THE ENERGY OF THE PROTECTIVE SPIRIT IN FRANCE EXPLAINS THE FAILURE OF
THE FRONDE. COMPARISON BETWEEN THE FRONDE AND THE CONTEMPORARY ENGLISH
REBELLION.
The object of the last chapter was to enquire into the origin of the
protective spirit. From the evidence there collected, it appears that
this spirit was first organized into a distinct secular form at the
close of the dark ages; but that, owing to circumstances which then
arose, it was, from the beginning, much less powerful in England than in
France. It has likewise appeared that, in our country, it continued to
lose ground; while in France, it early in the fourteenth century assumed
a new shape, and gave rise to a centralizing movement, manifested not
only in the civil and political institutions, but also in the social and
literary habits of the French nation. Thus far we seem to have cleared
the way for a proper understanding of the history of the two countries;
and I now purpose to follow this up a little further, and point out how
this difference explains the discrepancy between the civil wars of
England, and those which at the same time broke out in France.
Among the obvious circumstances connected with the Great English
Rebellion, the most remarkable is, that it was a war of classes as well
as of factions. From the beginning of the contest, the yeomanry and
traders adhered to the parliament;[352] the nobles and the clergy
rallied round the throne.[353] And the name given to the two parties, of
Roundheads[354] and Cavaliers,[355] proves that the true nature of this
opposition was generally known. It proves that men were aware that a
question was at issue, upon which England was divided, not so much by
the particular interests of individuals, as by the general interests of
the classes to which those individuals belonged.
[352] 'From the beginning it may be said that the yeomanry and trading
classes of towns were generally hostile to the king's side, even
in those counties which were in his military occupation; except
in a few, such as Cornwall, Worcester, Salop, and most of Wales,
where the prevailing sentiment was chiefly royalist.' _Hallam's
Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 578. See also _Lingard's Hist. of
England_, vol. vi. p. 304; and _Alison's Hist. of Europe_,
vol. i. p. 49.
[353] On this division of classes, which, notwithstanding a few
exceptions, is undoubtedly true as a general fact, compare
_Memoirs of Sir P. Warwick_, p. 217; _Carlyle's Cromwell_, vol.
iii. p. 347; _Clarendon's Hist. of the Rebellion_, pp. 294, 297,
345, 346, 401, 476; _May's Hist. of the Long Parliament_, book i.
pp. 22, 64, book ii. p. 63, book iii. p. 78; _Hutchinson's
Memoirs_, p. 100; _Ludlow's Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 104, vol. iii.
p. 258; _Bulstrode's Memoirs_, p. 86.
[354] Lord Clarendon says, in his grand style, 'the rabble contemned and
despised under the name of roundheads.' _Hist. of the Rebellion_,
p. 136. This was in 1641, when the title appears to have been
first bestowed. See _Fairfax Corresp._ vol. ii. pp. 185, 320.
[355] Just before the battle of Edgehill, in 1642, Charles said to his
troops, 'You are called cavaliers in a reproachful
signification.' See the king's speech, in _Somers Tracts_, vol.
iv. p. 478. Directly after the battle, he accused his opponents
of 'rendering all persons of honour odious to the common people,
under the style of cavaliers.' _May's Hist. of the Long
Parliament_, book iii. p. 25.
But in the history of the French rebellion, there is no trace of so
large a division. The objects of the war were in both countries
precisely the same: the machinery by which those objects were attained
was very different. The Fronde was like our Rebellion, insomuch that it
was a struggle of the parliament against the crown; an attempt to secure
liberty, and raise up a barrier against the despotism of
government.[356] So far, and so long, as we merely take a view of
political objects, the parallel is complete. But the social and
intellectual antecedents of the French being very different from those
of the English, it necessarily followed that the shape which the
rebellion took should likewise be different, even though the motives
were the same. If we examine this divergence a little nearer, we shall
find that it is connected with the circumstance I have already
noticed--namely, that in England a war for liberty was accompanied by a
war of classes, while in France there was no war of classes at all. From
this it resulted, that in France the rebellion, being merely political,
and not, as with us, also social, took less hold of the public mind: it
was unaccompanied by those feelings of insubordination, in the absence
of which freedom has always been impossible; and, striking no root into
the national character, it could not save the country from that servile
state into which, a few years later, it, under the government of Louis
XIV. rapidly fell.
[356] M. Saint-Aulaire (_Hist. de la Fronde_, vol. i. p. v.) says, that
the object of the Frondeurs was, 'limiter l'autorité royale,
consacrer les principes de la liberté civile et en confier la
garde aux compagnies souveraines;' and at p. vi. he calls the
declaration of 1648, 'une véritable charte constitutionnelle.'
See also, at vol. i. p. 128, the concluding paragraph of the
speech of Omer Talon. Joly, who was much displeased at this
tendency, complains that in 1648, 'le peuple tomboit
imperceptiblement dans le sentiment dangereux, qu'il est naturel
et permis de se défendre et de s'armer contre la violence des
supérieurs.' _Mém. de Joly_, p. 15. Of the immediate objects
proposed by the Fronde, one was to diminish the taille, and
another was to obtain a law that no one should be kept in prison
more than twenty-four hours, 'sans être remis entre les mains du
parlement pour lui faire son procès s'il se trouvoit criminel ou
l'élargir s'il étoit innocent.' _Mém. de Montglat_, vol. ii. p.
135; _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. ii. p. 398; _Mém. de Retz_, vol.
i. p. 265; _Mém. d'Omer Talon_, vol. ii. pp. 224, 225, 240, 328.
That our Great Rebellion was, in its external form, a war of classes, is
one of those palpable facts which lie on the surface of history. At
first, the parliament[357] did indeed attempt to draw over to their side
some of the nobles; and in this they for a time succeeded. But as the
struggle advanced, the futility of this policy became evident. In the
natural order of the great movement, the nobles grew more loyal;[358]
the parliament grew more democratic.[359] And when it was clearly seen
that both parties were determined either to conquer or to die, this
antagonism of classes was too clearly marked to be misunderstood; the
perception which each had of its own interests being sharpened by the
magnitude of the stake for which they contended.
[357] I use the word 'parliament' in the sense given to it by writers of
that time, and not in the legal sense.
[358] In May 1642, there remained at Westminster forty-two peers,
_Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 559; but they gradually
abandoned the popular cause; and, according to _Parl. Hist._ vol.
iii. p. 1282, so dwindled, that eventually 'seldom more than five
or six' were present.
[359] These increasing democratic tendencies are most clearly indicated
in Walker's curious work, _The History of Independency_. See
among other passages, book i. p. 59. And Clarendon, under the
year 1644, says (_Hist. of the Rebellion_, p. 514): 'That violent
party, which had at first cozened the rest into the war, and
afterwards obstructed all the approaches towards peace, found now
that they had finished as much of their work as the tools which
they had wrought with could be applied to, and what remained to
be done must be despatched by new workmen.' What these new
workmen were, he afterwards explains, p. 641, to be 'the most
inferior people preferred to all places of trust and profit.'
Book xi. under the year 1648. Compare some good remarks by Mr.
Bell, in _Fairfax Correspond._ vol. iii. pp. 115, 116.
