CHAPTER IX.

EQUALITY AND LIBERTY.

It was as a privileged order that the Nobility of France principally

excited the ill-will of the common people. The more thoughtful Frenchmen

of the eighteenth century, all of them at least who have come to be

known by the name of Philosophers, set before themselves two great

ideals. These were equality and liberty. The aspiration after these was

accompanied in their minds by contempt for the past and its lessons,

misunderstanding of the benefits which former ages had bequeathed to

them, and hatred of the wrongs and abuses which had come down from

earlier times. Among them the word gothic was a violent term of

reproach, aimed indiscriminately at buildings, laws, and customs.

History, with the exception of that of Sparta, was thought to consist

far more of warnings than of models. Just before the Revolution, a

number of persons who had met in a lady's parlor were discussing the

education of the Dauphin. "I think," said Lafayette," that he would do

well to begin his History of France with the year 1787."

This tendency to depreciate the past was due in a measure to the

preference, natural to lively minds, for deductive over inductive

methods of thought. It is so much easier and pleasanter to assume a few

plausible general principles and meditate upon them, than to amass and

compare endless series of dry facts, that not by long chastening will

the greater part of the world be brought to the more arduous method. Nor

should enthusiasm for one of the great processes of thought cause

contempt of the other. Even the great inductive French philosopher of

the eighteenth century, Montesquieu, failed in a measure to grasp the

continuity of history; and drew the facts for his study rather from

China and from England than from France, rather from the Roman republic

than the existing monarchy. Fear of the censor and of the civil and

ecclesiastical tribunals, which would not bear the open discussion of

questions of present interest, doubtless added to this tendency.

The idea of equality at first seems simple, but equality may be of many

kinds. Absolute equality in all respects between two human beings, no

one has ever seen, and no one perhaps has ever thought of desiring. All

the relations of life are founded on inequality. By their differences

husband and wife, friend and friend, are made necessary and endeared to

each other; the parent protects and serves the child, the child obeys

and helps the parent; the citizen calls on the magistrate to guard his

rights, the magistrate enforces the laws which have their sanction in

the consent of the body of citizens. Equality as a political ideal is

therefore a limited equality. It may extend to condition, it may be

confined to civil rights, or to opportunities.

The Philosophers of the eighteenth century, followed by a school in our

day, universally assumed that an approximate equality of condition was

desirable. Rousseau agreed with Montesquieu, in believing that a small

republic, none of whose citizens were either very rich or very poor, was

likely to be in a desirable condition. Virtue, they thought, would be

its especial characteristic. In some of the Swiss cantons, and later in

the struggling American colonies of Great Britain, Frenchmen discovered

communities approaching their ideal in respect to the equal distribution

of wealth; and their discovery in the latter case was not without great

results. This kind of equality has since passed away from large portions

of America, as it must always disappear where civilization increases.

Good people mourn its departure; some few, perhaps, would patiently

endure its return. They are about as numerous as those who abandon city

life to dwell permanently in the country, also the home of comparative

equality of condition. The theoretic admiration for this sort of

equality was shared by a large and enlightened part of the French

nobility. Thus the order was weakened by the fact that many of its own

members did not believe in its claims.

Another kind of equality is that of civil rights. Before the Revolution,

France was ruled by law, but all Frenchmen were not ruled by the same

law. There were privileged persons and privileged localities. Of these

anomalies, sometimes working hardship, the minds of intelligent men at

that time were especially impatient. They believed, as has been said, in

natural laws, implanted in every breast, finding their expression in

every conscience; and many of them entertained a crude notion that such

laws could easily be applied to the enormously complicated facts of

actual life. Assuming such laws to exist, as absolute as mathematical

axioms and far easier of application, all variation was error, all

anomaly absurd, all claims of a privileged class unfair and unfounded.

Equality of civil rights is also desired from the fear of oppression; a

very important motive in the eighteenth century, when the great still

had the power to be very oppressive at times. We have seen the treatment

which Voltaire received at the hands of a member of one of the great

families. Outrages still more flagrant appear to have been not uncommon

in the reign of Louis XV., and although there had probably never been a

time in France so free from them as that of his successor, their memory

was still fresh. It is in their decrepitude that political abuses are

most ferociously attacked. When young and lusty they are formidable.

Again, there is equality of opportunity. This is desired as a means of

subverting equality of condition to our own advantage, as a chance to be

more than equal to our fellow-men. This kind is longed for by the able

and ambitious. Where it is denied, the strongest good men will be less

useful to the state, unless they happen to be favorably placed at birth;

the strongest bad men perhaps more dangerous, because more discontented.

It is this sort of equality, more than any other, which the French

Philosophers and their followers actually secured for Frenchmen, and in

a less degree for other Europeans of to-day. By their efforts, the

chance of the poor but talented child to rise to power and wealth has

been somewhat increased. This chance, when they began their labors, was

not so hopeless as it is often represented. It is not now so great as it

is sometimes assumed to be. Still, there has been one decided advance.

We have seen that under the old monarchy many important places were

reserved for members of the noble class, and practically for a few

families among them. Since that monarchy passed away, the opportunity to

serve the state, with the great prizes which public life offers to the

strong and the aspiring, has been thrown open, theoretically at least,

to all Frenchmen.

