The Bureaux did not last, and their disappearance was a disaster.

Party, as the term is used in the constitutional vocabulary, was not

yet developed; and no organisation possessed the alternate power of

presenting ministers to the Crown. The main lines that divided opinion

came to light in the debates of September, and the Assembly fell into

factions that were managed by their clubs. The President held office

for a fortnight, and each new election indicated the movement of

opinion, the position of parties, the rise of reputations. The united

Assembly did honour to the acceding orders. The first presidents were

prelates and men of rank. Out of six elections only one fell to a

commoner, until the end of September, when the leader of the Liberal

Conservatives, Mounier, was chosen, at what proved a moment of danger.

In the same way, the thirty chairmen of the Bureaux were, with

scarcely an exception, always taken from the clergy or the nobles.

As Mounier, with his friends, had dominated in the constitutional

committee of thirty, and was now paramount in the new committee of

eight, there was some prospect of a coalition, by which, in return for

their aid in carrying the English model, the nobles would obtain easy

terms in the liquidation of privilege. That is the parliamentary

situation. That is the starting-point of the transactions that we have

now to follow.

During the days spent in making terms between the king, the Assembly,

and the capital, the provinces were depending on Paris for news, for

opinions, and direction. They were informed that the Parisians had

made themselves masters of the royal fortress, and had expelled the

royal authority; that the king and the Assembly had accepted and

approved the action; that there was no executive ministry, either old

or new; and that the capital was providing for its own security and

administration. The towns soon had imitations of the disorders that

had been so successful, and quickly repressed them; for the towns were

the seat of the middle class, the natural protectors of acquired

property, and defenders of order and safety. In country districts the

process of disintegration was immediate, the spontaneous recovery was

slow. For the country was divided between the nobles who were rich,

and their dependents who were poor. And the poverty of one class was

ultimately due to innumerable devices for increasing the wealth of the

other. And now there was nobody in authority over them, nobody to keep

peace between them.

The first effect of the taking of the Bastille, the effacement of

royalty, the suspension of the ministerial office, was the rising of

the cottage against the castle, of the injured peasant against the

privileged landlord, who, apart from any fault of his own, by

immemorial process of history and by the actual letter of the law, was

his perpetual and inevitable enemy. The events of the week between

July 11 and 17 proclaimed that the authorised way to obtain what you

wanted was to employ the necessary violence. If it was thorough and

quick enough, there would be no present resistance, and no subsequent

complaint. And if there was some excess in the way of cruelty and

retribution, it was sure of amnesty on the ground of intolerable

provocation and of suffering endured too long. The king had accepted

his own humiliation as if it had been as good as due to him. He could

not do more for others than for himself. His brief alliance with the

aristocracy was dissolved. He was powerless for their defence, as they

were for their own. By their formal act of submission to the Assembly

on July 16, they acknowledged that their cause was lost with the

Bastille. They neglected to make terms with the enemy at their homes.

The appalling thing in the French Revolution is not the tumult but the

design. Through all the fire and smoke we perceive the evidence of

calculating organisation. The managers remain studiously concealed and

masked; but there is no doubt about their presence from the first.

They had been active in the riots of Paris, and they were again active

in the provincial rising. The remnant of the upper classes formed a

powerful minority at Versailles; and if they acted as powerful

minorities do, if they entered into compacts and combinations, they

could compound for the loss of fiscal immunity by the salvation of

social privilege. The people would continue to have masters--masters,

that is, not of their own making. They would be subject to powers

instituted formerly, whilst the Government itself obtained its

credentials for the day, and there would still be an intermediate body

between the nation and the sovereign. Wealth artificially constituted,

by means of laws favouring its accumulation in a class, and

discouraging its dispersion among all, would continue to predominate.

France might be transformed after the likeness of England; but the

very essence of the English system was liberty founded on inequality.

The essence of the French ideal was democracy, that is, as in America,

liberty founded on equality. Therefore it was the interest of the

democratic or revolutionary party that the next step should be taken

after the manner of the last, that compulsion, which had answered so

well with the king, should be tried on the nobles, that the methods

applied at Paris should be extended to the Provinces, for there the

nobles predominated. A well-directed blow struck at that favoured and

excepted moment, when the country was ungoverned, might alter for

ever, and from its foundation, the entire structure of society.

Liberty had been secured; equality was within reach. The political

revolution ensured the prompt success of the social revolution. Such

an opportunity of suppressing compromise, and sweeping the historical

ruin away, had never been known in Europe.