For, without burdening this Introduction with what may be read in our
common histories, it will be sufficient to remind the reader of a few of
the conspicuous events of that time. Just before the war began, the Earl
of Essex was appointed general of the parliamentary forces, with the
Earl of Bedford as his lieutenant. A commission to raise troops was
likewise given to the Earl of Manchester,[360] the only man of high rank
against whom Charles had displayed open enmity.[361] Notwithstanding
these marks of confidence, the nobles, in whom parliament was at first
disposed to trust, could not avoid showing the old leaven of their
order.[362] The Earl of Essex so conducted himself, as to inspire the
popular party with the greatest apprehensions of his treachery;[363] and
when the defence of London was intrusted to Waller, he so obstinately
refused to enter the name of that able officer in the commission, that
the Commons were obliged to insert it by virtue of their own authority,
and in spite of their own general.[364] The Earl of Bedford, though he
had received a military command, did not hesitate to abandon those who
conferred it. This apostate noble fled from Westminster to Oxford: but
finding that the king, who never forgave his enemies, did not receive
him with the favour he expected, he returned to London; where, though he
was allowed to remain in safety, it could not be supposed that he should
again experience the confidence of parliament.[365]
[360] This was after the appointments of Essex and Bedford, and was in
1643. _Ludlow's Mem._ vol. i. p. 58; _Carlyle's Cromwell_,
vol. i. p. 189.
[361] 'When the king attempted to arrest the five members, Manchester,
at that time Lord Kymbolton, was the only peer whom he impeached.
This circumstance endeared Kymbolton to the party; his own safety
bound him more closely to its interests.' _Lingard's England_,
vol. vi. p. 337. Compare _Clarendon_, p. 375; _Ludlow_, vol. i.
p. 20. It is also said that Lord Essex joined the popular party
from personal pique against the king. _Fairfax Corresp._
vol. iii. p. 37.
[362] Mr. Carlyle has made some very characteristic, but very just,
observations on the 'high Essexes and Manchesters of limited
notions and large estates.' _Carlyle's Cromwell_, vol. i. p. 215.
[363] _Ludlow's Memoirs_, vol. iii. p. 110; _Hutchinson's Memoirs_,
pp. 230, 231; _Harris's Lives of the Stuarts_, vol. iii. p. 106;
_Bulstrode's Memoirs_, pp. 112, 113, 119; _Clarendon's
Rebellion_, pp. 486, 514; or, as Lord North puts it, 'for General
Essex began now to appear to the private cabalists somewhat
wresty.' _North's Narrative of Passages relating to the Long
Parliament_, published in 1670, in _Somers Tracts_, vol. vi. p.
578. At p. 584, the same elegant writer says of Essex, 'being the
first person and last of the nobility employed by the parliament
in military affairs, which soon brought him to the period of his
life. And may he be an example to all future ages, to deter all
persons of like dignity from being instrumental in setting up a
democratical power, whose interest it is to keep down all persons
of his condition.' The 'Letter of Admonition' addressed to him by
parliament in 1644, is printed in _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii. p. 274.
[364] _Lingard's Hist. of England_, vol. vi. p. 318. See also, on the
hostility between Essex and Waller, _Walker's Hist. of
Independency_, part i. pp. 28, 29; and _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii. p.
177. Sir Philip Warwick (_Memoirs_, p. 254) contemptuously calls
Waller 'favourite-general of the city of London.'
[365] Compare _Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. pp. 569, 570, with
_Bulstrode's Memoirs_, p. 96, and Lord Bedford's letter, in
_Parl. Hist._ vol. iii. pp. 189, 190. This shuffling letter
confirms the unfavourable account of the writer, which is given
in _Clarendon's Rebellion_, p. 422.
Such examples as these were not likely to lessen the distrust which both
parties felt for each other. It soon became evident that a war of
classes was unavoidable, and that the rebellion of the parliament
against the king must be reinforced by a rebellion of the people against
the nobles.[366] To this the popular party, whatever may have been their
first intention, now willingly agreed. In 1645 they enacted a law, by
which not only the Earl of Essex and the Earl of Manchester lost their
command, but all members of either house were made incapable of military
service.[367] And, only a week after the execution of the king, they
formally took away the legislative power of the peers; putting at the
same time on record their memorable opinion, that the House of Lords is
'useless, dangerous, and ought to be abolished.'[368]
[366] Dr. Bates, who had been physician to Cromwell, intimates that this
was foreseen from the beginning. He says, that the popular party
offered command to some of the nobles, 'not that they had any
respect for the lords, whom shortly they intended to turn out and
to level with the commoners, but that they might poison them with
their own venom, and rise to greater authority by drawing more
over to their side.' _Bates's Account of the late Troubles in
England_, part i. p. 76. Lord North too supposes, that almost
immediately after the war began, it was determined to dissolve
the House of Lords. See _Somers Tracts_, vol. vi. p. 582. Beyond
this, I am not aware of any direct early evidence; except that,
in 1644, Cromwell is alleged to have stated that 'there would
never be a good time in England till we had done with lords.'
_Carlyle's Cromwell_, vol. i. p. 217; and, what is evidently the
same circumstance, in _Holles's Memoirs_, p. 18.
[367] This was the 'Self-denying Ordinance,' which was introduced in
December, 1644; but, owing to the resistance of the peers, was
not carried until the subsequent April. _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii.
pp. 326-337, 340-343, 354, 355. See also _Mem. of Lord Holles_,
p. 30; _Mem. of Sir P. Warwick_, p. 283.
[368] On this great Epoch in the history of England, see _Parl. Hist._
vol. iii. p. 1284; _Hallam's Const. Hist._ vol. i. p. 643;
_Campbell's Chief-Justices_, vol. i. p. 424; _Ludlow's Mem._ vol.
i. p. 246; _Warwick's Mem._ pp. 182, 336, 352.
But we may find proofs still more convincing of the true character of
the English rebellion, if we consider who those were by whom it was
accomplished. This will show us the democratic nature of a movement
which lawyers and antiquaries have vainly attempted to shelter under the
form of constitutional precedent. Our great rebellion was the work, not
of men who looked behind, but of men who looked before. To attempt to
trace it to personal and temporary causes; to ascribe this unparalleled
outbreak to a dispute respecting ship-money, or to a quarrel about the
privileges of parliament, can only suit the habits of those historians
who see no further than the preamble of a statute, or the decision of a
judge. Such writers forget that the trial of Hampden, and the
impeachment of the five members, could have produced no effect on the
country, unless the people had already been prepared, and unless the
spirit of inquiry and insubordination had so increased the discontents
of men, as to put them in a state, where, the train being laid, the
slightest spark sufficed to kindle a conflagration.
The truth is, that the rebellion was an outbreak of the democratic
spirit. It was the political form of a movement, of which the
Reformation was the religious form. As the Reformation was aided, not by
men in high ecclesiastical offices, not by great cardinals or wealthy
bishops, but by men filling the lowest and most subordinate posts, just
so was the English rebellion a movement from below, an uprising from the
foundations, or as some will have it, the dregs of society. The few
persons of high rank who adhered to the popular cause were quickly
discarded, and the ease and rapidity with which they fell off was a
clear indication of the turn that things were taking. Directly the army
was freed from its noble leaders, and supplied with officers drawn from
the lower classes, the fortune of war changed, the royalists were every
where defeated, and the king made prisoner by his own subjects. Between
his capture and execution, the two most important political events were
his abduction by Joyce, and the forcible expulsion from the House of
Commons of those members who were thought likely to interfere in his
favour. Both these decisive steps were taken, and indeed only could have
been taken, by men of great personal influence, and of a bold and
resolute spirit. Joyce, who carried off the king, and who was highly
respected in the army, had, however, been recently a common working
tailor;[369] while Colonel Pride, whose name is preserved in history as
having purged the House of Commons of the malignants, was about on a
level with Joyce, since his original occupation was that of a
drayman.[370] The tailor and the drayman were, in that age, strong
enough to direct the course of public affairs, and to win for themselves
a conspicuous position in the state. After the execution of Charles, the
same tendency was displayed, the old monarchy being destroyed, that
small but active party known as the fifth-monarchy men increased in
importance, and for a time exercised considerable influence. Their three
principal and most distinguished members were Venner, Tuffnel, and Okey.
