The Notables and the Nation: The Political Schooling of the French, 1787–1788 9780674273054

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Harvard Historical Studies

•

157

Published under the auspices of the Department of History from the income of the Paul Revere Frothingham Bequest Robert Louis Stroock Fund Henry Warren Torrey Fund

The Notables and the Nation The Political Schooling of the French, 1787–1788

Vivian R. Gruder

Harvard University Press Cambridge, Massachusetts London, England 2007

Copyright © 2007 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Map on page xii courtesy Bibliothèque Nationale de France Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Gruder, Vivian R. the political schooling of the French, 1787–1788 / Vivian R. Gruder. p. cm.—(Harvard historical studies ; 157) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978–0–674–02534–9 (alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0–674–02534–2 (alk. paper) 1. France—History—Revolution, 1789–1799—Causes. 2. France—Politics and government—18th century. 3. Social classes—France—History—18th century. 4. Press and politics—France—History—18th century. I. Title.

The notables and the nation

:

DC138.G77 2007 944.04—dc22 2007012984

For Carlo and Gabriella

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

Map of France, 1786

xii

Introduction

1 I. The Assembly of Notables: February–May 1787, November–December 1788

1. Paths to Political Consciousness: The Notables in the First Assembly, February–May 1787

11

2. Privilege, Property, and Participation: A Mutation in Elite Political Culture

34

3. The Society of Orders at Its Demise: The Vision of the Elite at the End of the Ancien Régime

61

II. The Media and the Public: Networks of Information, Opinion, Instruction 4. Political News as Coded Messages: The Parisian and Provincial Press, 1787–1788

91

viii

Contents

5. The Foreign French-Language Press: Gazettes

112

6. The Foreign French-Language Press: Journals of Opinion

125

7. Manuscript Newsletters—Nouvelles à la Main

136

8. Pamphlets and Other Writings: A Network of Political Education and Polemics

167

9. Readers and Reading Sites: The Public and the Network of the Printed and Written Media

194

10. The Verbal, the Visual, and the Festive

208

III. At the Grass Roots 11. “Popular” Pamphlets: Political Messages to the Public

253

12. Can We Hear the Voices of Peasants?

292

13. The Grass Roots: Local Judges and Community Assemblies Speak Out

324

Conclusion

365

Appendix A. Chronology

373

Appendix B. Contemporary Accounts of Fêtes, 1787–1788

377

Notes

383

Index

471

Illustrations follow page 224

Acknowledgments

Many months over many years were spent researching the rich collections of pamphlets, newspapers, manuscripts, and illustrations in the Bibliothèque Nationale (now the Bibliothèque Nationale de France) as well as varied document collections in the Salle des Manuscrits; many librarians and library assistants (guardians) offered help in finding materials, transporting them, and permitting me to read fragile works (before many became accessible only in microform). I want to express my gratitude to all of them. More recently the staff of the Salle des Microfilms of the Archives Nationales gained my enduring appreciation for their help, kindness, and friendliness in navigating among the documents and around the difficult working conditions of C.A.R.A.N.; in particular my deep thanks to Gildas Charmel and Fredy Sapotille. The extensive pamphlet collection of the British Library that I briefly touched is one I recommend to scholars. Columbia University’s Seligman collection of pamphlets is another rich source that merits greater familiarity and use. In the early years of research I was fortunate to have the direct tactile experience of working with original sources, now a rarity as microfiches and microfilms increasingly replace the actual books and documents. Financial assistance for my research in France was provided over the years by the American Council of Learned Societies, the Fulbright Travel Grant program, the National Endowment for the Humanities Travel to Collections Grant, many research grants awarded by the Professional Staff Congress-City University of New York (PSC-CUNY, an institution whose beneficence I deeply appreciate), and the History Department of Queens College (CUNY) in which I taught. To those institutions, and to the several chairmen of the History Department, in particular Professor Frank Warren,

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Acknowledgments

I express my gratitude. Some chapters included in this book are revised versions of earlier journal articles; for details, see the headnotes to the note sections at the back of book. Paris is the meeting place for scholars, not only Americans with their French counterparts, but also Americans with each other. In the hallways of the Bibliothèque Nationale and the Archives Nationales and in nearby cafés I have had conversations on eighteenth-century France that have helped to nurture and clarify ideas and arguments. In particular I want to thank David Bien, Thomas Kaiser, and Dale Van Kley for our many discussions; David has been of inestimable help to me for many years. My friends Annie Duprat, Alice Gérard, and Edna Lemay (now deceased) have engaged with me in countless conversations on eighteenth-century and Revolutionary history and historians, and to them my sincere appreciation for stimulating intellectual exchanges. Thanks also to Alice I was able to visit the village of Crévoux in Dauphiné. Président Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and Mme. Anne Aymon Giscard d’Estaing invited me to their chateau, and with Madame as guide I visited the village of Chanonat; I shall never forget their hospitality and friendliness, and I want to express my deep thanks to them. Harvey Chisick and Peter Jones kindly read and offered valuable comments on the chapter on peasant political consciousness, and George Taylor, Timothy Tackett, and Dominique Julia generously provided bibliographical guidance for that same chapter. Paul Benhamou, Thomas M. Adams, Gilles Feyel, and Jacques Guilhaumou provided me with some of their documentation and knowledge drawn from their research, and for their generosity I want to express my deep gratitude. My sincere appreciation to Lynn Hunt for her counsel, and to Patrice Higonnet for his assistance in the publication of this book. I wish to thank my friends Bruna Bocchini and Pier Giorgio Camaiani, in whose idyllic “La Nocella” I wrote two papers that became two chapters of this book. My husband, Carlo Poni, has read many first drafts of the contents of this book and has given me numerous suggestions for improvements, and my daughter Gabriella has shown much patience and understanding with a mother often busy with research and writing; to both of them goes my deepest appreciation. Barbara Goodhouse has provided helpful assistance in the editing of this book, for which I thank her.

The Notables and the Nation

Introduction

Jean Egret (in La Pré-Révolution Française), and before him Alexis de Tocqueville (in the never-completed second volume of notes for his L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution),1 are responsible for the renewed interest of historians of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries in the history of the years immediately preceding the French Revolution of 1789. This book began as an examination of the thesis that the “pre-Revolution,” as Egret termed the two years 1787–1788, was an “aristocratic revolt,” an interpretation common among historians from Albert Mathiez to Georges Lefebvre and including Egret.2 In that interpretive framework the “aristocratic revolt” grew out of an “aristocratic reaction” over the course of the eighteenth century: the nobility’s efforts to entrench and extend their privileges—the reaction— culminated in their attack on the absolute authority of the monarchy and their grasp at political power for themselves—the revolt. Both the aristocratic reaction and the aristocratic revolt were integral parts of the social interpretation of the French Revolution. The latter school of thought more broadly viewed the bourgeoisie and other commoners aroused to revolution by long-standing grievances against the nobility’s privileges and economic interests.3 Over the years, and in the course of research and writing, this study broadened into an examination of public opinion and of the communication network through which opposition to the nobility’s privileges and the monarchy’s absolute power spread among the public. Public opinion and the media for its transmission and expression were becoming lively fields of historical analysis in the last decades of the twentieth century.4 Those years also witnessed the extraordinary experience, especially for historians, of peoples in many countries—in central and eastern Europe, the Soviet 1

2

Introduction

Union, Asia (including China), and elsewhere—rising to demand their participation in government, democratic elections, and the rule of law. Contemporary events dramatically validated the turn in historical inquiry. The evidence from my research of the years 1787–1788 in France puts into question the thesis of an aristocratic revolution as the last stage of an aristocratic reaction. It further disputes the emphasis the social interpretation placed on economic and social forces in favor of political aspirations motivating the French public. Initial consensus for political change among nobles and bourgeois (commoners in general) became political conflict over the distribution of power in a new structure of government. Over the centuries, and at various periods in the eighteenth century, the French Crown faced opposition from the nobility. A leitmotif of this opposition was the nobility’s refusal to accept tax payments that infringed their privilege of fiscal immunity and their efforts to regain power in government. Since the mid-seventeenth century, and especially following Louis XIV’s “domestication” of court nobles, parlementary magistrates assumed the lead, seeking greater authority for their tribunals to execute, modify, and approve laws. Opposition that initiated the Revolution began in 1787 with the Assembly of Notables. Precedent dictated the outcome of the meeting, or so historians believed; since most of the Notables were nobles, their opposition to the royal reforms aimed, as in the past, to preserve their privileges and extend their power. Evidence, however, belies this view. A more complex image emerges from the debates of the Notables, meeting in the first Assembly from February to May 1787. The Notables did not reject the Crown’s proposed new land tax because they too would have to pay it; indeed, they accepted fiscal equality. Their opposition to the new tax advanced another argument with potential broad appeal to the many French people who owned or even cultivated the land: the tax on land was too high. Fiscal opposition together with criticism of the proposed new provincial assemblies introduced other arguments of even greater import and appeal: the nation needed to control the government’s finances and activities through its effective participation in provincial and national government. With its calls against high taxes and for public consent and participation, the Assembly of Notables precipitated the final crisis of the ancien régime. While the Assembly did not originate all the political arguments it voiced, instead melding elements drawn from others before them, its unequivocal demand for a national body—for an estates-general—transformed political discourse in the public both in substance and in quantity. The challenge to

Introduction

3

the royal government that the Notables launched re-echoed in remonstrances of the Paris parlement and of one parlementary tribunal after another, their declarations fundamentally altering the tradition of parlementary constitutionalism. The magistrates ceded to an elected estates-general the lawmaking and representative role that until 1787 they had claimed for their courts. One after another, Notables and magistrates, affirming opposition to new and higher taxes and claiming a role for the nation in government affairs, electrified the public. Their leadership—the leadership of the aristocracy—drew ever wider support among the French. Highlights from these two years reaffirm the magistrates’ leadership, and by extension, that of the aristocracy. In July 1787 the Paris parlement repeated the Notables’ rejection of the Crown’s land tax proposal linked to a demand for the meeting of an estates-general. The government’s exile of the magistrates to the city of Troyes (August–September 1787) accentuated their image as defenders of the public’s interest. In November, when the parlement refused to accept a loan for the government in place of the land tax and in retaliation the Crown exiled three magistrates (including the duc d’Orléans and a leader of the parlementary opposition, Duval d’Eprémesnil), it enlarged its role as guardian of the nation’s liberties, denouncing the use of lettres de cachet against the three parlementarians as acts of despotism. The Crown (in its image as arbitrary despot) and all the parlements in the kingdom (in their role as champions of the public’s rights) converged explosively in the spring of 1788, when the magistrates’ opposition to the government’s restructuring of the judiciary in the May edicts led to the use of military force to close the parlementary tribunals and renewed exile of the magistrates. Support for the parlements was at its zenith in France when the combination of public denunciations and falling tax revenue compelled the Crown in September 1788 to withdraw the judicial reforms, restore all the suppressed courts to their full authority, and convene the estates general for 1789. As swiftly as the Notables and magistrates had acquired leadership and popularity, so swiftly did they lose that leadership and popularity. With the summoning of the estates-general, the aristocracy and a broad public had achieved their common goal. But, in the autumn of 1788, they divided on the questions of how the estates-general should be structured and should function—in short, over what form representation and voting should take. Two groups from what had been a united front brandished their opposing slogans: “vote by order,” championed by the aristocracy, which included most of the magistrates, high clergy, and nobility (soon named the Aristocratic

4

Introduction

party); and “vote by head” and “doubling” of the Third Estate, demanded by the self-named National or Patriot party, composed mostly of commoners and their allies among some of the nobility and lower clergy. These slogans embodied critical cultural and political meaning. The concept of a society composed of three estates structured the aristocracy’s mental vision as it influenced the Third Estate’s outlook, and for each side it became a political stratagem used for different purposes: for the aristocracy, to perpetuate their leadership; for the commoners, to increase their representation and enhance their political role. Joining their voices to those in the Aristocratic party, the second Assembly of Notables that the government reconvened in November–December 1788 to advise on the estates-general affirmed by a large majority its support of vote by order and opposition to doubling of the Third Estate, alienating the public that had accepted its leadership one year earlier. As in a theatrical play, so in this historical drama the opening act began with the meeting of the first Assembly of Notables in February–May 1787 and closed with the meeting of the second Assembly of Notables in November–December 1788. The years 1787–1788 witnessed events and developments that were less than an aristocratic reaction and more than an aristocratic revolution. The preservation of privileges was not always or alone the aim of nobles, and the opposition to the royal government, its ministers, and policies was not exclusive to the aristocracy but engaged an ever broader public. Yet that consensus did not prevail. The aristocracy reverted to invoking privilege to promote political ends. Division ensued, setting much of the aristocracy and virtually all commoners in opposition. The year 1789 opened not with the beginning of the Revolution but its second act. Political issues emerged as preeminent in the events and developments of 1787–1788. That conclusion, drawn from my research, paralleled the growing interest among historians in political aspects of the Revolution and its origins as theories of social interpretation waned. Interest in politics did not revert to a recounting of political facts and acts as in traditional political history, but took myriad new forms: a focus on “discursive” acts, the ideas not of individual authors or of great thinkers but of second-rank writers, of a school of ideas that joined to form a dominant discourse, and of the language in which those ideas held sway; the symbols in word, image, dress, or act that represented a mode of thought and belief; literary genres marginal to the great works but of appeal to the eighteenth-century French public, ranging from judicial briefs (mémoires) to polemical and pornographic di-

Introduction

5

atribes; and the novel democratic ideology expressed through rhetoric and act whose birth in 1789 (or alternately with the “general will” theory of Rousseau) was the force driving the Revolution to greater radicalism.5 These innovative approaches to matters political are understood within the term “political culture.” I wish to include in that category additional elements of the political: notions inchoate in people’s minds that gain clarity in the face of everyday difficulties; thoughts inherited from the distant past that shape people’s outlook on society and government in a later day; simple beliefs of ordinary people drawn from a mix of collective memory and myth; and ideas born of new values that acquire force in response to actual problems and gain concreteness and coherence in the form of programmatic goals. In short, the encounter between mind and experience, the evolution from dissatisfaction or aspiration to practical solutions. Interest in political culture has directed historians’ attention to the opinions of the public, whose voice and acts manifest that culture. The words “public” and “public opinion” are vague terms that historians tend to question and seek to define. What constitutes that public, what was its opinion or opinions, and how may we gain access to it (or them)? How did news and views circulate in the late eighteenth century in the absence of modern technologies of communication? We must follow this path and explore the practices that enabled opposition to spread among the public during 1787–1788 and discover what constituted the network of communications of the time—in short, make a study of the media in its many facets. In recent decades historians have enlarged our knowledge of the media in the ancien régime with individual studies of newspapers, periodicals, pamphlets, manuscript newsletters, songs and iconography, reading groups, and festivities.6 In this book I examine not one but all these various media through which news was transmitted and ideas, grievances, and arguments were expressed. Some media offer multiple perspectives: recounting news; voicing individual opinion; offering glimpses of thoughts and reactions in the public; and/or interpreting and characterizing collective action. Others offer a limited perspective: the access to information available for the French; or the thoughts of a single individual. It is also important to explore how new ideas emerge from within traditional practices; a revolution may not be spawned new in all ways. Studying several media may entail recounting the same events through differing perspectives, yet in compensation this method opens multiple entryways into the public’s experience and illumines the complex circuits of information in the late ancien régime.7

6

Introduction

In the quest to understand public opinion, the Habermasian sociological construct of the “public sphere” and Keith M. Baker’s theoretical concept of the public as a “tribunal” judging opinion have spurred, and inspired, historians.8 The approach here is different; it is to explore public opinion as a concrete political and social body in close relationship to ongoing and unfolding events and actions. My reading of the media in 1787–1788, contextually and intertextually, led me to other divergences from some current interpretations or their implications. No single literary form or genre, no single body of ideas, and no single person exercised exclusive or paramount influence. This assertion applies to any individual periodical, even the pamphlet form alone; to the philosophes’ Enlightenment ideas; to the magistrates’ parlementary constitutionalism and political Jansenism; and to any single writer, including the much-cited abbé Sieyès.9 None of these singly or uniquely molded the public’s outlook or directed the course of events. Many forms of writing and several schools of thought had weight and formed an amalgam from which contemporaries drew and appropriated to suit their interests and for their particular purposes. Yet the sources do reveal one outstanding common feature: political issues drove the media and held the attention of the French public from 1787 to 1788. Even diatribes against ministers, the queen or the king, and the rare (in those years) pornography in word or image10 used an immoral veneer of personal attack to propel political motives and aims. Along with well-known authors— theoreticians and historians, publicists and polemicists—novice writers and those anonymous made their contributions to the growing political discourse. What began as a dialogue between two parties became a dialectic of three. The Crown’s proposals provoked the aristocracy’s counterproposals which attracted public support. Involvement in the public arena and unfolding developments induced greater autonomy among commoners and the end of consensus between aristocrats and commoners as each espoused opposing claims for the estates-general. Proposals and counterproposals, claims and counterclaims, created and shaped events. Responding to government policies, nobles and commoners sharpened their sense of common goals; reacting to their contrary political ambitions heightened their consciousness of conflicting aims. Through the many prisms of the media we may discern this trajectory of events and opinions as news and views were disseminated to the public and different groups within the public voiced their same or differing opinions.

Introduction

7

Some writings were erudite and theoretical; others were simple and familiar, addressed and appealing to a broad public of ordinary French men and women. Quickly more of the French turned their attention to political issues and engaged in political discourse, even action. A focus on the grass roots—ordinary people at the local level—through what was written to them, about them, and by them was a logical extension in following the path of widening political criticism and opposition in the years 1787–1788. Rich and fascinating sources illumined the grass roots. Not only pamphlets in the form of dialogues, catechisms, plays, and letters, but actual correspondence, memoirs of officials, and minutes of community assemblies recounted the words and actions of local people. In meetings in villages, bourgs, and towns as well as in small and large cities, notables in the Third Estate debated, and residents, who included bourgeois, artisans, and peasants, expressed their views and voted on issues of taxation, the suffrage, and representation. Assembly communicated with assembly near and far across the kingdom, their contacts forging ties and reinforcing concord among them—until discord also divided the Third Estate. Their words as they assembled several times from November 1788 to February 1789, and as they resonate across the centuries, testify to their primary aim: to affirm and ensure their participation in public affairs and their equitable representation in political institutions through an effective system of voting. The principle of liberty was foremost for these local French people, and the principle of equality, in their legal and political applications, reinforced that desired goal of political liberty.11 High aspirations ultimately ended in unrealized achievement. What follows is divided into three parts. The first part examines the Assembly of Notables that met from February to May 1787, and then again in November–December 1788. The members of the Assembly brought with them experiences and ideas that prepared some for opposition to the Crown, left others as loyal royalists, and caused still others to undergo a political transformation. Their debates on financial issues, especially the proposed land tax reform, led them to criticize the Crown’s fiscal management and policy and inexorably to make claims to participate in more and more activities of government, a counterprogram that attracted public support. Calls for participation in turn led to discussions in 1787 of representation in provincial assemblies, and in 1788 to representation in a national estatesgeneral. The latter broke a national consensus and inaugurated division between aristocrats and the broader public.

8

Introduction

The second part follows the dissemination of political news and views in 1787–1788: news of opposition to the Crown, arguments against its policies and in favor of new grounds for governance, and reports of the public’s reactions and actions. Several media are examined, illuminating the many ways people in the eighteenth century became informed, formed their ideas, and voiced their views: newspapers and periodicals, both local and foreign; manuscript newsletters (eighteenth-century versions of the blogs of today); pamphlets; sites such as bookstores for reading this material; and songs, poems, imagery, and festive gatherings. The third part takes us to the grass roots. Indirectly through several genres of popular writings, their simple and familiar polemical and comical modes addressed to a broad public. Two pamphlets, one by the priestspokesman of a “rustic society,” the other in the name of a village community, reveal the attitudes and thoughts of peasants in that day. The latter, the deliberation of a community assembly, was not unique. The last chapter, an analysis of hundreds of deliberations of local communities throughout the country in late 1788–early 1789, brings us a direct view of ordinary French people who deliberated on major issues of representation and voting in preparation for the highly anticipated meeting of the estates-general. Now let us turn to see how the diverse French public developed a political consciousness that led them into Revolution.

1 Paths to Political Consciousness The Notables in the First Assembly, February–May 1787

Not since 1626 had there been such a national assemblage in France. On the morning of 22 February 1787, princes, prelates and peers, marshals, nobles and magistrates, royal councilors, municipal representatives, and deputies of provincial estates arrayed in ceremonial costumes filed into the Hôtel des Menus Plaisirs in Versailles and took their places in assigned hierarchical rank and distance from the king. So began the Assembly of Notables. The king, Louis XVI, his chief judicial officer the keeper of the seals, and the controller general of finance delivered their speeches; the first president of the Paris parlement and the archbishop of Narbonne, in the name of the magistracy and clergy of France, responded with praise for the Crown, and the members of the Assembly were then assigned to one of seven bureaux (or committees) for their deliberations.1 The next day the Notables met again in general session to receive the first reform measures from the controller general, and on 24 February they began to discuss the royal proposals in their bureaux. Membership in the Assembly mirrored long-standing social relations, the examples of earlier assemblies guiding the selection of Notables in 1787.2 To historical precedent the controller general Calonne added political considerations to ensure an assembly with neither frondeurs (perennial critics) to wreak havoc on the Crown’s plans, nor courtiers to impugn its integrity. Calonne intended to appoint as Notables public officials who were “distinguished” and independent enough to attract public confidence and support for their decisions, yet loyal in the king’s service. Thus he reduced the number of sovereign court judges initially selected, reasoning that magistrates along with the high clergy would most likely be the Crown’s principal opponents. He increased the number of nobles as well as the municipal 11

12

The Assembly of Notables

representatives, since he believed the nobles had for some time served the king loyally while the population increase in many cities since 1626 warranted their representation in the Assembly.3 Of the final 144 Notables, there were seven princes of the blood, fourteen archbishops and bishops, thirtysix nobles (most of them military and provincial commanders), thirty-eight high officers of the sovereign courts, twelve royal councilors, twelve deputies of provincial estates, and twenty-five municipal representatives. The Assembly of 1787 was both more urban and more noble, in the groups represented, than were its predecessors.4 Regardless of their designated categories, the members were overwhelmingly noble. All but two (possibly five) of the Notables belonged to the noble order,5 demonstrating in their persons the frequent overlapping of nobility and public service. Public officials drawn from the nobility or from those whose social rise brought noble status characterized late ancien régime society. Yet despite Calonne’s juggling of categories and numbers in list after list in an attempt to change the traditional pattern to suit the Crown’s needs and the composition of society, the controller general’s plan foundered. The ceremonial play of symbols with which the Assembly of Notables began recalled the past, yet its visible image was deceptive, and its outcome contrary to design. Beneath historic forms new forces were at work. Summoned before their king, the Notables were asked to approve the most ambitious reform program the Bourbon monarchy had yet devised. However beneficent the reforms, they evoked little sympathy and support from the Crown’s hand-picked subjects, contrary to what the king and minister expected and contemporary opinion initially assumed in jest and derision. Instead, the Notables engaged in criticism that led them ever deeper into opposition. What turned these supposedly loyal, even obsequious councilors into unexpected adversaries? Personal animosity and intrigue were not, as contemporaries assumed, the sole explanation, however much they disliked and distrusted Calonne for his role in the 1760s in punishing the Breton parlement, for his intellectual conceit and certainty of quick success, or for his involvement in land exchanges and stock market speculation with losses to the royal treasury.6 After Calonne’s dismissal in early April the Notables continued to oppose obdurately the Crown’s reforms and the new minister, Loménie de Brienne, despite his having been, as a member of the Assembly, a leader in the campaign against Calonne. The dramatis personae might change but the Notables’ opposition persisted, impelled by forces deeper

Paths to Political Consciousness

13

and more enduring than sympathy for or antipathy toward individual ministers.7 Nor were they reenacting the past, defending particular privileges and interests, although some old habits and attitudes emerged. Group vied against group—princes of the blood against marshals, archbishops, and peers; parlementary judges against other high court judges, nobles, and clergy; mayors against mayors.8 A few defended the privileges of their institution, order, or province. One Notable, the mayor of Troyes, feared this specter from the past: “there could well be, as there already was in 1626 and in earlier assemblies, disputes and protests over rank and precedence.”9 Claims were voiced, yet were left aside. As early as the first week of the Assembly the president of the Parlement of Lorraine, Coeurderoy, recorded in his journal with evident relief and satisfaction: “No one has engaged in any wrangling over precedence. It is impressive the slight importance given to all these trifles which in all the other assemblies . . . seemed to have preoccupied all minds. . . . Here the greatest harmony has always prevailed at least in appearance.”10 Other arguments whose importance the Notables recognized gained primacy. The peaceful times of the late 1780s permitted the Notables to deliberate, question, and explore the problems they were asked to resolve. They sensed also the need for a new strategy, a new mode of combat to maximize their strength and make them effective in the contest with the Crown. In the issues they addressed, the Notables advanced interests and advocated policies whose appeal extended to many groups—nobles and non-nobles, bourgeois and peasants, public officials and private citizens—who shared similar concerns. They linked their criticisms of and demands for policy changes to an overriding purpose: to transform political authority. This goal riveted public attention on the instruments of government authority and the interests Frenchmen had in common, giving to the opposition the Notables initiated unparalleled clarity, unity, and force.

Prior to the Meeting They had set out for Versailles from different parts of France—from Flanders to Provence, from Brittany to Dauphiné, from Auvergne to Touraine. What paths had these Notables earlier traversed that would bring them to political opposition to the Crown? What experiences weakened their loyalties, making their allegiance ambivalent? What led them to a common meetingplace of minds for which the Assembly provided the setting? How

14

The Assembly of Notables

did they come to advocate policies that drew wide public support in a new contest with the Crown? Among the Notables arriving in Versailles in the winter of 1787, few left evidence—either explicit comments or indirect disclosures—with which to piece together the experiences, attitudes, and inner thoughts that made them actual or potential opponents of the Crown. For only four or five is there any testimony of their response to books, ideas, and writers, or of their attitudes toward public life as these were formed through their activities as public officials. Public experience provided the knowledge, setbacks, and discontents—a sense of the public’s desires and fears as well as its hopes and ambitions—from which the Notables drew their arguments against the royal government and sought to change it. This microhistory follows the prosaic ways in which opposition formed among a few Notables within the political culture of the elite in the late ancien régime.

The Brienne Brothers Loménie de Brienne, sixty years of age, archbishop of Toulouse and soonto-be royal minister, and his younger brother, the comte de Brienne, age fifty-seven, lieutenant general in the royal army, were both in the Assembly. The count was assigned to the first bureau and the archbishop to the second bureau. They were scions of a family ennobled in the late sixteenth century, elevated to high ministerial posts in the early seventeenth century, but which in the second half of that century suffered political eclipse.11 Although the grandfather and father were only provincial nobles, their wealth and lands were plentiful, all of which the comte de Brienne inherited. By the terms of his marriage contract in 1757, he received the comté de Brienne in Champagne (originally obtained from the ducal family of Luxembourg) with its “cities, burgs, villages, and parishes” and “all the seigneurial and judicial rights.” In addition, he was given 500,000 livres as an advance on the succession and assumed all his parents’ remaining property upon their death. The archbishop of Toulouse obtained little of the family wealth, only 20,000 livres as an inheritance from his maternal grandmother, but as archbishop he received annually an income of 90,000 livres. In addition, he had the rights to several abbeys, prebendaries, and priories which assured him munificent resources.12 The public roles of the brothers, especially of the archbishop, restored the family name to prominence. Both, through their high posts in the Church and in

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the army, performed as loyal servitors of their sovereign—outwardly, at least. Archbishop of Toulouse since 1763, Loménie de Brienne was engaged in many public tasks. As head of his archdiocese he was active in setting up workshops for the unemployed, establishing a school for midwives, and promoting primary education. As archbishop he was a member of the estates of Languedoc, through whose activities he extended his involvement in provincial affairs—in construction projects (including the canal de Brienne), public health measures, and the financing of these policies. During these years he acquired an invaluable apprenticeship in local finance and in the practices of provincial self-government, which would mold his outlook on public affairs.13 In 1774 the new controller general, Turgot, appointed Loménie to head a commission to investigate the problem of mendicancy and recommend new policies, and in the following year he formulated his proposals for work projects for the poor (ateliers de charité) in place of incarceration in dépôts de mendicité.14 Looming large in the pages of this memoir was the archbishop’s experience in provincial administration. His thoughts on royal government at its apex were marginal and ambivalent. He lashed out at favoritism and intrigue, the use of public monies in unknown ways, and the indecisiveness and shifts in policy that made the Crown’s efforts uncoordinated and ineffectual. In Loménie’s opinion, the government seemed to swing from “anarchy” to “despotism.” Louis XV’s reign nonetheless, he recognized, made serious attempts at reform: “Enlightenment grew every day, and seemed to lead the administration to its perfection.”15 “Religion and humanity” he once cited as the principles that induced him to favor work for the poor and care for foundlings and the ill, guiding his judgment of public policy.16 Yet government at the grass roots was his principal point of reference. Familiarity with the needs and capacities of the local population and knowledge and appreciation of practice as a guide to policy grew out of his work in Languedoc and shaped his proposals. In elaborating his arguments for changes in aid to the poor, ideas on new practices in public finance and administration took shape in his mind which would become sharpened in the following decade and be his contribution to the debates of the Notables. No tax increase but government economies and improved administrative efficiency, Loménie believed, were the ways to finance policy—less waste

16

The Assembly of Notables

would make more money available for use. Government had to reduce the costs of tax collection, limit and control expenditures, and introduce policies less costly but equally or more effective. (Only when he became minister in May 1787 did he realize that economies alone could not eliminate the deficit.) Tax reform, while necessary, should follow rather than precede changes in financial practice: “it will be easier to reform when its use will be clearly justified.” He also believed that relations between the administration and the public should be changed. To foster popular confidence in administrators required that the public have information, control, and access to records in order to know who received government money and how much, and to ensure that the money would be well spent. (In 1775 Loménie applied these principles to poor relief; in 1787 he and the Notables extended their application to royal pensions, the annual budget, expenditure accounts, and tax assessments.) Only public scrutiny could prevent waste and arbitrary taxation, guaranteeing “the good employment of revenues, their useful distribution and a wise economy.”17 From financial and administrative practices, Loménie turned to the structure of public administration. The dépôts de mendicité, which royal intendants supervised (and private contractors operated),18 failed to curtail begging, but more importantly they carried out their work in “obscurity,”“independent” of local inhabitants, thus raising suspicion however unmerited about their functioning—“All administration which remains secret cannot complain if it is suspected.” Instead, Loménie argued, public relief must be administered locally. Since France lacked autonomous municipal governments, he proposed that local bureaux be established to supervise and control poor relief. Members should include designated representatives of the three orders—the seigneur, parish priest, and local judge—plus others periodically elected (the same composition that Loménie would recommend for parish assemblies in 1787). Local funds would finance the program, and the royal government would also turn over tax revenue allotted for poor relief to the bureaux. A distinction had to be drawn between national and local administration, for the tasks of the royal government and treasury were too great to permit exact supervision of local services. National expenditures and administration, he argued, should apply to policies national in scope, but for local purposes there should be local expenditures and administration. Institutions run by local residents openly and under public control would be better informed about problems, more economical and careful in spending public money, and more able to gain the public’s trust.

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Local administration would also permit social experiments that could become models for the nation. The practice in Languedoc, for example, of paying a living wage to those on work relief, Loménie proposed to extend to the entire kingdom. Uniform policy nationwide would ensure that burdens would not be greater in one place than in another: “When the law will be equal for the entire kingdom, universality will make it just, and its execution will be easier,” Loménie concluded. Local administration would permit uniform laws to be adapted to different conditions. “The spirit must be the same, the means varying according to the circumstances,” he reasoned. Loménie’s preference for a system of local self-government within a framework of uniform national laws was already clear in the mid-1770s.19 For the public roles the Brienne brothers performed, they were summoned to the Assembly of Notables. Prior to their arrival in Versailles, the count and the archbishop reflected on the upcoming meeting, and put their thoughts on paper in the privacy of their studies. This silent testimony reveals their carefully reasoned opposition to royal policy and its structure of power.20 Loménie prepared himself for the Assembly by anticipating problems and proposals and arriving at possible responses he believed the Notables should make. The comte de Brienne did similarly, and the two brothers arrived at closely linked lines of thought that may have resulted from an exchange of ideas. The notes of the archbishop, who would play a central role in the Assembly until his appointment as minister on 1 May, are the most detailed evidence of the thoughts of a Notable still untouched by the clash of policies and personalities between the government and the Assembly or by the contagion of ideas and an esprit de corps among the Notables. The archbishop and the count turned their thoughts to the history of France: to the recent history of the Bourbon kings, their ministers, and their policies in this period of nascent absolutism. Loménie examined in particular the history of the assemblies of Notables that met between 1525 and 1626 to learn of their efforts and accomplishments, and especially of their errors. A key source for Loménie was a manuscript written by a finance ministry official evidently commissioned by the controller general to aid him in deciding whether to recommend another such assembly. Its conclusion, that previous assemblies were ineffectual and posed no threat to the Crown, apparently steeled the archbishop to ensure the opposite result. In contrast to the memoir he penned in 1775, Loménie’s comments of early 1787 were more pointed, acerbic, and critical of the royal government

18

The Assembly of Notables

and less reserved in judgment, the bad not counterbalanced by the good. Both brothers harbored deep distrust of the Crown, despite the fact that three of their ancestors had been secretaries and ministers of state to three kings. They suspected the intentions and avowals of all royal governments, even of so admired a king as Henry IV and so esteemed a minister as the duc de Sully. The government had repeatedly convened assemblies of Notables not for the purposes it proclaimed, to promote the people’s benefit, but for its own interests. The Crown sought to increase taxes, or a minister aimed to promote his personal political fortunes, while the mass of people suffered from the burdens of the taille (tax on peasants), salt tax (gabelle), excise tax on drinks (aides), and the “squandering of officers”—in the past, and also in the present. “[E]xcept for the quartering of soldiers, one could still say the same thing,” noted the archbishop. The Notables must therefore be vigilant before the government’s demands, Loménie firmly believed. They should not easily submit to its wishes, but examine critically and in detail each proposal and the policies that produced problems needing to be solved. In the past Notables frequently disputed among themselves, allowing divisions to arise. Too often they acted on their separate interests as nobles or magistrates, drafting separate cahiers and demanding exclusive privileges for their particular groups. No corporation, no single order, reasoned the archbishop, should again have excessive control, its refusal blocking any effective action. “Isn’t that like having the veto, as in Poland?” he asked. As Loménie’s mind digested the histories of preceding assemblies, his criticisms of Notables in the past led to conclusions about the role that the assembly meeting in 1787 should perform. Certain political objectives and a changed social outlook should guide their labors. The periodic convening of an assembly he judged to be a major goal. The proposal of the Notables in 1596 to convene an assembly every three years drew from Loménie the comment: “That without doubt was the essential point to obtain.” Frequent meetings could prevent evils accumulating beyond repair, would enable the assembly to force acceptance of their reforms, and would set up a more effective means of controlling government policy and the activities of its agents. In the past the Grands (great nobles) had had excessive power, endangering the people, and the Crown had protected the people against aristocratic despots. Since the days of Richelieu (whom his ancestors had served), royal authority had become greater and the abuses committed in its name more numerous, so that Loménie viewed the Crown as despotic. Its

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powers now must be curbed, and the people have to be defended by the Grands. That goal required new relations, which already were forming, with the people. No longer, he believed, would the nobles in his day claim, as did the nobles in 1626, exclusive rights to places in monasteries founded in their favor. The Notables who would meet shortly must be conscious not to claim rights and privileges for any single group among them. What they claim as a right for noblemen “should not be limited solely to gentilshommes.” The Notables may promote their personal or corporate interests, but only when these serve at the same time the broader interests of the nation. They must espouse what is common to them, and view the problems of their country in terms of the needs and interests of the entire nation. Only through shared goals could the Assembly unite—and unite they must in order to contest the royal government and to achieve the desired policy for France. The refrain repeated in Loménie’s thought was that what was common to the Notables would unite them, strengthen them, and enable them to succeed against the Crown.21 Loménie de Brienne’s studies of the recent past and of present policies gave shape in his mind to opposition to the Crown, to the outlines of changes in public finance and in the structure of public administration and authority, and to a strategy of action for the Notables.

Boisgelin The archbishop of Aix, Boisgelin, was another leading critic of the Crown in the Assembly of Notables. He joined forces with the archbishop of Toulouse to condemn the controller general, Calonne, and to propose countermeasures to the government’s reforms. Boisgelin’s family roots were in the provincial nobility of Brittany dating to the fourteenth century; in the early seventeenth century the family moved into the high court and for three generations served as superior officers in the Breton parlement. Prominent status joined with wealth. The archbishop was a rich man through his family inheritance and especially through his clerical income; in 1779 his total annual income was 246,572 livres, of which 219,000 livres came from church lands, the rest came from property in Brittany. His inheritance as the eldest son had been greater, including seigneurial manors, titled estates, and sharecropping farms, but he assigned their use to his younger brother, the comte de Boisgelin, to give him greater wealth and standing within the Breton nobility. As a prelate and noble, he was closely tied to landed interests.

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The Assembly of Notables

Birth and public career also drew him to the traditions of the pays d’états (self-governing provinces). His family origins in Brittany, a province that retained autonomy through provincial estates, and his service since 1770 in Provence as archbishop of Aix, where he was president of the provincial body that replaced the estates, nurtured sympathies for provincial government that he revealed before and during the Assembly of Notables.22 Until February 1787, the fifty-five-year-old archbishop of Aix and president of the general assembly of communities in Provence performed his public functions loyally. Boisgelin cultivated friendly relations with Calonne through their common friend, the comtesse de Gramont, over the years seeking the minister’s aid and offering advice. In early January 1787, anxiously awaiting an official summons to the Assembly of Notables that was overdue, Boisgelin insisted in almost daily letters to the countess that his close relations with Calonne obliged the minister to name him. He implored her “to influence Mr. de Calonne” so that he obtain a letter of convocation—which he finally received. Once the Assembly met, all loyalties to the controller general vanished. The archbishop greeted the minister’s reforms with skepticism. Disdain and censure quickly followed. He even chastised the countess for dining with the minister. Calonne he condemned as an “infamous, fraudulent bankrupt,” an “adventurer,” and “a man unworthy of having friends.” He was pleased that their friendship had ended.23 Boisgelin’s turnabout against Calonne came about in the new setting of the Assembly of Notables, as the archbishop learned of the projects and problems the minister unveiled. Yet that apparent sudden change was actually an outgrowth of attitudes born of his public activities in Provence and his reflections in private on contemporary ideas. As head of the Provençal assembly of communities, Boisgelin played a central role in decisions relating to taxation, public works, and other policies for the province. Discussions within the assembly, correspondence with other officials, and informal contacts served as antennas, transmitting to him messages from those residing in the province. Five times in the preceding six years the archbishop of Aix voiced his sentiments and his sense of public feeling against new or higher taxes. In February 1781: “if [Necker’s] loan is subscribed to, there will no longer be any need this year to resort to taxes—that is what [the public] loves in the provinces; they deeply desire to avert [taxes].” In January 1783: “one must believe in peace, that is my dream for administration—no more taxes, no more loans, no more troublesome operations, and I can build canals and roads

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instead of asking for a capitation [head tax] and a vingtième [one-twentieth tax on the land].” Again that month: “we [in Provence] are very content no longer to fear any new taxes.” In November 1784: “There was uneasiness among people about a new tax.” And on the eve of the summoning of the Notables, in December 1786, he wrote: “[I]f a result [of the Assembly] is an increase in the price of salt in Provence, we cannot consent, and I deeply fear that any new taxes of different kinds will lead to protests and agitation.”24 Even without the formal institutions of representative government, some officials of the late ancien régime were sensitive to public opinion and inclined to be its spokesmen. Boisgelin’s lamentations of earlier years expressed in private letters became, in the deliberations of the Assembly of Notables, outcries against tax increases that he believed Calonne’s tax reform would produce. Outwardly a loyal servant of the king, even courting the grace of the minister, Boisgelin’s inner thoughts in the years leading up to the Assembly already cast him adrift from the existing system of monarchy. In a silent dialogue with Montesquieu, the archbishop engaged in an intellectual freeplay, a give-and-take, drawing from the philosophe those ideas he admired, criticizing and rejecting some, and adapting others to the newer principles in his day. By way of Montesquieu’s writings, he directed his thoughts to the faults he found in the government of France and built his own body of political ideas in 1,200 pages of manuscript notes entitled “Reflexions sur l’Esprit des lois” (Reflections on The Spirit of the Laws).25 Royal government, he argued, must serve the people; the king’s needs must be the needs of the state. Certain principles of public finance followed. A nation’s wealth should not enrich the court. Government must economize, its expenses must be fixed, “and the people must pay only what is absolutely necessary for the known and determined needs.” Boisgelin repeated these ideas more pointedly in the Assembly of Notables, where he drafted a detailed program for ensuring government economies which became the basis for the Assembly’s recommendations.26 Boisgelin believed that relations between the clergy and the rest of society also needed to be altered. In his thoughts, the clergy would perform their functions not as a privileged order but as citizens with common rights and in the interest of all. In particular, they would pay regular taxes. Their lands would be evaluated along with all other landed property, with taxes proportioned to the assessed value. The church would give up the free gift (don gratuit—taxes the clerical assembly voted) which it paid with money it

22

The Assembly of Notables

borrowed, since interest payments on those loans, Boisgelin calculated, made the clergy’s financial burden greater than would be the payment of regular taxes. In return it would continue to collect the clergy’s share of taxes and so retain administrative autonomy. To the surprise and delight of their colleagues and to the consternation of the controller general, both fiscal equality for the clergy and their common civil status as citizens were advocated by the clerical members in the Assembly of Notables.27 In the pages of his manuscript, the archbishop envisioned an entirely different structure for monarchical government in France. It is thus that the entire universe must be governed; the monarchy itself and the most durable monarchy, would be that which directs the great republic, which contains in order the common interests of all the provinces, and which lets exist without trouble each republic, each city in the government of the municipality. . . . And it is under such a wise and moderate monarchy that the virtues exist, would make themselves felt and be maintained in all their vitality. Thus the government would be republican in each city, in each province, in the reunion of all the provinces, and this government would not be less monarchical in countries where habits and laws give constantly to the nation hereditary rulers. . . . And the monarch, the chief leader of a republic as strong as would be that of France, would be without doubt happier and more respected than any of our kings have ever been, ceaselessly weakened by the excess even of their power which multiplies their needs and destroys their resources.28

Local autonomy was Boisgelin’s alternative to Montesquieu’s model of monarchy limited by privileged corporations and orders, and to the Bourbon practice of absolute and centralized government. Already a federalist before 1787, Boisgelin would become the most outspoken advocate of federalism among the Notables, proposing strong provincial autonomy within a national framework. The provinces, he advocated, should be linked together through the reunion of provincial representatives in a national assembly that would advise the king and approve laws for the nation.

Coeurderoy Coeurderoy, the president of the Parlement of Lorraine at age forty-nine, seemed little disposed in his earlier years to the role he would play in the future. A political handmaiden of the royal government before 1787, in the

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Assembly of Notables he became a vocal opponent of the Crown; during the Revolution he even changed his family name from Coeur-de-roi (of the king) to Coeur-de-loi (of the law). The fourth in his family to be president of a parlement, Coeurderoy served on the court in Nancy. He was also a landowner, as his father before him. At his marriage in 1760 he received various forms of property, including his father’s office of president in the Burgundian parlement, the family house in Dijon, and “contracts with individuals,” the latter yielding the greater part of his annual income of 5,210 livres. His wife, the daughter of a commissaire de guerre—lower in status but about equal in wealth—received a dowry composed largely of annuities from individuals and municipalities, and part of a landed estate, for an annual income of 6,298 livres. By the 1770s, Coeurderoy had converted more than one-half of their combined property into landholdings, and the remainder were rentes (income from investments in loans). However, he did not grow wealthy by changing from rentier to landowner. In 1774 he calculated that he and his wife’s total investments were worth 72,506 livres less than when they had married fourteen years earlier (he claimed a loss on the sales of the family house and the venal office of president in the Parlement of Dijon). Their combined yearly income was 10,776 livres—too modest, he lamented, for him to become a master of requests in the Royal Council. The narrow margin of gain from his landed property (less than 2,000 livres in 1774 after payment for a mortgage annuity) may have made him sensitive in later years to the weight of taxes on the land. As a Notable he strongly opposed an increase in the land tax that he, and most Notables, believed lay hidden in the new tax the controller general proposed.29 Coeurderoy depicted himself during the decade preceding the Assembly of Notables (his diary began on January 1, 1774) as a man little committed to questions of political principle and satisfied with a place that gave him a certain degree of power and prestige. He had great pleasure making annual visits to Paris and Versailles, where he spent weeks and even months talking and dining with ministers, courtiers, and commis (government clerks) and picking up the gossip about government that passed in those circles; he was proud of his important friendships. His deepest concerns were securing pensions or offices for his family, and the payment of interest on their venal offices (the gages) to his colleagues in the parlement. His annual trips to Paris were virtual missions for those twin purposes. Otherwise, while settled in Nancy, his horizons rarely extended beyond talk about who was seeking or had obtained judicial offices or advantageous marriages, or expressions of

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The Assembly of Notables

jealousy of the members of the chambre des comptes of Lorraine, who received payments from the Crown that his parlement sought in vain or for which they had to wait a number of years. Coeurderoy appears as a man committed simply to personal interests and the interests of his court, with a tinge of royalism that expressed his careerism rather than strong political beliefs. In 1771 he helped draw up, for his region, the edicts of Chancellor Maupeou suppressing the parlementary courts and the lettres de cachet against members of the Parlement of Metz and the chambre des comptes of Nancy. At the time, his two sentiments were fear that he might lose his office as first president and then great relief and pride that he remained on the new court. “I am the only one in the kingdom who had the unique fortune of keeping my post.” When the new Maupeou courts, which replaced the parlements, were dissolved and the former parlements re-established in 1774, he again feared that revenge might be taken against him, but he remained untouched and in place. Personal or family interests and corporate interests, which guided Coeurderoy’s actions in the years before the Assembly of Notables met, also bred, subconsciously, discontent with the royal government. When the Assembly convened, his political outlook was still limited. On the second day of the sessions, after the controller general presented his reform program, Coeurderoy responded negatively, criticizing in his journal of 1787 not the policies of the government but the personality and methods of the minister.30 The impact of arguments that he heard in days that followed sharpened the ambivalent feelings he had gathered over the years and answered to his unease. The once solicitous first president of the court in Nancy quickly emerged as an outspoken opponent of the Crown in his bureau. This unforeseen political transformation is interesting to trace. In the decade prior to the Assembly of Notables, each request for payment of the gages to the Parlement of Nancy and for pensions for himself and his family that Coeurderoy had made to the government met repeated setbacks, except for occasional payments he personally received. The gages were always paid three years late, either because of conflicts among finance officials causing delays and disorders, or because of insufficient funds at the government’s disposal. All the while Coeurderoy saw ministers and courtiers in Versailles intriguing for posts and competing for influence. At the same time as his requests for gages and pensions were refused, the princes of the blood, he learned, were receiving large sums from the Crown. By the late 1770s and increasingly in the 1780s, he was becoming impatient

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and exasperated with the workings of the financial administration and especially with the role of the ministers. His repeated frustrations schooled him in the financial operations of royal government. In 1784 he learned from Coster, the commis of the Contrôle Général (the finance ministry), that the payment of gages was delayed because of an enormous debt in the royal treasury which required continual loans for repayment. The interest alone on the debt mounted to 116 million livres, which drew from Coeurderoy the astounded comment: “that is to say, for that alone more than two million [livres] per week is necessary.” He was convinced then that taxes were already too heavy to permit additional increases in order to pay off the debt. Moreover, although he knew that a finance committee of ministers existed, he was aware that it was patently unable to prevent excessive government spending or financial operations that incurred losses to the treasury, nor did it control or authorize all of the king’s expenses. Coeurderoy had learned through personal experience of the disorders in the financial administration, and of the mounting expenditures, losses, and debt as a result of the absence of sufficient control over financial operations. Tax increases were not the solution to these problems, he believed, nor was it possible to impose additional taxes whose burden the nation could no longer afford. Prior to the meeting of the Assembly of Notables he criticized individual ministers and commis and the ongoing practices they engaged in; once he even suggested to himself that the royal government was taking out more in taxes from his province than it returned in appropriations. Yet never did he express any fundamental objections to the structure of royal government, nor did he ponder any alternative to its actual workings. Nevertheless, his unsatisfactory experiences nurtured into consciousness misgivings about centralized, bureaucratic, and ministerial government; opposition to tax increases and support for reforms in the financial administration; and the idea that the provinces should take over the collection and appropriation of tax money.31 From February to May 1787, the disparate notions and discontents that experience had imparted to Coeurderoy found expression in the program pieced together in the Assembly of Notables.

Joly de Fleury The procureur général of the Paris parlement, Joly de Fleury, underwent a late mutation, becoming a critic of the Crown only in the weeks of deliberation in the Assembly. He was of a prominent family, in the high robe for

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The Assembly of Notables

four generations and for three generations avocats or procureurs généraux— the “king’s men”—in the Paris court. During his lifetime two brothers and two nephews held high posts in the parlement of the capital and in the Royal Council.32 The notes Joly de Fleury drafted before and during the Assembly meetings are like a fever chart of his change from a royalist and traditionalist to a supporter of the Notables against the Crown.33 Age (seventy-eight years) and poor health may have inclined him to be passive at the outset of the Assembly, but it was Joly de Fleury’s conception of his official role that led him initially to identify with the royal cause. As procureur général he carried out, he believed, “the functions of the king’s judicial representative . . . to present to the parlement the laws which it pleases His Majesty to address to it.” His responsibilities dictated loyalty: “as for me, I cannot . . . after these considerations have another opinion than to rely on the wise views of the king and the love which he has for his people.”34 His attachment to the monarchy was an attachment to the customs and laws that existed, which over time had become sanctified. His notes were appeals to the status quo, incantations to “tradition” and to what was “ancient.” While respect for the king and for tradition sometimes reinforced each other in his mind, at other times they clashed, leading Joly de Fleury upon a path of contradictions which carried him further and further away from support of the royal program. Even before the Notables met, he expressed opposition to the creation of provincial assemblies, rumored to be among the Crown’s reforms. He believed them to be “unconstitutional, dangerous, and unuseful.” Assemblies were without precedent in the pays d’élections (provinces without estates), where royal intendants embodying the king’s will were in charge of administration. To Joly de Fleury, provincial assemblies would be contrary to the “constitution of a monarchical state,” since they would create “a form of republican administration” with “a multitude of small republics” that would endanger royal authority. By unsettling established operations and ideas they would also disrupt ordinary administration, and their probable failure would again raise questions about administration in the provinces and lead to further unknown and dangerous innovations. At the same time, he defended existing provincial estates as “the ancient form of the monarchy,” an inherent part of the constitutional structure of France.35 Once the debates in the bureaux began, Joly de Fleury was carried more deeply into opposition to the Crown in defense of the status quo. Other re-

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forms the Crown proposed, he opposed. Whatever the change might be, he saw only the difficulties and dangers of altering longstanding practices and privileges which, he believed, would inevitably create new problems. Gradually, echoes of criticisms voiced in the Notables’ debates enter Joly de Fleury’s notes: the proposed land tax was unjust, violating the privileges of clergy, nobility, and some provinces that kings long had pledged to preserve; so too would it be arbitrary, without a fixed base of assessment or a ceiling on payments. It would also be inequitable, taxing only the land, crushing by its weight landowners and tenants while sparing financiers and businessmen who would pay little.36 As for the provincial assemblies, he concluded that their deficiency was no longer their newness or threat to the Crown’s power, but their weakness and their need for greater authority in their relations with the royal government.37 In the course of the Assembly meetings Joly de Fleury’s support for royal policy and authority waned, and his adherence to tradition became muted, even ambivalent, as he succumbed to the arguments and the political opposition of the Notables around him. He typified those Notables who, gradually and undramatically, shifted sides and added their support to those contesting royal policy and authority.

During the Meeting The gathering into one national assembly of a group of Frenchmen to deliberate and advise on public policy with the Crown was a new experience in 1787. It brought with it new revelations and rumors, new facts and problems, and new suspicions and expectations. It offered an opportunity to express attitudes, clarify thoughts, and explore hopes that had been harbored in private, or remained undelineated or unconscious. The Notables, convened in one body, provided a new model for a single “national assembly,” as contemporaries called it, more representative of groups and areas than any other existing institution. It raised the sights of those who, unlike sovereign court magistrates, had no institutional forum in which they could express their views on public affairs, or of those whose ambit was removed from the national sphere and constricted to local matters. It especially nourished the ambitions of those nobles, prelates, and mayors who participated in the meetings of the Assembly, as well as countless others beyond its walls. In these early months of 1787, individual Notables changed, some subtly, others overtly, as they aligned in opposition at different times and in different

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The Assembly of Notables

ways. Most became avowed opponents of the Crown in the days and weeks, from February to May, they attended the Assembly. Only about twenty Notables supported the royal program, but a few of them wavered or shifted sides in the last weeks.38 As the debates advanced, more Notables became aware of their shared interests and the harmony developing among them, and they promoted their efforts more self-consciously. Some, like Joly de Fleury, bore no grievances when they arrived at Versailles and were even expressly loyal to their sovereign, changing only during the three months that followed. Others, such as Boisgelin and Coeurderoy, took the first steps of opposition earlier, haltingly, in silence or openly, guarding vague disquietudes or aspirations. And a few, like the brothers Brienne, especially Loménie, had already crossed the threshold, expressing in advance strong discontents and clear objectives. The influence of the latter on the assembled Notables was contagious: the first group becoming pliant and willing followers, the second group turning from followers into leaders. About ten clergy and a handful of magistrates, as Calonne had feared, led the opposition. Their number increased, to the surprise of the minister and the press,39 when some municipal representatives and even a few members of the Royal Council and a royal prince joined their ranks. The avant-garde among the Notables had an immediate and widespread influence because their criticisms and proposals responded to the discontents and yearnings that the others had felt or now found within themselves. The arguments of colleagues or new opinions in circulation had sway, yet their effect was greater because political rhetoric and fashion, and the demands heard in the Assembly, touched recesses in the mind where, over the years, similar notions had been stored. The archbishop of Aix, in a letter to his friend the comtesse de Gramont, expressed surprise at the wedding of views in the third bureau of which he was a member: “It seems to me that my bureau is entirely mine without my knowing any member. . . . I am the last to talk. Everyone expresses his opinion before I do, and out of 20 voting there are 13 or 16 who are quite resolved to come around to my view after I have spoken. They say that I explain their thoughts, and I believe that I could dictate, without wanting to, all the deliberations.”40 Meeting in their bureaux, each composed of twenty to twenty-two members with a prince of the blood as president, the Notables examined the government’s reforms. In their almost daily sessions they presented arguments and drafted proposals whose details were not uniform, yet in the end their aims accorded. All the bureaux moved along converging lines, yet each one

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expressed different clusters of ideas, emphasized diverse themes, voiced old and new sentiments in varied forms and proportions, and intimated different degrees of change in their outlooks, together telescoping a mass of contemporary attitudes. The debates of the seven bureaux offer entries into the currents of thought among those in the upper ranks of ancien régime society.41 The fourth bureau of the prince de Condé was the most royalist and restrained in criticism; those members accepted the king’s authority to decide public issues. Though they never advanced counterproposals, they did support opposition and initiatives of other bureaux. The sixth bureau was truculent—“Conty’s grenadiers” the archbishop of Aix called them after their prince-president—and challenged royal policies, provoking the king’s rebuke.42 This bureau had the largest number of provincial magistrates, and they frequently criticized the new wealth in Paris and asserted the claims of existing institutions, in particular the sovereign courts.43 The fifth bureau, headed by the duc de Bourbon, was traditionalist. Its members defended existing privileges, favored a hierarchical society, and sought to shift authority to the provinces under elite dominance. Arguments in the seventh bureau of the duc de Penthievre were more forward-looking. Members sought to encourage trade and manufacture, while their concern for landed interests, defense of private property, and denunciation of financial speculation echoed physiocratic ideas, and their solicitude for the rural poor paralleled contemporary humanitarianism.44 So too did they aim to change the government structure in the provinces and at the center. As the old, traditional outlooks receded, new, modern ideas gained emphasis and political demands became central in the debates of the first three bureaux. These bureaux were proponents of reforms in government finances, provincial administration, and national government, and in relations between the Crown and its subjects. In the third bureau the duc d’Orleans’ leadership was minimal and his absences frequent, leaving the archbishop of Aix free to exert the influence of his ideas to which the members responded. The first bureau, actively led by the comte de Provence, the king’s brother, turned opposition into political initiative, drafting counterproposals that circulated among the Notables and almost invariably were accepted by the other bureaux. The second bureau was the most audacious opponent of the Crown. Ignoring calls for loyalty to the monarchy from the comte d’Artois, youngest brother of the king and president of the bureau, its members resisted almost every reform and countered with the broadest

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The Assembly of Notables

proposals for political change in the kingdom. Among the seven bureaux, the first three carried disproportionate weight considering their fewer members. They indicated directions and goals and recommended specific policies that the other bureaux, except for a few members, were willing to accept, and thus imprinted their views on the work of the Assembly of Notables. When the Notables arrived in Versailles they did not have a complete program formulated, much less drawn up. What they accomplished in the end they groped toward, overcoming loyalties and reservations as they inched their way to expressing and joining in opposition, their common desires muting their differences. Their goals became crystallized in their minds and their vision broadened as they faced the government’s programs and grappled with the problems these unveiled and a new and unexpected situation. In conducting their battles the Notables were alert to a “force one cannot dissimulate today” (in the words of the fifth bureau): public opinion. Newspapers, letters, and diaries of the time provide evidence that a public alert to political events initially greeted the gathering with a mixture of hope and cynicism: something major and new was about to happen; but it might also merely serve as a rubber stamp, meekly accepting the Crown’s request for taxes.45 The Notables had to dissolve public distrust and demonstrate their independence, at the same time strengthening themselves in their contest with the Crown by bringing public opinion to their side. The Notables only vaguely delineated the public they had in mind. They named a range of social groups in varied and sometimes contradictory ways, addressing the hopes and fears of taxpayers, landowners, and “cultivators” (of the land), sometimes also wholesale traders and shopkeepers. In recognizing that readers of newspapers wielded influence in public affairs, the Notables sought to gain their favor. They commiserated with the “people,” but also deplored the irrational and violent tendencies of its “popular” elements. At times the Notables envisaged the public as a danger, were it to become an independent force. To gain the support of public opinion, they designed their arguments to appeal to its varied elements, especially to nobles, officials, and proprietors like themselves, ignoring rules of secrecy and permitting their views to find their way into newssheets, correspondence, and journals.46 Each criticism and alternative measure the Notables directed against the government or to the public. They could be petty, obstinate, and inconsistent in obstructing the Crown’s reforms, or counter with expressions of

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solicitude and “enlightened” opinions. To each effort of the controller general to defend, explain, even modify his reforms to conciliate his opponents, they responded with almost intentional misunderstanding and repeated refusals to be mollified. They pilloried him and heaped abuse on his proposals so as to demolish the royal program, assert their autonomy, and vaunt the merits of their alternatives. The Notables were fashioning an image of themselves as spokesmen for and defenders of the public. From the start of the meetings the clergy, for example, consciously and in coordination, sought to identify themselves with general interests. In a diary entry, the president of the Parlement of Lorraine, Coeurderoy, remarked with surprise and admiration: [T]hey [the clergy] were well aware that being attacked because of their privileges they would not be stronger if they decided to make themselves a group apart. Thus they began by asserting that the clergy in all temporal matters were not a corps separated from the rest of the nobility, that there was only one corps of nobility in France, to which the clergy, the magistracy, even the privileged belonged, as did all the other nobles and gentilshommes. They formally announced that they did not claim any preference for their estate in temporal administration, . . . and that it would only be by election that the clergy would have rights in it, as the other gentilshommes or nobles. . . . [T]he clergy made a great hit for the moment by making common cause with everyone, and they succeeded, which threw off course M. de Calonne, who had counted on the opposite and had even imagined to please the greater number [of Notables] by attacking the clergy.47

When the Notables’ image-making was endangered before the public, they sprang to the attack and to self-defense. To Calonne’s suggestion in a published speech that they favored the Crown’s proposals, and later to the minister’s disguised charge, disseminated in an anonymous Avertissement (Foreword), that they obstructed the government’s reforms to protect their privileges, the Notables attacked in return. They wanted any implication that they approved tax increases or opposed fiscal equality erased from the public record. Publication of their words provided proof to the public of their just cause.48 From the public, in return, the Notables expected gratitude and support, and presumed them to be allies in their efforts against the royal government. They aimed to force the Crown to accept their demands by brandishing as

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The Assembly of Notables

their own the weapon of public opinion. In the relationship they were framing through their appeals, the Notables intended the public to be silent partners, confident in 1787 that it was they who wielded greater influence.

The experience of the Notables indicates important changes in attitude among these members of the elite during the last years of the ancien régime. Nostalgia and traditionalism, personal or corporate interests, and localism had not disappeared and were voiced in the debates, but old outlooks were being recast. Loyalty to the sovereign informed their public acts and statements, yet thoughts and sentiments harbored privately, even silently, were loosening their allegiance to the existing system of monarchy. Ambitions that they had for themselves and shared with their corporate groups and regions they came to associate with the larger body of the nation. New ideas and strategies connected aspirations of groups and local areas to broader visions of provincial and national government, joining self-interest in a web of common, national interests.49 The convening of the Assembly of Notables helped to accelerate change and sharpen attitudes. From February to May 1787, the Notables gave form under the pressure of their work to a collective consciousness which, until then, they and contemporaries had not been fully aware of, but which now gained resonance in the public. The unity the Notables achieved against the Crown and around a common program astounded some members and onlookers. “[A]ll the Notables from the dukes and peers to the mayors were in the most perfect unison.” recorded Coeurderoy in his diary. “[The bureaux] have been in close agreement without any communication; it is the most extraordinary thing,” commented another Notable, Gérard, the municipal representative of Strasbourg and former ambassador to the new United States. The unity and energy the Notables displayed impressed the Parisian bookseller Hardy, as he noted in a journal entry of March 5. Ten days later La Gazette de Leyde publicly expressed similar admiration: “[F]ar from division reigning among the diverse bureaux, the same spirit seems to animate all; and one notes there the most perfect union.”50 Their common front grew from a diverse fund of ideas about public policy and the government of France. A number of their proposals had been urged centuries earlier in assemblies of notables or estates-general.51 Others had been favored in recent years by sovereign court judges, princes and nobles, physiocrats and philosophes, country gentlemen, and pamphleteers.52

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The Notables also learned from their reflections on history, the recent past, and especially from the problems they faced as public officials in the ancien régime. Their lessons induced enough of them to reassess personal or corporate interests and ambitions, and readied them for a new approach to political action. This shared ground, reached through diverse paths, permitted the Notables to join together and shape hopes and arguments into a concrete body of objectives, their proposals in turn accepted more quickly by those groups who were the sources. If not completely original, the program nonetheless contained new features, tendencies, and emphases along with the old, appropriate to the new era they believed the late eighteenth century augured. The Notables of 1787, unlike many rebels of old in France, did not dissipate their opposition in internecine disputes, personal vendettas, or outbursts of rage, nor in devising theories of governance only remotely feasible. Their work in examining the government’s reforms directed their attention to concrete measures to be put into practice, for which they drafted new operations, policies, and institutions of government. Their means of action, the prosaic language of rules and regulations in proposals of law, gained greater force from the political and social ideology they were piecing together. Invocations to the nation and the people identify the new rhetoric of the day, the language of a universalism many of the Notables were coming to accept. These members of the elite were willing to ally certain of their interests with those of others in French society, building strength through wider support, the better to engage in battle and make their gains. The message from the Assembly of Notables circulating in France in 1787 was a significant step beyond what the French had heard in the past from their “natural” leaders, and would eventually outlive the Notables’ leadership.

2 Privilege, Property, and Participation A Mutation in Elite Political Culture It is as advantageous to the maintenance of royal authority as it is in conformity with the fundamental principles of monarchy that there should exist a national interest which ties subjects to their sovereign. Nothing is better to revive this interest and through it to give a new resilience to the entire body politic than to have the taxpayers’ representatives deliberate on the allotment of taxes . . . [which] excites a sort of patriotic effervescence that, if managed wisely, can do much good. [Mid-November 1786] Authority is never stronger than when it . . . is supported by reason and the national interest. . . . To create this interest, or to permit it to develop, will reinforce rather than weaken monarchical power . . . and will silence particular interests by enabling the general interest to express itself. [Late November 1786]

With these words the controller general Calonne tried to convince Louis XVI to accept his program of reforms.1 Though the menace of impending bankruptcy had driven the minister to draft his reforms, he was attempting to give to his plan a meaning larger than a desperate effort to salvage the royal treasury through higher taxes. He had in mind a political design founded on three premises: royal authority would be fortified; public opinion would support the changes he intended to introduce; and all the reforms, in particular the establishment of provincial assemblies, would revive a political consciousness in the nation which would attach the public to the pursuit of “national interests.” Those engaging in public activities in the new institutions he proposed would become better aware of the problems of government and of the interests shared by the Crown and the public. Calonne suggested that the public would more willingly obey laws they would help to 34

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make by advising the king. If, nonetheless, opposition arose, Calonne had an explanation ready. Opposition would come only from the “privileged, who do not fear opposing their particular interest to the general interest, and would dare complain about paying general taxes in proportion to their property. But their voice would be drowned out by the voice of the public, which would necessarily be stronger; especially would the establishment of assemblies . . . in districts and provinces give to authority the aid of that national interest that presently is nothing, and which if well-directed can smooth away all difficulties.”2 Two themes, in contrapuntal fashion, became the leitmotiv in the flurry of events and crises of the two succeeding years, in particular in the history of the Assembly of Notables that Calonne would soon call into being: “privilege” versus “national interest.” The controller general had perceived that change was at work among the French and that for some time there had been demands for economic and political reforms—a unified national market, freer trade, more equitable taxes, and a role in public affairs. Yet his insights remained partial, limited by the habits and attitudes formed through years of service as a royal official and perhaps also by the needs of a minister to defer to the wishes of the king.3 Thus he tended to minimize political change in favor of administrative and economic changes, thinking that the latter would have sufficient intrinsic appeal. Though aware that a political spirit was forming, Calonne did not fathom how far it had spread among the French, how deeply it had penetrated minds, and how much it had transformed older attitudes. Ironically, he believed that he had to nurture into being the nation’s political consciousness; instead, he provoked an opposition that sprang to life and rejected many of his reforms and revised others to suit its own design, not that of the Crown or minister. He erred in assuming that his reforms, however beneficent and desired, would easily gain public support and strengthen royal authority. He erred also in impugning to his opponents the desire to defend their “particular interests” as “privileged,” their opposition a refusal to submit their property to regular and equal taxation. Calonne’s initiative in convening an Assembly of Notables to approve reforms provided the forum in which a political culture, hitherto dormant or amorphous, could express itself, reshaped into the Notables’ criticisms, claims, and goals. Once in direct contact with the reality of government policies, their hopes and aims became clearer and more coherent, making the Notables adroit and forceful opponents. Their arguments, while echoing old plaints, yielded to new attitudes and outlooks. The defense of privilege

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The Assembly of Notables

ceded to invocations of national interest, sparking “patriotic effervescence” that Calonne earlier had spied and extolled, and which he inadvertently aroused against his project as a more numerous and alert public focused on the Assembly of Notables.

The Notables in Opposition The Assembly opened in formal session on 22 February 1787 and the following day Calonne presented his reform proposals, the two most important being the establishment of provincial assemblies in provinces without estates and a new, uniform tax on all land. Other reforms in his ambitious program included freedom for the grain trade; the elimination of internal trade barriers with tolls moved to the national frontiers; lower duties on many goods in commerce; reimbursement of the clergy’s debt; conversion of the corvée (labor service on roads) into a money tax; reform of the gabelle (salt tax); and repayment of the public debt at regular intervals.4 From February until May the Notables, meeting in the seven bureaux, debated these issues.5 The events surrounding the Assembly of Notables have been amply treated by Albert Goodwin and Jean Égret;6 the focus here is on the mental world of the Notables. The records of their working sessions reveal their perceptions, responses, and objectives as they grappled with the problems that the Crown’s reform projects unveiled to them. In the course of their work they pieced together arguments and counterproposals that afforded little place for privilege but advanced the claims of property and especially of political participation. These goals, linked together, offered a new vision of public life and acquired unprecedented power of appeal and potential for change. A close examination of the Notables’ debates, especially on the land tax and provincial assemblies, suggests a mutation in elite political culture in the late ancien régime.

Fiscal Arguments The land tax Calonne introduced to the Assembly would replace the vingtième with a new, graduated tax on all landed property with no exemptions and in proportion to the wealth produced by the land to a maximum of 10 percent of the product. The controller general sought in this way to eliminate individual inequities, in particular the regional disparities by which inhabitants of some provinces paid twice or more the amount of

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taxes paid in other provinces.7 The Notables opposed this tax at the same time that they embraced fiscal equality.8 For the minister as well as the Notables and their contemporaries, equality of taxation had two features: the law would no longer exempt from taxes but impose the same tax on all; and taxes would be in proportion to wealth, the actual taxes paid thus weighing more equally on each. Legal equality and proportionality were wed in practice through applying percentages or amounts of taxes graded to assessments of different forms or values of real wealth.9 Many of the Notables sought to extend the application of fiscal equality. They urged that a few remaining exemptions cease, and that lands of the clergy, the princes, and the Crown be taxed, as well as woodlands, houses, parks, and gardens for the display of “luxury”; that the privileged and the wealthiest proprietors pay their full share; and that the poorest pay lower taxes.10 A few voices dissented, and the tacit acceptance of some current tax exemptions was a sign that privilege still had its defenders.11 Yet support for tax equality far outweighed the defense of privilege by the evidence of the Notables’ debates. By 1787, privilege—fiscal exemption—had been circumscribed and its material benefits diminished. The taille on the nonprivileged (mainly peasants) remained in reduced form even in the Crown’s reform program, which the Notables proposed to decrease even further. Yet since 1749, when the vingtième tax was introduced, the law had attempted to curtail privilege. For almost half a century, the nobles in France had paid a tax on the land they owned or on tax-exempt land qualified as noble, as historians Betty Behrens and Michael Kwass have convincingly demonstrated. These taxes likely increased less than did their income from rents as proprietors and their gains from selling surplus crops at rising prices, as the French historian Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie has argued. Influence, underassessments, and other strategems may have also reduced the share of taxes the nobles paid, making the vingtième disproportionate in weight. For that reason Calonne sought to replace it with a new land tax. Still, the proportion of direct taxes on the land rose during the eighteenth century while the proportion of indirect taxes declined, as evidenced in the work of Peter Mathias and Patrick O’Brien. The land tax in France in the last decades of the ancien régime even outweighed the land tax in Great Britain.12 In little over a generation that tax which had been episodic became permanent, and from almost nothing climbed, in the letter of the law, to 5, 10, and in some years (since 1781) to 15 percent of landed income. Those who paid felt a newly heavy burden, even if they were paying less than their full share.