While the local powers were painfully constituting themselves, there

was a priceless interval for action. The king had given way to the

middle class; the nobles would succumb to the lower, and the rural

democracy would be emancipated like the urban. This is the second

phase of that reign of terror which, as Malouet says, began with the

Bastille. Experience had shown the efficacy of attacking castles

instead of persons, and the strongholds of feudalism were assailed

when the stronghold of absolutism had fallen.

It is said that one deputy, Duport, a magistrate of the parliament of

Paris, had 400,000 francs to spend in raising the country against the

nobles at the precise moment of their weakness. The money was scarcely

needed, for the rioters were made to believe that they were acting in

obedience to the law. One of their victims wrote, August 3, to

Clermont Tonnerre that they were really sorry to behave in that way

against good masters, but they were compelled by imperative commands

from the king. He adds that seven or eight castles in his

neighbourhood were attacked by their vassals, all believing that the

king desired it. The charters and muniments were the main object of

pillage and destruction, for it was believed that claims which could

not be authenticated could not be enforced. Often the castle itself

was burnt with the parchments it contained, and some of the owners

perished.

The disorders raged in many parts of France. A district east and

south-east of the centre suffered most. Those provinces had continued

long to be parts of the Empire; and we shall see hereafter what that

implies. The peasants of Eastern France rose up in arms to overthrow

the ancient institutions of society, which the peasants of the West

gave their lives to restore.

Rumours of all this desolation soon penetrated to the Assembly, and on

August 3 it was officially reported that property was at the mercy of

gangs of brigands, that no castle, no convent, no farm-house was safe.

A committee moved to declare that no pretext could justify the

refusal to pay the same feudal dues as before. Duport proposed that

the motion be sent back to the Bureaux. The Assembly came to no

conclusion. In truth, the thing proposed was impossible. The Commons,

who now prevailed, could not, after sitting three months, re-impose,

even provisionally, burdens which were odious, which their

Instructions condemned, and which they all knew to be incapable of

defence. There had been time to provide: the crisis now found them

unprepared. The Court advised the nobles that nothing could save them

but a speedy surrender. They also were informed, by Barere; that some

of his friends intended to move the abolition of fiscal and feudal

privilege. They replied that they would do it themselves. Virieu, who

afterwards disappeared in a sortie, during the siege of Lyons, said to

a friend: "There are only two means of calming an excited populace,

kindness and force. We have no force; we hope to succeed by kindness."

They knew that precious time had been lost, and they resolved that the

surrender should be so ample as to be meritorious. It was to be not

the redress of practical grievances, but the complete establishment of

the new principle, equality.

At a conference held on the evening of August 3 it was agreed that the

self-sacrifice of the ancient aristocracy of France, and the

institution in its place of a society absolutely democratic, should be

made by the Duke d'Aiguillon, the owner of vast domains, who was about

to forfeit several thousands a year. But on August 4 the first to

speak was Noailles; then d'Aiguillon, followed by a deputy from

Brittany. You cannot repress violence, said the Breton, unless you

remove the injustice which is the cause of it. If you mean to proclaim

the Rights of Man, begin with those which are most flagrantly

violated. They proposed that rights abandoned to the State should be

ceded unconditionally, and that rights abandoned to the people should

be given up in return for compensation. They imagined that the

distinction was founded on principle; but nobody ever ascertained the

dividing line between that which was property and that which was

abuse. The want of definiteness enabled the landlords afterwards to

attempt the recovery of much debatable ground, and involved, after

long contention, the ultimate loss of all.

The programme was excessively complicated, and required years to be

carried out. The nobles won the day with their demand to be

compensated; but Duport already spoke the menacing words: "Injustice

has no right to subsist, and the price of injustice has no right to

subsist." The immensity of the revolution, which these changes

implied, was at once apparent. For it signified that liberty, which

had been known only in the form of privilege, was henceforward

identified with equality. The nobles lost their jurisdiction; the

corporation of judges lost their right of holding office by purchase.

All classes alike were admitted to all employments. When privilege

fell, provinces lost it as well as orders. One after the other,

Dauphine, Provence, Brittany, Languedoc, declared that they renounced

their historic rights, and shared none but those which were common to

all Frenchmen. Servitude was abolished; and on the same principle,

that all might stand on the same level before the law, justice was

declared gratuitous.

Lubersac, bishop of Chartres, the friend and patron of Sieyes, moved

the abolition of the game laws, which meant the right of preserving on

another man's land. It was a right which necessarily followed the

movement of that night; but it led men to say that the clergy gave

away generously what belonged to somebody else. It was then proposed

that the tithe should be commuted; and the clergy showed themselves as

zealous as the laity to carry out to their own detriment the doctrine

that imposed so many sacrifices.

