The Ancient Regime

Front matter

“LES ORIGINES

DE LA FRANCE CONTEMRORAINE”

By H. A. TAINfiTb.CL., Oxon.

Preface

# In 1849, being twenty-one years of age, I was an elector and was very much perplexed; for I had to write out a list of fifteen or twenty deputies, and, moreover, according to French practice, not only to select men but to discrimifiate between theories. I was required to be royalist or republican, democrat or con¬ servative, socialist or Bonapartist; I was neither, nor even any¬ thing at all, and, at times, I envied all these men of conviction who had the good fortune to be something. After hearing the various doctrines I felt there was undoubtedly some void in my mind. Motives valid for others were not so for me; I could not understand how, in politics, one could make up his mind according to his predilections. My positive friends constructed a constitution as if it were a house, according to the most attrac¬ tive, the ne^st and the simplest plan ; and there was no lack of models: the nSansion of the marquis, the domicile of the bour¬ geois, the working-man’s lodging, barracks for soldiers, the com¬ munist philanstery, and even the gipsy’s encampment. Each one asserted of his model: “ This is the true ajpode of man, the only one a man of sense can dwell in.” In my opinion, the argument was weak; personal fancies did not strike me as authorities. It seemed to me that a house should not be built for the architect, nor for itself, but for the owner and occupant* To ask the cpinrorrof the owner, to submit plans to the French people of its future dwelling, was too evidently a parade or a deception: in such cases the question is tantamount to the answer, and besides,

VI

PREFACE .

had this answer been unconditional, France was scarcely more at liberty to give it than I was; ten million ignorant men cannot constitute a wise one. A people, on being consulted, may, indeed, tell the fprm of government they like, but not the form they need; this is possible only through experience; time is required to ascertain if the political dwelling is convenient, du¬ rable, proof against inclemencies, suited to the occupant’s habits, pursuits, character, peculiarities and caprices. Now, as proof of this, we have never been content with our own; within eighty years we have pulled it down thirteen times in order to rebuild it, and this we have done in vain, not having yet found one that suits us. If other people have been more fortunate, if, in other countries, many political institutions are durable and last indefi¬ nitely, it is because they have been organized in a peculiar manner, around a primitive and massive nucleus, supported on some old central edifice, many times repaired but always preserved, en¬ larged by degrees, adapted and modified according to the wants of the inhabitants. None of them were built at one stroke, on a new pattern, and according to the provisions of reason alone. We must, perhaps, admit that there is no other way of building permanently, and that the sudden concoction of a new constitu¬ tion, suitable and durable, is an undertaking surpassing the forces of the human mind. In any event, I came to the conclusion that if we should ever discover the one we need it will not be by the means in practice. The point is to discover it, if it exists, and not to put it to vote. In this respect, our preferences would be fruitless; nature and history have chosen for us in advance; it is for us to adapt ourseives to them, as it is certain they will not accommodate themselves to us. The social and political mould into which a nation may enter and remain is not subject to its will, but determined by its character and its past. It is essential that, even in its least traits, it should be shaped on the living traits to which it is applied; otherwise it will burst an<f faff to pieces. Hence, if we should succeed in finding ours, it will only be through a study of ourselves, while the more we understand

PREFACE.

vii exactly what we are, the more certainly shall we distinguish what best suits us. We ought, therefore, to reverse the ordinary meth¬ ods, and form some conception of the nation before formulating its constitution. Doubtless the first operation is much more tedious and difficult than the second. How much time, how much study, how many observations rectified one by the other, how many researches in the past and the present, over all the domains of thought and of action, what manifold and age-long labors to acquire an accurate and complete idea of a great people which has lived a people’s age, and which still lives! But it is the only means of building well after having reasoned unsoundly, and I promised myself that, for my own part, if I should some day undertake to form a political opinion, it would be only after having studied France.