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Already taxpayers in part by 1787, the Notables were not primarily concerned with defending fiscal privilege or opposing fiscal equality as they debated the land tax reform. They were much more aware that a larger public might share their concerns and favor their efforts.13 The tax on land in France fell on many more social groups than did the land tax in England. Both those who owned and those who cultivated the land had to pay. Ownership of land in France was widespread in the late eighteenth century, extending the range of taxation to the nobility who owned 20–25 percent of the land, the bourgeoisie who owned 30 percent, and the peasantry who owned or cultivated about 40 percent (the clergy owning the remaining 10 percent of the land).14 The mode of assessment and the structure of ownership assured that diverse groups bore the load of the land tax. But in cutting back on privilege by extending taxation from commoners to nobles, the Crown inadvertently strengthened its adversaries. Over the long run it helped to bring nobles and commoners together and created the opportunity for a joint tax revolt. The arguments and rhetoric heard in the Assembly of Notables may have been masks dissimulating selfishness in the guise of universality and generosity. Yet the faces they hid were not those of feudal seigneurs or Renaissance gentilshommes clinging to age-old principles that sanctioned material advantages.15 Theirs were the faces of landowners with a keen eye for rents, income, and market gains; proprietors in the physiocratic image, who aimed to protect the economic resource on which the new tax would weigh and which they and many other Frenchmen owned or worked, the land. Since the 1750s agriculture had been drawn into an expanding network of market exchange, and the interests of landowners became more directly tied to commercial imperatives at the same time as the writings of the physiocrats and others offered a framework of economic analysis.16 Schooled in practical experience and from contemporary writings, the Notables, almost all of whom were landowners,17 could respond to Calonne’s tax with reasoned arguments, unraveling the baneful economic effects on agriculture of the proposed tax. “We express our views as large proprietors who want in advance to be assured of disposing of their produce,” commented Gérard, the municipal representative of Strasbourg and former ambassador to the American states, and the lone voice in his bureau supporting the minister’s proposal for tax payments in kind. His colleagues objected that paying in produce would prove inefficient and expensive, and recommended instead money

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payments.18 Gérard’s words indicate that the Notables appeared ill disposed to yield to the government in taxes the crops that were fetching steadily higher prices in the market. The author of the Mémoires secrets offered another interpretation: “The great seigneurs have especially opposed a land tax in kind, because they are in the habit of negotiating a set money tax, and thereby of escaping an equal apportionment of the tax, which makes true patriots wail.”19 Few wails entered into print in 1787, but there was much applause for the Notables’ resistance to the new tax. Within four days of the start of debate, the controller general agreed to payments in money rather than produce for the land tax, and attacks shifted to another front. The Notables next insisted on a land survey to determine the actual value of land, rather than the rent rolls that Calonne proposed; a land survey, they claimed, was a more accurate method for assessing taxes since rents did not always reveal the true value of land. Theirs was a unique example in the eighteenth century of members of a landed class favoring a cadastre (land survey) for the purpose of tax assessment.20 Yet land surveys would serve a double purpose: they were a means for assuring more equitable taxes and also promised security against frequent and repeated tax increases. Once the land was evaluated and taxes assessed accordingly, it was expected that the amount paid would remain unchanged for almost a generation (twenty to thirty years), freeing the land of added burdens and relieving the owners of anxieties.21 The lengthy procedure of a land survey, one may speculate, might also have been a tactic to delay more accurate taxation; to the controller general, the many years required to complete a nationwide cadastre (and the costs of the operation) were sufficient reasons to reject the proposal in the hope of obtaining immediate tax reform. Successful in gaining money payments, set back on the land survey, the Notables moved on to other, more persistent arguments. “In all my days, I have never heard so much talk of gross product, net product, original and annual capital investment, rights of property,” wrote the physiocrat Dupont de Nemours to the marquis de Mirabeau on 6 March (Dupont, as secretary of the second bureau headed by the comte d’Artois, knew well what the Notables were discussing).22 Drawing from the arsenal of physiocracy, the Notables rejected Calonne’s proposal that taxes be assessed on the gross product of the land, recommending instead the net product as the base for taxes. Deducting the costs of cultivation (the frais and avances) would, better than rent payments, permit taxes to be proportioned to differences in the fertility and productivity of the land, since more fertile lands require

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The Assembly of Notables

fewer costs and less fertile lands incur heavier costs of cultivation. Taxes on the net product would also leave untaxed the capital invested in agricultural improvements, which in turn would yield greater incomes through more sales of produce and higher land values, thus promoting greater agricultural production. As landowners, the Notables accepted enthusiastically the minister’s proposal for free trade in grain, a “most perfect” law exulted one of the bureaux. In a reversal of physiocratic teaching, but expressing views shared by the Scottish economist Adam Smith and the former head of the royal treasury Jacques Necker, they objected to taxes that weighed exclusively on the land and insisted they be equally apportioned on other forms of wealth, especially on the riches of capitalistes (financiers) and rentiers, which were untouched by Calonne’s land tax proposal. Credit and speculative operations of financiers also drew their ire for the injuries caused to agriculture; high rates of interest for loans yielded greater profits than from the land, draining money from the countryside, thus contracting the market for land and depressing its value, while reducing employment opportunities for the rural population. The royal government, the Notables insisted, should lower its rate of interest and make investments in landed property equally profitable.23 Because the land already bore the major weight of taxes, the Notables launched their heaviest attacks against any increase in the land tax. Calonne’s reform was to them just the latest attempt to extract 40–50 million livres more from the land. Try as he might with intelligence and charm to explain that additional revenue would come from more accurate and equitable assessments and not from higher tax rates, the Notables saw only the final sum, which was greater than current tax yields.24 Calonne’s original project specified set rates of taxation on the produce of the land (varying from one-twentieth on the most fertile lands to onefortieth on the least productive lands) whose yield would vary as production increased or decreased. In years of good harvest the government would benefit through increased revenue, in years of poor harvest taxpayers would be cushioned and pay lower sums. Total government revenue, proportioned to national production, was not fixed in advance each year nor was the tax limited in time. Such a mode of assessment, known as a taxe de quotité, and its unlimited duration were fiscal innovations in the ancien régime, required in the Crown’s view to meet constant and rising financial needs.25 A tax at a fixed rate whose sum varied annually and that was unlimited in time had only one meaning to the Notables: open-ended, constantly rising taxes on

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the land, which invited government waste. It was, moreover, an arbitrary tax, the per capita sum not certain and fixed but varying each year, and the taxpayer, not knowing in advance how much he had to pay, could easily be the victim of unscrupulous tax collectors. The Notables rejected the minister’s scheme of expenses determining revenues and the taxpaying capacity of the nation setting the level of taxes, and offered instead the traditional practice of determining the needs of government in advance and limiting public expenses to definite and known needs.26 Exact tax payments for individuals and exact tax revenue for the government, the Notables argued, should be set in advance annually, with each province allotted its levy, and in turn each parish, and within the parish each taxpayer (in proportion to his income from the land and not exceeding 10 percent). The individual would not be responsible just for his own tax payment determined automatically by the proceeds of his land, as with a taxe de quotité. All taxpayers who owed a repartitional tax would be collectively responsible for paying the amount assigned to the parish; any individual who paid less than his prorated share would cause others to pay more. Under this system, they reasoned, villagers in their assemblies would be more vigilant in preventing underassessments and underpayments, and in opposing increases in the parish levy whose effects would raise taxes on each and all. The “invisible hand” of a repartitional tax—the single taxpayer protecting his own interests—would promote the interests of all and guarantee low and equal tax payments (in proportion to landed income). From year to year this tax would not change, especially would it not increase as production increased; improvements on the land and new cultivation would not be penalized but would remain untaxed, offering an incentive for greater agricultural output. In the words of the fifth bureau, only a repartitional tax conformed to the principles of “just and enlightened” government. This “best of all possible” taxes was not the vision of the Notables alone; the French revolutionaries adopted a repartitional tax, which succeeding generations of the French perpetuated until 1914.27

An Alternative Financial Program The Notables believed that a tax on land nonetheless should be a last resort. And before deciding on a new tax, the deficit would need to be determined. Calonne’s speech at the opening session of the Assembly, alluding to a

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deficit of 80 million livres, followed by his revelation at a special meeting on 2 March of an even higher deficit of 112 million livres, shocked the Notables. After four years of peace, why should the government be so short of funds? They could only suspect wrongdoing, and were determined to uncover the truth. Their investigations carried them amid the confusions of government finance. Each of the seven bureaux arrived at different and uncertain estimates of the deficit, all higher than Calonne’s, and some as high as 140 million livres. From this they concluded that the royal treasury spent and wasted too much money. “Our news consists of making the king work at economies, as one makes the people work for revenues,” wrote the archbishop of Aix.28 He and other Notables turned their energies during the last month of the Assembly’s work to budget cutting, drawing up detailed lists of reductions for the several households of the royal family and for the ministries and administrative departments.29 The king’s brothers, Provence and Artois, presiding over the first and second bureaux, promised the Notables they would be more thrifty in the future. Marshals and military commanders recommended large cuts in appropriations for the armed services, along with higher pay for the common soldiers. All the bureaux urged the greatest reductions in the budgets of the war and navy departments, and favored fewer and lower royal pensions and gifts. Less spending would make tax increases unnecessary, they felt, with happier effects for taxpayers. It was not quite that the Notables thought, as in the past, that the king had to live off “his own,” the income from his domains. Ignorance bred by political exclusion of the demands the treasury had to meet and the effects of inflation on government expenditures; the delusion of a surplus of royal funds fostered since Jacques Necker published his Compte rendu in 1781; and the perennial instincts of taxpayers led the Notables to believe that in times of peace, with the income from existing taxes, there was no need for additional revenue or for additional public services that would require constant outlays. They felt that if, after inefficiencies and waste in government operations were eliminated and expenditures were cut, a deficit remained, loans rather than taxes should make up the difference, as loans weighed less heavily at the moment on taxpayers.30 Were taxes still necessary then three bureaux, possibly two others, reluctantly accepted the idea of a stamp tax, a vexatious impost but less burdensome to the poor than a land tax, and recommended in addition higher duties on transactions involving the wealthy and high officeholders.

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Economies, loans, and a stamp tax, the Notables convinced themselves, would suffice to remove the current deficit. Continued economies in the future would permit the debt to be paid off and the budget balanced, at which time a number of taxes, especially the existing land tax, could be reduced and ultimately eliminated.31 So they envisioned in practice the principle they held of the “true character” of a tax, in the words of Loménie de Brienne before he became minister: “that of being established only in just proportion with needs, of growing, diminishing, and ceasing with them [i.e., needs].”32 Under their proposals, government revenue in the future would come from the stamp tax, the tobacco monopoly, the postal system, customs levied on the national borders, and perhaps other individual taxes. Industry and commerce would be lightly touched by remaining taxes. The poor would benefit. The taille and taxes on consumption would be reduced or eliminated. The salt tax would be replaced by a money tax based on current regional levies, however unequal, to assure no increase in amount; despite those inequalities, the Notables believed that a money tax would be more acceptable to the people since forced sales, investigations, confiscations, manhunts, and imprisonments long associated with the gabelle would end,33 Capitalistes, rentiers, anoblis, and officeholders would pay the stamp duty. The land, especially, would bear a light tax, or no tax; instead, the Notables would weigh down on those considered the economic and social parasites of their society, those whose wealth and investments in the public debt did not advance economic production, as well as those having high posts and status, so as to relieve landed property.34 It was as if the Notables were willing to submit to taxes the titles and offices they enjoyed to spare the land they owned, offering what they held in the older society of orders to protect what they had in the new society of classes. They would gain materially order these reforms, paying less were the land tax reduced or ended than they would pay in higher stamp taxes or a money tax replacing the gabelle. They would also gain in other ways. In opposing the new land tax, the Notables spoke not only for the special interest of the privileged few—nobles, high clergy, and officials like themselves who owned land—but for the general interest of the many in France who owned or cultivated the land and who also feared having to pay higher taxes. In advancing their interests, they tied them to the interests of others, and expected in turn the gratitude and support of that public.

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From Opposition to Taxes to Political Opposition The Notables were not the first nor were they the last group of politicians who sought political gain by opposing taxes. They had the instincts of politicians because for years they had engaged in public affairs, and as public officials the king had named them to the Assembly. As military governors and commanders in provinces, chief officers of the sovereign courts, deputies of provincial estates, heads of municipal governments, archbishops and bishops, some of them had carried out programs to repair or build roads and bridges, while others had set up manufactories, poorhouses, or nurseries.35 They had tasted the delights and frustrations of exercising public authority and had learned what the inhabitants of their provinces wanted or feared. No higher taxes, no new taxes were the desires of individual Notables before 1787, many of whom voiced the sentiment in their provinces.36 Their ardor to resist tax increases mounted during the weeks of deliberation in the Assembly, in some degree to disprove the cynics who in newssheets, cartoons, and doggerels depicted the Notables as easy prey to the Crown’s requests for more money. They had to inform the audience beyond their halls of their opposition to taxes, leaking their sentiments and resolutions to news-gatherers to remove any blemish on their reputation and to gather the fruits of public sympathy and support for their program and their leadership. Lower taxes on the land was a financial program and a political weapon, one of several ways by which the Notables shifted their strategy from a “tax revolt” to a “political revolt.” In their first meetings they dealt directly with a political issue, the Crown’s project to establish provincial assemblies. From the last day of February, when they began to debate the land tax, until the last meeting on 23 May, they debated largely financial issues. Yet their arguments, criticisms, and demands were a heady mix of finance and politics. Overtly combative and obstreperous on financial matters, especially the land tax, they were more reticent and diffident when directly confronting political authority, snipping away at parts rather than attacking at the source, as if they did not want to deny the king’s majesty all at once. Nevertheless, under cover of financial objectives or of modest, particular changes, their efforts added up to a program whose effect would be to transform the structure of government and transfer power in the state.

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Public Consent, Control, and Knowledge In defending property against a new land tax, the Notables turned quickly to a political argument: the need for consent. Without consent to taxation the king, collecting a permanent tax, would forcibly deprive his subjects of part of their property. Only consent guaranteed freedom of property, of individuals and of groups. This was no mere rhetorical invocation or cover for corporate interests; the Notables formulated several means by which consent might be made real. Opposition to a taxe de quotité and support for a repartitional tax were crucial political acts. To the Notables, Calonne’s fixed-rate tax, viewed as a financial tool for unlimited tax increases and government waste, also offered the possibility for the complete emancipation of the government from the limited financial constraints that existed, and would lead to the final entrenchment of absolutism by means of a tax unlimited in amount and in time. Assured of expanding revenues in perpetuity, with increases automatic as agricultural production rose, the Crown would no longer have to ask its subjects for more taxes, listen to their complaints in exchange for their assistance, or solicit their consent to a new tax—which remained a principle in jurisprudence and an indirect practice through registration of tax edicts in the sovereign courts and their acceptance by the provincial estates. In reverse, a repartitional tax joined political virtues to financial benefits. Set at a fixed sum and rate, it further guaranteed the taxpayer against wanton tax increases by giving the local community closer control over taxation. Villagers would gather in their parishes to declare their income and, knowing each other’s worth, control the assessments of all who held land in the neighborhood. Tax increases that would raise the parish levy on all, not just the taxes paid by some, would assure stronger collective resistance. And the provinces, through existing estates and new assemblies, would appoint the tax collectors. Local surveillance of assessments, collection of taxes, and responsibility for a communal tax would permit local communities (the parishes and provinces) to take over the functions previously exercised by agents sent from Versailles and to check the central government’s power to tax.37 In addition, controls on global taxation would accompany local controls on taxation. The Crown would no longer project anticipated expenses to determine revenue but would have to set taxes to the level of its known

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needs, and collect these taxes only for a limited number of years.38 If the sum became insufficient, or at the end of the fixed period of years, the government would be obliged to turn to its subjects, justify its expenses and needs, and expose its financial practices. Its freedom of action would be limited in proportion to its fixed resources in taxes. Instead of a perpetual tax, a measure of public control over royal finances would be perpetuated. “No taxation without consent” lay at the heart of the Notables’s demand for a repartitional tax. Their victory came on 9 May when, following Calonne’s dismissal one month earlier, the new minister, Loménie de Brienne, accepted the form of a repartitional tax that he had urged as a member of the Assembly. One witness, Dupont de Nemours, grasped the significance of this decision: [The constitution] is changed on a point that has not been and will hardly be at all noted, not even by the mass of historians. It is changed totally by the solemn renunciation of the tax “de quotité” which gives to society a proportional part of all revenues, and by the adoption of the English principle, that revenues must be proportioned to expenses and not the latter regulated by revenue. . . . On 9 May 1787, in the conference held at Monsieur’s apartment [i.e., the comte de Provence] . . . France became a republic, where there remains a magistrate, decorated with the title and honors of royalty, but perpetually obliged to assemble his people and to ask them to provide for his needs, for which public revenues will be, with this new national consent, perpetually insufficient. . . . now that it has become a constitutional maxim that the king must not have any “impôt de quotité” and that all his revenues must be in determined sums, these sums progressively losing value from year to year must in a very short time become less than the needs which do not vary. The deficit must spring up again and grow from year to year. The prince cannot therefore dispense with assembling the nation from time to time and explaining again the insufficiency of the means given to him to pay for all the state’s expenditures. A beautiful occasion for demogogues, who seek reputation and fortune, and who profit from the repugnance of all people for taxes, a beautiful occasion to cry economies, to diminish the civil list of the prince and to have a king and public security the cheapest possible.39

In the first weeks of the Assembly the Notables argued against a perpetual tax, seeking to impose periodic control through consent to taxes. In the last weeks, from the end of April to 23 May, they set out to introduce annual

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controls over government expenditures.40 Shocked at the confusion in government accounts, the difficulty of calculating expenses, and the existence of a deficit greater than Calonne had estimated, they were intent not to throw good money after bad. They directed their attacks and applied their remedies against what they considered to be waste, inefficiency, profiteering, and corruption in the Crown’s finances. On the initiative of the archbishop of Aix, the bureaux drew up a series of proposals to reform the structure and practices of the royal financial administration. These proposals included eliminating venal offices and unauthorized loans and payments, drafting itemized budgets for the ministries and the royal family, and consolidating the many royal treasuries into one. Their ostensible purpose, to reduce current expenses and avert recurrent deficits so as to lower taxes, would be accomplished by the introduction of more rational and efficient operations along with bureaucratic organization in government finances, as well as greater public control over the bureaucracy.41 The Notables proposed new spending procedures that would curb the Crown’s financial activities and require it to transfer some functions to other public bodies. A single royal treasury would consolidate the many treasuries scattered across the country, the latter no longer needed since the provinces would assume the administration of taxes. As a result, provincial authority and the activities of members of provincial administrations in public finance would increase. At the national level of government, public supervision of royal finances would be introduced. More rational methods in financial administration also entailed government submission to the expressed views of its subjects. Annually published budgets and a citizens’ committee to audit government accounts would make the secrets of royal finances transparent and subject to public scrutiny. The financial effectiveness of this policy may be doubted, since individuals turning page after page of the annual budget, or nonprofessionals examining reams of financial requests and accounts of expenditures biannually, could hardly contain government spending. But their political significance is undoubted. Published budgets and public auditing raised expectations, in the words of the first bureau: “the most important . . . , the most fruitful in happy effects, is publicity.”42 These procedural demands testify to a welling desire in the public to know and control the activities of government. That urge to know was impelled by undercurrents of thought revealed in the Notables’ rhetoric. The workings of government, they argued, were “covered” by “obscurities,” “mystery” (“scandalous mystery”), a “veil” (“a

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perfidious veil”), and “barriers” that imposed “secrecy of administration,” especially on financial operations. “Light” instead had to pierce through, and “the eyes of the people” had to penetrate into the activities of government, permitting the public to exercise the power of “observation” so as “to know” and to gain “knowledge.” The ubiquity of the unknown in government aroused a mounting passion to learn about the source of those problems for which the public was being asked to pay and which could only be abated by information and access. So the Notables demanded evidence, such as financial accounts to determine the deficit with exactitude and government records to establish its origin and those responsible. Even the lieutenant civil of Paris, Angran d’Alleray, who usually shuddered at the prospect of any slight change in existing institutions and practices, dismissed as incredulous the government’s response that it could not provide a clear assessment of the current financial situation—since even bankers are able to do so in one day—or that the Notables would be unable to understand the complicated calculations. Members of the Assembly meeting with the controller general warned that the Notables “must themselves be capable of undeceiving the public.” From these springs of sentiment came the belief that frequent and constant publicity was a virtual solution to contain waste and abuse in government financial practices.43

Against Bureaucracy A revolution of rising expectations was taking a political course. The Notables’ sense of their distance from and ignorance of government bred suspicion that drove their quest for knowledge and for changes in the system of governance. “All administration which remains secret cannot complain if it is suspected,” wrote the archbishop of Toulouse, Loménie de Brienne, over ten years prior to becoming a member of the Notables. Distrust, at all times, lent weight to rumors of intrigue, of the secret machinations of ministers and courtiers, queens and royal mistresses. In 1787 the French again spied intrigue in the maneuvers of the controller general Calonne, who sold or exchanged royal land cheaply to speculators,44 who tried to raise the government’s credit with its lenders in anticipation of new loans, and whose dismissal was attributed to the personal hostility or ambition of ministers or Notables. Distance and ignorance also spawned other accusations with more enduring effect. Constantly rising taxes and an unexplained deficit in peacetime whose upper limit kept rising were proof of disorder in the

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financial administration, responsibility for which lay with the minister in charge, the controller general, and his agents. A decade after Loménie de Brienne had warned that secret financial operations bred suspicion of the administration, the archbishop unleashed a tirade of criticism against the single authority of the finance minister: “everything is concentrated in the sole will of the controller . . . everything winds up in the office of the controller, sole and supreme arbiter of everything. What vexations, injustices, . . . exactions does this frightful regime not produce?” The underlings of the finance minister he attacked more vehemently: “The commis do everything, give direction to everything, depending upon whether they are honest or paid by interested parties. . . . Everything is instructed, extracted, judged by the bureaux.” Loménie criticized even more caustically bureaucrats who displaced the king from authority: [T]hey no longer examine, discuss or regulate in Council the receipts, expenses, or accounts. The interested parties do it, the commis, the controller. The controller puts these in his briefcase, has the king sign them, then they are taken to the chancellor who signs them. . . . Thus the king only knows what the controller wants to say to him in their face-to-face working sessions. . . . everything [is done] by rule of the Council which the Council never deliberated and which are still the work of commis who at their own pleasure set the course of the King’s action by means of the arbitrary and false expression the King being in his Council.

The numbers of these all-powerful agents also multiplied in the late eighteenth century: “what were seven to eight departments under the abbé Terray [in 1770] are now twenty-five or thirty.” Loménie’s stark conclusion followed: “From that the dreadful Bureaucracy that [now] exists.”45 Royal agents—the commis in the Contrôle Général, and the intendants, tax assessors, and tax collectors in the provinces—conjured for the Notables an unknowable bureaucracy controlled from afar and inherently wasteful, inefficient, and arbitrary. The commis, they believed, did too much and kept knowledge within their small circle, even to the exclusion of the king. The intendants and other provincial agents also did too much but had insufficient knowledge of the area and people they administered. Government agents had other demerits. Appointed officials sought only personal advantage, to rise higher in the administration, which they obtained not by demonstrating ability or merit but by gaining the favor of those above them; venal officers were impelled by a mercenary spirit. All were little

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attached to their functions or places. In its concluding declaration, the third bureau of the Assembly of Notables fulminated against the workings of a remote, centralized administration: The government does everything at great cost, because it is far from the place where its agents carry out, with its authority, their long and expensive operations. There is not one enlightened minister who believes he can, from the midst of the court and the capital, supervise the agents that he employs and direct local researches. The necessary operations, for the apportioning of taxes, presuppose knowledge that varies according to the place and that cannot be acquired from far away. This knowledge does not belong to only one man nor to a single class of men.46

The remedy the Notables proposed was not to put the king back at the center, but to create many centers of governance. In place of bureaucracy, they demanded more self-government and involvement of the public. In contrast to intendants and other agents of the central government, who know and care little of the place in which they operate, administration would revert to those living in the province and community who have “a local knowledge of the means of amelioration in each province,” said the prince de Robecq (despite his profession of royalist sympathies at the outset of the Assembly).47 The Notables believed that local people who performed the tasks of local government would have both the understanding and the will to do a better job. Loménie in his memoir and the Notables in their debates, who criticized with the animus of “outsiders,” now insisted on being included in the operations of power.

Local Participation and Provincial Autonomy A share in public authority, a part in making policy, and the power to carry out law regularly were recurrent themes and reiterated demands of the Notables, expressed in ways both old and new. Claims to privilege for the clergy and the provincial estates voiced among the Notables took on an altered meaning. “Privilege” became a bridge to “consent,” invoked not as exemption from the law or special benefits in the law but as a general right to discuss, approve, and execute the law. The clergy, the Notables agreed (including the archbishops and bishops among them), should pay the land tax as other Frenchmen did, equally, in proportion to their income from the land; but they should not be compelled, as the

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Crown proposed, to sell their seigneurial income to redeem their debt without first meeting in their assembly to give their consent.48 The provinces, they argued even more ardently, must submit equally to the same tax law while maintaining their privileges. So long as all the land and each taxpayer paid a proportionate share uniformly calculated to the income of the land (and not exceeding 10 percent), provinces could be permitted different forms of tax administration. Those provinces with estates (the pays d’états) would retain their right to consent to, apportion, and collect taxes, “their receivers general or particular [paying] the sums into the Royal Treasury without using any government agents.”49 And if the taxes of some provinces continued to be lower than those of other provinces, no Notable from the lower-taxed regions, such as Brittany, Burgundy, Provence, and Lorraine, who were the most outspoken advocates in the Assembly of provincial privilege, would ask their fellow Bretons, Burgundians, Provençals, and Lorrainers to pay higher taxes.50 The Notables interpreted provincial privilege universally. The privileges of the pays d’états should not be exclusive to them; they should become the rights of all the provinces. The third bureau, led by the archbishop of Aix, Boisgelin, whose origins in Brittany and career in Provence steeped him in the tradition of provincial privilege and autonomy, expressed this view forthrightly. The practice of abonnements, to negotiate with the Crown to determine the sum of taxes and to assess and collect taxes, which since the 1750s the pays d’états did for the vingtième, should be extended to all the provinces, argued members of the third bureau: “The provinces, the communities, the taxpayers, will be abonnés from one end of the kingdom to the other. The privilege that the kings have sworn to maintain will not be destroyed. They will become common to all citizens, as the beneficient laws that conserve the natural rights of men.”51 Abonnements was the springboard for the Notables to claim fiscal autonomy for all provinces. Autonomy not only in taxation but in general administration quickly became their objective. From the first days of their meetings, as they debated the Crown’s plan to establish assemblies in provinces where there were no estates, all the bureaux demonstrated their intent, step by small step, to transform the assemblies the government designed and to give to the provinces effective powers of self-government. The provincial assemblies were an “absolute benefit,” said Castillon, a Provençal magistrate and member of the second bureau, as long as certain changes were adopted to make the assemblies fit the pattern of the provincial

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estates.52 The Notables were virtually unanimous: the functions the Crown planned to assign to the assemblies and their powers were insufficient.53 Their duties, as proposed, were to evaluate property for the land tax and apportion the tax, to administer public works projects and poor relief, and to inform the government of their communities’ needs and views and suggest programs. The assemblies would, in effect, be mere channels of consultation, with little means to exercise their few responsibilities. Instead, the Notables urged, the assemblies should apportion and collect the land tax using their own agents, not the assessors or collectors sent from Versailles. Disarmingly, the archbishop of Aix stated: “the provinces do not believe it is too dear to buy the advantages of a provincial administration by assuming the costs of collection.”54 Indeed, the Notables thought local tax collection would be cheaper, the savings returned to each province for its use or to permit tax reductions. The revenue from the land tax would also be used locally, with assemblies allocating part of the funds to finance their own programs. Other jurisdiction that the Crown proposed was extended to give the assemblies greater authority; for example, over public works projects, with agents subordinate to them or of their own choice, and the king and ministers able only to exercise remote control. Uttering words the Crown forbade, several bureaux demanded that the assemblies be “executive” or “legislative.” The third bureau insisted on calling them “provincial administrations” rather than “provincial assemblies,” by the shift in word attributing to the provincial institutions full and active administrative powers.55 In the succeeding weeks, as the Notables discussed reform after reform, time and again they tried to give to the assemblies a role in implementing the reforms as well as broader powers to modify, approve, or carry out the reforms in general.56 They specified programs the assemblies should oversee, such as redemption of the clerical debt,57 free trade in grain,58 the national customs union,59 administration of the royal domains,60 and responsibility for administering poor relief.61 Without explicitly making the claim, several bureaux moved in the direction of conferring on the assemblies varying degrees of authority over all taxes, new and old.62 The assemblies were also to serve as guardians of the royal treasury; in that capacity they were to receive reports of annual tax receipts and reductions in the deficit so as to assure future tax cuts, particularly in the land tax.63 Onto the emerging structure of provincial assemblies most of the bureaux sought to attach greater or lesser degrees of financial and general

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administration, consultation on policy, and executive and legislative authority. The third bureau expressed openly the thought implicit in the decisions of almost all the bureaux: the assemblies were so important that any new tax would have to await their establishment and approval.64 Once established, the assemblies might gain greater importance and induce further changes in government, as an unidentified memorandum among the papers of the seventh bureau suggested: “an establishment indifferent in its infancy, upsetting for administrators in its adolescence, dangerous for sovereigns, useful for the nation in its virility, and the wisdom of its maturity can prepare a revolution in the constitution that will stamp out despotism which hides itself until the present under the cloak of the monarchy.”65 The Notables’ ambitions for the provinces centered on the assemblies. It was those institutions that would gain the functions and powers shorn from the royal government—from the tax assessors and collectors, from the administrators of bridges and roads, especially from the royal intendants. Claims to a public role for the sovereign courts or for the nobility, familiar in the past—in the uprisings of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and in the polemics of parlementary courts in preceding decades—were peripheral issues to the Notables.66 The new assemblies, together with the existing provincial estates, would be the effective organs of local self-government, drawing their members from a public that extended beyond nobles and magistrates to include residents, proprietors, and public officials in the provinces.67 With broader powers and local representation, provincial assemblies and those in districts and parishes would provide better government. In the words of the third bureau, “It is for the provincial assemblies to give the rules, it is for the communities to follow and execute them. Each community must itself make its land assessment under the inspection of the provinces; each community charged with the cost of an operation of interest for all its inhabitants will carry it out more economically and with greater exactitude, and the tax will be apportioned more accurately without being increased.”68 The appeal of local rule was its cheapness and, especially, the power it would confer, collectively and individually: for the local regions, the power to do almost as they willed; for individuals, to wield a portion of that power. On the one hand, the historic desire of the upper classes to enter into and become the government could find satisfaction with authority brought nearer and made theirs to exercise. On the other hand, the millennial desire of the lower classes to be left alone and not pay or pay little taxes, and to feel

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lightly the weight of authority, could be answered by the image of a government that taxes and commands at a distance.69 Under the banner of local rule each could read its own meaning, and the two could meet.

A Public Role in National Government From the provinces the Notables turned their attention to the nation. A sense of the need to coordinate the autonomous activities of the provinces, though not expressed as such, emerged from their discussions. Uniform laws would be needed to preserve the national framework the monarchy had created and within which the provinces could operate autonomously. In the words of the second bureau, “in everything which will not alter universality in the contribution, and equality in the apportionment, the rights and privileges of corps and of provinces will be maintained in their integrity.”70 These laws, national in scope, would express the nation’s will. Calls for national consent through a superior institutional process, episodic or marginal in the past, were now repeated.71 Indirectly and circumspectly, the Notables staked a claim to public participation in national affairs, even to a form of national assemblage. Rarely did they pronounce such principles; more often these views were implicit in their responses to the frustrating constraints on their investigations of government operations or to the confusions and irregularities they uncovered. In rhetoric they remained still diffident before the royal majesty; in act they were set in a contest with royal power.72 The Assembly was convened as a consultative body, but instead of performing as loyal councilors—farmyard animals selecting the sauce with which they would be eaten, as a caricature of the day depicted them73—the Notables fast became prosecuting attorneys. They asked questions; requested information, including facts and figures on government activities; and investigated the problems and policies that required reforms. They threatened, decorously, not to act on the land tax until they had the information with which they could decide.74 Their probes were attempts at surveillance and control. In turn, they jostled at the controls the Crown placed on them. They were invited as individuals but acted as spokesmen—of their corporations (the clergy, the courts) but also of their provinces.75 In one such instance, the second bureau sought unsuccessfully to organize provincial blocs (which the Crown prohibited).76 With greater success, the second bureau stretched its right given to them to “advise” to include the act to

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“modify,” and insisted on discussing not only the form but also the substance of each reform project.77 Prefiguring attitudes and behavior that would soon become widespread but were still exceptional in 1787, several audacious members of the second bureau tried to introduce issues not included in the royal program, such as civil rights for Protestants and reform of the criminal law, arguing that the Assembly had no limits to its rights to discuss and propose: “[A]ll the public welfare is within the competence of the Notables,” affirmed Nicolai, president of the Paris chambre des comptes.78 In demanding government records they claimed responsibility to inform the public. In proposing counterprojects or new laws, and refusing government measures, they were imposing their claim to consent, adapt, or veto, and were experimenting with the right to initiate.79 They employed the practices of lawmakers and assumed the guise of quasi-representatives of the nation, trying to transform their consultative assembly into a virtual legislature—a “national assembly” as contemporaries called it. The model of a single national assemblage, which their meetings introduced into French public life, led the Notables to express the wish that the precedent be repeated in the future and at regular intervals. Within five years, recommended the seventh bureau, to verify that financial accounts were in order and to perform a broader mission: “to come to agreement . . . again on the most suitable measures for the good of his [Majesty’s] service, the glory of his reign, and the happiness of his subjects.”80 At the same time, the Notables realized that their own institution had a flaw: they were appointed, not elected, and in fact did not represent and could not decide for the nation. They claimed to be representative and legislative when they challenged the Crown for information and attempted to block new laws or to initiate laws by their counterproposals, yet they abjured their representative role and legislative power when they refused to approve the government’s reforms, especially the land tax. Their seeming ambivalence was in fact a double tactic for a single purpose. The constraints the Crown placed on their functions, which they often refuted, were also their excuse for conferring magnanimously the larger role of consenting to laws and representing the nation onto another, more effective political body.81 Their assumed powerlessness was their greatest power to force the monarchy, in order to obtain needed funds, to seek the full and formal consent of the nation. On the form or process for expressing the national will their ideas were not exact or uniform.82 At times several of the bureaux merely favored reinforcing and extending the existing system of registering laws in the sovereign

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courts along with their approval in the provincial estates and in the new provincial assemblies, a scheme that accentuated a decentralized system of public authority. A single institution that most completely embodied the national will was the sentiment expressed in all but one of the bureaux; two in particular suggested the outlines of such a national body. A federal design was one proposal. The third bureau, in its final declaration, recommended that the provincial estates and assemblies send delegates to a national body that would vote on taxes. Ineluctably the members of that body would move to assume broader powers, as the Notables had done and as the comte de Brienne, member of the first bureau, foreshadowed in the initial sketch of a federal system: “The minister . . . will be obliged to give an account each year to the king in the presence of the deputies of the provincial estates and assemblies of the use of the funds entrusted to him, and he will present the projects for new laws as well as for the reform of old ones to be examined by the members of the provincial estates and assemblies if the king judges it appropriate.”83 The national institution that the overwhelming number of Notables invoked time and again in their debates and resolutions was the estatesgeneral. The seemingly innocuous measure for long-term leasing of the royal domains brought to the minds of the members of the second bureau (whose minutes are the most detailed) the historical memory of the estates-general. The sole legitimate vehicle for national consent, said the hitherto reticent mayor of Limoges; its enactments superior in authority to the royal will, stated a royal councilor (and future royal minister), Laurent de Villedeuil. Only an estates-general could give the nation’s consent to alienating the royal domain, to new taxes, to a tax increase, or to an unlimited and perpetual tax. The Notables’ references to an estates-general became calls for an estatesgeneral as their words filtered through talk and print to the public.84 Lafayette, in one of the final sessions in the Assembly of Notables, was not the first nor would he be the last to suggest that in five years, with financial order restored and the provincial assemblies operating regularly, the king should convoke “an assembly truly national.” “[T]he estates-general?” asked the comte d’Artois in a tone of reproof. “. . . This was precisely the object of his request,” answered Lafayette, “and beseeched Monseigneur to inscribe it as expressing the view of convoking the Estates-General of the kingdom.”85 Distance permitted contemporaries to embellish the collective memory of the estates-general, ascribing to it a role and authority never clearly exercised in the past but which satisfied current aspirations.

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The Assembly of Notables seemed to end in stalemate between the Crown and its opponents. Yet certain reforms the Notables accepted and certain modifications the government accepted became new policies: free trade in grain, a national customs union, the substitution of a money tax for the corvée, reductions in government expenses, and changes in its financial practices. More important, from the spring of 1787 onwards the French public had before them a political design for the future. An estates-general elected and legislative, provincial assemblies representative and administrative, taxes fixed in amount and in time, a program for participation in local and national government, and a plan for lower taxes and consent to taxes emerged from the Assembly of Notables. In defending landed income, not fiscal privilege, against the effects of the proposed land tax, the Notables touched the interests of many in France—nobles and commoners who were owners or cultivators of the land. In demanding greater self-government through new institutions of public authority in provinces and in the nation, instead of power in the name of the clergy, magistracy, or nobility, the Notables stirred the ambitions of a broader range of social groups either excluded from existing corporate activity or whose ambit was narrowly local. Provincial gentilshommes and urban notables, in particular, faced the agreeable prospect of entering into provincial government and engaging in national affairs. In the end, the Notables offered a cause to which great numbers of French men and women could lend their support.

The criticisms and claims that the Assembly of Notables shaped into a program were yearnings at once contemporary and centuries old. Opposition to taxes and demands for consent and participation were persistent undercurrents in European history as evidenced in learned treatises, customary beliefs, and revolutionary acts and manifestos.86 Peasants protesting tax collectors sent from afar, cities clinging to their municipal autonomy, provinces invoking historical privileges, nobles and magistrates insisting on controlling and sharing in the decisions of their king were an integral part of the seemingly inexorable development of the modern state. Within this broad tradition was a range of variations, each example bearing the features of the culture and language of its time, its geographical setting, and its social place. The Notables assembled together in 1787 echoed and gave renewed vigor to sentiments already long-lived and commonplace, and to which they

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added their imprint. They introduced into an older pattern themes that marked changes from previous demands and contributed to a new revolutionary tradition. Particular practices and policies that were similar to claims made in the past—opposition to a land tax, insistence on government economies and financial controls, even consent to taxes—were cast in an institutional framework and language, and had objectives, that differed profoundly. Fiscal privilege found no place in their final program; even the clerical members accepted equality of taxation. The centuries-long divide between those who paid taxes and those who were exempt could now be bridged, and attention could be concentrated on the goal of reducing taxes on the land. Controls over government revenue and expenditures and consent to taxes would no longer be the exclusive prerogative of the clergy, magistracy, and a handful of provincial estates, as in the traditional vision of a monarchie temperée des corps. Control and consent instead would be exercised by the general public through elected assemblies and representatives from the parish to the province, and ultimately from the nation at large. The Notables attached fiscal and political goals to concrete yet broadly based policies and institutions; gave to their cause the imprint of a national identity that linked the efforts of diverse groups and places into a unified network with cohesive force; and expressed their claims in a language of universal application. The opposition they inaugurated, the political culture they voiced, had potentially wide appeal. The public that made this program its own introduced further changes as group after group in the nation sought its place in new institutions for consent and participation. A significant transformation in attitude and outlook among the elite in the late ancien régime is undeniable.87 What prompted such a change remains debatable. “At the end of the eighteenth century,” a phrase heard now and then in the debates of the Notables, suggests a conscious awareness that theirs was an age whose values and objectives differed from those in earlier times and required new practices. Were they alluding to the age of the Enlightenment? Parallels abound between arguments heard in the Assembly of Notables and those found in the writings of physiocrats and philosophes, including Necker.88 Glossing over discordancies and inconsistencies, the Assembly put together a mosaic of contemporary ideas and common opinions in favor of reduced, universal, and proportional taxation; the elimination of the corvée and the gabelle; free trade and legal equality; economies, reforms, and transparency in government finances; and public control and participation

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in government. Parallels may also be seen between the debates of the Notables and the pronouncements of the Paris parlement even before Enlightenment culture became dominant. Influence came from more than one source; ideas were appropriated in various ways and worked their way indirectly. The national spirit Calonne had in mind and that the Notables evidenced gained strength from the spread of Enlightenment culture among the elites, but it was also an outgrowth of national integration which royal power and actions advanced. The Notables’ arguments were not a reasoned discourse on government composed in solitude but a response to the immediate problems of public administration as these suddenly became known to them, and which gave priority to practical measures of action. Budget deficits rather than the principles of sovereignty were directly at issue, but the practices of sovereignty imposed themselves in their discourse and emerged changed. Their response was also the fruit of reflection, however hasty under the daily pressure of their working sessions. If Enlightenment ideas at times gave direction, provided a certain content, and supplied the language for their criticisms and claims, they did not operate as a direct literary influence; rather, they helped to confirm attitudes already in mind and to articulate those changes toward which the Notables were groping, which they believed were necessary to overcome problems the government faced, and which satisfied their interests and yearnings.89 Enlightenment ideas, the practical needs of public policy, and individual or group ambitions converged in the Notables’ demands for fiscal equality, lower taxes on the land, and participation in government. “The end of the eighteenth century” alluded also to a time of peace, of which the Notables were keenly conscious. The French involvement in the American war ended in 1783, a war that had been fought far from the territory of France. The Notables’ shock at the request for more taxes after four years of peace betrayed more than the traditional belief that the king had a legitimate need for taxes only in time of war. Peace introduced its own dynamic, impelling the French to change the terms of an implicit social contract underlying the ancien régime.90 Mutual obligations between subjects and ruler in a society with a monetary economy and institutionalized monarchy, such as eighteenth-century France, involved an exchange of taxes and political authority in a network of more or less tacit assumptions.91 The peaceful time in which they lived was altering the conditions for that exchange, and obligations they once were willing to accept were no

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longer agreeable. Absolutism at its beginning imposed political obedience and passivity in return for protection; the conditions of foreign and civil warfare in the sixteenth and especially seventeenth centuries made such protection a necessity, forcing the king’s subjects to yield a portion of political autonomy in return for the security that greater royal authority afforded. Since the end of Louis XIV’s reign, war had not devastated much of the land of France or wreaked havoc directly on the lives of most Frenchmen.92 Two generations of relative internal peace dissolved from historical memory the sense of need for the protection absolutism offered in exchange for yielding political autonomy and public involvement in political activity. To give to the king obedience and the material means for authority that taxes signified now required that the king permit freer public activity and yield a portion of power to his subjects—that participation instead of obedience be exchanged for taxes. The peace that absolutism promised, when it came, denied the premises for its continued practice.

3 The Society of Orders at Its Demise The Vision of the Elite at the End of the Ancien Régime

The society of orders that the second Assembly of Notables and the Aristocratic party endorsed in 1788, and that came to its end in 1789, was embedded in a system of representations that first received expression in France, according to historian Georges Duby, in the decade following the year 1000.1 For eight centuries this model of social relations endured, at one and the same time a framework for the ordering of social groups approximating reality and for the reflections of society upon its collective form. As a social structure and a cultural concept, the society of orders was fixed yet supple. Within the three orders of those who prayed, those who fought, and those who worked, different social groups were ranged and their composition and order of primacy altered over time as economic and government activities transformed society. Initially, around the year 1000, monks and priests, warriors, and peasants, in a descending hierarchy, constituted the three orders. In contrast, at the end of the eighteenth century, nobles and anoblis, magistrates and administrators, as well as businessmen and financiers shared or competed for social eminence and even noble status; the category “order” or “estate” identified not only the clergy, nobility, and commoners but also privileged judges and officers, professions and crafts, and landowners and merchants. All the orders together formed the body politic. By the 1780s, historians now agree, the pace of change was altering not only the component elements but the framework of society as the organizing principle of social relations increasingly shifted from orders to classes.2 The beliefs that sustained this tripartite hierarchy also varied over time. Religious arguments—above all, the dignity of serving God—had justified the clergy’s primacy; subsequently, the prestige attached to serving kings transferred primacy to warriors and councilors. As nobility was formalized 61

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and became permanent, function as a justifying principle yielded to claims founded on inheritance, legal privilege, and tradition, reinforced by beliefs in the nobility’s superiority: the physiological superiority of its blood and semen, and the moral superiority of its comportment dictated by “honor.”3 Succeeding ages superimposed their values on the society of orders. By the end of the eighteenth century, themes from the past combined with new ideas marked by the Enlightenment. The varied arguments sanctioning the system of orders were elaborated within a cultural heritage that set limits upon thought. At one pole was the tradition of the three orders itself, integral to the history of France and incorporating diverse social groups; society without orders was unimaginable. At the other pole was a legacy of classical thought that was revived in the Renaissance: the belief in a necessary balance in society and government of “the one, the few, and the many.”4 Whatever the changes in society and thought, whatever the terms used, the three orders of clergy, nobility, and Third Estate and the balance among king, aristocracy, and people were the fundamental categories in which society was conceived, inspiring but also constricting visions. Over time, these ideas that once had been original became commonplace, stock formulas that infused peoples’ minds without requiring, in ordinary times and discourse, argument or proof. Yet great minds revitalized this legacy, and critical events required that received opinions and vague generalities be brought into conscious focus, transforming simple notions into sophisticated arguments. The final defense of the society of orders, refashioned in the spirit of its age, remained circumscribed within an inherited pattern of images and assumptions.

The Debate on Representation It was rare in the ancien régime for Frenchmen to debate with official sanction the question of representation; that occurred in 1787 and, more intensively, in 1788. From February to May 1787 the first Assembly of Notables debated the issue of representation in the government’s proposed provincial assemblies. The major issue was the demand for participation in government activity, for the public to share with the king some power in government, and the mode of representation was, in that year, a secondary theme. Support for participation welled in the public until the Crown agreed, in the summer of 1788, to convene an estates-general. Yet amidst that consensus discord soon arose. Once the principle of participation was gained, the

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debate shifted to the question of what form representation would take in the estates-general of 1789, as well as its form in the provincial estates and assemblies. A national debate aimed at introducing uniform and regular election practices nationwide for the estates-general was itself an innovation. The estates-general had met in the past, from the fourteenth century until 1614, but those earlier meetings had not been accompanied by debates on the forms of representation; nor had there been uniform electoral regulations. Laissez-faire had prevailed; each bailliage determined the number of deputies elected from each order, and each estates-general determined the way in which the three orders voted—as individuals who investigated the documentary records in 1788 discovered to their surprise.5 The Crown’s initiative in introducing systematic electoral procedures was another step in its centuries-long policy of national integration. The public’s support for uniform standards both in the elections and in the nature of representation (despite differences that arose over the exact criteria) attests to the strength of a national consciousness—the belief that all regions and groups were part of a single nation. Certain guides to procedures were available to the Notables, but these tended to be vague or went at cross-purposes. Cultural tradition suggested representation through the three orders in some relation of equilibrium; existing provincial estates and assemblies offered working examples of the three orders as representative bodies. But how many should be in each order, and how were the orders to function? There was no precise answer, and only an outline of a normative model could be gleaned from theory or from the distant past, while institutions in the preceding two centuries and those in the present offered a variety of patterns. Enlightenment thinkers offered no exact prescription beyond invoking some vague form of representation. The physiocrats alone offered a definite formula, which ignored juridical orders and anchored representation on landownership and landed income. When, in 1787 and 1788, Frenchmen had to debate a concrete plan for representation, they could conceivably devise any number of schemes— with different proportions of representation based on orders or on landed income, even blending one and the other. Attitudes that ideas and interests embedded in their minds, and problems that circumstances of the day raised, also would influence their choices. The critical issues debated in late 1788 were the organization and operation of representative assemblies: whether voting in the estates-general

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(and provincial estates) should be “by order” or “by head,” and whether the Third Estate should have double the number of deputies of the first and second estates combined. These demands brought to the fore questions about the social basis of representation and the political effectiveness of representative bodies. Arguments over the structure and functioning of provincial estates, those already established or to be formed, raged in Artois, Brittany, Dauphiné, Franche-Comté, Languedoc, and Provence. A national debate on representation and voting in the estates-general followed the declaration of the Paris parlement on 25 September 1788 in favor of the traditional form as used in the meeting of 1614. Public opinion was surprised to learn from research on the estates-general of 1614 that the Paris parlement’s decision meant that the three orders would vote separately and each would have the same representation. The decision of the second Assembly of Notables, convened from November to December 1788, to support the separation of orders and oppose doubling of Third Estate representation in the forthcoming estates-general occasioned an outpouring of writings and more heated argument.6 The insistence of a significant proportion of the nobility, the upper clergy (though not all), and the magistracy, notably the Paris parlement, on maintaining the orders in the estates-general, and their resistance to vote by head and doubling of the Third Estate, were critical acts which shattered their previous alliance with the public, introduced a new political alignment, and transformed the Revolution. In late 1788 a movement was formed in opposition to the first two orders; it was identified in particular with the Third Estate, and enjoyed the support of some of the nobles and clergy. Yet the notoriety that certain prominent groups within the nobility, upper clergy, and magistracy attracted to themselves in turn cast opprobrium upon the aristocracy as a whole. We know these facts thanks to Jean Egret’s writings, but the motives behind these acts remain obscure. The character of the late ancien régime elite that emerges from their comportment is a lively subject of controversy among historians. Some sustain the orthodox image of a backward-looking aristocracy that invoked historical tradition to retain its privileges and restore its lost power; others argue for the revisionist view of an elite that espoused liberal and Enlightened ideals.7 The revisionist theory of an elite, in gaining predominance over the orthodox theory of class conflict, should not obscure from view the new contours of the conflict, which contempo-

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raries in late 1788 saw as an opposition between the Third Estate and leading elements of the first and second estates. The mentality of that elite soon to be thrust from leadership—the substratum of thought that nurtured their objectives and underlay the rapid pace of events in 1787–1788—are here examined through the debates on representation in the first and second Assemblies of Notables, whose meetings opened and closed this critical period. In demanding the separation of orders, the two Assemblies of Notables— and those sharing their views within the late ancien régime elite—were not simply clinging to tradition, affirming their superior status, or defending their purity against those of inferior rank. Fear of being sullied by rubbing shoulders with commoners in a single assembly hardly entered the discourse of the day. By the 1780s the nobles, clergy, and notables, many of whom were members of academies, Masonic lodges, and literary or philanthropic societies, were accustomed to the mix of orders, and some were even pleased to sit beside laboureurs (peasant proprietors) in the new comice d’agriculture.8 Neither tradition, nor status, nor psychological fastidiousness was mainly at play.9 The Notables had ambivalent feelings about the “people.” Aristocratic and democratic sentiments were juxtaposed: they supported the separation of orders, yet proposed a broad franchise. In 1787 they self-consciously assumed the role of spokesmen of the public and defenders of the nation. They armed themselves with the force of public opinion to challenge royal authority in the name of the national will. They courted the public, sympathized with it, and solicited it through their rhetoric and claims. They asserted the nation’s rights to know about, to participate in, and to control government activities. At the same time they were suspicious of that public, fearful that it might become the ally of their opponent, the Crown, or become independent and their master. Old notions of their historic right to leadership mixed with new imperatives designed to bring the public under their control or to bridle its autonomous action. From a dominant note in early 1787 of self-confidence about their ability to influence and guide the public, by late 1788 the Notables became aware of the need for self-defense in the face of a public now seen as overwhelming in numbers and no longer pliable. These extremes of thought, composed with reflection and passion, offer the rudiments of an age-old political culture recast with elements of Enlightenment political thought.

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The First Assembly of Notables, 1787 The first debates on the forms of representation were occasioned by controller general Calonne’s plan, presented to the Assembly of Notables in 1787, to establish local and provincial assemblies in provinces without estates. The arguments, however, remained confined to the closed halls of the Assembly, the public being informed only of the final result—the Notables’ insistence on the distinction of orders in the provincial assemblies. No objection to this decision to maintain the orders appeared in public; their views, after all, conformed to the practices in the two existing provincial assemblies in Berry and Haute-Guyenne.10 The elite, as well as opinion in general, seemed to accept distinctions by order within governmental institutions. Calonne’s original proposal, drawn from the Turgot-Dupont project on municipalities, aimed to establish a political leadership on the basis of landed income. In the localities those who enjoyed economic independence would qualify, while at the provincial level well-off proprietors would benefit. Parish assemblies would be composed of proprietors with incomes of 600 livres from their land; those with higher incomes would be able to cast multiple votes up to a limit of one-third of all the parish votes, while small landowners could combine their incomes to a sum of 600 livres and elect a common deputy to represent them. These local assemblies would then select from among their members the deputies for district assemblies, the latter in turn selecting deputies for provincial assemblies from among those members who had a minimum income of 1,000 livres from landed property in the province. Presidents of provincial assemblies were required to have a larger income of 1,000 écus (3,000 livres) from landed property. The Notables in the Assembly and the ancien régime elite were largely landowners who would have qualified for, and benefited from, the terms the Crown set;11 yet they objected to the single qualification of landed income for membership in the new local assemblies. In demanding the distinction of orders in the provincial assemblies, the Notables conjured up the twin evils of democracy and despotism, dangers well known to them from the writings of ancient and modern historians and philosophers. Other terms in their discourse form a pattern of contrasting images whose frequent recurrence highlights the political, social, and cultural preconceptions that these members of the elite did not otherwise articulate so starkly. They envisaged a situation in which wealth and num-

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bers predominated, a political system governed by the uneducated and marked by disorder and confusion, which would result in oppression. To ward off this prospect they offered their ideal of the nobility and people allied in a political system governed by the educated and enlightened, and which would embody balance and order. The Notables’ debates offer a key not only to what they thought but also to the ways in which they thought. The Notables engaged in what linguists call “binary reasoning”: thoughts were linked in pairs rather than expressed as single mental objects. In theory, this mode of binary reasoning is encoded in human thought patterns and tends to impose on the mind the choice of one of the alternatives.12 Binary thinking may simplify reasoning by reducing a complex whole to its fundamental elements. Instead of keeping in mind a range of possibilities or choices that exist or may be realized, the spectrum is limited to the beginning and the end, the alternatives are the twin extremes, with nothing in between.13 The rigors of logic are imposed on the diversity of reality, so that fears or hopes may color or distort perceptions. Binary thinking is often employed as a means of persuasion in politics. The Notables thought in opposites that were simplifications, conjuring the worst and embellishing the best, in order to justify their claims and demands. Democracy and despotism, they presupposed, were the ineluctable alternatives against which the only refuge lay in a balance of those triads drawn from their cultural past: the three orders of clergy, nobles, and Third Estate; and king, aristocracy, and people. What arguments buttressed this belief, and what was their purpose? The Notables foresaw three outcomes—all fraught with peril—if the provincial assemblies were established on the lines proposed by Calonne.14 First, nobles and clergy might enter the assemblies in overwhelming numbers because of their landed wealth or their local prominence. This massive presence would give them excessive influence in the assemblies, which would be unfair to the non-noble proprietors. Worse, with no barriers to their power, and with their combined wealth, numbers, and influence, the Grands—as history so often demonstrated—might oppress the “little people” instead of protecting them. In a similar manner, the rich might gain the upper hand against the greater number of the people if financial qualifications permitted only individuals with landed incomes of 600 livres to enter the parish assemblies, and those with greater incomes to accumulate multiple votes. One wealthy proprietor might have as many as a third of the votes in the assembly; several wealthy proprietors in the village could easily assert

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majority control over the assembly, and have the power to select deputies to represent themselves in the district assembly. Rich landowners would dominate village assemblies and those of the district and province alike. By their wealth and numbers, using their new power in their own interests, they could oppress the poorer people. Whether nobles and clergy would dominate, or the rich, the people would be without spokesmen and defenders. The second possible outcome was that the people would dominate, perhaps even with the first two orders excluded. At play in the Notables’ minds was the image of peasants, especially well-off roture (non-noble) landowners, monopolizing parish assemblies in the villages. They alone would assess property and apportion taxes, perhaps impose excessive taxes on the lands of nobles. They might also select from among themselves the deputies for district assemblies; from these bodies in turn other prosperous roture landowners might be deputized for the provincial assemblies. Le Blanc de Castillon of the Parlement of Provence, a member of the second bureau, voiced the fear that “there will not be found at the provincial assembly a sole ecclesiastical or noble deputy.” Loménie de Brienne offered a more pointed assessment. If the admission of nobles and clergy were to depend on election, “either they will become the masters and fill all the places, or they will be reduced to nothing and be excluded.” Nobles and clergy might be eliminated from the political life of local communities and from the exercise of power. The Notables’ fear of exclusion became an implied threat to absent themselves. Faced by an uneducated and unintelligent majority, preceded by individuals older than they but poorer, lower in status, and uncultured, “presided by those the commoners will choose, and apportioned taxes under the influence of those who hold lands from them and are subject to them by the laws of the kingdom”—in the words of the duc d’Harcourt of the second bureau—noblemen and clergy would refuse to attend. Assemblies in the hands of the people, they believed, would fall into confusion and disorder, unable to exercise their functions. This, in the end, would lead to the third possible outcome: the crisis produced by democracy might provide the opportunity for the royal intendant to reassert the authority of the central government and usher in despotism. Who were the “rich” and the “people” whom they feared? The Notables distinguished between political and economic roles. The rich who might dominate in the assemblies were not the wealthy capitalistes (financiers) whom the Notables, in their fiscal debates, criticized for not paying the land tax and for draining money from the countryside for speculation in the

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capital. Since their numbers were concentrated in Paris and much of their wealth was not in land,15 the capitalistes could not gain a political advantage in the assemblies. Financiers were a fiscal and economic nuisance but not a political danger. Fermiers were the group who appeared to the Notables as potential political rivals; they held large amounts of land and were more numerous than financiers, being found in many villages of France. The Notables’ rhetoric glossed over strict definitions. The term fermier applied in the eighteenth century to large leaseholders, yet the government’s proposal permitted only property owners to vote and become members in the assemblies. The Notables therefore had in mind another group whom they called fermiers—landowners whose numbers and influence were becoming greater in the countryside. They were responding to a situation that historians have documented: the success of bourgeois, merchants, notaries, lawyers, doctors, and venal officers in buying rural land neighboring the cities, towns, and bourgs in which they lived. In the Sarthe alone, half of all the land was in the hands of such bourgeois, a greater portion than that owned by the nobility, clergy, or peasantry, and equal to the combined property of the clergy and nobles.16 Bourgeois landowners were not necessarily economic opponents; both noble and bourgeois proprietors, some Notables believed, might similarly favor agricultural interests. But those bourgeois owners of rural land might also become the political leaders in the parish assemblies and in district and provincial assemblies.17 The Notables’ aim was not to exclude these middling landowners from political participation but to limit their future role by ensuring the presence of nobles and clergy. The “people” may have posed a more remote danger, but the Notables nevertheless intended to ward it off. They had in mind the lower classes, especially the peasants, since they said little about urban dwellers. They called these peasants pejoratively “plebeians,” “low people,” and “multitudes,” or sometimes, more respectfully, “cultivators.” The Notables did not make fine social distinctions. The “people,” meaning the peasants, were viewed as one group because they all labored with their hands. Their words sometimes indicates an awareness both of well-off and stable peasants, and of the poor living on the edge of destitution, such as ménagers, manouvriers, and journaliers.18 The Notables could commiserate with the poor peasants and laborers who possessed little or nothing; they proposed ways to aid the poor, were generous in their philanthropy, and sought to become their leaders. But at the prospect of these people becoming a political force in their own

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right, the Notables’ words of sympathy quickly changed to expressions of disgust and outrage. They believed that peasants who engaged in physical labor had little education and little enlightenment.19 The poor among them were ruled by their passions, not their reason, as in a state of nature; they were disorderly; and with little or no property they were not independent. They lacked the qualities not so much for voting but for governing. In the minds of the Notables loomed the dreaded image of peasants whose lands and income depended on local notables, who were illiterate and on the margin of economic and social stability, yet who might still attain political power. The Notables were willing to be paternalistic so long as they had the power. Yet in reality, the only danger of peasants taking over the assemblies was in the parishes, where the numerous poor conceivably might combine their incomes and elect representatives. It was illusory for the provincial assemblies, since membership was on the basis of an income of 1,000 livres from land. The Notables’ overwrought imagination offered the grounds to claim the need, in new representative institutions, of individuals able to govern and to contain the people. The perils of despotism, democracy, and oppression by the Grands or the rich could be avoided, the Notables argued, by allotting places in the assemblies both to the people—including the rich among them—and to the nobles, which would assure a balance between them and be a counterweight to royal authority. The people should be given a number of places in the assembly equal to, or perhaps greater than, the nobles and clergy to offset the latter’s prestige and influence. The first two orders should have their honors respected and their distinct place and number in the assembly, conditions that would attract them to serve in the body: “[I]t is necessary to interest the nobles to live among them and to protect the people and . . . it is a reason for assuring them some advantage in the national assemblies,” said Chastellux, deputy of the nobility from the estates of Burgundy and member of the second bureau. The Notables’ discourse reveals both a sensitivity to their rank and a commitment to the principle of hierarchy. They repeatedly spoke of “precedence and presidence,”“dignity,”“distinctions,”“honors,”“ranks,” and “processions.” The president should be a noble or cleric, but the syndic, who would exercise responsibilities between the sessions and might direct the assembly’s activities, should be from the Third Estate. A noble should neither be presided over nor preceded by a commoner, least of all a peasant, on grounds of age as the government proposed. Nobles and clergy should have

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their separate processions and seating arrangements to avoid any affront to their dignity. The Notables were determined to maintain their distinctive and superior rank. They were also convinced that only the preeminence of nobles and clergy embodied in institutional forms could prevent the assemblies from becoming servile instruments of the government.20 Other considerations also lay behind their words. To reintroduce the orders in the assemblies meant to reserve for the first and second estates a certain number of seats and votes. (Only about four of the 144 Notables objected to this, including the comte d’Artois but not the marquis de Lafayette.) Three of the seven bureaux in the Assembly recommended that half the seats be assigned to the Third Estate and half to the first two orders combined (perhaps following the example of the two assemblies in Berry and Haute-Guyenne). Two other bureaux proposed that the clergy and nobility be allotted one-third of the seats “at least,” the remaining two-thirds to go to deputies from among “those whom one wants,” in the words of the first bureau, which opened up the possibility of additional noble or clerical deputies. The actual number of nobles and clergy would likely be greater than the one-third or one-half the bureaux proposed because, as Loménie de Brienne, the former Notable and newly appointed royal minister, stated to the delegates of the bureaux on 9 May, “the deputies of the cities are often taken from the order of the nobility and clergy.” With voting by head not by order in the new assemblies, which the Notables did not question, nobles and clergy would have as many votes as their number, half or more of the total. They were seeking a guarantee of strong representation for the first and second estates, as near an absolute majority as they could attain. The Notables may well have pondered in reverse the thought expressed by Alexis de Tocqueville years later in L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution. Fiscal privilege had for centuries, Tocqueville argued, separated the nobility from other Frenchmen, nurturing popular hostility and weakening their leadership in their communities. In debating the land tax in 1787, the Notables supported fiscal equality. With tax exemption eliminated, the nobility would no longer be set apart from the rest of society; nobles could claim to represent the interests of others and occupy the foreground on a new political stage.21 And if, as the Notables argued, they already paid most of the direct and indirect taxes and had little to gain from fiscal privilege, they could still gain from the leadership role to which they aspired, which they believed was their right, and to which all others traditionally had acquiesced. In his speech at the closing session of the Assembly on 25 May 1787,

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Loménie de Brienne agreed to grant half the seats to the nobility and clergy and articulated the thought that underlay the Notables’ debates on this issue: “as soon as it is agreed that taxes must be equal and apportioned equally, the elevation of the Grands becomes a means to defend the weak.”22 The Notables’ quest for a pivotal role for the elite in a new structure of political power emerged with sharpness in a dispute with the controller general in early April 1787. On 31 March–1 April, Calonne had published and widely distributed the reform projects which the Assembly had not yet approved, preceded by an introduction, the Avertissement, criticizing opponents of the reforms. The Notables viewed the minister’s audacious appeal to public opinion as a dangerous innovation in government practice. They responded by asserting what they claimed were the proper procedures and, more fundamentally, the right relations of power between the government, the Notables, and the public.23 By publishing the reforms and the Avertissement, and circulating them among the people, the minister attacked the rightful form of government. He had torn away the veil that kept secret the functioning of government, revealing to the populace the process of decision making. The people should be told only of the final decisions and the formal laws meant to promote the public welfare after prior, private deliberations. The Crown already was endowed with the power to decide the law; it did not need the addition of public support. While exalting royal power, the Notables aimed at limiting its contacts with the public and denying it the possibility of appealing to public opinion. At the same time, the Notables aimed to retain the role of deliberating, advising, and deciding on policy for themselves and their successors. Their expressed desire to open up government to the nation meant in effect to lodge policy and power with an elite who, together with the king and his ministers, would acquire information and control authority in the state. That elite would participate in making the law and carrying it out, while seeking to influence the king in the interests of the people. “The nobility and the clergy are between the people and the king, not in opposition to the one or to the other, but as a natural tie between the two,” so proclaimed the words of one Notable. The upper orders, the upper classes, were supremely capable of fulfilling this task. Their rank and birth assigned to them such leadership; historical tradition sanctioned it; and their talents warranted it. They had the education, the experience, and the zeal for public service. They were the most enlightened of Frenchmen and so would best serve the nation.24

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In addition to their traditional role as intermediaries, the Notables laid claim to a new one as surrogates of public opinion. The Notables and the elite had a right to express their views to the king, and also to the public, claiming for themselves what they denied to the Crown, influence over public opinion that would enhance their authority in government. The governing elite alone would express public opinion, instruct it, and guide it. The Notables were well aware of the new power of public opinion. They suspected it and feared it if it became a tool of the Crown or an independent force; they sought to bring it under the elite’s control. An outline of a new political strategy emerged in 1787 on the foundation of age-old social principles. The Notables aimed to forge a social bloc of the elite: nobles, upper clergy, magistrates, and provincial and municipal officials; and all others: the people, Third Estate, peasants, and the poor. To the latter they promised the sacrifice of their tax exemption, lower taxes, and assistance to alleviate their miseries. In return, the rest of society would accept the preeminence of nobles, clergy, and public officials in the new political order being constructed. They would cede privilege for power.

