, "Histoire de Versailles," II. ai. (70,000 fixed population and 10,000 floating pop. 
 ilation according to the registers of the mayoralty.)
 
 88 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 The rest, however, consists of sumptuous hotels and edifices, 
 sculptured facades, cornices and balustrades, monumental stair- 
 ways, seigniorial architecture, regularly spaced and disposed, as in 
 a procession, around the vast and grandiose palace where all this 
 terminates. Here are the fixed abodes of the noblest families ; to 
 the right of the palace are the hdtels de Bourbon, d'Ecquervilly, 
 de la Tr6moille, de Cond, de Maurepas, de Bouillon, d'Eu, de 
 Noailles, de Penthievre, de Livry, du Comte de la Marche, de 
 Broglie, du Prince de Tingry, d'Orle'ans, de Chatillon, de Villerry, 
 d'Harcourt, de Monaco; on the left are the pavilions d'Orle'ans, 
 d'Harcou^t, the h6tels de Chevreuse, de Babelle, de 1'Hopital, 
 d'Antin, ie Dangeau, de Pontchartrain no end to their enume- 
 ration. Add to these those of Paris, all those which, ten leagues 
 around, at Sceaux, at Ge"nevilliers, at Brunoy, at He-Adam, at 
 Rancy, at Saint-Ouen, at Colombes, at Saint-Germain, at Marly, 
 at Bellevue, in countless places, form a crown of architectural 
 flowers, from which daily issue as many gilded wasps to shine and 
 buzz about Versailles, the centre of all lustre and affluence. 
 About a hundred of these are " presented " each year, men and 
 women, which makes about two or three thousand in all ; l this 
 forms the king's society, the ladies who courtesy before him, and 
 the seigniors who accompany him in his carriage ; their hotels are 
 near by, or within reach, so as to fill his drawing-room or his 
 antechamber at all hours. 
 
 A drawing-room like this calls for proportionate dependencies ; 
 the hotels and buildings at Versailles devoted to the private 
 service of the king and his attendants number by hundreds. No 
 human existence since that of the Csesars has so spread itself out 
 in the sunshine. In the Rue des Reservoirs we have the old 
 hotel and the new one of the governor of Versailles, the hotel 
 of the tutor to the children of the Comte d'Artois, the ward- 
 robe of the crown, the building for the dressing-rooms and 
 green-rooms of the actors who perform at the palace, with the 
 stables belonging to Monsieur. In the Rue des Bon-Enfants are 
 the hotel of the keeper of the wardrobe, the lodgings for the 
 fountain-men, the hotel of the officers of the Comtesse de Pro- 
 vence. In the Rue de la Pompe, the hotel of the grand-provost, 
 the Duke of Orleans's stables, the hotel of the Comte d'Artois's 
 
 l Warroquier, "Etat de la France" (1789). The list of persons presented at court hot 
 tween 1779 and 1789, contains 463 men and 414 women. VoL II. p. 5x5.
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 89 
 
 guardsmen, the queen's stables, the pavilion des Sources. In the 
 Rue Satory the Comtesse d'Artois's stables. Monsieur's English 
 garden, the king's ice-houses, the riding-hall of the king's light- 
 horseguards, the garden belonging to the hotel of the treasurers 
 of the buildings. Judge of other streets by these four. One 
 cannot take a hundred steps without encountering some accessory 
 of the palace, the hotel of the staff of the body-guard, the hotel 
 of the staff of light-horseguards, the immense hotel of the body- 
 guard itself, the hotel of the gendarmes of the guard, the hotel 
 of the grand wolf-huntsman, of the grand falconer, of the grand 
 huntsman, of the grand-master, of the commandant of the 
 canal, of the comptroller-general, of the superintendent of the 
 buildings, and of the chancellor; buildings devoted to falconry, 
 and the vol de cabinet, to boar-hunting, to the grand kennel, to 
 the duphin kennel, to the kennel for untrained dogs, to the court 
 carriages, to shops and storehouses connected with amusements, 
 to the great stable and the little stables, to other stables in the 
 Rue de Limoges, in the Rue Royale, and in the Avenue Saint- 
 Cloud ; to the king's vegetable garden comprising twenty-nine 
 gardens and four terraces ; to the great habitation occupied by 
 two thousand persons, with other tenements called "Louises" 
 in which the king assigned temporary or permanent lodgings, 
 words on paper render no physical impression of the physi- 
 cal enormity. 
 
 At the present day nothing remains of this old Versailles, 
 mutilated and appropriated to other uses, but fragments, which 
 nevertheless, go and see. Observe those three avenues meeting 
 at the great square, two hundred and forty feet broad and twenty- 
 four hundred long, and not too large for the gathering crowds, 
 the display, the blinding velocity of the escorts in full speed and 
 of the carriages running " at death's door ; " * observe the two 
 stables facing the chateau with their railings one hundred and 
 ninety-two feet long, costing in 1682, three millions, that is to 
 say, fifteen millions to-day; so ample and beautiful that, even 
 under Louis XIV. himself, they sometimes served as a cavalcade 
 circus for the princes, sometimes as a -theatre, and sometimes 
 as a ball-room ; then let the eye follow the development of the 
 gigantic semi-circular square which, from railing to railing ana 
 
 1 People were run over almost every day in Paris by the fashionable vehicles, it being thi 
 habit of the great to ride very fast 
 
 8*
 
 90 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK it 
 
 from court to court, ascends and slowly decreases, at first be- 
 tween the hotels of the ministers and then between the two 
 colossal wings, terminating in the ostentatious frame of the mar- 
 ble court where pilasters, statues, pediments, and multiplied and 
 accumulated ornaments, story above story, carry the majestic reg- 
 ularity of their lines and the overcharged mass of their decora- 
 tion up to the sky. According to a bound manuscript bearing 
 the arms of Mansart, the palace cost 153,000,000, that is to say, 
 about 750,000,000 francs of to-day: 1 when a king aims at im- 
 posing display this is the cost of his lodging. Now turn the eye 
 to the other side, towards the gardens, and this self-display be- 
 comes the more impressive. The parterres and the park are, 
 again, a drawing-room in the open air ; there is nothing natural 
 of nature here; she is put in order and rectified wholly with 
 a view to society; this is no place to be alone and to relax 
 oneself, but a place for promenades and the exchange of polite 
 salutations. Those formal groves are walls and hangings ; those 
 shaven yews are vases and lyres. The parterres are flowering 
 carpets. In those straight, rectilinear avenues the king with his 
 cane in his hand, groups around him his entire retinue. Sixty 
 ladies in brocade dresses, expanding into skirts measuring twenty- 
 four feet in circumference, easily find room on the steps of the 
 staircases. 2 Those verdant cabinets afford shade for a princely 
 collation. Under that circular portico, ah 1 the seigniors enjoying 
 the privilege of entering it witness together the play of a new 
 jet d'eau. Their counterparts greet them even in the marble 
 and bronze figures which people the paths and basins, in the 
 dignified face of an Apollo, in the theatrical air of a Jupiter, in 
 the worldly ease or studied nonchalance of a Diana or a Venus. 
 The stamp of the court, deepened through the joint efforts of 
 society for a century, is so strong that it is graven on each detail 
 as on the whole, and on material objects as on matters of the 
 intellect. 
 
 1 153,282,827 livres, 10 sous., 3 deniers. "Souvenirsd'unpagedelacourde Louis XVI.," 
 by the Count d'H6zecques, p. 142. In 1690, before the chapel and theatre were constructed, 
 it had already cost 100,000,000, (St. Simon, XII. 514. Memoirs of Marinier, clerk of tho 
 king's buildings. ) 
 
 1 Museum of Engravings, National Library. " Histoire de France par estampes,"/ojj/t 
 nd particularly the plans and views of Versailles, by AveBne, also, "the drawing of a col 
 don given by M. le Prince in the Labyrinth of Chantilly Aug. 39, 1687.
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. gi 
 
 II. 
 
 The foregoing is but the framework; before 1789 it was com- 
 pletely filled up. " You have seen nothing," says Chateaubriand, 
 " if you have not seen the pomp of Versailles, even after the dis 
 banding of the king's household; Louis XIV. was always there." * 
 It is a swarm of liveries, uniforms, costumes and equipages as 
 brilliant and as varied as in a picture. I should be glad to have 
 lived eight days in this society. It was made expressly to be 
 painted, being specially designed for the pleasure of the eye, 
 like an operatic scene. But how can we of to-day imagine peo- 
 ple for whom life was wholly operatic ? At that time a grandee 
 was obliged to live in great state ; his retinue and his trappings 
 formed a part of his personality ; he fails in doing himself justice 
 if these are not as ample and as splendid as he can make them ; 
 he would be as much mortified at any blank in his household as 
 we with a hole in our coats. Should he make any curtailment 
 he would decline in reputation ; on Louis XVI. undertaking re- 
 forms the court says that he acts like a bourgeois. When a 
 prince or princess becomes of age a household is formed for them ; 
 when a prince marries a household is formed for his wife ; and by 
 a household it must be understood that it is a pompous display 
 of fifteen or twenty distinct services, stables, a hunting-train, a 
 chapel, a faculty, the bedchamber and the wardrobe, a chamber 
 of disbursements, a table, pantry, kitchen, and wine-cellars, a 
 fruitery, z.fourrtire, a common kitchen, a cabinet, a council; 2 she 
 would feel that she was not a princess without all this. There 
 are 274 appointments in the household of the Due d'Orle"ans, 
 210 in that of Mesdames, 68 in that of Madame Elisabeth, 239 
 in that of the Comtesse d'Artois, 256 in that of the Comtesse de 
 Provence and 496 in that of the Queen. When the formation of 
 a household for Madame Royale, one month old, is necessary, 
 " the queen," writes the Austrian ambassador, " desires to sup- 
 press a baneful indolence, a useless affluence of attendants and 
 every practice tending to give birth to sentiments of pride. In 
 spite of the said retrenchment the household of the young prin- 
 cess is to consist of nearly eighty persons destined to the sole 
 
 1 Memoirs, I. 221. He was presented at court February 19, 1787. 
 
 * For these details cf. Warroquier, vol. I. passim. Archives imperiales, O, 710 bis, the 
 king's household, expenditure of 1771. D'Argenson, February 25, 1752. In 1771 thre 
 millions are expended on the installation of the Count d'Artois. A suite of rooms for Mm* 
 Adelaide cost 800,000 livres.
 
 92 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK II 
 
 service of her Royal Highness." l The civil household of Mon 
 sieur comprises 420 appointments, his military household, 179, 
 that of the Comte d'Artois 237 and his civil household 456. 
 Three-fourths of them are for display; with their embroideries 
 and laces, their unembarrassed and polite expression, their atten- 
 tive and discreet air, their easy way of saluting, walking and 
 smiling, they appear well in an antechamber placed in lines, or 
 scattered in groups in a gallery ; I should have liked to contem- 
 plate even the stable and kitchen array, the figures filling up the 
 background of the picture. By these stars of inferior magnitude 
 we may judge of the splendor of the royal sun. 
 
 The king must have guards, infantry, cavalry, body-guards, 
 French guardsmen, Swiss guardsmen, Cent Suisses, light-horse- 
 guards, gendarmes of the guard, gate-guardsmen, in all, 9,050 
 men, 3 costing annually 7,681,000 livres. Four companies of the 
 French guard, and two of the Swiss guard parade every day in 
 the court of the ministers between the two railings, and when the 
 king issues in his carriage to go to Paris or Fontainebleau the 
 spectacle is magnificent. Four trumpeters in front and four 
 behind, the Swiss guards on one side and the French guards 
 on the other, form a line as far as it can reach. 3 The Cent 
 Suisses march ahead of the horsemen in the costume of the 
 sixteenth century, wearing the halberd, ruff, plumed hat and the 
 ample parti-colored striped doublet; alongside of these are the 
 provost-guard with scarlet facings and gold frogs, and compa- 
 nies of yeomanry bristling with gold and silver. The officers of 
 the various corps, the trumpeters and the musicians, covered with 
 gold and silver lace, are dazzling to look at; the kettledrum 
 suspended at the saddle-bow, overcharged with painted and 
 gilded ornaments, is a curiosity for a glass case; the negro 
 cymbal-player of the French guards resembles the sultan of a 
 fairy-tale. Behind the carriage and alongside of it trot the 
 body-guards, with sword and carbine, wearing red breeches, high 
 black boots, and a blue coat sewn with white embroidery, all of 
 
 1 Marie Antoinette, " Correspondance secrete," by d'Arneth and Geffrey, III. 292. Letter 
 of Mercy, January 25, 1779. Warroquier, in 1789, mentions only fifteen places in the house- 
 hold of Madame Royale. This, along with other indications, shows the inadequacy o/ 
 official statements. 
 
 * The number ascertainable after the reductions of 1775 and 1776, and before those of 1787 
 Se Warroquier, vol. I. Necker, "Administration des Finances," II. 119. 
 
 ' "La Maison du Roi en 1786,' colored engravings in the Museum of Engravings.
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 93 
 
 them unquestionable gentlemen ; there were twelve hundred of 
 these selected among the nobles and according to size; among 
 them are the guards de la manche, still more intimate, who at 
 church and on ceremonial occasions, in white doublets starred with 
 silver and gold spangles, holding their damascene partisans in 
 their hands, always remain standing and turned towards the king 
 " so as to see his person from all sides. " Thus is his protection 
 ensured. Being a gentleman the king is a cavalier and he must 
 have a suitable stable, 1 1,857 horses, 217 vehicles, 1,458 men 
 whom he clothes, the liveries costing 540,000 francs a year; 
 besides these there were 20 tutors and sub-tutors, almoners, 
 professors, cooks, and valets to govern, educate and serve the 
 pages; and again about thirty physicians, apothecaries, nurses for 
 the sick, intendants, treasurers, workmen, and licensed and paid 
 merchants for the accessories of the service; in all more than 
 1,500 men. Horses to the amount of 250,000 francs are pur- 
 chased yearly, and there are stock- stables in Limousin and in 
 Normandy to draw on for supplies. 287 horses are exercised 
 daily in the two riding-halls; there are 443 saddle-horses in the 
 small stable, 437 in the large one, and these are not sufficient 
 for the " vivacity of the service." The whole cost 4,600,000 
 livres in 1775, which sum reaches 6,200,000 livres in 1787.* 
 Still another spectacle should be seen with one's own eyes, 
 the pages, 3 the grooms, the laced pupils, the silver-button 
 pupils, the boys of the little livery in silk, the instrumentalists 
 and the mounted messengers of the stable. The use of the horse 
 is a feudal art; no luxury is more natural to a man of quality. 
 Think of the stables at Chantilly which are palaces. To convey 
 an idea of a well-educated and genteel man he was then called 
 
 1 Archives nationales, O 1 , 738. Report by M. Tessier (1780), on the large and small 
 stables. The queen's stables comprise 75 vehicles and 330 horses. These are the veritable 
 figures taken from secret manuscript reports, showing the inadequacy of official statements. 
 The Versailles Almanach of 1775 for instance, states that there were only 335 men in the 
 stables while we see that in reality the number was four or five times as many. "Previous 
 tr a*, the reforms, says a witness, I believe that the number of the king's horses amounted 
 to 3,000." (D'He'zecques. "Souvenirs d'un page de Louis XVI.," p. 121.) 
 
 2 " La Maison du Roi justifi6e par un soldat citoyen," (1786) according to statements 
 published by the government. " La future maison du roi" (1790). "The two stables cost 
 in 1786, the larger one 4,207,606 livres, and the smaller 3,509,402 livres, a total of 7,717,058 
 livres, of which 486,546 livres were for the purchase of horses." 
 
 * " On my arrival at Versailles (1786), there were 150 pages not including those of the 
 princes of the blood who lived at Paris. A page's coat cost 1,500 livres, (crimson velvel 
 embroiderca with gold on ail the seams, and a hat with feather and Spanish point lace.)" 
 D'Hezecques, ibid. 112.
 
 94 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 " an accomplished cavalier ; " in fact, his importance was fully 
 manifest only when he was in the saddle, on a blood-horse like 
 himself. Another genteel taste, the effect of the preceding, is 
 the chase. It costs the king from 1,100,000 to 1,200,000 livres a 
 year, and requires 280 horses besides those of the two stables. A 
 more varied or more complete equipment could not be imagined, 
 a pack of hounds for the boar, another for the wolf, anothei 
 for the roe-buck, a cast, (of hawks) for the crow, a cast for the 
 magpie, a cast for merlins, a cast for hares, a cast for the fields. 
 In 1783, 179,194 livres are expended for feeding horses and 
 53,412 livres for feeding dogs. 1 The entire territory, ten leagues 
 around Paris, is a game-preserve; "not a gun could be fired there; a 
 accordingly the plains are seen covered with partridges accus- 
 tomed to man, quietly picking up the grain and never stirring as 
 he passes." Add to this the princes' captainries extending as far 
 as Villers-Cotterets and Orleans; these form an almost continu- 
 ous circle around Paris, thirty leagues in circumference where 
 game, protected, replaced and multiplied, swarms for the pleasure 
 of the king. The park of Versailles alone forms an enclosure of more 
 than ten leagues. The forest of Rambouillet embraces 25,000 
 arpents (30,000 acres). Herds of seventy-five and eighty stags 
 are encountered around Fontainebleau. No true hunter could 
 read the minute-book of the chase without feeling an impulse of 
 envy. The wolf-hounds run twice a week and they take forty 
 wolves a year. Between 1743 and 1744 Louis XV. runs down 
 6,400 stags. Louis XVI. writes August 3oth, 1781: "Killed 460 
 pieces to-day." In 1780 he brings down 20,534 pieces; in 1781, 
 20,291; in fourteen years, 189,251 pieces, besides 1,254 stags, 
 while boars and bucks are proportionate; and it must be noted 
 that this is all done by his own hand since his parks approach 
 his houses. 
 
 Such is, in fine, the character of a " well-appointed household," 
 that is to say, provided with its dependencies and services. 
 Everything is within reach ; it is a complete world in itself and 
 self-sufficing. One exalted being attaches to and gathers around 
 it, with universal foresight and minuteness of detail, every ap- 
 
 1 Archives rationales, O 1 , 778. Memoria. oa the hunting-train between 1760 and 1792 and 
 especially the report of 1786. 
 
 2 Mercier, "Tableau de Pvis," vol. I. p. n; v. p. 62. D'Hezectjues, ibid, 253. "Jour 
 nal de Louis XVI." published by Nicolard at, Jassim.
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 95 
 
 purtenance it employs or can possibly employ. Each prince, 
 each princess thus has a professional faculty and a chapel; 1 it 
 would not answer for the almoner who says mass or the doctci 
 who looks after their health to be obtained outside. So much 
 stronger is the reason that the king should have ministrants of 
 this stamp; his chapel embraces seventy-five almoners, chaplains, 
 confessors, masters of the oratory, clerks, announcers, carpet- 
 bearers, choristers, copyists, and composers of sacred rcusic; 
 his faculty is composed of forty-eight physicians, surgeons, apoth- 
 ecaries, oculists, operators, bone-setters, distillers, chiropodist? 
 and spagyrists (a species of alchemists). We must still note his de- 
 partment of profane music consisting of one hundred and twen- 
 ty-eight vocalists, dancers, instrumentalists, directors and superin- 
 tendents ; his library corps of forty-three keepers, readers,' inter- 
 preters, engravers, medallists, geographers, binders and printers ; 
 the staff of ceremonial display, sixty-two heralds, sword-bearers, 
 ushers and musicians ; the staff of housekeepers consisting of six- 
 ty-eight marshals, guides and commissaries. I omit other services 
 in haste to reach the most important, that of the table, a fine 
 house and good housekeeping being known by the table. 
 
 There are three sections of the table service; 2 the first for the 
 king and his younger children; the second, called the little ordi- 
 nary, for the table of the grand-master, the grand-chamberlain and 
 the princes and princesses living with the king ; the third, called 
 the great ordinary, for the grand-master's second table, that of 
 the butlers of the king's household, the almoners, the gentlemen 
 in waiting, and that of the valets-de-chambre, in all three hun- 
 dred and eighty-three officers of the table and one hundred and 
 three waiters at an expense of 2,177,771 livres; besides this 
 there are 389,173 livres appropriated to the table of Madame 
 Elisabeth, and 1,093,547 livres for that of Mesdames, the total 
 being 3,660,491 livres for the table. The wine-merchant fur- 
 nished wine to the amount of 300,000 francs per annum, and 
 
 1 Warroquier, vol. I. passim. Household of the Queen : for the chapel 22 persons, the 
 faculty 6. That of Monsieur, the chapel 22, the faculty 21. That of Madame, the chapel 
 20, the faculty 9. That of the Comte d'Artois, the chapel 20, the faculty 28. That of the 
 Comtesse d'Artois, the chapel 19, the faculty 17. That of the Due d'Orteans, the chape. 
 6, the faculty 19. 
 
 * Archives nationales, O', 738. Report by M. Mesnard de Choisy, (March, 1780). They 
 cause a reform (August 17, 1780). "La Maison du roi justified" (1789), p. 24. In 1788 th 
 expenses of the table are reduced to 2,870,999 livres, of which 600,000 livres are appropri 
 ated to Mesdames for their table.
 
 96 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 the purveyor game, meat and fish at a cost of 1,000,000 livres. 
 Only to fetch water from Ville-d'Avray and to convey servants, 
 waiters and provisions required fifty horses hired at the rate of 
 70,591 francs per annum. The privilege of the royal princes 
 and princesses " to send to the bureau for fish on fast days when 
 not residing regularly at the court" amounts in 1778, to 175,116 
 livres. On reading in the Almanach the titles of the office- 
 holders we see a Gargantua's feast spread out before us, the 
 formal hierarchy of the kitchens, so many grand officials of the 
 table, the butlers, comptrollers and comptroller-pupils, the 
 clerks and gentlemen of the pantry, the cup-bearers and carvers, 
 the officers and equerries of the kitchen, the chiefs, assistants and 
 head-cooks, the ordinary scullions, turnspits and cellarers, the 
 common gardeners and salad gardeners, laundry servants, pas- 
 try-cooks, plate-changers, table-setters, crockery-keepers, and 
 broach-bearers, the butler of the table of the head-butler, an 
 entire procession of broad-braided backs and imposing round 
 bellies, with grave countenances, which, with order and conviction, 
 exercise their functions before the saucepans and around the 
 buffets. 
 
 One step more and we enter the sanctuary, the king's apart- 
 ment. Two principal dignitaries preside over this and each has 
 under him about a hundred subordinates. On one side is the 
 grand chamberlain with his first gentlemen of the bedchamber, 
 the pages of the bedchamber, their governors and instructors, 
 the ushers of the antechamber, with the four first valets-de- 
 chambre in ordinary, sixteen special valets serving in turn, his 
 regular and special cloak-bearers, his barbers, upholsterers, 
 watch-menders, waiters and porters; on the other hand is the 
 gi md-master of the wardrobe, with the masters of the wardrobe 
 an d the valets of the wardrobe regular and special, the ordinary 
 trunk-carriers, mall-bearers, tailors, laundry servants, starchers, 
 ind common waiters, with the gentlemen, officers and secretaries 
 in ordinary of the cabinet, in all 198 persons for domestic service, 
 like so many domestic utensils for every personal want or as 
 sumptuous pieces of furniture for the decoration of the apart- 
 ment. Some of them fetch the mall and the balls, others hold 
 the mantle and cane, others comb the king's hair and dry him 
 off after a bath, others drh e the mules which transport his bed, 
 others watch his pet greyhounds in his room, others fold, put on
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 97 
 
 *nd tie his cravat, and others fetch and carry off his easy chair. 1 
 Some there are whose sole business it is to fill a corner which 
 must not be left empty. Certainly, with respect to ease of 
 deportment and appearance these are the most conspicuous of 
 hll; being so close to the master they are under obligation to 
 appear well ; in such proximity their bearing must not create a 
 discord. 
 
 Such is the king's household, and I have only described one 
 of his residences. He has a dozen of them besides Versailles, 
 great and small, Marly, the two Trianons, la Muette, Meudon, 
 Choisy, Saint-Hubert, Saint-Germain, Fontainebleau, Compiegne, 
 Saint-Cloud, Rambouillet, 2 without counting the Louvre, the 
 Tuileries and Chambord, with their parks and hunting-grounds, 
 their governors, inspectors, comptrollers, concierges, fountain- 
 tenders, gardeners, sweepers, scrubbers, mole-catchers, wood- 
 rangers, mounted and foot-guards, in all more than a thousand 
 persons. Naturally he entertains, plans and builds, and, in this 
 way expends three or four millions per annum. 3 Naturally, also, 
 he repairs and renews his furniture; in 1778, which is an 
 average year, this costs him 1,936,853 livres. Naturally, also, 
 he takes his guests along with him and defrays their expenses, 
 they and their attendants; at Choisy, in 1780, there are sixteen 
 tables with three hundred and forty-five seats besides the dis- 
 tributions; at Saint-Cloud, in 1785, there are twenty-six tables; 
 " an excursion to Marly of twenty-one days is a matter of 1 20, ooo 
 livres extra expense;" the excursion to Fontainebleau has cost 
 as much as 400,000 and 500,000 livres. His removals, on the 
 average, cost half a million and more per annum. 4 To complete 
 our idea of this immense paraphernalia it must be borne in 
 
 1 D'Hezecques, ibid. 212. Under Louis XVI. there were two chair-carriers to the king, 
 who came every morning, in velvet coats and with swords by their sides, to inspect and 
 empty the object of their functions; this post was worth to each one 20,000 livres per 
 annum. 
 
 * In 1787, Louis XVI. either demolishes or orders to be sold, Madrid, la Muette and Choisy, 
 kis acquisitions, however, Saint-Cloud, He-Adam and Rambouillet, greatly surpassing his 
 reforms. 
 
 8 Necker, " Compte-rendu," II. 452. Archives nationales, O 1 , 736. "La Maison du roi 
 justified" (1789). Constructions in 1775, 3,924,400, in 1786, 4,000,000, in 1788, 3,077,000 
 livres. Furniture in 1788, 1,700,000 livres. 
 
 4 Here are some of the casual expenses. (Archives nationales, O 1 , 2805). On the birth 
 of the Due de Bourgogne in 1751, 604,477 h'vres. For the Dauphin's marriage in 1770, 
 1,267,770 livres. For the marriage of the Comte d'Artois in 1773, 2,016,221 livres. For th 
 coronation in 1775, 835,862 livres. For plays, concerts and balls in 1778, 481,744 livres, and 
 m J 779 382,986 livres. 
 
 9
 
 98 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 mind that the artisans and merchants belonging to these vari- 
 ous official bodies are obliged, through the privileges they en- 
 joy, to follow the court "on its journeys that it may be provided 
 on the spot with apothecaries, armorers, gunsmiths, sellers of 
 silker and woollen hosiery, butchers, bakers, embroiderers, publi- 
 cans, cobblers, belt-makers, candle-makers, hatters, pork-dealers, 
 surgeons, shoemakers, curriers, cooks, pinkers, gilders and en- 
 gravers, spur-makers, sweetmeat-dealers, furbishers, old-clothes 
 brokers, glove-perfumers, watchmakers, booksellers, linen-drapers, 
 wholesale and retail wine-dealers, carpenters, coarse-jewelry 
 haberdashers, jewellers, parchment-makers, dealers in trimmings, 
 chicken-roasters, fish-dealers, purveyors of hay, straw and oats, 
 hardware-sellers, saddlers, tailors, gingerbread and starch-dealers, 
 fruiterers, dealers in glass and in violins." 1 One might call it 
 an oriental court which, to be set in motion, moves an entire 
 world: "when it begins to move one has to take the post in 
 advance to go anywhere." The total is near 4,000 persons for the 
 king's civil household, 9,000 to 10,000 for his military household, 
 at least 2,000 for those of his kindred, in all 15,000 individuals, 
 at an expense of forty and fifty millions livres, which would 
 be equal to double the amount to-day and which, at that time, 
 constituted one-tenth of the public revenue. 2 We have here the 
 central figure of the monarchical show. However grand and 
 costly it may be, it is only proportionate to its purpose, since the 
 court is a public institution and the aristocracy, with nothing to 
 do, devotes itself to filling up the king's drawing-room. 
 
 III. 
 
 Two causes maintain this affluence, one the feudal form still 
 preserved, and the other the new centralization just introduced, 
 
 1 Warroquier, vol. I. ibid. "Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geffrey. Letter of 
 Mercy, Sept 16, 1773. " The multitude of people of various occupations following th 
 king on his travels resembles the progress of an army." 
 
 The civil households of the king, queen, and Mme. Elisabeth, of Mesdames, and Mme. 
 Royale, 25,700,000. To the king's brothers and sisters-in-law, 8,040,000. The king's 
 military household, 7,681,000, (Necker, " Compte-rendu," II. 119). From 1774 to 1788 the 
 expenditure on the households of the king and his family varies from 32 to 36 millions, not 
 including the military household, (" La Maison du roi justified "). In 1789 the households of 
 the king, queen, Dauphin, royal children and of Mesdames, cost 25,000,000. Those of 
 Monsieur and Madame, 3,656,000 ; those of the Count and Countess d'Artois, 3,656,000 ; 
 those of the Dukes de Bern and d'Angouleme, 700,000 ; salaries continued to persons for 
 merly in the princes' service, 228,000. The total is 33,240,000. To this must be added the 
 king's military household and two millions in the princes' appanages. (A general account 
 of fixed Incomes and expenditure on the first of May, 1789, rendered by the minister of 
 finances to the committee on finances of the National Assembly.)
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 99 
 
 one placing the royal service in the hands of the nobles, and the 
 other converting the nobles into place-hunters. 
 
 Through the duties of the palace the highest nobility live 
 with the king, residing under his roof; the grand-almoner is 
 M. de Montmorency-Laval, bishop of Metz; the first almoner 
 is M. de Bussu6jouls, bishop of Senlis; the grand-master of 
 France is the Prince de Cond6; the first royal butler is the 
 Comte d'Escars; the second is the Marquis de Montdragon; 
 the master of the pantry is the Duke de Brissac ; the chief cup- 
 bearer is the Marquis de Verneuil ; the chief carver is the Mar- 
 quis de la Chesnaye ; the first gentlemen of the bedchamber are 
 the Dues de Richelieu, de Durfort, de Villequier, and de Fleury ; 
 the grand-master of the wardrobe is the Due de la Roche- 
 foucauld-Liancourt ; the masters of the wardrobe are the Comte 
 de Boisgelin and the Marquis de Chauvelin; the captain of the 
 falconry is the Chevalier du Forget; the captain of the boar- 
 hunt is the Marquis d'Ecquevilly ; the superintendent of 
 edifices is the Comte d'Angevillier ; the grand-equerry is the 
 Prince de Lambesc; the master of the hounds is the Due de 
 Penthievre; the grand-master of ceremonies is the Marquis de 
 Breze ; the grand-master of the household is the Marquis de la 
 Suze; the captains of the guards are the Dues d'Agen, de Vil- 
 lery, de Brissac, d'Aguillon, and de Biron, the Princes de Poix, 
 de Luxembourg and de Soubise ; the provost of the hotel, is the 
 Marquis de Tourzel; the governors of the residences and cap- 
 tains of the chase are the Due de Noailles, Marquis de Champ- 
 cenetz, Baron de Champlost, Due de Coigny, Comte de Modena, 
 Comte de Montmorin, Due de Laval, Comte de Brienne, Due 
 d' Orleans, and the Due de Gevres. 1 All these seigniors are the 
 king's necessary intimates, his permanent guests and generally 
 hereditary, dwelling under his roof, in close and daily intercourse 
 with him since they are "his folks" (gens)* and perform domestic 
 service about his person. Add to these their equals, as noble 
 and nearly as numerous, dwelling with the queen, with Mes- 
 dames, with Mme. Elisabeth, with the Comte and Comtesse de 
 Provence and the Comte and Comtesse d'Artois. And these 
 are only the heads of the service ; if, below them in rank and 
 
 1 Warroquier, ibid. (1789) vol. I., passim. 
 
 * An expression of the Comte d'Artois on introducing the officers of his household to hi* 
 rife.
 
 ioo THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 office, I count the titular nobles I find, among others, 68 al- 
 moners or chaplains, 170 gentlemen of the bedchamber or ir 
 waiting, 117 gentlemen of the stable or of the hunting-train, 
 148 pages, 114 titled ladies in waiting, besides all the officers, 
 even to the smallest of the military household, without counting 
 1,400 ordinary guards who, verified by the genealogist, are ad- 
 mitted by virtue of their title to pay their court. 1 Such is the 
 fixed body of recruits for the royal receptions ; the distinctive 
 trait of this regime is the conversion of its servants into guests, 
 the drawing-room being filled from the anteroom. 
 
 Not that the drawing-room needs to be filled in this manner. 
 Being the source of all preferment and of every favor, it is nat- 
 ural that it should overflow ; in pur levelling society, that of an 
 insignificant deputy, or of a mediocre journalist, or of a fashion- 
 able woman, is full of courtiers under the name of friends and 
 visitors. Moreover, here, to be present is an obligation ; it might 
 be called a continuation of ancient feudal homage ; the staff of 
 nobles is maintained as the retinue of its born general. In the 
 language of the day, it is called " paying one's duty to the king.'* 
 Absence, in the sovereign's eyes, would be a sign of independence 
 as well as of indifference, while submission as well as assiduity is 
 his due. In this respect we must study the institution from the 
 beginning. The eyes of Louis XIV. glance around at every 
 moment, "on arising or retiring, on passing into his apart- 
 ments, in his gardens, . . . nobody escapes, even those who 
 hoped they were not seen ; it was a demerit with some, and the 
 most distinguished, not to make the court their ordinary sojourn, 
 to others to come to it but seldom, and certain disgrace to those 
 who never, or nearly never, came." 2 Henceforth, the main 
 thing, for the first personages in the kingdom, men and women, 
 ecclesiastics and laymen, the grand affair, the first duty in life, the 
 true occupation, is to be at all hours and in every place under t'^e 
 king's eye, within reach of his voice and of his glance. " Who- 
 ever," says La Bruyere, "considers that the king's countenance 
 is the courtier's supreme felicity, that he passes his life looking on 
 
 1 The number of light-horsemen and of gendarmes was reduced in 1775 and in 1776; both 
 bodies were suppressed in 1787. 
 
 1 Saint-Simon, " Memoires," XVI. 456. This need of being always surrounded continue* 
 up to the last moment; in 1791, the queen exclaimed bitterly, speaking of the nobility, 
 " when any proceeding of ours displeases them they are sulky ; no one comes to my table 
 the king retires alone; we have to suffer for our misfortunes." Mme. Campan, II. 177.
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. IOI 
 
 it and within sight of it, will comprehend to some extent how 
 to see God, constitutes the glory and happiness of the saints." 
 There were at this time prodigies of voluntary assiduity and sub- 
 jection. The Due de Fronsac, every morning at seven o'clock, 
 in winter and in summer, stationed himself, at his father's com- 
 mand, at the foot of the small stairway leading to the chapel, solely 
 to shake hands with Mme. de Maintenon on her leaving for St. 
 Cyr. l "Pardon me, Madame," writes the Due de Richelieu 
 to her, "the great liberty I take in presuming to send you the 
 letter which I have written to the king, begging him on my 
 knees that he will occasionally allow me to pay my court to him 
 at Ruel, for / would rather die than pass two months without see- 
 ing him" The true courtier follows the prince as a shadow fol- 
 lows its body; such, under Louis XIV., was the Due de la 
 Rochefoucauld, the master of the hounds. " He never missed 
 the king's rising or retiring, both changes of dress every day, the 
 hunts and the promenades, likewise every day, for ten years in 
 succession, never sleeping away from the place where the king 
 rested, and yet on a footing to demand leave, but not to stay away 
 all night, for he had not slept out of Paris once in forty years, but 
 to go and dine away from the court, and not be present on the 
 promenade." If, later, and under less exacting masters, and in 
 the general laxity of the eighteenth century, this discipline is 
 relaxed, the institution nevertheless subsists; 2 in default of 
 obedience, tradition, interest and amour-propre suffice for the 
 people of the court. To approach the king, to be a domestic in 
 his household, an usher, a cloak-bearer, a valet, is a privilege 
 that is purchased, even in 1789, for thirty, forty, and a hun- 
 dred thousand livres; so much greater the reason why it is a 
 privilege to form a part of his society, the most honorable, the 
 most useful, and the most coveted of all. In the first place, it is 
 a proof of race. A man, to follow the king in the chase, and a 
 woman, to be presented to the queen, must previously satisfy the 
 genealogist, and by authentic documents, that his or her nobility 
 goes back to the year 1400. In the next place, it ensures good 
 fortune. This drawing-room is the only place within reach 
 
 1 Due de Le'vis, "Souvenirs et Portraits," 29. Mme. de Mainltaon, "Correspondance." 
 
 2 M. de V who was promised a king's lieutenancy or command yields it to one of 
 
 Mme. de Pompadour's protege's, obtaining in lieu of it the part of exempt in "Tartuffe, 
 played by the seigniors before the king in the small cabinet (Mme. de Hausset, 168) 
 " M. de V thanked Madame as if she had made him a duke." 
 
 9*
 
 102 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK a. 
 
 of royal favors; accordingly, up to 1789, the great families nevei 
 stir away from Versailles, and day and night they lay in am- 
 bush. The valet of the Marshal de Noailles says to him one 
 night on closing his curtains, "At what hour will Monseigneui 
 be awakened?" "At ten o'clock, if no one dies during the 
 night." 1 Old courtiers are again found who, "eighty years of 
 age, have passed forty-five on their feet in the antechambers of 
 the king, of the princes, and of the ministers. . . . You have 
 ovJy three things to do," says one of them to a debutant, "speak 
 well of everybody, ask for every vacancy, and sit down when 
 you can." Hence, the king always has a crowd around him. 
 The Comtesse du Barry says, on presenting her niece at court, 
 the first of August, 1773, "the crowd is so great at a presenta- 
 tion, one can scarcely get through the antechambers." 2 In De- 
 cember, 1774, at Fontainebleau, when the queen plays at her 
 own table every evening, "the apartment, though vast, is never 
 empty. . . . The crowd is so great that one can talk only to the 
 two or three persons with whom one is playing." The fourteen 
 apartments, at the receptions of ambassadors are full to over- 
 flowing with seigniors and richly dressed women. On the first 
 of January, 1775, the queen "counted over two hundred ladies 
 presented to her to pay their court." In 1780, at Choisy, a 
 table for thirty persons is spread every day for the king, another 
 with thirty places for the seigniors, another with forty places for 
 the officers of the guard and the eque. ries, and one with fifty for 
 the officers of the bedchamber. According to my estimate, the 
 king, on getting up and on retiring, on his walks, on his hunts 
 at play, has always around him at least forty or fifty seigniors 
 and, generally, a hundred, with as many ladies, besides his at- 
 tendants on duty; at Fontainebleau, in 1756, although "there 
 were neither fetes nor ballets this year, one hundred and six ladies 
 were counted." When the king holds a "grand appartement" 
 when play or dancing takes place in the gallery of mirrors, four 
 or five hundred guests, the elect of the nobles and of the fashion, 
 
 1 " Paris, Versailles et les provinces au dix-huitieme siecle," II. 160, 168. Mercier, 
 " Tableau de Paris," IV. 150. De S6gur, " Mmoires," I. 16. 
 
 *" Marie Antoinette," by D'Arneth and Geffiroy, II. 27, 255, 281. "Gustave III." by 
 Geffroy, November, 1786, bulletin of Mme. de Stael. D'Hzecques, ibid. 231. Archive* 
 nationales, O 1 , 736, a letter by M. Amelot, September 23, 1780. De Luynes, XV. 260, 367; 
 XVI. 248. 163 ladies, of which 4) are in service, appear and courtesy to the king. 160 me* 
 ind more than 100 ladies pay theii respects to the Dauphin and Dauphine.
 
 CHAV. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 103 
 
 range themselves on the benches or gather around the card and 
 cavagnole tables. 1 This is a spectacle to be seen, not by the im- 
 agination, or through imperfect records, but with our own eyes 
 and on the spot, to comprehend the spirit, the effect and the 
 triumph of monarchical culture. In an elegantly furnished house, 
 the dining-room is the principal room, and never was one more 
 dazzling than this. Suspended from the sculptured ceiling 
 peopled with sporting cupids, descend, by garlands of flowers 
 and foliage, blazing chandeliers, whose splendor is enhanced 
 by the tall mirrors ; the light streams down in floods on gildings, 
 diamonds, and beaming, arch physiognomies, on fine busts, 
 and on the capacious, sparkling and garlanded dresses. The 
 skirts of the ladies ranged in a circle, or in tiers on the benches, 
 "form a rich espalier covered with pearls, gold, silver, jewels, 
 spangles, flowers and fruits, with their artificial blossoms, goose- 
 berries, cherries, and strawberries," a gigantic animated bouquet 
 of which the eye can scarcely support the brilliancy. There are 
 no black coats, as nowadays, to disturb the harmony. With 
 the hair powdered and dressed, with buckles and knots, with 
 cravats and ruffles of lace, in silk coats and vests of the hues of 
 fallen leaves, or of a delicate rose tint, or of celestial blue, em- 
 bellished with gold braid and embroidery, the men are as ele- 
 gant as the women. Men and women, each is a selection ; they 
 are all of the accomplished class, gifted with every grace which 
 race, education, fortune, leisure and custom can bestow; they 
 are perfect of their kind. There is not a toilet here, an air of 
 the head, a tone of the voice, an expression in language which 
 is not a masterpiece of worldly culture, the distilled quintessence 
 of all that is exquisitely elaborated by social art. Polished as the 
 society of Paris may be, it does not approach this ; 2 compared 
 with the court, it seems provincial. It is said that a hundred 
 thousand roses are required to make an ounce of the unique 
 perfume used by Persian kings ; such is this drawing-room, the 
 frail vial of crystal and gold containing the substance of a 
 human vegetation. To fill it, a great aristocracy had to be 
 transplanted to a hot-house and become sterile in fruit and 
 
 ' Cochin. Engravings of a masked ball, of a dress ball, of the king and queen at play, of 
 tfie interior of a theatre (1745). Costumes of Moreau (1777). Mme. de Genlis, "Diction 
 naire des etiquettes," the article fantre. 
 
 1 " The difference between the tone and language of the court and the town was about as 
 perceptible as that between Pari and the provinces." (De Tilly, " Memoires," I. 153.)
 
 104 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 flowers, and then, in the royal alembic, its pure sap is concen- 
 trated into a few drops of aroma. The price is excessive, but 
 only at this price can the most delicate perfumes be manufact 
 vrred. 
 
 IV. 
 
 An operation of this kind absorbs him who undertakes it as 
 well as those who undergo it. A nobility for useful purposes 
 is not transformed with impunity into a nobility for ornament; 1 
 one becomes himself a part of the show which takes the 
 place of action. The king has a court which he is com- 
 pelled to maintain. So much the worse if it absorbs all 
 his time, his intellect, his soul, the most valuable portion 
 of his active forces and the forces of the State. To be 
 the master of a house is not an easy task, especially when 
 five hundred persons are to be entertained ; one must 
 necessarily pass his life in public and be on exhibition. 
 Strictly speaking it is the life of an actor who is on the stage the 
 entire day. To support this load, and work besides, required the 
 temperament of Louis XIV., the vigor of his body, the extraor- 
 dinary firmness of his nerves, the strength of his digestion, and 
 the regularity of his habits; his successors who come after him 
 grow weary or stagger under the same load. But they cannot 
 throw it off; an incessant, daily performance is inseparable from 
 their position and it is imposed on them like a heavy, gilded, 
 ceremonial coat. The king is expected to keep the entire aris- 
 tocracy busy, consequently to make a display of himself, to pay 
 back with his own person, at all hours, even the most private, 
 even on getting out of bed, and even in his bed. In the 
 morning, at the hour named by himself beforehand, 2 the head 
 
 1 The following is an example of the compulsory inactivity of the nobles a dinner of 
 Queen Marie Leezinska at Fontainebleau : " I was introduced into a superb saloon where I 
 found about a dozen courtiers promenading about and a table set for as many persons, which 
 was nevertheless prepared for but one person. . . . The queen sat down while the twelve 
 courtiers took their positions in a semi-circle ten steps from the table ; I stood alongside if 
 them imitating their deferential silence. Her Majesty began to eat very fast, keeping her 
 eyes fixed on the plate. Finding one of the dishes to her taste she returned to it, and then, 
 running her eye around the circle, she said : " Monsieur de Lowenthal ? " On hearing thi* 
 name a fine-looking man advanced, bowing, and he replied, " Madame ? " "I find tiiat 
 this ragout is fricasee chicken." "I believe it is, Madame." On making this answer, in 
 the gravest manner, the marshal, retiring backwards, resumed his position, while the queen 
 finished her dinner, never uttering another word and going back to her room the same way 
 as she came." (Memoirs of Casenova.) 
 
 8 " Under Louis XVI , who arose at seven or eight o'clock, th Itver took place at hall- 
 past eleven unless hunting or ceremonies required it earlier." There is the same ceremonia. 
 at eleven, again in the evening on retiring, and also during the day, when he change* hli 
 loots. (D'Hfeecques, pi
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 105 
 
 valet awakens him ; five series of persons enter in turn to perform 
 their duty, and, " although very large, there are days when the 
 waiting-rooms can hardly contain the crowd of courtiers." The 
 first one admitted is " V entree familiere, " consisting of the chil- 
 dren of France, the princes and princesses of the blood, and, 
 besides these, the chief physician, the chief surgeon and other 
 serviceable persons. 1 Next, comes the "grande entree" which 
 comprises the grand-chamberlain, the grand-master and mastet 
 of the wardrobe, the first gentlemen of the bedchamber, the 
 Dukes of Orleans and Penthievre, some other highly fivored 
 seigniors, the ladies of honor and in waiting of the queen, 
 Mesdames and other princesses, without enumerating barbers, 
 tailors and various descriptions of valets. Meanwhile spirits of 
 wine are poured on the king's hands from a service of plate, and 
 he is then handed the basin of holy water; he crosses himself 
 and repeats a prayer. Then he gets out of bed before all these 
 people and puts on his slippers. The grand-chamberlain and 
 the first gentleman hand him his dressing-gown; he puts this on 
 and seats himself in the chair in which he is to put on his clothes. 
 At this moment the door opens and a third group enters, which 
 is the "entree des brevets;" the seigniors who compose this enjoy, 
 in addition, the precious privilege of assisting at the "petitt 
 coucher, " while, at the same moment there enters a detachment 
 of attendants, consisting of the physicians and surgeons in ordi- 
 nary, the intendants of the amusements, readers and others, and 
 among the latter those who preside over physical requirements ; 
 the publicity of a royal life is so great that none of its functions 
 can be exercised without witnesses. At the moment of the 
 approach of the officers of the wardrobe to dress him <~he first 
 gentleman, notified by an usher, advances to read to tne king the 
 names of the grandees who are waiting at the door: this is 
 the fourth entry called "la chambre," and larger than thobc pre- 
 ceding it; for, not to mention the cloak-bearers, gun-bearers, 
 rug-bearers and other valets, it comprises most of the superior 
 officials, the grand-almoner, the almoners on duty, the chaplain, 
 the master of the oratory, the captain and major of the body- 
 'guard, the colonel-general and major of the French guards, the 
 colonel of the king's regiment, the captain of the Cent Suisses, 
 
 1 Warroquier, I. 94. Compare corresponding details under Louis XVI. in St Siiaso, 
 Kill. 88.
 
 106 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 the grand-huntsman, the grand wolf-huntsman, the grand 
 provost, the grand-master and master of ceremonies, the firs 
 butler, the grand-master of the pantry, the foreign ambassa- 
 dors, the ministers and secretaries of state, the marshals of 
 France and most of the seigniors and prelates of distinction. 
 Ushers place the ranks in order and, if necessary, impose silence. 
 Meanwhile the king washes his hands and begins his toilet 
 Two pages remove his slippers; the grand-master of the wardrob* 
 draws off his night-shirt by the right arm, and the first valet of the 
 wardrobe by the left arm, and both of them hand it to an officer of 
 the wardrobe, whilst a valet of the wardrobe fetches the shirt 
 wrapped up in white taffeta. Things have now reached the solemn 
 point, the culmination of the ceremony; the fifth entry has been 
 introduced and, in a few moments, after the king has put his 
 shirt on, all that is left of those who are known, with other house- 
 hold officers waiting in the gallery, complete the influx. There is 
 quite a formality in regard to this shirt. The honor of handing 
 it is reserved to the sons and grandsons of France; in default of 
 these to the princes of the blood or those legitimated; in their 
 default to the grand-chamberlain or to the first gentleman of the 
 bedchamber; the latter case, it must be observed, being very 
 /are, the princes being obliged to be present at the king's lever 
 as well as the princesses at that of the queen. 1 At last the shirt 
 is presented and a valet carries off the old one; the first valet of 
 the wardrobe and the first valet-de-chambre hold the fresh one, 
 each by a right and left arm respectively, 2 while two other valets, 
 during this operation, extend his dressing-gown in front of him 
 to serve as a screen. The shirt is now on his back and the 
 toilet commences. A valet-de-chambre supports a mirror be- 
 fore the king while two others on the two sides light it up, if 
 occasion requires, with flambeaux. Valets of the wardrobe fetch 
 the rest of the attire; the grand-master of the wardrobe puts the 
 vest on and the doublet, attaches the blue ribbon, and clasps 
 his sword around him; then a valet assigned to the cravats brings 
 several of these in a basket, while the master of the wardrobe 
 arranges around the king's neck that which the king selects 
 After this a valet assigned to the handkerchiefs brings three of 
 
 1 " Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geflroy, II. 217. 
 
 * In all changes of the coat the left arm of the king is appropriated to the wardrobe and 
 'he right arm to the " chambre."
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 107 
 
 these on a silver salver, while the grand-master of the wardrobe 
 offers the salver to the king who chooses one. Finally the master 
 of the wardrobe hands to the king his hat, his gloves and his 
 cane. The king then steps to the side of the bed, kneels on a 
 cushion and says his prayers whilst an almoner in a low voice 
 recites the orison qucesumus, deus omnipotens. This done, the 
 king announces the order of the day and passes with the leading 
 persons of his court into his cabinet where he sometimes gives 
 audience. Meanwhile the rest of the company await him in th 
 gallery in order to accompany him to mass when he comes out 
 Such is the lever, a piece in five acts. Nothing could be con- 
 trived better calculated to fill up the void of an aristocratic life ; 
 a hundred or thereabouts of notable seigniors dispose of a couple 
 of hours in coming, in waiting, in entering, in defiling, in taking 
 positions, in standing on their feet, in maintaining an air of 
 respeot and of ease suitable to a superior class of walking gen- 
 tlemen, while those best qualified are about to do the same thing 
 over in the queen's apartment. 1 The king, however, to offset 
 this suffers the same torture and the same inaction as he imposes. 
 He also is playing a part ; all his steps and all his gestures have 
 been determined beforehand; he has been obliged to arrange 
 his physiognomy and his voice, never to depart from an affable 
 and dignified air, to award judiciously his glances and his nods, 
 to keep silent or to speak only of the chase, and to suppress his 
 own thoughts, if he has any. One cannot indulge in revery, 
 meditate or be absent-minded when one is before the footlights ; 
 the part must have due attention. Besides, in a drawing-room 
 there is only drawing-room conversation, and the master's 
 thoughts, instead of being directed in a profitable channel, must 
 be scattered about as if the holy water of the court. All hours 
 of the day are thus occupied, except three or four in the morning, 
 during which he is at the council or in his private room; it must 
 
 1 rije queen breakfasts in bed, and "there are ten or twelve persons present at this recep- 
 tion," . . . the grand receptions taking place at the dressing hour. " This reception com- 
 prised the princes of the blood, the captains of the guards and most of the grand-officers." 
 The same ceremony occurs with the chemise as with the king's shirt. One winter uay 
 Mme. Campan offers the chemise to the queen when a lady of honor enters, removes her 
 gloTes and takes the chemise in her hands. A movement at the door and the Duchess of 
 Orleans comes in, takes off her gloves aid she receives the chemise. Another movemenl 
 and it is the Comtesse d'Artois whose privilege it is to hand the chemise. Meanwhile th 
 queen sits there shivering with her arms crossed on her breast and muttering, " It is dreadful 
 what importunity !" (Mme. Campan, II. 217; III. 309-316).
 
 foS THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 be noted, too, that on the days after his hunts, on returning home 
 from Rambouillet at three o'clock in the morning, he must sleep 
 the few hours he has left to him. The ambassador Mercy, 1 never- 
 theless, a man of close application, seems to think it sufficient; 
 he, at least, thinks that " Louis XVI. is a man of order, losing n<l 
 time in useless things;" his predecessor, indeed, worked much 
 less, scarcely an hour a day. Three-quarters of his time is thus 
 given up to show. The same retinue surrounds him when he 
 puts on his boots, when he takes them off, when he changes his 
 clothes to mount his horse, when he returns home to dress for 
 the evening and when he goes to his room at night to retire. 
 " Every evening for six years, says a page, 2 either myself or one 
 of my comrades, has seen Louis XVI. get into bed in public," 
 with the ceremonial just described. " It was not omitted ten times 
 to my knowledge, and then accidentally or through indisposition." 
 The attendance is yet more numerous when he dines and takes 
 supper; for, besides men there are women present, duchesses 
 seated on the folding-chairs, also others standing around the table. 
 It is needless to state that in the evening when he plays, or gives 
 a ball, or a concert, the crowd rushes in and overflows. When 
 he hunts, besides the ladies on horses and in vehicles, besides 
 officers of the hunt, of the guards, the equerry, the cloak -bearer, 
 gun-bearer, surgeon, bone-setter, lunch-bearer and I know not 
 how many others, all the gentlemen who accompany him are 
 his permanent guests. And do not imagine that this suite is a 
 small one ; 3 the day M. de Chateaubriand is presented there are 
 four fresh additions, and " with the utmost punctuality " all the 
 young men of high rank join the king's retinue two or three 
 times a week. Not only the eight or ten scenes which compose 
 each of these days, but again the short intervals between the 
 scenes are besieged and carried. People watch for him, walk by 
 his side and speak with him on his way from his cabinet to the 
 chapel, between his apartment and his carriage, between his 
 carriage and his apartment, between his cabinet and his dining- 
 room. And still more, his life behind the scenes belongs to the 
 public. If he is indisposed and broth is brought to him, if he 
 
 1 "Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geflroy, II. 223 (August 15, 1774). 
 
 a D'H&zecques, ibid, p. 7. 
 
 * Due de Lauzun, " M6moires," 51. Mme. de Genlis, " Mmoires," ch. XII. " Oul 
 nusbands, regularly on that day (Saturday) slept at Versailles to hunt the next day with 
 the kin e."
 
 CHAP. L HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 109 
 
 is ill and medicine is handed to him, "a servant immediately sum- 
 mons the l grande entree.'" Verily, the king resembles an oak 
 stifled by the innumerable creepers which, from top to bottom, 
 cling to its trunk. Under a regime of '.his stamp there is a want 
 of air; some opening has to be found; Louis XV. availed him- 
 self of the chase and of suppers ; Louis XVI. of the chase and 
 of lock-making. And I have not mentioned the infinite detail 
 of etiquette, the extraordinary ceremonial of the state dinner, 
 the fifteen, twenty and thirty beings busy around the king's 
 plates and glasses, the sacramental utterances of the occasion, 
 the procession of the retinue, the arrival of " la nef" " Fessai des 
 plats" all as if in a Byzantine or Chinese court. 1 On Sundays 
 the entire public, the public in general, is admitted, and this is 
 called the " grand convert" as complex and as solemn as a high 
 mass. Accordingly, eating, drinking, getting up, and going to 
 bed, is to a descendant of Louis XIV., to officiate. 2 Frederick II. , 
 on hearing an explanation of this etiquette, declared that if he were 
 king of France his first edict would be to appoint another king 
 to hold court in his place. In effect, if there are idlers to salute 
 there must be an idler to be saluted. Only one way was possi- 
 ble by which the monarch could have been set free and that was 
 to have recast and transformed the French nobles according to 
 the Prussian system into a hard-working regiment of serviceable 
 functionaries. But so long as the court remains what it is, that 
 is to say, a pompous parade and a drawing-room decoration, the 
 king himself must likewise form a showy decoration of little use 
 or of none at all. 
 
 V. 
 
 In short, what is the occupation of a well-qualified master of 
 a house ? He amuses himself and he amuses his guests ; under 
 his roof a new pleasure-party comes off daily. Let us enumer- 
 ate those of a week. "Yesterday, Sunday," says the Due de 
 Luynes, "I met the king going to hunt on the plain of St. 
 
 1 The state dinner takes place every Sunday. La nef is a piece of plate at the centre of 
 the table containing between scented cushions the napk ns used by the king. The essai is 
 the tasting of each dish by the gentlemen servants and officers of the table before the king 
 partakes of it And the same with the beverages. It requires four persons to serve th 
 king with a glass of wine and water. 
 
 * When the ladies of the king's court, and especially the princesses, pass before the king's 
 bed they have to make an obeisance ; the palace officials salute the nef on passing that A 
 priest or sacristan does the same thing on passing before the altar. 
 10
 
 no THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 Denis, having slept at la Muette, where he intends to remain 
 shooting to-day and to-morrow, and to return here on Tuesday 
 or Wednesday morning to run down a stag the same day, 
 Wednesday." l Two months after this, " the king," again says 
 M. de Luynes, "has been hunting every day of the past and of 
 the present week, except to-day and on Sundays, killing, since 
 the beginning, three thousand five hundred partridges." He is 
 always on the road, or hunting, or passing from one residence 
 to another, from Versailles to Fontainebleau, to Choisy, to 
 Marly, to la Muette, to Compiegne, to Trianon, to Saint-Hubert 
 to Bellevue, to Rambouillet, and, generally, with his en the 
 court. 2 At Choisy, especially, and at Fontainebleau this com- 
 pany all lead a merry life. At Fontainebleau "Sunday and 
 Friday, play ; Monday and Wednesday, a concert in the queen's 
 apartments; Tuesday and Thursday, the French comedians; 
 and Saturday it is the Italians ; " there is something for every 
 day hi the week. At Choisy, writes the Dauphine, 3 "from one 
 o'clock (in the afternoon) when we dine, to one o'clock at night 
 we remain out. . . . After dining we play until six o'clock, after 
 which we go to the theatre, which lasts until half-past nine 
 o'clock, and next, to supper; after this, play again, until one, 
 and sometimes half-past one, o'clock." At Versailles things 
 are more moderate ; there are but two theatrical entertainments 
 and one ball a week; but every evening there is play and 
 a reception in the king's apartment, in his daughters', in his 
 mistress's, in his daughter-in-law's, besides hunts and three petty 
 excursions per week. Records show that, in a certain year, 
 Louis XV. slept only fifty-two nights at Versailles, while the 
 Austrian Ambassador well says that " his mode of living leaves 
 him not an hour in the day for attention to important matters." 
 As to Louis XVI., we have seen that he reserves a few hours of 
 the morning; but the machine is wound up and go it must. 
 How can he withdraw himself from his guests and not do 
 
 1 De Luynes, IX, 75, 79, 105 (August, 1748, October, 1748). 
 
 1 The king is at Marly, and here is a list of the excursions he is to make before going t 
 Compiegne (De Luynes, XIV, 163, May, 1755) : " Sunday, June ist, to Choisy until Mon- 
 day evening. Tuesday, the $d, to Trianon, until Wednesday. Thursday, the 5th, return 
 to Trianon where he will remain l intil after supper on Saturday. Monday, the gth, to 
 Crecy, until Friday, isth. Return, to Crecy the i6th, until the 2ist. July ist to la Muette 
 the 2d, to Compiegne." 
 
 3 " Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Gsflroy, I. 19 (July 12, 1770). I. 265 (January 23 
 1771). I. III. (October 18, 1770).
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. ill 
 
 the honors of his house ? Moreover, propriety and custom are 
 despotic ; a third despotism must be added, still more absolute, 
 the imperious vivacity of a frolicsome young queen who cannot 
 endure an hour's reading. At Versailles, three theatrical entsi- 
 tainments and two balls a week, two grand suppers Tuesday end 
 Thursday, and from time to time, the opera in Paris. 1 At 
 Fontainebleau, the theatre three times a week and on other 
 days, play and suppers. During the following winter the queen 
 gives a masked ball each week, in which "the contrivance 
 of the costumes, the quadrilles arranged in ballets, and the 
 daily rehearsals, take so much time as to consume the entire 
 week." During the carnival of 1777 the queen, besides her 
 own ftes, attends the balls of the Palais-Royal and the masked 
 balls of the opera; a little later, I find another ball at the 
 abode of the Comtesse Diana de Polignac, which she attends 
 with the whole royal family, except Mesdames, and which lasts 
 from half-past eleven o'clock at night until eleven o'clock the 
 next morning. Meanwhile, on ordinary days, there is the rage 
 of faro ; in her drawing-room " there is no limit to the play ; 
 in one evening the Due de Chartres loses eight thousand louis. 
 It really resembles an Italian carnival ; there is nothing lacking, 
 neither masks nor the comedy of private life; they play, they 
 laugh, they dance, they dine, they listen to music, they don 
 costumes, they get up picnics (fetes-champetres), they indulge in 
 gossip and gallantries." "The newest song," 2 says a cultivated, 
 earnest lady of the bedchamber, "the current witticism, and 
 little scandalous stories formed the sole subjects of conversation 
 in the queen's circle of intimates." As to the king, who is, 
 rather dull and who requires physical exercise, the chase is 
 his most important occupation. Between 1755 and 1789? he 
 himself, on recapitulating what he had accomplished, finds " one 
 hundred and forty boar-hunts, one hundred and thirty stag- 
 hunts, two hundred and sixty-six of bucks, thirty-three with 
 hounds, and one thousand and twenty-five shootings," in all 
 fifteen hundred and sixty-two hunting-days, averaging at least 
 one hunt every three days ; besides this there are a hundred and 
 
 1 "Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geffroy, II. a?c (October 18, 1774). II. 355 
 (November 15, 1775). II. 295 (February 20, 1775). III. 35 (Februiry n, 1777). III. 
 119 (October 17, 1777)." III. 409 (March 18, 1780). 
 
 1 Mme. Campan, I. 147. 
 
 * Nicolardot, "Journal de Louis XVI.," lag.
 
 112 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 forty-nine excursions without hunts and two hundred and 
 twenty-three promenades on horseback or in carriages. " Dur 
 ing four months of the year he goes to Rambouillet twice a 
 week and returns after having supped, that is to say, at three 
 o'clock in the morning." l This inveterate habit ends in becom- 
 ing a mania and even in something worse. "The supineness," 
 writes Arthur Young, June 26, 1789, "and even stupidity of 
 the court, is without example ; the moment demands the greatest 
 decision, and yesterday, while it was actually a question whether 
 he should be a doge of Venice or a king of France, the king 
 went a hunting!" His journal is like that of a whipper-in. 
 On reading it at the most important dates one is amazed at 
 its records. He writes nothing on the days not devoted to hunt- 
 ing, which means that to him these days are of no account. 
 "July u, 1789, nothing; M. Necker leaves. i2th, vespers and 
 benediction ; Messieurs de Montmorin, de Saint-Priest and de la 
 Luzerne leave. i3th, nothing. i4th, nothing. agth, nothing; 
 M. Necker returns. August 4th, stag-hunt in the forest at 
 Marly; took one; go and come on horseback. i3th, audience 
 of the States in the gallery; Te Deum during the mass below; 
 one stag taken in the hunt at Marly. . . . 25th, complimentary 
 audience of the States; high mass with the cordons bkus ; M. 
 Bailly sworn in; vespers and benediction; state dinner. . . . 
 October 5th, shooting near Chatillon; killed eighty-one pieces; 
 interrupted by events ; go and come on horseback. October 6th, 
 leave for Paris at half-past twelve ; visit the Hotel-de-Ville ; sup 
 and rest at the Tuileries. October 7th, nothing; my aunts come 
 and dine. 8th, nothing. . . . i2th, nothing; the stag hunted at 
 Port Royal." Shut up in Paris, the captive of the masses, his 
 heart is always with the hounds. Twenty times in 1790 we read 
 in his journal of a stag-hunt occurring in this or that place ; he 
 regrets not being on hand. No privation is more intolerable to 
 him; we encounter traces of his chagrin even in the formal 
 protest he draws up before leaving for Varennes ; transported to 
 Paris, stationary in the Tuileries, "where, far from finding con- 
 veniences to which he is accustomed, he has not even enjoyed 
 the advantages common to persons in easy circumstances," his 
 crown to him having apparently lost its brightest jewel. 
 
 1 D'H&ecques, ibid. 253. Arthur Young, I. ai$.
 
 OHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. n$ 
 
 VI. 
 
 As is the general so is his staff; the grandees imitate their 
 monarch. Like some costly colossal effigy in marble, erected in 
 the centre of France, and of which reduced copies are scattered 
 by thousands throughout the provinces, thus does royal life 
 repeat itself, in minor proportions, even among the remotest 
 gentry. The object is to make a parade and to receive; to 
 make a figure and to pass away time in good society. I find, 
 first, around the court, about a dozen princely courts; each 
 prince or princess of the blood royal, like the king, has his house 
 fitted up, paid for, in whole or in part, out of the treasury, its 
 service divided into special departments, with gentlemen, pages, 
 and ladies in waiting, in brief, fifty, one hundred, two hundred, 
 and even five hundred appointments. There is a household of 
 this kind for the queen, one for Madame Victoire, one for 
 Madame Elisabeth, one for Monsieur, one for Madame, one for 
 the Comte d'Artois, one for the Comtesse d'Artois ; there will be 
 or"? for Madame Royale, one for the little Dauphin, one for the 
 Dae de Normandie, all three children of the king, one for the 
 Due d'Angouleme, one for the Due de Berry, both sons of the 
 Comte d'Artois : children six or seven years of age receive and 
 make a parade of themselves. On referring to a particular 
 date, in 1771,* I find still another for the Due d'Orle"ans, one 
 for the Due de Bourbon, one for the Duchesse, one for the 
 Prince de Conde", one for the Comte de Clermont, one for the 
 Princess dowager de Conti, one for the Prince de Conti, one for 
 the Comte de la Marche, one for the Due de Penthievre. 
 Each personage, besides his or her apartment under the king's 
 roof has his or her chateau and palace with his or her own 
 circle, the queen at Trianon and at Saint-Cloud, Mesdames at 
 Bellevue, Monsieur at the Luxembourg and at Brunoy, the 
 Comte d'Artois at Meudon and at Bagatelle, the Due d' Orleans 
 at the Palais-Royal, at Monceaux, at Rancy and at Villers- 
 Cotterets, the Prince de Conti at the Temple and at He-Adam, 
 the Conde*s at the Palais-Bourbon and at Chantilly, the Due de 
 
 1 List of pensions paid to members of the royal family in 1771. Due d'Orl^ans, 150,000; 
 Prince de Cond6, 100,000; Comte de Clermont, 70,000; Due de Bourbon, 60,000; Prince 
 de Conti, 60,000 ; Comte de la Marche, 60,000 ; Dowager-Countess de Conti, 50,000 ; Due 
 de Penthievre, 50,000; Princess de Lamballe, 50,000; Duchess de Bourbon, 50,000 ; (Archive* 
 nationales, O 1 , 710, &*> 
 
 10'
 
 (14 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 Penthievre at Sceaux, Anet and Chateauvilain. I omit one-half 
 of these residences. At the Palais- Royal those who are presented 
 may come to the supper on opera days. At Chateauvilain all 
 those who come to pay court are invited to dinner, the nobles 
 at the duke's table and the rest at the table of his first gentleman. 
 At the Temple one hundred and fifty guests attend the Monday 
 suppers. Forty or fifty persons, said the Duchesse de Maine, 
 constitute "a prince's private company." 1 The princes' train is 
 so inseparable from their persons that it follows them even into 
 camp. "The Prince de Conde," says M. de Luynes, "sets out 
 for the army to-morrow with a large suite : he has two hundred 
 and twenty-five horses, and the Comte de la Marche one hundred. 
 M. le due d'Or!6ans leaves on Monday; he has three hundred 
 and fifty horses for himself and suite." 2 Below the rank of the 
 king's relatives all the grandees who figure at the court figure 
 as well in their own residences, at their hotels at Paris or at 
 Versailles, also in their chateaux a few leagues away from Paris. 
 On all sides, in the memoirs, we obtain a foreshortened view of 
 some one of these seignorial existences. Such is that of the Due 
 de Gevres, first gentleman of the bedchamber, governor of Paris, 
 and of the Ile-de-France, possessing besides this the special 
 governorships of Laon, Soissons, Noyon, Crespy and Valois, the 
 captainry of Mousseaux, also a pension of twenty thousand 
 livres, a veritable man of the court, a sort of sample in high relief 
 of the people of his class, and who, through his appointments, 
 his favor, his luxury, his debts, the consideration he enjoys, his 
 tastes, his occupations and his turn of mind presents to us an 
 abridgment of the fashionable world. 3 His memory for relation- 
 ships and genealogies is surprising; he is an adept in the 
 precious science of etiquette, and on these two grounds he is an 
 oracle and much consulted. " He greatly increased the beauty 
 of his house and gardens at Saint-Ouen. At the moment of his 
 death," says the Due de Luynes, " he had just added twenty-five 
 arpents to it which he had begun to enclose with a covered 
 
 1 Beugnot, I. 77. Mme. de Genlis, "M6moires," ch. xvii. De Goncourt, "La Femme 
 >u dix-huitieme siecle," 52. Champfort, "Caracteres et Anecdotes." 
 
 2 De Luynes, XVI. 57 (May, 1757). In the army of Westphalia the Count d'Estres, 
 commander-in-chief, had twenty-seven secretaries, and Gremin was the twenty-eighth. 
 When the Due de Richelieu set out for his government of Guyenne he was obliged to have 
 relays of a hundred horses along the entire road. 
 
 De Luynes, XVI. i85 (October, 1757).
 
 CHAP. i. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 115 
 
 terrace. . . . He had quite a large household of gentlemen, 
 pages, and domestics of various kinds, and his expenditure was 
 enormous. . . . He gave a grand dinner every day. . . . He 
 gave special audiences almost daily. There was no one at the 
 court, nor in the city, who did not pay their respects to him. 
 The ministers, the royal princes themselves did so. He received 
 company whilst still in bed. He wrote and dictated amidst a 
 large assemblage. . . . His house at Paris and his apartment 
 at Versailles were never empty from the time he arose till the 
 time he retired." Two or three hundred households at Paris, at 
 Versailles and in their environs offer a similar spectacle. 
 Never is there solitude. It is the custom in France, says 
 Horace Walpole, to burn your candle down to its snuff in public. 
 The mansion of the Duchesse de Gramont is besieged at day- 
 break by the noblest seigniors and the noblest ladies. Five 
 times a week, under the Due de Choiseul's roof, the butler 
 enters the drawing-room at ten o'clock in the evening to bestow 
 a glance on the immense crowded gallery and decide if he shall 
 lay the cloth for fifty, sixty or eighty persons ; 1 with this example 
 before them all the rich establishments soon glory in providing an 
 open table for all comers. Naturally, the parvenues, the financiers 
 who have purchased or taken the name of an estate, all those 
 traffickers and sons of traffickers who, since Law, associate with 
 the nobility, imitate their ways. And I do not allude to the 
 Bourets, the Beaujons, the St. Jameses and other financial spend- 
 thrifts whose show and pomp effaces that of the princes ; but 
 take a plain assocti des fermes, M. d'Epinay, whose modest and 
 refined wife refuses such excessive display. 2 He had just com- 
 pleted his domestic arrangements, and was anxious that his 
 wife should take a second maid ; but she resisted ; nevertheless, 
 in this curtailed household, "the officers, women and valets, 
 amounted to sixteen. . . . When M. d'Epinay gets up his valet 
 enters on his duties. Two lackeys stand by awaiting his orders. 
 The first secretary enters for the purpose of giving an account 
 of the letters received by him and which he has to open ; but he 
 is interrupted two hundred times in this business by all sorts of 
 people imaginable. Now it is a horse-jockey with the finest 
 horses to sell. . . . Again some scrapegrace who calls to screech 
 
 * De Goncourt, ibid. 73, 75. 
 * Mrae. d'Epinay, " Mlmoires." Ed. Boiteau, I. 306 (1751).
 
 n6 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IL 
 
 out a piece of music and in whose behalf some influence ha 
 been exerted to get him into the opera, after giving him a few 
 lessons in good taste and teaching him what is proper in French 
 music. Again a young lady who is made to wait to ascertain if 
 I am still at home. ... I get up and go out. Two lackeys 
 open the folding doors to let me pass, I who could pass through 
 the eye of a needle, while two servants bawl out in the ante- 
 chamber, ' Madame, gentlemen, Madame ! ' All form a line, the 
 gentlemen consisting of dealers in stuffs, in instruments, jewellers, 
 hawkers, lackeys, shoeblacks, creditors, in short everything im- 
 aginable that is most ridiculous and annoying. The clock strikes 
 twelve or one before this toilet matter is over, and the secretary, 
 who, doubtless, knows by experience the impossibility of render 
 ing a detailed statement of his business, hands to his master a 
 small memorandum informing him what he must say in the as- 
 sembly of fermiers" Indolence, disorder, debts, ceremony, the 
 tone and ways of the patron, all seems a parody of the real 
 thing. We are beholding the last stages of aristocracy. And 
 yet the court of M. d'Epinay is a miniature resemblance of that 
 of the king. 
 
 So much more essential is it that the ambassadors, ministers 
 and general officers who represent the king should display them- 
 selves in a grandiose manner. No circumstance rendered the 
 ancient regime as brilliant and more oppressive; in this, as in 
 all the rest, Louis XIV. is the principal author of evil as of good. 
 The policy which fashioned the court prescribed ostentation 
 " He was pleased to see a display of dress, table, equipages, 
 buildings and play ; these afforded him opportunities for entering 
 into conversation with people. The contagion had spread from 
 the court into the provinces and to the armies where people, of 
 any position, were esteemed only in proportion to their table and 
 magnificence." : During the year passed by the Marshal de Belle- 
 Isle at Frankfort, on account of the election of Charles VI., he 
 expended 750,000 livres in journeys, transportations, festivals anc 
 
 1 St Simon, XII. 457, and Dangeau, VI. 408. The Marshal de Boufflers at the camp a 
 Compiegne (September, 1698) had every night and morning two tables for twenty an- 
 twenty-five persons, besides extra tables ; 72 cooks, 340 domestics, 400 dozens of napkinr 
 80 dozens of silver plates, 6 dozens of porcelain plates. Fourteen relays of horses brought 
 fruits and liquors daily from Paris ; every day an express brought fish, poultry and gam* 
 from Ghent, Brussels, Dunkirk, Dieppe and Calais. Fifty dozens of wine were drunk o* 
 ordinary days, and eighty dozens during the visits of the king and the princes.
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 117 
 
 dinners, in constructing a kitchen and dining-hall, and besides 
 all this, 150,000 livres in snuff-boxes, watches and other presents; 
 by order of Cardinal Fleury, so economical, he had in his kitchens 
 one hundred and one officials. 1 At Vienna, in 1772, the ambas- 
 sador, the Prince de Rohan, had two carriages costing together 
 40,000 livres, forty horses, seven noble pages, six gentlemen, five 
 secretaries, ten musicians, twelve footmen, and four grooms whose 
 gorgeous liveries each cost 4,000 livres, and the rest in proportion. 
 We are familiar with the profusion, the good taste, the exquisite 
 dinners, the admirable ceremonial display of the Cardinal de 
 Bernis in Rome. " He was called the king of Rome and indeed 
 he was such through his magnificence and in the consideration 
 he enjoyed. . . . His table afforded an idea of what is possible. 
 ... In festivities, ceremonies and illuminations he was always be- 
 yond comparison." He himself remarked, smiling, " I keep a 
 French inn on the cross-roads of Europe." 3 Accordingly their 
 salaries and indemnities are two or three times more ample than 
 at the present day. "The king gives 50,000 crowns to the great 
 embassies. The Due de Duras received even 200,000 livres per 
 annum for that of Madrid, also, besides this, 100,000 crowns gra- 
 tuity, 50,000 livres for secret service and he had the loan of furni- 
 ture and effects valued at 400,000 and 500,000 livres, of which 
 he kept one-half." 4 The outlays and salaries of the ministers 
 are similar. In 1789, the Chancellor gets 120,080 livres salary 
 and the Keeper of the Seals 135,000. " M. de Villedeuil, as 
 Secretary of State, was to have had 180,670 livres, but as he rep- 
 resented that this sum would not cover his expenses, his salary was 
 raised to 226,000 livres, everything included." 5 Moreover, the 
 rule is, that on retiring from office the king awards them a pen- 
 sion of 20,000 livres and gives a dowry of 200,000 livres to their 
 daughters. This is not excessive considering the way they live. 
 " They are obliged to maintain such state in their households, for 
 
 * De Luynes, XIV. 149. 
 
 * Abb6 Georgel, "Mmoires," 216. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve, " Causeries du lundi," VIII. 63, the texts of two witnesses, MM. de GenlU 
 and Roland. 
 
 4 De Luynes, XV. 435, and XVI. 219 (1757). "The Marshal de Belle-Iie contracted an 
 indebtedness amounting to 1,200,000 livres, one-quarter of it for pleasure-houses and the rest 
 In the king's service. The king, to indemnify him, gives him 400,000 livres on the salt 
 revenue, and 80,000 livres income on the company privileged to refine the precious metals." 
 
 * Report of fixed incomes and expenditures, May ist, 1789, p. 633. These figures, It 
 Bust be noted, must be doubled to have their actual equivalent.
 
 u8 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 they cannot enrich themselves by their places. All keep open 
 table at Paris three days in the week, and at Fontainebleau, every 
 day." 1 M. de Lamoignon being appointed Chancellor with a 
 salary of 100,000 livres, people at once declare that he will be 
 ruined ; a " for he has taken all the officials of M. d'Aguesseau'a 
 kitchen, whose table alone cost 80,000 livres. The banquet he 
 gave at Versailles to the first council held by him cost 6,000 
 livres, and he must always have seats at table, at Versailles and 
 at Paris, for twenty persons." At Chambord, 3 Marshal de Saxe 
 always has two tables, one for sixty, and the other for eighty 
 persons, also four hundred horses in his stables, a civil list of 
 more than 100,000 crowns, a regiment of Uhlans for his guard, 
 and a theatre costing over 600,000 livres, while the life he leads, 
 or which is maintained around him, resembles one of Rubens's 
 bacchanalian scenes. As to the special and general provii cial 
 governors we have seen that, when they reside on the spot, they 
 fulfil no other duty than to entertain ; alongside of them the in- 
 tendant, who alone attends to business, likewise receives, and 
 magnificently, especially in the country of a States-General. 
 Commandants, lieutenants-general, the envoys of the central 
 government throughout, are equally induced by habit and propri- 
 ety, as well as by their own lack of occupation, to maintain a draw- 
 ing-room ; they bring along with them the elegancies and hospi- 
 tality of Versailles. If the wife follows them she becomes weary 
 and " vegetates in the midst of about fifty companions, talking 
 nothing but commonplace, knitting or playing loto, and sitting 
 three hours at the dinner table." But " all the military men, all 
 the neighboring gentry and all the ladies in the town," eagerly 
 crowd to her balls and delight in commending " her grace, her 
 politeness, her equality." 4 These sumptuous habits prevail even 
 among people of secondary position. By virtue of established 
 usage colonels and captains entertain their subordinates and thus 
 expend " much beyond their salaries." 5 This is one of the rea- 
 sons why regiments are reserved for the sons of the best 
 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, "Diet, des Etiquettes," I. 349. 
 
 * Barbier, "Journal," III. 211 (December, 1750). 
 
 1 Aubertin, " L' Esprit public au dix-huitieme siecle 255. 
 
 Mme. de Genlis, " Adele et Theodore," III. 54. 
 
 5 Due de Levis, 68. The same thing is found, previous to the late reform, in the English 
 array. Cf. Voltaire, "Entretiens entre A, B, C, ' isth entretiens. "A regiment is not th 
 reward for services but the prize for the sum which the parents of a young man advance 1 
 rder that he may go to the provinr es for three months in the year and keep open house."
 
 CHAP. I. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. II* 
 
 families and companies in them for wealthy gentlemen. The 
 vast royal tree, expanding so luxuriantly at Versailles, sends forth 
 its offshoots to overrun France by thousands and to bloom every- 
 where, as at Versailles, in bouquets of holiday sport and of 
 drawing-room sociability. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Following this pattern, and as well through the effect of tem- 
 perature, we see, even in remote provinces, all aristocratic 
 branches tending to a worldly efflorescence. Lacking other em- 
 ployment, the nobles interchange visits, and the chief function 
 of a prominent seignior is to do the honors of his house credit 
 itably. This applies as well to ecclesiastics as to laymen. The 
 one hundred and thirty-one bishops and archbishops, the seven 
 hundred abbeVcommendatory, are all men of the world; they 
 behave well, are rich, and are not austere, while their episcopal 
 palace or abbey is for them a country-house, which they repair 
 or embellish with a view to the time they pass in it, and to the 
 company they welcome to it. 1 At Clairvaux, Dom Rocourt, 
 very affable with men and still more gallant with the ladies, never 
 drives out except with four horses, and with a mounted groom 
 ahead ; his monks do him the honors of a Monseigneur, and he 
 maintains a veritable court. The chartreuse of Val Saint-Pierre 
 is a sumptuous palace in the centre of an immense domain, and 
 the father-procurator, Dom Effinger, passes his days in entertain- 
 ing his guests. 2 At the convent of Origny, near Saint-Quentin, 3 
 " the abbess has her domestics and her carriage and horses, and 
 receives men on visits, who dine in her apartments." The prin- 
 cess Christine, abbess of Remiremont, with her lady canonesses, 
 are almost always travelling; and yet "they enjoy themselves in 
 the abbey," entertaining there a good many people "in the private 
 apartments of the princess, and in the strangers' rooms." 4 The 
 twenty-five noble chapters of women, and the nineteen noble 
 chapters of men, are as many permanent drawing-rooms and 
 gathering places incessantly resorted to by the fine society which 
 a slight ecclesiastical barrier scarcely divides from the great 
 
 1 Beugnot, I. 79. 
 
 * Merlin de Thionville, " Vie et Correspondances. ' Accouct of his visit to the chartretiM 
 of Val St. Pierre in Thierarche. 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, " Meinoires, * ch. vti. 
 Mme. d'Oberkirk, I. 15.
 
 120 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IL 
 
 world from which it is recruited. At the chapter of Alix, neai 
 Lyons, the canonesses wear hoopskirts into the choir, "dressed 
 as in the world outside," except that their black silk robes and 
 their mantles are lined with ermine. 1 At the chapter of Ott- 
 marsheim in Alsace, "our week was passed in promenading, in 
 visiting the traces of R oman roads, in laughing a good deal, and 
 even in dancing, for there were many people visiting the abbey, 
 and especially to talk over dresses." Near Sarrelouis, the canon- 
 esses of Loutre dine with the officers and are anything but pru- 
 dish. 2 Numbers of convents serve as agreeable and respectable 
 asylums for widowed ladies, for young women whose husbands 
 are in the army, and for young ladies of rank, while the superior, 
 generally some noble damsel, wields, with ease and dexterity, the 
 sceptre of this pretty feminine world. But nowhere is the pomp 
 of hospitality, or the concourse greater, than in the episcopal pal- 
 aces. I have described the situation of the bishops ; with their 
 opulence, possessors of the like feudal rights, heirs and successors 
 to the ancient sovereigns of the territory, and besides all this, men 
 of the world and frequenters of Versailles, why should they not 
 keep a court ? A Cice, archbishop of Bordeaux, a Dillon, arch- 
 bishop of Narbonne, a Brienne, archbishop of Toulouse, a Cas- 
 tellane, bishop of Mende and seignior-suzerain of the whole of 
 Gevaudan, an archbishop of Cambrai, duke of Cambray, seign- 
 ior-suzerain of the whole of Cambre'sis, and president by birth 
 of the provincial States- General, are nearly all princes ; why not 
 parade themselves like princes? Hence, they build, hunt and 
 have their clients and guests, a lever, an antechamber, ushers, offi- 
 cers, a free table, a complete household, equipages, and, oftener 
 still, debts, the finishing touch of a grand seignior. In the al- 
 most regal palace which the Rohans, hereditary bishops of Stras- 
 bourg and cardinals from uncle to nephew, erected for themselves 
 at Saverne 3 there are 700 beds, 180 horses, 14 butlers, and 25 
 valets. "The whole province assembles there;" the cardinal 
 lodges as many as two hundred guests at a time, without count- 
 ing the valets; at all times, there are found under his roof "from 
 twenty to thirty ladies the most agreeable of the province, and 
 
 1 Mine, de Genlis, I. ch. xxvl Mme. d'Oberkirk, I. 6a. 
 
 * De Lauzun, " Mimoires," 257. 
 
 * Marquis de Valfons, " M6moires," 6a De LeVU, 156. Mme. d'Oberkirk, L 127., II
 
 CHAP. L HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 121 
 
 this number is often increased by those of the court and from 
 Paris. . . . The entire company sup together at nine o'clock in 
 the evening, which always looks like a f<te," and the cardinal 
 himself is its chief ornament. Splendidly dressed, fine-looking, 
 gallant, exquisitely polite, the slightest smile is a grace. "His 
 face, always beaming, inspired confidence ; he had the true phys- 
 iognomy of a man expressly designed for pompous display." 
 
 Such likewise is the attitude and occupation of the principal 
 lay seigniors, at home, in summer, when a love of the charms 
 of fine weather brings them back to their estates. For example, 
 Harcourt in Normandy and Brienne in Champagne are two 
 chateaux the best frequented. " Persons of distinction resort to 
 it from Paris, eminent men of letters, while the nobility of the 
 canton pay there an assiduous court." 1 There is no residence 
 where flocks of fashionable people do not light down permanently 
 to dine, to dance, to hunt, to gossip, to unravel, 2 (parfiler) to 
 play comedy. We can trace these birds from cage to cage ; they 
 remain a week, a month, three months, displaying their plumage 
 and their prattle. From Paris to He-Adam, to Villers-Cotterets, 
 to Fr6toy, to Planchette, to Soissons, to PUieims, to Grisolles, to 
 Sillery, to Braine, to Balincourt, to Vaudreuil, the Comte and 
 Comtesse de Genlis thus bear about their leisure, their wit, their 
 gayety, at the domiciles of friends whom, in their turn, they en- 
 tertain at Genlis. A glance at the exteriors of these mansions 
 suffices to show that it was the chief duty in these days to be 
 hospitable, as it was a prime necessity to be in society. 3 Their 
 luxury, indeed, differs from ours. With the exception of a few 
 princely establishments it is not great in the matter of country 
 furniture ; a display of this description is left to the financiers. 
 " But it is prodigious in all things which can minister to the en- 
 joyment of others, in horses, carriages, and in an open table, in 
 accommodations given even to people not belonging to the house, 
 in boxes at the play which are loaned to friends, and lastly, in 
 servants, much more numerous than nowadays." Through this 
 mutual and constant attention the most rustic nobles lose the rust 
 still encrusting their counterparts in Germany or in England. 
 We find in France few Squire Westerns and Barons de Thunder- 
 
 1 Beugnot, I. 71. Hippeau, " Le Gouvemement de Norman die," 
 
 * An occupation explained farther on,.page 145. TR. 
 * Mme. de Genlis, " Memoires," passim, "Diet des Etiquettes," I. 34! 
 II
 
 laa THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u, 
 
 tentronk ; an Alsatian lady, on seeing at Frankfort, the grotesque 
 country squires of Westphalia, is struck with the contrast. 1 Those 
 of France, even in distant provinces, have frequented the draw- 
 ing-rcoms of the commandant and intendant and have encoun- 
 tered on their visits some of the ladies from Versailles ; hence 
 " they always show some familiarity with superior manners and 
 some knowledge of the changes of fashion and dress." The 
 most barbarous will descend, with his hat in his hand, to the 
 foot of his steps to escort his guests, thanking them for the honor 
 they have done him. The greatest rustic, when in a woman's 
 presence, dives down into the depths of his memory for some 
 fragment of chivalric gallantry. The poorest and most secluded 
 furbishes up his coat of royal blue and his cross of St. Louis that 
 he may, when the occasion offers, tender his respects to his neigh- 
 bor, the grand seignior, or to the prince who is passing by. 
 
 Thus is the feudal staff wholly transformed, from the lowest to 
 the highest grades. Taking in at one glance its thirty or forty 
 thousand palaces, mansions, manors and abbeys, what a brilliant 
 and engaging scene France presents ! She is one vast drawing- 
 room, and drawing-room society alone is seen. Everywhere 
 the rude chieftains once possessing authority have become the 
 masters of households administering favors. Their society is 
 that in which, before fully admiring a great general, the question 
 is asked, "is he amiable ? " Undoubtedly they still wear swords, 
 and are brave through self-love and tradition, and they know 
 how to die, especially in duels and according to form. But 
 worldly traits have overspread the ancient military groundwork j 
 at the end of the eighteenth century their genius is to be well- 
 bred and their employment consists in entertaining or in being 
 entertained. 
 
 1 Mme. d'Oberkirk, I. 395. The Baron and Baroness de SotearUle in MoUere an peopk 
 v*al brought up although provincial and pvxfanric,
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 E RAWING- ROOM LIFE. I. Perfect only in France. Reasons f<v this de- 
 rived from the French character. Reasons derived from the tone of the 
 court This life becomes more and more agreeable and absorbing. II. Sub- 
 ordination to it of other interests and duties. Indifference to public affairs. 
 They are merely a subject of jest. Neglect of private affairs. Disorder in 
 the household and abuse of money. III. Moral divorce of husband and 
 wife. Gallantry. Separation of parents and children. Education, its 
 object and omissions. The tone of servants and purveyors. Pleasure-seek- 
 ing, universal. IV. The charm of this life. Good-breeding in the i8th 
 Century. Its perfection and its resources. Taught and prescribed under 
 feminine authority. V. What constitutes happiness in the i8th Century. 
 The fascination of display. Indolence, recreations, light conversation. VI. 
 Gayety in the i8th Century. Its causes and effects. Toleration and license. 
 Balls, fStes, hunts, banquets, pleasures. Freedom of the magistrates and 
 prelates. VII. The principal diversion, elegant comedy. Parades and ex- 
 travagance. 
 
 SIMILAR circumstances have led other aristocracies in Europe 
 to nearly similar ways and habits. There also the monarchy 
 has given birth to the court and the court to a refined society. 
 But the development of this rare plant has been only partial. 
 The soil was unfavorable and the seed was not of the right sort- 
 In Spain, the king stands shrouded in etiquette like a mummy 
 in its wrappings, while a too rigid pride, incapable of yielding to 
 the amenities of the worldly order of things, ends in a sentiment 
 of morbidity and in insane display. 1 In Italy, under petty des- 
 potic sovereigns, and most of them strangers, the constant state 
 of danger and of hereditary distrust, after having tied all tongas, 
 turns all hearts towards the secret delights of love or towards 
 the mute gratifications of the fine arts. In Germany and in 
 England, a cold temperament, dull and rebellious to culture, 
 
 1 De Lome'nie, " Beaumarchais et son temps," I. 403. Letter of Beaumarchais, Dec. 24, 
 1764. The travels of Mme d'Aulnoy and the letters of Mme. de Villars. As to Italy sea 
 Stendhal, "Rome, Naples et Florence." For Germany see the "M6moires" of the Mar. 
 grave of Bareith, also of the Chevalier Lang. For England see my " Histoire de la litter* 
 hire Anglaise," vols. III., IV.
 
 124 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 keeps man, up to the close of the last century, within the Ger- 
 manic habits of solitude, inebriety and brutality. In France, on 
 the contrary, all things combine to make the social sentiment 
 flourish; in this the national genius harmonizes with the polit- 
 ical regime, the plant appearing to be selected for the soil be- 
 forehand. 
 
 The Frenchman loves company through instinct, and the rea- 
 son is that he does well and easily whatever society calls upon 
 him to do. He has not the false shame which renders his north- 
 ern neighbors awkward, nor the powerful passions which absorb 
 his neighbors of the south. Talking is no effort to him, having 
 none of the natural timidity which begets constraint, and with no 
 constant preoccupation to overcome. He accordingly converses 
 at his ease, ever on the alert, and conversation affords him extreme 
 pleasure. For the happiness which he requires is of a peculiai 
 kind: delicate, light, rapid, incessantly renewed and varied, in 
 which his intellect, his self-love, all his emotional and sympathetic 
 faculties find nutriment ; and this quality of happiness is provided 
 for him only in society and in conversation. Sensitive as he is, 
 personal attention, consideration, cordiality, delicate flattery, con- 
 stitute his natal atmosphere, out of which he breathes with diffi- 
 culty. He would suffer almost as much in being impolite as in 
 encountering impoliteness in others. For his instincts of kindli- 
 ness and vanity there is an exquisite charm in the habit of be- 
 ing amiable, and this is all the greater because it proves con- 
 tagious. When we afford pleasure to others there is a desire to 
 please us, and what we bestow in deference is returned in atten- 
 tions. In company of this kind one can talk, for to talk is to 
 amuse another in being oneself amused, a Frenchman finding 
 no pleasure equal to it. 1 Lively and sinuous conversation to him 
 is like the flying of a bird ; he wings his way from idea to idea, 
 alert, excited by the inspiration of others, darting forward, wheel- 
 ing round and unexpectedly returning, now up, now down, now 
 skimming the ground, now aloft on the peaks, without sinking 
 into quagmires, or getting entangled in the briers, and claiming 
 nothing of the thousands of objects he slightly grazes but the 
 diversity and the gayety of their aspects. 
 
 1 Volney, "Tableau du climat et du sol des Etats-Unis d'Ame'rique." The leading trail 
 of the French colonist when compared with the colonists of other nations, is, according te 
 this writer, the craving for neighbors and conversation.
 
 CHAP. n. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 125 
 
 Thus endowed, and thus disposed, he is made for a regime 
 which, for ten hours a day, brings men together; natural feel- 
 ing in accord with the social order of things, renders the 
 drawing-room perfect. The king, at the head of all, sets the 
 example. Louis XIV. had every qualification for Ihe master of 
 a household: a taste for pomp and hospitality, condescension ac- 
 companied with dignity, the art of humoring the amour-propre 
 of others and of maintaining his own position, chivalrous gal- 
 lantry, tact, and even charms of intellectual expression. " His 
 address was perfect; 1 whether it was necessary to jest, or he was 
 in a playful humor, or deigned to tell a story, it was ever with 
 infinite grace, and a noble refined air which I have found only in 
 him. " ' ' Never was man so naturally polite, 8 nor of such circum- 
 spect politeness, so nice in its shades, nor who better discrimi- 
 nated age, worth, and rank, both in his replies and in his deport- 
 ment. . . . His salutations, more or less marked, but always 
 slight, were of incomparable grace and majesty. . . . He was ad- 
 mirable in the different acknowledgments of salutes at the head 
 of the army and at reviews. . . . But especially toward women 
 there was nothing like it. ... Never did he pass the most in- 
 different woman without taking off his hat to her; and I mean 
 chambermaids whom he knew to be such. . . . Never did he 
 chance to say anything disobliging to anybody. . . . Never be- 
 fore company anything mistimed or venturesome, but even to 
 the smallest gesture, his walk, his bearing, his features, all were 
 proper, respectful, noble, grand, majestic, and thoroughly natural." 
 
 Such is the model, and, nearly or remotely, it is imitated up to 
 the end of the ancient regime. If it undergoes any change, it is 
 only to become more sociable. In the eighteenth century, ex- 
 cept on great ceremonial occasions, it is seen descending step by 
 step from its pedestal. It no longer imposes "that stillness around 
 it which lets one hear a fly walk." "Sire," said the Marshal de 
 Richelieu, who had seen three reigns, addressing Louis XVI., 
 "under Louis XIV. no one dared utter a word; under Louis 
 XV. people whispered; under your Majesty they talk aloud." 
 If authority is a loser, society is the gainer ; etiquette, insensibly 
 relaxed, allows the introduction of ease and cheerfulness. Hence- 
 forth the great, less concerned in overawing than in pleasing, cast 
 
 1 Mme. de Caylus, " Souvenirs," p. 108. 
 St. Simon, 461.
 
 126 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK a 
 
 off stateliness like an uncomfortable and ridiculous garment, 
 " seeking respect less than applause. It no longer suffices to be 
 affable ; one has to appear amiable at any cost with one's inferiors 
 as with one's equals." 1 The French princes, says again a con- 
 temporary lady, "are dying with fear of being deficient in 
 graces." 2 Even around the throne "the style is free and play- 
 ful." The grave and disciplined court of Louis XIV. became a. 
 the end of the century, under the smiles of the youthful queen, 
 the most seductive and gayest of drawing-rooms. Through 
 this universal relaxation, a worldly existence gets to be perfect. 
 "He who was not living before 1789," says Talleyrand at a later 
 period, "knows nothing of the charm of living." It was too 
 great; no other way of living was appreciated; it engrossed 
 man wholly. When society becomes so attractive, people live foi 
 it alone. 
 
 II. 
 
 There is neither leisure nor taste for other matters, even for 
 things which are of most concern to man, such as public affairs, 
 the household, and the family. With respect to the first, I have 
 already stated that people abstain from them, and are indifferent ; 
 che administration of things, whether local or general, is out of 
 their hands and no longer interests them. They only allude to it 
 in jest; events of the most serious consequence form the subject 
 of witticisms. After the edict of the Abb6 Terray, which threw 
 the funds half into bankruptcy, a spectator, too much crowded in 
 the theatre, cried out, "Ah, how unfortunate that our good Abb6 
 Terray is not here to cut us down one-half! " Everybody laughs 
 and applauds. All Paris the following day, is consoled for public 
 ruin by repeating the phrase. Alliances, battles, taxation, treaties, 
 ministries, coups d'ttat, the entire history of the country, is put 
 
 ' Due. de Lvi>, p. 321. 
 
 * Mme. de Genlis, " Souvenirs de Felicia," p. 160. It is Important, however, to call 
 attention to the old-fashioned royal attitude under Louis XV. and even Louis XVI. 
 " Although I was advised," says Alfieri, " that the king never addressed ordinary strangers, 
 I could not digest the Olympian-Jupiter look with which Louis XV. measured the person 
 presented to him, from head to foot, with such an impassible air; if a fly should be intro- 
 duced to a giant, the giant, after looking at him, would smile, or perhaps remark. ' What 
 a little mite ! ' In any event, if he said nothing, his face would express it for him." Alneti 
 "M^moires," I. 138, 1768. See in Mme. d'Oberkirk's "Memoires," (II. 349), the lesso* 
 administered by Mme. Roy ale, aged seven and a half years, to a lady introduced to her.
 
 CHAP. n. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 127 
 
 into epigrams and songs. One day, 1 in an assembly of young 
 people belonging to the court, one of them, as the current witti- 
 cism was passing around, raised his hands in delight and ex- 
 claimed, "How can one help being pleased with great events, 
 even with disturbances, when they give us such wit ! " Thereupon 
 the wit circulates, and every disaster in France is turned into non- 
 sense. A song on the battle of Hochstaedt was pronounced 
 poor, and some one in this connection said: "I am sorry that 
 battle was lost the song is so worthless." 3 
 
 Even when eliminating from this trait all that belongs to the 
 sway of impulse and the license of paradox, there remains the 
 stamp of an age in which the State is almost nothing and society 
 almost everything. We may on this principle divine what order 
 of talent was required in the ministers. M. Necker, having 
 given a magnificent supper with serious and comic opera, " finds 
 that this festivity is worth more to him in credit, favor, and sta- 
 bility than all his financial schemes put together. . . . His las', 
 arrangement concerning the vingtieme excited remark only for 
 one day, while everybody is still talking about his fete; at 
 Paris, as well as in Versailles, its attractions are dwelt on in de- 
 tail, people emphatically declaring that Monsieur and Mme. 
 Necker are a grace to society." 3 Good society devoted to 
 pleasure imposes on those in office the obligation of providing 
 pleasures for it. It might also say, in a half-serious, half-ironical 
 tone, with Voltaire, "that the gods created kings only to give 
 fStes every day provided they differ; that life is too short to 
 make any other use of it ; that lawsuits, intrigues, warfare, and 
 the quarrels of priests, which consume human life, are absurd and 
 horrible things ; that man is born only to enjoy himself; " and 
 that among the essential things we must put the "superfluous" in 
 the first rank. 
 
 According to this, we can easily foresee that they will be as 
 little concerned with their private affairs as with public affairs. 
 Housekeeping, the management of property, domestic economy, 
 
 1 Champfort, 26, 55; Bachaumont, 1. 136 (Sept. 7, 1762). One month alter the Parliament 
 had passed a law against the Jesuits, little Jesuits in wax appeared, with a snail for a base. 
 "By means of a thread the Jesuit was made to pop in and out from the shell. It is all tha 
 tage there is no house without its Jesuit." 
 
 * On the othe" hand, the song on the battle of Rosbach is fine. 
 
 ' " Correspondance secrete," by M6tra, Imbert, etc. V. 277 (Nov. 17, 1777). Voltair* 
 "Princess de Babtlone."
 