Venner, who was the leader, was a wine-cooper;[371] Tuffnel, who was
second in command, was a carpenter;[372] and Okey, though he became a
colonel, had filled the menial office of stoker in an Islington
brewery.[373]
[369] 'Cornet Joyce, who was one of the agitators in the army, a tailor,
a fellow who had two or three years before served in a very
inferior employment in Mr. Hollis's house.' _Clarendon's
Rebellion_, p. 612. 'A shrewd tailor-man.' _D'Israeli's
Commentaries on the Reign of Charles I._, 1851, vol. ii. p. 466.
[370] Ludlow (_Memoirs_, vol. ii. p. 139); Noble (_Memoirs of the House
of Cromwell_, vol. ii. p. 470); and Winstanley (_Loyal
Martyrology_, edit. 1665, p. 108), mention that Pride had been a
drayman. It is said that Cromwell, in ridicule of the old
distinctions, conferred knighthood on him 'with a faggot.'
_Orme's Life of Owen_, p. 164; _Harris's Lives of the Stuarts_,
vol. iii. p. 478.
[371] 'The fifth-monarchy, headed mainly by one Venner, a wine-cooper.'
_Carlyle's Cromwell_, vol. iii. p. 282. 'Venner, a wine-cooper.'
_Lister's Life and Corresp. of Clarendon_, vol. ii. p. 62.
[372] 'The second to Venner was one Tuffnel a carpenter living in Gray's
Inn Lane.' _Winstanley's Martyrology_, p. 163.
[373] 'He was stoaker in a brewhouse at Islington, and next a most poor
chandler near Lion-Key, in Thames Street.' _Parl. Hist._ vol.
iii. p. 1605. See also _Winstanley's Martyrology_, p. 122.
Nor are these to be regarded as exceptional cases. In that period,
promotion depended solely on merit; and if a man had ability he was sure
to rise, no matter what his birth or former avocations might have been.
Cromwell himself was a brewer;[374] and Colonel Jones, his
brother-in-law, had been servant to a private gentleman.[375] Deane was
the servant of a tradesman; but he became an admiral, and was made one
of the commissioners of the navy.[376] Colonel Goffe had been apprentice
to a drysalter;[377] Major-general Whalley had been apprentice to a
draper.[378] Skippon, a common soldier who had received no
education,[379] was appointed commander of the London militia; he was
raised to the office of sergeant-major-general of the army; he was
declared commander-in-chief in Ireland; and he became one of the
fourteen members of Cromwell's council.[380] Two of the lieutenants of
the Tower were Berkstead and Tichborne. Berkstead was a pedlar, or at
all events a hawker of small wares;[381] and Tichborne, who was a
linendraper, not only received the lieutenancy of the Tower, but became
a colonel, and a member of the committee of state in 1655, and of the
council of state in 1659.[382] Other trades were equally successful; the
highest prizes being open to all men, provided they displayed the
requisite capacity. Colonel Harvey was a silk-mercer;[383] so was
Colonel Rowe;[384] so also was Colonel Venn.[385] Salway had been
apprentice to a grocer, but, being an able man, he rose to the rank of
major in the army; he received the king's remembrancer's office; and in
1659 he was appointed by parliament a member of the council of
state.[386] Around that council-board were also gathered Bond the
draper,[387] and Cawley the brewer;[388] while by their side we find
John Berners, who is said to have been a private servant,[389] and
Cornelius Holland, who is known to have been a servant, and who was,
indeed, formerly a link-boy.[390] Among others who were now favoured and
promoted to offices of trust, were Packe the woollen-draper,[391] Pury
the weaver,[392] and Pemble the tailor.[393] The parliament which was
summoned in 1653 is still remembered as Barebone's parliament, being so
called after one of its most active members, whose name was Barebone,
and who was a leather-seller in Fleet Street.[394] Thus too, Downing,
though a poor charity-boy,[395] became teller of the exchequer, and
representative of England at the Hague.[396] To these we may add, that
Colonel Horton had been a gentleman's servant;[397] Colonel Berry had
been a woodmonger;[398] Colonel Cooper a haberdasher;[399] Major Rolfe
a shoemaker;[400] Colonel Fox a tinker;[401] and Colonel Hewson a
cobbler.[402]
[374] Some of the clumsy eulogists of Cromwell wish to suppress the fact
of his being a brewer; but that he really practised that useful
trade is attested by a variety of evidence, and is distinctly
stated by his own physician, Dr. Bates. _Bates's Troubles in
England_, vol. ii. p. 238. See also _Walker's History of
Independency_, part i. p. 32, part ii. p. 25, part iii. p. 37;
_Noble's House of Cromwell_, vol. i. pp. 328-331. Other passages,
which I cannot now call to mind, will occur to those who have
studied the literature of the time.
[375] 'John Jones, at first a serving-man, then a colonel of the Long
Parliament, ... married the Protector's sister.' _Parl. Hist._
vol. iii. p. 1600. 'A serving-man; ... in process of time married
one of Cromwell's sisters.' _Winstanley's Martyrology_, p. 125.
[376] 'Richard Deane, Esq., is said to have been a servant to one
Button, a toyman in Ipswich, and to have himself been the son of
a person in the same employment; ... was appointed one of the
commissioners of the navy with Popham and Blake, and in April
(1649) he became an admiral and general at sea.' _Noble's Lives
of the Regicides_, vol. i. pp. 172, 173. Winstanley (_Martyrol._
p. 121) also says that Deane was 'servant in Ipswich.'
[377] 'Apprentice to one Vaughan a dry-salter.' _Noble's House of
Cromwell_, vol. ii. p. 507: and see his _Regicides_, vol. i.
p. 255.
[378] 'Bound apprentice to a woollen-draper.' _Winstanley's Martyr._
p. 108. He afterwards set up in the same trade for himself; but
with little success, for Dr. Bates (_Troubles in England_, vol.
ii. p. 222) calls him 'a broken clothier.'
[379] 'Altogether illiterate.' _Clarendon's Rebellion_, p. 152. Two
extraordinary speeches by him are preserved in _Burton's Diary_,
vol. i. pp. 24, 25, 48-50.
[380] _Holles's Mem._ p. 82; _Ludlow's Mem._ vol. ii. p. 39; and a
letter from Fairfax in _Cary's Memorials of the Civil War_, 1842,
vol. i. p. 413.
[381] 'Berkstead, who heretofore sold needles, bodkins, and thimbles,
and would have run on an errand any where for a little money; but
who now by Cromwell was preferred to the honourable charge of
lieutenant of the Tower of London.' _Bates's Account of the
Troubles_, part ii. p. 222.
[382] _Noble's Regicides_, vol. ii. pp. 272, 273. Lord Holles
(_Memoirs_, p. 174) also mentions that he was 'a linen-draper.'
[383] 'Edward Harvy, late a poor silk-man, now colonel, and hath got the
Bishop of London's house and manor of Fulham.' _Walker's
Independency_, part i. p. 170. 'One Harvey, a decayed silk-man,'
_Clarendon's Rebellion_, p. 418.