What is contemporary France ? To answer this question we must know how this*- France is formed, or, what is still better, to act as spectator at its formation. At the end of the last century, like a moulting insect, it underwent a metamorphosis. Its ancient organization is dissolved; it tears away its most precious tissues and falls into convulsions which seem mortal. Then, after multiplied throes and a painful lethargy, it re-establishes itself. But its organization is no longer the same: by silent interior travail a new being is substituted for the old. In 1808, its leading characteristics are decreed and defined : departments, arondissements ^cantons and communes, no change has since taken place in its exterior divisions and functions; Concordat, Code, Tribunals, University, Institute, Prdfets, Council of State, Taxes, Collectors, Cours des Comptes, a uniform and centralized administration, its principal organs, are still the same; nobility, commoners, artisans, peasants, each class has henceforth the position, the sentiments, the traditions which we see at the present day. Thus the new creature is at once stable and com¬ plete ; ^consequently its structure, its instincts and its faculties mark in advance the circle within which its thought and its action will be stimulated. Around it, other nations, some precocious,

PREFACE.

viii

others backward, all with greater cautiousness, some with better success, operate in like manner the transformation which transfers them from the feudal to the modem order of things ; the gesta¬ tion is universal and all but simultaneous. But, beneath the new forms as beneath the ancient, the weak is always the prey of the strong. Woe -to those whose too lingering evolution surrenders them to the neighbor suddenly emancipated from his chrysalis state, and the first to go forth fully armed ! Woe likewise to him whose too violent and too abrupt evolution has badly balanced his internal economy, and who, through the exaggeration of his governing forces, through the deterioration of his deep-seated organs, through the gradual impoverishment of his vital tissues is doomed to inconsiderate acts, to debility, to impotency, amidst sounder and better balanced neighbors! In the organization which France effected for herself at the beginning of the century, all the general lines of her contemporary history were traced,— political revolutions, social Utopias, division of classes, policy of the church, conduct of the nobility, of the comSnonalty, and of the people, the development, the direction, or deviation of philosophy, of letters and of the arts. Hence, when we wish to understand our present condition our attention always reverts to the terrible and fruitful crisis by which the ancient regime pro¬ duced the Revolution, and the Revolution the new regime.

Ancient regime, Revolution, new regime, I am going to try to describe these three conditions with exactness. 01 presume to declare here that I have no other object in r view. A historian may.be allowed to act as a naturalist: I have confronted my subject as I would the metamorphosis of an insect. Moreover, the event is so interesting in itself it is worth the trouble of being observed for itself alone, and no effort is required to exclude mental reservations. Partiality being set aside, curiosity becomes scientific and is wholly centred in the secret forces which guide the marvellous process. These forces are the situation, the -pas* sions, the ideas, the wills of each group, and we are able to distinguish them, almost to measure them. They lie under our

PREFACE .

ix eyes; we are not reduced to conjectures about them, to uncertain divinations, to vague indications. By singular good fortune we perceive the men themselves, their exterior and their interior. The French of the ancient regime are still within range of our observation. Each of us, in our youth, has been'able to associate with some of the survivors of this vanished society. Many of their mansions still remain with their apartments and furniture intact. By means of their pictures and engravings* we follow them in their domestic life, we see their costumes, their attitudes and their gestures. With their literature, their philosophy, their sciences, their gazettes, and their correspondences, we can repro¬ duce all their thoughts, and even their familiar conversation. A multitude of memoirs, issuing for the past thirty years from public and private archives, lead us from one drawing-room to another as if we were introduced into them. The letters and journals of travellers from other countries control and complete, by their independent delineations, the portraits which this society has traced of ijself. It has set forth everything pertaining to itself except what it regarded as commonplace and familiar to its contemporaries, what appeared technical, tiresome and vulgar, what affected the province, the commonalty, the peasant, the artisan, the administration and the household. I was desirous of supplying these omissions, and, outside the small circle of learned and cultured Frenchmen, of comprehending France. Owing to the kindnes^ o£ M. Maury and the precious indications of M. Boutaric, I have examined a mass of manuscript documents-*, the correspondence of a large number of intendants, directors’ of excise, farmers-general, magistrates, employes, and private persons of every kind and of every degree during tKe thirty last years of the ancient regime, the reports and memorials of the various departments of the royal household, the firotis-verbaux and cahiers of the States-General, in one hundred and seventy-six volumes, jcorrespondence of the military officers in 1789 .and 1790, the letters, memoirs and statistical details contained in the hundred cartons of the ecclesiastical committee, the correspondence in

PREFACE.