The Second Assembly of Notables, 1788 On 5 July 1788 the Crown conceded and agreed to call an estates-general at an unnamed date; one month later, on 8 August, it was forced to set the date for May 1789. On 25 September the newly recalled Paris parlement expressed its desire for an estates-general modeled on that of 1614, and on 5 October the Crown summoned the Notables again to advise on the form and procedures for the estates-general.25 Not only magistrates and Notables but other French men and women were turning their thoughts to that still elusive national organ. How had it operated and what had it accomplished in the past, and what could be learned for the present? The second Assembly of Notables was instructed to deal only with matters of voting and representation, in contrast to the variety of issues debated in 1787. In a forum similar to that of a constitutional assembly, the Notables elaborated their political ideology that earlier they had expressed only in passing. The different political issues they faced in late 1788 further shifted their focus from the danger of royal authority and the relations of power between the Crown and the nation to the problem of the relations of power among the social groups that constituted the nation. Of the many questions Jacques Necker, the new principal minister, submitted to them, those on the

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number of deputies for each order and the mode of voting in the estatesgeneral dominated the attention both of the Notables and the public. Other questions that would later be at the center of national debate—the requirements for voting and for election, for example—elicited responses that shed additional light on the Notables’ political culture at the end of the ancien régime. The Notables again insisted on the distinction of orders in both the estates-general and the provincial assemblies. In 1787 they had accepted without question vote by head in the provincial assemblies, and three of the seven bureaux in the first Assembly had urged that at least one-half of the seats in the provincial assemblies be assigned to the Third Estate. In the autumn of 1787 the provincial assemblies had met and the precedent for doubling and vote by head was set. The inhabitants of Dauphiné reinforced the precedent in their provincial estates, which were re-established in September 1788, and demanded both doubling and vote by head in the forthcoming estates-general. Necker gambled that the Notables would again favor doubling and vote by head for the estates-general. Yet despite public support for these goals expressed in petitions and pamphlets that inundated the Assembly, and demands for other modifications of the model of the 1614 estates-general, the Notables changed their position and remained obdurate in their new convictions, dismaying much of the public.26 They overwhelmingly favored voting by the separate orders in the estates-general; they also opposed doubling the number of Third Estate representatives. Expectations they had helped raise were now dashed. In 1787 they had interpreted the public will and succeeded in creating a consensus for their opposition to the Crown. In 1788 they failed to harmonize the aspirations of important segments of the elite with the rest of the public. This shift in the Notables’ point of view between 1787 and 1788 mirrored their altered sentiments. They now doubted that the elite would retain its preeminence in the forthcoming estates-general, which was in reaction to the change they sensed in public opinion. The public was now demanding what the Notables themselves had previously favored, but the most ominous feature for the Notables was that public opinion by late 1788 demonstrated a capacity to express itself and take initiatives that boded ill for the elite’s hopes to control and direct it. Provinces, cities, and guilds, as well as newspapers and pamphlets, were making demands and asserting claims counter to those of the traditional leaders without awaiting their views. A

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few even boldly attacked oppressive acts of the nobility, though admittedly in the feudal past rather than the present. This prospect of an invigorated and independent public opinion induced the Notables to bolster their weakened position and also to conciliate the public. In the deliberations of the second Assembly the members both narrowed and broadened the confines of political participation, while offering material concessions as an inducement to public opinion. What was in theory a contradictory position was their way of addressing a new situation. Their debates have the unique authenticity of opinions expressed from day to day in the haste of political combat during a brief period (from 6 November to 12 December 1788). The Notables struggled to integrate the new idiom of the late eighteenth century within the framework of their cultural heritage—the ideal of a balance among the three orders—in an inventive but ultimately vain effort to reinforce the elite’s role and to regain leadership of a public now eluding them. Less than one-tenth of the Notables supported doubling of the Third Estate in the estates-general, and the Assembly was even more unanimous in insisting on deliberation and voting by order.27 To justify their change of mind they argued that in the provincial assemblies, where the Third Estate had been doubled and voting was by head, tax assessment and collection were the principal issues; since the Third Estate paid proportionately more taxes, its representation in those assemblies deserved to be increased. But the estates-general, which would deal with a broader range of public policies, was a different kind of institution to which different criteria applied. They sustained their judgment with varied reasonings. A common assumption dating from Edmund Burke and Tocqueville ascribes to the aristocratic conservatives arguments drawn from history (and to their revolutionary opponents, arguments based on abstract reasoning). The historian E. Carcassonne constructed his analysis of the “war of privileges” in 1788 from the pamphlet literature of the day, which used historical precedent to justify the separation of orders in the estates-general.28 The terms in which the government set the national debate and the questions it presented to the public for advice explain in part the resort to historical arguments. On 5 July 1788, the Royal Council ordered “research in all the archives of each province for the minutes and other documents concerning the convocation of the estates-general and the resulting elections,” and the formal declaration appeared in many newspapers.29 The rush to discover historical documents and precedents began. On 5 October 1788 the royal dec-

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laration summoning the second Assembly of Notables defined the historical orientation of its task: “the king wants the estates-general to be composed in a constitutional manner, and that ancient usages be respected in all the rules applicable to the present time and in all the arrangements consistent with reason and the legitimate wishes of the greatest part of the nation.”30 The preference for historical usage bore the imprint undoubtedly of Louis XVI, and was qualified by a deference to reason and public opinion that Necker, as principal minister, probably introduced. The legitimacy that past and present shared lent an unresolvable ambiguity to royal policy and perhaps not without intention set Frenchmen on two diverging lines of discourse. Once the Notables met in November, the questions and the documentation that the government presented to them immediately prompted reflection on the precedents set in 1614, when an estates-general had last met.31 The views expressed in the royal decree of convocation and in the minister’s opening speech, stated the fourth bureau pointing to those responsible, “had to be our first guide, and it had to determine the first ideas of all the Notables.”32 Historical justifications for their decisions came readily to the Notables. Five of the six bureaux of the Assembly found documentary evidence from earlier estates-general demonstrating that the orders had met and voted separately. Citing contrary precedents, the first bureau by one vote supported doubling the Third Estate. The Notables recited language appropriate to historical argument: “ancient forms”; “ancient usages”; “constitutional forms”; “fundamental and constitutional law”; “usages observed constantly, perpetually, uniformly”; “the authority of usage”; “constant and uniform traditions”; “customs”; “laws”; “the habits of peoples”; and “principles consecrated by centuries.” They concluded that these precedents constituted prescriptive law and conferred rights, including the rights of the three orders, as effectively as those that guaranteed property: “each order has its legal existence and its imprescriptible rights.” Only respect for such rights, laws, and properties to which societies over time become accustomed and which gain acceptance could maintain public tranquility. Great changes would unsettle people. Repeated changes by groups, each acting in its own interest, might endanger the longstanding rights of all.33 It was not for want of espousing ideas later voiced by Burke that France had a revolution. Yet the argument from history, though important, was not the central theme. Other arguments more up-to-date and enlightened, as well as commonplace by the 1780s, entered the Notables’ discourse, in which ambition

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also alternated with fear. The complex of reasoning and emotions that underlie elite political culture in the debate on forms of representation and voting in the estates-general cannot be reduced to a simple indictment of “prejudices, pretensions . . . and habit.”34 More than invocations to history, the Notables invoked principles of equality and freedom to justify the separation of orders. Each order, they argued—clergy, nobles, and commoners—should have the same representation so as to have equal influence in deliberations. No one order should have greater numbers that might permit it to predominate and impose its views on the others. Only by such equal representation and separate voting could each order maintain its independence and freedom. Equality grounded on separate voting of the orders was the safeguard of civic and political liberty.35 The Third Estate in particular would benefit. Separation of the orders would guarantee that its representatives would be actual members of the Third Estate, who would embody and discuss the interests of their own order. In their separate sessions, the representatives of the Third Estate would not be subject to the influence of prominent persons in the first two orders, whose presence might overawe impressionable commoners and divert their attention from the interests of their order.36 The Notables thus reversed a position they had taken in 1787. They now argued that each order should restrict to its own members the choice of deputies to electoral assemblies and especially to the estates-general; only municipal officers who were noble would then be elected to the Third Estate, for their public duties entitled them to represent its interests.37 By adhering to separation of the orders, the Notables deprived the elite of the potential political advantage of peasant votes. It seemed more important to the second Assembly to guarantee for the first and second estates a fixed number in the estates-general than to gain in the future an indeterminate number of votes from commoners. In both Assemblies, the Notables brought into play the metaphor of balance to introduce the argument of interest. Equal representation of the orders would assure a balanced expression of their diverse interests, and no single interest could predominate. The general interest would prevail. The Third Estate represented the greatest number of people and the first two estates, originally composed of benefice- and fief-holders, represented property;38 yet the Third Estate, which included proprietors, also represented property and especially commerce. The three orders embodied varied interests which all would represent.

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The third bureau in the Assembly, invoking the principle of “natural justice” in the sense of utility, presented the most elaborate and sophisticated argument linking the diversity and balance of interests to the separation of orders.39 It acknowledged the importance of the Third Estate, which represented the greatest part of the population and paid the most taxes. Yet the first and second estates (in which the third bureau included all religious, educational, and health institutions as well as anoblis) owned the greatest amount of property—almost all rural property, including the customary tenures for which they received cens payments. Nobles and clergy also paid taxes. They paid virtually all the indirect taxes, and most of the real or personal taxes, through their payments of the vingtièmes and capitation, the don gratuit of the clergy, and even the taille (for the rents they received were reduced by the amount of the taille that peasants paid). The clergy and nobility thus contributed to public service through the taxes they paid, the expenses they undertook, the functions they performed, and the blood they shed. Each order had its distinct role, that of the first two orders as property owners, taxpayers, and public officials. If strict mathematical proportion to the population were alone the criterion, the Third Estate would have an overwhelming advantage of twenty deputies for one or two of the clergy and nobility. Such preponderance was not sought by the Third Estate claimed the third bureau, for it recognized in the first two orders “protectors who in upholding the basic privileges of the nation defend also those of the Third Estate.” The interests of the nobility and clergy were so closely associated with those of the Third Estate, argued the third bureau, that it enabled them to represent fully the interests of the Third. Deputies of the Third Estate were mainly from cities where industry and commerce, and the interests of consumers, were paramount; yet 90 percent of the Third Estate were peasant producers. The economic interests of peasants, however, paralleled those of their seigneurs. The outlines of an alliance of country interests may be discerned in such arguments. The seigneurs could increase the revenues of their farms, tithes, fees, dues, and other rights only as long as their lands were populated and there was competition and protection for cultivation; they could not be rich unless their peasants prospered. The clergy too, which lived in daily contact with the Third Estate, had ties with it and would also defend its interests in the deliberations of the first estate.40 It is by this balance that the sovereign can learn the true interests of his peoples; the varied relations of property, tax contributions and population,

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and the different interests are much better balanced by these ancient forms than they seem to be on first view.

Notables in the other bureaux of the Assembly also expressed sympathy for the rural population, or criticized the preponderance of the cities within the Third Estate. Still other members defended the cities and lauded the qualities and contributions of industry, commerce, and enlightened townsmen.41 All the Notables aimed to prove with their words that the Third Estate would find the nobility and clergy willing to understand and to defend their interests. What they failed to recognize—not even the third bureau with its more original viewpoint—was that deputies of the first and second estates could hardly represent the interests of the Third if they lacked the legitimacy conferred by election. Trapped by the logic of their defense of the orders in the estates-general, the Notables did not perceive that noble and clerical deputies in the esates-general would have merely a tenuous, selfproclaimed identification with the interests of the Third Estate. The three orders, the Notables contended, should meet in three separate, equal, and balanced chambers; they would constitute three houses in a legislative body. Yet they did not extend the concept of balance to the operations of political institutions, nor did they justify a multiplicity of deliberative bodies as a means of assuring more reflective decisions and greater moderation in policy and the exercise of power. Contemporaries of the Notables like James Madison had argued in this vein in support of bicameralism in the new American constitution. The Swiss Delolme did so in his book La Constitution de l’Angleterre, which was then in circulation in France; Montesquieu, years earlier, had provided the outlines of such an argument in The Spirit of the Laws. Both the councilor in the Parlement of Paris, Duval d’Eprémesnil, and the anonymous author of a manuscript written in late December 1788, invoked the argument of moderation in government in defending the separation of the orders.42 The Notables in 1787 had aimed to limit royal power by demanding public control over government activities, greater authority for the provincial assemblies, and the convening of a national representative institution. They had sought to contain the people’s impetuousness by supporting representation of the three orders in the assemblies. In late 1788 they applied their concept of a balance almost exclusively to the three orders as social categories. The historic menace of royal despotism seemed to recede for them, replaced by the new menace of the people that had to be contained. Thus the Notables concentrated their

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intellectual energies in defense of a social rather than an institutional equilibrium. The Notables believed that if the balance among the three orders as representatives of society were to be questioned or changed, an avalanche of claims and counterclaims would unsettle the entire structure. Particular interests would surge forth and weaken the pursuit of the general interest; discord would replace harmony and destroy the spirit of fraternity in which the estates-general should conduct its work.43 Two of the bureaux in the Assembly intoned the more traditional theme of preserving a hierarchical society with the distinction of ranks “which form an uninterrupted chain from the sovereign until the last subject.”44 The others invoked the modern principles of “equality,” “liberty,” “fraternity,” and the “general interest” in defense of the separation of orders. Underlying the Notables’ rhetoric may be detected a fear of the numbers in the Third Estate. The third bureau thought there could be a preponderance of twenty Third Estate deputies to one or two for the other orders. Such fears motivated four of the six bureaux (and minorities in the other two bureaux) to oppose allotting to the Third Estate a number of deputies in each bailliage in proportion to population.45 The second bureau struggled on this vote, aware that its decision contradicted the principle of “the equality of power and votes of each citizen which forms the essence and the constitution of a national assembly.” The sixth bureau expressly contradicted itself. It argued against precedent and in favor of adapting to new circumstances by permitting more bailliages (in effect, more cities) to send deputies directly to the estates-general, while also increasing the number of deputies from the first and second orders so as to maintain equality of representation among the three estates.46 In objecting to representation proportioned to population and advancing equal representation among the three orders, the Notables employed several stratagems. They cited technical difficulties in obtaining exact demographic proportions due to the lack of precise statistics. They advanced assumptions and beliefs as certainties, arguing that the different social categories would attain an equitable balance as though by the operation of an invisible hand: “equality of representation despite the inequality of the parties represented.”47 Their variant of the theory of virtual representation claimed that elected deputies would be representatives of all groups in the nation, not just defenders of the interests of their constituents.48 They grounded their decision on one principle: equality was the rampart against

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the imbalance in population between the Third Estate and the other two orders. If the number of Third Estate deputies were doubled, or if the number of bailliages electing deputies directly to the estates-general were increased, the Third Estate would gain numerical superiority over the clergy and nobility.49 When earlier they had supported doubling Third Estate representation in provincial assemblies, they were confident that the first two orders would still retain political control. Now they feared the submergence, loss of liberty, even disappearance of the first and second estates before the overwhelming numbers of the Third Estate. At that prospect few nobles might appear to form an electoral assembly, or only parish priests and not prelates might attend clerical assemblies. Doubling the representation of the Third Estate would lead ineluctably to voting by head and would also result in “two orders in the state, and soon perhaps they would all be mixed.”50 The Notables now ignored their earlier argument that there were only two orders, nobles (that is, nobles by birth, nobles by service, and the clergy) and non-nobles. They had invoked this model of two orders to justify their proposal in 1787 to allot one-half of the seats in the provincial assemblies to each order—the nobles and clergy combined, and the Third Estate.51 Then, in 1788, they peremptorily dismissed the precedent of doubled representation of the Third Estate in provincial assemblies and in some provincial estates. By late 1788 the Notables, as spokesmen of the elite, sensed the need to have as many numbers as they could muster, and to mobilize their numbers to the greatest effect in the political arena. The clergy provided an additional line of defense. The Notables supported separate representation of the first estate with a number of deputies equal to that of each of the other two orders. An anonymous Notable wrote: “I read everywhere the first two orders. the third order. I read nowhere, even when the clergy aspire to privileged treatment that the others don’t enjoy, I read nowhere, I repeat, the last two orders.”52 They also broadened the base of clerical representation. Most of the bureaux granted the vote to all parish clergy with benefices and permitted them to participate in person in clerical assemblies of the bailliages;53 the resulting numerical preponderance of the lower clergy would have the unintended consequence of giving clerical support to the Third Estate in the estates-general. Preoccupied as the Notables were to contain the numbers of the Third Estate and to increase the numbers of the first two, they did not similarly broaden the base of representation for the nobility. While they insisted on equal voting and representation for all nobles of more than three generations, they limited the vote within

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the second order to those who enjoyed “acquired and transmissible” nobility, in effect excluding many of those ennobled but with less than three generations of nobility.54 Those anoblis who were ineligible to vote in the second order became potential recruits for the Patriot party. The Aristocratic party, as it was coming to be called, was weakened by this decision.55 Yet the Notables did not consider such an outcome. They did not weigh concrete political options and possibilities; instead, they were absorbed by portents of danger.56 The threat the Notables envisioned in the greater population of the Third Estate unsettled their belief in the elite’s right to leadership, a belief that memories and myths of history had ingrained in their minds. All but one of the bureaux sensed the need to erect barriers to limit the number of Third Estate representatives, as well as to ensure their own representation. The privilege of a distinctive role in public life that the society of orders conferred on the clergy and nobility became the means to demand a quota that separate and equal representation of the first and second estates signified. Only then would the elite be guaranteed its place and power in a new representative system. The Notables’ political aim was transparent. They and other groups within the elite—the princes of the blood, the peers, even the clergy— offered to sacrifice their fiscal privilege and to accept equality of taxation. This was, they all believed, a generous offer to demonstrate their virtuous intentions. The king’s brother, Artois, affirmed that fiscal equality was the most appropriate decision “to maintain union among the orders.” The fifth bureau announced its support for equal taxes immediately after voting in favor of the separation of orders. The fourth bureau unambiguously linked the acceptance of fiscal equality to the recognition of the elite’s political leadership: “Listening only to their patriotism and forgetting the privileges of their orders, the members of the bureau claim only to serve the state with greater éclat and devotion.” A direct exchange of fiscal privilege for political preeminence was more or less explicit in the words of the third bureau, not without a menacing undertone—if their political wishes were not satisfied, fiscal concessions might be delayed: “The first two orders will cease all divisions of interest more rapidly if they perceive that their rights will be properly respected.”57 Unwilling to concede to the political demands of the Third Estate, the Notables strengthened the opposition. The Patriots and Third Estate in late 1788 did not accept the elite’s promise of fiscal equality in place of greater

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representation, just as the Notables in 1787 had not accepted the Crown’s offer of tax privileges and reduced expenditures in the absence of public control over royal finances and participation in government. Material inducements lost force as new political aspirations gained hold of the public. The Notables’ elitist objective of guaranteeing effective representation for the first and second orders did not exclude certain democratic tendencies. The second bureau expressed this polarity in its plans for the estatesgeneral: “[I]n the convocation of the estates-general of France two principal objects must be considered: the right of every Frenchman to cast his vote, and the distinction of the different orders of the state.” In 1787 the views of the bureaux had been inconsistent, ranging from the rigidly hierarchical to the neo-democratic. The Notables had favored a two-tiered system of local assemblies to reduce the influence of the great number of poor peasants. A parish assembly of electors would choose members for a smaller municipal assembly that would administer the parish. One bureau even recommended establishing only provincial assemblies, whose membership would be more restricted than those of the parish and district assemblies. All the same, three bureaux in 1787 had favored a lower income requirement, or even the alternative of a minimum tax payment, which would permit a broader suffrage in elections to the parish assemblies—a benefit to poor gentilshommes as well. In the Assembly of 1788, half of the bureaux simply eliminated income or tax criteria, recommending a more universal franchise for the Third Estate than was later contained in the government’s final plan of January 1789 or in the constitution of 1791. To vote as a member of the Third Estate, a Frenchman need be only 25 years old, a citizen, and domiciled; the second bureau added that voters should be domiciled or landowners, and that they should also be heads of families. Urging that both rich and poor have an equal vote, the second bureau declared that “every Frenchman be admitted to state his wishes about the public order and to give his consent to taxes that he must support.” The fifth bureau similarly stated that since “the estates-general deliberates on all objects that interest citizens, the simple quality of citizen gives the right to represent, and to be represented, in the national assemblies.” The other three bureaux in the Assembly recommended the barest requirement, stipulating that voters be taxpayers or property owners without indicating a minimum tax payment or income.58 The Crown incorporated this last provision in the regulations of January 1789.59 A marked shift also took place in the Notables’ views on the requirements

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for holding public office. In 1787 the Assembly accepted without question the income requirement proposed by the Crown for membership in provincial assemblies, 1,000 livres in landed income, while two bureaux favored more restrictive conditions. By limiting the choice of deputies to those with a high income, even designating the professional category for those of the Third Estate, the Notables hoped to institute through the provincial assemblies a “republic of notables” composed of nobles, upper clergy, and privileged public officers in the Third Estate. In 1788 only two of the six bureaux recommended an income requirement for electoral office higher than that for the suffrage, following the practice in the new provincial assemblies and foreshadowing the terms of the 1791 constitution.60 Four of the bureaux instead proposed an innovation that would be for some time a distant hope of democrats: the qualifications for deputies should be no more stringent than for voting. Anyone eligible to vote (for the third bureau that meant being a taxpayer) could become a deputy. No income or tax requirement should inhibit the free choice of electors.61 The experience of the second Assembly of Notables indicates unexpected democratic attitudes among the elite on the issue of political participation prior to the Revolution. Most of the Notables, once assured of the elite’s fixed representation through separate and equal orders, were willing to accept a democratic electorate, the widest participation for commoners both in voting and in elective office. (The first bureau, an exception, favored both a democratic suffrage and doubling Third Estate representation.) The Notables hoped to attract support from newly enfranchised vassals, that is, their peasant tenants, and also from parish priests. It was again the ideal of an alliance between the superiors and the people that was at the source of their political culture. Yet even their democratic sympathies could not attract public favor in 1788–1789 without their support for doubling Third Estate representation and vote by head in the estates-general. The Notables’ debates brought into play two distinct problems. Their opposition to doubling touched upon the issue of social justice—the disproportion between the numbers and the importance of the Third Estate, and its representation in the estates-general. Historians are familiar with the public’s sense of outrage that the Third Estate, the largest part of the nation whose contribution to society was the most essential, was allotted representation less than its numbers and importance warranted. Pamphlets, newspapers, and petitions repeated these arguments. The two best-known proponents of such views were Necker, in the Royal Council’s decision of

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27 December 1788, and the abbé Sieyès in his pamphlet Qu’est-ce que le tiers état? (1789). Earlier, a minority of Notables had expressed similar sentiments.62 The defense of voting by order introduced the problem of the effective functioning of a representative assembly. Separation and voting by order in the estates-general would entail decision making through the unanimous consent of all three orders. This was the device they lauded as a protection of the independence and liberty of each estate. The Third Estate in particular would not be at risk that the first two orders would agree on taxes contrary to its interests since without the consent of all three estates no decision could be reached. Thus, in theory, none need fear the actions of the other two. Four bureaux of the Notables explicitly argued that unanimity was necessary, or that each estate should be entitled to protect itself by exercising a veto. The majority in the first bureau was favorable to doubling representation of the Third Estate and voting by head, especially on questions of taxation, precisely in order to avoid a veto by any one estate.63 They warned of the baneful consequences of the decision taken by the other members of the Assembly of Notables. To insist on separate voting in the estates general was to “subject [the estates] in advance to a regime capable of obstructing their free activity; it would make the next assembly, which everyone wished for, as unsuccessful as most of those that had preceded it.”64 History, demography, and social equity were flouted by the elite’s decision in favor of separate voting by each estate. A number of leaders of the Patriots also took heed of the lessons of history. They turned not to the Frankish or Gallic past, nor to a golden age that had figured in the earlier writings of nobles and of parlementaire pamphleteers; this style of argument was current among contemporary English radicals, and flourished again in the pamphlets of 1787 and 1788. The lessons of recent history as examples of what to avoid now became even more important to Patriot writers. The experience of previous estates-general taught that separate estates pursued their particular interests. These pursuits not only obscured the general interest but caused them to fall into discord; Mounier of Dauphiné and Target in Paris recognized this, and the same lesson implicitly underlay abbé Sieyès’ argument.65 Estates-general had been ineffectual, they concluded, and as a result royal power always emerged unscathed or reinforced. If the estates deliberated apart in 1789, despotism would be the victor. Recognizing the need for unity, the Patriots (also known as the National party) insisted on an institutional form in which a

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general, national will would be able to emerge. Their opposition to separation of the orders seemed to echo the warning of Loménie de Brienne as he reflected on the unhappy history of earlier national assemblies in France: “Isn’t it [i.e., vote by order] like the veto in Poland?”66

The French elite at the end of the ancien régime had refashioned its ideology. To the centuries-old framework of the society of orders it introduced modern elements drawn from the Enlightenment. Political representation through three separate estates was made the bedrock of equality and freedom. The elite accepted these new principles and slogans, and harnessed them to its interests. It no longer sought a monopoly of power, but a guaranteed share of power and, through the exercise of a veto, control over policy in the new political structure. The desire for participation in government, which would limit, indeed shift sovereignty, and an equal desire for governance limited to an elite, characterized the political culture of aristocrats but also of many revolutionary leaders. The aristocracy was not alone in straddling the past and the present—retaining features of a society of orders while espousing new ideals, and linking these ideals to group interests. The elections to the estates-general in 1789, in accordance with electoral regulations that incorporated many of the Notables’ recommendations, respected the system of estates. Each of the three orders voted separately for its representatives and elected only members of its own order. The Third Estate did, at times, elect representatives from outside its ranks—Mirabeau and Sieyès are the best known examples. But on the whole, as historian Elizabeth Eisenstein pointed out, the Third Estate and the Patriots insisted on separate elections for each of the three orders, with Third Estate deputies chosen from within its own order.67 The Notables had argued that separation of the orders protected the Third Estate from the interference and influence of prominent persons. Patriot writers, such as Target, were sensitive to the need to build up the collective esteem of the Third Estate by limiting representation to members of the order. In fact, separate elections assured preeminence within the Third Estate of urban lawyers and officeholders—men who were literate, cultured, and experienced in public discourse. Moreover, voting for Third Estate representatives to the estates-general was also on the disproportionate scale that the Patriots had condemned in opposing equal representation for each of the three orders. Officeholders, professionals, businessmen,

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and bourgeois, meeting in their separate corporations and electoral assemblies, chose proportionately more deputies for their fewer numbers than did the greater number of artisans and workers.68 A paradox arose between election to the estates-general by separate estates and the functioning of that body through vote by head. Once the precedent of a national assembly without separate estates was introduced, it was unlikely that distinction of orders could be resurrected for future elections. The aristocracy failed to perceive this, and failed to grasp the advantage of a constituency that included the Third Estate, in particular the peasantry. The revolutionary leaders of 1789 resolved this dilemma by replacing the orders with a prior wealth requirement for voting. Instead of a separate order that consisted of a virtual political monopoly of certain groups within the Third Estate (with aristocratic contenders excluded), the future electorate and their representatives would be limited in the constitution of 1791 by a means test. Toward the end of the ancien régime, those who governed and the nobles and notables who sought to govern oscillated between two models of representation: that of estates, on which the Notables and magistrates had insisted in 1787–1788; and that of property owners meeting a financial prerequisite of income or tax payments, a model championed by the physiocrats and embodied by Turgot and Calonne in their schemes for assemblies. Only after 1749, when the vingtième tax on landed income (including that of the nobility) offered a potential groundwork for the vote censitaire, could a generalized electoral system based on financial ability contest the centuries-old practice of political representation through the three orders. To the revolutionaries in 1789, the difference between the two forms of representation was crucial. In voting by estate, the nobles and the clergy would be overrepresented, whereas with vote by head the Third Estate acquired greater political force. Two hundred years later we may view this matter differently. The terms of the 1791 constitution which required tax payments equal to the income of three days of work for “active citizens” may have been low enough to enfranchise much of the rural peasantry, as Paul Bois has argued. Yet he also demonstrated that the requirement of 50 livres in taxes and property ownership for election as departmental administrators or national representatives introduced a “veritable social cleavage.”69 It enshrined a fundamental division between those who merely voted and those who held and exercised power. The distinction between “governors” and “governed” remained. Those who had sufficient wealth

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and property, which was assumed to confer status and intellectual capacity, could govern; the others might vote, but they could not govern nor wield political authority. Nobles, notables, and revolutionaries might argue and fight over the distribution of power, but the limits of the argument were set in advance. Whether within a system of orders or that of a vote censitaire, the question was not so much who could vote but who could govern. The answer provided before and after 1789 revealed a facet of political culture also centuries old.70

4 Political News as Coded Messages The Parisian and Provincial Press, 1787–1788

No banner headlines announced the news in the ancien régime; indeed, headlines did not appear in newspapers. The occasional appearance of the word nouvelles (news) or nouveauté, printed in large type, may be emblematic of the way in which newspapers transmitted news to the public in eighteenth-century France—in subtle, oblique, and incomplete ways. Newspapers at that time were not the sole or even the primary channels for news. As the periodical press is supplemented by other news media in the twenty-first century (e.g., radio, television, and the Internet), so in the late eighteenth century there were other means to obtain information about current events—pamphlets in particular, as well as songs and verses, illustrations and caricatures, and word-of-mouth. Nonetheless newspapers had a role, however limited. The historian, while straining to read the fine print of over two hundred years ago, must search for the sparse news of current events in the domestic French press through hours of monotony, interspersed with moments of fascination, in order to discover the ways by which journalists and printers evaded the watchful eye of the censor while unveiling to their readers some bits and pieces of news and views. The periodical press published within France at regular intervals— weekly for about half of them, daily for only three—came in two forms in the late eighteenth century, as local newspapers and as literary journals.1 Local newspapers, almost all of them in provincial cities, offered news reporting limited mainly to reprinting government and other official dispatches without comment; presenting commercial information on markets or fairs, the price of grain and the return on rentes, and the arrival or departure of ships or coaches; and printing advertisements for property and offices to buy or sell, and servants to hire. Literary journals included reviews 91

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of current books and information on publications, although the books were limited to those officially approved by the government; notices of the meetings of academies and the prizes they bestowed; news and reviews of the local theater; and reports and letters on scientific and technical matters, such as balloon flights and experiments in agronomy and medicine. Culture and commerce were the highlights of those periodical publications, whose coverage helped to spread Enlightenment thought and consumerism.2 Politics in the domestic press was relegated to the shadows, onto which this chapter will cast some light. Our familiarity with the press in contemporary times presents us with three models: a controlled press that is an organ for authority, especially government; an independent press that consciously seeks to mold opinion to its views; and a press that is a register of “all the news that’s fit to print.” French newspapers in the ancien régime hardly fit that schema. Although all papers published in eighteenth-century France operated under greater or lesser government restrictions, the official organ of the government was a single publication, the country’s oldest newspaper, the Gazette de France; all others were independent operations. But their independence was so limited that none functioned as molders of opinion on public affairs, or even as registers of important events. As legally authorized publications, the French periodical press was prohibited from writing on politics. In eighteenthcentury journalism la politique referred to news on international politics, but that prohibition extended as well to news of domestic politics.3 Political news, in particular that which bore on the response of the public and of different groups within the public to government policies and to the agents of government authority, had no place on the pages of the domestic press. Newspapers could not examine political events and activities, analyze arguments, promote policies, or criticize individuals. This constricted capacity of French periodicals limited their role with the public, and set them apart from other contemporary publications. Journals of opinion, whose raison d’être was to express views on government policy, were found only among the French-language press published outside France.4 For reports on events in France, the French public had to turn to French-language gazettes published in Holland, Germany, even in Avignon. The unauthorized and sometimes clandestine manuscript newsletters known as the nouvelles à la main, in addition to reporting on events in the kingdom, were a unique source for information on French public opinion. Within France, commentary on and criticism of public

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policies were found in pamphlets, a medium that largely functioned outside government laws and controls. Those political opinions came from individual writers, known and unknown, and from institutions and corporate bodies; the latter included the parlements, provincial estates, municipal governments, and, in the last two years of the ancien régime, the Assembly of Notables and various ad hoc groups that sprang into existence by events. The actions these groups engaged in, through which they expressed their views, were recounted and made known to the general public in the foreign, French-language press and in the manuscript newsletters. Thus the makers of political public opinion before 1789 were not the authorized domestic periodicals, given the paucity of news and views that they printed. In a political culture in which newspapers could neither report news nor express opinions that they freely chose, but instead were obliged by the government to be silent or neutral on political matters, domestic newspapers could not be organs of authority or molders of opinion, not even registers of the news of the day. French periodicals before 1789 followed and did not lead the public and current opinion. Three characteristics of the press lend weight to this theory: newspaper coverage of events and activities in the kingdom was almost uniformly constricted; the response to and reporting on political developments in late 1788 followed a similar trajectory of change in all newspapers; and the lack of political news in newspapers contrasted with political arguments expressed in pamphlets. Whatever the personal inclinations of editors, printers, or publishers, only infrequently and indirectly did a few periodicals voice their own preferences. Domestic newspapers operated as mirrors of opinion on public affairs, not as reflection but as refraction. They responded to and shared the public’s views and sentiments about the persons or policies it favored or opposed.5 The neutrality forced upon newspapers, on immediate view, diminishes their interest, yet affords another, unexpected interest. Unable to interpose their own views directly, the domestic press, in oblique ways, refracted those of the public. In their pages the historian may grasp, though indirectly, the public’s mood. Not until the autumn of 1788 did events push newspapers to express openly their views on politics, at the same time that those events prevented the Crown from effectively controlling the press. In the years 1787 and 1788 French men and women could read from among fifty-eight periodicals which offered general news, four of them published in Paris and the others in provincial cities; a total of forty-four cities had local papers in 1789.6 Since the mid-century, periodicals published

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within France had mushroomed. Those persons who held the monopoly on the privilege of publishing an affiches or a journal began in the 1750s to lease the right to others in Paris and in numerous cities in the provinces. Their realization of the profits they could obtain from subcontracting their monopoly undoubtedly corresponded to a similar hope for profits from those who undertook to publish newspapers. Both calculations rested on an implicit recognition of the growing desire of an ever-larger reading public to know more about their time.7 Periodicals originating in France suffered under at least three serious constraints. First, along with all publications circulating in the kingdom, they were prohibited by the royal government from publishing any material contrary to religion, morals, and the monarchy. Second, similar to the practice with books, all that was written in newspapers and periodicals had to be reviewed and approved prior to publication by royal censors in Paris and in the locality, sometimes in addition by officials of the parlements and, for local papers, even by municipal governments.8 Third, and unique to the newspapers, since all news relating to government affairs and foreign affairs—what was considered politics—was the privilege of the Gazette de France, such explicitly political news could not be published in their pages. Operating under formal authorization, newspapers could not evade these legal constraints by clandestine publication at home or abroad, as could book publications. Figaro’s lament in Beaumarchais’ play mirrors the constraints bearing upon newspapers and periodicals published in ancien régime France: “[P]rovided that I do not write about authority, or religion, or politics, or morality, or people in high places, or influential groups, or the opera, or other art forms, or persons in favor, I can print freely, subject to inspection by two or three censors” (Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, La folle Journée, ou Le Mariage de Figaro, act V, scene III). To take the most egregious example, French men and women reading their local newspapers or literary journals in the summer of 17889 were informed of the Crown’s May edicts reforming the judicial system, but would have remained ignorant of the suppression of the courts and of the public opposition, including violent demonstrations, that ensued. Newspapers could publish the Crown’s reform edicts, but not the denunciations of royal policies by the sovereign courts or the statements of support for the magistrates from other judicial or administrative bodies or from groups of lawyers. They could not allude to events in Brittany, Béarn, or Dauphiné, where the public openly expressed its defiance of the Crown’s actions. The

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Affiches, Annonces et avis divers de Dauphiné, at the center of some of the most momentous events in the summer of 1788, wrote not one word about the assembly in Vizille in July during which members determined on restoring the provincial estates, or in June on the Day of Tiles, an uprising in Grenoble aimed at preventing the suppression of the parlement, except to thank the royal military commander for maintaining calm, which was fiction rather than fact. The discrepancy between the substance of newspaper reporting and the reality of political life in France, so glaringly highlighted between May and September 1788, was a regular feature of the ancien régime. Laws and declarations emanating from the king and the ministries were always published in summary or complete form. Statements on public affairs from other official bodies or from private sources did not find their way into the periodical press; what appeared on the pages of newspapers was material acceptable to the authorities because it was not considered political and therefore was innocuous. Articles recounting the appearance of some wild animal or lauding the latest example of virtuous behavior could appear, but reports on current political events, especially the responses to, criticisms of, or opposition to government policy, had no place in ancien régime newspapers. In the absence of news reporting, readers of the press were not left in total ignorance of political developments. Journalists were able to purvey news, and even views about the news, in “the silence of the law.”10 The strategies they employed within the law and in circumventing constraints grew out of the push and pull between legal requirements that the government set and the journalists’ relationship to the reading public. The press could not fashion opinion according to its desires (however much individual journalists might have their personal preferences), since it could not make explicit its political point of view. Yet publishers or editors of newspapers, often one and the same, who were themselves printers or were closely allied with the printers, faced the same market pressures as those who sought to sell books and pamphlets: they had to try to satisfy the desires of their readers in order to assure the sale of their wares.11 The Prospectus that introduced the Annonces, affiches . . . d’Artois in late 1788 announced its courtship of the public: “On the presence to give to such or such an object, we will consult . . . the views of the Public.” Those in charge of writing newspapers became aware of or even solicited readers’ views, sought to mediate between public expectations and government controls, and sometimes had to apologize publicly for falling far short. The Affiches de Rennes made

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explicit its limited journalistic policy at the time of the Assembly of Notables. It would write about the meetings with “circumspection,” publishing only speeches and royal declarations; on all matters not yet decided or “incontestably true,” that is not authorized by the Crown, it must observe “silence” (28 March 1787). At around the same time the Affiches de Paris (4 March 1787) apologized to its readers for being unable to express any judgment on the controller general’s speech at the opening of the Assembly on 22 February, as did the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine (8 March 1787). Such public apologies responded to readers’ concerns. The announcement of the summoning of an Assembly of Notables undoubtedly aroused the interest of the readers of the Journal de Normandie, for within two weeks of the beginning of the meetings some readers complained about the absence of news, other than the initial notice of the convocation. The editor tried to explain that silence “is a law for us,” newspapers being permitted to publish only what the government makes public; he also attempted to mollify the readers with a description of the meeting hall in which the Assembly met and of the Mass that preceded the opening session (3 March 1787). In subsequent issues a number of authorized statements relating to the Assembly appeared. Newspapers served as public registers of government laws and declarations. On the pages of a few of them might be found edicts convoking the Assembly of Notables, the speeches of the king and ministers before the Assembly, the reform edicts presented to the parlements for registration, and even the recounting of lits du justice12—but rarely the magistrates’ remonstrances criticizing or seeking modifications of these reforms. They published laws and decrees on loans, taxes, and budget cuts; the Crown’s request for information from the public on past estates-general; and the announcement of the convening of a new estates-general—but no formal statement on the dismissal of a detested minister. Those who read the complete laws and speeches or the summaries of them might obtain a skeletal knowledge of the events taking place in their country. A magistrate in Nancy in January 1787, reading the formal announcement in the newspaper of the convocation of an Assembly of Notables, became excited at the prospect of the meeting of so unexpected and novel an institution, as was a priest in the countryside of Auvergne in July 1788 upon reading in periodicals about the convening of an estates-general.13 A greater number of ordinary people would be affected directly by changes in taxes or in the repayment of government loans. The Parisian public responded immedi-

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ately with fear and hostility to the decree of 16 August 1788 announcing partial payment of the interest on government rentes in treasury bills rather than in specie. Within two days, too short a time for the news to have arrived in much of provincial France, the Crown was forced to modify the measure; nine days later, when more than half of France might already have received the news, the minister responsible for the hated regulation, Loménie de Brienne, was dismissed and the man whose name to the public was synonymous with solid government credit, Jacques Necker, was placed in charge of royal finances; one month later the noxious order of 16 August was withdrawn.14 Even such bare facts were not universally available. The Feuille hebdomadaire de la Généralité de Limoges was devoid of any political reference in 1787 and 1788, and news of the edict of 16 August, for example, appeared in only five newspapers—two in Normandy, one in the Three Bishoprics and Lorraine, and two in Paris. A reader who wanted news had not only to endure the tedium of drawing forth the facts from the dry and lengthy laws when summaries were not printed, but beforehand he or she had to search for the few publications that provided space for public announcements. Most often the local Affiches, Feuille hebdomadaire, or Journal included such news items irregularly. One rare and perhaps courageous exception was the Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Méridionale which, during the brief exile of the Paris parlement in the city in September 1787 for its refusal to register the government’s proposed stamp tax and land tax, gave unusual attention to the magistrates’ presence and activities, most notably the acts of charity of those judges who were being punished by the Crown, as well as the favorable response to them of local residents. Aware of their shackles, some editors tried to put on their best face, justifying their silence and neutrality with the argument that the purpose of newspapers was to provide information so that readers might judge it for themselves, or that newspapers served as archives of authenticated material to be used for the writing of history in the future.15 The typical ancien régime newspaper gravitated between public obeissance to royal policy and furtive efforts to provide some of what their readers sought without endangering their privilege to publish. Where we may sight political news and views, there we may glimpse not only the voice of the journalist but also the inclinations of the public for whom he wrote and whose patronage he courted. A staple of newspapers that were journaux, and of local affiches that took on the semblance of a journal, were book reviews and announcements

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of books published. The simple listing of titles mirrored the issues at the center of public interest—government finances, the debt, and taxes, for example—and at the same time directed the attention of the reading public to those issues. The book review, then as today, was both aid and surrogate. It introduced readers to ideas they might not otherwise glean from reading a book on their own, or not know for want of reading the book. The Journal de Normandie, in explaining the value of newspapers, emphasized their role as substitutes for books: [W]ithout newspapers, one almost no longer reads in the big cities. From them each one draws, without application and without difficulty, varied knowledge. The taste for knowledge is thereby extended, thanks to the ease of acquiring it. Otherwise this could never happen in a city of second rank, where everyone is too occupied in his affairs to go and draw at the source and there search for the secrets in deep study of our outstanding authors. (3 January 1787)

Not all the newspapers presented the beautifully crafted and lengthy reviews found in the Mercure de France or in the Journal de Paris, literary ornaments that were intellectually solid, but at least the provincial Affiches du Beauvaisis stands out for the attention it gave to book reviews. The seeming innocuousness of the form at times disguised an implicit political message both in the choice of books and the views expressed about them. Book reviews resonated to events of the day. Political developments entered the pages of the Journal de l’Orléanois, as an extreme example, only through notices of the publication of books related to those events. The book that received the most attention in publication announcements or reviews in twelve of the nineteen newspapers studied was not a new but an old book, originally published in 1772 and ostensibly directed to events then taking place in Sweden (probably also to those in France during the Maupeou revolution). Les Adieux du duc de Bourgogne et de l’abbé de Fénélon, son précepteur; ou Dialogue sur les différentes sortes de gouvernment was a justification of monarchy as the best form of government. Its reappearance in the pages of newspapers in the summer of 1788, with the same review cropping up in a number of those newspapers without any attribution of its source (as often done when one newspaper borrowed an article from another), suggests a single center of origin. In other words, this was probably a propaganda effort by the royal government to efface from attention the turbulent events surrounding the forced closing

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of the sovereign courts. For the local paper of Limoges this was the single political item printed in 1787–1788. The Journal de Normandie, while disclaiming any views on the book and merely inviting its readers to judge for themselves, slyly insinuated its concern for contemporary events with the statement that the best form of government is a subject “too delicate to treat in the present moment,” alluding to the Crown’s closing of the sovereign courts. In a further gesture of political ambiguity mixed with boldness it introduced the argument, intellectually banal by then, that monarchies are good for large states and republics for small ones. To the distinction between the two political systems, and not to the advantage of monarchy, the author added that some small states are “happy” whereas in large states (with the requisite citation of Montesquieu) “virtue” is not the animating force and courtiers play a nefarious role. This convoluted argumentation on one level undercut the effect of government propaganda; on another level, it was an indirect defense of citizen participation in government expressed at a time when political demands were being made in France that could not be printed. The attention given to Les Adieux du duc de Bourgogne manifests an attempt at royal manipulation of newspapers through manufactured book reviews, a unique effort that, ironically, attests less to the power of the Crown than to the relative if limited autonomy of the press. Newspapers were relatively free in the choice of books to review; that is, from among those that received official government approval. Those choices ranged from the obvious, such as works on the estates-general— especially after the edict of 5 July 1788 requested the French to do research on past meetings—to the unexpected, such as a book entitled Antonin, Citoyen, au milieu des Peuples de son Empire, convoqués l’an de Rome 903: Lettre d’un Gaullois à un de ses amis. In general, these types of books and the many other writings reviewed in newspapers had one feature in common: they were works on history, the subject set in the past, the shift in time loosening some of the constraints that operated in the reporting of contemporary events. Book reviews in general, and in particular on historical subjects, permitted journalists to draw lessons from the past to instruct readers, lessons that often were the hopes and aspirations for the present that journalists projected on to the past and which readers might share. In this indirect manner newspapers attempted to prepare readers to apply those lessons in the present. Reviewed in the Affiches de Paris on 19 March 1787, only a few weeks after the first session of the Assembly of Notables

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began, Antonin provided the example of the ancient Gauls—ancestors of the French—meeting in an assembly with their ruler, both ruler and people deliberating together to promote their “happiness.” There the minister pronounced his intention to reduce taxes and make them more equitable, to balance income and expenses, and to eliminate the debt. The reviewer lauded both the ruler who met with his people—“a divinity descended from heaven to relieve the evils on earth”—and the institution of an assembly—“an eternal correspondence of love and enlightenment.” The Journal de Paris in its review of Antonin on 14 March 1787 removed all pretense of historical precedent, suggesting that the setting was France rather than Rome, and that the translator was really the author. Keener critical scrutiny dissolved the rhetorical distinction between past and present but did not destroy the mythical haze that transformed the ancient Gauls into models for the contemporary French: “while the imagination contemplates the Roman Empire in its days of happiness and glory, the heart turns towards another image much closer to us, and it is this second image above all that we contemplate in the first one.” Antonin was a rare example in 1787 and 1788 of the Gauls as exemplars. A more recurrent theme was that of the Franks as the model of a free people, which appeared in the many writings that the Assembly of Notables inspired in early 1787 and that the calling of the estates-general again inspired in late 1788.16 The convening of the Assembly of Notables opened the pages of newspapers to historical reflections that were a cover for political commentary, even in the absence of government authorization. Almost immediately following the royal declaration and before the Assembly met in February 1787, newspapers printed announcements or reviews of writings on past assemblies and estates-general, including the speech of Henry IV before an Assembly of Notables in 1596.17 The Journal de Normandie, on 20 January 1787, carried a historical essay by the former mayor of Le Havre, which provided an overview of all forms of assemblies and estates that had met previously, and which was reprinted in a few other newspapers. This quick turn to history responded to the curiosity that the French felt at the sudden appearance of so novel an institution as a “national assembly,” a term contemporaries at times applied to the Assembly of Notables, for history offered information on similiar bodies in the past to satisfy the public’s mounting intellectual appetite. Facts about earlier assemblies of notables and estatesgeneral, and excerpts from historical documents, provided the framework for the belief that similar institutions in the past dealt with “important

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affairs of the kingdom,” and from their deliberations kings drew up laws useful to the French people. Henry IV, the French read in newspapers, even affirmed to the assembly he convened that he would follow their counsel and “place myself in guardianship [en tutelle] in your hands.”18 High hopes and expectations, in particular a sense of the authority such an assembly could wield for doing good, righting wrongs, and overcoming problems, were key themes in the press, along with formulaic laudatory outpourings in articles and poems on the goodness of Louis XVI for convening an Assembly of Notables. Suspicions to the contrary from frondeurs in the present or historians in the past, arguing that kings had and would again ignore the wishes of assemblies, were dismissed as irrelevant to the new circumstances of the day. Lengthy excerpts from the minutes of the assembly of 1626, which appeared in several issues of the Mercure, drew an image of harmony in the deliberations and success in the outcome, with difficulties or failures ignored in this effusion of optimism. Idealization of the past masked as facts, echoed and reinforced in numerous pamphlets and books, formed a leitmotif throughout 1787 and 1788. Attention was again focused on the estates-general in late 1788, once the meeting became an imminent reality. With the Crown’s request for information on past meetings, censorship lapsed. More writings on French history were published and more newspapers (fourteen of the nineteen in this study) printed more announcements and reviews of single volume and multivolume works. These volumes included historical essays, compendia of documents from estates-general in the past, anthologies composed of excerpts from the works of famous writers in previous generations, and even a book originally published at the time of the last estates-general in 1614. History was the storehouse that the royal edict of 5 July 1788 sanctioned for public scrutiny. Free to use the lessons from the past, newspapers found in them precedents that inspired hopes for the present: an estates-general that would not only present grievances but also reform abuses, introduce new laws, and consent to taxes. Working together, the estates-general and the king would express “the general will.”19 Even before the Paris parlement’s arrêt of 25 September directed attention to the estates-general of 1614 as a model, a review in the Affiches du Beauvaisis on 21 September offered a countermodel in the estates-general of 1467. With deputies of the Third Estate more than double in number to those of the first two orders, the estatesgeneral of 1467 was better able to express the people’s wishes, a view that foreshadowed the imminent and broad shift in public opinion. Historical

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sources for political aspirations of the day as filtered through newspapers were numerous, and include the work both of writers now unknown and of famous authors. Among those many contributions was the final volume of Mably’s history of France, published for the first time and reviewed in a few periodicals in the autumn of 1788. It was a work, the Affiches de Dauphiné wrote, that “illuminat[ed] the rights of the king, the nation, the nobility, the clergy, the parlements etc. in the present circumstances” (17 October 1788). References to French history were most frequent, but histories of other peoples and current events in other countries—ancient Greece, England, the new United States, the United Provinces, and Switzerland—were also refracted through the mirror of contemporary developments in France. In August 1787, as provincial assemblies were being set up in many provinces, reviews of books in the Journal de Paris and the Journal de Troyes presented the ancient Greeks, Swiss, and Dutch as free peoples electing their governments. Such images could be read in two ways. As models of self-government they answered to public aspirations, but they also underscored the deficiency of the provincial assemblies in France whose members were appointed, not elected. One year later, in July 1788, events lent a different ambiguity to reviews of historical works. The freedoms that made the ancient Greeks fervent patriots underscored the loss that the French suffered with the suppression of their most important symbol of autonomy, the sovereign courts; yet the example of ancient Greece might have nourished hopes that rested on persistent public demands for an estates-general.20 English history taught the value of its constitution, along with other cautionary lessons. Even before Mallet du Pan exalted the English constitution in his review of Delolme’s Constitution d’Angleterre in the Mercure de France on 17 January 1789, two earlier reviews of Mlle. Keralio’s history of Queen Elizabeth praised the English government. In the Mercure the reviewer emphasized the role of Parliament as the “rampart” of the constitution through its right to refuse taxes, while the writer in the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine lauded the balance of powers which assured that the monarch was “never a despot, and the citizens made the laws and were always subject to the laws.” Such reflections could nurture among readers similar goals for France. Yet England’s history also offered warnings. In April 1787 Louis XVI dismissed controller general Calonne, whom opponents accused of financial peculation. Shortly after, a report on the trial of Warren Hastings in England followed by a review of Filangieri’s La Science de la Législation, both in the Mercure, underscored the need for trans-

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parency in the relations between government and the public to contain royal influence that bred corruption, and to eliminate intrigue and abuse of authority among public officials. Contemporary events clearly connected these reflections to the royal ministers in France.21 The new United States of America, in publication announcements, reviews of books, and a translation of the recently completed federal constitution, appeared as the antipode to European states. The Americans were free to discuss public affairs and taught the need for people to control their governments, argued the reviewer for the Mercure (3 June 1787) of a book on Virginia, a message that reinforced demands the French were beginning to make of their own government. The same book, reviewed twice the following year (Journal de Paris, 29 January 1788, and Mercure, 23 February 1788), won praise for the principles embodied in Virginia’s declaration of rights and its constitution: that government authority over citizens must be limited and government might be peacefully changed. The reviewer in the Mercure, who also underscored the importance of the European Enlightenment in leading contemporaries into a “new world” of opinion and of rights, thereby implied that the example of no single country or history alone exercised influence in the formation of opinion. Yet in books and in the press it was the history of France that received the greatest attention. Reviews of books on history or about foreign countries carried hidden political messages for the present. Subjects of current affairs that were otherwise taboo could be brought to the attention of newspaper readers under the guise of reviews. Periodicals could publish government edicts on taxes, loans, and economies through which the Crown revealed the need to increase revenue and its intention to reduce expenses and reform financial practices, but the Parisian and provincial press could not publish the criticisms the Assembly of Notables or the sovereign courts directed at the government in the aftermath of the revelation of the steep annual deficit and the accumulated debt. Books on finance, criticizing royal fiscal policies or projecting cures for financial ills, were written in 1787 and 1788. Publication notices reveal the issues that booksellers and newspaper editors believed would be of interest to the public; and the purpose of excerpts and comments in reviews was to guide readers through the fiscal maze. The three most frequently cited publications on finance—the government budget for 1788,22 Mathon de la Cour’s collection of budgets since midcentury,23 and Jacques Necker’s second version of his Compte rendu24—attest

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to the public’s curiosity, indeed concern, about the deficit, and reveal the contradictory versions each publication offered of the Crown’s finances. The 1788 budget projected a reduced deficit and promised a balanced budget in 1792, while the budgets that Mathon de la Cour published, dating from 1758 to 1787, made evident the Crown’s mounting debt. The growth in government expenses, he explained, had its origins in the long-term rise in prices since the time of Francis I. The several editions and laudatory reviews of Necker’s book, and the absence from newspapers of Calonne’s refutation of Necker, testify to the public’s ready acceptance of the Genevan’s more congenial argument that the deficit arose recently, after his departure from the ministry in 1781. “[P]ublic opinion . . . seems irrevocably fixed,” affirmed the Journal de Paris in its favorable assessment. Quarrels over the size and duration of the deficit and debt, often expressed in personal invective lodging responsibility on Calonne or Necker, also produced more informative writings as newspapers and books instructed readers about technical financial terms: the differences between the deficit and debt, ordinary and extraordinary expenses, and a budget of future income and expenses versus an account of actual income and expenses. Despite repeated government assurances of its intent to reduce the deficit and balance revenue and expenditures, public skepticism of the government’s word betrayed the belief that royal finances required a cure. The newspapers and journals offered prescriptions that ranged from the prosaic (spending cuts, administrative changes to reduce waste, reform of taxes and of government lending practices) to the Panglossian (reducing the deficit without raising taxes) and the provocative (paper money guaranteed by the value of land, or repudiation of the debt). Readers had an array of nostrums that could enlighten or confuse, and certainly nourished interest in the issues. Not surprisingly, the public embraced the prospect of lower taxes and rejected unpleasant tax increases. Revelations about royal finances had political implications both banal and audacious that a few newspapers did not overlook. The government’s publication of the budget demonstrated to the Journal de Paris and the Journal de Lyon the Crown’s commitment to Enlightenment and its intention to carry out reforms and re-establish financial order—judgments that were unexceptional and acceptable to royal censors. Venturing beyond verbal ritual, the Journal de Lyon also suggested the need for more than the restoration of an orderly status quo. In its review of Mirabeau’s book denouncing speculation, it praised and quoted at length his argument that economy in government

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could only be guaranteed when the nation assumed responsibility for the debt, consented to taxes, and drew up a constitution.25 The desire for political change resonated in the reporting of one current event permitted by law, the provincial assemblies. Newspapers, with latitude to write on what was categorized as an administrative rather than a political subject, gave close attention to those assemblies. Thirteen of the nineteen papers printed reviews of books dealing with them, or announcements and accounts of their meetings and activities. On that issue the press mirrored the public mood exactly. Even before the assemblies met in the autumn of 1787, newspapers highlighted the value of published proceedings, citing the two existing assemblies in Berry and in Haute-Guyenne as guides to policy for members of the new assemblies and for the public; in reprinting the several volumes of those proceedings going back to the late 1770s, publishers may well have responded to public interest. Further praise for the assembly of Berry came in 1788 in a eulogy of the deceased archbishop of Bourges for his contributions as president of the assembly. Once the nearly twenty provincial assemblies were established, signs abound in newspapers of hopes welling for them as journalists and writers, especially those living in the provinces, both sought information about them and looked to them as engines of change to promote the common good. Writings and speeches excerpted in newspapers, as well as the words of reviewers, were filled with admiration of the anticipated accomplishments of the assemblies in advancing prosperity in the provinces. No less important in their appeal to the public was the unique opportunity they offered for a new experience in public affairs: “never was a more honorable career opened to virtuous citizens” (Mercure de France, 1 December 1787). Euphoric after reporting in detail projects discussed in the provincial assembly of Rouen, the Journal de Normandie affirmed that only participation in the administrative work of the assemblies could make people become “citizens.”26 The Affiches du Beauvaisis reprinted the instructions of the provincial assembly of Rouen to its Intermediary Commission “to provide an idea of the advantages that provincial assemblies procure and even more promise”; and in the judgment of the Journal de Troyes, discussions in the provincial assembly of Champagne included “all that can contribute to the happiness and the prosperity of this province.”27 Newspapers announced essay contests that provincial assemblies and provincial academies sponsored to aid the assemblies in their deliberations,

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a collaboration believed to herald close working relations between the two institutions. The provincial assembly of Rouen proposed the question of whether dividing common lands was an advantage or a disadvantage; and the secretary of the academy in Orléans published a study of ways to improve agriculture.28 Letters from readers and notices of essays and books focused attention on myriad reforms proposed to provincial assemblies: searches for coal deposits, better practices in sheep breeding, improvements in education, and ending usurpation of nobility to reduce the heavy tax burden on the people.29 Newspapers further paid posthumous tribute to the author identified with the idea of provincial assemblies in reviews of Le Trosne’s De l’Administration Provinciale et de la réforme de l’Impôt.30 Reviews of Mathon de la Cour’s prize essay “Les Meilleurs moyens de faire naître et d’encourager le Patriotisme dans une Monarchie” (“The Best Means of Creating and Encouraging Patriotism in a Monarchy”), of a clergyman’s “Discours sur l’amour de la patrie” (“Discourse on Love of One’s Country”), and of an epistolary essay addressed to a “gentleman” conveyed the similar argument that the provincial assemblies would revive patriotism in France, their activities enabling individuals to use their talents to serve others and thus linking the quest for personal distinction to the pursuit of the common good.31 The assemblies, suggested two newspapers, could give concrete direction to this reborn patriotic zeal by instructing the public to buy French rather than English goods.32 Patriotism was put into action following the catastrophic hailstorm that burst upon France in July 1788. Working in partnership with local assemblies, the Journal de Paris launched a campaign for contributions to provide financial aid to the damaged regions that the assemblies would administer, and reported regularly on that activity from mid-July until the end of the year. Provincial assemblies gave to France a system of government superior to that in England, argued with enthusiasm Dupont de Nemours, author of Turgot’s memoir on provincial administrations, in a letter to the Chamber of Commerce in Normandy and reprinted in the Journal de Lyon. This view was expressed as well in the book Lettres d’un vieillard à un jeune-homme qui entre dans le Monde that the Affiches du Beauvaisis made known to its readers.33 In late August 1788, following the reappointment of Jacques Necker as minister, a loosening of press censorship produced a major change in some provincial newspapers. The Paris newspapers, the Journal de Paris and the Mercure de France, with rare exceptions continued to present the same

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rubrics with a heavy emphasis on book reviews and government edicts,34 but the Journal de Lyon, the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, and even the Affiches de Dauphiné—the last hitherto among the most somnolent and boring of provincial newspapers—showed signs of a new mode and spirit. Instead of the earlier fare of government edicts, they began to report news in the making and public criticism of government policies, becoming vehicles for the expression of opinion, both the newspaper’s and the public’s. The Journal de Lyon, which re-introduced on 1 October 1788 the rubric “Legislation” expunged by repressive controls that accompanied the suppression of the sovereign courts in May 1788, alluded to the changed political situation and to its new editorial policy: “Circumstances which it is useless to recall have compelled us for several months to suppress the articles ‘Legislation’ and ‘Tribunals.’ The reason no longer exists, and in the future we will devote particular attention to these two articles.” The new journalism advertised itself in its quest for readers. The “Prospectus” that relaunched the Journal Général de France (commonly known as the Affiches de Paris), reprinted in December 1788 in the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, announced that the rubric “Administration” has become “so important today, is so much to the taste of readers, it will be its duty to give them sufficient knowledge of everything relating to it.” With fewer constraints on them, this handful of newspapers were free to catch up with, and to follow, public opinion in print, ushering in a more modern form of journalism. The press began to reprint not only the official declarations of the Crown but also statements, even political demands, from parlements, provincial assemblies and estates, and increasingly from municipal governments; the Journal de Lyon, the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, and the Affiches de Dauphiné did so frequently and consistently, other newspapers hesitantly and occasionally. They also reported in vivid detail—the Affiches de Dauphiné even in microscopic detail—current events and the public’s response to developments of the day. In more openly expressing their own views and those of the public, views that diverged from those of established authorities and also differed one from another, these few newspapers were becoming forums for public debate and dissent, introducing, as the Journal de Lyon wrote on 12 November 1788, “a free field, open to all opinions.” Necker’s re-entry into the ministry reduced the constraints operating on the press; the return of the parlements in September and October accelerated the practice of freer journalism. The first acts of the Paris parlement and the provincial parlements were to register the royal edict convening the

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estates-general for 1789. Two avenues opened for the reporting of events and opinion where signs of the new journalism appeared: the debate on representation in the estates-general and, by extension, in the provincial estates; and the festivities celebrating the return of the magistrates. Official protection was an added advantage for some newspapers; the publisher of the Affiches de Dauphiné, for example, was at the same time the official printer for the newly restored and triumphant parlement in Grenoble. Never before had the domestic press reported events in the making that were also dramatic expressions of public opinion. In stark contrast to the absence of news on the closing of the courts in May 1788, in the autumn some newspapers reported the formal re-establishment of the courts, including the royal edict and the ceremonial opening sessions with the solemn official statements from magistrates and local corps.35 They recounted the rapturous celebrations to welcome the returning magistrates, as well as allusions to the “despotic” acts that had caused the closing of the courts. The courageous opposition of judges was sometimes expressed and, in the most explicit manner, the public’s joy and enthusiasm in its support for the magistrates was palpably described.36 The Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine reported those events in the two parlementary cities of Metz and Nancy and in two lesser cities, Longwy and Verdun. The Affiches de Dauphiné, emerging from its journalistic lethargy, printed almost a deluge of reports on festivities in the parlementary city of Grenoble and in the small cities, even towns, in Dauphiné, including eyewitness accounts undoubtedly sent by local residents who were also readers of the newspaper. A greater number of provincial newspapers slowly entered the simmering debate on representation—on the nature of representative bodies and the modes of representation. For a few of them the focus was provincial institutions; for most of them the dominant issue was the national estatesgeneral. Although newspapers had generally favored, even enthusiastically, the new provincial assemblies, by the autumn of 1788 they had begun to echo the shift in public opinion away from assemblies and in support of estates.37 Events in Dauphiné were the most dramatic expression of this changing sentiment. The Affiches de Dauphiné could not report in June on the Day of Tiles or in July on the meeting in Vizille of representatives from cities and towns who pledged themselves to re-establish the provincial estates in place of the provincial assembly. In contrast, in September, it gave detailed attention to the meeting of the provincial representatives in the city of Romans,

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reporting sympathetically on their plans for a permanent provincial estates; their negotiations with the Crown on the form of the estates; and the final design for representation which doubled the number of Third Estate representatives, making them equal in number to those in the first and second estates combined. When the estates of Dauphiné, already a model for the rest of France, met in December, the newspaper continued to report on its deliberations. In other provinces the local press reported a similar process of shifting support from provincial assemblies to provincial estates. The Affiches des Evêchés et Lorraine and the Journal de Normandie informed their readers of the requests from the parlements in Nancy and in Rouen for the establishment of provincial estates in Lorraine and in Normandy, respectively.38 Even in politically quiescent Auvergne, the Feuille hebdomadaire d’Auvergne made known to readers in a book review a request for the reestablishment of the provincial estates as well as the reform of its future representation.39 In Artois, the newly founded Affiches d’Artois reported on 2 January 1789 that nobles and Third Estate members were demanding changes in representation in the existing provincial estates. And the Journal de l’Orléanois, commenting favorably on the estates of Dauphiné, revealed an undercurrent of desire for an estates in Orléanais. Yet none of these news reports explained why it was preferable to have a provincial estates rather than a provincial assembly. Perhaps they were aware that their readers knew, for this was one among many issues left unexplored in the periodical press that was debated at length in the pamphlets of the day. Two weeks after the Paris parlement’s registration of the edict convening the estates-general, a report in the Mercure de France of 11 October carried the laconic statement: “The clause in the Parlement’s registration, that demands the convocation of the estates-general in the form of 1614, has set off an avid inquiry into all the details of that Assembly.” With a tone of perplexity, the journalist then offered the opinion that “there were strange and long discussions [in 1614] about the subordination of the Third Estate to the other two orders.” In the end, the cahiers of the three orders “contained so many objects” to which the Crown never responded, which brought that meeting to a disappointing conclusion. This brief news report foreshadowed the direction public opinion would take on the issue of representation in the estates-general: great hopes, followed by a sense of foreboding, and concluding with the insistent demand for changes in the way the estates-general operated so as to prevent repeated failure.

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Subsequent reporting in the domestic press of debates on representation in the estates-general rested with provincial newspapers. Eight newspapers— the Affiches of Artois, Beauvaisis, Dauphiné, and the Three Bishoprics and Lorraine, as well as the Journaux of Hainaut, Lyon, Orléanais, and Troyes— all reported on the movement for doubling of the Third Estate in the estates-general, and all expressed their support of that goal. The second issue of the Affiches d’Artois on 5 December 1788 reprinted in whole or in part the declaration of the city of Nîmes of 3 November and the decision of the three orders of Metz and the Pays Messin in favor of doubling, citing as precedents the provincial assemblies established in 1787 as well as those in Berry, Haute-Guyenne, and Dauphiné. A week earlier, on 26 November, the Journal de Lyon suggested that the Pétition des citoyens domiciliés à Paris (written by Dr. Guillotin), which demanded doubling, vote by head, and selection of Third Estate representatives from within the order, serve as a model for other cities. Reports on the decision of the provincial estates of Dauphiné in favor of doubling and vote by head were the most common vehicles for transmitting news of this movement and the newspapers’ support. History—the example of a rare estates-general in the past or the absence of any regular precedent for representation in previous estates-general—also lent support for doubling of the Third Estate in the estates-general of 1789. A letter in the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine on 27 November 1788 voiced what was becoming a common theme of the day: the Third Estate had become “the depository . . . of resources and knowledge.” The Journal de l’Orléanois and the Affiches de Dauphiné adopted the argument that the three estates of Dauphiné advanced in the letter of 8 November written by JeanJoseph Mounier: only through doubling of the Third Estate along with vote by head will the representatives in the estates-general act in accord with the general interests of the nation, rather than the interests of any particular order or province.40 By late 1788, with the domestic press engaged in public discussion of political ideas and problems, political commentary had no bounds and acquired an autonomous force. New issues appeared in newspapers that later entered the national political forum. The Affiches du Beauvaisis opposed limiting the vote to proprietors since it would disenfranchise the poor, while the Journal du Hainaut and the Journal de Paris printed criticisms of the nobility, the former charging in a book review that the nobility vexed the poor by demanding the corvée, the latter publishing a letter that denounced the practice of serfdom in Franche-Comté.41

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By the end of 1788 domestic newspapers were no longer timid and passive organs, camouflaging their interest in current affairs by references to history or in book reviews. They had always provided elementary instruction in public affairs by publishing royal edicts that announced policy decisions. Some newspapers now enlarged the range of their instruction, reprinting other official and non-official expressions of opinion and reports on events as they unfolded, including news on the confrontation and negotiation between those in government and those in the public who held different points of view. Although several papers became more outspoken in their opinions, they did not yet mold or lead public opinion. Newspapers still reflected the interests and direction that public opinion was already taking, performing as spokesmen of rather than to the public, reporting the public’s actions and printing the writings of individuals and groups. The domestic press helped to spread news; informed the public of arguments and activities; and projected into the public arena the increased attention of the French to politics, thereby giving greater resonance to political concerns and sentiments. Only by late 1788 did the pages of French newspapers become more like those of the foreign gazettes, although they still lagged behind other media, such as manuscript newsletters and pamphlets, in their presentation of and response to ongoing events. Newspapers acknowledged the limits of their role in transmitting information, analyzing issues, and expressing opinion. Aware that their readers generally acquired more knowledge from sources other than newspapers, they directed them to books and pamphlets where they could obtain a more varied and substantial diet of news and views. However much transformed, the ancien régime domestic press did not become polemical, rabble-rousing promoters of distinct political or ideological causes, as the more famous Revolutionary newspapers, both of left and right, became in 1789 and after.42

5 The Foreign French-Language Press Gazettes

In addition to the Parisian and provincial press, there were other forms of news reports that circulated in the late ancien régime. Contemporaries could choose from among three types of journalism: foreign gazettes, such as Le Courrier d’Avignon or La Gazette de Leyde published in Holland; journals of opinion, such as Linguet’s Annales or Le Courrier de l’Europe; and manuscript newsletters known as nouvelles à la main. A contemporary reader of the Courrier d’Avignon or the Gazette de Leyde, whose formal title was the Nouvelles Extraordinaires de Divers Endroits, obtained a seat as close-up to the unfolding events of 1787 and 1788 as could be found in the authorized and published ancien régime press. Newspapers printed in foreign lands enjoyed greater freedom in reporting news about France, since they were not subject to the laws that strictly controlled the French press; this was the reason for the popularity of the Francophone press among newsreaders in France. Yet these gazettes straddled two spheres: free of legal constraints, they nonetheless were vulnerable to political and economic pressures which could compel them to exercise a certain deference to French authority. The foreign press could circulate and sell within the borders of France only with the approval of the foreign minister, and what the minister gave he could also take away.1 Hence they had to be careful not to antagonize the French government or they would lose their entry into the large and lucrative French market. An underlying tone of sympathy and even support of government policy characterized the reports on France in the Avignon Courrier and the Gazette de Leyde; it may be that the ministry at times planted reports favorable to their policies in these journals.2 Accepting this relationship was the gazettes’ strategy for maintaining the minister’s favor, if it was not also a reflection of their political 112

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preference. At the same time the French minister of foreign affairs trod a double path in his relations with the foreign press. While he sought to contain excessive criticism, he also recognized the need to satisfy the French public’s thirst for news that was unavailable in the domestic press and which the foreign press could satisfy; thus it was in the government’s interest to permit access to the foreign gazettes.3 This intricate pirouetting of ministry and gazettes, each using the other to fulfill interests that complemented one another, served the needs of the French public desiring broader coverage of the news. The Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde operated within the format of the ancien régime press while greatly enlarging its range. News reports on France appeared as dispatches dated from Paris usually, sometimes from a provincial city, in which a variety of news was amalgamated—on French foreign policy, assignments of ministers, appointments in the court, government decisions, and other domestic events. Important developments received more extensive coverage, which most often included the reprinting of government laws and declarations; in a reversal of the practice in the press today, instead of large typesize for headlines to indicate the more important news, smaller print was employed in the gazettes to reprint official documents, sometimes in summary form but often in their entirety. Within the framework of this traditional practice appeared the first important, even radical innovation of the foreign gazettes. The official documents reproduced in all their detail and in fine print included not only the edicts and pronouncements of the king, ministers, and Royal Council— staples in the domestic press—but also the remonstrances of the many parlementary and other sovereign courts which, in 1787–1788, were often fiery declarations critical of royal policy and actions, and enunciations of the magistrates’ own principles and goals. In this seemingly evenhanded and impartial manner, the foreign gazettes transmitted to the French public the arguments of the leading opponents of the government which could not be found in the French press. In the intensifying ferment of 1787 and 1788, these gazettes were unique among the periodical press in providing a printed forum for the opposition, especially for the sovereign court magistrates. Their service as an outlet was especially crucial during the months from May to September 1788 when, following the May edicts and the suppression of the sovereign courts, the government prohibited the publication and dissemination in France of the courts’ pronouncements. Among the print media of the day, the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde were

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not alone in publishing parlementary remonstrances, which also circulated, sometimes clandestinely, in pamphlet form. Readers who had the patience, curiosity, and mental concentration to read these declarations, even in part, could gain familiarity with the arsenal of arguments that parlementary opponents directed against the Crown. In late 1788 the grounds of debate broadened as these gazettes reported on and reprinted in detail the criticisms of others—municipal governments and local bodies—against the royal government, and also against the magistracy, nobility, and high clergy, whose leadership came to be contested. News scoops on a modest scale appeared in both the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde. Both reprinted the final statements of the bureaux of the Assembly of Notables when these were initially drawn up and months before their actual publication. In contrast to the domestic press, they did not limit their reports to official pronouncements after the fact. The Gazette de Leyde was outstanding in offering many behind the scenes reports—on the unfolding debates in the Assembly of Notables in early 1787 and again in late 1788, and especially those within the halls of the Paris parlement from June 1787 through September 1788. Both newspapers reported votes on different issues: in the Paris parlement in support of the immediate convening of the estates-general, and in the second Assembly of Notables for or against doubling of Third Estate representation. By indicating the Notables or magistrates who took leading roles in the debates in the Assembly or in the parlement, they enabled readers to become familiar with those names. The Gazette de Leyde in particular gave its readers the sense that they were present at the making of what would become news. In its reports they could read about the government, Notables, and magistrates grappling with issues and arguing about policies before final matters were settled. In this mounting and kaleidoscopic unfolding of public words and acts, reports of what was actually being said and done mixed at times with rumors of what, it was believed, would shortly be said or done: l’on dit was the standard formula in the Gazette, as well as in the nouvelles à la main. The Gazette, however, was more circumspect in transmitting rumors. It informed readers which reports were purely speculative and perhaps even improbable; was concerned not to mislead readers about the eventual outcome; and expressed to readers a respect for facts and the truth, in contrast to some manuscript newsletters and especially the provocative and polemical reporting that came to characterize a good deal of the revolutionary Parisian press beginning in 1789.4

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The absence of polemics and of propagandizing did not mean the absence of opinion on the pages of the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde. There were no distinct editorial columns as in modern newspapers, but there was modest editorializing within the news articles. And in both newspapers there was the same trajectory of opinion that furtively appeared in the domestic press. Initially, in 1787, the newspapers of Avignon and of Leiden hailed the government’s reform policies, the Gazette de Leyde in particular urging the French to recognize the need to increase revenue so as to reduce the deficit, as the controller general’s proposals aimed to achieve. As criticism mounted, within the Assembly and beyond its halls, the two newspapers came to voice sympathy for the counterproposals first of the Assembly of Notables and then of the parlementary courts, especially the demand for the convening of an estates-general. It was as if they sought alternatively to see and embrace the positive aspects of each side, the Crown and its opponents. Hope sprung eternal on their pages with each shift in royal policy and each change of ministry, most notably when Jacques Necker returned as royal minister in August 1788. Perhaps they sought to avoid antagonizing the wielders of both royal and parlementary censorship as they alternated between sympathy for the one and the other. Ambivalence before the contesting arguments of the royal government on the one side, and its several critics on the other side—the sovereign courts foremost, but also groups of nobles and lawyers, and public opinion in a number of provinces—was the hallmark of these two newspapers. Once the focus of argument and attention shifted to the demand for the estates-general, a deeper and more consistent surge of sympathy for the opponents of the Crown was evident. This shift coincided with the end of government censorship of newspapers and other publications in France, so the foreign papers no longer had to fear government pressure and could unambiguously express their opinions. The end of censorship had a less radical effect on the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde than on domestic newspapers. News coverage of the government’s critics had appeared earlier in foreign papers, which the French press only began to introduce in late 1788. The Avignon and Leiden papers, having already pioneered the practice of printing even the critical declarations of magistrates, now enlarged their scope to include the criticisms of the Crown as well as of the magistrates and nobility, as these became more frequent and numerous from municipal governments, local assemblies, and professional groups. The Courrier, having limited itself previously to faits accomplis, now followed the example of the Gazette de Leyde

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in reporting rumors and speculating on possible decisions and actions. Both newspapers also reported on demonstrations, riots, and fêtes that occurred in Paris and in provincial cities in favor of Necker and the returning magistrates, or in opposition to the ousted ministers, Loménie de Brienne and Lamoignon. The major innovation that the lifting of government controls introduced was more insistent and more frequent editorializing, along with a transference of roles between them. The Gazette de Leyde, which previously had expressed its political views explicitly although with a certain ambivalence, persisted in its double vision. It passionately embraced the call for the estates-general and supported the claims of the Third Estate, its news reports at times being didactic, even moralistic as well as polemical, as if transmuting itself into a propaganda journal for Patriot demands. At the same time it urged moderation, unity, and harmony upon all sides, fearing the upsurge in popular involvement in politics and the potential for disorder. The Courrier d’Avignon, hitherto more timid in expressing political views, aligned itself in support of the estates-general and the Third Estate, distancing itself from the Crown and the magistracy for whom it had previously shown sympathy; given the absence of negative comments, it seemed not to be wary of the political engagement of popular groups in society. Clearly the shift of opinion in the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde, which paralleled that in the domestic press, indicates that instead of the two gazettes influencing public opinion, the public’s sentiments influenced the views expressed in these newspapers. Or the public and the gazettes responded in a similar manner to the same problems of the day. In the least, the sentiments in the Leiden and Avignon papers were in tandem with those of the public, sometimes catching up with the public but rarely ahead of it. From August 1788 on it becomes difficult at times to distinguish the public’s opinion from the newspapers’ opinion in the accounts of euphoria following the appointment of Necker or the return of the parlements, or in reports on the insistent demands for the estates-general and for doubling of the Third Estate. Their pages were as antennae that picked up the public’s mood and gave it resonance, amplifying the message and, more importantly, projecting the image of a broad movement of opinion that was under way. Yet neither newspaper led, mobilized, or aroused public opinion for or against any policy or cause, as newspapers would begin to do in 1789. On certain issues the public and the Gazette de Leyde even held contrary views. In the midst of the crisis over the suppressed parlements in August 1788, and following the government’s decision on 16 August to re-

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pay government creditors partly in paper money, the Gazette urged the French to support the government’s strategem to stave off financial collapse by using treasury notes instead of specie; it repeated the same argument in the autumn of 1788 when the Gazette expressed hope for the success of Necker’s loan. The Gazette trusted the government to achieve financial solvency and also to convene an estates-general. In contrast, most of the French—aristocrats and Patriots alike—believed only financial duress could compel the Crown to convene an estates-general, and that financial order could be assured solely through action by the “nation assembled.” On financial policy the Gazette de Leyde failed to sway opinion. Thus where the press and the public diverged in interest and outlook, the press did not prevail. Nevertheless, in their drift away from sympathy for royal policy, in their support for convening an estates-general and then for increased representation of the Third Estate, the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde expressed demands and aspirations that were widespread and found in myriad pamphlets of the day. Their voice was one among many, no single publication exerting an original or unique influence in shaping opinion.5 The influence of the press, and of the print media in general, was one element within a collective movement among contemporaries, many of whom had come to espouse similar opinions at the same time, under the impact of events. Although followers or mirrors of public opinion rather than its leaders, the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde nonetheless played important roles as organs of information. In their pages the public could read the fullest published accounts of political events and developments in 1787 and 1788. These gazettes were like verbal magic lanterns that permitted its readers to gaze upon the extraordinary drama in which they were not only observers but also actors who could determine the final outcome. The images presented on the pages of these newspapers, often in the form of lengthy government edicts, parlementary declarations, and pronouncements of local groups, offered a learning experience from which readers could gain knowlege about, or at least be exposed to the arguments, accusations, and aspirations of varied political contenders as events unfolded. From the news of the convening of an Assembly of Notables in early 1787 to the New Year’s news in 1789 of the Crown’s decision in favor of doubling the Third Estate in the estates-general, French readers of the Courrier d’Avignon and of the Gazette de Leyde had at hand elementary lessons in politics that, as events showed, they imbibed.