The France of history vanished on August 4, and the France of the new

democracy took its place. The transfer of property from the upper

class to the lower was considerable. The peasants' income was

increased by about 60 per cent. Nobody objected to the tremendous

loss, or argued to diminish it. Each class, recognising what was

inevitable, and reconciled to it, desired that it should be seen how

willingly and how sincerely it yielded. None wished to give time for

others to remind them of inconsistency, or reserve, or omission, in

the clean sweep they had undertaken to make. In their competition

there was hurry and disorder. One characteristic of the time was to be

unintelligent in matters relating to the Church, and they did not know

how far the clergy was affected by the levelling principle, or that in

touching tithe they were setting an avalanche in motion. At one

moment, Lally, much alarmed, had passed a note to the President

begging him to adjourn, as the deputies were losing their heads. The

danger arose, as was afterwards seen, when the Duke du Chatelet

proposed the redemption of tithe.

The nobles awoke next day with some misgiving that they had gone too

far, and with some jealousy of the clergy, who had lost less, and who

had contributed to their losses. On August 7 Necker appeared before

the Assembly and exposed the want of money, and the need of a loan,

for the redistribution of property on August 4 did nothing to the

immediate profit of the Exchequer. But the clergy, vying with their

rivals in generosity, had admitted the right of the nation to apply

Church property to State uses.

On the following day the Marquis de Lacoste proposed that the new debt

should be paid out of the funds of the clergy, and that tithe should

be simply abolished. He expressed a wish that no ecclesiastic should

be a loser, and that the parish clergy should receive an accession of

income. The clergy offered no resistance, and made it impossible for

others to resist. They offered to raise a loan in behalf of the State;

but it was considered that this would give them a position of undue

influence, and it would not have satisfied the nobles, who saw the way

to recover from the clergy the loss they had sustained. In this debate

the Abbe Sieyes delivered his most famous speech. He had no

fellow-feeling with his brethren, but he intended that the tithe

should enrich the State. Instead of that it was about to be given

back to the land, and the landowners would receive a sum of nearly

three millions a year, divided in such a way that the richest would

receive in proportion to his wealth. It would indemnify the laity. Not

they, but the clergy, were now to bear the charge of August 4. There

was one deputy who would be richer by 30,000 francs a year upon the

whole transaction. The landlords who had bought their estates subject

to the tithe had no claim to receive it. As all this argument was

heard with impatience, Sieyes uttered words that have added no little

to his moral stature: "They fancy that they can be free and yet not be

just!" He had been, for three months, the foremost personage in the

nation. He was destined in after years, and under conditions strangely

altered, to be once more the dictator of France. More than once,

without public favour, but by mere power of political thinking, he

governed the fortunes of the State. He never again possessed the heart

of the people.

The Assembly deemed it a good bargain to restore the tithe to the

land; and the clergy knew so well that they had no friends that, on

August 11, they solemnly renounced their claim. In this way the

Assembly began the disendowment of the Church, which was the primitive

cause of the Reign of Terror and the Civil War.

All these things are an episode. The business of the Assembly, from

the end of July, was the Constitution. The first step towards it was

to define the rights for which it exists. Such a declaration,

suggested by America, had been demanded by the electors in several of

the instructions, and had been faithfully reproduced by Mounier, July

9. It appeared, on the following day, that Lafayette had already got

the required document in his pocket. Another text was produced, ten

days later, by Sieyes, and another by Mounier, which was a revision of

Lafayette's. Several more came out soon after.

On July 27 the archbishop of Bordeaux, in laying down the outline of

the new institutions, observed that it was necessary to found them on

principles defined and fixed. On the same day Clermont Tonnerre

brought forward his analysis of the available ideas contained in the

instructions. He went at once to the heart of the matter. Some

instructions, he said, contemplated no more than the reform of

existing institutions, with the maintenance of controlling tradition

and the historic chain. Others conceived an entirely new system of

laws and government. The distinction between the two was this, that

some required a code of principles which must be the guide in

preparing the Constitution; the others wished for no such assistance,

but thought it possible to bind past and future together. The main

conflict was between the authority of history and the Rights of Man.

The Declaration was the signal of those who meant to rescue France

from the ancestors who had given it tyranny and slavery as an

inheritance. Its opponents were men who would be satisfied with good

government, in the spirit of Turgot and the enlightened reformers of

his time, who could be happy if they were prosperous, and would never

risk prosperity and peace in the pursuit of freedom.

Those who imagined that France possessed a submerged Constitution that

might be extracted from her annals had a difficult task. Lanjuinais

desired to sail by a beacon and to direct the politics of 1789 by a

charter of 864. There was a special reason, less grotesque than the

archaeology of Lanjuinais, which made men averse to the Declaration.