ninety-four files of the departmental and municipal administra¬ tions with the ministers from 1790 to 1799, the reports of the councillors of State on their mission at the end of 1801, the correspondence of pr6fets under the Consulate, the Empire, and under the Restoration up to 1823, and a number of documents so unknown and so instructive that, indeed, the history of the Revolution seems still unpublished. At least, we have but these documents to show us living figures, the petty nobles, curates, monks and nuns of the provinces, lawyers, aldermen and bour¬ geoisie of the towns, the rural attorneys and village syndics, the laborers and artisans, officers and soldiers. These only enable us to see, nearly in detail, the condition of men, the interior of a parsonage, of a convent, of a town council, the wages of a workman, the produce of a field, the taxes imposed on a peasant, the occupation of a collector, the outlay of a noble or of a prelate, the budget, the retinue and ceremonial of a court. Owing to these we can give precise figures, and know, hour by hour, the occupation of a day, and, better still, ^tell the order of a bill of fare, and recompose an ostentatious toilet. We have, again, marked out on paper and classed by dates the varieties of dress worn by the queen, Marie Antoinette, and, on the other hand, we can picture to ourselves the attire of a peasant, describe his bread, state the kinds of flour composing it, and give in sous and denkrs how much it cost him a pound. With such resources one becomes almost the contemporary of the mfc whose history one writes, and, more than once, at the Archfves, in tracing their handwriting on the yellow paper, I was tempted to speak to them aloud.

August, 1875.

Contents

Preface,

Book First. The Structure Of Society

v

Chapter I.i

The origin of privileges.—I. Services and recompenses of the clergy, p. i,— XI. Services and recompenses of the nobles, p. 4. —III. Services and recompenses of the king, p. 9.

Chapter II .13

Privileges. —I. Number of the privileged classes, p. 13.—II. Their pos¬ sessions, capital, and revenue, p. 13.—III. Their immunities, p 16.—IV. Their feudal rights.—These advantages the remains of primitive sover¬ eignty, p. 19.—V. They may be justified by local and general services, p. 26.

Chapter III.28

Local services due by the privileged classes. —I. Examples in Ger¬ many and England.—These services not rendered by the privileged classes in France, p. 28. —II. Resident seigniors.—Remains of the be¬ neficent feudal spirit.—They are not rigorous with their tenants but no longer retain tie local government.—Their isolation.—Insignificance or mediocrity of theii* means of subsistence.—Their expenditure.—Not in a condition to remit dues.—Sentiments of the peasantry towards them, p. 30.—III. Absentee seigmors.—Vast extent of their fortunes and rights. — Possessing greater advantages they owe greater services.— Reasons for their absenteeism.—Effect of it.—Apathy of the provinces. —Condition of their estates.—They give no alms.—Misery of their tenantry.—Exactions of their farmers.—Exigencies of their debts.— State of their justiciary.—Effects of their hunting rights.—Sentiments of the peasantry towards them, p. 40.

QH4PTE2?. IV.60

Public services due by the privileged classes.— I. An English ex¬ ample.—The privileged class renders no service in France.—The influ¬ ence and rights which remain to them.—They use them only for them¬ selves, p. 60.—II. Assemblies of the clergy.—They serve only ecclesiasxii

CONTENTS.

tical interests.—The clergy exempted from taxation.—Solicitations of its agents.—Its zeal against the protestants, p. 61.—III. Influence of the no¬ bles.—Regulations in their favor.—Preferments obtained by them in the church.—Distribution of bishoprics and abbeys.—Preferments obtained by them from the State.—Governments, offices, sinecures, pensions, gra¬ tuities.—Instead of being useful they are an expense, p. 64.—IV, Isolation of the chiefs.—Sentiments of subordinates.—Provincial nobility.—The curates, p. 7e.—V. The king.—The most privileged of all.—Having mo¬ nopolized all powers, he takes upon himself their functional activity.— The burden of this task.—He evades it or is incompetent.—His con¬ science at ease.—France is his property.—How he abuses it.—Royalty the center of abuses, p. 77. —VI. Latent disorganization in France, p. 84.

