THE FIRST SITTING OF THE CONSTITUENT ASSEMBLY--THE APPEARANCE OF
THIS ASSEMBLY.
I stopped at Valognes only long enough to bid good-bye to some of my
friends. Many left me with tears in their eyes, for there was a belief
current in the country that the representatives would be exposed to
great danger in Paris. Several of these worthy people said to me, "If
they attack the National Assembly, we will come and defend you." I feel
a certain remorse at having seen only vain words in this promise at the
time; for, as a matter of fact, they did all come, they and many more,
as I shall show later.
It was only when I reached Paris that I learnt that I had received
110,704 votes out of a possible 120,000. Most of my new colleagues
belonged to the old dynastic Opposition: two only had professed
republican principles before the Revolution, and were what was called in
the jargon of the day "Republicans of yesterday." The same was the case
in most parts of France.
There have certainly been more wicked revolutionaries than those of
1848, but I doubt if there were ever any more stupid; they neither knew
how to make use of universal suffrage nor how to do without it. If they
had held the elections immediately after the 24th of February, while the
upper classes were still bewildered by the blow they had just received,
and the people more amazed than discontented, they would perhaps have
obtained an assembly after their hearts; if, on the other hand, they had
boldly seized the dictatorship, they might have been able for some time
to retain it. But they trusted themselves to the nation, and at the same
time did all that was most likely to set the latter against them; they
threatened it while placing themselves in its power; they alarmed it by
the recklessness of their proposals and the violence of their language,
while inviting it to resistance by the feebleness of their actions; they
pretended to lay down the law to it at the very time that they were
placing themselves at its disposal. Instead of opening out their ranks
after the victory, they jealously closed them up, and seemed, in one
word, to be striving to solve this insoluble problem, namely, how to
govern through the majority and yet against its inclination.
Following the examples of the past without understanding them, they
foolishly imagined that to summon the crowd to take part in political
life was sufficient to attach it to their cause; and that to popularize
the Republic, it was enough to give the public rights without offering
them any profits. They forgot that their predecessors, when they gave
every peasant the vote, at the same time did away with tithes, abolished
statute labour and the other seignorial privileges, and divided the
property of the nobles among the peasants; whereas they were not in a
position to do anything of the kind. In establishing universal suffrage
they thought they were summoning the people to the assistance of the
Revolution: they were only giving them arms against it. Nevertheless, I
am far from believing that it was impossible to arouse revolutionary
passions, even in the country districts. In France, every agriculturist
owns some portion of the soil, and most of them are more or less
involved in debt; it was not, therefore, the landlords that should have
been attacked, but the creditors; not the abolition promised of the
rights of property, but the abolition of debts. The demagogues of 1848
did not think of this scheme; they showed themselves much clumsier than
their predecessors, but no less dishonest, for they were as violent and
unjust in their desires as the others in their acts. Only, to commit
violent and unjust acts, it is not enough for a government to have the
will, or even the power; the habits, ideas, and passions of the time
must lend themselves to the committal of them.
As the party which held the reins of government saw its candidates
rejected one after the other, it displayed great vexation and rage,
complaining now sadly and now rudely of the electors, whom it treated as
ignorant, ungrateful blockheads, and enemies of their own good; it lost
its temper with the whole nation; and, its impatience exhausted by the
latter's coldness, it seemed ready to say with Moliere's Arnolfe, when
he addresses Agnes:
"Pourquoi ne m'aimer pas, madame l'impudente?"
One thing was not ridiculous, but really ominous and terrible; and that
was the appearance of Paris on my return. I found in the capital a
hundred thousand armed workmen formed into regiments, out of work, dying
of hunger, but with their minds crammed with vain theories and visionary
hopes. I saw society cut into two: those who possessed nothing, united
in a common greed; those who possessed something, united in a common
terror. There were no bonds, no sympathy between these two great
sections; everywhere the idea of an inevitable and immediate struggle
seemed at hand. Already the _bourgeois_ and the _peuple_ (for the old
nicknames had been resumed) had come to blows, with varying fortunes, at
Rouen, Limoges, Paris; not a day passed but the owners of property were
attacked or menaced in either their capital or income: they were asked
to employ labour without selling the produce; they were expected to
remit the rents of their tenants when they themselves possessed no other
means of living. They gave way as long as they could to this tyranny,
and endeavoured at least to turn their weakness to account by publishing
it. I remember reading in the papers of that time this advertisement,
among others, which still strikes me as a model of vanity, poltroonery,
and stupidity harmoniously mingled:
"Mr Editor," it read, "I make use of your paper to inform my tenants
that, desiring to put into practice in my relations with them the
principles of fraternity that should guide all true democrats, I will
hand to those of my tenants who apply for it a formal receipt for their
next quarter's rent."