 128 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 are in their eyes vulgar, insipid in the highest degree, and only 
 suited to an intendant or a butler. Of what use are such per- 
 sons if we must have such cares ? Life is no longer a festival if 
 one has to provide the ways and means. Comforts, luxuries, the 
 agreeable must flow naturally and greet our lips of their own ac- 
 cord. As a matter of course and without his intervention, a man 
 belonging to this world should find gold always in his pocket, a 
 handsome coat on his toilet table, powdered valets in his ante 
 chamber, a gilded coach at his door, a fine dinner on his tatle, 
 so that he may reserve all his attention to be expended in favois 
 on the guests in his drawing-room. Such a mode of living 
 is not to be maintained without waste, and the domestics, left to 
 themselves, make the most of it. What matter is it, so long as 
 they perform their duties ? Moreover, everybody must live, and 
 it is pleasant to have contented and obsequious faces around one, 
 Hence the first houses 'in the kingdom are given up to pillage 
 Louis XV., on a hunting expedition one day, accompanied by 
 the Due de Choiseul, 1 inquired of him how much he thought 
 the carriage in which they were seated had cost. M. de Choi- 
 seul replied that he should consider himself fortunate to get one 
 like it for 5,000 or 6,000 francs; but, " His Majesty paying for 
 it as a king, and not always paying cash, might have paid 
 8,000 francs for it. " " You are wide of the mark, " rejoined the 
 king, "for this vehicle, as you see it, cost me 30,000 francs. . . . 
 The robberies in my household are enormous, but it is impossi- 
 ble to put a stop to them. " In effect, the great help themselves 
 as well as the little, either in money, or in kind, or in services. 
 There are in the king's household fifty-four horses for the grand 
 equerry, thirty-eight of them being for Mme. de Brionne, the 
 administratrix of the office of the stables during her son's minor- 
 ity; there are two hundred and fifteen grooms on duty, and 
 about as "many horses kept at the king's expense for various other 
 persons, entire strangers to the department. 2 What a nest of 
 parasites on this one branch of the royal tree ! Elsewhere I find 
 Madame Elisabeth, so moderate, consuming fish amounting to 
 30,000 francs per annum; meat and game to 70,000 francs; can- 
 files to 60,000 francs; Mesdames burn white and yellow candles to 
 
 1 De Bezenval, " Me'moires, ' II. 206. An anecdote related by the Duke. 
 Archives nationales, a report by M. Texier (1780) A report by M. V esnard de Chouty 
 0. 738)-
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 129 
 
 the amount of 215,068 francs; the light for the queen comes to 
 157,109 francs. The street at Versailles is still shown, formerly 
 lined with stalls, to which the king's valets resorted to nourish Ver- 
 sailles by the sale of his dessert. There is no article from which the 
 domestic insects do not manage to scrape and glean something. 
 The king is supposed to drink orgeat and lemonade to the value of 
 2,190 francs; "The grand broth, day and night," which Mme. 
 Royale, aged six years, sometimes drinks, costs 5,201 francs per 
 annum. Towards the end of the preceding reign l the femmes- 
 de-chambre enumerate in the Dauphine's outlay "four pairs of 
 shoes per week; three ells of ribbon per diem, to tie her dress- 
 ing-gown; two ells of taffeta per diem, to cover the basket in 
 which she keeps her gloves and fan. " A few years earlier the 
 king paid 200,000 francs for coffee, lemonade, chocolate, 
 orgeat, and water-ices; several persons were inscribed on the 
 list for ten or twelve cups a day, while it was estimated that the 
 coffee, milk and bread each morning for each lady of the bed- 
 chamber cost 2,000 francs per annum. 2 We can readily under- 
 stand how, in households thus managed, the purveyors are 
 willing to wait. They wait so well that often under Louis XV. 
 they refuse to provide and " hide themselves. " Even the delay is 
 so regular that at last they are obliged to pay them five per cent. 
 interest on their advances; at this rate, in 1778, after all Turgot's 
 economic reforms, the king still owes nearly 800,000 livres to his 
 wine merchant, and nearly three millions and a half to his pur- 
 veyor. 8 The same disorder exists in the houses which surround 
 the throne. " Mme. de Gue'me'ne'e owes 60,000 livres to her shoe- 
 maker, 16,000 livres to her paper-hanger, and the rest in propor- 
 tion. " Another lady, whom the Marquis de Mirabeau sees with 
 hired horses, replies at his look of astonishment, "It is not 
 because there are not seventy horses in our stables, but none of 
 them are able to walk to-day." 4 Mme. de Montmorin, on ascer- 
 taining that her husband's debts are greater than his property, 
 thinks she can save her dowry of 200,000 livres, but is informed 
 that she had given security for a tailor's bill, which, "incredible 
 
 1 "Marie Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geffrey, I. 277 (February 29, 1772). 
 
 2 De Luynes, XVII. 37 (August, 1758). D'Argenson, February n, 1753. 
 
 3 Archives nationales, O 1 , 738. Various sums of interest are paid : 12,969 francs to the 
 baker, 39,631 francs to the wine merchant, and 173,899 francs to the purveyor. 
 
 4 Marquis de Mirabeau, " Traite de Population," 60. " Le Gouvernement de Nor- 
 mandie," by Hippeau, II. 204 (Sept. 30, 1780),
 
 130 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK 11 
 
 and ridiculous to say, amounts to the sum of 180,000 livres. >M 
 " One of the decided manias of these days," says Mme. d'Ober- 
 kirk, "is to be ruined in everything and by everything. " "The 
 two brothers Villemer build country cottages at from 500,000 to 
 600,000 livres ; one of them keeps forty horses to ride occasion- 
 ally in the Bois de Boulogne on horseback." 2 In one night M. 
 de Chenonceaux, son of M. et Mme. Dupin, loses at play 
 700,000 livres. " M. de Chenonceaux, and M. de Francueil ran 
 through seven or eight millions at this epoch." 3 "The Due de 
 Lauzun, at the age of twenty-six, after having run through the 
 capital of 100,000 crowns revenue, is prosecuted by his cred- 
 itors for nearly two millions of indebtedness." 4 "M. le Prince 
 de Conti lacks bread and wood, although with an income of 
 600,000 livres," for the reason that "he buys and builds wildly 
 on all sides." 5 Where would be the pleasure if these people 
 were reasonable ? What kind of a seignior is he who studies the 
 price of things ? And how can the exquisite be reached if one 
 grudges money? Money, accordingly, must flow and flow on 
 until it is exhausted, first by the innumerable secret or tolerated 
 bleedings through domestic abuses, and next in broad streams of 
 the master's own prodigality, through structures, furniture, toilets^ 
 hospitality, gallantry, and pleasures. The Comte d'Artois, that 
 he may give the queen a fte, demolishes, rebuilds, arranges, and 
 furnishes Bagatelle from top to bottom, employing nine hundred 
 workmen, day and night, and, as there is no time to go any .dis- 
 tance for lime, plaster, and cut stone, he sends patrols of the 
 Swiss guards on the highways to sieze, pay for, and immediately 
 bring in all carts thus loaded. 6 The Marshal de Soubise, enter- 
 taining the king one day at dinner and over night, in his country 
 house, expends 200,000 livres. 7 Mme. de Matignon makes a con- 
 tract to be furnished every day with a new head-dress at 24,000 
 livres per annum. Cardinal de Rohan has an alb bordered with 
 
 1 Mme. de Larochejacquelein, " Memoires," p. 30. Mme. d'Oberkirk, II. 66. 
 
 * D'Argenson, January 26, 1753. 
 
 * George Sand, "Histoire de ma vie," I. 78. 
 
 4 "Marie Antoinette," by d'Ameth and Geflroy, I. 61 (March 18, 1777). 
 
 ' D'Argenson, January 26, 1753. 
 
 ' "Marie Antoinette," III. 135, November 19, 1777. 
 
 r Barbier, IV., 155. The Marshal de Soubise had a hunting lodge to which the king cam* 
 from time to tiiie to iat an omelet of pheasants' eggs, costing 157 livres, 10 sous. (Mercier, 
 XII. 192; also, according to the cook's statement who made it)
 
 CHAP. ii. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 131 
 
 point lace, which is valued at more than 100,000 livres, while 
 his kitchen utensils are of massive silver. 1 
 
 Nothing is more natural, considering their ideas of money; 
 hoarded and piled up, instead of being a fertilizing stream, it is a 
 useless marsh exhaling bad odors. The queen, having presented 
 the Dauphin with a carriage whose silver-gilt trappings are 
 decked with rubies and sapphires, naively exclaims, " Has not the 
 king added 200,000 livres to my treasury? That is no reason for 
 keeping them ! " 2 They would rather throw it out of the win- 
 dow, which was actually done by the Marshal de Richelieu with 
 a purse he had given to his grandson, and which the lad, not know- 
 ing how to use, brought back intact. Money, on this occasion, 
 was at least of service to the passing street-sweeper that picked it 
 up. But had there been no passer-by to pick it up, it would have 
 
 been thrown into the river. One day Mme. de B , being with 
 
 the Prince de Conti, hinted that she would like a miniature of 
 her canary bird set in a ring. The Prince offers to have it made. 
 His offer is accepted, but on condition that the miniature be 
 set plain and without jewels. Accordingly the miniature is placed 
 in a simple rim of gold. But, to cover over the painting, a large 
 
 diamond, made very thin, serves as a glass. Mme. de B , 
 
 having returned the diamond, "M. le Prince de Conti had it 
 ground to powder which he used to dry the ink of the note he 
 wrote to Mme. de B on the subject." This pinch of pow- 
 der cost four or five thousand livres, but we may divine the turn 
 and tone of the note. The extreme of profusion must accom- 
 pany the height of gallantry, the man of the world being so much 
 the more important according to his contempt for money. 
 
 III. 
 
 In a drawing-room, the woman to whom a man pays the 
 least attention is his wife, and the same with her. Hence, 
 at a time like this, when people live for society and in society, 
 there is no place for conjugal intimacy. Moreover, when a mar- 
 ried couple occupy an exalted position they are separated by cus- 
 
 1 Mme. d'Oberldrk, I. 129, II. 257. 
 
 * Mme. de Genlis, "Souvenirs de Felicie," 80; and "Theatre de 1'Education," II. 367. A 
 rirtuous young woman in ten months runs into debt to the amount of 70,000 francs: "Ten 
 louis for a small table, 15 louis for another, 800 francs for a bureau, 200 francs for a small 
 writing desk, 300 francs for a large one; hair rings, hair glass, hair chain, hair bracelets, rul< 
 ttaps, hair necklace, hair box, 9,900 francs," etc.
 
 132 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 torn and decorum. Each party has his or her own household, 01 
 at least their own apartments, servants, equipage, receptions and 
 distinct society, and, as self-parade entails ceremony, they stand 
 towards each other in deference to their rank on the footing of 
 polite strangers. They are each announced in each other's apart- 
 ment ; they address each other " Madame, Monsieur," and not 
 alone in public, but in private ; they shrug their shoulders when, 
 sixty leagues off from Paris, they encounter in some old chateau a 
 provincial wife ignorant enough to say " my dear " to her hus- 
 band before company. 1 Already separated at the fireside, the 
 two lives diverge beyond it at an ever increasing radius. The 
 husband has a government of his own : his private command, his 
 private regiment, his post at court, which keeps him absent from 
 home ; only in his declining years does his wife consent to follow 
 him into garrison or into the provinces. 2 And rather is this the 
 case because she is herself occupied, and as seriously as himself; 
 often with a position near a princess, and always with an important 
 circle of company which she must maintain. A woman, in these 
 days, bestirs herself like a man, 3 in the same career, and with the 
 same arms, consisting of the smooth tongue, the winning grace, 
 the insinuating manner, the tact, the quick perception of the right 
 moment, and the art of pleasing, demanding, and obtaining, 
 there is not a lady at court who does not bestow regiments and 
 benefices. Through this right the wife has her personal retinue 
 of solicitors and protege's, also, like her husband, her friends, her 
 enemies, her own ambitions, disappointments, and rancorous feel- 
 ing; nothing could be more effectual in the disruption of a 
 household than this similarity of occupation and this division of 
 interests. The tie thus loosened ends by being sundered under 
 
 > Mme. de Genlis, " Adele et Theodore," III. 14. 
 
 * Mme. d'Avray, sister of Mme. de Genlis, sets the example, for which she is at first much 
 criticized. 
 
 * "When I arrived in France M, de Choiseul's reign was just over. The wife who could 
 please him, or even please his sister-in-law the Duchesse de Gramont, was sure of setting 
 crazy every colonel and lieutenant-general she was acquainted with. Women were of conse- 
 quence even in the eyes of the old and of the clergy ; they were thoroughly familiar, to an 
 extraordinary degree, with the march of events; they knew by heart the characters and 
 habits of the king's friends and ministers. One of these, on returning to his chateau from 
 Versailles, informed his wife about every thing with which he had been occupied ; with us he 
 says one or two words to her about her water-color sketches, or remains silent and thoughtful, 
 pondering over what he has just heard in Parliament Our poor ladies are abandoned to the 
 tociety of those frivolous men who, for want of intellect, have no ambition, and of course no 
 employment (dandies)." (Stendhal, "Rome, Naples, and Florence," 377. A narrative bj 
 Colonel Forsyth).
 
 CHAP. n. ITABITS AND CHARACTERS. 133 
 
 the ascendency of opinion. " It looks well not to live together," 
 to grant each other every species of tolerance, and to devote 
 oneself to society. Society, indeed, then fashions opinion, ana 
 through opinion it urges on the habits which it requires. 
 
 Toward the middle of the century the husband and wife lodge 
 under the same roof, but that is all. "They are never at home 
 in private; they are never encountered in the same carriage; 
 they are never met in the same house; nor, through the necessity 
 of the case, are they ever together in public." Profound senti- 
 ment would have seemed odd and even "ridiculous;" in any event 
 unbecoming ; it would have been as unacceptable as an earnest 
 "aside" in the general current of light conversation. Each has 
 a duty to all, and for a couple to entertain each other is isolation ; 
 in company there exists no right of the tete-a-te'te. 1 It was 
 hardly allowed for a few days to lovers. 2 And even then it was 
 regarded unfavorably ; they were found too much occupied with 
 each other. Their preoccupation diffused around them an at- 
 mosphere of "constraint and ennui ; one had to be upon one's 
 guard and to check oneself." They were "dreaded." The 
 exigencies of society are those of an absolute king, and admit 
 of no partition. " If morals lost by this, society was infinitely 
 the gainer," says M. de Bezenval, a contemporary; "having got 
 rid of the annoyances and dulness caused by the husbands' 
 presence, the freedom was extreme ; the coquetry both of men 
 and women kept up social vivacity and daily provided piquant 
 adventures." Nobody is jealous, not even when in love. 
 "People are mutually pleased and become attached; if one 
 grows weary of the other, they part with as little concern as 
 they came together. Should the sentiment revive they take to 
 each other with as much vivacity as if it were the first time they 
 had been engaged. They may again separate, but they never 
 quarrel. As they have become enamored without love, they part 
 without hate, deriving from the feeble desire they have inspired 
 the advantage of being always ready to oblige." 3 Appearances, 
 moreover, are respected. An uninformed stranger would detect 
 
 1 De Bezenval, 49, 60. "Out of twenty seigniors at the court there are fifteen not living 
 ith their wives, and keeping mistresses. Nothing is so common at Paris among certain pel* 
 ns." (Barbier, IV. 496.) 
 
 ' Ne soyez point epoux, ne soyez point amant 
 Soyez 1'homme du jour et vous serez channant 
 Crebillon y?/s, "La nuit et le moment," IX. 14.
 
 ?34 THE AN: TENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 nothing to excite suspicion. An extreme curiosity, says Horace 
 Walpole, 1 or a great familiarity with things, is necessary to detect 
 the slightest intimacy between the two sexes. No familiarity is 
 allowed except under the guise of friendship, while the vocabulary 
 of love is as much prohibited as its rites apparently are. Even 
 with Cre"billon fits, even with Laclos, at the most exciting mo- 
 ments, the terms their characters employ are circumspect and 
 irreproachable. Whatever indecency there may be, it is never 
 expressed in words, the sense of propriety in language imposing 
 itself not only on the outbursts of passion, but again on the 
 grossness of instincts. Thus do the sentiments which are nat- 
 urally the strongest lose their point and sharpness ; their rich and 
 polished remains are converted into playthings for the drawing- 
 room, and, thus cast to and fro by the whitest hands, fall on the 
 floor like a shuttlecock. We must, on this point, listen to the 
 heroes of the epoch ; their free and easy tone is inimitable, and 
 it depicts both them and their actions. " I conducted myself," 
 says the Due de Lauzun, " very prudently, and even deferentially 
 with Mme. de Lauzun ; I knew Mme. de Cambis very openly 
 for whom I concerned myself very little ; I kept the little Eugenie 
 whom I loved a great deal; I played high, I paid my court to 
 the king, and I hunted with him with great punctuality." 2 He 
 had for others, withal, that indulgence of which he himself stood 
 in need. " He was asked what he would say if his wife ( whom 
 he had not seen for ten years ) should write to him that she had 
 just discovered that she was enceinte. He reflected a moment 
 and then replied, ' I would write, and tell her that I was delighted 
 that heaven had blessed our union; be careful of your health; I 
 will call and pay my respects this evening.' " There are countless 
 replies of the same sort, and I venture to say that, without hav- 
 ing read them, one could not imagine to what a degree social art 
 had overcome natural instincts. 
 
 1 Horace Walpole's letters (January 25, 1766). The Duke de Brissac, at Louvecdennes, the 
 lover of Mme. du Barry, and passionately fond of her, always in her society assumed the 
 attitude of 3. polite stranger. (Mme. Vigee-Lebrun, "Souvenirs," I. 165.) 
 
 1 De Lauzun, 31- Champfort, 39. "TheDucde whose wife had just been the subject 
 
 of scandal, complained to her mother-in-law ; the latter replied with the greatest coolness, 
 'Eh, Monsieur, you make a good deal of talk about nothing. Your father was accustomed 
 to better company.'" (Mme. d'Oberki k, II. 135, 241). "A husband said to his wife, 'I 
 allow you everybody outside of priaces and lackeys.' He was true to the feet, these two ex- 
 tremes bringing dishonor on account of the scandal attached to them." (Senac de Meilhan, 
 "Considerations sur les Moeurs"). On a wife being discovered by a husband, he simply e 
 claims, "Madame, what imprudence 1 Suppose that I was any other man." ("la femmt 
 mi dix-huitieme siecle," aoi.)
 
 CRAP. H. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 135 
 
 " Here at Paris," writes Mme. d'Oberkirk, " I am no longer my 
 own mistress. I scarcely have time to talk with my husband 
 and to answer my letters. I do not know what women do that 
 are accustomed to lead this life ; they certainly have no families 
 to look after, nor children to educate." At all events they act 
 as if they had none, and the men likewise. Married people not 
 living together live but rarely with their children, and the causes 
 which disintegrate wedlock also disintegrate the family. In the 
 first place there is the aristocratic tradition, which interposes a 
 barrier between parents and children with a view to maintain a 
 respectful distance. Although enfeebled and about to disappear, 1 
 this tradition still subsists. The son savs " Monsieur " to his 
 father; the daughter comes "respectfully" to kiss her mother's 
 hand at her toilet. A caress is rare and seems a favor; children 
 generally, when with their parents, are silent, the sentiment that 
 usually animates them being that of deferential timidity. At one 
 time they were regarded as so many subjects, and up to a certain 
 point they are so still ; while the new exigencies of worldly life 
 place them or keep them effectually aside. M. de Talleyrand 
 stated that he had never slept under the same roof with his father 
 and mother. And if they do sleep there, they are not the less 
 neglected. "I was entrusted," says the Count de Tilly, "to 
 valets and to a kind of preceptor resembling these in more re- 
 spects than one." During this time his father ran after women. 
 " I have known him," adds the young man, " to have mistresses 
 up to an advanced age ; he was always adoring them and con- 
 stantly abandoning them." The Due de Lauzun finds it difficult 
 to obtain a good tutor for his son; for this reason the latter 
 writes, " he conferred the duty on one of my late mother's lackeys 
 who could read and write tolerably well, and to whom the title 
 of valet-de-chambre was given to insure greater consideration. 
 They gave me the most fashionable teachers besides; but M. 
 Roch (which was my mentor's name) was not qualified to arrange 
 
 1 See in this relation the somewhat ancient types, especially in the provinces. " My mother, 
 my sister, and myself, transformed into statues by my father's presence, only recover ourselves 
 after he leaves the room." (Chateaubriand, "Memoires," I. 17, 28, 130; "M6moires de 
 Mirabeau," I. 53.) The Marquis said of his father Antoine: "I never had the honor of kiss. 
 Ing the cheek of that venerable man. ... At the Academy, being two hundred league! 
 aw-iy from him, the mere thought of him made me dread every youthful amusement which 
 could be followed by the least unfavorable results." Paternal authori- v seems almost rs rigit 
 ttiong the middle and lower classes. ("Beaumarchais et son temps," by De Lomenk I. 23 
 "Vie de mon pere," by Resrif de la Bretonne, passim.)
 
 136 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK P 
 
 their lessons, nor to qualify me to benefit by them. I was, more- 
 over, like all the children of my age and of my station, dressed 
 in the handsomest clothes to go out, and naked and dying with 
 hunger in the house," l and not through unkindness, but through 
 household oversight, dissipation, and disorder, attention being 
 given to things elsewhere. One might easily count the fathers 
 who, like the Marshal de Belle-Isle, brought up their sons under 
 their own eyes, and themselves attended to their education me- 
 thodically, strictly, and with tenderness. As to the girls, they 
 were placed in convents; relieved from this care, their parents 
 only enjoy the greater freedom. Even when they retain charge 
 of them they are scarcely more of a burden to them. Little F6- 
 licite" de Saint- Aubin 2 sees her parents " only on their waking up 
 and at meal times." Their day is wholly taken up ; the mother 
 is making or receiving visits ; the father is in his laboratory or en- 
 gaged in hunting. Up to seven years of age the child passes her 
 time with chambermaids who teach her only a little catechism, 
 " with an infinite number of ghost stories." About this time she 
 is taken care of, but in a way which well portrays the epoch. 
 The Marquise, her mother, the author of mythological and pas- 
 toral operas, has a theatre built in the chateau ; a great crowd of 
 company resorts to it from Bourbon-Lancy and Moulins; after 
 rehearsing twelve weeks the little girl, with a quiver of arrows 
 and blue wings, plays the part of Cupid, and the costume is so be- 
 coming she is allowed to wear it in common during the entire day 
 for nine months. To finish the business they send for a dancing- 
 fencing master, and, still wearing the Cupid costume, she takes les- 
 sons in fencing and in deportment. " The entire winter is devoted 
 to playing comedy and tragedy." Sent out of the room after din- 
 ner, she is brought in again only to play on the harpsichord or to 
 declaim the monologue of Alzire before a numerous assembly. 
 Undoubtedly such extravagances are not customary; but the spirit 
 of education is everywhere the same ; that is to say, in the eyes of 
 parents there is but one intelligible and rational existence, that of 
 society, even for children, and the attentions bestowed on these 
 are solely with a view to introduce them into it or to prepare them 
 for it. 
 
 1 Sainte-Beuve, "Nouveaux Lundis," XII. 13; Comte de Tilly, "M&noires," I. u; Duf 
 de Lauzun, 5 : " Beaumarchals," by De Lomnie, II. 298. 
 Madame de Genlis, "Mmoires," ch ii. and iiL
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 13; 
 
 Even in the last years of the ancient regime l little boys have 
 their hair powdered, " a pomatumed chignon (bourse), ringlets, 
 and curls"; they wear the sword, the chapeau under the arm, a 
 frill, and a coat with gilded cuffs ; they kiss young ladies' hands 
 with the air of little dandies. A lass of six years is bound up in 
 a whalebone waist; her large hoop-petticoat supports a skirt 
 covered with wreaths ; she wears on her head a skilful combina- 
 tion of false curls, puffs, and knots, fastened with pins, and 
 crowned with plumes, and so high that frequently "the chin is 
 half way down to her feet " ; sometimes they put rouge on hex 
 face. She is a miniature lady, and she knows it ; she is fully up 
 in her part, without effort or inconvenience, by force of habit ; 
 the unique, the perpetual instruction she gets is that on her de- 
 portment ; it may be said with truth that the fulcrum of education 
 in this country is the dancing-master. 2 They could get along 
 with him without any others ; without him the others were of no 
 use. For, without him, how could people go through easily, 
 suitably, and gracefully the thousand and one actions of daily life, 
 walking, sitting down, standing up, offering the arm, using the fan, 
 listening and smiling, before eyes so experienced and before such 
 a refined public ? This is to be the great thing for them when 
 they become men and women, and for this reason it is the thing 
 of chief importance for them as children. Along with graces of 
 attitude and of gesture, they already have those of the mind and 
 of expression. Scarcely is their tongue loosened when they 
 speak the polished language of their parents. The latter amuse 
 themselves with them and use them as pretty dolls ; the preach- 
 ing of Rousseau, which, during the last third of the last century, 
 brought children into fashion, produces no other effect. They 
 aie made to recite their lessons in public, to perform in proverbs, 
 to take parts in pastorals. Their sallies are encouraged. They 
 know how to turn a compliment, to invent a clever or affecting 
 repartee, to be gallant, sensitive, and even spirituelle. The little 
 Due d'Angouleme, holding a book in his hand, receives Suffien, 
 whom he addresses thus : " I was reading Plutarch and his illus- 
 
 1 Mme. d'Oberkirk, II. 35. This fashion lasts until 1783. De Goncourt, "La femnie 411 
 dix-huitieme siecle," 415. "Les perits parrains," an engraving by Moreau. Berquin, "L'amJ 
 des enfants," passim. Mme. de Genlis, "Theatre de V Education," passim. 
 
 * Le Sage, "Gil Bias" : the difcourse of the dancing-master charged with tb education <h 
 Jie son of Count d'Olivares. 
 12*
 
 438 THE ANC1EN7 REGIME. BOOK n, 
 
 trious men. You could not have entered more apropos" 1 Th 
 children of M. de Sabran, a boy and a girl, one eight and the 
 other nine, having taken lessons from the comedians Sainval and 
 Larive, come to Versailles to play before the king and queen in 
 Voltaire's "Oreste," and on the little fellow being interrogated 
 about the classic authors, he replies to a lady, the mother of three 
 charming girls, " Madame, Anacreon is the only poet I can think 
 of here ! " Another, of the same age, replies to a question of 
 Prince Henry of Prussia with an agreeable impromptu in verse. 2 
 To cause witticisms, insipidities, and mediocre verse to germi- 
 nate in a brain eight years old, what a triumph for the culture of 
 the day ! It is the last characteristic of the regime which, after 
 having stolen man away from public affairs, from his own affairs, 
 from marriage, from the family, hands him over, with all his sen- 
 timents and all his faculties, to social worldliness, he and all that 
 belong to him. Below him fine ways and forced politeness pre- 
 vail, even with his servants and tradesmen. A Frontin has a gal- 
 lant unconstrained air, and he turns a compliment. 3 An abigail 
 needs only to be a kept mistress to become a lady. A shoe- 
 maker is a " monsieur in black," who says to a mother on saluting 
 the daughter, " Madame, a charming young person, and I am 
 more sensible than ever of the value of your kindness," on which 
 the young girl, just out of a convent, takes him for a suitor and 
 blushes scarlet. Undoubtedly less unsophisticated eyes would 
 distinguish the difference between this pinchbeck louis d'or and a 
 genuine one ; but their resemblance suffices to show the universal 
 action of the central mint machinery which stamps both with 
 the same effigy, the base metal and the refined gold. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A society which obtains such ascendency must possess some 
 charm; in no country, indeed, and in no age has so perfect a 
 
 ' "Correspondance," by Me'tra, XIV. 212; XVI. 100. Mme. d'Oberkirk, II, 302. 
 De Segur, I. 30.7. 
 
 Ma naissance n'a rien de neuf, 
 J'ai suivi la commune regie, 
 Mais c'est vous qui sortez d'un oeuf, 
 
 Car vous Stss un aigle. 
 
 Mme. de Genlis, "M6moires," ch iv. Mme. de Genlis wrote verses of this kind at twelv* 
 years of age. 
 
 * Already in the Picaeuses of Moliere, the Marquis de Mascarille and the Vicomte de Jode. 
 let. And the same in Marivaux, " L'e'preuve, les jeux de I'amour et du hasard," etc. L 
 Sag, "Crispin rival de son maitre." Laclos, "Les liaisons dangeVeuses," first letter.
 
 CHAF. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 139 
 
 social art rendered life so agreeable. Paris is the school-nouse 
 of Europe, a school of urbanity to which the youth of Russia, 
 Germany, and England resort to become civilized. Lord Ches- 
 terfield in his letters never tires of reminding his son of this, 
 and of urging him into these drawing-rooms, which will remove 
 "his Cambridge rust." Once familiar with them they are never 
 abandoned, or if one is obliged to leave them, one always sighs 
 for them. "Nothing is comparable," says Voltaire, 1 "to the 
 genial life one leads there in the bosom of the arts and of a 
 calm and refined voluptuousness ; strangers and monarchs have 
 preferred this repose, so agreeably occupied in it and so enchant- 
 ing to their own countries and thrones. The heart there softens and 
 melts away like aromatics slowly dissolving in moderate heat, evap- 
 orating in delightful perfumes." Gustavus III., beaten by the 
 Russians, declares that he will pass his last days' in Paris in 
 a ho.Tise on the boulevards; and this is not merely compli- 
 mentJtry, for he sends for plans and an estimate. 2 A supper 
 or an evening entertainment brings people two hundred leagues 
 away. Some friends of the Prince de Ligne "leave Brussels 
 after breakfast, reach the opera in Paris just in time to see the 
 curtain rise, and, after the spectacle is over, return immediately 
 to Brussels, travelling all night." Of this delight, so eagerly 
 sought, we have only imperfect copies, and we are obliged tc 
 revive it intellectually. It consists, in the first place, in the 
 pleasure of living with perfectly polite people; there is no en- 
 joyment more subtle, more lasting, more inexhaustible. The 
 self-love of man being infinite, intelligent people are always able 
 to produce some refinement of attention to gratify it. Worldly 
 sensibility being infinite there is no imperceptible shade of it 
 permitting indifference. After all, man is still the greatest source 
 of happiness or of misery to man, and in those days the ever- 
 flowing fountain brought to him sweetness instead of bitter- 
 ness. Not only was it essential not to offend, but it was essen- 
 tial to please; one was expected to lose sight of oneself 
 in others, to be always cordial and good-humored, to keep one's 
 own vexations and grievances in one's own breast, to spare others 
 melancholy ideas and to supply them with cheerful ideas. " Was 
 any one old in those days ? It is the Revolution which brought 
 
 1 "Princesse de Babylone." 
 "Gustave III.," by Gcffroy, II. 37. Mme. Vige-Lebrun, I. 81.
 
 140 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK u 
 
 old age into the world. Your grandfather, my child, 1 was hand- 
 some, elegant, neat, gracious, perfumed, playful, amiable, affec- 
 tionate, and good-tempered to the day of his death. People 
 then knew how to live and how to die ; there was no such thing 
 as troublesome infirmities. If any one had the gout, he walked 
 along all the same and made no faces; people well brought 
 up concealed their sufferings. There was none of that absorp- 
 tion in business which spoils a man inwardly and dulls his brain. 
 People knew how to ruin themselves without letting it appear, 
 like good gamblers who lose their money without showing un- 
 easiness or spite. A man would be carried half dead to a hunt. 
 It was thought better to die at a ball or at the play than in one's 
 bed between four wax candles and horrid men in black. Peo- 
 ple were philosophers ; they did not assume to be austere, but 
 often were so without making a display of it. If one was dis- 
 creet, it was through inclination and without pedantry or prudish- 
 ness. People enjoyed this life, and when the hour of departure 
 came they did not try to disgust others with living. The last 
 request of my old husband was that I would survive him as 
 long as possible and live as happily as I could." 
 
 When, especially, women are concerned it is not sufficient to 
 be polite; it is important to be gallant. Each lady invited by 
 the Prince de Couti to He-Adam " finds a carriage and horses at 
 her disposal; she is free to give dinners every day in her own 
 rooms to her own friends." 2 Mme. de Civrac, obliged to go to the 
 springs, her friends undertake to divert her on the journey; they 
 keep ahead of her a few posts, and, at every place where she 
 rests for the night, they give her a little fete champfore, disguised 
 as villagers and in bourgeois attire, with bailiff and scrivener, and 
 other masks all singing and reciting verses. A lady, on the eve 
 
 of Longchamp, knowing that the Vicomte de V possesses 
 
 two caleches, makes a request for one of them ; it is disposed of, 
 but he is careful not to decline, and immediately has one of 
 the greatest elegance purchased to lend it for three hours ; he is 
 only too happy that anybody should wish to borrow from him, 
 
 1 George Sand, I. 58-60. A narration by her grandmother, who, at thirty years of age, 
 warrled M. Dupin de Francueil, aged sixty-two. 
 
 * Mme. de Genlis, "Souvenirs le Fe'licie," 77. "Diet des Etiquettes," I. 348. MnM 
 Campan, III. 74.
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 141 
 
 his prodigality appearing amiable but not astonishing. 1 The 
 reason is that women then were queens in the drawing-room ; it is 
 their right; this is the reason why, in the eighteenth century, 
 they prescribe the law and the fashion in all things. 2 Having 
 formed the code of usages, it is quite natural that they should 
 profit by it, and see that all its prescriptions are carried out. In 
 this respect any circle " of the best company " is a superior tri- 
 bunal, serving as a court of last appeal. 3 The Mar6chale de 
 Luxembourg is an authority; there is no point of manners 
 which she does not justify with an ingenious argument. Any 
 expression, any neglect of the standard, the slightest sign of pre- 
 tension or of self-conceit incurs her disapprobation, from which 
 there is no appeal, and the delinquent is for ever banished from 
 refined society. Any subtle observation, any well-timed silence, 
 an " oh " uttered in an appropriate place instead of an " ah," 
 secures from her, as from M. Talleyrand, a diploma of good 
 breeding which is the commencement of fame and the promise 
 of a fortune. Under such an " instructress " it is evident that 
 deportment, gesture, language, every act or omission in this 
 mundane sphere, becomes, like a picture or poem, a veritable 
 work of art; that is to say, infinite in refinement, at once 
 studied and easy and so harmonious in its details that its perfec- 
 tion conceals the difficulty of combining them. 
 
 A great lady "receives ten persons with one courtesy, bestowing 
 on each, through the head or by a glance, all that he is entitled 
 to ; " 4 meaning by this the shade of regard due to each phase of 
 position, consideration, and birth. " She has always to deal with 
 easily irritated atnour-propres ; consequently the slightest defi- 
 ciency in proportion would be promptly detected." 5 But she is 
 never mistaken, and never hesitates in these subtle distinctions; 
 with incomparable tact, dexterity, and flexibility of tone, she reg- 
 ulates the degrees of her welcome. She has one " for women of 
 condition, one for women of quality, one for women of the court, 
 one fcr titled women, one for women of historic names, another 
 
 1 See an anecdote concerning this species of royalty in "Adele et Theodore," I.'. 69 by 
 Mme. de Gsnlis. Mme. Vigee-Lebrun, 1. 156. "Women ruled then; the Revolution has de- 
 throned them. . . . This gallantry I speak of has entirely disappeared." 
 
 2 "Women in France to some extent dictate whatever is to be said and prescribe whatever i* 
 to be done in the fashionable world." ("A comparative view," by John Andrews, 178} 4 
 
 * Mme. d'Oberkirk, I. 299 ; Mine, de (Jenlis, " Memoires," ch. xL 
 De Tilly, I. 24. 
 
 Necker, "CEuvres Completes," XV. 939.
 
 142 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 for women of high birth personally, but married to men beneath 
 them ; another for women who by marriage have changed a com- 
 mon into a distinguished name ; another still for women of repu- 
 table names in the law ; and, finally, another for those whose re- 
 lief consists chiefly of expensive houses and good suppers." A 
 stranger would be amazed on seeing with what certain and adroit 
 steps she circulates among so many watchful vanities without ever 
 giving or receiving a check. "She knows how to express all 
 through the style of her salutations ; a varied style, extending 
 through imperceptible gradations, from the accessory of a single 
 shrug of the shoulder, almost an impertinence, to that noble and 
 deferential reverence which so few women, even of the court, 
 know how to do well ; that slow bending forward, with lowered 
 eyes and straightened figure, gradually recovering and modestly 
 glancing at the person while gracefully raising the body up, al- 
 together much more refined and more delicate than words, but 
 very expressive as the means of manifesting respect." This is 
 but a single action and very common j there are a hundred 
 others, and of importance. Imagine, if it is possible, the degree 
 of elegance and perfection to which they attained through good 
 breeding. I select one at random a duel between two princes 
 of the blood, the Comte d'Artois and the Due de Bourbon. ' 
 The latter being the offended party, the former, his superior, had 
 to offer him a meeting. "As soon as the Comte d'Artois saw 
 him he leaped to the ground, and walking directly up to him, said 
 to him smiling : ' Monsieur, the public pretends that we are seek- 
 ing each other.' The Due de Bourbon, removing his hat, replied, 
 ' Monsieur, I am here to receive your orders.' ' To execute your 
 own,' returned the Comte d'Artois, 'but you must allow me to 
 return to my carriage.' He comes back with a sword, and the 
 duel begins. After a certain time they are separated, the seconds 
 deciding that honor is satisfied. ' It is not for me to express an 
 opinion,' says the Comte d'Artois. ' Monsieur le Due de Bour- 
 bon is to express his wishes; I am here only to receive his or- 
 ders.' ' Monsieur,' responds the Due de Bourbon, addressing the 
 Comte d'Artois, meanwhile lowering the point of his sword, ' I 
 am overcome with gratitude for your kindness, and shall never be 
 insensible to the honor you have done me.' " Could there be a 
 
 1 Narrated by M. de Bezenval, a witness of the deed.
 
 CHAP. H. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 14: 
 
 juster and more delicate sentiment of rank, position, and circum- 
 stance, and could a duel be surrounded with more graces? 
 There is no situation, however thorny, which is not saved by po- 
 liteness. Through habit, and a suitable expression, even in the 
 face of the king, they conciliate resistance and respect. When 
 Louis XV., having exiled the Parliament, caused it to be pro- 
 claimed through Mme. Du Barry that his mind was made up and 
 that it would not be changed, "Ah, Madame," replied the Due 
 de Nivernais, " when the king said that he was looking at your- 
 self." "My dear Fontenelle," said one of his lady friends to 
 him, placing her hand on his heart, " the brain is there likewise." 
 Fontenelle smiled and made no reply. We see here, even with 
 an academician, how truths are forced down, a drop of acid in a 
 sugar-plum; the whole so thoroughly intermingled that the 
 piquancy of the flavor only enhances its sweetness. Night after 
 night, in each drawing-room, sugar-plums of this description are 
 served up, two or three along with the drop of acidity, all the 
 rest not less exquisite, but possessing only the sweetness and the 
 perfume. Such is the art of social worldliness, an ingenious and 
 delightful art, which, entering into all the details of speech and 
 of action, transforms them into graces; which imposes on man 
 not servility and falsehood, but civility and concern for others, 
 and which, in exchange, extracts for him out of human society all 
 the pleasure it can afford. 
 
 V. 
 
 One can very well understand this kind of pleasure in a sum- 
 mary way, but how is it to be made apparent ? Taken by them- 
 selves the pastimes of society are not to be described ; they are 
 too ephemeral; their charm arises from their accompaniments. 
 A narrative of them would be but tasteless dregs, does the 
 libretto of an opera give any idea of the opera itself? If the 
 reader would revive for himself this vanished world let him seek 
 for it in those works that have preserved its externals or its ac- 
 cent, and first in the pictures and engravings of Watteau, Fra- 
 gonard and the Saint-Aubins, and then in the novels and drumas of 
 Voltaire and Marivaux, and even in Coll and Crebilion fels ; 
 
 ' See especially, Saint-Aubin, "Le bal pare," "Le Concert;" Moreau, "Les Elegants/' 
 "LA Vie d'un Seigneur 4 la mode," the vignettes of "La nouvelle Hdloise;" Beaudouin, 
 "L* Toilette," " Le Coucher de la Mariee ; " Lawrence, " Qu'en dit 1'abW ? " Watteau, th 
 first in date and in talen*, translates these customs and depicts them the better by making
 
 144 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 then do we see the breathing figures and hear their voices 
 What bright, winning, intelligent faces beaming with pleasure and 
 with the desire to please ! What ease in bearing and in gesture ! 
 What piquant grace in the toilet, in the smile, in vivacious- 
 ness of expression, in the control of the fluted voice, in the 
 coquetry of hidden meanings! How involuntarily we stop to 
 look and listen 1 Attractiveness is everywhere, in the small 
 spirituelle heads, in the slender hands, in the rumpled attire, in the 
 pretty features, in the demeanor. The slightest gesture, a 
 pouting or mutinous turn of the head, a plump little wrist peer- 
 ing from its nest of lace, a yielding waist bent over an embroid- 
 ery frame, the rapid rustling of an opening fan, is a feast for the 
 eyes and the intellect. It is indeed all daintiness, a delicate 
 caress for delicate senses, extending to the external decoration of 
 life, to the sinuous outlines, the showy drapery, and the refinements 
 of comfort in the furniture and architecture. Fill your imagina- 
 tion with these accessories and with these figures and you will take 
 as much interest in their amusements as they did. In such a 
 place and in such company it suffices to be together to be con- 
 tent. Their indolence is no burden to them for they sport with ex- 
 istence. At Chanteloup, the Due de Choiseul, in disgrace, finds 
 the fashionable world flocking to see him; nothing is done 
 and yet no hours of the day are unoccupied. 1 " The Duchess has 
 only two hours' time to herself, and these two hours are de- 
 voted to her toilet and her letters; the calculation is a simple 
 one, she gets up at eleven; breakfasts at noon, and this is fol- 
 lowed by conversation, which lasts three or four hours; dinner 
 comes at six, after which there is play and the reading of the 
 memoirs of Mme. de Maintenon." Ordinarily " the company re- 
 mains together until two o'clock in the morning." Intellectual 
 freedom is complete. There is no confusion, no anxiety. They 
 play whist and tric-trac in the afternoon and faro in the evening, 
 " They do to-day what they did yesterday and what they will do 
 to-morrow ; the dinner-supper is to them the most important af- 
 fair in life, and their only complaint in the world is of their diges- 
 
 thtm more poetic. Of the rest, read "Marianne," by Mar /aux; "La Verit dans le vin," by 
 Coll6; " Le coin du feu," "La nuit et le momant," by CreMlon/Ksv and two letters in the 
 "Correspondance in^dite" of Mme. du Defiant, one by the Abb Barthelemy and the othet 
 by the Chevalier de Boufflers, (I. 258,341.)- 
 
 1 "Correspondance indite de Mme. du Defiant," published by M. de Saint- Aulaire, I. 933, 
 5 8 8 9 6 > 3 02 > 3 6 3-
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 14$ 
 
 tion. Time goes so fast I always fancy that I arrived only the 
 evening before." Sometimes they get up a little race and the 
 ladies are disposed to take part in it, "for they are all very spry 
 and able to run around the drawing-room five or six times every 
 day." But they prefer indoors to the open air; in these days 
 true sunshine consists of candle-light and the finest sky is a 
 painted ceiling, is there any other less subject to inclemencies or 
 better adapted to conversation and merriment ? They accord- 
 ingly chat and jest, in words with present friends, and by letters 
 with absent friends. They lecture old Mme. du Deffant, who is 
 too lively and whom they style the "little girl"; the young 
 Duchesse, tender and sensible, is "her grandmama." As for 
 "grandpapa," M. de Choiseul, "a slight cold keeping him in 
 bed he has fairy stories read to him all day long, a species of 
 reading to which we are all given ; we find them as probable as 
 modern history. Do not imagine that he is unoccupied. He 
 has had a tapestry frame put up in the drawing-room at which 
 he works, I cannot say with the greatest skill, but at least with 
 the greatest assiduity. . . . Now, our delight is in flying a kite ; 
 grandpapa has never seen this sight and he is enraptured with it." 
 The pastime, in itself, is nothing; it is resorted to according to 
 opportunity or the taste of the hour, now taken up and now let 
 alone, and the abbe soon writes : " I do not speak about our races 
 because we race no more, nor of our readings because we do not 
 read, nor of our promenades because we do not go out. What, 
 then, do we do? Some play billiards, others dominoes, and 
 others backgammon. We weave, we ravel and we unravel. 
 Time presses and we make the best of it." 
 
 Other circles present the same spectacle. Every occupation 
 being an amusement, a caprice or an impulse of fashion brings 
 one into favor. At present, it is unravelling, every white hand at 
 Paris, and in the chateaux, being busy in undoing trimmings, 
 epaulettes and old stuffs, to pick out the gold and silver threads. 
 They find in this employment the semblance of economy, an ap- 
 pearance of occupation, in any event something to keep them in 
 countenance. On a circle of ladies being formed a big unravel- 
 ling bag in green taffeta is placed on the table, which belongs to 
 the lady of the house ; immediately all the ladies call for their 
 bags and " voila les laquais en I'air." l It is all the rage. They 
 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, "Diet, des Etiquettes," II. 38. "Adele et Theodore," I. 212; II. 350 
 George Sand, "Histoire de ma vie," I. 228. De Goncourt, p. in.
 
 146 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 unravel every day and several hours in the day ; some derive from 
 it a hundred louis d'or per annum. The gentlemen are expected 
 to provide the materials for the work; the Due de Lauzun, ac- 
 cordingly, gives to Madame de V a harp of natural size 
 
 covered with gold thread; an enormous golden fleece, brought 
 as a present from the Comte de Lowenthal, and which cost two 
 or three thousand francs, brings, picked to pieces, five or six hun- 
 dred francs. But they do not look into matters so closely. Some 
 employment is essential for idle hands, some manual outlet for 
 nervous activity ; a humorous petulance breaks out in the middle 
 of the pretended work. One day, when about going out, Ma- 
 dame de R observes that the gold fringe on her dress would 
 
 be capital for unraveling whereupon, with a dash, she cuts one of 
 the fringes off. Ten women suddenly surround a man wearing 
 fringes, pull off his coat and put his fringes and laces into their bags, 
 just as if a bold flock of tomtits, fluttering and chattering in the air, 
 should suddenly dart on a jay to pluck off its feathers ; thence- 
 forth a man who enters a circle of women stands in danger of 
 being stripped alive. All this pretty world has the same pas- 
 times, the men as well as the women. Scarcely a man can 
 be found without some drawing-room accomplishment, some tri- 
 fling way of keeping his mind and hands busy and of filling up 
 the vacant hour ; almost all make rhymes, or act in private the- 
 atricals; many of them are musicians and painters of still-life 
 subjects. M. de Choiseul, as we have just seen, works at tap- 
 estry ; others embroider or make sword-knots. M. de Francueil 
 is a good violinist and makes violins himself, and besides this he 
 is " watchmaker, architect, turner, painter, locksmith, decorator, 
 cook, poet, music-composer and he embroiders remarkably well." J 
 In this general state of inactivity it is essential " to know how to 
 be pleasantly occupied in behalf of others as well as in one's own 
 behalf." Madame de Pompadour is a musician, an actress, a 
 painter and an engraver. Madame Adelaide learns watchmaking 
 and plays on all instruments from a horn to the jew's-harp, not 
 very well, it is true, but as well as a queen can sing, whose fine 
 voice is only ever half in tune. But they make no pretensions. 
 The thing is to amuse oneself and nothing more ; high spirits and 
 the amenities of the hour cover all. Rather read this capital fact 
 
 1 George Sand, I. 59.
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 14? 
 
 of Madame de Lauzun at Chanteloup : " Do you know," writes 
 the abb, " that nobody possesses in a higher degree one quality 
 which you would never suspect of her, that of preparing scram- 
 bled eggs? This talent has been buried in the ground, she 
 cannot recall the time she acquired it ; I believe that she had it 
 at her birth. Accident made it known, and immediately it was 
 put to the test. Yesterday morning, an hov.r for ever memorable 
 in the history of eggs, the implements necessary for this great 
 operation were all brought out, a heater, some gravy, some pep- 
 per, salt and eggs. Behold Madame de Lauzun, at first blush- 
 ing and in a tremor, soon with intrepid courage, breaking the eggs, 
 beating them up in the pan, turning them over, now to the right, 
 now to the left, now up and now down, with unexampled precision 
 and success ! Never was a more excellent dish eaten." What 
 laughter and gayety in the group comprised in this little scene. 
 And, not long after, what madrigals and allusions ! Gayety here 
 resembles a dancing ray of sunlight; it flickers over all things 
 and reflects its grace on every object. 
 
 VI. 
 
 "The Frenchman's characteristic," says an English traveller in 
 1 785, "is to be always gay ; " a and he remarks that he must be so 
 because in France, such is the tone of society and the only mode of 
 pleasing the ladies, the sovereigns of society and the arbiters 
 of good taste. Add to this the absence of the causes which pro- 
 duce modern dreariness and which convert the sky above our 
 heads into one of leaden gloom. There was no laborious, forced 
 work in those days, no furious competition, no uncertain careers, 
 no infinite perspectives. Ranks were clearly denned, ambitions 
 limited, and there was less envy. Man was not habitually dissatis- 
 fied, soured and preoccupied as he is nowadays. Few free passes 
 were allowed where there was no right to pass; we think of 
 nothing but advancement ; they thought only of amusing them- 
 selves. An officer, instead of raging and storming over the year- 
 book, busies himself in inventing some new disguise for a masked- 
 ball ; a magistrate, instead of counting the convictions he nas se- 
 cured, provides a magnificent supper. At Paris, every afternoon 
 in the left avenue of the Palais-Royal "fine company, very richly 
 
 1 ''A comparative view,' etc., by John Andrews.
 
 148 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IL 
 
 dressed, gather under the large trees;" and in the evening "on 
 leaving the opera at half-past eight, they go back there and re- 
 main until two o'clock in the morning." They have music in the 
 open air by moonlight, Gavat singing, and the chevalier de 
 Saint-George playing on the violin. 1 At Morfontaine, "the 
 Comte de Vaudreuil, Lebrun the poet, the chevalier de Coigny, so 
 amiable and so gay, Brongniart, Rotert, compose charades 
 every night and wake each other up to rehearse them. " At Mau- 
 pertuis in M. de Montesquieu's house, at Saint-Ouen with the 
 Marshal de Noailles, at Genevilliers with the Comte de Vau- 
 dreuil, at Rainay with the Due d'Orle'ans, at Chantilly with the 
 Prince de Conde", there is nothing but festivity. We read no 
 biography of the day, no provincial document, no inventory, 
 without hearing the tinkling of the universal carnival. At Mon- 
 choix, 2 the residence of the Comte de Be'de'e, Chateaubriand's 
 uncle, "they had music, dancing and hunting, rollicking from 
 morning to night, eating up both capital and income." At Aix 
 and Marseilles, throughout the fashionable world, with the Comte 
 de Valbelle, I find nothing but concerts, entertainments, balls, 
 gallantries, and private theatricals with the Comtesse de Mira- 
 beau for the leading performer. At Chateauroux, M. Dupin de 
 Francueil entertains "a troop of musicians, lackeys, cooks, para- 
 sites, horses and dogs, bestowing everything lavishly, in amuse- 
 ments and in charity, wishing to be happy himself and everybody 
 else around him," never casting up accounts, and going to ruin in 
 the most delightful manner possible. Nothing arrests this gayety, 
 not old age, nor exile, nor misfortune; in 1793 it still subsists in 
 the prisons of the Republic. A man in place is not then made 
 uncomfortable by his official coat, perked up by his situation, 
 obliged to maintain a dignified and important air, constrained under 
 that assumed gravity which democratic envy imposes on us as if a 
 ransom. In 1753,' the parliamentarians, just exiled to Bourges, 
 get up three companies of private theatricals and perform come- 
 dies, while one of them, M. Dupr de Saint-Maur fights a rival 
 with the sword. In 1787,* when the entire parliament is banished 
 to Troyes the bishop, M. de Barrall, returns from his chateau de 
 
 1 Mme. Vig6e-Lebrun, I. 15, 154. 
 'Chateaubriand, I. 34. "Me'moires de Mirabeau," passim. George Sand, I. 59, 76. 
 
 * Comptes rendus de la socit de Berry (1863-1864). 
 * "HIstoire de Troyes pendant la Revolution," by Albert Babeau, I. 46.
 
 CHAl. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 149 
 
 Saint Lye expressly to receive it, presiding every evening at a din- 
 ner of forty persons. "There was no end to the fetes and din- 
 ners in the town ; the president kept open h Duse," a triple quan- 
 tity of food being consumed in the eating-houses and so much 
 wood burned in the kitchens, that the town came near being put 
 on short allowance. Feasting and jollity is but little less in or- 
 dinary times. A parliamentarian, like a seignior, must do credit 
 to his fortune. See the letters of the President des Brosses con- 
 cerning society in Dijon; it reminds us of the abbey of The"- 
 leme; then contrast this with the same town to-day. 1 In 1744 
 Monseigneur de Montigny, brother of the President de Boui 
 bonne, apropos of the king's recovery, entertains the workmen, 
 tradesmen and artisans in his employ to the number of eighty, 
 another table being for his musicians and comedians, and a third 
 for his clerks, secretaries, physicians, surgeons, attorneys and no- 
 taries; the crowd collects around a triumphal car covered with 
 shepherdesses, shepherds and rustic divinities in theatrical costume; 
 fountains flow with wine "as if it were water," and after supper 
 the confectionery is thrown out of the windows. Each parlia- 
 mentarian around him has his " little Versailles, a grand hotel be- 
 tween court and garden." This town, now so silent, then rang 
 with the clatter of fine equipages. The profusion of the table 
 is astonishing, " not only on gala days, but at the suppers of each 
 week, and I could almost say, of each day." Amidst all these fete- 
 givers, the most illustrious of all, the President des Brosses, so 
 grave on the magisterial bench, so intrepid in his remonstrances, so 
 laborious, 2 so learned, is an extraordinary stimulator of fun (boute- 
 entrain), a genuine Gaul, with a sparkling, inexhaustible fund of 
 salacious humor: with his friends he throws off his perruque, 
 his gown, and even something more. Nobody dreams of being 
 offended by it; nobody conceives that dress is an extinguisher, 
 which is true of every species of dress, and of the gown in par- 
 Ocular. "When I entered society, in 1785," writes a parliamen- 
 tarian, " I found myself introduced in a certain way, alike to the 
 
 ' Foisset, "Le President des Brosses," 65, 69, 70, 345. "Lettres du President des Brosses," 
 'ed. Coulomb), passim. Piron being uneasy concerning his "Ode a Priape," President 
 Bouhier, a man of great and fine erudition, and the least starched of learned ones, sent fhr 
 the young man and said to him, " You are a foolish fellow. If any one presses you to know 
 the author of the offence tell him that I am." (Sainte-Beuve, "Nouveaux Lundis," VII. 
 4I4-) 
 
 * Foisset, ibid. 185. Six audiences a week and often two a day besides bis labors at antl 
 ^uarian, historian, linguist, geographer, editor and academician, 
 
 13*
 
 150 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IL 
 
 wives and the mistresses of the friends of my family, passing 
 Monday evening with one, and Tuesday evening with the other. 
 And I was only eighteen, and I belonged to a family of magis- 
 trates." l At Basville, at the residence of M. de Lamoignon, dur- 
 ing the autumnal vacation and the Whitsuntide holidays, there 
 are thirty persons at the table daily ; there are three or four hunts 
 a week, and the most prominent magistrates, M. de Lamoignon, 
 M. Pasquier, M. de Rosambo, M. and Mme. d'Aguesseau, per- 
 form the " Barber of Seville " in the chateau theatre. 
 
 As for the cassock it enjoys the same freedom as the robe. 
 At Saverne, at Clairvaux, at Le Mans and at other places, the 
 prelates wear it as freely as a court dress. The revolutionary 
 upheaval was necessary to make it a fixture on their bodies and, 
 afterwards, the hostile supervision of an organized party and the 
 fear of constant danger. Up to 1789 the sky is too serene and 
 the atmosphere too balmy to lead them to button it up to the 
 neck. " Freedom, facilities, Monsieur 1'Abbe," said the Cardinal 
 de Rohan to his secretary, "without these this life would be 
 a desert." 2 This is what the good cardinal took care to avoid; 
 on the contrary he had made Saverne an enchanting world 
 according to Watteau, almost "a landing-place for Cythera." 
 Six hundred peasants and keepers ranged in a line a league long, 
 form in the morning and beat up the surrounding country while 
 hunters, men and women, are posted at their stations. "For 
 fear that the ladies might be frightened if left alone by them- 
 selves, the man whom they hated least was always left with them 
 to tranquillize them," and as nobody was allowed to leave his 
 post before the signal " it was impossible to be surprised." About 
 an hour after noonday " the company gathered under a beautiful 
 tent, on the bank of a stream or in some delightful place, where 
 an exquisite dinner was served up, and, as every one had to be 
 made happy, each peasant received a pound of meat, two of 
 bread and half a bottle of wine, only asking to begin it all over 
 again, as well as the ladies." The accommodating prelate might 
 certainly have replied to scrupulous people along with Voltaire, 
 that "nothing is wrong in good society." In fact, he so made 
 answer, and in these very terms. One day, a lady accompanied 
 
 1 "Souvenirs manuscripts," by M. X . (As the author's name cannot be given I lhal 
 
 use this designation hereafter.) 
 ' De Valfons, "Souvenirs," 60.
 
 CHAP. II. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 151 
 
 by a young officer, having come on a visit, and being obliged to 
 keep them over night, his valet comes and whispers to him that 
 there is no more room. " ' Is the bath-room occupied ? ' ' No, 
 Monseigneur ! ' ' Are there not two beds there ? ' ' Yes, Mon- 
 seigneur, but they are both in the same chamber, and that 
 officer ' ' Very well, didn't they come together ? Shallow 
 people like you always see something wrong. You will find that 
 they will agree very well together, there is not the slightest 
 reason to object.'" And really nobody did object, either the 
 officer or the lady. At Granselve, in the Gard, the Bernardines 
 are still more hospitable. 1 People resort to the f<te of St. Ber- 
 nard which lasts a couple of weeks ; during this time they dance, 
 and hunt, and act comedies, "the tables being ready at all 
 hours." The quarters of the ladies are provided with every 
 requisite for the toilet; they lack nothing, and it is even said 
 that it was not necessary for any of them to bring their officer. 
 I might cite twenty prelates not less gallant, the second Cardi- 
 nal de Rohan, the hero of the necklace, M. de Jarente, bishop 
 of Orleans, who keeps the record of benefices, the young M. de 
 Grimaldi, bishop of Le Mans, M. de Breteuil, bishop of Mont- 
 auban, M. de Cic6, archbishop of Bordeaux, the Cardinal de 
 Montmorency, grand-almoner, M. de Talleyrand, bishop of 
 Autun, M. de Conzie", bishop of Arras, 2 and, in the first rank, the 
 Abb6 de Saint-Germain des Pres, Comte de Clermont, prince 
 of the blood, who, with an income of three hundred and 
 seventy thousand francs succeeds in ruining himself twice, who 
 performs in comedies in his town and country residences, who 
 writes to Colle" in a pompous style and, who, in his abbatial 
 mansion at Berny, installs Mademoiselle Leduc, a dancer, to do 
 the honors of his table. There is no hypocrisy. In the house 
 of M. Trudaine, four bishops attend the performance of a piece 
 by Coll6 entitled " Les accidents ou les Abbe's," the substance 
 of which, says Colle himself, is so free that he did not dare print 
 it along with his other pieces. A little later, Beaumarchais, 
 on reading his " Marriage of Figaro " at the Mare"chal de Riche- 
 
 Montgaillard (an eye-witness), "Histoire de France," II. 246. 
 
 * M. de Conzifi is surprised at four o'clock in the morning by a rival, an officer in Ole guards. 
 "Make no noise," said he to him, "my coat which is like yours will be brought to me and I 
 will make a queue so that we shall be on the same footing." A valet brings Lira his weapons. 
 He descends into the garden of the mansion, fights with the officer and disarms him. ("Cor- 
 respondance," by Me'tra, XIV. May 20, 1783.) "Le Comte de Clermont," by Jules Cousia 
 fatsim. "Journal de ColleY' III. 232 (July, 1769).
 
 52 THE ANCIEN7 REGIME. BOOK it 
 
 lieu's domicile, not expurgated, much more crude and coarse 
 than it is to-day, has bishops and archbishops for his auditors, 
 and these, he says, "after being infinitely amused by it, did 
 me the honor to assure me that they would state that there was 
 not a single word in it offensive to good morals : " * thus was 
 the piece accepted against reasons of State, against the king's 
 will, and through the connivance of all those most interested 
 in suppressing it. "There is something more irrational than my 
 piece and that is its success," said its author. The attraction 
 was too strong. People devoted to pleasure could not dispense 
 with the liveliest comedy of the age. They came to applaud 
 a satire on themselves ; and better still, they themselves acted in 
 it. A prevalent taste ends, like a powerful passion, in extremes 
 which become follies; it must enjoy what is offered to it at any 
 cost ; any momentary gratification of it is as with a child tempted 
 by fruit ; nothing arrests it, neither the danger to which it is in- 
 sensible, nor the sense of propriety it establishes for itself. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To divert oneself is to turn aside from oneself, to get away from 
 oneself, and to forget oneself; and to forget oneself fully one 
 must be transported into another, put himself in the place of an- 
 other, take his mask and play his part. Hence the liveliest 
 of diversions is the comedy in which one is an actor. It is 
 that of children who, as authors, actors and audience, improvise 
 and represent petty scenes the livelong day. It is that of a people 
 whose political regime excludes manly solicitudes, and who sport 
 with life after the fashion of children. At Venice, in the eigh- 
 teenth century, the carnival lasts six months ; in France, under 
 another form, it lasts the entire year. Less familiar and less pict- 
 uresque, more refined and more elegant, it abandons the public 
 square where it lacks sunshine, to shut itself up in drawing-rooms 
 where chandeliers are the most suitable for it. It has retained 
 of the vast popular masquerade only a fragment, the opera ball, 
 very splendid and frequented by princes, princesses and the 
 queen; but this fragment, brilliant as it is, does not suffice; con- 
 sequently, in every chateau, in every mansion, at Paris and in 
 the provinces, it sets up travesties on society and domestic com- 
 
 1 De Lomenie, " Beaumarchais et son temps," II. 304.
 
 CHAP. in. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 15; 
 
 edies. On welcoming a great personage, on celebrating the birth 
 day of the master or mistress of the house, its guests or invited 
 persons perform in an improvised operetta, in an ingenious, 
 laudatory pastoral, sometimes dressed as gods, as Virtues, as 
 mythological abstractions, as operatic Turks, Laplanders and 
 Poles, similar to the figures then gracing the frontispieces of 
 books, sometimes in the dress of peasants, pedagogues, pedlars, 
 milkmaids and flower-girls like the fanciful villagers with which the 
 current taste then fills the stage. They sing, they dance, and 
 come forward in turn to recite petty verses composed for the occa- 
 sion consisting of so many well-turned compliments. 1 At Chantilly 
 "the young and charming Duchesse de Bourbon, attired as a 
 voluptuous Naiad, guides the Comte du Nord, in a gilded gon- 
 dola, across the grand canal to the island of Love ; " the Prince 
 de Conti, in his part, serves as pilot to the Grand Duchesse; 
 other seigniors and ladies "each in allegorical guise," form the 
 escort, 2 and on these limpid waters, in this new garden of Alci- 
 nous, the smiling and gallant retinue seems a fairy scene in Tasso. 
 At Vaudreil, the ladies, advised that they are to be carried off to 
 seraglios, attire themselves as vestals, while the high-priest wel- 
 comes them with pretty couplets into his temple in the park; 
 meanwhile over three hundred Turks arrive who force the enclos- 
 ure to the sound of music, and bear away the ladies in palanquins 
 along the illuminated gardens. At the little Trianon, the park is 
 arranged as a fair, and the ladies of the court are the saleswomen, 
 " the queen keeping a cafe," while, here and there, are processions 
 and theatricals; this festival costs, it is said, one hundred thou- 
 sand livres, and a repetition of it is designed at Choisy attended 
 with a larger outlay. 
 
 Alongside of these masquerades which stop at costume and 
 require only an hour, there is a more important diversion, the 
 private theatrical performance, which completely transforms the 
 man, and which for six weeks, and even for three months, absorbs 
 him entirely at rehearsals. Towards i77o 3 "the rage for if is 
 
 1 De Luynes, XVI. 161 (September, 1757). The village festival given to King Stanislas 
 Dy Mme. de Mauconseil at Bagatelle. Bachaumont, III. 247 (September 7, 1767). Festival 
 given by the Prince de Cond. 
 
 * " Correspondance," by Mtra, XIII. 97 (June 15, 1782), and V. 232 (June 24 and 25, 
 1777). Mme. de Genlis " Mmoires," chap. xiv. 
 
 Bachaumont, November 17, 1770. "Journal de Colle," III. 136 (April 29, 1767). De 
 Montlosier, "Memoires," I. 43. "At the residence of the Commandant (at Clerraont) they 
 would have been glad to enlist me in private theatricals."
 
 r54 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK It 
 
 incredible ; there is not an attorney in his cottage who does not 
 wish to have a stage and his company of actors." A Bernardine 
 living in Bresse, in the middle of a wood, writes to Colle that he 
 and his brethren are about to perform "La Partie de Chasse de 
 Henri IV.," and that they are having a small theatre constructed 
 "without the knowledge of bigots and small minds." Reformers 
 and moralists introduce theatrical art into the education of chil- 
 dren ; Mme. de Genlis composes comedies for them, considering 
 these excellent for the securing of a good pronunciation, 
 proper self-confidence and the graces of deportment. The theatre, 
 indeed, then prepares man for society as society prepares him for the 
 theatre; in either case he is on representation, composing his 
 attitude and tone of voice, and playing a part ; the stage and the 
 drawing-room are on an equal footing. Towards the end of the 
 century everybody becomes an actor, everybody having been one 
 before. 1 "We hear of nothing but little theatres set up in the 
 country around Paris." For a long time those of highest rank 
 set the example. Under Louis XV. the Dues d' Orleans, de 
 Nivernais, d'Ayen, de Coigny, the Marquises de Courtenvaux, 
 and d'Entraigues, the Comte de Maillebois, the Duchesse de 
 Brancas, the Comtesse d'Estrades form, with Madame de Pom- 
 padour, the company of the "small cabinets;" the Due de la 
 Valliere is the director of them ; when the piece contains a ballet 
 the Marquis de Courtenvaux, the Due de Beuvron, the Comtes 
 de Melfort and de Langeron are the titulary dancers. 2 "Those 
 who are accustomed to such spectacles," writes the sedate and 
 pious Due de Luynes, " agree in the opinion that it would be 
 difficult for professional comedians to play better and more intelli- 
 gently." The passion reaches at last still higher, even to the 
 royal family. At Trianon, the queen, at first before forty persons 
 and then before a more numerous audience, performs Colette in 
 "Le Devin de Village," Gotte, in " La Gageure impreVue," Rosine 
 in "Le Barbier de Seville," Pierette in "Le Chasseur et la 
 Laitiere," 3 while the other comedians consist of the principal men 
 of the court, the Comte d'Artois, the Comtes d'Adhe"mar and de 
 
 1 "Conwspondance," by M6tra, II. 245 (Nov. it, 1775). 
 
 Julien, "Histoire du Theatre de Madame de Pompadour." These icpresentadons last 
 seven years and cost during the winter alone of 1749, 300,000 livres. De Luynes, X. 45. 
 Mme. du Hausset, 230. 
 
 * Mme. Campari, I. 130. C with caution the very suspicious Memoirs, much made up, o 
 Fleury. De Goncourt, 114.
 
 CHAP, ill HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 155 
 
 Vaudreuil, the Comtesse de Guiche,and the Canoness de Polignac. 
 A theatre is formed in Monsieur's domicile ; there are two in the 
 Comte d'Artois's house, two in that of the Due d'Or!6ans, two in 
 the Comte de Clermont's, and one in the Prince de Conde's. 
 The Comte de Clermont performs serious characters; the Due 
 d'Orle'ans represents with completeness and naturalness, peas- 
 ants and financiers ; M. de Miromesnil, keeper of the seals, is the 
 smartest and most finished of Scapins ; M. de Vaudreuil seems to 
 rival Mole; the Comte de Pons plays the "Misanthrope" with 
 rare perfection. 1 "More than ten of our ladies of high rank," 
 writes the Prince de Ligne, "play and sing better than the best 
 of those I have seen in our theatres." By their talent judge of 
 their study, assiduity and zeal. It is evident that for many of 
 them it is the principal occupation. In a certain chateau, that 
 of Saint- Aubin, the lady of the house, to secure a large enough 
 troupe, enrolls her four chambermaids in it, making her little 
 daughter, ten years old, play the part of Zaire, and for over twenty 
 months she has no vacation. After her bankruptcy, and in her exile, 
 the first thing done by the Princess de Gu6m6nee was to send for 
 upholsterers to arrange a theatre. In short, as nobody went out 
 in Venice without a mask so here nobody comprehended life 
 without the masqueradings, metamorphoses, representations and 
 triumphs of the player. 
 
 The last trait I have to mention, yet more significant, is the 
 after-piece. Really, in this fashionable circle, life is a carni- 
 val as free and almost as rakish as that of Venice. The play 
 commonly terminates with a parade borrowed from La Fon- 
 taine's tales or from the farces of the Italian drama which are 
 not only pointed but more than free, and sometimes so broad 
 " that they can be played only before princes and courtesans ; " a 
 a morbid palate, indeed, having no taste for orgeat, and de- 
 manding a dram. The Due d'Orle"ans sings on the stage the 
 most spicy songs, playing Bartholin in " Nicaise," and Blaise in 
 "Joconde." " Le Marriage sans CureV' " Leandre grosse," 
 "L'amant poussif," "Leandre Etalon," are the showy titles of the 
 
 1 Jules Cousin, " Le Comte de Clermont," p. 21. Mme. de Genlis, " M6moires,' chap ill 
 and xi. De Goncourt, 14. 
 
 * Bachaumont, III. 343 (February 23, 1768) and IV. 174, III. 232. "Journal de ColM," 
 tassim. Coll6, Laujon and Poisinet are the principal purveyors for these displays ; the only 
 one of merit is "La Verite' dans la Vin." In this piece instead of "Mylord," there is the 
 " bishop of Avranches," and the piece was thus performer' at Villers-Cotterets in the house of 
 the Due d'Orlean*.
 
 156 THE ANCIENT REGIME, BOOK u, 
 
 pieces composed by Colle" " for the amusement of His Highnesi 
 and the Court." For one which contains salt there are ten stuffed 
 with strong pepper. At Brunoy, at the residence of Monsieur, 
 so gross are they J the king regrets having attended ; " nobody 
 had any idea of such license; two women in the auditorium 
 had to go out and, what is most extraordinary, they had dared 
 to invite the queen." Gayety is a sort of intoxication which 
 draws the cask down to the dregs, and when the wine is gone 
 it draws on the lees. Not only at their little suppers, and with 
 courtesans, but in the best society and with ladies they com- 
 mit the follies of a bagnio. Let us use the right word, they are 
 buffoons, and they take no more offense at the word than at 
 the action. "For five or six months," writes a lady in 1782,' 
 " the suppers are followed by a blindman's-buff or by a draw- 
 dance and they end in general mischievousness^ (une polissonneric 
 generate)" Guests are invited a fortnight in advance. " On this 
 occasion they upset the tables and the furniture ; they scattered 
 twenty caraffes of water about the room ; I finally got away at 
 half-past one, wearied out, pelted with handkerchiefs, and leaving 
 Madame de Clarence hoarse, with her dress torn to shreds, a 
 scratch on her arm, and a bruise on her forehead, but delighted 
 that she had given such a gay supper and flattered with the idea 
 of its being the talk the next day." This is the result of a crav- 
 ing for amusement. Under its pressure, as under the sculptor's 
 thumb, the mask of the century is slowly transformed and in- 
 sensibly loses its seriousness; the starched features of the 
 courtier change, at first into the smiling grimace of the world- 
 ling, and then, the smile fading away on the lips, we behold 
 the shameless leer of the reprobate. 3 
 
 1 Mme. d'Oberkirk, II. 82. On the tone of the best society see " Correspondance" 
 by Meira, I. 20, III. 68, and Bezenval (Ed. Barriere) 387 and 349. 
 
 8 Mme. de Genlis, " Adele et Thdodore," II. 362. 
 
 8 George Sand, I. 85. " At my grandmother's I have found boxes full of couplets, 
 madrigals and biting satires. I burned some of them so obscene that I would not 
 dare read them through, and these written by abbes I had known in my infancy and 
 by a marquis of the best blood." Among'other examples, toned down, the songs on 
 the Bird and the Shepherdess may be read in " Correspondance," by Metra.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF THIS DRAWING-ROOM LIFE. I. Its barrenness an<* 
 artificiality. Return to nature and sentiment. II. Its impressionability th< 
 final trait which completes the physiognomy of the century. Date of its 
 advent. Its symptoms in art and in literature. Its dominion in private. 
 Its affectations. Its sincerity. Its delicacy. III. The failings of character 
 thus formed. Adapted to one situation but not to a contrary situation. 
 Defects of intelligence. Defects of disposition. Such a character is dis- 
 armed by good-breeding. 
 
 I. 
 
 MERE pleasure, in the long run, ceases to gratify, and however 
 agreeable this drawing-room life may be, it ends in a certain 
 hollowness. Something is lacking without any one being able to 
 say precisely what that something is ; the soul becomes restless, 
 and slowly, aided by authors and artists, it sets about investigat- 
 ing the cause of its uneasiness and the object of its secret long- 
 ings. Barrenness and artificiality are the two traits of this 
 society, the more marked because it is more complete, and, 
 in this one, pushed to extreme, because it has attained to supreme 
 refinement. In the first place naturalness is excluded from it ; 
 everything is arranged and adjusted, decoration, dress, attitude, 
 tone of voice, words, ideas and even sentiments. "A genuine sen- 
 timent is so rare," said M. de V , " that, when I leave Versailles, 
 
 I sometimes stand still in the street to see a dog gnaw a bone." ! 
 Man, in abandoning himself wholly to society, had withheld no 
 portion of his personality for himself, while decorum, clinging to 
 him like so much ivy, had abstracted from him the substance 
 of his being and subverted every principle of activity. " There 
 was then," says one who was educated in this style, 2 "a certain 
 way of walking, of sitting down, of saluting, of picking up a 
 glove, of holding a fork, of tendering any article, in fine, a com 
 
 1 ctiampfort, no. 
 
 1 George Sand, V. 59. " I was rebuked for everything; I never made a movement whick 
 wasikot criticized." 
 
 14
 
 156 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 plete mimicry, which children had to be taught at a very early 
 age in order that habit might become a second nature, and this 
 conventionality formed so important an item in the life of men 
 and women in aristocratic circles that the actors of the present 
 day, with all their study, are scarcely able to give us an idea 
 of it." Not only was the outward factitious but, again, the in 
 ward; there was a certain prescribed mode of feeling and of 
 thinking, of living and of dying. It was impossible to address a 
 man without placing oneself at his orders, or a woman without 
 casting oneself at her feet. Fashion, le bon ton, regulated every 
 important or petty proceeding, the manner of making a declara- 
 tion to a woman and of breaking an engagement, of entering 
 upon and managing a duel, of treating an equal, an inferior and 
 a superior. If any one failed in the slightest degree to conform 
 to this code of universal custom, he is called "a specimen." A 
 man of heart or of talent, D'Argenson, for example, bore a 
 surname of "simpleton," because his originality transcended the 
 conventional standard. " That has no name, there is nothing lik-. 
 it ! " embodies the strongest censure. In conduct as in literature 
 whatever departs from a certain type is rejected. The quantity 
 of authorized actions is as great as the number of authorized 
 words. The same super-refined taste impoverishes the initiatory 
 act as well as the initiatory expression, people acting as they 
 write, according to acquired formulas and within a circumscribed 
 circle. Under no consideration can the eccentric, the unforeseen, 
 the spontaneous, vivid inspiration be accepted. Among twenty 
 instances I select the least striking since it merely relates to a 
 simple gesture, and is a measure of other things. Mademoiselle 
 
 de obtains, through family influence, a pension for Marcel, 
 
 a famous dancing-master, and runs off, delighted, to his domicile 
 to convey him the patent. Marcel receives it and at once flings 
 it on the floor: "Mademoiselle, did I teach you to offer an object 
 ; n that manner ? Pick up that paper and hand it to me as you 
 ought to." She picks up the patent and presents it to him with 
 all suitable grace. "That's very well, Mademoiselle, I ac- 
 cept it although your elbow was not quite sufficiently rounded, 
 and I thank you." l So many graces end in becoming weari- 
 
 1 "Paris, Versailles et les provinces," I. 162. "The king of Sweden is here; he wean 
 rosettes on his breeches; all is over; he is ridiculous, and a provincial kinj." ( " L Goutr- 
 ernement de Normandie," by Hippeau, IV. 237, July 4, 1784.)
 
 CHAP. m. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 159 
 
 Borne; after having eaten rich food for years, a little milk and 
 dry bread becomes welcome. 
 
 Among all these social flavorings one is especially abused, 
 and which, unremittingly employed, communicates to all dishes 
 its frigid or piquant savor, I mean insincerity (badinage). So- 
 ciety does not tolerate passion, and in this it exercises its 
 right. One does not enter company to be either vehement or 
 sombre; a strained air or one of concentration would appear incon- 
 gruous. The mistress of a house is always right in reminding a 
 man that his emotional constraint brings on silence. " Monsieur 
 Such-a-one, you are not amiable to-day." To be always amiable 
 is, accordingly, an obligation, and, through this training, a sensi- 
 bility that is diffused through innumerable little channels never 
 produces a broad current. " One has a hundred friends, and out 
 of these hundred friends two or three may have some chagrin 
 every day; but one could not award them sympathy for any 
 length of time as, in that event, one would be wanting in consid- 
 eration for the remaining eighty-seven ; " l one might sigh for an 
 instant with some one of the eighty-seven, and that would be all. 
 Madame du Deffant, having lost her oldest friend, the President 
 Renault, that very day goes to sup in a large assemblage: 
 "Alas," she exclaimed, "he died at six o'clock this evening; 
 otherwise you would not see me here." Under this constant re- 
 gime of distractions and diversions there are no longer any pro- 
 found sentiments; we have nothing but an epidermic exterior 
 love itself is reduced to "the exchange of two phantasies." 
 And, as one always falls on the side to which one inclines, levity 
 becomes deliberate and a matter of elegance. 2 Indifference of 
 the heart is in fashion ; one would be ashamed to show any gen- _ 
 uine emotion. One takes pride in playing with love, in treating 
 woman as a mechanical puppet, in touching one inward spring, 
 an4 then another, to force out, at will, her anger or her pity. 
 Whatever she may do, there is no deviation from the most insult- 
 ing politeness; the very exaggeration of false respect which is 
 lavished on her is a mockery by which indifference for her is fully 
 
 1 Stendhal, " Rome, Naples and Florence," 379. Stated by an English lord. 
 
 Marivaux, "Le Petit-Maitre corrig6." Cresset, "Le M6chant." Crbillon fits, "La 
 Null et le Moment," (especially the scene between Clitandre and Lucinde). Colle, " La 
 Verit6 dans le Vin," (the part of the abb with the prfsidente). De Bezenval, 79. (Th 
 Comte d Frise and Mme. de Blot). " Vie prive'e du Marechal de Richelieu," (scenes wiri 
 Mme. Michelin). De Goncourt, 167 to 174.
 
 
 160 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 manifested. But they go still further, and in souls naturally un- 
 feeling, gallantry turns into wickedness. Through ennui and the 
 demand for excitement, through vanity, and as a proof of dexterity, 
 delight is found in tormenting, in exciting tears, in dishonoring and 
 in killing women by slow torture. At last, as self-love is a bottom- 
 less pit, there is no species of blackness of which these polished exe- 
 cutioners are not capable ; the personages of Laclos are derived 
 from these originals. 1 Monsters of this kind are, undoubtedly, 
 rare; but there is no need of reverting to them to ascertain how 
 much egotism is harbored in the gallantry of society. The women 
 who erected it into an obligation are the first to realize its deceptive- 
 ness, and, amidst so much homage without heat, to pine for the 
 communicative warmth of a powerful sentiment. The character 
 of the century obtains its last trait when "the man of feeling" 
 comes on the stage. 
 
 II. 
 
 It is not that the groundwork of habits becomes different, for 
 these remain equally worldly and dissipated up to the last. But 
 fashion authorizes a new affectation, consisting of effusions, rev- 
 eries, and sensibilities as yet unknown. The point is to return 
 to nature, to admire the country, to delight in the simplicity of 
 rustic manners, to be interested in village people, to be humane, 
 to have a heart, to find pleasure in the sweetness and tenderness 
 of natural affections, to be a husband and a father, and still more, 
 to possess a soul, virtues, and religious emotions, to believe in Prov- 
 idence and immortality, to be capable of enthusiasm. One wants 
 to be all this, or at least show an inclination that way. In any 
 event, if the desire does exist it is on the implied condition, that 
 one shall not be too much disturbed in his ordinary pursuits and 
 that the sensations belonging to the new order of life shall in 
 no respect interfere with the enjoyments of the old one. Ac- 
 cordingly the exaltation which arises is little more than cerebral fer- 
 mentation, and the idyl is to be almost entirely performed in the 
 drawing-room. Behold, then-, literature, the drama, painting and all 
 the arts pursuing the same sentimental road to supply heated 
 imaginations with factitious nourishment. 2 Rousseau, in labored 
 
 1 Laclos, "Les Liaisons Dangereuses." Mine, de Merteuil was copied after a Marquise de 
 Grenoble. Remark the difference between Lovelace and Valmont, one being stimulated bt 
 pride and the other by vanity. 
 
 ' The growth of sensibility is indicated by the following dates : Rousseau, " Sur 1'influenc*
 
 CHAP. in. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 161 
 
 periods, preaches the charms of an uncivilized existence, while 
 other masters, between two madrigals, fancy the delight of sleep / 
 ing naked in the primeval forest. The lovers in " La Nouvella < 
 
 Heloise " interchange passages of fine style through four volumes, 
 "whereupon a person "not merely methodical but prudent," the 
 Comtesse de Blot, exclaims, at a social gathering at the Duchesse 
 de Chartres's, "a woman truly sensitive, unless of extraordinary 
 virtue, could refuse nothing to the passion of Rousseau." 1 Peo- 
 ple collect in a dense crowd in the Exhibition around " L'Accorde'e 
 de Village," " La Cruche Cassee," and the " Retour de nourrice," 
 with other rural and domestic idyls by Greuze; the voluptuous 
 element, the tempting undercurrent of sensuality made per- > 
 ceptible in the fragile simplicity of his artless maidens, is a dainty 
 bit for the libertine tastes which are kept alive beneath moral as- .' 
 pirations. 2 After these, Ducis, Thomas, Pamy, Colardeau,j 
 Boucher, Delille, Bernardin de St. Pierre, Marmontel, Florian, 
 the mass of orators, authors and politicians, the misanthrope 
 Champfort, the logician La Harpe, the minister Necker, the versi 
 fiers and the imitators of Gessner and Young, the Berquins, the 
 Bitaube"s, nicely combed and bedizened, holding embroidered 
 handkerchiefs to wipe away tears, are to marshal forth the univer- 
 sal eclogue down to the acme of the Revolution. Marmontel's 
 " Moral TaJes^appear in the columns of the "Mercure" for 1791 j 
 and~i~792, 3 while the number following the massacres of Septem- j 
 ber opens with verses "to the manes of my canary-bird." 
 
 Consequently, in all the details of private life, sensibility dis- 
 plays its magniloquence. A small temple to Friendship is erected 
 in a park. A little altar to Benevolence is set up in a private 
 closet. Dresses a la Jean- Jacques-Rousseau are worn " analogous 
 to the principles of that author." Head-dresses are selected with 
 " puffs au sentiment " in which one may place the portrait of one's 
 daughter, mother, canary or dog, the whole " garnished with the 
 
 des lettres et des arts," 1749 ; " Sur I'inegalite'," 1 753 ; " Nouvelle Heloise," 1759. Greuze, " Le 
 Pere de Famille lisant la Bible," 1755; "L'Accordee de Village," 1761. Diderot. " T fil 
 naturel," 1757; "Le Pere de Famille," 1758. 
 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, " Memoires," chap. xvii. George Sand, I. 72. The young Mme. do 
 Francueil, on seeing F ousseau for the first time, burst into tears. 
 
 * This point has been brought out with as much skill as accuracy by Messieurs de Gon- 
 court in "L'Art au dix-huitieme siecle," I. 433-438. 
 
 * The number for August, 1792, contains "Les Rivaux d'eux-mCmcs."' About the sama 
 time other pieces are inserted in the " Mercure," such as " The federal union of Hymen and 
 Cupid," "Lejaloux ' "A Pastoral Romance," " Ode Anacr6ontique a Mile. S. D. . . .'' etc. 
 
 H*
 
 162 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n 
 
 hair of one's father or int mate friend." 1 People keep intimate 
 friends for whom "they experience something so warm and so 
 tender that it nearly amounts to a passion " and whom they cannot 
 go three hours a day without seeing. " Every time female com- 
 panions interchange tender ideas the voice suddenly changes into 
 a pure and languishing tone, each fondly regarding the other with 
 approaching heads and frequently embracing," and suppressing i 
 yawn a quarter of an hour after, with a nap in concert, because 
 they have no more to say. Enthusiasm becomes an obligation. 
 On the revival of " Le pere de famille " there are as many hand- 
 kerchiefs counted as spectators, and ladies faint away. " It is 
 customary, especially for young women, to be excited, to turn 
 pale, to melt into tears and, generally, to be seriously affected on 
 encountering M. de Voltaire; they rush into his arms, stammer and 
 weep, their agitation resembling that of the most passionate love." 1 
 When a society-author reads his work in a drawing-room, fashion 
 requires that the company should utter exclamations and sob, and 
 that some pretty fainting subject should be unlaced. Mme. de Gen- 
 lis, who laughs at these affectations, is no less affected than the rest. 
 Suddenly some one in the company is heard to say to the young or- 
 phan whom she is exhibiting : " Pamela show us Heloise," where- 
 upon Pamela, loosening her hair, falls on her knees and turns her 
 eyes up to heaven with an air of inspiration, to the great applause 
 of the assembly. 3 Sensibility becomes an institution. The same 
 Madame de Genlis founds an order of Perseverance which soon 
 includes " as many as ninety chevaliers in the very best society." 
 To become a member it is necessary to solve some riddle, to an- 
 swer a moral question and pronounce a discourse on virtue. 
 Every lady or chevalier who discovers and publishes " three well- 
 verified virtuous actions " obtains a gold medal. Each chevaliei 
 has his " brother in arms," each lady has her bosom friend and 
 each member has a device and each device, framed in a little pict- 
 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, "Adele et Theodore," I. 312. De Goncourt, "La Femme au dix- 
 huitieme siecle," 318. Mme. d'Oberkirk, I. 56. Description of the puff ait sentiment of 
 tile Duchesse de Chartres (de Goncourt, 311) : "In the background is a woman seated in a 
 chair and holding an infant, which represents the Due de Valots and his nurse. On the right 
 is a paroquet pecking at a cherry, and on the left a little negro, the duchess's two pets : the 
 whole is intermingled with locks of hair of all the relations of Mme. de Chartres, the hair of 
 her husband, father and grandfather." 
 
 * Mme. de Genlis, "Les Dangers du Monde," I. scene vii. ; II. scene iv. ; " Adele et Th4 
 dore," I. 312; "Souvenirs Fe'licie," 199; Bachaumont, IV., 320. 
 
 1 Mme. de Larochejacquelein, " M&noires."
 
 CHAP. in. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 163 
 
 ure, figures in the " Temple of Honor," a sort of tent gallantly 
 decorated, and which M. de Lauzun causes to be erected in the 
 middle of a garden. 1 The sentimental parade is complete, 
 a drawing-room masquerade being visible even in this chivalric 
 revival. 
 
 The froth of enthusiasm and of fine words nevertheless leaves 
 in the heart a residuum of active benevolence, trustfulness, and 
 e-en happiness or, at least, expansiveness and freedom. Wives, 
 for the first time, are seen accompanying their husbands into gar- 
 rison ; mothers desire to nurse their infants, and fathers begin to 
 interest themselves in the education of their children. Simplic- 
 ity again forms an element of manners. Hair-powder is no 
 longer put on little boys' heads ; many of the seigniors abandon 
 laces, embroideries, red heels and the sword, except when in 
 full dress. People appear in the streets " dressed a la Franklin, in 
 coarse cloth, with a knotty cane and thick shoes." 2 The taste no 
 longer runs on cascades, statues and stiff and pompous decora- 
 tions; the preference is for the English garden. The queen ar- 
 ranges a village for herself at the Trianon, where, "dressed in a 
 frock of white cambric muslin and a gauze neck-handkerchief, 
 and with a straw hat," she fishes in the lake and sees her cows 
 milked. Etiquette falls away like the paint scaling off from the 
 skin, disclosing the bright hue of natural emotions. Madame 
 Adelaide takes up a violin and replaces an absent musician to let 
 the peasant girls dance. 3 The Duchesse de Bourbon goes out 
 early in the morning incognito to bestow alms, and " to see the 
 poor in their garrets." The Dauphine jumps out of her carriage 
 to assist a wounded postilion, a peasant knocked down by a 
 stag. The king and the Comte d'Artois help a carter disen- 
 gage his cart from the mud. People no longer think about self- 
 constraint, and self-adjustment, and of keeping up their dignity 
 under all circumstances, and of subjecting the weaknesses of hu- 
 man nature to the exigencies of rank. On the demise of the first 
 Dauphin, 4 whilst the people in the room place themselves before 
 
 1 Mme. de Genlis, " Memoires," chap. xx. De Lauzun, 270. 
 
 *Mme. d'Oberkirk, II. 35 (1783-1784). Mme. Campan, III. 371. Mercier, " Tableau de 
 Paris," passim. 
 
 "Correspondance" by Metra (XVII. 55, 1784). Mme. d'Oberkirk, II. 234. "Mark 
 Antoinette," by d'Arneth and Geffroy, II. 63, 29. 
 
 4 "Le Gouvernement de Normandie," by Hippeau, IV. 387 (Letters of June 4, 17^9, try an 
 ye- witness).
 
 164 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n. 
 
 the king to prevent him from entering it, the queen falls at his 
 knees and he says to her, weeping, "Ah, my wife, our dear child 
 is dead since they do not wish me to see him." And the narra- 
 tor adds with admiration ; "I always seem to see a good hus- 
 bandman and his excellent partner a prey to the deepest despair 
 at the loss of their beloved child." Tears are no longer con- 
 cealed, as it is a point of honor to be a man. One becomes hu- 
 man and familiar with one's inferiors. A prince, on a review, 
 says to the soldiers on presenting the princess to them, " My 
 boys, here is my wife." There is a disposition to make people 
 happy and to take great delight in their gratitude. To be kind, 
 to be loved is the object of the head of a government, of a man 
 in place. This goes so far that God is prefigured according to 
 this model. The "harmonies of nature" are construed into the 
 delicate attentions of Providence ; on instituting filial affection the 
 Creator " deigned to choose for our best virtue our sweetest pleas- 
 ure." l The idyl which is imagined to take place in heaven, cor- 
 responds with the idyl practised on earth. From the public up 
 to the princes, and from the princes down to the public, in prose, 
 in verse, in compliments at festivities, in official replies, in the style 
 of royal edicts down to the songs of the market-women, there is 
 a constant interchange of graces and of sympathies. Applause 
 bursts out in the theatre at any verse containing an allusion tc 
 princes, and, a moment after, at the speech which exalts the 
 merits of the people, the princes return the compliment by ap- 
 plauding in their turn. 2 On all sides, just as this society is van- 
 ishing, a mutual deference, a spirit of kindliness arises, like a soft 
 and balmy autumnal breeze, to dissipate whatever harshness re- 
 mains of its aridity and to mingle with the radiance of its last 
 hours the perfume of dying roses. We now encounter acts and 
 
 I Florian, " Ruth." 
 
 * Hippeau, IV. 86 (June 23, 1773), on the representation of "Le Siege de Calais," at tht 
 Comedie Francaise, at the moment when Mile. Vestris uttered these words : 
 
 Le Francais dans son prince aime trouver un frere 
 
 Qui, n fils del'Etat, en devienne le pere. 
 
 "Long and universal plaudits greeted the actress who had turned in the diiection of the 
 Dauphin." In another place these verses occur : 
 
 Quelle lecon pour vous, superbes potentats ! 
 
 Veillez sur vos sujets dans le rang le plus has, 
 
 Tel, loin de vos regards, dans le misere expire 
 
 Qul quelque jour peut-etre, eut sauv6 votre empire. 
 
 The Dauphin and the Dauphine in turn applauded the tirade. This demonstration D thefc 
 ensibility was welcomed with new transports of affection and gratitude."
 
 CHAP. in. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 165 
 
 words of infinite grace, unique of their kind, like a lovely, ex- 
 quisite little figure on old Sevres porcelain. One day, on the 
 Comtesse Amelie de BoufHers speaking somewhat flippantly of 
 her husband, her mother-in-law interposes, "You forget that you 
 are speaking of my son." "True, mamma, I thought I was only 
 speaking of your son-in-law." It is she again who, on playing 
 " the boat," and obliged to decide between this beloved mother- 
 in-law and her own mother, whom she scarcely knew, replies, " 1 
 would save my mother and drown with my mother-in-law." 1 The 
 Duchesse de Choiseul, the Duchesse de Lauzun, and others be- 
 sides, are equally charming miniatures. When the affections and 
 the intellect combine their refinements they produce masterpieces, 
 and these, like the art, the refinements and the society which 
 surrounds them possess a charm unsurpassed by anything except 
 their own fragility. 
 
 III. 
 
 The reason is that, the better adapted men are to a certain sit- 
 uation the less prepared are they for the opposite situation. The 
 habits and faculties which serve them in the previous condition 
 become prejudicial to them in the new one. In acquiring talents 
 adapted to tranquil times they lose those suited to times of agita- 
 tion, reaching the extreme of feebleness at the same time with 
 the extreme of urbanity. The more polished an aristocracy be- 
 comes the weaker it becomes, and when no longer possessing the 
 power to please it no longer possesses the strength to struggle. 
 And yet, in this world, we must struggle if we would live. In 
 humanity as in nature empire belongs to force. Every creature 
 that loses the art and energy of self-defence becomes so much 
 more certainly a prey according as its brilliancy, imprudence and 
 even gentleness deliver it over in advance to the gross appetites 
 roaming around it. Where find resistance in characters formed by 
 the habits we have just described? To defend ourselves we 
 must, first of all, look carefully around us, see and foresee, and 
 provide for danger. How could they do this living as they did ? 
 Their circle is too narrow and too carefully enclosed. Confined 
 to their castles and mansions they see only those of their own 
 sphere, they hear only the echo of their own ideas, they imagine 
 that there is nothing beyond; the public seems to consist of 
 two hundred persons. Moreover, disagreeable truths are not ad 
 
 1 Madame He <5enlis, "Souvenirs de FeTlde," 76, 161.
 
 166 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK a 
 
 mitted into a drawing-room, especially when of personal import 
 an idle fancy there becoming a dogma because it becomes 
 conventional. Here, accordingly, we find those who, already de- 
 ceived by the limitations of their accustomed horizon, fortify 
 their delusion still more by delusions about their fellow-men. 
 They comprehend nothing of the vast world which envelopes 
 their little world ; they are incapable of entering into the senti- 
 ments of a bourgeois, of a villager; they have no conception of 
 the peasant as he is but as they would like him to be. The idyl 
 is in fashion and no one dares dispute it ; any other supposi- 
 tion would be false because it would be disagreeable, and, as the 
 drawing-rooms have decided that all will go well, all must go well. 
 Never was a delusion more complete and more voluntary. The 
 Due d'Orle*ans offers to wager a hundred louis that the States- 
 General will dissolve without accomplishing anything, not even 
 abolishing the lettre-de-cachet. After the demolition has begun, and 
 yet again after it is finished, they will form opinions no more accu- 
 rate. They have no idea of social architecture; they know 
 nothing about either its materials, its proportions, or its harmoni- 
 ous balance; they have had no hand in it, they have never 
 worked at it. They ignore the construction of the old build- 
 ing 1 in which they occupy the first story. They are unable 
 to calculate either pressures r resistances. 8 They conclude, 
 finally, that it is better to let the thing tumble in, and that the 
 restoration of the edifice in their behalf will follow its own course, 
 and that they will return to their drawing-room, expressly rebuilt 
 r or them, and freshly gilded, to begin over again the pleasant 
 :onversation which an accident, some tumult in the street, had 
 interrupted. 3 So clairvoyant in society, they are dim-sighted in 
 politics. They see things in the artificial glow of candles ; nat- 
 ural daylight deranges and dazzles them. The habit is too 
 strong, and of too ancient date. The organ, so long applied to 
 the petty details of refined life, no longer takes in the grand 
 masses of popular life, and, suddenly brought to bear on new 
 surroundings, its acuteness constitutes its blindness. 
 
 1 M. de Montlosier, in the Constituent Assembly, is about the only person 
 familiar with feudal laws. 
 
 ' I s " A competent and impartial man who would estimate the chances of the success 
 of the Revolution would find that there are more against it than against the five 
 winning- numbers in a lottery; but this is possible, and unfortunately, this time, 
 they all came out." (Ducde Levis, " Souvenirs," 328.) 
 
 3 " Corinne," by Madame de Stael, the character of the Comte d'Erfeuil. Malonet, 
 " Me'moires,'" II. 297 (a memorable instance of golitical stupidity).
 
 CHAP. m. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 167 
 
 Nevertheless, they must act, for danger is there, staring them 
 in the face. But it is danger of a mean sort, and, to ward it off, 
 their education affords them no suitable arms. They have 
 learned how to fence, but not how to box. They are still the 
 sons of those who, at Fontenoy, instead of taking the first shot, 
 courteously doff their chapeaux and, addressing their English 
 antagonists, exclaim, ' ' No, gentlemen, you fire first ! " Slaves 
 to good-breeding, their movements are hampered. Countless 
 actions, and the most essential, those which demand daring, 
 vigor and brutal energy, run counter to the deference which a 
 well-bred man owes to others, or, at least, to self-respect. 
 They consider them not permissible ; it never occurs to them 
 to profit by them and, the more elevated their position in 
 society, the more are they fettered by their rank. On the 
 royal family setting out for Varennes, the accumulated de- 
 lays which ruin them are due to etiquette. Madame de 
 Touzel insists on her place in the carriage to which she is en- 
 titled as governess of the Children of France. The king, on ar- 
 riving, is desirous of conferring the marshal's baton on M. de 
 Bouille" and after running to and fro to obtain a baton he is 
 obliged to borrow that of the Due de Choiseul. The queen can- 
 not dispense with a travelling dressing-case and one has to be 
 made large enough to contain every imaginable implement from a 
 warming-pan to a silver porridge-dish, with other dishes besides ; 
 and, as if there were no shifts to be had in Brussels, there had to be 
 a complete outfit in this line for herself and her children. 1 A nar- 
 row fidelity, humanity in its own despite (quandmeme), the frivol- 
 ity of the petty literary spirit, graceful urbanity, profound igno- 
 rance, 2 the nullity or rigidity of the understanding and of the will 
 are still greater with the princes than with the nobles. All are im- 
 potent against the wild and roaring outbreak. They have not the 
 physical superiority which masters it, the vulgar charlatanism 
 which conjures it, the tricks of a Scapin which thwart it, the bull's 
 audacity, the legerdemain of the juggler, the stentorian lungs, 
 in short, the resources of the energetic temperament and of animal 
 cunning alone capable of diverting the rage of the unchained 
 
 1 Mme. Campan, II. 140, 313. Due de Choiseul, " Me'moires." 
 8 Journal of Dumontd'Urville, commander of the vessel which transported Charles 
 X. into exile in 1830. See note 4 at the end of the volume.
 
 ib8 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK H 
 
 brute. To secure wrestlers of this stamp they seek for three 
 or four men of a different race and education, men having suf- 
 fered and roamed about, a brutal plebeian like the abbe Maury, 
 a colossal and begrimed satyr like Mirabeau, a bold and prompt 
 adventurer like that Dumouriez who, at Cherbourg, when, 
 through the feebleness of the Due de Beuvron, the stores of grain 
 were given up and the riot began, hooted at and nearly cut to 
 pieces, suddenly sees the keys of the storehouse in the hands of 
 a Dutch sailor, and, yelling to the mob that it was betrayed through 
 'a foreigner having got hold of the keys, himself jumps down 
 from the railing, seizes the keys and hands them to the officer 
 of the guard saying to the people, "I am your father, I 
 am responsible for the storehouses ! " * To take sides with bullies 
 and market-women, to seize a man by the collar in a club, to 
 make stump-speeches at every street-corner, to bark louder 
 than the barkers, to use one's fists or a cudgel, the same as young 
 gallants of later days, against lunatics and brutes who are in- 
 capable of using other arguments and who must be answered 
 in the same vein, to mount guard over the Assembly, to act as 
 volunteer constable, to spare neither one's own hide nor that 
 of others, to be one of the people to face the people, are simple 
 and effectual proceedings, but so vulgar as to appear to them 
 disgusting. The idea of resorting to such means never enters 
 their head ; they neither know how, nor do they care to make 
 use of their hands in such business. 8 They are skilled only in 
 the duel and, almost immediately, the brutality of opinion is to 
 bar the road to polite encounters with open violence. Against 
 the popular bull, their arms consist of drawing-room shafts, epi- 
 grams, witticisms, songs, parodies and other pricks with a pin. 3 
 Depth as well as resources are both lacking in this character; 
 through over-refinement, it has become etiolated, and nature, 
 impoverished by culture, is incapable of effecting the trans- 
 
 ' l Duinouriez, " Memoires," III. chap. iii. (July 21, 1789). 
 