Chapter I .86

The principle of social habits under the ancient regime. —The Court and a life of pomp and parade.—I. The physical aspect and the moral character of Versailles, p. 87.— II. The king’s household.—Its officials and expenses.—His military family, Ips stable, kennel, chapel, attendants, table, chamber, wardrobe, outhouses, furniture, journeys, p. 91.—III. The society of the king.—Officers of |he household.—In¬ vited guests, p. 98.—IV. The king’s occupations.—-Rising in the morn¬ ing, mass, dinner, walks, hunting, supper, play, evening receptions.— He is always on parade and before company, p. 104.—V. Diversions, of the royal family and of the court.—Louis XV.—Louis XVI., p. 109.— VI. Other similar lives.—Princes and princesses.—Seigniors of the court.—Financiers and parvenus.—Ambassadors, ministers, governors, officiers-g€n6raux, p. 113. —VII. Prelates, seigniors and minor provincial nobles.—The feudal aristocracy transformed into a drawing-room group, p. 119. ^

Chapter II. %> . 123

Drawing-room life. —I. Perfect only in Franc?.—Reasons for this de¬ rived from the French character.—Reasons derived from the tone of the court—This life becomes more and more agreeable and absorbing, p. 123.—II. Subordination to it of other interests and duties.—Indifference to public affairs.—They are merely a subject of jest—Neglect of private affairs.—Disorder in the household and abuse of money, p. 126.—III. Moral divorce of husfiand and wife.—Gallantry.—Separation of parents and children.—Education, its object and omissions.—The tone of servants and purveyors.—Pleasure-seeking, universal, p. 131.—IV. The charm of this life.—Good-breeding in the 18th Century.—Its perfection and its resources.—Taught and prescribed under feminine authority, pfi^S. —V. What constitutes happiness in the 18th Century.—The fascination of display.—Indolence, recreations, light conversation, p. 143.—VI. Gayety in the 18th Century.—Its causes and effects.—Toleration and

CONTENTS. xiii

license.—Balls, fgtes, hunts, banquets, pleasures.— Freedom of the magistrates and prelates, p. 147.—VII. The principal diversion, elegant comedy.—Parades and extiavagance, p. 152,

Chapter III.157

Disadvantages of this drawing-room life. —I. Its barrenness and artificiality.—Return to nature and sentiment, p. 157.—II. Its impres¬ sionability the final tiait which completes the physiognomy of the century.—Date of its advent.—Its symptoms in art and in literature.— Its dominion in private.—Its affectations.—Its sincerity.—Its delicacy, p. 160.—III. The failings of character thus formed.—Adapted to om situation but not to a contrary situation.—Defects of intelligence.—De¬ fects of disposition.—Such a character is disarmed by good-breeding, p. 165.

Chapter I.170

The composition of the revolutionary spirit.— Scientific acquisitions its first element.—I. The accumulation and progress of discoveries in science and in nature.—They serve as a starting-point for the new phi¬ losophers, p. 170—II. fhange of the point of view in the science of man.— It is detached from theology and is united with the natural sciences, p. 175?—III. The transfoimations of history.—Voltaire.— Criticism and conceptions of unity.—Montesquieu.—An outline of social laws, 177.—IV. The transformation of psychology.—Condillac.—The

theory of sensation and of signs, p. 181.—V. The analytical method._

Its principle.—The conditions requisite to make it productive.—These conditions wanting or inadequate in the i8lh century.—The truth and survival of the principle, p. 183.

Chapter II. .184

The classic s*iiut, the second element.— I. Its signs, duration and power.—Its origin and public supporters.—Its vocabulary, grammar and style.—Its method, merits and defects, p. 184.—II. Its original de¬ ficiency.—Signs of this in the 18th century.—It grows with time and success.—Proofs of this growth in the 18th century.—Serious poetry, the drama, history and romances.—Short-sighte<^ views of man and of human existence, p. 194.—HI. The philosophic method in conformity with it.—Ideology.—Abuse of the mathematjpal process.—Condillac, Rousseau, Mably, Condorcet, Volney, Sieyfcs, Cabanis, and de Tracy, —Excesses of simplification and boldness in organizing, p, 201.