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The Assembly of Notables was the major news event during the first-half of 1787. In contrast to the domestic press, which had to project the image of a lawmaking body into the past, the two foreign gazettes reported in detail on the actual workings of the national deliberative body. These accounts made French readers more familiar with a “national assembly,” as contemporaries came to call the Assembly of Notables. News articles focused attention on financial problems, highlighted by the Crown’s revelation of a deficit and its demand for more taxes. The gazettes reported the sense of shock at the news that a deficit existed after four years of peace. From initial disbelief followed reports of outrage among the Notables, whose criticisms and inquiries provided evidence of disorder in royal finances, waste in the financial ministry, and presumed corruption by the controller general Calonne, which the gazettes brought before the public. Once the Notables left the public stage, the literary duel between the two former chiefs of finance, Calonne and Necker, lasting from the autumn of 1787 to the autumn of 1788, fueled the ongoing debate on the condition of the royal treasury: whether there was a deficit, when it had accumulated, and what had caused it. Each salvo by the one or the other was reported and reviewed, as were many other writings in this controversy over public finances. Most of the writings reported in the two gazettes, and the judgments of their journalists, strongly supported Necker’s case, although there were rare arguments to the contrary, from the trumpeting polemic of Mirabeau to the dispassionate documentation by Mathon de la Cour and Serpaud, a former taxfarmer (a contractor for the collection of indirect takes). Calonne bore the opprobrium for runaway deficits, uncontrolled loans, and ever higher interest payments, to which were added the lesser sins of favoritism in the trade monopoly granted to the Indies Company, land exchanges at a loss to the royal treasury, and dishonest reminting of the coinage. Charges of financial misrule, abounding on the pages of the two gazettes as well as in public discourse, incurred graver political consequences for the former minister and yielded novel constitutional lessons for the French public when the Paris parlement initiated legal proceedings against Calonne in September 1787. Presented in the form of a criminal indictment, a new rule of government was enunciated: ministers were responsible before the law for their conduct in office, and were accountable to constituted legal authorities and to the public for their wrongdoing. In this movement of public discourse from personal vilification and quibbling over the methods of accounting to the formulation of a new constitutional principle, the French

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received a substantial political education. One year later, the dismissal of Loménie de Brienne followed soon after by that of Lamoignon, and the charges leveled against them in several parlements and in the public (and reported in the gazettes), reaffirmed to the public the new maxim of subordinating the actions of ministers not only to the will of the monarch but also to the rule of law. The government’s request for new taxes—a land tax and a stamp tax— unleashed another flood of criticism, first in the Assembly of Notables and then in the parlements. Financial counterclaims mutated into overpowering political demands. Insistence on verifying the deficit through examination of government accounts, and on eliminating waste and reducing expenditures before tax increases, culminated in the argument that new taxes and tax increases could only be accepted through consent of the nation assembled in an estates-general. This was the trajectory of the debates in the Assembly of Notables that the Paris parlement also followed in the summer of 1787, when the government requested that it register the edicts on the land tax and stamp tax. The claim that an estates-general alone could consent to new or higher taxes, expressed earlier by the Notables, gained the attention of the gazettes when the Paris parlement refused to register the two tax edicts; for their opposition the magistrates suffered exile to the city of Troyes. Even the scuttling of the new tax proposals and the government’s extension of existing vingtième taxes (along with additional loans), which the Paris parlement approved in September 1787, did not diminish the welling demands for an estates-general that parlementary remonstrances expressed and the gazettes reported. Attention to the Assembly of Notables’ meeting in Versailles and to the parlement in Paris did not obscure reports on events in the provinces. From there also came calls for controls on government action and for a more effective public role in administration through the new provincial assemblies and the older provincial estates. Still, reports on the meetings of the provincial assemblies in the autumn of 1787, indicating the good they might accomplish, did not eradicate suspicion among some in the public that they would become tax-raising instruments of the ministry. Such fear led to a succession of demands, initiated by the parlements in Bordeaux and in Grenoble—and reprinted in the two foreign papers—that the provincial assemblies not be permitted to implement new taxes. Instead, the parlements should retain their authority to register tax edicts and provincial assemblies should be replaced by provincial estates that alone, it was claimed, had the

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right to consent to taxes for their provinces. The suppression of the sovereign courts throughout France in May 1788 intensified claims for the rights and authority of provincial estates. Existing provincial estates insisted that they must approve any changes in the rights of their provinces, including their right to have high courts judge them and register the laws to apply to them. Requests for the re-establishment of provincial estates, in provinces where provincial assemblies had been introduced, also became more numerous and insistent. From the autumn of 1787 through 1788 the pages of the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde resounded with parlementary declarations attacking government practices as despotic and advancing claims to liberties. Louis XVI’s appearance on 19 November 1787 in a royal session in the Paris parlement to expedite the registration of new loans turned into an unexpected lit de justice when the king abruptly ordered the parlement to register the edicts immediately. This was followed by lettres de cachet punishing three members of the court who were most vociferous in criticizing the king’s action; the duc d’Orléans was exiled to a country estate, and two magistrates, Fréteau and the abbé Sabatier, were imprisoned in provincial fortresses. Following closely upon the exile of the Paris parlement to Troyes and of the Bordeaux parlement to Libourne, these acts gave further proof of the arbitrariness and despotic intent of the government. The Paris parlement and provincial courts denounced both the lit de justice and the lettres de cachet. Only free deliberation and free voting by magistrates prior to the registration of laws, asserted the Paris tribunal, could guarantee the full sanctity of the law; furthermore, these liberties had broader application. Judges who deliberated and voted freely were the bulwarks securing the liberties of ordinary Frenchmen. Defense of the rights of magistrates became identified with defense of the rights of all. And magistrates affirmed as well the rights of all. In Paris and in the provinces parlements proclaimed the right of individuals to the protection of their persons and property through legal guarantees against arbitrary arrest, irregular trials, and prolonged punishment. Lessons in the need to control government authority, guarantee freedom in making law, and assure individual liberties gained greater urgency with the compulsory registration of the May edicts in 1788, followed swiftly by the suppression of the parlementary courts in a show of military force. The Gazette de Leyde was slow to register the public mood in the provinces, at first reporting that the edicts were being accepted peacefully. By the end of

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May, as more information arrived from around France, the tone and substance of its articles changed, as did those in the Courrier d’Avignon. Both reported acts of opposition, from the riots in some provincial cities to the refusal of lawyers to serve in the new grands bailliages courts which were to assume much of the jurisdiction of parlementary courts. The two gazettes made as their own the arguments of the Crown’s critics. News reports recounted acts of arbitrariness and despotism that were universally decried. The crisis that erupted moved the debate beyond issues of legal order and civil rights. Political claims voiced as peremptory calls gained priority in the nation and in the two newspapers: the public must participate in national government through the immediate convening of an estates-general. In the short term, the May edicts should be revoked, the regular courts reestablished, imprisoned magistrates freed, and the ministers responsible for this revolution dismissed and punished. In the long term, the nation, through the estates-general, should share power through its consent to all taxes and loans and its right to approve changes in the judicial system. Parlementary remonstrances from Paris, Grenoble, Rennes, Pau, Rouen, Aix, Bordeaux, and Toulouse; seconded by statements of lower courts, the assembly of the clergy, provincial estates, groups of lawyers, nobles, and municipal spokesmen in the provinces; in addition to accounts of popular opposition, demonstrations, and riots in Grenoble, Rennes, Pau, Lyon, Bordeaux, Dijon, and in smaller towns such as Fontainebleau, conveyed the image of a widespread movement across the kingdom advancing clear and sharp constitutional claims to the readers of the gazettes. The “awakening of the Third Estate,” in Jean Egret’s phrase, surprised the gazettes less than the opposition of aristocrats to changes in the form of the estates-general that was to meet in 1789. Criticism of the Paris parlement’s decision on 25 September 1788 that the forthcoming estatesgeneral should follow the form of the estates-general of 1614 appeared in the pages of the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde within two weeks. This was a dramatic shift from the coverage of the return of many provincial parlements from exile in mid-October, and the accompanying festivities expressing the public’s welcome and support of the magistrates. From that apogée of popular enthusiasm for the parlementary magistrates, opinion expressed through the gazettes and by the gazettes turned against them, unexpectedly and initially with bewilderment, then with greater force of passion, reflecting the changed opinion extending over wide areas of France.

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Disappointed with the Paris parlement, the Gazette de Leyde placed great hope in the second Assembly of Notables. The Gazette expressed the belief that the Assembly would prove itself as “patriotic” as in the preceding year, “taking to heart the interests of the People in giving it an appropriate representation in the National Assembly” (14 October 1788), and that nothing short of representation equal to the other two orders combined would satisfy the Third Estate. Fiscal equality without doubling of representation, which parlements, Notables, nobles, and princes were offering, was a “stumbling block” destroying efforts to restore the strength and prosperity of France, it reaffirmed one month later (Supplement, Paris, 24 November 1788). As reports leaked out of the Notables’ unsympathetic response and its support for equal representation of each order, the Gazette’s tone became somber: “[I]t is to be feared that the Notables have sowed as of present the germ of a number of difficulties that will stifle the promise of an . . . estates-general” (9 December 1788). Sheer puzzlement at the motives of the opposition alternated with denunciations of selfish interests and prejudices founded on “pride of place and rank” (9 December 1788). The Notables’ final decision in favor of an estates-general formed as in 1614; similar support by the Paris parlement and other privileged institutions and groups; and opposition of parlementary magistrates in Rennes, Aix, and Besançon to greater representation of the Third Estate in their provincial estates, forewarned the Gazette, set in motion a vicious circle: “The defiance of the commoners becomes in this matter stronger and better founded as the opposition to its interests develops with greater energy” (19 December 1788). On the pages of the gazettes in the autumn of 1788 appeared new currents of opinion voiced by other groups in the nation which, bypassing the parlementary courts, signaled a shift in leadership from the magistrates to an autonomous public. Fewer parlementary remonstrances appeared in the Gazette de Leyde and the Courrier d’Avignon, though they reported the debates in the second Assembly of Notables. Instead, the arguments in pamphlets, especially the declarations of provincial and municipal institutions and groups, dominated news reports. The gazettes may have been overwhelmed by the avalanche of declarations and pamphlets; they did not have enough space to cover it all. They were newspapers whose purpose was to report events, rather than journals to review written works. Nonetheless, the Courrier d’Avignon and especially the Gazette de Leyde pursued a clear and purposeful strategy along two lines.

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First, they presented a restricted and not impartial summation of the arguments. Although they sometimes recounted both sides to the dispute, they focused on the three core goals that the Third Estate advanced: representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the other two orders combined; deliberation and voting in common in the estates-general; and representation of the Third Estate limited to those who belonged to that order. Other issues marginal to these central concerns they ignored. They gave no heed to the question of voting qualifications for the estates-general, which would become a critical issue during the years of Revolution, just as in 1787 financial issues and participation were their focus, not the exact form of representation in provincial assemblies that awaited the turn of opinion in late 1788. Public attention grasped a few issues at a time, storing others for future contestation, and the gazettes served to simplify and to highlight public debate at each different moment. In reiterating the aims of the Third Estate, they gave less attention to arguments justifying those demands. The Gazette de Leyde, which offered fuller coverage than the Courrier d’Avignon, echoed in summary manner what were becoming commonplace themes. It contrasted the disadvantages of the 1614 model of the estatesgeneral with the advantages of the form of representation and voting in the provincial estates of Dauphiné; it dismissed historical precedent and affirmed the need for “just” representation, one based on reason and the rights of nature, as well as acceptable to “the most numerous part” of the population; and it emphasized the importance of the Third Estate, itself virtually the “Nation” in the economic and cultural life of France, which warranted that it “count for something” in public administration. Second, both gazettes made clear to readers what the political alignment was on the dispute over the estates-general. The Gazette de Leyde reported that some nobles and magistrates in a few provinces—Languedoc, FrancheComté, and Burgundy, in addition to Dauphiné—supported demands for representation in the estates-general and in provincial estates on the model of the estates in Dauphiné. But many more magistrates, nobles, and high clergy—in Brittany, Franche-Comté, Normandy, Provence, Burgundy, and Artois—opposed those demands. The Paris parlement did not redeem its political image by its declaration of 5 December which, the Gazette de Leyde clarified in the issue of 19 December, did not suggest any change in its support for representation of the orders as in 1614. The Gazette decried the partisanship of parlementary courts. The Paris parlement lauded the criticism of the Third Estate in the Mémoire des princes at the same time that it

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denounced the criticism of the aristocracy in the Pétition des citoyens domiciliés à Paris,6 interrogated its author Dr. Guillotin, and prohibited the Third Estate from collecting signatures for the petition. The parlement in Rennes sought to silence Third Estate critics in Brittany through the use of military force and the prohibition of private assemblies. In summarizing Necker’s Report that accompanied the Result of the Royal Council of 27 December, the Courrier d’Avignon in its issue of 10 January 1789 presented the minister’s view of the two protagonists. Those demanding equal representation of the three orders, as in 1614, included a majority of the Assembly of Notables; “a large part” of the clergy and nobility; the Breton nobility; many magistrates in sovereign courts; the provincial estates in Brittany, Burgundy, and Artois; and several princes of the blood. Those favoring doubling of the Third Estate included a minority of the Assembly of Notables; many gentilshommes; the three orders in Dauphiné; innumerable cities and communes; and the Third Estate. There were as well the examples of the estates of Languedoc, and the newly established estates in Provence and Hainaut. By the end of 1788 the dominant image transmitted in the Courrier d’Avignon and the Gazette de Leyde was, in the words of another contemporary journalist, Mallet du Pan, a “war between the orders.”

6 The Foreign French-Language Press Journals of Opinion

Journals of opinion that expressed distinct and strongly held views about government policy were rare among the periodical press in the late ancien régime. The Courrier de l’Europe and Simon-Nicolas-Henri Linguet’s Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle were the most renowned. Both were published abroad, the Courrier in London from 1776 to 1792, and the Annales in London then in Brussels intermittently from 1777 to 1789. Distance from the French censors does not explain their greater freedom of expression, for both journals received favorable treatment from the French postal system that other newspapers envied.1 The freedom the Annales and the Courrier enjoyed was not the freedom to criticize but to extol government policy and royal absolutism. Their fervid advocacy for the Crown, whether out of ideological affinity or as a result of government control, influence, or subsidies, especially in 1787 and 1788 when the public was ever more critical, gained notoriety for both periodicals. Despite their royalist sympathies the two editors, Linguet and Charles Théveneau de Morande of the Courrier de l’Europe, were personal enemies, their enmity further contributing to the notoriety of their journals which, together with Linguet’s unique and idiosyncratic style of journalism, made the two writers and their periodicals centerpieces of public interest—and of increasing public scorn in 1787–1788. In earlier years, Théveneau de Morande and Linguet had been two of the most vituperative polemicists against the Crown, the former in his salacious pamphlets directed against the royal court in the 1770s, the latter in his denunciation in 1783 of arbitrary imprisonment in the Bastille that he had suffered from 1780 to 1782.2 By 1787–1788 they had become the two 125

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outstanding defenders of the monarchy among journalists; Linguet also offered his sharp pen to the royal cause in many pamphlets.

Charles Théveneau de Morande Théveneau de Morande began to benefit from royal largesse while still a pornographer; indeed, his pornographic writings were composed for use as literary blackmail, to force the Crown to pay him in exchange for the damaging manuscripts. By 1783 he was using his expertise to assist royal agents pursuing other French pornographers operating in London. The following year Morande became editor of the Courrier de l’Europe, the principal French-language newspaper of Great Britain, for which he had been secretly writing articles since 1781 on behalf of the French ministry. Even earlier, in 1776, through the machinations of Beaumarchais (before he composed Figaro’s lament), the Courrier had submitted to government control in return for greater access to the French reading market which thus yielded greater profit.3 The Courrier was similar to the foreign gazettes (in contrast to Linguet’s Annales), in printing reports from many countries in addition to its focus on England and France. Its articles on England performed a unique journalistic service by introducing the French public to British parliamentary politics, for which it gained a large readership. It differed from the other gazettes in the frequency, length, and force of its editorial comments, some of which were interjected into the news reports from France although most appeared in opinion articles Morande wrote in the rubric “Melanges de Littérature, Politique, etc.,” as well as those under the name “Un voyageur.” These articles, serious analyses of events and policies in France, show the former anti-government pornographer transformed into a spokesman for the royal government, a critic of French social mores, and a practioner of journalistic political economy. The Courrier de l’Europe, along with other periodicals in France and abroad, applauded the reforms the Crown presented to the Assembly of Notables. While other foreign gazettes subsequently shifted their sympathies to the Notables, magistrates, and pamphleteers who became critical of the Crown’s policies, the Courrier gave unswerving support to the Crown. It embraced each succeeding minister—admiring Calonne, respecting Loménie de Brienne, then extolling Necker and turning against Calonne. As government policies altered under the pressure of criticism and with the stamp of succeeding ministers, and as government securities rose and fell in

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the market, the Courrier time and again saw only what was positive from the Crown’s perspective. Lenders would provide adequate money to the treasury; government expenditures would be reined in; the deficit would disappear and the budget balanced; provincial assemblies would flourish; and financial order would be restored. On its pages the pulse of the bond market and the confidence of government creditors often assumed greatest importance. From its vantage point in London, the strategies and moves in international politics had priority over the claims of French domestic politics. It excoriated critics of the Crown for creating disorder and weakening the monarchy, giving encouragement to foreign countries to stir up trouble in Europe when France was ill-prepared to defend its interests. The Courrier’s overriding concern was the preservation of royal authority in its fullness. Over the centuries kings had protected the people and brought them the benefit of good laws, and the French in turn had become attached to the monarchy and depended upon its power to guarantee order. A sustained defense of the government’s policies and criticism of its judicial opponents was rare among newspapers following the May 1788 edicts that led to the closing of the parlementary courts; from 23 May to 8 August a total of fourteen such articles appeared in the pages of the Courrier.4 Morande was quick to denounce as a “revolution” the Paris parlement’s call for the nation to consent to taxes through an estates-general. He believed that countries whose kings or government had limited authority—Poland and Holland, as well as the United States and even Great Britain—encouraged political disorder, whereas the French had the best system of government.5 Morande’s distinctive contribution was his trenchant analysis of French social mores that long residence in England had nurtured and that antedated the political crisis of 1787–1788.6 Businessmen in France, in contrast to those in England, did not enjoy esteem; in their quest for social advancement they left their businesses, ceased to invest in trade and manufacture, and instead placed their money in unproductive venal office as a step to ennoblement, to the detriment of the French economy and people. Thus the May edicts, by reducing the jurisdiction and number of parlementary magistrates, diminished the appeal of venal office and of ennoblement. At the same time, the provincial assemblies offered a new form of service that would attract businessmen and landowners to live in the provinces, where they would spend their money, invest their capital, and promote greater economic activity and prosperity. Morande’s materialist argument with its neo-physiocratic overtones included a political defense of the new plenary

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court that the May edicts introduced to register laws in place of the parlements. A single institution for sanctioning laws would guarantee legal uniformity throughout France, instead of the confusion of thirteen parlementary courts registering different laws in each jurisdiction. Parlementary magistrates, he believed, sought to preserve their judicial authority and tax privileges to advance their particular interests, thus the venal offices they purchased belied their claim to be representatives of the nation. The provincial assemblies, and in the future the plenary court, would include all the orders and be the spokesmen for the people’s interests and their representatives. Morande’s vision of a future representative polity was in glaring contradiction with the immediate reality of a plenary court in which royal courtiers and councilors would dominate, and of provincial assemblies whose members were co-opted or appointed, but not elected. For these reasons neither the plenary court nor provincial assemblies in 1788 garnered demonstrable public support. The Courrier found its autonomous voice when the issue of the estatesgeneral came to the fore. Morande as editorialist anticipated rather than followed government policy, and his words acquired an authenticity hitherto lacking. Newspaper and editor were catching up with public opinion, but not without hesitations, reservations, and contorted logic, and in the end a complete volte-face. In September 1787, the Courrier argued that the convening of an estates-general “would overturn the constitution of the monarchy”; in July 1788, it viewed the estates-general as the new base for a “permanent union between king and subjects,” those opposed to or delaying its meeting denounced as “enemies of the patrie.”7 This political mutation took place in three phases. When the Paris parlement, in June 1787, first renounced its longtime practice of registering royal tax edicts and asserted the nation’s exclusive right to consent to taxes through an estates-general, the Courrier de l’Europe began its attack. In its semiotic universe the estates-general equaled disorder—the weakening of the monarchy—which would place France in grave danger. Provincial assemblies working in tandem with the Crown were a better alternative. Morande offered a blueprint of Voltairean and physiocratic reforms that amounted to a salutary revolution: fiscal equality, elimination of administrative waste and inefficiencies, free trade, financial solvency, a freer flow of credit to the economy, and improved infrastructure, all of which the assemblies and monarchy could carry out without need of an estates-general, and whose effect would strengthen the monarchy and enrich the economy. Af-

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firming his belief that “people are never so happy as when they are governed by sovereigns who want their good,”8 he demonstrated the shortcoming of royalist ideology in 1788 that was unable to gauge the extent of the mutation in the public’s expectations of government. Still beholden to the government’s signals, and only after the Crown obliquely promised in November 1787 to call an estates-general within a few years once financial order was restored, the Courrier began to see virtues in an assembly of national representatives. An estates-general could consolidate the constitution, but only if the provincial assemblies adopted a new form for the national body, selecting deputies from among its own members who would have the requisite knowledge to eliminate abuses. The explosion of opposition to the Crown following the May edicts sharpened Morande’s argument in favor of the estates-general. While public opinion clamored for an estates-general to undo the effects of the edicts, the Courrier looked to the national body to sanction those same edicts; magistrates and others who refused to work with the Crown were guilty of delaying the meeting of the nation’s representatives. Preparation for the estates-general also underscored the importance of the plenary court that the May edicts established; its responsibility, argued the Courrier, included coordinating plans for reform to submit to the national assembly. Who should compose the estates-general unleashed not only a national political campaign but also Morande’s pen. He was perhaps the first to suggest, as early as January 1788, that the “ancient forms” were not feasible. The Courrier reiterated that argument when the royal edict of 5 July freed the French to research into their past, and especially after the Paris parlement on 25 September declared its support for the model of the 1614 estates-general. When events bypassed Morande’s first alternative, the selection of representatives by and from among the provincial assemblies, the Courrier advanced other arguments surfacing in the public debates. It reported favorably on the model of Dauphiné, and highlighted manifestos and pamphlets that also demanded representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the first two orders combined, in the estates-general as well as in provincial estates; at the same time it criticized those who supported equal representation of each order, meaning greater representation for the clergy and nobility together in comparison to the Third Estate. Embracing the views of the Dauphinois, it urged that dominance or distinct representation of any corps or province be avoided, representation of individuals and of the French in general alone assuring an end to prejudices and privileges.

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The Courrier’s reasoning was not unique, and flowed from Morande’s neophysiocracy: economic and cultural developments in France since 1614 had increased the wealth, activities, knowledge, and accomplishments of the Third Estate, and warranted the increase in number of their representatives and the restriction of their representation to members of the Third Estate. However radical the change in the Courrier’s political views even before the king embraced doubling of the Third Estate on 27 December 1788, its royalism still set it apart from the emerging Patriot movement. Its goal was not to strengthen the Third Estate or the national legislature, but to reinforce royal authority through an alliance with the people.

Simon-Nicolas-Henri Linguet Linguet, as a journalist of the late eighteenth century, has attracted most interest among historians as he equally attracted most attention from contemporaries. In recent historical writings he appears as a precursor of modern journalism and a harbinger of the Revolution.9 Linguet’s journalistic style, as historian Jeremy Popkin makes clear, was not that of the dispassionate reporter and nonpartisan investigator, but of a writer who produced wrought-up and opinionated essays. His innovation was to introduce into periodical writing the pamphlet mode of discourse—polemical and hyperbolic.10 It was as a polemicist that he made his mark among contemporaries, and it was as an essayist that he showed his writing talent. Indeed, some of his articles in the Annales were published separately as pamphlets. Journalist and pamphleteer were inextricably linked in the single person, yet his contribution to journalism was distinct. Whether or not he was revolutionary in ideology and politics in earlier years, in his periodical and his pamphlets in the year or more preceding 1789 Linguet advanced arguments that do not at all align him in the politics of the day as a prophet of revolution. The transformation from polemicist to royalist advocate was less piquant (as the eighteenth-century French would say) than that of Morande, who metamorphosed from pornographer to defender of the Crown. Linguet’s political views in 1787–1788 were the full flowering of his inner core. His original blasts against the acts of royal despotism rested on a political theory that embraced the virtues of the system of royal absolutism—a unique combination of a paradox wrapped in consistency.11 Linguet’s career in journalism dated from 1774, following his expulsion from the Paris bar. By

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1777 he was the writer and publisher of the Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle, printed first in London and then in Brussels in three periods under Linguet’s direction, 1777–1780, 1783–1785, and 1787–1789; in 1789 Linguet transferred to Paris where he continued to publish the periodical until 1792. The Annales was a journalistic and commercial success, helped by favorable treatment from the government; the king, queen, and royal family were avid readers, the French postal system gave it and the Courrier de l’Europe advantageous terms for distribution in France, and royal censors approved his articles before publication.12 Yet the mode of excess—the provocations and iconoclasm—that was his distinctive trait may have begun to tire contemporaries, making him vulnerable to raillery, as his verbosity and self-centeredness verged on the tedious. The parting of ways between Linguet and the public was unquestioned by 1788, by which time the Annales was more famous for its public burnings that the parlements of Paris and of Rennes ordered than for the reading public’s support of its arguments. According to a contemporary manuscript newsletter, on the occasion of one of those rites that his attack against the parlements had provoked, the public, watching the flames devour his journal, called out “L’auteur!, L’auteur!”13 His political judgments lost him public favor and gained for him greater notoriety. It was not just the parodoxical ideas he advanced—his acclaim of despotism and of slavery; nor his jousts against the parlementary courts and the aristocracy. His highly personalized journalism could translate into forcefully argued pamphlets, but gave to his periodical a constricted outlook; since he offered little news and mainly his own views, its appeal diminished as his ideas diverged more and more from those of the public. Linguet first gained fame by his attacks on parlementary abuses of justice, a line of argument that he revived to justify the May edicts of 1788. The magistrates’ condemnation of the Crown’s use of lettres de cachet, with the attendant arbitrary arrests and imprisonment, became his weapon against the high court judges who were themselves guilty of the same practices, in particular against himself. Linguet’s ego was at the center of the discourse, in the manner of Rousseau and Necker, but with a petulant rather than moralistic tone that, in the end, wearied contemporaries: “There you go again, falling into your old mania of talking about yourself,” declaimed a fellow newswriter.14 Injection of his person and indulgence in self-pity and self-aggrandizement vitiated his arguments. Parlement, he claimed, borrowed from his writings its criticism of lettres de cachet, as the ministers

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also borrowed his ideas for their judicial reforms—as if he were the single source of the one and the other. Furthermore, parlement’s condemnation of an issue of the Annales (no. 116) was a manifestation of disrespect for the king and ministers who had given permission for the publication and whose policy the periodical supported, while the parlementary “plots” against him he equated with the magistrates’ “plots” against the throne.15 Linguet, the royal ministers, the Crown, and the rights of the nation were as one, all threatened by parlementary attacks. In contrast to other writers of the day who generalized from personal experience and elevated the personal to the level of the universal,16 Linguet diminished the import of national issues by lowering them to the level of his individual experience. Before the controversy arose over the estates-general, there was no congruence between Linguet and the public on what each supported or opposed; there was an abyss between them. Almost no one supported a land tax paid in kind that the controller general Calonne presented to the Assembly of Notables in early 1787, and even Calonne quickly acceded to criticism and accepted a money tax; yet Linguet remained outspoken in his defense of a dîme royal, a tax in kind. Public opinion overwhelmingly, and even demonstrably, supported the parlementary courts following the May edicts in 1788, royal publicists alone joining in Linguet’s denunciation of the magistrates.17 In this he advanced no original idea, and differed only in the intensity of his sarcasm and vitriol. Linguet again came to the government’s defense when the decree of 16 August 1788 ordered a partial payment of government rentes in treasury notes. The public outcry, driven by fear of bankruptcy, was so strong that within two days the Crown had to modify the policy and one week later Jacques Necker, whose return to the ministry alone could calm opinion, replaced Loménie de Brienne. During those days Linguet, who vaunted the consistency of his support of royal authority, demonstrated striking inconsistency on the question of the government debt. The French, he urged, should be more like the English; they should not react nervously to changes in the stock market, and should have confidence that their king will fulfill his responsibilities to them. A contradictory line of argument then followed, sure to arouse the public’s fears: kings had no obligation to accept the debts of their predecessors, nor did the nation have responsibility to repay loans, for wealthy creditors were predators of the peasantry. Linguet would protect from government default only “old servants” and “thrifty artisans” who had invested in royal treasury annuities. No one at the time

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suggested bankruptcy for the government as a solution to the debt crisis, and Louis XVI categorically rejected it. Yet Linguet wrote, in his provocative manner, that defaulting on debts “is one of the most precious advantages of absolute monarchies,” an action that should be carried out with “each generation [and] which would be . . . wise, humane and legitimate.”18 His criticism of the courts for opposing tax increases, thereby forcing the Crown to make disastrous loans, and his urging that government expenses be financed by taxes, not loans, did not diminish the shock effect of his words. And if the king and the people were one, as Linguet suggested, meaning the nation assumed the engagements of the Crown, his invocation of national responsibility remained abstract and rhetorical, carrying with it no precise suggestion of the means by which the people would secure government finances. In a similar manner he denounced the parlement’s attempt in September to judge the two ministers, Loménie de Brienne and Lamoignon, responsible for the May edicts. Not the parlement but only the nation had the right to hold ministers accountable for their acts, but he left unsaid the instrument through which the nation would exercise that responsibility.19 Linguet as a royalist was in an intellectual bind. He denied to the magistrates any representative character that he ascribed to the nation, yet he refused to assign an effective role to the representative institution of the nation, the estates-general. He was initially hostile to calls for an estatesgeneral, an idea that he rejected as “pure democracy”; it was an English or American influence that could only lead to trouble and civil war. The words of Jean Bodin, the sixteenth-century political theorist, and of the due de Sully, Henry IV’s minister, were proof that it was not in the tradition of France for subjects to be involved in government; subjects must only obey. Absolute authority should not be transparent; kings should respect but direct public opinion, influencing and molding it to the royal will through freedom of the press—an argument that perfectly melded Linguet’s particular interest with his conception of the general interest. Once the Crown decided to convene an estates-general, he was wary of it as an organ of government. The estates-general should have a limited role and only consent to taxes; it should not at all exercise legislative authority, for on all matters apart from taxes subjects should merely present prayers and supplicate to the king. He came around, in September 1788, to acknowledge that perhaps the estates-general should have greater authority than what he had previously thought, but again he offered no precise idea. Reserved about the powers of the estates-general, Linguet enthusiastically pressed to extremes

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the controversy on representation in that body. Immediately following the government edict of 5 July requesting the French to investigate estatesgeneral in the past, he criticized the meeting of 1614 in which cities were underrepresented. When the Paris parlement urged the form of 1614 as the model for the estates-general in 1789, he responded with more substantive arguments and harsher attacks. The Third Estate risked having judicial and financial officers as representatives, as in 1614, who would be “slaves” of the magistrates; the results would be the supremacy of the high robe, the failure of reforms, and continued privileges for the clergy, nobility, and magistracy. Linguet’s voice, with its heavy acerbity, joined with many others in demanding the doubling of Third Estate representatives. Provocative and inflammatory calls for the Third Estate to engage in a class war against the privileged were not unique to him. The Annales looked askance at the example of Dauphiné, where all three orders united in demanding an estatesgeneral and in agreeing to greater representation for the Third Estate, while it gave particular attention to events in Brittany, where the Third Estate contested tax privileges and representation, and actively engaged in street fights with aristocrats and magistrates. Yet Linguet’s goal of an alliance of the Third Estate—weak and impotent as he often depicted it, rather than an indomitable force—with the monarchy in pursuit of unlimited royal authority made his words devoid of resonance.20 By 1788 Linguet had become like a Don Quijote, stubbornly fighting old battles if not against windmills then against strawmen, when battle lines had changed. He harped on fiscal inequality when nobles and magistrates, peers, Notables, and even prominent prelates accepted fiscal equality. He railed against parlementary supremacy when the courts had transferred to the estates-general the right to consent to taxes and to represent the nation, and when most of the lower judiciary and lawyers had turned against the parlements and supported doubling of Third Estate representation in provincial estates and in the estates-general. He upheld the king’s absolute sovereignty, his full legislative authority, when the public looked to an estates-general as a representative and law-making body.

The roles of the Annales and the Courrier de l’Europe in 1787–1788 demonstrate the importance not only of the medium, but of the message. Although widely read, their popularity was in inverse proportion to their influence. Arguments so removed from views that dominated had little or no sway on

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the forming of public opinion and the unfolding of events. Their message likely had an opposite effect. The Annales and the Courrier, and royalist writings in general, performed as “evil geniuses,” their opposition to the current of opinion sharpening the consciousness and the discourse of the Crown’s critics and heightening their animosity.

7 Manuscript Newsletters— Nouvelles à la Main

On reading a manuscript newsletter of the late eighteenth century, a modern-day reader may believe that he or she is in the presence of someone close to the centers of power, one who is exchanging words with courtiers and high administrators who know the inner workings of the monarchy. The sense of intimacy that one would feel, and that contemporaries may also have experienced, is exciting. Indeed, composers of newsletters fostered such sentiments to give their products a snob appeal.1 In an age when authorized printed newspapers were subject to censorship, the nouvelles à la main serviced a reading public hungry for news. French newpapers could not report on political events as they occurred. Foreign gazettes reported largely on official decisions once they were made, and on formal declarations of groups and institutions, including those outside the royal administration; although peering behind the scenes was not absent in their reports, it was not their main preoccupation. Nouvelles à la main seemed to penetrate into the secrets of government decision making before policy was determined; unveiled part of the private lives of the royal family and courtiers; revealed the escapades of persons of note, in particular actresses and opera singers; and, of most interest to historians, provided an entry into the doings and feelings of the public. Their offerings included fact and rumor about the king and queen, princes, aristocrats, and ministers in a mix that is difficult to sift and continues to confound historians. The illusion of being behind the scenes, offering and receiving news that was exceptional, an impression heightened through the intimacy of handwritten letters, was the unique attraction of nouvelles à la main. Such simulated advantages were lost once freedom of the press, in practice by late 1788 and sanctioned by law in 1789, permitted newspapers to widen the scope of their news reports, 136

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thus ending the need for this kind of unauthorized journalism. Although the form disappeared, some of its intrinsic features passed into the new journalism. Belief in the unique quality of manuscript newsletters—their uncovering of secrets—was essential to their marketing but was a disguise masking the reality. Rarely do we find nouvelles à la main that were in fact what they appeared to be—private letters, from which this form of journalism originated. One rare example may be letters received by the duc d’Harcourt. Even if those came from an actual friend, acquaintance, or government functionary, the writer of the letters was himself dependent on news from his nouvellistes, humble, often anonymous journalists, who acquired news in one way or another from diverse sources.2 Rather than a single individual with unique contacts to news sources conveying his exclusive knowledge privately to a person of his acquaintance, these newsletters were the end product of multiple contributors who together formed a virtual journalistic network or agency.3 Nouvellistes had many contacts: in the government, royal court, and judicial tribunals; in society with those who had knowledge of events or people or had a point of view they sought to propagate; with servants or agents of prominent personnages; via private correspondence; from talk that circulated among the nouvellistes gathered in cafés and public places; and from news bulletins that circulated or that nouvellistes bought or pirated. One contemporary nouvelles à la main revealed the identity of three competitors—Boyer, Barth, and Artaud—who composed newsletters in clubs established in the Palais-Royal and sold their reports in Paris, and to the provinces and foreign countries. While under the “influence” of the police (that is, the police perhaps planted reports favorable to the government in their newsletters), these writers also “seemed to forget it” as they sought their sphere of free expression.”4 The nouvellistes sent the bulletins to the “entrepreneur,” the head of a news agency, who employed scriveners to make the many handwritten copies. In some of the collections of nouvelles à la main one can see different penmanship in several newsletters or even in the same letter, which bears witness to the work of a team of writers. Sometimes engravers were employed to make copper plates from which these letters were then printed. Copies were then distributed by colporteurs (peddlers) or by the postal service to subscribers. Individuals could pay by the year or the month, or they could buy a single newsletter on the street or in a café. Among the subscribers were other newspaper

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editors and nouvellistes who reproduced and circulated the handwritten newsletters or incorporated them, unaltered or modified to the tastes of their own readers, in their own periodicals. Through this chain of production and distribution the circulation of nouvelles à la main extended from the capital to the provinces, and from one country to several others. These journalistic borrowings gave to the newsletters and newspapers a certain repetitive character, and to the reader of several of them a sense of déjà vu. Some nouvelles à la main were distributed clandestinely in Paris, but since others were sold on the streets or in bookshops, or distributed through the postal system, manuscript newsletters were an ambiguous form of clandestine writing. Although they received no official approval, they benefited from official acceptance, and a few may also have enjoyed police or ministerial protection in return for being sympathetic organs of government views.5 While newsletters were permitted to circulate, every now and then, particularly in moments of political crisis, a nouvelliste (or more frequently a colporteur) might be arrested.6 These newsletters, furthermore, should not be characterized as subversive or scandal sheets. Most of their accounts could pass the censorship test of not being against “government, religion, and good mores,” indeed were even an “anodyne” as François Moureau characterized them.7 Yet nouvellistes were forebears of the Walter Winchell or tabloid style of journalism, specializing in anecdotes—whether true or false—about the famous: the sexual liaisons of actresses and opera singers, aristocrats, and the occasional clergyman; as well as the duels or financial difficulties of nobles. Little whiff of scandal touched members of the royal family, beyond references to the cardplaying of Marie-Antoinette and the comte d’Artois, and the debts of the queen and the king’s two brothers. Manuscript newsletters disseminated malicious or salacious matter by reprinting a few verses and songs or by announcing the appearance of writings directed against royal ministers and the queen, even the king, followed usually by condemnations and expressions of horror or skepticism.8 Such sentiments, whether real or feigned, were a useful shield for disseminating criticism, and add to the general ambiguity surrounding the role of nouvelles à la main. Hardly a medium for malicious, salacious, or seditious writings, manuscript newsletters lost their appeal and their public in 1789 once official censorship ceased, which set free printed newspapers and made pornographic pamphlets more accessible and numerous.9

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The Corpus of Nouvelles à la Main Both handwritten and printed nouvelles à la main were available in 1787–1788.10 The Mémoires secrets and the Correspondance littéraire secrète were the two most famous of these, and each was associated with a particular individual: the former with (questionably) Louis Petit de Bachaumont, then Mathieu-François de Pidansat de Mairobert, and, from 1779 to 1787, with Barthélémy-François-Joseph Moufle d’Angerville; the latter with Louis-François Mettra.11 Mettra functioned as editor of the Correspondance littéraire secrète, putting together news dispatches received from nouvellistes or news agencies; Pidansat de Mairobert and Moufle d’Angerville may have done the same editorial work, as well as contributed articles to the Mémoires secrets. The Mémoires secrets, bearing the imprint of London, was published several years after the events it recounted, the time lag reduced to one year in the final volume of newsletters for 1787; the Correspondance littéraire secrète originated in Westphalia, in the Prussian Rhineland (both newsletters are considered here in their printed form). Other available newsletters were handwritten and had varied origins. They may have been the products of journalists whose names are now unknown and whose reports appeared in one or more series, and at about the same time in one or more published newspapers, whether provided by the writer or pirated by the editor. Siméon-Prosper Hardy, a Parisian bookseller and himself the writer of a manuscript news register, regularly summarized in his journal issues of the Correspondance littéraire secrète that he received. The Correspondance littéraire secrète pursued a double strategy, on the one hand warning its readers more than once not to confuse its newsletters with another, while on the other publicizing the multi-volume Correspondance secrète politique et littéraire, whose content drew largely from its own reports.12 A reprint such as the latter may have been a ploy to gain publicity and a larger market. The epistolary form of the nouvelles à la main was the most common, not only to induce the sense of private information but also, perhaps, as a subterfuge to pass more easily through the royal postal service. All such newsletters were dated, some bore an opening salutation, and those distributed through the mail were even folded as an envelope—or placed in envelopes—and addressed to the recipient; the name of the addressee might have changed with each delivery, or may have been a cover for several

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subscribers. On the whole, manuscript newsletters circulated in Paris and in the provinces. Hardy’s journal was still another form of nouvelles à la main. A compilation of news that he received, meticulously written in folio-sized registers with comments to his readers, it may not have circulated widely if at all; it may have been available only to those who came to his bookstore to read these reports, or to rent the folio sheets for an hour or so, in the manner Louis Sebastien Mercier recounted in his illuminating depiction of Parisian life.13 We may easily think of Hardy as a one-man press agency; or his bookstore may have served as a plebeian salon on the model of Mme de Doublet’s, in whose home the Mémoires secrets were first composed. Hardy’s store was located on the rue Saint Jacques, where he received from others news reports, letters, publications, clandestine manuscript writings that were prohibited, police reports, and rumors. There is evidence of one oral source as well, a relative who told him of what he had heard from a minor official who had seen an official document.14 All this written and verbal information transcribed in his journal included events in Paris as well as in the provinces. One contemporary defined the nouvelles à la main as “a type of anecdotal or secret journal, where one finds details more or less authentic that one looks for in vain in the public papers.”15 What could a French person find in these manuscript newsletters about events in the two critical years 1787–1788 that one could not obtain in printed periodicals, even the foreign gazettes, and which distinctively contributed to one’s political education? All of these newsletters provided political news—of government actions and policies, the meetings of the Assembly of Notables, the responses and declarations of parlementary courts, or public reactions to these several events that were similar to those found in foreign gazettes, since the news bulletins often came from the same agency. But there remained differences in coverage between the two types of news reports, as well as among the nouvelles à la main. The Mémoires secrets stands out as unique in its variety of coverage. It included news about the government and other political events of the day; reviews of plays, opera, ballet, and art exhibitions in which were recounted public outbursts of political feelings that sometimes obtruded on the cultural activity; and more gossip and scandal about aristocrats and artists than found in most other nouvelles à la main, which gave it the reputation of being “very spicy” and “amusing.”16 The original Mettra Correspondance lit-

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téraire secrète differed from the two nouvelles à la main identified as belonging to the Mettra series published as the Correspondance secrète, edited by Mathurin François Adolphe de Lescure, and the manuscript collection in the Bibliothèque Nationale (n.a.f. 13277–13278). Both the Correspondance littéraire secrète and the Correspondance secrète presented political news, but the latter did not reprint the many parlementary remonstrances and other official declarations as did the former; the manuscript letters in the Bibliothèque Nationale offered more news on the royal family than on the royal government, and paid little attention to news about the parlementary courts and developments in the provinces. Other newsletters sent to a subscriber in Auvergne gave considerable attention to the government’s military policies, despite the fact that the recipient was a clergyman, whereas still other newsletters delivered in Paris to a military officer emphasized the financial policies of the government. Hardy’s news register chronicled the many facets of Parisian life: cases of fraud, murder, and suicide; the harsh weather and high price of bread; the remonstrances of the Paris parlement; and the street demonstrations of Parisians. His journal was also a repository for the many parlementary declarations, writings, and news bulletins that arrived from the provinces. The Memoires secrets, Hardy’s news register, the newsletters to the military officer, and especially the Correspondance littéraire secrète bear the characteristics of a reader’s digest. In contrast to book reviews in the authorized press of publications that received official permission and skirted political issues, the manuscript newsletters offered summaries, reports, and lengthy quotations from printed and manuscript writings bearing directly on political developments of the day, which included prohibited works circulating clandestinely. These reviews helped to direct readers’ attention to the changing issues at the center of public debate. The most distinctive characteristic of almost all these nouvelles à la main was their rapt attention to public opinion—not only the writings through which public opinion might be discerned, but the actions, moods, and sentiments of the public. Much more than the Francophone press, the newsletters had their “ears close to the ground.” To a greater extent than the foreign gazettes, the manuscript newsletters engaged in retrospective and also prospective journalism. Not only did they report on what had happened, but they also covered how decisions were made or might be made. This sense of immediacy gave readers the feeling of being present as public events unfolded: they were attending the debates and the voting that determined the

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final parlementary declarations; learning of the different points of view among magistrates and in the bureaux of the Assembly of Notables; and entering into government councils to hear of different and clashing views among ministers and members of the royal family. From a mix of gossip and guesses, nouvellistes made attempts to anticipate the news. Events might disprove some, though not all, of their hunches and predictions, as is always the case with journalistic seers. Yet their example invited readers to speculate along with them on future government policies, events, and developments. Most nouvelles à la main, while under police surveillance, were able to circumvent the constraints of government censorship or had tacit acceptance. They could be freer in their reports and comments than authorized printed periodicals, and indeed were organs of opinion.17 They were not opinionated in the manner of Linguet, nor did they provide extended analyses of public issues or government policies as did Théveneau in the Courrier de l’Europe. The Correspondance littéraire secrète did occasionally offer lengthy expositions of personal opinion in the form (or the guise) of letters to the editor, but as a journalistic forum of opinion, nouvelles à la main were not necessarily a form of oppositional journalism. Royal ministries and the police were known to produce their own bulletins to propagate favorable news among the public; the effect was contrary to the intention, as the public looked suspiciously on those government newsletters.18

Political Messages in Nouvelles à la Main The nouvelles à la main that the nobleman Anne Léon de Montmorency received regularly from 1787 to 1788 generally supported government policies warmly and enthusiastically. With each twist and turn in policy, with each change in ministry, that nouvelliste attributed to the government the best of intentions, ascribed a “concert” of views between the Crown and the public, and anticipated favorable outcomes. The government’s financial policies promoted economy and a restoration of order, and enhanced public confidence. Rather than reporting on the forced suppression of the courts that aroused universal outrage, the writer judged the May edicts as designed to “alleviate” the people. Yet even this nouvelliste was not immune to the changing currents of politics, and with the restoration of the parlements in September 1788 he belatedly criticized the government’s previous harsh measures against the courts. Before the government decided in

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favor of doubling the Third Estate on 27 December 1788, these newsletters supported the commoners’ demand for greater representation; once that was granted, the writer believed the ensuing harmony between the Crown’s policy and the Third Estate’s goals augured well for the favorable outcome of the estates-general. The optimistic tone infusing these newsletters had its source in the writer’s allegiance to the political ideal of popular kingship— of a monarch who rests his authority on the love of his people, and who pursues their happiness. Royalist sympathies characterized only two of the other nouvelles à la main, but this did not preclude one of them from criticizing the personal qualities of Louis XVI, and elicited from the other a strong endorsement of the marquis d’Argenson’s vision of a democratic monarchy with a king ruling along with a popular assembly.19 Mettra’s Correspondance littéraire secrète, published outside France in the Prussian Rhineland where it received bulletins from journalists in Paris, spoke in several voices that left an ambiguous political message. Like the newsletters to Montmorency, it supported each minister, one after the other, and attacked those same ministers once they were ousted from office. Perhaps it courted government favor, or opportunistically shifted with changes in government policy, or followed the currents of public opinion. Royalism with a popular face—strong monarchical authority resting on popular support, the king seeking only to benefit the nation—was its choice. Even criticism of unpopular, fallen ministers masked royalist sentiments, for ministers were the targets that safeguarded the sanctity of royal authority. A mixture of royalist and populist sentiments produced attacks against the parlements, nobility, clergy, and all the privileged that echoed some of the government’s propaganda. Yet a minor voice at times intruded, criticizing government policy and denouncing despotism. This contrasting point of view is explicit and forthright in the Mettra series Correspondance secrète and in the collection of the Bibliothèque Nationale20; in these, sympathy for the parlementary magistrates in their struggle against arbitrary government action and support for limits on monarchical authority obtrude upon the royalist message. Two distinct journalistic pens seem to be revealed here, or perhaps a form of editorial selection keyed to the political preferences of a particular reader. The Correspondance littéraire secrète is unique for the space accorded to letters to the editor, which introduced additional discordant messages but whose source is unclear: perhaps it was the nouvelliste in disguise and with a more critical voice, perhaps a real reader, or perhaps planted by the ministry or its adversaries. On the one

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hand are letters that forcefully defend the government’s policies, in particular the judicial reforms of May 1788; on the other hand are letters criticizing these edicts. The multiplicity of political messages gives a modern note to the Correspondance littéraire secrète—that of an open forum for diverse ideas which foreshadowed a category of newspapers in later times. The Mémoires secrets and Hardy’s news register each have the clear voice of a single writer whose political message is unambiguous. Moufle d’Angerville, the main journalist and editor of the Mémoires secrets from 1779 to its end in 1787, regularly heaped scorn on royal ministers, not even sparing the king. His newsletter revealed how time and again ministers deceived the public with promises and policies that were never realized; tax reductions proved to be tax increases; and legal guarantees of liberty and property were overturned by acts of despotism as ministers constantly sought to enlarge their authority. His aversion to monarchical absolutism evoked an acerbic judgment of French history: the reign of Louis XIV to that of Louis XVI saw the unmitigated and rapid progress of despotism. Bulwarks against the excesses of royal authority were the parlementary courts, which he supported. He applauded their efforts to obstruct the Crown’s fiscal demands, such as the stamp tax in 1787—“one seemed to see a small image of the Parliament of England”21—and their opposition to arbitrary acts, such as the exile and imprisonment of magistrates by lettres de cachet. Yet his parlementary sympathies gave way to a desire for more profound constitutional change in the form of a re-established estates-general. The first claims on behalf of the nation’s right to consent to taxes, voiced “too late” by the Paris parlement in July 1787,22 led the Mémoires secrets to abandon the courts as the organs to contain royal authority. The following September, Moufle d’Angerville criticized the Paris magistrates as insufficiently “patriotic,” decried their “defection” when they agreed to prolong the existing vingtième tax, and embraced the estates-general as the representative body of the nation—one year before the prospect of convening the estates-general became real. He was also cool to the provincial assemblies, believing they did not give to the people their rights as only an estatesgeneral could.23 Historians can only regret, as contemporaries probably did, the absence of the Mémoires secrets during the even more turbulent year 1788, which ended with the fulfillment of Moufle d’Angerville’s hope for the summoning of an estates-general. More clearly than the other manuscript newsletters, Hardy’s journal reveals the sources of his information and opinions. His profession as a book-

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seller made him an omnivorous reader. On the folio pages of his register he wrote about what he read: parlementary declarations; the official statements of other courts and institutions, such as the Royal Council; pamphlet after pamphlet; and periodicals, especially the Correspondance littéraire secrète but also the Mercure, Journal de Paris, Gazette de France, and Gazette de Leyde. His writings also reveal how he read, or how he made use of what he read. Approving what conformed to his views and criticizing what he opposed, he usually used his readings to confirm his preconceived ideas and preferences. Hardy was a firm, unhesitating supporter of the parlementary magistrates in 1787–1788, as well as a consistent and stern critic of the royal government, as he had been in preceding decades (his journal begins in 1753). Like the Mémoires secrets, he repeatedly expressed skepticism of the government’s intentions, with less sarcasm but equal insistence. He believed the ministers dissembled so as to hide their intentions, and had little faith in the satisfactory outcome of any of their policies: “beautiful promises . . . so often . . . not carried out,” he wrote of one royal edict.24 Ministers were “unfaithful and abominable predators,” wasting government money or using it for their own advantage and that of courtiers, thereby causing the French to bear an increasingly onerous tax burden. He was himself not consistent in his judgments and opinions. Either the deficit was merely alleged, or it was greater than that announced. Either the government might wage a war to overcome opposition to tax increases, or foreign enemies were provoking domestic troubles to weaken France, make war, and realize their “destructive projects.”25 Ministers sought to make themselves more powerful. Powerful persons in the administration and court were forever stirring up trouble that harmed the people, including the hoary practice of making bread expensive so as to reap riches or, by making ineffective any parlementary action to contain the price of bread, they turned the people against the magistrates.26 Suspicion of Frenchmen and of foreigners, and a conspiratorial turn of mind were deeply engrained in the thoughts of this Parisian bookseller. Hardy’s thoughts on the king were somewhat ambivalent. Often he rebuked the ministers for abusing the king’s confidence, keeping him in ignorance, deceiving him every day, and blinding him about their nefarious and authoritarian policies. At times he believed the king’s true sentiments differed from the words the ministers put in his mouth. At other times he boldly thought that even “good princes” bore responsibility for the actions

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of “bad ministers,” and that the people might consider kings, too, as “bad.” He hovered between belief that a veil of ignorance surrounded the king, unable to acknowledge that the sovereign might have supported or initiated the deplorable policies of his ministers, and criticism of the government’s lack of consistency, in particular the king’s failure to weigh beforehand the consequences of his ministers’ actions.27 As if he were quoting from Montesquieu, Hardy placed full trust in the parlements, “that corps of magistrates, intermediaries between the king and the people.”28 The many lengthy transcriptions of entire parlementary remonstrances, and his expressions of favor, testified to his political allegiance; their very length substituted for an explication of his own views, for he gave more vent to his criticisms of the ministers than to his parlementary sympathies. His desire to satisfy his readers’ interest, so he wrote, by providing them with the parlementary texts may equally have been a desire to influence them. Parlement, to Hardy, was the rampart against high taxes and the hope for re-establishing financial order. It defended the citizens oppressed by the ministers, and protected their true interests. He applauded the union and firmness of all the sovereign courts against the ministers’ machinations, and the lower courts’ support of them. He confessed that he shed a “torrent of tears” on reading of the arrest of magistrates in May 1788.29 In contrast, he excoriated the critics of the parlements, accusing them of indifference to the happiness of fellow citizens. With words that attached moral rectitude to the parlementary side, he charged opponents with committing “political blasphemy.” The renowned jurist Dupaty received a tongue-lashing for his excessive denunciation of the Paris parlement’s wrongful conviction in a criminal case.30 Even after the call for an estatesgeneral diminished the parlements’ political role, Hardy retained his old sympathy for the courts. By the autumn of 1788, all the nouvelles à la main in this study that continued their news coverage embraced, in varying degrees, the mounting calls for an estates-general. The Mémoires secrets, whose reports ceased at the end of 1787, had done so the year before. As a whole the nouvelles à la main also became, more or less, fervid supporters of the cause of the Third Estate.31 The unanimity of this political transformation is impressive since, with the exception of Hardy, those newsletters earlier had expressed sympathy for the monarchy. The turn of events that culminated in the summoning of the estates-general for 1789, and the subsequent dispute over representation of the Third Estate in the national body, opened mental

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doors that previously had been closed or had held in check thoughts infrequently expressed.32 Hardy’s emergence as a supporter of the Third Estate was joined to a constricted political outlook. His ire against nobles and clergy, and his acceptance of an estates-general, only slowly arose in the autumn of 1788, motivated by opposition to higher taxes and fiscal privilege. This petit bourgeois of the late eighteenth century, writing his journal in his bookstore, appears to be a forerunner of twentieth-century Poujadism, shaken in his longheld convictions only by the menace of taxes. Support of the Third Estate’s political demands for greater representation came forth even more slowly and remained ambiguous. In reporting the debates in the second Assembly of Notables, Hardy was more attentive to the effort to obtain fiscal equality than increased representation for the Third Estate. He was reluctant to endorse the petition of the citizens of Paris written by Dr. Guillotin, which demanded doubling of Third Estate representatives, suspecting that it was a royal ruse. Parlementary constitutionalism, the belief that parlementary courts had the major role in limiting royal authority, remained his ideological center of gravity, and led him to believe that any attempt by the estates-general to restrict the parlements to judicial functions could only be a sinister design of the Crown to enfeeble its longtime adversary. He abjured, one may say, the interests of his order or his class by continuing to support Aristocratic writings that favored separate voting of the three orders in the estates-general, whose effect would be to reduce the influence of Third Estate deputies. In his mind those writers—especially Lauraguais, d’Antraigues, and d’Eprémesnil—who were demanding an estates-general were battling the greater foe, ministerial despotism. More than others, and he was not alone, Hardy showed himself to be a prisoner not only of his prejudices but of history. He was unable to understand the new issues and the new social and political forces that were in the process of transforming the French government and the French nation.33 When the first public calls for an estates-general were issued in July 1787, and the Paris parlement renounced its long-held claim to register tax edicts in favor of an estates-general elected by the nation, even the royalist newsletter that the nobleman Montmorency received expressed its support.34 Once the government made official the summons for an estatesgeneral, never did that nouvelliste doubt, as did many critics of the Crown, that the decision would be carried out. As early as June 1788, prior to the Crown’s call for research on the form of the estates-general, the writer

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recognized that representation had to be altered in order to assure a “truly national assembly.” Past examples were “feudal” and no guide for the future; economic change had given to noble and non-noble proprietors and rentiers an equal interest in the nation’s prosperity. He praised the peers for renouncing their tax privilege and expected the clergy to do the same, as he also expected the second Assembly of Notables to decide for the nation’s good. In the face of aristocratic opposition to doubling of the Third Estate, he repeatedly invoked the need for harmony among the three orders.35 The newsletters that the military officer in Paris received initially expressed confidence that the Paris parlement and the Assembly of Notables would decide in favor of greater representation for the Third Estate which, the writer argued, was necessary to guarantee liberty and equality among the orders in both the estates-general and provincial estates. While he lauded the peers for accepting tax equality, and the first bureau in the Assembly of Notables for voting in favor of double representation of the Third Estate, he spared no criticism of the royal princes who opposed the Third Estate and the Paris magistrates who condemned writings favorable to the people’s interests. His hopes triumphed over his criticisms. Overlooking aristocratic objections to the Third Estate’s political demands, he believed that the aristocracy’s acceptance of fiscal equality would suffice to assure the people’s “happiness.”36 The several Mettra newsletters began their shift earlier, more forcefully, and with different emphases. The aftermath of the Assembly of Notables in 1787 first evoked hopes that the people would regain their rights and the nation, rather than parlementary courts, would subject royal authority to control through the estates-general.37 A contest between ministerial despotism and the nation’s liberties came to include and then give way to a conflict between the privileged and the Third Estate, first in the dispute over taxes in 1787 and then, with greater sharpness, in 1788 following the May edicts and the suppression of the high courts. A letter to the editor in the Correspondance littéraire secrète, criticizing the Paris parlement for its frequent obstruction of good laws, suggested that all privileges of nobles and clergy be destroyed and that members of the Third Estate, representing the people, be included in the proposed plenary court. At the same time the writer urged financial constraints on the Crown, so that the king would no longer be “master” to impose taxes or make loans.38 The progress of Enlightenment, reason, and liberty were closely identified with a better future for the Third Estate in the pages of the Correspondance littéraire secrète; in contrast, priv-

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ileges of nobles, clergy, and parlements were obstructions that had to be eliminated.39 When, in the autumn of 1788, the Paris parlement, nobles, the high clergy, royal princes, and the second Assembly of Notables all demanded that the estates-general in 1789 be modeled on that of 1614 and opposed greater representation of the Third Estate, as did some provincial courts and estates, the nouvellistes in two of the Mettra newsletters became more indignant in their criticisms of the “privileged” and more impassioned in their defense of the “cause of the people.”40 With the new year, 1789, came new goals: vote by head in the estates-general following the Crown’s grant of double representation for the Third Estate, the framing of a constitution, and an important role in government for a national representative assembly.41 Rising political aspirations were set on their course.

Public Opinion in the Nouvelles à la Main Public opinion was a leading protagonist in the nouvelles à la main in the years 1787–1788, providing a double lens through which historians may view that public and also see how French men and women of the day could learn about the thoughts and actions of their contemporaries. On the pages of those newsletters is a glimpse of the public not as a monolithic whole but in its varied currents of thought, anger, and hope as different groups formed, altered course, and became prepared for revolution. One can see up close parts of that larger public becoming politically energized, engaged, and active, mainly in Paris but at times in provincial cities and towns distant from the capital, providing the outlines of a national perspective. Viewing that public before decisive acts were taken, one may sense the expectations contemporaries felt in the face of diverse possibilities that lay open to decision and act; the historical process to them was not a foreordained conclusion. Exaggeration and error may taint these newsletters as sources—were 80 to 100 people killed, wounded, and arrested in one demonstration, as some wrote?42 But on the whole no extraordinary events were reported that challenge their credibility. The congruence of reports in manuscript newsletters with evidence from other sources; the general similarity in the movement of public opinion in these years found in the several nouvelles à la main, however varied the particular details; and the consonance between the newsletters’ depiction of the public’s mood and the public’s actions may afford some confidence in the validity of their accounts.43 Newsletter reports gave resonance to public opinion not provided in the

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authorized press or in foreign gazettes, enabling people in different places to know what others among them, similar to or different from them, were thinking and doing; for example, who among them were involved and engaged, and who was setting an example, giving courage, or stirring others to similar beliefs and action. For historians, the nouvelles à la main provide an overall image of segments of that public that were neither passive nor fickle in act or thought. The public the newsletters recounted were conscious of their desires and interests; responded favorably to policies and persons aligned with their views and aspirations; opposed those who stood against what they sought; altered their judgments in the light of new circumstances; turned against those whom previously they had supported when interests and goals set them apart; and accepted the support of former adversaries when similar policies brought them into agreement. Even in outbursts of joy or anger, there was reason behind the public’s acts. Nouvellistes were not alone in speculating on possible political decisions and outcomes. So too did the public question and anticipate in a mix of wonder, fear, doubt, and hope. Their speculations were sometimes erroneous—that Loménie de Brienne would not become minister; at other times events proved their speculations to be correct—that the Crown would radically alter the court system. Thanks to the newsletters it is possible to discern that the public at times constituted several and different points of view, and at other times was more united in what it sought or opposed. The public pondered varied political matters: who might be the new ministers; how long ministers might last in office; who were the critics of ministers; whether or not the king and members of the royal family supported or opposed individual ministers or particular policies; what policy decisions the king and government might make; and whether the estates-general would really meet, or whether the government would delay or prevent its meeting. The public also offered different answers and judgments. There were the frondeurs, those who inveterately badgered everyone and criticized everything connected with the government and public affairs; royalists, who doggedly defended the persons and policies of the government; and parlementary Patriots, who supported the arguments and claims of the sovereign courts against the Crown’s acts and policies. In the last months of 1788 two other and newly designated groups came to the fore: Third Estate Patriots who championed the claims of the “nation” or “people”; and Aristocrats, the reduced remnant among the public that supported the aims identified with parlementary magistrates, nobles, and high clergy.