 * "All these fine ladies and gentlemen who knew so well how to bow and courtesy and walk 
 ver a carpet, could not take three steps on God's earth without getting dreadfully fatigued. 
 They could not even open or shut a door; they had not even strength enough to lift a log to 
 put it on the fire ; they had to call a servant to draw up a chair for them ; they could not 
 come in or go out by themselves. What could they have done with their graces, without 
 their valets to supply the place of hands and feet? " (George Sand, V. 6u) 
 
 * When Madame de F had expressed a clever thing she felt quite proud of it M 
 
 remarked that on uttering something clever about an emetic she was quite surprised that the 
 was not purged. Champfort, 107.
 
 CHAP. in. HABITS AND CHARACTERS. 169 
 
 formations which renew and maintain life. An all-power- 
 ful education has repressed, mollified, enfeebled instinct itself. 
 About to die they experience none of the reactions of blood 
 and rage, the universal and sudden restoration of the forces, 
 the murderous spasm, the blind irresistible need of striking those 
 who strike them. If a gentleman is arrested in his own house by 
 a Jacobin we never find him splitting his head open. 1 They 
 allow themselves to be taken, going quietly to prison ; to make 
 an uproar would be bad taste ; it is necessary, above all things, to 
 remain what they are, well-bred people of society. In prison 
 both men and women dress themselves with great care, pay each 
 other visits and keep up a drawing-room ; it may be at the end 
 of a corridor in the light of three or four candles ; but here they 
 chat and joke, compose madrigals, sing songs and pride them- 
 selves on being as gallant, as gay and as gracious as ever : need 
 people be morose and ill-behaved because accident has con- 
 signed them to a poor inn ? They preserve their dignity and 
 their smile before their judges and on the cart ; the women, es- 
 pecially, mount the scaffold with the ease and serenity characteris- 
 tic of an evening entertainment. It is the supreme characteristic of 
 good-breeding, erected into an unique duty, and become to this 
 aristocracy a second nature, which is found in its virtues as well 
 as in its vices, in its faculties as well as in its impotencies, in its 
 prosperity as at its fall, and which adorns it even in the death 
 to which it conducts 
 
 1 The following is an example of what armed resistan:e can accomplish for a man in his 
 own house. " A gentleman of Marseilles, proscribed anc living in his country domicile, has 
 provided himself with gim, pistols and sabre and never goes out without this armament, de 
 daring that he will not be taken alive. Nobody has dared to execute the order of arrest" 
 (Anne Plumptre, "A Residence of three years in France." 1803-1805, H. 115.
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 anti tfje Boctn'n*. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE COMPOSITION OF THE REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT. Scientific acquisi- 
 tions its first element. I. The accumulation and progress of discoveries in 
 science and in nature. They serve as a starting-point for the new philoso- 
 phers. II. Change of the point of view in the science of man. It is de- 
 tached from theology and is united with the natural sciences. III. Tht 
 transformations of history. Voltaire. Criticism and conceptions of unity. 
 Montesquieu. An outline of social laws. IV. The transformation of 
 psychology. Condillac. The theory of sensation and of signs. V. The 
 analytical method. Its principle. The conditions requisite to make ii 
 productive. These conditions wanting or inadequate in the i8th century. 
 The truth and survival of the principle. 
 
 ON seeing a man with a somewhat feeble constitution, but healthy 
 in appearance and of steady habits, greedily swallow some 
 new kind of cordial and then suddenly fall to the ground, foarn 
 at th3 mouth, act deliriously and writhe in convulsions, we at once 
 surmise that this agreeable beverage contained some dangerous 
 substance ; but a delicate analysis is necessary to detect and de- 
 compose the poison. The philosophy of the eighteenth century 
 contained poison, and of a kind as potent as it was peculiar ; for, 
 not only is it a long historic elaboration, the final and condensed 
 essence of the tendency of the thought of the century, but again, 
 its two principal ingredients have this peculiarity that, separate, 
 they are salutary and in combination they form a venomous com 
 pound. 
 
 I. 
 
 The first is scientific discovery, admirable on all sides, and 
 jenefirent in its nature ; it is made up of masses of facts slowly
 
 CHAP. i. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 171 
 
 accumulated and then summarily presented or in rapid succession. 
 For the first time in history the sciences expand and affirm 
 each other to the extent of providing, not, as formerly, under 
 Galileo and Descartes, constructive fragments, or a provisional 
 scaffolding, but a definite and demonstrated system of the uni- 
 verse, that of Newton. 1 Around this capital fact, almost all the 
 discoveries of the century, either as complementary or as pro- 
 ongations, range themselves. In pure mathematics we have the 
 Infinitesimal Calculus discovered simultaneously by Leibnitz and 
 Newton, mechanics reduced by d'Alembert to a single theorem, 
 and that superb collection of theories which, elaborated by the 
 Bernouillis, Euler, Clairaut, d'Alembert, Taylor and Maclaurin, is 
 finally completed at the end of the century by Monge, Lagrange, 
 and Laplace. 2 In astronomy, the series of calculations and 
 observations which, from Newton to Laplace, transforms science 
 into a problem of mechanics, explains and predicts the movements 
 of the planets and of their satellites, indicating the origin and 
 formation of our solar system, and, extending beyond this, through 
 the discoveries of Herschel, affording an insight into the distri- 
 bution of the stellar archipelagoes and of the grand outlines of 
 celestial architecture. In physics, the decomposition of light and 
 the principles of optics discovered by Newton, the velocity of 
 sound, the form of its undulations, and, from Sauveur to Chladni, 
 from Newton to Bernouilli and Lagrange, the experimental laws 
 and leading theorems of Acoustics, the primary laws of the radi- 
 ation of heat by Newton, Kraft and Lambert, the theory of 
 latent heat by Black, the proportions of caloric by Lavoisier and 
 Laplace, the first true conceptions of the source of fire and heat, 
 the experiments, laws, and means by which Dufay, Nollet, 
 Franklin, and especially Coulomb explain, manipulate and, foi 
 the first time, utilize electricity. In Chemistry, all the foundations 
 of the science : isolated oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen, the com 
 position of water, the theory of combustion, chemical nomencla 
 hire, quantitative analysis, the indestructibility of matter, in short, 
 ihe discoveries of Scheele, Priestley, Cavendish and Stahl, 
 
 > "Philosophise naturalis principia," 1687; " Optique," 1704. 
 
 ' See concerning this development Corate's " Philosophic Positive," vol. I. At the begin' 
 ning of the eighteenth century, mathematical instruments are carried to such perfection as tc 
 warrant the belief that all physical phenomena may be analyzed, light, electricity, sound 
 crystallization, heat, elasticity, cohesion and other effects of molecular forces. See " Whew 
 ell'i History of the Inductive Sciences," II., Ill,
 
 172 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 crowned by the definitive theory and terminology of Lavoisier. 
 In Mineralogy, the goniometer, the constancy of angles and the 
 primary laws of derivation by Rome" de Lisle, and next the 
 discovery of types and the mathematical deduction of secondary 
 forms by Haiiy. In Geology, the verification and results of 
 Newton's theory, the exact form of the earth, the depression of 
 the poles, the expansion of the equator, 1 the cause and the law of 
 the tides, the primitive fluidity of the planet, the constancy of its 
 internal heat, and then, with Buffon, Desmarets, Hutton and 
 Werner, the aqueous or igneous origin of rocks, the stratifications 
 of the earth, the structure of beds of fossils, the prolonged and 
 repeated submersion of continents, the slow growth of animal 
 and vegetable deposits, the vast antiquity of life, the denudations, 
 fractures and gradual transformation of the terrestrial surface, 2 
 and, finally, the grand picture in which Buffon describes in approx- 
 imative features the entire history of our globe, from the moment 
 it formed a mass of glowing lava down to the time when our 
 species, after so many lost or surviving species, was able to 
 inhabit it. 
 
 Upon this science of inorganic matter we see arising at the 
 same time the science of organic matter. Grew, and then Vail- 
 lant had just demonstrated the sexual system and described the 
 fecundation of plants; Linnaeus invents botanic nomenclature 
 and the first complete classifications ; the Jussieus discover the sub- 
 ordination of characteristics and natural classification. Diges- 
 tion is explained by Reaumur and Spallanzani, respiration by 
 Lavoisier ; Prochaska verifies the mechanism of reflex actions ; 
 Haller and Spallanzani experiment on and describe the conditions 
 and phases of generation. Scientists penetrate to the lowest 
 stages of animal life. Reaumur publishes his admirable observa- 
 tions on insects and Lyonnet devotes twenty years to portraying 
 the willow-caterpillar ; Spallanzani resuscitates his rotifers, Trem- 
 blay dissects his fresh- water polyps and Needham reveals his 
 infusoria. The experimental conception of life is deduced from 
 these various researches. Buffon already, and especially Lamarck, 
 in their great and incomplete sketches, outline with penetrating 
 divination the leading features of modern physiology and zool- 
 
 1 The travels of La Condamine In Peru and of Maupertuis in Lapland, 
 1 Buffbn, "ThSorie delaTerre," 1749; "Epoquesde la Nature," 1788. " Carte gtologique 
 de 1'Auvergne," by Desman ts, 1766.
 
 CHAP. I. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 173 
 
 ogy. Organic molecules everywhere diffused or everywhere 
 growing, species of globules constantly in course of decay and 
 restoration, which, through blind and spontaneous development, 
 transform themselves, multiply and combine and which, without 
 either foreign direction, or any preconceived end, solely through 
 the effect of their structure and surroundings, unite together to form 
 those masterly organisms which we call plants and animals : in the 
 beginning, the simplest forms, and next a slow, gradual, complex 
 and perfected organization; the organ created through habits, 
 necessities and surrounding medium; heredity transmitting ac- 
 quired modifications, 1 all denoting in advance, in a state of con- 
 jecture and approximation, the cellular theory of later physi- 
 ologists 2 and the conclusions of Darwin. In the picture of na- 
 ture which the human mind portrays, the science of the eigh- 
 teenth century has drawn the general outline, the perspective, 
 and the principal masses so correctly, that, at the present day, 
 all its grand lines remain intact. Except a few partial changes 
 we have nothing to efface. 
 
 This vast supply of positive or probable facts, either demon- 
 strated or anticipated, furnishes food, substance and impulse to 
 the intellect of the century. Consider the leaders of public opin- 
 ion, the promoters of the new philosophy : they are all, in various 
 degrees, versed in the physical and natural sciences. Not only 
 are they familiar with theories and authorities but again they 
 have personal knowledge of facts and objects, 
 among the first to explain the optical and astronomical 
 of Newton, and again to make calculations, observations and ex- 
 periments of his own. He writes memoirs for the Academy of 
 Sciences " On the Measure of Motive Forces," and " On the Na- 
 ture and Diffusion of Heat." He handles Reaumur's thermome- 
 ter, Newton's prism, and Muschenbrock's pyrometer. In his lab- 
 oratory at Cirey he has all the known apparatus for physics and 
 
 1 See a lecture by M. Lacaze-Duthier on Lamarck, "Revue Scientifique," III. 276-311. 
 
 * Buffon, " Histoire Naturelle," II. 340 : " All living beings contain a vast quantity of 
 living and active molecules. Vegetal and animal life seem to be only the results of the actions 
 of all the small lives peculiar to each of the active molecules whose life is primary." C 
 Diderot, "Reve de d'Alembert" 
 
 * " Philosophic de Newton," 1738, and " Physique," by Voltaire. Cf. du Bois-Raymond, 
 " Voltaire physiden," (Revue des Cours Scientifique, V. 539), and Saigey, " la Physique do 
 Voltaire." "Voltaire," writes Lord Brougham, "had he continued to devote himself to ex- 
 perimental physics would undoubtedly have inscribed his name among those of the greatesl 
 discoverers of his age." 
 
 15*
 
 174 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK ni 
 
 chemistry. He experiments with his own hand on the reflection 
 of light in space, on the increase of weight in calcined metals, on 
 the renewal of amputated parts of animals, and in the spirit of 
 a true savant, persistently, with constant repetitions, even to 
 the beheading of forty snails and slugs, to verify an asser- 
 tion made by Spallanzani. The same curiosity and the same 
 preparation prevails with all imbued with the same spirit. In the 
 
 Aether camp, among the Cartesians, about to disappear, Fontenelle 
 is an excellent mathematician, the competent biographer of all 
 eminent men of science, the official secretary and true represent- 
 ative of the Academy of Sciences. In other places, in the 
 Academy of Bordeaux, Montesquieu reads discourses on the 
 mechanism of the echo, and on the use of the renal glands ; he 
 dissects frogs, tests the effect of heat and cold on animated tis- 
 sues, and publishes observations on plants and insects. Rous- 
 seau, the least instructed of all, attends the lectures of the"ch"em- 
 ist Rouelle, botanizing and appropriating to himself all the ele- 
 ments of human knowledge with which to write his "JRmjleJ' 
 Diderot taught mathematics and devoured every science and art 
 
 1 SV6n W 'the technical processes of all industries. D'Alembert 
 stands in the first rank of mathematicians. BufFon translated 
 Newton's theory of fluxions, and the Vegetable Statics of 
 Hales ; he is in turn a metallurgist, optician, geographer, geolo- 
 gist and, last of all, an anatomist. Condillac, to explain the use 
 of signs and the filiation of ideas, writes abridgments of arithmetic, 
 algebra, mechanics and astronomy. 1 Maupertuis, Condorcet and 
 Lalande are mathematicians, physicists and astronomers ; d'Hol- 
 bach, Lamettrie and Cabanis are chemists, naturalists, physiolo- 
 gists and physicians. Prophets of a superior or inferior kind, 
 masters or pupils, specialists or simple amateurs, all draw directly 
 or indirectly from the living source that has just burst forth. 
 From this they all start to teach man what he is, from whence he 
 came, where he is going, what he may become and what he 
 should be. A new point of departure leads to new points of 
 view, and hence the idea which was then entertained of man if 
 to undergo a complete transformation. 
 
 1 Sec his " Logique des Calcuts " and his " Art de Raisonn-r "
 
 CHAP. I. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 175 
 
 II. 
 
 Suppose a mind thoroughly imbued with these new truths; 
 place the spectator on the orbit of Saturn, and let him observe. 1 
 Amidst this vast and overwhelming space and in these boundless 
 solar archipelagoes, how small is our own sphere, and the earth, 
 what a grain of sand ! What multitudes of worlds beyond our 
 own, and, if life exists in them, what combinations are possible 
 other than those of which we are the result ! What is life, what 
 is organic substance in this monstrous universe but an indifferent 
 mass, a passing accident, the corruption of a few epidermic par 
 tides ? And if this be life, what is that humanity which is so 
 small a fragment of it ? Such is man in nature, an atom, an 
 ephemeral particle; let this not be lost sight of in our theories 
 concerning his origin, his importance, and his destiny. A mite 
 that should consider itself the centre of all things would be 
 grotesque, and it is not necessary that " an insect almost in- 
 finitely small should show conceit almost infinitely great." * 
 How slow has been the evolution of the globe itself! What 
 nyriads of ages between the first cooling of its mass and the be- 
 ginnings of life ! 3 Of what consequence is the turmoil of our 
 ant-hill alongside of the geological tragedy in which we have borne 
 no part, the strife between fire and water, the thickening of the 
 earth's crust, the formation of the universal sea, the construction 
 and separation of continents ! Previous to our historical record 
 what a long history of vegetable and animal existences ! What 
 a succession of flora and fauna ! What generations of marine 
 organisms in forming the strata of sediment ! What generations 
 of plants in forming the deposits of coal ! What transformations 
 of climate to drive the pachydermata away from the pole ! And 
 now comes man, the latest of all, shooting up as the terminal 
 
 1 For a popular exposition of these ideas see Voltaire, passim, and particularly the " Mi- 
 cromegas " and "Les Oreilles du Comte de Chesterfield." 
 
 * Cf. Buffon, ibid. I. 31 : " Those who imagine a reply with final causes do not reflect 
 that they take the effect for the cause. The relationship which things bear to us having no 
 influence whatever on their origin, moral fitness can never become a physical explanation." 
 Voltaire, "Candide" : " When His High Mightiness sends a vessel to Egypt is he in any ro- 
 tpect embarrassed about the comfort of th: mice that happen to be aboard of it? " 
 
 1 Buffon, ibid. "Supplement," II. 513; IV. { '' Epoques de la Nature"), 65, 167 Ac- 
 C'l^ing to his experiments with the cooling of a cannon ball he based the following periods : 
 t iv.il the glowing fluid mass of the planet to the fall of rain 35,000 years. From the begiu- 
 ning of life to its actual condition 40,000 years. From its actual condition io the entire con- 
 gealing of it and the extinction of life 93,000 years. He gives these figures simply as th 
 mrnlma. We now know that they are much too limited.
 
 fjb THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK m 
 
 bud of the top of a lofty antique tree, growing there a few sea- 
 sons, but destined to perish, like the tree, after a few seasons, 
 when the increasing and foretold congelation allowing the tree 
 to live shall force the tree to die. He is not alone on the 
 branch: beneath him, around him, on a level with him, other 
 buds shoot forth, born of the same sap ; but he must not forget, 
 if he would comprehend his own being, that, along with himself, 
 other lives exist in his vicinity, graduated up to him and issuing 
 from the same trunk. If he is unique he is not isolated, being 
 an animal among other animals; l in him and with them, sub- 
 stance, organization and birth, formation and renewal, func- 
 tions, senses and appetites, are similar, while his superior in- 
 telligence, like their rudimentary intelligence, has for an indis- 
 pensable organ a nervous matter whose structure is the same 
 with him and with them. Thus surrounded, brought forth 
 and borne along by nature, is it to be supposed that in nature he is 
 an empire within an empire ? He is there as the part of a whole, 
 by virtue of being a physical body, a chemical composition, an 
 animated organism, a sociable animal, among other bodies, other 
 compositions, other social animals, all analogous to him ; and, by 
 virtue of these classifications, he is, like them, subject to laws. 
 For, if the first cause is unknown to us, and we dispute among 
 ourselves to know what it is, whether innate or external, we affirm 
 with certainty the mode of its action, and that it operates only 
 according to fixed and general laws. Every circumstance, what- 
 ever it may be, is conditioned, and, its conditions being given, it 
 never fails to conform to them. Of two links forming a chain, 
 the first always draws on the second. There are laws for num- 
 bers, forms, and motions, for the revolutions of the planets and 
 the fall of bodies, for the diffusion of light and the radiance of 
 heat, for the attractions and repulsions of electricity, for chemical 
 combinations, and for the growth, equilibrium and dissolution of 
 organized matter. They exist for the growth, support, and de- 
 velopment of human societies, for the formation, conflict, and 
 direction of the ideas, the passions and the wills of human indi- 
 viduals. 2 In all this, man continues nature; from which it follows 
 
 ' Buffon, ibid. I. 12 : " The first truth derived from this patient investigation of nature 1* 
 perhaps, a humiliating truth for man, that of taking his place in the order of animals." 
 
 * Voltaire, " Philosophic, Du principe d'action : " "All beings, without exception, are *u* 
 ject to invariable laws."
 
 CHAP. r. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 177 
 
 that, to know him, it is necessary to study him in her, after her, 
 and like her, with the same independence, the same precautions, 
 and in the same spirit. Through this remark alone the method of 
 the moral sciences is fixed. In history, in psychology, in morals, 
 in politics, the thinkers of the preceding century, Pascal, Bossuet, 
 Descartes, Fe'ne'lon, Malebranche, and La Bruyere, still start from 
 dogma; it is plain to every one qualified to read them that their 
 position is already determined. Religion provided them with a 
 complete theory of the moral order of things ; according to this 
 theory, latent or exposed, they described man and accommodated 
 their observations to the preconceived type. The writejs..fi 
 the eighteenth century reverse this nielhpd : they dwell on man, 
 on the observable man, and on his surroundings; in their eyes, 
 conclusions about the soul, its origin, and its destiny, must come 
 afterwards and depend wholly, not on that which revelation, but 
 on that which observation, furnishes. The moral sciences are 
 divorced from theology and attach themselves, as if a prolonga- 
 tion of them, to the physical sciences. 
 
 III. 
 
 Through this substitution and this combination they become 
 sciences. In history, every foundation is laid on which we of 
 the present day build. Compare Bossuet's " Discours sur 1'his- 
 toire universelle," and Voltaire's " Essai sur les mceurs," and we 
 at once see how new and deep these foundations were. Criti- 
 cism at once obtains its fundamental principle : considering that 
 the laws of nature are universal and immutable it concludes from 
 this that, in the moral world, as in the physical world, there can 
 be no infringement of them and that no arbitrary or foreign force 
 intervenes to disturb the regular course of things, which affords 
 a sure means of discerning myth from truth. 1 Biblical exegesis 
 is born out of this maxim, and not alone that of Voltaire, but 
 the exegetical methods of the future. Meanwhile he sceptically 
 examines the annals of all people, carelessly cutting away and 
 suppressing; too hastily, extravagantly, especially where the an- 
 cients are concerned, because his historical expedition is simply 
 
 1 " Essai sur les Moeurs," chap, cxlvii., the summary : " The intelligent reader readily 
 ices that he must believe only in great events possessing some probab'Jity, and view with 
 pity the fables with which fanaticism, romantic taste and credulity have at all times filled the 
 world."
 
 178 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 a reconnoitering journey, but everywhere bestowing such ac- 
 curate glances that we now preserve almost all the outlines 
 of his summary chart. The primitive man was not a superior 
 being, enlightened from above, but a coarse savage, naked and 
 miserable, slow of growth, sluggish in progress, the most destitute 
 and most needy of all animals, and, on this account, sociable, 
 endowed like the bee and the beaver with an instinct for living 
 in groups, and moreover, an imitator like the monkey, but more 
 intelligent, capable of passing by degrees from the language 
 of gesticulation to that of articulation, beginning with a mono- 
 syllabic idiom which gradually increases in richness, precision 
 and subtlety. 1 How many centuries are requisite to attain to 
 this primitive language! How many centuries more to the 
 discovery of the most necessary arts, the use of fire, the fabrica- 
 tion of "hatchets of silex and jade," the melting and refining 
 of metals, the domestication of animals, the production and 
 modification of edible plants, the formation of early civilized and 
 durable communities, the discovery of writing, figures and as- 
 tronomical periods. 2 Only after a dawn of vast and infinite 
 length, do we see in Chaldea and in China the commencement 
 of an accurate chronological history. There are five or six 
 of these great independent centres of spontaneous civilization, 
 China, Babylon, ancient Persia, Indja, Egypt, Phoenicia, and the 
 
 70 American empires. On collecting their fragments together, 
 on reading such of their books as have been preserved and 
 which travellers bring to us, the five Kings of the Chinese, the 
 Vedas of the Hindoos, the Zendavesta of the ancient Persians, 
 we find that all contain religions, moral theories, philosophies 
 and institutions, as worthy of study as our own. Three of 
 .hese codes, those of India, China and the Mussulmans, still at 
 
 he present time govern countries as vast as our Europe and 
 nations of equal importance. We must not, like Bossuet, "over- 
 iOok the universe in a universal history," and subordinate hu- 
 manity to a small population confined to a desolate region 
 
 1 " Trait^ de Metaphysique," chap. i. " Having fallen on this little heap of mud, and 
 with no more idea of man than man has of the inhabitants of Mars or Jupiter, I set foot on 
 the shore of the ocean of the country of Caffraria and at once began to search for a man. I 
 encounter monkeys, elephants and negroes, with gleams of imperfect intelligence, etc." 
 The new method is here clearly apparent. 
 
 2 " Introduction i 1'Essai sur les Mojurs: Des Sauvages." BufTon, in "Epoques de la 
 nature," the seventh epoch, precedes Darwin in his ideas on the modification!: of the usefirf 
 species of animals.
 
 CHAP. I. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 173 
 
 around the Dead Sea. 1 Human history is a thing of natural 
 growth like the rest; its direction is due to its own elements; 
 no external force guides it, but the inward forces that create it : 
 it is not tending to any present ed end but developing a result. 
 And the chief result is the progress of the human mind. 
 "Amidst so many ravages and so much destruction, we see 
 a love of order secretly animating the human species, and fore- 
 stalling its utter ruin. It is one of the springs of nature ever 
 recovering its energy; it is the source of the formation of the 
 codes of nations; it causes the law and the ministers of the 
 law to be respected in Tonquin and in the islands of Formosa 
 as well as in Rome." Man thus possesses " a principle of rea- 
 son," namely, a " mechanical instinct " suggesting to him useful 
 implements; 2 also an instinct of right suggesting to him his 
 moral conceptions. These two instincts form a part of his 
 organization; he has them from his birth, "as the birds have 
 their feathers, and bears their hair." Hence he is perfectible 
 through nature and merely conforms to nature in improving his 
 mind and in bettering his condition. The savage, " the Brazilian, 
 is an animal that has not yet attained to the completeness of its 
 species; a worm enclosed in its chrysalis envelope and not 
 to become a butterfly until after the lapse of centuries." Extend 
 the idea farther along with Turgot and Condorcet, 3 and with all 
 its exaggerations, we see arising, before the end of the century, 
 our modern theory of progress, that which founds all our aspira- 
 tions on the boundless advance of the sciences, on the increase 
 of comforts which their applied discoveries constantly bring 
 to the human condition, and on the increase of good sense 
 which their discoveries, popularized, slowly deposit in the human 
 brain. 
 
 A second principle has to be established to complete the foun- 
 dations of history. Discovered by Montesquieu it still to-day 
 serves as a constructive support, and, if we resume the work, as if 
 on the substructure of the master's edifice, it is simply owing to ac- 
 cumulated erudition placing at our disposal more substantial and 
 more abundant materials. In human society all parts are inter- 
 
 1 " Remarques de 1'Essai sur les Moeurs." " We may speak of this people in connection 
 with theology but they are not entitled to a prominent place in history." "Entretien entre 
 A, B, C," the seventh. 
 
 * Franklin defined man as a maker of tools. 
 
 1 Condorcet, "Esquisse J'un tableau historique des progres de fesprit humain."
 
 i&> THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK ir 
 
 dependent; no modification of one can take place without effect- 
 ing proportionate changes in the others. Institutions, laws and 
 customs are not mingled together, as in a heap, through chance 01 
 caprice, but connected one with the other through convenience 
 or necessity as in a harmony. 1 According as authority is in all, 
 in several or in one hand, according as the sovereign admits or 
 rejects laws superior to himself, with intermediary powers below 
 him, everything differs or tends to differ in an understood sense 
 and in a constant quantity, public intelligence, education, the 
 form of judgments, the nature and order of penalties, the condi- 
 tion of women, military organization and the nature and extent 
 of taxation. A multitude of subordinate wheels depend on the 
 great central wheel. For, if the clock goes, it is owing to the har- 
 mony of its various parts, from which it follows that, on this 
 harmony ceasing, the clock gets out of order. But, besides the 
 principal spring, there are others which, acting on or in combi- 
 nation with it, give to each clock a special character and a pecul- 
 iar movement. Such, in the first place, is climate, that is to say, 
 the degree of heat or cold, humidity or dryness, with its infinite 
 effects on man's physical and moral attributes, followed by its in- 
 fluence on political, civil and domestic servitude or freedom. 
 Likewise the soil, according to its fertility, its position and its ex- 
 tent. Likewise, the physical regime according as a people is 
 composed of hunters, shepherds or agriculturists. Likewise the 
 fecundity of the race, and the consequent slow or rapid increase 
 of population, and also the excess in number, now of males and 
 now of females. And finally, likewise, are national character and 
 religion. All these causes, each added to the other, or each lim- 
 ited by the other, contribute together to form a total result, namely 
 society. Simple or complex, stable or unstable, barbarous or 
 civilized, this society contains within itself its explanations of its 
 being. Strange as its structure may be, it can be explained, 
 also its institutions however contradictory. Neither prosperity, 
 nor decline, nor despotism, nor freedom, is a cast of the die 
 brought on by the vicissitudes of chance, nor so many passages 
 of theatrical display improvised by individual wills. They are 
 
 I "Esprit des Lois," preface. "I, at first, examined men, thinking that, in this infinite 
 liversity of laws and customs, they were not wholly governed by their fancies. I broughf 
 principles to bear and I found special cases yielding to them as if naturally, the histories o* 
 all nations being simply the result of these, each special law eing connected with anothei 
 uw or depending on some general law."
 
 CHAP. i. THE SPIRJ7 AND THE DOCTRINE. 181 
 
 conditions from which we cannot abstract ourselves. In any 
 event it is serviceable to know these conditions, either to better 
 ourselves or take all things patiently, now to carry out opportune 
 reforms, now to renounce impracticable reforms, now to acquire 
 the skill which enables us to succeed and now to acquire the pru- 
 dence which leads us to abstain. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The centre of the moral sciences is herein reached; the ques- 
 tion now is concerning man in general. The natural history of 
 the soul has to be set forth, and this must be done as we have 
 done the others, by discarding all prejudice and adhering to facts, 
 taking analogy for our guide, beginning with origins and follow- 
 ing, step by step, the development by which the infant, the savage, 
 the uncultivated primitive man, is converted into the rational and 
 cultivated man. Let us consider life at the outset, the animal at 
 the lowest degree on the scale, man as soon as he is born. The 
 first thing we find is sensation, of this or that species, agreeable 
 or painful, and next a want, tendency or desire, and next after 
 these, through physiological meclunism, voluntary or involuntary 
 movements, more or less exactly and more or less quickly appro- 
 priated and co-ordinated. And this elementary fact is not merely 
 primitive ; it is, again, constant and universal since we encounter 
 it at each moment of each life, and in the most complicated as 
 well as in the simplest. Let us accordingly ascertain whether it is 
 not the thread with which all our mental cloth is woven, and 
 wnether its spontaneous unfolding, and the knotting of mesh after 
 mesh, is not finally to produce the entire network of our thought 
 and passion. Condillac, with a mind of incomparable precision 
 and lucidity, provides replies to nearly all the important questions 
 arising from this idea, and which a revival of theological prejudice 
 and the importation of German metaphysics into France was to 
 bring into discredit at the beginning of the nineteenth century, 
 but which fresh observation, the establishment of mental pathol- 
 ogy, and multiplied vivisections now come to reanimate, to justify 
 and to complete. 1 Locke had already stated that our ideas all 
 
 1 Pinel (1791), Esquirol (1838), on mental diseases. Prochaska, Legallois (1812), and then 
 Flourens for vivisection. Hartly and James Mill at the end of the eighteenth century follow 
 Condillac on the same psychological load ; all contemporary psychologists have entered 
 ipon it. (Wundt, Helmholtz, Fechnti, in Germany, Bain, Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer 
 nd Carpenter, in England). 
 
 16
 
 i8a THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK lit 
 
 originate in outward or inward experience. CondilUc shows 
 additionally that the actual elements of perception, memory, idea, 
 imagination, judgment, reasoning, knowledge are sensations, 
 properly so called, or revived sensations; our loftiest ideas are 
 derived from no other materials, for they can be reduced to 
 signs which are themselves sensations of a certain kind. Sen- 
 sations accordingly form the substance of human or of ani.aal in- 
 telligence; but the former infinitely surpasses the latter in this, 
 that, through the creation of signs, it succeeds in isolating, ab- 
 stracting and noting fragments of sensations, that is to say, of 
 forming, combining and employing general conceptions. This 
 being granted, we are able to verify all our ideas, for, through re- 
 flection, we can revive and reconstruct the ideas we had formed 
 without any reflection. No abstract definitions exist at the 
 outset; abstraction is ulterior and derivative; at the head of 
 each science must be placed examples, experiences, concrete 
 facts ; from these we derive our general idea. In like manner 
 we derive from several general ideas of the same degree a more 
 general idea, and so on successively, step by step, always proceed- 
 ing according to the natural order of things, by constant analysis, 
 using expressive signs, as with mathematicians who pass from 
 calculation by the fingers to calculation by numerals and from 
 this to calculation by letters, and who, calling upon the eyes to 
 aid reason, depict the inward analogy of quantities by the outward 
 analogy of symbols. In this way science becomes complete by 
 means of a properly organized language. 1 Through this reversal 
 of the usual method we summarily dispose of disputes about 
 words, escaping the illusions of human speech, simplifying study, 
 remodelling education, insuring discoveries, subjecting every as- 
 sertion to control and bringing all truths within reach of all un- 
 derstandings. 
 
 V. 
 
 Such is the course to be pursued with all the sciences and es- 
 pecially with the moral and political sciences. To consider in 
 turn each distinct province of human activity, to decompose the 
 leading notions out of which we form our conceptions, those of 
 religion, society and government, those of utility, wealth and ex- 
 
 Condillac, passim., and especially in his last two works the " Logique," and the Longm 
 ies Calculi."
 
 CHAP. i. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 183 
 
 change, those of justice, right and duty ; to revert to palpable 
 facts, to first experiences, to the simple circumstances harboring 
 the elements of our ideas ; to derive from these the precious ore 
 without loss or alloy ; to recompose our ideas with this, to fix its 
 meaning and determine its value ; to substitute for the vague and 
 vulgar notion with which we started, the precise scientific de- 
 finition we arrive at, the base metal we receive for the refined 
 metal we obtain, constituted the prevalent method taught by the 
 philosophers under the name of analysis, and which sums up the 
 whole progress of the century. Up to this point, and no farther, 
 they are right : truth, every truth, is found in observable objects 
 and only from thence can it be derived ; there is no other pathway 
 leading to discovery. The operation, undoubtedly, is productive 
 only when the vein is rich and we possess the means of extract- 
 ing the ore. To obtain a just notion of government, of religion, 
 of right, of wealth, a man must be a historian beforehand, a 
 jurisconsult and economist, and have gathered up myriads of 
 facts; and, besides all this, he must possess a vast erudition 
 and practised and special acuteness. If these conditions are only 
 partially complied with, the operation again doubtless affords 
 but incomplete results or a dubious alloy, a few rough drafts of 
 the sciences, the rudiments of pedagogy along with Rousseau, 
 of political economy with Quesnay, Smith, and Turgot, of linguist- 
 ics with Des Brosses, and of arithmetical morals and criminal leg- 
 islation with Bentham. Finally, if none of these conditions are 
 complied with, the same operation in the hands of closet specula- 
 tors, drawing-room amateurs, and oratorical charlatans in public 
 places, will undoubtedly end only in mischievous compounds and 
 in destructive explosions. Nevertheless a good law remains 
 good even when the ignorant and the impetuous make a bad 
 use of it, and if we of to-day resume the abortive effort of the 
 eighteenth century it is within the lines it transmitted to us.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CLASSIC SPIRIT, THE SECOND ELEMENT. I. Its signs, duration and 
 power. Its origin and public supporters. Its vocabulary, grammar and 
 style. Its method, merits and defects. II. Its original deficiency. 
 Signs of this in the 1 7th century. It grows with time and success. 
 Proofs of this growth in the i8th century. Serious poetry, the drama, 
 history and romances. Short-sighted views of man and of human existence. 
 III. The philosophic method in conformity with it. Ideology. Abuse of 
 the mathematical process. Condillac, Rousseau, Mably, Condorcet, Volney, 
 Sieyes, Cabanis, an<J de Tracy. Excesses of simplification and boldness of 
 deduction. 
 
 THIS grand and magnificent edifice of new truths resembles a 
 tower of which the first story, quickly finished, at once becomes 
 accessible to the public. The public ascends the structure and 
 is requested by its constructors to look about, not at the sky and 
 at surrounding space, but right before it and on the ground, so 
 as to know the country on which it dwells. The point of view 
 is certainly favorable and the recommendation is judicious. To 
 conclude, however, that the public will see accurately would not 
 be warranted, for the state of its eyes must be examined, to ascer- 
 tain whether it is near or far-sighted, or if the retina naturally, or 
 through habit, is sensitive to certain colors. In like manner the 
 French of the eighteenth century must be considered, the struct- 
 ure of their inward vision, that is to say, the fixed form of under- 
 standing they bear with them, unconsciously and undesignedly, 
 into the tower. 
 
 I. 
 
 I. This fixed form consists of the classic spirit, and this, ap- 
 plied to the scientific acquisitions of the period, produces the 
 philosophy of the century and the doctrines of the Revolution 
 Various signs denote its presence, and notably its oratorical, reg- 
 ular and correct style, wholly consisting of generalized expressions 
 and of contiguous ideas. It lasts two centuries, from Malherbe and
 
 CHAP. II THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 185 
 
 Balzac to Delille and de Fontanes, and du.ing this .cng period, 
 no man of intellect, save two or three, and then only in the secret 
 memoirs, as in the case of Sj^Simon, also in familiar letters like 
 those of the Marquis and bailly of^Hffabeau, either dares or can 
 withdraw himself from its empire. Far from disappearing with 
 the ancient r6gime it forms the matrix out of which every discourse 
 and document issues, even the phrases and vocabulary of the 
 Revolution. Now, what is more .efficacious than a mould pre- 
 pared beforehand, either imposed or accepted, in which, by virtue 
 of natural tendency, of tradition and of education, every mind 
 must shut itself up to think ? Hence the historic force, and of 
 the highest order, which this one possesses. Fully to comprehend 
 it let us study its formation. 
 
 Its establishment is coeval with that of the regular monarchy 
 and polished intercourse, and it accompanies these, not acciden- 
 tally but in the natural order of things. For it is the work of the 
 new public which the new regime and new habits then formed, 
 consisting of an aristocracy rendered listless by the encroaching 
 monarchy, of people well born and well educated who, with- 
 drawn from activity, fall back on conversation and devote their 
 leisure to enjoying the calm or refined pleasures of the intellect. 3 
 At last they find no other occupation or interest: to talk, tc 
 listen, to entertain themselves agreeably and with ease, on all 
 subjects, grave or gay, of any interest to the men, and especially 
 to the women, of society is their great affair. In the seventeenth 
 century they are styled "honest folks" and thenceforth a writer, 
 even the most abstract, addresses himself to them. " The honest 
 man," says Descartes, "need not have read all books nor have 
 studiously acquired all that is taught in the schools ; " and he en- 
 titles his last treatise, "A search for Truth according to natural 
 light which alone, without the aid of Religion or Philosophy, de- 
 termines the truths an honest man should possess on all matters 
 forming the subjects of his thoughts." 2 In short, from one end 
 
 1 Voltaire, "Diet Phil.," see the article on Language. "Of all the languages in Europe 
 tht French is most generally used because it is the best adapted to conversation. Its char- 
 cter is derived from that of the people who speak it. For more than a hundred and fifty 
 years past, the French have been the most familiar with society and the first to discard any 
 discomfort in it ... It is a better currency than any other even if it should lack weight" 
 
 'Descartes, ed. Cousin, XI. 333, I. 121. Descartes depreciates "simple knowledge ac- 
 quired without the aid of reflection, such as languages, histo:y, geography, and, generally, 
 whatever is based only on experience. ... It is- no more the duty of an honest man to know 
 Greek or Latin than to know the Swiss 01 Breton languages, nor the history of the Romano 
 Germanic empire any more than of the smallest country in Europe." 
 
 1 6*
 
 I 
 
 186 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK m 
 
 of his philosophy to the other, the only qualifi cation he demands 
 of his readers is "natural good sense" added to the commop 
 stock of experience acquired by contact with the world. As 
 these form the auditory they are likewise the judges. "One 
 must study the taste of the court," says Moliere, 1 "for in no place 
 are verdicts more just. . . . With simple common sense and in- 
 tercourse with people of refinement, a habit of mind is there 
 obtained which, without comparison, forms a more accurate 
 judgment of things than the rusty attainments of the pedants." 
 From this time forth, it may be said that the arbiter of truth and 
 of taste is not, as before, an erudite Scaliger, but a man of the 
 world, a Larochefoucauld, or a TreVille. 2 The pedant and, after 
 him, the savant, the specialist, is set aside. "True honest peo- 
 ple," says Nicole after Pascal, "require no sign. They need not 
 be divined ; they join in the conversation going on as they enter 
 the room. They are not styled either poets or geometers but 
 they are the judges of all these." 3 In the eighteenth century they 
 constitute the sovereign authority. In the great crowd of "im- 
 beciles," sprinkled with vulgar pedants, there is, says Voltaire,- "a 
 small group apart called good society, which group, rich, well 
 brought up, well informed and polished, forms, so to say, the 
 flower of humanity ; for it the greatest men have labored ; it is that 
 which creates fame." 4 Admiration, favor, importance, belong not 
 to those who are worthy of it but to those who address themselves 
 to this group. "In 1789," said the Abbe Maury, "the French 
 Academy alone enjoyed any consideration in France, and it really 
 gave a position. That of the Sciences signified nothing in public 
 opinion any more than that of Inscriptions. . . . Languages 
 form the science of simpletons. D'Alembert was ashamed of be- 
 longing to the Academy of Sciences. Only a handful of peo- 
 ple listen to a mathematician, a chemist, etc. ; the man of letters, 
 
 1 Moliere, "Les Femmes Savantes," and "La Cridque de I'icole des femmes." The 
 parts of Dorante with Lycidas and of Clitandre with Trissotin. 
 
 * The learned Huet, (1630-1721), true to the tasta of the sixteenth century, describes this 
 change very well from his point of view. " When 1 entered the world of letters these were 
 still flourishing ; great reputations maintained their supremacy. I have seen letters decline 
 and finally reach an almost entire decay. For I scarcely know a person of the present time 
 that one can truly call a savant." Ducange, some few Benedictines like Mabillon, and later, 
 the academician FreVet, the president Bouhier of Dijon, in short, the veritable erudites exer 
 cise no influence. 
 
 3 Nicole, " CEuvres morales," in the second essay on Charity and Self-love, 143. 
 
 * Voltaire, " Dialogues," ' L'intendant des menus et 1'abbA Orizel," 129.
 
 CHAP. ii. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 187 
 
 the orator, addresses the universe." * Under a strong pressure 01 
 this kind the mind necessarily accommodates itself to the exigen 
 cies, the proprieties, the tastes, and the degret, Di attention and 
 of instruction of its public. Hence the classic mould, formed 
 out of the habit of speaking, writing and thinking for a drawing- 
 room audience. 
 
 This is evidently the case, and at the nrst glance, in relation to 
 style and language. Between Amyqtj Rabelais and Montaigne 
 on the one hand, and Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo and Honore 
 de Balzac on the other, classic French comes into being and dies. 
 Its title is ensured at the start; it is the language of honest peo- 
 ple ; it is fashioned not merely for them, but by them, and Vau- 
 gelas, 2 their secretary, devotes himself for thirty years to the reg- 
 istry of decisions according to the usages only of good society. 
 Hence, in all its parts, both in its vocabulary and in its grammar, 
 language is refashioned over and over again, according to the cast 
 of their intellects, which is the prevailing intellect. In the first 
 place the vocabulary is diminished. Most of the words specially 
 employed on erudite and technical subjects, expressions that are 
 too Greek and too Latin, terms peculiar to the schools, to science^ 
 to occupations, to the household, are excluded from discourse ; 
 those too closely denoting a particular occupation or profession 
 are not considered proper in general conversation. A vast num- 
 ber of picturesque and expressive words are dropped, all that are 
 crude, gaulois or naifs, all that are local and provincial, or per- 
 sonal and made-up, all familiar and proverbial locutions, 3 many 
 brusque, familiar and frank turns of thought, every haphazard, 
 telling metaphor, almost every description of impulsive and dex- 
 terous utterance throwing a flash of light into the imagination 
 and bringing into view the precise, colored and complete form, 
 but of which a too vivid impression would run counter to the 
 proprieties of polite conversation. " One improper word," said 
 
 1 Mably adds with his accustomed coarseness, "We, in the French Academy, looked upon 
 the members of the Academy of Sciences as our valets. " These valets at that time consL ted 
 of Lavoisier, Fourcroy, Lagrange, Laplace, etc. (A narrative by Joseph de Maistre, quoted 
 by Sainte-Beuve, "Causeries du lundi," IV. 283.) 
 
 * Vaugelas, " Remarques sur la langue francaise : " " It is the mode of speech of the 
 most sensible portion of the court as well as the mode of writing of ths most sensible authois 
 of the day. It is better to consult women and those who have not studied than those who 
 are very learned in Greek and in Latin." 
 
 1 One of the causes of the fall and discredit of the Marquis d'Argenson in the eighteenth 
 century, was his habit of using these.
 
 188 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 Vaugelas, " is all that is necessary to bring a person in societ) 
 into contempt," and, on the eve of the Revolution, an objection- 
 able term denounced by Madame de Luxembourg still consigns 
 a man to the rank of " especes " because correct expression is ever 
 an element of good manners. Language, through this constant 
 screening, becomes attenuated and colorless : Vaugelas estimates 
 that one-half of the phrases and terms employed by Amyot are 
 stricken out. 1 With the exception of La Fontaine, an isolated 
 and spontaneous genius, who reopens tRe oia sources, and La 
 /' Bruyere, a bold seeker, who opens a fresh source, and Voltaire, 
 an incarnate demon who, in his anonymous and pseudonymous 
 writings, gives the rein to the violent, crude expressions of his in- 
 spiration, 2 the terms which are most appropriate fall into desue- 
 tude. One day, Gresset, in a discourse at the Academy, dares 
 utter four or five of these, 3 relating, I believe, to carriages and 
 head-dresses, whereupon murmurs at once burst forth. During 
 his long retreat he had become provincial and lost the tone. By 
 degrees, discourses are composed of " general expressions " only. 
 These are even employed, in accordance with Buffon's precept, to 
 designate particular objects. They are more in conformity with the 
 urbane disposition which effaces, smooths away and avoids brusque 
 and familiar accents, to which a crowd of ideas seems gross or 
 trivial when not enveloped in a semi-transparency. They are 
 better suited to a languid attention ; general terms in conversa- 
 tion alone suddenly arouse current and common ideas; they are 
 intelligible to every man from the single fact that he belongs to the 
 drawing-room ; special terms, on the contrary, demand an effort 
 of the memory or of the imagination; suppose that, in relation 
 to Franks or to savages, I should mention " a battle-axe," which 
 would be at once understood; should I mention a "tomahawk," 
 or a "francisque? 4 many would imagine that I was speaking Teu 
 ton or Iroquois. 5 In this respect the more elevated the genus, 
 
 1 Vaugelas, ibid. "Although we may have eliminated one-half of his phrases and terms 
 we nevertheless obtain in the other half all the riches of which we boast and of which we 
 make a display." Compare together a lexicon of two or three writers of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury and one of two or three writers of the seventeenth. A brief statement of the results oi 
 the comparison is here given. Let any one, with pen in hand, note the differences on a 
 hundred pages of any of these texts, and he will be surprised at it Take, for example, two 
 imters of the same category, and of secondary grade, Charron and Nicole. 
 
 * For instance, in the article " Ignorance," in the "Diet. Philosophique." 
 
 * La Harpe, " Cours de Litterature," ed. Dklot. II. 142. 
 
 * A battle-axe used by the Franks. TR. 
 
 * I cite an example haphazard from the "Optimiste" (1788), by Colin d'Harlevillc la
 
 CHAP. II. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 189 
 
 the more powerful the scruple ; every appropriate word is ban- 
 ished from poetry ; if one happens to enter the mind it must be 
 evaded or replaced by a paraphrase. An eighteenth century poet 
 avails himself of but little more than one-third of the dictionary, 
 and poetic language at last becomes so restricted as to compel 
 a man with anything to utter not to utter it in verse. 
 
 On the other hand the more pruning language undergoes the 
 clearer it becomes. Reduced to a select vocabulary the French- 
 man says fewer things, but he says them more agreeably and more 
 accurately. "Urbanity, exactitude," these two words, born at 
 the same time with the French Academy, are an abridgment of 
 the reform of which it is the organ, and which the drawing-room, 
 by it, and alongside of it, imposes on the public. Grand seigniors 
 in retirement, and unoccupied fine ladies, obtain amusement in 
 an examination of the subtleties of words for the purpose of com- 
 posing maxims, definitions and characters. With admirable 
 scrupulousness and infinitely delicate tact, writers and people of 
 society apply themselves to weighing each word and each 
 phrase in order to fix its sense, to measure its force and bearing, 
 to determine its affinities, use and connections ; and this work of 
 precision is carried on from the earliest academicians, Vaugelas, 
 Chapelain and Conrart, to the end of the classic epoch, in the; 
 "Synonymes" of Bauz6e and Girard, in the "Remarques" by I 
 Duclos, in the "Commentaire" by Voltaire, on Corneille, in the' 
 "Lyce"e" of La Harpe, 1 in the efforts, the example, the practice 
 and the authority of the great and the inferior writers of which all 
 are correct. Never did architects, obliged to use the common 
 stones of a highway in building, better understand each piece, 
 its dimensions, its shape, its resistance, its possible connections 
 and suitable position. All this understood, the question arises 
 how to construct with the least trouble and with the utmost so- 
 lidity, while the grammar undergoes reformation in the same sense 
 as the dictionary. Words following each other according to the 
 variable order of impressions and emotions are no longer allow- 
 able; they must be regularly and rigorously assigned accord 
 
 a certain description, "The scene represents a bosquet filled with odoriferous trees " The 
 classic spirit rebels against stating the species of tree, whether lilacs, lindens or hawthois. 
 In the landscapes of this era we have the same thing, the trees being generalized, a no 
 known species. 
 
 1 See in the "Lyce," by La Harpe, after the analysis of each piece, his remark* on 
 detail in style.
 
 rgo THE ANCIENT REGIME BOOK in. 
 
 ing to the unchangeable order of ideas. The author loses the 
 right of placing ahead, or as a vidette, the object or trait which 
 first and most vividly impresses him ; the plan is arranged and 
 positions are assigned beforehand. Each portion of the discourse 
 has its own plan ; no omission or transposition is permitted as was 
 done in the sixteenth century; 1 all are necessary to it, ard in 
 definite positions, at first the subject of the sentence with its 
 appendices, then the verb, then the object direct and, finally, the 
 indirect connections. In this way the sentence forms a graduated 
 scaffolding, the substance coming foremost, then the quality, then 
 the modes and varieties of the quality, just as a good architect 
 in the first place poses his foundation, then the building, then the 
 accessories, economically and prudently, with a view to adapt 
 each section of the edifice to the support of the section following 
 after it. There is no phrase demanding any less degree of atten- 
 tion, nor is there any in which one may not at every step verify 
 the connection or incoherence of the parts. 8 The method govern- 
 ing the arrangement of the simple sentence also governs that of 
 the period, the paragraph and the series of paragraphs; it 
 forms the style as it forms the syntax. Each small edifice occupies 
 a distinct position, and but one, in the great total edifice. As 
 the discourse advances, each section must in turn file in, never 
 before, never after, no parasitic member being allowed to intrude, 
 and no regular member being allowed to encroach on its neigh- 
 bor, while all these members bound together by their very posi- 
 tions must move onward, combining all their forces on one single 
 point. Finally, we have for the first time in a writing, natural 
 and distinct groups, complete and compact harmonies, none of 
 which infringe on the others or allow others to infringe on them. 
 It is no longer allowable to write haphazard, according to the ca- 
 price of one's inspiration, to discharge one's ideas in bulk, to 
 let oneself be interrupted by parentheses, to string along inter- 
 minable rows of citations and enumerations. An end is proposed; 
 some truth is to be demonstrated, some definition to be ascer- 
 tained, some conviction to be brought about ; to do this we must 
 march and ever directly onward. Order, sequence, progress, 
 
 1 The omission cf the pronouns, /, ke, we, you, they, the article the, and of the verb 
 especially the verb to be. Any page of Rabelais, Amyot or Montaigne, suffices to show how 
 numerous and various were the transpositions. 
 
 ! Vaugelas, ibid. "No language is more inimical to ambiguities and every species ' 
 obscurity."
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 
 
 191 
 
 proper transitions, constant development constitute the character- 
 istics of this style. To such an extent is this pushed, that from 
 the very first, familiar letters, romances, humorous pieces, and all 
 ironical and gallant effusions, consist of morsels of systematic 
 eloquence. 1 At the Hotel Rambouillet, the explanatory period is 
 displayed with as much fulness and as rigorously as with Des- 
 cartes himself. One of the words the most frequently occurring 
 with Mme. de Scudery is the conj unction for. Passion is worked 
 out through close-knit arguments. Drawing-room compliments 
 stretch along in sentences as finished as those of an academical 
 oration. Scarcely completed, the instrument already discloses 
 its aptitudes ; we are aware of its being made to explain, to de- 
 monstrate, to persuade and to popularize ; Condillac, a century 
 later, is justified in saying that it is in itself a systematic process 
 of decomposition and of recomposition, a scientific method 
 analogous to arithmetic and algebra. At the very least it pos 
 sesses the incontestable advantage of starting with a few ordi- 
 nary terms and of leading the reader along with facility and 
 promptness, by a series of simple combinations, up to the loftiest. 3 
 By virtue of this, in 1789, the French tongue ranks above every 
 other. The Berlin Academy establishes a prize to secure an ex- 
 planation of its pre-eminence. It is spoken throughout Europe. 
 No other language is used in diplomacy. As, formerly, with Latin, 
 it is international and henceforth seems to be the chosen organ 
 of reasoning. 
 
 It is the organ only of a certain species of reasoning, la raison 
 raisonnante, that requiring the least preparation for thought, 
 giving itself as little trouble as possible, content with its acquisi- 
 tions, taking no pains to increase or renew them, incapable of, 
 or unwilling to embrace the plenitude and complexity of actual- 
 ities. In its purism, in its disdain of terms suited to the occasion, 
 in its avoidance of lively sallies, in the extreme regularity of its 
 developments, the classic style is powerless to fully portray or to 
 record the infinite and varied details of experience. It 
 
 See the principal romances of the seventeenth century, the "Roman Bourgeois," bj 
 Furetiere, the "Princesse de Cleves," by Madame de Lafayette, the "Ctelie," by Mme. de 
 Scudery, and even Scarron's "Roman Comique." See Balzac's letters, and those of Voiture 
 and their correspondents, the " Recit des grands jours d' Auvergne," by Fle'chier, etc On 
 the oratorical peculiarities of this style cf. Sainte-Beuve, " Port- Royal," ad ed. I. 515. 
 
 1 Voltaire, "Essai sur le poeme 6pique: Our nation, regarded by strangers as superficial, 
 is, with the pen in its hand, the wisest of ali. Method is the dominant quality of all our 
 writers." 
 
 &
 
 igt t THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 to render the outward guise of things, the immediate sensations 
 of the spectator, the heights and depths of passion, the physiog- 
 nomy, at once so composite and absolutely personal, of the 
 breathing individual, in short, that unique harmony of countless 
 traits, blended together and animated, which compose not human 
 character in general but one particular character, and which 
 a Saint-Simon, a Balzac, or a Shakespeare himself could not 
 render if the copious language they used, and which was en- 
 riched by their temerities, did not contribute its subtleties to the 
 multiplied details of their observation. 1 Neither the Bible, nor 
 Homer, nor Dante, nor Shakespeare 2 could be translated with 
 this style. Read Hamlet's monologue in Voltaire and see what 
 remains of it, an abstract piece of declamation, with about as 
 much of the original in it as there is of Othello in his Orosmane. 
 Look at Homer and then at Fenelon in the island of Calypso; 
 the wild, rocky island, where "gulls and other sea-birds with 
 long wings," build their nests, becomes in pure French prose an 
 orderly park arranged "for the pleasure of the eye." In the 
 eighteenth century, contemporary novelists, themselves belonging 
 to the classic epoch, Fielding, Swift, Defoe, Sterne and Richard- 
 son, are admitted into France only after excisions and much 
 weakening ; their expressions are too free and their scenes are too 
 impressive ; their freedom, their coarseness, their quaintness, would 
 form blemishes; the translator abbreviates, softens, and some- 
 times, in his preface, apologizes for what he retains. Room is 
 found, in this language, only for a portion of the truth, a scanty 
 portion, and which constant refining daily renders still more 
 scanty. Considered in itself, the classic style is always in danger 
 of accepting slight, unsubstantial commonplaces for its materials. 
 It spins them out, mingles and weaves them together; only 
 a fragile filigree, however, issues from its logical apparatus ; we 
 may admire the elegant workmanship ; but in practice, the work 
 is of little, none, or dangerous service. 
 
 1 " Shakespeare, who displayed a greater variety of expression than probably any writer in 
 any language, produced all his plays with about 15,000 words. Milton's works are built up 
 with 8,000; and the Old Testament says all it has to say with 5,642 words." (Max Miiller, 
 "I-ectures on the Science of Language," I. 309.) It would be interesting to place alongside 
 of this Racine's restricted vocabulary. That of Mine, de Scudery is extremely limited. In 
 the best romance of the XVIIth century, the "Princesse de Cleves." the number of words 
 Is reduced to the minimum. The Dictionary of the old French Academy contains 29,711 
 words; the Greek Thesaurus, by H. Estienne, contains about 150,000. 
 
 * Compare together the translation) of the Bible made by de Sacy and Luther; those of 
 Homer by Dacier, BitaubS and Lewn-Ie de Lisle; those of Herodotus, by Larcher and 
 Courrier, the popular tales of Perrault and those by Grimm, etc.
 
 UIAP. ii. THE SrtfIT AN9 THE 9CTRINE. 193 
 
 From these characteristics of style we divine thost of the 
 mind for which it serves as the organ. Two principal operations 
 constitute the activity of the human understanding. Placed before 
 objects, it receives a more or less complete, profound and exact 
 impression of these; and after this, turning away from them, 
 it analyzes its impression, and classifies, distributes, and more or 
 less skilfully expresses the ideas derived from them. In the second 
 of these operations the classicist is superior. Obliged to adapt 
 himself to his audience, that is to say, to people of society who 
 are not specialists and yet critical, he necessarily carries to per- 
 fection the art of exciting attention and of being understood, 
 that is to say, the art of composition and of writing. With 
 patient industry, and multiplied precautions, he carries the reader 
 along with him by a series of easy rectilinear conceptions, step by 
 step, omitting none, beginning with the lowest and thus ascending 
 to the highest, always progressing with steady and measured pace, 
 securely and agreeably as on a promenade. No interruption or 
 diversion is possible : on either side, along the road, balustrades 
 keep him within bounds, each idea extending into the following 
 one by such an insensible transition, that he involuntarily ad- 
 vances, without stopping or turning aside, until he reaches the 
 final truth when one must rest oneself. All the classic literature 
 bears the imprint of this talent; there is no branch of it into 
 which the qualities of a good discourse do not enter and form a 
 part. It is paramount . in those branches which, in them- 
 selves, are only half-literary, but which, by its means, become 
 fully so, transforming writings into fine works of art which theii 
 matter would seem to class with scientific works, with the instru 
 mentalities of action, with historical documents, with philosophical 
 treatises, with doctrinal expositions, with sermons, polemics, dis- 
 sertations and demonstrations, even with dictionaries, from 
 Descartes to Condillac, from Bossuet to Buffon and Voltaire, 
 from Pascal to Rousseau and Beaumarchais, in short, prose al- 
 most entirely, even official despatches and diplomatic correspon- 
 dence, and private correspondence from Madame de SeVign6 to 
 Madame du Deffant, including so many perfect letters escaping 
 from the pens of women who never thought of it. It is paramount 
 in those kinds which, in themselves, are literary, but which derive 
 from it an oratorical turn. Not only does it impose a rigid plan, 
 17
 
 194 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 a regular distribution of parts ' on dramatic works, accurate 
 proportions, suppressions and connections, a sequence and a prog- 
 ress, as in a passage of eloquence, but again it tolerates only 
 the most perfect discourses. There is no character that is not an 
 accomplished orator; with Corneille and Racine, with Moliere 
 h Jnself, the confidant, the barbarian king, the young cavalier, the 
 drawing-room coquette, the valet, show themselves adepts in the 
 use of language. Never have we encountered such adroit exor- 
 diums, such well-arranged evidence, such just reflections, such 
 delicate transitions, such conclusive perorations. Never have 
 dialogues borne such a strong resemblance to oratorical tilts. 
 Each narration, each piece of portraiture, each detail of action, 
 might be detached and serve as a model example for school- 
 boys along with the masterpieces of the antique tribune. So 
 strong is this tendency that, on the approach of the final moment, 
 in the agony of death, alone and without witnesses, a character 
 contrives to plead his own frenzy and to die eloquently. 
 
 II. 
 
 This excess marks a defect In the two operations which the hu- 
 man mind performs, the classicist is more successful in the second 
 than in the first. The second, indeed, stands in the way of the first, 
 the obligation of saying things perfectly always impeding the ut 
 terance of what should be said. With him the form is more 
 admirable than the matter is rich, while the original impres- 
 sion which animates it loses, in the regular channels to 
 which it is confined, its force, depth and impetuosity. Poetry, 
 properly so called, the outflow of reverie and of insight, is an 
 impossibility. Lyric poetry proves abortive and likewise the epic 
 poem. 8 Nothing springs up on these remote and sublime confines 
 where speech is in accordance with music and painting. Never do 
 we hear the involuntary outburst of vivid impressions, the lonely 
 
 'See the "Discours acade'mique," ty Racine, on the reception of Thomas Corneille: 
 "In this chaos of dramatic poetry your illustrious brother brought reason on the stage, but 
 reason associated with all the pomp and the ornamentation our language is capable of." 
 
 2 Voltaire, "Essal sur le poeme 6pique," 290. "It must be admitted that a Frenchman 
 has more difficulty in writing an epic poem than anybody else. . . . Dare I confess itt 
 Our own is the least poetic of all polished nations. The works in verse the most highly 
 esteemed in France are those of the drama, which must be written in a familiar styte 
 approaching conversation."
 
 CHAP. ii. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 195 
 
 confession of an overcharged soul, 1 which gives itself voice only for 
 relief and expansion. When a creation of characters is impera- 1 
 tive, as in dramatic poetry, the classic mould fashions but one spe- 
 cies, those which through education, birth, or imitatively, always 
 speak correctly, in other words, so many people of society. No 
 others are visible on the stage or elsewhere, from Corneille and 
 Racine to Marivaux and Beaumarchais. So strong is the yoke 
 as even to impose itself on La Fontaine's animals, on the servants 
 and valets of Moliere, on Montesquieu's Persians, and on the I 
 Babylonians, the Indians and the Microme'gas of Voltaire. It 
 must be stated, furthermore, that these personages are only partially 
 real. In each living being two kinds of characteristics are found, 
 the first not numerous or common to all individuals of its class, 
 and which any reader or observer may readily distinguish, and 
 the second in large number, appertaining to it alone, and not to 
 be detected without some effort. Classic art concerns itself only 
 with the former; it purposely effaces, neglects or subordinates the 
 latter. Its creations are not veritable individuals, but generalized 
 characters, a king, a queen, a young prince, a confidant, a high- 
 priest, a captain of the guards, possessing some general passion, 
 habit or inclination, such as love, ambition, fidelity or perfidy, a 
 despotic or a yielding temper, some species of wickedness or of 
 native goodness. As to ^the circumstances of time and place, 
 which exercise the most powerful influence in fashioning and di- 
 versifying man, it scarcely indicates them, making an abstraction 
 of them. In tragedy the scene is really everywhere and of all 
 centuries, the opposite affirmation being equally true that it is no- 
 where and of no century. It consists of any palace or of any 
 temple, 2 in which, to get rid of all historic or personal impres- 
 sions, habits and costumes are introduced conventionally, being 
 neither French nor foreign, nor ancient, nor modern. In this ab- 
 stract world the address is always "you," 3 "Seigneur" and " Mad- 
 
 1 Except in the " Penses," by Pascal, a few notes dotted down by a morbidly exalted 
 Christian and which certainly, in the perfected work, would not have been allowed to re- 
 main as they are. 
 
 * See in the Cabinet of Engravings the theatrical costumes of the middle of the XVIIIth 
 century. Nothing could be more opposed to the spirit of the classic drama than the part* 
 of Ksther and Brittannicus, as they are played nowadays, in the accurate costumes and with 
 scenery derived from late discoveries at Pompeii or Ninevah. 
 
 * The formality which this indicates will be understood by those familiar with the use of 
 the pronoun tkou in France, denoting intimacy and freedom from restraint in contrast witb 
 ceremonious and formal intercourse. I'R.
 
 rg6 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK HI 
 
 ame," the noble style always clothii.g the most opposite charac- 
 ters with the same draper^. When Corneillejind Racine, through 
 the stateliness and elegance j>fjh.eir verse, afford us a glimpse of 
 contemporary figures they" do it unconsciously, imagining that 
 they are portraying man in himself; and, if we of the present 
 e^ time recognize in their pieces either the cavaliers, the duellists, 
 the bullies, the politicians or the heroines of the Fronde, or the 
 courtiers, princes and bishops, the ladies and gentlemen in wait- 
 ing of the regular monarchy, it is owing to their brush having 
 been involuntarily dipped in their own experience and some of 
 its color having fallen accidentally on the bare ideal outline 
 which they wished to trace. We have simply a contour, a gen- 
 eral sketch, filled up with the harmonious gray tone of correct 
 diction. Even in comedy, necessarily portraying surrounding 
 habits, even with Moliere, so frank and so bold, the model shows 
 its incompleteness, all individual peculiarities being suppressed, 
 the face becoming for a moment a theatrical mask, and the per- 
 sonage, especially when talking in verse, sometimes losing its an- 
 imation in becoming the speaking-trumpet of a tirade or of a dis- 
 sertation. 1 The stamp of rank, condition or fortune, whether 
 gentleman or bourgeois, provincial or Parisian, is frequently 
 overlooked. 2 We are rarely made to appreciate physical exter- 
 nals, as in Shakespeare the temperament, the state of the ner- 
 vous system, the bluff or drawling tone, the impulsive or re- 
 strained action, the emaciation or obesity of a character. 3 Fre- 
 quently no trouble is taken to find a suitable name, this being 
 either Chrysale, Orgon, Damis, Dorante, or Valere. The name 
 designates only a simple quality, that of a father, a youth, a 
 valet, a grumbler, a gallant, and, like an ordinary cloak, fitting 
 indifferently all forms alike, as it passes from the wardrobe of 
 Moliere to that of Regnard, Destouche, Le Sage or Marivaux. 4 
 
 1 See the parts of the moralizers and reasoners like Cleante in "Tartuffe," Ariste in ' Lea 
 Femmes Savantes," Chrysale in " L'Ecole des ferames," etc. See the discussion between 
 the two brothers in "Le Festin de Pierre," III. 5 ; the discourse of Ergaste in " L'Ecole des 
 Maris " ; that of Eliante, imitated from Lucretius in the " Misanthrope," II. 5 ; the portrai- 
 ture, by Dorine in "Tartuffe," I. i; the portrait of the hypocrite, by Don Juan in "Le 
 Festin de Pierre," V. 2. 
 
 * For instance the parts of Harpagon and Arnolphe. 
 
 * We see this in Tartuffe, but only through an expression by Dorine and not directly. Cf. 
 in Shakespeare, the parts of Coriolanus, Hotspur, FalstafF, Othello, Cleopatra, etc. 
 
 * Balzac passed entire days in reading the "Almanach des cent mille adresses," also in a 
 cab in the streets during the afternoons, examining signs for the purpose of finding suitable 
 names for his characters. This ittle circumstance shows the difference between two divers* 
 conceptions of mankind.
 
 CHAP. II. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 19) 
 
 The character lacks the personal badge, the unique^aiithentic ap- ff 
 pellation serving as the primary sfanrrr?Jf aB individual All these 
 details and circumstancgsTaTT these aids and accompaniments of a 
 man, remain outside of the classic theory. To secure the ad- 
 mission of some of them required the genius of Moliere, the 
 fulness of his conception, the wealth of his observation, the ex- 
 treme freedom of his pen. It is equally true again that he 
 often omits them, and that, in other cases, he introduces only a 
 small number of them because he avoids giving to these general 
 characters a richness and complexity that would embarrass the 
 action. The simpler the theme the clearer its development, 
 the first duty of the author throughout this literature being to 
 clearly develop the restricted theme of which he makes a selection. 
 There is, accordingly, a radical defect in the classic spirit, the 
 defect of its qualities, and which, at first kept within proper 
 bounds, contributes towards the production of its purest master- 
 pieces, but which, in accordance with the universal law, goes on 
 increasing and turns into a vice through the natural effect of age, 
 use, and success. Contracted at the start, it is to become yet more 
 so. In the eighteenth century the portrayal of living realities, 
 an actual individual, just as he is in nature and in history, that is 
 to say, an undefined unit, a rich plexus, a complete organism of 
 peculiarities and traits, superposed, commingled and co-ordinated, 
 is improper. The capacity to receive and contain all these is 
 wanting. Whatever can be discarded is cast aside, and to such 
 an extent that nothing is left at last but a condensed extract, an 
 evaporated residuum, an almost empty name, in short, what is 
 called a hollow abstraction. The only characters in the eigh- 
 teenth century exhibiting any life are the off-hand sketches, made 
 in passing and as if contraband, by Voltaire, Baron de Thun- 
 dertentronk and Milord Watthen, the lesser figures in his 
 stories, and five or six portraits of secondary rank, lurcaret, / 
 Gil Bias, Marianne, Manon Lescaut, Rameau, and Figaros-two 
 or three of the rough sketches of Crebillon the younger and of 
 Colle, all so many works in which sap flows through a familial 
 knowledge of things, comparable with those of the minor masters 
 in painting, Watteau, Fragonard, Saint-Aubin, Moreau, Lan- 
 cret, Pater, and Beaudouin, and which, accepted with dif- 
 ficulty, in the official safon, or getting in unawares, are still 
 to subsist after the grander and soberer canvases shall have 
 17*
 
 198 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 become mouldy through the ennui they exhale. Every- 
 where else the sap dries up, and, instead of blooming plants, 
 we encounter only wall-paper flowers. What are all the 
 \ serious poems, from the " Henriade " of Voltaire to the " Mois " 
 v 1 by Roucher or the " Imagination " by Delille, but so many pieces 
 of rhetoric garnished with rhymes? Examine the innumerable 
 ' tragedies and comedies of which Grimm and Colle give us mort- 
 uary extracts, even the meritorious works of Voltaire and Cr6- 
 billon, and later, those of authors of repute, Du Belloy, La 
 Harpe, Ducis, and Marie Ch6nier ? Eloquence, art, situations, 
 correct verse, all exist in these except human nature ; the per- 
 sonages are simply well-taught puppets, and generally mere 
 mouthpieces by which the author makes his declamation public; 
 Greeks, Romans, mediaeval knights, Turks, Arabs, Peruvians, 
 Giaours, or Byzantines, all form the same declamatory mechanism. 
 The public, meanwhile, betrays no surprise. It does not possess 
 the historic sentiment. It accepts humanity as everywhere the 
 same. It establishes the success alike of the "Incas" by Mar- 
 montel, that of "Gonsalve" and of the "Nouvelles" by Florian, 
 also of the peasants, mechanics, negroes, Brazilians, Parsees, and 
 Malabarites that appear before it uttering their amplifications. 
 Man is simply regarded as a reasoning being, alike in all ages 
 and alike in all places; Bernardin de Saint- Pierre endows his 
 pariah with this habit, also Diderot, in his Otaheitians. The 
 one recognized principle is that every human being must think 
 and talk like a book. 
 
 Accordingly, how inadequate are historical productions ! 
 With the exception of Charles XII., a contemporary on whom 
 Voltaire bestows fresh life, through the accounts of him by eye- 
 witnesses, also his spirited sketches of Englishmen, Frenchmen, 
 Spaniards, Italians and Germans, scattered through his stories, 
 where are men found? With Hume, Gibbon and Robertson, 
 belonging to the French school, and who are at once adopted 
 in France, in the researches into our middle ages of Dubos and 
 of Mably, in the " Louis XI." of Duclos, in the " Anacharsis ' 
 of Barthe'lemy, even in the "Essai sur les Mceurs," and in the 
 " Siecle de Louis XIV." of Voltaire, even in the " Grandeur des 
 Remains " and in the " Esprit des Lois " of Montesquieu, what 
 remarkable incompleteness! Eiudition, criticism, common sense. 
 an almost exact exposition of dogmas and of institutions, philo- 

 
 CHAP. ii. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 199 
 
 sophic views of the relation of events and on the general course 
 of things, nothing is wanting but souls ! It seems, on reading 
 them, that the climates, institutions and civilization which com- 
 pletely transform the human mind, are for it merely so many 
 externals or accidental envelopes, which, far from reaching 
 down to the depths, scarcely go below the surface. The pro- 
 digiousjlifference which separates the men of two centuries, 
 or of two races, escapes, them entirely. 1 The ancient 
 Greek, the early Christian, the conquering Teuton, the feudal 
 man, the Arab of Mahomet, the German, the Renaissance En- 
 glishman, the puritan, appear in their books about the same as 
 in engravings and frontispieces, with some difference in cos- 
 tume, but the same in form, feature and expression, attenuated, 
 faded and respectable, and adapted to the conventionalities of 
 good-breeding. That sympathetic imagination by which the 
 writer enters into the mind of another, and reproduces in 
 himself a system of habits and feelings opposed to his own, is the 
 talent the most wanting in the eighteenth century. With the 
 exception of jDiderot, who uses it badly and capriciously, it al- 
 most entirely disappears in the last half of the century. Con- 
 sider in turn, during the same period, in France and in England, 
 where it is most extensively used, the romance, a sort of mirror 
 everywhere transportable, the best adapted to reflect all phases 
 of nature and of life. After reading the series of English novel- 
 ists, Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, Sterne, and Gold- 
 smith down to Miss Burney and Miss Austen, I am familiar with 
 England in the eighteenth century ; I have encountered clergy- 
 men, country gentlemen, farmers, innkeepers, sailors, people of 
 every condition in life, high and low ; I know the details of fort- 
 unes and of careers, how much is earned, how much is expended, 
 how journeys are made and how people eat and drink : I have 
 accumulated for myself a file of precise biographical events, a 
 complete picture in a thousand scenes of an entire community, 
 the amplest stock of information to guide me should I wish tc 
 frame a history of this vanished world. On reading a corres- 
 ponding list of French novelists, the younger Crebillon, Rous- 
 
 " At the present day, whatever may be said, there is no such thing as Frenchmen, Ger- 
 mans, Spaniards, and Englishmen, for all are Europeans. All have the same tastes, the 
 same passions, the s tine habits, none having obtained a national form through any specific 
 Institution." Rousseau, "Sur le gouvernement de Pologne," 770.
 
 200 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 seau, Marmontel, Laclos, Restif de la Breton, Louvet, Madame 
 de Stael, Madame de Genlis and the rest, including Mercier and 
 
 ! even Mme. Cottin, I scarcely take any notes ; all precise and in- 
 structive little facts are left out ; I find civilities, polite acts, gal- 
 lantries, mischief-making, social dissertations and nothing else. 
 They carefully abstain from mentioning money, from giving me 
 figures, from describing a wedding, a trial, the administration of 
 a piece of property ; I am ignorant of the situation of a curate, 
 . of a rustic noble, of a resident prior, of a steward, of an intend- 
 ant. Whatever relates to a province or to the rural districts, to 
 the bourgeoisie or to the shop, 1 to the army or to a soldier, to the 
 clergy or to convents, to justice or to the police, to business or to 
 housekeeping remains vaguely in my mind or is falsified; to clear 
 up any point I am obliged to recur to that marvellous Voltaire 
 who, on laying aside the great classic coat, finds plenty of elbow 
 room and tells all. On the organs of society of vital importance, 
 on the practices and regulations that provoke revolutions, on feudal 
 rights and seigniorial justice, on the mode of recruiting and gov- 
 erning monastic bodies, on the revenue measures of the prov- 
 inces, on corporations and on trade-unions, on the tithes and 
 the corvees? literature provides me with scarcely any information. 
 Drawing-rooms and men of letters are apparently its sole ma- 
 
 | terial. The rest is null and void. Under the good society that 
 is able to converse France appears perfectly empty. On the ar- 
 rival of the Revolution the elimination increases. Glance over 
 the harangues of the clubs and of the tribune, over reports, leg- 
 islative bills and pamphlets, and through the mass of writings 
 prompted by passing and exciting events, in none of them do we 
 see any sign of the human creature as we see him in the fields 
 and in the street ; he is always regarded as a simple automaton, 
 a well-known mechanism. Among writers he was but lately re- 
 garded as a speaking automaton ; with politicians he is now a 
 voting automaton ; touch him in the proper place and he re- 
 sponds in the desired manner. Facts are never apparent; only 
 abstractions, long arrays of sentences on nature, reason, and the 
 
 1 Previous to 1750 we find something about these in "Gil-Bias," and in "Marianne," 
 (Mme. Dufour the sempstress and her shop). Unfortunately the Spanish travesty prevent* 
 the novels of Le Sage from being as instructive as they might be. 
 
 * Interesting details are found in the little stories by Diderot as, for instance, "Les deu 
 amis de Bourbonne." But elsewhere he is a partisan, especially in the "Religieuse." an<? 
 conveys a false impression of tilings.
 
 CHAP. II. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 201 
 
 people, on tyrants and liberty, like inflated balloons, uselessly 
 conflicting with each other in space. Were we not aware that 
 all this had terminated in terrible practical effects we should re- 
 gard it as so much logical sportiveness, as school exercises, or 
 academic parades, or ideological compositions. Ideology the last 
 emanation of the century, is, in effect, about to give of the classic 
 spirit the final formula and the last word. 
 
 III. 
 
 To pursue in every research, with the utmost confidence, with- 
 out either reserve or precaution, the mathematical method; to 
 derive, limit and isolate a few of the simplest generalized no 
 tions; and then, setting experience aside, comparing them, com- 
 bining them, and, from the artificial compound thus obtained, 
 deducing all the consequences they involve by pure reasoning, 
 is the natural process of the classic spirit. It is so deeply im- 
 planted as to be equally encountered in both centuries, as well 
 with Descartes, Malebranche 1 and the partisans of innate ideas as 
 with the partisans of sensation, of physical needs and of primary 
 instinct, Condillac, Rousseau, Helvetius, and, later, Condorcet, 
 Volney, Sieyes, Cabanis and Destutt de Tracy. In vain do the 
 latter assert that they are the followers of Bacon and reject 
 innate ideas; with another starting point than the Cartesians 
 they pursue the same path and, as with the Cartesians, after 
 borrowing a little, they leave experience behind them. In this 
 vast moral and social world, they only remove the superficial 
 bark from the human tree with its innumerable roots and 
 branches ; they are unable to penetrate to or grasp at anything 
 beyond it; their hands cannot contain more. They have no 
 suspicion of anything outside of it; the classic spirit, with limited 
 comprehension, is not far-reaching. To them the bark is the 
 entire tree and, the operation once completed, they retire, bear- 
 ing along with them the dry, dead epidermis, never returning to 
 the trunk itself. Through intellectual incapacity and literary 
 
 1 "To attain to the truth we have only to fix our attention on the ideas which each one 
 finds within his own mind." (Malebranche, "Recherche de la VeriteV' book I. ch. i.) 
 "Those long chains of reasoning, all simple and easy, which geometers use to arrive at theii 
 most difficult demonstrations, suggested to me that all things which come within human 
 knowledge must follow each ether in a similar chjin." Lewes, (Descartes, "Discours de la 
 Methode," I. 142). In the eighteenth century A priori ideas were employed, in the eigh. 
 teeuth century sensations, but always following the same mathematical method fully dis 
 played in the "Ethics" of Spinoza.
 
 202 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK m. 
 
 pride they omit the characteristic detail, the animating fact, the 
 specific circumstance, the significant, convincing and complete 
 example. Scarcely one of these is found in the " Logique " and 
 in the "Traite des Sensations" by Condillac, in the "Ideologic" 
 by Destutt de Tracy, or in the "Rapports du Physique et du 
 Morale " by Cabanis. 1 Never, with them, are we on the solid 
 and visible ground of personal observation and narration, but 
 always in the air, in the empty space of pure generalities. Con- 
 dillac declares that the arithmetical method is adapted to psy- 
 chology and that the elements of our ideas can be defined by a 
 process analogous "to the rule of three." Sieyes holds history 
 in profound contempt, and believes that he had "perfected the 
 science of politics" 2 at one stroke, through an effort of the 
 brain, in the style of Descartes, who thus discovered analytic 
 geometry. Destutt de Tracy, in undertaking to comment on 
 Montesquieu, finds that the great historian has too servilely con- 
 fined himself to history, and attempts to do the work over again 
 by organizing society as it should be, instead of studying society 
 as it is. Never were such systematic and superficial institutions 
 built up with such a moderate extract of human nature. Con- 
 dillac, employing sensation, animates a statue, and then, by a 
 process of pure reasoning, following up its effects, as he supposes, 
 on smell, taste, hearing, sight and touch, fashions a complete 
 human soul. Rousseau, by means of a contract, founds political 
 association, and, with this given idea, he deduces the constitu- 
 tion, government and laws of every system of social equity. In 
 a book which serves as the philosophical testament of the 
 century, 3 Condorcet declares that this method is " the final step 
 of philosophy, that which places a sort of eternal barrier between 
 humanity and its ancient infantile errors." " In its application 
 to morals, politics and political economy " we succeed in obtain- 
 ing a foothold in the moral sciences " as certain as in the natural 
 sciences ; through it we have been able to discover the rights 
 of man." As in mathematics, these are deduced from one fun- 
 
 1 See especially his memoir : " De 1'influence du climat sur les habitudes morales," vague, 
 Mid wholly barren of illustrations excepting one citation from Hippocrates. 
 
 a These are his own words. He adds elsewhere, "There is no more reality in assumed 
 historical truths than in assumed religious truths." (" Papicrs de Sieyes," the year 1772. 
 according to Sainte-Beuve, "Causeries du lundi," V. 194). Descartes and Malebranch* 
 already expressed this contempt for history. 
 
 * Condorcet, " Esouisse d'un tableau histr>riqi:e de 1'esprit humain," ninth epoch
 
 <HAP. n. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 203 
 
 damental proposition, which proposition, similar to a first princi- 
 ple in mathematics, becomes a fact of daily experience, verified 
 by everybody and therefore self-evident. This school is to sub- 
 sist throughout the Revolution, the Empire and even into the 
 Restoration, 1 along with the tragedy of which it is the sister, with 
 the classic spirit their common parent, a primordial, soveieigu 
 power as hurtful as it is useful, as destructive as it is creative, as 
 capable of propagating error as truth, as astonishing in the 
 rigidity of its code, in the burdensomeness of its yoke, and in 
 the uniformity of its works, as in the duration of its reign and 
 the universality of its ascendency. 
 
 1 See the " Tableau historique," presented to the Institute by Chewier in 1808, showing 
 by its statements that the classic spirit still prevails in all branches of literature. Cabanis 
 died in 1818, Volney in 1820, de Tracy and Sieyes in 1836, Dauncn in 1848. In May, 1845, 
 Saphary and V alette are still professors of Condillac's philosophy in the two lycies in Paris.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 COMBINATION OF THE TWO ELEMENTS. I. The doctrine, its pretensions 
 and its character. A new authority for reason in the regulation of human 
 affairs. Government thus far traditional. II. Origin, nature and value of 
 hereditary prejudice. How far custom, religion and government are legiti- 
 mate. III. The classic intellect incapable of accepting this point of view. 
 The past and present titles of tradition misunderstood. Reason undertakes 
 to set them aside. IV. Two stages in this operation. Voltaire, Montesquieu, 
 the deists and the reformers represent the first one. What they destroy and 
 what they respect. V. The second stage, a return to nature. Diderot, 
 d'Holbach and the materialists, Theory of animated matter and spontaneous 
 organization. The moral of animal instinct and self-interest properly under- 
 stood. VI. Rousseau and the spiritualists. The original goodness of man. 
 The mistake committed by civilization. The injustice of property and of 
 society. VII. The forlorn hope of the philosophic party. Naigeon, Sylvain 
 Mare"chal, Mably, Morelly. The entire discredit of traditions and institu- 
 tions derived from it. 
 
 I. 
 
 OUT of the scientific acquisitions thus set forth, elaborated by 
 the spirit we have just described, is born a doctrine seemingly a rev- 
 elation and which, under this title, assumes to regulate the govern- 
 ment of human affairs. On the approach of 1789 it is generally 
 admitted that man is living in " a century of light," in " the age 
 of reason ; " that, previously, the human species was in its infancy 
 and that now it has attained to its " majority." Truth, finally, is 
 made manifest and, for the first time, its reign on earth is apparent. 
 Its right is supreme, since it is truth itself. Everybody must be 
 ruled by it, for, in its nature, it is universal. The philosophy 
 of the eighteenth century, in these two articles of faith, resembles 
 a religion, the puritanism of the seventeenth century, and Ma- 
 hometanism in the seventh century. We see the same outburst 
 of faith, hope and enthusiasm, the same spirit of propagandism 
 and of dominion, the same rigidity and intolerance, the same 
 ambition to recast man and to remodel human life according to
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 205 
 
 a preconceived type. The new doctrine is also to have its doctors, 
 its dogmas, its popular catechism, its fanatics, its inquisitors and 
 its martyrs. It is to speak as loudly as those preceding it, as 
 a legitimate authority to which dictatorship belongs by right of 
 birth, and against which rebellion is criminal or insane. It differs, 
 however, from the preceding religions in this respect, that instead 
 of imposing itself in the name of God, it imposes itself in the 
 name of Reason. 
 
 The authority, indeed, was a new one. Up to this time, in the 
 control of human actions and opinions, reason had played but a 
 small and subordinate part. Both the motive and its direction 
 were obtained elsewhere; faith and obedience were an inherit- 
 ance; a man was a Christian and a subject because he was born 
 Christian and subject. Surrounding this budding philosophy and 
 the reason which enters upon its great investigation, is a system 
 of recognized laws, an established power, a reigning religion ; all 
 the stones of this structure hold together and each story is sup- 
 ported by a preceding story. But what does the common 
 cement consist of and what is its first foundation ? Who author- 
 izes all these civil regulations which control marriages, testa- 
 ments, inheritances, contracts, property and persons, these fanci- 
 ful and often contradictory regulations? In the first place im- 
 memorial custom, varying according to the province, according 
 to the title to the soil, according to the quality and condition of 
 the person ; and next, the will of the king who caused the cus- 
 tom to be inscribed and who sanctioned it. Who authorizes this 
 will, this sovereignty of the prince, this first of public powers ? 
 In the first place, eight centuries of possession, a hereditary right 
 similar to that by which each one enjoys his own field and do- 
 main, a property established in a family and transmitted from one 
 eldest son to another, from the first founder of the State to his 
 last living successor ; and, in addition to this, a religion directing 
 men to submit to the constituted powers. And who, finally, au- 
 thorizes this religion ? At first, eighteen centuries of tradition, { 
 the immense series of anterior and concordant proofs, the steady ' 
 belief of sixty preceding generations; and after this, at the 
 beginning of it, the presence and teachings of Christ, then, far 
 ther back, the creation of the world, the command and the voice 
 of God. Thus, throughout the moral and social order of things 
 the past justifies the present ; antiquity provides its title and if, 
 18
 
 206 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in, 
 
 beneath all these supports which age has consolidated, the deep 
 primitive rock is sought for in subterranean depths, we find it in 
 the divine will. During the whole of the seventeenth century 
 cnis thecry still absorbs all souls in the shape of a fixed habit ana 
 of inward respect ; it is not open to question. It is regarded in 
 the same light as the heart of the living body; whoever would 
 lay his hand upon it would instantly draw back, moved by a 
 vague sentiment of its ceasing to beat in case it were touched. 
 The most independent, with Descartes at the head, "would be 
 grieved" at being confounded with those chimerical speculators 
 who, instead of pursuing the beaten track of custom, dart blindly 
 forward "across mountains and over precipices." In subjecting 
 their belief to systematic investigation not only do they except 
 and set aside " the truths of faith," l but again the dogma they 
 suppose to have been discarded remains in their mind latent and 
 effective, to lead them on without their knowledge and to con 
 vert their philosophy into a preparation for, or a confirmation 
 of, Christianity. 2 Summing it all up, faith, the performance of re- 
 ligious duties, with religious and political institutions, provide the 
 mother ideas of the seventeenth century. Reason, whether she 
 admits it or is ignorant of it, is only a subaltern, an oratorical 
 agency, a setter-in-motion, forced by religion and the monarchy 
 to labor in their behalf. With the exception of La Fontaine, 
 
 WVMMMMOVMMM* 
 
 whom I regard as unique in this as in other matters, the greatest 
 and most independent, Pascal, Descartes, Bossuet, La Bru- 
 yere, derive from the established system their first conception 
 of nature, of man, of society, of right and of government. 3 
 So long as reason is limited to this function its work is that of a 
 councillor of State, an extra preacher which its superiors despatch 
 on a missionary tour in the departments of philosophy and of 
 literature Far from proving destructive it consolidates ; in fine, 
 even do\*n to the Regency, its chief employment is to produce 
 good Christians and loyal subjects. 
 
 1 "Discours de la Methode." 
 
 * This is evident with Descartes in the second step he takes. (The theory of pure spirit. 
 the idea of God, the proof of his existence, the veracity of our intelligence demonstrated by 
 the veracity of God, etc.) 
 
 3 See Pascal, " Pensees" (on the origin of property and rank). The " Provinciates" (on 
 homicide and the right to kill). Nicole, "Deuxieme traitS de la charit, et de 1'amour 
 propre" (on the natural man and the object of society). Bossuet, "Politique tiree de 
 I'Ecriture sainte." La Bruyere, " Des Esprits forts."
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 207 
 
 But here the parts become inverted; tradition desceLds from 
 the upper to the lower rank while reason ascends from the lat- 
 ter to the former. On the one hand religion and the monarchy, 
 through their excesses and misdeeds under Louis XIV., and their 
 laxity and incompetency under Louis XV., demolish piece 
 by piece the basis of hereditary reverence and filial obedience 
 so long serving them as a foundation and which maintained 
 them aloft above all dispute and free of investigation; hence I 
 the authority of tradition insensibly declines and disappears. On | 
 the other hand science, through its imposing and multiplied dis- 
 coveries, erects piece by piece a basis of universal trust and def- 
 erence, raising itself up from an interesting subject of curiosity 
 to the rank of a public power ; hence the authority of reason aug- 
 ments and occupies its place. A time comes when, the latter 
 authority having dispossessed the former, the mother ideas tradi- 
 tion had reserved to itself fall into the grasp of reason. Investi- 
 gation penetrates into the forbidden sanctuary. Instead of 
 deference there is verification, and religion, the state, thejaw, 
 custom, all th^ organs, in short, of moral and practical life, be- 
 come subject to analysis, to be preserved, restored or replaced, 
 according to the prescriptions of the new doctrine. 
 
 II. 
 
 Nothing could be better had the doctrine been complete and 
 had reason, instructed by history and rendered critical, been quali- 
 fied to comprehend the rival she replaced. For then, instead of 
 regarding her as an usurper to be repelled she would have recog- 
 nized in her an elder sister whose part must be left to her. 
 Hereditary prejudice is a sort of reason operating unconsciously. 
 It has claims as well as reason, but it is unable to present 
 these; instead of advancing those that are authentic it puts 
 forth the doubtful ones. Its archives are buried; to exhume 
 these it is necessary to make researches of which it is incapable ; 
 nevertheless they exist, and history at the present day is bring- 
 ing them to light. Careful investigation shows that, like sci- 
 ence, it issues from a long accumulation of experiences: men, 
 after a multitude of gropings and efforts, have satisfied themselves 
 that a certain way of living and thinking is the only one adapted 
 to their situation, the most practical and the most salutary, the 
 system or dogma now seeming arbitrary to us being at firsj
 
 *o8 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK HI 
 
 a confirmed expedient of public safety. Frequently it is so 
 still; in any event, in its leading features, it is indispensable; it 
 may be stated with certainty that, if the leading prejudices of 
 the community should suddenly disappear, man, deprived of the 
 precious legacy transmitted to him by the wisdom of ages, would 
 at once fall back into a savage condition and again become what 
 he was at first, namely, a restless, famished, wandering, hunted 
 brute. There was a time when this heritage was lacking; there 
 are populations to-day with which it is still utterly lacking. 1 To 
 abstain from eating human flesh, from killing useless or burden- 
 some aged people, from exposing, selling or killing children one 
 does not know what to do with, to be the one husband of but 
 one woman, to hold in horror incest and unnatural practices, to 
 be the sole and recognized owner of a distinct field, to be mind- 
 ful of the superior injunctions of modesty, humanity, honor and 
 conscience, all these observances, formerly unknown and slowly 
 established, compose the civilization of human beings. Because 
 we accept them in full security they are not the less sacred, and 
 they become only the more sacred when, submitted to investiga- 
 tion and traced through history, they are disclosed to us as the se- 
 cret force which has converted a herd of brutes into a society of 
 men. In general, the older and more universal a custom, the 
 more it is based on profound motives, on physiological motives 
 on those of hygiene, and on the precautions taken by society. 
 At one time, as in the separation of castes, a heroic or 
 thoughtful race must be preserved by preventing the mixtures 
 by which inferior blood introduces mental debility and low in- 
 stincts. 2 At another, as in the prohibition of spirituous liquors, 
 and of animal food, it is necessary to conform to the climate pre- 
 scribing a vegetable diet or to the racial temperament for which 
 strong drink is pernicious. 3 At another, as in the institution of 
 the right of primogeniture, it was important to prepare and desig- 
 nate beforehand the military commander which the tribe would 
 obey, or the civil chieftain that would preserve the domain, super- 
 
 1 Cf. Sir John Lubbock, "Early Civilization." Grand-Teulon, "Les Origines de la 
 fkmille." 
 
 * The principle of caste In India; we see this in the contrast between the Aryjns and th 
 iborigines, the Soudras and the pariahs. 
 
 * In accordance with this principle the inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands passed a law 
 forbidding the sale of liquor to the natives rod allowing it to Europeans. (De Varignw 
 " Quatorze ans a ox iles Sandwich.")
 
 CHAi'. nr. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 209 
 
 intend its cultivation, and support the family. 1 If there are valid 
 reasons for legitimating custom there are reasons of higher un- 
 port for the consecration of religion. Consider this point, not in 
 general and according to a vague notion, but at the outset, at its 
 birth, in the texts, taking for an example one of the faiths which 
 now rule in society, Christianity, brahminism, the law of Ma- 
 homet or of Buddha. At certain critical moments in history, a 
 few men, emerging from their narrow and daily routine of life, 
 form some generalized conception of the infinite universe; the 
 august face of nature is suddenly unveiled to them ; in their sub- 
 lime emotion they seem to have detected its first cause ; they have 
 at least detected some of its elements. Through a fortunate con- 
 junction of circumstances these elements are just those which 
 their century, their race, a group of races, a fragment of human- 
 ity, is in a state to comprehend. Their point of view is the only 
 one at which the graduated multitudes below them are able to 
 place themselves. For millions of men, for hundreds of genera- 
 tions, only through them is any access to divine things to be ob- 
 tained. Theirs is the unique utterance, heroic or affecting, en- 
 thusiastic or tranquillizing; the only one which the hearts and 
 minds around them and after them will heed; the only one 
 adapted to profound cravings, to accumulated aspirations, to he- 
 reditary faculties, to a complete intellectual and moral organism ; 
 yonder that of Hindostan or of the Mongolian ; here that of the 
 Semite or of the European; in our Europe that of the German, 
 the Latin or the Sclave ; in such a way that its contradictions in- 
 stead of condemning it, justify it, its diversity producing its adap- 
 tation and its adaptation producing its benefits. 
 
 This is no barren formula. A sentiment of such grandeur, of 
 such comprehensive and penetrating insight, an idea by which 
 man, compassing the vastness and depth of things, so greatly 
 oversteps the ordinary limits of his mortal condition, resembles an 
 illumination; it. is easily transformed into a vision; it is never re- 
 mote from ecstacy ; it can express itself only through symbols ; 
 it evokes divine figures. 2 Religion in its nature is a metaphysical 
 poem accompanied by faith. Under this title it is popular and 
 efficacious ; for, apart from an invisible select few, a pure abstract 
 
 i Cf. Leplay, "De 1'Organization de la famille," the history of a domain in the Pyrenees. 
 3 See, especially, in Brahminic literature the great metaphysical poems and the Puranas. 
 
 1 8*
 
 *io THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 idea is only an empty term, and truth, to be apparent, must be 
 clothed with a body. It requires a form of worship, a legend 
 and ceremonies in order to address the people, women, children, 
 the credulous, every one absorbed by daily cares, any under- 
 standing in which ideas involuntarily translate themselves through 
 imagery. Owing to this palpable form it is able to give ita 
 weighty support to the conscience, to counterbalance natural 
 egoism, to curb the mad onset of brutal passions, to lead the 
 will to abnegation and devotion, to tear man away from himself 
 and place him wholly in the service of truth, or of his kind, to 
 form ascetics, martyrs, sisters of charity and missionaries. Thus, 
 throughout society, religion becomes at once a natural and pre- 
 cious instrumentality. On the one hand men require it for the 
 contemplation of infinity and to live properly ; if it were suddenly 
 to be taken away from them their souls would be a mournful 
 void and they would do greater injury to their neighbors. Be- 
 sides, it would be vain to attempt to take it away from them; 
 the hand raised against it would encounter only its envelope; 
 it would be repelled after a sanguinary struggle, its germ lyine; 
 too deeply to be extirpated. 
 
 And when, at length, after religion and habit, we regard the 
 State, that is to say, the armed power possessing both physical 
 force and moral authority, we find for it an almost equally noble 
 origin. In Europe at least, from Russia to Portugal, and from 
 Norway to the two Sicilies it is, in its origin and essence, a mili- 
 tary foundation in which heroism constitutes itself the champion 
 of right. Here and there, in the chaos of mixed races and of 
 crumbling societies, some man has arisen who, through his 
 ascendency, rallies around him a loyal band, driving out in- 
 truders, overcoming brigands, re-establishing order, reviving agri- 
 culture, founding a patrimony, and transmitting as property to 
 his descendants his office of hereditary justiciary and born general. 
 Through this permanent delegation a great public office is re- 
 moved from competitors, fixed in one family, sequestered in safe 
 binds; thenceforth the nation possesses a vital centre and each 
 right obtains a visible protector. If the sovereign confines him- 
 self to his attributions, is restrained in despotic tendencies, 
 and avoids falling into egotism, he gives the country one of the 
 best governments of which the world has any knowledge, not 
 alone the most stable, the most capable of continuance, the mosl
 
 CHAP. HI. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 211 
 
 suitable for maintaining together a body of twenty or thirty thou- 
 sand men, but, again, one of the best, because self-sacrifice digni- 
 fies both command and obedience and, through the prolongation 
 of military tradition, fidelity and honor, from grade to grade, 
 attaches the chieftain to his duty and the soldier to his chieftain. 
 Such are the valid claims of hereditary prejudice ; like in- 
 stinct, we see in it a blind form of reason. And what renders 
 it completely legitimate, in order to make it serviceable, is that 
 reason herself is obliged to borrow its forms. The inspiration 
 of a doctrine is due to its blind activity. To enter into practice, 
 to direct souls, to convert itself into a spring of action, it must 
 lodge itself in minds in the shape of an accepted belief, enforced 
 by habit, established by inclination, handed down by home tradi- 
 tions, and, descending from the stormy heights of the intellect, 
 embed itself in the stagnant depths of the will; then only does it 
 form part of the character and become a social force. But, 
 through the same process, it ceases to be critical and clairvoy- 
 ant; it no longer tolerates doubt or contradiction, it no longer 
 allows restrictions or distinctions; its evidence is no longer 
 comprehended or is misinterpreted. We, of the present day, 
 believe in infinite progress about the same as people once be- 
 lieved in original sin; we still accept ready-made opinions from 
 above, the Academy of Sciences taking the place, in many re- 
 spects, of the ancient councils. Belief and obedience will, 
 except with a few special savants, continue unreflecting, while 
 reason would greatly err in resenting the leadership of prejudice 
 in human affairs, since, to take this lead, she must herself be- 
 come prejudice. 
 
 III. 
 
 Unfortunately, in the eighteenth century, reason was classic; \ ^ 
 not only the aptitude but the documents which enable it to com- 
 prehend tradition, were absent. In the first place, there was 
 no knowledge of history ; there was a repugnance to erudition, 
 because of its dulness and tediousness; learned compilations, 
 vast collections of extracts and the slow work of criticism were 
 held in disdain. Voitawe rallied the Benedictines. Montesquieu, 
 to ensure the acceptance of his " Esprit des lois," indulged in wii / 
 about laws. Raynal, to give an impetus to his history of com- 
 merce in the Indies, welded to it the declamation of Didejot.
 