Chapter III .. ,204

Combination of the two elements. -I. The doctrine, its pretensions, and its character.—A new authority for reason in the regulation of human affairs.—Government thus far traditional, p. 204.—II. Origin, nature and value of hereditary prejudice.—How far custom, religion and government

XIV

CONTENTS.

are legitimate, p. 207 —III. The classic intellect incapable of accepting this point of view.—The past and present titles of tradition misunder¬ stood.—Reason undertakes to set them aside, p. 211.—IV. Two stages in this operation.—Voltaire, Montesquieu, the deists and the reformers represent the first one.—What they destroy and what they respect, p. 214. —V. The second stage, a return tonatuie.—Diderot, d’Holbachand the materialists.—Theory of animated matter and spontaneous organization. —The morfcl of animal instinct and self-interest properly understood, p. 21 6.—VI. Rousseau and the spiritualists.—The original goodness of man.—The mistake 'committed by civilization.—The injustice of property and of society, p. 221.—VII. The forlorn hope of the philosophic party. —Naigeon, Sylvain Marshal, Mably, Morelly.—The entire discredit of traditions and institutions derived from it, p. 230.

Chapter IV.232

The organization of society in the future. —I. The mathematical method.—Definition of man in the abstract.—The social contract.—Inde¬ pendence and equality of the contractors.—All equal before the law and each sharing in the sovereignty, p. 232.— II. The first result.—The theory easily applied.—Confidence in it due to belief in man’s inherent goodness and reasonableness, p. 234.—III. The inadequacy and fragility of reason in man.—The rarity and inadequacy of reason in humanity, —Subordination of reason in human conduct.— Brutal and dangerous forces.—The nature and utility of government.—Gpvernment impossible under the new theory, p. 238.—IV. The second result.—The new theory leads to despotism.—Precedents for this theory.—Administrative central¬ ization.—The Utopia of the Economists.—Invalidity of preceding rights. —Collateral associations not tolerated.—Complete alienation of the in¬ dividual from the community.— Rights of the State in relation to property, education and religion.—The State a Spartan convent, p. 244. —V. Complete triumph and last excesses of classic reason.—How it be¬ comes monomania.—Why its work is not enduring, p. 250,

Book Fourth. * *

r

THE PROPAGATION OF THE DOCTRINE.

Chapter I.252

Success of this philosophy in France.— Failure of the same philoso¬ phy in England.—I. Causes of this difference.—The art of writing in France.—Its superiority at this epoch.—It serves as the vehicle of new ideas.—Books are written for people of the world.—The philosophers are people of the world and consequently writers.—This accounts for philoso¬ phy descending to the drawing-room, p. 253.—II. Owing to this method it bfecomes popular, p. 256.—III. Owing to style it becomes ^pleasing.— Two stimulants peculiar to the 18th century, coarse humor and irony, p. 257.—IV. The art and processes of the masters.—Montesquieu.—Vol¬ taire,—Diderot—Rousseau.—“The Marriage of Figaro,” p. 259,

CONTENTS.

xv

Chapter II .277

The French public. —I. The Aristocracy.—Novelty commonly repug¬ nant to it.—Conditions of this repugnance.—Example in England, p, 277.—II. The opposite conditions found in France.—Indolence of the upper class.—Philosophy seems an intellectual drill.—Besides this, a subject for conversation.—Philosophic converse in thS 18th century.— Its superiority and its charm.—The influence it exercises, p. 279.—III. Further effects of indolence.— The sceptical, licentious and seditious spirit.— Previous resentment and fresh discontent at the established order of things.—Sympathy for the theories against it.—How far ac¬ cepted, p. 284.—IV. Their diffusion among the upper class.—Progress of incredulity in religion.—Its causes.—It breaks out under the Regency.— Increasing irritation against the clergy.—Materialism in the drawing¬ room.—Estimate of the sciences.—Final opinion on religion.—Scepti¬ cism of the higher clergy, p. 287.—V. Progress of political opposition. —Its origin.—The economists and the parliamentarians.—They prepare the way for the philosophers.— Political fault-finding in the drawing¬ rooms.—Female liberalism, p. 294.—VI. Infinite, vague aspirations.— Generosity of sentiments and of conduct.—The mildness and good intentions of the government.—Its blindness and optimism, p. 297.