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The nouvelles à la main indicated the ways in which some people expressed their political views, who those people were, what their views were, the direction of public opinion, and the many social places and public spaces in which public opinion became both word and deed. Individuals, groups of people, and institutions—the parlementary courts in the lead, but along with them and later against them also municipal governments, bodies of lawyers, corporations of trades and crafts—took to the pen to write letters, memoirs, and petitions. Newsletters reported on the more than 800 or 900 requests for increased representation for the Third Estate from different provinces, cities, communities, and corporations. Thousands of persons were reported to have signed their names to petitions in Nîmes, Lyon, and Rouen—hundreds of thousands in many cities in Normandy—demanding increased representation for the Third Estate in the provincial estates or in the estates general.44 Readers found accounts of anonymous persons who composed songs, verses, and placards, and drew prints and caricatures against the ministers, the queen, even the king, distributing and selling them on street corners, posting them on the walls of churches and monasteries in Paris, even on the door of the queen’s loge in the theater—an act that provoked much talk—and on trees along the road from Paris to Versailles. Voices shouted or silent were telling signs of public opinion. Colporteurs hawked loudly government edicts the public would support, but announced in low voices, so as not to attract public reprobation, those edicts it would oppose. No shouts of “vive le Roi” greeted the king when he reviewed troops in Paris in May 1788, at the time the parlementary courts were suppressed. When the Paris parlement returned on 24 September, Parisians shouted “vive le Roi, vive le parlement,” and in December news of the Crown’s decision to double the Third Estate’s representation in the estates-general drew acclamations of “vive le Roi et le tiers état.” The Paris poissardes, the women of the marketplace, to demonstrate their opposition to the king’s exiling of the Paris magistrates who had opposed the stamp tax and land tax, refused in August 1787 to make their traditional annual visit to the king and queen in Versailles; forced by the lieutenant general of police to go to Versailles, the poissardes ostentatiously remained silent and did not present to the king the traditional bouquet of flowers. During a ceremony in September 1788, again in a political act, they strewed flowers on the site traditionally reserved for the judges exiled since the May edicts. A few days later they greeted and escorted the returning magistrates with their ritual loud and

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“grotesque” speech, but later reproached one magistrate upon hearing he was to criticize Necker. Applause also signaled public favor or disfavor. In November 1787, following the Paris parlement’s refusal to accept the stamp tax odious to the public, lively applause welcomed the reopening of its judicial sessions; one year later, after the magistrates proclaimed support for an estates-general on the model of 1614. applause at the opening session was restrained. Audiences in theaters and at the Académie Française also applauded or remained silent at allusions to persons or events of the day according to their political preferences, Crowds gathered to read, to hear, and to talk about what they heard or read—government edicts, parlementary remonstrances, news reports, and other writings about events in the provinces. The public “devoured” writings in harmony with its views, even making copies of those that were in manuscript. They “seized” and read with “avidity” the declaration of the assembly of Vizille of July 1788 that called for a provincial estates in Dauphiné with representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the nobility and clergy combined. Yet that same public remained indifferent to writings whose authors, such as Calonne, were out of favor, or received with indignation—some even burning—writings they opposed that advanced exalted claims to royal authority or to aristocratic preeminence.45 Groups in Paris came together in private but mostly in public places, where people were accustomed to socialize in the ancien régime. Traditional sites were transformed by the political purpose of those meetings. Small elite groups gathered in private societies, one reported to be in the home of the duc d’Orléans in November 1787, where they examined the English constitution; and another, meeting in the café du Caveau in the Palais-Royal under the direction of the comte de Lauraguais, conducted public readings. The latter, known as the “society of patriots,” gathered in a restaurant at the Palais-Royal in November 1788 and drafted plans for a national assembly, while other private societies read a clandestine diatribe against kings in the guise of an ancient Persian poem. Crowds in “considerable” numbers, Hardy often repeated, gathered inside and outside the courthouses to be present for important decisions and remonstrances, to show sympathy for the actions of judges that they favored, and to protest the arrival of royal agents bearing decisions that they opposed. The general public congregated in cafés—most notably the Café de Foy, also in the Palais-Royal—and clubs, in gardens and parks, in public squares, and before the homes of judges. Although the government tried to prohibit the meeting of organized

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clubs from September 1787 until September 1788, it could not prevent informal gatherings in public places where the public received news, listened to the reading of pamphlets, discussed problems of state, and became instructed. Dress and ornament displayed political preference. Vests were sold with embroidered images of ministers, buttons and fans were painted with symbols and slogans, and colporteurs and streetsingers distributed in October 1787 ribbons and cocardes (cockades) of “blue, white and red” to adorn clothes.46 In a more dramatic fashion the public expressed its support or disapproval by attacking government spies and preventing soldiers from making arrests. The provincial public also acted out their political likes and dislikes. Burning mannequins, blocking routes, or performing noisy charivaris (mock serenades), they hounded Calonne and Loménie during their stopovers in large cities and small towns—Fontainebleau, Châlons, Verdun, Metz, even as far away as Nice—as the ex-ministers traveled into political exile and disgrace. In Montargis in 1787 they received joyously the exiled Necker, and in Marseille and Lyon in 1788 they honored with crowns of laurel the Parisian magistrate d’Eprémesnil as he traveled back to Paris, freed from imprisonment. The residents of Troyes welcomed warmly the exiled Paris magistrates on their arrival and celebrated their departure to Paris in 1787. Nouvelles à la main described the protests in Rennes, Pau, and Grenoble against the closing of the parlements in May 1788. The Bretons refused to provide lodgings for royal troops and burned an effigy of the military commander, while in Toulouse residents closed the city gates to arriving troops. In a number of cities groups verbally and physically harassed judges and lawyers who supported the Crown against the magistrates. The public in Rouen pressured the parlement to be more forceful against the Crown. In these and other parlementary cities—Bordeaux, Dijon—nouvellistes reported calls for the return of the parlements and the convening of an estatesgeneral. In some provinces, notably Brittany and Dauphiné, people armed themselves in the summer of 1788 and refused to pay taxes. The provincial public joyously acclaimed news of Necker’s appointment, and with greater elation parlementary cities celebrated the magistrates’ return in the autumn of 1788.47 When celebrations for the return of the parlements ended, manuscript newsletters along with the public shifted attention to demands for the reestablishment of provincial estates where they no longer existed—in Normandy, Franche-Comté, Touraine, Orléanais, and the Île-de-France—and

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to demands for greater Third Estate representation in existing provincial estates (Brittany in particular) and in the estates-general. Letters, memoirs, and petitions from municipalities and varied groups of the Third Estate were printed. Bretons, as reported in early November 1788, were planning “general strikes,” including a refusal to serve or to work for magistrates, nobles, and clergy if their demand for greater representation was not granted;48 by January 1789, servants, coachmen, and suppliers of goods, it was reported, ceased their work. The nouvelles à la main were parsimonious in supplying information on who in the public engaged in the activities reported. Yet it is clear that commoners were active or interested in the events taking place even before the problem of representation in the estates-general in the autumn of 1788 aroused the Third Estate. Men of law, avocats and procureurs, were directly engaged in the quarrels between the Crown and the parlements, the great majority of them lending their weight to the parlementary opposition by refusing to serve on or to litigate in the courts during the forced exile of the magistrates. Lawyers in Rouen donated money to a fund to aid those among them suffering financially from the closing of the courts and the judicial strike. In the forefront of the demonstrations and celebrations in Paris in September 1787 and 1788 were the bazoches, the clerks of the procureurs. They were joined or watched by others, young workers and artisans in the neighborhood of the Palais de justice. In August 1787 Hardy reported that workers in the neighborhood of the working-class faubourg Saint Antoine were beginning to stir; one year later they and other workers from the faubourg Saint Marcel participated in the celebrations following Loménie’s resignation. The efforts of the Paris guards and the French Guards to suppress those festive activities brought upon them the opprobrium of the menu peuple (“little people”) of Paris; twice young workers set upon the commander of the French Guards with shouts of “au chat,” words rooted in long, popular traditions of incitement to acts of hilarity and cruelty.49 The bourgeois public were sympathetic onlookers, but a month of noise and riot made them tire of the disorder. Among those who attended lower-court sessions to hear first-hand the judges’ decisions whether to accept or reject government edicts, and whether to support parlementary magistrates or obey government orders, the generic social description “all conditions” defined the participants, alternating with concrete designations of individuals arriving at a courthouse in “bourgeois carriages,” and of “nursing mothers”

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among the audience kept overnight in the Palais de justice by the soldiers on guard. In 1787 groups of merchants, bankers, printers, and booksellers, in addition to the Six Corps of Merchants of Paris, published memoirs attacking the stamp tax, claiming their opposition was shared by the nation at large. In late 1788 merchants in chambers of commerce in several cities requested representation of commerce in the estates-general, and the Parisian Six Corps of Merchants demanded doubling of the Third Estate’s representatives in the estates-general. Military men are depicted in the newsletters in political action and, in stark contrast, in a significant form of inaction. As early as April 1788, before the military ordinances intensifying discipline and limiting promotion in the officer corps aroused the ire of soldiers and officers, discontent and divisions of a political nature appeared in the military.50 The Mettra newsletters reported that some officers were ostracizing those carrying out royal orders; the result, the nouvelliste judged, of the general spirit of the nation, the sympathy for liberty penetrating the military. On the same day, Hardy in part confirmed and specified the act, more cautiously writing of a rumor that military officers in Toulouse ostracized those who arrested the avocat-général of the parlement.51 Shortly thereafter chevaliers of the Order of Saint Louis were among the demonstrators protesting the Grand Conseil’s registration of the May edicts. Use of military force in May to close the parlementary courts and to send the magistrates into exile set off clashes in parlementary cities between the public and the troops, with some radical repercussions on the military. About twenty officers in Rennes were reported to have resigned; in Dauphiné officers refused to carry out violent acts, and as in Toulouse, they refused to fire on the public. Disaffection reached into the highest ranks, with reports or rumors that the duc de Sully refused to use force to carry out orders or to shed blood, while twenty-nine marshals and lieutenant generals refused to serve in the provinces. Violent clashes in Paris in September 1788 between the military and crowds of demonstrators instilled into the troops on patrol a feeling of vulnerability along with a sympathy for liberty, which led them to cease making arrests or to respond to calls for fear of attacks against them. Among the members of a “society of patriots” meeting in November 1788 and promoting a national assembly were militaires. Newsletters shed light on the unravelling of military power and the shift of loyalty among the military from the Crown to the nation.

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The Formation and Movement of Public Opinion The nouvelles à la main are as flashes of light on the trajectory of public opinion—the thoughts and beliefs of the several publics on the developments of the day, the movement of opinion from issue to issue, and the turning points that signaled significant shifts in public attitudes. As the concerns and attention of the public and their support or opposition changed, we can discern the consciousness that lay behind their choices, the result neither of fickleness nor irrationality but of reasoned decisions impelled by a sense of interests, values, and aspirations. Three main phases in the forming of public opinion stand out. In the first phase, curiosity, then criticism, made the public followers. With the convening of the first Assembly of Notables, some in the public wanted to know about the reforms the Crown proposed; others were skeptical, believing the Notables would do the bidding of the Crown. In less than a month curiosity and skepticism turned into admiration of the Assembly, as even the frondeurs among the public became aware of the Notables’ criticisms of the Crown’s policies and reform proposals. Opinions reversed further as public sympathy for the Crown’s reform efforts, initially viewed as well-meaning, dissolved, replaced by criticism of controller general Calonne, who was widely believed to be responsible for the financial disorders that led to the government’s request for more taxes. The public’s altered mood was echoed in its indifferent or hostile response to Calonne’s several publications following his resignation in April 1787, in which the former minister attempted to prove that he was not the cause of the government’s large debt and deficit, both of which already had existed when he became minister in 1783. In contrast, the public embraced the more appealing argument of Jacques Necker, Calonne’s predecessor as head of the financial administration, who repeatedly retorted that he had left a surplus in the royal treasury on his resignation in 1781, an assertion that seemed to undercut any need for new or higher taxes.52 The refusal of the Paris parlement in July 1787 to register the government’s edicts for a new land tax and a stamp tax, accompanied by the magistrates’ assertion that only the nation assembled had the authority to consent to new or higher taxes, brought openly before the public the call for an estates-general. Newsletters related the public’s immediate and unequivocal response, an outpouring of public joy, the enthusiasm all the greater for the unexpectedness of the parlement’s surprise renunciation of a

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right to register tax edicts that it had claimed, and made use of, for 200 years. The nation, commented the Mémoires secrets in August 1787, awakened to its rights; patriotism, echoed the Correspondance secrète in October, was awakening among all orders.53 Provincial parlements followed with similar declarations. Even the most royalist nouvelliste acknowledged that an estates-general “is demanded by the will of the notables, of parlement, and of the nation.”54 “Aristocratic revolt” is a misnomer for this period. Magistrates and nobles took the lead in voicing opposition, but behind them, sympathizing with and supporting their arguments, was a broad and diverse public. The public’s political attachment, however, was not unalterable. A portent of future reversal and dissension appeared in September 1787, at the moment of parlement’s triumphant return from exile in Troyes. A still small segment of the public—one-half of the “young jurisconsults,” probably the clerks of the procureurs—disapproved of the magistrates’ agreement with the Crown to extend the second vingtième tax in place of the land tax without the consent of the estates-general, “following the new principles” they contended that parlement itself had enunciated.55 In January 1788 some in the public again expressed displeasure, this time with parlement’s delay in passing the edict granting civil status to Protestants in France. The public, these passing signs indicate, could take a critical stance from those it admired if a strong difference of views arose. Despite the momentary wavering of a few, support for the parlements persisted and redoubled with the introduction of new principles and a new urgency. The king’s appearance before the Paris parlement on 19 November 1787 to obtain approval for a new loan ended with a royal order to register the edict without a formal vote of the magistrates. What had been announced as a royal session became, to the magistrates and the public, a lit de justice with forced registration. The subsequent arrest of two judges and the exile of the duc d’Orléans, all three adamant in opposition, reinforced the impression that the government was acting despotically, ignoring parlement’s will, and punishing the three for freely expressing their views. In Guyenne and in the city of Bordeaux the same scenario played out, with the entire Bordeaux parlement exiled to the provincial city of Libourne for its opposition to royal policy. From November 1787 through the spring of 1788, demands reverberated for the release of the three members of the Paris tribunal and for the return to Bordeaux of the entire court. Those acts against particular magistrates were given more universal import. Courts of

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law and members of the public looked upon and denounced the government’s use of lettres de cachet as arbitrary actions and proofs of despotism. Parlement had the public’s support, wrote Hardy on 8 January 1788, because it was defending “the cause of the entire society.” Yet by early 1788 a second phase was beginning: a public of followers was becoming an autonomous public, no longer awaiting the lead of others, of higher authorities. On 28 March 1788 the Correspondance secrète noted a deep and significant change in the public’s sentiments and role: “The nation is in effect so penetrated by principles of liberty . . . that the parlements are no longer but a mirror where their sentiments and wishes are reflected and then turned upon the throne. Things will remain no less if the organ of expression is destroyed.”56 Within two months the nouvelliste’s insight proved true. Public wrath against the ministry exploded in riots, pamphlets, and declarations of local institutions upon news of the forcible suppression of the parlementary courts. Opposition, the newsletters acknowledged, was even more intense and active in the provinces than in Paris; in the capital, Parisians gathered to talk about demonstrations in Brittany. Denunciations abounded against arbitrary government and ministerial despotism. The public felt embittered over the arrest of many critics of the ministry and came to believe, in the spring and summer of 1788, that the Bastille was filled with prisoners. Demands for the recall of the parlements went hand in hand with calls for the convening of an estates-general. People read and discussed the principles affirmed in parlementary remonstrances and in statements of some provincial estates demanding the establishment of both a national estates-general and provincial estates nationwide. The clergy’s support, in June 1788, of an estates-general produced a “sensation” in the public. One newletter misidentified the declaration of the Vizille assembly in July calling for representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the nobility and clergy combined, claiming that it came from the Dauphinois noblesse, an error perhaps revealing the unreadiness of the nouvelliste or the public to see commoners along with nobles in a leadership role. Another newsletter, in contrast, highlighted the nascent political consciousness of commoners, stating that the public believed the Dauphinois remonstrances were the best writings because they included “the sanction of the Third Estate.”57 Economic and financial pressures heightened the public’s political engagement. Merchants came to fear for their businesses when the stamp tax was proposed in 1787, believing it would increase costs and reduce trade.

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Following the exile of the Paris parlement to Troyes in August, fear that pension and rente payments would be suspended caused a rush on the banks. The Six Corps of Merchants in Paris, in a memoir drafted in August at the time of the parlement’s exile but published in October 1787, argued that without parlement functioning there could be no legal guarantees for commerce and that confidence would disappear, as would coinage and trade, all reasons for them to conclude that normal economic activities required the recall of the parlement. The clash in November 1787 between the Crown and parlement that followed the royal session (or lit de justice, as characterized in the newsletters) prompted expectations of reduced tax collections, which fed skepticism and renewed fear of the government’s ability to make regular payments of rentes. Tradesmen, investors in government loans, and receivers of pensions, groups especially concentrated in the capital, faced a common peril. Bankers who refused to lend to the government and taxpayers in some provinces (Brittany and Dauphiné) who refused to pay taxes intensified financial pressure on the government for a common purpose. Their financial actions advanced larger political aims. In the summer of 1788 politics and economics again joined to heighten fears and direct responses. With all the courts in the kingdom closed, the absence of legal means to enforce transactions and contracts raised anxieties among merchants. Parisians, commoners in particular, demonstrated dramatically their economic vulnerability and political alertness in response to the Royal Council edict of 16 August 1788, which decreed that two-fifths of the payments for pensions and rentes would be in treasury notes rather than in specie. News of that edict arrived in Paris the same evening, and the following day 3,000 people, according to one newsletter, swarmed around the Caisse d’escompte (a royal bank) and the Bourse (stock exchange), trying to redeem their investments. Bankers, the wealthy, and all “citizens,” wrote a newsletter, feared loss of income with no guarantee of repayment for what was viewed as a forced loan. Bankers also withdrew their funds from the royal treasury. The public’s awareness of divisions in the ministry, of a weakened government making the country vulnerable to war, and of the monarchy’s penury (Necker was reported to have found little money in the royal treasury upon becoming minister) induced greater public pressure to change ministers and policies. The tax strikes, crowds at the Caisse d’escompte and the Bourse, and bankers refusing to lend to the government were acts that aimed to force the Crown to accept—and convince others within the public—that confidence could be restored and the

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monarchy salvaged only by recalling the parlements and summoning the estates-general. That strategy succeeded, and the government conceded to public pressure. On 18 August, after only two days of demonstrated opposition, the government withdrew the order for partial payment of pensions and rentes in treasury notes. On 25 August, Necker re-entered the government as minister. On 24 September, the parlement returned to Paris, and the following day the edict for the convening of the estates-general was registered. The volatile mix of finance, politics, and public action in the events of August, following the earlier dramatic events from May through July, brought defeat for the royal government and victory for public opinion. The relationship between the public and the nobility, including magistrates, was politically determined. So long as nobles and the broader public shared political objectives, the latter accepted and followed the leadership of the former. A feeling of “affliction” was the public’s sentiment on news that “patriot” nobles (including Lafayette) lost their positions at the royal court after they displayed sympathy for Breton nobles protesting the Crown’s suppression of the parlement in Rennes, reported Hardy on 16 July 1788. In Dauphiné, bourgeois allies took the initiative with the support of nobles and the people to demand the recall of their parlement and the re-establishment of both the provincial estates and the estates-general. When interests no longer corresponded, opposition intruded and the public turned against former noble leaders—initiating the third phase in the formation of public opinion. On 9 May, the day after the May edicts instituted judicial reforms and the parlementary courts were closed, the Correspondance littéraire secrète reported immediate criticism of the plenary court that was to register laws in place of the parlements on grounds that its membership excluded “two-thirds of the nation” and consisted only of “aristocrats.”58 The Paris parlement’s decision on 25 September to model the 1789 estates-general on that of 1614 did not initiate the Third Estate’s entry into politics; but the parlement’s decision did initiate the break between the Third Estate and the parlementary party. For over one month following the Paris parlement’s re-entry, and the reentry of all the parlementary courts in subsequent weeks, euphoria reigned between the Sénat, the pères de la patrie, as the magistrates were called, and the nation. That euphoria gradually dissipated, and was destroyed at its roots, as public attention focused on representation in the estates-general. The Royal Council edict of 5 July 1788 had first highlighted the question of representation, which the parlementary declaration of 25 September in fa-

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vor of the 1614 model accentuated. People talked and read about estatesgeneral in the past. They learned that especially in 1614 the Third Estate’s representation was less than the nobility and clergy together, and that most of the Third Estate’s representatives were judicial officers rather than proprietors, the latter being the group to which most of the members of the Third belonged in their own day. Closer at hand they knew and enthusiastically admired the form of representation demanded in Dauphiné, which the Crown finally authorized in September, allotting to the Third Estate the number of representives equal to those of the clergy and nobility combined. By October more and more of the public supported the Dauphinois model of increased representation of the Third Estate for the national meeting, and they did not swerve. Province after province demanded to follow the example of Dauphiné in their own existing provincial estates, most notably in Brittany and Languedoc; in other provinces, such as Franche-Comté, opinion demanded the same model of the estates of Dauphiné for provincial estates to replace the newly established assemblies. The Third Estate of Languedoc, a Mettra newsletter reported, was inspired in its own campaign by the example of the Breton Third Estate. This movement for doubling, as historians name it, but which for contemporaries was a call for representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the two privileged orders combined, grew stronger and more insistent as more and more magistrates and nobles supported the 1614 model for the estates-general and rejected the Dauphinois model for provincial estates. Exceptions were few and noted, including much of the nobility in Dauphiné and Languedoc, and a number of nobles in Franche-Comté. Three events in December 1788 further hardened the opposition of the Third Estate to their former allies and leaders, who were now their adversaries.59 The first was the decision of the reconvened Assembly of Notables to support the model of the 1614 estates-general for the meeting in 1789. Hopes surrounded the second Assembly, recalled in November 1788, that it would again speak for the broad public as it had in 1787, and that the government, under Necker’s guidance and following the precedent it had set by accepting the model in Dauphiné, would also heed public opinion. The newsletters in general closely reported the Notables’ votes, most especially on the number of deputies to be allotted to the Third Estate. Public hopes were shattered when only one of the six bureaux in the Assembly supported doubling of the Third Estate and all the others favored the 1614 model. That disappointment was followed by a second event, the publica-

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tion of the Mémoire des princes in the names of the king’s youngest brother, Artois, and most of the princes of the blood, but not the king’s other brother, the comte de Provence, and his cousin, the duc d’Orléans. The Mémoire’s denunciation of increased representation for the Third Estate and especially its threat of revolt if the Third persisted in demanding greater representation embittered the public, more of whom came to believe that all the privileged—nobles, magistrates, and clergy—were against them. The declaration of the peers of the realm accepting fiscal equality, though warmly greeted in the public, did not mitigate mounting hostility against the nobility that the princes’s act sharpened. The Paris parlement’s attempt on 5 December to backtrack on its earlier commitment to the model of 1614 made little impact on the public. Rumors already had begun to circulate in November that a “league” was forming among the clergy, nobility, and magistracy to place the tax burden on the people; whether such a league was real or not, to the public it was clear that all three were against the Third Estate. Shortly thereafter came the third event, when the Paris parlement in mid-December initiated a judicial inquiry against the Pétition written in the name of the residents of Paris, and conducted a hostile interrogation of its author, Dr. Guillotin. Crowds in great number attended the sessions. Their suspicion and anger replaced previous enthusiasm for magistrates, and their mood and behavior frightened the judges, in the account of one newsletter.60 The parlement’s decision to prohibit the collection of signatures to the petition directly attacked the Parisian public and broke the final tattered threads of sympathy between them and the magistrates. Despotism was now the charge directed against the Paris parlement.61 In the provinces, in Rouen, Bordeaux, and Rennes, parlementary courts also prohibited the Third Estate from meeting in assemblies to draft declarations demanding increased representation, arousing the indignation of the provincial public. Crowds at the Palais de justice in Rouen demanded the lifting of the prohibition. All the privileged were now tainted. Even Hardy, the most proparlementary among the nouvellistes, acknowledged on 27 December that the Third Estate would never accede to equal representation of each order. One month later his comments offered evidence of the ominous turn in public attitudes. No great noble or magistrate, he wrote, had paid the capitation or twentieth taxes “since time immemorial.” Many in the public came to believe that parlement did not want the estates-general to meet, despite the fact that the magistrates were the first to call for it, because their continued

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support of the 1614 model would make that meeting impossible. A Mettra nouvelliste, reflecting on recent events, wrote words foreshadowing those Mallet du Pan penned one month later: “[T]here is a definite scission between the nobility and the magistracy on the one side, the Third Estate on the other.” One week later he added the somber judgment: “This scission between the different orders of citizens will be more disastrous than all the possible deficits.”62 In the autumn of 1788 the public, which long suspected the Crown’s motives and actions, simultaneously came to suspect the aristocracy. Not preconceived theories but the nobility’s actual obduracy and concrete actions incited the Third Estate’s opposition. During December the public’s support, hitherto of the magistrates, shifted to the Crown, specifically to the king along with Necker. Previously, in spite of the Crown’s thrice-repeated pronouncement that an estates-general would be convened, and the date set for 1789 in the edict of 8 August, there had remained deep skepticism that the government would keep its word, even after Necker became minister. Its call on 5 July for the nation to examine the histories of previous estatesgeneral in preparation for the forthcoming session was interpreted as a delaying tactic to forestall any meeting. Every announcement, even by Necker, of an expected deficit lower than previously announced was viewed as a move designed to demonstrate that financial order was close at hand—and the estates-general no longer necessary. Dissension among the ministers was read as attempts to undercut or to oust Necker, who alone, it was believed, had the people’s interests at heart.63 Public opinion about the government’s views on representation of the Third Estate was fluid, shifting from hope of support through the influence of Necker on the king, to fear of refusal. On the day of the royal decision, but before it was known, Hardy reported the rumor that the Royal Council would decide in favor of equal representation of each order, against the “universal wish” of the Third Estate. The Result of the Royal Council of 27 December, granting doubling of the Third Estate, unleashed public outbursts of joy that, according to a hitherto royalist nouvelliste, expressed its “unanimous” acceptance. A more restrained and selective judgment appeared in another newsletter that described the enthusiastic reception of the Result of the Royal Council among all “good citizens”—except nobles and clergy who attacked it.64 By year’s end, public sympathy and support transferred to the Crown, with the king and Necker embraced as champions of the people. At the same time, courtiers were reported to be criticizing Necker for compromising

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royal authority by publicly explaining the reasons for the king’s decision of 27 December, an ominous sign of impending difficulty from within the court. The year 1789 began with the public turning its attention, so a newsletter reported, to “the regeneration of the monarchy” through a constitution that would guarantee their lives, property, and liberty.65 Political expectations were aroused and accelerating.

By the autumn of 1788 the nouvelles à la main were no longer unique in reporting on the public’s activities and opinion; following Necker’s entry into the ministry, all the press could freely publish such news. In 1789 manuscript newsletters began to disappear from the public scene.66 But from 1787 through 1788 the manuscript newsletters offer direct evidence of the public’s interest and engagement in political events and developments. Remarkable in this upsurge of public opinion is the absence, or very meager and marginal appearance, of royalists, that is, supporters of absolute monarchy, apart from those in the government and in the royal court. Two centuries of absolutism had not succeeded in gaining the permanent adherence of a predominant segment of the French public. Absolute monarchy did not fall on its own. Its end came from the actions of a broad public that in the long term had become disaffected, and in the short term entered into opposition. The Mémoires secrets, reflecting on the influence of the Enlightenment on public opinion, acknowledged that “literature” and “philosophy”—making specific reference to the Encyclopédie, Montesquieu’s Esprit des lois, Buffon’s Histoire naturelle, and Voltaire’s Lettres philosophiques—had wrought a revolution in forty years. That change, the nouvelliste noted, was to make the French complain, to voice “perpetual remonstrances.”67 A platitude, but one that highlighted the formation of a critical and politicized public. The voice of the people heard through the nouvelles à la main did not express original or sophisticated arguments, and did not elaborate ideas. Neither did journalists in newsletters and newspapers, in which they voiced their thoughts mainly through lengthy quotations and summaries of the writings of others—parlements, formal statements of other institutions, and pamphlets. The public’s ideas were short, concise, to the point. They spoke in slogans: “consent to taxes,” “despotism,” “estates-general,” “equal representation.” Brevity did not diminish their import. A poster affixed in several public places in Paris, in January 1788, summed up what others said at greater length and what many had come to think: “Kings have received

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their power from the people to protect the laws, they can do nothing beyond the laws. They owe to the nation an exact accounting of their revenues.”68 A few words bespoke a host of implied ideas and aspirations: government authority should be derived from popular consent, the rule of law should prevail, and government should be accountable to the public. Shorn of intellectual weight, ideas so trenchant had the power to fire people to thought and action. Neither manuscript newsletters nor printed newspapers expounded on the implicit ideas behind the public’s reactions and actions, or the complex intertwining between lived experience and the realm of ideas. The context in which these rudimentary ideas came to be expressed, and the trajectory from one complaint and claim to others, points to a close relation in time between the slogans expressed and the concrete problems experienced: the revelation of a deficit, the request for new taxes, the exile or suppression of parlementary courts, the demand for and opposition to increased representation of the Third Estate. Those experiences, as much as intellectual arguments, made the public oppose higher taxes, fear repudiation of rente payments, and demand a place—a greater place—in the governing process. Public opinion revealed in the nouvelles à la main was first and foremost a political voice, and second a social force, rather than an abstract tribunal issuing moral judgments. A broad body of people from diverse groups gave support or sympathy to the criticisms, aspirations, and claims expressed. The power of their numbers augmented the impact of that political voice, and together constituted and gave moral weight to the “tribunal of the nation.” This more detailed coverage of news makes the nouvelles à la main direct forebears of modern journalism. Their denser reportage provides for historians, and offered to contemporaries, a source of substantial information about events of the day and the public’s mind. That greater substance was in inverse proportion to the range of audience of manuscript newsletters. Newspapers were less costly and had a larger readership, but were more constrained in their writing. Despite limits on them, gazettes in particular and newsletters gained the public’s interest by informing them of the activities of their leaders and peers. The resonance the press gave to the views and actions of some among the public made others aware of opinions and aspirations they shared, fostering a sense of solidarity and engaging more of them in similar acts. Journalism in 1787–1788 helped to create a national political community joined in opposition, first to the government and then to the parlements and aristocracy.

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Only indirectly, by transcribing and summarizing the writings of others, did the press—except for the few journals of opinion, Linguet’s Annales and Le Courrier de l’Europe—offer political ideas and attempt political instruction. With rare exceptions, before 1789 the periodical press did not seek to arouse and mobilize the public to take action.69 The ancien régime press, both printed and manuscript, even during the few months of freedom in late 1788, adhered to a reportorial role, eschewing hortatory journalism and political agitation. Rhetorical strategies were thus subordinate to the content of political news, as the message prevailed over the medium. The contrast between the politically restrained role of the periodical press before 1789 and the militant newspapers that appeared between 1789 and 1792, which aimed to inculcate political beliefs, instill suspicion, or incite to action, underscores the revolution in the press that was an intrinsic part of the French Revolution.70 Journalism, in whatever form, was not the optimum instrument to propagate political messages in the ancien régime. Even before the Third Estate displaced the magistrates and the aristocracy as the main force in public opinion, the press, both printed and manuscript, was superseded by another means of communication that directly grappled with ideas and arguments, promoted and incited controversy, and formed and directed opinion through the public forum of print. Pamphlets were the mode in which writers expounded ideas, and from which readers learned in greater measure what some of the French thought, aspired to, fulminated against, demanded, and claimed.71

8 Pamphlets and Other Writings A Network of Political Education and Polemics

The “sad destiny” of pamphlets “overly political,” quickly condemned to oblivion by the swift pace of events and shifts of interest, may have been “to serve as wrapping paper in the market of the Place Maubert,” as the colporteur says to the bookstore owner in a contemporary pamphlet. To underscore his point, he queries: “Has your butter-man asked you for many?”1 Whether or not the pamphlets ended up as wrapping paper for butter, the supply continued and increased as the end of the ancien régime approached. The Catalogue de l’Histoire de France includes in the Lb39 series of contemporary writings 219 titles for 1787 and 821 for 1788. (Several of these catalogue numbers may be duplications; on the other hand, some works had multiple editions and there are additional contemporary writings catalogued under other series that do not enter into this rough computation.)2 During the previous political crisis, the Maupeou revolution in 1771–1774 when the parlementary courts were suppressed, at most 300 contemporary writings have been calculated. The Lb38 listings for 1771 until the death of Louis XV in 1774 number 281; instead of increasing over those years the output plummeted after a high of 200 publications in 1771, and most of the titles listed for 1774 relate to the death of Louis XV.3 The years 1787–1788 saw a great outpouring of political writings that mounted despite intensified government efforts at repression, especially from May to September 1788. The public wanted political pamphlets—to read and to discuss, not to wrap food. Pamphlets provided the broader public with “nourishment lighter and more detailed,” in the words of Louis Sebastien Mercier, than those of philosophes—“if there were only the works of . . . Montesquieu, . . . Buffon, Rousseau, the multitude could not be enlightened.”4 That public not only consumed the pamphlets but in one 167

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case forced its publication. The Avis aux provinces, which claimed for the nation the right to convene the estates-general without prior royal sanction, was originally published in Grenoble following the May edicts of 1788 and then republished in Pau with the inscription on the title page: “Forced to print by the people.”5 The pamphlet literature was a main source of nourishment for those whose appetite for politics was mounting in 1787 and especially in 1788. Pamphlets occupied the public space left vacant by the periodical press, since newspapers and journals published in France could not discuss the news. Even the French-language newspapers published outside of France, in Avignon and in Holland, whose reports of events and reprints of official declarations extended beyond government handouts and were more frequent than those found in the French newspapers, were constrained in expressing political opinions overtly. The few journals of opinion from abroad, the Courrier de l’Europe and Linguet’s Annales, expressed staunch royalist views that did not correspond to the dominant political mood of the French public. The nouvelles à la main largely transcribed the arguments and opinions of others found in published writings or in manuscripts circulating clandestinely. Often the news they recounted, as did Hardy in his journal, was of the arrival of new pamphlets followed by excerpts or summaries. The pamphlets, absent from the pages of the printed press but present in the manuscript press, and circulating in ever-greater number, constituted a network for the political education of the French public. The pamphlets offer entry into a richer source for the thoughts of the French in 1787–1788 than do newspapers and newsletters. Together with periodicals they provide a moving calendar of the issues that absorbed public discourse at the time. As literary photographs of the state of public opinion, pamphlets are more composite documents. Sometimes they are less immediate replications than periodicals, slower to respond to changing or rushing currents of opinion because of their more elaborate argumentation and rhetorical strategies, and the printing of more pages than in a periodical entailed more time for composition and publication. That lapse of time sometimes meant that public interest had shifted when a pamphlet appeared, making them seem to lag behind the accelerating currents of opinion. For example, Carra’s attack against Calonne, though cited in six different newsletters, was published in a pamphlet at a moment when the public’s attention was focusing on relations between the Crown and the parlement. Sieyès’ Qu’est-ce que le tiers état?, written prior to the Result of

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the Royal Council of 27 December 1788 and published in January 1789, urged doubling of the Third Estate’s representation in the estates-general when that demand had already been granted by the Crown; his assertion of the importance of the Third Estate’s contribution to French society had already been preceded by many similar arguments. Yet the significance of pamphlets as guides to contemporary public opinion is less the originality of their arguments than their commonness, for the similarity of views in one pamphlet after another may signify broad public interest. Pamphlet writings were occasional pieces, responses to the events and problems of the day expressed in arguments that ranged from the practical to the theoretical. Most of the writers were not professional philosophers formulating political theories and ideologies (even the latter were not untouched by circumstances and events to which they adapted their theories).6 Many writers were concerned citizens reflecting on the current political problems of France and articulating their views. They expressed not a prefabricated ideology but views shaped by events. Their aim was not to articulate a consistent political theory, but to promote concrete programmatic objectives through diverse rhetorical strategies. Programs they offered as solutions to current problems embodied their sense of justice, or advanced the interests of the institution or group with which they identified. The issues changed from month to month or week to week, as did the responses to those changing and new issues, especially in the turbulent years of 1787–1788. Change was most characteristic of the issues discussed and views articulated in political pamphlets, which were quintessentially a barometer of politics. The historian may better understand the minds and reactions of the French during this final crisis of the ancien régime if their process of thought and the ideas they expressed are viewed not as discrete categories of logical coherence, but as an ongoing dialectic between historical actors and historical events. What may otherwise appear as intellectual promiscuousness (i.e., the use of multiple lines of arguments borrowed from different political traditions) or intellectual inconsistency (i.e., the shifts in arguments and in the objects of attention) should be recognized as the normal and regular procedure for mobilizing an intellectual arsenal that uses a variety of arms of attack and defense in the service of a more forceful response to events and to adversaries. Such practices characterized all sides in the political combat—royalists, parlementarians, and Patriots— all of whom at times employed similar political language and arguments to promote different political objectives.

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Patterns of internal dialogue tied together authors of pamphlets as well as authors and the public. Particular pamphlets provoked responses to their views from other pamphlets.7 Writers, whether individuals or collective bodies, and the public also engaged in an implicit dialogue, their interaction setting the terms of the discourse. The formal declarations of institutions and corporations often gave direction to and set the goals of public debate. At other times public opinion advanced political aspirations that even the most prominent institutions could not ignore. This was especially true when the Paris parlement in August 1787 ceded its claim to approve taxes to a national estates-general—to the surprise and joy of the public—supporting the wish earlier voiced in the first Assembly of Notables and obliquely expressed in some pamphlets and newspapers. In general, and until the autumn of 1788, the magistracy retained its leadership of public opinion. Most of the publications Hardy cited in his journal were remonstrances of parlements and of other sovereign courts, of lesser tribunals, and of lawyers. From February 1787 to September 1788 the public was not indifferent to but supported the arguments which first the Notables and then the courts articulated. By the autumn of 1788 Hardy’s literary references shifted; he cited more pamphlets and fewer parlementary remonstrances. Between September and December 1788, when the Paris parlement, individual magistrates, the second Assembly of Notables, and royal princes proclaimed their support of equal representation of the three orders and vote by order, opposing views flowed from the presses. The pamphlet literature became more numerous as the vehicle for expressing views opposed to the former national leaders and in favor of the Third Estate. A widening circle of public engagement is visible as more public institutions and professional and social groups in the provinces felt called upon to express their views in formal declarations. In 1787 and until the spring of 1788, the main spokesmen were the Assembly of Notables, the parlements, and other sovereign courts. But following the May edicts, public pronouncements came increasingly from judges and lawyers who worked in the lower courts—bailliage and présidial tribunals throughout the provinces—as well as from other administrative bodies affected by the government’s reforms (bureaux des finances and élections) and from other local corps who joined in opposition to the Crown. These same institutions, along with municipal governments, guilds, clerical institutions, and universities, publicly proclaimed their joy in publications and demonstrations on the re-establishment of the parlements in September and October 1788. The growing debate on

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representation and voting in the estates-general elicited even more petitions and letters from local groups which were published in November and December 1788—from provincial estates and gentilshommes, from municipal officials and chambers of commerce, from guilds, businessmen and other commoners.8 Brittany and Dauphiné, where parlements and existing or nascent provincial estates were engaged against the Crown, and Brittany again once nobles and the Third Estate first entered into conflict, produced the largest body of pamphlet writings. Anjou, which had no parlement and where the public sought a provincial estates, also had its homegrown pamphlets that, an intendant complained, drove the campaign for an estates.9 The provinces were in the vanguard of political action in these two years. Pamphlets were most often octavo in format, but that is virtually the single trait they shared. Variety characterized their size and contents. They ranged from brief writings of three, five, or nine pages, to volumes of 100, 200, or more pages. The smaller works were without bindings—the equivalent of broadsheets or cheap paperbacks; the larger the work, the more it tended to be bound and to cost livres rather than sous. Not all of these writings had to be bought to be known; the declarations of the parlementary courts were often hawked on city streets. From May to September 1788, when government censorship was more rigorous, such writings continued to circulate clandestinely. Pamphlets circulated in relatively wide areas, from one province to others. Hardy, sitting in his bookstore on the rue Saint Jacques in Paris, obtained copies of remonstrances written by provincial parlements in Brittany, Béarn, Dauphiné, and elsewhere; of declarations of lower courts and of groups of lawyers in provincial cities; and also of pamphlets written, for example, by some of the opposition leaders in Dauphiné, such as Jean-Joseph Mounier and Joseph Barnave.10 Statements by corporate bodies (magistrates, lawyers, municipalities) emanated from different regions of France. The bulletiniste in Paris for the Gazette de Leyde reported on 5 August 1788 about the pamphlet Avis aux provinces that was printed in Pau but originated in Grenoble. Over one-third (374) of the slightly more than 1,000 writings listed in the Lb39 series for 1787–1788 are statements by institutional bodies or collective groups whose locations are specified, such as the Parlement of Paris, the trial lawyers of the Parlement of Aix, the municipal government of Bordeaux or Montfort, or the representatives of the clergy of Saint Domingue. Another 150 publications indicate the city in which they were published: approximately 40 cite Paris and slightly under 30 cite a provincial origin (Brittany,

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and Rennes having the lead). Sixty-nine others list a foreign city of publication—London most frequently (33). But such reputed foreign publications were sometimes camouflage for their clandestine French origins, as certainly was true with two purportedly published in “Philadelphie” and attributed to the philosophe Condorcet. Almost one-half of these writings (507) list no place of publication. As to their authorship, a similar pattern is found. Apart from the institutions or collective groups, only 169 either indicate the name of the writer (106) or are attributed to a particular author (63). Almost one-half of the pamphlets (489) are anonymous publications.11 The declarations from institutions and collective groups bearing the serial Lb39 underrepresent their actual number, for several individual publications include a multitude of declarations ranging from sovereign courts to présidial courts and include financial administrations, municipal governments, guilds, universities, and clerical bodies. Sometimes a single declaration was published more than once—the immediate printing of the declaration by the institution after an event, its reproduction in a newspaper or as a pamphlet, and its reappearance in a compendia of declarations. Hardy, musing as he so often did with his readers, wrote that he was sure those who read his journal would want to know the contents of these important parlementary remonstrances, and so he felt obliged to transcribe them tirelessly in his fine script over several folio pages. In 1788–1789 many of those declarations were published together in five volumes. The editor of the Journal pour servir à l’histoire du dix-huitième siècle explained his purpose: “There are undoubtedly some curious persons who have collected some of these pieces . . . but no one perhaps has a complete collection of them, because not all of them have been printed.” Their publication in a single collection would aid posterity to learn about the events of those years and help contemporaries who wished to instruct themselves. Only those official discourses, rather than the writings of individuals, he was convinced, had historical significance: “the writings of private persons do not offer to history the same degree of interest as do those that emanate from government, from sovereign courts, lower courts, municipalities, provincial assemblies, and last of corporate groups . . . the latter have a recognized authenticity.” (In the introduction to volume 1, he described those official statements as having “the approbation of authority.”) But especially, “it is from their effect that the nation may gain advantages, of which the French flatter themselves today. . . . One knows that most of these writings are models of eloquence and reasoning in which the ministerial plans are

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debated with more or less vigor; in short, they have held the attention of public opinion which has been the arbiter in this cause”12

Messages in Pamphlets What was the message in these parlementary declarations that circulated among the French public from June 1787 to October 1788?13 First, it was practical, addressed to concrete problems: government requests for loans and taxes, the authority of provincial assemblies, and the role of the sovereign courts. Second, it was expressed in a language and it advanced principles rooted in history, public law, and natural law. The constitution the courts propounded was composed of laws of the kingdom and of the provinces, and of customs, precedents, and examples from the time of the supposed Salic law to the current day. That “organic” character of the constitution affirmed the supremacy of the law, to which the royal will must also submit. The contract between subjects and sovereign that the Breton and Béarnais magistrates advocated was not a theoretical abstraction but rested on the charters that determined the relations of each of the two provinces with the king at the time of their annexation to France. The right of property defended in the remonstrances guaranteed the magistrates’ property in office as well as every Frenchman’s property in his land, his movable goods, and his person; protection of those property rights was the rampart against the invasion of individual liberty that nature decreed for all men. Third, the parlementary message constituted a program, a set of policy goals: loans and taxes to the government must receive the consent of the nation; the provincial assemblies must be institutions independent of ministerial will, with elected rather than appointed members to represent the public and with effective authority grounded on control of taxes and disbursement of funds (signaling their transformation into provincial estates); the magistrates must be protected both from royal compulsion through lits de justice and removal as judges by revoking their property in office, the judiciary’s freedom of decision alone guaranteeing lawful order and individual liberties; lettres de cachet must be eliminated, to guarantee to individuals freedom from arbitrary arrest and prolonged imprisonment without trial; and censorship too must be ended to assure freedom of publication. (The parlements nonetheless continued to proscribe and to symbolically burn writings critical of them.) Parlementary remonstrances reappeared as pamphlets, and re-echoed in still other pamphlets composed by individual magistrates, lawyers and anonymous writers.14

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That argument for parlementary constitutionalism among those originally called Patriots15 gained wide currency and imbued French men and women with elemental precepts and aspirations, and reinforced for others a political education that paralleled earlier writings of philosophes, pamphleteers, and parlementaires. Tocqueville, among others, has taught us that eighteenth-century French writers engaged in “abstract, literary politics . . . deriv[ed] from . . . reason and natural law,” a mode of thought that became so great a “political passion” that “abstract theories of the nature of human society . . . became daily topics of conversation”16 Contempt for history and for established laws and traditions were expressions of such thought dominant in writings during the years of the pre-Revolution; Tocqueville used the works of Sieyès, Mounier, Brissot, Rabaut Saint-Etienne, and Pétion as examples.17 The arguments of Mounier in Dauphiné, calling for the re-establiishment of the provincial parlement and estates and for doubing of Third Estate representation, in no way fit that characterization, which more aptly describes Condorcet who, until late 1788, was a supporter of the monarchy. The other four whom Tocqueville cited were atypical, presenting arguments that were neither common nor predominant before 1789. Most of the pamphlets in 1787–1788 in no way conform to an ideological bifurcation—an abstract discourse identified with revolutionaries, and a historical discourse characteristic of nonrevolutionaries or aristocrats. The two forms of thought and writing were intertwined.18 The solemn pronouncements of parlementary remonstrances justifying opposition to royal policy, first in importance by their number and impact, and which echoed in the pamphlets of individual magistrates, lawyers, or those unknown, present not abstract theoretical expositions but a mélange of arguments. General maxims of natural law appeared side-by-side with, or often followed, dense historical and juridical precedents, the two modes traditional in the educational formation of men of law in the ancien régime.19 Historical justification was the dominant form of discourse in writings in those years, even for those clearly of the rationalist persuasion such as the physiocrat Mercier de la Rivière and the Rousseauian Guillaume-Joseph Saige.20 Few arguments were couched solely in the language of natural law, and even in those instances, notably that of Sieyès, the lessons of history, if unexplored and not explicit, nonetheless underlay the process of deductive analysis.21 Most pamphlets elaborated on what had become common themes, such as the right to control government finances; the right of the nation to consent to

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taxes; the right of the parlements to verify royal edicts freely and unhindered; the supremacy of law above the royal will; the unconstitutionality of suppressing existing courts; and the “despotic” actions of royal ministers. Through these writings the French public was instructed in the arcane language and practices of government finance—including the difference between “debt” and “deficit.”22 By late 1788 the debate shifted to issues concerning the form of representation and voting in the estates-general. A secondary dispute that emerged was whether deputies in the estates-general were bound to the wishes of their constituents by an “imperative mandate,” or were free to vote according to their own judgment. In contrast to pamphlets whose ideas were becoming commonplace were those that presented highly individualized arguments. Although their circulation and influence are unknown and may well have been limited, they expressed views that reflect on interesting facets of public opinion or advanced ideas significant in the formation of political culture. Some advocated inventive panaceas for eliminating the government’s deficit, often without raising taxes or loans. The arrival of royal troops in Brittany and Dauphiné following the suppression of the parlements in May 1788, for example, occasioned a few pamphlets aimed at the military, in which new principles for governing the relationship between soldiers and royal authority were argued forcefully: soldiers should not blindly obey government orders by using violence against civilians; and officers in particular had the duty to distinguish between the rightful use of force against foreign enemies and the illegal use of military power against their compatriots, who might be their fathers and brothers, their relatives and friends. The immediate and intended effect was to subvert government authority; yet, in undercutting the premise of the subordination of the military to civilian authority, these pamplets argued for the moral autonomy and responsibility of individual soldiers.23 Still other pamphlets, well in advance of views current at the moment, foreshadowed criticisms and aspirations voiced in the petitions of grievances (cahiers de doléances) addressed to the 1789 estates-general. Or they introduced themes such as demands for a more democratic polity, attacks against seigneurialism and serfdom, and calls for the expropriation of ecclesiastical lands, all of which revealed seething radicalism beneath the visible surface of public opinion, and that later developments would bring to the forefront of the political arena.24 Public opinion, from the perspective of the pamphlet literature, encompassed a broad range of views from the common to the unique and radical,

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a range of opinion perhaps more inclusive than those incorporated in the cahiers.25

Genres and Rhetoric in Pamphlet Literature The didactic purpose of pamphlet writings was at times made explicit in their presentation as dialogues or even as catechisms. Their lessons came in other myriad forms as well, from works of erudition and theory to comic plays, satirical essays, and imitations of popular writings and slang. Surprising tricks could be played on history to advance a political agenda of the day. Disdain in burlesque mode, as well as tragedies and scandals of individual lives paraded before the public, gave melodramatic force to criticisms of existing political evils; they were also tools of propaganda.26 Pamphlet literature, in form and content, varied greatly. History, law, and reason were the arguments; essays, plays, and verse the literary genres; and satire, sentiment, and emotionalism were the rhetorical devices most common. One form of pamphlet prefigured a distinctive type of revolutionary journalism born of the events of 14 July 1789—the newspaper that, in Pierre Rétat’s eloquent analysis, recounted events as they occurred. The pamphlet’s author became witness and chronicler of actions in their dynamic unfolding, even their poet as he described the strong emotions of participants in the course of their acts and sought to evoke similar feelings among his readers.27 Reports (récits or rélations) of riots in cities protesting the suppression of the parlements in May–June 1788, and later of festivities in large urban and smaller rural areas celebrating the re-establishment of the tribunals in September and October, along with descriptions of court sessions denouncing the May edicts or the ministers responsible for arbitary actions numbered approximately twenty in 1788. They palpitated with the emotions of the actors and recorded the words of denunciation. But writers of these récits did not yet assume the role of judge, censor, or tribune as did their successors in 1789 who declaimed against opponents, forewarned readers of lurking dangers, or aroused the public to act against perceived enemies. Writers of still other pamphlets did engage in impassioned polemical attacks. Anger heightened by hyperbole found an outlet through diatribes against persons and policies that climaxed with threats of retribution. Royal ministers were the prime targets of literary invective. The controller general Calonne was vilified for wasting government money in speculation and

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overspending, defrauding the public by changing the value of the currency, and enriching his friends and living in luxury, even debauchery, through benefit of government funds.28 Following his dismissal there were calls for his trial, the normal procedure of resignation and political disgrace being deemed inadequate punishment. Even more impassioned pamphletary outbursts followed the suppression of the parlementary courts in May 1788. A barrage of denunciations fell upon Loménie de Brienne, the principal minister, and on Lamoignon, the keeper of the seals, charges of unconstitutional actions, of “arbitrariness” and “despotism,” and of “deceiving the king” (surprendre la réligion du roi). Demands issued for their trial on charges of treachery—of lèse-majesté, lèse-nation, lèse-patrie, even of lèse-humanité. The speeches of the Paris magistrates, veritable criminal indictments of all three ministers for their misdeeds, were reprinted in newspapers and as pamphlets, and carnavalesque trials were described in word and depicted in imagery.29 In these exaggerated ways the principle of ministerial accountability to the public was introduced and disseminated. At the same time objectionable policy became dangerously equated with objective crime, obliterating the distinction between the political responsibility of policymakers and the criminalization of both the makers of policy and their policies. Invective and vindictiveness against royal ministers were frequent and general; rhetorical excess against other individuals or groups was sporadic. With the problem of royal finances weighing on the minds and pocketbooks of the public, the farmers-general (the company of tax-farmers in charge of indirect taxes) and their agents also became targets, attacked for their exactions and arbitrariness. Chemist Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier, also a tax-farmer, was singled out and accused of being responsible for the project to encircle Paris with a wall to facilitate the collection of indirect taxes, the grave consequences of this project constituting crimes for which the scientist–tax farmer should be hung.30 Were pamphlets also vehicles for heightened—and pornographic— invective against the king, especially the queen, as Robert Darnton sustains?31 The most politically trenchant criticism of both the king and the queen in pamphlet writing was Les Droits du peuple, published after the May edicts of 1788 suppressed the parlementary courts. The king was no longer excused for being deceived by his ministers, but was depicted as a weak ruler succumbing to their influence; the queen was accused of dissipating public funds; and the author bluntly warned that the French “may choose another master, for does not natural law authorize dismissing those

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whom we pay when they serve us badly?” The majesty of royalty was beginning to be stripped and the king to be represented as a mere hired agent. A radical though still rare argument, it remained within the literary form and rhetorical norm of political discourse.32 Sexual imagery as the mode for criticism of the sovereign was infrequent. Representation of the king’s purported impotence in a pornographic writing of 1779 alluded to the absence of royal heirs in the early years of the royal marriage.33 Pornographic diatribes in pamphlets against the royal person, depicting Louis as sexually impotent and a cuckold, were otherwise rare. Royal impotence was represented not pornographically but with clear political allusions. Satire made the king a weak and passive instrument manipulated by others. Culpability might lay with the ministers, but the king still bore responsibility for being unable to master the problems besetting France.34 Pornographic attacks against the queen in pamphlets were few (in verse and song they were more numerous).35 The diamond necklace affair (the fraudulent scheme in which a cardinal of the church was duped to buy a very expensive necklace in the name of the queen) continued to echo; and curiosity to read the legal briefs (mémoires)—which in fact exculpated the queen—fed demand, with paradoxical effect. Writing in the summer of 1787 in Lyon, the abbé Duret reported that the two volumes of mémoires were selling for 25 louis (the equivalent of 600 livres) and could be obtained on loan for 60 livres36—prices so high, one may surmise, as to deter actual readership. There were other replays of the diamond necklace affair in 1787–1788. Three pamphlets thrust onto the queen the guilt that the Paris parlement had lodged on Mme. de Lamotte, who contrived the entire intrigue and scandal; in these we see the making of the myth of a fraudulent and lascivious queen that has endured thereafter. In another pamphlet the ghostwriter actually admitted that he had composed one of those writings for the purpose of making a profit.37 One or two additional pamphlets carried sexual innuendo or charges against Marie-Antoinette, depicting the queen as an unrestrained nymphomaniac and lesbian. The outpouring of pornographic attacks began in earnest in 1789, especially following the assault on the Bastille and the release of pornographic pamphlets that years earlier had been removed from circulation. Before July 1789 the major criticisms of the queen were not of her alleged sexual proclivities but of her assumed political engagements: her support of hated ministers and of her hated Habsburg family, and actual though exaggerated expenditures for herself and especially for her friends, the Polignac family. Those political

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criticisms were embedded even in the few early pornographic writings. Political criticisms were also closely correlated with an important political event, the exile of the Paris parlement in August 1787 as punishment for its opposition to the stamp tax and land tax. From that moment on attacks against the queen became frequent and sharp; upon her lay culpability for the government’s financial problems and she came to be called “Madame le Déficit.” More important to the French than the sexual acts portrayed in pornography was the queen’s purported responsibility for those policies, decisions, and problems that touched them as individuals and as French nationals, from government wastefulness and tax increases to arbitrary acts of force, and her presumed support for Habsburg foreign policy. The queen, as well as the ministers, played a virtual constitutional role as surrogates for the king. Onto them was transferred the onus for all that afflicted France and the French, leaving the king in much of the pamphlet writings largely free of blame, and freeing his subjects to continue to love their sovereign and maintain their allegiance to the monarchy. The greatest rage in the pamphlets was targeted at the clergy, nobles, and magistrates following the suppression of the parlementary courts. The upper clergy were accused of using funds destined for the poor to pay for extravagant and dissolute living; nobles too were accused of maintaining their high style with money obtained from the government; and magistrates were depicted as arrogant and inequitable in judging the poor. All three groups were criticized for refusing to pay taxes and seeking to maintain their fiscal privilege, thus foisting the heavy tax burden onto other Frenchmen, as well as excluding non-nobles from high positions in the courts, the military, and the church so as to monopolize power. Even the hoary charge of a pacte de famine—of hoarding grain so as to create scarcity and force prices higher— re-echoed.38 Such heinous behavior merited, or would bring about, its appropriate retribution. La Chute des trois corps, the title of one pamphlet, was more provocative in rhetoric than in concrete proposals. The fall of the magistrates required only the abolition of venality and enforcement of the court reforms embodied in the May edicts, and the clergy would be compelled to pay taxes and its separate order would be abolished. The diatribe in Réponse à l’arrêté du grenier à sel de Paris depicted magistrates guilty “of villainy, . . . of crimes,” with “vice too rooted in their hearts” to be beyond redemption. Demands were made that those “enemies” be “repressed,” “crushed,” “extirpated,” and “destroyed.” A popular uprising to gain equality, with acts of violence against nobles and magistrates, was conjured for

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the province of Brittany.39 The burning of enemies of the people—nobles, judges, and priests—in the public squares especially in Nantes, Rennes, and Besançon (cities in Brittany and Franche-Comté where the majority of nobles opposed increased representation of the Third Estate in the provincial estates) was the concluding call in La Passion, la mort, et la resurrection du peuple; those who refused to wreak such revenge were denounced as “traitors to the motherland.” Who penned those invectives? Most are anonymous. In a few cases scholars have attributed authorship; one clergyman wrote four of the most impassioned outbursts against the clergy and also against the nobility and the magistracy. Rather than determining the particular writer, the general source or inspiration for those polemical works is easier to detect. Most of the invectives against the privileged orders in 1787–1788 did not come from the literary arsenal of the Patriots and the Third Estate. Vitriol flowed instead from writers sponsored by royal ministers, or in the least from those who supported the royal cause; contemporaries charged certain authors with being publicists for the Crown.40 Denunciations of the first two orders, similar to those in royalist propaganda, appeared in late 1788 in pamphlets supporting the Third Estate; those attacks were somewhat loosened from their earlier attachment to royal authority though still expressing loyalty to the king.41 Abbé Sieyès’ diatribes against the privileged in 1789 bore the stamp of déjà vu. Royalist propagandists consciously manipulated memories and sentiments—resentments against the privileged, but especially fears of disorder as in the past—for the purpose of gaining support for royal authority against its critics.42 In word and act the Crown’s opponents—the supporters of the parlements and especially those in Brittany—expressed similar outrages, denouncing, indicting, trying, and executing ministers in their pages who to them were “traitors.” The medium spread the message, but transmission did not necessarily translate into support and action. The content of the message determined acceptance. The public gave its support to messages that accorded with its own grievances and aspirations, despite the barrage first of royalist propaganda including the journalism of Linguet and Théveneau de Morande, and then of the numerous writings promoting the Aristocratic cause. Nor did the perpetrators of vitriol before 1789 become, all of them, revolutionaries after 1789. Those pamphletary diatribes did not so much bear directly the fruit of future revolutionary violence as they revealed a mental predisposition that was deeply rooted and widespread, and which cannot be identified

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exclusively as Jacobin. Before 1789 political antagonists—royalists and aristocrats first and foremost—tried to arouse feelings that were present and authentic in the minds of many of the French. All sides shared the historical memory of civil wars and of foreign interventions that induced suspicion of dissent as dangerous hostility, and a desire for unanimity that alone ensured tranquility. Those dire lessons of history gave form to a monolithic mentality and found additional reinforcement. The language that the bookseller Hardy used to criticize those whose political views he opposed betrayed the source of that mental disposition and demonstrated the transference of attitude from religious belief to political thinking: criticisms of the Paris parlement, Hardy characterized in June 1787, as “Blasphêmes Politiques.”43 “Blasphême anti-national” was, in the words of Linguet in 1788, the criticism that “a very large number of our politicians” directed against those, such as he, who argued against attributing to the estates-general a share in sovereign authority. Linguet also offered an explanation of this mentality when, some weeks earlier, he criticized the clergy’s opposition to the Crown’s attempt in the May edicts to establish legal uniformity. The clergy and the church prescribed uniformity as the “base” and “invariable rule,” their “first principal” being “the least difference in faith is a crime . . . ; we are familiar since childhood with the idea that perfection consists in unity.”44 That quest for unity in thought and fear of difference seeped into the minds of the French and colored their outlook, whether they were aware of it or not. Political intolerance expressed through harsh polemics was not a creation of the Revolution but antedated it. The demonization of adversaries represented the scars of history and the imprint of religious culture on the politics of the ancien régime—and of the Revolution.

Circulation, Censorship, and Circumvention Pamphlets listed in a library catalogue are artifacts that lack a dynamic and vital quality. It is impossible to know the life of those pamphlets, or their impact upon contemporaries and whether they read or did not read them. We lack sales or subscription lists for pamphlets because they were ephemeral writings, although contemporary sources sometimes indicate the publication or sale numbers of a very few that gained notoriety. How may we gain a sense of what the French read at the outset of the Revolution, and what writings may have exerted influence? Three sources may provide partial guidance. First are the nouvelles à la main, which alone among periodicals could

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write about ephemeral, even clandestine and illegal pamphlets. These newsletters reported what was printed, what printed and even manuscript writings were circulating, what was said about them, and what the journalists thought about them. Newsletters provide little information on the best-sellers of the day, but more about writings that attracted the attention of the nouvellistes and which they brought to the attention of their readers. A second limited source are reports from royal officials in Dauphiné of their frustrating efforts to control the circulation of writings that were arousing public opposition to the government. Third are the censorship records of the government agency controlling the book trade. However rigorous at times, attempts at government repression, seen through the historical record, had ironic countereffects. Nouvelles à la main inform us of books of “great interest,” that is, titles that appeared more than once in periodicals. Of more than 700 references to writings in ten different collections of nouvelles à la main (plus a few periodicals), 105 titles were listed or commented on in more than one of the newsletters, making a total of 280 references. Those works did not include pornography, not even political pornography. Only once did the Mémoires secrets list the perennial Dom B . . . , Portier des Chartreux, reprinted in the more popular “petit format” with a new title, Mémoire de Saturnin, écrits par lui-même, with the comment that its many editions were not sufficient for the demand (2 April 1787). Despite the presence among the works of great interest of many critical writings pronouncing even outrageous political charges, none spewed tales of sexual scandal. Financial misdeeds and political abuses, not sexual immorality, drove the personal attacks and polemics. Of the 280 multiple listings, including three illustrations, one poem, and one song, the compelling majority were political expressions of support for or opposition to one or another view. They provide a mirror and counter-mirror of public opinion in the years 1787–1788. These writings reflect what the public supported, what was in harness with its changing views, but also reflect the public’s interest in what ran counter to the movement of public opinion, perhaps even opprobium for what it opposed. Thus Calonne, one of the three royal ministers who were the most reviled persons in those years, led as the individual most cited among the writings of great interest—thirty-one references to ten different titles (two written by Calonne, the others about him). Those publications, along with the reactions of nouvellistes and letterwriters and reports of the public’s response, reveal the strong division among the French

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between the greater number who condemned Calonne for his financial policies and the few who defended him. Necker, the most adulated person of the day, author of one book that received an award of the Académie Française and of another that was a bestseller,45 received only thirteen citations. Even Mirabeau’s criticisms of Necker’s financial practices, which received relatively strong coverage (twelve references), could not dent the public’s support for him. Lists of titles, whether bestsellers or of great interest, are double-faceted sources that must be set within the context of events of their day to determine whether they indicate what the public was for or what it was against, or what were passing fancies, entertaining to the public or attractive because of a conscious appeal to the dominant political interests of the day. The latter include the Kornmann-Bergasse series of items about the cuckolded Kornmann, nineteen references to five different publications, fourteen penned by Bergasse plus five responses including one from Beaumarchais. A tale of adultery linked to accusations of arbitrary government charged those writings with popularity, transforming voyeurism into political criticism. And while the public’s interest in politics mounted from 1787 through 1789, interest in the Kornmann affair waned by 1789.46 Pamphlet writings had no autonomous or inherent force; they drew their strength from events and the contemporary situation, all the more so if they fitted in with the dominant views of the public. Among the writings cited more than once, sixty-nine listings (including the Calonne-Necker-Mirabeau series plus several others) related to the government’s financial problems: the deficit; who was responsible for it— Calonne or Necker; high taxes; financial misconduct; and projects for financial reform. Explicit political writings dominated the works, totaling 159 citations. In addition, financial writings also conveyed political criticisms, as did melodramatic tales of personal scandal or woe.47 Writings on the estates-general, urging its convocation or supporting one or another form for the meeting, were the most numerous among the political writings (sixty-four), and those supporting the Third Estate’s demands for increased representation and vote by head in the estates-general predominated in the last months of 1788 (twenty-eight). In both cases these numbers reflect exactly the public’s mounting interest in and sympathies for the meeting of the nation’s representatives. Attacks against royal policy and power were second (thirty-five citations), closely followed by their political opposite, royalist writings strongly supporting government policy and royal authority, as well as a few espousing a “popular monarchy” (thirty-two citations).