Meanwhile, a gloomy despair had overspread the middle class thus
threatened and oppressed, and imperceptibly this despair was changing
into courage. I had always believed that it was useless to hope to
settle the movement of the Revolution of February peacefully and
gradually, and that it could only be stopped suddenly, by a great battle
fought in the streets of Paris. I had said this immediately after the
24th of February; and what I now saw persuaded me that this battle was
not only inevitable but imminent, and that it would be well to seize the
first opportunity to deliver it.
The National Assembly met at last on the 4th of May; it was doubtful
until the last moment whether it would meet at all. I believe, in fact,
that the more ardent of the demagogues were often tempted to do without
it, but they dared not; they remained crushed beneath the weight of
their own dogma of the sovereignty of the people.
I should have before my eyes the picture which the Assembly presented at
its opening; but I find, on the contrary, that only a very confused
recollection of it has lingered in my mind. It is a mistake to believe
that events remain present in one's memory in proportion to their
importance or their greatness alone; rather is it certain little
particularities which occur, and cause them to penetrate deep into the
mind, and fix them there in a lasting manner. I only remember that we
shouted, "Long live the Republic" fifteen times during the course of the
sitting, trying who could out-shout the other. The history of the
Assemblies is full of parallel incidents, and one constantly sees one
party exaggerating its feelings in order to embarrass its opponents,
while the latter feign to hold sentiments which they do not possess, in
order to avoid the trap. Both sides, with a common effort, went either
beyond, or in the contrary direction to, the truth. Nevertheless, I
think the cry was sincere enough; only it responded to diverse or even
contrary thoughts. All at that time wished to preserve the Republic; but
some wished to use it for purposes of attack, others for purposes of
defence The newspapers spoke of the enthusiasm of the Assembly and of
the public; there was a great deal of noise, but no enthusiasm at all.
Everyone was too greatly preoccupied with the immediate future to allow
himself to be carried beyond that thought by sentiment of any kind. A
decree of the Provisional Government laid down that the representatives
should wear the costume of the Conventionals, and especially the white
waistcoat with turn-down collar in which Robespierre was always
represented on the stage. I thought at first that this fine notion
originated with Louis Blanc or Ledru-Rollin; but I learned later that it
was due to the flowery and literary imagination of Armand Marrast. No
one obeyed the decree, not even its author; Caussidiere was the only one
to adopt the appointed disguise. This drew my attention to him; for I
did not know him by sight any more than most of those who were about to
call themselves the Montagnards, always with the idea of keeping up the
recollection of '93. I beheld a very big and very heavy body, on which
was placed a sugar-loaf head, sunk deep between the two shoulders, with
a wicked, cunning eye, and an air of general good-nature spread over the
rest of his face. In short, he was a mass of shapeless matter, in which
worked a mind sufficiently subtle to know how to make the most of his
coarseness and ignorance.
In the course of the two subsequent days, the members of the Provisional
Government, one after the other, told us what they had done since the
24th of February. Each said a great deal of good of himself, and even a
certain amount of good of his colleagues, although it would be difficult
to meet a body of men who mutually hated one another more sincerely than
these did. Independently of the political hatred and jealousy that
divided them, they seemed still to feel towards each other that peculiar
irritation common to travellers who have been compelled to live
together upon the same ship during a long and stormy passage, without
suiting or understanding one another. At this first sitting I met again
almost all the members of Parliament among whom I had lived. With the
exception of M. Thiers, who had been defeated; of the Duc de Broglie,
who had not stood, I believe; and of Messrs Guizot and Duchatel, who had
fled, all the famous orators and most of the better-known talkers of the
political world were there; but they found themselves, as it were, out
of their element, they felt isolated and suspected, they both felt and
inspired fear, two contraries often to be met with in the political
world. As yet they possessed none of that influence which their talents
and experience were soon to restore to them. All the remainder of the
Assembly were as much novices as though we had issued fresh from the
Ancien Regime; for, thanks to our system of centralization, public life
had always been confined within the limits of the Chambers, and those
who were neither peers nor deputies scarcely knew what an Assembly was,
nor how one should speak or behave in one. They were absolutely ignorant
of its most ordinary, everyday habits and customs; and they were
inattentive at decisive moments, and listened eagerly to unimportant
things. Thus, on the second day, they crowded round the tribune and
insisted on perfect silence in order to hear read the minutes of the
preceding sitting, imagining that this insignificant form was a most
important piece of business. I am convinced that nine hundred English
or American peasants, picked at random, would have better represented
the appearance of a great political body.
