Chapter VII (5)

[1150] In August 1787, Jefferson writes from Paris (_Correspondence_,
vol. ii. p. 224): 'In society, the _habit habillé_ is almost
banished, and they begin to go even to great suppers in frock:
the court and diplomatic corps, however, must always be
excepted. They are too high to be reached by any improvement.
They are the last refuge from which etiquette, formality, and
folly will be driven. Take away these, and they would be on a
level with other people.' Jefferson was a statesman and a
diplomatist, and was well acquainted with his profession. The
change, however, which he noticed, had been coming on some years
earlier. In a letter written in May 1786, it is said: 'Il est
rare aujourd'hui de rencontrer dans le monde des personnes qui
soient ce qu'on appelle habillées. Lee femmes sont en chemise et
en chapeau, les hommes en froc et en gilet.' _Grimm_,
_Correspond._ vol. xiv. p. 485; and on the increased simplicity
of attire in 1780, see vol. xi. pp. 141, 142. Ségur, who
witnessed these changes, and was much displeased by them, says
of their advocates, 'ils ne voyaient pas que les frocs,
remplaçant les amples et imposans vêtemens de l'ancienne cour,
présagaient un penchant général pour l'égalité.' _Mém. de
Ségur_, vol. i. p. 131. Soulavie (_Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. vi.
p. 38) observes, that 'les grands, vers les approches de la
révolution, n'avoient plus que des habits simples et peu
coûteux;' and that 'on ne distingua plus une duchesse d'une
actrice,' p. 43: see also an extract from Montjoye, in _Alison's
History_, vol. i. pp. 352, 353. Compare _Mém. sur
Marie-Antoinette_, vol. i. pp. 226, 372, vol. ii. p. 174, and
_Mém. de Madame au Hausset_, introduc. p. 17.

[1151] 'Les personnes du premier rang et même d'un âge mûr, qui avaient
travaillé toute leur vie pour obtenir les ordres du roi, preuve
de la plus haute faveur, s'habituèrent à en cacher les marques
distinctives sous le froc le plus simple, qui leur permettait de
courir à pied dans les rues et de se confondre dans la foule.'
_Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. iii. pp. 161, 162. Another alteration
of the same tendency is worth recording. The Baroness
d'Oberkirch, who revisited Paris in 1784, remarked, on her
arrival, that 'gentlemen began about this time to go about
unarmed, and wore swords only in full dress.... And thus the
French nobility laid aside a usage which the example of their
fathers had consecrated through centuries.' _D'Oberkirch's
Memoirs_, Lond. 1852, vol. ii. p. 211.

The other innovation to which I have referred is equally interesting as characteristic of the spirit of the time. This is, that the tendency to amalgamate the different orders of society[1152] was shown in the institution of clubs; a remarkable contrivance, which to us seems perfectly natural because we are accustomed to it, but of which it may be truly said, that until the eighteenth century its existence was impossible. Before the eighteenth century, each class was so jealous of its superiority over the one below it, that to meet together on equal terms was impracticable; and although a certain patronizing familiarity towards one's inferiors might be safely indulged in, this only marked the immense interval of separation, since the great man had no fear of his condescension being abused. In those good old times a proper respect was paid to rank and birth; and he who could count his twenty ancestors was venerated to an extent of which we, in these degenerate days, can hardly form an idea. As to any thing like social equality, that was a notion too preposterous to be conceived; nor was it possible that any institution should exist which placed mere ordinary men on a level with those illustrious characters, whose veins were filled with the purest blood, and the quarterings of whose arms none could hope to rival.

[1152] A striking instance of which was, moreover, seen in the number of
_mésalliances_, which first became frequent about the middle of
the reign of Louis XV. Compare _Mém. de Montbarey_, vol. iii.
pp. 116, 156, 157; _Lacretelle_, _Dix-huitième Siècle_,
vol. iii. p. 220.