[384] Owen Rowe, 'put to the trade of a silk-mercer, ... went into the
parliament army, and became a colonel.' _Noble's Regicides_,
vol. ii. p. 150.
[385] 'A silkman in London; ... went into the army, and rose to the rank
of colonel.' _Noble's Regicides_, vol. ii. p. 283. 'A broken
silk-man in Cheapside.' _Winstanley's Martyrol._ p. 130.
[386] _Walker's Independency_, part i. p. 143; _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii.
p. 1608; _Ludlow's Mem._ vol. ii. pp. 241, 259; _Noble's
Regicides_, vol. ii. pp. 158, 162.
[387] He was 'a woollen-draper at Dorchester,' and was 'one of the
council of state in 1649 and 1651.' _Noble's Regicides_, vol. i.
p. 99: see also _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii. p. 1594.
[388] 'A brewer in Chichester; ... in 1650-1 he was appointed one of the
council of state.' _Noble's Regicides_, vol. i. p. 136. 'William
Cawley, a brewer of Chichester.' _Winstanley's Martyrol._ p. 138.
[389] John Berners, 'supposed to have been originally a serving-man,'
was 'one of the council of state in 1659,' _Noble's Regicides_,
vol. i. p. 90.
[390] 'Holland the link-boy,' _Walker's Independency_, part iii. p. 37.
'He was originally nothing more than a servant to Sir Henry Vane;
... upon the establishment of the Commonwealth, he was made one
of the council of state in 1649, and again in 1650.' _Noble's
Regicides_, vol. i. pp. 357, 358.
[391] _Noble's Mem. of Cromwell_, vol. ii. p. 502.
[392] _Walker's Hist. of Independency_, part i. p. 167.
[393] _Ellis's Original Letters illustrative of English History_, third
series, vol. iv. p. 219, Lond. 1846.
[394] _Parl. Hist._ vol. iii. p. 1407; _Rose's Biog. Dict._ vol. iii.
p. 172; _Clarendon's Rebellion_, p. 794.
[395] 'A poor child bred upon charity.' _Harris's Stuarts_, vol. v. p.
281. 'A man of an obscure birth, and more obscure education.'
_Clarendon's Life of Himself_, p. 1116.
[396] See _Vaughan's Cromwell_, vol. i. pp. 227, 228, vol. ii. pp. 299,
302, 433; _Lister's Life and Corresp. of Clarendon_, vol. ii. p.
231, vol. iii. p. 134. The common opinion is, that he was the son
of a clergyman at Hackney; but if so, he was probably
illegitimate, considering the way he was brought up. However, his
Hackney origin is very doubtful, and no one appears to know who
his father was. See _Notes and Queries_, vol. iii. pp. 69, 213.
[397] _Noble's Regicides_, vol. i. p. 362. Cromwell had a great regard
for this remarkable man, who not only distinguished himself as a
soldier, but, judging from a letter of his recently published,
appears to have repaired the deficiencies of his early education.
See _Fairfax Correspond._ vol. iv. pp. 22-25, 108. There never
has been a period in the history of England in which so many men
of natural ability were employed in the public service as during
the Commonwealth.
[398] _Noble's House of Cromwell_, vol. ii. p. 507.
[399] _Noble's Cromwell_, vol. ii. p. 518; _Bates's Troubles_, vol. ii.
p. 222.
[400] _Bates's Late Troubles_, vol. i. p. 87; _Ludlow's Mem._ vol. i.
p. 220.
[401] _Walker's Hist. of Independency_, part ii. p. 87.
[402] Ludlow who was well acquainted with Colonel Hewson, says that he
'had been a shoemaker.' _Ludlow's Memoirs_, vol. ii. p. 139. But
this is the amiable partiality of a friend; and there is no doubt
that the gallant colonel was neither more nor less than a
cobbler. See _Walker's Independency_, part ii. p. 39;
_Winstanley's Martyrol._ p. 123; _Bates's Late Troubles_, vol.
ii. p. 222; _Noble's Cromwell_, vol. ii. pp. 251, 345, 470.
Such were the leaders of the English rebellion, or to speak more
properly, such were the instruments by which the rebellion was
consummated.[403] If we now turn to France, we shall clearly see the
difference between the feelings and temper of the two nations. In that
country, the old protective spirit still retained its activity; and the
people, being kept in a state of pupilage, had not acquired those habits
of self-command and self-reliance, by which alone great things can be
effected. They had been so long accustomed to look with timid reverence
to the upper classes, that, even when they rose in arms, they could not
throw off the ideas of submission which were quickly discarded by our
ancestors. The influence of the higher ranks was, in England,
constantly diminishing; in France, it was scarcely impaired. Hence it
happened that, although the English and French rebellions were
contemporary, and, in their origin, aimed at precisely the same objects,
they were distinguished by one most important difference. This was, that
the English rebels were headed by popular leaders; the French rebels by
noble leaders. The bold and sturdy habits which had long been cultivated
in England, enabled the middle and lower classes to supply their own
chiefs out of their own ranks. In France such chiefs were not to be
found; simply because, owing to the protective spirit, such habits had
not been cultivated. While, therefore, in our island, the functions of
civil government, and of war, were conducted with conspicuous ability,
and complete success, by butchers, by bakers, by brewers, by cobblers,
and by tinkers, the struggle which, at the same moment, was going on in
France, presented an appearance totally different. In that country, the
rebellion was headed by men of a far higher standing; men, indeed, of
the longest and most illustrious lineage. There, to be sure, was a
display of unexampled splendour; a galaxy of rank, a noble assemblage of
aristocratic insurgents and titled demagogues. There was the Prince de
Condé, the Prince de Conti, the Prince de Marsillac, the Duke de
Bouillon, the Duke de Beaufort, the Duke de Longueville, the Duke de
Chevreuse, the Duke de Nemours, the Duke de Luynes, the Duke de Brissac,
the Duke d'Elb[oe]uf, the Duke de Candale, the Duke de la Tremouille,
the Marquis de la Boulaye, the Marquis de Laigues, the Marquis de
Noirmoutier, the Marquis de Vitry, the Marquis de Fosseuse, the Marquis
de Sillery, the Marquis d'Estissac, the Marquis d'Hocquincourt, the
Count de Rantzau, the Count de Montresor.
[403] Walker, who relates what he himself witnessed, says, that, about
1649, the army was commanded by 'colonels and superior officers,
who lord it in their gilt coaches, rich apparel, costly
feastings; though some of them led dray-horses, wore
leather-pelts, and were never able to name their own fathers or
mothers.' _Hist. of Independ._ part ii. p. 244. The _Mercurius
Rusticus_, 1647, says, 'Chelmsford was governed by a tinker, two
cobblers, two tailors, two pedlars.' _Southey's Commonplace
Book_, third series, 1850, p. 430. And, at p. 434, another work,
in 1647, makes a similar statement in regard to Cambridge; while
Lord Holles assures us, that 'most of the colonels and officers
(were) mean tradesmen, brewers, taylors, goldsmiths, shoe-makers,
and the like.' _Holles's Memoirs_, p. 149. When Whitelocke was in
Sweden in 1653, the prætor of one of the towns abused the
parliament, saying, 'that they killed their king, and were a
company of taylors and cobblers.' _Whitelocke's Swedish Embassy_,
vol. i. p. 205. See also note in _Carwithen's Hist. of the Church
of England_, vol. ii. p. 156.