Continuing to imitate the National Convention, the men who professed the
most radical and the most revolutionary opinions had taken their seats
on the highest benches; they were very uncomfortable up there; but it
gave them the right to call themselves Montagnards, and as men always
like to feed on pleasant imaginations, these very rashly flattered
themselves that they bore a resemblance to the celebrated blackguards
whose name they took.
The Montagnards soon divided themselves into two distinct bands: the
Revolutionaries of the old school and the Socialists. Nevertheless, the
two shades were not sharply defined. One passed from the one to the
other by imperceptible tints: the Montagnards proper had almost all some
socialistic ideas in their heads, and the Socialists quite approved of
the revolutionary proceedings of the others. However, they differed
sufficiently among themselves to prevent them from always marching in
step, and it was this that saved us. The Socialists were the more
dangerous, because they answered more nearly to the true character of
the Revolution of February, and to the only passions which it had
aroused; but they were men of theory rather than action, and in order to
upset Society at their pleasure they would have needed the practical
energy and the science of insurrections which only their colleagues in
any measure possessed.
From the seat I occupied it was easy for me to hear what was said on the
benches of the Mountain, and especially to see what went on. This gave
me the opportunity of studying pretty closely the men sitting in that
part of the Chamber. It was for me like discovering a new world. We
console ourselves for not knowing foreign countries, with the reflection
that at least we know our own; but we are wrong, for even in the latter
there are always districts which we have not visited, and races which
are new to us. I experienced this now. It was as though I saw these
Montagnards for the first time, so greatly did their idioms and manners
surprise me. They spoke a lingo which was not, properly speaking, the
French of either the ignorant or the cultured classes, but which partook
of the defects of both, for it abounded in coarse words and ambitious
phrases. One heard issuing from the benches of the Mountain a ceaseless
torrent of insulting or jocular comments; and at the same time there was
poured forth a host of quibbles and maxims; in turns they assumed a very
humorous or a very superb tone. It was evident that these people
belonged neither to the tavern nor the drawing-room; I think they must
have polished their manners in the cafes, and fed their minds on no
literature but that of the daily press. In any case, it was the first
time since the commencement of the Revolution that this type made any
display in one of our Assemblies; until then it had only been
represented by sporadic and unnoticed individuals, who were more
occupied in concealing than in showing themselves.
The Constituent Assembly had two other peculiarities which struck me as
quite as novel as this, although very different from it. It contained an
infinitely greater number of landlords and even of noblemen than any of
the Chambers elected in the days when it was a necessary condition, in
order to be an elector or elected, that you should have money. And also
there was a more numerous and more powerful religious party than even
under the Restoration: I counted three bishops, several vicars-general,
and a Dominican monk, whereas Louis XVIII. and Charles X. had never
succeeded in securing the election of more than one single abbe.
The abolition of all quit-rents, which made part of the electors
dependent upon the rich, and the danger threatening property, which led
the people to choose for their representatives those who were most
interested in defending it, are the principal reasons which explain the
presence of so great a number of landlords. The election of the
ecclesiastics arose from similar causes, and also from a different cause
still worthier of consideration. This cause was the almost general and
very unexpected return of a great part of the nation towards the
concerns of religion.
The Revolution of 1792, when striking the upper classes, had cured them
of their irreligiousness; it had taught them, if not the truth, at least
the social uses of belief. This lesson was lost upon the middle class,
which remained their political heir and their jealous rival; and the
latter had even become more sceptical in proportion as the former seemed
to become more religious. The Revolution of 1848 had just done on a
small scale for our tradesmen what that of 1792 had done for the
nobility: the same reverses, the same terrors, the same conversion; it
was the same picture, only painted smaller and in less bright and, no
doubt, less lasting colours. The clergy had facilitated this conversion
by separating itself from all the old political parties, and entering
into the old, true spirit of the Catholic clergy, which is that it
should belong only to the Church. It readily, therefore, professed
republican opinions, while at the same time it gave to long-established
interests the guarantee of its traditions, its customs and its
hierarchy. It was accepted and made much of by all. The priests sent to
the Assembly were treated with very great consideration, and they
deserved it through their good sense, their moderation and their
modesty. Some of them endeavoured to speak from the tribune, but they
were never able to learn the language of politics. They had forgotten it
too long ago, and all their speeches turned imperceptibly into homilies.