 *I2 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK m 
 
 The Abb6 Barthe"lemy covered over the realities of Greek manners 
 and customs with his literary varnish. Science was expected to 
 be either epigrammatic or oratorical ; crude or technical details 
 would have been objectionable to a public composed of people 
 of society ; correctness of style drove out or falsified the little 
 significant facts which give a peculiar sense and their original 
 relief to antiquated characters. Even if writers had dared to 
 note them, their sense and bearing would not have been under- 
 stood. The sympathetic imagination did not exist ; people were 
 incapable of going out of themselves, of betaking themselves 
 to distant points of view, of conjecturing the peculiar and violent 
 states of the human brain, the decisive and fruitful moments 
 during which it gives birth to a vigorous creation, a religion des- 
 tined to rule, a state that is sure to endure. The imagination of 
 man is limited to personal experiences, and where, in their 
 experience, could individuals in this society find the materials 
 with which to imagine the pains of the parturition ? How could 
 minds as polished and as amiable as these fully adopt the 
 sentiments of an apostle, of a monk, of a barbaric or feudal 
 founder, see these in the milieu which explains and justifies them, 
 picture to themselves the surrounding crowd, at first souls in 
 despair and haunted by mystic dreams, and next the rude and 
 violent intellects given up to instinct and imagery, thinking with 
 half-visions, their wills consisting of irresistible impulses? A 
 reason of this stamp forms no conception of figures like these. 
 To bring them within its rectilinear limits they require to be 
 reduced and made over ; the Macbeth of Shakespeare becomes 
 that of Ducis, and the Mahomet of the Koran that of Voltaire. 
 Consequently, as they failed to see souls, they misconceived 
 institutions. The suspicion that truth could have been conveyed 
 only through the medium of legends, that justice could have 
 been established only by force, that religion was obliged to 
 assume the sacerdotal form, that the State necessarily took a mil- 
 itary form, and that the Gothic edifice possessed, as well as other 
 structures, its own architecture, proportions, balance of parts, 
 solidity, utility, and even beauty, never entered their heads. 
 Consequently again, unable to comprehend the past, they were 
 unable to comprehend the present. They had no accurate 
 conception of the present, of the mechanic, of the provin- 
 cial bourgeois, or even of the inferior rural noble ; these were
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 213 
 
 visible only at a distance, half-effaced, and wholly transformed 
 through philosophic theories and sentimental mistiness. "Two or 
 three thousand" 1 polished and cultivated individuals formed the 
 circle of honest folks, and they never went outside of this. If 
 they obtained glimpses of the people from their chateaux and 
 on their journeys, it was in passing, the same as of tleir post- 
 horses, or of the cattle on their farms, showing compassion un- 
 doubtedly, but never divining their anxious thoughts and their 
 obscure instincts. The structure of the still primitive mind of 
 the people was never imagined, the paucity and tenacity of their 
 ideas, the narrowness of their mechanical, routine existence, de- 
 voted to manual labor, absorbed with anxieties for daily bread, 
 confined to the bounds of a visible horizon; their attachment to 
 the local saint, to rites, to the priest, their deep-seated rancor, 
 their inveterate distrust, their credulity growing out of the imag- 
 ination, their lack of capacity for conceiving abstract right and 
 of comprehending public events, the silent operation by which 
 political novelties became transformed in their brain into nursery 
 fables or into ghost stories, their contagious infatuations like 
 those of sheep, their blind fury like that of bulls, and all those 
 traits of character the Revolution was about to bring to light 
 Twenty millions of men and more had scarcely passed out of the 
 mental condition of the middle ages ; hence, in its grand lines, 
 the social edifice in which they could dwell was necessarily me- 
 diaeval. It had to be made healthy and cleaned, windows put 
 in and walls pulled down, but without disturbing the foundations, 
 or the main building and its general arrangement; otherwise, 
 after demolishing it and living encamped for ten years in the open 
 air like savages, its inmates would have been obliged to rebuild 
 it on the same plan. In uneducated minds, those having not yet 
 attained to reflection, faith attaches itself only to the corporeal 
 symbol, obedience being brought about only through physical 
 restraint ; there is no religion outside of the curate, and no state 
 outside of the soldier. But one writer, Montesquieu, the best 
 instructed, the most sagacious, and the best balanced of all the 
 spirits of the age, discerned these truths, and because he was at 
 once an erudite, ar. observer, a historian and a jurisconsult. He, 
 however, spoke as an oracle, sententiouslyand enigmatically; he 
 
 * Voltaire, "Diet. Phil.," the article on Punishments,
 
 214 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in, 
 
 squirmed as if on live coals, every time that he touched mat- 
 ters belonging to his country and epoch. Hence, he remained 
 respected, but isolated, his fame exercising no influence. The 
 classic reason declined J to go so far as to laboriously study the 
 ancient man and the actual man. It found the way shorter and 
 more convenient to follow its original bent, to shut its eyes on 
 the real being, tc fall back upon its stores of current notions, to 
 derive from these an idea of man in general, and build up ac- 
 cordingly. Through this natural and conclusive state of blind- 
 ness, it no longer heeds the old and living roots of contemporary 
 institutions; no longer seeing them it denies that they exist. 
 Hereditary prejudice to it becomes pure prejudice; tradition has 
 no further claim on us, and royalty is an usurpation. Thence- 
 forward reason arms itself against its predecessor to wrest away 
 the government of souls and to substitute the reign of truth for 
 the reign of error. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In this great undertaking there are two halting-places ; either 
 through good sense or through timidity many stop half-way. 
 The first campaign results in carrying the enemy's out-works and 
 his frontier fortresses, the philosophical army being led by Vol- 
 taire. To combat hereditary prejudice, other prejudices are 
 opposed to it whose empire is as extensive and whose authority 
 is not less recognized. Montesquieu looks at France through 
 the eyes of a Persian, and Voltaire, on his return from England, 
 describes the English, an unknown species. Confronting dogma 
 and the prevailing system of worship, accounts are given, either 
 with open or with covert irony, of the various Christian sects, 
 the anglicans, the quakers, the presbyterians, the socinians, those 
 of ancient or of remote people, the Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, 
 Mahometans and Guebers, of the worshippers of Brahma, of 
 the Chinese and of pure idolaters. In relation to established laws 
 and customs, expositions are made, with evident intentions, 
 of other constitutions and other social habits, of despotism, 
 of limited monarchy, of a republic, here the church subject 
 to the state, there the church free of the state, in this country 
 castes, in another polygamy, and, from country to country, from 
 century to century, the diversity, contradiction and antagonism 
 
 I "Resume des cahiers," by Prud'homme, preface, 1789.
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 215 
 
 of fundamental customs which, each on its own ground, are 
 all equally consecrated by tradition and legitimately forming the 
 system of public rights. From this time forth tne charm is 
 broken. Ancient institutions lose their divine prestige ; they are 
 simply human works, the fruits of the place and of the momert, 
 and born out of convenience and a covenant. Scepticism enters 
 through all the breaches. With regard to Christianity it at 
 once changes into open hostility, into a bitter and prolonged 
 polemical warfare; for, under the title of a state religion this 
 occupies the ground, censuring free thought, burning writings, 
 exiling, imprisoning or disturbing authors and everywhere acting 
 as a natural and official adversary. Moreover, by virtue of 
 being an ascetic religion, it condemns not only the free and 
 cheerful ways tolerated by the new philosophy but, again, the 
 natural tendencies it sanctions, and the promises of terrestrial 
 felicity with which it everywhere dazzles the eyes. Thus the 
 heart and the head both agree in their opposition. Voltaire, 
 with texts in hand, pursues it from one end to the other of 
 its history, from the first biblical narration to the latest papal 
 bulls, with unflagging animosity and energy, as critic, as his- 
 torian, as geographer, as logician, as moralist, questioning its 
 sources, opposing evidences, driving ridicule like a pick-axe 
 into every weak spot where an outraged instinct beats against 
 its mystic walls, and into all doubtful places where ulterioi 
 patchwork disfigures the primitive structure. He respects, how- 
 ever, the first foundation, and in this particular the greatest 
 writers of the day follow the same course. Under positive 
 religions that are false there is a natural religion that is true. 
 This is the simple and authentic text of which the others are 
 altered and amplified translations. On removing the ulterior 
 and divergent surplusage the original remains and this common 
 extract, with which all copies harmonize, is deism. The same 
 operation ensues with civil and political laws. In France where 
 so many institutions survive their utility, where privileges are 
 no longer sanctioned by services, where rights are changed into 
 abuses, how incoherent is the architecture of the old Gothic 
 building ! How poorly adapted to a modern nation ! Of what 
 use, in an unique and compact state, of all those feudal compart- 
 ments separating orders, corporations and provinces ? What a 
 living paradox the archbishop-lord of a semi-province, a chaptei
 
 216 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 owning twelve thousand serfs, a drawing-room abbe well sup- 
 ported by a monastery he never saw, a seignior liberally pen- 
 sioned to figure in antechambers, a magistrate purchasing the 
 right to administer justice, a colonel leaving college to take the 
 command of his inherited regiment, a Parisian trader who, rent- 
 ing a house for one year in Franche-Comt6, alienates the owner- 
 ship of his property and of his person. Throughout Europe 
 there are others of the same character. The best that can be 
 said of "a polished nation" is that its laws, customs and prac- 
 tices are composed "one-half of abuses and one-half of tolerable 
 usages." But, underneath these positive laws, which contradict 
 each other, and of which each contradicts itself, a natural law 
 exists, implied in the codes, applied socially, and written in 
 all hearts. " Show me a country where it is honest to steal the 
 fruits of my labor, to violate engagements, to lie for injurious 
 purposes, to calumniate, to assassinate, to imprison, to be un- 
 grateful to one's benefactor, to strike one's father and mother 
 on offering you food." "Justice and injustice is the same 
 throughout the universe," and, as in the worst community force 
 always, in some respects, is at the service of right so, in the worst 
 religion, the extravagant dogma always in some fashion proclaims 
 a supreme architect. Religions and communities, accordingly, 
 disintegrated under the investigating process, disclose at the 
 bottom of the crucible, some a residuum of truth, others a 
 residuum of justice, a small but precious balance, a sort of 
 gold ingot preserved by tradition, purified by reason, and which 
 little by little, freed from its alloys, elaborated and devoted 
 to all usages, must solely provide the substance of religion and 
 all the threads of the social warp. 
 
 V. 
 
 Here begins the second philosophic expedition. It consists 
 of two armies, the first composed of the encyclopedists, some of 
 them sceptics like d'Alembert, others pantheists like Diderot and 
 Lamarck, others open atheists and materialists like d'Holbach, 
 Lamettrie and Helv6tius, and later, Condorcet, Lalande and 
 Volney, all differing and independent of each other, but all 
 unanimous in regarding tradition as the common enemy. Such 
 is the effect of prolonged hostilities : the duration of warfare 
 begets exasperation ; the desire to be master of everything, to
 
 CHAP. m. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 217 
 
 push the adversary to the wall, to drive him out of all his posi- 
 tions. They refuse to admit that reason and tradition can oc- 
 cupy and defend the same citadel together; as soon as one 
 enters the other must depart; henceforth one prejudice is estab- 
 lished against another prejudice. In fact, Voltaire, "the patri- 
 arch, does not desire to abandon his redeeming and avenging 
 God ; " 1 let us tolerate in him this remnant of superstition on ac- 
 count of his great services ; but let us examine as men this phan- 
 tom which he regards with infantile vision. We admit it into 
 our minds through faith, and faith is always suspicious. It is 
 forged by ignorance, fear, and imagination, which are all decep- 
 tive powers. At first it was simply the fetish of savages ; in vain 
 have we striven to purify and aggrandize it ; its origin is always 
 apparent ; its history is that of a hereditary dream which, arising 
 in a rude and doting brain, prolongs itself from generation to 
 generation, and still lasts in the healthy and cultivated brain. 
 Voltaire would have this dream true because, otherwise, he 
 is unable to explain the admirable order of the world, the 
 watch suggesting a watchmaker; prove, first, that the world 
 is a watch and, then, let us see if the arrangement, such as 
 it is, incomplete, which we have observed, cannot be better 
 explained by a simpler supposition and more conformable 
 to experience, that of eternal matter in which motion is eter- 
 nal. Mobile and active particles, the different kinds of which 
 are in different states of equilibrium, afford minerals, inorganic 
 substances, marble, lime, air, water and coal. 2 I form humus 
 out of this, " I sow peas, beans and cabbages," plants finding their 
 nourishment in the humus and " I find my nourishment in the 
 plants." At every meal, within me, and through me, inanimate 
 matter becomes animate ; " I convert it into flesh. I animalize 
 it. I render it sensitive." It harbors latent, imperfect sensibil- 
 ity rendered perfect and made manifest. Organization is the 
 cause, and life and sensation are the effects; I need no spiritual 
 monad to account for effects since I am in possession of the 
 cause. " Look at this egg ! All the schools of theology and 
 all the temples of the earth are overthrown with that. What is 
 this egg ? A sensationless mass previous to the introduction of 
 
 ' Voltaire, " Diet. Phil.," the article on Religion. "If there is a ham let to be 
 governed it must have a religion." 
 11 " Le rSve de d'Alembert," by Diderot, passim. 
 
 19
 
 218 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 the germ And what is it after the introduction of the germ ? 
 An insensible mass, an inert fluid." Add heat to it, keep it in an 
 oven, and let the operation continue of itself, and we have 
 a chicken, that is to say, "sensibility, life, memory, conscience, 
 passions and thought." That which you call soul is the nervous 
 centre in which all sensitive chords concentrate. Their vibra- 
 tions produce sensations; a quickened or reviving sensation is 
 memory; our ideas are the result of sensations, memory and 
 signs. Matter, accordingly, is not the work of an intelligence 
 but matter, through its own arrangement, produces intelligence. 
 Let us fix intelligence where it is, in the organized body; we 
 must not detach it from its support to perch it in the sky on 
 an imaginary throne. This disproportionate conception, once 
 introduced into our minds, ends in perverting the natural play 
 of our sentiments, and, like a monstrous parasite, abstracts for 
 itself all our substance. 1 The first duty of a sound man is to get 
 rid of it, to discard every superstition, every "fear of invisible 
 powers." 2 Then only can he establish a moral order of things 
 and distinguish "the natural law." The sky consisting of 
 empty space, we have no need to seek commands from on high. 
 Let us look down to the ground ; let us consider man in himself, 
 as he appears in the eyes of the naturalist, namely, an organized 
 body, a sensitive animal possessing wants, appetites and in- 
 stincts. Not only are these indestructible but they are legiti- 
 mate. Let us throw open the prison in which prejudice con- 
 fines them; let us give them free air and space; let them be 
 displayed in all their strength and all will go well. According 
 to Diderot, 3 a lasting marriage is an abuse, being " the tyranny 
 of a man who has converted the possession of a woman into 
 property." Purity is an invention and conventional, like a 
 dress; 4 happiness and morals go together only in countries 
 where instinct is sanctioned as in Otaheite, for instance, where 
 
 1 "If a misanthrope had proposed to himself to injure humanity what could he have in- 
 vented better than faith in an incomprehensible being, about which men never could ccma 
 to any agreement, and to which they would attach more importance than to their own ex- 
 istence?" Diderot, "Entretien d'un philosophe avec la Mare'chale ." 
 
 * C "Catechisme Universel," by Saint- Lambert, and the " Loi naturelle ou Cat6chismo 
 du citoyen franyais," by Volney. 
 
 3 "Supplement au voyage de Bougainville." 
 
 4 Cf. "Me'moires de Mme. d'Epinay," a conversation with Duclos and Saint-Lambert at 
 the house of Mile. Quinault Rousseai.'s " Confessions," part i. book V. These are the 
 ame principles taught by M. de la Tavel to Mme de Wirens.
 
 CHAP. in. 1HE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 219 
 
 marriage lasts but a month, often only a day, and sometimes a 
 quarter of an hour, where, in the evening and with hospitable 
 intent, a host offers his daughters and wife to his guest, where 
 the son espouses his mother out of politeness, where the union 
 of the sexes is a religious festivity celebrated in public. And, 
 pushing things to extremes, the logician ends with five or six 
 pages calculated "to make one's hair stand on end," 1 himself 
 avowing that his doctrine is " not suited to children or the great." 
 With Diderot, to say the least, these paradoxes have their cor- 
 rectives. In his pictures of modern ways and habits, he is the 
 moralist. He not only is familiar with all the chords of the 
 human keyboard, but he classifies each according to its rank. 
 He loves fine and pure tones, and is full of enthusiasm for noble 
 harmonies; his heart is equal to his genius. 2 And better still, 
 on the question of primitive impulsions arising, he assigns, 
 side by side with self-love, an independent and superior position 
 to pity, sympathy, benevolence and well-doing ; to every gener- 
 ous affection of the heart displaying sacrifice and devotion with- 
 out calculation or personal benefit. But, associated with him, 
 are others, cold and narrow, who form moral systems according 
 to the mathematical methods of the ideologists, after the style of 
 Hobbes. 3 One motive alone satisfies these, the simplest and 
 most palpable, utterly gross, almost mechanical, completely phys- 
 iological, the natural animal tendency of avoiding pain and seek- 
 ing pleasure. "Pain and pleasure," says Helvtius, "form the 
 only springs of the moral universe ; the sentiment of self-love is 
 the only basis on which we can lay the foundations of practical 
 morality. What motive but that of self-interest could lead 
 a man to perform a generous action ? He can as little love 
 good for the sake of good as evil for the sake of evil." 4 The 
 principles of natural law, say the disciples, are reduced to one 
 unique and fundamental principle, self-preservation." 5 "To pre- 
 serve oneself, to be happy," is instinct, right and duty. " Oh, 
 
 1 "Suite du reVe de d'Alembert." "Eatretien entre Miles, de Lespinasse et Borde-.' 
 "M6moires de Diderot," a letter to Mile. Volant, III. 66. 
 
 1 Cf. his admirable tales, "Entretiens d'un pere avec ses enfants," and " Le nisveu d 
 Rameau." 
 
 B Volney, ibid. " The natural law consists wholly of facts of which the demonstration ii 
 unceasingly renewed to the senses and which compose a science as precise and accurate a* 
 geometry and mathematics." 
 
 Helvetius, " De rEsprit," jassim. 
 
 * Volney, ibid. chap. iii. Saint-Lambert, ibid, the first dialogue.
 
 220 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 ye," 1 says nature, " who, through the impulsion I bestow on you, 
 tending towards happiness at every moment of your being, resist 
 not my sovereign law, strive for your own felicity, enjoy fearlessly 
 and be happy ! " But, to be happy, contribute to the happiness 
 of others ; if you wish them to be useful to you, be useful to 
 them; your interest, properly understood, commands you to 
 serve them. " Every man, from birth to death, has need of man- 
 kind." " Live then for them, that they may live for you." " Be 
 good, because goodness links hearts together ; be gentle, because 
 gentleness wins affection ; be modest, because pride repels beings 
 full of their self-importance. ... Be citizens, because a coun- 
 try is necessary to ensure your safety and well-being. Defend 
 your country, because it renders you happy and contains your 
 possessions." Virtue thus is simply egotism furnished with a 
 spy-glass ; man has no other reason for doing good but the fear 
 of doing himself harm, while self-devotion consists of self-interest. 
 One goes fast and far on this road. When the sole law for each 
 person is to be happy, each wishes to be so immediately and in 
 his own way ; the herd of appetites is let loose, rushing ahead and 
 breaking down all barriers. And the more readily because it 
 has been demonstrated to them that every barrier is an evil, in- 
 vented by cunning and malicious shepherds, the better to milk and 
 shear them. "The state of society is a state of warfare of the 
 sovereign against all, and of each member against the rest. 2 . . . 
 We see on the face of the globe only incapable, unjust sovereigns, 
 enervated by luxury, corrupted by flattery, depraved through un- 
 punished license, and without talent, morals, or good qualities. 
 . . . Man is wicked not because he is wicked, but because he 
 has been made so." "Would you know the story, in brief, of 
 almost all our wretchedness? 3 Here it is. There existed the 
 natural man, and into this man was introduced an artificial man, 
 whereupon a civil war arose within him, lasting through life. 
 ... If you propose to become a tyrant over him, ... do your 
 best to poison him with a theory of morals against nature ; impose 
 every kind of fetter on him ; embarrass his movements with a 
 thousand obstacles ; place phantoms around him to frighten him. 
 . . . Would you see him happy and free ? Do not meddle with 
 
 > D'Holbach, " Systeme de la Natun .," II. 408-493. * Ibid. I. 347. 
 
 Diderot, "Supplement au voyage de Bougainville."
 
 CHAP, in THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 221 
 
 his affairs. . . . Remain convinced of this, that these wise legis- 
 lators have formed and shaped you as they have done, not for 
 your benefit, but for their own. I appeal to every civil, religious, 
 and political institution ; examine these closely, and, if I am not 
 mistaken, you will find the human species, century after century, 
 subject to a yoke which a mere handful of knaves chose to impose 
 on it. ... Be wary of him who seeks to establish order; to 
 order is to obtain the mastery of others by giving them trouble." 
 All this must come to an end ; the passions are proper, and if the 
 herd would eat freely, its first care must be to trample under its 
 sabots the mitred and crowned animals who keep it in the fold 
 for their own advantage. 1 
 
 VI. 
 
 A return to nature, meaning by this the abolition of society, is 
 the war-cry of the whole encyclopedic battalion. The same 
 shout is heard in another quarter, coming from the Rousseau 
 battalion and that of the socialists who, in their turn, march up 
 to the assault of the established regime. The mining and sapping 
 of the walls practised by the latter seems less extensive, but 
 only the more efficacious, while the distinctive machinery it em- 
 ploys consists likewise of a new conception of human nature. 
 Rousseau derived this conception wholly from the spectacle he 
 contemplated in his own breast : 2 a strange, original and superior 
 man, who, from his infancy, harbored within him a germ of in- 
 sanity and who finally became wholly insane; a wonderful, 
 ill-balanced mind in which sensations, emotions and images are 
 too powerful : at once blind and perspicacious, a veritable poet 
 
 1 Diderot, "Les Eleuthe'romanes." 
 
 Et ses mains, ourdissant les entrailles du pre'tre, 
 En feraient un cordon pour le dernier des rois. 
 
 Brissot : " Wants being the sole title to property the result is that when a want is satisfied 
 man is no longer a property owner. . . . Two prime necessities are due to the animal con 
 stitution, food and waste. . . . May men nourish themselves on their fallen creatures ? (Yes. 
 for) all beings may justly nourish themselves on any material calculated to supply theii 
 wants. . . . Man of nature, fulfil your desire, give heed to your cravings, your sole masten 
 and your only guide. Do you feel your veins throbbing with inward fires at the sight oi a 
 charming creature ? She is yours, your caresses are innocent and your kisses pure. Lovs 
 alone entitles to enjoyment as hunger is the warrant for property." (An essay published 
 In 1780, and reprinted in 1782 in the " Bibliotheque du Le'gislateur," quoted by Roux and 
 Buchez " Histoire parlementaire," XIII. 431. 
 
 * The words of Rousseau himself ( " Rousseau juge de Jean- Jacques," third dialogue, p. 
 193): "From whence may the painter and apo ogist of nature, now so disfigured and so 
 calumniated, derive his model if not from his own heart ? "
 
 22 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 and a morbid poet, who, instead of objects beheld reveries, 
 living in a romance and dying in a nightmare of his own creation ; 
 incapable of self-mastery and of self-management, regarding res- 
 olutions as acts, his good intentions as resolutions, and the part 
 he assumed for the character he thought he possessed , wholly dis- 
 proportionate to the ordinary ways of the world, striking against, 
 wounding himself and sullying himself at every barrier by tne 
 wayside; committing absurdities, meannesses and crimes and 
 yet preserving up to the end delicate and profound sensibility, 
 humanity, pity, the gift of tears, the faculty of loving, the passion 
 for justice, the sentiment of religion and of enthusiasm, like 
 so many vigorous roots in which generous sap is always fer- 
 menting, whilst the stem and the branches prove abortive and 
 become deformed or wither under the inclemencies of the at- 
 mosphere. How explain such a contrast ? How did Rousseau 
 himself account for it? A critic, a psychologist would merely 
 regard it as a singular case, the effect of an extraordinarily 
 discordant mental formation, analogous to that of Hamlet, Chat- 
 terton, Rene" or Werther, adapted to poetic spheres, but unsuit- 
 r able for real life. Rousseau generalizes; occupied with himself, 
 1 even to infatuation, and regarding no one in the world but 
 i himself he imagines man accordingly and " describes him as he 
 feels him within." Self-esteem, moreover, finds its account in 
 this ; one is gratified at considering himself the type of humanity ; 
 the statue one erects of himself becomes more important ; one 
 rises in his own estimation when, in confessing to himself, he 
 thinks he is confessing the human species. Rousseau convokes 
 the assembly of generations with the trumpet of the day of judg- 
 ment, and boldly stands up in the eyes of all men and of the 
 Supreme Judge, exclaiming, " Let one of you dare to say I 
 am better than thou!" 1 His contaminations all come to him 
 from without; his vices and his baseness must be attributed to 
 circumstances : " If I had fallen into the hands of a better 
 
 1 " Confessions," Book I. p. i, and at the end of the fifth book. See his letter to Male- 
 gherhes: "I know my great faults, and am profoundly sensible of my vices. With all 
 that I shall die under the persuasion that of all the men I have encountered no one was tet- 
 ter than myself." To Madame B , March 16, 1770, he writes: "You have awarded mo 
 
 esteem for my writings; your esteem would be yet greater for my life if it were open to your 
 inspection, and still greater for my heart if it were exposed to your view. Never wa 
 there a better one, a heart more tender or more just. . . . My misfortunes are all duo to 
 my virtues." To Madame de la Tour, "Whoever is not enthus-Astic in my behalf is uu 
 worthy of me."
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 223 
 
 master . . I should have been a good Christian, a good father, 
 a good friend, a good workman, a good man in all things." The 
 wrong is thus all on the side of society. In like manner nature, 
 with man in general, is good. " His first impulses are always 
 right. . . . The fundamental principle of all moral questions, on 
 which I have argued in all my writings, is that man is naturally 
 good and loving justice and order, ' Emile,' especially, is a trea- 
 tise on the natural goodness of man, intended to show how vice 
 and error, foreign to his constitution, gradually find their way into 
 it from without and insensibly change him. . . . Nature made man 
 to be happy and good, while society has made him depraved and 
 miserable." 1 Divest him, in thought, of his factitious habits, of 
 his superadded necessities, of his false prejudices; put aside 
 systems, study your own heart, listen to the inward dictates of 
 feeling, let yourself be guided by the light of instinct and of 
 conscience, and you will again find the first Adam, like an incor- 
 ruptible marble statue that has fallen into a marsh, a long time 
 lost under a crust of slime and mud, but which, released from its 
 foul covering, may be replaced on its pedestal in the completeness 
 of its form and in the perfect purity of its whiteness. 
 
 Around this central idea a reform occurs in the spiritualistic 
 doctrine. A being so noble cannot possibly consist of a simple 
 collection of organs ; he is something more than mere matter ; 
 the impressions he derives from his senses do not constitute his 
 full being. " I am not merely a sensitive and passive being, but an 
 active and intelligent being and, whatever philosophy may say, I 
 dare claim the honor of thinking." And better still, this thinking 
 principle, in man, at least, is of a superior kind. "Show me 
 another animal on the globe capable of producing fire and of 
 admiring the sun. What! I who am able to observe, to compre- 
 hend beings and their associations; who can appreciate order, 
 beauty and virtue; who can contemplate the universe and exalt 
 myself to the hand which controls it ; who can love the good 
 and do good, I compare myself to brutes ! " Man is free, capable 
 of deciding between two actions, and therefore the creator of 
 his actions ; he is accordingly a first and original cause, " an 
 immaterial substance," distinct from the body, a soul hampered 
 by the body and which may survive the body. This immortal 
 soul imprisoned within tTie flesh has conscience for its organ. 
 
 1 The letter to M. de Beaumont, p. 24. " Rousseau juge de Jean- Jacques," third dia- 
 logue, 193.
 
 224 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 " O Conscience, divine instinct, immortal and celestial voice, the 
 unfailing guide of an ignorant and finite but free and intelligent be- 
 ing, the infallible judge between good and evil, and which renders 
 man similar to God, thou formest the superiority of his nature!" 
 Alongside of self-love, by which we subordinate everything to 
 ourselves, there is a love of order by which we subordinate ourselves 
 to the whole. Alongside of egotism, by which man seeks happi- 
 ness even at the expense of others, is sympathy by which he 
 seeks the happiness of others even at the expense of his own. 
 Personal enjoyment does not suffice him ; he still needs tranquil- 
 lity of conscience and the effusions of the heart. Such is man 
 as God designed and created him ; in his organization there is 
 no defect. Inferior elements are as serviceable as the superior 
 elements ; all are essential, proportionate, in proper place, not 
 only the heart, the conscience, the intellect, and the faculties by 
 which we surpass brutes, but again the inclinations in common 
 with animals, the instinct of self-preservation and of self-defence, 
 the need of physical activity, sexual appetite, and other primitive 
 impulses as we observe them in the child, the savage and the 
 uncultivated man. 1 None of these in themselves are either 
 vicious or injurious. None are too strong, even the love of self. 
 None come into play out of season. If we would not interfere 
 with them, if we would impose no constraint on them, if we 
 would permit these sparkling fountains to flow according to their 
 bent, if we would not confine them to our artificial and foul 
 channels we should never see them boiling over and becoming 
 turbid. We look with wonder on their ravages and on their 
 contaminations; we forget that, in the beginning, they were pure 
 and undefiled. The fault is with us, in our social arrangements, in 
 our incrusted and formal channels whereby we cause deviations 
 and windings and make them heave and bound. "Your very 
 governments are the cause of the evils which they pretend to 
 remedy. Ye scepters of iron! ye absurd laws, ye we reproach 
 for our inability to fulfil our duties on earth ! " Away with 
 these dykes, the work of tyranny and routine! An emanci- 
 pated nature will at once resume a direct and healthy course and 
 man, without effort, will find himself not alone happy but virtuous. 3 
 
 > "Emile,' 1 boo* I. and the letter to M. de Beaumont, passim. 
 
 * Article 1. "All Frenchmen shall be virtuous." Article II. "All Frenchmen shall be 
 happy." (Draft of a constitution found among the papers of Sismondi, at that time IE 
 school. ^
 
 CIIAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 225 
 
 On this principle the attack begins : there is none that is pushed 
 further, nor conducted with more bitter hostility. Thus far ex 
 isting institutions are exhibited simply as oppressive and unrea 
 sonable; they are now charged with being unjust and corrupting 
 Reason and the appetites were the only insubordinates ; con 
 science and pride are now in rebellion. With Voltaire and Mon 
 tesquieu fewer evils might be anticipated. With Diderot and 
 d'Holbach the horizon discloses only a glowing Eldorado 01 
 a comfortable Cythera. With Rousseau I behold within reach 
 an Eden where I shall immediately recover the nobleness insep- 
 arable from felicity. It is my right ; nature and Providence sum- 
 mon me to it ; it is my heritage. One arbitrary institution alone 
 keeps me away from it, the creator of my vices as of my 
 misery. With what rage and fury will I overthrow this ancient 
 barrier! We detect this in the vehement tone, in the embit- 
 tered style, and in the sombre eloquence of the new doctrine. Hu- 
 mor and scurrility are no longer an object; a serious tone is 
 maintained ; people become exasperated, while the powerful voice 
 now heard penetrates beyond the drawing-room, to the rude and 
 suffering crowd to which no word has yet been spoken, whose 
 mute resentment for the first time finds an interpreter, and whose 
 destructive instincts are soon to be set in motion at the summons 
 of its herald. Rousseau is one of the people and not a man of 
 society. He feels awkward in a drawing-room. 1 He is not capa- 
 ble of conversing and of appearing amiable; his wit is late, 
 coming to him on the steps as he leaves the house; he keeps 
 silent with a sulky air or utters stupidities, redeeming his awk- 
 wardness with the sallies of a clown or with the phrases of a 
 vulgar pedant. Elegance annoys him, luxuriousness makes him 
 uncomfortable, politeness is a lie, conversation mere prattle, ease 
 or manner a grimace, gayety a conventionalism, wit a parade, 
 science so much charlatanry, philosophy an affectation and mor- 
 als utter corruption. All is factitious, false and unwholesome, 1 
 
 1 " Confessions," part 2, book IX. 368. " I cannot comprehend how any one can converse 
 in a circle. ... I stammer out a few words, with no meaning in them, as quickly as I can, 
 very glad if they convey no sense. ... I should be as fond of society as anybody if I were 
 not certain of appearing not merely to disadvantage but wholly different from what I really 
 un." Cf. in the " Nouvelle Heloise," 2d part, the letter of Saint-Preux on Paris. Also in 
 " Emile," the end of book IV 
 
 * "Confessions," part 2, IX. 361. "I was so weary of drawing-rooms, of jets of water, 
 of bowers, of flower-beds and of those that showed them to me ; I was so overwhelmed 
 with pamphlets, harpsichords, games, knots, stupid witticisms, simpering looks, petty story
 
 126 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 from the paint, toilet and beauty of women to the atmosphere Of 
 the apartments and the ragouts on the dinner- table, in sentiment 
 as in amusement, in literature as in music, in government as in 
 religion. This civilization, which boasts of its splendor, is simply 
 the restlessness of over-excited, servile monkeys each imitating the 
 other, and each corrupting the other to attain to super-refinement, 
 discomfort and ennui. Human culture, accordingly, is in itself 
 
 f bad, while the fruit it produces is merely excrescence and poison. 
 
 I Of what service are the sciences ? Uncertain and useless, they 
 afford merely a pasture-ground for idlers and wranglers. 1 " Who 
 could pass a lifetime in sterile observation, did each person, con- 
 sulting human duties and nature's demands, bestow his time on 
 his country, on the unfortunate and on his friends ? " Of what 
 use are the fine arts ? They serve only as public flattery of domi- 
 nant passions. "The more pleasing and the more perfect the 
 drama, the more baneful its influence;" the theatre, even with 
 Moliere, is a school of bad morals, " inasmuch as it excites per- 
 fidious souls to inflict punishment, under the guise of stupidity, on 
 the candor of the innocent." Tragedy, said to be moralizing, 
 wastes in counterfeit effusions, the little virtue that still remains. 
 " After a man has seen and admired admirable conduct in fables 
 what more is expected of him ? After paying homage to virtue 
 is he not discharged from all that he owes to it ? What more 
 would they have him do? Must he practise it himself? He 
 has no part to play, he is not a comedian." The sciences, the 
 fine arts, the arts of luxury, philosophy, literature, all is adapted 
 to enervating and dissipating the soul; all is contrived for the 
 Email crowd of brilliant and noisy insects buzzing around ele- 
 vated places in society and sucking away the public substance. 
 In the way of science but one is important, that of our duties, 
 and, without so many subtleties and so much study, innate senti- 
 ment suffices for our teaching. In the way of the arts only those 
 
 tellers and heavy suppers, that when I spied out a corner in a hedge, a bush, a bam, a 
 meadow, or when, on passing through a hamlet, I caught the smell of a good parsely omelet 
 ... I sent to the devil all the rouge, furbelows and perfumery, and, regretting a plain dinner 
 and common wine, I would gladly have pummelled both the head cook and the master of 
 the house who forced me to dine when I generally supped and to sup when I generally g 
 to bed, but especially the lackeys that envied me every morsel 1 ate and who, at the risk of 
 my dying with thirst, sold me the drugged wine of their master at ten times the price I 
 would have to pay for better wine at a tavern." 
 
 1 " Discours sur 'influence des sciences et ds arts ' The letter to d'Alembert on theatrt 
 cal performances.
 
 CHAP. in. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 227 
 
 should be tolerated which, ministering to our prime necessities, 
 provide us with bread for our support, a roof to shelter us, cloth- 
 ing to cover our bodies, and arms with which to defend ourselves. 
 In the way of existence that only is healthy which enables us to 
 live in the fields, without any refinements, without display, m 
 family union, devoted to cultivation, living on the products of the 
 soil and among neighbors that are equals and with servants that 
 one trusts as friends. In the way of classes but one is respect- 
 able, that of laboring men, especially that of men working 
 with their own hands, artisans and mechanics, only these be- 
 ing really of service, the only ones, who, through their situation, 
 are in close proximity to the natural state, and who preserve, 
 under a rough exterior, the warmth, the goodness and the integ- 
 rity of primitive instincts. Accordingly call by its true name this 
 elegance, this luxury, this urbanity, this literary delicacy, this phil- 
 osophical eccentricity, admired by the prejudiced as the flower of 
 the life of humanity, but which is only its mould and moss. In 
 like manner esteem at its just value the swarm that live upon it, 
 namely, the indolent aristocracy, the fashionable world, the privi- 
 leged who govern and make a display, the idlers of the drawing- 
 room who talk, divert themselves and regard themselves as the 
 elect of humanity, but who are simply so many parasites. 
 Whether parasitic or excretory one attracts the other, and the 
 tree can only again become healthy by getting rid of one or 
 the other. 
 
 If civilization is bad, society is worse. 1 For this could not have 
 been established except by destroying primitive equality, while 
 its two principal institutions, property and government, are usur- 
 pations. " He who first enclosed a plot of ground, and who took ' 
 it into his head to say this belongs to me, and who found people 
 simple enough to believe him, 2 was the true founder of civil society. 
 What crimes, what wars, what murders, what misery and what hor- 
 rors would have been spared the human race if he wlio, pulling up 
 the landmark and filling up the ditch, had cried out to his fellows : 
 Be wary of that impostor ; you are lost if you forget that no one 
 has a right to the ground and that its fruits are the property of 
 
 1 "Society is as natural to the human species as decrepitude to the individual Thi 
 people require aits, laws, and governments, as old men require crutches." See the letter to 
 M. Philopolis, p. 248. 
 
 ' See the discourse on the "Origine de I'lne'galite'," passim.
 
 228 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IIL 
 
 all ! " The first property right was a robbery by which an indi 
 vidual abstracted from the community a portion of the public do- 
 main. Nothing could justify the outrage, nothing added by him 
 to the soil, neither his industry, nor his trouble, nor his valor. 
 " In vain may he assert that he built this wall, and acquired this 
 land by his labor. Who marked it out for him, one might ask, 
 and how do you come to be paid for labor which was never im- 
 posed on you ? Are you not aware that a multitude of your breth- 
 ren are suffering and perishing with want because you have too 
 much, and that the express and unanimous consent of the whole 
 human species is requisite before appropriating to yourself more 
 than your share of the common subsistence ? " Underneath this 
 theory we recognize the personal animus, the rancor of the 
 poor embittered plebeian, who, on entering society, finds the 
 places all taken, and who is incapable of creating one for himself, 
 who, in his confessions, marks the day when he ceased to feel hun- 
 gry, who, for lack of something better, lives in concubinage with 
 a serving-woman and places his five children in a hospital, who 
 is, in turn, valet, clerk, vagabond, teacher and copyist, always on 
 the watch and making shift to maintain his independence, dis- 
 gusted with the contrast between what he is outwardly and what 
 he feels himself inwardly, avoiding envy only by disparagement, 
 and preserving in the folds of his heart an old grudge "against 
 the rich and the fortunate in this world as if they were so at his 
 expense, as if their assumed happiness had been an infringement 
 on his happiness." l Not only is there injustice in the origin of 
 property but again there is injustice in the power it secures to it- 
 self, the wrong increasing like a canker under the partiality of 
 law. "Are not all the advantages of society for the rich and for 
 the powerful? Do they not absorb to themselves all lucrative 
 positions ? Is not the public authority wholly in their interest ? 
 If a man of position robs his creditors or commits other offences 
 is he not certain of impunity ? Are not the cudgellings he be- 
 stows, his violent assaults, the murders and the assassinations he is 
 guilty of, matters that are hushed up and forgotten in a few 
 months ? Let this same man be robbed and the entire police set 
 to work, and woe to the poor innocents they suspect ! Has he to 
 pass a dangerous place, escorts overrun the country. If the axle 
 
 I Emfle," book IV. Rousseau's narrative, p. 13.
 
 CHAP. in THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 229 
 
 of his coach breaks down everybody runs to help him. Is a noise 
 made at his gate, a word from him and all is silent. Does the 
 crowd annoy him, he makes a sign and order reigns. Does a 
 carter chance to cross his path, his attendants are ready to knock 
 the man down ; fifty honest pedestrians might be crushed rather 
 than a puppy be stopped on his headlong car jer. All this defer- 
 ence to him costs him not a penny. What a difference in the 
 picture of the poor ! The more humanity owes to it the more 
 society refuses it. All doors are closed to it even when it has 
 the right to have them opened, and if it sometimes obtains 
 justice it experiences more trouble than another in obtaining 
 favors. If there are corvees to work out, a miHtia to raise, the 
 poor are the most eligible. It always bears the burden of which 
 its wealthier neighbor with influence secures exemption. At the 
 least accident to a poor man everybody abandcns him. Let his 
 cart upset and I regard him as fortunate if he escapes the insults 
 of the smart companions of a young duke passing by. In a word, 
 all gratuitous assistance is withheld from him in time of need, 
 precisely because he cannot pay for it But, above all, he is a 
 lost man if he is so unfortunate as to be honest and have a pretty 
 daughter and a powerful neighbor. Let us sum up in few 
 words the social pact of the two estates : You need me because I 
 am rich and you are poor : let us then make an agreement together 
 I will allow you the honor of serving me on condition that you give 
 me the little that remains to you for the trouble I have in governing 
 you" 
 
 This shows the spirit, the object and the effect of political 
 society. At the start, according to Rousseau, it consisted of an 
 iniquitous bargain, made by an adroit rich man with a poor 
 dupe, "providing new fetters for the weak and fresh power 
 for the rich," and, under the title of legitimate property, hallow- 
 ing the usurpation of the soil. To-day the contract is still more 
 iniquitous "as a child may govern an old man, a fool lead the 
 wise, and a handful of people burst with superfluities whilst 
 a famished multitude lack the necessaries of life." It is the 
 nature of inequality to grow; hence the authority of some in- 
 creases along with the dependence of the rest, so that the two 
 conditions, having at last reached their extremes, the hereditary 
 and perpetual subjection of the people seems to be a divine 
 right equally with the hereditary and perpetual despotism of the 
 king.
 
 *30 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 This is the present condition of things and if a change occurs 
 it is for the worse. "For, 1 the occupation of all kings, or of 
 those charged with their functions, consists wholly of two ob- 
 jects, to extend their sway abroad and to render it more absolute 
 at home." If any other aim is alleged it is a pretext. "The 
 terms public welfare, happiness of subjects, the glory of the na- 
 tion, so pretentiously employed in public edicts, never denote 
 other than disastrous commands, and the people shudder be- 
 forehand when its masters allude to their paternal solicitude." 
 However, this fatal point once reached, "the contract with the 
 government is dissolved ; the despot is master only while remain- 
 ing the most powerful, and, as soon as he can be expelled, he has 
 no reclamation against violence." Right exists only through 
 consent, and no consent nor right can exist between master and 
 slave. "Whether between one man and another man, or be- 
 tween one man and a people, the following is an absurd ad- 
 dress: '/ make an agreement with you wholly at your expense 
 and to my advantage which I shall respect as long as I please and 
 which you shall respect as long as it pleases me.' " Madmen may 
 sign such a treaty, but, as madmen, they are not in a condition to 
 negotiate and their signature is not binding. Conquered men, 
 stricken to the ground, with swords pointed at their throats, may 
 accept such conditions but, being under constraint, their promise 
 is null and void. Madmen and the conquered may, a thousand 
 years ago, have bound over all subsequent generations, but 
 a contract for a minor is not a contract for an adult, and on 
 the child arriving at the age of reason he belongs to him 
 self. We at last have become adults, and we have only to ex 
 amine into the authority calling itself legitimate to bring its 
 pretensions to their just value. It has power on its side and 
 nothing more. But "A pistol, in a brigand's hand is power," 
 and will you say that I am conscientiously obliged to hand him 
 my purse ? I obey through force and I will have my purse back 
 if I can take his pistol away from him. 
 
 VII. 
 
 We stop here. It is not worth while to follow the forlorn hope 
 of the party, Naigeon and Sylvain Mare"chal, Mably and Morelly, 
 ihe fanatics that erected atheism into an obligatory dogma and 
 
 I "Discoui* sur 1'Origine de I'lnSgalitV 178. "Central Sodal," I. ch. iv.
 
 CHAP. ni. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 231 
 
 into a superior duty; the socialists who, to suppress egoism, 
 propose a community of goods and who found a republic in 
 which any man that proposes to re-establish " detestable owner- 
 ship" shall be declared an enemy of humanity, treated as a 
 "raging maniac" and shut up in a dungeon for life. It is 
 sufficient to have studied the operations of large armies and of 
 great campaigns. With different resources and contrary tactics, " 
 the various attacks are all directed to the same end. Every in- 
 stitution is undermined at its foundations. The dominant 
 philosophy withdraws all authority from custom, from religion,) 
 from the State. Not only is it admitted that tradition in itself is 
 false, but again that it is baneful through its works, that it builds 
 up injustice on error and that by rendering man blind it leads to 
 subjection. Henceforth it is proscribed. Let this "infamous 
 thing " with its upholders be crushed out. It is the great wrong 
 of the human species, and, when suppressed, only the right 
 will remain. " The time will then come 1 when the sun will shine 
 only on free men recognizing no other master than reason ; 
 when tyrants and slaves, and priests with their senseless or 
 hypocritical instruments, will exist only in history and on the 
 stage ; when attention will no longer be bestowed on them 
 except to pity their victims and their dupes, we remaining 
 vigilant and useful through horror of their excesses, and able to 
 recognize and extinguish by the force of reason the first germs 
 of superstition and of tyranny, should they ever venture to 
 reappear." The millennium is approaching and reason must 
 again reorganize. We are thus to owe everything to its salu- 
 tary authority, the foundation of the new order of things as well 
 as the destruction of the old one. 
 
 1 Co&dorcet, "Tableau dei progrei de Pesprit hamain," the tenth epoch.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ORGANIZATION OF SOCIETY IN THE FUTURE. I. The mathematical 
 method. Definition of man in the abstract. The social contract. Inde- 
 pendence and equality of the contractors. All equal before the law and each 
 sharing in the sovereignty. II. The first result. The theory easily ap- 
 plied. Confidence in it due to belief in man's inherent goodness and reason- 
 ableness. III. The inadequacy and fragility of reason in man. The rarity 
 and inadequacy of reason in humanity. Subordination of reason in human 
 conduct. Brutal and dangerous forces. The nature and utility of govern- 
 ment. Government impossible under the new theory IV. The second re- 
 sult. The new theory leads to despotism. Precedents for this theory. Ad- 
 ministrative centralization. The Utopia of the Economists. Invalidity of 
 preceding rights. Collateral associations not tolerated. Complete surren- 
 der of the individual to the community. Rights of the State in relation to 
 property, education and religion. The State a Spartan convent. V. 
 Complete triumph and last excesses of classic reason. How it becomes 
 monomania. Why its work is not enduring. 
 
 I. 
 
 CONSIDER future society as it appears at this moment to our 
 legislators of the closet and bear in mind that it will soon appear 
 under the same aspect to the legislators of the Assembly. In 
 their eyes the decisive moment has come. Henceforth two his- 
 tories are to exist ; * one, that of the past, the other, that of the 
 future, formerly a history of man still deprived of his reason, 
 and at present the history of the rational man. At length 
 the rule of right is to begin. Of all that the past has founded 
 and transmitted nothing is legitimate. Overlaying the natural 
 man it has created an artificial man, either ecclesiastic or laic, 
 noble or plebeian, sovereign or subject, proprietor or proletary, 
 ignorant or cultivated, peasant or citizen, slave or master, all be- 
 ing factitious qualities which we are not to heed, as their origin is 
 tainted with violence and robbery. Strip off these superadded 
 
 1 Barrere, "Point du jour," No. i, (June 15, 1789). "You are summoned to give history 
 * freah start"
 
 CHAP. IV. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 233 
 
 garments; let us take man in himself, the same under all con- 
 ditions, in all situations, in all countries, in all ages, and strive to 
 ascertain what sort of association is the best adapted to him. 
 The problem thus stated the rest follows. 
 
 Conformably to the ways of the classic spirit, and to the pre- 
 cepts of the prevailing ideology, a political system is constructed 
 after a mathematical model. 1 A simple proposition is selected, 
 and set apart, very general, familiar, readily apparent, and easily 
 understood by the most ignorant and inattentive schoolboy. 
 Reject every difference which separates one man from other 
 men; retain of him only the portion common to him and to 
 others. This remainder constitutes man in general, or in other 
 words, "a sensitive and rational being who, thus endowed, avoids 
 pain and seeks pleasure," and therefore aspiring to "happiness, 
 namely, a stable condition in which one enjoys greater pleasure 
 than pain," 2 or, again, "a sensitive being -capable of forming 
 rational opinions and of acquiring moral ideas." 3 The first 
 comer is cognizant of this notion in his own experience, and can 
 verify it at the first glance. Such is the social unit ; let several 
 of these be combined, a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million, 
 twenty-six millions, and you have the French people. Men 
 born at twenty-one years of age, without relations, without a 
 past, without traditions, without a country, are supposed to be 
 assembled for the first time and, for the first time, to treat with 
 each other. In this position, at the moment of contracting 
 together, all are equal : for, as the definition states, the extrinsic 
 and spurious qualities through which alone all differ have been 
 rejected. All are free, for, according to the definition, the unjust 
 thraldom imposed on all by brute force and by hereditary preju- 
 dice, has been suppressed. But, if all men are equal, no rea- 
 son exists why, in this contract, any special advantage should be 
 conceded to one more than to another. Accordingly all shall 
 be equal before the law ; no person, or family, or class, shall be 
 allowed any privilege; no one shall claim a right of which 
 
 1 Condorcet, ibid. " The methods of the mathematical sciences, applied to new objects, 
 have opened new roads to the moral and political sciences." Cf. Rousseau, in the " Central 
 Social," the mathematical calculation of the fraction of sovereignty to which each individual 
 is entitled. 
 
 * Saint-Lambert, "Catchisme universel," the first dialogue, p. 17. 
 
 * Condorcet, ibid,, ninth epoch. "From this single truth the publicists have been able to 
 deriie the rights of man." 
 
 2O*
 
 234 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in, 
 
 another might be deprived ; no one shall be subject to any duty 
 of which another is exempted. On the other hand, all being 
 free, each enters with a free will along with the group of wills 
 constituting the new community; it is necessary that in the 
 common resolutions, he should fully concur. Only on these 
 conditions does he bind himself; he is bound to respect laws 
 only because he has assisted in making them, and to obey magis- 
 trates only because he has aided in electing them. Underneath 
 all legitimate authority his consent or his vote must be apparent, 
 while, in the humblest citizen, the most exalted of public powers 
 must recognize a member of their own sovereignty. No one 
 may alienate or lose this portion of his sovereignty; it is in- 
 separable from his person, and, on delegating it to another, he 
 reserves to himself full possession of it. The liberty, equality 
 and sovereignty of the people constitute the first articles of the 
 social contract. These are rigorously deduced from a primary 
 definition ; other rights of the citizen are to be no less rigorously 
 deduced from it, the main features of the constitution, the most 
 important civil and political laws, in short, the order, the form 
 and the spirit of the new state. 
 
 II. 
 
 Hence, two consequences. In the first place, a society thus 
 organized is the only just one; for, the reverse of all others, 
 it is not the result of a blind subjection to traditions, but of 
 a contract concluded among equals, examined in open daylight, 
 and assented to in full freedom. 1 The social contract, composed 
 
 v of demonstrated theorems, has the authority of geometry ; hence 
 an equal value at all times, in every place, and for every people ; 
 it is accordingly rightfully established, ^hatever interposes any 
 obstacle thereto is inimical to the human race ; whether a govern - 
 
 -ment, an aristocracy or a clergy, it must be overthrown. Revolt 
 
 1 Rousseau still entertained admiration for Montesquieu but, at the same time, with some 
 reservation ; afterwards, however, the theory developed itself, every historical right being re- 
 jected. "Then," says Condorcet, (ibid., ninth epoch), "they found themselves obliged to 
 abandon a false and crafty policy which, forgetful of men deriving equal rights through 
 their nature, attempted at one time to estimate those allowed to them according to extent 
 of territory, the temperature of the climate, the national character, the wealth of the popula- 
 tion, the degree of perfection of their commerce and industries, and again to apportion the 
 same rights unequally among diverse classes of men, bestowing them on birth, riches and 
 professions, and thus creating opposite interests and opposite powers, for the purpose of 
 subsequently establishing an equilibrium alone rendered necessary by these institutions them. 
 elve* and which the danger of their tendencies by no means corrects."
 
 CHAP. IV. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 235 
 
 is simply just defence ; in withdrawing ourselves from such hands 
 we only recover what has been wrongfully retained and which 
 legitimately belongs to us. In the second place, this social code, 
 as just set forth, once promulgated, is applicable without mis- 
 conception or resistance; for it is a species of moral geometry, 
 simpler than any other, reduced to first principles, founded on 
 the clearest and most popular notions, and, in four steps, leading 
 to capital truths. The comprehension and application of these 
 truths demand no preparatory study or profound reflection ; good 
 sense suffices, and even common sense. Prejudice and selfish- 
 ness alone impair the testimony; but never will testimony be 
 wanting in a sound brain and in an upright heart. Explain the 
 rights of man to a laborer or to a peasant and at once he be- 
 comes an able politician; teach children the citizen's catechism 
 and on leaving school they comprehend duties and rights as well 
 as the four arithmetical principles. Thereupon hope spreads 
 her wings to the fullest extent and all obstacles seem removed. 
 It is admitted that of itself, and through its own force, the theory 
 engenders its own application ; it suffices for men to decree 
 or accept the social compact to acquire under this same act, 
 at once a capacity for comprehending it and the disposition to 
 carry it out. 
 
 Such trust, marvellous, and, at the first glance, inexplicable, 
 supposes, in regard to man, an idea which we no longer pos- 
 sess. Man, indeed, was regarded as essentially good and rea- 
 sonable. Reasonable, that is to say, capable of assenting to a 
 clearly defined principle, of following an ulterior chain of argu- 
 ments, of understanding and accepting a final conclusion, of ex- 
 tracting for himself, on the occasion calling for it, the varied con- 
 sequences to which it leads : such is the ordinary man in the eyes 
 of the writers of the day ; they judge him by themselves. To 
 them the human intellect is their own, the classic intellect. For 
 a hundred and fifty years it rules in literature, in philosophy, in 
 science, in education, in conversation, by virtue of tradition, of 
 usage and of good taste. No other is tolerated and no other is 
 imagined, and if, within this closed circle, a stranger succeeds in 
 introducing himself it is on condition of adopting the oratorical 
 idiom which the raison raisonnante imposes on all its guests, on 
 Greeks, Englishmen, barbarians, peasants and savages, how- 
 ever different from each other and however different they may be
 
 236 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in. 
 
 amongst themselves. In Buffon, the first man, on narrating the 
 first hours of his being, analyzes his sensations, emotions and im- 
 pulses, with as much subtlety as Condillac himself. With 
 Didejot, Otou the Otaheitian, with Bernardin_de,St Pierre, a 
 semi-savage Hindoo and an old colonist of the Ile-de-France, 
 with RoussejiujajiQiiii&y^caT, ^, gardener and a juggler, are ac- 
 complished conversationists and moralists. In Marmontel and 
 in Florian, in all the literature of inferior rank preceding 01 ac- 
 ' company ing the Revolution, also in the tragic or comic diama, 
 the chief talent of the personage, whoever he may be, whether 
 an uncultivated rustic, tattooed barbarian or naked savage, con- 
 sists in explaining himself, in arguing and in following an 
 abstract discourse with intelligence and attention, in tracing for 
 himself, or in the footsteps of a guide, the rectilinear pathway of 
 general ideas. Thus, to observers in the eighteenth century, 
 reason is everywhere and she stands alone in the world. A 
 form of intellect so universal necessarily strikes them as natural ; 
 they resemble people who, speaking but one language, and one 
 they have always spoken with facility, cannot imagine any other 
 language being spoken or that they may be surrounded by the 
 deaf and the dumb. And so much the more inasmuch as their 
 theory authorizes this prejudice. According to the new ideology 
 all minds are within reach of all truths. If the mind does not 
 attain to them the fault is ours in not being properly prepared ; it 
 will attain to them if we take the trouble to guide it properly. 
 For it has senses the same as our own, and sensations, revived, 
 combined and noted by signs, suffice to form "not only all our 
 conceptions but again all our faculties." * An exact and constant 
 filiation of ideas attaches our simplest perceptions to the most 
 complex sciences and, from the lowest to the highest degree, a 
 scale is practicable ; if the scholar stops on the way it is owing 
 to our having left too great an interval between two degrees of 
 the scale; let no intermediary degrees be omitted and he wiT 
 mount to the top of it. To this exalted idea of the faculties of 
 man is added a no less exalted idea of his heart. Rousseau hav- 
 ing declared this to be naturally good, the refined class plunge into 
 the belief with all the exaggerations of fashion and all the senti- 
 mentality of the drawing-room. The conviction is widespread that 
 
 1 Condillac. " Logique. '
 
 CHAP. IV. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 237 
 
 man, and especially the man of the people^ is sensitive and affec- 
 tionate by nature, that he is immediately impressed by benefac- 
 tions and disposed to be gratefuLfbr them, that he softens at the 
 slightest sign of interest in^him, and that he is capable of every 
 refinement. A series of engravings represents two children in a 
 dilapidated cottage, 1 one five and the other three years of age, by 
 the side of an infirm grandmother, one supporting her head and the 
 other giving her drink; the father and mother enter and, on seeing 
 this touching incident, "these good people find themselves so 
 happy hi possessing such children they forget they are poor." 
 " Oh, my father," cries a shepherd youth of the Pyrenees, 2 " accept 
 this faithful dog, so true to me for seven years; in future let him fol- 
 low and defend you, for never will he have served me so usefully." 
 It would require too much space to follow in the literature of the 
 end of the century, from Marmontel to Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, 
 and from Florian to Berquin and Bitaube, the interminable repeti- 
 tion of these sweetinsipidities. The illusion even reaches states- 
 men. " SireT'lays Turgot, on presenting the king with a plan of 
 political education, 3 "I venture to assert that in ten years your 
 nation will no longer be recognizable, and through enlighten- 
 ment and good morals, in intelligent zeal for your service and for 
 the country, it will rise above all other nations. Children who 
 are now ten years of age will then be men prepared for the 
 state, loving their country, submissive to authority, not through 
 fear but through reason, aiding their fellow-citizens, and accus- 
 tomed to recognizing and respecting justice." In the month of 
 January, 1789,* Necker, to whom M. de Bouille* pointed out the 
 imminent danger arising from the inevitable usurpation of the 
 Third-Estate, "coldly replied, turning his eyes upward, 'reliance 
 must be placed on the moral virtues of man.' " In the main, 
 on the imagination forming any conception of human society, this 
 consists of a vague, semi-bucolic, semi-theatric scene, somewhat 
 
 1 "Histoire de France par Estamps," 1789. 
 
 * Mme. de Genlis, "Souvenirs de F^licie," 371-391. 
 
 1 De Tocqueville, "L'Ancien regime," 237. Cf. "L'an 2440," by Mercier, III. vols. On 
 of these imaginings in all its details may be found here. The work was first published in 
 1770. " The Revolution," says one of the characters, " was brought about without an effort, 
 through the heroism of a great man, a royal philosopher worthy of power, because he de- 
 spised it," etc. (Tome II. 109.) 
 
 * "M6moires de M. de Bouill6," p. 70. Cf. Barante, "Tableau de la litt. francaise au dix- 
 huitieme siecle," p. 318. "Civilization and enlightenment were supposed to have allayed al 
 passions and softened all characters. It seemed as if morality had become easy of practict 
 and that the balance of social order was so well adjusted that nothing could disturb it"
 
 238 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 resembling those displayed on the frontispieces of the illustrated 
 works on morals and politics. Half-naked men with others 
 clothed in skins, assemble together under a large oak tree ; in the 
 centre of the group a venerable old man arises and makes an 
 address, using "the language of nature and reason," proposing 
 that all should be united, and explaining how men are bound to- 
 gether by mutual obligations; he shows them the harmony of 
 private and of public interests, and ends by making them sensible 
 of the beauties of virtue. 1 All utter shouts of joy, embrace each 
 other, gather round the speaker and elect him chief magistrate ; 
 dancing is going on under the branches in the background and 
 henceforth happiness on earth is fully established. This is no 
 exaggeration. The National Assembly addresses the nation in 
 harangues of this style. For many years the government speaks 
 to the people as it would to one of Gessner's shepherds. The 
 peasants are entreated not to burn castles because it is painful for 
 their good king to see such sights. They are exhorted " to sur- 
 prise him with their virtues in order that he may be the sooner 
 rewarded for his own." 2 At the height of the Jacquerie tu- 
 mults the sages of the day seem to think they are living in a state 
 of pastoral simplicity and that with an air on the flute they may 
 restore to its fold the howling pack of bestial animosities and 
 unchained appetites. 
 
 III. 
 
 It is a sad thing to fall asleep in a sheepcot and, on awaken- 
 ing, to find the sheep transformed into wolves. And yet, in case 
 of a revolution this is what we may expect. What we call reason 
 in man is not an innate endowment, primitive and enduring, but 
 a tardy acquisition and a fragile composition. The slightest 
 physiological knowledge suffices to show that it is a state of un- 
 stable equilibrium, dependent on the no less greater instability of 
 the brain, nerves, circulation and digestion. Take women that 
 are hungry and men that have been drinking ; place a thousand 
 of these together, and let them excite each other with their ex- 
 clamations, their anxieties, and the contagious reaction of their 
 
 1 See in Rousseau, In the "Lettre & M. de Beaumont," a scene of this description, tne 
 establishment of deism and toleration, associated with a similar discourse. 
 
 * Roux et Buchez, "Histoire parlementaire," IV. 322, the address made on the nth Feb., 
 1790. "What an affecting and sublime address, ' says a deputy. It was greeted by th 
 Aiiembly with "unparalleled ipplause." The whole address should be quoted entfre.
 
 CHAP. IV. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 239 
 
 ever-increasing emotions; it will not be long before you find them 
 a crowd of dangerous maniacs. This is evident in 1789 and 
 more besides. Now, interrogate psychology. The simplest men- 
 tal operation, a sensuous perception, an act of memory, the ap- 
 pliance of a name, an ordinary act of judgment is the play of 
 complicated mechanism, the joint and final result of several mill- 
 ions of wheels which, like those of a clock, 1 turn and propel 
 blindly, each for itself, each through its own force, and each kept 
 in place and in functional activity by a system of balance and 
 compensation. If the hands mark the hour with any degree of 
 accuracy it is due to a wonderful if not miraculous conjunction, 
 while hallucination, delirium and monomania, ever at the door, 
 are always ready to enter it. Properly speaking man is imbecile, \ 
 as the body is morbid, by nature ; the health of our mind, like ' 
 the health of our organs, is simply a repeated achievement and a 
 happy accident. If such happens to be the case with the coarse 
 woof and canvas, with the large and approximatively strong 
 threads of our intellect, what risks are imminent for the ulterior 
 and superadded embroidery, the subtle and complicated netting 
 forming reason properly so called and which is composed of 
 general ideas ? Formed by a slow and delicate process of weav- 
 ing, through a long system of signs, amidst the agitations of 
 pride, of enthusiasm and of dogmatic obstinacy, how many 
 chances there are, even in the most perfect brain, of these ideas 
 inadequately corresponding with outward things! All that we 
 require in this connection is to witness the operation of the idyl in 
 vogue with the philosophers and politicians. These being the 
 superior minds, what can be said of the masses of the people, of 
 the uncultivated or semi-cultivated brains ? Not only is reason 
 crippled in man, but it is rare in humanity. General ideas 
 and accurate reasoning are found only in a select few. The 
 comprehension of abstract terms and the habit of making accu- 
 rate deductions requires previous and special preparation, a pro- 
 longed mental exercise and steady practice, and besides this, 
 where political matters are concerned, a degree of composure 
 which, affording every facility for reflection, enables a man to de- 
 tach himself for a moment from himself for the consideration of 
 his interests as a disinterested observer. If one of these con- 
 
 1 The number of cerebral cells is estimated (the cortical layer), at twelve \ undred million* 
 and the fibres binding them together at four thousand millions.
 
 240 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK HI. 
 
 ditions Is wanting, reason, especially in relation to politics, is ab- 
 sent. In a peasant or a villager, in any man brought up from in- 
 fancy to manual labor, not only is the network of superior con- 
 ceptions defective, but again the internal machinery by which 
 they are woven is not perfected. Accustomed to the open air, to 
 the exercise of his limbs, his attention flags if he stands inactive 
 for a quarter of an hour ; generalized expressions find their way 
 into his mind only as sound ; the mental combination they ought 
 to excite cannot be produced. He becomes drowsy unless a 
 powerful vibrating voice contagiously arouses in him the instincts 
 of flesh and blood, the personal cravings, the secret enmities which, 
 restrained by outward discipline, are always readv to be set free. 
 In the half-cultivated mind, even with the man who thinks himself 
 cultivated and who reads the newspapers, principles are generally 
 disproportionate guests; they are above his comprehension; he 
 does not measure their bearings, he does not appreciate their 
 limitations, he is insensible to their restrictions and he fal- 
 sifies their application. They are like those preparations of 
 the laboratory which, harmless in the chemist's hands, become 
 destructive in the street under the feet of passing people. Too 
 soon will this be apparent when, in the name of popular 
 sovereignty, each commune, each mob, shall regard itself as the 
 nation and act accordingly; when reason, in the hands of its new 
 interpreters shall inaugurate riots in the streets and peasant in- 
 surrections in the fields. 
 
 This is owing to the philosophers of the age having been 
 mistaken in two ways. Not only is reason not natural to man 
 nor universal in humanity, but again, in the conduct of man and 
 of humanity, its influence is small. Except with a few cool and 
 :lear intellects, a Fontenelle, a Hume, a Gibbon, with whom it 
 nay prevail because it encounters no rivals, it is very far from 
 >laying the leading part ; it belongs to other forces born within us, 
 end which, by virtue of being the first comers, remain in posses- 
 sion of the field. The place obtained by reason is always restricted ; 
 the office it fulfils is generally secondary. Openly or secretly, 
 it is only a convenient subaltern, a domestic advocate unceasingly 
 suborned, employed by the proprietors to plead in their be- 
 half; if they yield it precedence in public it is only through 
 decorum. Vainly do they proclaim it the recognized sovereign; 
 they grant it only a passing authority, and, under its nominal
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 241 
 
 control, they remain the inward masters. These masters of 
 man consist of physical temperament, bodily needs, animal 
 instinct, hereditary prejudice, imagination, generally the dominant 
 passion, and more particularly personal or family interest, also that 
 of caste or party. We should labor under serious error were we 
 to suppose ourselves naturally good, generous, sympathetic, or, 
 even at the least, gentle, pliable, and ready to sacrifice ourselves 
 to social interests or to those of others. There are several of them, 
 and of the most powerful kind, and which, if left to themselves, 
 would make only havoc. In the first place, if there is no certainty 
 of man being a remote blood cousin of the monkey, it is at least 
 certain that, in his structure, he is an animal closely related to the 
 monkey, provided with canine teeth, carnivorous, formerly cannibal 
 and, therefore, a hunter and bellicose. Hence there is in him a 
 steady substratum of brutality and ferocity, and of violent and 
 destructive instincts, to which must be added, if he is French, 
 gayety, laughter, and a strange propensity to gambol and act 
 insanely in the havoc he makes ; we shall see him at work. In 
 the second place, at the outset, his condition casts him naked and 
 destitute on an ungrateful soil on which subsistence is difficult, 
 where, at the risk of death, he is obliged to save and to economize. 
 Hence a constant preoccupation and the rooted idea of acquiring, 
 accumulating, and possessing, rapacity and avarice, more partic- 
 ularly in the class which, tied to the glebe, fasts for sixty 
 generations in order to support other classes and whose crooked 
 fingers are always outstretched to clutch the soil whose fruits 
 they cause to grow ; we shall see this class at work. Finally, 
 his more delicate mental organization makes of him from the 
 earliest days an imaginative being in which swarming fancies 
 develop themselves into monstrous chimeras to expand his 
 hopes, fears and desires beyond all bounds. Hence an excess of 
 sensibility, sudden outbursts of emotion, contagious transports, 
 irresistible currents of passion, epidemics of credulity and suspi- 
 cion, in short, enthusiasm and panic, especially if he is French, 
 that is to say, excitable and communicative, easily thrown off his 
 balance and prompt to accept foreign impulsion, deprived of the 
 natural ballast which a phlegmatic temperament and the concen- 
 tration of lonely meditations secure to his German or Latin 
 neighbors ; and all this we shall see at work. These constitute 
 some of the brute forces that control human life. In ordinary 
 
 21
 
 242 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in, 
 
 times we pay no attention to them ; being subordinated they do 
 not seem to us formidable. We take it for granted that they are 
 allayed and pacified; we flatter ourselves that the discipline 
 imposed on them has made them natural, and that by dint of 
 flowing between dykes they are settled down into their accus- 
 tomed beds. The truth is that, like all brute forces, like a stream 
 or a torrent, they only remain in these under constraint ; it is the 
 dyke which, through its resistance, produces this moderation. 
 Another force equal to their force had to be installed against their 
 outbreaks and devastations, graduated according to their scale, all 
 the firmer as they are more menacing, despotic if need be against 
 their despotism, in any event constraining and repressive, at the 
 outset a feudal chief, later an army general, all modes consisting 
 in an elective or hereditary gendarme, possessing vigilant eyes and 
 vigorous arms, and who, with blows, excites fear and, through 
 fear, maintains order. In the regulation and limitation of his 
 blows divers instrumentalities are employed, a pre-established 
 constitution, a division of powers, a code of laws, tribunals, and 
 legal formalities. At the bottom of all these wheels ever appears 
 the principal lever, the efficacious instrument, namely, the 
 gendarme armed against the savage, brigand and madman each 
 of us harbors, in repose or manacled, but always living, in the re- 
 cesses of his own breast. 
 
 On the contrary, in the new theory, every principle promul- 
 gated, every precaution taken, every suspicion awakened is aimed 
 at the gendarme. In the name of the sovereignty of the people 
 all authority is withdrawn from the government, every prerog- 
 ative, every initiative, its continuance and its force. The people 
 being sovereign the government is simply its clerk, and less than 
 its clerk, merely its domestic. Between them "no contract" 
 indefinite or at least enduring, "and which may be cancelled 
 only by mutual consent or the unfaithfulness of one of the two 
 parties." "It is against the nature of a political body for the 
 sovereign to impose a law on himself which he cannot set aside." 
 There is no sacred and inviolable charter "binding a people 
 to the forms of an established constitution." "The right to 
 change these is the first guarantee of all rights." " There is not. 
 and never can be, any fundamental, obligatory law for the entire 
 body of a people, not even the social contract." If is througn 
 usurpation and deception that a prince, an assembly, and a body
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 243 
 
 of magistrates declare themselves representatives of the people. 
 " Sovereignty is not to be represented for the same reason that it 
 is not to be alienated. . . . The moment a people gives itself 
 representatives it is no longer free, it exists no more. . . . The 
 English people think themselves free but they deceive themselves ; 
 they are free only during an election of members of parliament ; 
 on the election of these they become slaves and are null; . . . 
 The deputies of the people are not, nor can they be, its rep- 
 resentatives ; they are simply its commissioners and can establish 
 no final compact. Every law not ratified by the people them- 
 selves is null and is no law." "A body of laws sanctioned by 
 an assembly of the people through a fixed constitution of the 
 State, does not suffice ; other fixed and periodical assemblies are 
 necessary which cannot be abolished or prorogued, so arranged 
 that on a given day the people may be legitimately convoked by 
 the law, no other formal convocation being requisite. . . . The 
 moment the people are thus assembled the jurisdiction of the 
 government is to cease and the executive power is to be sus- 
 pended," society commencing anew, while citizens, restored to 
 then* primitive independence, may reconstitute at will, for any 
 period they determine, the provisional contract to which they 
 have assented only for a determined time. "The opening of 
 these assemblies, whose sole object is to maintain the social 
 compact, should always take place with two propositions, never 
 suppressed and which are to be passed on separately; the first 
 one, whether the sovereign is willing to maintain the actual form 
 of the government ; and the second, whether the people are will- 
 ing to leave its administration in the hands of those actually per- 
 forming its duties" Thus, "the act by which a people is subject 
 to its chiefs is absolutely only a commission, a service in which, 
 as simple officers of their sovereign, they exercise in his name 
 the power of which he has made them depositaries and which he 
 may modify, limit and resume at pleasure." * Not only does it 
 always reserve to itself "the legislative power which belongs 
 to it and which can belong only to it," but again, it delegates 
 and withdraws the executive power according to its fancy. 
 Those who exercise it are its employe's. " It may establish and 
 depose them when it pleases." In relation to it they have no 
 
 1 Rousseau, "Contrat social, ' I, ch. 7; '.II. ch. 13, 14, 15, 18; IV. ch. i, 18; IV. 3. Cf 
 
 Condorcet, ninth epoch.
 
 244 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK UL 
 
 rights. "It is not a matter of contract with them but one of 
 obedience;" they have "no conditions" to prescribe; they can 
 not demand of it the fulfilment of any engagement. It is use- 
 less to raise the objection that, according to this, every man 
 of spirit or of culture will decline our offices and that our chiefs 
 will bear the character of lackeys. We will not leave them the 
 freedom of accepting or declining office ; we impose it on them 
 authoritatively. "In every true democracy the magistrature is 
 not an advantage but an onerous burden, not to be assigned 
 to one more than to another." We can lay hands on our magis- 
 trates, take them by the collar and seat them on their benches in 
 their own despite. By fair means or foul they are the working 
 subjects (corutabks) of the State, in a lower condition than a 
 valet or a mechanic, since the mechanic does his work according 
 to acceptable conditions and the discharged valet can claim his 
 eight days' notice to quit. When government throws off this 
 humble attitude it usurps, while constitutions are to proclaim 
 that, in such an event, insurrection is not only the most sacred 
 right but the most imperative duty. 
 
 Practice, accordingly, accompanies the theory, and the dogma 
 of the sovereignty of the people, interpreted by the mass, is to 
 produce a perfect anarchy, up to the moment when, interpreted 
 by its chiefs, it produces a perfect despotism. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For there are two sides to this theory; whilst one side 
 leads to the perpetual demolition of government, the other 
 terminates in the illimitable dictation of the State. The new 
 contract is not a historic fact like the English Declaration of 
 Rights in 1688 or the Dutch federation in 1579, entered into by 
 actual and living individuals, admitting acquired situations, 
 groups already formed, established positions, and drawn up to rec- 
 ognize, define, guarantee and complete an anterior right. An- 
 tecedent to the social contract no veritable right exists; for 
 veritable rights are born solely out of the social contract, the 
 only valid one, since it is the only one agreed upon between be- 
 ings perfectly equal and perfectly free, so many abstract creat 
 ures, so many species of mathematical units, all of the same 
 value, all playing the same part and whose inequality or con- 
 straint never disturbs the common understanding. Hence, at the
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 245 
 
 moment of its completion, all other pacts are nullified. Property, 
 family, church, no ancient institution may invoke any light against 
 the new State. The area on which it is built up must be consid- 
 ered vacant; if old structures are partly allowed to remain 
 it is only in its name and for its benefit, to be enclosed within its 
 barriers and appropriated to its use ; the entire soil of humanity 
 is its property. On the other hand it is not, according to the 
 American doctrine, an association for mutual protection, a society 
 like other societies, circumscribed in its purpose, restricted to its 
 office, limited in its powers, and by which individuals reserving 
 to themselves the better portion of their property and persons, 
 assess each other for the maintenance of an army, a police, tri- 
 bunals, highways, schools, in short, the major instrumentalities of 
 public safety and utility, at the same time withholding the re- 
 mainder of local, general, spiritual and material services in favor 
 of private initiative and of spontaneous associations that may 
 arise as occasion or necessity calls for them. Our State is not to 
 be a simple utilitarian machine, a convenient, handy implement, 
 of which the workman avails himself without abandoning the 
 free use of his hand, or the simultaneous use of other implements. 
 Being elder born, the only son and sole representative of reason, 
 it must, to ensure its sway, leave nothing beyond its grasp. In 
 this respect the old regime paves the way for the new one, while 
 the established system inclines minds beforehand to the budding 
 theory. Through administrative centralization the State already, 
 for a long time, has its hands everywhere. 1 " You must know," 
 says Law to the Marquis d'Argenson, " that the kingdom of 
 France is governed by thirty intendants. You have neither par- 
 liaments, assemblies or governors, simply thirty masters of re- 
 quests, provincial clerks, on whom depends the happiness or mis- 
 ery, the ftuitfulness or sterility of these provinces." The king, in 
 fact, sovereign, father, and universal guardian, manages local af- 
 fairs through his delegates and intervenes is private affairs 
 through his pardons or lettres-de-cachet. Such an example and 
 such a course followed for fifty years excites the imagination. 
 No other instrumentality is better calculated to effect reforms on 
 a large scale and at one stroke. Hence, far from restricting the 
 central power the economists are desirous of extending its action. 
 
 1 De Tocqueville, "L'Ancien regime," book II. entire, and book III. eh. 3.
 
 246 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 Instead of setting up new dykes against it they interest them 
 selves only in destroying what is left of the old dykes still in- 
 terfering with it. " The system of counter-forces in a govern- 
 ment," say Quesnay and his disciples, " is a fatal idea. . . . The 
 speculations on which the system of counter-balance is founded 
 are chimerical. . . . Let the government have a full comprehen- 
 sion of its duties and be left free. . . . The State must govern 
 according to the essential laws of order and in this case unlimited 
 power is requisite." On the approach of the Revolution the 
 same doctrine reappears except in the substitution of one term 
 for another term. In the place of the sovereignty of the king 
 the " Contrat social" substitutes the sovereignty of the people. 
 The latter, however, is much more absolute than the former, and, 
 in the democratic convent which Rousseau constructs, on the 
 Spartan and Roman model, the individual is nothing and the 
 State everything. 
 
 In effect, " the clauses of the social contract reduce themselves 
 to one, namely, the total transfer of each associate with all his 
 rights to the community." 1 Every one surrenders himself en- 
 tirely, "just as he stands, he and all his forces and of which his 
 property forms a portion." There is no exception nor reserva- 
 tion ; whatever he may have been previously and whatever may 
 lave belonged to him is no longer his own. Henceforth what- 
 ever he becomes or whatever he may possess devolves on him 
 jnly through the delegation of the social body, the universal 
 proprietor and absolute master. All rights must be vested in the 
 State and none in the individual; otherwise there would be liti- 
 gation between them, and, " as there is no common superior to 
 iecide between them " their litigation would never end. On the 
 xmtrary, through the complete donation which each one makes 
 .rf himself, " the unity is as perfect as possible ; " having re- 
 aounced all and renounced himself " he has no further claim to 
 make." 
 
 This being admitted, let us trace the consequences. In the 
 licst place, I enjoy my property only through tolerance and at 
 second-hand ; for, according to the social c: ntract, I have surren- 
 dered it; 2 " it now forms a portion of the national estate;" if I 
 
 1 Rousseau, "Contrat social" I. 6. 
 
 * Ibid. I. 9. " The State, in relation to its members is master of all their possessions ac- 
 cording to the social compact ; possessors are considered as depositaries of the public wealth.* 
 
 21 
 
 *
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 24? 
 
 retain the use of it for the time being it is through a concession 
 of the State which makes me a " depositary " of it. And this 
 favor must not be considered as a restitution. " Far from accept- 
 ing the property of individuals, society despoils them of it, simply 
 converting the usurpation into a veritable right, the enjoyment of 
 it into proprietorship." Previous to the social contract I was 
 possessor not by right but in fact, and even unjustly if I had 
 large possessions ; for, " every man has naturally a right to what- 
 ever he needs," and I was robbing other men of all that I 
 possessed beyond my subsistence. Hence, so far from the State 
 being under obligation to me, I am under obligation to it, 
 the property which it returns to me not being mine but that 
 with which the State favors me. It follows, accordingly, that the 
 State may impose conditions on its gift, limit the use I may make 
 of it according to its fancy, restrict and regulate my disposition 
 of it, my right to bequeath it. " According to nature, 1 the right 
 of property does not extend beyond the life of its owner; 
 the moment he dies his possessions are no longer his own. 
 Thus, to prescribe the conditions on which he may dispose of it 
 is really less to change his right in appearance than to extend it 
 in effect." In any event as my title is an effect of the social 
 contract it is precarious like the contract itself; a new stipulation 
 suffices to limit it or to destroy it. " The sovereign 2 may legiti- 
 mately appropriate to himself all property as was done in Sparta in 
 the time of Lycurgus." In our laical convent whatever each 
 monk possesses is only a revocable gift by the convent. 
 
 In the second place, this convent is a seminary. I have no 
 right to bring up my children in my own house and in my own 
 way. " As the reason of each man 3 must not be the sole arbiter 
 of his rights so much less should the education of children, which 
 is of more consequence to the State than to fathers, be left to the 
 intelligence and prejudices of their fathers." " If public author- 
 ity, taking the place of fathers in assuming this important func- 
 tion, acquires their rights in fulfilling their duties, they have so 
 much the less reason to complain inasmuch as they merely uu 
 dergo a change of name, and, under the title of citizens, exercise 
 in common the same authority over their children that they have 
 
 1 Rousseau, "Discours sur 1'Economie polidque," 308. 
 
 * Ibid. "Emile," book V. 173. 
 1 Itid. "Discours sur 1' Economic politique," 303.
 
 248 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK m, 
 
 separately exercised under the title of fathers." In other words 
 you cease to be a father, but, in exchange, become a school in- 
 spector; one is as good as the other and what complaint have you 
 to make ? Such was the case in that perpetual army called Sparta; 
 there, the children, genuine regimental children, equally obeyed 
 all properly-formed men. Thus, " public education, within laws 
 prescribed by the government and under magistrates appointed 
 by sovereign will, is one of the fundamental maxims of popular 
 or legitimate government." Through this the citizen is formed 
 in advance. " It gives the national form to souls. 1 Nations, in 
 the long run, are what the government makes them soldiers, 
 citizens, men when so disposed, a populace, canaille if it pleases," 
 being fashioned by their education. " Would you obtain an idea 
 of public education ? Read Plato's ' Republic.' 2 . . . The best 
 social institutions are those the best qualified to change man's 
 nature, to destroy his absolute being, to give him a relative being, 
 and to convert self into the common unity, so that each individ- 
 ual may not regard himself as one by himself, but a part of the 
 unity and no longer sensitive but through the whole. An infant, 
 on opening its eyes, must behold the common patrimony and, to 
 the day of its death, behold that only. . . . He should be dis- 
 ciplined so as never to contemplate the individual except in his 
 relations with the body of the State." Such was the practice of 
 Sparta, and the sole aim of the "great Lycurgus." "All being 
 equal through the law, they must be brought up together and in 
 the same manner." " The law must regulate the subjects, the 
 order and the form of their studies." They must, at the very 
 least, take part in public exercises, in horse-races, in the games 
 of strength and of agility instituted " to accustom them to law, 
 equality, fraternity, and competition;" to teach them how "t<r 
 live under the eyes of their fellow-citizens and to crave public 
 applause." Through these games they become democrats from 
 their early youth, since, the prizes being awarded, not through 
 the arbitrament of masters, but through the cheers of spectators, 
 they accustom themselves to recognizing as sovereign the legiti- 
 mate sovereignty, consisting of the verdict of the assembled 
 people. The important interest of the State is, always, to form 
 the wills of those by which it lasts, to prepare the votes that are 
 
 1 Rousseau, on the " Gouvernement de Pologne," 277, 383, 287. 
 *Ibid. "Emile,"bookl.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 249 
 
 to maintain it, to uproot passions in the soul that might be op- 
 posed to it, to implant passions that will prove favorable to it, to 
 fix firmly within the breasts of its future citizens the sentiments 
 and prejudices it will at some time need. 1 If it does not secure 
 the children it will not possess the adults. Novices in a convent 
 must be educated as monks, otherwise, when they grow up, the 
 convent will no longer exist. 
 
 Finally, our lay convent has its own religion, a lay religion. 
 If I possess any other it is through its condescension and under 
 restrictions. It is, by nature, hostile to other associations than 
 its own ; they are rivals, they annoy it, they absorb the will and 
 pervert the votes of its members. "To ensure a full declaration 
 of the general will it is an important matter not to allow any 
 special society in the State, and that each citizen should de- 
 termine for himself alone." a " Whatever breaks up social 
 unity is worthless," and it would be better for the State if there 
 were no Church. Not only is every church suspicious, but, if I 
 am a Christian, my belief is regarded unfavorably. According to 
 this new legislator, " nothing is more opposed to the social spirit 
 than Christianity. ... A society of true Christians would no long- 
 er form a society of men." For, " the Christian patrimony is 
 not of this world." It cannot zealously serve the State, being 
 bound by its conscience to support tyrants. Its law " preaches 
 only servitude and dependence ... it is made for a slave," and 
 never will a citizen be made out of a slave. " Christian Republic, 
 each of these two words excludes the other." Therefore, if the 
 future Republic allows me to remain a Christian, it must be on 
 the understood condition that my doctrine shall be shut up in 
 my mind, without even affecting my heart. If I am a Catholic, 
 (and twenty-five out of twenty-six millions Frenchmen are like 
 me), my condition is worse. For the social pact does not tolerate 
 an intolerant religion; any sect that condemns other sects is a 
 public enemy ; " whoever presumes to say that there is no salva- 
 tion out of the church, must be driven out of the State." Should I 
 be, finally, a free-thinker, a positivist or scef tic, my situatron is 
 little better. " There is a civil religion," a catechism, " a profes- 
 sion of faith, of which the sovereign has the right to dictate the 
 
 1 Morelly, "Code de la nature." "At the age of five all children should be removed from 
 their families and brought up in common, at the charge of the State, in a uniform manner." 
 A similar project, perfectly Spartan, was found among the papers of St. Just 
 
 Rousseau, "Contrat social," II. 3; IV. 8.
 
 250 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK in 
 
 articles, not exactly as religious dogmas but as sentiments of so- 
 cial import without which we cannot be a good citizen or a loya] 
 subject." These articles embrace "the existence of a powerful, 
 intelligent, beneficent, foreseeing and provident divinity, the fu- 
 ture life, the happiness of the good, the punishment of the 
 wicked, the sacredness of the social contract and of the laws. 1 
 Without forcing any one to believe in this creed, whoever does 
 not believe in it must be expelled from the State ; it is necessary 
 to banish such persons not on account of impiety, but as un- 
 sociable beings, incapable of sincerely loving law and justice and, 
 if need be, of giving up life for duty." Take heed that this pro- 
 fession of faith be not a vain one, for a new inquisition is to test 
 its sincerity. " Should any person, after having publicly assented 
 to these dogmas, act as an unbeliever let him be punished with 
 death. He has committed the greatest of crimes : he has lied be- 
 fore the law." Truly, as I said above, we belong to a convent. 
 
 V. 
 
 These articles are all necessary sequels of the social contract. 
 The moment I enter the corporation I abandon my own personal- 
 ity; I abandon, by this step, my possessions, my children, my 
 church, and my opinions. I cease to be proprietor, father, Chris- 
 tian and philosopher. The State is my substitute in all these 
 functions. In place of my will, there is henceforth the public 
 will, that is to say, in theory, the mutable absolutism of a majority 
 counted by heads, while in fact, it is the rigid absolutism of 
 the assembly, the faction, the individual who is custodian of 
 the public authority. On this principle an outburst of boundless 
 infatuation takes place. The very first year Gre"goire states in the 
 tribune of the Constituent Assembly " we might change religion if 
 we pleased, but we have no such desire." A little later the desire 
 comes, and it is to be carried out; that of Holbach is proposed, then 
 that of Rousseau, and they dare go much farther. In the name 
 of Reason, of which the State alone is the representative and in- 
 terpreter, they undertake to unmake and make over, conformably to 
 reason and to reason alone, all customs, festivals, ceremonies, and 
 costumes, the era, the calendar, weights and measures, the names 
 
 1 C Mercier, "L'an 2240," I. ch. 17 and 18. From 1770 on, he traces the programme of 
 a system of worship similar to tha; of the Theo-philanthropists, the chapter being entitled 
 "Pas si loign qu'on le pense."
 
 CHAP. iv. THE SPIRIT AND THE DOCTRINE. 251 
 
 of the seasons, months, weeks and days, of places and monu- 
 ments, family and baptismal names, complimentary titles, the 
 tone of discourse, the mode of salutation, of greeting, of speaking 
 and of writing, in such a fashion, that the Frenchman, as formerly 
 with the puritan or the quaker, remodelled even in his inward 
 substance, exposes, through the minutest details of his conduct 
 and exterior, the dominance of the all-powerful principle which 
 refashions his being and the inflexible logic which controls 
 his thoughts. This constitutes the final result and complete tri- 
 umph of the classic spirit. Installed in narrow brains, incapable 
 of harboring more than one idea, it is to become a cold or furious 
 monomania, maddened in the destruction of a past it curses, and 
 in the establishment of the millenium it pursues, and all in 
 the name of an imaginary contract, at once anarchical and des- 
 potic, which unfetters insurrection and justifies dictation; all 
 to end in a social antagonism, resembling now a bacchanalian 
 orgy of madmen, and now a Spartan conventual group; all with 
 a view to substitute for the existing man, enduring and slowly 
 formed by history, an improvised automaton that is to fall away 
 through its own debility when the external and mechanical force 
 that keeps it up will no longer sustain it.
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 E$* $ropagat(on of tfjc Bocttfne, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SUCCESS OF THIS PHILOSOPHY IN FRANCE. Failure of the same philoso 
 phy in England. I. Causes of this difference. The art of writing in 
 France. Its superiority at this epoch. It serves as the vehicle of new 
 ideas. Books are written for people of the world. The philosophers are 
 people of the world and consequently writers. This accounts for philosophy 
 descending to the drawing-room. II. Owing to this method it becomes 
 popular. III. Owing to style it becomes pleasing. Two stimulants peculiar 
 to the l8th century, coarse humor and irony. IV. The art and processes 
 of the masters. Montesquieu. Voltaire. Diderot. Rousseau. " The 
 Marriage of Figaro." 
 
 ANALOGOUS theories have many times traversed the imagina- 
 tions of men and analogous theories will yet traverse them more 
 than once again. In all ages and in all countries, any con- 
 siderable change effected in the conception of human nature 
 suffices to disclose, by way of counterstroke, Utopias and dis- 
 coveries springing up on the territories of politics and religion. 
 But this does not suffice for the propagation of the new doctrine 
 nor, above all, for speculation to become application. Although 
 born in England the philosophy of the eighteenth century could 
 not develop itself in England; the fever for demolition and 
 reconstruction remained superficial there and momentary. De- 
 ism, atheism, materialism, scepticism, ideology, the theory of the 
 return to nature, the proclamation of the rights of man, all the 
 temerities of Bolingbroke, Collins, Toland, Tindal and Mande- 
 ville, the bold ideas of Hume, Hartley, James Mill and Bentham, 
 all the revolutionary doctrines, were so many conservatory plants
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 253 
 
 produced, here and there, in the isolated studies of a few thinkers : 
 in the open air they proved abortive, after blooming for a little 
 time under the too vigorous competition with the old vegetation 
 to which the soil belonged. 1 On the contrary, in France, the 
 seed imported from England takes root and spreads with extra- 
 ordinary vigor. After the Regency it is in full bloom. 2 Like any 
 species favored by soil and climate, it invades all soils, appro- 
 priating light and atmosphere to itself, scarcely allowing in its 
 shadow a few abortions of an inimical species, the survival 
 of an antique flora like Rollin, or a specimen of an eccentric 
 flora like Saint-Martin. Large trees and dense thickets, masses 
 of brushwood and low plants, Voltaire, Montesquieu, Rousseau, 
 Diderot, d'Alembert and Buffon, Duclos, Mably, Condillac, Tur- 
 got, Beaumarchais, Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Barthe"lemy and 
 Thomas, the crowd of journalists, compilers and conversation- 
 ists, the elite of the philosophical, scientific and literary mul- \ 
 titude, absorb the Academy, the stage, the drawing-room and 
 conversation. Every tall form of the century is one of its off 
 shoots, and among these are some of the loftiest produced by the 
 human species. This is owing to the seed having fallen on suit- 
 able ground, that is to say, on the patrimony of the classic spirit. 
 In this land of the raison raisonnante it no longer encounters the 
 rivals that impeded its growth on the other side of the Channel 
 and it not only immediately acquires vigor of sap but, again, the 
 propagating organ which it required. 
 
 I. 
 
 This organ is the "art of expression, eloquence applied to the 
 gravest subjects, the talent for making things clear." 3 '< The great 
 writers of this nation," says their great adversary, " express them- 
 selves better than those of any other nation. Their books give 
 but little information to true savants," but "through the art of ex- 
 pression they influence men" and "the mass of men, constantly 
 repelled from the sanctuary of the sciences by the dry style and 
 
 i "Who, bom within the last forty years, ever reads a word of Collins, and Toland, and 
 Tindal, or of that whole race who called themselves freethinkers ?" (Burke, "Reflexions on 
 the French Revolution," 1790). 
 
 * The "GEdipe," by Voltaire, belongs to the y-ar 1718, ao 1 his "Lettres sur les Anglais," . 
 to the year 1728. The "Lettres Persaiies," by Montesquieu, published in 1721, contain the , 
 germs of all the leading ideas of the century. 
 
 * Joseph de Maistre, "CEuvres indites," pp. 8, ix. 
 
 22
 
 254 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 Dad taste of (other) scientific writers, cannot resist the seductions 
 of the French style and method." Thus the classic spirit that 
 furnishes the ideas likewise furnishes the means of conveying 
 them, the theories of the eighteenth century being like those 
 seeds provided with wings which float and distribute themselves 
 on all soils. There is no book of that day not written for peo- 
 ple of the world, and even for women of the world. In Fonte- 
 nelle's dialogues on the Plurality of Worlds the principal person- 
 age is a marchioness. Voltaire composes his "Me"taphysique" 
 and his "Essai sur les Mceurs" for Madame du Chatelet, and 
 Rousseau his "Emile" for Madame d'Epinay. Condillac wrote 
 the "Traite" des Sensations" from suggestions of Mademoiselle 
 Ferrand, and he sets forth instructions to young ladies how to 
 read his " Logique." Baudeau dedicates and explains to a lady 
 his "Tableau Economique." Diderot's most profound work is a 
 conversation between Mademoiselle de 1'Espinasse and d'Alem- 
 bert and Bordeu. 1 Montesquieu had placed an invocation to the 
 muses in the middle of the " Esprit des Lois." Almost every 
 work is a product of the drawing-room, and of one obtaining the 
 first fruits of the work before being presented to the public. In 
 this respect the habit is so strong as to last up to the end of 
 1789 ; the harangues about to be made in the National Assembly 
 are passages of bravura previously rehearsed before ladies at an 
 evening entertainment. The American Ambassador, a practical 
 man, explains to Washington with sober irony the fine academic 
 and literary parade preceding the political tournament in public. 8 
 "The speeches are made beforehand in a small society of young 
 men and women, and generally the fair friend of the speaker 
 is one, or else the fair whom he means to make his friend, and 
 the society very politely give their approbation, unless the lady 
 who gives the tone to that circle chances to reprehend something 
 which is of course altered if not amended." It is not surprising, 
 with customs of this kind, that professional philosophers should 
 become men of society. At no time nor in any place have they 
 been so to the same extent, nor so habitually. The great delight 
 of a man of genius or of learning here, says an English traveller, 
 is to reign over a brilliant assembly of people of fashion. 3 
 
 1 His letters on the Blind and on the Deaf and Dumb are addressed in whole or in part to 
 women. 
 
 * Works of Gouverneur Morris, II. 89. (Letter of January 24, 1790). 
 
 1 John And/ews in "A comparative view," etc. (1785). Arthur Young, I. 123. "I should 
 pity the ncan who expected, without other advantage! of a very different nature, to be wtB
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 255 
 
 Whilst in England they bury themselves morosely in their books, 
 living amongst themselves and appearing in society only on con 
 dition of " doing some political drudgery," that of journalist 01 
 pamphleteer in the service of a party, in France they dine out 
 every evening and constitute the ornaments and amusement of 
 the drawing-rooms to which they resort to converse. 1 There is 
 not a house in which dinners are given that has not its titular 
 philosopher, and, later on, its economist and man of science. 
 In the various memoirs, and in the collections of correspondence, 
 we track them from one drawing-room to another, from one 
 chateau to another, Voltaire to Cirey at Madame du Chatelet's, 
 and then home, at Ferney where he has a theatre and entertains 
 all Europe; Rousseau to Madame d'Epinay's, and M. de Lux- 
 embourg's ; the Abbe" Barthelemy to the Duchesse de Choiseul's ; 
 Thomas, Marmontel and Gibbon to Madame Necker's; the 
 encyclopedists to d'Holbach's ample dinners, to the plain and 
 discreet table of Madame Geoffrin, and to the little drawing- 
 room of Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse, all belonging to the great 
 central state drawing-room, that is to say, to the French Acad- 
 emy, where each newly-elected member appears to parade his 
 style and obtain from a polished body his commission of master 
 in the art of discourse. Such a public imposes on an author the 
 obligation of being more a writer than a philosopher. The 
 thinker is expected to concern himself with his sentences as 
 much as with his ideas. He is not allowed to be a mere scholar 
 in his closet, a simple erudite, diving into folios in German 
 fashion, a metaphysician absorbed with his own meditations, 
 having an audience of pupils who take notes, and, as readers, 
 men devoted to study and willing to give themselves trouble, 
 a Kant, who forms for himself a special language, who waits for 
 a public to comprehend him and who leaves the room in which 
 he labors only for the lecture-room in which he delivers his 
 lectures. Here, on the contrary, in the matter of expresron, all 
 
 received in a brilliant circle in London, because he was a fellow of the Royal Society. But 
 this would not be the case with a member of the Academy of Sciences at Paris, lie Is sure of 
 a good reception everywhere." 
 
 1 " I met in Paris the d'Alemberts, the Marmontels, the Baillys at the houses of duchesses, 
 which was an immense advantage to all concerned. . . . When a man with us devotes himself 
 to writing books he is considered as renouncing the society equally of those who govern as of 
 those who laugh. . . . Taking literary vanity into account the lives of your d'Alemberts and 
 Baillys are as pleasant as those of your seigniors." (Stendhal, "Rome, Naples et Florence," 
 77, in a narrative by CoL Forsyth).
 
 256 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV 
 
 are experts and even professional. The mathematician d'Alem 
 bert publishes small treatises on elocution ; Buffon, the naturalist, 
 pronounces a discourse on Style; the legist Montesquieu com- 
 poses an essay on Taste; the psychologist Condillac writes a 
 volume on the art of writing. In this consists their greatest 
 glory; philosophy owes its entry into society to them. They 
 withdrew it from the closet, the clique and the school, to in- 
 troduce it into company and into conversation. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Madame la Mare*chale," says one of Diderot's personages, 1 
 "I must consider things from a somewhat higher point oi 
 view." "As high as you please so long as I understand you." 
 "If you do not understand me it will be my fault." " You are 
 very polite, but you must know that I have studied nothing 
 but my prayer-book." That makes no difference; the pretty 
 woman, ably led on, begins to philosophize without knowing it, 
 arriving without effort at the distinction between good and evil, 
 comprehending and deciding on the highest doctrines of mor- 
 ality and religion. Such is the art of the eighteenth century, 
 and the art of writing. People are addressed who are perfectly 
 familiar with life, but who are commonly ignorant of orthography, 
 who are curious in all directions, but illy prepared for any ; the 
 object is to bring truth down to their level. Scientific or too 
 abstract terms are inadmissible ; they tolerate only those used in 
 ordinary conversation. And this is no obstacle; it is easier to 
 talk philosophy in this language than to use it in discussing pre- 
 cedences and mantua-making. For, in every abstract question 
 there is some leading and simple conception on which the rest 
 depends, those of unity, proportion, mass and motion in mathe- 
 matics ; those of organ, function and being in physiology, those 
 of sensation, pain, pleasure and desire in psychology ; those ol 
 utility, contract and law in politics and moralky ; those of capital, 
 production, value, exchange in political economy and the same 
 in the other sciences, all of these being conceptions derived from 
 passing experience, from which it follows that, in appealing to 
 common experience by means of a few familiar circumstances, 
 such as short stories, anecdotes, agreeable tales, and the like, 
 
 1 " Enaction d'un philosophe avec !a Marechale ."
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 257 
 
 these conceptions are fashioned anew and rendered precise. 
 This being accomplished, almost everything is accomplished for 
 nothing then remains but to lead the listener along step by step, 
 flight by flight, to the remotest consequences. " Will Madame 
 la Marchale have the kindness to recall my definition ? " " I re- 
 member it well do you call that a definition ? " "Yes." " That, 
 then, is philosophy ! " " Admirable ! " " And I have been philo- 
 sophical ? " " As you read prose, without being aware of it." 
 The rest is simply a matter of reasoning, that is to say, of leading 
 on, of putting questions in the right order, and of analysis. 
 With the conception thus renewed and rectified the truth nearest 
 at hand is brought out, then, out of this, a second truth related 
 to the first one, and so on to the end, no other obligation being 
 involved in this method but that of carefully advancing step by 
 step, and of omitting no intermediary step. 
 