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The prominence of royalist writings was not the result of public support but of government promotion of their circulation, while the attention given to them in the newsletters indicated hostility or outrage. Lower in the ranks of political writings of great interest in 1787 and until the autumn of 1788 were eighteen defending the parlements’ role, along with four citations of pamphlets criticizing the magistrates and their politics. The number supporting aristocratic demands for equal representation of the three orders and vote by order in the estates-general followed (eleven), plus two citations of a pamphlet attacking the aristocracy. Four citations of works dealing with the provincial assemblies complete this overview of the political writings. Viewed through the periodical press, these titles highlight the major direction and shifts of public opinion, as well as the several currents of divergent and, at times, conflicting views. Newsletters frequently noted public interest and enthusiasm for certain pamphlets (twenty-one titles). At first, the government’s financial practices and the excessive power of royal officials were themes that attracted the most attention.48 By late 1788 writings on the estates-general predominated, among which the public “distinguished,” in the words of a nouvelliste, a handful by Target, Lacretelle, and Cerutti, and those in the collective names of the estates of Dauphiné, the six guilds of Paris, and the inhabitants of the capital (the latter the work of Dr. Guillotin) that advanced the Third Estate’s desires for doubling and vote by head. Even the comte d’Antraigues’s memoir calling for double representation of the Third Estate gained public favor despite his support of vote by order. The nationwide experiment with provincial institutions turned public interest to Turgot’s posthumously printed memorandum of 1776 (written by Dupont de Nemours) urging the establishment of provincial assemblies, and to Brissot’s criticism of the two provincial bodies Necker had established in 1778 and 1779. Jocular writings that mocked ministers, members of the Assembly of Notables, princes, even the king and queen, in particular the play La Cour plénière, gained popularity. The more difficult it was to obtain a work, such as the Code Nationale, the more eagerly the public sought it; forbidden fruit, contemporaries outside but also within the government well knew, intensified desire.49 Public opinion discriminated in its choices. It embraced Necker’s defense of his financial policies and his refutation of responsibility for the deficit, while the initial interest in Calonne’s several defenses of his policies diminished and left unaltered general disapproval. The clergy’s forceful call for an estates-general in a first remonstrance of June 1788 had a strong, positive

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impact upon the public, but a second remonstrance a few days later urging the preservation of the clergy’s tax exemption found few admirers in a nation now overwhelmingly opposed to fiscal privileges.50 Initial interest in a pamphlet could turn to indifference because, a nouvelliste explained, its views were contrary to public opinion. Some important writings evoked little or no interest. The government’s long-awaited published budget for 1788 announcing the end of the deficit very clearly failed to gain public confidence. A history of government finances from 1758 to 1787, which explained the complexities of public finance without fixing blame for the deficit, attributing instead the mounting debt to inflation, also attracted limited attention; the public evidently preferred easy targeting to complex analysis. The pamphlet universally derided was the Mémoire des princes of December 1788. Its attack on the Third Estate, threat to boycott the estatesgeneral, and ominous vision of future danger to property were the rights of the first two orders contested heightened fears for the outcome of the estates-general. In its aftermath the princes lost all public favor, especially Artois, whose efforts in August to replace Loménie de Brienne with Necker had gained him momentary popularity. Responses to that pamphlet revealed a profound change in public perception and sentiment, a deepened division between the aristocracy the princes supported and the Third Estate the public overwhemingly supported.51 In overwrought dispatches, government officials in Dauphiné highlighted other pamphlets they denounced repeatedly as “seditious,” “dangerous,” and “incendiary,” responsible for “fomenting and augmenting fermentation” among the people.52 The nine titles they feverishly cited undoubtedly had considerable circulation in the province to catch the eyes of the intendant and the military commanders. Seven pamphlets were direct responses to events in Dauphiné penned by native writers, three of them attributed to the lawyer Joseph Barnave; two others were re-editions of writings first published during the battle against the Maupeou revolution of the previous decade.53 All but one were rhetorical onslaughts against the government’s suppression of the parlementary court in May 1788. Their distinct arguments composed a chorus demanding the recall of the parlement and asserting the rights of the province to a provincial estates and the nation to an estates-general. La Profession de foi militaire was Dauphiné’s (possibly Barnave’s) contribution to the several appeals to soldiers not to obey military orders but to protect citizens against tyrannical rule.54 The last pamphlet, Idées sur les Etats Généraux, which the intendant and military

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commander denounced in late 1788, claimed full legislative sovereignty for the estates-general in the name of the nation. The audacious arguments in those pamphlets shocked the monarchy’s leading officials in Dauphiné. The overwhelming number of writings of “great interest” were anonymous publications prohibited by law; only forty-six specified an author’s name, ten of them being collective writings from known groups or institutions, such as provincial or municipal bodies, the clergy, peers, and royal princes. Royal officials did not seek out pamphlet writers to punish, stated the nouvelliste in Mettra’s Correspondance littéraire secrète at the height of intense repression of political opposition in the summer of 1788. Instead, the government sought to restrict the writings in three ways. First it attempted to prohibit the circulation of certain writings and to seize copies, acts taken against two of Mirabeau’s pamphlets attacking former or current ministers (Necker and Calonne), and also against Carra’s attack on the former lieutenant general of police, Lenoir.55 Second, it tried to prohibit publicity for other works, such as Mably’s posthumous history of France extolling the role of the estates-general, one of Calonne’s writings defending his policies as controller general, and Le Jurisconsulte national which argued for the nation’s right to consent to taxes.56 And, lastly, the Crown tried to prevent the circulation of writings considered dangerous, which in turn, were then forced into clandestine channels. What dangers, in the eyes of government officials, lurked in those writings? Le Coup manqué, ou le retour de Troyes criticized both the royal ministry and the Paris parlement; amidst the general adulation of the parlement in September 1787, it was the rare voice castigating the magistrates for agreeing to extend the vingtième tax without the consent of an estatesgeneral, that dereliction underscoring the need and right of the nation to consent to taxes. Lettre de Barago à Louis XVI, written in late 1787 in popular argot, also asserted the claim for an estates-general to consent to taxes. Two of Bergasse’s pamphlets were hunted down, not for their defense of Kornmann but one for its attack on the former police chief and the other for its assault on government arbitrariness and its support for an estatesgeneral.57 Monarchical despotism was the charge originally directed against Louis XIV in the 1683 Les Soupirs de la France dans l’Esclavage, resurrected in a 1788 re-edition entitled Les Voeux d’un patriote. So too did d’Antraigues denounce despotism in his call for an estates-general. That the nation, through the agency of the peers of the realm, had the right to convene an estatesgeneral and not await the king’s summons was the argument in Maultrot’s

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republished Dissertation sur le droit de convoquer les états généraux. The Code Nationale’s call to the military to disobey commands to use violence against fellow citizens protesting royal policy directly subverted allegiance to monarchical authority. Parodic writings—La Cour Plénière and the poem “Pot-Pourri”—mocked public figures from royalty to ministers and Notables.58 Such rhetorical onslaughts were not unique, and re-echoed in countless other pamphlets that were undoubtedly beyond the government’s capacity to repress. As forbidden fruit, the minister Malesherbes argued in the Royal Council in late 1788, those writings the government sought to repress acquired greater appeal.59 The censorial net of the government was wider than the titles noted in manuscript newsletters. The reams of pages in the many registers of the Librairie, the government agency that policed writings throughout the kingdom (as distinct from parlementary and local agencies operating within their specific areas of jurisdiction), reveal numerous other works that fell into or through that net—at a minimum, over 450 in 1787 and approximately 560 in 1788.60 Yet government repression proved to be counterproductive or of little effect. Government policing of publications in the ancien régime operated in two ways: censorship of manuscripts submitted for publication, and repression of works published without official permission. Writings the government accepted for publication tended to be uncontroversial and conformist, for they had passed the test of not being against religion, the state, and good morals. Had the French read only books that received government approval, they would be “behind their contemporaries by almost one century,” minister Malesherbes remarked ironically in a memorandum of late 1788 in which he proposed the elimination of government control of publications.61 Given their generally innocuous contents, the “input”—writings submitted for approval—have less historical interest than the “output”— writings published even without approval and which circulated in the ancien régime’s informal, alegal, and sometimes illegal “marketplace of ideas” while evading government control and repression. Although full and formal liberty of the press was never introduced prior to 1789, fewer writings seem to have been repressed during Louis XVI’s reign, beginning in 1774, than during the reign of Louis XV, and even fewer in the 1780s in comparison to the 1770s. Even the tale accusing royal ministers and Mme. de Pompadour of keeping Masers de Latude in prison for thirty-nine years received the government’s tacit permision for publication.62 Perhaps the Crown

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began to recognize the laws of supply and demand in the market for books that its own officials were beginning to express: that efforts to eliminate undesirable writings through purchase of manuscripts only increased supply, while repression of published writings increased demand.63 Two periods were exceptions to this seeming tendency: 1785–1786, the months of the diamond necklace affair; and 1787–1788, when unprecedented political developments initiated with the calling of the Assembly of Notables unleashed the thoughts of the French. Politics prompted and, according to Malesherbes, long-term social developments permitted the outpouring of writings. The greater availability of education and the consequent increase in the “taste for literature,” aided by the “art of printing,” he wrote, created a society in which “there is not a class of people, not a corner in a province, where one does not find some people who have their own way of thought, and who are capable of expressing and supporting it against anyone.” Short writings could easily be printed in France, he added; longer ones were printed in other countries and brought into the kingdom as contraband.64 The registers of the Librairie testify to an increase in efforts of repression beginning in 1787 unique for the reign of Louis XVI, and which intensified from May to September 1788, the period that coincided with the suppression of the sovereign courts and the outburst of opposition with demands for the recall of the courts and the convening of an estates-general.65 That the government did not aim to punish writers, as the Mettra nouvelliste contended, is borne out by documentary evidence. Only three writers were arrested in 1787–1788, all scriveners who did not compose but copied remonstrances of “courts, corporations and communities,” memoirs or speeches of members of provincial estates, pamphlets, and one poem, for which they were sent to the Bastille, where they remained a month, from June to July 1788, at the height of repression.66 A government prohibition against writers distributing manuscript copies of their works was the sole official act directed against authors.67 The object—writings—rather than the person—writer or purveyor—was the main target of government acts of repression: there are 175 notices in the documents of actions taken against writings, in contrast to ninety-five notices of acts directed against individuals.68 The persons and writings targeted varied. Printers were the main victims of repression (forty-one), not all of them small and including official printers for the parlementary courts. Colporteurs or unauthorized booksellers were the targets in seventeen notices; sometimes multiple but unspecified numbers of “gens sans qualité” or “gens vagabonds et sans

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aveu” are referred to. The others reported in the documents were fifteen licensed booksellers; fifteen public officials, including a magistrate in Normandy imprisoned for having sold “prohibited books during the revolution of 1788”69; and four unspecified participants in the book trade. In normal times, counterfeits of authorized publications were often the main writings confiscated; in the unusual period of political effervescence in 1787–1788, counterfeits were the second largest category of confiscated books (twentyfive). Even fewer “bad” or “obscene” books were on the government’s hit lists (eleven), and those included two famous novels of the day, Laclos’ Les Liasons dangereuses and Sterne’s A Sentimental Journey (in French). Explicit political pornography was represented solely by Les Fastes de Louis XV, already several years old. One wonders what was in the cache of obscene books and prints found in August 1788 in the home of the first president of the Parlement of Rouen; or was that charge a cover for what was, to the government, dangerous political material?70 The government’s main literary policing, seen in the greatest number of reports and efforts at surveillance, prohibition, search, and seizure, was directed against political writings on the events and problems of the day, “les affaires du temps” as more than one document characterized them, totalling 116. Officials from the keeper of the seals to local inspectors of the book trade evidently looked with great seriousness upon those pamphlets, brochures, and books that disseminated criticisms of policies, condemnations of ministers, ridicule of government loyalists, projects for reform, historical allusions to contemporary events, and others of undescribed content (eighty-seven), as well as declarations of parlementary courts (twenty) and works on the provincial assemblies (seven).71 Writings on the estatesgeneral, the major issue in the second half of 1788 and which the arrêt du Conseil of 5 July authorized, faced virtually no legal obstacles; these included declarations of municipal, town, and village authorities in support of the Third Estate’s demands for the estates-general. Only one piece written about the national meeting was listed for repression.72 Censorship was largely dissolving by the autumn of 1788, through circumvention and through government decision—decision dictated by the force of public opinion. Serious political debate was reborn with the meeting of the Assembly of Notables in February 1787. Initially the Crown sought to restrict public discussion, even the diffusion of information to the public. On 15 February the government confiscated three pamphlets and closed three shops responsible for their printing because names of members of the Assembly of Notables

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and issues to be discussed had been divulged without authorization; within a month the three printers were permitted to return to their activities.73 As more writings circulated and evaded the policing apparatus, government rigor in effect though not formally began to dissolve; yet moments of heightened crisis brought renewed efforts to tighten censorship. The exile of the Paris parlement to Troyes in August 1787 led on 11 September to the removal of immunity from literary policing of the so-called privileged places in Paris, the most important of which was the Palais-Royal, a center of bookstores in the capital.74 The greatest intensification of censorship in Louis XVI’s reign accompanied the Crown’s suppression of the parlementary courts in May 1788, a policy that endured until the recall of the Paris parlement on 23 September. That effort at literary policing proved countereffective. Inspectors of the book trade and some higher officials in major provincial cities appear increasingly frustrated, even desperate, at their inability to carry out their task in the face of the many acts of evasion, ignoring, and defiance of literary policing by the French. The cries of anguish of some of those government agents resound over time. From provincial cities—Rouen, Nancy, Toulouse, and Nantes in particular—as well as Paris came reports to the director of the book trade of sales of unauthorized books and brochures, including parlementary declarations. The excuse of a printer in Nancy for selling the decrees of various tribunals in Lorraine was that he only did what many other booksellers were doing.75 This practice, which was declared illegal after the royal edicts of 8 May 1788, appears to have been widespread. Necker’s entry into the ministry on 25 August liberalized policy on the book trade (although he ordered rigorous pursuit of counterfeits of his own book), and the recall of the parlementary courts one month later brought an end to the crisis between the Crown and the courts. Illegal printing of prohibited works, including parlementary declarations and writings about the crisis with the parlements, was another major infraction inspectors of the book trade reported, confirming Malesherbes’ comment about the diffusion of illegal printing in the provinces. Inspectors reported or were ordered to investigate the operations of clandestine print shops in Rouen and Laval, in Toulouse and its region, in Soissons and the surrounding area, and in the généralité of Tours; Bergasse’s famous Mémoire on behalf of the cuckolded Kornmann was reported to have been printed clandestinely in Chartres.76 Colporteurs, “vagabonds,” and small merchants, eluding the government’s reach, sold or rented writings in cities and in the countryside. Prohibited

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books from Switzerland and Avignon entered France, and prohibited writings conveyed on wheelbarrows circulated from one city to another in Languedoc. Inspectors in Rouen, Tours, and Dijon lamented their inability to find prohibited pamphlets or to uncover clandestine print shops. Failure to prevent the sale, printing, trade, and distribution of prohibited writings was at times the result of obstacles, noncompliance, or insubordination on the part of other officials. Customs agents, those in the postal service and transport service, and employees of the farmers-general who collected indirect taxes, some inspectors reported, either did not exercise adequate control or connived in illegalities. Sometimes one inspector accused another of inexactitude in performing his duties. The book-trade inspector in Dijon, Cortot, showed excessive “warmth” for the parlement; an arrêt du Conseil on 4 August 1788 ordered his dismissal, which was not carried out, because ten days later the intendant and military commander in Burgundy were still requesting his replacement.77 Far different was the inspector of the book trade in Toulouse, Villeneuve, a particularly zealous agent of the Librairie whose failure was all the more striking. On 25 June 1788 he sent to the Director of the Librairie a self-congratulatory report on the attention and vigilance that he gave to his activities, for which he received on 3 July a bonus of 800 livres for his “good services.” Less than three weeks later, on 22 July, he reported mounting sedition in Toulouse in a tone of desperation, “because he is lame and cannot run away quickly.” By 1 September he announced he was sick, suffering from a stone, and asked permission to go to a spa, permission he did not receive. He remained in Toulouse carrying out routine activities— requesting the municipal government to have regulations of the book trade observed, and ferreting out illegal publications for which he received, on 19 September, another commendation from his superiors in Paris.78 The rich documentation from the province of Dauphiné permits us to read the oft-repeated and pathetic lamentations of the intendant, military commander, and other military officers as they reported the many activities the minister ordered them to control, but which they were unable to do.79 Caze de la Bove, the intendant, and the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre, military commander, warned not only of the spread of “seditious” writings—parlementary remonstrances and decrees, pamphlets distributed under cover of night recounting events or disseminating political messages, deliberations of municipal and rural bodies printed almost immediately and secretly sent from urban areas to the countryside and from villages and burgs to cities—but, with greater

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urgency, of the more grave danger of the spread of those writings to all urban classes and among peasants in the countryside. News flowed into the province from elsewhere, the Dauphinois being informed about events in other provinces—in Besançon, Provence, Burgundy, and especially Brittany. Under the noses of the government’s agents, invitations to unauthorized assemblies were sent out and preparations for them carried out. Efforts by royal representatives to disseminate the king’s message in decrees and pamphlets met with silence or resistance, and aroused distrust; booksellers feared to sell or display royalist writings. The failure of officials to win over the people demonstrated to the residents of Dauphiné and to the king’s men their impotence. They could not discover writers and distributors of writings; they could not prevent the circulation of invitations, pamphlets, and deliberations of local bodies; they could not even assure the most basic acts of royal authority, the posting of royal decrees and the operations—even the appearance for service—of royal agents; nor could they avert the nullification of the king’s will in law by local Dauphinois authorities. Their word and the king’s word were ignored and disobeyed because in many cities and in the countryside most of the inhabitants were won over to the critics of the government. Ordinary people refused to identify writers; writers and distributors were so numerous that punishment of them would be more difficult and dangerous than letting them continue their activities. Most seriously, and these constitute the longest list of laments to the minister from the intendant and military commander, they could not depend on the services of many officials, royal and local. Municipal officers, local judges, even local police refused to carry out the orders of the king’s representatives in the province. Unable to find a public crier of royal decrees, the intendant was prepared to have the military carry out that task; having found someone to do the posting, that person was then ostracized by all others. The clergy was not instructing parishioners to obey the government; some subdelegates, the intendant’s agents in localities, were not performing their duties; even the mouches, government spies, could not be relied on. The intendant reflected once that only through the use of force could royal orders be carried out. But could the military be relied on? The chief military commanders, the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre and the comte de Narbonne, were aware that through writings and talk efforts were being made to politicize the military, whose sympathy and support the Dauphinois sought. “Everything I send in the province, everything I do or write is without force,” Caze de la Bove wrote on 4 July. Some weeks later, on 29 July, the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre

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wrote in despair: “We are deprived of all our resources. Fear of public resentment makes everyone close their mouths.”80 Dauphiné was not a typical province in 1788, neither in its evasions of literary policing nor in its politics. On a lesser scale similar acts were taking place throughout the kingdom. The monarchy clearly had lost control of the word—printed, handwritten, and spoken—as it traveled over space. The “art of printing,” as Malesherbes affirmed in his memoir of 1788, offered great scope for the thoughts of many individuals who communicated rapidly if not instantaneously, as with modern telephones, faxes, and the Internet. The Bourbon monarchy was increasingly enfeebled and ineffective in confronting the outpouring of print. That weakness was not an inherent feature of the monarchy, nor was technology, the medium of print, an autonomous force. The monarchy’s political weakness and the force exerted by print were the results, as so many historians have come to argue in the last decades, of an external power of growing magnitude, public opinion. From within the ministry in late 1788 Malesherbes had the insight and courage, perhaps with a sense of foreboding, to acknowledge (along with Necker) what the king and most other ministers only indirectly accepted by their efforts to propagandize royalist arguments—the force of public opinion: “the judgment of the public, this sovereign judge of judges on the earth.”81 The king’s subjects acquired a degree of liberty, in practice, in the expression of word and thought, whatever the degree of repression; more importantly, with that limited freedom in the use of the medium of print, they acquired control over the message, over the direction that words and thoughts in their multiple forms would take. While the French extended the bounds of freedom of the press through their efforts at evasion, and forced the Crown to recognize that right in practice, the tradition of censorship in the ancien régime was so rooted that parlementary magistrates continued, in the last months of 1788, to order the burning and shredding of writings, royalist and Third Estate, that displeased them. The contradiction between claims to freedom and acts of repression were embedded in the political and legal culture, and was another legacy of the ancien régime to the Revolution.

9 Readers and Reading Sites The Public and the Network of the Printed and Written Media

News and views about government and society—some more restricted, some more ample—were available to the French public at the end of the ancien régime from a number of sources: provincial newspapers, foreign French-language gazettes, journals of opinion, nouvelles à la main, and especially the plethora of pamphlets. But how many French men and women read what the press produced? And who were those readers? The sources do not provide ready answers. Only for a few newspapers do historians have lists of subscribers,1 and only for a few pamphlets is the number printed known. From such sparse evidence one can only surmise, the answers coming in indirect ways and offering an impressionistic image. Street sales of newspapers were not common practice in the eighteenth century. For very few provincial papers are there prices for individual copies.2 Before the birth of the penny street press in the late nineteenth century, newspapers depended on subscriptions. Readers could subscribe at a distance from the place of publication, through bookstores and the postal system. The Courrier de l’Europe informed its readers that they could obtain subscriptions in Paris at the “Bureau-Général des Gazettes étrangères” located at “35 rue du Bout-du Monde,” and in the provinces “in every principal city of the Kingdom” through the “Directeurs de la Poste aux lettres.”3 A parish curé (priest) in an Auvergnat village read “Ouvrages Périodiques” that he most probably obtained through subscription.4 Total readership through subscription at the high end was 5,000 for the Journal de Paris and 11,000 for the Mercure. Provincial newspapers had much more modest subscriptions, 225 to 500 being their threshold of survival. For the fifty affiches and journaux, plus the Affiches de Paris, sub194

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scribers ranged from 11,475 to 25,500; for all the domestic general newspapers (that is, those not specialized), the number of subscribers ranged from a low of 27,475 to a high of 41,500 in the late 1780s. Of the twenty-four foreign, francophone news publications in the years 1787–1788, subscription figures are available only for the four studied here. These ranged from a low of 1,540 for the Courrier de l’Europe in 1788 to 2,850 for the Courrier d’Avignon in 1787, the latter figure jumping to 6,000 in 1789. That number is close to the 6,000 to 7,000 for authorized sales of Linguet’s Annales and the 7,000 for the Gazette de Leyde in 1785. Some foreign newspapers enjoyed a regional preference; though circulating nationally, the Courrier d’Avignon was read especially in the southern provinces, given its proximity.5 For the four foreign francophone papers the range of subscribtions was 17,390 to 21,540. Subscribers to both domestic and foreign newspapers ranged from 44,865 to 63,040 before the Revolution.6 All readers, however, were not subscribers. Linguet’s Annales and the Gazette de Leyde were also sold in pirated editions, bringing the total number sold of the former from 6,000–7,000 to 20,000. A letter-writer to the Journal de Paris in 1788 indicated that he read the paper after “everybody had read it” at the circus where he worked.7 Individuals might join together to share a subscription, or might read the papers of their relatives, friends, or neighbors. Those who were illiterate might hear the news read aloud by a priest or another literate person in the neighborhood. Readers might find newspapers in cafés; the Courrier d’Avignon, Courrier d’Europe, as well as the Gazette de France were available in cafés in Marseille; in Paris, according to a contemporary guidebook, newspapers were “in almost all the cafés.”8 Restif de la Bretonne described one such (fictitious) café: “I entered the Café de Malthe, and there I found the ‘papiers publics,’ among them the poor Journal de Paris, the very Petits Affiches, the big Courrier de l’Europe, the impolitic Mercure, the fawning Gazette de Leyde, and a Feuille d’Artois.”9 Although the English writer Arthur Young expressed chagrin during his travels through France that some provincial cafés did not supply newspapers, as was the custom in English coffee houses, the journalist in the Correspondance littéraire secrète proudly stated in October 1787 that “the taverniers of London do not reason better on politics than do the cabaretiers of Paris.”10 For each subscription, it is generally believed, there were four to six readers. That higher range yields a readership of the domestic press from approximately 110,000 at the low end to approximately 250,000 at the upper

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end, and for the four foreign newspapers the number of readers ranged from about 70,000 to about 130,000.11 The newspaper public was indisputably growing in the second half of the eighteenth century. Of fifty provincial papers published in France, twenty began publication in the 1770s and thirty in the 1780s; among the foreign press all but five of the twenty-four papers began publication after the 1750s. Knowledge of pamphlet readership is much more elusive, since pamphlets were not published or sold by subscription. We know the readership of eight pamphlets sold and the number of multiple editions for eighteen pamphlets printed in 1787–1788, numbers that were neither typical nor average. Nor do the available data preclude other writings among those sought after whose sales and editions are unknown. The 300,000 copies that Tocqueville attributed to Sieyès’ Qu’est-ce que le Tiers Etat?, without indicating his source, seem stratospheric and stretch credulity in comparison to the known best-seller of the day, the 20,000 plus copies of Necker’s Sur le compte rendu au Roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements, and in the absence of exceptional attention in the press to Sieyès’ pamphlet from its publication in January 1789 through the following months.12 Multiple editions, such as Necker’s Nouveaux éclaircissements, Calonne’s Requête au Roi with three authorized editions and also pirated editions, and the frontrunner, the droll La Cour plénière with seven different editions, offer a better sense of the themes that attracted public attention than the fewer and less varied writings sold in the thousands. With the exception of three self-laudatory writings (two by Necker, one by Calonne), and two royalist tirades, the remaining thirteen (out of eighteen) writings enjoying more than one edition either criticized the royal government by demanding the meeting of the estates-general or criticized the aristocracy by supporting the claims of the Third Estate; among the latter, with three editions between January and June 1789, was Sieyès’ Qu’est-ce que le Tiers État?13 The mass of ordinary writings, approximately 1,000, repeated and elaborated similar arguments and demands, their very commonness perhaps giving them collectively greater weight than the few extraordinary successes. Their reiterated discourses, which responded to the concerns of the Crown and the public about serious problems of government, likely contributed to the profoundly changed political expectations of the French in such a short time period. Who the readers were may be inferred to some extent from the prices of periodicals and pamphlets. Their range from cheap to more expensive may indicate a socially differentiated reading public. Newspapers published their

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subscription price.14 These ranged, for eighteen (of fifty-eight) domestic newspapers examined, from 6 livres annually to 30 livres per year for the three Parisian publications that were the most expensive—the Affiches de Paris, the Journal de Paris, and the Mercure de France; one could also subscribe at a lower rate, for three or six months, to the Journal de Paris. More than half of the annual subscriptions cost between 6 and 9 livres.15 Newspapers sent outside their city of origin cost an additional 1 to 3 livres.16 The Journal de l’Orléanois, which cost 9 livres for the year, also sold as individual copies for 3 sous, about half the price of a pinte of wine that workers could buy in a suburban guinguette (tavern) outside Paris.17 Foreign francophone periodicals, with the exception of the Courrier d’Avignon (18 livres for France), were the most expensive, with annual charges from 33 livres for Linget’s Annales to 48 livres tournois for the Courrier de l’Europe. Nouvelles à la main were in a similar high range. The printed edition of Mettra’s Correspondance littéraire secrète cost 36 livres tournois for the year, while the handwritten newsletters that the Norman nobleman received cost 62 livres annually.18 The price of pamphlets was much more moderate. Royalist propaganda was sometimes distributed free, but most of the pamphlets whose prices are known cost from a low of 2 to 6 sous to 3 or 4 livres (60 to 80 sous). While price generally depended on the number of pages of the pamphlet, demand also escalated price, popularity translating into greater expense. Those most sought after rose to 6, 12, or even 18 livres before returning to a lower normal or original price—a Calonne pamphlet rising to 12 livres before dropping to 6 livres, and the royalist La Lettre d’un anglois à Paris jumping to 6 livres (120 sous) from the original price of 36 sous. The more expensive writings—Parisian and foreign periodicals; the sought-after works of Calonne, Necker (48 sous), and Carra (4 livres and 38 sous); even the mocking La Cour Plénière and Latude’s adventures (both 3 livres)—might be affordable to nobles and bourgeois, abbés, and avocats. For urban artisans and tradesmen, and prosperous peasants, their choice might be an issue of a provincial newspaper or a pamphlet of 2, 4, or 6 sous—that price range including such important works as the Mémoire of the princes, Mounier’s account of events in Dauphiné in the turbulent summer of 1788, and d’Antraigue’s popular writing on the estates-general. Petty bourgeois or peasants who regularly gathered to imbibe wine and other drinks in the 80,000 cabarets and cafés throughout France (over 2,000 in eighteenth-century Paris, 100 to 200 in a provincial city, two or three in a rural parish) had growing appetites for news as well as wine, and on occasion

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might buy a paper or a pamphlet. The Parisian glazier Ménétra—literate, political, and sociable—might have been the type to buy all three.19 Articles, letters, and poems published in the newspapers identify the writers, who were evidently also readers of the papers. They included parish priests, doctors, lawyers, provincial and military nobles, members of academies, once even “a cultivator” (perhaps a peasant or other non-noble proprietor), and aristocratic ladies who wrote poems—individuals who constituted the literate and cultured notables characteristic of late ancien régime French society. Advertisements in the provincial press disclose an even broader readership that obtained information, sold wares and services, or responded to those offers: merchants interested in the price of grain or the timetables of coaches or ships; landowners selling or seeking properties; rentiers and notaries seeking or selling loans; officeholders in search of buyers for their posts; tutors and schoolmasters needing pupils, or families of means desiring private instructors; and heads of households seeking able servants, and servants announcing their varied talents in cooking, gardening, reading, arithmetic, and letter-writing. The commercial culture that advertisements fostered highlights the role of bourgeois merchants.20 The classified advertisements (petites annonces) indicate as well the presence of nobles who, as landowners, real estate proprietors, venal officeholders, rentiers, sellers of grain, investors in businesses, and leaseholders of mines, expressed their diverse commercial interests and needs. Aristocrats, bourgeois, and peuple had their respective fare and place in provincial affiches. The public that read and used the services of the local domestic press had the time and the means. French men and women, predominantly of the economic and cultural elite but including “all classes of society” as the Journal de Languedoc wrote in January 1787, became accustomed, even addicted, to reading newspapers. Those who did not subscribe to a newspaper or subscribed to one and wanted to read others, or who did not want to or could not buy all the pamphlets that poured from the presses in 1787–1788, had other opportunities to read diverse printed works. Arthur Young learned that if he could not find newspapers in cafés in provincial cities, they were available in other public places whose number was increasing in the second half of the eighteenth century. In addition to the cafés that offered news along with coffee and other drinks, as may still be found in some cafés in Vienna and Berlin, other institutions had come into existence since the 1750s to service the public’s growing desire to read both books and periodicals. Chambres de lecture, literary or reading societies or book clubs, were the

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first such institutions, established in 1751 in Millau (Rouergue) and in 1759 in Nantes; the latter was known to Young and is the most famous for historians. These were usually collective undertakings of individuals who pooled their financial resources to buy for the group books and periodicals that might be too expensive for a single individual to purchase, and to rent a meeting place. In Nantes by 1788 there were a total of six such chambres, each with a membership of about 100 individuals; the original chambre was composed of 125 “businessmen.” A chambre establied in Rennes in 1775 had a limit of 100 people. The group would meet usually six days a week from about 8 or 9 a.m. to 1 p.m., and 2 p.m. to 8 p.m., in a room or apartment in which they had heat and light (candles) as well as reading material. The original Nantes chambre offered many gazettes and periodicals, and an even greater number of contemporary pamphlets. The choice of periodicals in the chambre in Rennes ranged from Linguet’s Annales to the printed newsletters of the Mémoires secrets. While chambres de lecture were not sites for public readings of original literary works, as salons sometimes were, they did serve as places for informal conversation, lectures and, in Nantes, even for the reading and discussion of new pamphlets. In short they were “clubs” (a word the French borrowed from the English) and general cultural centers, which drew into their activities more of the public than did the more closed and elite circles of salon society.21 Historian Paul Benhamou uncovered the existence of thirty-five or thirty-eight chambres de lecture in provincial cities, and quotes from two provincial newspapers in 1784 and 1787 that “all” or “almost all” cities in France had such societies composed of citizens of all orders.22 Though the social recruitment of the chambres was broader than that of salons, fees necessarily limited membership. An entrance fee of 3 livres as well as an annual fee of 24 livres for the chambre de lecture in Nantes, as an example, was almost the equivalent of a subscription to a Parisian journal or foreign gazette. Hence the members, like the subscribers, were drawn from the social and cultural notables of urban society ranging from nobles to bourgeois. In Nantes these included businessmen, some clergy, and municipal officials. Even in the exclusive society of Rennes, members of their more expensive chambre were recruited from among “the nobility, parlement, clergy, bar, medicine, and commerce.” In Brittany at least, perhaps in other provinces as well, the example of chambres in large cities radiated to small urban centers in which local chambres were established.23 Although these literary societies could not engage in political discussions, according to the terms of their royal authorization, the

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evidence for Brittany—and this must have been true as well in many other parts of France—shows that politics became the order of the day, certainly in 1788. A chambre de lecture was open only to members, whereas cabinets de lecture were open to the general public. These were entrepreneurial undertakings usually by those in the book trade—owners of bookshops, printshops, or binderies—“to supplement their book trade with what might be called the reading trade,” but sometimes opened by “bureaux of writers,” even a “merchant of mustard,” who realized the additional money they could earn in catering to the reading needs and tastes of the public.24 Bookstore owners opened a room, usually attached to the bookstore, while others rented rooms, and there they provided the books and periodicals as well as the heat and candlelight for people who came to read. Readers could borrow books or even pages of publications to take home to read, or have them delivered to their home, although newspapers usually had to be read in place. Hardy’s bookstore on the rue Saint-Jacques in Paris must have had one of those reading rooms; his massive register of news must have been composed for readers who came to his bookshop and whom he addressed in his newsletters. The publisher of the Journal de Marseille generously permitted the public to read the entire collection of his newspaper in his office for free.25 Benhamou has located from documents nine cabinets de lecture in Paris and another forty-four in thirty provincial cities, the earliest of those dating to 1760–1762 and established in Lyon, Paris (two of them), and Besançon.26 Success was not always assured; Limoges was one city where, despite the existence of a local paper and three announcements of the opening of a cabinet, none came into existence.27 Those who made use of a cabinet also had to pay a fee that was somewhat lower than the fees of the chambres de lecture. The greater flexibility in the fee schedule of cabinets would have permitted a more diverse and popular public to enter and read. One could choose an annual fee, from a low of 12 livres in Angers to an average of between 18 and 24 livres, the highest in Lyon being 36 livres. At the cabinet of Grangé in Paris a reader might choose either to pay 36 livres to read both books and periodicals, or 18 livres for books or periodicals. For a lower fee and for a shorter period one had the right to use the reading room for six months for a fee usually of 15 livres, while at Grangé a double subscription of 6 months cost 24 livres and a single subscription 12 livres. Still lower was a monthly fee, generally 3 livres but in Lille only 30 sous (1 livre 10 sous); Grangé in Paris charged a monthly fee of 6 livres for both books and peri-

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odicals or 3 livres for one or the other. For 2, 4, or 6 sous even a worker might on occasion be able to spend an entire day in a reading room, or for only 1 sous choose to read a single newspaper.28 The 1780s saw still another choice available to a more limited public of the Parisian elite—the appearance of what were commonly known as clubs, but were also called societies or salons. The guidebook Le Voyageur à Paris of 1789 listed the “Club, or Salon des Arts,” the “Club or Société de Salon,” and the “Société Olympique”; the most famous was known both as the Lycée français and the Musée de Monsieur, for its patron was Monsieur, the comte de Provence, the king’s brother. The clientele of these clubs was highly selective. Current members chose and voted to admit new members, and the fees were steep—72 livres annually for the Salon des Arts, 96 livres for the Lycée, and 120 livres for the Sociéte de salon; for the Société Olympique members had to be Masons. The Lycée also welcomed female members.29 Louis Sebastien Mercier, so vivid a painter in words of Parisian society, greatly admired the “new fashion” of what he called a “circle” or “small societies.” In 1788 he depicted a model “circle”: half the members represented high social rank (a military officer, a count, a financier, a prelate, a member of an Academy, an abbé, a prior, as well as female members, a baronne and the widow of a president presumably of a sovereign court) and the others represented the professions (a teacher [instituteur] and a medical doctor) plus three men and four women with no identities.30 In addition to other social activities, these clubs all offered to their members reading material, including newspapers; the Salon des Arts even specified that the “papers, . . . books and maps” they made available were “necessary for the understanding of political news, and whose collection would be increased as circumstance demanded.” Although the Lycée’s renown was for its courses of instruction taught by the most famous scientists, scholars, and writers of the day, it also had a reading collection available to those who paid a fee comparable to that of the cabinets de lecture—24 livres per year, 15 livres for six months, 9 livres for three months, and 4 livres 4 sous for one month.31 In August 1787 the government closed down all the clubs except the Lycée even though, wrote the Gazette de Leyde, they “were composed of all the most distinguished in banking, finance, the magistracy, and the arts.” The less prestigious cabinets and chambres de lecture seem not to have been touched. Fearing the clubs as “political haunts,” the order was renewed in October.32 Provinces too had their societies or clubs. Historian Daniel Mornet lists at least ten such groups whose members included thirty-five “bourgeois,

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functionaries, judges, manufacturers, and businessmen” in Castres; forty ecclesiastics, bourgeois, ship captains, lawyers, doctors, and “chevaliers” in Saint-Antonin; and more than one hundred lawyers, businessmen, municipal officials, clergy, notaries, and écuyers (squires) in Agen. Women were also members of the Société patriotique bretonne in Rennes. They had formed these societies to be able to subscribe to periodicals, and to read and discuss the news. The founding document for the society in Castres stated that it would contain “the diverse political and literary periodicals in order to keep up with the news,” and similarly the statutes of the society in Agen specified its object was to provide “the means to become instructed . . . and to reason . . . on the affairs of Europe by reading the best political and literary journals.” In Nice a casino was established and provided newspapers to read. A few of these societies, originating as literary groups, became engaged in political discussions and even activities; the Agen literary society came to be called la Politique, and similarly in Castres the literary society established in 1782 became, during the Revolution, a Société populaire. In May and June of 1788, when the parlementary courts were closed, one of the clubs in Mans, perhaps too politically engaged, was suppressed. Also suppressed at that time were the “chambres littéraires, clubs, or chambres de lecture . . . in all the cities” of Brittany, for fear that they were gathering places for the mounting opposition in the province.33 In a few cities that had neither chambres, cabinets, or sociétés, libraries filled the vacuum. In Limoges, books could be borrowed from private collections, and one such library of a nobleman included pamphlets of 1787–1788, those of Necker and Calonne, for example, while the provincial academies in Rouen and in Châlons-sur-Marne opened libraries to the public, including their periodical collections.34 For Parisians, particularly those low in the social scale, gazetiers were the easiest and cheapest resource for obtaining newspapers. The equivalent of kiosks or newspaper stands of today, these were news vendors who sold “journals, gazettes, and . . . periodicals” for 1 or 2 sous per paper, and who were located, according to the 1789 Le Voyageur à Paris, in several places in the capital—the quai des Augustins, Palais-Royal, Tuileries, Saint-Roch—as well as “in almost all the cafés.”35 Similar practices may have existed in provincial cities, since the price of a single newspaper is known for the Journal of Orléans and Rouen, and the Affiches in Bourges. In addition, colporteurs in cities (120 were authorized for Paris alone) sold official declarations, authorized publications, and unauthorized illegal writings “from under their cloak.” Colporteurs, as

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well as ambulatory booksellers, also roamed the countryside selling small books, almanacs, official writings, even illustrations and sometimes periodicals. Individuals engaged in other trades—“a host of merchants, grocers, drapers, rope-makers”—also sold books, sometimes periodicals, not only in cities but also in the countryside at fairs, at markets, on streets and roads, and at the doors of châteaux. That rural readership was predominately composed of provincial nobles, bourgeois professionals, and ecclesiastics, and relatively few peasants; as one historian who has studied rural readership concluded, “if reading on the farm remained limited, it was perhaps more important than has been believed.”36 In sum, a network of distribution and transmission, especially in urban areas, provided access for the public to varied writings, pamphlets, and periodicals. That network primarily serviced the cultured and social elite; to a lesser extent and at less frequent intervals the urban tradesmen, artisans, and workers; and on occasion peasants.37 The available documentation makes it possible to reconstitute the periodicals or books that a French man or woman might have obtained from a gazetier or in the library of the Lycée in the year 1788, as well as the selection available at one Parisian cabinet de lecture from 1781 through 1788. A Parisian who frequented one of the several gazetiers in the city had a choice of twenty-one periodicals (Parisian, provincial, and foreign), among them several included in this study: Journal de Paris, Affiches de Paris, Mercure, Feuille hebdomadaire de Limoges, Courrier de l’Europe, and Courrier d’Avignon. The cabinet de lecture of the bookstore owner Le Jay, begun in 1781 and operating at least until 1793, was open to readers every day except Sundays and holidays from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., and 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. The catalogue Le Jay published in 1787 claimed his cabinet had increased its collection to 20,000 volumes. Twenty-five periodicals were available (as listed in the catalogue of 1785), including Linguet’s Annales politiques, the Gazette de Leyde, and two English newspapers. Le Jay’s catalogue, approved by a government censor and published with the permission of the director of the book trade, listed some titles or authors the government otherwise prohibited: Les Bijoux indiscrets, two libels on Louis XV (Les Fastes de Louis XV and Aux Mânes de Louis XV), and Mercier’s L’An 2440; the last two were listed not under the disguise of “livres philosophiques” but unambiguously under the heading “Criticism, Satire, Humor.”38 Le Jay’s offerings also included the writings of philosophes—the complete works of Montesquieu, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot, as well as publications of Mably, Raynal, even

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Helvétius. Almost totally absent in the catalogue (perhaps hidden in the shelves?) were brochures on events of the day, with the exception of Latude’s adventures and, by indirect extension, two histories of France at a time the French were perusing their history as guides for the estates-general.39 The Lycée offered sixteen periodicals, but was infinitely richer in contemporary publications bearing on issues of government and politics. Its holdings attested to the interests of those who paid the library fee in problems and events of the day: government taxation with writings of the marquis de Mirabeau, Linguet on a tax in kind, the apologias of Calonne and Necker, and the government’s published budgets; the burden of seigneurial fees; the meeting of the Assembly of Notables and writings inspired by its convening; and the lit de justice of 8 May 1788 which suppressed the parlementary courts. Readers enticed by scandal also found at the Lycée Latude’s adventures and the Kornmann-Bergasse-Beaumarchais diatribes. Scandal might have been the appeal of the three-volume Collection of Memoirs on the Celebrated Diamond Necklace Affair, consisting of legal memoirs recounting the incredulous role of the cardinal de Rohan and the culpability of Mme. de Lamotte (the queen rarely mentioned as a guilty party). For the minimum fee of 4 livres 4 sous (84 sous), a reader could immerse himself or herself for one month in the politics and polemics of the day—a possibility nevertheless out of reach of a well-paid skilled worker, for whom that amount of money might have represented two days of wages. The desire of the French public for news, newspapers, and reading places was likely greater than the above practices and institutions indicate, or that historians have so far uncovered. Documents in the office of the book trade reveal the existence of a few additional cabinets de lecture in provincial cities. More interestingly, those sources demonstrate that the demand was greater than what the government was willing to concede; in other words, the government rejected or took no action on a number of requests for permisssion to publish newssheets or to open cabinets de lecture. In 1788 two cabinets littéraires were operating in Paimboeuf and in Nancy; the latter was closed from July to September 1788 because the owner of the bookstore, Dominique Bonteux, had provided to the readers of his cabinet the remonstrances of “several tribunals in the province” protesting the suppression of the parlementary courts, a practice he believed was not illegal since those writings were circulating “freely in the public.”40 Permission was further granted for the establishment of two new cabinets littéraires in Epinal and in Paris; the latter, run by a “Mademoiselle Le Brun” in her living quarters in

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the Hôtel de Mouchy on the rue Dauphine, would provide for readers “every day from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m., papiers publics, gazettes, journals, both French and foreign, sheet music, prints, maps and other articles of the same genres.” An announcement in the Journal de Paris of the opening of Mademoiselle Le Brun’s new cabinet listed a total of fifty-eight periodicals available to readers, of which thirty-seven were news publications, including twenty-four provincial newspapers and seven foreign gazettes.41 Greater in number than the requests for new reading places in those years were the requests for the publication of new periodicals, of a general character or focused on the provincial assemblies. Sixteen in all were requested, of which only two received permission, ten were rejected, and the remaining four were either refused or not acted upon.42 The interest of the public, particularly in Paris, in reading about events of the day and their awareness of what was happening is found in contemporary writings other than nouvelles à la main and government documents. One writer, anticipating the concept of a “reading revolution,” viewed the public as composed of both intensive and extensive readers: There is a philosophic public, which limits itself to read and study only five or six writers of each nation. . . . There is a literary public that is satisfied with innumerable heaps of periodicals, ephemeral brochures, verses of all types, which amuse one moment . . . and . . . are replaced by others that have the same merit of joining pleasure to novelty.43

In the heat of the political developments of 1787–1788, we may well believe that these two groups overlapped, intensive readers also becoming extensive readers. A contemporary fictive account has an imaginary colporteur identify the “enlightened class” as composed “of nobles, ecclesiastics, financiers, rentiers, barristers [avocats], attorneys [procureurs], court officers [huissiers].” Those words describe a traditional cultural and political elite grouping the clerical and noble orders and the wealthy, leisured, and professional groups of the upper and middle bourgeoisie. A letter published in the Journal de Paris in 1788 described the reading public as extending from the elite to popular classes: “today everyone reads, duchesses, seamstresses. Everyone begins with novels, and everyone goes or will go all the way to works of administration and legislation. I saw, and this is a fact, a lackey lend to another lackey the Mémoire of M. de C[alonne] and the Response of M. N[ecker]. He read them and judged them in his own way.” More than once in his depiction of contemporary Paris did Mercier write of individuals

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and groups in all classes and of all ages reading newspapers and brochures, even renting by the hour pages of books to learn the latest political news as they sat in parks and cafés and on the quays, or stood in bookshops. The bookseller and publisher Nicolas Ruault, in letters to his brother, evoked the political sentiments of the Parisian people—favorable to Necker and the parlement, critical of the queen, and clamoring for an estates-general. Residing in early 1789 in the Vaugirard district of Paris, the writer and pioneer feminist Olympe de Gouges also saw a thirst for knowledge among those low in the social hierarchy—lackeys, tailors, and greengrocers.44 She must have known as well that some women, in addition to herself, were also engaged members of this politicized public. The marquis de Bombelles wrote sarcastically in his diary of women, undoubtedly aristocratic ladies, reading about the history of France and absorbed in current politics: “Women have their dressers filled with edicts and regulations; a 16-year-old leaves her novel reading to search, in the pages of a history of France, the passages marked by the one she loves; she reads it, she comments on what was, what is, and what should be royal authority.”45 The few diaries and letters that have survived over the centuries, written by individuals neither in the highest rungs of society nor close to the centers of power, offer additional testimony of the personal experiences of those living in the provinces. Félix Faulcon, a lawyer in the présidial court in Poiters (and future Constituent) in his correspondence with friends and relatives; the successful young Parisian lawyer Godard in his letters to his cousin, a royal official in Dijon; the abbé Duret, professor in a seminary in Lyon in the privacy of his diary; and Pierre Bernadau in his journal chronicling life in Bordeaux, were all absorbed in the events of 1787–1788. They, their friends, and relatives, as well as others in their cities and provinces whom they refer to, were aware of the several problems of the day and the occurrences in other areas of the country near and far; they read newspapers, informed each other about recent pamphlets and the declarations of parlementary courts and other tribunals, described the sentiments of different groups in the public, and revealed the communication practices that linked place to place. They voiced criticism, approval, or disappointment of government policies, current or former ministers, and decisions by local officials, sovereign court judges, and the king; and affirmed their own preferences. Bernadau’s references to pamphlets are particularly interesting since they were local creations dealing with issues bearing on the city of Bordeaux and the province of Guyenne. These diaries and letters from which

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newspapers had originated, continued to serve as a medium and extended the range of reporting through the private transmission of news and expression of views within intimate social circles. As a friend of Faulcon wrote at the conclusion of a letter: “Well here we are, while dabbling in politics my sheet of paper is filled” (“Enfin, pourtant, voilà, tout en politiquant, ma feuille pleine”).46 Correspondence and personal reflections, by which one conversed with friends at a distance and with oneself, represent a midpoint between the printed word and the spoken word, and shed close light on the public talk circulating around the letterwriters and diarists.

10 The Verbal, the Visual, and the Festive

Songs, Verse, and Talk Les voix de ville, the voices of the city, is the term that became, with a very different meaning over time, vaudeville.1 The voices of the city included the street-criers who “published” with their speech the news and laws the government wanted to make known, and which city-dwellers, even if they could not read, could hear. The voices of the city then spread their views de la bouche à l’oreille (by the mouth to the ear) through poems, songs, and doggerels, on posters and in broadsheets, and in talk and gossip to those who read and did not read: Let this refrain from mouth to mouth Fly, and be sung a thousand times2

When city voices were distant and words were printed, peddlers carried the songs and poems from urban centers to provincial fairs, sometimes even singing songs then current. These several voices bridged the divide between print and talk, between the literate and the illiterate at a time when street life was vibrant and substituted for radio, television, and the Internet as a network of communication.3 Long before the French Revolution, as early as the sixteenth century when printing aided their dissemination, and even earlier with the fabliaux of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, the French had become accustomed to comment on events of their time in verse and prose, set to music or as “bad talk.” “There is no country in the world,” commented a foreign resident in Paris, “where they seize on events more quickly than in Paris to sing, describe, illustrate and parody them. . . . The rage for novelty pays good 208

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money.”4 Sometimes “bad words” were written or printed, simple or sophisticated creations; sometimes they were oral contributions of unknown individuals, one verse added to another, transmitted and circulating orally before being set down in print—and ultimately known to historians because they had been transmuted into fixed print. The short form of some of them, the rhyme of verse and jingle, the familiar tunes to which poems were set, were mnemonic devices that facilitated their diffusion and assimilation, making them as popular a mode of expression that one may find. These partly print, heavily oral forms of expression were as mirrors reflecting partisanship and expressing heightened emotions in responding to the problems that royal policy and action posed to the French public—or rather to segments of that public. Wit, sarcasm, innuendo, invective, and outrage substituted for the reasoned critique found in many if not all pamphlets. Devoid of analysis but replete with opinion and emotion, whether in sophisticated form or raw, they were, second to action, responses to experience or, more exactly, expressions of the perception of that experience. Spoken, sung, or whispered by one person to another before they were put into print, these sayings may have circulated more easily than printed newspapers or pamphlets. Precisely because their first life was pre-print, documentation of their dissemination is rare or impressionistic; to judge their impact on contemporaries is even more difficult. Newsletters reported that placards were posted, calumnies and jokes circulated, and verses gained publicity. Even before the Assembly of Notables met, a nouvelliste reported sales of “satires, pasquinades and prints critical of the Assembly . . . with plays on words and names.”5 Memory was the means often employed to avoid government detection and suppression, a handy vehicle for people whose education and religious training were based on memorization of knowledge and belief.6 Public singers made their songs and those of others known to passersby on the streets. In Paris they congregated on the Pont Neuf, the quays, and the Palais-Royal, while ambulatory singers roamed across streets and into parks and cafés, as described in the song “Le Chansonnier des rues”: Let us wander round the capital, Singing merry lays, Beginning in the marketplace We finish at the quays.7

Verse and prose writings, whether handwritten or in print, were essential links in the chain of transmission; many contemporaries knew of these

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sayings, as historians now know them, because they were, at some point, put into print. A clergyman included in a letter to a friend a copy of a song composed by an acquaintance in reaction to a parlementary declaration, while an unknown person in Dijon collected over a number of years verses about both local and national events (even as I, sitting at my computer in New York, collect via e-mail the poems sent to me by a friend in Los Angeles who versifies on the news articles he reads in his daily paper).8 Merchants, ambulatory or in shops, sold printed songsheets; one contemporary songsheet publicized the name of the print shop where the song could be obtained— “chez Coulubrier, Graveur, passage de St. Germain l’Auxerrois.”9 Little songbooks, sheets of rough white or blue paper four pages or more and costing only 6 deniers or 1 sols, contained verses but often no musical notations, only the name of the “air” to which the song was sung and with which buyers were evidently familiar; though most songs in those books were of love, events of interest to the public were also transmuted into song. The low price of songsheets or songbooks permitted their diffusion across the spectrum of social groups.10 The nouvelles à la main, especially the Parisian bookseller Hardy’s journal and the Mémoires secrets, transcribed about onequarter of the known verses and songs of 1787–1788. One bookseller proposed printing a “Complete Collection” of “all the puns, witticisms, sarcasms and puzzles, all the wisecracks, buffoonery, caricatures . . . and jokes” that appeared since the convening of the Assembly of Notables, but unfortunately for historians there is no trace of that project. Songs, verses, and sayings on posters commenting on political events, found in contemporary newsletters and manuscripts and in later printed collections, numbered over 60 in 1787 and over 90 in 1788. This is far fewer than the steady stream of sentimental poems on the love of a mother for her child, of a child’s love for a mother, and of love gained and lost between men and women that were printed in periodicals of poetry such as the Almanachs des muses in the same years; and far fewer too than the political pamphlets of those years (219 and 821, respectively). However few in number, political songs and verses offer a sense of what some of the French thought and felt as they confronted problems of government; beyond the historian’s grasp are the many calumnies, jokes, and posters not copied or preserved, lost from the historical record or perhaps still hidden in unknown places. For a handful of these poems the authors may be fleshed out. Twelve names can be identified—either printed on sheets of music or verse, written in newsletters or private correspondence, or made known through later

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scholarship. Some authors appear to have been commissioned for their work, such as the poet-panegyrist whose verse extolled the virtue, foresight, and wisdom of Louis XVI in convening the Assembly of Notables. Suspicion of that poem being a subsidized work of propaganda brought criticism on its author, Echouchard Le Brun, a noted poet of the day. Marie Joseph Chenier, brother of André, in contrast voiced deeply felt hopes that the work of the Assembly would end unjust policies, authorize toleration for Protestants, and abolish venality and serfdom. These two and three others were known professional writers. The acerbic and polemical “Satyr sur le Grand Mogol” is attributed to Camille Desmoulins,11 while Champcenetz, a poet known in his time, penned the widely diffused set of satirical verses “Pot-Pourri sur l’Assemblée des Notables.”12 Different in tone was the poem of a writer known for the poissard style, whose use of an argot (slang) associated with the marketpeople of Paris gave popular coloring to praise of the king and Necker, and criticism of the second Assembly of Notables and the privileged. In addition to these professional writers, literate Frenchmen, some named but not all known, were moved by events of the day to express their thoughts and sentiments in verse. A clergyman in Troyes exulted upon learning of the meeting of the Notables, while a Parisian set in verse his skepticism of the newly summoned Assembly. Some months later an unnamed “partisan” of Calonne expressed in numerous couplets his strong feeling against the minister’s clerical and noble opponents; shortly afterwards, a versifier of opposite views wrote joyfully of the return from exile of the Paris parlement. A military officer was praised to posterity in verse after he had prevented a battle beween the royal soldiers and the Bretons of Rennes who protested the suppression of their parlementary court in 1788. Two versifiers, each characterizing himself as “Patriote,” denounced Loménie de Brienne following his ouster as minister and extolled Necker who replaced him. At the same time a “M. de Coujon” in Bayeux, upon hearing of that change in ministry while at a dinner party, composed a poem in praise of Necker and the king that the provincial paper later published. A friend of a clergyman expressed his outrage at the opposition of the Besançon parlement to doubling of Third Estate representation in a song written the very day he heard that news, while the clergyman composed an “Ode” to the estates-general that he read before the provincial academy. In Marseille several poems, one of them clandestinely distributed in cafés and public places, criticized the mayor, a nobleman, for his opposition at the second Assembly

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of Notables to doubling of Third Estate representatives for the estatesgeneral. On a somber note, a Lyonnais appealed to the king for aid with a lament on the fiscal burden of peasants and the plight of unemployed weavers of his city, composed first in patois and then in French. In Champagne teenagers also versified. Students in a class on rhetoric lauded their mayor for his service in the Assembly of Notables, and the son of a cutler was said to be the author of two poems, one deploring a grand bailliage court that assumed the functions of the suppressed parlement and the other honoring the parlement on its return. Even someone with an evidently limited education was moved to versify in incorrect French, posting on the door of a cloister in Paris what Hardy characterized as an “abominable” poem against the king and queen.13 Audiences in the theaters of Paris were long known for being vociferous in their outspoken judgments, their sounds of approval, and, at times, their silent disapprobation demonstrating their strong political sentiments. They applauded and obliged actors to repeat verses excoriating tyrants remote in time from their day, which by analogy tapped into their feelings about events in 1787–1788. Crowds flocked to Beaumarchais’ “Tarare” in mid1787 for its story of a tyrant punished, and Parisian marketwomen gathered before its author’s home to acclaim him raucously. At another play presented a few days after the closing of the Paris parlement in 1788 the audience, with applause and shouts, demanded that the actor repeat verses that expressed their feelings about recent events: The tyrant’s plan is everywhere well proven, See this palace that the guards surround, Accomplices of schemes that have been woven Where exile, terror, punishment abound.”14

Those attending the play “Antigone” even applauded an invocation of silence upon hearing the words: “When the people are silent, they condemn their kings.” Another time theatergoers stopped the performance of a play whose words lauded the sword (i.e., military) nobility over the robe (i.e., magistrates) at precisely the moment, in mid-1788, when troops had forced magistrates into exile. On one occasion an individual displayed a banner in a theater with words denouncing the queen. That raucous or sullen Parisian theater public was socially heterogeneous in composition. Seated in the best loges were nobles from military and judicial ranks, financiers, businessmen, and men of law. Standing in the parterre

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and leading the outbursts were rambunctious young noblemen, military officers, and students, along with those from among the peuple—merchants, artisans, clerks, even apprentices and domestics—whose presence in the audience increased in the 1770s and 1780s.15 Beyond the theaters, on the streets of Paris, verses and prose sayings were displayed on banners affixed to windows, gates, or corners of buildings, and on trees along a road leading from the city. In the provinces theater audiences, also composed of nobles, bourgeois, and popular classes as the example of Bordeaux attested, acted similarly. Versifiers rose to orate a poem in honor of a renowned magistrate, or to acclaim the nobles and people of Dauphiné, Brittany, and Béarn who actively opposed royal policy. At other times the audience asked actors to sing praises of the king as signs of their support of royal policies. In the second half of 1788 the theater public in Bordeaux repeatedly interrupted plays to vent their political feelings, applauding references to Henri IV that signified either criticism or approval of Louis XVI depending on the moment and the event, and projecting onto the stage figure of Sully, Henri IV’s honored minister, their joy on the reappointment of Necker as minister. A one-act play including songs, performed in the theater of Toulouse, wove onto a typical village pastoral the celebration of the return of the parlement in October 1788, marked by the promise of a good harvest and the joyful marriage of two young villagers.16 Through the sentiments heard in dramatic verse, the imaginative world of the theater offered the stage setting for diverse social groups from varied regions to manifest or contest political views. Upon entering the theater, spectators brought with them political sentiments formed outside. That public then performed as an alternative group of actors, imposing on the words, songs, and personnages of plays their own interpretations that were extraneous to the original text but which events of their own day infused into their thoughts. In the applause and shouts of audiences, plays escaped the control of playwrights and performers to become an additional arm of public opinion. The public, not the play, was the political agent, and the politics of their day incited audiences to become actors.17 Professional songwriters, who for centuries had composed rhymes about actions the French had taken and the problems they experienced, appear fleetingly and indistinctly in the historical record. Only the first letters of two names figure on a songsheet celebrating Necker’s return. Two singers, Hardy reported, performed near the Palais de justice, singing words of gratitude for

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the Paris parlement’s return from exile in September 1787, the public then rushing to buy copies of the song;18 the music for their verses was from the then popular opera “Tarare” that Salieri composed to a libretto by Beaumarchais. Earlier that year, the latter’s “Le Mariage de Figaro” provided the tune, well-known by then, for a poet’s joyful welcome to the Notables and praise of the king. The two melodies from “Tarare” and “Figaro” accompanied other verses as well. Nine poems set to music commenting on the events of 1787–1788 included musical notes; each was sung to a single tune. The poem most frequently mentioned in newsletters, “Pot-Pourri sur l’Assemblée des Notables,” used thirteen different melodies for its several verses. The two verses of the “Pot-Pourri” identified with the king and the queen were both sung to the music of “Marlbrough,” a melody dating to the time of the Crusades, familiar since the sixteenth century and more popular in the eighteenth century, especially in the 1780s when it was sung in plays at the Paris fairs and by Chérubin in Beaumarchais’ “Figaro”; its refrain still reechoes in the children’s song “The Bear Went Over the Mountain” and the drinking song “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”19 Well-known melodies borrowed for new verses facilitated their diffusion. Yet those same familiar melodies, most of them simple, gay, and lively tunes, lacked the musical force to express the range of emotions—adulatory, ironical, and polemical—conveyed through the words. The lilting melody for the song “Les Malheurs du temps” does not capture the mood of sadness and anger expressed in the verses; nor is the same tune in harmony with the words in “Complainte sur l’Assemblée des Notables,” which excoriate the Notables, the clergy, and Calonne (the last stanza lauding the king). Traditional and popular music not expressly composed for the accompanying lyrics did not have the power to stir the passions where words carried harsh messages, or to evoke the different sentiments that words expressed. While old tunes helped familiarize the French to new lyrics, the political message transmitted through song depended on the verse to have an emotional effect upon those who sang or heard the songs, the primacy of words being in the French musical tradition.20 The texts of verses, songs, and sayings highlight differences in thought and mood from those found in pamphlet and periodical writings. Rarely did they simply report events, whether favorable or unfavorable. Only one or two enunciated political ideas, but many conveyed views and moods, and many rumors. Verse, musical expression, and posted sayings gave voice to elemental, strong feelings. Some were adulatory, a few were clearly works of

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propaganda; most attacked with biting wit through irony or satire, or in virulent polemics. Satirical songs were a tradition in France, especially as comment on current events, and circulated among elites and peuple alike.21 While the Paris area provided the largest number of verses and songs (100 or more), the output in the provinces rose (forty-six) as events heated up in 1788. Easily disseminated because they were printed by hand or press on few or single sheets, retained by memory and often conveyed orally (hence more difficult for the government to censor or control), songs, poems, and sayings were the preeminent vehicle for taunts, disparagements, and diatribes aimed at producing sneers, not tears as in the theater and opera of the time. Verse by its nature expresses concrete imagery. So poems, songs, even prose sayings used persons as their prime subject and object. Some individuals or groups were venerated—the Notables in 1787, even the controller general Calonne, the Parisian magistrate d’Eprémesnil, the Third Estate by the end of 1788, and in the lead the king, Necker, and parlementary magistrates. In reverse, the same and others were also assailed: the clergy, Notables, nobles, magistrates, courtiers and royal princes, Calonne, and, in the lead in 1788, Loménie de Brienne and Lamoignon, along with the queen and the king. Most poems had a single voice, expressing praise or criticism of a single group or individual; others were multivocal, the text pairing admiration of some individuals or groups with opprobrium for others. Few poems defended royal policies; one poet-propagandist combined the rhetoric of irony—often employed against the Crown—and of class warfare—often employed by royalist writers—to berate parlementary magistrates and extol the May edicts. Political combat through verse took place with equal force at the national and local levels. In Champagne, in the town of Chaumont-enBassigny, twenty-four poems with their musicial accompaniments—a local lawyer accused as the author—heatedly attacked the few judges of secondary courts who agreed to serve on the grand bailliage court which had assumed many functions of the suppressed parlement. Those poems sprang back to life in 1789 as campaign literature against those same judges who sought election to the estates-general and who denounced the verses as defamatory, demanding that the parlement suppress them.22 Politics reduced to individual personalities, lauding some but more often vilifying opponents, distinguished poems, songs, and sayings among the many writings. In their audacity, at times ferocity, these written and spoken words may be characterized as liminal, on the threshold of the taboo in their obloquy,

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in particular, of the queen and the king. Pamphlets spewed invective in 1787–1788 against ministers, clergy, nobles, and magistrates, but in those publications attacks against the sovereigns were scant before 1789. The scurrilous and lascivious pamphlets directed at Marie-Antoinette are perhaps better known to historians than they were to contemporaries, fewer of them actually published, circulating, and read in the 1770s and 1780s than historians assume.23 Even in those earlier years poems, talk, and rumors more often were the vehicles of malice, the notions they conveyed germinating among the French and erupting in the denunciation, defamation, and dehumanization in word and image that increased in number and intensity in 1789 and after, primarily against the queen and then the king.24 The anonymity and clandestine nature of such words, written and spoken, undoubtedly loosened thought and tongues, opening mental gates otherwise closed; the verse form, conducive to the play of words, may well have encouraged boldness of expression. Rhymes and rumors recounted tales of ministers stealing money from the government for their private pleasures, and of royal princes receiving funds to pay their personal debts (the latter not rumor but fact). The queen outspent all, taking money from the treasury for luxuries, giving money to friends and favorites, and treacherously sending millions of French money to her brother, the emperor. The king was portrayed as drunk, duped by ministers, and losing authority to grasping ministers and to his wife. Even worse, the queen or unnamed persons close to the king were consciously inebriating the monarch to make him unworthy of rule and to remove him from power. Verses more damning charged that the queen caused the death of the minister Vergennes by having him poisoned. The rhetoric of verse and prose posters was the harshest, defaming the queen and denouncing the king; this was less true of songs, whose melodies perhaps were attuned to lighter lyrics. In those poems and prose sayings unaccompanied by tunes appeared the illegitimate queen, a bastard by birth, and the lascivious queen, identified with prostitutes and the debauched Roman Empress Messaline, who was subject to uncontrolled sexual passions—her “uterine furies” (the title of a later Revolutionary pamphlet). Similar to notorious empresses and queens of the past, so the prose and poems proclaimed, Marie-Antoinette lusted for both sex and power. The king was reviled as an “imbecile,” condemned as a tyrant, and threatened with the loss of his crown. Of what significance was such hate talk spread by rumor or by written poems and posters? Two contemporary guides, repositories of that infor-

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mation, offer somewhat different responses. The publisher Nicolas Ruault was alternately credulous and skeptical. In the early 1780s he characterized the scandalous libels as “rhapsodies politiques,” yet he believed that the queen directed millions to her emperor brother and had little attachment to her new family, country, and people. He defended Marie-Antoinette against criticism of frivolity for attending the opera, and rejected any belief that she had an amorous night-time rendezvous with Cardinal de Rohan in the notorious diamond necklace tale. He first hesitated to pronounce judgment on Mme. de Lamotte’s salacious charge of a relationship between the queen and the cardinal, and finally dismissed it, yet he accepted the rumor that the queen was implicated in a plot to poison the minister Vergennes and was guilty of his death. The author of the manuscript newsletter Mémoires pour servir de l’histoire de la fin du XVIIIe siècle appended to the gossip and tales about the king and queen that he recounted notes of cautious skepticism, even of sadness at their currency and disbelief in their veracity. Even the bookseller-nouvelliste Hardy, no supporter of royal policy and the government, characterized the author of the slanderous “Satyr sur le Grand Mogol” (attributed to Camille Desmoulins) as wild and irrational, though he reported over a period of three months that many people bought manuscript copies of the poem, and memorized and recited the verses.25 Poems, songs, and sayings expressed the strong feelings of the individuals who composed them. In contrast, professional songwriters and their publishers, who sought to sell their products, catered to and hence echoed the sentiments of potential purchasers. Streetsingers in particular, in their wanderings across city streets, came into direct contact with the public, overheard their talk, and became aware of their moods, which they expressed in their verse and song.26 There may well have been agreement in views between songwriters and listeners to songs. Yet to listen to or read a text does not necessarily entail accepting the author’s argument in full; nor does reading a text necessarily lead to action, so deconstructionists and Roger Chartier among historians have taught. The impact of such writings on the public, known only through impressionistic observations of a few contemporaries, is difficult to judge. Responses may have included laughter and shock as well as accord. Strong language, whether satirical or declamatory, was neither original nor novel. The writing and reading of verbal attacks, rather than an augur of revolution, were analogous to a rite of carnival, a means for expressing pent-up anger or frustration that carried few direct consequences and, according to Louis Sebastien Mercier, had the opposite

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effect of assuring civil peace. These attacks were part of a long tradition for Parisians in particular who had recurrently voiced or written “bad words,” a theme which Arlette Farge has graphically explored.27 Louis XV, for example had been denounced even more rabidly than Louis XVI. That longterm pattern, as Farge demonstrated, altered over the eighteenth century, and “bad words” were taking on more and more of a political coloring. Highly personalized as were the attacks in the verses, songs, and prose sayings, they were not just against personalities. Individuals were the targets and stand-ins for larger issues; they personified problems of policy. Impugning the acts and character of individuals simplified complex issues otherwise difficult to explain and grasp, and provided the illusion of understanding along with the targets of animus. The convergence of the actions of individuals and the appearance of talk and writings about them highlights their political character, the politics that inspired their expression. In the early years of Louis XVI’s reign, some criticisms targeted the queen’s expensive favors to friends and heavy losses in card games. Malicious jests and verse about the queen’s sexual activities with both male and female lovers, coupled with the king’s supposed impotence, arose in 1776, prior to the king’s operation to correct his erectile dysfunction; these reflickered in 1781 when rumor impugned the legitimacy of the dauphin’s birth. These rumors and criticisms emanated espisodically, and largely from courtiers and the aristocratic elite most aggrieved by Marie-Antoinette’s ignoring of court etiquette and their exclusion from the small circle of the queen’s friends. In those early years the Habsburg ambassador to France, Mercy-Argenteau, who kept a close eye on everything related to the queen, reported the gossip to Empress Maria Theresa in tones of pique and insouciance. So too the queen, in letters to her mother, brushed off what was said and written about her as just something the French typically do, and of no consequence. Even at the time of the diamond necklace affair in 1785–1786, only one verse casting aspersion on the queen appears in the sources.28 However, talk may have been more prevalent. One month after the scandal of the necklace became known, Axel Fersen reported gossip in Paris that the queen was secretly linked with the cardinal in the purchase of the necklace and in conspiratorial service for the emperor; gossip this time accused the queen of dissembling pregnancy to avert the king’s wrath.29 Most of the acerbic gossip and talk especially about the king and queen that the publisher Ruault and the author of the Mémoires pour servir de l’histoire de la fin du XVIIIe siècle cite began to circulate only in 1787. Only in that year and the next did Mercy become dis-

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tressed about the seriousness of verbal attacks against Marie-Antoinette and their broad dissemination in the public, and for the first time did he describe the queen as deeply distraught by them.30 With the convocation of the Assembly of Notables the number of songs, poems, and posters in general increased, as did their negative character, in close tandem to the unfolding of events. The first half of 1787 saw the Assembly and Calonne as the principal targets of aspersion; the most widely circulated sets of verses, “Pot-Pourri sur l’Assemblée des Notables,” and not less than four different versions of “Le Fermier” satirized the Notables, the latter mocking their expected acquiescence to the Crown’s proposals by depicting them as farmyard animals being asked to recommend the sauce with which they were to be eaten. The king’s order, in August 1787, to exile the Paris parlement for its refusal to approve a new land tax and stamp tax incited vicious writings and sayings against Louis and the queen, with the sobriquet “Mme. le Déficit” pinned onto Marie-Antoinette. In September the return of the Paris parlement inspired accolades to the magistrates. The king’s appearance before the parlement on 19 November, his insistence on the registration of royal loans against the opinion of the magistrates, and the subsequent exile of the duc d’Orléans and two magistrates who criticized the king’s decision brought a resurgence of venomous outbursts against both the king and the queen. Marie-Antoinette was blamed for all the ills of France including the king’s supposed drinking, wrote Axel Fersen in December.31 More furious attacks exploded against the entire government in the persons of the king, the queen, and the two ministers, Loménie de Brienne and Lamoignon, following the May edicts of 1788 and the military suppression of the parlements; the new grands bailliages courts the Crown created to assume important parlementary functions set off diatribes against the newly appointed judges. Verses, songs, and sayings blamed the queen’s spendthrift ways for the government’s excessive spending and the resulting deficit, culminating in the suppression of the courts. From August through the autumn of 1788 the long-awaited and desired resignations of Loménie and Lamoignon, the appointment of Necker as the new minister in charge of government finances, and the return of the parlementary courts elicited songs and verses, this time of joy. Other verse expressions in the last months of 1788 reversed hitherto prevailing opinion, underscoring the essentially political character of these writings. In December the Paris parlement and the magistrate d’Eprémesnil in particular, both recently lauded in verse, came under attack. The court’s

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opposition to doubling of Third Estate representation in the estates-general and its investigation of Dr. Guillotin, author of the petition in the name of Parisians demanding doubling, tainted the Paris magistrates as hostile to the Third Estate. Tainted also were the clergy, nobles, and magistrates in general who, in the second Assembly of Notables, had voted overwhelmingly against doubling, and the princes who signed the Mémoire declaiming against the Third Estate’s pretensions. In contrast, the king’s fortune among versifiers rose with his appointment of Necker on 25 August, the recall of the parlements on 23 September, and the decision on 27 December to double Third Estate representation in the estates-general. Praise went both to Necker who publicly supported doubling, and to the king whose decision favorable to the Third Estate gained him the admiration of poets and songwriters. Current events led versifiers to switch their sympathies and hostilities, and those who composed for public consumption also shifted with the swing in public mood. Condemnation and favor, whether for the king, queen, nobles, or ministers, were not fixed and determined in advance but altered, not irrationally but as political issues changed along with political favorites and adversaries. Archetypal notions of sex, status, or class—of oppressive or decadent aristocrats, of lascivious and power-hungry queens and royal mistresses, and of despotic ministers and kings (what Robert Darnton has called a “political folklore” and “metatext”)32—could color the opinion of poets and public and prejudice their views. Those archetypes were also manipulated rhetorically, employed or set aside for political purposes as the actions of individuals and institutions, and the writer’s conception of the public’s needs and desires, directed. If it is difficult to affirm a close connection between the poet’s (or prose writer’s) words and the public’s persuasion, at least one may be more certain that most writers expressed their own sentiments and beliefs. Poets as members of the public judged politically whether government decisions and acts were or were not in accord with their needs and aspirations and those of society, and whether to condemn or applaud those whom they identified with the respective policies. And the poets’ voices were part of the public’s many voices.