Chapter III ..305

The middle CLASS.—I. .The former spirit of the Third-Estate. — Public matters conceriuthe king only.—Limits of the Jansenist and parliament¬ arian opposition, p. 305.—II. Change in the condition of the bourgeois.— He becomes wealthy.—He makes loans to the State.—The danger of his creditorship.—He interests himself in public matters, p. 307.—III. He rises on the social ladder.—The noble draws near to him.—He becomes cultivated.—He enters into society.—He regards himself as the equal of the noble.—Privileges an annoyance, p. 311.—IV. Philosophy in the minds thus fitted for it.—That of Rousseau prominent.—This philosophy in harmony with new necessities,—It is adopted by the Third-Estate, p. 315.—V. Ijg effect therein.—The formation of revolutionary passions.— Levelling instiflcts.—The craving for dominion.—The Third-Estate de¬ cides that it constitutes the nation.—Chimeras, ignorance, exaltation, p. V9.—VI. Summary, p. 327,

Chapter I.329

I. Privations.—Under Louis XIV.—Under Louis XV.—Under Louis XVI, p. 329.—II. The condition of the peasant during the last thirty years of the Ancient Regime.—His precarious subsistence.—State of agriculture.—Uncultivated farms.—Poor cultivation.—Inadequate wa¬ ges.—Lack of comforts, p. 337.—III, Aspects of the country and of the peasantry, p. 342,—IV. How the peasant -becomes a proprietor.—He

XVI

COXTENTS .

is no Letter off.—Increase of taxes.—He is the “ mule” of the Ancient Regime, p. 345.

Chapter II.349

Taxation the principal cause of misery.— I. Direct taxes.—State of different domains at the end of the reign of Louis XV.—Levies of the tithe-owner and of the fisc.—What remains to the proprietor, p. 349.— II. State of#certain provinces on the outbreak of the Revolution.—The tmlk, and other imposts.—The proportion of these taxes in relation to income.—The sum total immense, p. 351.—III. Four diiect taxes on the common laborer, p. 353.—IV. Collections and seizures, p. 354.—V. Indirect taxes.—The salt-tax and the excise, p. 358.—VI. Why taxation is so burdensome.— Exemptions and privileges, p. 362.— VII. The octrois of towns.—The poor the greatest sufferers, p. 368.—VIII. Com¬ plaints in the memorials, p. 370.

Chapter III.374

Intellectual state of the people. —I. Intellectual incapacity.—How ideas are transfoimpd into marvellous stories, p. 374.—II. Political in¬ capacity.—Interpretation of political rumors and of government action, p. 377.—III. Destructive impulses.—The object of blind rage.—Dis¬ trust of natural leaders.—Suspicion of them changed into hatred.—Dis¬ position of the people in 17S9, p. 379.—IV. Insurrectionary leaders and recruits.—Poachers.—Smugglers and dealers in contraband salt.—Ban¬ ditti.—Beggars and vagabonds.—Advent of brigands.—The people of Paris, p. 380.

Chapter IV.390

I. Military force declines.—How the army is recruited.—How the soldier is treated, p. 390.—II. The social organization is dissolved.—No central rallying-point.—Inertia of the provinces.—Ascendency of Paris, p. 393. —III. Direction of the current.—The people led by lawyers.—Theories and piques the sole surviving forces, p. 395.

Chapter V .... * 398 NOTES

THE ANCIENT RJ&GI'ME,

Chapter I

The Origin of Privileges.—I. Services and Recompenses of the Clergy. —II. Services and Recompenses of the Nobles.—III. Services and Recom¬ penses of the King. ^

r

In 1789 three classes of persons, the Clergy, the Nobles, and the King, occupied the most prominent position in the State, with all the advantages pertaining thereto; namely, authority, property, honors, or, at the very least, privileges, immunities, favors, pensions, preferences, and the like. If they occupied this position for so long a time, it is because for so long a time they had deserved it. They had, in short, through an immense and secular efftfit, constructed by degrees the three principal foundations of modem society.