But in the eighteenth century the progress of knowledge became so remarkable, that the new principle of intellectual superiority made rapid encroachments on the old principle of aristocratic superiority. As soon as these encroachments had reached a certain point, they gave rise to an institution suited to them; and thus it was that there were first established clubs, in which all the educated classes could assemble, without regard to those other differences which, in the preceding period, kept them separate. The peculiarity of this was, that, for mere purposes of social enjoyment, men were brought into contact, who, according to the aristocratic scheme, had nothing in common, but who were now placed on the same footing in so far as they belonged to the same establishment, conformed to the same rules, and reaped the same advantages. It was, however, expected that the members, though varying in many other respects, were to be all, in some degree, educated; and in this way society first distinctly recognized a classification previously unknown; the division between noble and ignoble being succeeded by another division between educated and uneducated.

The rise and growth of clubs is, therefore, to the philosophic observer, a question of immense importance; and it is one which, as I shall hereafter prove, played a great part in the history of England during the latter half of the eighteenth century. In reference to our present subject, it is interesting to observe, that the first clubs, in the modern sense of the word, which ever existed in Paris, were formed about 1782, only seven years before the French Revolution. At the beginning they were merely intended to be social assemblages; but they quickly assumed a democratic character, conformable to the spirit of the age. Their first result, as was noticed by a keen observer of what was then passing, was to make the manners of the upper classes more simple than they had hitherto been, and to weaken that love of form and ceremony suitable to their earlier habits. These clubs likewise effected a remarkable separation between the sexes; and it is recorded, that after their establishment, women associated more with each other, and were oftener seen in public unaccompanied by men.[1153] This had the effect of encouraging among men a republican roughness, which the influence of the other sex would have tended to keep down. All these things effaced the old lines of demarcation between the different ranks, and by merging the various classes into one, made the force of their united opposition irresistible, and speedily overthrew both the church and the state. The exact period at which the clubs became political cannot, of course, be ascertained, but the change seems to have taken place about 1784.[1154] From this moment all was over; and although the government, in 1787, issued orders to close the leading club, in which all classes discussed political questions, it was found impossible to stem the current. The order, therefore, was rescinded; the club re-assembled, and no further attempt was made to interrupt that course of affairs which a long train of preceding events had rendered inevitable.[1155]

[1153] 'Nous commençâmes aussi à avoir des clubs: les hommes s'y
réunissaient, non encore pour discuter, mais pour dîner, jouer
au wisk, et lire tous les ouvrages nouveaux. Ce premier pas,
alors presque inaperçu, eut dans la suite de grandes, et
momentanément de funestes conséquences. Dans le commencement,
son premier résultat fut de séparer les hommes des femmes, et
d'apporter ainsi un notable changement dans nos m[oe]urs: elles
devinrent moins frivoles, mais moins polies; plus fortes, mais
moins aimables: la politique y gagna, la société y perdit.'
_Mém. de Ségur_, vol. ii. p. 28. By the spring of 1786, this
separation of the sexes had become still more marked; and it was
a common complaint, that ladies were obliged to go to the
theatre alone, men being at their clubs. See the very curious
observations in _Grimm_, _Correspond._ vol. xiv. pp. 486-489,
where there is also a notice of 'le prodigieux succès qu'a eu
l'établissement des clubs à l'anglaise.' See also, on the
diminished attention paid to women, _Williams's Letters from
France_, vol. ii. p. 80; 3rd edit. 1796.

[1154] The remarks of Georgel appear to apply to the political clubs
only: 'A Paris les assemblées de nouvellistes, les clubs qui
s'étoient formés à l'instar de ceux des Anglais, s'expliquaient
hautement et sans retenue sur les droits de l'homme, sur les
avantages de la liberté, sur les grands abus de l'inégalité des
conditions. Ces clubs, trop accrédités, avoient commencé à se
former en 1784.' _Mém. de Georgel_, vol. ii. p. 310.