For the rest, the universal voting had shaken the country from top to
bottom without bringing to light a single new man worthy of coming to
the front. I have always held that, whatever method be followed in a
general election, the great majority of the exceptional men whom the
nation possesses definitively succeed in getting elected. The system of
election adopted exercises a great influence only upon the class of
ordinary individuals in the Assembly, who form the ground-work of every
political body. These belong to very different orders and are of very
diverse natures, according to the system upon which the election has
been conducted. Nothing confirmed me in this belief more than did the
sight of the Constituent Assembly. Almost all the men who played the
first part in it were already known to me, but the bulk of the rest
resembled nothing that I had seen before. They were imbued with a new
spirit, and displayed a new character and new manners.
I will say that, in my opinion, and taken all round, this Assembly
compared favourably with those which I had seen. One met in it more men
who were sincere, disinterested, honest and, above all, courageous than
in the Chambers of Deputies among which I had spent my life.
The Constituent Assembly had been elected to make a stand against civil
war. This was its principal merit; and, in fact, so long as it was
necessary to fight, it was great, and only became contemptible after the
victory, and when it felt that it was breaking up in consequence of
this very victory and under the weight of it.
I selected my seat on the left side of the House, on a bench from which
it was easy for me to hear the speakers and to reach the tribune when I
wished to speak myself. A large number of my old friends joined me
there; Lanjuinais, Dufaure, Corcelles, Beaumont and several others sat
near me.
Let me say a word concerning the House itself, although everybody knows
it. This is necessary in order to understand the narrative; and,
moreover, although this monument of wood and plaster is probably
destined to last longer than the Republic of which it was the cradle, I
do not think it will enjoy a very long existence; and when it is
destroyed, many of the events that took place in it will be difficult to
understand.
The house formed an oblong of great size. At one end, against the wall,
was the President's platform and the tribune; nine rows of benches rose
gradually along the three other walls. In the middle, facing the
tribune, spread a huge, empty space, like the arena of an amphitheatre,
with this difference, that this arena was square, not round. The
consequence was that most of the listeners only caught a side glimpse of
the speaker, and the only ones who saw him full face were very far away:
an arrangement curiously calculated to promote inattention and disorder.
For the first, who saw the speaker badly, and were continually looking
at one another, were more engaged in threatening and apostrophizing each
other; and the others did not listen any better, because, although able
to see the occupant of the tribune, they heard him badly.
Large windows, placed high up in the walls, opened straight outside, and
admitted air and light; the walls were decorated only with a few flags;
time had, luckily, been wanting in which to add to them all those
spiritless allegories on canvas or pasteboard with which the French love
to adorn their monuments, in spite of their being insipid to those who
can understand them and utterly incomprehensible to the mass of the
people. The whole bore an aspect of immensity, together with an air that
was cold, solemn, and almost melancholy. There were seats for nine
hundred members, a larger number than that of any of the assemblies that
had sat in France for sixty years.
I felt at once that the atmosphere of this assembly suited me.
Notwithstanding the gravity of events, I experienced there a sense of
well-being that was new to me. For the first time since I had entered
public life, I felt myself caught in the current of a majority, and
following in its company the only road which my tastes, my reason and my
conscience pointed out to me: a new and very welcome sensation. I
gathered that this majority would disown the Socialists and the
Montagnards, but was sincere in its desire to maintain and organize the
Republic. I was with it on these two leading points: I had no monarchic
faith, no affection nor regrets for any prince; I felt called upon to
defend no cause save that of liberty and the dignity of mankind. To
protect the ancient laws of Society against the innovators with the help
of the new force which the republican principle might lend to the
government; to cause the evident will of the French people to triumph
over the passions and desires of the Paris workmen; to conquer
demagogism by democracy--that was my only aim. I am not sure that the
dangers to be passed through before it could be attained did not make it
still more attractive to me; for I have a natural inclination for
adventure, and a spice of danger has always seemed to me the best
seasoning that can be given to most of the actions of life.