These were the leaders of the Fronde;[404] and the mere announcement of
their names indicate the difference between the French and English
rebellions. And, in consequence of this difference, there followed some
results, which are well worth the attention of those writers who, in
their ignorance of the progress of human affairs, seek to uphold that
aristocratic power, which, fortunately for the interests of mankind, has
long been waning; and which, during the last seventy years has, in the
most civilized countries, received such severe and repeated shocks, that
its ultimate fate is hardly a matter respecting which much doubt can now
be entertained.
[404] Even De Retz, who vainly attempted to organise a popular party,
found that it was impossible to take any step without the nobles;
and, notwithstanding his democratic tendencies, he, in 1648,
thought it advisable 'tâcher d'engager dans les intérêts publics
les personnes de qualité.' _Mém. de Joly_, p. 31.
The English rebellion was headed by men, whose tastes, habits, and
associations, being altogether popular, formed a bond of sympathy
between them and the people, and preserved the union of the whole party.
In France the sympathy was very weak, and therefore, the union was very
precarious. What sort of sympathy could there be between the mechanic
and the peasant, toiling for their daily bread, and the rich and
dissolute noble, whose life was passed in those idle and frivolous
pursuits which debased his mind, and made his order a byword and a
reproach among the nations? To talk of sympathy existing between the two
classes is a manifest absurdity, and most assuredly would have been
deemed an insult by those high-born men, who treated their inferiors
with habitual and insolent contempt. It is true, that, from causes which
have been already stated, the people did, unhappily for themselves, look
up to those above them with the greatest veneration;[405] but every page
of French history proves how unworthily this feeling was reciprocated,
and in how complete a thraldom the lower classes were kept. While,
therefore, the French, from their long-established habits of dependence,
were become incapable of conducting their own rebellion, and, on that
account, were obliged to place themselves under the command of their
nobles, this very necessity confirmed the servility which caused it; and
thus stunting the growth of freedom, prevented the nation from
effecting, by their civil wars, those great things which we, in England,
were able to bring about by ours.
[405] Mably (_Observations sur l'Hist. de France_, vol. i. p. 357)
frankly says, 'L'exemple d'un grand a toujours été plus
contagieux chez les Français que partout ailleurs.' See also vol.
ii. p. 267: 'Jamais l'exemple des grands n'a été aussi contagieux
ailleurs qu'en France; on dirait qu'ils ont le malheureux
privilège de tout justifier.' Rivarol, though his opinions on
other points were entirely opposed to those of Mably, says, that,
in France, 'la noblesse est aux yeux du peuple une espèce de
religion, dont les gentilshommes sont les prêtres.' _Mém. de
Rivarol_, p. 94. Happily, the French Revolution, or rather the
circumstances which caused the French Revolution, have utterly
destroyed this ignominious homage.
Indeed, it is only necessary to read the French literature of the
seventeenth century, to see the incompatibility of the two classes, and
the utter hopelessness of fusing into one party the popular and
aristocratic spirit. While the object of the people was to free
themselves from the yoke, the object of the nobles was merely to find
new sources of excitement,[406] and minister to that personal vanity for
which, as a body, they have always been notorious. As this is a
department of history that has been little studied, it will be
interesting to collect a few instances, which will illustrate the temper
of the French aristocracy, and will show what sort of honours, and what
manner of distinctions, those were which this powerful class was most
anxious to obtain.
[406] The Duke de la Rochefoucauld candidly admits that, in 1649, the
nobles raised a civil war, 'avec d'autant plus de haleur que
c'était une nouveauté.' _Mém. de Rochefoucauld_, vol. i. p. 406.
Thus too Lemontey (_Etablissement de Louis XIV_, p. 368): 'La
vieille noblesse, qui ne savait que combattre, faisait la guerre
par goût, par besoin, par vanité, par ennui.' Compare, in _Mém.
d'Omer Talon_, vol. ii. pp. 467, 468, a summary of the reasons
which, in 1649, induced the nobles to go to war; and on the way
in which their frivolity debased the Fronde, see _Lavallée_,
_Hist. des Français_, vol. iii. pp. 169, 170.
That the objects chiefly coveted were of a very trifling description,
will be anticipated by whoever has studied the effect which, in an
immense majority of minds, hereditary distinctions produce upon personal
character. How pernicious such distinctions are, may be clearly seen in
the history of all the European aristocracies; and in the notorious
fact, that none of them have preserved even a mediocrity of talent,
except in countries where they are frequently invigorated by the
infusion of plebeian blood, and their order strengthened by the
accession of those masculine energies which are natural to men who make
their own position, but cannot be looked for in men whose position is
made for them. For, when the notion is once firmly implanted in the
mind, that the source of honour is from without, rather than from
within, it must invariably happen that the possession of external
distinction will be preferred to the sense of internal power. In such
cases, the majesty of the human intellect, and the dignity of human
knowledge, are considered subordinate to those mock and spurious
gradations by which weak men measure the degrees of their own
littleness. Hence it is, that the real precedence of things becomes
altogether reversed; that which is trifling is valued more than that
which is great; and the mind is enervated by conforming to a false
standard of merit, which its own prejudices have raised. On this
account, they are evidently in the wrong who reproach the nobles with
their pride, as if it were a characteristic of their order. The truth
is, that if pride were once established among them, their extinction
would rapidly follow. To talk of the pride of hereditary rank, is a
contradiction in terms. Pride depends on the consciousness of
self-applause; vanity is fed by the applause of others. Pride is a
reserved and lofty passion, which disdains those external distinctions
that vanity eagerly grasps. The proud man sees in his own mind, the
source of his own dignity; which, as he well knows, can be neither
increased or diminished by any acts except those which proceed solely
from himself. The vain man, restless, insatiable, and always craving
after the admiration of his contemporaries, must naturally make great
account of those external marks, those visible tokens, which, whether
they be decorations or titles, strike directly on the senses, and thus
captivate the vulgar, to whose understandings they are immediately
obvious. This, therefore, being the great distinction, that pride looks
within, while vanity looks without, it is clear that when a man values
himself for a rank which he inherited by chance, without exertion, and
without merit, it is a proof, not of pride, but of vanity, and of vanity
of the most despicable kind. It is a proof that such a man has no sense
of real dignity, no idea of what that is in which alone all greatness
consists. What marvel if, to minds of this sort, the most insignificant
trifles should swell into matters of the highest importance? What marvel
if such empty understandings should be busied with ribbons, and stars,
and crosses; if this noble should yearn after the Garter, and that noble
pine for the Golden Fleece; if one man should long to carry a wand in
the precincts of the court, and another man to fill an office in the
royal household; while the ambition of a third is to make his daughter a
maid-of-honour, or to raise his wife to be mistress of the robes?
We, seeing these things, ought not to be surprised that the French
nobles, in the seventeenth century, displayed, in their intrigues and
disputes, a frivolity, which, though redeemed by occasional exceptions,
is the natural characteristic of every hereditary aristocracy. A few
examples of this will suffice to give the reader some idea of the tastes
and temper of that powerful class which, during several centuries,
retarded the progress of French civilization.
Of all the questions on which the French nobles were divided, the most
important was that touching the right of sitting in the royal presence.