[1155] 'Le lieutenant de police fit fermer le club nommé _Club du
Salon_; ordre arbitraire et inutile: ce club alors était composé
de personnes distinguées de la noblesse ou de la haute
bourgeoisie, ainsi que des artistes et des hommes de lettres les
plus considérés. Cette réunion offrait, pour la première fois,
l'image d'une égalité qui devient bientôt, plus que la liberté
même, le v[oe]u le plus ardent de la plus grande partie de la
nation. Aussi le mécontentement produit par la clôture de ce
club fut si vif, que l'autorité se crut obligée de la rouvrir.'
_Mém. de Ségur_, vol. iii. pp. 258, 259. On the increase of
these clubs from 1787 to 1789, compare _Du Mesnil_, _Mém. sur Le
Brun_, p. 148; _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. i. pp. 312, 322, 391,
434, vol. ii. p. 9; _Barruel_, _Hist. du Jacob._ vol. i. p. 40,
vol. ii. p. 310, vol. v. pp. 101, 168; _Thiers_, _Hist. de la
Révolution_, vol. i. p. 36, Paris, 1834.

While all these things were conspiring to overthrow the old institutions, an event suddenly occurred which produced the most remarkable effects in France, and is itself strikingly characteristic of the spirit of the eighteenth century. On the other side of the Atlantic, a great people, provoked by the intolerable injustice of the English government, rose in arms, turned on their oppressors, and, after a desperate struggle, gloriously obtained their independence. In 1776, the Americans laid before Europe that noble Declaration, which ought to be hung up in the nursery of every king, and blazoned on the porch of every royal palace. In words, the memory of which can never die, they declared, that the object of the institution of government is to secure the rights of the people; that from the people alone it derives its powers; and 'that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundations on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.'[1156]

[1156] _Mem. of Franklin_, vol. ii. pp. 14 seq.; and _Mem. of
Jefferson_, vol. i. pp. 17-22, where the passages are given
which Congress altered.

If this declaration had been made only one generation earlier, the whole of France, with the exception of a few advanced thinkers, would have rejected it with horror and with scorn. Such, however, was now the temper of the public mind, that the doctrines it contained were not merely welcomed by a majority of the French nation, but even the government itself was unable to withstand the general feeling.[1157] In 1776, Franklin arrived in France, as envoy from the American people. He met with the warmest reception from all classes,[1158] and succeeded in inducing the government to sign a treaty, engaging to defend the young republic in the rights it had gloriously won.[1159] In Paris, the enthusiasm was irresistible.[1160] From every quarter large bodies of men came forward, volunteering to cross the Atlantic and to fight for the liberties of America. The heroism with which these auxiliaries aided the noble struggle, forms a cheering passage in the history of that time; but is foreign to my present purpose, which is merely to notice its effect in hastening the approach of the French Revolution. And this effect was indeed most remarkable. Besides the indirect result produced by the example of a successful rebellion, the French were still further stimulated by actual contact with their new allies. The French officers and soldiers who served in America, introduced into their own country, on their return, those democratic opinions which they had imbibed in the infant republic.[1161] By this means, fresh strength was given to the revolutionary tendencies already prevalent; and it is worthy of remark, that Lafayette borrowed from the same source one of his most celebrated acts. He drew his sword on behalf of the Americans; and they, in their turn, communicated to him that famous doctrine respecting the rights of man, which, at his instigation, was formally adopted by the National Assembly.[1162] Indeed, there is reason to believe, that the final blow the French government received was actually dealt by the hand of an American; for it is said that it was in consequence of the advice of Jefferson, that the popular part of the legislative body proclaimed itself the National Assembly, and thus set the crown at open defiance.[1163]

[1157] Ségur (_Mém._ vol. i. p. 111) says that his father had been
frequently told by Maurepas that public opinion forced the
government, against its own wishes, to side with America.
Compare _Mém. de Georgel_, vol. iv. p. 370; and _Flassan_,
_Diplomatie Française_, vol. vii. p. 166.