Iconography Newspapers, pamphlets, songs, and poems in late eighteenth-century France corresponded to the media today in spreading news and views. Imagery— political imagery before 1789 (and even during the Revolution)—bore less

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resemblance to photographs, motion pictures, and television in providing visual representations of events and people of the time. Technical substitutes existed; instead of cameras there were copper engraving plates, wooden blocks, and brush and color to create pictorial representations. These illustrations were sold in shops and stalls in Paris concentrated on and around the rue Saint Jacques, at the Palais-Royal, and along the quays, as well as on other streets on both the Left and Right banks. Itinerant sellers on streets in the capital, merchants in provincial cities, and peddlers in rural villages and along country roads further enlarged the territorial range of the art market.33 Yet the corpus of illustrations for the years 1787–1788 is smaller than the number of pamphlets or of poems and songs. The Cabinet des Estampes of the Bibliothèque Nationale houses around fifty prints that can be dated to those two years (in contrast to more than six hundred for the three years 1789–1792).34 To these the nouvelles à la main reported on eleven other prints sold, circulating, or talked about. The Journal de la Librairie listed an additional twenty-nine illustrations offered for sale by Parisian printsellers and by a few engravers who produced and sold their own creations. Fashion also became a vehicle for political imagery. A contemporary fashion magazine, the Magasin des Modes Nouvelles, françaises et anglaises, indicated four items of fashion—hats in particular—influenced by political developments of the day, and the nouvelles à la main reported on other forms of dress— vests—embroidered with political images.35 The sales record of a Parisian printseller at the Palais-Royal, Vallée, indicate that he sold a total of 113 or 114 illustrations during these two years; prints bearing the same title and selling at the same price may indicate multiples of the same image, thus bringing the number of distinct images among Vallée’s sales to approximately fiftyeight or fifty-nine.36 These several sources yield a total of approximately 150 individual, politically inspired images produced in 1787–1788, of which about 100 listed in contemporary periodicals and in Vallée’s sales book actually circulated or sold on the market at that time.37 Political icongraphy did not dominate print production in those years, for the record of Vallé’s sales shows a continued taste among buyers for religious and genre subjects.38 In contrast to political writings of the day, political images, based on the available but limited sources mentioned above, were far fewer in number. Their visual messages nonetheless may offer another perspective on the political temper of the French public. Prints with political themes fall into three artistic categories: representational, allegorical-emblematic, and caricature. Representational prints clearly

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predominated, whether as the total of distinct individual prints (over 90), those on the market (over 120), or in the total corpus known so far (over 140).39 Allegorical prints came second, with slightly under forty individual prints and a total corpus of over forty, while about thirteen appeared on the market. Caricatures were meager, a total of fourteen indicated in the sources and eleven on the market, far fewer than those known during the years 1789–1793. These three types show up in different proportions in the several sources, offering glimpses of three different iconographic histories. Allegorical prints predominate in the collections of the Cabinet des Estampes (around thirty), which may indicate the partiality for a genre so deeply rooted in the European artistic tradition and to which greater value was placed and greater care afforded for preservation. Contemporaries, on the other hand, seem to have had a preference for representational illustrations, in particular for portraits, which ranked first among the illustrations announced in the Journal de la Librairie (fourteen), while Vallée sold forty-seven or fortyeight individual portraits in duplicates for a total of ninety-four or ninetysix sales. The nouvelles à la main offer a further contrast, the iconography they reported being almost exclusively caricatures critical of those identified with the government—the king, the queen, and especially the ministers (nine of eleven noted). No caricatures were listed in the trade journal, the Journal de la Librairie, and Vallée’s records indicate only three caricatures sold without title or description. Few caricatures, these sources seem to indicate, were created or circulated, or else those few plus perhaps others still unknown circulated through clandestine channels which left barely a trace. Their paucity during the turbulent years 1787–1788 (in contrast to their abundance beginning in 1789) cannot be attributed to government censorship. Perhaps artists and merchants engaged in self-censorship, or were slow to respond to a rapidly changing political scene, clinging to the artistic forms to which they were accustomed. Or perhaps caricature was still a marginal genre for a French public (in contrast to the British) that remained attached to traditional artistic modes which only the throes of Revolution unsettled. Clearly French aesthetic taste in political imagery, both among artists and customers, was singularly conservative at a time when the public’s political attitudes were radicalizing. Imagery did not serve primarily to transmute what was happening into visual news reports. Rarely did straightforward illustrations appear in the press, never in domestic newspapers, foreign gazettes, or nouvelles à la

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main, only on occassion in pamphlets and in a few almanacs that appeared once a year. Direct depictions of events of the day numbered between eighteen and twenty-four, which starkly reduces the reportorial function of political imagery in 1787–1788.40 Iconography instead was a visual representation of opinion that expressed political views. Representational illustrations, even a simple portrait, carried a political message by the choice of personnage and made explicit in the words of the title or sometimes of the accompanying verse. Imagery was not always immediately accessible to the viewer as direct representations. What people saw in other types of illustrations were symbols of contemporary events whose visual codes had to be deciphered through the lenses of allegory, less frequently of caricature, and for which verbal guides were again provided in the titles, explanatory notes, or verses added to the illustration. Words therefore were auxiliaries for understanding images, and in turn images appear as auxiliaries in the political contestation conducted mainly through verbal discourse. Timing—the moment these illustrations were produced, sometimes reproduced, and entered the public through sales or talk—and the events of those moments unmistakably denoted their political nature. The political subjects depicted in the few reportorial prints, in many of the portraits, and in all of the allegorical images and caricatures followed a few of the major events of the day. In contrast to writings, images cleaved to events in fits and starts.41 This symbiosis between visual art and politics produced illustrations on the meeting of the Assembly of Notables (see Figures 1 and 2), including some new items of fashion such as a hat “à la Notable” (eighteen listings of ten individual prints); on the exile of the Paris parlement in August 1787, involving mainly caricatures of the king, queen, and ministers (five); on the reappointment of Necker to the ministry (forty-seven; see Figure 4); and on the recall of the parlementary courts (fifteen; see Figure 7). Representative images of popular celebrations in Paris appeared following the change in ministry in August 1788 (five; see Figures 5 and 6), as did the beginning of illustrations bearing on the forthcoming meeting of the estates-general (seven; see Figures 9 and 10). Also indicative of a changing political scene and of public interest in these changes was the production and sale of maps with the new territorial divisions of provincial and departmental assemblies established by law in June 1787 (five). A virtual seismic shift in political imagery set in by late August 1788. Political developments erupted into the visual market of prints. Images of

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Necker or those related to him—portraits, allegories, reportorial representations, and favorable caricatures—abounded, while allegories, portraits, and pictorial narratives relating to parlementary courts and individual magistrates also became more plentiful. The relationship between imagery and politics appeared through some unexpected and oblique signs. Next to the massive forty-seven prints bearing on Necker, the second highest number of illustrations (twenty-one) were of Nicolas Bergasse, the pamphleteer for the cuckolded Kornmann. Following the suppression of the parlementary courts, Bergasse cleverly associated both the aggrieved husband and the ousted judges as equally victims of the same menace of royal despotism that only a reconvened estates-general could overcome. Bergasse thereby became a momentary symbol of the growing public campaign for an estates-general and attracted to himself public approbation pictorially embodied in the sales of his portraits in October and November 1788.42 In contrast to the numerous prints and unqualified adulation of Necker (and Bergasse) in the iconography, the king’s pictorial presence was less dominant and more ambivalent. The king—or a figure presented as the king—appeared in eleven different prints in 1787 (Vallée listed five portraits fifteen times), and in fifteen prints in 1788. The royal image remained preeminent until August 1788, when the king was outdistanced by Necker and Bergasse. Furthermore, most of the prints in both years represented the king in political settings that the public supported: the convening of the Assembly of Notables, the recall of the parlementary courts, and especially the reappointment of Necker as minister. Clearly public favor of Louis XVI, manifested in the production and purchase of images, hinged less on the king’s inherent sovereign majesty than on his political actions. The public’s political judgment of the king and his domestic policies, albeit positive in these examples, became a determining factor in iconography and provides evidence of the changing nature of the relationship between ruler and ruled. Eight prints depicted Louis XVI along with Necker in which the king’s image was subordinated to that of the minister, reflecting the displacement of the king as central actor and dominant representation.43 A counter-image to that of Louis XVI appeared in the person of Henry IV. Eight reproductions of four such images entered the art market in Vallée’s sales records for 1788,44 and one allegory depicted a double silhouette of both kings. Echoing epigrams and pamphlet writings, Henry IV symbolized the popular king who had satisfied the aspirations of his people in his day, aspirations different in substance but similar in the force of public senti-

1. “The Assembly of Notables. Speech of the King at Versailles, 22 February 1787.” The king’s speech is at the bottom of the image; at the two sides are verses from a song entitled “On the Assembly of Notables,” sung to the melody from Beaumarchais’ “The Marriage of Figaro.” (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

2. “Assembly of Notables 22 February 1787. Buffet of the Court, Calonne the Cook.” “My dear administratees. I have assembled you in order to know with what sauce you want to be eaten.” (Response) “But we do not want to be eaten at all!!!!!!!” “You ignore the question.” (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

3. “The Defecit” [sic]. The king points to empty boxes and says: “M. Necker there is nothing left.” Necker responds: “But I left some. . . .” In the background two figures (Calonne and Loménie de Brienne) steal out the door with sacks of money on their backs. (An English print of 1788 reproduced in France. Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

4. “The Recall of Monsieur Necker.” A female figure of France presents Jacques Necker to King Louis XVI. In the background are faces of happy people celebrating his recall. In the sky dark clouds recede and sunbeams appear accompanied with the words, in Latin, “After darkness follows Light.” (Latin translation by Professor Eva Keuls.) (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

5. “28 August [1788]. Effigies of the pr[incipal] Minister M. de Brienne and of the Keeper of the Seals de Lamoignon, burned by the People of Paris.” (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

_ _ _ 6. “Burning of the guard-posts on the Pont Neuf, in Paris. 29 August 1788.” Following the resignation of Loménie de Brienne and the appointment of Jacques Necker as finance minister. (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

7. “Public Joy. Long live the king. Long live the parlement.” Beneath are verses to a song sung to the melody “Dance the Capucine.” (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

8. “Gift of the country to Dauphiné.” “As Dauphiné arises, Gaul emerges from the waves.” “The Insurrection of Dauphiné saves France.” “Its estates serve as a model for the estates-general of the kingdom. Its operations guide the other provinces, and serve as a rule for their administration. May the wisest of ministers persuade the best of kings that the Third estate, that is the Nation, composed of 25 million subjects, faithful, useful, good workers, enlightened and filled with industriousness, must not alone be drained to contribute to the needs of the state.” (Latin translation by Professor Eva Keuls.) (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

9. The clergy and the nobility try to prevent the Third Estate from approaching a blindfolded king. (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

10. “The Third Estate presented to the king by M. Necker under the protection of Monsieur brother of the king and Monseigneur the duc d’Orléans in order to be admitted to the Estates General in 1789.” (Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

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ment that the French now projected onto Louis XVI. Henry IV was the model, the king that Louis XVI should be. He was also the contrast to Louis XVI, the king that Louis failed to be. Six of the eight prints of Henry IV appeared in March and May of 1788, when the public first anticipated and feared the worst from their king—the suppression of the courts—and when that action was carried out. The figure of Henry IV thus represented what Louis XVI was not: a king who acted as the public would want him to act, and who gained the public’s support and accolades. However changing and ambivalent the visual representations of the royal figure were, negative images were few though not absent. Of the king, queen, and ministers there were only fourteen; perhaps even less, for the nouvellistes of the Mettra series and of the Mémoires secrets doubted that two caricatures they described actually existed. Whether real or not, one of these two images may be associated with the expression famously attributed to the queen— “let them eat cake”—for the scene described is of the king drinking (rumors circulated of his frequent drunkenness), the queen eating, and the people gazing at them with mouths open or shouting.45 Louis appeared or is alluded to in four of the negative images with clear political import, and MarieAntoinette’s image is present in three of them. The king is figuratively criticized for his financial misrule in two caricatures. An embroidered image on a vest that ostensibly reproduced an engraving of the opening of the Assembly of Notables altered the original “very indecently,” wrote the Mémoires secrets, to show the king with his hand on his pocket, a sign that the purpose of the Assembly, as many rumors had it, was only to extract more money from the French. A year and a half later a French adaptation of an English drawing presented Louis as a hapless and incompetent victim, showing to the newly appointed Necker the empty boxes in his treasury as former ministers in the background steal out of the room carrying sacks of money (see Figure 3). The image of a half-broken ship, even with the king’s figure absent, clearly represented a harsh metaphorical judgment of his governance of the state. Another image, not a caricature and probably designed before the Result of the Royal Council of 27 December 1788, was ambiguously negative in depicting a blindfolded king—blind to the Third Estate, or to the efforts of the clergy and nobility to prevent the Third Estate from obtaining double representation in the estates-general (see Figure 9)?46 Sovereign in name though without the authority for its exercise, the queen nonetheless was the main target in imagery of public opposition to the Crown’s exile of the Paris parlement in August 1787, all four caricatures

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of the queen appearing in August and September of that year. In contrast, the greater public outrage against the suppression of the courts in May 1788 produced no images against the queen. In 1787 responsibility for the government’s edicts to raise the land tax and stamp tax was foisted upon Marie-Antoinette by the visual and print media. She too was the cause of the “malady,” bleeding, and weakness of France embodied in a female figure near death. And though her image was absent, the empty space alongside an image of Louis XVI was figuratively filled by Marie-Antoinette, the portrait/non-portrait an addition to a rogues’ gallery of kings of France and their evil queens who had brought harm to the French people. In these images the queen was not alone guilty. Along with her in bleeding and debilitating France was the former controller general Calonne. In one illustration, her accomplices in launching the tax edicts from atop a Trojan horse—a pointed reference to the city of Troyes to which the Paris magistrates were exiled in August 1787—were the royal ministers Lamoignon, Loménie de Brienne, and Breteuil, the last two rumored to be her favorites. Also depicted along with the ministers were those most notorious in her entourage, her former tutor the abbé de Vermond and her dear friend the duchesse de Polignac; in the public’s view the latter, as the main recipient of the queen’s largesse, caused the government’s debt and its consequent request for new and higher taxes.47 Calonne, Loménie, and Lamoignon appeared in more caricatures in 1787–1788 than either the king or the queen, eight in all marking them with ignominy. Calonne in two caricatures was the agent of deceit, as the monkey preparing to cook the Notables (see Figure 2) or the worker ready to slaughter animals to feed the farmer, metaphorical representations of the hidden intent attributed to the minister to squeeze money from the Notables and the French.48 The monkey print entitled “Buffet de la Cour” was sold “under the cloak” in the spring of 1787;49 its many subsequent reproductions make it the most famous caricature of these years. Both illustrations were among the very few that “animalized” human beings, a genre that dates back to the Middle Ages and which became much more common during the Revolution.50 Embroidery on a vest, in one image, depicted both Calonne and Loménie as guilty of dissipating the government’s money, the latter in particular for leaving the treasury bankrupt. In another illustration Loménie tramples under his feet the scales of justice and codes of law, seeking to foist the yoke of despotism upon France; the image of the Bastille in the background symbolized both a fortress of despotism and a place of in-

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carceration of the insane, for Loménie’s wild and disheveled figure evokes memories of his grandfather, who had become mad. In one of the few illustrations said to be of provincial origin, both Loménie and Lamoignon find their punishment in their descent into hell.51 This iconography against ministers, its visual language more unambiguous than that used against the king, was the counterpart in art to the constitutional outlet traditional to the French public, that of holding ministers responsible for the government’s travails in 1787–1788. The paucity of negative images, especially of the king and the queen, which in a few months would become more plentiful, underscores the prevalence of a taboo and of tradition. Ministers certainly, even the royal couple, might be criticized for policy faults attributed to them, but attacks against persons were rare, and salacious pornography in illustration, as in word, was absent. The most critical depiction of the persons of the king and the queen—if actually drawn and not just talk, since contemporary evidence is ambiguous—was as gourmands, filling themselves with food and drink while indifferent to the hunger or complaints of their subjects. A certain sanctity continued to veil the figurative depiction of the sovereigns, formal portraits of them still being sold and bought, and actions the public favored—the recall of Necker and of the parlements—yielding favorable images. Neither desacralization of the sovereign nor public revulsion at immoral behavior operated as independent causes in preparing the French for revolution; such views obscure a process at work as seen through the political imagery. The weakening of the allegiance of the French not to the monarchy but to a specific monarch was the work of politics, of faults of policy and unpopular policies. Their effect was to dissolve the aura of sanctity enveloping the Crown, and then to transform political actions into acts of moral depravity and to demonize the political actors. The preponderance of positive, or at least innocuous, illustrations highlights in another way the hold of tradition on political imagery. The art market at times lagged behind political developments. The Journal de la Librairie announced an allegorical print in honor of a president of the Paris parlement in late November 1788 and his portrait in December, at a time when that court was being excoriated in the printed word for its attempt to obstruct greater representation of the Third Estate.52 Were artists slow to respond to events and to changing public sentiments, holding to the forms and genres they had been taught and long practiced? Technological constraints may also have operated, limiting the number of prints produced

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and constricting artistic flexibility, as well as prolonging the time that elapsed between a political event and a completed illustration.53 Purchasers certainly remained attached to traditional genres in art, and their allegiance may have extended as well to long-established symbols and actors in the political sphere. These issues lead to a consideration of the relationship among artists, art merchants, and the public, as well as the government, in part by examining the outpouring of images of Necker beginning in late August 1788.54 In addition to the portraits (twenty-seven), some with accolades in verse, other laudatory iconography of the minister was in allegorical form (twenty-one), the meaning deciphered from the symbolism and clarified by verbal explications. Necker is the “hope of the French,” the embodiment of “virtue” and “truth triumphant,” the guarantor of fiscal equity, the bearer of “abundance,” and figuratively the “eye of genius.” First impressions may lead to the conclusion that these illustrations were works of propaganda. As ministers frequently commissioned writings as propaganda—and Necker did so himself—so one may assume that illustrative propaganda may also have been made to order. Yet closer scrutiny of the sources offers a different perspective. A market for prints existed in France in the late eighteenth century. With its center in Paris, its geographical range extended into the provinces; Parisian art merchants both bought from and sold prints to provincial art merchants. While the main categories of production and sales were illustrations of everyday life and portraits, scenes drawn from current events—and we have already seen how portraits could overlap with the category of news— were in the mid-range of sales.55 Artists and art merchants were like writers, printers, and booksellers: they wanted to sell what they produced or had in stock. Creators and purveyors of prints were sensitive to the demands and tastes of print buyers. Those tastes being aesthetically traditional, the offerings catered to that demand. In terms of artistic categories, that meant a preponderance on the market of portraits, a paucity of caricatures, and in between, toward the lower range, allegories (despite the latter’s predominance among collections of a later day). The usually moderate market in prints of current events would likely increase as events gained importance and attracted greater interest, which the chronology and output of political imagery in 1787–1788 demonstrate. To respond to rising demand or to cut costs, engravers or merchants might even use old stock in new ways— making use of prints already available by slightly altering them and affixing

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new titles. A print of Louis XVI delivering his speech to the Assembly of Notables on 22 February 1787, with the signature of the merchant Basset (see Figure 1), was reversed and became the re-entry of the Paris parlement on 24 September 1788 signed by another merchant, Bonvallet. The banner strung on the trumpet of the allegorical figure Renown (la Renommée) who, flying above the head of the king heralds the meeting, was empty in the earlier print and in the later print bore the words “Vive le Roi, et le Parlement.” And the king’s face was of a very young man, bearing no resemblance to that of Louis XVI; perhaps the print was recycled from an even earlier era.56 Two prints bearing the same title, “L’Oeil du Génie,” one dedicated to Necker and the other to his son-in-law, the baron de Staël, had the same collection of symbolic figures facing in opposite directions (though the base in one was two lions and in the other two sphinxes).57 Reuse and modification of imagery offer evidence of the commercial strategies at work in the print market. Harmonizing art work to the public’s sentiments was of course a necessary strategy. Portraits showed that intent transparently, allegories symbolically. Engravers drew from the traditional stock of iconography that they had learned in schools of art and which had been gathered together as learning tools in manuals since at least the sixteenth century, but whose existence and evocative force as tradition extended back to classical antiquity.58 These symbols recurred from one illustration to another, and were not always limited to allegories. Dark, heavy clouds on the base or sides of prints are pushed aside, sometimes by the male figure of Time, to reveal white clouds and beaming sunlight. Crushed serpents, figures in chains, or wild-haired creatures chased from the scene represent danger and crisis overcome. Calm and peace are ushered in, at times denoted in the smiling faces or dancing bodies of the French people. Economic abundance and financial solvency ensue, in the forms of cornucopia overflowing with fruits, coins dropping onto the scene or into the chests of the royal treasury, a peasant at the plow, a ship at sea, or a hive and web signifying industry, a female figure embodying abundance, or Mercury as the god of business and industry. And justice is restored, seen in the female Thémis carrying upright the scales of justice previously laid low. Female figures as allegorical symbols were common and multifaceted. A female, crowned and cloaked in a robe adorned with fleurs de lis, represented France and accompanied or substituted for the king, as did Minerva dressed with helmet and sometimes with shield or breastplate. Each of these

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allegorical female personnages represented the nation, authority, or wisdom in an iconographic tradition dating long before the Revolution.59 One or more of these several symbols appeared in prints celebrating the recall of the parlements and the king’s convening of the Assembly of Notables, and most frequently (and therefore most impressively) in the numerous prints on the reappointment of Necker (see Figure 4). The continued adaptation of the female image of La France into La Patrie, and on its way to becoming identified with the Third Estate, is seen in a print from the autumn of 1788 honoring “the insurrection in Dauphiné” (see Figure 8).60 Artists worked within an inconographic system that molded and directed their choice of symbols, but those symbols were also mutable and versatile, lending themselves to multiple uses. The frequent appearance of the female allegorical figure may have accustomed the eyes of contemporaries to their meanings, but a French spectator or purchaser need not have been a student of art or a reader of icongraphic manuals to understand them. Engravers or merchants conveniently provided either detailed verbal explanations of the symbolism or brief verses to express the essential meaning of the image, or in the least a title to convey its intended sense; one merchant employed a versifier to decorate and render his prints meaningful.61 Symbols have multiple meanings to compilers of iconographic manuals, artists, and art historians. To the historian, they may appear to condense and thereby simplify a political message, as popular pamphlets did in different ways.62 This was most apparent in the several Necker prints. Images represented his appointment to the ministry as auguring the end of the government’s deficit and future financial solvency; a time of prosperity for merchants, manufacturers, and cultivators of the soil; the restitution of justice with the reestablishment of the suppressed courts; and a guarantee of prudence, moderation, and wisdom in governance. Necker would restore in the government of Louis XVI what were believed to have been the “good old days” under Henry IV and his minister Sully. The print entitled “La Vertu, tôt ou tard rentre dans tous ses droits,” one of the few surviving examples of an artistically primitive allegorical illustration, carried a verse in which two lines revealed the underlying faith that the French reposed in Necker: Yes his profound genius is the double science Of enriching the state without crushing its subjects.63

Such was the magic of Necker’s name, another illusion that transmuted France into a pays de cocagne (land of plenty).

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Some illustrations expressed sentiments more vividly than did words. In the two series on the parlement and on Necker, the image of the king appeared several times, even if subordinated to that of Necker, and in one example the queen was present in visage and verse, both words and images applauding the good deed of the sovereigns in making Necker minister and restoring the parlementary courts.64 These prints reveal a reservoir of good will and hope for the monarch that resurged each time his acts accorded with the public’s wishes. Were these artifices of propaganda or expressions of public sentiments? Much evidence from the iconography points to the latter. At the beginning of 1787 a print appeared with miniature portraits of the king and the minister Vergennes framed with laurel wreaths; between them Renown trumpeted the announcement of the meeting of the Assembly of Notables, and beneath was a list of the names or titles of the members. That this was not what it seemed, royal propaganda for the meeting, may be seen in reading the “subjects of deliberation” also listed. These included the abolition of serfdom and the granting of civil status to Protestants. Particularly the latter was much rumored, and both were desired by a number of pamphlet writers, but these were not reforms the government intended to present to the Assembly. The list of “subjects of deliberation” were projections of public hopes, and together with the other information in the print aimed at satisfying the public’s desire to know more about the unexpected and novel meeting.65 Necker’s reappointment—hope for it expressed in the public since Calonne’s dismissal in April 1787—opened the aesthetic and commercial floodgates. Between September and December 1788 eight different merchants and engravers announced their prints of Necker, portraits and allegories, in the Journal de la Librairie (which had about a dozen such listings), to which should be added the seventeen that Vallée had for sale. These artists and merchants competed with each other for the market, and sometimes pirated each other’s work. In November 1788 the engraver SaintAubin accused another engraver, de Launay, of having copied and sold his engraving of Necker (itself drawn from a painting by another artist) without permission, “to the detriment of the print that he, Saint-Aubin, made.”66 Each print of Necker was laudatory of the new minister, and as vehicles of pro-Necker sentiment they served as propaganda, but in response to the public’s market demand rather than to ministerial commission. Without doubt the portraits of Bergasse, three announced in the Journal de la

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Librairie and nineteen that Vallée put on sale—the man who for over a year was a stinging critic of royal ministers—did not arise as government propaganda. Two prints that symbolically supported government policy contrary to public opinion appear to be government propaganda. One caricature in 1787 and one allegory in 1788 scornfully portrayed the expulsion of the magistrates. The first depicted rebellious ducks forced to flee from their whiplashing master to the city of Troyes. Almost a year later a sedate, seated figure of France, holding the scales of justice upright, expells grief-stricken magistrates as men and women behold them, one of whom applauds at the sight. Yet few outside the government, apart from the handful of writers of propaganda, favored the exile of the Paris parlement in 1787 and the suppression of all the courts in 1788. Indeed, nine illustrations celebrated the return of the magistrates in September 1788, in addition to four later portraits of magistrates; two prints in a popular style evoked “public joy” (the title of one), depicting musicians playing on instruments as individuals threw coins to them (see Figure 7).67 That few illustrations served as government propaganda and that most reflected public sentiments are evidence of the autonomy of public opinion from government direction as well as the public’s force of attraction, which imposed its desires upon the content, if not the form, of political imagery. Though slow and hesitant at first, in the end the print market caught up. Engravers, printers, merchants, and buyers brought politics to the forefront and moved in unison with other media in the network of news and especially views on the mounting political drama in France. By their choice of illustrations to create, to sell, and to buy, the public for political imagery aligned with the larger public in their opposition to any government crackdown on the courts; in their perception of wasteful government spending and their demand for financial solvency; in their celebration of the change of ministry with their adulation of the new minister and execration of the old ones; and in their desire for a national meeting of the king and his subjects in which the Third Estate would have a more prominent role (Figure 10). Hostility and hope were figuratively embodied in individuals whom the art public held responsible for the nation’s problems or on whom they placed their unbounded aspirations. Iconography thus helped to promote the personalization of politics through the preponderance of portraiture, in the few caricatures, and even in abstract allegories whose symbolic language spoke of individuals.

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The art market for imagery was nonetheless more limited than other media, primarily because the prints of a single illustration were limited in number.68 The art market was also more stratified than the literary market, with the exception of the wealthy buyers of the expensive volumes of the Encyclopédie. While composed predominantly of an aristocratic elite, buyers of art were not an exclusive body and included bourgeois notables and even a popular component, though with a higher cut-off point at the lowest level. The least expensive print cost more than the cheapest pamphlet (2–6 sous), a single copy of a newspaper (1–2 sous), a single day spent in a reading club (2–6 sous), or a songsheet (2 sous). Of the very few prices indicated in the Journal de la Librairie, the highest was 36 livres for an atlas of thirtyfour maps, and among the prices in Vallé’s salesbook the most expensive was 30 livres for a portrait of the king. At the other end of the price scale a framed and undoubtedly smaller portrait of the king could be bought for 18 sous, while the least expensive miniature print—a portrait of Necker, Bergasse, or the briefly popular Paris parlementarian d’Eprémesnil, as well as a print of the opening session of the Assembly of Notables—cost 12 sous. The cheapest and evidently smallest portraits of those three individuals were probably affixed to the frontispiece of their writings, and the small image of the Assembly to one of the many pamphlets bearing on the Notables, writings which the buyers probably possessed; this particular use of portraiture shows the close relation of printed image to the printed word. Miniature portraits of the king and queen may well have had decorative use, placed on ceramic or porcelain boxes containing tobacco or facepowder. Prints at the reasonable price of 1 livre 4 sous fetched the greatest number of buyers (sixteen), while half that number bought the cheapest prints at 12 sous. More people purchased prints below rather than above the median price of 4 livres (sixty-nine and forty-three, respectively). Four buyers identified in Vallé’s salesbook typify the range of social groups and prices in the print market: the comte de Gaspary bought no less than ten prints of Rousseau and Voltaire on the same day, each at a price of 10 livres (perhaps serving as intermediary for other persons); the bishop of Pamiers purchased allegories of Necker for the modest sum of 6 livres; a jeweler spent as much as 30 livres for a framed allegorical print; and a carpenter, “le Sr. Desfuex,” bought a framed portrait of Bergasse, then at the height of his fame in November 1788, for 2 livres 8 sous.69 The more than two-hundred individuals who purchased prints from Vallée consisted of the clergy (15 percent), the nobility (29 percent), and the Third Estate (57 percent); the latter

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included a little more than half from the high and middle bourgeoisie and slightly under half who were artisans and tradesmen, including one “ouvrier” (worker).70 A contemporary writer who explored the social contours of the trade in art concluded: Prints compensate for the inequality of fortunes by satisfying art lovers of all classes. Sovereigns, the great, opulent people have paintings, and the public in turn enjoys exact imitations acquired at little cost.71

The jeweler and the carpenter demonstrate in microcosm that some of the peuple, who most often purchased popular religious imagery of the Virgin and saints, were also buying political prints, the better to visualize and know about popular public figures and important events of the day.

The Festive and Riotous Fêtes were multicultural acts, combining the verbal and visual, print and oral, prose and verse, theater, song, and dance—forms of human action that were celebratory and joyful, solemn and parodic, sometimes riotous. Multicultural too, for fêtes provided the occasion for the simultaneous representation of the classical culture of the collèges and the carnavelesque culture of the street. The fêtes in 1787 and 1788 were distinctively grassroots acts, in contrast to the fêtes in the later years of the Revolution, which, initiated and authorized in Paris by the national government, became ossified events.72 The fêtes at the outset of the Revolution were as spontaneous as collective human acts can be. The initiating and guiding hands, where they can be found, were of local people, officials and nonofficials, and the actors were from all walks of life—nobles, notables, and the menu peuple (little people)—men and women, judges, lawyers, professors, craftsmen, marketwomen, children, students, townsmen, peasants, clergy, freemasons, and even military men.73 Above all, fêtes were highly visible and dramatic means for spreading a political message and evoking political sympathies. They were participatory acts in which individuals engaged in celebrations, demonstrations, or riots, and they were links in a network that transmitted news about these events. Through direct participation in or observation of these acts and through writing, reading, or hearing about them, the public became more knowledgeable about and some more engaged in the politics of the day. Fêtes thus were an additional medium for awakening political consciousness. The fact

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that most of the fêtes and riotous acts detected were in 1788, primarily in the autumn of that year, may indicate the gradual intensification of political awareness among the French people from 1787 through 1788. It also may be a reflection of the weakening of royal censorship whose control over newspaper and pamphlet publications was more severe from 1787 through the summer of 1788 and then dissolved in the autumn of 1788. Greater public involvement and weaker royal censorship indeed worked in tandem. Religious festivals and civic festivities have a long tradition in France, as in other European countries.74 Holidays, saints’ days, military victories, births and marriages in the royal family, even royal entrées—dormant for a long time but renewed when Louis XVI visited Normandy in 1786—were occasions for processions and parades, masses and Te Deum, solemnity and gaity. In the eighteenth century the French did not have to improvise for public celebrations because they knew the practices, they knew what to do and what they wanted to do. Thus the fêtes in 1787–1788, while spontaneous events because initiated locally, were more or less uniform, rooted as they were in a common culture; people engaged in similar activities in diverse locations. Differences were the result of the size of the site; in cities the celebrations were more varied and lavish, in smaller towns and bourgs more simple and limited in scope. Fêtes that left evidence in the historical record were celebrated in thirteen different regions and in at least forty-four locations within these regions, plus an additional thirty cities, towns, and villages whose deputies or inhabitants traveled to other cities to participate in their celebrations, as well as unnamed surrounding areas of cities and towns. Circling France from north to east and south to west, festive events occurred in Brittany, Touraine, Paris, Champagne, Lorraine, the Three Bishoprics, Burgundy, Lyon, Dauphiné, Languedoc, Provence, Béarn, and Guyenne; the unleashing of the provincial newspaper in Dauphiné in the autumn of 1788 permitted reports on festivities in twenty-five different locations in that single province. Newspaper reports and pamphlet accounts transport us back to those days and nights, to the sometimes several days and even weeks of fêtes in 1787–1788. The reader of those accounts may use his imagination to see and hear the public rejoicing in its multiple forms. Raucous street activities alternated with formal rituals. Representatives of varied institutions participated in ceremonies that were public testimonials of their political sympathies and support: deputies of lower courts in Burgundy, Champagne, Dauphiné, and Lorraine; of municipal governments in Dauphiné, Dijon,

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Toulouse, and Marseille; of the legal professions in Dijon, Pau, Montélimar, Vienne, Condom, Marseille, Vic, and Toul; of church institutions in Romans and Vienne; of universities in Valence and Orange; of nobles in Béarn, Burgundy, Languedoc; of the provincial estates in Béarn; and of the three estates from the district of Comminges in Languedoc offered their congratulations to parlementary magistrates of Pau, Dijon, Paris, Grenoble, Bordeaux, Toulouse, Nancy, Aix, and Metz, as crowds observed them in the halls of justice or on the streets. Before and after the processions cavalcades of young men and students, sometimes soldiers, musicians, or guild members dressed in historic ceremonial costumes of vibrant colors bedecked with plumed hats—in the fashion of Henry IV—accompanied magistrates from their homes to the tribunals and back to the sound of drums, fifes, and trumpets. These processions wound their way though streets crowded with onlookers and sometimes carpeted with flowers or strung with garlands made by local women (in Pau by nuns), and laurel wreaths were placed on those who were honored. Churches were settings for other ceremonial occasions, for Te Deum and masses in Pau, Valence, Briançon, Longwy, Rennes, and Toulouse, and in some small towns and communities in Dauphiné religious observances were a main form of festive activity. Church bells rang out in several cities and countryside areas to broadcast the news that became occasions for fêtes. Customs from religious festivals at times directed the practices of secular fêtes. In Briançon, the traditional route and mode of religious procession served to bring the inhabitants to the site for their festive acts, and in Toulouse decorations on houses, it was reported, were almost like those for the Corpus Christi procession. Vibrant, even raucous street life accompanied formal ritual, and by their variety and the number of their participants and observers were the preeminent form of festive activities. Local officials and local societies (called “patriotic”) most often initiated and paid for these festivities; freemasons provided one of several fêtes in Dijon, nobles did so in Rennes, and in Nîmes a silk manufacturer was one of the organizers of a fête that lasted for three days. In Bordeaux, stores and the Bourse were closed for five days as the Bordelais joined in their festivities. The diary of a young worker of Marseille indicates that fellow townsmen showed little sincere interest in a fête, a judgment, however, colored by his personal royalist sentiment that the festivities to honor the parlement were insulting to “royal authority”; nevertheless, these festivities and ceremonies continued in Marseille for several days.75

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In almost all fêtes, even in the smallest communities, candles or lanterns illuminated the façades of houses, and firework displays of sound and light bedazzled onlookers; greater sound reverberated from explosions of firecrackers or rockets, the shooting of rifles or muskets, or bursts of cannon fire. Neighborhood people paid for the fireworks in Bordeaux; in Dijon master wigmakers did so, and they also initiated the lighting of homes to which other inhabitants joined, lighting up the whole city. In a small town in Dauphiné wealthier residents paid for the candles of the poor. What may not fail to amaze readers of later centuries were the innumerable, sophisticated, and complicated decorations with imagery, words, and emblems that ornamented floats, painted transparent banners, and varied constructions of columns, triumphant arches, obelisks, pyramids, and chariots. Verses in French, often in Latin composed or translated as in Toulouse by the Latin teacher, and sometimes in patois as in Toulouse and in Pau, adorned these displays. So too were verses and inscriptions placed on doors and façades of stores and private homes—in Grenoble of a noblewoman, varied artisans and tradesmen, a teacher, a surgeon, and one whose writing indicated a lack of schooling, while in Troyes a businessman placed his own poorly written Latin verse on his door. Music resounded, military-like in parades, at a patriotic concert in Rennes, from musicians wandering through the streets, from the singing of traditional songs and of melodies with words adapted to the circumstances of the day, with the serenading of magistrates by young men, and in dance. Balls sponsored by municipalities or local groups—by two organizations of archers on two successive Sundays in Dijon—permitted local people to dance into the early hours of the morning. Fêtes also provided material sustenance. In larger cities, small towns, and villages food offerings were part of the ritual. Sometimes large feasts, dinners, or meals were offered to officials and notable citizens, or to “all orders” or unnamed large groups; in Gap, in Dauphiné, a “sumptuous” meal in the afternoon was followed by several banquets in the evening. Less formal suppers, sometimes dubbed “patriotic,” also took place; in Clermont more than one-hundred persons attended a “grand souper,” and in Cremieu in Dauphiné a collation in the evening brought together women of the nobility and bourgeoisie. Deputies of different corps in Vienne ate at their informal pique-niques. Even more frequent were the offers of food to the peuple or to the poor: food that remained from the formal dinner in Pau; a “moving banquet” offered in a Dauphinois town; an individual in Metz gave rice to the poor while another town distributed salt;

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and in Longwy the municipality offered some pieces of meat. Usually bread was distributed to the poor and fountains of wine flowed in several localities; in Nancy a group of patriots, on the initiative of a woman, distributed bread for four days, and in Verdun the guilds of grocers and mercers provided the bread. The poor were remembered in other acts of charity as well. Money was raised, or money remaining after paying the costs of the fêtes was given to the poor in Nancy, Dijon, and Bordeaux; also in Nancy and in Gap the well-off threw money to the poor gathered on the streets. In Pau and in a Dauphinois town clothing was distributed to the poor, and an order of penitents in Pau and freemasons in Dijon paid the debts to free prisoners from jail. Communal eating and paternalistic charity served as links between upper and lower classes, whether momentary or longer term; a journalist reporting in 1787 on the parlementary magistrates in exile in Troyes, who paid the debts of six debtors to free them from prison and distributed money to other poor people in the city, believed their beneficent act would “engrave forever their cherished names in the hearts of inhabitants of Troyes.”76 Rites of carnival as expressions of criticism and hostility were another, less frequent form of festive activity, acted out in seven cities that had large populations or were provincial capitals—Paris, Bordeaux, Lyon, Grenoble, Rennes, Toulouse, and Pau, and also in the countryside of Pau. Carnivalesque charivari of raucous music and noise hounded municipal officers in Bordeaux and a judge of a grand bailliage court in Lyon, both of whom had acted counter to public sentiments by not supporting parlementary magistrates. More audacious were the butchers’ assistants in Toulouse who, in an act of denigration, threw blood on one of the grand bailliage judges, and more parodic was a burlesque representation deriding a grand bailliage court performed in the main plaza in Rennes and then paraded through the city. In these seven cities mock trials of effigies of hated ministers—Calonne or Loménie and Lamoignon—or of hated grand bailliage judges were carried out, followed by punishment in the form of obligatory apologies or fines, and ending with the burning of the straw mannequins. Invitations to attend the ministers’ funerals were distributed in Rennes and Toulouse, and the chanting of funereal music preceded the ritual burning in Toulouse. Burnings of nineteen grand bailliage judges in Toulouse was an impressive pyrotechnical act with firecrackers placed inside each of the effigies to cause an explosion, while the prize for the most burnings would go to Pau and its surrounding countryside where in four days judges of twelve grands bail-

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liages courts were burned. In Grenoble the burning was described in religious terms as an “auto-da-fé,” whereas in Bordeaux and in Paris the condemnation was given popular legal form as a “decree of the people.” These forms of justice drew from the age-old tradition of popular culture, of the carnavelesque “world turned upside-down,” in which the burlesque operated as a vehicle for passions at the same time as it contained deviant actions.77 The mock trials were not designed as parodies of judicial forms but as a way of appropriating the legality of those same forms, decking out a burlesque rite as a judicial act. Religious culture offered and sanctioned the form of execution—burning. The performance of trial and punishment by the people was a display of retribution, the meting out of justice to offensive ministers, and all the more fitting in these cases as the king, by ousting these same ministers from office, had already punished them and thereby implicitly sanctioned popular punishment.78 Turbulent elements in festive action—the congregation of large numbers of torch-bearers engaging in carnivalesque acts of retribution culminating in the burning of effigies—sometimes invited acts of repressive force which then unleashed riots, as with the fêtes in Paris in 1787 and 1788.79 Processions in the capital, with torches and effigies of condemned ministers held aloft, attracted participants and many bystanders. In September 1787, judicial clerks of the parlement began the celebrations and were quickly joined by young workers from the shops at the Place Dauphine near the parlementary court while crowds gathered as well on the Champs Elysées; in October another crowd reported to be 3,000 strong congregated at the Place de Grêve. Parisians mixed joyous welcome to the Paris parlementarians returning from exile in Troyes with the ritual burning of an effigy of the ousted minister Calonne—“observing . . . judicial formalities”;80 so too did they attack an effigy of the queen’s friend, Mme. de Polignac, and threatened to burn an effigy of the queen (which the lieutenant general of police prevented in time). Festive acts and riots again followed closely in succession between August and September 1788 with news of the dismissal of the hated Loménie de Brienne, the appointment of the beloved Necker, the dismissal of the equally hated keeper of the seals Lamoignon, and the recall of the parlement. Participants and bystanders were more numerous as the festivities spread from the neighborhood of the parlement to other areas on the right and left banks. In August Parisians burned an effigy of Loménie, and 10,000 reportedly (perhaps an exaggeration) gathered at the Palais-Royal to celebrate

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Necker’s return. In September young men on the Pont Neuf demanded money from passersby for firecrackers and forced them to do homage at the statue of Henry IV; other crowds burned effigies of Loménie and Lamoignon (see Figure 5) and threatened to burn their homes. The demonstrations in Paris led the Paris guards, the French Guards assisting, to attack groups of demonstrators in 1787, and with greater force in 1788, provoking acts of popular revenge with the burning of guardhouses and attacks on individual guards (see Figure 6). Hardy reported eighty killed in these clashes in 1788, the Correspondance littéraire secrète more cautiously cited 20 killed and 80 wounded. Lists of those arrested and injured provide a historical record of those taken to prisons and hospitals. Their social status was similar to those in the crowds in 1789 and the years after: mainly young men in their twenties or late teens, workers and a few apprentices in crafts or trades, unmarried, and most of them sons, brothers, or relatives of small artisans or shopkeepers.81 Also in the police records of those forced to pay fines were masters of workers and owners and renters of lodgings from whose premises firecrackers and bottles were thrown. Only one person arrested was identified as “bourgeois.” Those in higher social ranks appear fleetingly and marginally as spectators, not actors. As the demonstrations and the noise continued over several weeks from August into September 1788, the better-off bourgeois Parisians became impatient and hoped for an end to these confrontations. Those arrested of course disclaimed any active role in rioting. They were passersby, they stated, returning to their lodgings after work or dinner, or attracted outdoors by the noise on the streets, by the fireworks or the flames of torches or bonfires, curious to see the burning of effigies or merely what was happening. What effect riots, arrest, or wounds had on those participants is unknown. What is known is that Parisians, the peuple in particular, became increasingly hostile to the Paris guards and the French Guards who had fought and fired on demonstrators in 1787 and 1788. They insulted and attacked the guards and tried to prevent the arrest of demonstrators, which initiated another new dynamic: the fear and refusal of the French Guards to engage in aggresive acts against Parisians, and their gradual transformation into sympathizers with the demonstrators against the government. Joseph Charon, observing and writing about the Paris riots of August–September 1788, was a fine interpreter of social distinctions among the Parisian public, explaining the difference in social character and behavior of peuple, public, populace, and canaille (rabble) while at the same time

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underscoring the mutual support among these diverse groups: “It is the Peuple who demanded the expulsion of the two Ministers. . . . It is the Public who, in the Chateau of Versailles . . . [cried out] Vive le Roi . . . [which made an impression on the king]. It is the Populace who rioted . . . [and set fires]. And it is the Canaille who burned . . . the effigies of Brienne and of Lamoignon.”82 Offering his interpretation of the riot in 1788, and perhaps responding to a report that denounced the riots as acts of brigandage, Charon insisted that the rioters were not incited by money or manipulated by the parlement, but had their own authentic and deeply felt reasons for these fêtes-turned-riots. His sympathies were not unalloyed by prejudices that might, ironically, render his testimony about the sentiments of the Parisians all the more forceful. In the same writing, he offered a strongly moralistic condemnation of the century-long degeneration of Parisian lower classes which he attributed to a decline in religious faith, availability of greater “luxury,” and a desire for social ascension; yet his moralizing did not diminish the affinity he felt with the rioters.83 Provincial fêtes, as reported in pamphlets, newspapers, and newsletters, remained festive whether as celebration or condemnation, and radiated beyond their place of origin and beyond their immediate participants to embrace diverse elements of the population within and sometimes outside municipal boundaries. “Foreigners,” those from outside the cities, joined local inhabitants in festivities in Toulouse and Dijon, in Longwy, Grenoble, and smaller towns in Dauphiné. Peasants carrying the flags of their villages paraded in Pau, and others joined with music and song. As magistrates passed through villages and bourgs returning from exile to their parlementary seats, residents fêted them. Traditional practices served to broadcast news from one place to another. In Metz and Nancy church bells rang out good news and the announcement of fêtes, to which villages responded with the ringing of their own church bells. Flames from vessels placed atop the city tower in Longwy announced afar the festive joy; fireworks on mountains of two Dauphinois towns were signals that were seen nearby and as far away as neighboring provinces. Fêtes provided something for everyone—some form of activity or participation, or an opportunity to enjoy themselves: young children on floats; young men singing and marching; craftsmen, tradesmen, women, and clergy decorating their stores and habitations; and all eating, dancing, and watching the rituals. Social distinctions remained, manifested in the flags of guilds and of peasant villages, the different settings of meals, and the acts of

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charity, but within communities that shared in similar actions and aspirations through the fêtes. An observer in Pau, in September 1788, wrote of the female participants: “Among us women heighten their attraction by their patriotism, and a beautiful woman would no longer be beautiful if she were not a citoyenne.” In the words of a Burgundian nobleman, “Fêtes . . . seem to form a more intimate link between citizens of all orders”—however fleetingly.84 The appeal of festivity is clear enough in an age when a fête was the main form of entertainment and diversion from the humdrum of everyday life. And politics had the force to engage the interest of a considerable body in the public so as to refigure their festive acts for political purposes. Politics occasioned these fêtes, stark political events that caused French men and women, notables and ordinary people, adults and young people to take to the streets to celebrate or condemn, knitting together diverse social groups within local communities into political communities, even in Paris where demonstrators and onlookers otherwise physically stood apart. The intermeshing of such political engagements with festive activities indicates that in 1788, and on a smaller scale in 1787, a transition from the tradition of religious and civic festivals to political festivals—more exactly, the appropriation of practices from the former to the latter—was clearly under way; the politics of the Revolution did not originate but accelerated and enlarged this phenomenon. The French participated in these fêtes largely to condemn the exile of magistrates and to celebrate their return (about forty of the fêtes recorded); to celebrate the appointment of new (and for the moment favored) ministers, Loménie and Necker (fourteen of the fêtes recorded); and also to condemn the ousted ministers Calonne, Loménie, and Lamoignon. News of the resignation of ministers came in reports in periodicals and also traveled over a distance, transmitted through a network of human informants. Bankers in Paris sent couriers to their financial associates in Lyon who arrived within two days carrying the news of the resignation of Loménie de Brienne as principal minister, and from Lyon the news arrived within another two days in Grenoble, immediately sparking festivities there. The following month Dauphinois nobles sent to Versailles to represent their province dispatched the news of Lamoignon’s dismissal with a courier who arrived in the city of Romans and from there the news was relayed to Grenoble, again immediately setting off rejoicing. The suppression of parlementary courts was, in the cities in which they were located, direct and

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visible local news, seen in the arrival of royal agents to carry out the May edicts and in the closing of the gates to the courts. The royal commander sent to enforce the Brienne ministry’s order to suppress the Parlement of Aix was greeted with public derision, compounded by complete social ostracism, a stark contrast to the celebration in Aix one year earlier to honor Loménie de Brienne, their archbishop, upon his appointment to the ministry. In Pau, the arrival of the provincial governor was the occasion of a fête designed to arouse his Béarnais sentiments and convince him to intervene with the king to prevent the closing of the parlement. Scornful festive acts against the grands bailliages courts that assumed some of the judicial functions of the parlementary courts were further evidence of the public’s disapproval of the Crown’s policy toward the parlements and their support for the magistrates. In Toulouse, what was described as a mechanical caricature in a lantern displayed a woman chasing with a broom small figures in judicial robes, followed by the writer’s comment: “The allusion . . . was not difficult to grasp.” Nor did the French have to be residents of parlementary cities to engage in these fêtes. Smaller provincial cities had their own festivities to express their joy at the return of magistrates and the re-establishment of the courts—in Dauphiné twenty small cities, towns, and one which described itself as a bourg are known to history through the newly vitalized reporting in the provincial newspaper. A few other nonparlementary cities staged festive receptions for the return of local judges, municipal officers, and private lawyers punished for their opposition to the suppression of the parlements, further evidence of the provincial public’s sympathy for critics of the Crown. Other political events that triggered fêtes, though fewer in number, were the re-establishment of provincial estates, with celebrations in Pau and Valence, and the summoning of the estates-general, greeted joyously in Lyon, Toulouse, and Nérac in Guyenne. The city of Nîmes joined in the celebrations for the return of their local court and the summoning of the estates-general with festive honors to the king and the queen. Political messages were inscribed in the fêtes and could be seen and heard throughout: in speeches—harangues by officials but also by a young man in Pau; in songs, poems in Latin, French, and patois, and theatrical plays; in citations from Horace and Vergil, the Bible, and Racine; in imagery, inscriptions, and symbols on banners, lanterns, doors, windows, and architectural constructions; and in adornments on clothing and the costuming of children. These messages did not convey sophisticated arguments. The thoughts expressed among the public at the fêtes are like notes or slogans, abbreviated

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or condensed versions of what others developed at greater length in the formal speeches of magistrates, officials, and lawyers, and in contemporary writings. The récits, détails, relations, descriptions, and short newspaper reports do not embroider on the political messages (even if they may exaggerate the number of participants in these fêtes) but present them in their raw simplicity and directness. While the verses on display in the streets were sometimes cited in full, the harangues by two young men in Pau are recounted only briefly, and unknown is what the storekeeper in Bordeaux voiced in his harangue. However reduced in substance and in the recounting, the evidence indicates that political messages relayed in the fêtes spread among the participants and to those in neighboring areas, and fed the opposition to royal policy. These political messages rarely echoed arguments from the Enlightenment, from Jansenism, or the discourse associated with Rousseau, which have attracted the attention of historians. Instead, there is evidence of traditional beliefs given a modern turn, often invoking specific persons and institutions more than abstract ideas. Praise for the king and praise for the parlements were the most frequently expressed sentiments at that time. Since the suppression or recall of parlementary courts occasioned many of these fêtes, it is no surprise to find ideas redolent of aspects of parlementary constitutionalism; more of a surprise may be the outpouring of the most basic royalist sentiments. Simple “Vive le roi” were aplenty, while a shoemaker in Grenoble hung on his door the unvarnished words, “Vive le Roi/Ma femme et moi!” Praise for the king was frequently accompanied by words explaining the reason for the acclamation, and joint acclaims to the king and parlement, ministers, provinces, and the Third Estate underscored the connection between words and acts. The king won praise because he restored the parlement, dismissed the hated ministers Loménie and Lamoignon, appointed the new and popular minister Necker, re-established provincial estates, and convened the estates-general. Those actions demonstrated, in more abstract terms, the king’s goodness and justice, his respect for or restoration of legal order, which made for the happiness of his people and engendered the subjects’ love for the king, elements that constituted the force of an empire. A constitutional division of labor, in the minds of the French, permitted praise of and love for the king by vilifying evil or despotic ministers. Burning effigies of hated ministers translated into the language and act of popular culture the new political and constitutional principle of ministerial accountability

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to the public, especially the demand that ministers be held criminally liable for their policies and actions, arguments that parlementary declarations and other writings explicitly voiced. Symbols expressed political feelings and reasoning. As early as October 1787, during the celebrations for the Paris parlement’s return, streetsingers and sellers of songs in the capital distributed tricolor cocardes and ribbons of blue, white, and red. Such adornments were neither original nor unique but were a traditional mode of expressing political sympathies through the colors chosen. In Grenoble, in October 1788, cocardes of blue and yellow, the colors of Dauphiné, expressed provincial sentiments for the parlement and the provincial estates; in Pau, in August and September, white ribbons symbolized patriotism, and probably attachment to the province; whereas in Nîmes in November white cocardes represented support for the king and his efforts at reform. The tricolor in Paris in 1787 had ambiguous or multiple meanings. It anticipated, still unknowingly, future Revolutionary symbolism while echoing a contemporary fashion and reviving a historical mode. Red, white, and blue were the colors associated with the British flag and the new stars and stripes of the Americans, both of which connoted liberty, while white, blue, and red were also the historical colors of the royal house that Charles IX introduced to France in the sixteenth century. Thus the tricolors distributed in Paris in 1787 associated liberty with the king in celebration of his restoration of liberty through the recall of the Paris parlement.85 Symbols denoting similar themes were more plentiful and varied in 1788. Thémis, representing justice, and Fidelity accompanied the king in a decoration on the home of a silversmith in Nancy; in Dijon, Louis XVI was depicted raising upright the figure of France that ministers had laid low. The triumphant chariot in Dijon, modeled on a chariot of Alexander the Great, carried children personifying abstract symbols and was adorned with images of France, Liberty, an armed Minerva, and Justice whose resurrection would bring Peace and Abundance to the Patrie. The memory of Henry IV, evoked in two plays in Bordeaux and in Pau by a young man dressed as Henry, represented the good and beloved king whom Louis XVI should emulate. A play presented in Grenoble aimed to make political developments of the time more meaningful to a local and popular audience by transposing national events to a village setting: a lord’s elimination of a village judge saddening the villagers who request his recall and rejoice at his return.

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Words and symbols together signified that praise of the king was not unqualified, not a vague or generic expression. Praise was accompanied by expectations and denoted unambiguous popular judgment of the king’s policies. What was often implicit was made explicit in two audacious pronouncements. Two judicial officers in Nérac in Guyenne couched their praise of the king in November 1788 with words exonerating him, implying his responsibility for unacceptable action. And in Pau a harangue by a young man costumed as Henry IV concluded with the maxim: “One is loyal to the King only in so far as one is faithful to Justice.” Loyalty to the sovereign was clearly contingent on the king’s faithful fulfillment of the demands of justice as perceived by his subjects. “Vive le parlement” was as frequent as “vive le roi,” though with fewer expressed conditions attached and not without certain implicit qualifications. The demand for and rejoicing at the recall of parlementary courts signaled support for a system of untrammeled justice, represented in verse and imagery by the figure of Thémis lifted up and set solidly in place. Freely functioning parlements guaranteed respect for and observance of the law in defense of the patrie—represented by a young girl in the fête in Dijon—and its rights. That patrie might be a particular province and its inhabitants or, in the figure of France, the kingdom at large and all the French people, as the mayor of Montélimar affirmed in a speech. Acclaim for the restored parlements extended as well to judges in other tribunals and to local officials who had supported the magistrates in their struggle with the ministry. In reverse, the victory of the courts signaled the defeat of despotism, the public’s unmitigated baneful judgment of the policies of the vilified ministers—a lion and a dragon in one image, and monsters in the “bad Latin verse” of a businessmen in Troyes—while, not surprisingly, verse and image enthusiastically embraced the new minister Necker as an additional guardian of the law. The restitution of the regular courts of law yielded a bounty in imagery. A silversmith’s contribution to the fête in Troyes was an image of Justice accompanied by Harmony, and in the same fête the figure of France held the fasces symbolizing the thirteen parlements and a pike holding on its tip an English hat symbolizing liberty. In the fête in Dijon, Justice carried an olive branch and a horn of abundance, and on a grandiose triumphant chariot Justice, Peace, and Abundance surrounded the figure of Patrie while children riding on the chariot also represented Justice, Peace, and Liberty. (Tocqueville might have been surprised at the absence of a symbol of Equality.) Verses and images as well as inscriptions accompanying illustrations and

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ornamentations reiterated again and again the themes of justice and of peace reborn. From Vergil came the words cited thrice, once in Grenoble and twice in Dijon in October 1788, expressing the belief in the birth of a new order and the return of a Golden Age: “Now the Virgin returns and the reign of Saturn.” Religious tradition in quotations from the Bible, in Dijon, reinforced the beliefs in justice bringing forth peace (Zecharia) and the establishment of righteousness (Proverbs), also expressed compactly and forcefully in the words of Isaiah: “And the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance forever.” If these quotations represent utopian strains of thought later manifested in the Revolution and in the discourses of revolutionaries, their fount was older, resting on the classical tradition imparted in the lycées and on religious instruction from the church. Such examples of ideas and aspirations may be understood as the moral guides undergirding western culture and inspiring, as in France in 1787–1788, periodic efforts at betterment—a necessary constituent of civil society. The rule of law, the supremacy of the law, the king ruling in accord with the law, and the law enforced freely were sentiments manifest in the fêtes, drawn from the principles of French jurisprudence and long associated with the tradition of parlementary constitutionalism. But the restoration of the parlements did not signify the magistrates’ recuperation of political power. The public in these fêtes did not embrace the fullness of parlementary constitutionalism. While desiring the courts to function in full freedom, they did not look to the courts as their sole spokesmen and representative— that was unspoken. But words did express their sentiments for the privileges and liberties of the provinces that parlements defended and provincial estates ensured through enactment. Salutes and support in verse and image were offered to the three provinces—Brittany, Navarre, and Dauphiné— that took the lead in opposing the Crown’s suppression of the parlements; the fête in Gap invoked the assembly of Vizille which brought about the restoration of the estates in Dauphiné. In the euphoria for the reestablishment of the courts, the political claims of the magistrates tended to be overlooked, except by a Dauphinois mayor, whose words indicated the shift in thought underway on the political role of the parlements. The province, said the mayor, owed the restoration of its estates to the parlement’s free abandonment of its rights. The parlementary courts did not embody all the political aspirations of the French public. Since the Paris parlement in July 1787 ceded its right to consent to taxes to an estates-general,

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the public embraced the parlements as courts of law, not as representative political institutions. That role they conferred on provincial estates and on a national estates-general. In Bordeaux, Grenoble, Dijon, Metz, in small towns in Dauphiné and one in Touraine, the fêtes invoked unity among the French: unity between the king and the parlementary courts, unity between the kingdom of France and the provinces. Along with calls for the vague unity of “all good citizens,” “all true citizens,” and “all good patriots” were wishes for the unity of the three orders: three hearts joined together in an image displayed on the home of a noblewoman in Grenoble. In a Dauphinois town a nobleman toasted the Third Estate, followed by the bourgeoisie who toasted both the nobility and the clergy. Varied emblems on an image in Metz representing the king, the magistracy, the clergy, the nobility, and the Third Estate, all tied together, bore the inscription “in unity is public happiness.” The circle of unity extended to the military as well, out of desire and hope prompted by collective interest and defense. Blessing a military regiment in a ceremony in Brittany in June 1788, a priest admonished the soldiers to act as citizens first and to engage in war only against enemies of the state; two months later in Pau demonstrators tried to convince soldiers that all the French were “brothers.” The argument achieved success when in November, in a town in Guyenne, soldiers listening to local officials orating on the supremacy of the rule of law carried rifles bearing laurel branches instead of bayonets. The varied festive events in France, especially in 1788, made evident and transmitted through acts a heightened political awareness among the French public. Political responsiveness often evolved in the course of an event. In August 1788 residents of Pau and peasants from the countryside first turned to the provincial nobles for aid, demanding they assemble to deliberate on action to restore the parlement; while awaiting a response, the demonstrators themselves drew up their own formal declaration—“a form of writing that was absolutely new,” in the words of the anonymous contemporary chronicler. Charon, in his better-known account of the demonstrations in Paris in August and September 1788, affirmed with passion that Parisians did not act out of ignorance or maliciousness. Political sentiments motivated them. Parisians of all orders had acquired “notions of constitutions, of politics” and had gained an understanding of public affairs which they lacked a decade earlier. They had become aware of the source of their misfortunes in administrators whose actions brought about heavy taxes,

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high prices, and scarcity of money and goods in circulation. Anticipating Habermas’ theory of the “public sphere,” Charon stated that talk and opinions about these problems were expressed in social circles and “in the interior of families.” The Parisian public held the two ministers, Loménie and Lamoignon, responsible and by their actions showed support for the ouster of the two.86 Heightened political consciousness expressed in the fêtes extended beyond the demand for changes in policy and ministry. Some participants gave voice to a collective consciousness of the public as actor, operating as public opinion, and capable of imposing its views on the body politic. A judge in Lyon evoked public opinion as being a “safeguard” against government intrigue injurious to the public’s desires, and as judge willing to “pardon the errors” of the king himself. To a magistrate in Toulouse, the king’s justice and his respect for public opinion, which recent events demonstrated, all the more announced the public as sovereign: “the respect that the king announces himself for public opinion, that sovereign of the world which reigns over the French more than over any other nation.”87 The fête in Nîmes, the last to be celebrated at the very end of November 1788, made evident a major change in the direction of the Revolution. Still muted warnings to the nobility and clergy signaled the dissolution of that social and political unity so much desired and so often invoked. While repeated praise for the king resounded in Nîmes, the estates-general garnered attention with demands that it be modeled on the estates of Dauphiné, meaning that the number of representatives of the Third Estate be doubled and all representatives vote by head and not by order. A ballet reaffirmed these demands and added an indictment of the nobility and clergy: a woman costumed as royal France ordered a nobleman and an abbot to make their fiscal payments, and they complied. The hope for harmony and unity persisted, for the moment. The public’s responses, favorable or unfavorable, and changes in political alignments were neither random nor arbitrary but were expressions of the reasoned and conscious interests of a major portion of the Third Estate of commoners. A counter-fête, one might call it, in January 1789 in Marseille, reported by the same diarist who claimed public apathy at the celebration for the return of the Parlement of Aix a few months earlier, made evident the public’s altered leanings. In a display of silent opposition to the mayor of Marseille, a nobleman, following his return from the Assembly of Notables, he received no visitors, was absent from city hall for several days, and did not take his seat in the theater reserved for municipal officials. The mayor purposefully withdrew from

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public view to avoid what he feared would be outcries of opprobrium for his opposition to the doubling of the Third Estate in the deliberations of the second Assembly of Notables. News and views about developments in France in 1787–1788 were known to a considerable portion of the public, even if statistical accuracy of the size of that public is impossible to achieve. Through periodicals, French and foreign; manuscript newsletters; an outpouring of pamphlets, songs, and verse; word of mouth and imagery; at gathering places and reading sites; and participation in fêtes, the public—including those who could not read—came to know, some more deeply, others superficially, about the problems of their government, the issues that weighed upon them, whom they supported and whom they opposed, and what they sought to end and what they sought to achieve. The varied media helped to forge and mobilize a public that was acquiring a sense of its collective desires and force. And public life, the experience in many local areas and in the national polity, as well as relations between the actors and participants—king, judges, nobles, and commoners—imprinted its political education on the French.

11 “Popular” Pamphlets Political Messages to the Public

“Where is the man who is not learned now? Which lackey, tailor, and greengrocer does not want to be a philosopher? The fury to educate oneself has become now a national malady,” wrote Olympe de Gouges in the early months of 1789. Another contemporary spoke ironically of his valet who “philosophized on the ministers already dismissed and those to be dismissed; . . . on the notables . . . , on the estates general; . . . on the king’s goodness . . . . , on the possibility of paying the debts of the state.” Whether these stories are true or not, in public view the market women (les poissardes) of Paris did take advantage of the tradition prescribing their presence before the king on ceremonial occasions to make known their views on government affairs in 1787 and 1788.1 Amidst the plethora of political publications that preceded and anticipated the great explosion of writings in 1789, is it possible to distinguish any works whose features gave them an appeal to a wide audience? The many pamphlets spoke in many voices, offering a multiplicity of forms and of messages. Most were in the category of elite writings; that is, erudite in substance and sophisticated in argument, among which were lengthy works, all requiring time and concentrated attention. From the mass of publications approximately seventy pamphlets fit one or more criteria of selection for wide appeal: (l) they were cheap in price, hence within the means of a broad, even popular public; (2) the writings were brief and could be read quickly; (3) they were expressed in a voice or had the genre form that drew upon familiarity; and (4) the level of discourse was simple and direct, hence could be easily apprehended. The nature of these sources predetermined their perspective, and ours. These pamphlets did not emanate from the peuple, but were literary creations of individual writers who were trying to make contact 253

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with a public as they conceived it, using words and forms that they believed would gain the attention of and make an impact on readers. Most of these pamphlets were within the traditional category of “popular” literature.2 Such writings, historian Roger Chartier suggested, were not defined by the popular character of the author or of the audience, but by certain material or physical features of the printed text which made them cheap in price, as low as a few sous for several pages of unbound sheets in the form of pamphlets. Popular literature also consisted of certain recurrent genres. In addition to religious works and tales of chivalry, these included self-help books, almanacs, satires, parodies and burlesques especially of superiors, and writings in slang associated with street talk or the talk of lowerclass groups—similar to what the literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin has called “low genres” or the “genres of ordinary everyday life.”3 The pamphlets examined here include “catechisms” with questions and responses on political issues. These political catechisms were explicitly forms of selfinstruction, as were those entitled colloques and conférences, dialogues, entretiens, and instructions. Almanacs, whose single printing per year on cheap paper and with illustrations primitive in quality made them cost sous rather than livres, were accessible to many and carried some basic news of political events in France to their wide public.4 Along with explicit didacticism were comic writings. The French went into the Revolution, one may say, laughing at the farcical images of royal ministers whose policies and actions were ridiculed and of their underlings made into fools. Laughter condemned; invective denounced with even greater force, maligning individuals or groups and seeking to arouse passions. Harsh polemics, as the “Mazarinades” demonstrate, had a long history in ancien régime politics, from the Wars of Religion to the Maupeou revolution.5 Slang, the poissard speech in verse and in prose, although a literary invention of accomplished authors and read by a public above the rank of the peuple, gave the pretense of a popular voice through a supposed imitation of the talk of tradesmen and women of the Paris halles.6 There were as well other writings linked to traditional genres, such as the adventure story, or to those typical in the eighteenth century, such as the family melodrama. Thus some of the elementary facts and political arguments at the outset of the Revolution appeared in familiar literary forms. In addition, there is the bestseller, whose evident appeal, as indicated by large circulation and multiple editions, may offer a key to the political psychology of the public that purchased the many copies.

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Authors employed familiar genres. So too did they depict characters or present situations that were familiar, as if part of the daily experience of an ordinary person, so as to facilitate the transmission of political ideas. They reduced the distance between the author and the reader, or between the idea and the reader. The errors and foibles, the frustrations, resentments, and hopes that animated the public sphere of political action were set into scenes that touched the readers’ personal existence and resonated with the sounds and images of private life. Complex problems, brought down to the level of the everyday, could more easily be understood or identified with, the better to be accepted, rejected, or ridiculed. At the same time as writers illuminated general problems through concrete depiction, so they connected the particular concerns of individuals to larger issues, thereby directing the public’s attention to politics and promoting political awareness and contestation. Between writer and reader there was an implicit dialogue conveyed through the text. The author attempted to serve as a stand-in, expressing the thoughts and sentiments assumed to be those of the readers, the reader in turn finding articulated what may have been his or her own inner thoughts. If a mark of high culture is the author’s effort to aid the reader in transcending the limits of personal experience, one may suggest that a mark of the “culture of the everyday” is the author’s intent to confirm what his readers already think, feel, and believe—another way to reach the public on its own level. Familiarity was one mode for establishing correspondence in thought between writers and readers. Simplification was another strategy by which authors sought to have a meeting of minds with the public and to connect all the more easily the readers’ sentiments with the authors’ arguments. Almost all the pamphlets discussed here have in common arguments expressed simply and composed of commonplace ideas. The authors evidently were trying to reach out to an audience, whatever its social character was, which they believed was unsophisticated, intellectually or politically. Hence they made use of a language and of references that they assumed would be known. They engaged in a discourse in political culture. I use the term “political culture” to denote the thought behind the act, specifically the thought that is conventional rather than exceptional, simple rather than sophisticated. Political culture should privilege the commonplace thoughts expressed by writers long-forgotten rather than the original ideas of outstanding writers.7 Its texts should echo notions already latent in the reader’s mind.8 The reservoir of received opinion composed of rudimentary beliefs and stock formulas that spring from diverse sources should

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be the focus of study, rather than the genealogy of ideas or theoretical argumentation. The attitudes expressed, however simple, are also ambiguous and inconsistent because they come not from quiet, reasoned reflections but from sudden, unexpected, and hurried experiences, or because they were passed down from one generation to another, reproduced and transformed within different milieux yet persisting through change. Political culture is a palimpsest of lived experiences and derived ideas, of rational calculations and mystifications inspired by hopes and resentments. Its subject relates to government affairs, to activities in the public sphere, to relations of power that were expressed in demands for policy changes or, more profoundly, to changes in the structure of institutions or in social relations, as well as to the experience through which these political issues took hold of people’s minds. Through underlying, often unquestioned, and still formless assumptions that infused people’s minds, or explicit programmatic goals that directed their actions, individuals but especially groups gave voice to their sense of the rightness and justness of their place in relation to others. Hence political culture should be linked to social place, whether geographic, class, or corps, which framed the outlook of collective bodies.9 In the pages of the political pamphlets of 1787–1788 that one may call “popular” in the sense of being addressed to a wide audience, authors simplified arguments that originated among the elite or were erudite in character, grounded in juridical and historical precedents or in philosophic principles.10 The criticisms and claims directed against the royal government were prompted by and arose in the meeting of the first Assembly of Notables; they were echoed, disseminated, and further developed in pamphlets, treatises, and especially in the remonstrances of parlementary courts.11 Shorn of their scholarly or theoretical layers and condensed to basic precepts, these ideas were then presented in a straightforward manner, easily understood, in short and inexpensive pamphlets. Such a process of reduction clearly was intended to broaden the range of readers. Some years earlier the writer of the Mémoires secrets (15 June 1776, IX, p. 149) wrote approvingly of Guillaume-Joseph Saige’s Catéchisme du citoyen because it brought “within the understanding of the most simple and stupid a doctrine that L’Esprit des lois and the Contrat social drowned in a metaphysic very difficult to understand.”12 Yet Saige’s work was still a theoretical formulation of political principles of over 100 pages—not a typical example of a popular writing—that was republished in 1787 and again in 1788. In those later years still other pamphlets appeared whose message was even

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more simple and direct.13 In 1787 a Paris publisher engaged the physician and writer Rondonneau de la Motte to clarify and condense the thirty volumes of the Histoire de France by Velly, Villaret, and Garnier into the form of a “small historical dictionary” because the public—so the publisher’s preface states—wants information on the estates-general.14 In these ways arguments originally devised by Notables, magistrates, and lawyers for a readership among “that enlightened class . . . of nobles, ecclesiastics, financiers, owners of bonds (rentiers), barristers (avocats), attorneys (procureurs), court-officers (huissiers)”15—the traditional cultural and political elite extending from the first and second orders to the wealthy, leisured, and professional groups of the upper and middle bourgeoisie—began to penetrate into lower ranks of society. Who composed the audience for these popular political pamphlets cannot be determined exactly. Many of these writings escaped government controls, so with few exceptions we do not know how many were printed. Pamphlets, moreover, were not sold by subscription but over the counter— or rather from “under the cloaks” of colporteurs. There are no subscription lists to indicate the number of readers or their social composition; the indirect and circumstantial evidence yields only an impressionistic image. The material and literary features of these pamphlets—their cheapness and the simplicity and directness of argument—had the same social effect: to widen potential readership. A popularized history costing 30 sous (1–1/2 livres), or the bestseller of 1788 costing 48 sous—equal to the wages of workers for one to two days—was within the financial capacity of tradesmen, artisans, and even the more skilled workers, such as those who demonstrated in the streets of Paris in August and September 1788, if not of the unskilled and poorest.16 The popularity of a work might cause demand to exceed supply and force the price up, out of the reach of many; one sought-after pamphlet (by the lawyer Nicolas Bergasse), despite the several editions printed, fetched as much as 9 livres. On the low end of the price scale—for the few pamphlets whose prices are indicated in the journal of the Parisian bookseller Hardy—the range was 12 sous for the petition written in the name of Parisians by Dr. Guillotin to 3 sous for Le Dernier mot du tiers état à la noblesse de France, most of the others being 6 sous, making these as easy to buy even for a worker as a pinte of wine. The price of pamphlets was also within the same range as the price of tickets for a number of public entertainments available in Paris at the time: 12, 24, and 30 sous.17 A few pamphlets, contemporaries report, were even distributed free of charge

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by government agents handing out royalist propaganda or by some booksellers. Reading material also passed from hand to hand, or was read aloud to groups, so that there were more readers and auditors than purchasers. The texts and their context suggest an audience for these pamphlets that was socially heterogeneous, extending from the upper ranks of the elite to the lower-middle ranks of the urban populace, perhaps even including a “middling,” prosperous, and literate peasantry: a public not unlike those who gathered in the garden of the Palais-Royal and who attended the fairs and boulevard theaters in Paris.18 Authors sometimes indicated in their titles the audience to whom they addressed their writing: the “people of the cities and countryside” of Burgundy; the “third estate . . . of all the provinces of France and especially of Provence”; the “mothers of families” or the “officers of the présidial court in Nancy.” In one example the Breton nobility appealed to the inhabitants of the province in the native Breton language.19 Naming the audience may have been a rhetorical artifice to give a veneer of popular appeal, but we should not assume this was without social consequence. We have learned from the works of François Furet and Jacques Ozouf, of Roger Chartier and Daniel Roche, and of others, that literacy had become fairly widespread in the urban areas of France and among prosperous groups in rural society. In that light it becomes credible that even members of the peuple, if they did not read Jean-Jacques (though the Parisian glassmaker Ménétra claimed to have read Rousseau), they nonetheless read some popularized political writings, especially as political events became heated in 1787 and 1788.20 Political sympathies may be fluid, and may bring together for shorter or longer periods of time groups whose differences are otherwise socially or culturally rooted. As political writings these pamphlets were propagandistic: they were designed to move and to mobilize the public, or segments of it, so as to gain support for a particular cause. Each work had a political message, promoting the view of one of the protagonists in the conflict of 1787–1788: the Crown on one side; the parlementary courts and their supporters in provincial estates and among nobles, clergy, and lawyers on the other side; and lastly the Third Estate. No word can be read or argument understood apart from its political affiliation, lest one be entrapped by false ideology; the most violent attacks or radical pronouncements may have been the deceptive tactics of a conservative strategy.21 Nor were these propagandistic efforts weakened by the fact that the authors, at least those few known, were not themselves of the people. They assumed a popular identity, but this was

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a literary convention, a borrowing from popular culture ostensibly to appeal to a broad public. To be successful as propagandists the authors had to reach their audience. Whatever the rhetorical devices employed, if the political argument or message of the author did not correspond to the unarticulated thought’s of the readers, to their desires and sense of rightness, persuasion and propaganda had little effect—a fate that befell royalist pamphlets in 1787–1788. The examples of political writings that follow—those in popular literary forms, that reached out to a broad public, or that were popular with readers—suggest the multiple and diverse sources from which political messages flowed to a broad public.