This was considered to be a matter of such gravity, that, in comparison
with it, a mere struggle for liberty faded into insignificance. And what
made it still more exciting to the minds of the nobles was, the extreme
difficulty with which this great social problem was beset. According to
the ancient etiquette of the French court, if a man were a duke, his
wife might sit in the presence of the queen; but if his rank were
inferior, even if he were a marquis, no such liberty could be
allowed.[407] So far, the rule was very simple, and, to the duchesses
themselves, highly agreeable. But the marquises, the counts, and the
other illustrious nobles, were uneasy at this invidious distinction, and
exerted all their energies to procure for their own wives the same
honour. This the dukes strenuously resisted; but, owing to circumstances
which unfortunately are not fully understood, an innovation was made in
the reign of Louis XIII., and the privilege of sitting in the same room
with the queen was conceded to the female members of the Bouillon
family.[408] In consequence of this evil precedent, the question became
seriously complicated, since other members of the aristocracy considered
that the purity of their descent gave them claims nowise inferior to
those of the house of Bouillon, whose antiquity, they said, had been
grossly exaggerated. The contest which ensued, had the effect of
breaking up the nobles into two hostile parties, one of which sought to
preserve that exclusive privilege in which the other wished to
participate. To reconcile these rival pretensions, various expedients
were suggested; but all were in vain, and the court, during the
administration of Mazarin, being pressed by the fear of a rebellion,
showed symptoms of giving way, and of yielding to the inferior nobles
the point they so ardently desired. In 1648 and 1649, the queen-regent,
acting under the advice of her council, formally conceded the right of
sitting in the royal presence to the three most distinguished members of
the lower aristocracy, namely, the Countess de Fleix, Madame de Pons,
and the Princess de Marsillac.[409] Scarcely had this decision been
promulgated, when the princes of the blood and the peers of the realm
were thrown into the greatest agitation.[410] They immediately summoned
to the capital those members of their own order who were interested in
repelling this daring aggression, and, forming themselves into an
assembly, they at once adopted measures to vindicate their ancient
rights.[411] On the other hand, the inferior nobles, flushed by their
recent success, insisted that the concession just made should be raised
into a precedent; and that, as the honour of being seated in the
presence of majesty had been conceded to the house of Foix, in the
person of the Countess de Fleix, it should likewise be granted to all
those who could prove that their ancestry was equally illustrious.[412]
The greatest confusion now arose; and both sides urgently insisting on
their own claims, there was, for many months, imminent danger lest the
question should be decided by an appeal to the sword.[413] But as the
higher nobles, though less numerous than their opponents, were more
powerful, the dispute was finally settled in their favour. The queen
sent to their assembly a formal message, which was conveyed by four of
the marshals of France, and in which she promised to revoke those
privileges, the concession of which had given such offence to the most
illustrious members of the French aristocracy. At the same time, the
marshals not only pledged themselves as responsible for the promise of
the queen, but undertook to sign an agreement that they would personally
superintend its execution.[414] The nobles, however, who felt that they
had been aggrieved in their most tender point, were not yet satisfied,
and, to appease them, it was necessary that the atonement should be as
public as the injury. It was found necessary, before they would
peaceably disperse, that government should issue a document, signed by
the queen-regent, and by the four secretaries of state,[415] in which
the favours granted to the unprivileged nobility were withdrawn, and the
much-cherished honour of sitting in the royal presence was taken away
from the Princess de Marsillac, from Madame de Pons, and from the
Countess de Fleix.[416]
[407] Hence the duchesses were called 'femmes assises;' those of lower
rank 'non assises.' _Mém. de Fontenay Mareuil_, vol. i. p. 111.
The Count de Ségur tells us that 'les duchesses jouissaient de la
prérogative d'être assises sur un tabouret chez la reine.' _Mém.
de Ségur_, vol. i. p. 79. The importance attached to this is
amusingly illustrated in _Mém. de Saint-Simon_, vol. iii. pp.
215-218, Paris, 1842; which should be compared with _De
Tocqueville_, _Règne de Louis XV_, vol. ii. p. 116, and _Mém. de
Genlis_, vol. x. p. 383.
[408] 'Survint incontinent une autre difficulté à la cour sur le sujet
des tabourets, que doivent avoir les dames dans la chambre de la
reine; car encore que cela ne s'accorde régulièrement qu'aux
duchesses, néanmoins le feu roi Louis XIII l'avoit accordé aux
filles de la maison de Bouillon,' &c. _Mém. d'Omer Talon_, vol.
iii. p. 5. See also, on this encroachment on the rights of the
duchesses under Louis XIII., the case of Séguier, in _Duclos_,
_Mémoires Secrets_, vol. i. pp. 360, 361. The consequences of the
innovation were very serious; and Tallemant des Réaux
(_Historiettes_, vol. iii. pp. 223, 224) mentions a distinguished
lady, of whom he says, 'Pour satisfaire son ambition, il lui
falloit un tabouret: elle cabale pour épouser le vieux Bouillon
La Marck veuf pour la seconde fois.' In this she failed; but,
determined not to be baffled, 'elle ne se rebute point, et
voulant à toute force avoir un tabouret, elle épouse le fils aîné
du duc de Villars: c'est un ridicule de corps et d'esprit, car il
est bossu et quasi imbécile, et gueux par-dessus cela.' This
melancholy event happened in 1649.
[409] As to the Countess de Fleix and Madame de Pons, see _Mém. de
Motteville_, vol. iii. pp. 116, 369. According to the same high
authority (vol. iii. p. 367), the inferiority of the Princess de
Marsillac consisted in the painful fact, that her husband was
merely the son of a duke, and the duke himself was still alive
'il n'étoit que gentilhomme, et son père le duc de la
Rochefoucauld n'étoit pas mort.'
[410] The long account of these proceedings in _Mém. de Motteville_,
vol. iii. pp. 367-393, shows the importance attached to them by
contemporary opinion.
[411] In October 1649, 'la noblesse s'assembla à Paris sur le fait des
tabourets,' _Mém. de Lenet_, vol. i. p. 184.
[412] 'Tous ceux donc qui par leurs aïeux avoient dans leurs maisons de
la grandeur, par des alliances des femmes descendues de ceux qui
étoient autrefois maîtres et souverains des provinces de France,
demandèrent la même prérogative que celle qui venoit d'être
accordée au sang de Foix.' _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. iii. p.
117. Another contemporary says: 'Cette prétention émut toutes les
maisons de la cour sur cette différence et inégalité.' _Mém.
d'Omer Talon_, vol. iii. p. 6; and vol. ii. p. 437: 'le marquis
de Noirmoutier et celui de Vitry demandoient le tabouret pour
leurs femmes.'
[413] Indeed, at one moment, it was determined that a
counter-demonstration should be made on the part of the inferior
nobles; a proceeding which, if adopted, must have caused civil
war: 'Nous résolûmes une contre-assemblée de noblesse pour
soutenir le tabouret de la maison de Rohan.' _De Retz_,
_Mémoires_, vol. i. p. 284.
[414] _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. iii. p. 389.
[415] 'Signé d'elle et des quatre secrétaires d'état.' _Ibid._ vol. iii.
p. 391.
[416] The best accounts of this great struggle will be found in the
_Memoirs of Madame de Motteville_, and in those of Omer Talon;
two writers of very different minds, but both of them deeply
impressed with the magnitude of the contest.