If the idea of equality be comparatively simple, that of liberty is very

much the reverse. The word, in its general sense, signifies little more

than the absence of external control. In politics it is used, in the

first place, for the absence of foreign conquest, and in this sense a

country may be called free although it is governed by a despot. The next

signification of liberty is political right, and this is the sense in

which it has been most used until recent years. When a tyrant overthrew

the liberties of a Greek city, he substituted his own personal rule for

the rights of an oligarchy. The mass of the inhabitants may have been

neither better nor worse off than before. When Hampden resisted the

encroachments of King Charles I, he was fighting the battle of the upper

and middle classes against despotism, and we hold him one of the

principal champions of liberty. Indeed, liberty in this sense is so far

from being identical with equality, that many of those who have been

foremost in its defense have been members of aristocracies and holders

of slaves. To accuse them of inconsistency is to be misled by the

ambiguous meaning of a word. They fought for rights which they believed

to be their own; they denied that the rights of all men were identical.

During the eighteenth century in France, certain bodies, such as the

clergy and the Parliament of Paris, were struggling for political

liberties in this older sense, and before the outbreak of the French

Revolution many of the most enlightened of the nobility hoped to acquire

such liberties. Much blood and confusion might have been spared, and

many useful reforms accomplished, had Frenchmen clutched less wildly at

the phantom of equality, and sought the safer goal of political liberty.

Another sort of liberty, although it has undoubtedly been desired by

individuals in all ages, is almost entirely modern as an ideal for

civilized communities. This is the absence of interference, not only of

a foreign power or of a lawless oppressor, but of the very law itself.

The desire for such freedom as this, would in almost all ages of the

world have been held inconsistent with proper respect for order and

security. It would have been considered no more than the wicked longing

of an unchastened spirit, the temptation of the Evil One himself. In the

eighteenth century, however, we see the rise of new opinions. It may be

that order had become so firmly established in the European world that a

reaction could safely set in. At any rate we find a new way of looking

at things. "Independence," a word which had been often used by the

clerical party, and always as a term of reproach, is treated by the

Philosophers with favor. Toleration of all kinds of opinions, and of

most kinds of spoken words, is making way.[Footnote: In spite of the

impatience shown by Voltaire of any criticism of himself, he and his

followers did more than any other men that ever lived to make criticism

free to all writers.] A new school of thinkers is adapting the new form

of thought to economical matters. _Laissez faire; laissez passer_.

Restrict the functions of government. Order will arise from the average

of contending interests; right direction is produced by the sum of

conflicting forces. The doctrine has exerted enormous influence since

the French Revolution in resisting the claims of socialism,--that new

form of tyranny in which all are to be the despot and each the slave.

But few of the Philosophers accepted it entirely. Most of them desired

the constant interference of the government for one purpose or another,

and many believed in the power, almost the omnipotence, of a mythical

personage, borrowed in part from Plutarch and commonly called the

Legislator.

The history and action of this personage may be roughly stated as

follows. Every nation now civilized was in early days in a barbarous

condition. Once upon a time, a great man came from somewhere, and

brought a complete set of laws, morals, and manners with him. To these

laws and customs he generally ascribed a divine origin. The nation to

which they were proclaimed adopted them, and the people's subsequent

happiness and prosperity were in proportion to their excellence. The

reasons which are supposed to have induced the barbarous tribe to change

all its habits at the bidding of one man are seldom given, or if given,

are ludicrously inadequate. The theory of the legislator is now out of

date. It is generally held that the institutions of every race have

grown up with it, that they are appropriate to its nature and history,

gradually modified sometimes by act of the national will, and more or

less changed under foreign influences, but that their general character

cannot suddenly be subverted. Its institutions thus as truly belong to a

civilized race, as the skin without fur or the erect position belong to

mankind. There is some evidence in support of either theory, and the

truth will probably be found to lie between them, although nearer to the

latter. Yet the effect of a higher civilization implanted on a lower one

seems at times singularly rapid. The story of the legislator is a part

of most early histories and mythologies. The classical model has

generally been held to be either Minos or Lycurgus. There were few

clever men in France between the years 1740 and 1790 who did not dream

of trying on the sandals of those worthies.

While the ideas attached to equality and to liberty were vague and

indefinite, it was generally assumed that they would coincide. Liberty

and equality, however, have tendencies naturally opposed to each other.

Remove the exterior forces which control the wills of men, overturn

foreign domination, give every citizen political rights, reduce the

interference of laws to a minimum, and the natural differences and

inequalities of physical, mental, and moral strength, or power of will,

inherent in mankind, will have the fuller opportunity to act. The strong

improve their natural advantage, they acquire dominion over their weaker

neighbors, they monopolize opportunities for themselves, their friends

and their children. Only by keeping all men in strict subjection to

something outside of themselves can all be kept in comparative equality.

This fact was instinctively apprehended by one school of French

thinkers. We shall see that the followers of Rousseau, while posing as

champions of Liberty, were in fact the founders of a system which is the

very antithesis of individual freedom.[Footnote: It is perhaps needless

to remark that I have touched here only on the political meanings of the

word Liberty. In the eighteenth century the word was much used in its

philosophical sense, and the eternal problem of necessity and free-will

was warmly discussed.]

The Eve of the French Revolution · 第 9 / 22 章