[1158] The news of which soon reached England. In January 1777, Burke
writes (_Works_, vol. ii. p. 394), 'I hear that Dr. Franklin has
had a most extraordinary reception at Paris from all ranks of
people.' Soulavie (_Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. ii. p. 50) says,
'J'ai vu Francklin devenir un objet de culte.' See also, on his
popularity, _Mém. d'Epinay_, vol. iii. p. 419.

[1159] _Flassan_, _Diplomatie Française_, vol. vii. p. 159; _Life of
Franklin_, _by Himself_, vol. ii. pp. 60, 61; _Mahon's Hist. of
England_, vol. vii. pp. 197, 198.

[1160] The sneering letter written from Paris by Lord Stormont, as early
as December 1774 (_Adolphus's George III._ vol. ii. p. 316),
should be compared with _Lafayette_, _Mémoires_, vol. i. pp. 24,
169, 229; _Dutens_, _Mém. d'un Voyageur_, vol. ii. p. 317; _Mém.
de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 149; and _Schlosser's Eighteenth Century_,
vol. v. p. 175.

[1161] _De Staël sur la Révolution_, vol. i. p. 88; _Mém. de Montbarey_,
vol. iii. pp. 134, 186; _Mém. de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 277;
_Campan_, _Mém. de Marie Antoinette_, vol. i. p. 233, vol. iii.
pp. 96, 116; _Soulavie_, _Règne de Louis XVI_, vol. ii. pp.
xxiv. li. iii.; _Dumont_, _Souvenirs sur Mirabeau_, p. 176;
_Mém. de Du Hausset_, introduc. p. 40; _Mém. de Genlis_, vol.
vi. p. 57; _Jefferson's Mem. and Correspond._ vol. i. p. 59; and
Maitland's speech, in _Parl. Hist._ vol. xxx. pp. 198, 199; also
the remarks of the Duke of Bedford, vol. xxxi. p. 663.

[1162] _Lamartine_, _Hist. des Girondins_, vol. i. p. 46. Dumont
(_Souvenirs_, p. 97) calls this 'une idée américaine;' and see
to the same effect, _Mém. de Lafayette_, vol. i. pp. 193, 268,
269, 416, vol. ii. pp. 139, 140; _Jefferson's Correspond._ vol.
i. p. 90; _Barruel_, _Hist. du Jacobinisme_, vol. v. p. 311. The
influence which the American Revolution exercised over the mind
of Lafayette is noticed by Bouillé, his cousin and his enemy.
_Mém. de Bouillé_, vol. i. p. 102, vol. ii. pp. 131, 183.

[1163] 'The Duke of Dorset, the English ambassador, writing to Mr. Pitt
from Paris, July 9th, 1789, said, "Mr. Jefferson, the American
minister at this court, has been a great deal consulted by the
principal leaders of the _tiers état_; and I have great reason
to think that it was owing to his advice that order called
itself _L'Assemblée Nationale_."' _Tomline's Life of Pitt_,
vol. ii. p. 266.

I have now brought to a close my examination of the causes of the French Revolution; but before concluding the present chapter, it appears to me that the variety of topics which have been discussed, makes it advisable that I should sum up their leading points; and should state, as briefly as possible, the steps of that long and complicated argument, by which I have attempted to prove, that the Revolution was an event inevitably arising out of preceding circumstances. Such a summary, by recalling the entire subject before the reader, will remedy any confusion which the fullness of detail may have produced, and will simplify an investigation which many will consider to have been needlessly protracted; but which could not have been abridged without weakening, in some essential part, the support of those general principles that I seek to establish.