These were the subjects which occupied the minds and wasted the
energies, of the French nobles, while their country was distracted by
civil war, and while questions were at issue of the greatest
importance--questions concerning the liberty of the nation, and the
reconstruction of the government.[417] It is hardly necessary to point
out how unfit such men must have been to head the people in their
arduous struggle, and how immense was the difference between them and
the leaders of the great English Rebellion. The causes of the failure of
the Fronde are, indeed, obvious, when we consider that its chiefs were
drawn from that very class respecting whose tastes and feelings some
evidence has just been given.[418] How that evidence might be almost
indefinitely extended, is well known to readers of the French memoirs of
the seventeenth century--a class of works which, being mostly written
either by the nobles or their adherents, supplies the best materials
from which an opinion may be formed. In looking into these authorities,
where such matters are related with a becoming sense of their
importance, we find the greatest difficulties and disputes arising as to
who was to have an arm-chair at court;[419] who was to be invited to
the royal dinners, and who was to be excluded from them;[420] who was to
be kissed by the queen, and who was not to be kissed by her;[421] who
should have the first seat in church;[422] what the proper proportion
was between the rank of different persons, and the length of the cloth
on which they were allowed to stand;[423] what was the dignity a noble
must have attained, in order to justify his entering the Louvre in a
coach;[424] who was to have precedence at coronations;[425] whether all
dukes were equal, or whether, as some thought, the Duke de Bouillon,
having once possessed the sovereignty of Sedan, was superior to the Duke
de la Rochefoucauld, who had never possessed any sovereignty at
all;[426] whether the Duke de Beaufort ought or ought not to enter the
council-chamber before the Duke de Nemours, and whether, being there, he
ought to sit above him.[427] These were the great questions of the day:
while, as if to exhaust every form of absurdity, the most serious
misunderstandings arose as to who should have the honour of giving the
king his napkin as he ate his meals[428] and who was to enjoy the
inestimable privilege of helping on the queen with her shift.[429]
[417] Saint-Aulaire (_Hist. de la Fronde_, vol. i. p. 317) says, that in
this same year (1649), 'l'esprit de discussion fermentait dans
toutes les têtes, et chacun à cette époque soumettait les actes
de l'autorité à un examen raisonné.' Thus, too, in _Mém. de
Montglat_, under 1649, 'on ne parlait publiquement dans Paris que
de république et de liberté,' vol. ii. p. 186. In 1648, 'effusa
est contemptio super principes.' _Mém. d'Omer Talon_, vol. ii.
p. 271.
[418] That the failure of the Fronde is not to be ascribed to the
inconstancy of the people, is admitted by De Retz, by far the
ablest observer of his time: 'Vous vous étonnerez peut-être de ce
que je dis plus sûr, à cause de l'instabilité du peuple: mais il
faut avouer que celui de Paris se fixe plus aisément qu'aucun
autre; et M. de Villeroi, qui a été le plus habile homme de son
siècle, et qui en a parfaitement connu le naturel dans tout le
cours de la ligue, où il le gouverna sous M. du Maine, a été de
ce sentiment. Ce que j'en éprouvois moi-même me le persuadoit.'
_Mém. de Retz_, vol. i. p. 348; a remarkable passage, and forming
a striking contrast to the declamation of those ignorant writers
who are always reproaching the people with their fickleness.
[419] This knotty point was decided in favour of the Duke of York, to
whom, in 1649, 'la reine fit de grands honneurs, et lui donna une
chaise à bras.' _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. iii. p. 275. In the
chamber of the king, the matter seems to have been differently
arranged; for Omer Talon (_Mém._ vol. ii. p. 332) tells us that
'le duc d'Orléans n'avoit point de fauteuil, mais un simple siège
pliant, à cause que nous étions dans la chambre du roi.' In the
subsequent year, the scene not being in the king's room, the same
writer describes 'M. le duc d'Orléans assis dans un fauteuil.'
_Ibid._ vol. iii. p. 95. Compare _Le Vassor_, _Hist. de Louis
XIII_, vol. viii. p. 310. Voltaire (_Dict. Philos._ art.
_Cérémonies_) says: 'Le fauteuil à bras, la chaise à dos, le
tabouret, la main droite et la main gauche, ont été pendant
plusieurs siècles d'importants objets de politique, et
d'illustres sujets de querelles.' _[OE]uvres de Voltaire_, vol.
xxxvii. p. 486. The etiquette of the 'fauteuil' and 'chaise' is
explained in _Mém. de Genlis_, vol. x. p. 287.
[420] See _Mém. de Motteville_, vol. iii. pp. 309, 310.
[421] See a list of those it was proper for the queen to kiss, in _Mém.
de Motteville_, vol. iii. p. 318.
[422] _Mém. de Omer Talon_, vol. i. pp. 217-219. The Prince de Condé
hotly asserted, that at a _Te Deum_ 'il ne pouvait être assis en
autre place que dans la première chaire.' This was in 1642.
[423] For a quarrel respecting the 'drap de pied,' see _Mém. de
Motteville_, vol. ii. p. 249.
[424] A very serious dispute was caused by the claim of the Prince de
Marsillac, for 'permission d'entrer dans le Louvre en carrosse.'
_Mém. de Motteville_, vol. iii. pp. 367-389.
[425] _Mém. de Pontchartrain_, vol. i. pp. 422, 423, at the coronation
of Louis XIII. Other instances of difficulties caused by
questions of precedence, will be found in _Mém. d'Omer Talon_,
vol. iii. pp. 23, 24, 437; and even in the grave work of Sully,
_[OE]conomies Royales_, vol. vii. p. 126, vol. viii. p. 395;
which should be compared with _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._ vol. ix.
pp. 86, 87.
[426] _Mém. de Lenet_, vol. i. pp. 378, 379. Lenet, who was a great
admirer of the nobles, relates all this without the faintest
perception of its absurdity. I ought not to omit a terrible
dispute, in 1652, respecting the recognition of the claims of the
Duke de Rohan (_Mém. de Conrart_, pp. 151, 152); nor another
dispute, in the reign of Henry IV., as to whether a duke ought to
sign his name before a marshal, or whether a marshal should sign
first. _De Thou_, _Hist. Univ._ vol. xi. p. 11.
[427] This difficulty, in 1652, caused a violent quarrel between the two
dukes, and ended in a duel in which the Duke de Nemours was
killed, as is mentioned by most of the contemporary writers. See
_Mém. de Montglat_, vol. ii. p. 357; _Mém. de la Rochefoucauld_,
vol. ii. p. 172; _Mém. de Conrart_, pp. 172-175; _Mém. de Retz_,
vol. ii. p. 203; _Mém. d'Omer Talon_, vol. iii. p. 437.
[428] Pontchartrain, one of the ministers of state, writes, under the
year 1620: 'En ce même temps s'étoit mû un très-grand différend
entre M. le prince de Condé et M. le comte de Soissons, sur le
sujet de la serviette que chacun d'eux prétendoit devoir
présenter au roi quand ils se rencontreroient tous deux près sa
majesté.' _Mém. de Pontchartrain_, vol. ii. p. 295. Le Vassor,
who gives a fuller account (_Règne de Louis XIII_, vol. iii. pp.
536, 537), says, 'Chacun des deux princes du sang, fort échauffez
à qui feroit une fonction de maître d'hôtel, tiroit la serviette
de son côté, et la contestation augmentoit d'une manière dont les
suites pouvoient devenir fâcheuses.' But the king interposing,
'ils furent donc obligez de céder: mais ce ne fut pas sans se
dire l'un à l'autre des paroles hautes et menaçantes.'
[429] According to some authorities, a man ought to be a duke before his
wife could be allowed to meddle with the queen's shift; according
to other authorities, the lady-in-waiting, whoever she might be,
had the right, unless a princess happened to be present. On these
alternatives, and on the difficulties caused by them, compare
_Mém. de Saint-Simon_, 1842, vol. vii. p. 125, with _Mém. de
Motteville_, vol. ii. pp. 28, 276, 277.