 With this method one is able to explain all, to make everything 
 understood, even by women, and even by women of society. 
 In the eighteenth century it forms the substance of all talents, 
 the warp of all masterpieces, the lucidity, popularity and authority 
 of philosophy. The " Eloges " of Fontenelle, the " Philosophe 
 ignorant et le principe d'action " by Voltaire, the " Lettre a M. 
 de Beaumont," and the " Vicaire Savoyard " by Rousseau, the 
 " Trait6 de 1'homme " and the " Epoques de la Nature" by Buffon, 
 the " Dialogues sur les ble"s " by Galiani, the " Considerations " 
 by d'Alembert, on mathematics, the " Langue des Calculs " and 
 the " Logique " by Condillac, and, a little later, the " Exposition 
 du systeme du Monde " by Laplace and the " Discours ge"ne"raux " 
 by Bichat and Cuvier ; all are based on this method. 1 Finally, 
 this is the method which Condillac erects into a theory under the 
 name of ideology, soon acquiring the ascendency of a dogma, 
 and which then seems to sum up all methods. At the very 
 least it sums up the process by which the philosophers of the 
 century obtained their audience, propagated their doctrine and 
 achieved their success. 
 
 III. 
 
 Thanks to this method one can be understood ; but, to be read, 
 something more is necessary. I compare the eighteenth century 
 
 1 The same process is observable in our day in the " Sophismes 6conomloues" of Bastiat, 
 the "Eloges historiques" of Flourens, and in "Le Progres," by Edmond Afrout 
 
 22 
 
 ,*
 
 258 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV 
 
 to a company of people around a table ; it is not sufficient that 
 the food before them be well prepared, well served, within reach 
 and easy to digest, but it is important that it should be some 
 choice dish or, better still, some dainty. The intellect is epicu- 
 rean ; let us supply it with savory, delicate viands adapted to its 
 taste; it will eat so much the more owing to its appetite being 
 sharpened by sensuality. Two special condiments enter into the 
 cuisine of this century and, according to the hand that makes 
 use of them, they furnish all literary dishes with a coarse or 
 delicate seasoning. In an epicurean society, to which a return 
 to nature and the rights of instinct are preached, voluptuous 
 images and ideas present themselves involuntarily; this is the 
 appetizing, exciting spice-box. Each guest at the table uses or 
 abuses it ; many empty its entire contents on their plate. And I 
 do not allude merely to the literature read in secret, to the 
 extraordinary books Madame d'Audlan, governess to the French 
 royal children, peruses, and which stray off into the hands of the 
 daughters of Louis XV., 1 nor to other books, still more extraor- 
 dinary, 2 in which philosophical arguments appear as an interlude 
 between filth and the illustrations, and which are kept by the 
 ladies of the court on their toilet-tables, under the title of 
 " Heures de Paris." I refer here to the great men, to the masters 
 of the public intellect. With the exception of Buffon, all put 
 pimento into their sauces, that is to say, loose talk or coarseness 
 of expression. We find this even in the " Esprit des Lois ; " there 
 is an enormous amount of it, open and covered up, in the " Lettres 
 Persanes." Diderot, in his two great novels, puts it in by hand- 
 fuls, as if during an orgy. The teeth crunch on it like so many 
 grains of pepper, on every jpage of Voltaire. We find it, not 
 only piquant, but strong and of burning intensity, in the 
 " Nouvelle H61oise," scores of times in " Emile t " and, in the 
 "Confessions," from one end to the other, 'ft was the taste of 
 the day. M. de Malesherbes, so upright and so grave, committed 
 u La Pucelle" to memory and recited it. We have from the pen 
 of Saint-Just, the gloomiest of the "Mountain," a poem as 
 lascivious as jhat of_Yoltaire, while Madame Roland, the noblest 
 of 'the Girondins, has left us confessions as venturesome and 
 specific as those of Rousseau. 3 
 
 1 The "Portier de Chartres." 
 
 "Therese Philosophe." There is a complete literature of this species. 
 * See the edition of M. Dauban in which the suppressed passages are restored.
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 259 
 
 On the other hand there is a second box, that containing the 
 old Gallic salt, that is to say, humor and raillery. Its mouth is 
 wide open in the hands of a philosophy proclaiming the sov- 
 ereignty of reason. Whatever is contrary to reason is to it ab- 
 surd and therefore open to ridicule. The moment the solemn 
 hereditary mask covering up an abuse is brusquely and adroitly 
 torn aside, we feel a curious spasm, the corners of our mouth 
 stretching apart and our breast heaving violently, as if a kind of 
 sudden relief, an unexpected deliverance, experiencing a sense of 
 our recovered superiority, of our revenge being gratified and of 
 an act of justice having been performed. But it depends on the 
 mode in which the mask is struck off whether the laugh shall be 
 in turn light or loud, suppressed or unbridled, now amiable and 
 cheerful, or now bitter and sardonic. Humor (la plaisanterit) 
 comports with all aspects, from buffoonery to indignation ; no liter- 
 ary seasoning affords such a variety, or so many mixtures, nor one 
 that so well enters into combination with that above-mentioned. 
 The two together, from the middle ages down, form the principal 
 ingredients employed by the French cuisine in the composition of 
 its most agreeable dainties, fables, tales, witticisms, jovial songs 
 and waggeries, the eternal heritage of a good-humored, mocking 
 race, preserved by La Fontaine athwart the pomp and sobriety 
 of the seventeenth century and, in the eighteenth, reappearing 
 everywhere at the philosophic banquet. Its charm is great to 
 the brilliant company at this table, so amply provided, whose 
 principal occupation is pleasure and amusement. It is all the 
 greater because, on this occasion, the passing disposition is in har- 
 mony with hereditary instinct, and because the taste of the epoch 
 is fortified by the national taste. Add to all this the exquisite art 
 of the cooks, their talent in commingling, in apportioning and in 
 concealing the condiments, in varying and arranging the dishes, 
 the certainty of their hand, the finesse of their palate, their ex- 
 perience in processes, in the traditions and practices which, al- 
 ready for a hundred years, form of French prose the most deli- 
 cate aliment of the intellect. It is not strange to find them 
 skilled in regulating human speech, in extracting from it its quin- 
 tessence and in distilling its full delight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In this respect four among them are superior, Muntesq- ieu, 
 Voltaire, Diderot and Rousseau. It seems sufficient to mention
 
 260 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 their names. Modern Europe has no greater writers. And yet 
 their talent must be closely examined to properly comprehend 
 their power. 
 
 In tone and style Montesquieu is the first. No writer is more 
 master of himself, more outwardly" calm, more sure of his mean- 
 ing. His voice is never boisterous ; he expresses the most pow- 
 erful thoughts with moderation. There is no gesticulation; ex- 
 clamations, the abandonment of impulse, all that is irreconcilable 
 with decorum is repugnant to his tact, his reserve, his dignity. 
 He seems to be always addressing a select circle of people with 
 acute minds, and in such a way as to render them at e v ery mo- 
 ment conscious of their acuteness. No flattery could be more 
 delicate ; we feel grateful to him for making us satisfied with our 
 intelligence. We must possess some intelligence to be able to 
 read him, for he deliberately curtails developments and omits tran- 
 sitions ; we are required to supply these and to comprehend his 
 hidden meanings. He is rigorously systematic but the system is 
 concealed, his concise completed sentences succeeding each 
 other separately, like so many precious coffers or caskets, now 
 simple and plain in aspect, now superbly chased and decorated, 
 but always full. Open them and each contains a treasure ; here 
 is placed in narrow compass a rich store of reflections, of emo- 
 tions, of discoveries, our enjoyment being the more intense 
 because we can easily retain all this for a moment in the palm of 
 our hand. "That which usually forms a grand conception," he 
 himself says, "is a thought so expressed as to reveal a number 
 of other thoughts, and suddenly disclosing what we could not 
 anticipate without patient study." This, indeed, is his manner ; 
 he thinks with summaries; he concentrates the essence of des- 
 potism in a chapter of three lines. The summary itself often 
 bears the air of an enigma, of which the charm is twofold; we 
 have the pleasure of comprehension accompanying the satis- 
 faction of divining. In all subjects he maintains this supreme 
 discretion, this art of indicating without enforcing, these reti- 
 cences, the smile that never becomes a laugh. " In my defence 
 of the 'Esprit des Lois,'" he says, "that which gratifies me is not 
 to see venerable theologians crushed to the ground but to see 
 them glide down gently." He excels in tranquil irony, in pol- 
 ished disdain, 1 in disguised sarcasm. His Persians judge France 
 
 1 "Esprit des Lois," ch. xv. book V. (Reasons in favor of slavery). The "Defence of th 
 Esprit des Lois," I. Reply to the second objection. II. Reply to the fourth objection.
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 261 
 
 as Persians, and we smile at their errors; unfortunately the laugh 
 is not against them but against ourselves, for their error is found 
 to be a verity. 1 This or that letter, in a sober vein, seems a 
 comedy at their expense without reflecting upon us, full of Ma- 
 hometan prejudices and of oriental infatuation; 2 reflect a mo- 
 ment, and our infatuation, in this relation, appears no less. Blows 
 of extraordinary force and reach are given in passing, as if 
 thoughtlessly, against existing institutions, against the transformed 
 Catholicism which "in the present state of Europe, cannot last 
 five hundred years," against the degenerate monarchy which 
 causes useful citizens to starve to fatten parasite courtiers. 3 
 The entire new philosophy blooms out in his hands with an air 
 of innocence, in a pastoral romance, in a simple prayer, in an art-S 
 less letter. 4 None of the gifts which serve to arrest and fix the ; '. 
 attention are. wanting in this style, neitEer graH9euTT)f imagina-l 
 tion nor profound sentiment, vivid characterization, delicate \ 
 gradations, vigorous precision, a sportive grace, unlooked-for bur- ] 
 lesque, nor variety of representation. But, amidst so many in- 
 genious devices, apologues, tales, portraits and dialogues, in ear- 
 nest as well as when masquerading, his deportment throughout is 
 irreproachable and his tone is ^perfect. If, as an author, he de- 
 velops a paradox it is with almostEnglish gravity. If he fully 
 exposes indecency it is with decent terms. In the full tide of 
 buffoonery, as well as in the full blast of license, he is ever the 
 well-bred man, born and brought up in the aristocratic circle in 
 which full liberty is allowed but where good-breeding is supreme, 
 where every idea is permitted but where words are weighed, 
 where one has the privilege of saying what he pleases but on 
 condition that he never forgets himself. 
 
 A circle of this kind is a small one, comprising only a select 
 few ; to be understood by the multitude requires another tone of 
 voice. Philosophy demands a writer whose principal occupa- 
 tion is a diffusion of it, who is unable to keep it to himself, who 
 pours it out like a gushing fountain, who offers it to everybody, 
 daily and in every form, in broad streams and in small drops, 
 
 ' Lcttef 24 (on Louis XIV.) 
 
 * Letter 18 (on the purity and impurity of things). Lettir 35 (proofs of themissionof 
 Mahomet). 
 
 ' Letters 75 and 118. 
 
 4 Letters 08 (on the modern sciences), 46 (on a true system of worship), u ana 14 (on the 
 nature of justice;.
 
 262 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv, 
 
 without exhaustion or weariness, through every crevice and by 
 every channel, in prose, in verse, in imposing and in trifling 
 poems, in the drama, in history, in novels, in pamphlets, in 
 pleadings, in treatises, in essays, in dictionaries, in correspondence, 
 openly and in secret, in order that it may penetrate to all depths 
 and in every soil, and this is VjoJiaire*^" I have accomplished 
 more in my day," he says somewhere, " than either Luther or Cal- 
 vin," in which he is mistaken. The truth is, however, he has 
 something of their spirit. Like them he is desirous of changing 
 the prevailing religion, he takes the attitude of the founder of a 
 sect, he recruits and binds together proselytes, he writes letters 
 of exhortation, of direction and of predication, he puts watch- 
 words in circulation, he furnishes " the brethren " with a device ; 
 his passion resembles the zeal of an apostle or of a prophet. 
 Such a spirit is incapable of reserve ; it is militant and fiery by 
 nature ; it apostrophizes, reviles and improvises ; it writes under 
 the dictation of impressions ; it allows itself every species of ut- 
 terance and, if need be, the coarsest. It thinks by explosions ; its 
 emotions are sudden starts, and its images so many sparks ; it lets 
 the rein go entirely ; it gives itself up to the reader and hence it 
 takes possession of him. Resistance is impossible ; the contagion 
 is too overpowering. A creature of air and flame, the most ex- 
 citable that ever lived, composed of more ethereal and more 
 throbbing atoms than those of other men ; none is there whose 
 mental machinery is more delicate, nor whose equilibrium is at 
 the same time more shifting and more exact. He may be com- 
 pared to those accurate scales that are affected by a breath but 
 alongside of which every other measuring apparatus is incorrect 
 and clumsy. But, in this delicate balance, only the lightest 
 weights, the finest specimen must be placed ; on this condition 
 only it rigorously weighs all substances ; such is Voltaire, involun- 
 tarily, through the demands of his intellect, and in his own be- 
 half as much as in that of his readers. An entire philosophy, 
 ten volumes of theology, an abstract science, a special library, an 
 important branch of erudition, of human experience and inven- 
 tion, is thus reduced in his hands to a phrase or to a stanza. 
 From the enormous mass of riven or compact scoria he extracts 
 whatever is essential, a grain of gold or of copper as a specimen 
 of the rest, presenting this to us in its most convenient and most 
 manageable form, in a simile, in a metaphor, in an epigram thai
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 263 
 
 becomes a proverb. In this no ancient or modern writer ap- 
 proaches him ; in simplification and in popularization he has not 
 his equal in the world. Without departing from the usual con- 
 versational tone, and as if in sport, he puts into little portable 
 phrases the greatest discoveries and hypotheses of the human 
 mind, the theories of Descartes, Malebranche, Leibnitz, Locke 
 and Newton, the diverse religions of antiquity and of modern 
 tunes, every known system of physics, physiology, geology, mo- 
 rality, natural law, and political economy, 1 in short, all the gen- 
 eralized conceptions in every order of knowledge to which hu- 
 manity had attained in the eighteenth century. His tendency in 
 this direction is so strong as to carry him too far ; he belittles 
 great things by rendering them accessible. Religion, legend, an- 
 cient popular poesy, the spontaneous creations of instinct, the 
 vague visions of primitive times are not thus to be converted into 
 small current coin ; they are not subjects of amusing and lively 
 conversation. A piquant witticism is not an expression of all 
 this, but simply a travesty. But how charming to Frenchmen, 
 and to people of the world ! And what reader can abstain from 
 a book containing all human knowledge summed up in piquant 
 witticisms ? For it is really a summary of human knowledge, no 
 important idea, as far as I can see, being wanting to a man whose 
 breviary consisted of the " Dialogues," the " Dictionary," and the 
 "Novels." Read them over and over five or six times and we 
 then form some idea of their vast contents. Not only do 
 views of the world and of man abound in them, but again they 
 swarm with positive and even technical details, thousands of little 
 facts scattered throughout, multiplied and precise details on 
 astronomy, physics, geography, physiology, statistics, and on the 
 history of all nations, the innumerable and personal experiences 
 of a man who has himself read the texts, handled the instruments, 
 visited the countries, taken part in the industries, and associated 
 with the persons, and who, in the precision of his marvellous 
 memory, in the liveliness of his ever-blazing imagination, revives 
 or sees, as with the eye itself, everything that he states and as he 
 states it. It is a unique talent, the rarest in a classic era, the 
 most precious of all, since it consists in the display of actual be- 
 
 i Cf. " Microm^gas," " L'homme aux quarantes cus," "Dialogues entre A, B, C,' "Diet 
 Philosophique," passim. In verse, "Les systemes," La 'oi naturelle," "Le pour et ta 
 cootre," " Discouis tut 1'hommc," etc.
 
 rt4 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 ings, not through the gray veil of abstractions, but in themselves, 
 as they are in nature and in history, with their visible color and 
 forms, with their accessories and surroundings in time and space, 
 a peasant at his cart, a quaker in his meeting-house, a German 
 baron in his castle, Dutchmen, Englishmen, Spaniards, Italians, 
 Frenchmen, in their homes, 1 a great lady, a designing woman, 
 provincials, soldiers, courtesans, 2 and the rest of the human med- 
 ley, on every step of the social ladder, each an abridgment of 
 his kind and hi the passing light of a sudden flash. 
 
 For, the most striking feature of this style is the prodigious 
 rapidity, the dazzling and bewildering stream of novelties, ideas, 
 images, events, landscapes, narratives, dialogues, brief little 
 pictures, following each other rapidly as if in a magic-lantern, 
 withdrawn almost as soon as presented by the impatient magician 
 who, in the twinkling of an eye, girdles the world and, constantly 
 accumulating one on top of the other, history, fable, truth 
 and fancy, the present time and times past, frames in his work 
 now, with a parade as absurd as that of a country fair, and now, 
 with a fairy scene more magnificent than all those of the opera. 
 To amuse and be amused, " to diffuse his spirit in every imagina- 
 ble mode, like a glowing furnace into which all substances are 
 thrown by turns to evolve every species of flame, corruscation 
 and odor," is his first instinct. " Life," he says again, " is an 
 infant to be rocked until it goes to sleep." Never was mortal 
 more excited and more exciting, "more Incapable of silence and 
 more hostile to ennui, 3 better endowed for conversation, more evi- 
 dently destined to become the king of a sociable century in which, 
 with six pretty stories, thirty witticisms and some confidence 
 in himself, a man could obtain a social passport and the certainty 
 of being everywhere welcome. Never was there a writer possess- 
 ing to so high a degree and in such abundance every qualification 
 of the conversationist, the art of animating and of enlivening 
 
 1 "Trait6 de me'taphysique," chap. L p. i. (on the peasantry). "Lettres sur les Anglais," 
 passim. " Candide," passim. "La Princesse de Babylone," ch. vii viii. Ix. x. and xL 
 
 * "Diet Phil." articles "Maladie," (Replies to the princess). "Candide," at Madame d 
 Parolignac. The sailor in the wreck. Narrative of Paquette. The "Inge'nu," the first 
 chapters. 
 
 3 "Candide," the last chapter. When there was no dispute going on, it was so weari- 
 some that the old woman one day boldly said to him : " I should like to know which is worse, 
 to be ravished a hundred times by negro pirates, to have one's rump gashed, or be switched 
 by the Bulgarians, to be scourged or hung in an auto-da-f6, to be cut to pieces, to row in th 
 galleys, to suffer any misery through which we have passed, or sit still and do nothing T ' 
 " That is a great question," said Candide.
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGA TION OF THE DOCTRINE. 26$ 
 
 discourse, the tilent for giving pleasure to people of society. 
 Perfectly refined when he chose to be, confining himself without 
 inconvenience to strict decorum, of finished politeness, of ex- 
 quisite gallantry, deferential without being servile, fond without be- 
 ing mawkish, 1 and always at his ease, it suffices that he should be 
 before the public, to fall naturally into the proper tone, the discreet 
 ways, the winning half-smile of the well-bred man who, introduc- 
 ing his readers into his mind, does them the honors of the place. 
 Are you on familiar terms with him, and of the small private circle 
 in which he freely unbends himself, with closed doors ? You never 
 tire of laughing. With a sure hand and without seeming to touch 
 it, he abruptly tears aside the veil hiding a wrong, a prejudice, a 
 folly, in short, any human idolatry. The real figure, whether 
 deformed, odious or spiritless, suddenly appears in this instanta- 
 neous flash ; we shrug our shoulders. This is the risibility of an 
 agile, triumphant reason. We have another in that of the gay 
 temperament, of the droll improvisator, of the man keeping 
 youthful, a child, a boy even to the day of his death, and who 
 "gambols on his own tombstone." He is fond of caricature, 
 exaggerating the features of faces, bringing grotesques on the 
 stage, 2 walking them about in all lights like marionettes, never 
 weary of taking them up and of making them dance in new 
 costumes; in the very midst of his philosophy, of his propagan 
 dism and polemics, he sets up his portable theatre in full blast, 
 exhibiting oddities, the scholar, the monk, the inquisitor, Mau- 
 pertuis, Pompignan, Nonotte, Fre"ron, King David, and countless 
 others who appear before us, capering and gesticulating in their 
 harlequin attire. When a farcical talent is thus added to the 
 requirements of truth humor becomes all-powerful; for it grati- 
 fies the profound and universal instincts of human nature, a 
 mischievous curiosity, the spirit of disparagement, the aversion 
 to constraint, that groundwork of ill-nature which is established 
 within us by conventionality, etiquette and the social obligation 
 of wearing the burdensome cloak of respect and of decency; 
 moments occur in life when the wisest is not sorry to throw this 
 
 1 For example, in the lines addressed to the Princess Ulrique in the preface to " Alzire," 
 dedicated to Madame du Chatelet 
 
 "Souvent un peu de verite 1 ," etc, 
 
 * The scholar in the dialogue of " Les Mais," (Jenny). The canonization of Saint Cucufin. 
 Advice to brother Pediculoso. The diatribe of Doctor Akakia, Conversation of th 
 emperor of Chitv rith brother Rigolo, etc. 
 
 23
 
 266 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 half aside and even cast it off entirely. On each page, now 
 with the bold stroke of a hardy naturalist, now with the quick 
 turn of a mischievous monkey, Voltaire lets the solemn or serious 
 drapery fall, disclosing man, the poor biped, and in such 
 attitudes! 1 Swift alone dared to present similar pictures. 
 What physiological crudities relating to the origin and end of our 
 most exalted sentiments! What disproportion between such 
 feeble reason and such powerful instincts ! What recesses in the 
 wardrobes of politics and religion concealing their foul linen! 
 We laugh at all this so as not to weep, and yet behind this 
 laughter there are tears ; he ends sneeringly, subsiding into a tone 
 of profound sadness, of mournful pity. In this degree, and with 
 such subjects, it is only an effect of habit, or as an expedient, a 
 mania of inspiration, a fixed condition of the nervous machinery 
 rushing headlong over everything, without a break and in full 
 speed. Gayety, let it not be forgotten, is still a mainspring 
 of action, the last that keeps man erect in France, the best in 
 \maintaining the tone of his spirit, his strength and his powers of 
 'resistance, the most intact in an age when men, and women too, 
 believed it incumbent on them to die people of good society, 
 with a smile and a jest on their lips. 8 
 
 When the talent of a writer thus accords with public in- 
 clinations it is a matter of little import if he does deviate and 
 stumble, since he is following the universal tendency. He may 
 wander off or besmirch himself in vain, for his audience is only the 
 more pleased, his defects serving him as advantageously as his 
 good qualities. After the first generation of healthy minds the 
 second one comes on, the intellectual balance here being equally 
 inexact. " Diderot," saysJVoltaire, " is_tpo hot an oven, every 
 thing that is baked in it gett5igl)urnt." Or rather, he is an erup- 
 tive volcano which, for forty years, discharges ideas of every order 
 and species, boiling and fused together, precious metals, coarse- 
 scoriae and fetid mud ; the steady stream overflows at will accord- 
 ing to the roughness of the ground, but always displaying thr 
 ruddy light and acrid fumes of glowing lava. He is not master 
 of his ideas, but his ideas master him ; he is under submission to 
 them ; he has not that firm foundation of common practical sense, 
 
 1 "Diet. Philosophique," the article "Ignorance." "Les Oreilles du Comte de Chester 
 Seld," "L'homrae au quarante ecus," chap. vii. and xL 
 1 Bachaumont, III. 194. (Tie death of the Comte de Maugiron).
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 267 
 
 which controls their impetuosity and ravages, that inner dyke of 
 social caution which, with Montesquieu and Voltaire, bars the way 
 to outbursts. Everything with him rushes out of the surcharged 
 crater, never picking its way, through the first fissure or crevice 
 it finds, according to his haphazard reading, a letter, a conver- 
 sation, an improvisation, and not in frequent small jets as with 
 Voltaire, but in broad currents tumbling blindly down the most 
 precipitous declivities of the century. Not only does he descend 
 thus to the very depths of anti-religious and anti-social doctrines, 
 with logical and paradoxical rigidity, more impetuously and more \ 
 obstreperously than d'Holbach himself; but again he falls into and j 
 sports himself in the slime of the age, consisting of obscenity, and I 
 into the beaten track of declamation. In his leading novels he, 
 dwells a long time ojjj^acions.^uivorationT'or on a scene'oT f 
 -lewdnegs^ Crudity with him is not extenuated by malice or 
 glossed over by elegance. He is neither refined nor pungent ; he 
 is quite incapable, like the younger Cre"billon, of depicting the 
 scapegrace of ability. He is a new-comer, a parvenue in stand- 
 ard society; you see in him a plebeian, a powerful reasoner, an 
 indefatigable workman and great artist, introduced, through the 
 customs of the day, at a supper of fashionable livers. He en- 
 grosses the conversation, directs the orgy, and in the contagion, 
 or on a wager, says more filthy things, more " gueule'es" than 
 all the guests put together. 1 In like manner, in his dramas, in 
 his " Essays on Claudius and Nero," in his " Commentary on 
 Seneca," in his additions to the " Philosophical History," of Ray- 
 nal, he forces the tone of things. This tone, which then prevails 
 by virtue of the classic spirit and of the new fashion, is that of 
 sentimental rhetoric. Diderot carries it to extremes in the exag- 
 geration of tears or of rage, in exclamations, in apostrophes, in 
 tenderness of feeling, in violences, in indignations, in enthusi- 
 asms, in full-orchestra tirades, in which the fire of his brain finds 
 employment and an outlet. 
 
 On the other hand, among so many superior writers, he is the 
 
 * " The novels of tht younger Cr6billon were in fashion. My father conversed with 
 Madame de Puisieux on the ease with which licentious works were composed he contended 
 that it was only necessary to find an amusing idea as a peg to hang others on in which in- 
 tellectual libertinism should be a substitute for taste. She challenged him to produce one of 
 this kind. At the end of a fortnight he brought her 'Les bijoux indiscrets' and fifty louis." 
 (Mmoires of Diderot, by his daughter). "I .a Religieuse," has a similar origin, its object 
 Being to mystify M. de Croismart.
 
 268 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 only genuine artist, the creator of souls, the mind in which ob- 
 jects, events and personages are born and become organized of 
 themselves, through their own forces, by virtue of natural affinities, 
 involuntarily, without foreign intervention, in such a way as to 
 live for and in themselves, safe from the author's intentions, and 
 outside of his combinations. The composer of the " Salons," the 
 "Petits Romans," the Entretien," the "Paradoxe du Com6dien," 
 and especially the "Re"ve de d'Alembert" and the" Neveu de 
 Rameau " is a man of an unique species in his time. However alert_ 
 and brilliant Voltaire's personages may be, they are always pup- 
 pets j their action is derivative ; always behind them you catch a 
 glimpse of the author pulling the strings. Wlfh~~DTderot, the 
 strings are severed; he is not speaking through the lips of his 
 characters ; they are not his comical speaking-trumpets or danc- 
 ing-jacks, but independent and detached creations, with an action 
 of their own, a personal accent, with their own temperament, 
 passions, ideas, philosophy, style and spirit, and occasionally, as 
 in the " Neveu de Rameau," a spirit so original, complex and com- 
 plete, so alive and so deformed that, in the natural history of 
 man, it becomes an incomparable monster and an immortal 
 document. He has expressed everything concerning nature, 1 art, 
 morality and life 2 in two small treatises of which twenty succes- 
 sive readings exhaust neither the charm nor the sense. Find 
 elsewhere, if you can, a similar stroke of power and a greater 
 masterpiece, " anything more absurd and more profound ! " 3 
 
 Such is the advantage of men of genius possessing no con- 
 trol over themselves. They lack discernment but they have in- 
 spiration. Among twenty works, either shapeless, unwholesome 
 or foul, they produce one that is a creation, and still better, an 
 animated thing, able to live by itself, before which others, fabri- 
 cated by merely intellectual people, resemble simply well-dressed 
 puppets. Hence it is that Diderot is so great a narrator, a mas- 
 ter of dialogue, the equal in this respect of Voltaire, and, through 
 a quite opposite talent, believing all he says at the moment of 
 saying it ; forgetful of his very self, carried away by his own re- 
 cital, listening to inward voices, surprised with the responses 
 which come to him unexpectedly, borne along, as if on an un- 
 
 "Le Reve de d'Alembert." 
 
 1 "Le neveu de Rameau." 
 
 The words of Diderot himself in relation to the "Reve de d'Alembert"
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 269 
 
 known river, by the current of action, by the sinuosities of the 
 conversation inwardly and unconsciously developed, aroused by 
 the flow of ideas and the leap of the moment to the most un- 
 looked-for imagery, extreme in burlesque or extreme in magnifi- 
 cence, now lyrical even to providing Musset with an entire 
 strophe, 1 now comic and droll with outbursts unheard of since 
 the days of Rabelais, always in good faith, always at the mercy 
 of his subject, of his inventions, of his emotions, the most 
 natural of writers in an age of artificial literature, resembling a 
 foreign tree which, transplanted to a parterre of the epoch, swells 
 out and decays on one side of its stem, but of which five or six 
 branches, thrust out into full light, surpass the neighboring un- 
 derwood in the freshness of their, sap and in the vigor of their 
 growth. 
 
 Rousseau is also an artisan, a man of the people, ill-adapted 
 to elegant and refined society, out of his element in a drawing- 
 room and, moreover, of low birth, badly brought up, sullied 
 by a vile and precocious experience, highly and offensively 
 sensual, morbid in mind and in body, fretted by superior and dis- 
 cordant faculties, possessing no tact, and carrying the contamina- 
 tion of his imagination, temperament and past life into his austere 
 morality and into his purest idyls : 2 besides this he has no fervor 
 and in this he is the opposite of Diderot, avowing himself " that his 
 ideas arrange themselves in his head with the utmost difficulty, that 
 certain sentences are turned over and over again in his brain for 
 five or six nights before putting them on paper, and that a letter on 
 the most trifling subject costs him hours of fatigue," that he cannot 
 fall into an easy and agreeable tone nor succeed otherwise than 
 "in works which demand application." 3 As an offset to this, 
 style, in this ardent brain, under the influence of intense, pro- 
 
 1 One of the finest strophes in "Souvenir" is almost literati; transcribed (involuntarily, 
 suppose), from the dialogue on Otaheite. 
 
 * "Nouvelle H61oise," passim., and notably Julie's extraordinary letter, second part, numb 
 15. " Emile," the preceptor's discourse to Emile and Sophie the morning after their marriag 
 Letter of the Comtesse de Boufflers to Gustavus III., published by Geflroy, (" Gustave II 
 et la cour de France "). " I entrust to Baron de Lederheim, though with reluctance, a box 
 for you which has just been published, the infamous memoirs of Rousseau entitled ' Confc 
 sions.' They seem to me those of a common scullion and even lower than that, being di \ 
 throughout, whimsical and vicious in the most offensive manner. I do not recur to r ') 
 worship of him (for such it was) ; I shall never console myself for its having caused the dej j 
 of that eminent man David Hume, who, to gratify me, ui.dertook to entertain that fill j 
 animal in England." 
 
 * "Confessions," part i, book TIL
 
 270 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK 17. 
 
 longed meditation, incessantly hammered and re-hammered, be- 
 comes more concise and of higher temper than is elsewhere found. 
 Since La Bruyere we have seen no more ample, virile phrases, in 
 which anger, admiration, indignation, studied and concentrated 
 passion, appear with more rigorous precision and more power- 
 ful relief. He is almost the equal of La Bruyere in the arrange- 
 ment of skilful effects, in the aptness and ingenuity of develop- 
 ments, in the terseness of impressive summaries, in the overpower- 
 ing directness of unexpected arguments, in the multiplicity of liter- 
 ary achievements, in the execution of those passages of bravura, 
 portraits, descriptions, comparisons, creations, wherein, as in a 
 musical crescendo, the same idea, varied by a series of yet more 
 animated expressions, attains to ,or surpasses, at the last note, all 
 that is possible of energy and of brilliancy. Finally, he has that 
 which is wanting in La Bruyere ; his passages are linked together \ 
 he is not a writer of pages but of books ; no logician is more con- 
 densed. His demonstration is knitted together, mesh by mesh, 
 for one^ two and three volumes like a great net without an open- 
 ing in which, willingly or not, we remain caught. He is a sys- 
 tematizer who, absorbed with himself, and with his eyes stub- 
 bornly fixed on his own revery or on his own principle, buries 
 himself deeper in it every day, weaving its consequences off one 
 by one and always holding fast to the various ends. Do not go 
 near him. Like a solitary, enraged spider he weaves this out 
 of his own substance, out of the most cherished convictions of his 
 brain and the deepest emotions of his heart. He trembles at the 
 slightest touch; ever on the defensive, he is terrible, 1 beside 
 himself, 2 even venomous through suppressed exasperation and 
 wounded sensibility, furious against an adversary, whom he stifles 
 with the multiplied and tenacious threads of his web, but still 
 more redoubtable to himself than to his enemies, soon caught in 
 his own meshes, 3 believing that France and the universe conspire 
 against him, deducing with wonderful subtlety the proofs of this 
 chimerical conspiracy, made desperate, at last, by his over-plausi- 
 ble romance and strangling in the cunning toils which, by dint of 
 his own logic and imagination, he has fashioned for himself. 
 
 Letter to M. de Beaumont 
 
 a "Emile," letter IV. 193. "People of the world must necessarily put on disguise; lot 
 them show themselves as they are and they would horrify us," etc. 
 
 1 See, especially, his book entitled " Rousseau juge de Jean- Jacques," his connectioa witk 
 Hume and the last books of the "Confessions."
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 271 
 
 One runs a risk of killing oneself with anus of this description, 
 b'tf there is power in it. Rousseau was powerful, equally so with 
 Voltaire; it may be said that the las* half of the eighteenth 
 century belongs to him. A foreigner, a prctestant, original in 
 temperament, in education, in heart, in mind and in habits, at 
 once misanthropic and philanthropic, living in an ideal world 
 constructed by himself, entirely opposed to the world as it is, he 
 finds himself standing in a new position. No one is so sensitive 
 to the evils and vices of actual society. No one is so affected by 
 the virtues and happiness of the society of the future. This ac- 
 counts for his having two holds on the public mind, one through 
 satire and the other through the idyl. These two holds are un- 
 doubtedly slighter at the present day; the substance of their 
 grasp has disappeared; we are not the auditors to which it 
 appealed. The famous discourse on the influence of literature 
 and on the origin of inequality seems to us a collegiate oration ; 
 an effort of the will is required to read the " Nouv^lleJEI&Qise." 
 The author is repulsive in the persistency of his spitefulness or in 
 the exaggeration of his enthusiasm. He is always in extremes, 
 now moody and with knit brows, and now streaming with tears 
 and with outstretched arms to Heaven. Hyperbole, prosopopaeia, 
 and other literary machinery is too often and too deliberately 
 used by him. We are tempted to regard him now as a sophist 
 making the best use of his arts, now as a rhetorician cudgelling 
 his brains for a purpose, now as a preacher becoming excited, 
 that is to say, an actor ever maintaining a thesis, striking an atti 
 tude and aiming at effects. Finally, with Jhe exception of the 
 " Confessions " his style soon wearies us ; it is too studied, and 
 too constantly overstrained. The author is always the author 
 and he communicates the defect to his personages. His Julie 
 argues and descants for twenty successive pages on duelling, on 
 love, on duty, with a logical completeness, a talent and phrases 
 that would do honor to an academical moralist. Common- 
 place exists everywhere, general themes, a raking fire of ab- 
 stractions and arguments, that is to say, truths more or less 
 empty and paradoxes more or less hollow. The smallest detail 
 of fact, an anecdote, a trait of habit, would suit" us much better, 
 and hence we of to-day prefer the precise eloquence of ob- 
 jects to the lax eloquence of words. In the eighteenth century 
 it was otherwise; to every writer this oratorical style was the
 
 272 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 prescribed ceremonial costume, the dress-coat he had to put 
 on for admission into the company of select people. That which 
 seems to us affectation was then only proper; in a classic epoch 
 the perfect period and the sustained development constitute de- 
 corum and are therefore to be observed. It must be noted, 
 moreover, that this literary drapery which, with us of the present 
 day, conceals truth did not conceal it to his contemporaries ; they 
 saw under it the exact feature, the perceptible detail no longer 
 detected by us. Every abuse, every vice, every excess of refine- 
 ment and of culture, all that social and moral disease which 
 Rousseau scourged with an author's emphasis, existed before 
 them under their own eyes, in their own breasts, visible and daily 
 manifested in thousands of domestic incidents. In applying 
 satire they had only to observe or to remember. Their exper- 
 ience completed the book, and, through the co-operation of his 
 readers, the author possessed power which he is now deprived 
 of. If we were to put ourselves in their place we should re- 
 cover their impressions. His denunciations and sarcasms, the 
 harsh things of all sorts he says of the great, of fashionable people 
 and of women, his rude and cutting tone, provokes and irritates, 
 but is not displeasing. On the contrary, after so many compli- 
 ments, insipidities and petty versification all this quickens the 
 blunted taste ; it is the sensation of strong common wine after 
 long indulgence in orgeat and preserved citron. Accordingly, 
 his first discourse against art and literature "lifts one at once 
 above the clouds." But his idyllic writings touch the heart more 
 powerfully than his satires. If men listen to the moralist that 
 scolds them they throng in the footsteps of the magician that 
 charms them; especially do women and the young adhere to 
 one who shows them the promised land. All accumulated dis- 
 satisfactions, weariness of the world, ennui, vague disgust, a multi- 
 tude of suppressed desires gush forth, like subterranean waters, 
 under the sounding line that for the first time brings them to 
 tight. Rousseau with his soundings struck deep and true 
 through his own trials and through genius. In a wholly artificial 
 society where people are drawing-room puppets, and where life 
 consists in a graceful parade according to a recognized model, 
 he preaches a return to nature, independence, earnestness, pas- 
 sion, and efiusions, a manly, active, ardent and happy existence 
 1 the open air and in sunshine. What an outlet for restrained
 
 CHAP. I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 273 
 
 faculties, for the broad and luxurious fountain ever bubbling in 
 man's breast and for which no issue is provided into this beauti- 
 ful world ! A woman of the court is familiar with love as then 
 practised, simply a preference, often only a pastime, mere gal- 
 lantry of which the exquisite polish poorly conceals the shal- 
 lowness, coldness and, occasionally, wickedness, in short, ad- 
 ventures, amusements and personages as described by Cr6billon 
 the younger. One evening, about to go out to the opera 
 ball, she finds the "Nouvelle Heloise" on her toilet-table; it is 
 not surprising that she keeps her horses and footmen waiting from 
 hour to hour, and that at four o'clock in the morning she orders 
 the horses to be unharnessed, and then passes the rest of the 
 night in reading, and that she is stifled with her tears; for the 
 first time in her life she finds a man that loves. 1 In like manner 
 if you would comprehend the success of " Emile," call to mind 
 the children we have described, the embroidered, gilded, dressed- 
 up, powdered little gentlemen, decked with sword and sash, car- 
 rying the chapeau under the arm, bowing, presenting the hand, 
 rehearsing fine attitudes before a mirror, repeating prepared com 
 pliments, pretty little puppets in which everything is the work of 
 the tailor, the hairdresser, the preceptor and the dancing-master ; 
 alongside of these, little ladies of six years, still more artificial, 
 bound up in whalebone, harnessed in a heavy skirt composed of 
 hair and a girdle of iron, supporting a head-dress two feet in 
 height, so many veritable dolls to which rouge is applied, and 
 with which a mother amuses herself each morning for an hour 
 and then consigns them to her maids for the rest of the day. 1 
 This mother reads " Emile." It is not surprising that she imme- 
 diately strips the poor little thing and determines to nurse her 
 next child herself. 
 
 It is through these contrasts that Rousseau is strong. He 
 revealed the dawn to people who never got [up until noon, the 
 landscape to eyes that had thus far rested only on palaces and 
 drawing-rooms, a natural garden to men who had never prome- 
 
 1 "Confessions," part 2. book XI. " The women were intoxicated with the book and with 
 the author to such an extent that there were few of them, even of high rank, whose conquest 
 I could not have made if I had undertaken it I possess evidence of this which I do not can 
 io publish, and which, without having been obliged to prove it by experience, warrants my 
 itatemenL" Cf. G. Sand, "Histoire de ma vie," I. 73. 
 
 * See an engraving by Moreau called "Les Perils Parrains." Berquin, passim,, and among 
 others "L'e'pe'e." Remark the ready-made phrases, the sty?*, of an author common to chfl 
 dren, in Berquin and Madame de Genlis.
 
 274 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV, 
 
 naded outside of clipped shrubs and rectilinear borders, the 
 country, the family, the people, simple and endearing pleasures, 
 to townsmen made weary by social avidity, by the excesses and 
 complications of luxury, by the uniform comedy which, in the 
 glare of hundreds of lighted candles, they played night after 
 night in their own and in the homes of others. 1 An audience 
 thus disposed makes no clear distinction between pomp and sin- 
 cerity, between sentiment and sentimentality. They follow their 
 author as one who makes a revelation, as a prophet, even to the 
 end of his ideal world, much more through his exaggerations 
 than through his discoveries, as far on the road to error as on the 
 pathway of truth. 
 
 These are the great literary powers of the century. With 
 inferior successes, and through various combinations, the elements 
 which contributed to the formation of the leading talents also 
 form the secondary talents, like those below Rousseau, Bernar- 
 din de St. Pierre, Raynal, Thomas, Marmontel, Mably, Flo- 
 rian, Dupaty, Mercier, Madame de Stael; belojst- ^oLtaire, 
 the lively and piquant intellects of Duclos, Piron, Galiani, Presi- 
 dent Des Brosses, Rivarol, Champfort, and to speak with precision, 
 all other talents. Whenever a vein of talent, however meagre, 
 peers forth above the ground it is for the propagation and carrying 
 forward of the new doctrine ; scarcely can we find two or three 
 little streams that run in a contrary direction like the journal 
 of Fre*ron, a comedy by Palissot, or a satire by Gilbert. Philos- 
 ophy winds through and overflows all channels public and private, 
 through manuals of impiety, like the "Theologies portatives," 
 and in the lascivious novels circulated secretly, through epigrams 
 and songs, through daily novelties, through the amusements 
 of fairs, 2 and the harangues of the Academy, through tragedy 
 and the opera, from the beginning to the end of the century, 
 from the " CEdipe " of Voltaire, to the " Tarare " of Beaumarchais. 
 It seems as if there was nothing else in the world. At least it is 
 found everywhere and it floods all literary efforts ; nobody cares 
 whether it deforms them, content in making them serve as a 
 
 1 See the description of sunrise In "Emile," of the Elyse"e (a natural garden), in "Heloise.' 
 And especially in '' Emile," at the end of the fourth book, the pleasures which Rousseav 
 would enjoy if he were rich. 
 
 * See in Marivaux, ("La double inconstance,") a satire on the court, courtiers and the cor 
 ruptions of high life, opposed to the inferior class who have maintained primitive simplicity 
 Che village swains and asses.
 
 CHAP. i. THE PROPAGATION OP THE DOCTRINE. 273 
 
 conduit. In 1763, in the tragedy of Manco-Capac 1 the "pru> 
 cipal part," writes a contemporary, "is that of a savage who 
 utters in verse all that we have read, scattered through ' Emile ' 
 and the ' Contrat Social,' concerning kings, liberty, the rights of 
 man and the inequality of conditions." This virtuous savage 
 saves a king's son over whom a high-priest raises a poniard and 
 then, designating the high-priest and himself by turns, he cries, 
 " Behold the civilized man, here is the savage man ! " At this 
 line the applause breaks forth, and the success of the piece is 
 such that it is demanded at Versailles and played before the 
 court 
 
 All this has still to be expressed with skill, brilliancy, gayety, 
 energy and scandal, and this is accomplished in "The Mar- 
 riage of Figaro. " Never were the ideals of the age displayed 
 under a more transparent disguise, nor in an attire that rendered 
 them more attractive. Its title is the "Folle journ6e," and 
 indeed it is an evening of folly, an after-supper like those oc- 
 curring in the fashionable world, a masquerade of Frenchmen 
 in Spanish costumes, with a parade of dresses, changing scenes, 
 couplets, a ballet, a singing and dancing village, a medley of odd 
 characters, gentlemen, servants, duennas, judges, notaries, lawyers, 
 music-masters, gardeners, pa stoureattx; in short, a spectacle for the 
 eyes and the ears, for all the senses, the very opposite of the 
 prevailing drama in which three pasteboard characters, seated on 
 classic chairs, exchange didactic arguments in an abstract saloon. 
 And still better, it is an imbroglio displaying a superabundance 
 of action, amidst intrigues that cross, interrupt and renew 
 each other, through a ple-m$le of travesties, exposures, surprises, 
 mistakes, leaps from windows, quarrels and slaps, and all in spark- 
 ling style, each phrase flashing on all sides, where responses 
 seem to be cut out by a lapidary, where the eyes would forget them- 
 selves in contemplating the multiplied brilliants of the dialogue if 
 the mind were not carried along by its rapidity and the excite- 
 ment of the action. But here is another charm, the most welcome 
 of all in a society passionately fond of Parny ; according to an 
 expression by the Comte d'Artois, which I dare not quote, it is 
 an appeal to the senses, the arousing of which constitutes the 
 spiciness and savor of the piece. The fruit that hangs ripening 
 
 1 Bachaumont, I. 254.
 
 J6 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 and savory on the branch never falls but always seems on th 
 point of falling ; all hands are extended to catch it, its voluptu- 
 ousness somewhat veiled but so much the more provoking, 
 declaring itself from scene to scene, in the Count's gallantry, in 
 the Countess's agitation, in the simplicity of Fanchette, in the 
 jestings of Figaro, in the liberties of Susanne, and reaching its 
 climax in the precocity of Cherubino. Add to this a continual 
 double sense, the author hidden behind his characters, truth put 
 into the mouth of a clown, malice enveloped in simple utterances, 
 the master duped but saved from being ridiculous by his deport- 
 ment, the valet rebellious but preserved from acrimony by his 
 gayety, and you can comprehend how Beaumarchais could have 
 the ancient regime played before its head, put political and social 
 satire on the stage, publicly attach an expression to each wrong 
 so as to become a by-word and ever making a loud report, 1 
 gather up into a few traits the entire polemics of the philosophers 
 against the prisons of the State, against the censorship of litera- 
 ture, against the venality of office, against the privileges of birth, 
 against the arbitrary power of ministers, against the incapacity of 
 people in office, and still better, to sum up in one character 
 every public demand, give the leading part to a plebeian, bas- 
 tard, bohemian and valet, who, by dint of dexterity, courage 
 and good-humor, keeps himself up, swims with the tide, and 
 shoots ahead in his little skiff, avoiding contact with larger craft 
 and even supplanting his master, accompanying each pull on 
 the oar with a shower of wit cast broadside at all his rivals. 
 
 After all, in France at least, the chief power is wit (esprit}. Lit- 
 erature in the service of philosophy is all-sufficient. The public 
 opposes but a feeble resistance to their complicity, the mistress 
 finding no trouble in convincing those who have already been 
 won over by the servant. 
 
 * "A calculator was required for tne place but a dancer got it" "The sale of offices is * 
 great abuse." "Yes, it would be better to give them for nothing." "Only small men fea 
 small literature." " Chance makes the interval, the mind only can alter that ! " "A court- 
 tort they say it is a very difficult profession." " To receive, to take, and to ask, is the se- 
 cret in three words," etc. Also the entire monologue by Figaro and all the scenes with 
 Bridottn.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE FRENCH PUBLIC. I. The Aristocracy. Novelty commonly repug- 
 nant to it. Conditions of this repugnance. Example in England. II. The 
 opposite conditions found in France. Indolence of the upper class. Phil- 
 osophy seems an intellectual drill. Besides this, a subject for conversation. 
 Philosophic converse in the i8th century. Its superiority and its 
 charm. The influence it exercises. III. Further effects of indolence. The 
 sceptical, licentious and seditious spirit. Previous resentment and fresh dis- 
 content at the established order of things. Sympathy for the theories 
 against it. How far accepted. IV. Their diffusion among the upper class. 
 Progress of incredulity in religion. Its causes. It breaks out under the 
 Regency. Increasing irritation against the clergy. Materialism in the draw- 
 ing-room. Estimate of the sciences. Final opinion on religion. Scepti- 
 cism of the higher clergy. V. Progress of political opposition. Its origin. 
 The economists and the parliamentarians. They prepare the way for the 
 philosophers. Political fault-finding in the drawing-rooms. Female liberal- 
 ism. VI. Infinite, vague aspirations. Generosity of sentiments and of 
 conduct. The mildness and good intentions of the government. Its blind- 
 ness and optimism. 
 
 I. 
 
 THIS public has yet to be made willing to be convinced and to 
 be won over ; belief occurs only when there is a disposition to 
 believe, and, in the success of books, its share is often greater 
 than that of their authors. On addressing men about politics or 
 religion their opinions are, in general, already formed; their 
 prejudices, their interests, their situation have confirmed them be- 
 forehand ; they listen to you only after you have uttered aloud 
 what they inwardly think. Propose to them to demolish the great 
 social edifice and to rebuild it anew on quite an opposite plan : 
 ordinarily your auditors will consist only of those who are poorly 
 lodged or shelterless, who live in garrets or cellars, or who sleep 
 under the stars, on the bare ground in the vicinity of houses. 
 The common run of people, whose lodgings are small but toler- 
 able, dread moving and adhere to their accustomed ways. The
 
 278 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK n, 
 
 difficulty becomes much greater on appealing to the upper classes 
 who occupy superior habitations ; their acceptance of your pro- 
 posal depends either on their great delusions or on their great dis- 
 interestedness. In England they quickly foresee the danger. In 
 vain is philosophy there indigenous and precocious ; it does not 
 become acclimated. In 1729, Montesquieu writes in his mem- 
 orandum-book : " No religion in England ; four or five members 
 of the House of Commons attend mass or preaching in the 
 House. . . . When religion is mentioned everybody begins to 
 laugh. A man having said : I believe that as an article of faith, 
 everybody laughed. A committee is appointed to consider the 
 state of religion but it is regarded as absurd." Fifty years later 
 the public mind undergoes a reaction ; all with a good roof over 
 their heads and a good coat on their backs l see the bearing of 
 the new doctrines. In any event they feel that closet specula- 
 tions are not to become street preaching. Impiety seems to them 
 an indiscretion ; they consider religion as the cement of public 
 order. This is owing to the fact that they are themselves public 
 men, engaged in active life, taking a part in the government, and 
 instructed through their daily and personal experience. Prac- 
 tical life fortifies them against the chimeras of theorists; they 
 have proved to themselves how difficult it is to lead and to con- 
 trol men. Having had their hand on the machine they know 
 how it works, its value, its cost, and they are not tempted to cast 
 it aside as rubbish to try another, said to be superior, but which, 
 as yet, exists only on paper. The baronet, or squire, a justice on 
 his own domain, has no trouble in discerning in the clergyman 
 of his parish an indispensable co-worker and a natural ally. The 
 duke or marquis, sitting in the upper house by the side of bish- 
 ops, requires their votes to pass bills, and their assistance to rally 
 to his party the fifteen hundred curates who influence the rural 
 conscience. Thus all have a hand on some social wheel, large 
 or small, principal or accessory, and this endows^them with 
 earnestness, foresight and good sense. On coming in contact with 
 realities there is no temptation to soar away into the imaginary 
 world ; the fact of one being at work on solid ground of itself 
 makes one dislike aerial excursions in empty space. The more 
 occupied one is the less one dreams, and, to men of business, the 
 
 1 Macaulay.
 
 CHAP. II. THE PROPAGATION- OF THE DOCTRINE. 279 
 
 geometry of the " Contrat Social" is merely intellectual gymnas- 
 tics. 
 
 II. 
 
 It is quite the reverse in France. " I arrived there in I774," 1 
 says an English gentleman, " having just left the house of my 
 father, who never came home from Parliament until three o'clock 
 in the morning, and who was busy the whole morning correcting 
 the proofs of his speech for the newspapers, and who, after hastily 
 kissing us, with an absorbed air, went out to a political dinner. 
 ... In France I found men of the highest rank enjoying per- 
 fect leisure. They had interviews with the ministers but only to 
 interchange compliments; in other respects they knew as little 
 about the public affairs of France as they did about those of 
 Japan," and less of local affairs than of general affairs, having no 
 knowledge of their peasantry other than that derived from the 
 accounts of their stewards. If one of them, bearing the title of 
 governor, visited a province, it was, as we have seen, for outward 
 parade; whilst the intendant carried on the administration, he 
 exhibited himself with grace and magnificence by giving recep- 
 tions and dinners. To receive, to give dinners, to entertain guests 
 agreeably is the sole occupation of a grand seignior; hence it is 
 that religion and government only serve him as subjects of con 
 versation. The conversation, moreover, occurs between him 
 and his equals, and a man may say what he pleases in good 
 company. Moreover the social system turns on its own axis, like 
 the sun, from time immemorial, through its own energy, and shall 
 it be deranged by what is said in the drawing-room ? In any 
 event he does not control its motion and he is not responsible. 
 Accordingly there is no uneasy undercurrent, no morose preoc- 
 cupation in his mind. Carelessly and boldly he follows in the 
 track of his philosophers ; detached from affairs he can give him- 
 self up to ideas, just as a young man of family, on leaving college, 
 lays hold of some principle, deduces its consequences, and forms 
 a system for himself without concerning himself about its appli- 
 cation. 2 
 
 1 Stendhal, " Rome, Naples et Florence," 371. 
 
 * Morellet, " Me'moires," I. 139 (on the writings and conversations of Diderot, d'Holbach 
 and the atheists). " At that time, in this philosophy, all seemed innocent enough, it being 
 confined to th limits of speculation and never seeking, even in its boldest nights, anything 
 beyond a calm in Mllectual exercise."
 
 28o THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 Nothing is more enjoyable than this speculative inspiration. 
 The mind soars among the summits as if it had wings; it 
 embraces vast horizons in a glance, taking in all of human life, 
 the economy of the world, the origin of the universe, of religions 
 and of societies. Where, accordingly, would conversation be if 
 people abstained from philosophy ? What circle is that in which 
 serious political problems and profound criticism are not admit- 
 ted ? And what motive brings intellectual people together if not 
 the desire to debate questions of the highest importance ? For 
 two centuries in France all this forms the pabulum of conversa- 
 tion, and hence its great charm. Strangers find it irresistible; noth- 
 ing like it is found at home ; Lord Chesterfield sets it forth as an 
 example. It always turns, he says, on some point in history, on 
 criticism or even philosophy which is much better suited to ra- 
 tional beings than our English discussions about the weather and 
 whist. Rousseau, so querulous, admits "that a moral subject 
 could not be better discussed in a society of philosophers than 
 in that of a pretty woman in Paris." Undoubtedly there is a 
 good deal of idle talk, but with all the chattering " let a man of 
 any authority make a serious remark or start a grave subject and 
 the attention is immediately fixed on this point; men and women, 
 the old and the young, all give themselves to its consideration 
 on all its sides, and it is surprising what an amount of reason and 
 good sense issues, as if in emulation, from these frolicsome brains." 
 The truth is that, in this constant holiday which this brilliant 
 society gives itself, philosophy is the principal amusement. 
 Without philosophy the ordinary ironical chit-chat would be 
 vapid. It is a sort of superior opera in which every grand 
 conception that can interest a reflecting mind passes before it, 
 now in comic and now in sober attire, and each in conflict with 
 the other. The tragedy of the day scarcely differs from it except 
 in this respect, that it always bears a solemn aspect and is performed 
 only in the theatres ; the other assumes all sorts of physiognomies 
 and is found everywhere because conversation is everywhere 
 carried on. Not a dinner, nor a supper is given at which it does 
 not find place. One sits at the table amidst refined luxuriousness, 
 among agreeable and well-dressed women and pleasant and 
 well-informed men, a select company, in which comprehension is 
 prompt and intercourse safe. After the second course the inspira*- 
 tion breaks out in the liveliest sallies, all minds flashing and
 
 CHAP. ii. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 281 
 
 scintillating. When the dessert comes on, can one help being 
 witty on the gravest of subjects? Coffee comes on, and with it 
 the questions of the immortality of the soul and the existence 
 of God. 
 
 To form any idea of this enticing, daring conversation, we 
 must consult the correspondence of the day, the short essays 
 -and the dialogues of Diderot and Voltaire, whatever is liveliest, 
 most subtle, most piquant and most profound in the literature 
 of the century; and yet is it only a residuum, a lifeless remnant. 
 All this philosophy, perpetuated in writing, was uttered verbally, 
 with the accent, the fire, the inimitable naturalness of improvisa- 
 tion, with all the nervous action and expression of malice and en- 
 thusiasm. Cooled down and on paper, it still, at the present day, 
 seduces us and transports us; what must it then have been, issuing 
 lively and vibrating from the lips of Voltaire and Diderot ? Daily, 
 in Paris, suppers took place like those described by Voltaire, 1 at 
 which "two philosophers, three clever intellectual ladies, M. Pinto 
 the famous Jew, the chaplain of the Batavian ambassador of the 
 reformed church, the secretary of the Prince de Galitzin of the 
 Greek church, and a Swiss calvinist captain," seated around the 
 same table, for four hours interchanged their anecdotes, their 
 flashes of wit, their remarks and their decisions "on all subjects 
 of interest relating to science and taste." The most learned and 
 distinguished foreigners daily visited, in turn, the house of the 
 Baron d'Holbach, Hume, Wilkes, Sterne, Beccaria, Veri, the 
 Abbe" Galiani, Garrick, Franklin, Priestley, Lord Shelburne, the 
 Comte de Creutz, the Prince of Brunswick and the future Elector 
 of Mayence. With respect to society in general the Baron enter- 
 tained Diderot, Rousseau, Helv6tius, Duclos, Saurin, Raynal, 
 Suard, Marmontel, Boulanger, the Chevalier de Chastellux, the 
 traveller La Condamine, the physician Barthez, and Rouelle, the 
 chemist. Twice a week, on Sundays and Thursdays, "without 
 prejudice to other days " they dine at his house, according to 
 custom, at two o'clock, a significant custom which thus leaves to 
 conversation and gayety a man's best powers and the best hours 
 of the day. Conversation, in those days, was not relegated to 
 night and late hours; a man was not forced, as at the present 
 
 1 "L'Homme aux quarante cus." Cf. Voltaire, "Me'moires," the suppers given by 
 Frederick IL "Never in any place in the world was there greater freedom of conversation 
 concerning the superstitions of mankind." 
 
 24*
 
 282 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 day, to subordinate it to the exigencies of work and money, 
 of the Assembly and the Exchange. Talking is the main busi- 
 ness. " Entering at two o'clock," says Morellet, 1 " we almost all 
 remained until seven or eight o'clock in the evening. . . . Here 
 could be heard the most liberal, the most animated, the most in- 
 structive conversation that ever took place. . . . There was no 
 political or religious temerity which was not brought forward and 
 discussed pro and con. . . . Frequently some one of the com- 
 pany would begin to speak and state his theory in full, without 
 interruption. At other times it would be a combat of a singular 
 kind of which the rest remained silent spectators. Here I heard 
 Roux and Darcet expose their theory of the earth, Marmontel the 
 admirable principles he collected together in his ' Elements de la 
 Litte'rature,' Raynal, telling us in livres, sous and deniers, the 
 commerce of the Spaniards with Vera-Cruz and of the English 
 with their colonies." Diderot improvises on the arts and on moral 
 and metaphysical subjects, with that incomparable fervor and 
 wealth of expression, that flood of logic and of illustration, those 
 happy hits of style and that mimetic power which belonged to 
 him alone and of which but two or three of his works preserve 
 even the feeblest image. In their midst Galiani, secretary of 
 the Neapolitan Embassy, a clever dwarf of genius, "a sort of 
 Plato or Machiavelli with the spirit and action of a harlequin," 
 inexhaustible in stories, an admirable buffoon, and an accom- 
 plished sceptic, "having no faith in anything, on anything or 
 about anything," 2 not even in the new philosophy, braves the 
 atheists of the drawing-room, beats down their dithyrambs with 
 puns, and, with his perruque in his hand, sitting cross-legged on 
 the chair on which he is perched, proves to them in a comic ap- 
 ologue that they raisonnent (reason) or rhonnent (resound or 
 echo) if not as cruches (blockheads) at least as cloches (bells)," in 
 any event almost as poorly as theologians. One of those present 
 says, " It was the most diverting thing possible and worth the best 
 of plays," 
 
 How can the nobles, who pass their lives in talking, refrain 
 from the society of people who talk so well ? They might as 
 well forbid their wives, who frequent the theatre every night, and 
 nho perform at home, not to attract famous actors and singers to 
 
 * Morellet, "Mmoires," I. 133. 
 * Galiani, "Correspon dance, "
 
 CHAP. II. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 283 
 
 their receptions, Jelyotte, Sainval, PreVille, and young Mole" who, 
 quite ill and needing restoratives, "receives in one day more 
 than two thousand bottles of wine of different sorts from the 
 ladies of the court," Mile. Clairon, who, consigned to prison in 
 Fort 1'Eveque, attracts to it "an immense crowd of carriages," 
 presiding over the most select company in the best apartment of 
 the prison. 1 With life thus regarded, a philosopher with his ideas 
 is as necessary in a drawing-room as a chandelier with its lights. 
 He forms a part of the new system of luxuriousness. He is 
 an article of export. Sovereigns, amidst their splendor, and 
 at the height of their success, invite him to their courts to 
 enjoy for once in his life the pleasure of perfect and free 
 discourse. When Voltaire arrives in Prussia, Frederic II. is 
 willing to kiss his hand, fawning on him as on a mistress, and, at 
 a later period, after such mutual fondling, he cannot dispense 
 with carrying on conversations with him by letter. Catherine II. 
 sends for Diderot and, for two or three hours every day, she 
 plays with him the great game of the intellect. Gustavus III., in 
 France, is intimate with Marmontel, and considers a visit from 
 Rousseau as the highest honor. 2 It is said with truth of Voltaire 
 that "he holds the four kings in his hand," those of Prussia, 
 Sweden, Denmark and Russia, without mentioning lower 
 cards, the princes, princesses, grand dukes and margraves. The 
 principal rok in this society evidently belongs to authors ; their 
 ways and doings form the subject of gossip ; people never weary 
 of paying them homage. Here, writes Hume to Robertson, 3 " I 
 feed on ambrosia, drink nothing but nectar, breathe incense only 
 and walk on flowers. Every man I meet, and especially every 
 woman, would consider themselves as failing in the most indis- 
 pensable duty if they did not favor me with a lengthy and 
 ingenious discourse on my celebrity." Presented at court, the 
 future Louis XVI., aged ten years, the future Louis XVIIL, aged 
 eight years, and the future Charles X., aged four years, each recite 
 a compliment to him on his works. I need not narrate the 
 return of Voltaire, his triumphant entry, 4 the Academy in a body 
 coming to welcome him, his carriage stopped by the crowd, the 
 
 1 Bachaumont, III. 93 (1766), II. 202 (1765). 
 
 1 Geflroy, "Gustave III.," I. 114. 
 
 Villemaln, "Tableau de la Literature au dix-huitieme slecle," IV. 409. 
 Grimm, "Corresp. littdraire," IV. 176. De Segur, "Memolres," L 113.
 
 284 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 thronged streets, the windows, steps and balconies filled with 
 admirers, an intoxicated audience in the theatre incessantly ap- 
 plauding, outside an entire population carrying him off with 
 huzzas, in the drawing-rooms a continual concourse equal to that 
 of the king, grand seigniors pressed against the door with out- 
 stretched ears to catch a word and great ladies standing on 
 tiptoe to observe the slightest gesture. " To form any conception 
 of what I experienced," says one of those present, " one should 
 breathe the atmosphere of enthusiasm I lived in. I spoke with 
 him." This expression at that time converted any new-comei 
 into an important character. He had, in fact, seen the wonderful 
 orchestra-leader who, for more than fifty years, conducted the 
 tumultuous concert of serious or court--vtues ideas, and who, al- 
 ways on the stage, always chief, the recognized leader of universal 
 conversation, supplied the motives, gave the pitch, marked the 
 measure, stamped the inspiration and drew the first note on the 
 violin. 
 
 III. 
 
 Listen to the shouts that greet him : Hurrah for the author of 
 the Henriade ! the defender of Galas, the author of la Pucelle / 
 Nobody of the present day would utter the first nor especially 
 the last hurrah. This indicates the tendency of the century ; not 
 only were writers called upon for ideas but again for antagonistic 
 ideas. To render an aristocracy inactive is to render it fault- 
 finding ; man willingly accepts a law only when he assists in ap- 
 plying it. Would you rally him to the support of the govern- 
 ment ? Then let him take part in it. If not he stands by as a 
 looker-on and sees nothing but the mistakes it commits, feeling 
 only its irritations, and disposed oruy to criticize and to hoot at it. 
 In fact, in this case, he is as if in the theatre, where he goes to be 
 *mused and, especially, not to be put to any inconvenience. 
 What inconveniencies in the established order of things and in- 
 deed in any established order ! In the first place, as regards r^_ 
 ligion. To the amiable "idlers" whom Voltaire describes, 1 to 
 '""the hundred thousand persons with nothing to do but to play 
 and to amuse themselves," she is the most disagreeable of peda- 
 gogues, always scolding, hostile to sensible amusement and free 
 
 1 "Princesse de Babylon e." Cf. "le Mondain."
 
 CHAP. n. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 285 
 
 discussion, burning books which one wants to read, and imposing 
 dogmas that are no longer comprehensible. In plain terms she 
 is an eyesore and whoever wishes to throw stones at her is wel- 
 come. There is another bond, the moral law of the sexes. It 
 seems onerous to men of pleasure, to the companions of Riche- 
 lieu, Lauzun and Tilly, to the heroes of Crebillon the younger, 
 and all others belonging to that libertine and gallant society for 
 whom license has become the rule. Our fine gentlemen are quite 
 ready to adopt a theory which justifies their practices. They are 
 very glad to be told that marriage is conventional and a thing of 
 prejudice. Saint-Lambert obtains their applause at supper when, 
 raising a glass of champagne, he proposes as a toast, a return to 
 nature and the customs of Otaheite. 1 The last fetter of all is 
 the government, the most galling, for it enforces the rest and 
 keeps man down with its weight along with the added weight of 
 the others. It is absolute, it is centralized, it works through fa- 
 vorites, it is backward, it makes mistakes, it has reverses, how 
 many causes of discontent embraced in a few words ! It is op- 
 posed by the vague and suppressed resentment of the former 
 powers which it has dispossessed, the provincial assemblies, the 
 parliaments, the grandees of the provinces, the old stock of no- 
 bles, who, like the Mirabeaus, retain the old feudal spirit, and like 
 Chateaubriand's father, call the Abbe" Raynal a " master-man." 
 Against it is the spite of all those who imagine themselves frus- 
 trated in the distribution of offices and of favors, not only the 
 provincial nobility who remain outside 2 while the court nobility 
 are feasting at the royal banquet, but again the majority of the 
 courtiers who are obliged to be content with crumbs, while the 
 little circle of intimate favorites swallow down the large morsels. 
 It has against it the ill-humor of those under its direction who, 
 seeing it play the part of Providence and providing for all, ac- 
 cuses it of everything, the dearness of bread as well as of the decay 
 of a highway. It has against it the new humanity which, in the 
 most elegant drawing-rooms, lays to its charge the maintenance of 
 the antiquated remains of a barbarous epoch, illy -imposed, illy 
 
 1 Mme. d'Epinay, ed. Boiteau, I. 216, at a supper given by Mile. Quinault, the comedian, 
 t which are present Saint-Lambert, the Prince de , Duclos and Mme. d'Epinay. 
 
 * For example, the father of Mamont, a military gentleman, who, having won the Cross of 
 St Louis at twenty-eight, abandons the service because he finds that promotion is only for 
 people of the court. In retirement on his estates he is a liberal, teaching bis son to read th 
 reports made by Necker. (Marshal Marmont, " M6moires," I. 9).
 
 286 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 apportioned and illy-collected taxes, sanguinary laws, blind pros- 
 ecutions, atrocious punishments, the persecution of the protestants, 
 lettres-de-cachet, and prisons of State. And I do not include its ex- 
 cesses, its scandals, its disasters and its disgraces, Rosbach, the 
 treaty of Paris, Madame du Barry, and bankruptcy. Disgust 
 intervenes, for everything is decidedly bad. The spectators oi 
 the play say to each other that not only is the piece itself poor 
 but the theatre is badly built, uncomfortable, stifling and con- 
 tracted, to such a degree that, to be at one's ease, the whole thing 
 must be torn down and rebuilt from cellar to garret. 
 
 Just at this moment the new architects appear, with their spe- 
 cious arguments and their ready-made plans, proving that every 
 great public structure, religious and moral, and all communities, 
 cannot be otherwise than barbarous and insalubrious since, thus 
 far, they are built up out of bits and pieces, by degrees, and 
 generally by fools and savages, in any event by common masons, 
 who built haphazard, feeling their way and devoid of principles. 
 They are genuine architects and they have principles, that is to 
 say, reason, nature, and the rights of man, all being simple and 
 fruitful principles which everybody can understand, the conse- 
 quences derived from them sufficing to substitute for the ill- 
 shapen tenements of the past, the admirable edifice of the future. 
 To irreverent, epicurean and philanthropic malcontents the temp- 
 tation is a great one. They readily adopt maxims which seem 
 in conformity with their secret wishes ; at least they adopt them 
 in theory and in words. The imposing terms of liberty, justice, 
 public good, man's dignity, are so admirable and besides, so 
 vague ! What heart can refuse to cherish them, and what intel- 
 ligence can foretell their innumerable applications ? And all the 
 more because, up to the last, the theory does not descend from 
 the heights, being confined to abstractions, resembling an ac- 
 ademic oration, always treating of man in himself, of the social 
 contract, and of the imaginary and perfect civic body. Is there 
 a courtier at Versailles who would refuse to proclaim equality in 
 the city of the Salentini! Communication between the two 
 stories of the human intellect, the upper where abstract reason- 
 ing spins its arguments, and the lower where an active faith 
 reposes, is neither complete nor immadiate. A certain set of 
 principles never leave the upper stories ; they remain there in the 
 position of curiosities, sc many delicate, ingenious subtleties
 
 CHAP. H. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 287 
 
 of which a parade is willingly made but which scarcely ever 
 enter into actual service. If the proprietor sometimes transfers 
 them to the lower story he makes but a partial use of them; 
 established customs, anterior and more powerful interests and 
 instincts restrict their employment. In this respect he is not 
 acting in bad faith, but as a man, each of us possessing truths 
 which he does not put in practice. One evening Target, a dull 
 lawyer, having taken a pinch from the snuff-box of the Marechale 
 de Beauvau, the latter, whose drawing-room is a small dem- 
 ocratic club, is amazed at such monstrous familiarity. Later, 
 Mirabeau, on returning home just after having voted for the 
 abolition of nobility titles, takes his servant by the ear and bawls 
 out to him in his stentorian voice, " Look here, drole, I trust that 
 to you I shall always be Monsieur le Comte ! " This shows to 
 what extent new theories are admitted into an aristocratic brain. 
 They occupy the whole of the upper story, and there, with a 
 pleasing murmur, they weave the web of interminable conversa- 
 tion ; their buzzing lasts throughout the century ; never have the 
 drawing-rooms seen such an outpouring of fine sentences and 
 of fine words. Something of all this drops from the upper to the 
 lower story, if only as dust, that is to say, hope, faith in the future, 
 belief in reason, a love of truth, the generosity of youthful feel- 
 ing, the enthusiasm that quickly passes but which is often exalted 
 into self-abnegation and devotion. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Let us follow the progress of philosophy in the upper class. 
 S^eligion^is the first to receive the severest attacks. The small 
 group of sceptics, which is hardly perceptible under Louis XIV., 
 has obtained its recruits in the dark; in 1698 the Palatine, the 
 mother of the Regent, writes that "we scarcely meet a young 
 man now who is not ambitious of being an atheist." * Under 
 the Regency, unbelief comes out into open daylight. " I doubt," 
 says this lady again, in 1722, "if, in all Paris, a hundred individ- 
 uals can be found, either ecclesiastics or laymen, who have 
 any true faith, or even believe in our Lord. It makes one trem- 
 ble. . . ." The position of an ecclesiastic in society is already 
 difficult. He is looked upon, apparently, as either a puppet or a 
 
 1 Aubertin, "L'Etprit-public," In the i8th century, p. 7.
 
 88 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 butt. 1 "The moment we appear," says one of them, "we are 
 forced into discussion ; we are called upon to prove, for example, 
 the utility of prayer to an unbeliever in God, and the necessity 
 of fasting to a man who has all his life denied the immortality 
 of the soul; the effort is very irksome, while those who laugh 
 are not on our side." It is not long before the continued 
 scandal of confession tickets and the stubbornness of the bishops 
 in not allowing ecclesiastical property to be taxed, excites 
 opinion against the clergy and, as a matter of course, against 
 religion itself. "There is danger," says Barbier in 1751, "that 
 this may end seriously; we may some day see a revolution in 
 this country in favor of protestantism." 2 " The hatred against the 
 priests," writes d'Argenson in 1753, "is carried to extremes. They 
 scarcely show themselves in the streets without being hooted at. 
 ... As our nation and our century are quite otherwise enlight- 
 ened (than in the time of Luther), it will be carried far enough ; 
 they will expel the priests, abolish the priesthood and get rid of 
 all revelation and all mystery. . . . One dare not speak in be- 
 
 ^.half of the clgrgy in social circles; one is scoffed at and regarded 
 as a familiar of the inquisition. The priests remark that, this 
 year, there is a diminution of more than one-third in the num- 
 ber of communicants. The College_of_Jhe ^Jesuits is being de- 
 serted ; one hundred and twerity~boarders have been withdrawn 
 from these so greatly defamed monks. It has been observed 
 also that, during the carnival in Paris, the number of masks 
 counterfeiting ecclesiastical dress, bishops, abbes, monks and 
 nuns, was never so great." So deep is this antipathy, the most 
 mediocre books become the rage so long as they are anti- 
 christian and condemned as such. In 1748 a work by Toussaint 
 
 called " Les Mceurs," in favor of natural religion suddenly be- 
 comes so famous "that there is no one among a certain class of 
 people," says Barbier, "man or woman, pretending to be intel- 
 lectual, who is not eager to see it." People accost each other on 
 their promenades, Have you read " Les Moeurs ? " Ten years 
 later they are beyond deism. " Materialism," again says Barbier, 
 "is the great grievance." "Almost all people of acquirements 
 and of wit," writes d'Argenson, "inveigh against our holy re- 
 
 i Montesquieu, "Lettres Persanes," (Letter 61) C Voltaire, ("Diner du Comte da 
 Boulainvilliers"). 
 1 Aubertin, pp. 281, 382, 285, &).
 
 CHAP. II. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 289 
 
 ligion. ... It is attacked on all sides, and, what animates unbe- 
 lievers still more, is the efforts made by the devout to compel 
 belief. They publish books which are but little read ; disputes 
 no longer take place, everything being laughed at, while people 
 persist in materialism." Horace Walpole, who returns to France 
 in 1765 l and whose good sense anticipates the danger, is aston- 
 ished at such imprudence: "I dined to-day with a dozen 
 savans, and although all the servants were waiting, the conversa- 
 tion was much more unrestrained, even on the Old Testament, 
 than I would suffer at my own table in England even if a single 
 footman was present." People dogmatize everywhere. " Laugh- 
 ing is as much out 'of fashion as pantins or bilboquets. Good 
 folks, they have no time to laugh ! There is God and the king 
 to be pulled down first ; and men and women, one and all, are 
 devoutly employed in the demolition. They think me quite 
 profane for having any belief left. . . . Do you know who the 
 philosophers are, or what the term means here? In the first 
 place it comprehends almost everybody ; and in the next, means 
 men, who, avowing war against poj)ry, aim, many of them, at 
 a subversion of all religion. . . . These savans I beg their par- 
 dons, the philosophers are insupportable, superficial, overbear- 
 ing and fanatic : they preach incessantly and their avowed doc- 
 trine is atheism, you would not believe how openly. Voltaire 
 himself does not satisfy them. One of their lady devotees said 
 of him, ' He is a bigot, a deist ! ' " 
 
 This is very strong, and yet we have not come to the end of 
 it; for, thus far, impiety Js less a conviction than the fashion.. 
 Walpole, a careful observer, is not deluded by it. " By what I 
 have said of their religious or rather irreligious opinions, you must 
 not conclude their people of quality atheists at least not the 
 men. Happily for them, poor souls ! they are not capable of go- 
 ing so far into thinking. They assent to a great deal because it 
 is the fashion, and because they don't know how to contradict." 
 Now "that dandies are antiquated" and everybody is "a philos- 
 opher" "they are philosophers." It is essential to be like all the 
 rest of the world. But that which they best appreciate in the 
 new materialism is the pungency of paradox and the freedom 
 given to pleasure. They are like the boys of good families, fond 
 
 ' Horace Walpole, " Letters and Correspondence," Sept 27th, October io,th and 28th, 
 November 19, 1765, January 25, 1766. 
 
 2 5
 
 290 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 of playing tricks on their ecclesiastical preceptor. They take out 
 of learned theories just what is wanted to make a dunce-cap, and 
 derive the more amusement from the fun if it is seasoned with 
 impiety. A seignior of the court having seen Doyen's picture of 
 "St. Genevieve and the plague-stricken," sends to a painter the 
 following day to come to him at his mistress's domicile: "I 
 would like," he says to him, " to have Madame painted in a 
 swing put in motion by a bishop ; you may place me in such a 
 way that I may see the ankles of that handsome woman, and 
 even more, if you want to enliven your picture." * The licentious 
 song "Marotte" "spreads like wildfire;" "a fortnight after .its 
 publication," says Colle", " I met no one without a copy ; and it is 
 the vaudeville, that is to say, the clerical assembly, which gives it 
 its popularity." The more irreligious a licentious book is the 
 more it is prized ; when it cannot be printed it is copied in manu- 
 script. Colle" counts "perhaps two thousand manuscript copies 
 of 'La Pucelle' by Voltaire, scattered about Paris in one month." 
 "The magistrates themselves burn it only for form's sake. "It 
 must not be supposed that the hangman is allowed to burn the 
 books whose titles figure in the decree of the Court. Messieurs 
 would be loath to deprive their libraries of the copy of those works 
 which fall to them by right and have the registrar supply its place 
 with a few poor records of chicanery of which there is no scanty 
 provision." 2 
 
 But, as the century advances, infidelity becomes less obstreper- 
 ous and more resolute. It invigorates itself at the fountain- 
 head; the women themselves begin to be infatuated with tha 
 sciences. In I782, 3 one of Mme. de Genlis's characters writes, 
 " Five years ago I left them thinking only of their attire and the 
 preparation of then: suppers ; I now find them all scientific and 
 witty." We find in the study of a fashionable woman, alongside. 
 of a small altar dedicated to Benevolence or Friendship, a dic- 
 tionary of natural history and treatises on physics and chemistry. 
 A woman no longer has herself painted as a goddess on a cloud 
 but in a laboratory, seated amidst squares and telescopes. 4 The 
 
 "Journal et Memoires de Coll6," published by H. Bonhomme, II. 24 (October, 1755), and 
 III. 165 (October, 1767). 
 
 * "Corresp. Iitt6raire," by Grimm (September, October, 1770). 
 
 Mme. de Genlis, "Adele et Theodore," I. 319. 
 
 De GoDixmrt, "La femme au dix-huitieme siecle," 371-373. Bacbaumont, I. 934 (April 
 i& 1763).
 
 CHAP. ii. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINSt 291 
 
 Marquise de Nesle, the Comtesse de Brancas, the Comtesse dc 
 Pens, the Marquise de Polignac, are with Rouelle when he un- 
 dertakes to melt and volatilize the diamond. Associations of 
 twenty or twenty-five persons are formed in the drawing-rooms to 
 attend lectures either on physics, applied chemistry, mineralogy 
 or on botany. Fashionable women at the public meetings of the 
 Academy of Inscriptions applaud dissertations on the bull Apis, 
 and reports on the Egyptian, Phoenician and Greek languages. 
 Finally, in 1786, they succeed in opening the doors of the Col- 
 lege de France. Nothing deters them. Many of them use the 
 lancet and even the scalpel ; the Marquise de Voyer attends on 
 dissections, and the young Comtesse de Coigny dissects with her 
 own hands. The current infidelity finds fresh support on thii 
 foundation, which is that of the prevailing philosophy. Towards 
 the end of the century 1 "we see young persons who have been 
 in society six or seven years openly pluming themselves on their 
 irreligion, thinking that impiety makes up for wit, and that to be 
 an atheist is to be a philosopher." There are, undoubtedly, a, 
 good many deists, especially after Rousseau appeared, but I\ 
 question whether, out of a hundred persons, there were in Paris at J 
 this time ten Christian men or women. "The fashionable world 
 for ten years past," says Mercier 2 in 1783, "has not attended 
 mass. People go only on Sundays so as not to scandalize their] 
 lackeys while the lackeys well know that it is on their account."' 
 The Due de Coigny, 3 on his estate near Amiens, refuses to be 
 prayed for and threatens his curate if he takes that liberty to have 
 him cast out of his pulpit; his son becomes ill and he prohibits 
 the administering of the sacraments ; the son dies and he opposes 
 the usual obsequies, burying the body in his garden ; becoming ill 
 himself he closes his door against the bishop of Amiens, who 
 comes to see him twelve times, and dies as he had lived. A 
 scandal of this kind is doubtless notorious and, therefore, rare. 
 Almost everybody, male and female, " ally with freedom of ideas ^ 
 a proper observance of forms." * When a maid appears and says 
 to her mistress, " Madame la Duchesse, the Host (le ban Dieu) is 
 outside, will you allow him to enter? He desires to have the 
 
 ' Mme. de Oenlis, " Adele et TWodore," II. 326. 
 
 "Tableau de Paris," III. 44. 
 
 M6tra, "Correspondance secrete," XVII. 387 (March 7, 1785). 
 
 De Goncourt, ibid. 456. Vicomtesse de Noailles, "Viede la Princesse de Jfofat," forrwriy
 
 192 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 honor of administering to you," appearances are kept up. The 
 troublesome individual is admitted and he is politely received. 
 If they slip away from him it is under a decent pretext ; but if 
 he is humored it is only out of a sense of decorum ; " At Sura 
 when a man dies, he holds a cow's tail in his hand." Society 
 was never more detached from Christianity. In its eyes a pos- 
 itive religion is only a popular superstition, good enough for 
 children and innocents but not for "sensible people" and the 
 great. It is your duty to raise your hat to the Host as it passes 
 but your duty is only to raise your hat 
 
 The last and gravest sign of all ! If the curates who work and 
 who are of the people hold the people's ideas, the prelates who 
 , and who are of society hold the opinions of society. And 
 I do not allude merely to the abbe's of the drawing-room, the 
 domestic courtiers, bearers of news, and writers of light verse, 
 those who fawn in boudoirs, and who, when in company, answer 
 like an echo and who, between one drawing-room and another, 
 serve as speaking-tubes ; an echo, a speaking-tube only repeats 
 the phrase, whether sceptical or not, with which it is charged. I 
 refer to the dignitaries, and, on this point, the witnesses all concur. 
 In the month of August, 1767, the Abbe" Bassinet, grand vicar of 
 Cahors, on pronouncing the panegyric of St. Louis in the Louvre 
 chapel, 1 "suppressed the sign of the cross, making no quotation 
 from Scripture and never uttering a word about Christ and the 
 Saints. He considered Louis IX. merely on the side of his po- 
 litical! moral and military virtues. He animadverted on the Cru- 
 sades, setting forth their absurdity, cruelty and even injustice. 
 He struck openly and without caution at the see of Rome." 
 Others " avoid the name of Christ in the pulpit and merely allude 
 to him as a Christian legislator." 8 In the code which the pre- 
 vailing opinions and social decency imposes on the clergy a deli- 
 cate observer 3 thus specifies distinctions in rank with their proper 
 shades of behavior: "A plain priest, a curate, must have a little 
 faith, otherwise he would be found a hypocrite ; at the same time, 
 
 1 The Abb6 de Latteignaut, canon of Rheims, the author of some light poetry and con- 
 vivial songs, "has just composed for Nicolet's theatre a parade in which the intrigue is sup. 
 ported by a good many broad jests, very much in the fashion at this time. The courtiers wfa> 
 give the tone to this theatre think the canon of Rheims superb." (Bachaumont, IV. 174, 
 November, 1768). 
 
 * Bachaumont, III. 953. Chateaubriand, "Memoires," I. 946. 
 
 Champfort, 379.
 
 CHAI*. n. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 293 
 
 he must not be too well satisfied, for he would be found intoler- 
 ant. On the contrary, the grand vicar may smile at an expres- \ 
 sion against religion, the bishop may laugh outright, and the carv 
 dinal may add something of his own to it." "A little while ago," 
 a chronicle narrates, "some one put this question to one of the 
 most respectable curates in Paris : Do you think that the bishops 
 who insist so strenuously on religion have much of it themselves ? 
 The worthy pastor replied, after a moment's hesitation : There 
 may be four or five among them who still believe." To one who 
 is familiar with their birth, their social relations, their habits and 
 their tastes, this does not appear at all improbable. " Dom Col- 
 lignon, a representative of the abbey of Mettach, seignior high- 
 justiciary and curate of Valmunster," a fine-looking man, fine 
 talker, and an agreeable housekeeper, avoids scandal by having 
 his two mistresses at his table only with a select few; he is in 
 other respects as little devout as possible, and much less so than 
 the Savoyard vicar, "finding evil only in injustice and in a lack 
 of charity," and considering religion merely as a political institu- 
 tion and for moral ends. I might cite many others, like M. de 
 Grimaldi, the young and gallant bishop of Le Mans, who selects 
 young and gallant comrades of his own station for his grand 
 vicars, and who has a rendezvous for pretty women at his country 
 seat at Coulans. 1 Judge of their faith by their habits. In other 
 cases we have no difficulty in determining. Scepticism is noto- 
 rious with the Cardinal de Rohan, with M. de Brienne, arch- 
 bishop of Sens, with M. de Talleyrand, bishop of Autun, and 
 with the Abb6 Maury, defender of the clergy. Rivarol, 2 himselt 
 a sceptic, declares that at the approach of the Revolution, " the 
 enlightenment of the clergy equalled that of the philosophers." 
 "The body with the fewest prejudices," says Mercier, 3 "who** 
 would believe it, is the clergy." And the Archbishop of Nar- 
 bonne, explaining the resistance of the upper class of the clergy^ 
 in 1791,* attributes it, not to faith but to a point of honon) "We 
 conducted ourselves at that time like true gentlemen, for, with 
 
 1 Merlin de Thionville, "Vie et correspondance," by Jean Raynaud. ("La Chartreuse du 
 
 Val Saint- Pierre." Read the entire passage). "Souvenirs Manuscrits," by M . 
 
 3 Rivarol, "Mmoires," I. 344. 
 
 * Mercier, IV. 142. "In Auvergne, says M. de Montlosier, I formed for myself a societ> 
 of priests, men of wit, some of whom were deists and others open atheists, with whom I 
 tarried on a contest with my brother." ("M6moires," I. 37). 
 
 * Lafayette, " M6moires," III. 58. 
 
 25*
 
 294 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv 
 
 most of us, it could not be said that it was through religious feel- 
 ing." 
 
 V. 
 
 /* The distance between the altar and the throne is a short one, 
 (and yet it requires thirty years for opinion to overcome it. No 
 political or social attacks are yet made during the first half of 
 the century. The irony of the " Lettres Peisanes " is as cautious 
 as it is delicate, and the " Esprit des Lois " is conservative. As 
 to the Abbe" de Saint-Pierre his reveries provoke a smile, and 
 when he undertakes to censure Louis XIV. the Academy strikes 
 him off its list. At last, the economists on one side and the 
 parliamentarians on the other, give the signal. Voltaire says 1 
 that "about 1750 the nation satiated with verse, tragedies, come- 
 dies, novels, operas, romantic histories, and still more romantic 
 moralizings, and with disputes about grace and convulsions, began 
 to discuss the question of corn." What makes bread dear? 
 Why is the laborer so miserable ? What constitutes the material 
 and limits of taxation ? Ought not all land to pay taxes and 
 should one piece pay more than its net product? These are 
 the questions that find their way into drawing-rooms under the 
 king's auspices, by means of Quesnay, his physician, "his thinker," 
 the founder of a system which aggrandizes the sovereign to 
 relieve the people and which multiplies the number of tax-payers 
 to lighten the burden of taxation. At the same time, through 
 the opposite door, other questions enter, not less novel. " Is 
 France 8 a mild and representative monarchy or a government 
 of the Turkish stamp ? Are we subject to the will of an absolute 
 master, or are we governed by a limited and regulated power? 
 . . . The exiled parliaments are studying public rights at their 
 sources and conferring together on these as in the academies. 
 Through their researches, the opinion is gaining ground in the 
 public mind that the nation is above the king as the universal 
 church is above the pope." The change is striking and almost 
 immediate. "Fifty years ago," says d'Argenson, again, "the 
 public showed no curiosity concerning matters of the State. To- 
 day everybody reads his Gazette de Paris, even in the provinces 
 
 1 "Diet Phil." article " Corn." The most important work of Quesnay is of the year 1758. 
 "Tableau 6conomique." 
 
 * D'Argenson, "M6moires," IV. 141 ; VI. 320, 465; VII. 23 ; VIII. 153 (1752, 1753, 1754). 
 Rousseau's discourse on Inequality belongs also to 1753. On this steady march of opinlo* 
 consult the excellent work of d'Aubertin, "L'Esprit public au dix-huitieme siecle."
 
 CHAP. II. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 295 
 
 People reason at random on political subjects, but nevertheless 
 they occupy themselves with them." Conversation having once 
 provided itself with this aliment holds fast to it, the drawing-rooms, 
 accordingly, opening their doors to political philosophy and, 
 consequently, to the Social Contract, to the Encyclopedia, to the 
 preachings of Rousseau, Mably, d'Holbach, Raynal, and Diderot. 
 In 1759, d'Argenson, who becomes excited, already thinks the 
 last hour has come. "We feel the breath of a philosophical 
 anti-monarchical, free government wind ; the idea is current and 
 possibly this form of government, already in some minds, is to be 
 carried out the first favorable opportunity. Perhaps the revolution 
 might take place with less opposition than one supposes, occur 
 ring by acclamation" l 
 
 The time is not yet come, but the seed is coming up. Bachau- 
 mont, in 1762, notices a deluge of pamphlets, tracts and political 
 discussions, "a rage for arguing on financial and government 
 matters." In 1765, Walpoie states that the atheists, who then 
 monopolize conversation, inveigh against kings as well as 
 against priests. A formidable word, that of citizen, imported by 
 Rousseau, has entered into common speech, and the matter is 
 settled on the women adopting it as they would a cockade. "As 
 a friend and a citoyenne could any news be raore agreeable to me 
 than that of peace and the health of my dear little one?" 2 
 Another word, not less significant, that of energy, formerly ridic- 
 ulous, becomes fashionable and is used on every occasion.' 
 Along with language there is a change of sentiment, ladies of 
 high rank passing over to the opposition. In 1 7 7 1 , says the scoffer 
 Bezenval, after the exile of the Parliament " social meetings 
 for pleasure or other purposes had become petty States-Generals 
 in wnich the women, transformed into legislators, established the 
 premises and confidently propounded maxims of public right." 
 The Comtesse d'Egmont, a correspondent of the King of Sweden, 
 sends him a memorial on the fundamental law of France, favor- 
 ing the Parliament, the last defender of national liberty, against 
 the encroachments of Chancellor Maupeou. " The Chancellor," 
 she says, 4 "within the last six months has brought people to 
 
 1 This seems lo be prophetic of the night of August 4, 1789. 
 
 * " Corresp. de Laurette de Malboissiere," published by the Marquise de la Grange. (Sept 
 4, 1762, November 8, 1762). 
 
 Madame du Deffant in a letter to Madame de Choiseul, (quoted by Geffroy), "GlUtavf 
 et la cour de France," I. 279. 
 
 * Geffroy, ibid. I. 933, 341, 045.
 
 296 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 know the history of France who would have died without any 
 knowledge of it. . . I have no doubt, sire," she adds, " that 
 you never will abuse the power an enraptured people have en- 
 crusted to you without limitation. . . . May your reign prove 
 the epoch of the re-establishment of a free and independent gov- 
 ernment but never the source of absolute authority." Numbers 
 of women of the first rank, Mesdames de la Marck, de Boufflers, 
 de Brienne, de Mesmes, de Luxembourg, de Croy, think and 
 write in the same style. "Absolute power," says one of these, 
 "is a mortal malady which, insensibly corrupting moral qualities 
 ends in the destruction of states. . . . The actions of sovereigns 
 are subject to the censure of their subjects as to that of the 
 universe. . . . France is undone if the present administration 
 lasts." 1 When, under Louis XVI., a new administration proposes 
 and withdraws feeble measures of reform their criticism shows 
 the same firmness : " Childishness, weakness, constant inconsist- 
 ency," writes another, 2 "incessant change and always worse off 
 than we were before. Monsieur and M. le Comte d'Artois, 
 have just made a journey through the provinces but only as 
 people of that kind travel, with a frightful expenditure and 
 devastation along the whole road, coming back extraordinarily 
 fat; Monsieur is as big as a hogshead; as to M. le Comte 
 d'Artois he is bringing about order by the life he leads." An 
 inspiration of humanity animates these feminine breasts along 
 with that of liberty. They interest themselves in the poor, in 
 children, in the people ; Madame d'Egmont recommends Gus- 
 tavus III. to plant Dalecarlia with potatoes. On the appearance 
 of the engraving published for the benefit of Galas 3 "all France 
 and even all Europe, hastens to subscribe for it, the Empress of 
 Russia giving 5,000 livres. 4 " "Agriculture, economy, reform, 
 philosophy," writes Walpole, "are ban ton, even at the court." 
 President Dupaty having drawn up a memorial in behalf of 
 three innocent persons sentenced "to be broken on the wheel 
 everybody in society is talking about it; " "idle conversation no 
 longer prevails in society," says a correspondent of Gus- 
 tavus III. 6 " since it is that which forms public opinion. Wordi 
 
 1 Geffrey, ibid. I. 267, 281. See letters by Madame de Boufflers (October, 1779 July 1774). 
 
 * Ibid. I. 285. The letters of Mrae. de la March (1776, 1777, 1779). 
 
 * A victim of religious rancor against the protestants, whose cause, taken u; by Voltain 
 excited great indignation. TR. 
 
 Bachaumont, III. 14 (March 28, 1766. Walpole, Oct 6, 1775). 
 
 * Gefiroy, ibid. (A letter by Mme. de Stael, 1776).
 
 CHAP. II. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. Vft 
 
 have become actions. Every sensitive heart praises with transpoit 
 a memorial inspired by humanity and which appears full of talent 
 because it is full of feeling." When Latude is released from the 
 prison of Bictre Mme. de Luxembourg, Mme. de Boufflers, and 
 Mme. de Stael dine with the grocer- woman who " for three years 
 and a half moved heaven and earth" to set the prisoner free. 
 It is owing to the women, to their sensibility and zeal, to a 
 conspiracy of their sympathies, that M. de Lally succeeds in the 
 rehabilitation of his father. When they take a fancy to a person 
 they become infatuated with him; Madame de Lauzun, very 
 timid, goes so far as to publicly insult a man who speaks ill of 
 M. Necker. It must be borne in mind that, in this century, the 
 women were queens, setting the fashion, giving the tone, leading 
 in conversation and naturally shaping ideas and opinions. 1 When 
 they take the lead on the political field we may be sure that the 
 men will follow them : each one carries her drawing-room circle 
 with her. 
 
 VI. 
 
 An aristocracy imbued with humanitarian and radical maxims, 
 courtiers hostile to the court, privileged persons aiding in under- 
 mining privileges, presents to us a strange spectacle in the testi- 
 mony of the time. A contemporary states that it is an accepted 
 principle " to change and upset everything." 2 High and low, in 
 assemblages, in public places, only reformers and opposing parties 
 are encountered among the privileged classes. " In 1787, almost 
 every prominent man of the peerage in the Parliament declared 
 himself in favor of resistance. ... I have seen at the dinners we 
 then attended almost every idea put forward, which, soon after- 
 wards, produced such startling effects." 3 Already in 1774, M. de 
 Vaublanc, on his way to Metz, finds a diligence containing an 
 ecclesiastic and a count, a colonel in the hussars, talking political 
 economy constantly. 4 " It was the fashion of the day. Every- 
 body was an economist. People conversed together only about 
 philosophy, political economy and especially humanity, and the 
 
 1 Coll6, "Journal," III. 437 (1770) : "Women have got the upper hand with the French 
 to such an extent, they have so subjugated them, that they neither feel nor think except M 
 they do." 
 
 * "Correspondance," by Me'tra, III. 200; IV. 131. 
 1 "Souvenirs Manuscrits," by M . 
 
 * De Vaublanc, "Souvenirs," I. 117, ^77.
 
 198 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK rv 
 
 means for relieving the good people, which two words were in 
 everybody's mouth." To this must be added equality ; Thomas, 
 in a eulogy of Marshal Saxe says, " I cannot conceal it, he was 
 of royal blood," and this phrase was admired. A few of the 
 heads of old parliamentary or seigniorial families maintain the old 
 patrician and monarchical standard, the new generation succumb- 
 ing to novelty. " For ourselves," says one of them belonging to 
 the youthful class of the nobility, 1 " with no regret for the past 01 
 anxiety for the future, we jaarched gayly along over a carpet of 
 flowers concealing an abyss. Mocking censors of antiquated 
 ways, of the feudal pride of our fathers and of their sober eti- 
 quette, everything antique seemed to us annoying and ridiculous. 
 The gravity of old doctrines oppressed us. The cheerful phi- 
 losophy of Voltaire amused and took possession of us. Without 
 fathoming that of graver writers we admired it for its stamp <* r 
 fearlessness and resistance to arbitrary power. . . . Liberty, what- 
 ever its language, delighted us with its spirit, and equality on ac- 
 count of its convenience. It is a pleasant thing to descend so 
 long as one thinks one can ascend when one pleases ; we were at 
 once enjoying, without forethought, the advantages of the patri- 
 ciate and the sweets of a plebeian philosophy. Thus, although 
 our privileges were at stake, and the remnants of our former su- 
 premacy were undermined under our feet, this little warfare grat- 
 ified us. Inexperienced in the attack, we simply admired the 
 spectacle. Combats with the pen and with words did not appear 
 to us capable of damaging our existing superiority, which several 
 centuries of possession had made us regard as impregnable. The 
 forms of the edifice remaining intact, we could not see how it 
 could be mined from within. We laughed at the serious alarm 
 of the old court and of the clergy which thundered against the 
 spirit of innovation. We applauded republican scenes in the 
 theatre, 2 philosophic discourses in our Academies, the bold 
 publications of the literary class." If inequality still subsists in 
 the distribution of offices and of places, " equality begins to reign 
 in society. On many occasions literary titles obtain precedence 
 
 1 De Segur, " Memoires," I. 17. 
 
 1 Ibid. 1.151. "I saw the entire court at the theatre In the chateau at Versailles enthusl 
 .ideal! y applaud Voltaire's tragedy of 'Brutus,' and especially these lines: 
 Je suis fils de Brutus, et je porte en mon coeur 
 La libert^ gravee et les rois en horreur."
 
 CHAP. ii. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 299 
 
 over titles of nobility. Courtiers and servants of the State in 
 fashion, paid their court to Marmontel, d'Aleinbert and Raynal. 
 We frequently saw in company literary men of the second and 
 third rank greeted and receiving attentions not extended to the 
 nobles of the provinces. . . . Institutions remained monarchical, 
 but manners and customs became republican. A word of praise 
 from d'Alembert or Diderot was more esteemed than the most 
 marked favor from a prince. It was impossible to pass an even- 
 ing with d'Alembert, or at the H6tel de Larochefoucauld among 
 the friends of Turgot, to attend a breakfast at the Abbe" Raynal's, 
 to be admitted into the society and family of M. de Malesherbes, 
 in fine, to approach a most amiable queen and a most upright 
 king without believing ourselves about to enter upon a kind of 
 golden era of which preceding centuries afforded no idea. . . . 
 We were bewildered by the prismatic hues of fresh ideas and 
 doctrines, radiant with hopes, ardently aglow for every sort of 
 reputation, enthusiastic for all talents and beguiled by every se- 
 ductive dream of a philosophy that was about to secure the hap- 
 piness of the human species. Far from foreseeing misfortune, 
 excess, crime, the overthrow of thrones and of principles, the fu- 
 ture disclosed to us only the benefits which humanity was to de- 
 rive from the sovereignty of reason. Free circulation was left to 
 every reformatory writing, to every project of innovation, to the 
 most liberal ideas and to the boldest of systems. Everybody 
 thought himself on the road to perfection without being under 
 any embarassment or fearing any kind of obstacle. We were proud 
 of being Frenchmen and, yet again, Frenchmen of the eighteenth 
 century. . . . Never was a more terrible awakening preceded by 
 a sweeter slumber or by more seductive dreams." 
 