Looking at the state of France immediately after the death of Louis XIV., we have seen that, his policy having reduced the country to the brink of ruin, and having destroyed every vestige of free inquiry, a reaction became necessary; but that the materials for the reaction could not be found among a nation, which for fifty years had been exposed to so debilitating a system. This deficiency at home, caused the most eminent Frenchmen to turn their attention abroad, and gave rise to a sudden admiration for the English literature, and for those habits of thought which were then peculiar to the English people. New life being thus breathed into the wasted frame of French society, an eager and inquisitive spirit was generated, such as had not been seen since the time of Descartes. The upper classes, taking offence at this unexpected movement, attempted to stifle it, and made strenuous efforts to destroy that love of inquiry which was daily gaining ground. To effect their object, they persecuted literary men with such bitterness, as to make it evident that the intellect of France must either relapse into its former servility, or else boldly assume the offensive. Happily for the interests of civilization, the latter alternative was adopted; and, in or about 1750, a deadly struggle began, in which those principles of liberty which France borrowed from England, and which had hitherto been supposed only applicable to the church, were for the first time applied to the state. Coinciding with this movement, and indeed forming part of it, other circumstances occurred of the same character. Now it was that the political economists succeeded in proving that the interference of the governing classes had inflicted great mischief even upon the material interests of the country; and had, by their protective measures, injured what they were believed to have benefited. This remarkable discovery in favour of general freedom, put a fresh weapon into the hands of the democratic party; whose strength was still further increased by the unrivalled eloquence with which Rousseau assailed the existing fabric. Precisely the same tendency was exhibited in the extraordinary impulse given to every branch of physical science, which familiarized men with ideas of progress, and brought them into collision with the stationary and conservative ideas natural to government. The discoveries made respecting the external world, encouraged a restlessness and excitement of mind hostile to the spirit of routine, and therefore full of danger for institutions only recommended by their antiquity. This eagerness for physical knowledge also effected a change in education; and the ancient languages being neglected, another link was severed which connected the present with the past. The church, the legitimate protector of old opinions, was unable to resist the passion for novelty, because she was weakened by treason in her own camp. For by this time, Calvinism had spread so much among the French clergy, as to break them into two hostile parties, and render it impossible to rally them against their common foe. The growth of this heresy was also important, because Calvinism being essentially democratic, a revolutionary spirit appeared even in the ecclesiastical profession, so that the feud in the church was accompanied by another feud between the government and the church. These were the leading symptoms of that vast movement which culminated in the French Revolution; and all of them indicated a state of society so anarchical and so thoroughly disorganized, as to make it certain that some great catastrophe was impending. At length, and when everything was ready for explosion, the news of the American Rebellion fell like a spark on the inflammatory mass, and ignited a flame which never ceased its ravages until it had destroyed all that Frenchmen once held dear, and had left for the instruction of mankind an awful lesson of the crimes into which continued oppression may hurry a generous and long-suffering people.

Such is a rapid outline of the view which my studies have led me to take of the causes of the French Revolution. That I have ascertained all the causes, I do not for a moment suppose; but it will, I believe, be found that none of importance have been omitted. It is, indeed, true, that among the materials of which the evidence consists, many deficiencies will be seen; and a more protracted labour would have been rewarded by a greater success. Of these shortcomings I am deeply sensible; and I can only regret that the necessity of passing on to a still larger field has compelled me to leave so much for future inquirers to gather in. At the same time, it ought to be remembered, that this is the first attempt which has ever been made to study the antecedents of the French Revolution according to a scheme wide enough to include the whole of their intellectual bearings. In defiance of sound philosophy, and, I may say, in defiance of common understanding, historians obstinately persist in neglecting those great branches of physical knowledge, in which in every civilized country the operations of the human mind may be most clearly seen, and therefore the mental habits most easily ascertained. The result is, that the French Revolution, unquestionably the most important, the most complicated, and the most glorious event in history, has been given over to authors, many of whom have displayed considerable ability, but all of whom have shown themselves destitute of that preliminary scientific education, in the absence of which it is impossible to seize the spirit of any period, or to take a comprehensive survey of its various parts. Thus, to mention only a single instance: we have seen that the extraordinary impulse given to the study of the external world was intimately connected with that democratic movement which overthrew the institutions of France. But this connexion historians have been unable to trace; because they were unacquainted with the progress of the various branches of natural philosophy and of natural history. Hence it is that they have exhibited their great subject maimed and mutilated, shorn of those fair proportions which it ought to possess. According to this scheme, the historian sinks into the annalist; so that, instead of solving a problem, he merely paints a picture. Without, therefore, disparaging the labours of those industrious men who have collected materials for a history of the French Revolution, we may assuredly say, that the history itself has never been written; since they who have attempted the task have not possessed such resources as would enable them to consider it as merely a single part of that far larger movement which was seen in every department of science, of philosophy, of religion, and of politics.