Iv

Of these three superadded foundations tlie most ancient and deepest was the work of the clergy. For*twelve hundred years and more they had labored upon it, both as architects and work¬ men, at first alone and then almost alone. In the beginning, during the first four centuries, they constituted religion and the church. # Let us ponder over these two words, in order to weigh them well. On the one hand, in a society founded on conquest, hard and cold like a machine of brass, forced by its very struct-

B

2 THE ANCIENT REGIME. book I.

ure to destroy among its subjects all courage to act and all de¬ sire to live, they had proclaimed the “glad tidings,” held forth the “kingdom of God,” preached loving resignation in the hands of a Heavenly Father, inspired patience, gentleness, humility, self-abnegation, and charity, and opened the only issues by which man stifling in the Roman ‘ergastulum* could again breathe and see daylight-r«and this is religion* On the other hand, in a State gradually undergoing depopulation, crumbling away, and fatally becoming a prey, they had formed a living society governed by laws and discipline, rallying around a common object and a common doctrine, sustained by the devotion of chiefs and by the obedience of believers, alone capable of subsisting beneath the flood of barbarians which the empire in ruin suffered to pour in through its breaches—and this is the church.

It continues to build on these two first foundations, and after the invasion, for over five hundred years, it saves what it can still save of human culture. It inarches in the van of the bar¬ barians or converts them directly after their entrance, which is a wonderful advantage. Let us judge of it by a single fact: In Great Britain, which like Gaul had become Latin, but whereof the conqueror# remained pagan during a centifry and a half, arts, industries, society, language, all were destroyed; nothing re¬ mained of an entire people, either massacred or fugitive, but slaves. We have still to divine their traces; reduced to the con¬ dition of beasts of burden, they disappear from history. Such might have been the fate of Europe if the clergy had not promptly tamed the fierce brutes to which it belonged. Before the bishop in his gilded cope, before the monk, “emaciated, clad in skins,” wan, “dirtier and more spotted that a chameleon,” 1 * 3 the converted German stood fear-stricken as before a sorcerer. In his calm moments, after the chase or inebriety, the vague div¬ ination of a mysterious and grandiose future, the dim conception of an unknown tribunal, the rudiment of conscience which he already had in his forests beyond the Rhine, arouses in him through sudden alarms half-formed, menacing visions. At the moment of violating a sanctuary he asks himself whether he may not fall on its threshold with vertigo and a broken neck.*

1 “Les Moines d’Ocddent,” by Montalembert, I. 277; St. Lupicin before the Burgun¬

dian King Chtlpenc, II. 416, St. Karilefif before King Childebert; c£ passim, Gregory of Tours and the Bollandist collection.

3 No legend is more frequently encountered; we find it as late as the twelfth century.

Chap. I. The Structure Of Society

Convicted through his own perplexity, he stops and spares the farm, the village, and the town which live under the priest’s pro¬ tection. If the animal impulse of rage, or of primitive lusts, leads him to murder or to rob, later, after satiety, in times of sickness or of misfortune, taking the advice of his concubine or of his wife, he repents and makes restitution twofold, tenfold, a hundredfold, unstinted in his gifts and immunities. 4 Thus, over the whole territory the clergy maintain and enlarge their asylums for the oppressed and the vanquished. On the other hand, among the warrior chiefs with long hair, by the side of kings clad in furs, the mitred bishop and abbot, with shaven brows, take seats in the assemblies; they alone know how to use the pen and.how to discuss. Secretaries, councillors, theologians, they par¬ ticipate in all edicts; they have their hand in the government; they strive through its agency to bring a little order out of im¬ mense disorder; to render the law more rational and more hu¬ mane, to re-establish or preserve piety, instruction, justice, prop¬ erty, and especially marriage. To their ascendency is certainly due the police system, §uch as it was, intermittent and incom¬ plete, which prev^ited Europe from falling into a Jlongolian an¬ archy. If, down to the end of the twelfth century, the clergy bears heavily on the princes, it is especially to repress in them and beneath them the brutal appetites, the rebellions of flesh and blood, the outbursts and relapses of irresistible ferocity which are undermining the social fabric. Meanwhile, in its churches and in its convents, it preserves the ancient acquisitions of humanity, the Latin tongue, Christian literature and theology, a portion of pagan literatus jnd science, architecture, sculpture, painting, the arts and industries which aid worship, the more valuable indus¬ tries which provide man with bread, clothing, and shelter, and especially the greatest of all human acquisitions, and the most opposed to the vagabond humor of the idle aypid plundering bar¬ barian, the habit and taste for labor. In the districts depopu¬ lated through Roman exactions, through the revolt of the Bagaudes, through the invasion of the Germans, and the raids of brigands, the Benedictine monk built his cabin of boughs amid