 They do not content themselves with dreams, with pure de- 
 sires, with passive aspirations. They are active, and truly gener- 
 ous ; a worthy cause suffices to secure their devotedness. On the 
 news of the American rebellion, the Marquis de Lafayette, leav- 
 ing his young wife pregnant, escapes-, braves the orders of the 
 court, purchases a frigate, crosses the ocean and fights by the side 
 Df Washington. "The moment the quarrel was made known to 
 me," he says, " my heart was enlisted in it, and my only thought 
 was to rejoin my regiment." Numbers of gentlemen follow in 
 his footsteps. They undoubtedly love danger; "the chance of
 
 500 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK rv. 
 
 being shot is too precious to be neglected." * But the next thing 
 is to emancipate the oppressed ; " we showed ourselves philoso- 
 phers by becoming paladins," 2 the chivalric sentiment enlisting in 
 the service of liberty. Other services besides these, more seden- 
 tary and less brilliant, find no fewer zealots. The chief per- 
 sonages of the provinces in the provincial assemblies, 3 the bish- 
 ops, archbishops, abb6s, dukes, counts, and marquises, with the 
 wealthiest and best informed of the notables in the Third-Estate, 
 in all about a thousand persons, in short the social elect, the en- 
 tire upper class convoked by the king, organize the budget, de- 
 fend the tax-payer against the fisc, arrange the land-registry, 
 equalize the taille, provide a substitute for the corvte, provide pub- 
 lic roads, multiply charitable asylums, educate agriculturists, pro- 
 posing, encouraging and directing every species of reformatory 
 movement. I have read through the twenty volumes of their 
 firoch-verbaux : no better citizens, no more conscientious men, 
 no more devoted administrators can be found, none gratuitously 
 taking so much trouble on themselves with no object but the 
 public welfare. Never was an aristocracy so deserving of power 
 at the moment of losing it; the privileged class, aroused from 
 their indolence, were again becoming public men, and, restored 
 to their functions, were returning to their duties. In 1778, in the 
 first assembly of Berry, the Abb6 de Seguiran, the reporter, has 
 the courage to state that " the distribution of the taxes should be 
 a fraternal partition of public obligations." 4 In 1780 the abbe's, 
 priors and chapters of the same province contribute 60,000 livres 
 of their funds, and a few gentlemen, in less than twenty-four 
 hours, contribute 17,000 livres. In 1787, in the assembly of 
 Alen9on the nobility and the clergy assess themselves 30,000 
 livres to relieve the indigent in each parish subject to taxation. 5 
 In the month of April, 1787, the king, in an assembly of the not- 
 ables, speaks of "the eagerness with which archbishops and bishops 
 
 1 De Lauzun, 80 (in relation to his expedition into Corsica). 
 De Se"gur, I. 87. 
 
 * The assemblies of Berry, Haute-Guyenne, open in 1779; those of other generalships in 
 1787; all are in session until 1789. (Cf. Lonce de Lavergne, "Les Assemblies provin. 
 dales"). 
 
 4 Leonce de Lavergne, ibid. 26, 55, 183. The tax department of the provincial assembly 
 of Tours likewise makes its demands on the privileged class in the matter of taxation. 
 
 Procls-verbaux of the prov. ass. of Normandy, the generalship of Alencon, 252. Cf 
 Archives Rationales, H, 1149: in 1778 in the generalship of Moulins, thirty-nine persons, 
 mostly nobles, supply from their own funds 18,950 livres to the 60,000 livres allowed by th> 
 king for roads and asylums.
 
 CHAP. u. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 301 
 
 come forward claiming no exemption in their contributions to the 
 public revenue." In the month of March, 1789, on the opening 
 of the bailiwick assemblies, the entire clergy, nearly all the nobility, 
 in short, the whole body of the privileged class voluntarily xe- 
 nounce their privileges in relation to taxation. The sacrifice is 
 voted unanimously ; they themselves offer it to the Third- Estate, 
 and it is worth while to see their generous and sympathetic tone in 
 the manuscript proces-verbaux. " The nobility of the bailiwick of 
 Tours," says the Marquis de Lusignan, 1 " considering that they 
 are men and citizens before being nobles, can make amends 
 in no way more in conformity with the spirit of justice and pat- 
 riotism that animates the body, for the long silence to which it 
 has been condemned by the abuse of ministerial power, than in 
 declaring to their fellow-citizens that in future they will claim 
 none of the pecuniary advantages secured to them by custom, and 
 that they unanimously and solemnly bind themselves to bear 
 equally, each in proportion to his fortune, all taxes and gen- 
 eral contributions which the nation shall prescribe." " I repeat," 
 says the Comte de Buzangois at the meeting of the Third-Es- 
 tate of Berry, " that we are all brothers, and that we are anxious 
 to share your burdens. . . . We desire to have but one single 
 voice go up to the assembly and thus manifest the union and 
 harmony which should prevail there. I am directed to make the 
 proposal to you to unite with you in one memorial." "These 
 qualities are essential in a deputy," says the Marquis de Barban- 
 9on speaking for the nobles of Chateauroux, "integrity, firmness 
 and knowledge ; the first two are equally found among the dep- 
 uties of the three orders ; but knowledge will be more generally 
 found in the Third-Estate, which is more accustomed to public 
 affairs." "A new order of things is unfolding before us," says 
 the Abbe* Legrand in the name of the clergy of Chateauroux; 
 "the veil of prejudice is being torn away and giving place to rea- 
 son. She is possessing herself of all French hearts, attacking at 
 the root whatever is based on former opinion and deriving her 
 power only from herself." Not only do the privileged classes 
 
 1 Archives nationales, frocts-vfrbaux and memorials of the States-General, vol. XLIX. 
 p. 712, 714 (the nobles and clergy of Dijon) ; t. XVI. p. 183 (the nobles of Auxerre) ; t 
 XXIX. pp. 352, 455, 458 (the clergy and nobles of Berry) ; t CL. p. 266 (the clergy and 
 nobles of Tours) ; t. XXIX. (the clergy and nobles of Chateauroux, January 29, 1789); pp. 
 $72, 582. t XIII. 765 (the nobles of Autun). See as a summary of the whole, the '' Resum< 
 Jes Cahiers," by Prud'homme, 3 vols. 
 
 26
 
 joa THE AXL IENT REGIME. BOOK IV 
 
 make advances but it is no effort to them ; they use the sanr.e lan< 
 guage as the people of the Third-Estate ; they are disciples of 
 the same philosophers and seem to start from the same principles. 
 The nobility of Clermont in Beauvoisis, 1 order its deputies "to 
 demand, first of all, an explicit declaration of the rights belong- 
 ing to all men." The nobles of Mantes and Meulan affirm " that 
 political principles are as absolute as moral principles since both 
 have reason for a common basis." The nobles of Rheims demand 
 " that the king be entreated to order the demolition of the Bas- 
 tille." Frequently, after such expressions and with such a yield- 
 ing disposition, the delegates of the nobles and clergy are greeted 
 in the assemblies of the Third-Estate with the clapping of hands, 
 "tears" and transports. On witnessing such effusions how can 
 one avoid believing in concord ? And how can one foresee strife 
 at the first turn of the road on which they have just fraternally 
 entered hand in hand ? 
 
 Wisdom of this melancholy stamp is not theirs. They set out 
 with the principle that man, and especially the man of the peo- 
 ple, is good; why conjecture that he may desire evil for those 
 who wish him well ? They are conscientious in their benevolence 
 and sympathy for him. Not only do they utter these sentiments 
 but they give them proof. " At this moment," says a contempo- 
 rary, 2 "the most active pity animates all breasts; the great dread 
 of the opulent is to appear insensible." The archbishop of 
 Paris, subsequently followed and stoned, is the donator of one 
 hundred thousand crowns to the hospital of the Hotel-Dieu. 
 The intendant Berthier, who is to be massacred, draws up the 
 new assessment-roll of the Ile-de- France, equalizing the faille, 
 and which allows him to abate the rate, at first, an eighth, and 
 next, a quarter. 3 The financier Beaujon constructs a hospital. 
 Necker refuses the salary of his place and lends the treasury two 
 millions to re-establish public credit. The Due de Charost, from 
 1770* down, abolishes seigniorial corvees on his domain and 
 founds a hospital in his seigniory of Meillant. The Prince de 
 
 PradTiomme, ibid. II. 39, 51, 59. De Lavergne, 384. In 1788, two hundred gentlemen 
 of the first families of Dauphiny sign, conjointly with the clergy and the Third- Estate of the 
 province, an address to the king in which occurs the following passage: "Neither rime not 
 sbligation legitimizes despotism ; the rights of men derive from nature alone an d are independ 
 ent of their engagements." 
 
 * Lacretelle, "Hist de France au dix-huirieme siecle," V. a. 
 
 * Procls-verbaujc of the prov. ass. of tht Ile-de-France ,1787), p. 197. 
 4 De Lavergne, ibid, 52, 369.
 
 CHAP. II, THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 303 
 
 Beaufremont, the presidents de Vezet, de Chamolles, de Chaillot, 
 with many seigniors beside in Franche-Comte", follow the example 
 of the king in emancipating their serfs. 1 The bishop of Saint- 
 Claude demands, in spite of his chapter, the enfranchisement of 
 his mainmorts. The Marquis de Mirabeau establishes on his 
 domain in Limousin, a gratuitous bureau for the settlement of 
 awsuits, while daily, at Fleury, he causes nine hundred pounds 
 of cheap bread to be made for the use of " the poor people who 
 fight to see who shall have it." 2 M. de Barral, bishop of Castres, 
 directs his curates to preach and to diffuse the cultivation of 
 potatoes. The Marquis of Guerchy himself mounts on the top of 
 a pile of hay with Arthur Young to learn how to construct a hay- 
 stack. The Marquis de Lasteyrie imports lithography into 
 France. A number of grand seigniors and prelates figure in the 
 agricultural societies, compose or translate useful books, famil- 
 iarize themselves with the applications of science, study political 
 economy, inform themselves about industries, and interest them- 
 selves, either as amateurs or promoters, in every public ameliora 
 tion. " Never," says Lacretelle again, " were the French so 
 combined together to combat the evils to which nature makes us 
 pay tribute and those which in a thousand ways creep into all 
 social institutions." Can it be admitted that so many good 
 intentions thus operating together are to end in destruction? 
 All take courage, the government as well as the higher class, 
 in the thought of the good accomplished or which they desire tc 
 accomplish. The king remembers that he has restored civil 
 rights to the protestants, abolished preliminary torture, suppressed 
 the corvee in kind, established the free circulation of grains, 
 instituted provincial assemblies, built up the marine, assisted the 
 Americans, emancipated his own serfs, diminished the expenses 
 of his household, employed Malesherbes, Turgot and Necker, 
 given full play to the press, and listened to public opinion. 3 No 
 government displayed greater mildness; on the i4th of July, 
 1789, only seven prisoners were confined in the Bastille, of which 
 one was an idiot, another kept there by his family, and four 
 
 1 "Le cri de la raison," by Clerget, cure 1 d'Onans (1789), p. 258. 
 
 * Lucas d Montigny, " M6moires de Mirabeau," I. 290, 368. Th6ron de Moutauge, 
 " L'agriculture et les classes rurales dans le pays Toulousain," p. 14. 
 
 * " Foreigners generally could scarcely form an idea of the power of public opinion at thij 
 rime in France; they can with difficulty comprehend the nature <{ that invisible powef 
 which commands even in the king' s palace." (Necker, 1784, qiote- by De Tocqi eville).
 
 304 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 under the charge of counterfeiting. 1 No sovereign was more 
 humane, more charitable, more preoccupied with the unfortunate. 
 In 1784, the year of inundations and epidemics, he renders as- 
 sistance to the amount of three millions. Appeals are made tc 
 him direct, even for personal accidents. On the 8th of June, 
 1785, he sends two hundred livres to the wife of a Breton labor- 
 ing-man who, already having two children, brings three at once 
 into the world. 2 During a severe winter he allows the poor daily 
 to invade his kitchen. It is quite probable that, next to Turgot. 
 he is the man of his day who loved the people most. His dele- 
 gates under him conform to his views; I have read countless letters 
 by intendants who try to appear as little Turgots. " One builds a 
 hospital, another admits artisans at his table ; " 3 a certain individ- 
 ual undertakes the draining of a marsh. M. de la Tour, in Prov- 
 ence, is so beneficent during a period of forty years that the 
 Tiers-Etat vote him a gold medal in spite of himself. 4 A gov- 
 ernor delivers a course of lectures on economical bread-making, 
 What possible danger is there with shepherds of this kind amidst 
 their flocks ? On the king convoking the States- General nobody 
 had "any suspicion," nor fear of the future. "A new State con- 
 stitution is spoken of as an easy performance, and as a matter of 
 course." 5 "The best and most virtuous men see in this the be- 
 ginning of a new era of happiness for France and for the whole 
 civilized world. The ambitious rejoice in the broad field open 
 to their desires. But it would have been impossible to find the 
 most morose, the most timid, the most enthusiastic of men antic- 
 ipating any one of the extraordinary events towards which the 
 assembled states were drifting." 
 
 1 Granier de Cassagnac, II. 236. M. de Malesherbes, according to custom, inspected the 
 different state prisons, at the beginning of the reign of Louis XVI. "He told me himself 
 that he had only released two." (Senac de Meilhan, " Du gouvernement, des mceurs, et 
 des conditions en France.") 
 
 * Archives nationales, II. 1418, 1149, *4> 20 73- Assistance rendered to various suffering 
 provinces and places. 
 
 * Aubertin, p. 484 (according to Bachaumont). 
 
 * De Lavergne, 472. 
 
 * Mathieu Dumas, "Me'moires," I. 426. Sir Samuel Romilly, "M&noires," I. 99. "Con- 
 fidence increased even to extravagance," (Mme. de Genlis). On the 2gth June, 1789, Necker 
 laid at the council of the king at Marly, "What is more frivolous than the fears now 
 entertained concerning the organization of the assembly of the States-General ? No law can 
 be passed without obtaining the king's assent." (De Barentin, "M6moires," p. 187] 
 Address of the National Assembly to its constituents, October 2, 1789. "A great revolution 
 tf which the idea would have appeared chimerical a few months since has been effected 
 wnongst u*."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MIDDLE CLASS. I. The former spirit of the Third-Estate. Public 
 matters concern the king only. Limits of the Jansenist and parliamentarian 
 opposition. II. Change in the condition of the bourgeois. He becomes 
 wealthy. He makes loans to the State. The danger of his creditorship. He 
 interests himself in public matters. III. He rises on the social ladder. 
 The noble draws near to him. He becomes cultivated. He enters into so- 
 ciety. He regards himself as the equal of the noble. Privileges an annoy- 
 ance. IV. Philosophy in the minds thus fitted for it. That of Rousseau 
 prominent. This philosophy in harmony with new necessities. It is adopted 
 by the Third-Estate. V. Its effect therein. The formation of revolutionary 
 passions. Levelling instincts. The craving for dominion. The Third-Es- 
 tate decides and it constitutes the nation. Chimeras, ignorance, exaltation - 
 VI. Summary. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE new philosophy, confined to a select circle, had 
 served as a mere luxury for refined society. Merchants, manu- 
 facturers, shopkeepers, lawyers, attorneys, physicians, actors, \ 
 professors, curates, every description of functionary, employe" 
 and clerk, the entire middle class, had been absorbed with its 
 own cares. The horizon of each was limited, being that of the 
 protession or occupation which each exercised, that of the cor- 
 poration in which each one was comprised, of the town in which 
 each one was born, and, at the utmost, that of the province 
 which each one inhabited. 1 A dearth of ideas coupled with ) 
 conscious diffidence restrained the bourgeois within his hereditary 
 barriers. His eyes seldom chanced to wander outside of them 
 into the forbidden and dangerous territory of state affairs ; hardly 
 was a furtive and rare glance bestowed on any of the public acts, 
 on the matters which "belonged to the king." There was no 
 
 * I have verified these sentiments myself in the narration of aged people deceased twenty 
 years ago. Cf. manuscript memoirs of Hardy the bookseller (analyzed by Aubertin), ai i 
 the "Travels of Arthur Young ' 
 36*
 
 306 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 critical irritability then, except with the bar, the compulsory sat- 
 ellite of the Parliament and borne along in its orbit. In 1718, 
 after a session of the royal court (lit de justice), the lawyers 
 of Paris being on a strike the Regent exclaims angrily and with 
 astonishment, "What ! those fellows meddling too ! " * It must 
 be stated furthermore that many kept themselves in the back- 
 ground. " My father and myself," afterwards writes the advocate 
 Barbier, "took no part in the uproars, among those caustic and 
 turbulent spirits." And he adds this significant article of faith : 
 "I believe that one has to fulfil his duties honorably, without 
 concerning oneself with state affairs in which one has no mission 
 and eocercises no power." During the first half of the eighteenth 
 century I am able to discover buj^iie_ejiti^_ofjQpposkion in the 
 \ Third- Estate, the_ Parliament, -and ^around it, feeding the flame, 
 the ancient gallican or Jansenist splrik~"Thlf good city of 
 <jJaris," writes Barbier in 1733, "is Jansenist from top to bottom," 
 and not alone the magistrates, the lawyers, the professors, the 
 best among the bourgeoisie, "but again the mass of the Parisians, 
 men, women and children, all upholding that doctrine, without 
 comprehending it, or understanding any of its distinctions and 
 ^interpretations, out of hatred to Rome and the Jesuits. Women, 
 the silliest, and even chambermaids, would be hacked to pieces 
 for it. . . ." This party is increased by the honest folks of the 
 kingdom detesting persecutions and injustice. Accordingly, 
 when the various chambers of magistrates, in conjunction with 
 the lawyers, tender their resignations and file out of the palace 
 "amidst a countless multitude, the crowd exclaims: Behold the 
 true Romans, the fatJiers of the country ! and as the two counsel- 
 lors Pucelle and Menguy pass along they fling them' crowns." 
 The quarrel between the Parliament and the Court, constantly 
 revived, is one of the sparks which provokes the grand final 
 explosion, while the Jansenist embers, smouldering in the ashes, 
 are to be of use in 1791 when the ecclesiastical edifice comes to 
 be attacked. Bat within this old chimney-corner only warm 
 embers are now found, firebrands covered up, sometimes scatter- 
 ing sparks and flames, but in themselves and by themselves, not 
 incendiary ; the flame is kept within bounds by its structure, 
 and its supplies limit its heat. The Jansenist is too good a 
 Christian not to respect powers inaugurated from above. The 
 
 1 Aubertiu, ibid. 180, 362.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 307 
 
 parliamentarian, conservative through his profession, wculd be 
 horrified at overthrowing the established order of things. Both 
 combat for tradition and against innovation ; hence, after having 
 defended the past against arbitrary power they are to defend it 
 against revolutionary violence and to fall, the one into impotency 
 and the other into oblivion. 
 
 II. 
 
 Accordingly, the conflagration is of slow growth among thej 
 middle class, and, to ensure its spreading, a gradual transforma- 
 tion has to be effected beforehand to render the refractory 
 materials combustible. In the eighteenth century a great change 
 takes place in the condition of the Third-Estate. The bourgeois 
 has labored, manufactured, traded, earned and saved money, 
 and he has daily become richer and richer. 1 This great expansion 
 of enterprises, of trade, of speculation and of fortunes dates from 
 Law ; arrested by war it reappears with more vigor and more 
 animation at each interval of peace after the treaty of Aix-la- 
 Chapelle in 1748, and that of Paris in 1763, and especially after 
 the beginning of the reign of Louis XVI. The exports of France 
 which amounted to one hundred and six millions in 1720, to one 
 hundred and twenty-four millions in 1735, and to one hundred 
 and ninety- two millions in 1748, amount to two hundred and 
 fifty-seven millions in 1755, to three hundred and nine millions 
 in 1776, and to three hundred and fifty-four millions in 1788. 
 In 1786 St. Domingo alone sends to the metropolis one hundred 
 and thirty-one millions of its products and takes back fifty 
 four millions in merchandise. As an effect of these interchanges 
 we see arising at Nantes, and at Bordeaux, rolpssal r.nmmprn'al w 
 houses. I consider Bordeaux, says Arthur Young, as richer and 
 doing more business than any city in England except London, 
 ... of late years the progress of maritime commerce has 
 
 > Voltaire, " Siecle de Louis XV. ," ch. xxxl ; " Siecle de Louis XIV. ," ch. xxx. " Industry 
 increases every day. To see the privpf'- 'i play, the prodigious number of pleasant dwellings 
 erected in Paris and in the provinces, the numerous equipages, the conveniences, the acquisi- 
 tions comprehended in the term luxe, one might suppose that opulence was twenty times 
 greater than it formerly was. All this is the result of ingenuity, much more than of wealth. 
 . . . The middle class has become wealthy by industry. Commercial gains have augmented 
 The opulence of the great is less than it was formerly and much larger among the middle 
 class, the distance between men even being lessened by it Formerly the inferior class had 
 no resource but to serve their superiors; nowadays industry has opened up A tbrusand roadf 
 unknown a hundred yean ago."
 
 308 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 been more rapid in France than even in England. 1 According 
 to an administrator of the day if the taxes on the consumption 
 of products daily increase the revenue, it is owing to various 
 descriptions of industry having become greatly extended since 
 1774.* And this progress is regular and constant. "We may 
 calculate," says Necker in 1781, "on an increase of two millions a 
 year on all the duties on consumption." In this great effort of 
 invention, labor and genius, Paris, constantly growing, is the 
 central workshop. It enjoys, to a much greater extent than to- 
 day, the monopoly of all works of intelligence and taste, books, 
 pictures, engravings, statues, jewelry, toilet details, carriages, 
 furniture, articles of fashion and rarity, whatever affords pleasure 
 and ornamentation for an elegant worldly society ; all Europe is 
 thus supplied by it. In 1774 its trade in books is estimated at 
 forty-five millions, and that of London at only one-quarter of 
 that sum. 3 Many immense fortunes were accumulated, and a 
 still larger number of moderate fortunes, while the capital thus 
 increasing sought investment. The highest in the kingdom are 
 standing ready with outstretched hands to obtain it, nobles, 
 princes of the blood, provincial assemblies, assemblies of the 
 clergy, and, at the head of all, the king who, the most needy, 
 borrows at ten per cent., and is always in quest of fresh lenders. 
 Already under Fleury, the debt has augmented to eighteen 
 millions in rentes and during the Seven Years' War, to thirty-four 
 millions. Under Louis XVI. M. Necker borrows a capital of 
 five hundred and thirty millions ; M. Joly de Fleury, three hun- 
 dred millions; M. de Calonne, eight hundred millions; in all 
 sixteen hundred and thirty millions in a peroid of ten years. 
 The interest of the public debt, only forty-five millions in 1755, 
 reaches one hundred and six millions in 1776 and amounts to 
 '.wo hundred and six millions in 1789.* What creditors are indi- 
 cated by these few figures! As the Third- Estate, it must be noted, 
 is the sole body that makes and saves money, nearly all these 
 creditors belong to it. Thousands of others must be added to 
 these. In the first place, the financiers who make advances to 
 
 1 Arthur Young, II. 360, 373. 
 
 ' De Tocqueville, 255. 
 
 1 Aubertin, 482. 
 
 Roux and Buchez, " Histoire parlementaire." Extracted from the accounts made up by 
 the comptrollers-general, I. 175, 205. The report by Necker, I. 376. To the 206,000,00* 
 must be added 15,800,000 fot expenses and interest on advances.
 
 CHAV. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 309 
 
 the government, advances that are indispensable, because, from 
 time immemorial, it has eaten the calf in the cow's belly, while 
 the passing year is always gnawing into the product of coming 
 years; there are eighty millions of advances in 1759, and one 
 hundred and seventy millions in 1783. In the second place 
 there are so many purveyors, large and small, who, on all points 
 of the territory, keep accounts with the government for their 
 supplies and for public works, a veritable army and increasing 
 daily, since the government, impelled by centralization, takes 
 sole charge of all enterprises, and, through the urgency of opin- 
 ion, enterprises of public utility. Under Louis XV. the State 
 builds six thousand leagues of roads, and under Louis XVI. in 
 1788, to guard against famine, it purchases grain to the amount 
 of forty millions. 
 
 Through this increase of activity and the demands for capital 
 it becomes the universal debtor ; henceforth public affairs are no 
 longer exclusively the king's affairs. His creditors become un- 
 easy at his expenditures, for their money is being wasted, and, if 
 he proves a bad administrator, they will be ruined. They want 
 to know something of his budget, to examine his books ; a lender 
 always has the right to look after his securities. We accordingly 
 see the bourgeois raising his head and beginning to pay close at- 
 tention to the great machine whose performances, hitherto con- 
 cealed from vulgar eyes, have, up to the present time, been kept 
 a state secret. He becomes a politician, and, at the same time, 
 discontented. For it cannot be denied that these matters, in 
 which he is interested, are badly conducted. Any responsible 
 member of a family managing affairs in the same way would be 
 arrested. The expenses of the administration of the State are al- 
 ways in excess of the revenue. According to official admissions 1 
 the annual deficit amounted to seventy millions in 1770, and 
 eighty millions in 1783; the attempts to reduce this consist 
 of bankruptcies; one of two millions at the end of the reign 
 of Louis XIV., and others almost equal to it in the time of Law, 
 and another from a third to a half of all the rentes in the time of 
 Terray, without mentioning suppressions in detail, reductions, 
 indefinite delays in payment, and other violent and fraudu- 
 lent means which a powerful debtor employs with impunity 
 against a feeble creditor. "Fifty-six violations of public faith 
 
 1 Roux and Buchez, I. 190. " Rapport," by M. de Calonne.
 
 310 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 have occurred from Henry IV. down to the ministry of M. de 
 Lome'nie inclusive," 1 while a last bankruptcy, more frightful than 
 the others, looms up on the horizon. Several persons, Bezenval 
 and Linguet for instance, earnestly recommend it as a necessary and 
 salutary amputation. Not only are there precedents for this, and 
 in this respect the government will do no more than follow its 
 own example, but such is its daily practice, since it lives only from 
 day to day, by dint of expedients and delays, digging one hole to 
 stop up another, and escaping failure only through the forced pa- 
 tience which it imposes on its creditors. With it, says a contem- 
 porary, people were never sure of anything, being obliged always 
 to wait. 2 "Were their capital invested in its loans, they could 
 never rely on a fixed epoch for the payment of interest. Were 
 vessels reconstructed, the highways repaired, or the soldiers 
 clothed, they remained without guarantees for their advances, 
 without certificates of repayment, being reduced to calculating the 
 chances of a ministerial contract as they would the risks of a bold 
 speculation." It pays if it can and only when it can, even 
 the members of the household, the purveyors of the table 
 and the personal attendants of the king. In 1753 the domestics 
 of Louis XV. had received nothing for three years. We have 
 seen how his grooms went out to beg during the night in the streets 
 of Versailles ; how his purveyors " hid themselves ; " how, under 
 Louis XVI. in 1778, there were 792,620 francs due to the wine- 
 merchant, and 3,467,980 francs to the purveyor of fish and 
 meat. 3 In 1788, so great is the distress, the Minister de Lome'nie 
 appropriates and expends the funds of a private subscription 
 raised for a hospital, and, at the time of his resignation, the treas- 
 ury is empty, save four hundred and fifty thousand francs, 
 the half of which he puts in his pocket. What an administra- 
 tion! 
 
 In the presence of this debtor, evidently becoming insolvent, 
 everybody, far and near, interested in his business, consult to- 
 gether with alarm, and debtors are innumerable, consisting of 
 bankers, merchants, manufacturers, employe's, lenders of every 
 kind and degree, and, in the front rank, the fund-holders, who 
 
 ' Champfort, p. 105. 
 1 De Tocqueville, 261. 
 
 D'Argenson, April la, 1752, February u, 1752, Tuly 24, 1753, Decembe 7, 175^ 
 Archives nationales, O 1 , 738.
 
 our. ill. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 311 
 
 have put all their means for life into his hands, and who are 
 to beg should he not pay them annually the forty-four millions he 
 owes them, the industrialists and traders who have intrusted their 
 commercial integrity to him and who would shrink with horror 
 from failure as its offset; and after these come their creditors, 
 their clerks, their kindred, in short, the largest portion of the 
 laboring and peaceable class which, thus far, has obeyed without 
 a murmur and never dreamed of bringing the established order 
 of things under its control. Henceforth this class will exercise 
 control attentively, distrustfully and angrily. Woe to those who 
 are at fault for they well know that the ruin of the State is their 
 ruin. 
 
 III. 
 
 Meanwhile this class has climbed up the social ladder and, 
 through its ////<?, rejoined those in the highest position. Formerly 
 between Dorante and M. Jourdain, between Don Juan and M. 
 Dimanche, between M. de Sotenville himself and Georges Dan- 
 din, 1 the interval was immense ; everything was different dress, 
 house, habits, characters, points of honor, ideas and language. 
 On the one hand the nobles are drawn nearer to the Third-Estate 
 and, on the other, the Third-Estate is drawn nearer to the nobles, 
 actual equality having preceded equality as a right. 
 
 On the approach of the year 1789 it was difficult to distinguish 
 one from the other in the street. The sword is no longer worn 
 by gentlemen in the city; they have abandoned embroideries 
 and laces and walk about in plain frock-coats or drive them- 
 selves in their cabriolets. 2 "The simplicity of English customs," 
 and the customs of the Third-Estate seem to them better adapted 
 to ordinary life. Their prominence proves irksome to them and 
 they grow weary of being always on parade. Henceforth they 
 accept familiarity that they may enjoy freedom of action and 
 are content " to mingle with their fellow-citizens without obstacle 
 or ostentation." It is certainly a grave sign, and the old feudal 
 spirits have reason to tremble. The Marquis de Mirabeau, on 
 learning that his son wishes to act as his own lawyer, consoles 
 himself by seeing others, of still higher rank, do much worse. 3 
 
 1 Characters in Moliere's comedies. TR. 
 
 * De Segur. I. 17. 
 * Lucas de Montigny, Letter of the Marquis de Mirabeau, Much 03, 1783.
 
 312 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK rv. 
 
 "Although it was hard to accept the idea that the grandson of 
 our grandfather, as we had seen him on the public promenade, 
 the whole crowd, little and big, saluting him in every direction, 
 should now figure at the bar of a low tribunal, wrangling with 
 pettifoggers about points of law, I then said to myself that Louis 
 XIV. would be still more astonished to see the wife of his lineal 
 heir, dressed in the frock and apron of a peasant girl, unat- 
 tended, with no page or any one else, scampering about the 
 palace and on the terraces, asking the first fellow in a dress-suit 
 she met to give her his arm and escort her to the foot of the 
 steps." In effect, the reduction of manners and externals to 
 one level simply shows that minds and souls are also on a 
 level. If the old-time scene has disappeared this merely de- 
 notes that the sentiments likewise have disappeared. It indi- 
 cated seriousness, dignity, habits of self-restraint and of be- 
 havior in public, authority and command. It consisted of the 
 gorgeous pomp and parade of a social staff. The parade 
 has now vanished because the staff has been broken up. If 
 nobles dress like common folks it is owing to their having 
 become common, that is to say, idlers who, out of work, 
 talk and amuse themselves. Undoubtedly they amuse them- 
 selves and converse like people of refinement ; but it is not 
 very difficult to equal them in this respect. Now that the Third- 
 Estate has acquired its wealth a good many plebeians have 
 become people of society. The successors of Samuel Bernard 
 are no longer so many Turcarets, but Paris- Duverneys, Saint- 
 Jameses, Labordes, refined men, people of culture and of feeling; 
 possessing tact, literary and philosophical attainments, benevo- 
 lent, giving ftes and knowing how to entertain. 1 With them, 
 with a shade of difference, we find about the sarre company as 
 with a grand seignior, the same ideas and the same tone. Their 
 sons, Messieurs de Villemer, de Francueil, d'Epinay, throw 
 money out of the window with as much elegance as the young 
 dukes with whom they sup. A parvenu with money and intel- 
 lect soon becomes brightened and his son, if not himself, is 
 
 1 Mme. Vige-Lebrun, I. 269, 231. The domestic establishment of two fanners-general, 
 CM. de Verdun, at Colombes, and M. de St James, at Neuilly). A superior type of th 
 bourgeois and of the merchant has already been put on the stage by Scdame in "Le Philoso 
 phe sans le Savoir."
 
 CHAP. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 313 
 
 initiated: a few years' exercises in an academy, a dancing- 
 master, aid one of the four thousand public offices which confer 
 nobility, supply him with the deficient externals. Now, in 
 these times, as soon as one knows how to conform to the laws 
 of good-breeding, how to bow and how to converse, one pos- 
 sesses a patent for admission everywhere. An Englishman * re- 
 marks that one of the first expressions employed in praise of a 
 man is, "he has a very graceful address." The Mare"chale de 
 Luxembourg, so high-spirited, always selects La Harpe as her 
 cavalier because "he offers his arm so well." The plebeian not 
 only enters the drawing-room, if he is fitted for it, but he stands 
 foremost in it if he has any talent. The first place in conversa- 
 tion, and even in public consideration, is for Voltaire, the son\ 
 of a notary, for Diderot, the son of a cutler, for Rousseau, the! 
 son of a watchmaker, for d'Alembert, a foundling brought up by 
 a glazier; and, after the great men have disappeared, and no 
 writers of the second grade are left, the leading duchesses are 
 still content to have the seats at their tables occupied by Champ- 
 fort, another foundling, Beaumarchais, the son of another watch- 
 maker, La Harpe, supported and raised on charity, Marmontel, 
 the son of a village tailor and many others of less note, in short, 
 every parvenue possessing any intellectual power. 
 
 The nobility, to perfect their own accomplishments, borrow 
 their pens and aspire to their successes. "We have recovered 
 from those old Gothic and absurd prejudices against literary 
 culture," says the Prince de He'nin; 2 "as for myself I would 
 compose a comedy to-morrow if I had the talent, and if I hap- 
 pened to be made a little angry, I would perform in it." And, 
 in fact, " the Vicomte de S6gur, son of the minister of war, plays 
 the part of the lover in 'Nina' on Mile, de Guimard's stage 
 with the actors of the Italian Comedy." 3 One of Mme. de 
 Genlis's personages, returning to Paris after five years' absence, 
 says that "he left men wholly devoted to play, hunting, and 
 their small houses and he finds them all turned authors." 4 They 
 
 1 John .Andrews, "A comparative view," etc., p. 58. 
 
 2 De Tilly, "Memoires," I. 31. 
 
 * Geffrey, "Gustave III," Letter of Mme. de Stael (August, 1786). 
 
 4 Mme. de Genlis, "Adele et Theodore" (1782), I. 312. Already in 1762, Bachaumont 
 mentions several pieces written by grand seigniors, such as "Clytemnestre," by the Comte 
 de Lauraguais ; "Alexandre," by the Chevalier de Pension; "Don Carlos," by the MarquU 
 de Ximines. 
 
 27
 
 314 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK rv 
 
 hawk about their tragedies, comedies, novsls, eclogues, disserta- 
 tions and treatises of all kinds from one drawing-room to 
 another. They strive to get their pieces played ; they previously 
 submit them to the judgment of actors ; they solicit a word of 
 praise from the Mercure ; they read fables at the sittings of the 
 Academy. They become involved in the bickerings, in the vain- 
 glory, in the littleness of literary life, and still worse, of the life 
 of the stage, inasmuch as they are themselves performers and 
 play in company with real actors in hundreds of private theatres. 
 Add to this, if you please, other petty amateur talents such as 
 sketching in water-colors, writing songs, and playing the flute. 
 
 After this intermixture of classes and this displacement of char- 
 acter what superiority rests with the nobles ? By what special 
 merit, through what recognized capacity are they to secure the 
 respect of a member of the Third-Estate ? Outside of fashion- 
 able elegance and a few points of breeding, in what respect do 
 they differ from him ? What superior education, what familiarity 
 with affairs, what experience with government, what political in- 
 struction, what local ascendency, what moral authority can be al- 
 leged to sanction their pretensions to the highest places ? In the 
 way of practice, the Third-Estate already does the work, pro- 
 viding the qualified men, the intendants, the ministerial head- 
 clerks, the lay and ecclesiastical administrators, the competent 
 laborers of all kinds and degrees. Call to mind the Marquis of 
 whom we have just spoken, a former captain in the French guards, 
 a man of feeling and of loyalty, admitting at the elections of 1 789 
 that " the knowledge essential to a deputy would most generally 
 be found in the Third-Estate, the mind there being accustomed 
 to business." In the way of theory: the plebeian is as well- 
 informed as the noble, and he thinks he is still better informed, 
 because, having read the same books and arrived at the same 
 principles, he does not, like him, stop half-way on the road to 
 their consequences, but plunges headlong to the very depths Df 
 the doctrine, convinced that his logic is clairvoyance and that he 
 is the more enlightened because he is the least prejudiced. Con- 
 sider the young men who, about twenty years of age in 1780, 
 born in industrious families, accustomed to effort and able to 
 work twelve hours a day, a Barnave, a Carnot, a Rcederer, a 
 Merlin de Thionville, a Robespierre, an energetic race conscious 
 of its strength, criticizing their rivals, aware of their weakness, com-
 
 CHAP. III. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 313 
 
 paring their own application and education to their levity and 
 incompetency, and, at the moment when youthful ambition stirs 
 within them, seeing themselves excluded in advance from any su- 
 perior position, consigned for life to subaltern employment, and 
 subjected in every career to the precedence of superiors whom 
 they hardly recognize as their equals. At the artillery examin- 
 ations where Che"rin, the genealogist, refuses plebeians, and where 
 the Abbe" Bosen, a mathematician, rejects the ignorant, it is dis- 
 covered that capacity is wanting among the noble pupils and no- 
 bility among the capable pupils, 1 the two qualities of gentility and 
 intelligence seeming to exclude each other, as there are but four 
 or five out of a hundred pupils who combine the two conditions. 
 Now, as society at this time is mixed, such tests are frequent and 
 easy. Whether lawyer, physician, or man of letters, a member 
 of the Third-Estate with whom a duke converses familiarly, who 
 sits in a diligence alongside of a count-colonel of hussars, 8 can 
 appreciate his companion or his interlocutor, weigh his ideas, test 
 his merit and esteem him at his just value, and I am sure that he 
 does not overrate him. The nobility having lost a special capac- 
 ity, and the Third-Estate having acquired a general capacity, they 
 are on a par in education and in aptitudes, the inequality which 
 separated them becoming offensive in becoming useless. Nobil- 
 ity being instituted by custom it is no longer sanctified by con- 
 science, the Third-Estate being justly excited against privileges 
 that have no justification, neither in the capacity of the noble or 
 in the incapacity of the bourgeois. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Distrust and wrath towards the government which compromises 
 all fortunes, rancor and hostility against the nobility which bars 
 all roads, are, then, the sentiments that develop themselves 1 
 the middle class solely throagh the advance of its wealth and 
 culture. Acting on material of this description we can divine the 
 effect of the new philosophy At first, confined to the aristocratic 
 reservoir, the doctrine filters out through all interstices like so many 
 trickling streams and insensibly diffuses itself among the lower 
 class. Already, in 1727, Barbier, a bourgeois of the old stock! 
 
 'Champfort, 119. 
 
 De Vaublanc, I. 117. Beugnot, "M6moires," (the first and second passages relating to 
 lodety at the domiciles of M. de Brienne, and the Due de Penthievre.)
 
 3 i6 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK rv. 
 
 and having little knowledge of philosophy and philosophers 
 except the name, thus writes in his journal: "A hundred poor 
 families are deprived of the annuities on which they supported 
 themselves, acquired with bonds for which the king is responsible 
 and of which the capital is obliterated; fifty-six thousand livres 
 are given in pensions to people who have held the best offices, 
 where they have amassed considerable property, always at the 
 expense of the people, and all this merely that they may rest 
 themselves and do nothing." 1 One by one, reformatory ideas 
 penetrate to his office of consulting advocate ; conversation has 
 sufficed to propagate them, homely common sense needing no 
 philosophy to secure their recognition. " The tax on property," 
 said he, -in 1750, "should be proportioned and equally distributed 
 among all the king's subjects and the members of the government, 
 in proportion to the property each really possesses in the kingdom; 
 in England, the lands of the nobility, the clergy and the Third- 
 Estate pay alike without distinction, and nothing is more just." 
 In the six years which follow the flood increases. People de- 
 nounce the government in the cafes, on their promenades, while 
 the police dare not arrest malcontents " because they would have 
 to arrest everybody." The disaffection goes on increasing up 
 to the end of the reign. In 1744, says the bookseller Hardy, 
 during the king's illness at Metz, private individuals cause six 
 thousand masses to be said for his recovery and pay for them at 
 the sacristy of Notre Dame; in 1757, after Damiens's attempt 
 on the king's life, the number of masses demanded is only six 
 hundred; in 1774, during the malady which carries him off, the 
 number falls down to three. The government is in complete 
 discredit, which is an immense success for Rousseau, these two 
 events, occurring simultaneously, affording a date for the conver- 
 sion of the Third- Estate to philosophy. 2 A traveller, at the be- 
 ginning of the reign of Louis XVI., who returns home after some 
 years' absence, on being asked what change he noticed in the 
 nation, replied, " Nothing, except that what used to be talked abom 
 
 1 Barbier, II. ibid, ; III. 255 (May, 1751). "The king is robbed by all the seignior* 
 around him, especially on his journeys to his different chateaux, which are frequent" And 
 September, 1750. Cf. Aubertin, 291, 415 ("Memoires," manuscript by Hardy). 
 
 8 Treaties of Paris and Hubersbourg, 1763. The trial of La Chalotais, 1765. Bankruptcy of 
 Terray, 1770. Destruction of the Parliament, 1771. The first partition of Poland, 1772. 
 Rousseau, "Discours sur 1'inegalite," 1753. "Heloise," 1759. "Emile" and "Contra! 
 Social," 1762.
 
 CHAP. HI. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 317 
 
 in the drawing-rooms is repeated in the streets?* And that which 
 is repeated in the streets is Rousseau's doctrine, the Discourse 
 on Inequality, the Social Contract amplified, popularized and 
 repeated by disciples in every tone and in every shape. What 
 is more fascinating for the man of the Third- Estate ? Not only 
 is this theory in vogue, and encountered by him at the decisive 
 moment when, for the first time, he turns his attention to general 
 principles, but again, it provides him with arms against social ine- 
 quality and political absolutism, and much sharper than he needs. 
 To people disposed to put restraints on power and to abolish 
 privileges, what guide is more sympathetic than the writer of 
 genius, the powerful logician, the impassioned orator, who es- 
 tablishes natural law, who repudiates historic law, who proclaims 
 the equality of men, who contends for the sovereignty of the 
 people, who denounces on every page the usurpation, the vices, 
 the worthlessness, the malefactions of the great and of kings! 
 And I omit the points by which he makes acceptable to a rigid 
 and laborious bourgeoisie, to the new men that are working and 
 advancing themselves, his steady earnestness, his harsh and 
 bitter tone, his eulogy of simple habits, of domestic virtues, of 
 personal merit, of virile energy, the plebeian addressing plebeians. 
 It is not surprising that they should accept him for a guide and 
 welcome his doctrines with that fervor of faith which constitutes 
 enthusiasm and which is always an accompaniment of the new- 
 born idea as of the new-born affection. 
 
 A competent judge, and an eye-witness, Mallet Dupan, writes 
 in 1799: "Rousseau had a hundred times more readers among 
 the middle and lower classes than Voltaire. He alone inoculated 
 the French with the doctrine of the sovereignty of the people and 
 with its extremest consequences, It would be difficult to cite a 
 single revolutionist who was not transported over these anarchical 
 theories, and who did not burn with ardor to realize them. That 
 Contrat Social, the disintegrator of societies, was the K "ran of 
 the pretentious talkers of 1789, of the Jacobins of 1790, of the 
 republicans of 1791, and of the most atrocious of the madmen. 
 ... I heard Marat in 1788 read and comment on the Contrat 
 Social in the public streets to the applause of an enthusiastic aud- 
 itory." The same year, in an immense throng filling the great 
 
 L)e Barant:, "Tableau de la literature franfaise au dix-huideme siecle," 313. 
 27*
 
 *l8 THE ANCIENT REGIME BOOK iv 
 
 aall of the Palais de Justice, Lacretelle heais the same book 
 cited, its dogmas enforced "by members of the bar, 1 by young 
 lawyers, by the whole lettered tribe swarming with new-fledged 
 publicists." Hundreds of details show us that it is a catechism 
 in every hand. In 1784* certain magistrates' sons, on taking 
 their first lesson in jurisprudence of an assistant professor, M. 
 Saveste, have the "Contrat Social" placed in their hands as a 
 manual. Those who find this new political geometry too difficult 
 learn at least its axioms, and, if these prove unmanageable they 
 derive from them their palpable consequences, so many convenient 
 equivalents, the small current change of the literature in vogue, 
 whether drama, history, or romance. 3 The dogmas of equality 
 and liberty infiltrate and penetrate the class able to read the 
 " Eloges " by Thomas, the pastorals of Bernardin de St. Pierre, 
 the compilation of Raynal, the comedies of Beaumarchais and 
 even the " Young Anarcharsis " and the literature of the new-fash- 
 ioned Greek and Roman antiquity. 4 "A few days ago," says 
 M6tra, 5 "a dinner of forty ecclesiastics from the country took 
 place at the house of the curate of Orangis, five leagues from 
 Paris. At the dessert, and in the truth which came out over their 
 wine, they all admitted that they came to Paris to see the ' Mar- 
 riage of Figaro.' . . . Up to the present time it seems as if 
 comic authors intended to make sport for the great at the expense 
 of the little, but here, on the contrary, it is the little who laugh at the 
 expense of the great." Hence the success of the piece. A steward 
 of a chateau finds a Raynal in the library, the furious declamation 
 of which so delights him that, at the end of thirty years, he can re- 
 peat it without stumbling. A sergeant in the French guards em- 
 broiders waistcoats throughout the night to earn the wherewithal 
 to purchase new books of this stamp. After the gallant picture 
 of the boudoir comes the austere and patriotic picture ; " Belisa- 
 rius" and the "Horatii" of David indicate the new public spirit, 
 also that of the studios. 6 The spirit is that of Rousseau, " the re- 
 
 1 Lacretelle, " Dix ans d'6preuves," p. 21. 
 
 * "Souvenirs raanuscrits," by M . 
 
 * "Le Compere Mathieu," by Dulaurens (1766). "Our sufferings are due to the way in 
 which we are brought up, namely, the state of society in which we are born. New that 
 tate being the source of all our ills its dissolution must become that of all our good." 
 
 4 The "Tableau de Paris," by Mercier (12 vols.), is the completes! and most exact pot" 
 trayal of the ideas and aspirations of the middle class from 1781 to 1788. 
 
 * "Correspondance," by M6tra, XVII. 87 (August 20, 1784). 
 
 * " Belisarius," belongs to 1780, and the "Oath of the Horatii," to 1783.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 319 
 
 publican spirit;" 1 the entire middle class, artists, employe's, 
 curates, physicians, attorneys, advocates, the lettered and the jour- 
 nalists, all are won over to it; and its aliment consists of the 
 worst as well as the worthiest passions, ambition, envy, craving 
 for liberty, zeal for the public welfare and the consciousness of 
 right. 
 
 V. 
 
 All these passions intensify each other. There is nothing like 
 a wrong to quicken the sentiment of justice. There is nothing 
 like the sentiment of justice to quicken the injury proceeding from 
 a wrong. The Third-Estate, considering itself deprived of the 
 place to which it is entitled, finds itself uncomfortable in the place 
 it occupies and, accordingly, suffers through a thousand petty 
 grievances it would not, formerly, have noticed. On discovering 
 that he is a citizen a man is irritated at being treated as a subject, 
 no one accepting an inferior position alongside of one of whom 
 he believes himself the equal. Hence, during a period of twenty 
 years, the ancient regime vainly grows easier, seeming to be 
 still more burdensome, while its scratches exasperate as if they 
 were so many wounds. Countless instances might be quoted 
 instead of one. At the theatre in Grenoble, Barnave, 2 a child, is 
 with his mother in a box which the Due de Tonnerre, governoi 
 of the province, had assigned to one of his satellites. The man- 
 ager of the theatre, and next an officer of the guard, request 
 Madame Barnave to withdraw. She refuses, whereupon the gov- 
 ernor orders four fusileers to force her out. The pit had already- 
 taken the matter up and violence was feared when M. Barnave, 
 advised of the affront, entered and led his wife away, exclaiming 
 aloud, " I leave by order of the governor." The indignant pub- 
 lic, all the bourgeoisie, agreed among themselves not to enter the 
 theatre again without an apology being made, the theatre, in 
 fact, remaining empty several months until Madame Baruave 
 consented to reappear there. This outrage afterwards recurred 
 to the future deputy, and he then swore "to elevate the caste to 
 which he belonged out of the humiliation to which it seemed 
 
 1 Geffrey, "Gustave III. et la cour de France." "Paris, with its republican spirit, 
 generally applauds whatever fails at Fontainebleau." (A letter by Madame de Stae'l, Sept 
 17, 1786). 
 
 * Sainte-Beuve, "Causeries du Lundi," II. 24, fa the article on Barnave.
 
 320 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 condemned." In like manner Lacroix, the future member of the 
 Convention, 1 on leaving a theatre and jostled by a gentleman 
 who was giving his arm to a lady, utters a loud complaint. 
 "Who are you ? " says the person. Still the provincial, he is sim- 
 ple enough to give his name, surname, and qualifications in full. 
 "Very well," says the other man, "good for you I am the 
 Comte de Chabannes and I am in a hurry," saying which, 
 "laughing heartily," he jumps into his vehicle. "Ah, sir," ex 
 claimed Lacroix, still much excited by his misadventure, "pride 
 and prejudice establish an awful gulf between man and man ! " 
 We may rest assured that, with Marat, a veterinary surgeon in the 
 Comte d'Artois's stables, with Robespierre, a protege" of the 
 bishop of Arras, with Danton, an insignificant lawyer in Mery- 
 sur-Seine, and with many others beside, self-esteem, in frequent 
 encounters, bled in the same fashion. The concentrated bitter- 
 ness with which Madame Roland's memoirs is imbued has no 
 other cause. " She could not forgive society 2 for the inferior po- 
 sition she had so long occupied in it." 3 Thanks to Rousseau, 
 vanity, so natural to man, and especially sensitive with a French- 
 man, becomes still more sensitive. The slightest discrimination, 
 a tone of the voice, seems a mark of disdain. " One day, on 
 mentioning to the minister of war a general officer who had ob- 
 tained his rank through merit; ' Ah, yes,' replied the minister, ' a 
 general officer of luck ! ' The witticism spread and, commented 
 on, did much mischief." In vain do the grandees show their 
 condescending spirit, "welcoming with equal kindness and gen- 
 
 1 De Tilly, " M6moires," I. 243. 
 
 The words of Fontanes who knew her and admired her. (Sainte-Beuve, " Nouveauz 
 Lundis," VIII. 221). 
 
 *"M6moires de Madame Roland, "passim. At fourteen years of age, on being in- 
 troduced to Mme. de Boismorel, she is hurt at hearing her grandmother addressed "Ma- 
 demoiselle." Shortly after this, she says: "I could not conceal from myself that I was of 
 more consequence than Mile. d'Hannaches whose sixty years and her genealogy did not 
 enabU: her to write a common-sense letter or one that was legible." About the same epoch 
 she passes a week at Versailles with a servant of the Dauphine, and tells her mother, "'A 
 few days more and I shall so detest these people that I shall not know how to suppress my 
 hatred of them.' 'What injury have they done you ?' she inquires. ' It is the feeling of 
 injustice and the constant contemplation of absurdity ! '" At the chateau of Fontenay where 
 ihe is invited to dine, she and her mother are made to dine in the servants' room, etc. " In 
 
 1818, in a small town in the north, the Comte de dining with a bourgeois sub-prefecl 
 
 and placed by the side of the mistress of the house says to her, on accepting the soup, 
 'Thanks, my dear,' (merci, ma chere). Through the Revolution the lower class bourgeoisie 
 have full play; a moment after, she addresses him, with one of her sweetest smiles, 'WiU 
 you take some chicken, my dear ? ' " (It is useless to state that the sense of this anecdote U 
 not fully conveyed by a literal translation.) TR. 
 
 * De Vaublanc, I. 153.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 321 
 
 tleness all who are presented to them." In the mansion of the 
 Due de Penthievre the nobles eat at the table of the master of the 
 house, the plebeians dine with his first gentleman and only enter 
 the drawing-room when coffee is served. There they find " in full 
 strength and with a high tone" the others who had the honor of 
 dining with His Highness, and "who do not fail to salute the 
 new arrivals with a complacency instinct with patronage." * This 
 suffices ; in vain the Duke " carries his attentions even to the most 
 minute degree." Beugnot, so pliable, has no desire to return. 
 They bear them ill-will, not only on account of their slight bows 
 but again on account of their over-politeness. Champfort acri- 
 moniously relates that d'Alembert, at the height of his reputation, 
 being in Madame du Deffant's drawing-room with President H6- 
 nault and M. de Pont-de-Veyle, a physician enters named Four- 
 nier, and he, addressing Madame du Deffant, says, "Madame, I 
 have the honor of presenting you with my very humble respects ; " 
 turning to President Renault, " I have the honor to be your obe- 
 dient servant," and then to M. de Pont-de-Veyle, "Sir, your 
 most obedient," and to d'Alembert, " Good day, sir." 2 To a re- 
 bellious heart everything is an object of resentment. The Third- 
 Estate, following Rousseau's example, cherishes ill-feeling against 
 the nobles for what they do, and yet again, for what they are, 
 for their luxury, their elegance, their insincerity, - their refined 
 and brilliant behavior. Champfort is embittered against them on 
 account of the polite attentions with which they overwhelm him. 
 Sieyes bears them a grudge on account of a promised abbey 
 which he did not obtain. Each individual, besides the general 
 grievances, has his personal grievance. Their coolness, like their 
 familiarity, attentions and inattentions, is an offence, and, under 
 these millions of needle-thrusts, real or imaginary, the mind gets 
 to be full of gall. 
 
 In 1789, it is full to overflowing. "The most honorable title 
 of the French nobility," writes Champfort, "is a direct descent 
 from some thirty thousand helmeted, cuirassed, armletted beings 
 
 1 Beugnot, " M&noires," I. 77. 
 
 * Champfort, 16. "Who would believe it? Not taxation, nor letires-de-cachet, nor the 
 abuses of power, nor the vexations of intendants, and the ruinous delays of justice have pro- 
 voked the ire of the nation, but their prejudices against the nobility towards winch it has shown 
 the greatest hatred. This evidently proves that the bourgeoisie, the men of letters, the finan- 
 cial class, in fine all who envy the nobles have excited against these the inferior class in th 
 towns and among the rural peasantry." (Rivarol, "Me'moires."*
 
 322 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 who, on heavy horses sheathed in armoi, trod underfoot eight 01 
 ten millions of naked men, the ancesfr irs of the actual nation. 
 Behold these well-established claims to the respect and affection 
 of their descendants ! And, to complete the respectability of this 
 nobility, it is recruited and regenerated by the adoption of those 
 who have acquired fortune by plundering the cabins of the poor 
 who are unable to pay its impositions." 1 "Why should not the 
 Third- Estate send back," says Sieyes, 2 "into Franconia every 
 family that maintains-its absurd pretension of having sprung from 
 the loins of a race of conquerors and of having succeeded to 
 the rights of conquest? I can well imagine, were there no 
 police, every Cartouche firmly establishing himself on the high- 
 road would that give_ him a right to levy toll ? Suppose him to 
 sell a monopoly of this kind, once common enough, to an honest 
 successor, would the right become any more respectable in the 
 hands of the purchaser ? . . . Every privilege, in its nature, is 
 unjust, odious, and against the social compact. The blood boils 
 at the thought of its ever having been possible to legally conse- 
 crate down to the eighteenth century the abominable fruits of an 
 abominable feudal system. . . . The caste of nobles is really 
 a population apart, a fraudulent population, however, which, for 
 lack of serviceable faculties, and unable to exist alone, fastens 
 itself upon a living nation, like the vegetable tumors that sup- 
 port themselves on the sap of the plants to which they are a 
 burden and which wither beneath the load. . . . They suck all, 
 everything being for them. . . . Every branch of the executive 
 power has fallen into the hands of this caste, which (formerly) 
 supplied the church, the robe and the sword. A sort of confra- 
 ternity or joint paternity leads the nobles each to prefer the other 
 and all to the rest of the nation. . . . The Court reigns and 
 not the monarch. The Court creates and distributes offices. 
 And what is the Court but the head of this vast aristocracy that 
 covers all parts of France and which, through its members, at- 
 tains to and exercises everywhere whatever is requisite in all 
 branches of the public administration ? " 3 Let us put an end to 
 "this social crime, this long parricide which one class does itself 
 
 1 Champfort, 335. 
 
 Sieyes, " Qu'est ce quele Tien t " 17, 41, 139, 166. 
 
 ' "The nobility, say the nobles, Is an intermediary between the king and the people. Y^ 
 u the hound is an intermediary between the huntt- and the hare." (Champfort).
 
 THAP in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 32^ 
 
 the honor to commit daily against the others. . . . Ask no 
 longer what place the privileged shall occupy in the social order ; 
 it is simply asking what place in a sick man's body must be 
 assigned to a malignant ulcer that is undermining and tormenting 
 it ... to the loathsome disease that is consuming the living flesh." 
 The result is apparent let us eradicate the ulcer, or at least 
 sweep away the vermin. The Third-Estate, in itself and by 
 itself, is " a complete nation," requiring no organ, needing no aid 
 to subsist or to govern itself, and which will recover its health on 
 ridding itself of the parasites infesting its skin. "What is the 
 Third-Estate ? Everything. What, thus far, is it in the political 
 body ? Nothing. What does it demand ? To become some- 
 thing." Not a portion but the whole. Its political ambition 
 is as great as its social ambition, and it aspires to authority 
 as well as to equality. If privileges are an evil that of the king 
 is the worst for it is the greatest, and human dignity, wounded by 
 the prerogative of the noble, perishes under the absolutism of the 
 king. Of little consequence is it that he scarcely uses it, and 
 that his government, deferential to public opinion, is that of a 
 hesitating and indulgent parent. Emancipated from real des- 
 potism, the Third-Estate becomes excited against possible des- 
 potism, imagining itself in slavery in consenting to remain 
 subject. A proud spirit has recovered itself, become erect, and, 
 the better to secure its rights, is going to claim all rights. To the 
 man who from antiquity down has been subject to masters, it is 
 so sweet, so intoxicating to be in their places, to say to himself, 
 they are my mandataries, to regard himself a member of the 
 sovereign power, king of France in his quota relationship, the 
 sole legitimate author of all rights and of all functions! In con- 
 formity with the doctrines of Rousseau the memorials of the 
 Third-Estate unanimously insist on a constitution for France; 
 none exists, or at least the one she possesses is of no value. 
 Thus far " the conditions of the social compact have been ig- 
 nored;" 1 now that they have been discovered ikcy must be 
 written out. To say, with the nobles according to Montesquieu, 
 that the constitution exists, that its great features need not be 
 changed, that it is necessary only to reform abuses, that the States- 
 General exercise onl)- limited power, that they are incompetent to 
 
 Prud'homme, III. a. ("The Third-Estate of Nivernais," passim.) CC, on the othef 
 hand, the memorials of th nobility of Bugey and of Alenjon.
 
 324 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 substitute another regime for the monarchy, is not true. Tacitly 
 or expressly, the Third-Estate refuses to restrict its mandate and 
 allows no barriers to be interposed against it. It requires its dep- 
 uties accordingly to vote " not by orders but each by himself and 
 conjointly." " In case the deputies of the clergy or of the nobility 
 should refuse to deliberate in common and individually, the dep- 
 uties of the Third-Estate, representing twenty-four millions of 
 men, able and obliged to declare itself the National Assembly, not- 
 withstanding the scission of the representation of four hundred 
 thousand persons, will propose to the King in concert with those 
 among the Clergy and the Nobility disposed to join them, their as- 
 sistance in providing for the necessities of the State, and the 
 taxes thus assented to shall be apportioned among all the subjects 
 of the king without distinction." l Do not object that a people 
 thus mutilated becomes a mere crowd, that leaders cannot be 
 improvised, that it is difficult to dispense with natural guides, 
 that, considering all things, this Clergy and this Nobility still form 
 a select group, that two-fifths of the soil is in their hands, that 
 one-half of the intelligent and cultivated class of men are in their 
 ranks, that they are exceedingly well-disposed and that old his- 
 toric bodies have always afforded to liberal constitutions their 
 best supports. According to the principle enunciated by Rous- 
 seau we are not to value men but to count them. In politics 
 numbers only are respectable; neither birth, nor property, nor 
 function, nor capacity, are titles to be considered ; high or low, 
 ignorant or learned, a general, a soldier, or a hod-carrier, each 
 individual of the social army is a unit provided with a vote; 
 wherever a majority is found there is the right. Hence, the Third- 
 Estate puts forth its right as incontestable and, in its turn, it pro- 
 claims with Louis XIV., " I am the State." 
 
 This principle once admitted or enforced, all will go well. " It 
 seemed," says an eye-witness, 2 " as if we were about to be governed 
 by men of the golden age. This free, just and wise people, 
 always in harmony with itself, always clear-sighted in choosing 
 its ministers, moderate in the use of its strength and power, never 
 could be led away, never deceived, never under the dominion of, 
 or enslaved by, the authority which it confided. Its will would 
 fashion the laws and the law would constitute its happiness." 
 
 > Prud'homme, ibid., Cahiers of the Third-Estates of Dijon, Dax, Bayonne, Saint-S6vfcre, 
 Rennes, etc. 
 Mannontel, "M&noire*," II. 141.
 
 CHAP. Hi. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 325 
 
 The nation is to be regenerated, a phrase found in all writings 
 and in every mouth. At Nangis, Arthur Young finds this the sub- 
 stance of political conversation. 1 The chaplain of a regiment, 
 a curate in the vicinity, keeps fast hold of it; as to knowing 
 what it means that is another matter. It is impossible to 
 find anything out through explanations of it otherwise than " a 
 theoretic perfection of government, questionable in its origin, 
 hazardous in its progress, and visionary in its end." On the 
 Englishman proposing to them the British constitution as a 
 model they "hold it cheap in respect of liberty" and greet it 
 with a smile; it is, especially, not in conformity with "the princi- 
 ples." And observe that we are at the residence of a grand 
 seignior, in a circle of enlightened men. At Riom, at the election 
 assemblies 2 Malouet finds "persons of an ordinary stamp, practi- 
 tioners, petty lawyers, with no experience of public business, 
 quoting the 'Contrat Social/ vehemently declaiming against 
 tyranny, and each proposing his own constitution." Most of 
 them are without any knowledge whatever, mere traffickers in 
 chicane; the best instructed entertain mere schoolboy ideas of 
 politics. In the colleges of the University no history is taught. 3 
 "The name of Henry IV., says Lavalette, was not once uttered 
 during my eight years of study and, at seventeen years of age, I 
 was still ignorant of the epoch and the mode of the establishment 
 of the Bourbons on the throne." The stock they carry away 
 with them consists wholly, as with Camille Desmoulins, of 
 scraps of Latin, entering the world with brains stuffed with "re- 
 publican maxims," excited by souvenirs of Rome and Sparta, 
 and "penetrated with profound contempt for monarchical govern- 
 ments." Subsequently, at the law school, they learn something 
 about legal abstractions, or else learn nothing. In the lecture- 
 courses at Paris there are no auditors ; the professor delivers his 
 lecture to copyists who sell their copy-books. If a pupil should 
 attend himself and take notes he would be regarded with suspi- 
 cion ; he would be charged with trying to deprive the copyists 
 of the means of earning their living. A diploma, consequently, 
 is worthless. At Bourges one is obtainable in six months; if the 
 jroung man succeeds in comprehending the law it is through 
 
 1 Arthur Young, I. 222. 
 
 * Malouet, " M^moires," I. 279. 
 
 De Lavalette, I. 7. " Souvenirs Manuscrits," by M
 
 326 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK IV. 
 
 later practice and familiarity with it. Of foreign laws and insti- 
 tutions there is not the least knowledge, scarcely even a vague 
 or false notion of them. Malouet himself entertains a meagre 
 idea of the English Parliament, while many, with respect to cere- 
 monial, imagine it a copy of the Parliament of France. The mech- 
 anism of free constitutions, or the conditions of effective liberty, 
 that is too complicated a question. Montesquieu, save in the great 
 magisterial families, is antiquated for twenty years past. Of 
 what avail are studies of ancient France ? " What is the result 
 of so much and such profound research ? Laborious conjecture 
 and reasons for doubting." 1 It is much more convenient to 
 start with the rights of man and to deduce the consequences. 
 Schoolboy logic suffices for that to which collegiate rhetoric sup- 
 plies the tirades. 
 
 In this great void of enlightenment the vague terms of liberty, 
 equality and the sovereignty of the people, the glowing expres- 
 sions of Rousseau and his successors, all these new axioms, blaze 
 up like burning coals, discharging clouds of smoke and intoxicat- 
 ing vapor. High-sounding and vague language is interposed 
 between the mind and objects around it; all outlines are confused 
 and the vertigo begins. Never to the same extent have men 
 lost the purport of outward things. Never have they been at 
 once more blind and more chimerical. Never has their disturbed 
 reason rendered them more tranquil concerning real danger and 
 created more alarm at imaginary danger. Strangers with cool 
 blood and who witness the spectacle, Mallet-Dupan, Dumont 
 of Geneva, Arthur Young, Jefferson, Gouverneur Morris, write 
 that the French are insane. Morris, in this universal delirium, 
 can mention to Washington but one sane mind, that of Marmontel, 
 and Marmontel speaks in the same style as Morris. At the 
 preliminary meetings of the clubs and at the assemblies of 
 electors he is the only one who opposes unreasonable propositions. 
 Surrounding him are none but the excited, the exalted, about 
 nothing even to grotesqueness. 2 In every act of the established 
 regime, in every administrative measure, " in all police regulations, 
 in all financial decrees, in all the graduated authorities on which 
 public order and tranquillity depend, there was nought in which 
 they did not find an aspect of tyranny. . . . On the walls a.uU 
 
 1 Prud'homme, "Resume' des cahiers," the "preface," by J. J. Roi 
 * Marmontel, II. 245.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE. 327 
 
 barriers of Paris being referred to, these were denounced as 
 enclosures for deer and derogatory to man." " I saw," says oae 
 of these orators, " at the barrier Saint- Victor, sculptured on one 
 of the pillars would you believe it ? an enormous lion's head, 
 with open jaws vomiting forth chains as a menace to those who 
 passed it. Could a more horrible emblem of slavery and of 
 despotism be imagined!" "The orator himself imitates the roar 
 of the lion. The listeners were all excited by it and I, who 
 passed the barrier Saint- Victor so often, was surprised that this 
 horrible image had not struck at me. That very day I examinee! 
 it closely and, on the pilaster, I found only a small buckler 
 suspended as an ornament by a little chain attached by the 
 sculptor to a little lion's mouth, like those we see serving as 
 door-knockers or as water-cocks." Perverted sensations and 
 delirious conceptions of this kind would be regarded by physi- 
 cians as the symptoms of mental derangement, and we are only 
 in the early months of the year 1789! In such excitable and 
 over-excited brains the powerful fascination of words is about to 
 exorcise phantoms, some of them hideous, the aristocrat and the 
 tyrant, and others adorable, the friend of the people and the 
 incorruptible patriot, so many disproportionate figures fashioned 
 in dreams, but the substitutes of figures in actual life, and which 
 the maniac is to overwhelm with his praise or pursue with his fury. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus, the philosophy of the eighteenth century descends 
 among the people and propagates itself. On an upper story of 
 the house, ideas, in rooms beautifully gilded, have served 
 merely as an evening illumination, as parlor fire-crackers and 
 pretty Bengal lights; the company have had their fun with them 
 and then, with a laugh, have thrown them from the windows. 
 Gathered up on the ground floor, borne off into shops, store- 
 houses and counting-rooms, they have found in these plenty of 
 combustible material, heaps of dry wood that have gradually 
 accumulated, and here the flame kindles and spreads. It looks 
 like a conflagration; for the chimney roars and ruddy gleams 
 flash through the window-panes. "No," say the people above, 
 " they would not set the house on fire, for they live in it as we 
 do. It is straw burning, or, at most, a chimney on fire, and a
 
 328 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK iv. 
 
 little water will extinguish it, and, besides, these little accidents 
 clear the chimney and burn out the soot." 
 
 Take care ! Under the vast deep arches supporting it, in the 
 cellars of the house, there is a magazine of powder.
 
 BOOK FIFTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I. Privations. Under Louis XIV. Under Louis XV. Under Louis 
 XVI. II. The condition of the peasant during the last thirty years of the 
 Ancient R6gime. His precarious subsistence. State of agriculture. Un- 
 cultivated farms. Poor cultivation. Inadequate wages. Lack of comforts. 
 III. Aspects of the country and of the peasantry. IV. How the peasant 
 becomes a proprietor. He is no better off. Increase of taxes. He is the 
 "mule" of the Ancient Regime. 
 
 I. 
 
 LA BRUY^RE wrote, just a century before 1789,* "Certain 
 savage-looking beings, male and female, are seen in the country, 
 black, livid and sunburnt, and belonging to the soil which they 
 dig and grub with invincible stubbornness. They seem capable 
 of articulation, and, when they stand erect, they display human 
 lineaments. They are, in fact, men. They retire at night into 
 their dens where they live on black bread, water and roots. 
 They spare other human beings the trouble of sowing, ploughing 
 and harvesting, and thus should not be in want of the bread they 
 have planted." They continue in want of it during twenty-five 
 years after this and die in herds. I estimate that in 1715 more 
 than one-third of the population, six millions, perish with hunger 
 and of destitution. The picture, accordingly, for the first quarter 
 of the century preceding the Revolution, far from being over- 
 drawn, is the reverse ; we shall see that, during more than half a 
 century, up to the death of Louis XV. it is exact ; perhaps in- 
 stead of weakening any of its points, they should be strengthened, 
 
 1 La Bruyere, edition of Destailleurs, II. 97. Addition to the fourth ed. (1689). 
 28*
 
 330 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 "In 1725," says St. Simon, "with the profuseness of Stras- 
 bourg and Chantilly, the people, in Normandy, live on the grass 
 of the fields. The first king in Europe is great simply by being 
 a king of beggars of all conditions, and by turning his kingdom 
 into a vast hospital of dying people of whom their all is taken 
 without a murmur." 1 In the most prosperous days of Fleury 
 and in the finest region in France, the peasant hides " his wine on 
 account of the excise and his bread on account of the faille"* 
 convinced "that he is a lost man if any doubt exists of his dying 
 of starvation." 3 In 1739 d'Argenson writes in his journal: 4 
 "The famine has just occasioned three insurrections in the prov- 
 inces, at Ruflec, at Caen, and at Chinon. Women carrying their 
 bread with them have been assassinated on the highways. . . . 
 M. le Due d'Orle"ans brought to the Council the other day a 
 piece of bread, and placed it on the table before the king ; ' Sire,' 
 said he, 'there is the bread on which your subjects now feed 
 themselves.' " " In my own canton of Touraine men have been 
 eating herbage more than a year." Misery finds company on 
 all sides. " It is talked about at Versailles more than ever. The 
 king interrogated the bishop of Chartres on the condition of his 
 people ; he replied that ' the famine and the mortality were such 
 that men ate grass like sheep and died like so many flies.' " In 
 1740,* Massillon, bishop of Clermont-Ferrand, writes to Fleury: 
 " The people of the rural districts are living in frightful destitu- 
 tion, without beds, without furniture ; the majority, for half the 
 year, even lack barley and oat bread, their sole food, and which 
 they are compelled to take out of their own and their childrens' 
 mouths to pay the taxes. It pains me to see this sad spectacle 
 every year on my visits. The negroes of our colonies are, in this 
 
 1 Oppression and misery begin about 1672. At the end of the seventeenth century (1698), 
 the reports made up by the intendants for the Due de Bourgogne, state that many of the 
 districts and provinces have lost one-sixth, one-fifth, one-quarter, the third and even the 
 half of their population. (See details in the "Correspondance des controleurs-geneVaux 
 from 1683 to 1698," published by M. de Boislisle). According to the reports of intendants, 
 (Vauban, "Dime Royale," ch. vii. 2.), the population of France in 1698 amounted to 
 19,994,146 inhabitants. From 1698 to 1715 it decreases. According to Forbonnais, there 
 were but 16 or 17 millions under the Regency. After this epoch the population no longer 
 diminishes but, for forty years, it hardly increases. In 1753 (Voltaire, "Diet Phil.," article 
 Population), there are 3,550,499 firesides, besides 700,000 souls in Paris, which makes from 
 16 to 17 millions of inhabitants if we count four and one-half persons to each fireside, and 
 from 1 8 to 19 millions if we count five persons. 
 
 * Floquet, " Histoire du Parlement de Normandie," VII. 402. 
 
 * Rousseau, "Confessions," ist part, ch. iv. (1732). 
 
 4 D Argenson, igth and 24th May, July 4, and Aug. i, 1739. 
 
 * "Resum de 1'histoire d'Auvergne par un Auvergnat" (M. Tallandier), pt 3J.
 
 CHAP. I. THE PEOPLE. 331 
 
 respect, infinitely better off, for, while working, they are fed and 
 clothed along with their wives and children, while our pe asantry, 
 the most laborious in the kingdom, cannot, with the hardest and 
 most devoted labor, earn bread for themselves and their families, 
 and at the same time, pay the subsidies." In 1740,* at Lille, the 
 people rebel against the export of grain. " An intendant informs 
 me that the misery increases from hour to hour, the slightest 
 danger to the crops resulting in this for three years past. . . 
 Flanders, especially, is greatly embarrassed; there is nothing to 
 live on until the harvesting, which will not take place for two 
 months. The provinces the best off are not able to help the 
 others. Each bourgeois in each town is obliged to feed one or 
 two poor persons and provide them with fourteen pounds of 
 bread per week. In the little town of Chatellerault, (of four 
 thousand inhabitants), eighteen hundred poor, this winter, are on 
 that footing. . . . The poor outnumber those able to live without 
 begging . . . while prosecutions for unpaid dues are carried on 
 with unexampled rigor. The clothes of the poor are seized and 
 their last measure of flour, the latches on their doors, etc. . . . 
 The abbess of Jouarre told me yesterday that, in her canton, in 
 Brie, most of the ground had not been planted." It is not sur- 
 prising that the famine spreads even to Paris. " Fears are enter- 
 tained of next Wednesday. There is no more bread in Paris, 
 except that of the damaged flour which is brought in and which 
 burns (when baking). The mills are working day and night at 
 Belleville, regrinding old damaged flour. The people are ready 
 to rebel ; bread goes up a sol a day ; no merchant dares, or is 
 disposed, to bring in his wheat. The market on Wednesday was 
 almost in a state of revolt, there being no bread in it after seven 
 o'clock in the morning. . . . The poor creatures at Bicetre were 
 put on short allowance, three quarterons (twelve ounces), being 
 reduced to only half a pound. A rebellion broke out and they 
 forced the guards. Numbers escaped and they have inundated 
 Paris. The watch, with the police of the neighborhood, were 
 called out and an attack was made on these poor wretches with 
 bayonet and sword. About fifty of them were left on the ground ; 
 the revolt was not suppressed yesterday morning." 
 
 Ten years later the evil is greater. 2 " In the country around 
 
 1 D'Argenson, 1740, Aug. 7 and 21, September 19 and 24, May 28, November 7. 
 * D'Argenson, October 4, 1749; May 20, Sept. 12, Oct 8, Dec. a8, 1750; June 16, Dec 
 la, 1751, etc.
 
 332 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 me, ten leagues from Paris, I find increased privation and constant 
 complaints. What must it be in our wretched provinces in the 
 interior of the kingdom? . . . My curate tells me that eight 
 families, supporting themselves on their labor when I left, are now 
 begging their bread. There is no work to be had. The wealthy 
 are economizing like the poor. And with all this the faille is 
 exacted with military severity. The collectors, with their officers, 
 accompanied by locksmiths, force open the doors and carry off 
 and sell furniture for one-quarter of its value, the expenses ex- 
 ceeding the amount of the tax. . . ." " I am at this moment on 
 my estates in Touraine. I encounter nothing but frightful priva- 
 tions; the melancholy sentiment of suffering no longer prevails 
 with the poor inhabitants but rather one of utter despair ; they 
 desire death only and avoid increase. ... It is estimated that 
 one-quarter of the working-days of the year go to the corvees, the 
 laborers feeding themselves, and with what ? . . . I see poor peo- 
 ple dying of destitution. They are paid fifteen sous a day, equal 
 to a crown, for their load. Whole villages are either ruined or 
 broken up, and none of the households recover. . . . Judging by 
 what my neighbors tell me the inhabitants have diminished one- 
 third. . . . The daily laborers are all leaving and taking refuge in 
 the small towns. In many villages everybody leaves. I have 
 several parishes in which the faille for three years is due, the pro- 
 ceedings for its collection always going on. . . . The receivers of 
 the faille and of the fisc add one-half each year in expenses above 
 the tax. . . . An assessor, on coming to the village where I have 
 my country-house, states that the faille this year will be much in- 
 creased; he noticed that the peasants here were fatter than else- 
 where ; that they had chicken feathers before their doors, and that 
 the living here must be good, everybody doing well, etc. This is 
 the cause of the peasant's discouragement, and likewise the cause 
 of misfortune throughout the kingdom." " In the country where 
 I am staying I hear that marriage is declining and that the pop- 
 ulation is decreasing on all sides. In my parish, with a few fire- 
 sides, there are more than thirty single persons, male and female, 
 old enough to marry and none of them having any idea of it. 
 On being urged to marry they all reply alike that it is not worth 
 while to bring unfortunate beings like themselves into the world. 
 I have myself tried to induce some of the women to marry by 
 offering them assistance, but they all reason in this way as if they
 
 CHAi.i. THE PEOPLE. 333 
 
 had consulted together." * " One of my curates sends me word 
 that, although he is the oldest in the province of Touraine, and 
 has seen many things, including excessively high prices for wheat, 
 he remembers no misery so great as that of this year, even in 
 1709. . . . Some of the seigniors of Touraine inform me that, 
 being desirous of setting the inhabitants to work by the day, they 
 found very few of them and these so weak that they were unable 
 to use their arms." 
 
 Those who are able to leave, emigrate. "A person from Lan- 
 guedoc tells me of vast numbers of peasants deserting that prov- 
 ince and taking refuge in Piedmont, Savoy, and Spain, tormented 
 and frightened by the measures resorted to in collecting tithes. 
 . . . The extortioners sell everything and imprison everybody as 
 if prisoners of war, and even with more avidity and malice in 
 order to gain something themselves." " I met an intendant of 
 one of the finest provinces in the kingdom, who told me that no 
 more farmers could be found there ; that parents preferred to send 
 their children to the towns ; that living in the surrounding country 
 was daily becoming more horrible to the inhabitants. ... A 
 man, well-informed in financial matters, told me that over two 
 hundred families in Normandy had left this year, fearing the col- 
 lections in their villages." At Paris, "the streets swarm with 
 beggars. One cannot stop before a door without a dozen men- 
 dicants besetting him with their importunities. They are said to 
 be people from the country who, unable to endure the persecu- 
 tions they have to undergo, take refuge in the cities . . . prefer- 
 ring mendicity to labor." And yet the people of the cities are 
 not much better off. " An officer of a company in garrison at 
 Mezieres tells me that the poverty of that place is so great that, 
 after the officers had dined in the inns, the people rush in and pil- 
 lage the remnants." "There are more than twelve thousand beg- 
 ging workmen in Rouen, quite as many in Tours, etc. More 
 than twenty thousand of these workmen are estimated as having 
 left the kingdom in three months for Spain, Germany, etc. At 
 Lyons twenty thousand workers in silk are watched and kept in 
 sight for fear of their going abroad." At Rouen, 2 and in Nor- 
 mandy, l< those in easy circumstances find it difficult to get bread, 
 
 1 D'Argenson, June 21, 1749; May 22, 1750; March 19, 1751; February 14, April i$. 
 1752, etc. 
 * Floquet, ibid. VII. 410 (April, 1752, an address to the Parliament of No -nandy).
 
 334 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 the bulk of the people being entirely without it, and, to ward off 
 starvation, providing themselves with food that shocks humanity." 
 " Even at Paris," writes d'Argenson, 1 " I learn that on the day M. 
 le Dauphin and Mme. la Dauphine went to Notre Dame, on pass- 
 ing the bridge of the Tournelle, more than two thousand women 
 assembled in that quarter crying out, ' Give us bread, or we shall 
 die of hunger.' ... A vicar of the parish of Saint- Marguerite 
 affirms that over eight hur dred persons died in the faubourg St. 
 Antoine between January aoth and February 2oth ; that the poor 
 expire with cold and hunger in their garrets, and that the priests, 
 arriving too late, see them expire without any possible relief." 
 Were I to enumerate the riots, the seditions of the famished, and 
 the pillagings of storehouses, I should never end ; these are the 
 convulsive twitchings of exhaustion; the people have fasted as 
 long as possible, and instinct, at last, rebels. In I747, 2 "exten- 
 sive bread-riots occur in Toulouse, and in Guyenne they take 
 place on every market-day." In 1750, from six to seven thousand 
 men gather in Beam behind a river to resist the clerks ; two 
 companies of the Artois regiment fire on the rebels and kill a 
 dozen of them. In 1752, a sedition at Rouen and in its neigh- 
 borhood lasts three days; in Dauphiny and in Auvergne riotous 
 villagers force open the grain warehouses and take away wheat at 
 their own price ; the same year, at Aries, two thousand armed 
 peasants demand bread at the town-hall and are dispersed by the 
 soldiers. In one province alone, that of Normandy, I find insurrec- 
 tions in 1725, in 1737, in 1739, in 1752, in 1764, 1765, 1766, 1767 
 and i768, 3 and always on account of bread. "Entire hamlets," 
 writes the Parliament, "being without the necessities of life, want 
 compels them to resort to the food of brutes. . . . Two days 
 more and Rouen will be without provisions, without grain, with- 
 out bread." Accordingly, the last riot is terrible ; on this occa- 
 sion, the populace, again masters of the town for three days, pil- 
 lage the public granaries and the stores of all the communities. 
 Up to the last and even later, in 1770 at Rheims, in 1775 at Dijon, 
 at Versailles, at St. Germain, at Pontoise and at Paris, in 1772 at 
 Poitiers, in 1785 at Aix in Provence, in 1788 and 1789 in Paris 
 and throughout France, similar eruptions are visible. 4 Undoubt- 
 
 1 D'Argenson, November 26, 1751; March 15, 1753. 
 
 * D'Argenson, IV. 124; VI. 165; VII. 194, etc. 
 
 * Floquet, ibid. VI. 400-430 
 
 * "Correspondence," by Mtra, I. 338, 341. Hippsau, "Le Gouvernemeat d Xoimaa- 
 *." IV. fe, 199, 2*
 
 CHAP. I. THE PEOPLE 335 
 
 edly the government under Louis XVI. is milder ; tne intendants 
 are more humane, the administration is less rigid, the faille be- 
 comes less unequal, and the corvee is less onerous through its 
 transformation, in short, misery has diminished, and yet this is 
 greater than human nature can bear. 
 
 Examine administrative correspondence for the last thirty 
 years preceding the Revolution. Countless statements reveal 
 excessive suffering, even when not terminating in fury. Life to 
 i man of the lower class, to an artisan, or workman, subsisting 
 on the labor of his own hands, is evidently precarious ; he ob- 
 tains simply enough to keep him from starvation and he does 
 not always get that. 1 Here, in four districts, "the inhabitants 
 live only on buckwheat," and for five years, the apple crop hav- 
 ing failed, they drink only water. There, in a country of vine- 
 yards, 2 "the vine-dressers each year are reduced, for the most 
 part, to begging their bread during the dull season." Elsewhere, 
 several of the day-laborers and mechanics, obliged to sell their 
 effects and household goods, die of the cold ; insufficient and un- 
 healthy food generates sickness, while, in two districts, thirty-five 
 thousand persons are stated to be living on alms. 3 In a remote 
 canton the peasants cut the grain still green and dry it in the 
 oven, because they are too hungry to wait. The intendant of 
 Poitiers writes that " as soon as the workhouses open, a prodig- 
 ious number of the poor rush to them, in spite of the reduction 
 of wages and of the restrictions imposed on them in behalf of the 
 most needy." The intendant of Bourges notices that a great 
 many m6tayers have sold off" their furniture and that "entire 
 families pass two days without eating," and that in many par- 
 ishes the famished stay in bed most of the day because they suf- 
 fer less. The intendant of Orleans reports that "in Sologne, 
 poor widows have burned up their wooden bedsteads and others 
 have consumed their fruit trees," to preserve themselves from 
 the cold, and he adds, "nothing is exaggerated in this statement ; 
 the cries of want cannot be expressed; the misery of the rural 
 
 1 "Proces-verbaux de 1'assemblee provinciale de Basse Normandie" (1787), p. 151. 
 
 Archives nationales, G, 319. Condition of the directory of Issoudun, and H, 1149, 
 612, 1418. 
 
 8 Ibid. The letters of M. de Crosne, intendant of Rouen (February 17, 1784) ; of M. da 
 Blossac, intendant of Poitiers (May 9, 1784); of M. de Villeneuve, intendant of Bourges 
 (March 28, 1784); of M. de Cypierre, intendant of Orleans (May 28, 1784); of M. I'M 
 Maziron, intendant of Moulins (June 28 > -7 86 ) ' of M- Dupont, intendant of Moulin? |Ner 
 , 1779), etc.
 
 336 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 districts must be seen with one's own eyes to obtain an idea of 
 it." From Rioni, from La Rochelle, from Limoges, from Lyons, 
 from Montauban, from Caen, from Alen9on, from Flanders, from 
 Moulins come similar statements by other intendants. One 
 might call it the interruptions and repetitions of a funeral knell ; 
 even in years not disastrous it is heard on all sides. In Bur- 
 gundy, near Chatillon-sur-Seine, "taxes, seigniorial dues, the 
 tithes, and the expenses of cultivation, divide up the productions 
 of the soil into thirds, leaving nothing for the unfortunate culti- 
 vators, who would have abandoned their fields, had not two 
 Swiss manufacturers of calicoes settled there and distributed 
 about the country forty thousand francs a year in cash." l In 
 Auvergne, the country is depopulated daily ; many of the villages 
 have lost, since the beginning of the century, more than one- 
 third of their inhabitants. 2 " Had not steps been promptly taken 
 to lighten the burden of a down-trodden people," says the pro- 
 vincial assembly in 1787, "Auvergne would have forever lost its 
 population and its cultivation." In Comminges, at the outbreak 
 of the Revolution, certain communities threaten to abandon their 
 possessions, should they obtain no relief. 3 "It is a well-known 
 fact," says the assembly of Haute- Guy enne, in 1784, "that the lot 
 of the most severely taxed communities is so rigorous as to have 
 led their proprietors frequently to abandon their property. 4 Who 
 is not aware of the inhabitants of Saint-Servin having abandoned 
 their possessions ten times and of their threats to resort again to 
 this painful proceeding in their recourse to the administration ? 
 Only a few years ago an abandonment of the community of 
 Boisse took place through the combined action of the inhabit- 
 ants, the seignior and the dtcimateur of that community;" and 
 the desertion would be still greater if the law did not forbid per- 
 sons liable to the faille abandoning over-taxed property, except 
 by renouncing whatever they possessed in the community. In 
 the Soissonais, according to the report of the provincial assem- 
 bly, 5 "misery is excessive." In Gascony the spectacle is "heart- 
 
 1 Archives nationales, H, 200 (A memorial by M. Amelot, in ten dan t at Dijon, 1786). 
 
 * Gautier de Bianzat, "Dol6ances sur les surcharges que portent les gens du Tiers-Etat," 
 etc. (1789), p. 188. "Proces-verbaux de I'assemblde provinciale d" Auvergne" (1787), p. 175. 
 
 1 TheYon de Montauge', " L' Agriculture et les chores rurales dans le Toulousain," 112. 
 
 * "Proces-verbaux de 1'assemblee provinciale de la Haute-Guyenne," I. 47, 79. 
 
 ' "Proces-verbaux de 1' assemble provinciale du Soissonais" (1787), p. 857; "de I'assaa 
 hlee pro- uiciale d'Auci," p. 34.
 
 CHAP. I. THE PEOPLE. 337 
 
 rending." In th environs of Toule, the cultivator, after paying 
 his taxes, tithes and other dues, remains empty-handed. "Agri- 
 culture is an occupation of steady anxiety and privation, in which 
 thousands of men are obliged to painfully vegetate." l In a vil- 
 lage in Normandy, "nearly all the inhabitants, not excepting the 
 farmers and proprietors, eat barley bread and drink water, living 
 like the most wretched of men, so as to provide for the payment 
 of the taxes with which they are overburdened." In the same 
 province, at Forges, "many poor creatures eat oat bread, and 
 others bread of soaked bran, this nourishment causing many 
 deaths among infants." 2 People evidently live from day to day ; 
 whenever the crop proves poor they lack bread. Let a frost 
 come, a hailstorm, an inundation, and an entire province is inca- 
 pable of supporting itself until the coming year ; in many places 
 even an ordinary winter suffices to bring on distress. On all 
 sides hands are seen outstretched to the king, who is the univer- 
 sal almoner. The people may be said to resemble a man at- 
 tempting to wade through a pool with the water up to his chin, 
 and who, losing his footing at the slightest depression, sinks 
 down and drowns. Existent charity and the fresh spirit of hu- 
 manity vainly strive to rescue them; the water has risen too 
 high. It must subside to a lower level and the pool be drawn 
 off through some adequate outlet. Thus far the poor man 
 catches breath only at intervals, running the risk of drowning at 
 every moment 
 
 II. 
 
 Between 1750, and 1760,' the idlers who eat suppers begin to 
 regard with compassion and alarm the laborers who go without 
 dinners. Why are the latter so impoverished, and by what mis- 
 chance, on a soil as rich as that of France, do those lack bread 
 who grow the grain? In the first place many farms remain un- 
 cultivated, and, what is worse, many are deserted. According 
 to the best observers "one-quarter of the soil is absolutely lying 
 waste ; . . . Hundreds and hundreds of arpents of heath and 
 moor form extensive deserts." 4 "Let a person traverse Anjou, 
 
 1 "Resum6 des cahiers," by Prud'homme, III. 271. 
 
 * Hippeau, Had. VI. 74, 243 (Complaints drawn up by the Chevalier de Berlin). 
 3 See the article "Fermiers et Grains," in the Encyclopedia, by Quesnay, 1758. 
 *Theion de Montaug6, p. 25. " Eph^me'rides du titoyen,'' III. 190 (1766); IX 15 (am 
 article by M. de Butr6, 1767)
 
 338 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 Maine, Brittany, Poitou, Limousin, la Marcre, Berry, Nivernais, 
 Bourbonnais and Auvergne, and he finds one-half of these 
 provinces in heaths, forming immense plains all of which might 
 be cultivated." In Touraine, in Poitou and in Berry they form 
 solitary expanses of thirty thousand arpents. In one canton 
 alone, near Preuilly, forty thousand arpents of good soil consist 
 of heath. The agricultural society of Rennes declares that two- 
 thirds of Brittany is lying waste. This is not sterility but deca- 
 dence. The regime invented by Louis XIV. has produced its 
 effect ; the soil for a century past, is reverting back to a wild state. 
 "We see only abandoned and ruinous chateaux; the principal 
 towns of the fiefs, in which the nobility formerly lived at their 
 ease, are all now occupied by poor metayer herdsmen whose 
 scanty labor hardly suffices for their subsistence and a remnant 
 of tax ready to disappear through the ruin of the proprietors 
 and the desertion of the settlers." In the election -district of 
 Confolens a piece of property rented for 2,956 livres in 1665, 
 brings in only 900 livres in 1747. On the confines of la Marche 
 and of Berry a domain which, in 1660, honorably supported two 
 seigniorial families is now simply a small unproductive m6tayer- 
 farm ; " the traces of the furrows once made by the ploughshare 
 being still visible on the surrounding heaths." Sologne, once 
 flourishing, 1 becomes a marsh and a forest; a hundred years 
 earlier it produced three times the quantity of grain ; two-thirds 
 of its mills are gone; not a vestige of its vineyards remains; 
 "grapes have given way to the heath." Thus abandoned by 
 the spade and the plough, a vast portion of the soil ceases to 
 feed man, while the rest, poorly cultivated, scarcely provides the 
 simplest necessities. 2 
 
 In the first place, on the failure of a crop, this portion remains 
 unfilled; its occupant is too poor to purchase seed; the intendant 
 is often obliged to distribute seed, without which the disaster of 
 the current year would be followed by sterility the following year.' 
 Every calamity, accordingly, in these days affects the future as 
 
 1 " Proces-verbaux de I'assemble'e provindale de 1'Orleanais" (1787), in a memoir by M. 
 d'Autroche. 
 
 * One is surprised to see so many supported where one-half, or one-quarter of the arable 
 ground is sterile wastes.- -ARTHUR YOUNG. 
 
 * Archives nationales, H, 1149. A letter of the Comtesse de Saint-Georges (1772) on 
 the effects of frost " The ground this year will remain uncultivated, there being already 
 much land in this condition and especially in our parish." The'ron de Montauge, ibid. 45, 8
 
 CHAP. r. THE PEOPLE. 33$ 
 
 well as the present; during the two years of 1784 and 1785, 
 around Toulouse, the drought having caused the loss of all draft 
 animals, many of the cultivators are obliged to let their fields lie 
 fallow. In the second place, cultivation, when it does take place, 
 is carried on according to mediaeval modes. Arthur Young, in 
 1789, considers that French agriculture has not progressed be- 
 yond that of the tenth century. 1 Except in Flanders and on the 
 plains of Alsace, the fields lie fallow one year out of three and 
 oftentimes one year out of two. The implements are poor; 
 there are no ploughs made of iron; in many places the plough 
 of Virgil's time is still in use. Cart-axles and wheel-tires are 
 made of wood, while a harrow often consists of the trestle of a 
 cart. There are few animals and but little manure ; the capital 
 bestowed on cultivation is three times less than that of the present 
 day. The yield is slight: "our ordinary farms," says a good 
 observer, "taking one with another return about six times the seed 
 sown." 2 In 1778, on the rich soil around Toulouse, wheat returns 
 about five for one, while at the present day it yields eight to one 
 and more. Arthur Young estimates that, in his day, the English 
 acre produces twenty-eight bushels of grain, and the French 
 acre eighteen bushels, and that the value of the total product of 
 the same area for a given length of time is thirty-six pounds 
 sterling in England and only twenty-five in France. As the 
 parish roads are frightful, and transportation often impracticable, 
 it is clear that, in remote cantons, where poor soil yields scarcely 
 three times the seed sown, food is not always obtainable. How 
 do they manage to live until the next crop ? This is the ques- 
 tion always under consideration previous to, and during, the 
 Revolution. I find, in manuscript correspondence, the syndics 
 and mayors of villages estimating the quantities for local subsist- 
 ence at so many bushels in the granaries, so many sheaves in the 
 barns, so many mouths to be filled, so many days to wait until 
 the August wheat comes in, and concluding on short supplies for 
 two, three and four months. Such a state of inter-communica- 
 tion and of agriculture condemns a country to periodical famines, 
 and I venture to state that, alongside of the small-pox which, 
 out of eight deaths, causes one, another endemic disease exists, 
 as prevalent and as destructive, and this disease is starvation. 
 
 1 Arthur Young, II. 112, 115. The'ron de Mor.taug6, 52, 61. 
 * The Marquis de Mirabeau, " Trait e de la popi lation, ' p. 39.
 
 340 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v, 
 
 We can easily imagine the people as sufferers by it and, 
 especially, the peasant. An advance in the price of bread 
 prevents him from getting any, and even without that advance, 
 he obtains it with difficulty. Wheat bread cost, as at the present 
 day, three sous per pound, 1 but as the average day's work 
 brought only nineteen sous instead of forty, the day-laborer, 
 working the same time, could buy only the half of a loaf instead 
 of a full loaf. 8 Taking everything into account, and wages being 
 estimated according to the price of grain, we find that the 
 husbandman's manual labor then procured him 959 litres of 
 wheat, while nowadays it gives him 1,851 litres ; his well-being, 
 accordingly, has advanced ninety-three per cent., which suffices 
 to show to what extent his predecessors suffered privations. And 
 these privations are peculiar to France. Through analogous 
 observations and estimates Arthur Young shows that in France 
 those who lived on field labor, and they constituted the great 
 majority, are seventy-six per cent, less comfortable than the same 
 laborers in England, while they are seventy-six per cent, less well 
 fed and well clothed, besides being worse treated in sickness and 
 in health. The result is that, in seven-eighths of the kingdom, 
 there are no farmers but simply m6tayers. 8 The peasant is too 
 poor to undertake cultivation on his own account, possessing no 
 agricultural capital. 4 "The proprietor, desirous of improving 
 his land, finds no one to cultivate it but miserable creatures pos- 
 sessing only a pair of hands ; he is obliged to advance everything 
 for its cultivation at his own expense, animals, implements and 
 seed, and even to advance the wherewithal to this metayer to 
 feed him until the first crop comes in." "At Vatan, for example, 
 in Berry, the metayers, almost every year, borrow bread of the 
 proprietor in order to await the harvesting." "Very rarely is 
 one found who is not indebted to his master at least one hundred 
 livres a year." Frequently the latter proposes to abandon the 
 entire crop to them on condition that they demand nothing of 
 him during the year ; " these miserable creatures " have refused ; 
 
 1 Cf. Galiani, "Dialogues sur le commerce des bio's " (1770), p. 193. Wheat bread at this 
 time cost four sous per pound. 
 
 1 Arthur Young, II. 200, 201, 260-265. The'ron de Montaug, 59, 68, 75, 79, 81, 84. 
 
 * " The poor people who cultivate the soil here are mttayers, that is, men who hire th 
 land without ability to stock it ; the proprietor is farced to provide cattle and seed and h 
 mad his tenants divide the produce." ARTHUR YOUNG. 
 
 " Eph&n&ides du citoyen," VI. 81-94 (1767), and IX, 99 (1767).
 
 CHAT, i. THE PEOPLE. 341 
 
 left to themselves, they would not be sure of keeping themselves 
 alive. In Limousin and in Angoumois their poverty is so great 1 
 " that, deducting the taxes to which they are subject, they have 
 no more than from twenty-five to thirty livres each person per 
 annum to spend ; and not in money, it must be stated, but count- 
 ing whatever they consume in kind out of the crops they 
 produce. Frequently they have less, and when they cannot 
 possibly make a living the master is obliged to support them. 
 . . . The me'tayer is always reduced to just what is absolutely 
 necessary to keep him from starving." As to the small proprie- 
 tor, the villager who ploughs his land himself, his condition is 
 but little better. " Agriculture, 2 as our peasants practise it, is a 
 veritable drudgery; they die by thousands in childhood, and in 
 maturity they seek places everywhere but where they should 
 be." In 1783, throughout the plain of the Toulousain they eat 
 only maize, a mixture of flour, common seeds and very little 
 wheat; those on the mountains feed, a part of the year, on 
 chestnuts ; the potato is hardly known, and, according to Arthur 
 Young, ninety-nine out of a hundred peasants would refuse to 
 eat it. According to the reports of intendants, the basis of food, 
 in Normandy, is oats ; in the election-district of Troyes, buck- 
 wheat; in the Marche and in Limousin, buckwheat with chestnuts 
 and radishes ; in Auvergne, buckwheat, chestnuts, milk-curds and 
 a little salted goat's meat; in Beauce, a mixture of barley and 
 rye ; in Berry, a mixture of barley and oats. There is no wheat 
 bread; the peasant consumes inferior flour only because he is 
 unable to pay two sous a pound for his bread. There is no 
 butcher's meat; at best he kills one pig a year His dwelling is 
 built of clay (pise), roofed with thatch, without windows, and the 
 floor is the beaten ground. Even when the soil furnishes good 
 building materials, stone, slate and tile, the windows have no 
 sashes. In a parish in Normandy, in 1789, "most of the dwell- 
 ings consist of four posts." They are often mere stables or 
 barns " to which a chimney has been added made of four poles 
 and some mud." Their clothes are rags, and often, in winter 
 these are muslin rags. In Quercy and elsewhere, they have no 
 stockings, or shoes or sabots (wooden shoes). " It is not in the 
 power of an English imagination," says Arthur Young, "to figure 
 
 1 Turgot, " Collections des conomistes," I. 544, 549. 
 * Marquis de Mirabeau, "Trait6 de la population," 83. 
 29*
 
 342 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOJCY. 
 
 the animals that waited on us here at the Chapeau Rouge 
 Some things that called themselves by courtesy Souillac women, 
 but in reality walking dung-hills. But a neatly dressed, clean 
 waiting-girl at an inn, will be looked for in vain in France." 
 On reading descriptions made on the spot we see in France a 
 similar aspect of country and of peasantry as in Ireland, at least 
 in its broad outlines. 
 