It may, perhaps, be thought that I owe some apology to the reader for
obtruding upon his notice these miserable disputes respecting matters
which, however despicable they now appear, were once valued by men not
wholly devoid of understanding. But, it should be remembered that their
occurrence, and above all, the importance formerly attached to them, is
part of the history of the French mind; and they are therefore to be
estimated, not according to their intrinsic dignity, but according to
the information they supply respecting a state of things which has now
passed away. Events of this sort, though neglected by ordinary
historians, are among the staff and staple of history. Not only do they
assist in bringing before our minds the age to which they refer, but in
a philosophic point of view they are highly important. They are part of
the materials from which we may generalize the laws of that great
protective spirit, which in different periods assumes different shapes;
but which, whatever its form may be, always owes its power to the
feeling of veneration as opposed to the feeling of independence. How
natural this power is, in certain stages of society, becomes evident if
we examine the basis on which veneration is itself supported. The origin
of veneration is wonder and fear. These two passions, either alone or
combined, are the ordinary source of veneration; and the way in which
they arise is obvious. We wonder because we are ignorant, and we fear
because we are weak. It is therefore natural, that in former times, when
men were more ignorant and more weak than they now are, they should
likewise have been more given to veneration, more inclined to those
habits of reverence, which if carried into religion, cause superstition,
and if carried into politics, cause despotism. In the ordinary march of
society, those evils are remedied by that progress of knowledge, which
at once lessens our ignorance and increases our resources: in other
words, which diminishes our proneness to wonder and to fear, and thus
weakening our feelings of veneration, strengthens, in the same
proportion, our feelings of independence. But in France, this natural
tendency was, as we have already seen, counteracted by an opposite
tendency; so that while, on the one hand, the protective spirit was
enfeebled by the advance of knowledge, it was, on the other hand,
invigorated by those social and political circumstances which I have
attempted to trace; and by virtue of which, each class exercising great
power over the one below it, the subordination and subserviency of the
whole were completely maintained. Hence the mind became accustomed to
look upwards, and to rely, not on its own resources, but on the
resources of others. Hence that pliant and submissive disposition, for
which the French, until the eighteenth century, were always remarkable.
Hence, too, that inordinate respect for the opinions of others, on which
vanity, as one of their national characteristics, is founded.[430] For,
the feelings of vanity and of veneration have evidently this in common,
that they induce each man to measure his actions by a standard external
to himself; while the opposite feelings of pride and of independence
would make him prefer that internal standard which his own mind alone
can supply. The result of all this was, that when, in the middle of the
seventeenth century, the intellectual movement stimulated the French to
rebellion, its effect was neutralized by that social tendency which,
even in the midst of the struggle, kept alive the habits of their old
subservience. Thus it was that, while the war went on, there still
remained a constant inclination on the part of the people to look up to
the nobles, on the part of the nobles to look up to the crown. Both
classes relied upon what they saw immediately above them. The people
believed that without the nobles there was no safety; the nobles
believed that without the crown there was no honour. In the case of the
nobles, this opinion can hardly be blamed; for as their distinctions
proceed from the crown, they have a direct interest in upholding the
ancient notion that the sovereign is the fountain of honour. They have a
direct interest in that preposterous doctrine, according to which, the
true source of honour being overlooked, our attention is directed to an
imaginary source, by whose operation it is believed, that in a moment,
and at the mere will of a prince, the highest honours may be conferred
upon the meanest men. This, indeed, is but part of the old scheme to
create distinctions for which nature has given no warrant; to substitute
a superiority which is conventional for that which is real; and thus try
to raise little minds above the level of great ones. The utter failure,
and, as society advances, the eventual cessation of all such attempts,
is certain; but it is evident, that as long as the attempts are made,
they who profit by them must be inclined to value those from whom they
proceed. Unless counteracting circumstances interpose, there must be
between the two parties that sympathy which is caused by the memory of
past favours, and the hope of future ones. In France, this natural
feeling being strengthened by that protective spirit which induced men
to cling to those above them, it is not strange that the nobles, even in
the midst of their turbulence, should seek the slightest favours of the
crown with an eagerness of which some examples have just been given.
They had been so long accustomed to look up to the sovereign as the
source of their own dignity, that they believed there was some hidden
dignity even in his commonest actions; so that, to their minds, it was a
matter of the greatest importance which of them should hand him his
napkin, which of them should hold his basin, and which of them should
put on his shirt.[431] It is not, however, for the sake of casting
ridicule upon these idle and frivolous men, that I have collected
evidence respecting the disputes with which they were engrossed. So far
from this, they are rather to be pitied than blamed: they acted
according to their instincts; they even exerted such slender abilities
as nature had given to them. But we may well feel for that great country
whose interests depended on their care. And it is solely in reference to
the fate of the French people that the historian need trouble himself
with the history of the French nobles. At the same time, evidence of
this sort, by disclosing the tendencies of the old nobility, displays in
one of its most active forms that protective and aristocratic spirit, of
which they know little who only know it in its present reduced and
waning condition. Such facts are to be regarded as the symptoms of a
cruel disease, by which Europe is indeed still afflicted, but which we
now see only in a very mitigated form, and of whose native virulence no
one can have an idea, unless he has studied it in those early stages,
when, raging uncontrolled, it obtained such a mastery as to check the
growth of liberty, stop the progress of nations, and dwarf the energies
of the human mind.
[430] Also connected with the institution of chivalry, both being
cognate symptoms of the same spirit.
[431] Even just before the French Revolution, these feelings still
existed. See, for instance the extraordinary details in _Campan_,
_Mém. sur Marie-Antoinette_, vol. i. pp. 98, 99; which should be
compared with an extract from _Prudhomme's Mirror de Paris_, in
_Southey's Commonplace Book_, third series, 1850, p. 251,
no. 165.
It is hardly necessary to trace at greater length the way in which
France and England diverged from each other, or to point out what I hope
will henceforth be considered the obvious difference between the civil
wars in the two countries. It is evident that the low-born and plebeian
leaders of our rebellion could have no sympathy with those matters which
perplexed the understanding of the great French nobles. Men like
Cromwell and his co-adjutors were not much versed in the mysteries of
genealogy, or in the subtleties of heraldic lore. They had paid small
attention to the etiquette of courts; they had not even studied the
rules of precedence. All this was foreign to their design. On the other
hand, what they did was done thoroughly. They knew that they had a great
work to perform; and they performed it well.[432] They had risen in arms
against a corrupt and despotic government, and they would not stay
their hands until they had pulled down those who were in high places;
until they had not only removed the evil, but had likewise chastised
those bad men by whom the evil was committed. And although in this,
their glorious undertaking, they did undoubtedly display some of the
infirmities to which even the highest minds are subject; we, at least,
ought never to speak of them but with that unfeigned respect which is
due to those who taught the first great lesson to the kings of Europe,
and who, in language not to be mistaken, proclaimed to them that the
impunity which they had long enjoyed was now come to an end, and that
against their transgressions the people possessed a remedy, sharper, and
more decisive, than any they had hitherto ventured to use.
[432] Ludlow thus expresses the sentiments which induced him to make war
upon the crown: 'The question in dispute between the king's party
and us being, as I apprehend, whether the king should govern as a
god by his will, and the nation be governed by force like beasts?
or whether the people should be governed by laws made by
themselves, and live under a government derived from their own
consent? being fully persuaded, that an accommodation with the
king was unsafe to the people of England, and unjust and wicked
in the nature of it.' _Ludlow's Memoirs_, vol. i. p. 230. Compare
Whitelocke's spirited speech to Christina, in _Journal of the
Swedish Embassy_, vol. i. p. 238; and see pp. 390, 391.