Liberty, it was said, consists in the reign of the national will, and

the national will is known by national custom. Law ought to spring

from custom, and to be governed by it, not by independent, individual

theory that defies custom. You have to declare the law, not to make

it, and you can only declare what experience gives you. The best

government devised by reason is less free than a worse government

bequeathed by time. Very dimly, ideas which rose to power in other

days and evolved the great force of nationality, were at work against

a system which was to be new and universal, renouncing the influence

both of time and place. The battle was fought against the men of the

past, against a history which was an unbroken record of the defeat

and frustration of freedom. But the declaration of rights was more

needful still against dangers on the opposite side, those that were

coming more than those that were going out. People were quite resolved

to be oppressed no more by monarchy or aristocracy, but they had no

experience or warning of oppression by democracy. The classes were to

be harmless; but there was the new enemy, the State.

No European knew what security could be needed or provided for the

individual from the collected will of the people. They were protected

from government by authority or by minority; but they made the

majority irresistible, and the _plebiscite_ a tyranny.

The Americans were aware that democracy might be weak and

unintelligent, but also that it might be despotic and oppressive. And

they found out the way to limit it, by the federal system, which

suffers it to exist nowhere in its plenitude. They deprived their

state governments of the powers that were enumerated, and the central

government of the powers that were reserved. As the Romans knew how

monarchy would become innocuous, by being divided, the Americans

solved the more artful problem of dividing democracy into two.

Many Frenchmen were convinced that Federalism would be the really

liberal policy for them. But the notion was at once pushed aside by

Mounier, and obtained no hearing. And the division of powers, which he

substituted, was rejected in its turn. They would not admit that one

force should be checked and balanced by another. They had no resource

but general principles, to abolish the Past and secure the Future. By

declaring them, they raised up an ideal authority over the government

and the nation, and established a security against the defects of the

Constitution and the power of future rulers. The opponents of the

Declaration fought it on the proposal to add a declaration of duties.

The idea was put forward by the most learned of the deputies, the

Jansenist Camus, and the clergy supported him with energy. The

Assembly decided that a system of rights belonged to politics, and a

system of duties to ethics, and rejected the motion, on the morning of

the 4th of August, by 570 to 433.

This was the deciding division on the question of the Rights of Man.

After some days, absorbed by the crisis of aristocracy, the distracted

and wearied Assembly turned again from the excitement of facts and

interests to the discussion of theory. A new committee of five was

appointed to revise the work of the committee of eight, which dealt

with the entire Constitution.

On August 17 Mirabeau reported their scheme. His heart was not in it;

and he resented the intrusion of hampering generalities and moralities

into the difficult experimental science of government. He advised that

the Constitution should be settled first, that the guide should follow

instead of preceding. The Assembly rejected the proposals of its

committees, and all the plans which were submitted by the celebrities.

The most remarkable of these was by Sieyes, and it met with favour;

but the final vote was taken on a less illustrious composition, which

bore no author's name. The selected text was less philosophical and

profound, and it roused less distant echoes than its rival; but it was

shorter, and more tame, and it was thought to involve fewer doubtful

postulates, and fewer formidable consequences. Between the 20th and

26th of August it was still further abridged, and reduced from

twenty-four propositions to the moderate dimension of seventeen. These

omissions from a document which had been preferred to very remarkable

competitors are the key to the intentions of the National Assembly,

and our basis of interpretation.

The original scheme included a State Church. This was not adopted. It

distinguished the inequality of men from the equality of rights. This

was deemed self-evident and superfluous. It derived the mutual rights

of men from their mutual duties--and this terrestrial definition also

disappeared, leaving the way open to a higher cause. The adopted code

was meagre and ill-composed, and Bentham found a malignant pleasure

in tearing it to pieces. It is, on the whole, more spiritual than the

one on which it was founded, and which it generally follows; and it

insists with greater energy on primitive rights, anterior to the State

and aloof from it, which no human authority can either confer or

refuse. It is the triumphant proclamation of the doctrine that human

obligations are not all assignable to contract, or to interest, or to

force.

The Declaration of the Rights of Man begins with an appeal to heaven,

and defines them in the presence, and under the auspices, of Almighty

God. The Preamble implies that our duties towards Him constitute our

rights towards mankind, and indicates the divine origin of Law,

without affirming it. The Declaration enumerates those rights which

are universal, which come from nature, not from men. They are four:

Liberty, Property, Security, and Self-defence. Authorities are

constituted, and laws are made, in order that these original,

essential, and supreme possessions of all mankind may be preserved.

Lectures on the French Revolution · 第 8 / 31 段