 III. 
 
 In the most fertile regions, for instance, in Limagne, both cot- 
 tages and faces denote " misery and privation." 1 " The peasants 
 are generally feeble, emaciated and of slight stature." Nearlyallde- 
 rive wheat and wine from their homesteads but they are forced to sell 
 this to pay their rents and imposts; they eat black bread, made 
 of rye and barley, and their sole beverage is water poured on the 
 lees and the husks. " An Englishman 2 who has not travelled can 
 not imagine the figure made by infinitely the greater part of the 
 countrywomen in France." Arthur Young, who stops to talk 
 with one of these in Champagne, says that " this woman, at no 
 great distance, might have been taken for sixty or seventy, her fig- 
 ure was so bent and her face so hardened and furrowed by labor, 
 but she said she was only twenty-eight." This woman, her hus- 
 band and her household, afford a sufficiently accurate example of 
 the condition of the small proprietary husbandmen. Their property 
 consists simply of a patch of ground, with a cow and a poor little 
 horse ; their seven children consume the whole of the cow's milk. 
 They owe to one seignior &franchard (forty-two pounds) of flour, 
 and three chickens ; to another \hreefranchards of oats, one chicken 
 and one sou, to which must be added the faille and other imposts. 
 " God keep us ! " she said, " for the failles and the dues crush us." 
 What must it be in districts where the soil is poor ! " From Ormes, 
 (near Chatellerault), as far as Poitiers," writes a lady, 3 " there is a 
 good deal of ground which brings in nothing, and from Poitiers 
 to my residence (in Limousin) twenty-five thousand argents of 
 ground consist wholly of heath and sea-grass. The peasantry live 
 on rye, of which they do not remove the bran, and which is as black 
 and heavy as lead. In Poitou, and here, they plough up only the 
 
 1 Dulau e, "Description de 1'Auvergne," 1789. 
 
 1 Arthur You*ig, I. 235. 
 * " Ephe'me'ride* du citoyen," XX. 146, a letter of the Marquis de , August 17, 1767.
 
 Ciup. i. THE PEOPLE. 343 
 
 skin of the ground with a miserable little plough without wheels. . . . 
 From Poitiers to Montmorillon it is nine leagues, equal to sixteen 
 of Paris, and I assure you that I have seen but four men on the 
 road and, between Montmorillon and my own house, which is 
 four leagues, but three ; and then only at a distance, not having 
 met one on the road. You need not be surprised at this in such 
 a country. . . . Marriage takes place as early as with the grand 
 seigniors," doubtless for fear of the militia. " But the population of 
 the country is no greater because almost every infant dies. Mothers 
 having scarcely any milk, their infants eat the bread of which I 
 spoke, the stomach of agirlof four years being as big as that of a preg- 
 nant woman. . . . The rye crop this year was ruined by the frost 
 on Easter day ; flour is scarce ; of the twelve mttairies owned by 
 my mother, four of them may, perhaps, have some on hand. 
 There has been no rain since Easter ; no hay, no pasture, no veg- 
 etables, no fruit. You see the lot of the poor peasant. There is 
 no manure, and there are no cattle. . . . My mother, whose gran- 
 aries used to be always full, has not a grain of wheat in them, 
 because, for two years past, she has fed all her metayers and the 
 poor." 
 
 " The peasant is assisted," says a seignior of the same prov- 
 ince, " protected, and rarely maltreated, but he is looked upon 
 with disdain. If kindly and pliable he is made subservient, but 
 if ill-disposed he becomes soured and irritable. . . . He is kept 
 in miser)', in an abject state, by men who are not at all inhuman 
 but whose prejudices, especially among the nobles, lead them to 
 regard him as of a different species of being. . . . The proprie- 
 tor gets all he can out of him ; in any event, looking upon him 
 and his oxen as domestic animals, he puts them into harness and 
 employs them in all weathers for every kind of journey, and for 
 every species of carting and transport. On the other hand, this 
 metayer thinks of living with as little labor as possible, convert- 
 ing as much ground as he can into pasturage, for the reason that 
 the product arising from the increase of stock costs him no labor. 
 The little ploughing he does is for the purpose of raising low- 
 priced provisions suitable for his own nourishment, such as 
 buckwheat, radishes, etc. His enjoymer t consists only of his 
 wn idleness and sluggishness, hoping for a good chestnut year 
 and doing nothing voluntarily but procreate ; " unable to hire 
 farming hands he begets children. The rest, ordinary laborers,
 
 344 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK T- 
 
 have small supplies, " living on the spontaneous and on a few goat* 
 which devour everything." Often again, thesr, by order of Par- 
 liament, are killed by the keepers. A woman, with two children 
 in swaddling clothes, having no milk, " and without an inch of 
 ground," whose two goats, her sole resource, had thus been slain, 
 and another, with one goat slain in the same way, and who begs 
 along with her boy, present themselves at the gate of the chateau ; 
 one receives twelve livres, while the other is admitted as a domes- 
 tic, and henceforth, " this village is all bows and smiling faces." 
 In short, they are not accustomed to benefactions; the lot of 
 all these poor people is to endure. " As with rain and hail, they re- 
 gard as inevitable the necessity of being oppressed by the strong- 
 est, the richest, the most skilful, the most in repute," and this 
 stamps on them, " if one may be allowed to say so, an air of pain- 
 ful suffering." 
 
 In Auvergne, a feudal country, covered with extensive ec- 
 clesiastic and seigniorial domains, the misery is the same. At 
 Clermont-Ferrand, 1 " there are many streets that can for black- 
 ness, dirt and scents only be represented by narrow chan- 
 nels cut in a night dunghill." In the inns of the largest bourgs, 
 " closeness, misery, dirtiness and darkness." That of Pradelles 
 is "one of the worst in France." That of Aubenas, says Young, 
 " would be a purgatory for one of my pigs." The senses, in 
 short, are paralyzed. The primitive man is content so long as he 
 can sleep and get something to eat. He gets something to eat, 
 but what kind of food ? To put up with the indigestible mess a 
 peasant here requires a still tougher stomach than in Limousin ; 
 in certain villages where, ten years later, every year twenty or 
 twenty-five hogs are to be slaughtered, they now slaughter but 
 three. 2 On contemplating this temperament, rude and intact 
 since Vercinge'torix, and, moreover, rendered more savage by 
 suffering, one cannot avoid being somewhat alarmed. The Mar- 
 quis de Mirabeau describes "the votive festival of Mont-Dore, 
 savages descending from the mountain in torrents, 3 the curate 
 with stole and surplice, the justice in his wig, the police corps 
 with sabres drawn, all guarding the open square before letting 
 the bagpipers play ; the dance interrupted in a quarter of an how 
 
 Arthur Young, I. 280, 289, 294. 
 
 * Lafayette, " Memoires," V. 533. 
 
 * Lucas de Montigny, ibid, (a letter of August 18, 1777).
 
 =HAP. i. THE PEOPLE. 345 
 
 by a fight ; ihe hootings and cries of children, of the feeble and 
 other spectators, urging them on as the rabble urge on so 
 many fighting dogs; frightful-looking men, or rather wild beasts 
 covered with coats of coarse wool, wearing wide leather belts 
 pierced with copper nails, gigantic in stature, which is increased 
 by high sabots, and making themselves still taller by standing on 
 tiptoe to see the battle, stamping with their feet as it progresses 
 and rubbing each other's flanks with their elbows, their faces 
 haggard and covered with long matted hair, the upper portion 
 pallid, and the lower distended, indicative of cruel delight and a 
 sort of ferocious impatience. And these folks pay the tattle ! 
 And now they want to take away their salt ! And they know 
 nothing of those they despoil, of those whom they think they 
 govern, believing that, by a few strokes of a cowardly and care- 
 less pen, they may starve them with impunity up to the final 
 catastrophe ! Poor Jean-Jacques, I said to myself, had any one 
 despatched you, with your system, to copy music amongst these 
 folks he would have had some sharp replies to make to your dis- 
 courses!" Prophetic warning and admirable foresight in one 
 whom an excess of evil does not blind to the evil of the remedy ! 
 Enlightened by his feudal and rural instincts, the old man at 
 once judges both the government and the philosophers, the An- 
 cient Regime and the Revolution. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Misery begets bitterness in a man; but ownership coupled 
 with misery renders him still more bitter. He may have 
 submitted to indigence but not to spoliation which is the 
 situation of the peasant in 1789, for, during the eighteenth 
 century, he had become the possessor of land. But how could 
 he maintain himself in such destitution ? The fact is almost in- 
 credible, but it is nevertheless true. We can only explain it by 
 the character of the French peasant, by his sobriety, his tenacity, 
 his rigor with himself, his dissimulation, his hereditary passion for 
 property and especially for that of the soil. He had lived on 
 privations, and economized sou after sou. Every year a few 
 pieces of silver are added to his little store of crowns buried in 
 the most secret recess of his cellar ; Rousseau's peasant, conceal 
 ing his wine and bread in a pit, assuredly had a yet more secret 
 hiding-place; a little money in a woollen stocking or in a
 
 346 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 jug escapes, more readily than elsewhere, the search of the 
 clerks. Dressed in rags, going barefoot, eating nothing but coarse 
 black bread, but cherishing the little treasure in his breast on 
 which he builds so many hopes, he watches for the opportunity 
 which never fails to come. " In spite of privileges," writes a gen- 
 tleman in 1755, "the nobles are daily being ruined and reduced, 
 the Third-Estate making all the fortunes." A number of do- 
 mains, through forced or voluntary sales, thus pass into the hands 
 of financiers, of men of the quill, of merchants, and of the 
 well-to-do bourgeois. Before undergoing this total disposses- 
 sion, however, the seignior, involved in debt, is evidently re- 
 signed to partial alienations of his property. The peasant who 
 has bribed the steward is on hand with his hoard. " It is poor 
 property, my lord, and it costs you more than you get from it." 
 This may refer to an isolated patch, one end of a field or 
 meadow, sometimes a farm whose farmer pays nothing, and gen- 
 erally worked by a me'tayer whose wants and indolence make 
 him an annual expense to his master. The latter may say to 
 himself that the alienated parcel is not lost since, some day or 
 other, through his right of repurchase, he may take it back, while, 
 in the meantime, he enjoys a fens, drawbacks, and the lord's dues. 
 Moreover, there is on his domain and around him, extensive open 
 spaces which the decline of cultivation and depopulation have 
 left a desert. To restore the value of this he must surrender its 
 proprietorship. There is no other way by which to attach man 
 permanently to the soil. And the government helps him along in 
 this matter. Obtaining no revenue from the abandoned soil, it 
 assents to a provisional withdrawal of its too weighty hand. By 
 the edict of 1766, a piece of cleared waste land remains free of 
 the faille for fifteen years, and, thereupon, in twenty-eight prov- 
 inces four hundred thousand arpents are cleared in three years. 1 
 This is the mode by which the seigniorial domain gradually 
 crumbles away and decreases. Towards the last, in many places, 
 with the exception of the chateau and the small adjoining farm, 
 which brings in two or three thousand francs a year, nothing i> 
 left to the seignior but his feudal dues ; * the rest of the soil 
 
 1 "Proces-verbaux de 1'assemblee provinciate de Basse Normandie" (1787), p. 205. 
 
 * Lonce de Lavergne, p. 26 (according tD the tables of indemnity granted to the emigrjt 
 In 1825). In the estate of Blet (see note 2 at the end of the volume), twenty-two parcels ar* 
 alienated in 1760. Arthur Young, I. 308 (the domain of Tour-d' Aigues, in Provence), and 
 II. 193, 214. Doniol, " Hiuoire des classes rurales," p. 450. De Tocqueville, p. 36.
 
 CHAP. I. THE PEOPLE. 347 
 
 belongs to the peasantry. Forbonnais already remarks, towards 
 1750, that many of the nobles and of the ennobled "reduced to 
 extreme poverty but with titles to immense possessions," have 
 sold off portions to small cultivators at low prices, and often foi 
 the amount of the faille. Towards 1760, one-quarter of the soil 
 is said to have already passed into the hands of agriculturists. 
 In 1772, in relation to the vingtieme, which is levied on the net 
 revenue of real property, the intendant of Caen, having com- 
 pleted the statement of his quota, estimates that out of one 
 hundred and fifty thousand "there are perhaps fifty thousand 
 whose liabilities did not exceed five sous and perhaps still as 
 many more not exceeding twenty sous" 1 Contemporary ob- 
 servers authenticate this passion of the peasant for real property. 
 "The savings of the lower classes, which elsewhere are invested 
 with individuals and in the public funds, are wholly destined in 
 France to the purchase of land." "Accordingly the number of 
 small rural holdings is always on the increase. Necker says that 
 there is an immensity of them." Arthur Young, in 1789, is as- 
 tonished at their great number and " inclines to think that they 
 form one third of the kingdom." That would already be about 
 the proportion, and the proportion would still be the same, 
 were we to compare the number of proprietors with the num- 
 ber of inhabitants. 
 
 The small cultivator, however, in becoming a possessor of the 
 soil assumed its charges. Simply as day-laborer, and with his 
 arms alone, he was only partially affected by the taxes; "where 
 there is nothing the king loses his dues." But now, vainly is he 
 poor and declaring himself still poorer; the fisc has a hold on 
 him and on every portion of his new possessions. The col- 
 lectors, peasants like himself, and jealous, by virtue of being his 
 
 1 Archives rationales, H, 1463 (a letter by M. de Fontette, November 16, 1772,1. Cf. 
 Cochut, "Revue des Deux Mondes," September, 1848. The sale of the national property 
 seems not to have sensibly increased small properties nor sensibly diminished the number of the 
 large ones. The Revolution developed moderate sized properties. In 1848, the large estates 
 numbered 183,000 (23,000 families paying 300 francs taxes, and more, and possessing on the 
 average 260 hectares of land, and 160,000 families paying from 250 to 500 francs taxes and 
 possessing on the average 75 hectares). These 183,000 families possess 18,000,000 hectares. 
 There are besides 700,000 medium sized estates (paying from 50 to 250 francs tax), and com* 
 prising 15,000,000 hectares. And finally 3,900,000 small properties comprising 5,ooo,ooc 
 hectares (900,000 paving from 25 to 50 francs tax averaging five and one-half hectares each, 
 ind 3,000,000 paying less than 25 francs, averaging three and one-ninth hectares each). 
 According to the partial statements of De Tocqueville the number of holders of real property 
 had increased, on the average, to five-twelfths ; the population, at the same time, having in 
 creased five-thirteenths (from 26 to 36 millions).
 
 348 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 neighbors, know how much his property, exposed to view, brings 
 in ; hence they take all they can lay their hands on. Vainly has 
 he labored with renewed energy ; his hands remain as empty, 
 and, at the end of the year, he discovers that his field has pro- 
 duced him nothing. The more he acquires and produces the 
 more burdensome do the taxes become. In 1715, the faille and 
 the poll-tax, which he alone pays, or nearly alone, amounts to 
 sixty-six millions of livres ; the amount is ninety-three millions in 
 1759 and one hundred and ten millions in I789. 1 In 1757, the 
 imposts amount to 283,156,000 livres; in 1789 to 476,294,000 
 livres. 
 
 Theoretically, through humanity and through good sense, 
 there is, doubtless, a desire to relieve the peasant and pity is felt 
 for him. But, in practice, through necessity and routine, he is 
 treated according to Cardinal Richelieu's precept, as a beast 
 of burden to which oats are measured out for fear that he may 
 become too strong and kick, " a mule which, accustomed to his 
 load, is spoiled more by long repose than by work." 
 
 1 " Compte-ge'ne'ral des revenus et expenses fixes au icr Mai, 1789 (Imprimerie Royale, 
 1789). De Luynes, XVI. 49. Roux and Buchez, I. 206, 374. (This relates only to the 
 countries of election! in the provinces, with assemblies, tne increase is no less great). 
 Archives nationales, H*, 1610 (the parisl of Bourget, in Arjou). Extracts from the faille 
 rolls of three mStayer-hxms belonging tc M. de R nil 16. The imposts in 1762 are 334 livres 
 3 tout ; in 1783, 372 livres 15 tout. 

 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TAXATION THE PRINCIPAL CAUSE OF MISERY. I. Direct taxes* State of 
 different domains at the end of the reign of Louis XV. Levies of the tithe- 
 owner and of the fisc. What remains to the proprietor. II. State of cer- 
 tain provinces on the outbreak of the Revolution. The faille, and other im- 
 posts. The proportion of these taxes in relation to income. The sum total 
 immense. III. Four direct taxes on the common laborer. IV. Collections 
 and seizures. V. Indirect taxes. The salt-tax and the excise. VI. Why 
 taxation is so burdensome. Exemptions and privileges. VII. The octroit 
 of towns. The poor the greatest sufferers. VIII. Complaints in the memo 
 rials. 
 
 I. 
 
 LET us closely examine the extortions he has to endure, which 
 are very great, much beyond any that we can imagine. Econo- 
 mists had long prepared the budget of a farm and shown by 
 statistics the excess of charges with which the cultivator is over- 
 whelmed. If he continues to cultivate, they say, he must have 
 his share in the crops, an inviolable portion, equal to one-half of 
 the entire production and from which nothing can be deducted 
 without ruining him. This portion, indeed, accurately repre- 
 sents, and not a sou too much, in the first place, the interest of 
 the capital first expended on the farm in cattle, furniture, and im- 
 plements of husbandry ; in the second place, the maintenance of 
 this capital, every year depreciated by wear and tear ; in the third 
 place, the advances made during the current year for seed, wages, 
 and food for men and animals ; and, in the last place, the com- 
 pensation due him for the risks he takes and his losses. Here is 
 a first lien which must be satisfied beforehand, taking precedence 
 of all others, superior to that of the seignior, to that of the tithe- 
 owner (dtcimateur), to even that of the king, for it is an indebted 
 ness due to the soil. 1 After this is paid back, then, and only then, 
 
 4 "Collection des e'conomistes," II. 832. See a tabular statement by Beaudaa 
 3
 
 350 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 that which remains, the net product, can be touched. Now, in the 
 then state of agriculture, the tithe-owner and the king appro- 
 priate one-half of this net product, when the estate is large, and 
 the whole, if the estate is a small one. 1 A certain large farm in 
 Picardy, worth to its owner 3,600 livres, pays 1,800 livres to the 
 king, and 1,311 livres to the tithe-owner; another, in the Soisson- 
 nais, rented for 4,500 livres, pays 2,200 livres taxes and more than 
 1,000 livres to the tithes. An ordinary me"tayer-farm near Nevers 
 pays into the treasury 138 livres, 121 livres to the church, and 
 114 livres to the proprietor. On another, in Poitou, the fisc ab- 
 sorbs 348 livres, and the proprietor receives only 238. In gen- 
 eral, in the regions of large farms, the proprietor obtains ten 
 livres the arpent if the cultivation is very good, and three livres 
 when ordinary. In the regions of small farms, and of the me"tayer 
 system, he gets fifteen sous the arpent, eight sous and even six sous. 
 The entire net profit may be said to go to the church and into the 
 State treasury. 
 
 Hired labor, meantime, is no less costly. On this me'tayer- 
 farm in Poitou, which brings in eight sous the arpent, thirty- 
 six laborers consume each twenty-six francs per annum in rye, 
 two francs respectively in vegetables, oil and milk preparations, 
 and two francs ten sous in pork, amounting to a sum total, each 
 year, for each person, of sixteen pounds of meat at an expense 
 of thirty-six francs. In fact they drink water only, use rape-seed 
 oil for soup and for light, never taste butter, and dress themselves 
 in materials made of the wool and hair of the sheep and goats 
 they raise. They purchase nothing save the tools necessary U. 
 make the fabrics of which these provide the material. On an- 
 other metayer-farm, on the confines of la Marche and Berry, 
 forty-six laborers cost a smaller sum, each one consuming only 
 the value of twenty-five francs per annum. We can judge by 
 this of the exorbitant share appropriated to themselves by the 
 Church and State since, at so small a cost of cultivation, the 
 proprietor finds in his pocket, at the end of the year, six or eight 
 sous per arpent, out of which, if plebeian, he must still pay the 
 dues to his seignior, contribute to the common purse for the 
 militia, buy his taxed salt and work out his corvee and the rest. 
 Towards the end of the reign of Louis XV. in Limousin, says 
 
 I "Eph6mrides du dtoyen," IX, 15 ; an article by M. de Butrf, 1767.
 
 CHAP. II. THE PEOPLE. 351 
 
 Turgot, 1 the king derives for himself alone "about as much from 
 the soil as the proprietor." A certain election-district, that 
 of Tulle, where he abstracts fifty-six and one-half per cent, of the 
 product, there remains to the latter forty-three and one-half pei 
 cent, thus accounting for "a multitude of domains being aban- 
 doned." 
 
 It must not be supposed that time renders the tax less onerous 
 or that, in other provinces, the cultivator is better treated. In 
 this respect the documents are authentic and almost up to the 
 latest hour. We have only to take up the official statements 
 of the provincial assemblies held in 1787, to learn by official 
 figures to what extent the fisc may abuse the men who labor, and 
 take bread out of the mouths of those who have earned it by 
 the sweat of their brows. 
 
 II. 
 
 Direct taxation alone is here concerned, the tattles, collat- 
 eral imposts, poll-tax, vingtie'mes, and the pecuniary tax sub- 
 stituted for the corve"e? In Champagne, the tax-payer pays 
 on 100 livres income fifty -four livres fifteen sous, on the aver- 
 age, and in many parishes, 3 seventy-one livres thirteen sous. In 
 the Ile-de- France, "if a taxable inhabitant of a village, the pro- 
 prietor of twenty arpents of land which he himself works, and the 
 income of which is estimated at ten livres per arpent, it is sup- 
 posed that he is likewise the owner of the house he occupies, the 
 site being valued at forty livres." 4 This tax-payer pays for his 
 real taille, personal and industrial, thirty-five livres fourteen sous, 
 for collateral taxes seventeen livres seventeen sous, for the poll- 
 tax twenty-one livres eight sous, for the mngtiemes twenty-four 
 livres four sous, in all ninety-nine livres three sous, to which 
 must be added about five livres as the substitution for the corvee, 
 in all 104 livres on a piece of property which he rents for 240 
 livres, and which amounts to five-twelfths of his income. 
 
 It is much worse on making the same calculation for the 
 
 > *' Collection des economistes," I. 551, 562. 
 
 "Proces-verbaux de 1'assemb.ee provinciate de Champagne" (1787), p. 94* 
 
 Cf. "Notice historique sur la Revolution darj le departement de I'Eure," by Boivin- 
 Champeaux, p. 37. A memorial of the parish of Epreville; on 100 francs income th 
 Treasury takes 22 for the taiUe, 16 for collaterals, 15 for the poll-tax, n for the vi 
 total 67 livres. 
 
 * "Proces-verbaux 4e I'assewblee orovinr'ale ie ''Ile-de-Francc " (1787), PL 13*.
 
 352 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 poorer generalities. In Haute-Guyenne, 1 "all property in land is 
 taxed, for the taille, the collateral imposts, and the vingttimes, 
 more than one-quarter of its revenue, the onh deduction being 
 the expenses of cultivation ; also dwellings, one-third of theii 
 revenue, deducting only the cost of repairs and of maintenance; 
 to which must be added the poll-tax, which takes about one- 
 tenth of the revenue ; the tithe, which absorbs one-seventh ; the 
 seigniorial rents which take another seventh ; the tax substituted 
 for the corvle; the costs of compulsory collections, seizures, se- 
 questrations and constraints, and all ordinary and extraordinary 
 local charges. This being subtracted, it is evident that, in com- 
 munities moderately taxed, the proprietor does not enjoy a third 
 of his income, and that, in the communities wronged by the assess- 
 ments, the proprietors are reduced to the status of simple farmers 
 scarcely able to get enough to restore the expenses of cultiva- 
 tion." In Auvergne, 2 the taille amounts to four sous on the livre 
 net profit; the collateral imposts and the poll-tax take off four 
 sous three deniers more; the vingtiemes, two sous and three 
 deniers ; the contribution to the royal roads, to the free gift, to 
 local charges and the cost of levying, take again one sou one 
 denier, the total being eleven sous and seven deniers per livre on 
 income, without counting seigniorial dues and the tithe. "The 
 bureau, moreover, recognizes with regret, that several of the 
 collections pay at the rate of seventeen sous, sixteen sous, and 
 the most moderate, at the rate of fourteen sous the livre. The 
 evidence of this is in the bureau; it is on file in the registry 
 of the court of excise, and of the election-districts. It is still 
 more apparent in parishes where an infinite number of assess- 
 ments are found, laid on property that has been abandoned, 
 which the collectors lease, and the product of which is often in- 
 adequate to pay the tax." Statistics of this kind are terribly elo- 
 quent. They may be summed up in one word. Putting together 
 Normandy, the Orleans region, that of Soissons, Champagne, 
 Ile-de-France, Berry, Poitou, Auvergne, the Lyons region, Gas- 
 cony, and Haute-Guyenne, in brief the principal election sections, 
 we find that out of every hundred francs of revenue the direct 
 tax on the tax-payer is fifty-three francs, or more than one-half. 1 
 This is about five times as much as at the present day. 
 
 > "Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de la Haute-Guyenne" (1784), II. 17, 40, 47. 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. d' Auvergne" (1787), p. 253. 
 
 * See note 5 at the end of the volume.
 
 CHAP. H. THE PEOPLE. 353 
 
 III. 
 
 The fisc, however, in thus bearing down on taxable property 
 has not released the taxable person without property. In the 
 absence of land it seizes on men. In default of an income it 
 taxes a man's wages. With the exception of the vingtitmes, the 
 preceding imposts not only bore on those who possessed some- 
 thing but, again, on those who possessed nothing. In the 
 Toulousain, 1 at St. Pierre de Barjouville, the poorest day-laborer, 
 with nothing but his hands by which to earn his support, and 
 getting ten sous a day, pays eight, nine and ten livres poll-tax. 
 "In Burgundy 2 it is common to see a poor mechanic, without 
 any property, taxed eighteen and twenty livres for his poll-tax 
 and the taille? In Limousin, 3 all the money brought back by 
 the masons in winter serves " to pay the imposts charged to their 
 families." As to the rural day-laborers and the settlers (colons) 
 the proprietor, even when privileged, who employs them, is 
 obliged to take upon himself a part of their quota; otherwise, 
 being without anything to eat, they cannot work, 4 even in the 
 interest of the master; man must have his ration of bread the 
 same as an ox his ration of hay. " In Brittany, 5 it is notorious 
 that nine-tenths of the artisans, though poorly fed and poorly 
 clothed, have not a crown free of debt at the end of the year," 
 the poll-tax and others carrying off this only and last crown. At 
 Paris 6 "the dealer in ashes, the buyer of old bottles, the gleaner 
 of the gutters, the peddlers of old iron and old hats," the mo- 
 ment they obtain a shelter pay the poll-tax of three livres and 
 ten sous each. To ensure its payment the occupant of a house 
 who sub-lets to them is made responsible. Moreover, in case 
 of delay, a "blue man," a bailiffs subordinate, is sent who in- 
 stalls himself on the spot and whose time they have to pay for. 
 Mercier cites a mechanic, named Quatremain, who, with four 
 small children, lodged in the sixth story, where he had arranged 
 a chimney as a sort of alcove in which he and his family slept. 
 
 "Theron de Montaug," p. 109 (1763). Wages at this time are from 7 to 12 sous a day 
 in summer. 
 
 Archives rationales, proces-verbaux and memorials of the States-General, v. LIX. p 
 C. A memorial to M. Necker, by M. d'Orgeux, honorary counsellor to the Parliament o' 
 Burgundy, Oct 25, 1788. 
 
 Ibid. H, 1418. A letter of the intendant of Limoges, Feb. 26, 1784. 
 
 Turgot, II. 259. 
 
 1 Archives Rationales, H, 426 (remonstrances of the Parliament of Brittany, Fb, 17(3) 
 
 Mercier, XI. 59: X. 362. 
 
 30*
 
 354 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 " One day I opened his door, fastened with a latch only, the roona 
 presenting to view nothing but the walls and a vice ; the man / 
 coming out from under his chimney, half sick, says to me, 'I 
 thought it was the blue man for the poll-tax.' " Thus, whatever 
 the condition of the person subject to taxation, however stripped 
 and destitute, the dexterous hands of the fisc take hold of him. 
 Mistakes cannot possibly occur : it puts on no disguise, it comes 
 on the appointed day and rudely lays its hand on his shoulder. 
 The garret and the hut, as well as the farm and the farm-house 
 know the collector, the constable and the bailiff; no hovel escapes 
 the detestable brood. The people sow, harvest their crops, 
 work and undergo privation for their benefit ; and, should the 
 farthings so painfully saved each week amount, at the end of 
 the year, to a piece of silver, the mouth of their pouch closes 
 over it 
 
 IV. 
 
 Observe the system actually at work. It is a sort of shearing 
 machine, clumsy and badly put together, of which the action is 
 about as mischievous as it is serviceable. The worst feature is, 
 that, in its grinding cog-wheels, those who are subject to taxa- 
 tion, the last tool employed, must shear and fleece themselves. 
 In each parish, there are two, three, five or seven of these 
 who, under the name of collectors and authorized by the elu, 
 must apportion and collect the taxes. "No duty is more oner- 
 ous ; " * everybody, through patronage or favor, tries to get rid of 
 it. The communities are constantly pleading against the refrac- 
 tory, and, that nobody may escape under the pretext of ignorance, 
 the table of future collectors is made up for ten and fifteen years 
 in advance. In parishes of the second class these consist of 
 "small proprietors, each of whom becomes a collector about 
 every six years." In many of the villages the artisans, day-labor- 
 ers, and metayer-farmers perform the service, although requiring 
 all their time to earn their own living. In Auvergne, where the 
 able-bodied men expatriate themselves in winter to find work, the 
 women are taken; 2 in the election-district of Saint- Flour, a cer- 
 
 1 Archives nationalcs, H, 1422, a letter by M. d'AIne, 5 nendant of Limoges (February 
 17, 1782); one by the intendant of Moulins (April, 1779) the trial of the community of 
 Molion (Bordelais), and the tab.es of its collectors. 
 'i * "Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. d'Auvergne," p. 266.
 
 CHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 355 
 
 tain village has four collectors in petticoats. They are responsi- 
 ble for all claims entrusted to them, their property, their furniture 
 and their persons ; and, up to the time of Turgot, each is bound 
 for the others. We can judge of their risks and sufferings. In 
 1785^ in one single district in Champagne, eighty-five are impris- 
 oned and two hundred of them are on the road every year. " The 
 collector, says the provincial assembly of Berry, 2 usually passes 
 one-half of the day for two years running from door to door to 
 see delinquent tax-payers." " This service," writes Turgot, 3 " is the 
 despair and almost always the ruin of those obliged to perform 
 it; all families in easy circumstances in a village are thus suc- 
 cessively reduced to want." In short, there is no collector who 
 is not forced to act and who has not each year " eight or ten 
 writs" served on him. 4 Sometimes he is imprisoned at the ex- 
 pense of the parish. Sometimes proceedings are instituted against 
 him and the tax-contributors by the installation of "'blue men' 
 and seizures, seizures under arrest, seizures in execution and 
 sales of furniture." " In the single district of Villefranche," says 
 the provincial Assembly of Haute- Guy enne, " a hundred and six 
 warrant officers and other agents of the bailiff are counted always 
 on the road." 
 
 The thing becomes customary and the parish suffers in vain, 
 for it would suffer yet more were it to do otherwise. " Near 
 Aurillac," says the Marquis de Mirabeau, 5 "there is industry, 
 application and economy without which there would be only 
 misery and want. This produces a partially insolvent people 
 with timorous rich ones who, for fear of overcharge, produce the 
 impoverished. The faille once assessed, everybody groans and 
 complains and nobody pays it. The term having expired, at the 
 hour and minute, constraint begins, the collectors, although able, 
 taking no trouble to arrest this by making a settlement, notwith- 
 standing the installation of the bailiff's men is costly. But this 
 kind of expense is habitual and people expect it instead of fearing 
 it, for, if it were less rigorous, they would be sure to be addi- 
 tionally burdened the following year." The receiver, indeed, who 
 
 1 Albert Babeau, "Histoire de Tioyes," I. 72. 
 ' " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Beny " (1778), I. pp. 72, 80. 
 De Tocquevffle, 187. 
 
 4 Archives rationales, H, 1417. (A letter of M. de Cypierre, intendant at Orbu>, April 
 *7i 1 7 6 5)- 
 "Trait* de Population," 2d part, p. 26.
 
 356 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v, 
 
 pays the bailiff's officers a franc a day, makes them pay two francs 
 and appropriates the difference. Hence "if certain parishes 
 venture to pay promptly, without awaiting constraint, the receiver, 
 who sees himself deprived of the best portion of his gains, be- 
 comes ill-humored, and, at the next department (meeting), an 
 arrangement is made between himself, messieurs the elected, the 
 subdelegate and other shavers of this species, for the parish 
 to bear a double load, to teach it how to behave itself." 
 
 A population of administrative blood-suckers thus lives on 
 the peasant " Lately," says an intendant, "in the district of Ro- 
 morantin, 1 the collectors received nothing from a sale of furniture 
 amounting to six hundred livres, because the proceeds were 
 absorbed by the expenses. In the district of Chateaudun the 
 same thing occurred at a sale amounting to nine hundred livres 
 and there are other transactions of the same kind of which we 
 have no information, however flagrant." Besides this, the fisc 
 itself is pitiless. The same intendant writes, in 1784, a year of 
 famine: 2 "People have seen, with horror, the collector, in the 
 country, disputing with heads of families over the costs of a sale 
 of furniture which had been appropriated to stopping their 
 children's cry of want." Were the collectors not to make seiz- 
 ures they would themselves be seized. Urged on by the receiver 
 we see them, in the documents, soliciting, prosecuting and 
 persecuting the tax-payers. Every Sunday and every fete-day 
 they are posted at the church door to warn delinquents; and 
 then, during the week they go from door to door to obtain their 
 dues. "Commonly they cannot write and take a scribe with 
 them." Out of six hundred and six traversing the district of 
 Saint-Hour not ten of them are able to read the official summons 
 and sign a receipt; hence innumerable mistakes and frauds. 
 Besides a scribe they take along the bailiff's subordinates, per- 
 sons of the lowest class, laborers without work, conscious of being 
 hated and who act accordingly. " Whatever orders may be given 
 .hem not to take anything, not to make the inhabitants feed 
 them, or to enter taverns with collectors," habit is too strong 
 "and the abuse continues." 3 But, burdensome as the bailiff's 
 
 i Archives nation ales, H, 1417. (A letter of M. de Cypierre, intendant at Orleans, April, 
 *7. 75). 
 
 Ibid. H, 1418. (Letter of May 28, 1784). 
 Hid, (Letter of the intendant of Tours, June 15, 1765.)
 
 CHAP. u. THE PEOPLE. 357 
 
 men may be, care is taken not to evade them. IE this respect, 
 writes an intendant, " their obduracy is strange." " No person," 
 a receiver reports, 1 " pays the collector until he sees the bailiff's 
 man in his house." The peasant resembles his ass, refusing to go 
 without being beaten, and, although in this he may appear stupid, 
 he is politic. For the collector, being responsible, "naturally 
 inclines to an increase of the assessment on prompt payers to the 
 advantage of the negligent. Hence the prompt payer becomes, 
 in his turn, negligent and, although with money in his chest, he 
 allows the process to go on." 2 Summing all up, he calculates 
 that the process, even if expensive, costs less than extra taxation, 
 and of the two evils he chooses the least. He has but one 
 resource against the collector and receiver, his simulated or act- 
 ual poverty, voluntary or involuntary. " Every one subject to 
 the taille" says, again, the provincial assembly of Berry, " dreads 
 to expose his resources; he avoids any display of these in his 
 furniture, in his dress, in his food, and in everything open to 
 another's observation." " M. de Choiseul-Gouffier, 3 willing to 
 roof his peasants' houses, liable to take fire, with tiles, they 
 thanked him for his kindness but begged him to leave them as 
 they were, telling him that if these were covered with tiles, instead 
 of with thatch, the subdelegates would increase their taxation." 
 " People work, but merely to satisfy their prime necessities. . . . 
 The fear of paying an extra crown makes an average man neglect 
 a profit of four times the amount." 4 ". . . Accordingly, lean cattle, 
 poor implements, and bad manure-heaps when they might have 
 others." 5 " If I earned any more," says a -peasant, " it would be 
 for the collector." Annual and illimitable spoliation " takes away 
 even the desire for comforts." The majority, pusillanimous, 
 distrustful, stupefied, "debased," "differing little from the old 
 serfs," 6 resemble Egyptian fellahs and Hindoo pariahs. The 
 fisc, indeed, through the absolutism and enormity of its indebted- 
 ness, renders property of all kinds precarious, every acquisition 
 vain, every accumulation derisive ; in fact, proprietors arc posses- 
 sors only of that which they can sequestrate from it. 
 
 1 Archives Nadonales, H, 1417. A report by Raudon, receiver of failles in the t^ciion at 
 Luon, January, 1764. 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de I'ass. prov. de Berry" (1778), I. p. 73. 
 1 Champfort, 93. 
 
 * "Proces-verbaux de I'ass. prov. de Berry," I. 77. 
 
 * Arthur Young, II. 305. 
 
 ' "Proces-verbaux of the ass. prov. of the generalship of Rouen" (1767), p. tja.
 
 358 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 V. 
 
 The fisc, in every country, has two hands, one, which visibly 
 and directly searches the coffers of tax-payers, and the other ; 
 which covertly employs the hand of an intermediary so as not tc 
 incur the odium of fresh extortions. Here, no precaution of this 
 kind is taken, the claws of the latter being as visible as those of 
 the former; according to its structure and the complaints made 
 of it, I am tempted to believe it more offensive than the other. 
 
 In the first place, the salt -tax, the excises and the customs art 
 annually estimated and sold to adjudicators who, purely as a 
 business matter, make as much profit as they can by their bargain. 
 In relation to the tax-payer they are not administrators but spec- 
 ulators ; they have bought him up. He belongs to them by the 
 terms of their contract ; they will squeeze out of him, not merely 
 their advances and the interest on their advances, but, again, 
 every possible benefit. This suffices to indicate the mode of levy- 
 ing indirect imposts. In the second place, by means of the 
 salt-tax and the excises, the inquisition enters each household. 
 In the provinces where these are levied, in Ile-de-France, 
 Maine, Anjou, Touraine, Orle"anais, Berry, Bourbonnais, Bur 
 gogne, Champagne, Perche, Normandy and Picardy, salt costs 
 thirteen sous a pound, four times as much as at the present day, 
 and, considering the standard of money, eight times as much. 1 
 And, furthermore, by virtue of the ordinance of 1680, each per- 
 son over seven years of age is expected to purchase seven pounds 
 per annum, which, with four persons to a family, makes eighteen 
 francs a year, and equal to nineteen days' work: a new direct 
 tax, which, like the faille, is a fiscal hand in the pockets of the 
 tax-payers, and compelling them, like the faille, to torment each 
 other. Many of them, in fact, are officially appointed to assess 
 this obligatory use of salt and, like the collectors of the faille, 
 these are " corporately responsible for the price of the salt." 
 Others below them, ever following the same course as in collect- 
 ing the faille, are likewise responsible. " After the former have 
 been distrained in their persons and property, the speculator fer- 
 mier is authorized to commence action, under the principle of 
 
 1 Letrosne (1779). "l>e ''administration provinciate et de la reforme de I'imp6t," pp. 39, 
 262 and 138. Archives rationales, H. 138 (1782). Cahier de Bugey, " Salt costs the country- 
 man purchasing it of the retailers from 15 to 1 7 sous a pound, according to the way of mea* 
 tiring it."
 
 CHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 359 
 
 mutual responsibility, against the principal inhabitants of the par- 
 ish." The effects of this system have just been described. Ac- 
 cordingly, "in Normandy," says the Rouen parliament, 1 "unfor- 
 tunates without bread are daily objects of seizure, sale and exe- 
 cution." 
 
 But if the rigor is as great as in the matter of the faille, the 
 vexations are ten times greater, for these are domestic, minute 
 and of daily occurrence. It is forbidden to divert an ounce of 
 the seven obligatory pounds to any use but that of the "pot and 
 the salt-cellar." If a villager should economize the salt of his 
 soup to make brine for a piece of pork, with a view to winter 
 consumption, let him look out for the collecting-clerks! His 
 pork is confiscated and the fine is three hundred livres. The 
 man must come to the warehouse and purchase other salt, make 
 a declaration, carry off a certificate and show this at every visit 
 of inspection. So much the worse for him if he has not the 
 wherewithal to pay for this supplementary salt ; he has only to 
 sell his pig and abstain from meat on Christmas. This is the 
 more frequent case and I dare say that, for the me*tayers who 
 pay twenty-five francs per annum, it is the usual case. It is for- 
 bidden to make use of any other salt for the pot and salt-cellar 
 than that of the seven pounds. "I am able to cite," says Le- 
 trosne, "two sisters residing one league from a town in which 
 the warehouse is open only on Saturday. Their supply was ex- 
 hausted. To pass three or four days until Saturday comes they 
 boil a remnant of brine from which they extract a few ounces of 
 salt. A visit from the clerk ensues and a prods-verbal. Having 
 friends and protectors this costs them only forty-eight livres," 
 It is forbidden to take water from the ocean and from other 
 saline sources, under a penalty of from twenty to forty livres fine. 
 It is forbidden to water cattle in marshes and other places con- 
 taining salt, under penalty of confiscation and a fine of three 
 hundred livres. It is forbidden to put salt into the bellies of 
 mackerel on returning from fishing, or between their superposed 
 layers. An order prescribes one pound and a half to a barrel. 
 Another order prescribes the destruction annually of the natural 
 salt formed in certain cantons in Provence. Judges are prohib- 
 ited from moderating or reducing the penalties imposed in salt 
 
 ' Floquet, VI. 367 (May io> 1760).
 
 360 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 cases, under penalty of accountability and of deposition. I pass 
 over quantities of orders and prohibitions, existing by hundreds. 
 This legislation encompasses tax-payers like a net with a thou- 
 sand meshes, while the official who casts it is interested in find- 
 ing them at fault. We see the fisherman, accordingly, unpack- 
 ing his barrel, the housewife seeking a certificate for her hams, 
 the exciseman inspecting the buffet, testing the brine, peering 
 into the salt-box and, if it is of good quality, declaring it contra- 
 band because that of theferme, the only legitimate salt, is usually 
 adulterated and mixed with plaster. 
 
 Meanwhile, other officials, those of the excise, descend into the 
 cellar. None are more formidable, nor who more eagerly seize 
 on pretexts for delinquency. 1 " Let a citizen charitably bestow 
 a bottle of wine on a poor feeble creature and he is liable to 
 prosecution and to excessive penalties. . . . The poor invalid 
 that may interest his curate in the begging of a bottle of wine 
 for him will undergo a trial ruining, not alone the unfortunate man 
 that obtains it, but again the benefactor who gave it to him. 
 This is not a fancied story." By virtue of the right of deficient 
 revenue the clerks may, at any hour, take an inventory of wine 
 on hand, even the stores of a vineyard proprietor, indicate what 
 he may consume, tax him for the rest and for the surplus quantity 
 already drunk, theferme thus associating itself with the wine- 
 producer and claiming its portion of his production. In a vine- 
 yard at Epernay 2 on four casks of wine, the average product of 
 one arpent, and worth six* hundred francs, it levies, at first, 
 thirty francs, and then, after the sale of the four casks, seventy- 
 five francs additionally. Naturally, "the inhabitants resort to 
 the shrewdest and best planned artifices to escape" such potent 
 rights. 3 But the clerks are alert, watchful, and well-informed, 
 and they pounce down unexpectedly on every suspected domicile; 
 their instructions prescribe frequent inspections and exact regis- 
 tries "enabling them to see at a glance the condition of the 
 cellar of each inhabitant." 4 The manufacturer having paid up, 
 the merchant now has his turn. The latter, on sending the four 
 casks to the consumer again pays seventy-five francs to \heferme. 
 
 1 Boivin-Champeaux, p. 44. (Cahiers of Bray and of Gamaches). 
 
 Arthur Young, II. 175-178. 
 
 Archives rationales, G, 300; G, 319. (Memorials and instructions of various local 
 Brectors of the Excise to their successors). 
 
 Letrosne, ibid. 533.
 
 CHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 361 
 
 The wine is despatched and the jerme prescribes the roads by 
 which it must go; should others be taken it is confiscated and, 
 at every step on the way some payment must be made. "A 
 boat laden with wine from Languedoc, Dauphiny or Roussillon, 
 ascending the Rhone and descending the Loire to reach Paris, 
 through the Briare canal, pays on the way, leaving out charges 
 on the Rhone, from thirty-five to forty kinds of duty not com- 
 prising the charges on entering Paris." It pays these " at fifteen 
 or sixteen places, the multiplied payments obliging the carriers 
 to devote twelve or fifteen days more to the passage than they 
 otherwise would if their duties could be paid at one bureau." 
 The charges on the routes by water are particularly heavy. 
 " From Pontarlier to Lyons there are twenty-five or thirty tolls ; 
 from Lyons to Aigues-Mortes there are others, so that whatever 
 costs ten sous in Burgundy amounts to fifteen and eighteen sous at 
 Lyons and to over twenty-five sous at Aigues-Mortes." The 
 wine at last reaches the barriers of the city where it is to be 
 drunk. Here it pays an octroi of forty-seven francs per hogshead. 
 Entering Paris it goes into the tapster's or innkeeper's cellar 
 where it again pays from thirty to forty francs for the duty on 
 selling it at retail ; at Rethel the duty is from fifty to sixty francs 
 per puncheon, Rheims gauge. The total is exorbitant. "At 
 Rennes, 1 the dues and duties on a barrel of Bordeaux wine, to- 
 gether with a fifth over and above the tax, local charges, eight 
 sous per pound and the octroi, amount to more than seventy-two 
 livres exclusive of the purchase money; to which must be added 
 the expenses and duties advanced by the Rennes merchant and 
 which he recovers from the purchaser, Bordeaux drayage, freight, 
 insurance, tolls of the flood-gate, entrance duty into the town, 
 hospital dues, fees of gaugers, brokers and inspectors. The total 
 outlay for the tapster who sells a barrel of wine amounts to two 
 hundred livres." We may imagine whether, at this price, the 
 people of Rennes drink it, while these charges fall on the wine- 
 grower, since, if consumers do not purchase, he is unable to sell. 
 Accordingly, among the small growers, he is the most to be 
 pitied; according to the testimony of Arthur Young, wine- 
 grower and misery are two synonymous terms. The crop often 
 fails, "every doubtful crop ruining the man without capital." In 
 
 1 Archives Rationales, H, 436 (Papers of the Parliament of Brittany, February, 1783) 
 31
 
 362 THE ANCIENT REGIME, BOOK V. 
 
 Burgundy, in Berry, in Soisonnais, in the Trois-Eve'che's, in 
 Champagne, 1 I find in every report that he lacks bread and lives 
 on alms. In Champagne, the syndics of Bar-sur-Aube write 1 
 that the inhabitants, to escape duties, have more than once 
 emptied their wine into the river, the provincial assembly de- 
 claring that "in the greater portion of the province the slightest 
 augmentation of duties would cause the cultivators to desert the 
 soil." Such is the history of wine under the ancient regime. 
 From the producer who grows to the tapster who sells what 
 extortions and what vexations ! As to the salt-tax, according 
 to the comptroller-general, 3 this annually produces four thou- 
 sand domiciliary seizures, three thousand four hundred imprison- 
 ments, five hundred sentences to flogging, exile and the galleys. 
 If ever two imposts were well combined, not only to despoil, 
 but to irritate the peasantry, the poor and the people, here they 
 are. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Evidently the burden of taxation forms the chief cause of 
 misery; hence an accumulated, deep-seated hatred against the 
 fisc and its agents, receivers, store-house keepers, excise officials, 
 customs officers and clerks. But why is taxation so burdensome ? 
 The answer is not doubtful, the communes which annually plead 
 against certain persons to subject them to the faille writing it out 
 fully in their demands. What renders the charge overwhelming 
 is the fact that the strongest and those best able to bear taxation 
 succeed in evading it, the prime cause of misery being their ex- 
 emption. 
 
 Let us follow up the matter impost after impost. In the first 
 place, not only are nobles and ecclesiastics exempt from the 
 personal faille but again, as we have already seen, they are 
 exempt from the cultivator's faille, through cultivating their do- 
 mains themselves or by a steward. In Auvergne, 4 in the single 
 election-district of Clermont, fifty parishes are enumerated in 
 
 1 " Proces- verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Soissonnais" (1787), p. 45. Archives rationales, H, 
 1515 (Remonstrances of the Parliament of Metz, 1768). " The class of indigents form more 
 than twelve-thirteenths of the whole number of villages of laborers and generally those of th 
 wine-growers." Ibid. G, 319 (Tableau des directions of Chateaudun and Issoudun). 
 
 * Albert Babeau, I. 89. p. ai. 
 
 * " Me'moires," presented to the Assembly of Notables, by M. de Calonne (1787), p. 67. 
 
 * Gautier de Bianzat, " Doleances," 193, 225. " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Pofcou* 
 (1787), p. 99.
 
 CHAP. II. THE PEOPLE. 363 
 
 which, owing to this arrangement, every e?;ate of a privileged 
 person is exempt, the taille falling wholly on those subject to it. 
 Furthermore, it suffices for a privileged person to maintain that 
 his farmer is only a steward, which is the case in Poitou in several 
 parishes, the subdelegate and the lu not daring to look into the 
 matter too closely. In this way the privileged classes escape the 
 taille, they and their property, including their farms. Now, the 
 taille, ever augmenting, is that which provides, through its special 
 delegations, such a vast number of new offices. A man of the 
 Third-Estate has merely to run through the history of its period- 
 ical increase to see how it alone, or almost alone, paid and is pay- 
 ing l for the construction of bridges, roads, canals and courts of jus- 
 tice, for the purchase of offices, for the establishment and support 
 of houses of refuge, insane asylums, nurseries, post-houses for 
 horses, fencing and riding schools, for paving and sweeping Paris, 
 for salaries of lieutenants-general, governors, and provincial com- 
 manders, for the fees of bailiffs, seneschals and vice-bailiffs, for 
 the salaries of financial and election officials and of commission- 
 ers despatched to the provinces, for those of the police of the 
 watch and I know not how many other purposes. In the prov- 
 inces which hold assemblies, where the taille would seem to be 
 more justly apportioned, the like inequality is found. In Bur- 
 gundy 2 the expenses of the police, of public festivities, of keep- 
 ing horses, all sums appropriated to the courses of lectures on 
 chemistry, botany, anatomy and parturition, to the encourage- 
 ment of the arts, to subscriptions to the chancellorship, to frank- 
 ing letters, to presents given to the chiefs and subalterns of com- 
 mands, to salaries of officials of the provincial assemblies, to me 
 ministerial secretaryship, to expenses of levying taxes and even 
 alms, in short, 1,800,000 livres expended in the public service at 
 the charge of the Third-Estate, the two higher orders not paying 
 a cent. 
 
 In the second place, with respect to the poll-tax, originally dis- 
 tributed among twenty-two classes and intended to bear equally 
 on all according to fortunes, we know that, from the first, <^e 
 clergy buy themselves off, and, as to the nobles, they manage 
 
 > Gautier de Bianzat, ibid. 
 
 Archives rationales, the proces-verbaux and cahiers of the States-General, V. 59. p. & 
 (Letter of M. Orgeux to M Necker), t 27. p. 560-573. (Cahiers of the Third-Estate of 
 Anuiy-le-Duc).
 
 364 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 so well as to have their tax reduced proportionately with its in- 
 crease at the expense of the Third-Estate. A count or a marquis, 
 an intendant or a master of requests, with 40,000 livres income, 
 who, according to the tariff of 1695,* should pay from 1,700 to 
 2,500 livres, pays only 400 livres, while a bourgeois with 6,000 
 livres income and who, according to the same tariff should pay 
 70 livres, pays 720. The poll-tax of the privileged individual is 
 thus diminished three-quarters or five-sixths, while that of the 
 rtM'/&-payer has increased tenfold. In the Ile-de-France, 2 on an 
 income of 240 livres, the A7&-payer pays twenty-one livres eight 
 sous, and the nobles three livres, and the intendant himself states 
 that he taxes the nobles only an eightieth of their revenue ; that 
 of Orle*anais taxes them only a hundredth, while, on the other 
 hand, those subject to the faille are assessed the eleventh. If 
 other privileged parties are added to the nobles, such as officers 
 of justice, employe's of the fermes, and exempted townsmen, 
 a group is formed embracing nearly everybody rich or well-off 
 and whose revenue certainly greatly surpasses that of those who 
 are subject to the faille. Now, the budgets of the provincial as- 
 semblies inform us how much each province levies on each of 
 the two groups : in the Lyonnais district those subject to the 
 faille pay 898,000 livres, the privileged, 190,000; in the Ile-de- 
 France, the former pay 2,689,000 livres and the latter 232,000; 
 in the generalship of Alengon, the former pay 1,067,000 livres 
 and the latter 122,000; in Champagne, the former pay 1,377,000 
 livres, and the latter 199,000; in Haute-Guyenne, the former pay 
 1,268,000 livres, and the latter 61,000; in the generalship of 
 Auch, the former pay 797,000 livres, the privileged 21,000; in 
 Auvergne the former pay 1,753,000 livres and the latter 86,000; 
 in short, summing up the total of ten provinces, 11,636,000 livres 
 paid by the poor group and 1,450,000 livres by the rich group, 
 the latter paying eight times less than it ought to pay. 
 
 With respect to the vingttimes, the disproportion is less, the pre- 
 cise amounts not being attainable; we may nevertheless assume 
 that the assessment of the privileged class is about one-half of 
 
 1 In these figures the rise of the money standard has been kept in mind, the silver " marc," 
 
 worth 29 francs in 1695, being worth 49 francs during the last half of the eighteenth century. 
 
 * "Proces-verbaox de 1'ass. prov. de l'Ile-de- France," 132, 158; " de I'OrleanaU,"
 
 n. THE PEOPLE. 365 
 
 what it should be. "In 1772," says 1 ^!. de Calonne, "it was 
 admitted that the vingt&mes were not carried to their full value. 
 False declarations, counterfeit leases, too favorable conditions 
 granted to almost all the wealthy proprietors gave rise to inequal- 
 ities and countless errors. A verification of 4,902 parishes shows 
 that the product of the two vingtiemes amounting to 54,000,000 
 should have amounted to 81,000,000." A seigniorial domain 
 which, according to its own return of income, should pay 2,400 
 livres, pays only 1,216. The case is much worse with the princes 
 of the blood ; we have seen that their domains are exempt and 
 pay only 188,000 livres instead of 2,400,000. Under this sys- 
 tem, which crushes the weak to relieve the strong, the more cap- 
 able one is of contributing, the less one contributes. The same 
 story characterizes the fourth and last direct impost, namely, the 
 tax substituted for the corvte. This tax attached, at first, to the 
 mngtiemes and consequently extending to all proprietors, through 
 an act of the Council is attached to the faille and, consequently, 
 bears on those the most burdened. 2 Now this tax amounts to an 
 extra of one-quarter added to the principal of the faille, of which 
 one example may be cited, that of Champagne, where, on every 
 100 livres income the sum of six livres five sous devolves on the 
 to///<?-payer. "Thus," says the provincial assembly, " every road 
 impaired by active commerce, by the multiplied coursings of the 
 rich, is repaired wholly by the contributions of the poor." 
 
 As these figures spread out before the eye we involuntarily re- 
 cur to the two animals in the fable, the horse and the mule trav- 
 elling together on the same road ; the horse, by right, may prance 
 along as he pleases ; hence his load is gradually transferred to the 
 mule, the beast of burden, which finally sinks beneath the extra 
 load. 
 
 Not only, in the corps of tax-payers, are the privileged disbur- 
 dened to the detriment of the taxable, but again, in the corps of 
 the taxable, the rich are relieved to the injury of the poor, to sudi 
 an extent that the heaviest portion of the load finally falls on the 
 most indigent and most laborious class, on the small proprietor 
 
 i "Me'moire," presented to the Assembly of Notables (1787), p. i. See note a at the end 
 of the volume, on the domain of Blet 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. d' Alsace" (1787), p. n6; " of Champagne," 193. 
 (According to a declaration of June 2, 1787, the tax substituted for the corvte may be ex- 
 tended to one-sixth of the faille, with accessory taxes and tn> poll-tax combined). " De k 
 gene'ralite' d'Alenpon," 179 ; " du Berry," I. aiS. 
 
 3'*
 
 j66 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 cultivating his own field, on the simple artisan with nothing but 
 his tools and his hands, and, in general, on the inhabitants of vi 1 - 
 lages. In the first place, in the matter of imposts, a number of 
 the towns are " abonne"es," or free. Compiegne, for the faille and 
 its accessories, with 1,671 firesides, pays only 8,000 francs, whilst 
 one of the villages in its neighborhood, Canly, with 148 firesides, 
 pays 4,475 francs. 1 In the poll-tax, Versailles, Saint-Germain 
 Beauvais, Etampes, Pontoise, Saint-Denis, Compiegne, Fontaine- 
 bleau, taxed in the aggregate at 169,000 livres, are two-thirds ex- 
 empt, contributing but little more than one franc, instead of three 
 francs ten sous, per head of the population ; at Versailles it is still 
 less, since for 70,000 inhabitants the poll-tax amounts to only 
 51,600 francs. 2 Besides, in any event, on the apportionment of 
 a tax, the bourgeois of the town is favored above his rural neigh- 
 bors. Accordingly, " the inhabitants of the country, who depend 
 on the town and are comprehended in its functions, are treated 
 with a rigor of which it would be difficult to form an idea. . . . 
 Town influence is constantly throwing the burden on those who 
 are trying to be relieved of it, the richest of citizens paying less 
 faille than the 'most miserable of the peasant farmers." Hence, 
 " a horror of the faille depopulates the rural districts, concentrat- 
 ing in the towns both capacity and capital." 3 Outside of the towns 
 there is the same inequality. Each year, the e"lus and their col- 
 lectors, exercising arbitrary power, fix the tattle of the parish and 
 of each inhabitant. In these ignorant and partial hands the scales 
 are not held by equity but by self-interest, local hatreds, the desire 
 for revenge, the necessity of favoring some friend, relative, neigh- 
 bor, protector, or patron, some powerful or some dangerous per- 
 son. The intendant of Moulins, on visiting his generalship, finds 
 " people of influence paying nothing, while the poor are over- 
 charged." That of Dijon writes that " the basis of apportionment 
 is arbitrary, to such an extent that the people of the province must 
 not be allowed to suffer any longer." In the generalship of Rouen 
 " some parishes pay over four sous the livre and others scarcely 
 one sou." 4 " For three years past that I have lived in the coun- 
 
 1 Archives rationales, G, 322 (Memoir on the excise dues of Compiegne and its neighbor- 
 hood, 1786). 
 
 * "Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de 1'Ile-de-France," p. 104. 
 
 "Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Berry, I. 85, II. 91. " de 1'OrManais, p. 225." 
 
 " Arbitrariness, injustice, inequality, are inseparable from the tattle when any change of cot 
 lector takes place." 
 
 "Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de la ge'nerallte' de Reuen," p. 91.
 
 CHAP. ii. THE PEOPLE. 367 
 
 try," writes a lady of the same district, " I have remarked that 
 most of the wealthy proprietors are the least pressed; they are 
 selected to make the apportionment and the people are always 
 abused." ! " I live on an estate ten leagues from Paris," wrote 
 d'Argenson, " where an effort is made to assess the faille propor- 
 tionately, but only injustice has prevailed ; the seigniors have suc- 
 ceeded in relieving their farmers." 2 Besides those who, through fa- 
 vor, diminish their faille, others buy themselves off entirely. An in- 
 tendant, visiting the subdelegation of Bar-sur-Seine, observes " that 
 the rich cultivators succeed in obtaining petty commissions in con- 
 nection with the king's household and enjoy the privileges attached 
 to these, which throws the burden of taxation on the others." 3 
 " One of the leading causes of our prodigious taxation," says the 
 provincial assembly of Auvergne, " is the inconceivable number 
 of the privileged, which daily increases through traffic in and the 
 assignment of offices; cases occur in which these have ennobled 
 six families in less than twenty years." Should this abuse con- 
 tinue " in a hundred years every tax-payer the most capable of 
 supporting taxation will be ennobled." 4 Observe, moreover, that 
 an infinity of offices and functions, without conferring nobility, 
 exempt their titularies from the personal faille and reduce their 
 poll-tax to the fortieth of their income ; at first, all public func- 
 tionaries, administrative or judicial, and next all employments in 
 the salt-department, in the customs, in the post-office, in the royal 
 domains, and in the excise. 5 " There are few parishes," writes an 
 intendant, "in which these employe's are not found, while several 
 contain as many as two or three." 6 A postmaster is exempt 
 from the faille, in all his possessions and offices, and even on his 
 farms to the extent of a hundred arfents. The notaries of .\n- 
 gouleme are exempt from the corvte, from collections, and the 
 lodging of soldiers, while neither their sons or chief clerks can be 
 drafted in the militia. On closely examining the great fiscal net 
 in administrative correspondence, we detect at every step some 
 
 Hippeau, VI. 22 (1788). 
 1 D'Argenson, VI. 37. 
 
 Archives nationales, H. 200 (Memoir of M. Amelot, 1785). 
 4 " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. d' Auvergne," 253. 
 
 Boivin-Champeaux, "Doleances delaparvissede Tilleul-Lamoert " (Eure). "Numbers 
 of privileged characters, Messieurs of the elections, Messieurs the post-masters, Messieurs 
 the presidents and other attaches of the salt- warehouse, every individual possessing extensivt 
 property pays but a third or a half of the taxes they ought to pay." 
 
 De Tocqueville, 385. " Proccs-vevbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Lyonuais," p. 56.
 
 368 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 meshes by which, with slight effort and industry, all the big and 
 average-sized fish escape ; the small fry alone remain at the bot- 
 com of the scoop. A surgeon not an apothecary, a man of good 
 family forty-five years old, in commerce, but living with his par- 
 ent and in a province with a written code, escapes the collector. 
 The same immunity is extended to the begging agents of the 
 monks of "la Merci" and " L'Etroite Observance." Throughout 
 the South and the East individuals in easy circumstances purchase 
 this commission of beggar for a "Zouis" or for ten crowns, and, 
 putting three livres in a cup, go about presenting it in this or that 
 parish : 1 ten of the inhabitants of a small mountain village and 
 five inhabitants in the little village of Treignac obtain their dis- 
 charge in this fashion. Consequently, " the collections fall on the 
 poor, always powerless and often insolvent," the privileged who 
 effect the ruin of the tax-payer causing the deficiencies of the 
 treasury. 
 
 VII. 
 
 One word more to complete the picture. People take refuge 
 in the towns and, indeed, compared with the country, the towns 
 are a refuge. But misery accompanies the poor, for, on the one 
 hand, they are involved in debt, and, on the other, the coterie 
 administering municipal affairs imposes taxation on the indigent. 
 The towns being oppressed by the fisc, they oppress the people 
 by throwing on these the load which the king imposes on 
 them. Seven times in twenty-eight years 2 he withdraws and 
 re-sells the right of appointing their municipal officers, and, to get 
 rid of "this enormous financial burden," the towns double their 
 octrois. At present, although liberated, they still make payment ; 
 the annual charge has become a perpetual charge; never does 
 the fisc release its hold ; once beginning to suck it continues to 
 suck. "Hence, in Brittany," says an intendant, "not a town is 
 there whose expenses are not greater than its revenue."* They 
 are unable to mend their pavements, and repair their streets, " the 
 approaches to them being almost impracticable." What could 
 
 1 Archives nationales, H, 1422. (Letters of M. d'Aine, intendant, also of the recei/er fbi 
 die election of Tulle, February 23, 1783). 
 
 1 De Tocqu-ville, 64, 363. 
 
 * Archives nationales, H, 612, 614. (Letters of M. de la Bove, September n, and Dec. a 
 *774! June 28, 1777).
 
 CHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 369 
 
 they do for self-support, obliged, as they are, to pay over 
 again after having already paid ? Their augmented octrois, in 
 1748, ought to furnish in eleven years the 606,000 livres agreed 
 upon; but, the eleven years having lapsed, the satisfied fisc still 
 maintains its exigencies, and to such an extent that, in 1774, they 
 have contributed 2,071,052 livres, the provisional octroi being 
 still maintained. Now, this exorbitant octroi bears heavily every- 
 where on the most indispensable necessities, the artisan being 
 more heavily burdened than the bourgeois. In Paris, as we have 
 seen above, wine pays forty-seven livres a puncheon entrance 
 duty which, at the present standard of value, must be doubled. 
 " A turbot, taken on the coast at Harfleur and brought by post, 
 pays an entrance duty of eleven times its value ; the people of the 
 capital, consequently, are condemned to dispense with fish from 
 the sea." ' At the gates of Paris, in the little parish of Aubervil- 
 Hers, I find " excessive duties on hay, straw, seeds, tallow, candles, 
 eggs, sugar, fish, faggots and firewood." 2 Compiegne pays the 
 whole amount of its faille by means of a tax on beverages and 
 cattle. 3 " In Toul and in Verdun the taxes are so onerous that 
 but few consent to remain in the town, except those kept there by 
 their offices and by old habits." 4 At Coulommiers, " the merchants 
 and the people are so severely taxed they dread undertaking any 
 enterprise." Popular hatred everywhere is profound against oc- 
 troi, barrier and clerk. The bourgeois oligarchy everywhere 
 first cares for itself before caring for those it governs. At Nevers 
 and at Moulins, 5 "all rich persons find means to escape the col- 
 lections by different commissions, or through their influence with 
 the Mus, to such an extent that the collectors of Nevers, of the 
 present and preceding year, would be considered true beggars : 
 there are no small villages whose collectors are solvent, since the 
 me*tayers have to be taken." At Angers, "independent of pres- 
 ents and candles, which annually consume 2,172 livies, the public 
 pence are employed and wasted in clandestine outlays according 
 to the fancy of the municipal officers." In Provence, where the 
 communities are free to tax themselves and where they ought, 
 apparently, to consider the poor, " most of the towns, and notably 
 
 1 Mercier, II. 62. 
 
 * "Dole'ances" of the parish of AubervilUws. 
 Archives nationales, G, 300; G, 322 ("Me'moires" on the excise duties). 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. des Trois-EvSchfa," p. 442. 
 Archives nationales, H, 1423 (Letter of the intendant of Moulins, April 1779).
 
 370 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK y, 
 
 Aix, Marseilles and Toulon, 1 pay their impositions," local and gen- 
 eral, "only by the duty of piquet." This is a tax "on all species 
 of flour belonging to and consumed on the territory ; " for exam- 
 ple, on 254,897 livres, which Toulon expends, the fifftteffannsbea 
 233,405. Thus the taxation falls wholly on the people, while the 
 bishop, the marquis, the president, the merchant of importance 
 pay less on their dinner of delicate fish and becaficos than the 
 caulker or porter on his two pounds of bread rubbed with a piece 
 of garlic ! Bread in this country is already too dear ! And the 
 quality is so poor that Malouet, the intendant of the marine, re- 
 fuses to let his workmen eat it! "Sire," said M. de la Fare, 
 bishop of Nancy, from his pulpit, May 4th, 1789, "Sire, the 
 people over which you reign has given unmistakable proofs of its 
 patience. . . . They are martyrs in whom life seems to have been 
 allowed to remain to enable them to suffer the longer." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "I am miserable because too much is taken from me. Too 
 much is taken from me because not enough is taken from the 
 privileged. Not only do the privileged force me to pay in their 
 place, but, again, they previously deduct from my earnings their 
 ecclesiastic and feudal dues. When, out of my income of 100 
 francs, I have parted with fifty-three francs, and more, to the col- 
 lector, I am obliged again to give fourteen francs to the seignior, 
 also more than fourteen for tithes, 2 and, out of the remaining eigh- 
 teen or nineteen francs, I have additionally to satisfy the excisemen. 
 I alone, a poor man, pay two governments, one the old govern- 
 ment, local and now absent, useless, inconvenient and humiliating, 
 and active only through annoyances, exemptions and taxes ; and 
 the other, recent, centralized, everywhere present, which, taking 
 upon itself all functions, has vast needs and makes my meagre 
 shoulders support its enormous weight." These, in precise terms, 
 are the vague ideas beginning to ferment in the popular brain 
 
 1 Archives nationales, H, 1312 (Letters cf M. d'Antheman procureur-ge'ne'ral of the excise 
 court (May 19, 1783), and of the Arch-bishop of Aix (June 15, 1783).) Provence produced 
 wheat only sufficient for seven and a half months' consumption. 
 
 * The feudal dues may be estimated at a seventh of the net income and the dime also at a 
 icventh. These are the figures given by the ass. prov. of Haute-Guyenne (Proces-verbaux, 
 p. 47). Isolated instances, in other provinces, indicate similar results. The dime ranget 
 from a tenth to the thirteenth of the gross product, and commonly the tenth. I regard th 
 average as about the fourteenth, and as one-half of the gross product must be deducted foi 
 expenses of cultivation, it amounts to one-seventh. Letrosne says a fifth and even a quarter
 
 CHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 371 
 
 and encountered on every page of the records of die States- 
 General. "Would to God," says a Normandy village, 1 "the 
 monarch might take into his own hands the defence of the miser- 
 able citizen pelted and oppressed by clerks, seigniors, justiciary 
 and clergy ! " "Sire," writes a village in Champagne, 2 "the only 
 message to us on your part is a demand for money. We were 
 led to believe that this might cease, but every year the demand 
 comes for more. We do not hold you responsible for this be- 
 cause we love you, but those whom you employ, who better know 
 how to manage their own affairs than yours. We believed that 
 you were deceived by them and we in our chagrin said to our- 
 selves, If our good king only knew of this ! . . . We are crushed 
 down with every species of taxation ; thus far we have given you 
 a part of our bread and, should this continue, we shall be in 
 want. . . . Could you see the miserable tenements in which we 
 live, the poor food we eat, you would feel for us ; this would 
 prove to you better than words that we can support this no 
 longer and that it must be lessened. . . . That which grieves us 
 is that those who possess the most, pay the least. We pay the 
 tailles and for our implements, while the ecclesiastics and nobles 
 who own the best land pay nothing. Why do the rich pay the 
 least and the poor the most ? Should not each pay according to 
 his ability ? Sire, we entreat that things may be so arranged, for 
 that is just. . . . Did we dare, we should undertake to plant the 
 slopes with vines ; but we are so persecuted by the clerks of the 
 excise we would rather pull up those already planted ; the wine 
 that we could make would all go to them, scarcely any of it 
 remaining for ourselves. These exactions are a great scourge 
 and, to escape them, we would rather let the ground lie waste. 
 . . . Relieve us of all these extortions and of the excisemen ; we 
 are great sufferers through all these devices; now is the 
 time to change them ; never shall we be happy as long as these 
 last. We entreat all this of you, Sire, along with others of your 
 subjects as wearied as ourselves. . . . We would entreat yet 
 more but you cannot do all at one time." Imposts aim privileges, 
 in the really popular memorials, are the two enemies against 
 which complaints everywhere arise. 3 " We are overwhelmed by 
 
 i Boivin-Champeaux, 72. 
 
 * Grievances of the community of Culmon (Election de Langres.) 
 
 1 Boivin-Champeaux, 34, 36, 41, 48. Prin (" Doleances de sparoisses ruiales de TArtoU," 
 301, 308). Archives nation Acs, proces-verbaax and cahiers of th States-Gn6raux, v. XVIL 
 p. la (Letter ot the inhabitants of Darcy-de-Viteux).
 
 372 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v, 
 
 demands for subsidies, ... we are burdened with taxes beyond 
 our strength, ... we do not feel able to support any more, . . , 
 we perish, overpowered by the sacrifices demanded of us. ... 
 Labor is taxed while indolence is exempt. . . . Feudalism is the 
 most disastrous of abuses, the evils it causes surpassing those of 
 hail and lightning. . . . Subsistence is impossible if three-quarters 
 of the crops are to be taken for field-rents, terrage, etc. . . . The 
 proprietor has a fourth part, the decimateur a twelfth, the har- 
 vester a twelfth, taxation a tenth, not counting the depredations 
 of vast quantities of game which devour the growing crops : 
 nothing is left for the poor cultivator but pain and sorrow." Why 
 should the Third-Estate alone pay for roads on which the nobles 
 and the clergy drive in their carriages ? Why are the poor alone 
 subject to militia draftings? Why does "the subdelegate cause 
 only the defenceless and the unprotected to be drafted ? " Why 
 does it suffice to be the servant of a privileged person to escape 
 this service? Destroy those dove-cotes, formerly only small 
 pigeon-pens and which now contain as many as five thousand 
 pairs. Abolish the barbarous rights of "motte, quevaise and 
 domaine congeable * under which more than five hundred thousand 
 persons still suffer in Lower Brittany." "You have in your 
 armies, Sire, more than thirty thousand Franche-Comt6 serfs ; " 
 should one of these become an officer and be pensioned out 
 of the service he would be obliged to return to and live in the 
 hut in which he was born; otherwise, at his death, the seignior 
 will take his pittance. Let there be no more absentee prelates, 
 nor abb6s-commendatory. "The present deficit is not to be paid 
 by us but by the bishops and beneficiaries ; deprive the princes 
 of the church of two-thirds of their revenues." " Let feudalism 
 be abolished. Man, the peasant especially, is tyrannically bowed 
 down to the impoverished ground on which he lies exhausted. 
 . . . There is no freedom, no prosperity, no happiness where the 
 soil is enthralled. . . . Let the lord's dues, and other odious 
 taxes not feudal, be abolished, a thousand times returned to the 
 privileged. Let feudalism content itself with its iron sceptre 
 without adding the poniard of the revenue speculator." 2 Here, 
 
 1 Motte; a mound indicative of seigniorial dominion; quevaise: the right of forcing a 
 resident to remain on his property under penalty of forfeiture ; domaine congtable : property 
 held subject to capricious ejection. 
 
 * Frud'homme, " Re'sume' des cahiers," III. fassim., and especially from j\j to 340,
 
 UHAP. n. THE PEOPLE. 373 
 
 and for some time before this, it is not the countryman who 
 speaks but the procureur, the lawyer, who places professional 
 metaphors and theories at his service. But the lawyer has simply 
 translated the countryman's sentiments into literary dialect. 
 S*
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 INTELLECTUAL STATE OF THE PEOPLE. I. Intellectual incapacity. Ho* 
 ideas are transformed into marvellous stories. II. Political incapacity. 
 Interpretation of political rumors and of government action. III. Destruc- 
 tive impulses. The object of blind rage. Distrust of natural leaders. 
 Suspicion of them changed into hatred. Disposition of the people in 1 789. 
 IV. Insurrectionary leaders and recruits. Poachers. Smugglers and 
 dealers in contraband salt. Banditti. Beggars and vagabonds. Advent of 
 brigands. The people of Paris. 
 
 I. 
 
 To comprehend their actions we ought now to look into the 
 condition of their minds, to know the current train of their ideas, 
 their mode of thinking. But, is it really essential to draw this 
 portrait, and are not the details of their mental condition we have 
 just presented sufficient ? We shall obtain a knowledge of them 
 later, and through their actions, when, in Touraine, they come to 
 bestowing kicks with their sabots on a mayor and his assistant 
 chosen by themselves, because, in obeying the National Assembly, 
 these two unfortunate men prepared a table of imposts ; or when, 
 at Troyes, they drag through the streets and tear to pieces the 
 venerable magistrate who was nourishing them at that very 
 moment, and who had just dictated his testament in their favor. 
 
 Take the still rude brain of one of our peasants and deprive 
 it of the ideas which, for eighty years past, have entered it by so 
 many channels, through the primary school of each village, 
 through the return home of the conscript after his seven years' 
 service, through the prodigious multiplication of books, news- 
 papers, roads, railroads, foreign travel and every other species of 
 communication. 1 Try to imagine the peasant of that epoch, 
 
 1 Thron de Montaugl, 109, 113. In the Toulousain ten parishes out of fifty have school* 
 In Gascony, says the ass. prov. of Auch (p. 24), " most of the rural districts are without 
 schoolmasters or parsonages." In 1778, the post between Paris and Toulouse runs only tlm*
 
 cifAP. in. THE PEOPLE. 375 
 
 peni>ed and sh;t up from father to son In his hamlet, without 
 parish highways, deprived of news, with no instruction but the 
 Sunday sermon, solicitous only for his daily bread and the im- 
 posts, " with his wretched, dried-up aspect," 1 not daring to repair 
 his house, always persecuted, distrustful, his mind contracted and 
 stinted, so to say, by misery. His condition is almost that of 
 his ox or his ass, while his ideas are those of his condition. He 
 has been a long time stolid; "he lacks even instinct," 2 mechan- 
 ically and fixedly regarding the ground on which he drags along 
 his hereditary plough. In 1751, d'Argenson wrote in his journal: 
 " nothing in the news from the court affects them ; the reign is 
 indifferent to them. . . . The distance between the capital and 
 the province daily widens. . . . Here they are ignorant of the 
 striking occurrences that most impressed us at Paris. . . . The 
 inhabitants of the country are merely poverty-stricken slaves, 
 draft cattle under a yoke, moving on as they are goaded, caring t 
 for nothing and embarassed by nothing, provided they can eat 
 and sleep at regular hours." They make no complaints, " they do 
 not even dream of complaining;" 3 their wretchedness seems to 
 them natural like winter or hail. Their minds, like their agricult- 
 ure, still belong to the middle ages. In the Toulousain, 4 to 
 ascertain who committed a robbery, to cure a man or a sick 
 animal, they resort to a sorcerer who divines this by means of a 
 sieve. The countryman fully believes in ghosts and, on All 
 Saints' eve, he lays the cloth for the dead. In Auvergne, at the 
 outbreak of the Revolution, on a contagious fever making its ap- 
 pearance, M. de Montlosier, declared to be a sorcerer, is the 
 cause of it and two hundred men assemble together to demolish 
 his dwelling. Their religious belief is on the same level. 5 " Their 
 priests drink with them and sell them absolution. On Sundays, 
 at the sermon, they put up lieutenancies and sub-lieutenancies 
 (among the saints) for sale: so much for a lieutenant's place 
 under St. Peter ! If the peasant hesitates in his bid a eulogy of 
 
 times a week; that of Toulouse by way of Alby, Rodez, etc., twice a week, for Beaumont, 
 Saint-Girons, etc., once a week. "In the country," says Th6ron de Montauge', "one may 
 be said to live in solitude and exile." In 1789 the Paris post reaches Besangon three times 
 * week. (Arthur Young, I. 237). 
 
 1 One of the Marquis de Mirabeau's expressions. 
 
 1 Archives nationales, G, 300, letter cf an excise director at Coulommiers, Aug. 13, 1761. 
 
 D'Argenson, VI. 425 (June 16, 1751). 
 
 * De Montlosier, I. 102, 146. 
 
 * Th6ron de Montaugi toa.
 
 376 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 St. Peter at once begins and then our peasants run it up fast 
 enough." To intellects in a primitive state, barren of ideas and 
 crowded with images, idols on earth are as essential as idols in 
 heaven. " No doubt whatever existed in my mind," says R6tif 
 de la Bretonne, 1 " of the power of the king to compel any man 
 to bestow his wife or daughter on me, and my village (Sacy, in 
 Burgundy) thought as I did." 2 There is no room in minds of 
 this description for abstract conceptions, for any idea of social 
 order ; they are submissive to it and that is all. " The mass of 
 the people," writes Gouverneur Morris in 1789, " have no religion 
 but that of their priests, no law but that of those above them, no 
 morality but that of self-interest ; these are the beings who, led 
 on by drunken curates, are now on the high road to liberty, and 
 the first use they make of it is to rebel on all sides because there 
 is a dearth." 3 
 
 How could things be otherwise? Every idea, previous to 
 taking root in their brain, must possess a legendary form, as 
 absurd as it is simple, adapted to their experiences, their faculties, 
 their fears and their aspirations. Once planted in this unculti- 
 vated and fertile soil it vegetates and becomes transformed, de- 
 veloping into gross excrescences, sombre foliage and poisonous 
 fruit. The more monstrous the greater its vigor, clinging to the 
 slightest of probabilities and tenacious against the most certain 
 of demonstrations. Under Louis XV., in an arrest of vagabonds, 
 a few children having been carried off wilfully or by mistake, the 
 rumor spreads that the king takes baths in blood to restore his 
 exhausted functions, and, so true does this seem to be, the women, 
 horrified through their maternal instincts, join in the riot; a 
 policeman is seized and knocked down, and, on his demanding 
 a confessor, a woman in the crowd picking up a stone, cries out 
 that he must not have time to go to heaven, and smashes his 
 head with it, believing that she is performing an act of justice. 4 
 Under Louis XVI. evidence is presented to the people that there 
 is no scarcity: in 1789,* an officer, listening to the conversation 
 of his soldiers, hears them state " with full belief that the princes 
 
 1 Monsieur Nicolas, I. 448. 
 
 "Tableaux de la Revolution," by Schmidt, II. 7 (Report by the agent Perriere who Ihred 
 In Auvergne.) 
 
 1 Gouvemeur Morris, II. 69, April 29, 1780. 
 Mercier, "Tableau de Paris," XII. 83. 
 ' De Vaublanc, 209.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PEOPLE. 377 
 
 and courtiers, with a view to starve Paris out, are throwing flour 
 into the Seine." Turning to a quarter-master he asks him how he 
 can possibly believe such an absurd story. " Lieutenant," he re- 
 plies, "'tis time the bags were tied with blue strings (cordons 
 bleus)" To them this is a sufficent reason and no argument 
 could convince them to the contrary. Thus, among the dregs of 
 society, foul and horrible romances are forged, in connection with 
 famine and the Bastille, in which Louis XVI., the queen Marie An- 
 toinette, the Comte d'Artois, Madame de Lamballe, the Polignacs, 
 the revenue farmers, the seigniors and ladies of high rank are 
 portrayed as vampires and ghouls. I have seen many editions 
 of these in the pamphlets of the day, in the engravings not ex- 
 hibited and among popular prints and illustrations, the latter the 
 most efficacious since they appeal to the eye. They surpass the 
 stories of Mandrin and Cartouche, being exactly suitable for 
 men whose literature consists of the complaints of Mandrin and 
 Cartouche. 
 
 II 
 
 By this we can judge of their political intelligence. Every ob- 
 ject appears to them in a false light; they are like children 
 who, at each turn of the road, see in each tree or bush some 
 frightful hobgoblin. Arthur Young, on visiting the springs near 
 Clermont, is arrested, 1 and the people want to imprison a woman, 
 his guide, some of the bystanders regarding him as "an agent 
 of the Queen, who intended to blow the town up with a mine, 
 and send all that escaped to the galleys." Six days after this, 
 beyond Puy, and notwithstanding his passport, the village guard 
 come and take him out of bed at eleven o'clock at night, declar- 
 ing that " I was undoubtedly a conspirator with the Queen, the 
 Count d'Artois and the Count d'Entragues (who has property 
 here), who had employed me as arpenteur to measure their fields 
 in order to double their taxes." We here take the unconscious, 
 apprehensive, popular imagination in the act ; a slight indication, 
 a word, prompting the construction of either airy castles or fan- 
 tastic dungeons, and seeing these as plainly as if they were so 
 many substantial realities. They have not the inward resources 
 that render them capable of separating and discerning; their 
 
 ' Arthur Young, I. 183 (Aug. 13, 1789) ; I. 389 (Aug. 19, 1789). 
 32*
 
 378 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 conceptions are formed in a lump ; both object and fancy appear 
 together and are united in one single perception. At the mo- 
 ment of electing deputies the report is current in Provence * that 
 "the best of kings desires perfect equality, that there are to be 
 no more bishops, nor seigniors, nor tithes, nor seigniorial dues, 
 no more titles or distinctions, no more hunting or fishing rights, 
 . . . that the people are to be wholly relieved of taxation, and 
 that the first two orders alone are to provide the expenses of the 
 government." Whereupon forty or fifty riots take place in one 
 day. "Several communities refuse to make any payments to 
 their treasurer outside of royal requisitions." Others do better : 
 " on pillaging the strong-box of the receiver of the tax on leather 
 at Brignolles, they shout out Vive le Roi ! " " The peasant con- 
 stantly asserts his pillage and destruction to be in conformity 
 with the king's will." A little later, in Auvergne, the peasants 
 who burn castles are to display " much repugnance " in thus mal- 
 treating "such kind seigniors," but they allege "imperative or- 
 ders, having been advised that the king wished it." 2 At Lyons, 
 when the tapsters of the town and the peasants of the neighbor- 
 hood pass over the bodies of the customs officials they believe 
 that the king has suspended all customs dues for three days. 3 
 The scope of their imagination is proportionate to their short- 
 sightedness. " Bread, no more rents, no more taxes ! " is the sole 
 cry, the cry of want, while exasperated want plunges ahead like 
 a famished bull. Down with the monopolist! storehouses are 
 forced open, convoys of grain are stopped, markets are pillaged, 
 bakers are hung, and the price of bread is fixed so that none is 
 to be had or is concealed. Down with the octroi ! barriers are 
 demolished, clerks are beaten, money is wanting in the towns for 
 urgent expenses. Burn tax registries, account-books, municipal 
 archives, seigniors' charter-safes, convent parchments, every de- 
 testable document creative of debtors and sufferers ! The village 
 itself is no longer able to preserve its parish property. The rage 
 against any written document, against public officers, against any 
 
 1 Archives nadonales, H, 274. Letters respectively of M. de Caraman (March 18 and 
 April 12, 1789) ; M. d'Eymar de Montmegran (April 2) ; M. de la Tour (March 30). "The 
 wvereign's greatest benefit is interpreted in the strangest manner by an ignorant populace." 
 
 * Doniol, "Hist des classes r Tales," 495. (Letter of Aug. 3, 1789, to M. de Clermont- 
 Tonncrre). 
 
 Archives nadonales, H, 1453. (Letter of Imbert Colonnes, prevdt des marchands, dated 
 July 5, 1789).
 
 CHAP. ra. THE PEOPLE. 379 
 
 man more or less connected with grain, is blind ;xnd determined 
 f he furious animal destroys all, although wounding himself, driv 
 ing and roaring against the obstacle that ought to be outflanked 
 
 III. 
 
 This is owing to the absence of leaders and to the absence of 
 organization, a multitude being simply a herd. Its mistrust of 
 its natural leaders, of the great, of the wealthy, of persons in of- 
 fice and clothed with authority, is inveterate and incurable. 
 Vainly do these wish it well and do it good; it has no faith in 
 their humanity or disinterestedness. It has been too do wn- trodden ; 
 it entertains prejudices against every measure proceeding from 
 them, even the most liberal and the most beneficial. "At the 
 mere mention of the new assemblies," says a provincial commis- 
 sion in 1787,* "we heard a workman exclaim, 'What, more new 
 extortioners ! ' " Superiors of every kind are suspected, and from 
 suspicion to hostility the road is not long. In 1788* Mercier de- 
 clares that " insubordination has been manifest for some years, es- 
 pecially among the trades. . . . Formerly, on entering a printing- 
 office the men took off their hats. Now they content themselves 
 with staring and leering at you; scarcely have you crossed the 
 threshold than you hear yourself more lightly spoken of than if 
 you were one of them." The same attitude is taken by the peas- 
 ants in the environs ot Paris ; Madame Vige*e-Lebrun, 3 on going 
 to Romainville to visit Marshal de Se"gur, remarks : " Not only 
 do they not remove their hats but they regard us insolently ; some 
 of them even threatened us with clubs." In March and April 
 following this, her guests arrive at her concert in consternation, 
 " In the morning, at the promenade of Longchamps, the populace, 
 assembled at the barrier of 1'Etoile, insulted the people passing by 
 in carriages in the grossest manner ; some of these wretches jumped 
 on the footsteps exclaiming : ' Next year you shall be behind the 
 carriage and we inside.'" At the close of the year 1788, the 
 stream becomes a torrent and the torrent a cataract. An intend- 
 ant 4 writes that, in his province, the government must decide, and 
 
 1 " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de 1'Orle'anais," p. 296. " Distrust still prevails through, 
 out the rural districts. . . . Your first orders for departmental assemblies only awakened 
 ruspicion In certain quarters." 
 
 "Tableau de Paris," XII. 186. 
 
 1 Mme. VigeVLebrun, I. 158 (1788) ; I. 183 (1789). 
 
 Archives nationales, H, 723. (Letter of M. de Caumartin, btendaot at Besar^on, De& 
 5, 1788).
 
 380 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 in the popular sense, to separate from privileged classes, abandon 
 old forms and give the Third-Estate a double vote. The clergy 
 and the nobles are detested, and their supremacy is a yoke. 
 " Last July," he says, " the old States-General would have 
 been receiv2d with transport and there would have been few ob- 
 stacles to its formation. During the past five months minds have 
 become enlightened; respective interests have been discussed, 
 and leagues formed. You have been kept in ignorance of the 
 fermentation which is at its height among all classes of the 
 Third-Estate, and a spark will kindle the conflagration. If the 
 king's decision should be favorable to the first two orders a gen- 
 eral insurrection will occur throughout the province, 600,000 men 
 in arms and the horrors of the Jacquerie." The word is spoken 
 and the reality is coming. An insurrectionary multitude reject- 
 ing its natural leaders must elect or submit to others. It is like 
 an army which, entering on a campaign, should depose its officers ; 
 the new grades are for the boldest, most violent, most oppressed, 
 for those who, putting themselves ahead, cry out " march " and 
 thus form advanced bands. In 1789, the bands are ready; for, 
 below the mass that suffers another suffers yet more, with which 
 the insurrection is permanent, and which, repressed, persecuted, 
 and obscure, only awaits an opportunity to issue from its hiding- 
 place and ravage in the open daylight. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Vagrants, every species of refractory spirit, victims of the law 
 and of the police, mendicants, deformities, foul, filthy, haggard 
 and savage, are engendered by the abuses of the system, and, 
 upon each social ulcer they gather like vermin. 
 
 Four hundred leagues of guarded captainries and the 
 security enjoyed by vast quantities of game feeding on crops 
 under their owners' eyes, give rise to thousands of poachers, the 
 more dangerous that they are armed and defy the most terrible 
 laws. Already in I752 1 are seen around Paris "gatherings of 
 fifty or sixty, all fully armed and acting as if on regular foraging 
 campaigns, with the infantry at the centre and the cavalry on 
 the wings. . . They live in the forests behind retired and 
 guarded entrenchments, paying exactly for what they take to 
 
 1 D'Argenson, March 13, 1753.
 
 CHAP. ill. THE PEOPLE. 381 
 
 live on." In 1777, at Sens in Burgundy, the procureur-ge'ne'ral, 
 M. Terray, hunting on his own property with two officers, meets 
 a gang of poachers who fire on the game under his own eye and 
 soon afterwards fire on them. M. Terray is wounded and one 
 of the officers has his coat pierced ; guards arrive, but the poach- 
 ers stand firm and repel them ; dragoons are sent for, at Provins, 
 and the poachers kill one of these, along with three horses, and 
 are attacked with sabres ; four of them are brought to the ground 
 and seven are captured. Reports of the States -General show 
 that every year, in each extensive forest, murders occur, some* 
 times at the hands of a poacher and again, and the most fre- 
 quently, by the shot of a gamekeeper. Domestic warfare is or- 
 ganized; every vast domain thus harbors its rebels provided 
 with powder and ball and knowing how to use them. 
 
 Other recruits for turbulence are found in smugglers and in 
 dealers in contraband salt. 1 A tax, as soon as it becomes exor- 
 bitant, invites fraud, and raises up a population of delinquents 
 against its army of clerks. The number of defrauders of this 
 species may be estimated by the number of their supervisors . 
 twelve hundred leagues of interior custom districts are guarded by 
 50,000 men of which 23,000 are soldiers not in uniform. 2 "In 
 the chief provinces of the salt-tax and in the provinces of the 
 five great fermes, four leagues one way and another along the 
 line of defence," cultivation is abandoned ; everybody is either a 
 customs official or a smuggler. 3 The more excessive the tax the 
 higher the premium offered to the violators of the law ; at every 
 place on the boundaries of Brittany with Normandy, Maine and 
 Anjou, four sous per pound added to the salt-tax multiplies be- 
 yond any conception the already enormous number of contra- 
 band dealers. "Numerous bands of men, 4 armed with frettes^ or 
 long sticks pointed with iron, and often with pistols or guns, 
 attempt to force a passage. A multitude of women and of chil- 
 dren, quite young, cross the lines of the brigades while, on the 
 
 1 Beugnot, I. 142. "No inhabitant of the barony of Choiseul mingled with any of the 
 bands composed of the patriots of Montigny, smugglers and outcasts of the neighborhood." 
 See, on the poachers of the day, " Les deux amis de Bourbonne," by Diderot 
 
 *De Calonne, "M6moires presentes i 1'ass. des notables," No. 8. Necker, "De 1'Ad- 
 ministration des Finances," I. 195. 
 
 * Letrosne, "De 1' Administration des Finances," 59. 
 
 4 Archives Rationales, H. 426. (Memorials of the fanners-general, Jan. 13, 17? i; Sept 
 15, 1782). H, 614. (Letter of M. de Coetlosquet, April 25, 1777). H, 1431. Report bj 
 the farmers-general, March 9, 1787.
 
 382 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 other hand, troops of dogs brought upon the free soil and kept 
 there a certain time without food, are loaded with salt and this, 
 urged by their hunger, they immediately transport to their masters." 
 Vagabonds, outlaws, the famished, sniff this lucrative occupation 
 from afar and run to it like so many packs of hounds. "The 
 outskirts of Brittany are filled with a population of emigrants, 
 mostly outcasts from their own districts, and who, after a year's 
 sojourn here in domicile, enjoy the privileges of the Bretons: 
 their occupation is limited to collecting piles of salt to re-sell to 
 the contraband dealers." We obtain a glimpse, as in a flash of 
 lightning, of this long line of restless, hunted, midnight rovers, a 
 male and female population of savage wanderers, accustomed to 
 blows, hardened to the inclemencies of the weather, ragged, 
 "almost all with an obstinate itch;" and I find similar bodies in 
 the vicinity of Morlaix, Lorient, and other ports on the frontiers 
 of other provinces and on the frontiers of the kingdom. From 
 1783 to 1787, in Quercy, two allied bands of smugglers, sixty 
 and eighty each, defraud the revenue of forty thousands of 
 tobacco, kill two customs officers and, with their guns, defend 
 their magazine in the mountains; to suppress them soldiers are 
 requisite, which their military commander will not furnish. In 
 1789,! a large troop of smugglers carry on operations permanently 
 on the frontiers of Maine and Anjou ; the military commander 
 writes that "their chief is an intelligent and formidable bandit, 
 that he already has under him fifty-five men, that he will soon 
 have a corps, embarrassing through misery and through the dis- 
 position of minds ; " it would be well, possibly, to corrupt some of 
 his men so as to have him betrayed since they cannot capture 
 him. These are the means resorted to in regions where brigand- 
 age is endemic. Here, indeed, as in Calabria, the people are on 
 the side of the brigands against the gendarmes. The exploits 
 of Mandrin in I754, 2 maybe remembered: his company of sixty 
 men who bring in contraband goods and ransom only the clerks, 
 his expedition, lasting nearly a year, across Franche- Cerate", Ly- 
 onnais, Bourbonnais, Auvergne and Burgundy, the twenty-seven 
 towns he enters making no resistance, delivering prisoners and 
 making sale of his merchandise; to overcome him a camp had 
 to be formed at Valence and two thousand men sent against him; 
 
 1 Archives naa jnalcs, H, 1453. (Letter of the Baron de Bezenval, June 19, 1789. 
 * " Mandrin," by Paul Simian, passim. "Histoire de Bearme," by Rogsegnol, p. 433).
 
 CHAP. m. THE PEOPLE. 383 
 
 he was taken through treachery and still at the present day 
 certain families are proud of their relationship to him, declar- 
 ing him a liberator. No symptom is more alarming: on the 
 enemies of the law being preferred by the people to its defenders, 
 society disintegrates and the worms begin to work. Add to these 
 the veritable brigands, assassins and robbers. "In I782, 1 the 
 provost's court of Montargis is engaged on the trial of Hulin 
 and two hundred of his accomplices who, for ten years, by means 
 of joint enterprises, have desolated a portion of the kingdom." 
 Mercier enumerates in France "an army of more than 10,000 
 brigands and vagabonds" against which the police, composed of 
 3,756 men, is always on the march. " Complaints are daily made," 
 says the provincial assembly of Haute-Guyenne, "that there is 
 no police in the country." The absentee seignior pays no atten- 
 tion to this matter; his judges and officials take good care not 
 to operate gratuitously against an insolvent criminal, while " his 
 estates become the refuge of all the rascals of the canton." 2 Every 
 abuse thus engenders a danger, ill-placed neglect equally with 
 excessive rigor, relaxed feudalism equally with a too-exacting 
 monarchy. All institutions seem under agreement to multiply 
 or tolerate the abettors of disorder and to prepare, outside the 
 social pale, the executive agents who are to carry it by storm. 
 
 But the total effect of all this is yet more pernicious, for, 
 out of the vast numbers of laborers it ruins it forms mendicants 
 unwilling to work, dangerous sluggards going about begging and 
 extorting bread from peasants who have not too much for them- 
 selves. "The vagabonds about the country," says Letrosne, 3 
 "are a terrible pest; they are like an enemies' force which, dis- 
 tributed over the territory, obtains a living as it pleases, levy- 
 ing veritable contributions. . . . They are constantly roving 
 around the country, examining the approaches to houses, and 
 informing themselves about their inmates and of their habits. 
 Woe to those supposed to have money ! . . . What numbers of 
 highway robberies and what burglaries ! What numbers of trav- 
 ellers assassinated, and houses and doors broken into! What 
 assassinations of curates, farmers and widows, tormented to dis- 
 cover money and afterwards killed ! " Twenty-five years anterioz 
 
 1 Mercier, XI. 116 
 
 * See ante, book I. p 55. 
 
 * Letrosne, ibid. (1779), p. 539.
 
 384 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 to the Revolution it was not infrequent to see fifteen or twenty 
 of these "invade a farm-house to sleep there, intimidating the 
 farmers and exacting whatever they pleased." In 1764, the gov- 
 ernment takes measures against them which indicates the magni- 
 tude of the evil. 1 "Are held to be vagabonds and vagrants, and 
 condemned as such, those who, for a preceding term of six 
 months, shall have exercised no trade or profession, and who, 
 having no occupation or means of subsistence, can procure no 
 persons worthy of confidence to attest and verify their habits and 
 mode of life. . . . The intent of His Majesty is not merely to ar- 
 rest vagabonds traversing the country but, again, all mendicants 
 whatsoever, who, without occupations, may be regarded as sus- 
 pected of vagabondage." The penalty for able-bodied men is three 
 years in the galleys ; in case of a second conviction, nine years ; in 
 case of a third conviction, the galleys for life. For invalid culprits, 
 three years imprisonment ; in case of a second conviction, nine 
 years, and for a third, imprisonment for life. Under the age of 
 sixteen, they are put in a hospital. " A mendicant who has made 
 himself liable to arrest by the police," says the circular, " is not to 
 be released except under the most positive assurance that he will 
 no longer beg; this course will be followed only in case of per- 
 sons worthy of confidence and solvent, guaranteeing the mendi- 
 cant and engaging to provide him with employment or to support 
 him, and they shall indicate the means by which they are to pre- 
 vent him from begging." This being furnished, the special author 
 ization of the intendant must be obtained in addition. By virtue 
 of this law, 50,000 beggars are said to have been arrested at 
 once, and, as the ordinary hospitals and prisons were not large 
 enough to contain them, jails had to be constructed. Up to the 
 end of the ancient regime this measure is carried out with occa- 
 sional intermissions: in Languedoc, in 1768, arrests were still 
 made of 433 in six months, and, in 1785, 205 in four months. 
 About the same epoch 300 were confined in the depot of Besan- 
 con, 500 in that of Rennes and 650 in that of St. Denis. It cost 
 the king a million a year to support them, and God knows how 
 they were supported! Water, straw, bread, and two ounces of 
 
 1 Archives nationales, F 16 , 965, and H, 892. (Ordinance of August 4, 1764; a circular of 
 Instructions of July 20, 1767; a letter of a police lieutenant of Toulouse, September 21, 1787). 
 
 * Archives nationales, H, 724; H, 554; F 4 , 2397; F 16 , 965. Letters of the jail-keepers of 
 Carcassonne- (June 22, 1789); of Beriers (July 19, 1786); of Nimes (July i, 1786); of th* 
 intendant, M. d'Aine (March 19, 1786).
 