Whether or not I have effected anything of real value towards remedying this deficiency, is a question for competent judges to decide. Of this, at least, I feel certain, that whatever imperfections may be observed, the fault consists, not in the method proposed, but in the extreme difficulty of any single man putting into full operation all the parts of so vast a scheme. It is on this point, and on this alone, that I feel the need of great indulgence. But, as to the plan itself, I have no misgivings; because I am deeply convinced that the time is fast approaching when the history of Man will be placed on its proper footing; when its study will be recognized as the noblest and most arduous of all pursuits; and when it will be clearly seen, that, to cultivate it with success, there is wanted a wide and comprehensive mind, richly furnished with the highest branches of human knowledge. When this is fully admitted, history will be written only by those whose habits fit them for the task; and it will be rescued from the hands of biographers, genealogists, collectors of anecdotes, chroniclers of courts, of princes, and of nobles,--those babblers of vain things, who lie in wait at every corner, and infest this the public highway of our national literature. That such compilers should trespass on a province so far above their own, and should think that by these means they can throw light on the affairs of men, is one of many proofs of the still backward condition of our knowledge, and of the indistinctness with which its boundaries have been mapped out. If I have done anything towards bringing these intrusions into discredit, and inspiring historians themselves with a sense of the dignity of their own calling, I shall have rendered in my time some little service, and I shall be well content to have it said, that in many cases I have failed in executing what I originally proposed. Indeed, that there are in this volume several instances of such failure, I willingly allow; and I can only plead the immensity of the subject, the shortness of a single life, and the imperfection of every single enterprise. I, therefore, wish this work to be estimated, not according to the finish of its separate parts, but according to the way in which those parts have been fused into a complete and symmetrical whole. This, in an undertaking of such novelty and magnitude, I have a right to expect. And I would, moreover, add, that if the reader has met with opinions adverse to his own, he should remember that his views are, perchance, the same as those which I too once held, and which I have abandoned, because, after a wider range of study, I found them unsupported by solid proof, subversive of the interests of Man, and fatal to the progress of his knowledge. To examine the notions in which we have been educated, and to turn aside from those which will not bear the test, is a task so painful, that they who shrink from the suffering should pause before they reproach those by whom the suffering is undergone. What I have put forward may, no doubt, be erroneous; but it is, at all events, the result of an honest searching after truth, of unsparing labour, of patient and anxious reflection. Conclusions arrived at in this way, are not to be overturned by stating that they endanger some other conclusions; nor can they be even affected by allegations against their supposed tendency. The principles which I advocate, are based upon distinct arguments, supported by well-ascertained facts. The only points, therefore, to be ascertained, are, whether the arguments are fair, and whether the facts are certain. If these two conditions have been obeyed, the principles follow by an inevitable inference. Their demonstration is, in the present volume, necessarily incomplete; and the reader must suspend his final judgment until the close of this Introduction, when the subject in all its bearings will be laid before him. The remaining part of the Introduction will be occupied, as I have already intimated, with an investigation of the civilizations of Germany, America, Scotland, and Spain; each of which presents a different type of intellectual development, and has, therefore, followed a different direction in its religious, scientific, social, and political history. The causes of these differences I shall attempt to ascertain. The next step will be to generalize the causes themselves; and having thus referred them to certain principles common to all, we shall be possessed of what may be called the fundamental laws of European thought; the divergence of the different countries being regulated either by the direction those laws take, or else by their comparative energy. To discover these fundamental laws will be the business of the Introduction; while, in the body of the work, I shall apply them to the history of England, and endeavour by their aid to work out the epochs through which we have successively passed, fix the basis of our present civilization, and indicate the path of our future progress.