 CHAP. in. THE PEOPLE. 385 
 
 salted grease, the whole at an expense of five sous a day ; and, as 
 the price of provisions for twenty years back had increased more 
 than a third, the keeper who had them in charge was obliged to 
 nake them fast or ruin himself. With respect to the mode of 
 filling the depots, the police are Turks in their treatment of the 
 lower class; they strike into the heap, their broom bruising as 
 many as they sweep out. According to the ordinance of 1778, 
 writes an intendant, 1 "the police must arrest, not only beggars 
 and vagabonds whom they encounter but, again, those denounced 
 as such or as suspected persons. The citizen, the most ir- 
 reproachable in his conduct and the least open to suspicion of 
 vagabondage, is not sure of not being shut up in the depot, as 
 his freedom depends on a policeman who is constantly liable to 
 be deceived by false denunciation or corrupted by a bribe. I 
 have seen in the depot at Rennes several husbands arrested 
 solely through the denunciation of their wives, and as many 
 women through that of their husbands ; several children by the 
 first wife at the solicitation of their step-mothers ; many female 
 domestics pregnant by the masters they served, shut up at their 
 instigation, and girls in the same situation at the instance of their 
 seducers; children denounced by their fathers, and fathers de- 
 nounced by their children ; all without the slightest evidence of 
 vagabondage or mendicity. . . . No decision of the provost's 
 court exists restoring the incarcerated to their liberty, notwith- 
 standing the infinite number arrested unjustly." Suppose that a 
 humane intendant, like this one, sets them at liberty : there they 
 are in the streets, mendicants through the action of the law which 
 proscribes mendicity and which adds to the wretched it prose- 
 cutes the wretched it creates, still more embittered and corrupt in 
 body and in soul. " It nearly always happens," says the same in- 
 tendant, " that the prisoners, arrested twenty-five or thirty leagues 
 from the depot, are not confined there until three or four months 
 after their arrest and sometimes longer. Meanwhile, they are 
 transferred from brigade to brigade, in the prisons found along the 
 road, where they remain until the number increases sufficiently to 
 form a convoy. Men and women are confined in the same 
 prison, the result of which is, the females not pregnant on enter- 
 ing it are always so on their arrival at the depot. The prisons are 
 
 1 Archives rationales, H, 554. (Letter of M. de Bertrand, intendant of Rennes, Auguit 
 7, 1785*. 
 
 33
 
 386 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 generally unhealthy ; frequently, the majority of the prisoners are 
 sick on leaving it ; " and many become rascals on coming in con 
 tact with rascals. Moral contagion and physical contagion, the 
 ulcer thus increasing through the remedy, centres of repression 
 becoming centres of corruption. 
 
 And yet with all its rigors the law does not attain its ends. 
 "Our towns," says the parliament of Brittany, 1 "are so filled 
 with beggars it seems as if the measures taken to suppress men- 
 dicity only increase it." "The principal highways," writes the 
 intendant, "are infested with dangerous vagabonds and vagrants, 
 actual beggars, which the police do not arrest, either through 
 negligence or because their interference is not provoked by special 
 solicitations." What would be done with them if they were 
 arrested ? There are too many, and there is no place to put 
 them. And, moreover, how prevent people who live on alms from 
 demanding alms? The effect, undoubtedly, is lamentable but 
 inevitable. Poverty, to a certain extent, is a slow gangrene 
 in which the morbid parts consume the healthy parts, the man 
 scarcely able to subsist being eaten up alive by the man who has 
 nothing to live on. "The peasant is ruined, perishing, the victim 
 of oppression by the multitude of the poor that lay waste the 
 country and take refuge in the towns. Hence the mobs so prej- 
 udicial to public safety, that crowd of smugglers and vagrants, 
 that large body of men who have become robbers and assassins, 
 solely because they lack bread. This gives but a faint idea 
 of the disorders I have seen with my own eyes. 2 The poverty 
 of the rural districts, excessive in itself, becomes yet more so 
 through the disturbances it engenders ; we have not to seek else- 
 where for frightful sources of mendicity and for all the vices." 3 
 Of what avail are palliatives or violent proceedings against an 
 evil which is in the blood and which belongs to the very consti- 
 tution of the social organism ? What police force could effect 
 anything in a parish in which one-quarter or one-third of its in- 
 habitants have nothing to eat but that which they beg from door 
 to door ? At Argentr6, 4 in Brittany, " a town without trade or 
 
 1 Archives rationales, H, 426. (Remonstrance, Feb. 4, 1783). H, 554. (Letter of M. d 
 Bertrand, Aug. 17, 1785). 
 
 * Ibid. H, 6x4. (Memorial by Ren de Hauteville, parliamentary advocate, St. Brieuc, 
 Dec. 25, 1776). 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. piov. de Soissonnais " (1787* p. 457. 
 
 4 Archives Rationales, H, 616. (A letter of M. de Bo- es, intendant of Routes, April aj 
 *774).
 
 CHAP. in. THE PEOPLE. 387 
 
 industry, out of 2,300 inhabitants, more than one-half are any- 
 thing else but well-off, and over 500 are reduced to beggary." 
 At Dainville, in Artois, " out of 130 houses sixty are on the poor- 
 list." 1 In Normandy, according to statements made by the 
 curates, "of 900 parishioners in Saint-Malo, three-quarters can 
 barely live and the rest are in poverty." "Of 1,500 inhabitants 
 in Saint-Patrice, 400 live on alms; of 500 inhabitants in Saint- 
 Laurent three-quarters live on alms. " At Marbceuf, says a report, 
 "of 500 persons inhabiting our parish, 100 are reduced to men- 
 dicity and besides these, thirty and forty a day come to us from 
 neighboring parishes." 2 At Bolbone in Languedoc 3 daily at the 
 convent gate is " general alms-giving to 300 or 400 poor people, 
 independent of that fbr the aged and the sick which is more 
 numerously attended." At Lyons, in 1787, "30,000 workmen 
 depend on public charity for subsistence;" at Rennes, in 1788, 
 after an inundation, "two-thirds of the inhabitants are in a state 
 of destitution ; " 4 at Paris, out of 650,000 inhabitants, the census 
 of 1791 enumerates 1 18,784 as indigent. 5 Let frost or hail come, 
 as in 1788, let a crop fail, let bread cost four sous a. pound, and 
 let a workman in the charity- workshops earn only twelve sous 
 a day, 6 can one imagine that people will resign themselves to 
 death by starvation ? Around Rouen, during the winter of 1788, 
 the forests are pillaged in open day, the woods at Bagueres are 
 wholly cut away, the fallen trees are publicly sold by the ma- 
 rauders. 7 Both the famished and the marauders go together, 
 necessity making itself the accomplice of crime. From province 
 to province we can follow up their tracks : four months later, in 
 the vicinity of Etampes, fifteen brigands break into four farm- 
 houses during the night, while the farmers, threatened by incen- 
 diaries, are obliged to give, one three hundred francs, another 
 five hundred, all the money, probatly, they have in their coffers.* 
 
 1 Perin, "La Jeunesse de Robespierre," 301. (Doleances des parvisses rurales in 1789). 
 
 * Theron de Montaug6, p. 87. (Letter of the prior of the convent, March, 1789). 
 
 * Hippeau, "Le Gouvern. de Nonnandie," VII. 147-177 (1789). Boivin-Cliampeaux, 
 "Notice hist sur la Revolution dans le d6partement de 1'Eure," p. 83 (1789). 
 
 * " Proces-verbaux de 1'ass. prov. de Lyonnais," p. 57. Archives nationales, F 4 , 2073. 
 Memorial of Jan. 24, 1788. "Charitable assistance is very limited, the provincial authorities 
 providing no resources for such accidents." 
 
 * Levasseur, "La France industrielle," 119. In 1862, the population being almost ttipU 
 (1,696,000), there are but 90,000. 
 
 * Albert Babeau, "Hist de Troyes," I. 91. (Letter of the mayor Huez, July 30, 1788). 
 Floquet, VII. 506. 
 
 * Archives nationales, H, 1453. 'Letter of M. de Saint-Suzanne, April ag, 1789).
 
 3 88 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 " Robbers, convicts, the worthless of every species," are to form 
 the advance guard of insurrections and lead the peasantry to the 
 extreme of violence. 1 After the sack of the Reveillon house in 
 Paris it is remarked that "of the forty ringleaders arrested, there 
 was scarcely one who was not an old oifender, and either flogged 
 or branded." 8 In every revolution the lees of society come to 
 the surface. Never had these been visible before ; like badgers 
 in the woods, or rats in the sewers, they had remained in their 
 burrows or in their holes. They issue from these in swarms, 
 while, in Paris, what figures suddenly come to light ! 3 " Never 
 had any like them been seen in open day. . . . Where do they 
 come from ? who has brought them out of their obscure hiding- 
 places ? . . . Foreigners from every country, armed with clubs, 
 ragged, ... some almost naked, others oddly dressed " in in- 
 congruous patches and "frightful to look at," constitute the riot- 
 ous chiefs or their subordinates, at six francs per head, behind 
 which the people are to march. 
 
 "In Paris," says Mercier, 4 "the people are weak, pallid, dimin- 
 utive, stunted," maltreated, "and, apparently, a class apart from 
 other classes in the State. The rich and the great who possess 
 equipages, enjoy the privilege of crushing them or of mutilating 
 them in the streets. . . . There is no convenience for foot-pas- 
 sengers, no sidewalks. Hundreds of victims die annually under 
 the carriage wheels." "I saw," says Arthur Young, "a poor 
 child run over and probably killed, and have been myself many 
 times blackened with the mud of the kennels. ... If young no- 
 blemen at London were to drive their chaises in streets without 
 foot-ways, as their brethren do at Paris, they would speedily and 
 justly get very well threshed or rolled in the kennel." Mercier 
 grows uneasy in the face of the immense populace. " In Paris 
 there are, probably, two hundred thousand individuals with no 
 property intrinsically worth fifty crowns, and yet the city sub- 
 sists!" Order, consequently, is maintained only through fear 
 and by force, owing to the soldiery of the watch who are called 
 
 1 Arthur Young, I. 256. 
 
 * "Corresp, secrete ine'dite," from 1777 to 1792, published by M. de Lescure, II. 351 
 (May 8, 1789). C C. Desmoulins, "La Lanterne," of 100 rioters arrested at Lyons 96 weri 
 tnutdtd. 
 
 De Bezenval, II. 344, 350. Dussault, "La Prise de la Bastille," 352. Mannontel, II 
 ih. xhr. 249. Mme. Vige'e-Lebrun, I. 177, 188. 
 
 Merder, I. 32; VI 15; X. 179; XI. 59; XII. 83. Arthur Young, I. iaa.
 
 CHAP. in. THE PEOPLE. 389 
 
 tristeS'h-patte by the masses. "This appellation excites the rage 
 of this species of militia who then deal heavier blows areund 
 them, wounding indiscriminately all they encounter. The low 
 class is always ready to make war on them because it has never 
 been fairly treated by them." In fact, "a squad of the guard 
 often scatters, with no trouble, platoons of five or six hundred 
 men, at first greatly excited, but melting away in the twinkling 
 of an eye, after the soldiery have distributed a few blows and 
 handcuffed two or three of the ringleaders." . Nevertheless, " were 
 the people of Paris abandoned to their first transports, did they 
 not feel the horse and foot guards behind them, the commissary 
 and policeman, they would set no limits to their disorder. The 
 populace, delivered from its accustomed restraint, would give it- 
 self up to violence of so cruel a stamp as not to know when to 
 stop. ... As long as white bread 1 lasts, the commotion will not 
 prove general ; the flour market 2 must interest itself in the matter, 
 if the women are to remain tranquil. . . . Should white bread be 
 wanting for two market days in succession, the uprising would 
 be universal, and it is impossible to foresee the lengths this mul- 
 titude at bay will go to escape famine, they and their children." 
 In 1 789 white bread proves to be wanting throughout France. 
 
 1 In the original, pain de Gonesse, bread made in a village of this name near Paris, and 
 renowned for its whiteness. TR. 
 
 "Dialogues sur le commerce des b!6s," by Galiani (1770). "If the powerful of the 
 markets are content, no misfortune will happen to the administration. The great conspire 
 and rebel ; the bourgeois murmurs and lives a celibate; peasants and artisans despair and 
 go away; porters get up riots." 
 
 33*
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I. Military force declines. How the army is recruited. How the soltliet 
 is treated. II. The social organization is dissolved. No central rallying- 
 point. Inertia of the provinces. Ascendency of Paris. III. Direction of 
 the current The people led by lawyers. Theories and piques the sole 
 surviving forces. 
 
 I. 
 
 AGAINST universal sedition where is force ? In the hundred 
 and fifty thousand men who maintain order, dispositions are the 
 same as in the twenty -six millions of men who are subject to it, 
 while abuses, disaffection, and all the causes, that dissolve the 
 nation, dissolve the army. Of the ninety millions of pay l which 
 the army annually costs the treasury, forty-six millions are for 
 officers and only forty-four millions for soldiers, and we are 
 already aware that a new ordinance reserves ranks of all kinds 
 for verified nobles. In no direction is this inequality, against 
 which public opinion rebels so vigorously, more apparent; on 
 the one hand, authority, honors, money, leisure, good-living, 
 social enjoyments, and private theatricals, for the minority; on 
 the other hand, for the majority, subjection, abjection, fatigue, a 
 forced or betrayed enlistment, no hope of promotion, pay at six 
 sous a day, a narrow cot for two, bread fit for dogs, and, for 
 several years, kicks like those bestowed on a dog ; 8 on the one 
 hand, a nobility of high estate, and, on the other, the lowest of 
 the populace. One might say that this was specially designed 
 for contrasts and to intensify irritation. " The insignificant pay 
 of the soldier," says an economist, "the way in which he is 
 dressed, lodged and fed, his utter dependence, would render it 
 cruelty to take any other than a man of the lower class." 
 
 1 Necker, "De 1' Administration des Finances," II. 422, 435. 
 
 * Aubertin, 345. Letter of the Comte de St. Germain (during the Seven Years War) 
 "The soldier's hardships make one's heart bleed; he passes his days in a state of abjec 
 misery, despised and living like a fighting dog in chains." 
 
 * De Tocquevillo, 190, 191.
 
 HAP. IV. THE PEOPLE. 391 
 
 Indeed, he is sought for only in the very lowest stages. Not 
 only are nobles and the bourgeoisie exempt from conscription, 
 but again the employes of the administration, of the fermts and 
 of public works, " all gamekeepers and forest-rangers, the hired 
 domestics and valets of ecclesiastics, of communities, of religious 
 establishments, of the gentry and of nobles," l and even of the 
 bourgeoisie living in grand style, and still better, the sons of culti- 
 vators in easy circumstances, and, in general, all possessing 
 influence or any species of protector. There remains, accord- 
 ingly, for the militia none but the poorest class and they do not 
 willingly enter it. On the contrary, the service is hateful to 
 them ; they conceal themselves in the forests where they have to 
 be pursued by men bearing arms : in a certain canton which, 
 three years later, furnishes in one day from fifty to one hundred 
 volunteers, the young men cut off then* thumbs to escape the 
 draft. 2 To this scum of society is added the sweepings of the 
 depots and of the jails. Among the vagabonds that fill these, 
 after winnowing out those able to make their families known or 
 to obtain sponsors, "there are none left," says an intendant, "but 
 those who are entirely unknown and dangerous, out of which 
 those regarded as the least vicious are selected and efforts are 
 made to place these in the army." 3 The last of its affluents is 
 the half-forced, half-voluntary enlistment by which the ranks are 
 for the most part filled, the offscourings of large towns, like 
 adventurers, discharged apprentices, young reprobates turned out 
 of doors, and people without homes or steady occupation. The 
 recruiting agent who is paid so much a head for his recruits and 
 so much an inch on their stature above five feet, " holds his court 
 in a tavern, treats" and fashions the article: " Come, boys, soup, 
 fish, meat and salad is what you get to eat in the regiment; " that is 
 all, " I don't deceive you pie and Arbois wine are the extras." 4 
 He pushes around the glass, pays accordingly and, if need be, 
 yields his mistress : " After a few days debauchery, the young 
 
 1 Archives natlonales, H, 1391 
 
 De Rochambeau, "Me~moiies," I. 427. D'Argenson, Decem. 24, 1752, "30,000 men 
 have been punished for desertion since the peace of 1748 ; this extensive desertion is attribu- 
 ted to the new drill which fatigues and disheartens the soldier, and especially the veterans." 
 Voltaire, "Diet. Phil.," article "Punishments." "I was amazed one day on seeing the list 
 of deserters, for eight years amounting to 6q,ooo." 
 
 Archives nationales. H. 554. (Letter of M. de Hertrand, Intendant of Rennes, Augutt 
 7. 1785)- 
 
 < Merrier. XL 121.
 
 392 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v. 
 
 libertine, with no money to pay his score, is obliged to sell him- 
 self, while the laborer, transformed to a soldier, begins to drill 
 under the lash." Strange recruits these, for the protection of 
 society, all selected from the attacking class, down-trodden peas- 
 ants, imprisoned vagabonds, social outcasts, poor fellows in debt, 
 disheartened, excited and easily tempted, who, according to 
 circumstances, become, at one time, rioters and, at another, 
 soldiers. 
 
 Which lot is preferable? The bread the soldier eats is not 
 more abundant than that of the prisoner, while poorer in quality ; 
 for, the bran is taken out of the bread which the locked-up vaga- 
 bond eats and left in the bread which is eaten by the soldier who 
 locks him up. In this state of things the soldier ought not to 
 meditate on his lot, and yet this is just what his officers incite him 
 to do. They also have become politicians and fault-finders. 
 Some years before the Revolution 1 "disputes occurred" in the 
 army, "discussions and complaints and, the new ideas fermenting 
 in their heads, a correspondence was established between two 
 regiments. Written information was obtained from Paris, au- 
 thorized by the Minister of War, which cost, I believe, twelve 
 louis per annum. It soon took a philosophic turn, embracing 
 dissertations, criticisms of the ministry, and of the government, 
 desirable changes and, therefore, the more diffused." Sergeants 
 like Hoche, and fencing-masters like Augereau, certainly often 
 read this news, carelessly left lying on the tables, and commented 
 on it during the evening in their soldier quarters. Discontent is 
 of ancient date and already, at the end of the late reign, ominous 
 words are heard. At a banquet given by a prince of the blood, 8 
 with a table set for a hundred guests under an immense tent and 
 served by grenadiers, the odor these diifused offended the prince's 
 delicate olfactories. " These worthy fellows," said he, a little too 
 loud, "smell strong of the stocking." One of the grenadiers 
 bluntly responded, " Because we haven't got any," which " was 
 followed by profound silence." During the ensuing years irrita- 
 tion smoulders and augments ; the soldiers of Rochambeau have 
 fought side by side with the free militia of America and they 
 keep this in mind. In I'jSB, 3 Marshal de Vaux, previous to tha 
 
 * De Vaublacc, 149. 
 
 De Sgur, I. 20 (1767). 
 
 Augeard, "Memoires," 165.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE PEOPLE. 393 
 
 jisurrection in Dauphiny, writes to the minister that "it is 
 impossible to rely on the troops," while, four months after the 
 opening of the States-General, sixteen thousand deserters roam- 
 ing around Paris lead the revolts instead of suppressing them. 1 
 
 II. 
 
 This dyke once carried away no other remains, the inundation 
 overspreading France as if an immense plain. Other nations, 
 in like circumstances, have encountered obstacles, but they have 
 possessed high ground, centres of refuge, a few old enclosures 
 where, in the universal fright, a portion of the population 
 could find shelter. Here, the first crisis sweeps away all that 
 remains, each individual of the twenty-six scattered millions 
 standing alone by himself. The administrations of Richelieu 
 and Louis XIV. had been a long time at work insensibly destroy- 
 ing the natural groupings which, when suddenly dissolved, unite 
 and form over again of their own accord. Except in Vend6e, I 
 find no place, nor any class, in which a good many men, having 
 confidence in a few men, are able, in the hour of danger, to 
 rally around these and form a compact body. Neither provin- 
 cial nor municipal patriotism any longer exists. The infericr 
 clergy are hostile to the prelates, the gentry of the province to 
 the nobility of the court, the vassal to the seignior, the peasant to 
 the townsman, the urban population to the municipal oligarchy, 
 corporation to corporation, parish to parish, neighbor to neigh- 
 bor. All are separated by their privileges and their jealousies, by 
 the consciousness of having been imposed on, or frustrated, for 
 the advantage of another. The journeyman tailor is embittered 
 against his foreman for preventing him from doing a day's work in 
 private houses, hairdressers against their employers for the like 
 reason, the pastrycook against the baker who prevents him from 
 baking the pies of housekeepers, the village spinner against the 
 town spinners who wish to break him up, the rural wine-growers 
 against the bourgeois who, in the circle of seven leagues, strives 
 to have their vines pulled up, 2 the village against the neighbor- 
 ing village whose reduction of taxation has ruined it, the over- 
 taxed peasant against the undertaxed peasant, one-half of a par- 
 
 1 Horace Walpole, September 5, 1789. 
 
 1 Labeulaye, "De 1' Administration franjaise sous Louis XVI." (Revue des Cours litt* 
 raires, IV. 743). Albert Babeau, I. iii. (Dol6ances et voeux des corporation.' de Troyes).
 
 394 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK v 
 
 ish agaii/st its collectors who, to its detriment, have favored the 
 other half. "The nation," says Turgot, mournfully, 1 " is a society 
 composed of different orders badly united and of a people whose 
 members have few mutual liens, nobody, consequently, caring for 
 any interest but his own. Nowhere is there any sign of an inter- 
 est in common. Towns and villages maintain no more relation 
 with each other than the districts to which they are attached ; they 
 are even unable to agree together with a view to carry out pub- 
 lic improvements of great importance to them." The central 
 power for a hundred and fifty years rules through its division of 
 power. Men have been kept separate, prevented from acting in 
 concert, the work being so successful that they no longer under- 
 stand each other, each class ignoring the other class, each form- 
 ing of the other a chimerical picture, each bestowing on the other 
 the hues of its own imagination, one composing an idyl, the 
 other framing a melodrama, one imagining peasants as senti- 
 mental swains, the other convinced that the nobles are horrible ty- 
 rants. 
 
 Through this mutual misconception and this secular isolation, 
 the French lose the habit, the art and the faculty for acting in an 
 entire body. They are no longer capable of spontaneous agree- 
 ment and collective action. No one, in the moment of danger, 
 dares rely on his neighbors or on his equals. No one knows 
 where to turn to obtain a guide. "A man willing to be responsible 
 for the smallest district cannot be found ; and, more than this, one 
 man able to answer for another man." 2 Utter confusion exists 
 and there is no remedy. The theorists have carried out their 
 Utopia and the savage state has begun again. Individ- 
 uals now stand in juxtaposition ; every man reverts back to his 
 original feebleness, while his possessions and his life are at the 
 mercy of the first band that comes along. He has nothing within 
 him to control him but the sheep-like habit of being led, of 
 awaiting an impulsion, of turning towards the accustomed cen- 
 tre, towards Paris, from which his orders have alwayi arrived. 
 Arthur Young is struck with this mechanical movement. 3 Polit- 
 ical ignorance and docility are everywhere complete. He, a for- 
 eigner, conveys the news of Alsace into Burgundy : the insurrec- 
 
 > De Tocqueville, 158. 
 
 * Ibid. 304 (The words of Burke). 
 
 Travels in France, I. 240, 263.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE PEOPLE. 395 
 
 tion there had been terrible, the populace having sacked the city- 
 hall at Strasbourg, of which not a word was known at Dijon ; 
 "yet it is nine days since it happened; had it been nineteen I 
 question if they would more than have received the intelligence." 
 There are no newspapers in the cafe's ; no local centres of infor- 
 mation, of resolution, of action. The province submits to events 
 at the capital; "people dare not move ; they dare not even form 
 an opinion before Paris speaks." Monarchical centralization 
 thus culminates. Groups are deprived of theii cohesiveness and 
 individuals of their springs of action. Only human dust remains, 
 and this, whirling about and gathered together in massive force, 
 is blindly driven along by the wind. 
 
 III. 
 
 We are all well aware from which side the gale comes, and, to 
 assure ourselves, we have merely to see how the reports of the 
 Third-Estate were made up. The lawyer, the petty attorney 
 of the rural district, the envious advocate and theorist, is 
 the party who has managed the peasant. The latter insists 
 that his statement of his local and personal grievances shall 
 be set forth in full in the report, on a statement be- 
 ing made in writing and at length of his local and personal 
 grievances, his protest against taxes and deductions, his request 
 to have his dog free of the clog, and his desire to own a gun to 
 use against the wolves. 1 The former, who suggests and directs, 
 envelopes all this in the language of the Rights of Man and that 
 of the circular of Sieyes. "For two months," writes a com- 
 mandant at the South, 2 "inferior judges and lawyers, with which 
 both town and country swarm, with a view to their election to the 
 States- General, have been racing after the members of the Third- 
 Estate, under the pretext of standing by them and of giving them 
 information. . . . They have striven to make them believe that, 
 in the States-General, they alone would be masters and regulate 
 all the affairs of the kingdom ; that the Third-Estate, in selecting 
 its deputies among men of the robe, would secuic tne might and 
 the right to take the lead, to abolish nobility and to cancel ail its 
 rights and privileges; that nobility would no longer be heredi- 
 tary ; that all citizens, in deserving it, would be entitled to claim 
 it; that, if the people deputed them, they would have accorded 
 
 1 Beugnot, I. 115, 116. 
 
 * Archives rationales, proces-verbaux and cahiers of the States-General, XIII. p. 405. 
 (Letter of the Marquis de Fodoai, commandant of Armagnac, to M. Necker, Maj 19, 1789.)
 
 39 6 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK T. 
 
 to the Third-Estate whatever it desired, because the curates, be- 
 longing to the Third-Estate, having agreed to separate from the 
 higher clergy and unite with them, the nobles and the clergy, 
 united together, would have but one vote against two of the 
 Third-Estate. ... If the Third-Estate had chosen sensible 
 townspeople or merchants they would have combined without 
 difficulty with the other two orders. But the assemblies of the 
 bailiwicks and other districts were stuffed with men of the robe 
 who have absorbed all opinions and striven to take precedence 
 of the others, each, in his own behalf, intriguing and conspiring to 
 be appointed a deputy." "In Touraine," writes the intendant, 
 "most of the votes have been bespoken or begged for. Trusty 
 agents, at the moment of voting, placed ready-prepared ballots in 
 the hands of the voters, and put in their way, on reaching the 
 taverns, every document and suggestion calculated to excite 
 their imaginations and determine their choice for the gentry of 
 the bar." " In the stntchausste of Lectoure, a number of par- 
 ishes have not been designated or notified to send their reports or 
 deputies to the district assembly. In those which were notified 
 the lawyers, attorneys and notaries of the small neighboring 
 towns, have made up the list of grievances themselves without 
 summoning the community. . . . Exact copies of this single 
 rough draft were made and sold at a high price to the councils of 
 each country parish." This is an alarming symptom, one marking 
 out in advance the road the Revolution is to take : the man of 
 the people is indoctrinated by the advocate, the pikeman allowing 
 himself to be led by the spokesman. 
 
 The effect of their combination is apparent the first year. In 
 Franche-Comt6 l after consultation with a person named Rouget, 
 the peasants of the Marquis de Chaila " determine to make no 
 further payments to him and to divide amongst themselves the 
 product of the wood-cuttings." In his paper " the lawyer states 
 that all the communities of the province have decided to do the 
 same thing. . . . His consultation is diffused to such an extent 
 around the country that many of the communities are satisfied 
 that they owe nothing more to the king nor to the seigniors- M. 
 de Marnesia, deputy to the (National) Assembly, has arrived (here) 
 to pass a few days at home on account of his health. He has 
 
 1 Archives nationales, H, 784. (Letters of M. de Langeron, military commandant 4 
 Besancon, October 16 and 18, 1789). The consultation is annexed.
 
 CHAP. iv. THE PEOPLE. 397 
 
 been treated in the rudest and most scandalous manner; it was 
 even proposed to conduct him back to Paris under guard. Afte. 
 his departure his chateau was attacked, the doors burst open and 
 the walls of his garden pulled down. (And yet) no gentleman 
 has done more for the people on his domain than M. le Marquis 
 de Marne"sia. . . . Excesses of every kind are on the increase; 
 I have constant complaints of the abuse which the national mili- 
 tia make of their arms, and which I cannot remedy." According 
 to an utterance in the National Assembly the police imagines that 
 it is to be disbanded and has therefore no desire to make ene- 
 mies for itself. " The baillages are as timid as the police-forces ; 
 I send them business constantly, but no culprit is punished." " No 
 nation enjoys liberty so indefinite and so disastrous to honest peo- 
 ple ; it is absolutely against the rights of man to see oneself con- 
 stantly liable to have his throat cut by the scoundrels who daily 
 confound liberty with license." In other words, the passions, to 
 obtain a sanction, have recourse to theory, and theory, to secure 
 its application, has recourse to the passions. For example, near 
 Liancourt, the Due de Larochefoucauld possessed an uncultivated 
 area of ground; " at the commencement of the revolution, the pool 
 of the town declare that, as they form a part of the nation, un- 
 tilled lands being national property, this belongs to them," and 
 " with no other formality " they take possession of it, divide it up, 
 plant hedges and clear it off. " This, says Arthur Young, shows 
 the general disposition. . . . Pushed a little farther the conse- 
 quences would not be slight for properties in this kingdom." Al- 
 ready, in the preceding year, near Rouen, the marauders, who cut 
 down and sell the forests, declare that " the people have the right to 
 take whatever they require for their necessities." They have had 
 the doctrine preached to them that they are sovereign, and they 
 act as sovereigns. The condition of their intellects being given, 
 nothing is more natural than their conduct. Several millions of 
 ravages are thus let loose by a few thousand declaimers, the pol- 
 itics of the caf< finding an interpreter and ministrants in the mob 
 of the streets. On the one hand brute force is at the service of 
 the radical dogma. On the other hand radical dogma is at the 
 service of brute force. And here, in disintegrated France, do the 
 two powers appear together erect on the general ruin. 
 
 34
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I. 
 
 THEY are the successors and executors of the ancient regime, 
 and, on contemplating the way in which this engendered, brought 
 forth, nourished, installed and stimulated them we cannot avoid 
 considering its history as one long suicide, like that of a man 
 who, having mounted to the top of an immense ladder, cuts away 
 from under his feet the support which has kept him up. In a 
 case of this kind good intentions are not sufficient ; to be liberal 
 and even generous, to enter upon a few semi-reforms, is of no 
 avail. On the contrary, through both their qualities and defects, 
 through both their virtues and their vices, the privileged wrought 
 their own destruction, their merits contributing to their ruin as 
 well as their faults. Founders of society, formerly entitled to 
 their advantages through their services, they have preserved their 
 rank without fulfilling their duties ; their position in the local as 
 in the central government is a sinecure, and their privileges have 
 become abuses. At their head, the king, creating France by 
 devoting himself to her as if his own property, ended by sacri- 
 ficing her as if his own property ; the public purse is his private 
 purse while passions, vanities, personal weaknesses, luxurious 
 habits, family solicitudes, the intrigues of a mistress and the 
 caprices of a wife, govern a state of twenty-six millions of men 
 with an arbitrariness, a heedlessness, a prodigality, an unskilful- 
 ness, an absence of consistency that would scarcely be over- 
 looked in the management of a private domain. The king and 
 the privileged excel in one direction, in good-breeding, in good 
 taste, in fashion, in the talent for self-display and in entertaining, 
 in the gift of graceful conversation, in finesse and in gayety, in 
 the art of converting life into a brilliant and ingenious festivity, 
 regarding the world as a drawing-room of refined idlers in which 
 it suffices to be amiable and witty whilst, actually, it is an arena 
 where one must be strong for combats, and a labor? tory in which
 
 CHAP. v. THE PEOPLE. 399 
 
 one must work in order to be useful. Through the habit, per- 
 fection and sway of polished intercourse they stamped on the 
 French intellect a classic form, which, combined with recent 
 scientific acquisitions, produced the philosophy of the eighteenth 
 century, the ill-repute of tradition, the ambition of recasting all 
 human institutions according to the sole dictates of reason, the 
 appliance of mathematical methods to politics and morals, the 
 catechism of the rights of man, and other dogmas of anarch- 
 ical and despotic character in the Contrat Social. Once this 
 chimera is born they welcome it as a drawing-room fancy ; they 
 use the little monster as a plaything, as yet innocent and decked 
 with ribbons like a pastoral lambkin ; they never dream of its be- 
 coming a raging, formidable brute ; they nourish it, and caress it 
 and then, opening their doors, they let it descend into the streets. 
 Here, amongst a middle class which the government has 
 rendered ill-disposed by compromising its fortunes, which the 
 privileged have ofkuded by restricting its ambition, which is 
 wounded by inequality through injured self-esteem, the revolu- 
 tionary theory gains rapid accessions, a sudden asperity, and, in 
 a few years, it finds itself undisputed master of public opinion. 
 At this moment and at its summons, another colossal monster 
 rises up, a monster with millions of heads, a blind, startled 
 animal, an entire people pressed down, exasperated and suddenly 
 loosed against the government whose exactions have despoiled it, 
 against the privileged whose rights have reduced it to starvation, 
 without, in these rural districts abandoned by their natural pro- 
 tectors, encountering any surviving authority ; without, in these 
 provinces subject to the yoke of mechanical centralization, a 
 single independent group being left ; without, in this society dis- 
 aggregated by despotism, the possibility of forming any centres 
 of initiation and resistance ; without, in this upper class disarmed 
 by its very humanity, any statesman being found exempt from 
 illusion and capable of action ; without these good intentions and 
 fine intellects being able to protect themselves against the two 
 enemies of all liberty and of ah 1 order, against the contagion 
 of the democratic nightmare which disturbs the ablest heads and 
 against the irruptions of the popular brutishness which perverts 
 the best of laws. At the moment of opening the States-General 
 the course of ideas and events is not only fixed but, again, ap- 
 parent Each generation, beforehand and unconsciously, bears
 
 400 THE ANCIENT REGIME. BOOK T 
 
 within itself its future and its history ; long before the issue the 
 destinies of this one could be anticipated, and, if the details fell 
 within our comprehension as well as the completed whole, we 
 could readily accept the following fiction which La Harpe com- 
 posed at the end of the Directory, recurring to his souvenirs. 
 
 II. 
 
 " It seems to me," he says, " as if it were but yesterday, and yet 
 it is at the beginning of the year 1788. We were dining with 
 one of our confreres of the Academy, a grand seignior and a 
 man of intelligence. The company was numerous and of every 
 profession, courtiers, advocates, men of letters and academicians; 
 all had feasted luxuriously according to custom. At the dessert, 
 the wines of Malvoisie and of Constance contributed to the social 
 gayety a sort of freedom not always kept within decorous 
 limits. At that time society had reached the point at which 
 everything may be expressed that excites laughter. Champfort 
 had read to us his impious and libertine stories, and great ladies 
 had listened to these without recourse to their fans. Hence a 
 deluge of witticisms against religion, one quoting a tirade from 
 'La Pucelle,' another bringing forward certain philosophical 
 stanzas by Diderot. . . . and with unbounded applause. . . . The 
 conversation becomes more serious ; admiration is expressed at 
 the revolution accomplished by Voltaire and all agree in its being 
 the first title to his fame. ' He gave the tone to his century, 
 finding readers in the antechambers as well as in the drawing- 
 room.' One of the guests narrates, bursting with laughter, 
 what a hairdresser said to him while powdering his hair: 'You 
 see, sir, although I am a miserable scrub, I have no more religion 
 than any one else.' They conclude that the Revolution will 
 soon be consummated, that superstition and fanaticism must 
 wholly give way to philosophy, and they thus calculate the proba- 
 bilities of the epoch and those of the future society which will 
 see the reign of reason. The most aged lament not being able 
 to flatter themselves that they will see it; the young rejoice 
 in a reasonable prospect of seeing it, and especially do they 
 congratulate the Academy on having paved the way for 
 the great work and in having been the headquarters, the centre 
 the inspirer of freedom of thought. 
 
 " One of the guests had taken no part in this gay conversation,
 
 CHAP. v. THE PEOPLE. 401 
 
 ... a person named Cazotte, an amiable and original man, but, 
 unfortunately, infatuated with the reveries of the illuminati. In the 
 most serious tone he begins: 'Gentlemen,' says he, 'be con- 
 tent; you will witness this great revolution that you so much de- 
 sire. You know that I am something of a prophet, and I re- 
 peat it, you will witness it. ... Do you know the result of this 
 revolution, for all of you, so long as you remain here?' 'Ah !' 
 exclaims Condorcet with his shrewd, simple air and smile, 'let us 
 see, a philosopher is not sorry to encounter a prophet.' 'You, 
 Monsieur de Condorcet, will expire stretched on the floor of a 
 dungeon ; you will die of the poison you take to escape the exe- 
 cutioner, of the poison which the felicity of that era will compel 
 you always to carry about your person !' At first, great astonish- 
 ment was manifested and then came an outburst of laughter. 
 'What has all this in common with philosophy and the reign of 
 reason ? ' ' Precisely what I have just remarked to you ; in the 
 name of philosophy, of humanity, of freedom, under the reign 
 of reason, you will thus reach your end ; and, evidently, the reign 
 of reason will arrive, for there will be temples of reason, and, in 
 those days, in all France, the temples will be those alone 
 of reason. . . . You, Monsieur de Champfort, you will sever 
 your veins with twenty-two strokes of a razor and yet you 
 will not die for months afterwards. You, Monsieur Vicq- 
 d'Azir, you will not open your own veins but you will have 
 them opened six times in one day, in the agonies of gout, so 
 as to be more certain of success, and you will die that night. 
 You, Monsieur de Nicolai, on the scaffold; you, Monsieur 
 Bailly, on the scaffold; you, Monsieur de Malesherbes, on the 
 scaffold; . . . you, Monsieur Roucher, also on the scaffold.' 
 'But then we shall have been overcome by Turks or Tartars ?' 
 ' By no means ; you will be governed as I have already told you, 
 solely by philosophy and reason. Those who are to treat you hi 
 this manner will all be philosophers, will all, at every moment, 
 have on their lips, the phrases you have uttered within the hour, 
 will repeat your maxims, will quote, like yourselves, the stanzas 
 of Diderot and of "La Pucelle.'" 'And when will all this hap- 
 pen?' 'Six years will not pass before what I tell you will be 
 accomplished.' 'Well, these are miracles,' exclaims La Haipe, 
 'and you leave me out ? ' 'You will be no less a miracle, for you 
 will then be a Christian.' ' ^h,' interposes Champfort, ' I breathe 
 34*
 
 402 THE ANCIENT REGIME BOOK v, 
 
 again ; if we are to die only when La Harpe becomes a Christian 
 we are immortals.' 'As to that, we women,' says the Duchesse 
 de Gramont, ' are extremely fortunate in being of no consequence 
 in revolutions. It is understood that we are not to blame, and 
 our sex . . .' 'Your sex, ladies, will not protect you this time. 
 . . . You will be treated precisely as men, with no difference 
 whatever. . . . You, Madame la Duchesse, will be led to the 
 scaffold, you and many ladies besides yourself, in a cart with your 
 hands tied behind your back.' 'Ah, in that event, I hope to have 
 at least a carriage covered with black.' ' No, Madame, greater 
 ladies than yourself will go, like yourself, in a cart and with their 
 hands tied like yours.' ' Greater ladies ! What, princesses of the 
 blood!' 'Still greater ladies than those . . .' They began to 
 think the jest carried too far. Madame de Gramont, to dispel 
 the gloom, did not insist on a reply to her last exclamation, con- 
 tenting herself by saying in the lightest tone, ' And they will not 
 even leave one a confessor ! ' ' No, Madame, neither you nor 
 any other person will be allowed a confessor ; the last of the con- 
 demned that will have one, as an act of grace, will be . . .' He 
 stopped a moment 'Tell me, now, who is the fortunate mortal 
 enjoying this prerogative ? ' ' It is the last that will remain to 
 him, and it will be the King of France.' " 
 
 fHB END
 
 NOTES 
 
 Note i. 
 On the number of ecclesiastics andwbles. 
 
 These approximative estimates are arrived at in the following manner : 
 
 1. The number of nobles in 1789 was unknown. Tne genealogist Chdrin, 
 in his "Abrg6 chronologique des Edits, etc." (1789), states that he is igno- 
 rant of the number. Moheau, to whom Lavoisier refers in his report, 1791, 
 is equally ignorant in this respect. ("Recherches sur la population de la 
 France," 1778, p. 105); Lavoisier states the number as 83,000, while the 
 Marquis deBouil!6 ("M6moires," p. 50), states 80,000 families, neither of 
 these authorities advancing proofs of their statements. I find in the " Cata- 
 logue nominatif des gentilshommes en 1789," by Laroque and De Barthelemy, 
 the number of nobles voting, directly or by proxy, in the elections of 1789, 
 in Provence, Languedoc, Lyonnais, Forez, Beaujolais, Touraine, Normandy, 
 and Ile-de-France, as 9,167. According to the census of 1790, given by 
 Arthur Young in his "Travels in France," the population of these provinces 
 was 7,757,000, which gives a proportion of 30,000 nobles voting in a popula- 
 tion of 26,000,000. On examining the law and on summing up the lists, we 
 find that each noble represents somewhat less than a family, inasmuch as the 
 son of the owner of a fief votes if he is twenty-five years of age ; I think, 
 accordingly, that we are not far out of the way in estimating the number of 
 noble families at 26,000 or 28,000, which number, at five individuals to the 
 family, gives 130,000 or 140,000 nobles. The territory of France in 1789 
 being 27,000 square leagues, and the population 26,000,000, we may assign 
 one noble family to every square league of territory and to every l,ooo in- 
 habitants. 
 
 2. Concerning the clergy I find in the National Archives, among the eccle- 
 siastical records, the following enumeration of monks belonging to 28 orders : 
 Grand Augustins 694, Petits- Peres 250, Barnabites 90, English Benedictines 
 52, Benedictines of Cluny 298, of Vannes 612, of Saint-Maur 1,672, Citeaux 
 1, 806, Re'collets 2,238, Pr^montre's 399, Pr^montr^s ReTormSs 394, Capucins 
 3,720, Cannes dechausse's 555, Grauds-Carmes 853, Hospitaliers de Saint- 
 Jean de Dieu 218, Chartreux 1,144, Cordeliers 2,018, Dominicans 1,172, 
 Feuillants 148, GenoveTains 570, Mathurins 310, Minimes 684, Notre-Dame 
 de la Merci 31, Notre-Saveur 203, Tiers-Ordre de St. Francis 365, Saint-Jean 
 is Vignes de Soissons 31, Theatins 25, abbaye de Saint- Victor 21, Maisons 
 oumises a 1'ordinaire 305. To f .al 20,745 monks in 2,489 consents. To thi
 
 404 NOTES 
 
 must be added the Peres de 1'Oratoire, de la Mission, de la Doctrine cnre 1 - 
 tienne and some others ; the total of monks being about 23,000. As to 
 nuns, I have a catalogue from the National Archives of twelve dioceses, com- 
 prising according to "France eccle'siastique " 1788, 5,576 parishes: the 
 dioceses respectively of Perpignan, Tulle, Marseilles, Rhodes, Saint-Flour, 
 Toulouse, le Mans, Limoges, Lisieux, Rouen, Reims, and Noyon, in all, 
 5,394 nuns in 198 establishments. The proportion is 37,000 nuns in 1,500 
 establishments for the 38,000 parishes of France. The total of regular 
 clergy thus amounts to 60,000 persons. The secular clergy may be estimated 
 at 70,000: curates and vicars 60,000 ("Histoirede PEglisede France," XII. 
 142, by the Abbe" Guette'e) ; prelates, vicars-general, canons of chapters, 
 2,800; collegiate canons, 5,600; ecclesiastics without livings, 3,000 (Sieyes). 
 Moheau, a clear-headed and cautious statistician, writes in 1778 ("Recher- 
 ches," p. 100): "Perhaps, to-day, there are 130,000 ecclesiastics in the 
 kingdom." The enumeration of 1866 ("Statistique de la France," popula- 
 tion), gives 51,100 members of the secular clergy, 18,500 monks, 86,300 
 nuns; total, 155,900 in a population of 38,000,000 inhabitants. 
 
 Note 2. 
 On feudal rights and on the state of feudal dominion in 1783. 
 
 The following information, for which I am indebted to M. de Boislisle, is 
 derived from an act of partition drawn up September 6, 1783. 
 
 It relates to the estates of Blet and Brosses. The barony and estate of 
 Blet lies in Bourbonnais, two leagues from Dun-le-Roi. Blet, says a me- 
 morial of an administrator of the Excise, is a "good parish; the soil is ex- 
 cellent, mostly in wood and pasture, the surplus being in tillable land for 
 wheat, rye and oats. . . . The roads are bad, especially in winter. The trade 
 consists principally of horned cattle and embraces grain ; the woods rot away 
 on account of their remoteness from the towns and the difficulty of turning 
 them to account." l 
 
 "This estate," says the act of valuation, "is in royal tenure on account of 
 the king's chateau and fortress of Ainay, under the designation of the town 
 of Blet" The town was formerly fortified and its castle still remains. Its 
 population was once large, "but the civil wars of the sixteenth century, and 
 especially the emigration of the protestants caused it to be deserted to such 
 an extent that out of its former population of 3,000 scarcely 300 remain,* 
 which is the fate of nearly all the towns in this country." The estate of Blet, 
 for many centuries in the possession of the Sully family, passed, on the 
 marriage of the heiress in 1363, to the house of Saint-Quentin, and was 
 then transmitted in direct line down to 1748, the date of the death of Alex- 
 ander II. of Saint- Quentins, Count of Blet, governor of Berg-op-Zoom, and 
 father of three daughters from whom the actual heirs descend. These heirs 
 are the Count de Simiane, the Chevalier de Simiane, and the minors of Bercy, 
 
 I Archives rationales, G, 319 (" Etat actuel de la Direction de Bourges au point de vue de 
 ides," 1774). 
 * Blet, at the present day, contains 1,629 nhabitants.
 
 NOTES. 405 
 
 each party owning one-third, represented by 97,667 livres in the Blet estate, 
 and 20,408 livres in the Brosses estate. The eldest, Comte de Simiane, en- 
 joys, besides, a prtciput (according to custom in the Bourbonnais), worth 
 15,000 livres, comprising the castle with the adjoin/rig farm and the seignio- 
 rial rights, honorary as well as profitable. 
 
 The entire domain, comprising both estates, is valued at 369,227 livres. 
 The estate of Blet, comprises 1,437 arpents, worked by seven farmers and 
 furnished, by the proprietor, with cattle valued at 13,781 livres. They pay 
 together to the proprietor 12,060 livres rent (besides claims for poultry and 
 corvees). One, only, has a large farm, paying 7,800 livres per annum, the 
 others paying rents of 1,300, 740, 640, and 240 livres per annum. The 
 Brosses estate comprises 515 arpents, worked by two farmers to whom the 
 proprietor furnishes cattle estimated at 3, 750 livres, and these together return 
 to the proprietor 2,240 livres. 1 These m/tairies are all poor; only one of 
 them has two rooms with fire-places ; two or three, one room with a fire- 
 place ; the others consist of a kitchen with an oven outside, and stables and 
 barns. Repairs on the tenements are essential on all the farms except three, 
 "having been neglected for thirty years." "The mill-flume requires to be 
 cleaned out, and the stream whose inundations injure the large meadow ; also 
 repairs are necessary on the banks of the two ponds ; on the church, which 
 is the seignior's duty, the roof being in a sad state, the rain penetrating 
 through the arch ; " and the roads require mending, these being in a deplor- 
 able condition during the winter. "The restoration and repairs of these 
 roads seem never to have been thought of." The soil of the Blet estate is 
 excellent, but it requires draining and ditching to carry off the water, other- 
 wise the low lands will continue to produce nothing but weeds. Signs of 
 neglect and desertion are everywhere visible. The chateau of Blet has re- 
 mained unoccupied since 1748; the furniture, accordingly, is almost all 
 decayed and useless; in 1748 this was worth 7,612 livres, and now it is esti- 
 mated at l,ooo livres. "The water-power costs nearly as much to maintain 
 as the income derived from it. The use of plaster as manure is unknown," 
 and yet "in the land of plaster it costs almost nothing." The ground, 
 moist and very good, would grow excellent live hedges ; and yet the fields 
 are enclosed with bare fences against the cattle, "which expense, say the 
 farmers, is equal to a third of the net income." This domain, as just de- 
 scribed, is valued as follows : 
 
 1. The estate of Blet, according to the custom of the country for noble 
 estates, is valued at rate twenty-five, namely, 373,000 livres, from which 
 must be deducted a capital of 65,056 livres, representing the annual charges 
 (the fixed salary of the curate, repairs, etc.), not including personal charges 
 like the vingtiemes. Its net revenue per annum is 12,300 livres, and is worth, 
 net, 308,003 livres. 
 
 2. The estate of Brosses is estimated at rate twenty-two, ceasing to be 
 noble through the transfer of judicial and fief rights to that of Blet. Thus 
 rated it is worth 73,583 livres, from which must be deducted a capital of 
 
 1 The farms of Blet and Brosses really produce nothing for the proprietor, inasmuch as the 
 tithes and the champart (field-rents), (articles 22 and 23), are comprehended in ti> ate of 
 the leases.
 
 406 NOTES. 
 
 12,359 livres for actual charges, the estate bringing in 3, 140 livres per annum 
 and worth, net. 61,224 livre*s. 
 
 These revenues are derived from the following sources : 
 
 1. Rights of the high, low and middle courts of justice over the entire 
 territory of Blet and other villages, Brosses and Jalay. The upper courts, 
 according to an act passed at the Chatelet, April 29, 1702, " take cognizance 
 of all actions, real and personal, civil and criminal, even actions between 
 nobles and ecclesiastics, relating to seals and inventories of movable effects, 
 tutelages, curacies, the administration of the property of minors, of domains, 
 and of the customary dues and revenues of the seigniory, etc." 
 
 2. Rights of the forests, edict of 1707. The seignior's warden decides 
 in all cases concerning waters, and woods, and customs, and crimes relating 
 to fishing and hunting. 
 
 3. Right of voirie, or the police of the highways, streets, and buildings 
 (excepting the great main roads). The seignior appoints a bailly, warden 
 and road overseer, one M. Theurault (at Sagonne), a fiscal attorney, Baujard 
 (at Blet); he may remove them "in case they make no returns." "The 
 rights of the greffe were formerly secured to the seignior, but as it is now 
 very difficult to find intelligent persons in the country able to fulfil its 
 functions, the seignior abandons his rights to those whom it may concern." 
 (The seignior pays forty-eight livres per annum to the bailly to hold his 
 court once a month, and twenty-four livres per annum to the fiscal attorney 
 to attend them). 
 
 He receives the fines and confiscations of cattle awarded by his officers. 
 The profit therefrom, an average year, is eight livres. 
 
 He must maintain a jail and a jailer. (It is not stated whether there was 
 one). No sign of a gibbet is found in the seigniory. 
 
 He may appoint twelve notaries ; only one, in fact, is appointed at Blet 
 "and he has nothing to do," an M. Baujard, fiscal attorney. This commis- 
 sion is assigned him gratuitously, to keep up the privilege, "otherwise it 
 would be impossible to find any one sufficiently intelligent to perform its 
 functions." 
 
 He appoints a sergeant, but, for a long time, this sergeant pays no rent or 
 anything for his lodging. 
 
 4. Personal and real faille. In Bourbonnais the laille -,vas formerly 
 serf, and the serfs mainmortable. "Seigniors still possessing rights of 
 ivrdtlage, well established throughout their fiefs and courts, at the present 
 iime, enjoy rights of succession to their vassals in all cases, even to the 
 prejudice of their children if non-resident and no longer dwelling under their 
 roofs." But in 1255, Hodes de Sully, having granted a charter, renounced 
 this right of real and personal faille for a right of bourgeoisie, sti'l main- 
 tained, (see further on). 
 
 5. Right to unclaimed property, cattle, furniture, effects, stray swarms of 
 bees, treasure-trove ; (no profits from this for twenty years past). 
 
 6. Right to property of deceased persons without heirs, to that of 
 deceased bastards, the possessions of condemned criminals either to death, 
 to the galleys or to exile, etc., (no profit). 
 
 7. Right of the chase and of fishing, the latter worth fifteen livres pa 
 annum.
 
 NOTES. 407 
 
 8. Right of bourgeoisie (see article 4), according to tht charter of 1255, 
 and the court-roll of 1484. The wealthiest pay annually twelve bushels of 
 oats at forty livres and twelve deniers parasis ; the less wealthy nine bushels 
 and nine deniers ; all others six bushels and six deniers. "These rights of 
 bourgeoisie are well established, set forth in all court-rolls and acknowledg- 
 ments rendered to the king and perpetuated by numerous admissions ; the 
 motives that have led former stewards and fermiers to interrupt the collection 
 of these cannot be divined. Many of the seigniors in Bovubonnais have the 
 Denefit of and exact these taxes of their vassals by virtue of titles much more 
 open to question than those of the seigniors of Blet." 
 
 9. Rights of protection of the chateau of Blet. The royal edict of 1497, 
 fixing this charge for the inhabitants of Blet and all those dwelling within 
 the jurisdiction of its tribunals, those of Charly, Boismarvier, etc., at five 
 sous per fire per annum, which has been carried out. "Only lately has the 
 collection of this been suspended, notwithstanding its recognition at no late 
 date, the inhabitants all admitting themselves to be subject to the said guet 
 et garde of the chateau. 
 
 10. Right of toll on all merchandise and provisions passing through the 
 town of Blet, except grain, flour and vegetables. (A trial pending before 
 the Council of State since 1727 and not terminated in 1745; "the collection 
 thereof, meanwhile, being suspended"). 
 
 1 1. Right of potage on wines sold at retail in Blet, ensuring to the seignioi 
 nine pints of wine per cask, leased in 1782 for six years, at sixty livres per 
 annum. 
 
 12. Right of boucherie or of taking the tongues of all animals slaughtered 
 in the town, with, additionally, the heads and feet of all calves. No 
 slaughter-house at Blet, and yet "during the harvesting of each year about 
 twelve head of cattle are slaughtered." This tax is collected by the steward 
 and is valued at three livres per annum. 
 
 13. Right of fairs and markets, aunage, weight and measures. Five fairs 
 per annum and one market-day each week, but little frequented ; no grain- 
 market. This right is valued at twenty-four livres per annum. 
 
 14. Corve'es of teams and manual labor, through seigniorial right, on 
 ninety-seven persons at Blet (twenty-two Corve'es of teams and seventy-five 
 of manual labor), twenty-six persons at Brosses (five teams and twenty-one 
 hands). The seignior pays six sous for food, each corve"e, on men, and 
 twelve sous on each corv/e of four oxen. "Among those subject to this 
 cnve'e the larger number are reduced almost to beggary and have large 
 families which often induces the seignior not to exact this right rigorously." 
 The reduced value of the corv/es is forty-nine livres fifteen sols. 
 
 15. Banalitt (socome), of the mill, (a sentence of 1736 condemning Roy, 
 a laborer, to have his grain ground in the mill of Blet, and to pay a fine for 
 having ceased to have grain ground there during three years). The miller 
 reserves a sixteenth of the flour ground. The district-mill, as well as the 
 windmill, with six arpents adjoining, are leased at 600 livres per annum. 
 
 16. Banalite" of the oven. Agreement of 1537 between the seignior and 
 nis vassals : he allows them the privilege of a small oven in their domicile 
 of three squares, six inches each, to bake pies, biscuits and cakes ; in other
 
 *o8 NOTES. 
 
 respects subject to the district oven. He is endtled to one-sixteenth of the 
 dough; this right might produce 150 livres annually, but, for several years, 
 the oven has been dilapidated. 
 
 17. Right of the colombler, dove-cot. The chateau park contains one. 
 
 18. Right of bordelage. (The seignior is heir-at-law, except when the 
 children of the deceased live with their parents at the time of his death). 
 This right covers an area of forty-eight arpents. For twenty years, through 
 neglect or from other causes, he has derived nothing from this. 
 
 19. Right over waste and abandoned ground and to alluvial accumulations. 
 
 20. Right, purely honorary, of seat and burial in the choir, of incense and 
 of special prayer, of funeral hangings outside and inside the church. 
 
 21. Rights of lods et ventes on copyholders, due by the purchaser of 
 property liable to this lien, in forty days. "In Bourbonnais, the lods et 
 ventes are collected at a third, a quarter, at the sixth, eighth and twelfth rate." 
 The seignior of Blet and Brosses collects at rate six. It is estimated that 
 sales are made once in eighty years; these rights bear on 1,356 arpents 
 which are worth, the best, 192 livres per arpent, the second best, no livres, 
 the poorest, 75 livres. At this rate the 1,350 arpents are worth 162,750 
 livres. A discount of one-quarter of the lods et ventes is allowed to pur- 
 chasers. Annual revenue of this right 254 livres. 
 
 22. Right of tithe and of chantage. The seignior has obtained all tithe 
 rights, save a few belonging to the canons of Dun-le-Roi and to the prior of 
 Chaumont. The tithes are levied on the thirteenth sheaf. They are com 
 prised in the leases. 
 
 23. Right of terrage or champart: the right of collecting, after the tithes, 
 a portion of the produce of the ground. "In Bourbonnais, the terrage is 
 collected in various ways, on the third sheaf, on the fifth, sixth, seventh, and 
 commonly one-quarter; at Blet it is the twelfth." The seignior of Blet 
 collects terrage only on a certain number of the farms of his seigniory; "in 
 relation to Brosses, it appears that all domains possessed by copyholders are 
 subject to the right." These rights of terrage are comprised in the leases of 
 the farms of Blet and of Brosses. 
 
 24. Cens, surcens and rentes due on real property of different kinds, houses, 
 fields, meadows, etc., situated in the territory of the seigniory. In the 
 seigniory of Blet, 810 arpents, divided into 511 portions, in the hands of 1 20 
 copyholders, are in this condition, and their cens annually consists of 137 
 francs in money, sixty-seven bushels of wheat, three of barley, 159 of oats, 
 sixteen hens, 130 chickens, six cocks and capons; the total valued at 575 
 francs. On the Brosses estate, eighty-five arpents, divided into 112 parcels, 
 in the hands of twenty copyholders, are in this condition, and their total 
 cens is fourteen francs money, seventeen bushels of wheat, thirty- two of bar- 
 ley, twenty-six hens, three chickens and one capon ; the whole valued at 126 
 francs. 
 
 25. Rights over the commons (124 arpents in Blet and 164 arpents in 
 Brosses). 
 
 The vassals have on these only the right of use. "Almost the whole of 
 die land, on which they exercise this right of pasturage, belongs to the 
 seigniors, save this right with which they are burdened : it is granted only 
 to a few individuals."
 
 NOTES. 409 
 
 so. Rights over thefefs mouvants of the barony of Blet. Some are situ- 
 ated in Bourbonnais, nineteen being in this condition. In Bourbonnais, the 
 fiefs, even when owned by plebeians, simply owe la bouche et les mains to the 
 seignior at each mutation. Formerly the seignior of Blet enforced, in this 
 case, the right of redemption which has been allowed to fall into desuetude. 
 Others are situated in Berry where the right of redemption is exercised. 
 One fief in Berry, that of Cormesse held by the archbishop of Bourges, 
 comprising eighty-five arpents, besides a portion of the tithes, and producing 
 2, 100 livres per annum, admitting a mutation every twenty years, annually 
 brings to the seignior oi Blet 105 livres. 
 
 Besides the charges indicated there are the following : 
 
 1. To the curate of Blet, his fixed salary. According to royal enactment 
 in 1686, this should be 300 livres. According to arrangement in 1692, the 
 curate, desirous of assuring himself of this fixed salary, yielded to the seign- 
 ior all the dimes, novales, etc. The edict of 1 768 having fixed the curate's 
 salary at 500 livres, the curate claimed this sum through writs. The canons 
 of Dun-le-Roi and the prior of Chaumont, possessing tithes on the territory 
 of Blet, were obliged to pay a portion of it. At present it is at the charge of 
 the seignior of Blet. 
 
 2. To the guard, besides his lodging, warming and the use of three 
 arpents, 200 livres. 
 
 3. To the steward or registrar, to preserve the archives, look after repairs, 
 collect lods et ventes, and fines, 432 livres, besides the use of ten arpenls. 
 
 4. To the king, the vingtiemes. Formerly the estates of Blet and Brosses 
 paid 810 livres for the two vingtiemes and the two sous per livre. After the 
 establishment of the third vingtieme they paid 1,216 livres. 
 
 Note 3. 
 
 Difference between the actual and nominal revenues if ecclesiastical dignities 
 and benefices. 
 
 According to Raudot ("La France avant la Revolution," p. 84), one-half 
 extra must be added to the official valuation; according to Boiteau ("Etat 
 de la France en 1789," p. 195), this must be tripled and even quadrupled. 
 I think that, for the episcopal sees, one-half extra should be added and, for 
 the abbeys and priories, double, and sometimes triple and even quadruple 
 the amount. The following facts show the variation oetween official and 
 actual sums. 
 
 1. In the "Almanach Royal," the bishopric of Troyes is valued at 14,000 
 livres ; in "France Ecctesiastique of 1788," at 50,000. According to Albert 
 Babeau (" Histoire de la Revolution dans le department de 1'Aube "), it bring* 
 in 70,000 livres. In "France Eccle'siaslique," the bishopric of Strasbourg 
 is put down at 400,000 livres. According to the Due de LeVis ("Souve- 
 nirs," p. 156) it brings in at least 600,000 livres income. 
 
 2. In the same work, the abbey of Jumieges is assigned for 23,000 livres. 
 I find, in the papers of the ecclesiastic committee, it brings to the abb6 
 50,000 livres. In this work the abbey of Beze is estimated at 8,000 livres. 
 I find it bringing to the monks alone 30,000, while the abbess portion la at 
 
 35
 
 4 io NOTES. 
 
 least as large. (" De 1'Etat religieux, par les abbe's de Bonnefoi et Bernard," 
 1784). The abbe 1 thus receives 30,000 livres. Bernay (Eure), is officially 
 reported at 16,000. The "Doteances" of the cahiers estimate it at 57,000. 
 Saint- Amand is put down as bringing to the Cardinal of York 6,000 livrea 
 and actually brings him 100,000. (De Luynes, XIII. 215). 
 
 Clairvaux, in the same work, is put down at 9,000, and in Warroquier 
 ("Etat Ge'ne'ral de la France en 1789,") at 60,000. According to Beugnot, 
 who belongs to the country, and a practical man, the abW has from 300,000 
 to 400,000 livres income. 
 
 Samt-Faron, says Boiteau, set down at 18,000 livres, is worth 120,000 
 livres. 
 
 The abbey of Saint-Germain des Pres (in the stewardships), is put down 
 at 100,000 livres. The Comte de Clermont, who formerly had it, leased it 
 at 160,000 livres, "not including reserved fields and all that the farmers 
 furnished in straw and oats for his horses." (Jules Cousin, "Comte de 
 Clermont and his court") 
 
 Saint- Waas d' Arras, according to "La France EcclSsiastique," brings 
 40,000 livres. Cardinal de Rohan refused 1,000 livres per month for his 
 portion offered to him by the monks. (Due de LeVis, "Souvenirs," p. 156). 
 Its value thus is about 300,000 livres. 
 
 Remiremont, the abbess always being a royal princess, one of the most 
 powerful monasteries, the richest and best endowed, is officially valued at the 
 ridiculous sum of 15,000 livres. 
 
 On the education of princes and princesses. 
 
 An entire chapter might be devoted to this subiect ; I shall cite but a few 
 texts. 
 
 (Barbier, "Journal," October, 1670). The Dauphine has just given birth 
 to an infant. 
 
 "La jeune princesse en est a sa quatrieme nourrice. . . . J'ai appris 
 cette occasion que tout se fait par forme & la cour, suivant un protocole de 
 m6decin, en sorte que c'est un miracle d'elever un prince et une princesse. 
 La nourrice n'a d'autres foncdons que de donner a tfiter a 1'enfant quand on 
 le lui apporte ; elle ne peut pas lui toucher. II y a des remueuses et femmes 
 pr6poses pour cela, mais qui n'ont point d'ordre a recevoir de la nourrice. 
 II y a des heures pour remuer 1'enfant, trois ou quatre fois dans la journde. 
 Si 1'enfant dort, on le reveille pour le remuer. Si, apres avoir e"t change', il 
 fait dans ses langes, il reste ainsi trois ou quatre heures dans son ordure. 
 Si une epingle le pique, la nourrice ne doit pas 1'dter; il faut chercher et at- 
 tendre une autre femme ; 1'enfant crie dans tous ces cas, il se tourmente et 
 s'e"chauffe, en sorte que c'est une vraie misere que toutes ces ce're'monies." 
 
 (Madame de Genlis, "Souvenirs de Fe"licie," p. 74. Conversation with 
 Madame Louise, daughter of Louis XV., and recently become a Carmelite). 
 
 " I should like to know what troubled you most in getting accustomed to 
 your new profession ? " 
 
 "You could never imagine," ihe replied, smiling. "It was the descent
 
 NOTES. 411 
 
 of a small flight of s;eps alone by myself. At first it seemed to ms a diead- 
 ful precipice, and I was obliged to sit down on the steps and slide down in 
 that attitude." "A princess, indeed, who had never descended any but the 
 grand staircase at Versailles, leaning on the arm of her cavalier in waiting 
 and surrounded by pages, necessarily trembled on finding herself alone on 
 the brink of steep winding steps. (Such is) the education, so absurd in 
 many respects, generally bestowed on persons of this rank ; always watched 
 from infancy, followed, assisted, escorted and everything anticipated, (they 
 are thus, in great part, deprived of the faculties with which nature has en. 
 dowed them." 
 
 Madame Campan, "Me'moires," I. 18, 28. 
 
 " Madame Louise often told me that, although twelve years of age, she 
 had not fully learned the alphabet. . . . 
 
 "It was necessary to decide absolutely whether a certain water-bird was 
 fat or lean. Madame Victoire consulted a bishop. . . . He replied that, in 
 a doubt of this kind, after having the bird cooked it would be necessary to 
 puncture in on a very cold silver dish and, if the juice coagulated in one- 
 quarter of an hour, the bird might be considered fat. Madame Victoire im- 
 mediately put it to test; the juice did not coagulate. The princess was 
 highly delighted as she was very fond of this species of game. Fasting (on 
 religious grounds), to which Madame Victoire was addicted, put her to in- 
 convenience ; accordingly she awaited the midnight stroke of Holy Saturday 
 impatiently. A dish of chicken and rice and other succulent dishes were 
 then at once served up." 
 
 ("Journal de Dumont d'Urville," commanding the vessel on which Charles 
 X. left France in 1830. Quoted by Vaulabelle, History of the Restoration, 
 VIII. p. 465). 
 
 "The king and the Due d'Angoulfime questioned me on my various 
 campaigns, but especially on my voyage around the world in the 'Astrolabe.' 
 My narrative seemed to interest them very much, their interruptions consist- 
 ing of questions of remarkable naivete", showing that they possessed no no- 
 tions whatever, even the most superficial, on the sciences or on voyages, 
 being as ignorant on these points as any of the old rentiers of the Marais."
 
 4ia 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 On the rate of direct taxation. 
 
 The following figures are extracted from the proces-verbaux of the pro 
 rincial assemblies (1778-1787). 
 
 
 Tallle. 
 
 Access- 
 lores de 
 la taille. 
 
 Capitation 
 tafflable. 
 
 Impot 
 des routes. 
 
 Total en 
 multiples 
 de la taille. 
 
 Ile-de-France, ....... 
 
 4,206,04.0 
 
 2,207,826 
 
 2,680,287 
 
 1 1 Q.oSo 
 
 2.23 
 
 
 l,3C6,Qi4 
 
 003,6';'* 
 
 898,089 
 
 315,869 
 
 ;* 
 
 2,01 
 
 G&ie'ralite' de Rouen, . 
 Generality de Caen,.. 
 
 2,671,939 
 1,939,665 
 821,921 
 
 1,595,051 
 1,212,429 
 448,4^1 
 
 1,715,592 
 1,187,823 
 464,01:1: 
 
 598,2581 
 
 659,034 
 236,900 
 
 2,46 
 2,56 
 2, "JO 
 
 
 2, 3OQ.68 1 
 
 1, 113, 766 
 
 I,4O3,4O2 
 
 520,000 
 
 2,3O 
 
 
 1,062,392 
 
 911,883 
 
 734,8oQ 
 
 462,883 
 
 2,04. 
 
 Orlanais, ........... 
 
 2. 3?3, OQ2 
 
 !,2C6.I2C 
 
 lywn 
 
 i, 48?, 720 
 
 1586,381; 
 
 2,34. 
 
 Champagne, ......... 
 
 I.9B7.84O 
 
 I,4XQ,78o 
 
 1.377,371 
 
 807,280 
 
 2 
 
 General^ d'Alen9on, 
 Auvergne, ...... .... 
 
 1,742,655 
 I,QQQ,O4O 
 
 I,I20,O4I 
 I, -200,6 78 
 
 1,067,849 
 1,7x3,026 
 
 435>637 
 
 1 1 0.4.68 
 
 2,47 
 
 2. 7O 
 
 Geneialit6 d'Auch,... 
 Haute-Guyenne, 
 
 1,440,533 
 2,I3I,3H 
 
 931,261 
 1,267,619 
 
 797,268 
 1,268,855 
 
 316,909* 
 3o8,993 8 
 
 2,35 
 2,47 
 
 The principal of the taille being one, the figures in the last column repre- 
 sent, for each province, the total of the four taxes in relation to the taille. 
 The average of all these is 2.53. The accessories of the taille, the poll-tax 
 and the tax for roads, are fixed for each assessable party, pro rata to his 
 taille. Multiply the sum representing the portion of the taille deducted 
 from a net income, by 2.53 to know the sum of the four taxes put together 
 and deducted from this income. 
 
 This part varies from province to province, from parish to parish, and 
 even from individual to individual. Nevertheless we may estimate that the 
 taille, on the average, especially when bearing on a small peasant proprietor, 
 without protector or influence, abstracts one-sixth of his net income, say 
 16 fr. 66 c. on 100 francs. For example, according to the declarations of 
 the provincial assemblies, in Champagne, it deducts 3 sous and % of a 
 denier per livre, or 15 fr. 28 c. on 100 francs ; in the Ile-de-France, 35 
 livres 14 sous on 240 livres, or 14 fr. 87 c. on loo ; in Auvergne, 4 sous 
 per livre of the net income, that is to say, 20 per 100. Finally, in the 
 generalship of Auch, the provincial assembly estimates that the taille and 
 accessories absorb three-tenths of the net revenue, by which it is evident 
 that, taking the amounts of the provincial budget,, the taille alone absorbs 
 aighteen fr. ten c. on 100 francs of revenue. 
 
 Thus stated, if the taille as principal absorbs one-sixth of the net income 
 of the subject of the taille, that is to say, 16 fr. 66 c. on 100, the total of 
 
 1 This amount is not given by the provincial assembly ; to fill up this blank I have taken 
 the tenth of the taille, of the accessories and of the assessable poll-tax, this being the mode 
 followed by the provincial assembly of Lyonnais. By the declaration of June 2, 1787, the 
 tax on roads may be carried to one-sixth of the three preceding imposts ; it is commonly one- 
 tenth or, in relation to the principal of the taille, one-quarter. * Same remark. * The pr 
 rincial assembly carries this amount to one-eleventh of the taillt and accessories combined,
 
 NOTES. 413 
 
 the four imposts above mentioned, takes 16 fir. 66 c. X 2,53 = 42 fr. 15 c. on 
 100 fr. income. To which must be added II fr. for the two vingtttmtt 
 and 4 sous per livre added to the first vingttime, total 53 fr. 15 c. direct tax 
 en IOO livres income subject to the faille. 
 
 The dime, tithe, being estimated at a seventh of the net income, abstract* 
 in addition 14 fr. 28 c. The feudal dues being valued at the same sum also 
 take off 14 fr. 28 c., total 28 fr. 56 c. 
 
 Sum total of deductions of the direct royal tar, of the ecclesiastic tithes, 
 and of feudal dues, 81 fr. 71 c. on 100 fr. income. There remain to the tax 
 payer 18 fr. 39 c.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Absenteeism, 40, 43, 50; destructive 
 
 to sympathy, 50-2. 
 Adjudicators of taxes, 358. 
 Agriculture, backward condition of, 
 
 339- 
 
 Alienation of peasantry from nobles, 
 causes of, 40. 
 
 Ambassadors, display made by, 
 116-17. 
 
 Appanages, 15-16. 
 
 Architects of the edifice of the future, 
 & 
 
 Aristocracy, the, an attar of roses, 
 103-4 ; anomalous position of, 297 ; 
 undermine their own ground, 
 298-9; inaugurate reforms, 302-3; 
 proofs of benevolence given by, 
 302-3 ; lay aside their distinctive 
 badges, 311, 312; aspire to liter- 
 ary honors, 313-14; Champfort on 
 origin of, 321-2 ; Sieyes on origin 
 of, 322. (See Nobles, Privileged 
 Classes, etc.) 
 
 Army, the, inequality in, 390; re- 
 cruited from the lowest class, 
 391-2 ; become politicians, 392. 
 
 B 
 
 Barbarians, attitude of, towards the 
 
 clergy, 2. 
 Barbier on the situation In 1750, 
 
 315-17. 
 
 Beaumarchais, 276. 
 Beggars, arrests of, 384-5. 
 Belle-Isle, Marechal de, 116-17. 
 Benevolence, proofs of, given by the 
 aristocracy 302-3; by the king, 
 
 Bon-mot, on the Abbfe Terray's re- 
 trenchments, 126; value attached 
 to a, 126-7. 
 
 Bourgeoisie, easily irritated, 519-01 
 
 (See Third -Estate.) 
 Bourges, in 1753, 47. 
 Bread, cost of, 340 ; results of a scax< 
 
 city of, 389. 
 
 Bread-riots from 1725 to 1789, 334. 
 Brigandage, 383, 387-8. 
 Brittany, mutual affection betwee* 
 
 lords and vassals in, si.-a. 
 Buffon, 172, 174, 175 note. 
 Bureaucracy, 78. 
 
 Calonne, 71, 83. 
 
 Calculus, Infinitesimal, discovery of, 
 171. 
 
 Canary-bird, miniature of a, 131. 
 
 Capitation-tax, 18. 
 
 Centralization, 78. 
 
 Ceremonial royal, engrossing to chief 
 actor, 104-7; lasts all day, 107-9; 
 Frederick II. 's opinion of, 109. 
 
 Champfort on origin of the aris- 
 tocracy, 321-2. 
 
 Changes made in the name of Reason, 
 250-1. 
 
 Chanteloup, employments at, 144-5. 
 
 Charities of the clergy, 33-5. 
 
 Charlemagne, disorganization after, 6. 
 
 Chase, the, feudal rights of, well- 
 founded, 55 ; a hardship to the 
 farmer, 56-9. 
 
 Children, neglected by their parents, 
 I 35~6 ; extremely submissive to 
 them, 135; dress and manners of, 
 136-8, 273 ; theatricals employed In 
 education of, 154. 
 
 Church, the, regarded as dangeroui 
 to the State, 249-50. 
 
 Citizen, a new word, 295. 
 
 Civility, graded, an insult, 321. 
 
 Civilizers, the clergy the earliest, 1-5,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 4'J 
 
 Classic spirit, the, neglects facts, aoo ; 
 natural working of, 201 ; superficial 
 work of, 201-3. (See Mind.) 
 
 Clergy, the earliest civilizers, 1-5 ; 
 guardians of human attainments, 3 ; 
 their share in public affairs, 3 ; their 
 example and teaching, 3-5 ; grati- 
 tude of society towards, 5 ; great 
 wealth of, 14-15 ; exempt from taxa- 
 tion, 18 ; as feudal seigniors, 19- so; 
 charities of, 53-5 ; assembly of, 61 ; 
 hardships of the lower, 73-7 ; free- 
 dom of manners of, 150-2 ; scepti- 
 cism and immorality of the higher, 
 292-4. 
 
 Clothing, peasants', 341-2. 
 
 Collectors of taxes, obliged to serve, 
 354 ; held responsible, 354-5 ; wo- 
 men, 354-5 ; their extortions, 356-7; 
 everywhere insolvent, 369. 
 
 Comparison of France with Germany 
 and England, 60, 84 ; of court so- 
 ciety of France with that of Spain, 
 Germany, and England, 123-4 ; of 
 English and French novelists of the 
 i8th century, 199-200; of English 
 and French nobility in 1774, 279. 
 
 Condillac, 174. 
 
 Condition of France in the i8th cen- 
 tury, gloomy, 46. 
 
 Contract, the social, iniquity of, 229- 
 30 ; theory of its formation, 233-5 ; 
 in France not an historic fact, 244 ; 
 not an association for mutual de- 
 fence, 245 ; based on the sovereignty 
 of the people, 246-251. 
 
 Contrat Social, much quoted, 325 ; 
 used as a manual, 318 ; teaches 
 anarchy and despotism, 399. 
 
 Convent, France a lay, 247, 248. 
 
 Convents and abbeys, scenes of dis- 
 play and hospitality, 119-20. 
 
 Conversation, value attached to, in the 
 i8th century, 185 ; religioE and gov- 
 ernment subjects for, 279-81 ; Ches- 
 terfield on, 280 ; Rousseau on, 280 ; 
 the business of the day, 281. 
 
 Corvee, 18, 407 ; substitute for, 365. 
 
 Court, attractiveness of, 44-6 ; offices, 
 68-9 ; obligation to be present at, 
 zoo- 101 ; eagerness to be present 
 at, 101 ; advantages of being at, 
 
 101-2; great crowd at, 102; bril- 
 liancy of, 103-4 ; amusements at, 
 109-11. 
 
 Courts, miniature, of the nobles, 
 114-16. 
 
 Creed of the Republic, 250. 
 
 Crops, results from failures of, 338-9. 
 
 Curates, complaints of, 75, 76-7; in 
 the States-General, 77. 
 
 Gust >m surviving utility, 86-7. 
 
 Customs, foundations of, 208-9. 
 
 D'Argenson, on public disrespect for 
 religion, 288-9 ; on the government, 
 294-5 ; on public destitution, 330, 
 331-3, 334 ; on the taille, 367 ; on the 
 peasant, 375. 
 
 Debt, the public, 308-9. 
 
 D&cimes, 18. 
 
 Deficit in the public revenue, 309-10. 
 
 Deism, 215. 
 
 Demand for pleasure hi the i8th cen- 
 tury, 127-8. 
 
 Deputies of the people, not repre- 
 sentatives,but commissioners, 242-3. 
 
 Destitution, extreme general, state- 
 ments of La Bruyere concerning, in 
 1689, 329; of St Simon in 1725, 
 329-30; of D'Argenson in i739-53i 
 33. 33*~3> 334 ' oi Massillonin 1740, 
 330- 
 
 Diderot, 219, 220-21 ; critical notice 
 of, 266-9 1 a brilliant talker, 282 ; 
 visits Catherine II. , 283. 
 
 Discovery, scientific, first ingredient 
 in French philosophy, 170-1. 
 
 Display made by clergy and abbesses t 
 119-20. 
 
 Dissolution of France, cause of, 85. 
 
 Domains, seigniorial, crumble away, 
 
 346-7. 
 Donations of the king to individual 
 
 nobles, 70-71. 
 Drawing-room life, unsatisfactory, 
 
 157-9 ; insincere, 159 ; cruel, 160. 
 Du Defiant, Mme. de, 145, 159. 
 Duel, conducted with politer ess, 
 
 142-3. 
 
 Duras, Due de, pay of, 117. 
 Dwellings of peasants, 341, 344.
 
 4 i6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ecclesiastic, position of an, in society, 
 287-8. 
 
 Education, of children by theatricals, 
 J S4 1 of princes and princesses, 
 410-11. 
 
 Eighteenth Century, its discoveries in 
 relation to inorganic matter, 171-2 ; 
 to organic matter, 172-3 ; facts the 
 food of its intellect, 173 ; founda- 
 tions of history laid in, 177; the 
 analytic method a discovery of, 
 182-3 ; English and French novel- 
 ists of, compared, 199-200 ; intellec- 
 tual epicureanism of, 251 ; coarse- 
 ness of the writers of, 258 ; their 
 humor, 259 ; peasant of the, 374 ; 
 philosophy of the, a subtle poison, 
 170 ; its two main ingredients, 170 ; 
 its development in England, 252-3 ; 
 in France, 253 ; women interested 
 in, 254, 256, 257 ; an object of sus- 
 picion in England ; society of the, 
 luxury characteristic of, 121 ; man- 
 ners of, 122 ; genius and employ- 
 ment of, 122 ; modification of eti- 
 quette in, 125-6 ; Talleyrand on, 
 126 ; demand for pleasure in, 127-8 ; 
 conjupal indifference the rule it, 
 131-2 ; pictures of the, 143-4 ; lack 
 of force in, 165, 167-9 ; ignorance of 
 realities in, 166 ; value attached to 
 conversation in, 185. 
 
 Emigration of the poor, 333. 
 
 Encyclopedists, 216. 
 
 England, early, pagan, therefore bar- 
 barous, 2 ; feudal subjection less 
 burdensome in, 29; philosophic 
 teachings suspected in, 278 ; alli- 
 ance between clergy and public 
 men in, 278-9. 
 
 Enthusiasm obligatory, 162-3. 
 
 Epicureanism, intellectual, of the i8th 
 century, 162-3. 
 
 d'Epinay, M., his household, 115-16. 
 
 Exaggeration, tendency '.>, 326-7. 
 
 Excises, collected by House of Or- 
 leans. 20-21. 
 
 Excitability, French, 241. 
 
 Exports, statistics of, 307. 
 
 Expression, art of, cultivated by the 
 French, 253-4. 2S5-6. 2 S7. 
 
 Facts, popular ignorance of, 336. 
 
 Failures of crops, results of, 338-9. 
 
 Feudal nobility, wealth of certain 
 families of, 41. 
 
 Feudal proprietor, charities of, 33. 
 
 Feudal rights and revenues in 1783, 
 instance of, 404-10. 
 
 Feudal subjection less burdensome in 
 Germany and England, 28-9. 
 
 Feudal system, theory of, 7-8. 
 
 Food, of peasants, 337, 341, 342-3, 
 344- 
 
 Foundations of laws and religion, 
 205-6 ; of customs, 208-9. 
 
 Frederick II., his opinion of French 
 court ceremonial, 109. 
 
 French, classic, date of, 187; dimin- 
 ished vocabulary of, 187-9 ; extreme 
 accuracy of, 189 ; general expres- 
 sions favored by, 188-9 > gram- 
 matical arrangement of, 190-1 ; 
 value of, 191; insufficiency of, 191-3. 
 
 Gevres, Due de, his household, 114-15. 
 
 Government, difficult to establish, 26 ; 
 when established, should be pre- 
 served, 27. 
 
 H 
 
 Helve"tius, 219. 
 
 Hero, the second ideal figure, 7. 
 
 History, foundations of modern study 
 of, 177 ; beginnings of, 178 ; natural 
 growth of, 179 ; interdependence ol 
 parts in, 179-81 ; popular ignorance 
 of, 325-6. 
 
 d'Holbach, Baron, receptions at 
 house of, 281-2. 
 
 Household, a well-appointed, 94-5; 
 of the Due de Gevres, 114-15 ; 
 plunder in the, 128. 
 
 Households, of the royal family, ex- 
 penses of, 98 note; of princes of 
 the blood, 113-14 ; of bishops, 
 splendor of, 120-21. 
 
 Hume received with homage in Paris, 
 283. 
 
 Husbands and wives, independent 
 existence of, 131-3 ; absence of 
 jealousy between, 133-4.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 417 
 
 Ideas, an illumination in the salon, a 
 
 conflagration in the basement, 327-8. 
 Ideology, Condillac's, 257. 
 Ignorance, popular, of history, 325-6 ; 
 
 of facts, 326. 
 Impiety an indiscretion in England, 
 
 -278. 
 
 Indifference, conjugal, the rule, 131-2. 
 Individual, the human, development 
 
 of, 181-2. 
 Ingredients of French philosophy, 
 
 two, 170. 
 fntendants, 36-7, 43-4, 66, 245 ; their 
 
 testimony as to public destitution, 
 
 335-6; as to taxes, 356-7, 366-7; 
 
 as to vagrancy, 385-6, 387. 
 
 J 
 
 Jansenist, Paris, 306. 
 Jealousy, absence of, among the 
 higher class, 133-4. 
 
 K 
 
 King, the, third founder of social 
 order, 9 ; absolute power of, n ; 
 victorious over the nobles, n ; the 
 sole representative of the country, 
 60 ; naturally sympathetic with his 
 courtiers, 69 ; his donations to indi- 
 vidual nobles, 70-1 ; disadvantage 
 of his position, 77, 79 ; France re- 
 garded as the private estate of, 
 79-81. 
 
 Laboi , cost of, 350. 
 
 La Bruyere compared with Rousseau, 
 
 270. 
 
 Lafayette, 299. 
 La Harpe, his fiction of a prophecy, 
 
 400-12. 
 
 Land lying waste, 337-8. 
 Language, French, Voltaire's opinion 
 
 of, 185 note; superiority of, 185, 
 
 191. (See Classic French \ 
 Languedoc, sinecures in, 67-8. 
 Lauzun, Due de, his way of living, 
 
 I34-S I Mme. de, as a cook, 147. 
 Lever, details of, 104-7. 
 Louis XIV., at Versailles, 91, ico, 
 
 104; requires display from his no- 
 27 
 
 bles, 116 ; elegance of his iranners, 
 
 125. 
 
 Louis XV., on the situation, 79; ex- 
 travagance of, 82 ; his hunting, 94 ; 
 
 his amusements, 109, no. 
 Louis XVI., his attempts at reform, 
 . 79 ; his extravagance, 83-4 ; his 
 
 hunting, 94, 111-12 ; his position, 
 
 108, 109, no. 
 Luxembourg, la Marechale de, an 
 
 authority on manners, 141. 
 
 M 
 Magistrates, compulsory service of, 
 
 243-4- 
 
 Man, insignificance of, before natural 
 phenomena, 175-7 ; prehistoric con- 
 dition of, 178 ; in the abstract, notion 
 of, 233-4 ; believed good and rea- 
 sonable, 235-8, 302, 324. 
 
 " Manco-Capac," tragedy of, 275. 
 
 Manners, freedom of, 149, 150, 153, 
 ^S-fi; of the clergy, 150-2; in 
 prison, 169. 
 
 Manuscript copies of irreligious 
 works, 290. 
 
 " Marriage of Figaro," 275-6, 318. 
 
 Masquerades, 152-3. 
 
 Masses for the king's life, an index of 
 public feeling, 316. 
 
 Matter eternal, encyclopedic theory 
 of, 217-18. 
 
 Maury, the Abbe, on the French 
 Academy, 186-7. 
 
 Men, demand for, 7. 
 
 Mendicancy, statistics of, 387. 
 
 Mesdames, cost of dinners of, 71. 
 
 Metayers, 338, 340, 341, 343. 
 
 Method, the analytic, 182-3 ; possible 
 bad use of, 183. 
 
 Mind, the classic mould of, 184-5 1 its 
 existence how manifested, 184, 187 
 historic force of, 185 ; how formed, 
 185-7 ; its merits, 193-4 ; its faults, 
 I 94~5- J 97! generalization a pecu- 
 liarity of, 195-7; its inadequacy to 
 represent real life and history, 197- 
 aoi. (See Classic Spirit.) 
 
 Ministers, display made by, 117-18. 
 
 Mirabeau, Chateau de, absolutism in, 
 30-31 ; Marquis de, on the nobility, 
 32, 34 ; on his son's becoming
 
 INDEX. 
 
 lawyer, 311-12 ; on peasants, 344-5 ; 
 
 on taxes, 355-6. 
 Mobs, attacks upon, 389. 
 " Mceurs, les" a popular book, 288. 
 Molifere, his idea of a good critic, 186. 
 Monopoly by the canons of St. Malo, 
 
 62. 
 Montesquieu, 174, 179 ; critical notice 
 
 of, 260-1 ; on religion in England, 
 
 278. 
 Morals, encyclopedic theory of, 218- 
 
 221. 
 
 Morris, rjouverneur, on French phi- 
 .caipners, 254, 326; on French 
 peasants, 376. 
 
 N 
 
 Nancy, Bishop of, his testimony ia 
 1789- 370. 
 
 Nantes, Edict of, revocation, 62. 
 
 Necker, 71, 83, 127. 
 
 Newton, 171. 
 
 Nobles, gratitude of society towards, 
 9; exempt from taxation, 16-17; 
 debts of the, 53; all chief places 
 reserved for, 64 ; sinecures enjoyed 
 by, 66-9 ; complaints against, 72-3 ; 
 highest, resident under the king's 
 roof, 99, ico; extravagance of, 
 130-31 ; objects of inveterate sus- 
 picion, 380 ; statistics of number of, 
 402-3. (See Aristocracy and Priv. 
 Classes.) 
 
 " Nouvelle Htloise," the, its effect on 
 women, 273. 
 
 Octrois of the towns doubled, 368 ; 
 
 extremely burdensome, 369. (See 
 
 Taxation.) 
 Offices, sale of, 54-5 ; bestowed 
 
 through favor, 823. 
 Officials, display made by, 118-19. 
 Opinions on politics and religion 
 
 changed reluctantly, 277. 
 Optimist views of mankind, 235-8, 
 
 302. 3*4- 
 
 Organization, social, the problem, 
 232-4. 
 
 Orleans, House of, collects the ex- 
 cises, 20-21 ; Duke of, his wealth, 
 
 41 ; his debts, 53 ; pensioned as 
 poor man, 70-1. 
 
 Palais-Royal, salon of the, 80. 
 
 Paris, the school of Europe, 139 ; 
 Jansenist, 306; the central work- 
 shop, 308 ; disorder in, 388. 
 
 Parliament, 61 ; remonstrance of, in 
 1764, 72. 
 
 Parliamentarians, hospitality exer- 
 cised by, 148-9. 
 
 Passions, the masters of mankind, 
 241, 242. 
 
 Pastime, a court, unravelling, 145-7. 
 
 Peasant, protected by the noble, 7, 8 ; 
 original mutual relations of noble 
 and, 8-9 ; of the i8th century, his 
 personal appearance, 342, 344-5; 
 idleness, 343 ; economy, 345-6, 347 ; 
 becomes a land-owner, 346-7 ; op- 
 pression of, 348 ; his mind, 374-7.; 
 D'Argenson on, 375 ; belongs to the 
 Middle Ages, 375 ; Gouverneur 
 Morris on, 376; superstitions of ; 
 375-7 I wild hallucinations of, 377-9; 
 insolence of, 379. 
 
 Pensions, 69, 70, 71, 84, 117. 
 
 People, a monster let loose, 399 ; 
 sovereignty of, 242-4, 246-51. 
 
 Philosopher, a, essential to a salon, 283. 
 
 Philosophy, the fashion, 254-5 \ per- 
 vading all literature, 274-5 ! the 
 social pastime, 280-1. 
 
 Plunder by the king's purveyors, 129 ; 
 in the houses of the nobles, 129-30. 
 
 Poachers, 381. 
 
 Political economy the fashion, 297. 
 
 Poll-tax, evaded by the clergy, 363 ; 
 evaded in part by the nobles, 364 ; 
 statistics of, 364. (See Taxation.) 
 
 Poverty of the old families, 38. 
 
 Prelates, wealth of, 65-6, 75 ; splendoi 
 of their households, 120-21. (See 
 Clergy and Privileged Classes.) 
 
 Prejudice, hereditary, to be- respected, 
 207-8, 211. 
 
 Primogeniture, right of, its effects, 
 38-9. 
 
 Princes of the blood, wealth of, 15-16, 
 41 ; sharers in royal rights, 20-21 ; 
 gifts to, 70-1 ; households of, 113-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 14; and princesses, education of, 
 410-11. 
 
 **rincesses, expenses of, 128-9. 
 *rivileged classes, founders of society, 
 
 i ; statistics of, 13, 402-3 ; property 
 
 belonging to, 14; escape taxation, 
 
 362-8. (See Aristocracy, Nobles, 
 
 etc.) 
 Privileges changed into abuses, 59, 
 
 398. 
 
 Productiveness of French and Eng- 
 lish acre compared, 339. 
 Properties, small, development of, 347 
 
 note. 
 Property, rights of, theory concerning, 
 
 246-7. 
 Prqphecy, La Harpe's fiction of a, 
 
 400-2. 
 Proprietor, landed, a lesser sovereign, 
 
 16, 43 ; peasant becomes a, 345-6, 
 
 347; taxes on, 347-8. 
 Protestants, oppression of, 62-3 ; 
 
 edicts against, obtained by the 
 
 clergy, 62-3. 
 Puffs au sentiment, 161-2. 
 
 Reason, the age of, 204-5 ; of the 
 i8th century unable to comprehend 
 tradition, 211 ; ignorant of his- 
 tory, 211-12; lacking in imagina- 
 tion, 212-14; in arms against tradi- 
 tion, 214 ; its quarrel with estab- 
 lished religion, 214-15 ; its first 
 campaign, 214 ; its second, 216 ; ad- 
 mks a natural religion, 215 ; its 
 quarrel with the Jaws, 215-16 ; ad- 
 mits a natural law, 216 ; in mankind 
 a fragile composition, 238 ; rare, 
 239-40 ; its influence small, 240-2. 
 
 Reaumur, 172, 173. 
 
 Reforms, attempted by Louis XVI., 
 79 ; inaugurated by the aristocracy, 
 300-2. 
 
 Religion, its nature, 209-10 ; attacked 
 "by the upper class, 287-94 ; forms j 
 of respect for, retained, 291-2. 
 
 Remonstrance of parliament ir 1764, 
 72. 
 
 Restraints burdensome, 284-6. 
 
 Residences, royal, 97. 
 
 Revenue, deficit in, 309-10. 
 
 Revenues and rights, feudal, In 1783 
 404-10. 
 
 Roads, bad state of, 339. 
 
 Rohan, Prince de, 117 ; Cardinals de, 
 120-21. 
 
 Roland, Mme., 320. 
 
 Rousseau, 160-1,174; an exceptional 
 character, 221-2 ; imagines himself 
 the type, 222 ; a self-admirer, 222-3; 
 advances new theory of morals, 
 223-4 ; an embittered plebeian, 225- 
 6, 228 ; disdains science and art, 
 226-7 ; attacks established rights, 
 227-8 ; the champion of the poor, 
 228-9 condemns the social con- 
 tract, 229-30; compared with Vol- 
 taire, 268 ; critical notice of, 269-74 ; 
 compared with La Bruyere, 270; 
 on conversation, 280; his doctrine 
 popular, 316-17 ; fosters French 
 vanity, 320. 
 
 Royalty, services rendered by, 10 ; 
 gratitude towards, 10, u. 
 
 Salt, tax on, 358-60; contraband 
 dealers in, 381-2. 
 
 Scientists, leaders of public opinion, 
 I73-4- 
 
 Sees, endowments of, 42-3. 
 
 Scgur, de, on the state of public senti- 
 ment, 298-9. 
 
 Seignior, foundation of early rights 
 of, 8, 9 ; rights on his own domain, 
 21-6 ; possible transformation of, 
 26-7; friendliness of, towards his 
 tenants, 35-6. 
 
 Sentiments developed in the middle 
 class, 315-16. 
 
 Sensibility, affectation of, 160-5. 
 
 Severity of agents, 52-3. 
 
 Sieyes, on the aristocracy, 322. 
 
 Sinecures, enjoyed by the nobles, 
 66-9. 
 
 Smugglers, 381-2 ; large troops of, 
 382-3, 
 
 Society, privileged classes founders 
 of, i ; fondness for, a French trait : 
 124 ; French, delightful charactei 
 of, 138 ; faultlessly polite, 139 ; ex 
 treme self-control required by, 139- 
 40 ; gallantry towards women, 140-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 I ; perfect tact of, 141-2 ; cheerful 
 tone of, 147-8 ; Voltaire's definition 
 of, 186 ; to we abolished, 221 ; de- 
 tached from Christianity, 291-2 ; 
 disintegration of, 393-5. 
 
 Sovereign authority, Louis XV.'s 
 views of, ii note. 
 
 Spall, mzani, 172. 
 
 Starvation an endemic disease, 339. 
 
 State, origin of the, 210-11 ; substitu- 
 tion of, for the individual, 246-50. 
 
 Statement of popular grievances, 
 
 370-3- 
 
 States-General, 60. 
 
 St. Cloud, " a ring," 80-1. 
 
 Suffering, extreme, revealed in ad- 
 ministrative correspondence, 335-7. 
 
 Suicide of the old regime, 398. 
 
 Superiority, question of, between 
 nobles and plebeians, 314-15. 
 
 Table-service, 95-& 
 
 Taille, the, 17, 19, 84, 332, 406, 412-13 ; 
 amount of, 348; exemption of no- 
 bles and clergy from the, 362-3; 
 pays heavy public expenses, 363 ; 
 unjust apportionment of, 363 ; 
 D'Argr,nson on, 367. (See Taxa- 
 tion. ) 
 
 Taxation, exemption of nobles from, 
 16, 17 ; of clergy, 18 ; regarded a 
 mark of servitude, 19 ; seigniorial 
 rights of, 22-3; evaded by privi- 
 leged classes, 61 ; of peasants, 341-2 ; 
 too burdensome, 349-51 ; statistics 
 of, direct, 350-4 ; Marquis de Mira- 
 beau on, 355-6 ; indirect, 358-62 ; 
 evaded by the strong, 362 ; falls 
 heaviest on the poorest and most 
 industrious, 365-6 ; rate of direct, 
 412-13. (See Taille, etc.) 
 
 Tenth Century, the noble of the, 6-7. 
 
 Theatricals, a court amusement, 148, 
 153-6 ; employed in education, 154 ; 
 at Trianon, 154-5. 
 
 Theory, of feudal system, 7-8 ; of 
 royal ownership of France, 79-81 ; 
 encyclopedic, in respect to matter, 
 217-18; of morals, 218-221; of mor- 
 als, Rousseau's, 223-4 ; concerning 
 rights, 246-7; concerning educa- 
 
 tion ; 247-9 ' not to be reduced to 
 practice, 286-7; of popular rights 
 reduced to practice, 396-7. 
 
 Third Estate, long ignorant and silent, 
 305-7 ; increased wealth of, 307-8 ; 
 becomes the public creditor, 308-9 ; 
 anxious about its money, 310-11 
 has risen socially, 311, 312-13 ; its 
 claims, 323-4 ; leaders of the, 395-6. 
 
 Throne, first attacks upon, 294-5. 
 
 Town favored above country in tax- 
 ation, 366. 
 
 Tradition, authority of, declines, 207. 
 
 Trianon, village at, 163 ; theatricals 
 at, 154-5. 
 
 Turgot, his characterization of a vil- 
 lage, 78. 
 
 U 
 
 Unravelling, a court pastime, 145-7. 
 Utopia, the theoretical, brought to 
 perfection, 394-5. 
 
 Vagrancy, rise of, 380-1. 
 
 Vagrants, increase of, 383-4 ; meas- 
 ures against, 384. ; crowds of, 386 ; 
 intendants' reports on, 385-6, 387. 
 
 Vanity, French, fostered by Rous- 
 seau, 320. 
 
 Versailles, peculiar character of, 87 ; 
 hotels of nobles in, 88 ; accessories 
 of the palace, 88-9 ; avenues of, 89 ; 
 cost of palace, 90 ; households ol 
 royal family at, 91-2 ; king's guards, 
 92-3 ; stables, 93-4 ; hunting estab- 
 lishment, 94. 
 
 Vingtibmes, 17 note, 18, 19; reduced 
 by privileged classes, 364-5. (Sea 
 Taxation.) 
 
 Voltaire, 173-4; his opinion of French 
 language, 185 note; attacks reli- 
 gion, 215 ; a deist, 217 ; critical no- 
 tice of, 261-6 ; a guest of Frederick 
 II., 283 ; triumphant reception on 
 his return, 283-4 ; on the situation 
 in 1750, 294. 
 
 W 
 Walpole (Sir Horace), on French 
 
 imprudence, 289. 
 Wine-tax, 360-8.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 WneB, Interested m philosophy, 234, 
 2 S6> 257 ; devoted to science. 290-1 ; 
 advance ideas of liberty, 295-6 ; of 
 humanity, 296-7 ; criticize the gov- 
 ernment, 296 ; enthusiasm of, 297. 
 
 Words, number of, in dictionary of 
 old French Academy, 192 note. 
 
 Writers , four great philosophic, 259- 
 74 
 
 Young, Arthur, his observations in 
 1787, 16 note, 45, 46, 48, 40-50 ; on 
 Bordeaux, 307-8 ; compares tha 
 French and English acre, 339; ar- 
 rested as an agent of the queen, 
 377 ; on disorder in Paris, 388 ; on 
 public ignorance, 394-5.
 
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