Didactic and Religious Genres News and views about political developments in 1787–1788 appeared in popular form as simple dialogues or a series of questions and answers; as authentic religious pronouncements or as imitiations of religious forms of address; and as polemical tracts addressed to the Third Estate or which invoked the cause of the people. Their arguments advanced the interests of the royal cause, of parlementarians, and of the Third Estate, evidence of the importance the several political forces attached to these pamphlets through which they competed for the support of a broad public. The didactic pamphlets presented in a straightforward manner the political debates of the day, reducing issues to a simplified core, even transposing them into the form of problems faced in daily life. The peasant talking with a traveler in Brittany, in Entretien entre un paysan et un voyageur en Bretagne, at the time of the controversy over the suppression of the parlements in May 1788, can well understand that the king, who is a human being like others, may be deceived. The traveler’s task is then made easy to convince the peasant that the king needs men to advise and to warn him against such deception: “those good men who are so necessary, they are the presidents and councilors of parlement.” Thus the complex issue of virtual representation is quickly and briefly resolved. The peasant concurs with the traveler that the Breton estates represent all the inhabitants of Brittany since he, and many others, cannot leave their work. Instead, some of the Bretons “have the habit of meeting together; and everything they said, it is as if we had said it; and everything they say, it is as if we were saying it” (“dans l’accoutumance de s’assembler; et tout ce qu’ils ont dit, c’est comm’ si j’ l’avions

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dit; tout c’qu’i disent, c’est comm’ si j’ le disions”). That justice and order cannot be assured while the courts are suppressed is made pointedly clear by the peasant’s exclamation: “What? no more justice . . . ! So any robber can come and rob me, there are no longer any judges to punish him!” (“Quai? pus de justice . . . ! Ainsi, un voleur peut venir me voler, il n’y a pus de Juges pour le punir!”) The author of Le Peuple instruit par les faits, written at the same time, explains to his reader what lies at the heart of many of the complex issues of the day, such as opposition to taxes, the suppression of the parlementary courts and establishment of a plenary court, the criticism of absolute authority, and the demand for consent to taxes through an estates-general. If the king can do whatever he wants to do, he could impose as many taxes as he wants “on our lands and on our work,” with the result that “we would only be tenants and not owners of our lands . . . and the master could raise the lease as much as he wants, because it is his land.” A dialogue between the “king” and the “parlement” in Avis au peuple (1788), with comments interjected by the writer, bares the lines of the political dispute. The parlement is made to say “We want to be King; a King is nothing but a member of Parlement,” against which the author concludes: “The King and the People are one side, and the other side are the Parlement and some Partisans whom they control. The King and the People will always have only one cause and one interest . . . what the King does is useful to the People; what the Parlement wants is only useful to itself.” This succinct argument aligning the king and the people in opposition to the parlements, condensed into threeand-one-half pages, along with other royalist pamphlets were distributed by the government, a critic charged, “with profusion . . . in public squares and as far as the country taverns (guingettes)” where Parisians flocked to drink the cheaper wine available across the city line.22 Not only the message but also the mode for expressing opinion was made simple in Délibérations à prendre par le tiers-état, dans toutes les municipalités du Royaume de France (1788). This broadsheet which trumpeted its support for the king’s absolute authority to make laws and to alter the courts, untrammeled by any human interference, was a single-page circular on which municipal assemblies could easily inscribe their assent with a single word—a prototype of a short-answer questionnaire. Pedagogic devices from the tradition of the church were also employed to popularize political messages. An authentic ecclesiastical voice was that of the archbishop of Paris in a mandement of 15 February 1787 that colpor-

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teurs hawked in the streets. In this annual grant of permission to Parisians to eat eggs during Lent, the archbishop directed attention to the Assembly of Notables that was to meet on 21 February: “What is more capable . . . than the great act of mercy which is being prepared in this moment . . . to attract the protection of heaven on the august Assembly which the King has just convoked around his Throne, to discuss with it the wisest means to obtain the general relief of his people.”23 One and one-half years later, on 25 November 1788, the bishop in Pau issued a mandement for a Te Deum to take place in the cathedral and parish churches of Pau and in all the churches in the diocese to celebrate the recall of the parlementary courts and the summoning of the estates-general; he further ordered that prayers be said in the convents, and that the priests who conduct the mass “shall direct their intention to the same purpose.” The bishop stated that he was responding to public desires, to what he called “the religious insurrection”: “as soon as His Majesty, by his Edict, restored to you your Laws, reopened the temple of Justice . . . you have rushed into our temples; you have surrounded our Altars, begged, urged the Ministers of the Altars to serve you as organs, to chant the Canticle of thanksgiving, and give glory to the Author of the new gift.” The bishop did not lose the occasion to present his own political message. He deplored the closing of the courts before turning to express his admiration of the king’s willingness to share “rights and duties” with his subjects and to permit the nation to act as “the arbiter and instrument of its happiness.” Employing religious metaphor to promote what in secular language was familiar as the general interest or the common good, the bishop instructed the residents of Pau to prepare themselves for the estates-general as “patriots” in the way they would purify their hearts as Christians, by renouncing all “personal interest” and embracing “the whole of society.”24 A sermon was the religious form borrowed by a lay author (purported to be Volney) in Petit prosne aux roturiers, en attendant le grand sermon aux français de toutes les classes (1788/89). This impassioned speech, aimed at stirring support among an unsophisticated audience, invoked the importance of the Third Estate and urged support for vote by head, the election of Third Estate deputies exclusively from within the order, and participation of the Third Estate in the exercise of political authority. In the manner of the Scriptures, the author presented a parable which contained his demand that the nobility accept the wishes of the Third Estate and concluded with a plea that mercy, not violence, should guide the regeneration of France.

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A sacrilegious borrowing of religious imagery was the work attributed to a clergyman, La Reynie de la Bruyère, abbé and chanoine in Limoges, in the pamphlet La Passion, la mort, et la resurrection du peuple (“Imprimé à Jerusalem, 1789”). Intended as a response to the opposition of the second Assembly of Notables to doubling of the Third Estate and vote by head in the estates-general—decisions that most of the princes of the blood seconded in the Mémoire des princes—the people or “plebeians” were presented in the role of Jesus whom the priests and nobles (the “Pharisees”) attack and kill. The resurrection of the people is brought about by the king through the convening of a national assembly that wlll eliminate all abuses. The specific political goal of this pamphlet was representation in proportion to population and to intelligence (lumières), as well as vote by head, whose effect would be to increase the representation of the people. Charity was not the final message. The author lashed out at priests and nobles for oppressing the people, and in a final paroxysm of rage that seems indebted to the tradition of the Inquisition, he called for the burning of all those who acted against the people, especially “the vile and sacreligious magistracy and the insolent nobility.” The catechistic form of instruction, through simple questions and responses, appeared at the outset of the campaign for the estates-general and was directed to an audience that was considered to be political neophytes in need of information and education: “the Third Estate is still only a child, very weak and very poorly informed: . . . it does not know their [sic] duties. . . . This small catechism will make it well-informed if it teaches it what it owes to others, and very strong if it teaches it what others owes to it.” To underscore the author’s point, the respondent in this Catechisme du tiers état, à l’usage de toutes les provinces de France, et spécialement de la Provence (December 1788) is made to be a manant (a peasant or villager). In early 1789 another catechism was addressed especially to women and to men who were educated but had not reflected on administrative matters and whose political reasoning lacked basic principles. The author of Catéchisme patriotique à l’usage des mères de famille (1789) explains his choice of literary form: “I thought that these basic ideas would be imprinted on the mind more easily if they were made in the form of a catechism.” Both catechism pamphlets focused on issues related to the estates-general, advocating doubling of Third Estate representation and voting by head; the Catéchisme du tiers état extended similar arguments to the estates of Provence as well. Both authors explained the functions and powers of the national assembly and

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outlined the several reforms—constitutional, financial, and judicial—it should carry out. At the conclusion of the Catéchisme . . . des mères the questioner declares: “Now I have a small idea of what you call a national assembly.” These early forms of political catechisms may well have enjoyed a certain success since another Catéchisme patriotique, par une bonne citoyenne, perhaps dating from the spring or summer of 1789, parodied the opening question of the Catéchisme du tiers état—“what is the Third Estate?”—and the adulation of the minister Jacques Necker found in the Catéchisme . . . des mères with its series of questions: “What is Necker?” “Are there several Neckers?”“Are there several persons with Necker’s thought?”“Yes. The King and his council which are but one: that is what one calls the Mystery of Versailles.” These words were intended to be comical. Not so the words placed in the mouth of the Paris parlement in Catéchisme des parlements (written during or shortly after December 1788, and sometimes attributed to SimonNicola-Henri Linguet). The author blatantly announced the parlement’s devious intention of submitting to its exclusive power not only the king but also the clergy, nobility, and military as well as the estates-general and provincial parlements. This pamphlet demonstrates the grotesque extreme to which the form of catechism might be employed in simplifying political arguments, even more dangerously in demonizing opposing viewpoints. Dialogue was a relaxed mode of discourse, drawing the reader into the give-and-take of conversation among acquaintances or among strangers: a rentier and a citizen at a café; a parlementary magistrate and an ordinary inhabitant of Dauphiné; a Parisian, a provincial (also of Dauphiné), and an abbé; as well as the Breton peasant and traveler who meet on the road. It was a form particularly suitable for collective reading, a practice current then and by means of which information reached even those who did not themselves read. The figures in the dialogue talked on a range of subjects: taxes, government credit, the rights and powers of provincial assemblies and estates; the need for national consent to taxation and for the reform of abuses; in defense of or against the parlementary courts or royal policy. The Colloque entre un rentier de l’état et un citoyen, déjeunant ensemble au Café de Foy, dated 17 August 1787, was the first public appeal to government creditors, designed to convince them that the best security for their investment lay in national consent to taxes, as the Paris parlement was then demanding. The rentiers who might vicariously place themselves in this conversation were not limited to wealthy financiers. They included as well bourgeois in

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Paris and in the provinces who purchased small denominations of rentes, members of all orders including lower-class artisans and domestic servants whose wills Daniel Roche studied (their savings appeared to them and to newspaper writers to be threatened when, on 16 August 1788, the government decreed partial repayment in treasury notes).25 Provincial voices directed to a provincial audience dictated the arguments in Dialogue sur l’établissement et la formation des assemblées provinciales . . . (1787) and Le Cri de la raison, ou entretien entre un Parisien, un provincial et un abbé (1788), in both instances the province being Dauphiné. Both pamphlets attacked the parlements, the second extending its criticism to the nobility and clergy as well, and defended royal policy. Their vision was of a limited and popular monarchy, in which the king would govern and the public would share in governance. The Dialogue, as early as October 1787, linked its support for public participation in local administration with a call for a national assembly to consent to laws. This double objective led the author to revise two traditional metaphors of political thought. The chain of dependency referred not to a hierarchy of social relations but to a hierarchy of governing assemblies, from the local parishes to the entire nation. And a new corporeal imagery identified the people in the body politic not with the hands but with the eyes, the people in the new assemblies maintaining vigilance and control, acquiring and transmitting knowledge to higher assemblies and to the king. While the Dialogue expressed its provincial sympathies by emphasizing the place of provincial assemblies in a new constitutional structure, the Cri de la raison voiced its provincial bias in proposing that the king live in different provinces of France each year and thereby learn of their needs and better promote their prosperity (p. 18). The latter’s advocacy of a contract between the king and his subjects that would establish “fundamental laws” and implant “limits between the power of the monarch and the rights of the nation” (pp. 19–20) offers a rare example of an explicit reference to Rousseau’s Social Contract, appropriated to support a limited and popular monarchy. Both pamphlets were addressed to provincials who were commoners and landed proprietors, and promoted their economic interests as landowners. Yet each shows a different side of what would become the socially contradictory features of revolutionary political culture. The Dialogue, more conservative, supported a system of elections that would assure greater representation to provincial notables, while proclaiming that administration belongs to all the people. The Cri de la raison, more reformist,

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even radical, moved beyond denunciation of tax privileges and support for fiscal equality to propose the suppression of the gabelle and the taille, the abolition of venality, and the redemption of feudal fees. School manuals offered another model for propagating political views among the broader public, from the device of questions and answers to instruction guides and digests of information. Les Pourquoi d’un homme ignorant et les parce que d’un homme sincère, publiés par un homme discret, pour l’instruction des hommes du tiers état posed simply a series of questions, “why?” followed by responses, “because.” The “schoolish” title, Essai d’instructions élementaires pour les habitants des campagnes de l’ordre du peuple, relativement à la convocation des états généraux. Par un membre des communes de la Province de Haute-Guyenne, thinly disguised the author’s conscious borrowing of the catechistic form—“by questions and answers”—in order to have “the greatest clarity and the greatest simplicity,” and to enable “the most humble inhabitant of the countryside” to understand his writing; he confessed that parts of the work might be too technically difficult for more than a select group of rural inhabitants to grasp. So too its composition in French rather than in Gascon might have limited its reading public, at least in the countryside.26 In 1787 some writers felt the need to define and explain the difference between “deficit” and “debt” following the revelation to the first Assembly of Notables of a deficit in the government’s finances. Similarly, in late 1788, the author of Essai d’instructions élémentaires explained the meaning of suffrage: each Frenchman would “make known his view” in choosing electors or representatives (p. 22). A detailed examination of the functions of the estates-general permitted the author to make claims for extensive legislative rights for the national body and to set out a wide-ranging program of reforms. He then proceeded to make clear the method of elections in the several assemblies, not without giving his views on the best form of voting and instructions to be given to those elected. Both pamphlets, Les Pourquoi and Essai d’instructions élémentaires, as well as an earlier one, Lettre à un plebeian au sujet de l’Assemblée des états généraux, echoed elements of Patriot arguments. They urged support either for doubling of Third Estate representation in the estates-general, the election of Third Estate deputies from within the order, voting in common to overcome particular interests, or the passage of varied reforms, especially fiscal equality. Only Les Pourquoi, written in December 1788, overtly attacked the clergy, nobility, and magistracy in its conscious effort to arouse the Third Estate. Yet the Lettre à un plebeian, antedating by five days the

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Paris parlement’s declaration of 25 September 1788 in favor of an estatesgeneral modeled on the form of 1614, was one of the earliest to make the audacious pronouncement that within a few months would become commonplace: “the Third Estate is truly the only corps in the Nation” (p. 43). Its vision of the body politic was nonetheless constricted; the reforms it proposed and the qualifications for representation favored prosperous landowners and businessmen, those who, once fiscal privileges were eliminated, would be equal with the nobility: “because a Gentleman and a Bourgeois are equal every time education, and especially wealth bring them closer, which happens very often. Marriage relationships between these two orders are equally frequent; the only inequality that remains is their tax contributions.” The Essai d’instructions élémentaires sought benefits for a wider range of people in society. While the author excluded domestic servants, day laborers, and poor peasants from the vote, he proposed other policies benefiting lower classes, such as taxes proportioned to wealth to reduce the fiscal burden especially on the peuple, protection of the property of rural inhabitants from confiscation without adequate compensation, and public-work projects that provide subsistence for “every working man . . . in particular every honest father of a family. . . . One can even hope that there will be work for those of every age, even for children and for abandoned old people” (pp. 8–9). The Essai d’instructions élémentaires acknowledged its indebtedness to the ideas of one of the leading political publicists of the day, the Parisian barrister Target. The author of Catéchisme . . . des mères was unabashed in citing the sources for his arguments: “Target, . . . Sieyès, . . . Cerutti, . . . Rabaud, etc. My intention is only to collect what others have said better . . . and to make them understandable to every mind.” There followed a veritable reader’s digest, a resumé of comparative forms of government— democracy, aristocracy, monarchy, and despotism—preceded by a synopsis of French history, from the feudal period until Necker’s second ministry in the writer’s day.27

History Manuals Popularized history, drawn from erudite accounts as old as Gregory of Tours and as recent as Mably, and fancifully reinterpreted to promote arguments supporting the monarchy, the parlements, or the nation, was a largescale enterprise in 1787–1788.28 Lengthy and ponderous volumes appeared along with political tracts steeped in learned arguments and footnote cita-

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tions of works of history or of documentary sources. Royalists, parlementarians, and Patriots marshaled their versions of history; even those committed to physiocratic or Rousseauian arguments could not avoid the addition of historical justification.29 Echoes of these more sophisticated and elaborated views resonated in briefer and simpler form in popular pamphlets. The synopsis of history offered in the Catéchisme . . . des mères focused on financial practices over the centuries which, despite heavy taxes and tax increases, left a large deficit that the national assembly had to correct. The “facts” recounted in Le Peuple instruit par les faits were those of the reign of Louis XVI up to the crisis brought on by the May edicts of 1788 and the forced closing of the parlementary courts. The author presented in a favorable light the opposition of the Assembly of Notables and of the parlements to new taxes. Even more briefly did he cast a distant glance onto the historical past, explaining to his Breton audience in particular the origin of the province’s contract with the king of France, by which the estates of Brittany had the right to approve any new law or new tax, including any change in the judicial system in Brittany. The Dernière lettre du peuple au roi, composed in September 1787 at the time of the Paris parlement’s refusal to register the proposed new land tax, drew its brief but pointed argument in support of the parlement from both ancient history and the history of France. The words reverberating in France in 1787 against the fiscal policy of Louis XVI were transposed to ancient Persia. The emperor Darius became the model of the wise ruler who imposed taxes with moderation, limiting their sum to the needs dictated by the defense of the state and only after consulting his subjects about their ability to pay. The writer of this popular pamphlet attached to this historical anecdote the scholarly apparatus of a footnote, citing a contemporary historical work that in turn was based on Herodotus. The moral of this tale would have been clear to readers. Even Louis XIV was invoked to instruct the French. The Sun King, so it was recounted, had himself expressed doubts about his right to impose on his sole authority the dixième tax. The force of the argument was graphically underscored by the typeface—the use of capital letters—so that no reader could avoid its emphases or evade its meaning: “[after] ten years of the most disastrous war which [Louis XIV] had fought against ALL OF Europe, and after the cruel winter of 1709 . . . this monarch so ABSOLUTE, himself indignant about this FRIGHTFUL tax, exclaimed when the

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proposal was made to him: I DO NOT HAVE THIS RIGHT!” The source for this story was also cited, a work published during the reign of Louis XIV. The Sun King’s supposed reluctance to impose a tax transformed him into a posthumous defender of the Paris parlement’s refusal in September 1787 to register the new land tax and stamp tax.30 This undoubtedly apocryphal tale was circulating at the lower and at the higher levels of society. At this same time, in late August-early September 1787, another pamphlet that may have been the printed version of a speech delivered in the Paris parlement recounted the same incident, adding to it the words traditional to the juridical language of the magistrates: Louis XIV believed that his levying of a dixième tax violated the “fundamental laws” of the kingdom.31 Thus a reverse process may also be detected, one in which simple and common themes were appropriated by members of the elite, their implications being further developed and their significance given greater force. The personal doubts of the king became transformed into legal strictures limiting royal authority. Political culture was a matrix in which reciprocal borrowings between “high” and “low” cultures, or the “circularity of ideas” in the words of anthropologists and historians, took place. The more common and more commercially promoted popular histories took the form of digests, compilations of facts in particular about earlier assemblies that took place in the history of France. Five such publications appeared soon after the announcement of the convening of an Assembly of Notables for February 1787.32 Their publishers and authors responded as if overnight to a growing public desire, made clear in the pages of Instructions sur les assemblées nationales tant générales que particulières, depuis le commencement de la monarchie, jusqu’à nos jours; avec le détail du cérémonial observé dans celle d’aujourd’hui: “We were asked simply for an abridged guide on the national assemblies, we have done it . . . in haste. . . . Less pressed by time, we might have done better.” The Essai historique et politique sur les Assemblées nationales du royaume de France, depuis la fondation de la monarchie jusqu’à nos jours betrays such haste in a number of typographical errors and misplaced pages. In their rush to satisfy public curiosity, some of these publishers printed information on the Assembly of Notables prior to the government’s announcement and without obtaining official permission for publication, resulting in the suppression and seizure of the brochures and the suspension of the publishers.33 They competed for a potentially wide market—“in the present circumstance [a small work] will pass through the hands of everyone”—by publicizing their books so as to

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sell more, informing readers of future offerings on the same historical themes, and advertising the merits of their particular publication over a rival one: “This brochure should not be confused with the one which has just appeared under the title ‘Causes for and Results of All the National Assemblies, Estates General, and Assemblies of Notables’. . . . Ours, on the contrary, we dare flatter ourselves, brings together advantages which the reader will not look upon with indifference.”34 The author of the rival Motifs et résultats des des assemblées nationales, tenues depuis Pharomond jusqu’à Louis XIII . . . , the Parisian doctor Rondonneau de la Motte, became a specialist in such historical digests, compiling one in January 1787 and another in late 1788. To aid his public further in their reading, Rondonneau offered a summary of his summary history in the 1787 work.35 There was an assumption, too, that the curious public was also naive, not knowing what to expect of the forthcoming Assembly of Notables, so these brochures recounted the many assemblies of all varieties in different times in the past. Two of the works even opened with a definition of the long forgotten institution: “assembly, the meeting of several members of one body, convoked for the purpose of making decisions on some affair”; or “National assemblies, the meeting of deputies of three Estates or Orders of the kingdom, which are the clergy, the nobility and the Third Estate. These assemblies took place in times past by order of the King for important affairs of the State.”36 The authors cited numerous titles of historical works and documentary collections, yet skirted erudite disputes on the respective roles of Franks and Gauls in the past. Within the straitened frame of a chronicle of facts, they made their views known with sparse or extended commentaries. The comte de Bacon apart, whose twenty-four pages were an encomium to kings in the past and in the present who convened assemblies, the message in Essai historique et politique, Instructions sur les assemblées nationales, and Motifs et résultats . . . was more unsettling and penetrating. Their main theme was the important role of the assemblies in the history of France, from the time of the Champ de Mars of the Franks—even, argued the Instructions sur les assemblées nationales, as far back as the assemblies in Gaul. The Frankish and also Gallic assemblies had extensive powers: to make war and peace, decide on laws, and select the king; and the Franks individually made voluntary donations to their chieftains, which was their primitive form of assenting to taxes. Charlemagne too governed in collaboration with an assembly. The estates-general that came into existence in the postCarolingian era also had wide powers, from granting the crown to Hugh

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Capet to controlling royal finances; only Rondonneau de la Motte ascribed a more restricted role to the medieval estates-general as consultative bodies that nonetheless exercised the right to consent to taxes. In brief, the history offered in these pamphlets obliquely introduced a political program: what the French had enjoyed in their past should be their right in the immediate future—a national assembly making the law on all matters in association with the king. The author of Instructions sur les assemblées nationales was more explicit than the others, as the foreword to his brochure promised; his purpose was “to point out how the Estates claimed, by degrees, a certain authority, and in what way it was weakened.” The silence of two of these brochures and the single comment of one of them on the often-discussed role of the parlementary courts had one meaning: the estates-general, not the parlements, was and should be the legislative body for the nation. So too did their argument imply that only an estates-general, whose members would be chosen by the people, would represent the nation—not the parlement or even an assembly of notables whose members were chosen by the king. Certain secondary themes drawn from the experience of the past injected additional ideas. Some were forewarnings to which later events lent force, such as the suspicion that royal intentions were to undermine the estates-general, and the danger that could arise from division among the orders; others were ideas that later gained dominance, such as the importance of the Third Estate in the estates-general. The interest in history soared again after the royal declaration of 5 July 1788 called upon the French to examine documents relating to past estatesgeneral, and after the Paris parlement on 25 September invoked the precedent of the 1614 estates-general as a model for the meeting in 1789. The French, as learned discourses and popular histories attest, now read history differently. The changed needs of the present dictated an altered view of the past. Rondonneau de la Motte’s work of late 1788, Précis historique des états généraux, extrait de la Table générale des matières des XXX vols. in-12° et XV vols. in 4° de l’Histoire de France de MM. Velly, Villaret et Garnier was published in order to profit from the public demand for information about estates-general; the publisher also sought to correct what he believed were distortions in the pamphlet literature of the ideas that came originally from the multivolume history of Villaret and Garnier, and to inform readers of the sources which they might study. Although merely a synopsis of the works of other historians, indeed not much more than a lengthy listing of facts in each reign, the Précis historique nonetheless offered interesting

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contrasts with the author’s 1787 work. What had been secondary themes now became the dominant ones. In 1787 Rondonneau de la Motte had emphasized the active role of the assemblies in the past and de-emphasized— though he did not ignore—the conflicts and the question of how the estates-general was constituted. In 1788 tension and conflict in the history of the estates-general were the leitmotiv: between the assemblies and the royal government, and among the orders within the assemblies. The estatesgeneral of 1484, he wrote in 1787, simply debated and decided to approve a tax on all the orders; on the same issue of taxes in the estates-general of 1484 he wrote, in 1788: “Division between the Estates on the apportioning of an annual tax.” As to the role of the royal government, Rondonneau merely stated in 1787, for example, that at the estates-general of 1560 the queen was left free to choose her council; in 1788 he underscored the duplicity of the Crown: “Catherine de Medici issued an order that deprived the Estates of the right to any jurisdiction in the administration of the Kingdom and to participate in the formation of the [royal] council.” What had been the hopes of 1787 gave way to the forebodings of 1788. The one positive note in the history of past estates-general (as in other Patriot accounts) related to the estates of 1484, which met not in separate orders but in regional groupings; this fact had been merely stated in 1787, but one year later Rondonneau commented emphatically: “What a grand idea one had then of an Assembly of the Estates General.” The relations among the orders in the internal organization of the estates-general, a problem little thought of in 1787, dominated all thought in 1788 and caused a radical shift in the popular image of the nobility and the clergy in the past. The desire for concord in 1787 had evoked favorable views, while actual discord in late 1788 let loose the most rabid imageries, as trumpeted in the title of the popularized history written probably in December 1788 by the Parisian author, Jacques-Antoine Dulaure: Crimes et forfaits de la noblesse, et du clergé, depuis le commencement de la Monarchie jusqu’à nos jours. In over 150 pages of text divided, in the common manner, into the reigns of individual kings in chronological order—and if some readers missed the message or wanted a briefer version, in the “Résumé de ce Précis historique en forme de catéchisme”—Dulaure reiterated with passion what he set out in his opening statement: “To the Reader: It is by the facts gathered from our history that I undertake to prove that throughout the centuries of the monarchy, the clergy and the nobility have been constantly the cruelest enemies of our Kings and their people.” Despite the

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focus on the treacheries of the clergy and nobility, which contrasted sharply with the shared interests of the king and the people, Dulaure was also a harbinger of the next shift in historical vision with his critical comments on all kings, save two (Louis X—“Louis Hutin”—and Henry IV), who repeatedly succumbed to the demands of the clergy and nobility or themselves engaged in intrigues and carried out cruel actions, chief among them the “tyrant” Louis XIV. Some historical interpretations defended the policy of the Crown, but only a few of those would be considered popular in genre. Their vision of the past was not as uniform as that found among the writers who extolled the assemblies of earlier centuries. These few royalist writers responded at various moments in a quickly changing political context by giving different emphases to the past and reflecting different facets of an unsettled royal policy. In late 1787 the author of Recherches historiques sur la forme des séances royales marshaled his historical sources to demonstrate the king’s right, extending back to the origin of the parlement, to declare law on his own will before the assembled judges, irrespective of their vote—as Louis XVI had done on 19 November 1787. In the aftermath of the May edicts in 1788, the author of Qu’est-ce que les parlements en France used historical evidence to prove that the parlement and the estates-general were always distinct, the parlement limited exclusively to judicial matters whereas the estates-general—and even earlier the Champ de Mai of the Franks—were associated with the king in legislation. The people in their assemblies discussed, advised on, and consented to the laws that the king proposed and on which he decided; in turn, the people accepted the king’s decisions and the parlement then enforced those laws. This image of a consultative popular body in the past, and by projection in the future, was virtually the limit beyond which the royal government would not concede to public demands. Even this concession was withdrawn—reflecting the ambiguities of royalist thought—in the pamphlet of 1788, Quelle est l’origine des états généraux? This argument was the last redoubt of royalism in its use of history to defend absolute authority. Neither under the Franks, nor in the time of Charlemagne and later, had the assemblies been independent, imposing decisions on the king or determining the royal succession. The king’s authority had always remained independent. He alone convoked the estates-general and gave sanction to decisions that the people willingly accepted. Assemblies in the past were always under royal domination, their role limited to presenting requests to the king, and the parlements always functioned sepa-

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rately as courts of law. In this absolutist vision of the past the author further injected the argument that meetings of the estates-general had always fomented discord and trouble, the members impelled by the spirit of ambition. By implication this was the prediction for the estates-general set for 1789 through which nobles and parlementary magistrates would seek to weaken the king’s power and increase their own. Such contrasting interpretations of history might easily breed confusion, but historical truth was never the objective. The royalist argument might possess a greater degree of verisimilitude, but by the end of the eighteenth century it no longer had the power to convince or to marshal support. History served political needs, and could be bent and distorted for that purpose. Public participation in government had become the popular wish and was retrospectively rooted in the past. In a society only two centuries removed from an oral culture in which memory and custom sanctioned social practices, and with a system of law receptive to arguments from precedent, historical discourse easily lent a veil of authority for a learned as well as for a more popular audience.37

Almanacs as Propagators of News Almanacs were perennial favorites, especially in the far-flung reaches of rural France.38 Printed on rough paper, their few illustrations exemplifying their primitive quality, these annual publications cost a few sous, making them a main source of reading material (apart from religious literature) for village peasants. A few copies remain of the Almanach Historique nommé Le Messager Boiteux for the years 1788 to 1790, which relate the events of the previous two years. Two editions were printed in Basel, one by Jean Henri Decker and the other by “the sons of the late widow of Jean Conrad de Mechel.” As historian Geneviève Bollème argued, these popular almanacs of the late eighteenth century incorporated news of the day, in a summary version, given the limits of a single annual publication. The Decker edition of Le Véritable Messager Boiteux de Bâle en Suisse pour l’année 1789 apologized to its readers: “This year has been so abundant in important events that we have run out of space to relate the great changes that have taken place in France.” In these same pages the editor offered another possible explanation of the sparse news reports in the article on the war between Russia and the Ottoman Empire: “there would be no interest in an abridged repetition of facts, most of them very recent, and that have already been presented at

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greater length in the ‘public papers.’ ” By the end of the eighteenth century the editor of one of the most popular almanacs assumed that his readers were obtaining more ample information about events from other sources such as newspapers. Both editions of Le Véritable Messager Boiteux presented more or less the same meager information about France, with only minor variations. In 1788 they reported on the meeting of the Assembly of Notables: “a most interesting period,” in the Decker edition; “one of the most memorable events . . . and perhaps one of the most beneficial.” Similar words were used in the Mechel edition of 1790 to describe the convening of the estatesgeneral: “one of the most memorable events of our century.” In the one page (Mechel) or one-and-one-half pages (Decker) on the 1787 Assembly of Notables, only the ceremonial opening and closing sessions were recounted, with a reproduction of the king’s speech at the opening meeting, brief references to other speeches, and an outline of the proposed reforms. No word of criticism and no mention of controversy were printed; instead the Mechel edition (1788) presented an admiring image of “the zeal and union of all the members for the public good.” Even when the “opposition” and the “revolts” that followed the May edicts of 1788 appeared in the Decker almanac of 1789, the writer quickly concluded: “without doubt the troops that the King is sending will restore calm and tranquility.” The desire for unimpeded access to the French reading market may have compelled the publishers of Le Véritable Messager Boiteux, as it forced the editor of the Courrier d’Avignon, to treat royal policy with favor.39 The uncritical presentation of events in France may have raised among readers expectations for their outcome. The government’s reforms were “an immense plan” (Decker, 1788), and when the single effort was made to describe these in any detail, certain critical features were omitted: the corvée would be abolished and the gabelle would “disappear,” with no mention of substitute taxes in their place. Nonetheless, the French readers of either almanac in 1788 learned that the king, the government, and the Notables intended to establish provincial assemblies; to publish annually an account of government income and expenses; to create an internal free market; to reduce the expenses of government departments and of the royal households; to raise additional loans; and to levy taxes more equally as well as to increase taxes in a manner that would be “the least onerous on the people.” These rudimentary facts unblemished by disputes, as presented in the almanacs, propagated a sense of optimism that accompanied the summoning of the estates-general, even if news of that event

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appeared after the fact in the two 1790 editions of Le Véritable Messager Boiteux.

Melodrama Contemporaries agreed that after the news of the Assembly of Notables, the declarations and then the suppression of the parlementary courts, and the crescendo of opposition to royal policy, next in interest to the public was the Kornmann affair. This was the national soap opera of 1787–1788 and included among its cast of characters a cuckolded husband, a pregnant adulteress, a publicist of Mesmerism, the playwright Beaumarchais, and the lieutenant général de police of Paris. The public eagerly awaited each new literary exchange between Kornmann’s lawyer Nicolas Bergasse and Beaumarchais, which newspapers reported as did, in greater detail, the Parisian bookseller Hardy for those who came to his store to read his journal. It remains strange that a husband would orchestrate such public attention to the pathetic story of his wife’s betrayal, less strange that the public would display a certain prurient interest. Sex and scandal—the one the stuff of everyday life, the other feared in one’s own life and gazed on with delectation in the lives of others—were the vehicles for arousing public animus against the government. Kornmann, a wealthy banker, had had his wife confined in a convent because of her affair with another man. Yet even there she continued to see her lover and became pregnant. Since the lieutenant general of police intervened on behalf of the wayward wife, permitting her to leave the convent in order to give birth to her lover’s child in a more comfortable setting, he was denounced for his arbitrary use of government authority. Bergasse cleverly linked a pathetic family melodrama to broader national issues, attacking government abuses and “arbitrariness”—interference in family affairs and protection of adultery, suppression of writings critical of the lieutenant general, and the system of absolute power. The Kornmann affair, in short, was transmuted into a defense of liberty of the press, the rule of law, constitutional guarantees of individual liberties, and public consent to and participation in the making of law. In this cascade of print, no word pointed to the irony that Kornmann himself originally had obtained a lettre de cachet from the government in order to confine his unfaithful wife. The creator of this “theater,” Bergasse, gained great popularity. Ten to twelve thousand copies of his Observations du sieur Bergasse sur l’écrit du sieur Beaumarchais, ayant pour titre: ‘Court mémoire, en attendant l’autre, dans la

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cause du sieur Kornmann’ were printed in August 1788, followed by the publication of excerpts entitled Reflexions sur les nouveaux édits. En Bretagne.40 His fame spread from writing to imagery with the sales of his portrait between October and early November 1788. A second personal drama, the woes of the comte de Sanois, a Breton gentleman, further linked the issues of government arbitrariness and the need to guarantee individual liberty by abolishing lettres de cachet. The Mémoires on behalf of Sanois by Pierre Louis Lacretelle artfully gave concrete embodiment to an abstract problem: “I speak here for the rights of man, for those of the Citizen.”41 Even more, he drew his audience into his argument, the better to gain their adherence, by interweaving several rhetorical modes that engaged the readers’ interest and emotions. As introduction, there was a note of mystery and adventure, a harbinger of what would later become a perennial form of popular culture, the detective story. Lacretelle describes how he was seated in his office one day when: I saw enter into my study a man who did not want to reveal his name, a figure that betokened great affliction and long illness more than old age; demonstrating in his clothes concern for respectability along with signs of poverty, and recommending himself all the more to my attention by his countenance as an upright man, a man from good society. One was struck for good or ill at first sight.

So began the tale of the comte de Sanois, imprisoned for nine months by lettre de cachet on charges of absconding with family funds that his wife and son-in-law brought against him. The questions of how this had come about and whether he was guilty or innocent were soon displaced by moral issues intended to arouse “lively indignation, . . . [and] tender pity.” Lacretelle shifted from adventure story to sentimental melodrama that touched his readers directly. The use of rhetoric to arouse emotions was taught in the collèges of the ancien régime and widely employed in the novels and plays of the day, and would be familiar to graduates, theatergoers, and readers who included nobles, bourgeois, and even petty bourgeois.42 The contrast is starkly drawn between the good but weak Sanois and his evil adversaries— his wife and son-in-law, even his brother and daughter—all of whom illtreated and victimized him. What happened to Sanois could happen to anyone: “We have heard his oppressions, and we have ourselves shuddered. Tomorrow perhaps our wives and our children will have the audacity and influence to throw us in prison? . . . This is a test case between husbands

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and wives, fathers and children.” In turn Lacretelle pleads that wives and daughters among his readers not defend the victim’s wife and daughter, “who deviate from the duties that they [i.e., his female readers] most cherish.” One moral of this tale is the need to uphold the natural bearer of authority within the family: that of the male to the female, hence of the husband to the wife, but also that of the father to all his children, and of the elder brother to those younger.43 After playing upon the emotional and moral sensitivities of his readers, Lacretelle then focused on his political cause: “Leaving the issues in this case that are so touching to embrace those of the nation itself, to which they are connected.” For the remainder and greater part of his writing, Lacretelle denounced arbitrary arrests and imprisonments, and concluded with the hope that the king and those subjects brought together in the first Assembly of Notables would include among the reform of abuses the abolition of lettres de cachet. The popularity of this melodramatic formula produced a third in 1787—the history of Masers de Latude who had been imprisoned for thirty-nine years. The adversaries in this drama were the most prominent in France: madame de Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV, ordered Latude’s imprisonment which successive ministers prolonged. The recounting is an unending tale of derring-do, of perilous escapes followed by inevitable recapture. The political message nonetheless is clear. The editor’s introduction attacks the practice of lettres de cachet. This argument is reinforced in a lengthy letter that accompanies the history of Latude, written to none other than Bergasse by the marquis de Beaupoil. The marquis was seeking to capitalize on the popularity of this genre and of the Kornmann affair, writing this story on the basis of memoirs that Latude had composed a few years earlier; the “hero” of the tale disavowed this work published in his name, and in 1789 authored his own account of his experiences. But in 1787 readers disregarded the question of dubious authorship (over a century would pass before the story was revealed to be a fanciful embroidery of the facts).44 Public attention in newspapers and in manuscript newsletters was drawn to the tales of Latude, Kornmann, and Sanois, which offered real-life situations as the source for melodrama in printed form to inculcate political lessons. The imprisonment of M. de Latude and of the comte de Sanois, the release of the adulturous Mme. Kornmann from confinement in a convent— all three decisions by royal ministers who issued lettres de cachet—were demonstrable proof of the government’s “arbitrary” and “despotic” actions.

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Satire Satire expressed criticism through mockery: exaggerating the traits attributed to the powerful or well-known diminished their repute and made them appear ridiculous. This was one of the oldest traditions in popular culture.45 Again, as dictated by tradition, the target was not the king. Only once was the monarch taken in jest, metaphorically, in the tale of a sick old woman who was unable to decide which advice of her doctors to accept, their mistreatments ultimately causing her death.46 Nor was the queen the target before 1789, apart from an occasional wall poster and verse. The royal ministers, as the objects of public wrath, were the playthings of satire. La Cour plénière and a sequel, Le Lever de Bâville, were dialogues in the form of plays, whose main characters were the archbishop Loménie de Brienne, principal minister, and Lamoignon, keeper of the seals.47 In the outpouring of criticisms of the government following the suppression of the parlementary courts in May 1788, La Cour plénière was an especially effective riposte, whose popularity may be measured by its seven editions (plus variants). The two ministers have their human failings depicted to the extreme, one is lecherous and the other mercenary. In Le Lever de Bâville, the archbishop covets the daughter of Lamoignon and asks the father for her favors, while in La Cour plénière Lamoignon greedily seeks from the king a larger dowry for his daughter. None other than the mother-in-law of the keeper of the seals berates him for his use of force in closing the courts, her words of anger voiced tearfully by Lamoignon’s wife who repeats as a litany: “It is my mother who speaks.” Tears too are shed by the wife of the Parisian magistrate d’Eprémesnil as she clings to her daughters and requests the release of her husband from imprisonment for his opposition to the government’s policy. The king also cries, a minister reports in one of the versions entitled Supplement à la cour plénière, as the queen “touchingly” depicts to her royal consort “the deplorable state” of France in the aftermath of the May edicts—a rare example of the queen presented in a favorable light. These “pretended” plays reproduce the lachrymose features that were used to such success in the contemporary theater. One might laugh at these melodramatic touches, but one might easily, in spite of cooler reflection, be moved by sentiments of sadness or indignation at these all-too human situations. Irony and ridicule are heightened as the two main protagonists turn against each other or engage in self-criticism, expressing views the readers share about the real archbishop and keeper of the seals: “I have much to talk

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about today,” says Loménie, “to deceive the king.” And Lamoignon is made to say about the archbishop: “Priest without religion! . . . without morals! . . . atheist! . . . libertine!” The former “archdespot” Maupeou, who as chancellor had abolished the courts in 1771, appears as the unexpected voice of the public. Not only does he thank Lamoignon for replacing him as the leading image of obloquy, he also harshly denounces his actions: I accused it [the parlement] . . . of having usurped for at least 150 years the right of registering taxes. . . . Today it is the opposite. You punish the parlement . . . for having made the generous sacrifice of its most glorious prerogative: for having renounced the right that it had usurped, and for having rendered to the nation its exclusive privilege, the highest sign of its liberty. You destroy it . . . because it has declared itself powerless to register taxes; because it has firmly set in place the new foundations of French liberty.

Satirical writings were not the product of Parisian writers alone. In the provinces—Toulouse, Rennes, Lyon, Rouen, and elsewhere—satires in the form of plays, poems, and fictitious declarations mocked and scorned the members of the grands bailliages courts that had assumed many of the functions of the suppressed parlements. In these writings disdain appeared in a more exaggerated burlesque mode: the new judges were depicted as ignorant of the laws, driven exclusively by ambition and the desire for mercenary gain, even as simpletons and crybabies merely following parental orders. Their intellectual and moral character was identified with the lowliest in society.48 Plays (as pamphlets) against the grands bailliages courts parodied “high politics” in the carnivalesque tradition of the theater of fairs and boulevards that parodied “high theater.” The Grand Bailliage de Rennes described what may have taken place in the Breton capital in June 1788. Twenty Savoyards, the traditional street singers in the ancien régime, paraded for several days through the streets of Rennes, where posters announced to the public their installation as the new grand bailliage court to replace the suppressed parlement. Their black robes were a double symbol representing the judges they impersonated and the chimney sweepers whose work Savoyards often performed. Mimicking the carnivalesque morality of a “world turned upside-down,” the judges were advised: “follow the spirit of your new status, and do not be content to be blind as Justice; become deaf as are those who chose you to perform as its oracles.”

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The fictitious Arrêté des officiers du grand bailliage de Toulouse (3 June 1788), whose chief clerk bore the name of Beaumarchais’ character, “Figaro, Barber,” lampooned the ignorance of the substitute judges who equated egoism with virtue and patriotism with error. The members of the grand bailliage were made to express contempt for the suppressed parlement, which required “the study of ancient laws.” They claimed that “one can know everything without learning anything,” and that judicial decisions could be based not upon laws but “on the happy chance of the imagination of its members.” In still another example of this genre, the Paris police chief Desbrunières, who commanded the attack against the rioters supporting the parlement in the summer of 1788, bequeathed to a judge of the grand bailliage in Langres, in his facetious will, “my treatise on espionnage. . . . I promise, if God permits, to give to him the first post as police spy in Paris that becomes vacant.”49 Comic effect subverted the authority and repute of political adversaries. Royalists responded in kind though less effectively. In mocking echo of the parlementary defense of the traditional judicial system—as old as the monarchy itself—that the May edicts uprooted, the “decree” of cobblers in Paris, whose work was to repair used shoes, reiterated their vow “to work only with what is old whatever the matter may be.”50 The Arrête du grenier à sel de Paris du 9 juin 1788 reproached with irony the grands bailliages courts for providing quicker and cheaper justice, and criticized the new criminal code for eliminating the breaking of criminals upon the wheel and their burning, as carried out in the past against Jean Calas and the chevalier de la Barre.

Polemics Criticism in the form of parody comes upon a reader in unexpected ways and may be spread through laughter; yet it may also be blunted by the effect of humor. Polemics as direct and unmitigated criticism may at times employ satire but often is harsh and impassioned invective. The popular message also came in polemical versions, as individual essays or series of essays collected in a journal; the form of the latter, and the tone of both, foreshadowed the revolutionary newspapers that flourished beginning in 1789.51 Their aim was to arouse emotions against real or accused adversaries; therefore, the author’s function was not to inform or to recount the news, but to express his undisguised opinion and to denounce.

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Parody and sarcasm were the rapier-like weapons employed by Volney (Constantin François de Chasseboeuf, le comte de Volney) in La Sentinelle du peuple to press his attack against the nobles in Brittany for their refusal to submit to provincial taxes or to grant greater representation to the Third Estate in the Breton estates. His proposals for doubling Third Estate representation and for a general strike—the French people should refuse to work for nobles and clergy—were additional contributions to what were becoming common themes by November 1788. The self-proclaimed author, a propriétaire, identified with his intended audience of those who work (“Gens de toutes Professions, Sciences, Arts, Commerce et Metiers composant le Tiers-Etat de la Province de Bretagne”) by taking his pen to write against those, such as nobles, who did not work but depended on the work of others. Joining Breton tradition to Rabelesian wit, the Sentinelle offered a “new social contract.” This contract was to be drawn up between the “people” of Brittany, represented by “Jean Démophile” (friend of the people) and the nobility, represented by “very high and very powerful seigneur César Guingalo’ de Guergantuel, Marquis, Baron, Comte . . . descendent . . . of the most ancient Rois Demagores”—meaning “devourers of the people”— which stipulated as the first right that men are equal because, when undressed, “there is no difference among them.”52 The polemical tone became more strident and the ideological stakes were raised in a pamphlet by Linguet composed before the Résultat du Conseil of 27 December 1788 announced the doubling of Third Estate representation. It bore the provocative title Avis aux Parisiens. Appel de toutes convocations d’Etats Généraux où les députés du troisième ordre ne seroient pas supérieurs en nombre aux deux autres (Warning to the Parisians: A Call against All Convocations of the Estates-General where the Deputies of the Third Order Will Not Be Superior in Number to the Two Others [i.e., orders]). This was more than just Linguet’s habitual vituperation against the clergy, nobility, and magistracy and more than just a call—one among many others—for the Third Estate to cease providing their work and services for the first two orders. Linguet explicitly sought to arouse Parisians to act in the manner of the inhabitants of Brittany, Guyenne, Languedoc, and Dauphiné, and unabashedly claimed for the Third Estate representation in the estates-general in proportion to its population: “at least seven times greater in number to the representatives of the two other orders.” The Paris parlement responded in its accustomed way by censuring the pamphlet, which in turn brought another pamphleteer into battle, attacking on a broad front the role of the

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magistrates and also the clergy and nobility throughout France’s history: “these three Orders have always refused to recognize the rights of the People, and even of Humanity.”53 A series of essays in periodical form that advertised their popular appeal in the titles—Le Tribun du peuple, au peuple; Les Gracches français, suite du Tribun au peuple; and Le Hérault de la Nation, sous les auspices de la patrie— by M.A.B. de Mangourit appeared between June 1788 and June 1789. Rabid polemics against the magistracy, clergy, and nobility alternated with adulation of the king. Where Volney taunted his opponents, Mangourit excoriated them, defiling their character and charging them with heinous acts. The clergy treated the people as “vile cattle,” and the nobles behaved toward them as if they were slaves. Nobles had “enslaved, plundered, exacted money from, beaten up, tortured” the people. He vilified the magistrates for their “oppression,” “ignorance,” “pride,” “avarice,” and “injustice”; they were “tigers,” “ignoble informers,” “contemptible intriguers,” and “inferior tyrants” whose aim was “to proscribe us and to exterminate us.” In words designed to arouse historical memories charged with fear, he accused the parlements of fomenting bloody deeds: “You would like to see a political Saint Bartholomew follow a religious Saint Bartholomew in Paris and in the kingdom.” These vituperations were in the service of royal policy. Beginning with Le Tribun du peuple in June 1788, Mangourit defended the king and the monarchy, identifying the judicial reforms in the May edicts with the people’s interests. In the autumn he reappeared in Les Gracches français as the advocate of the Third Estate of Brittany in their conflict with the nobles and magistrates of the province. The Breton commoners sought more equitable representation in the provincial estates, and he aimed to align them with the monarchy. This second journal inflamed the magistrates in Rennes, who ordered its burning. Mangourit in fact was acting as an agent of the royal government; the keeper of the seals Lamoignon and the intendant in Brittany sponsored his writings, and the minister Loménie de Brienne protected them in their transit from Rennes, where Mangourit lived, to Versailles and then to Paris.54 His third venture, Le Héraut de la Nation, written between December 1788 and July 1789, reported news as well as expressed opinion. While Mangourit failed to gain public support for the Crown, he himself succumbed to the force of public opinion, as may be seen in the pages of Le Héraut. His royalism became ambivalent as he moved in the direction of allegiance to the cause of the Third Estate and the National Assembly. Unable

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to shape public opinion, Mangourit came to mirror it as he expressed his support for a constitutional division of power between a legislative body and the king as executive authority. Yet it was as a royalist that he had set goals and employed language that accorded with later revolutionary slogans: “no more feudal laws, but the Code of humanity”; “one King, one Law, one tax”; and “no more privileged orders, no more parlements, the nation and the king.”55

A Popular Voice in Pamphlets? Most popular political pamphlets were addressed to a broad public. A smaller number among them appear to have been written by a popular author (or authors), or express themselves in a popular language, or have a popular setting. Can we detect among them an authentic popular voice? Most of those that claim “popular” authorship are spurious: the “serf ” of Mount Jura was a noble author; the “order of peasants” is the disguise of the ex-peasant and successful littérateur Restif de la Bretonne; the people judging at the Champ de Mars is a literary device of a lawyer-pamphleteer; and the member of “the lowest class of people” displays a knowledge and writing ability that is above the presumed social rank. “Jean Baptiste the watercarrier,” “the guild of master cobblers” of Paris, and the peasant inhabitants of Bagnolet and other suburbs of Paris were masks for royalist pamphleteers. (Other pamphlets in the name of the peuple or tiers état were by anonymous authors.) Little was authentic in these attributions of popular authorship or language, except the indebtedness of political culture to the rich variety of popular culture. Poems and dialogues in the poissard slang attributed to Parisian workers was traditionally the cover of a professional writer. Rather than expressing a message aimed at the peuple, the poissard genre was an attempt to present an image of affinity with the people by using street culture to convey political messages and to simplify great issues.56 Poissard was not limited to any single political argument. One letter in poissard to Louis XVI was the actual voice of a supporter of the Paris parlement: “you won’t need more taxes; or, if they ask, do it gently and with moderation; face to face with the nation assembled, as it’s happened already in France” (“vous n’aurez pus besoin d’Impôts; ou, qu’elles les demandent, vous y bouterés douceur et modération, face à face de la nation assemblée, comme ça s’est vû déjà z’en France”). And the poissard poem, the “Notables de la Halle au Pain,” was the voice of

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an adulator of the minister Necker who also railed at the clergy, nobles, and magistrates.57 Traditional obscene street-talk, with references to bodily functions or parts of the body, was rare in 1787–1788, found only on a few placards posted on the streets of Paris that were quickly removed. The popular voice was also the guise in several pamphlets that advanced claims in the name of the nation or the people. A few of them, such as the Voeu sur la dernière classe du peuple à l’Assemblée des Notables or the Protestation d’un serf du Mont Jura contre l’Assemblée des Notables, le Mémoire des princes du sang, le clergé, la noblesse et le tiers état. Au Roi were not aligned with any of the principal political combatants, but most of the other pamphlets were partisan. The Supplique du peuple au Roi, which as early as August 1787 called for “the nation assembled,” echoed the Paris parlement’s opposition to the Crown’s request for new taxes, whereas the Réclamation du tiers état au Roi already claimed, in the summer of 1788, a greater role for the Third Estate in alliance with the king and denounced privileged magistrates, nobles, and churchmen. The popular cause, in these pamphlets of presumed popular origin, was more frequently invoked not only by supporters of the Third Estate but also by advocates of the Crown, the two sides often indistinguishable in late 1788.58 Attacks against the privileged; demands that the Third Estate have a greater presence in the courts, in the army, and in the estates-general; support for an alliance between the king and the people; even calls that the Third Estate cease to work for nobles and clergy, refuse to pay taxes, and boycott the estates-general if nobles and clergy rejected doubling of the Third Estate and vote by head first appeared in royalist pamphlets in the weeks and months following the suppression of the parlements in May 1788. These themes re-emerged, following the Paris parlement’s declaration in favor of the form of the 1614 estates-general, in pamphlets supporting jointly the monarchy and the Third Estate and in those identified exclusively with the Third Estate. Arguments from the royalist arsenal surfaced anew in the stock of Third Estate polemics. Pamphlets of royalist persuasion were the most violent in word, spreading alarm, fomenting discord, and setting group against group. They were manipulative and opportunistic, espousing popular goals and evoking acts of violence to divide the opposition—the Third Estate against the privileged, even the Third Estate against itself—so as to strengthen the royal cause. Events would lead the Third Estate to turn against the privileged in the way and with the rhetoric first suggested by royalist pamphleteers, yet without their embracing royal policy and monarchical power. But before 1789 radical

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ideas and violent language were not necessarily synonymous with “revolutionary.”

The Bestseller May we call popular the bestseller of the day? Among the political writings of 1787–1788 the bestsellers do not conform to the literary genres traditional to popular culture, but are more typical of the sophisticated writings of elite culture. Even though a bestseller belongs to a different genre, the fact that it sold many copies and had the largest number of readers (apart from religious literature), raises questions: what was the message imparted and what was the popular appeal? The greatest literary and popular success was Jacques Necker’s Sur le compte rendu au roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements; it appeared in two editions in Paris plus a third edition in Lyon and, in the author’s own words, “several clandestine editions,” all of which came to a total printing of 20,000 copies. The work was a response to former controller general Calonne’s criticisms of Necker’s claim, in his original Compte rendu au roi, that the royal treasury enjoyed a surplus of funds at the end of his ministry in 1781. The first appearance of the new bestseller dates from 11 September 1788; Necker’s re-entry into the ministry on 25 August was powerful advertising for its sale at the reasonable price of 48 sols (2 livres 8 sous) for an elegant quarto edition, undoubtedly less for a smaller octavo edition (a less expensive format publishers used to encourage greater sales).59 How did so “arid” a subject—a word Necker himself used—as government finance become the number one bestseller? Necker artfully created an aura of intimacy between himself and his readers: he tendered his sympathies to them, and in turn asked for their sympathies for himself. They had to suffer the tedium of reading the dry facts and figures, and he had to endure the tedium of research as well as withstand Calonne’s baseless attacks against him. To this collaboration in empathy between writer and reader Necker added a moralistic tone. He embodied virtue and purity, his argument conveyed enlightenment and truth; clearly an “impartial” person would have to accept his version of the facts about royal finances. The Journal de Paris broadcast this stratagem in its review of 20 September 1788, its admiring words showing the success of Necker’s design: “this imposing character of morality and virtue. . . . what especially impresses is the dignified tone of sincerity, these words of conscience which effortlessly persuades

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the soul of those who love and seek the truth” (original italics). Unctuous moralism was accompanied by a sentimental pose. Necker claimed to surrender to his feelings, unveiling his inner emotions to his reading public. While confident of the public’s support, he yet depicted himself in melancholy solitude. These musings interspersed in the text were Necker’s first line of strategy to bind his readers by using rhetorical devices that had proven so effective in eighteenth-century literature: the image of the writer as a man of morality, feeling, and reason, a solitary sage who communes with the public through his personal confession. Necker, a Protestant Genevan in origin, even presented himself as a fervid patriot, convinced that French power was unassailable even in wartime: [A]ccording to M. de Calonne’s reasoning, it would be . . . an absolute and inevitable necessity that the most powerful Monarch of Europe could never have his ships cross the seas the moment that it would be in war with another nation? This argument is by far too English, and cannot at all be accepted in France. (pp. 88–89)

Yet the financier renowned for “the study of figures” continued to hold center stage, presenting endless “arid calcuations” and “arid and fastidious details.” Figures for revenues and expenditures followed one after the other. How many readers would remain interested in the question of whether revenue that entered the treasury in January and February of one year should be included in the budget of the previous year? Necker’s skill appears as clever bookkeeping whose effect was to obfuscate as much as to enlighten. Most readers may well have passed over these technical matters to get to “the bottom line,” and here his financial wizardry appeared, reinforced. He was again the bearer of “good news”: there was an even larger surplus in the treasury in 1781 than he had originally calculated. In justifying his focus on the ordinary budget through endless reiteration of the difference between “ordinary” income and expenses that recur year after year, and “extraordinary” income and expenses that are “of the moment,” Necker performed the sleight-of-hand of diminishing the significance of any actual gap between overall revenue and expenditures. Although he acknowledged the need for many government loans between 1776 and 1786, he insisted these were to defray the extraordinary and temporary costs of war that he calculated separately from the recurring and ordinary annual budget. In the end Necker proffered a welcome political message: taxes should be fixed in amount and should never be imposed to cover extraordinary expenses even in wartime;

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such extraordinary expenses should be met first by economies, second by “some temporary expedient,” and then by loans whose interest payments alone would add to the annual tax burden. The hopes and illusions that Necker fed, and his exaltation of public opinion as the guardian of the throne, guarantor of government probity, and participant in the “great interests of the State” brought unprecedented popularity to his book and to his person.60

New and Popular Political Principles Diverse literary genres variously associated with popular culture conveyed political messages. A double process took place: popular modes of discourse became politicized, and political affairs became popularized. The popular pamphlet literature is just one means by which we may hope to recreate the atmosphere surrounding the French as they “entered into Revolution.” To be sure, the pamphlets were not mirrors of their minds but rather distant and refracted rays because of the intervention of the authors. Nor were the written words automatically and completely absorbed by the readers. How readers understand a text is a problem at the center of attention of historians and literary critics; the author’s intention, the words in the text, and the readers’s “appropriation” represent different facets of meaning. Thus the popular pamphlets are partial and indirect evidence whose interpretation is approximate.61 No repositories of original ideas, popular political pamphlets retain significance as purveyors of ideas that became commonplace in forms that were familiar. Their low price and ease of understanding further extended their potential range into the ranks of the urban lower classes, even into the upper ranks of peasant society, thus contributing (even if we cannot determine their exact weight) to educating the French in basic politics.62 The medium of print presented in forms that were easy, cheap, and familiar to a reading public whose numbers were significantly enlarged had its effect. Popular political writings with their simply stated arguments and lively rhetoric, ranging from pedagogy to satire and polemics, were in contrast to the measured tones, erudite apparatus, and theoretical arguments of elite political writings. Yet the message, that is the goals, of both were alike. Popular and elite writings extended over the political spectrum in 1787–1788, promoting aims that favored the cause of the Crown, the magistrates, or the Third Estate. Not all of these writings exerted the same influence; the

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importance of the medium cannot be divorced from the message. The French, as the events of 1787–1788 attest, selected out from among the messages they received and favored those ideas and goals that corresponded to their own needs, interests, and hopes. Royalist pamphlets, although they flowed in profusion and had easier access to the public, did not achieve their purpose of gaining support for the Crown’s policies and for the structure of absolute power. Instead, the Assembly of Notables, parlementary magistrates and lawyers, noble, clerical, bourgeois, and anonymous pamphleteers advanced new ideas and claims presented in traditional forms that a broad public made its own. From the level of popular pamphlets, more broadly of popular political culture in 1787–1788, the Revolution takes on a different configuration from that which historians tend to associate with it. That popular level was neither in the “clouds” nor in the “gutter.” Abstract theories or philosophical principles were not common ingredients, beyond the elementary belief that men had the natural right to be free, and hence could neither be taxed without their consent nor imprisoned by unlawful means. At the opposite pole from philosophical discourse, pornography and scatological street talk appeared fleetingly—in just a few verses or street posters; the père Duchêne who first appeared in a pamphlet of November 1788 on a visit to the king at Versailles was remarkably apolitical (in contrast to his Revolutionary namesakes).63 Popular political culture instead was composed of certain recurrent notions, unstructured and rudimentary. Many were handed down from the past, indeed drew their inspiration from historical memory. Yet they were supple enough to be adapted to needs and aspirations of the present, becoming an animating force behind the events of those years as carriers of new political and constitutional principles. One such idea was that of a “social contract,” found not in treatises but in the treaties between the provinces and the monarchy by which the rights and privileges of Bretons, Dauphinois, and Béarnais were legally guaranteed. Rights that some provinces enjoyed from their historical social contract, it was argued, should become the rights and guarantees uniformly enjoyed throughout the kingdom by all the French. A constitutional precedent rooted in the past rather than an abstract philosophical premise served as bulwark. Additional lessons from history, or rather drawn from historical lore or myth, composed a further set of beliefs. In 1787 historical “evidence” served to affirm the immemorial and inalienable right of the French

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nation, as descendants of “free Franks” and also on the model of the Gauls, to assemble and to grant taxes, even to give their accord to varied acts of government. In 1788 new conflicts unearthed other historical “facts” that demonstrated the perfidy of the nobility and the deceit of the Crown, and validated the importance, even equality of commoners in remote or more recent epochs. The past embodied both benefits to be replicated and dangers to be avoided in the present. The figure of the king was the center of another constellation of ideas that, at one and the same time, demonstrated the profound attachment of the French to monarchy and their desire to alter its form of government. The king appeared repeatedly in the image of the père du peuple—the father of the people—in the words of humble subjects and of professional writers, in ordinary talk and in written verse. The title was first given to Louis XII at the end of the fifteenth century, and that event was commemorated by the Académie Française in 1788 in an essay contest that reverberated in the reviews of the winning essays published in periodicals. That belief, reproducing in the political relationship between the king and his subjects the personal relationship of fathers to their families with which millions of the French could identify, touched deep roots and had wide resonance. The king as père du peuple was in origin and over the centuries the patriarch who watched over his family, issuing commands that his children obeyed without question. In 1787–1788 that image underwent a mutation, the effect of changed attitudes in the political sphere that paralleled changed expectations attached to the father as mirrored in sentimental drama and illustrations as well as popular proverbs and religious writings in the late eighteenth century.64 It was not simply that love replaced authority in the representation of the king/father, for the absolute monarch/father figure also claimed his benevolent acts expressed love and in turn elicited love from his subjects/children. Nonetheless, the monarch, no longer the authoritarian figure, reappeared as a father who above all cared for his children and consulted with them on their well-being. He gathered his children around him, as in an assembly, and his orders were not unilateral but the result of mutual agreement between father and sons. In its final depiction, the king treated all his children equally, not favoring the eldest sons (in other words, the clergy and nobility) over the youngest son (namely, the commoners or Third Estate).65 Generation after generation of French men and women believed that their king could do no wrong, hence that he was unaware of the evil acts of

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his ministers or that his ministers deceived him (“surprendre la réligion du roi” was the phrase used). This seemingly naive belief was expressed frequently in 1787–1788, and with a sincerity that cannot be doubted. This was not merely a collective delusion, the voluntary placing of political blinders over their eyes. The French profoundly believed in their king’s innocence, his lack of knowledge of his ministers’ evil policies; the reverse was the conviction that the king desired to do good if only he knew of the evil committed in his name. The bookseller Hardy repeatedly expressed such thoughts, though his colleague Nicolas Ruault was decidedly more skeptical of the king’s ignorance and innocence.66 What was originally and for centuries a popular affirmation of the inherent goodness—the moral worth— of the king became, in the arguments of Paris magistrates in 1787 and 1788, a legal principle whose constitutional effect, to the surprise of a contemporary nouvelliste, was unprecedented: royal ministers were held accountable before the law and considered culpable for their heinous acts, while the king was legally immune and the monarchy was perpetuated without blemish.67 Belief in the deception of the king permitted widespread criticism of government while preserving intact the institution of monarchy. French kings, sovereign though they were, were depicted as “happily powerless” (“heureuse impuissance”); they voluntarily chose not to make use of their power in ways that would contravene laws or endanger their subjects’ property. In 1788 words placed in the mouth of Louis XIV condemned Louis XVI for closing the parlementary courts: “kings are happily powerless to do anything against the laws of their country.”68 The paradox of a self-regulating sovereign authority traditionally had reinforced the belief in a lawful and moral ruler who could be trusted to rule alone. In the late eighteenth century the notion of the king’s powerlessness offered an opportunity to affirm the need to assure lawful order through public regulation of, and participation in, the exercise of sovereign authority. Popular pamphlets in all genres, especially the parodies and polemical works that were plentiful, were steeped in politics: the politics of personalities and events, but also the politics of concrete issues, policies, and programs. The audience for these pamphlets were awash in condemnations of government abuses, and demands for reforms to end those abuses. From 1787 to 1788 the French grappled with one issue after another. The revelation of a debt and deficit and the request for new taxes precipitated demands for control of and participation in government—claims to a share of public power. The attempt to force policies on obstreperous judicial courts

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aroused attacks against arbitrary government and calls for the rule of law and the immediate convening of an estates-general. Through debates and in writings intricate projects were devised or easy nostrums proffered. Above all simple and commonplace ideas were repeated as solutions to problems of the day; these were justified by promiscuous borrowings from the many intellectual traditions society offered. The French groped their way haltingly, at times reluctantly, at times with precipitation, often surprised at the pace of their political transformation in the short span of two years, or even of a few months. Amidst the plethora of ideas, the attention focused on the role of provincial bodies and on the estates-general in particular made the political message of 1787–1788 popular. In contrast to previous claimants to national representation such as the parlementary courts or groups of nobles, provincial assemblies, especially provincial estates and a national estates-general should be elected, and hence would emanate from the public’s choice, and the deputies would express the public’s views, interests, and will. As elective bodies, from the level of the parish to that of the nation, they would also open up opportunities in still unspecified ways for unknown numbers of Frenchmen to engage actively in public affairs.69 When in the spring of 1789 the French wrote their cahiers, they had ready in mind the complaints and aspirations that had been widely discussed in print, and which led them to compose cahiers whose contents differed in profound ways from those submitted to estates-general in the past.70 “Liberty, equality and fraternity” and “national sovereignty” were not preformed concepts that initiated the revolutionary crisis. They were the end terms that summed up and crystallized this prior political experience.

12 Can We Hear the Voices of Peasants?

On July 29, 1788, the Nouvelles Extraordinaires de Divers Endroits, known familiarly as the Gazette de Leyde, reported that boatmen on the Isère River in Dauphiné refused to carry across the intendant who was on his way to install the new grand bailliage court in Valence following the Crown’s suppression of the parlementary courts in May 1788—an event, the journalist added, that “occurred nowhere else.” A historian reading this notice some centuries later might well wonder if it actually happened. Could such humble people in the depths of a province know and be concerned about the political act of the establishment of the new court, and the symbolic significance of the presence of a royal official at its inauguration? It may be a contrived story; there is no way to know for certain. But historians have informed us, Georges Lefebvre in particular and more recently George Taylor, that country people became engaged in the unfolding of the Revolution in the spring and summer of 1789, and more importantly that their interests were directed at the economic problems that bore immediately on their personal lives: the burden of seigneurial fees, the shortage and high price of bread, the pressures on the common lands of the village, and the common rights of the villagers.1 The grand bailliage court seems remote from the world of peasants—and boatmen. The unexpected incident setting the Dauphinois boatmen against the royal intendant may suggest otherwise. Is it possible to hear the voices of peasants before 1789, before government orders summoned them to act—to draft cahiers and to elect deputies; and were those voices in any way political? Two pamphlets of the summer of 1788 offer a microhistory of the mental worlds of two different peasant communities, one in Dauphiné, the other in Auvergne. Crévoux was located in the mountains of southeastern 292

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Dauphiné, to the east of Embrun, the nearest city, while the Auvergnat pamphlet came from the countryside of Clermont-Ferrand, on the outskirts of the Limagne valley astride the Allier River and the surrounding mountains. How could poor peasants in what were then remote areas of France become aware of and interested in political developments? Did geography isolate them from news? Did literacy constitute a serious barrier to knowledge, further compounded by the use of patois and ignorance of French?

Geography: News Travels An atlas of routes in 1789 gives the impression of a paucity of transportation links beyond the great arteries connecting Paris with the major cities in the provinces.2 But this map of the road system in the late eighteenth century is not a mirror of the communication network. News arrived at a much slower pace in the late eighteenth century than in this modern age of instantaneous communication. However, after a circuitous course, news— and rumor—did penetrate even regions and villages difficult to access because of their distance from the main centers and routes, and because of geographical barriers. Lefebvre vividly illustrates the indirect paths by which rumors spread over large areas during the Great Fear. The ways news arrived in the countryside of Auvergne and the mountainous region of Dauphiné may be traced only indirectly and approximatively. Access to the region along the Allier River in Auvergne was not easy because of poor navigation and nearby mountain ranges, yet in the last years of the eighteenth century the road system in the province improved and with it internal traffic intensified.3 New roads also linked parts of the mountainous region of southeastern Dauphiné to larger towns and cities, but the village of Crévoux was not yet directly connected to the major eighteenth-century roads, although a new road had been constructed recently and two mountain passes also linked it to the outside world.4 However difficult the effort, peasants and traders were able to cart their few goods into and out of villages and over distances by mule packs along tortuous mountain paths. Some news became known in these remote areas, but newspapers were not the principal vehicles for dissemination. This was especially so in Dauphiné, where the Affiches, annonces et avis divers de Dauphiné provided little information of political events until October 1788. The Feuille hebdomadaire pour la province d’Auvergne offered a little more. With a delay of

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about one to three weeks, it reported the main edicts and speeches emanating from the Crown, including the May edicts of 1788 and the edict of 5 July convoking the estates-general, and it also mentioned the work initiated by the newly established provincial assembly of Auvergne. But its newswriter either assumed that readers already had more detailed knowledge, such as of Calonne’s speech to the Assembly of Notables on 22 February 1787, so that he need only “recall the matters already known”; or he referred the readers to publications providing more substantial information on the Assembly of Notables, the provincial assembly, or the edicts of May 1788. The anonymous author of the Auvergnat pamphlet evidently was a reader of “public news” and “periodicals,” whether the local newspaper or another. The reading of news was becoming more popular; the opening in Clermont in September 1787 of a literary cabinet whose advantage was its “collection of newspapers” was announced the following July in the provincial paper. Nevertheless, the spread of news was not dependent on newspapers, especially in poor country districts that could not afford to pay ten livres or more for the annual subscription. Other literary sources filled the vacuum. A staple of newspaper columns, and disseminated also by other means, were official declarations—edicts of the royal government and remonstrances of the sovereign courts. The Crown and other government institutions served as information agencies, their written decisions and communications informing the French populace of public policy and of political developments, at times requiring them or inciting them to act. Colporteurs on urban streets and country roads hawked and sold edicts as well as official and unofficial declarations of sovereign courts, of provincial and municipal bodies, and of groups of nobles or lawyers.5 Parish priests in villages and elsewhere announced government edicts after the weekly service and posted them near the church; Te Deums were celebrated to announce special occasions, as in 1788 with the return of the parlementary courts and the convening of the estates-general. Royal edicts in 1787 called on rural communities in the greater part of France—in the pays d’élections (provinces without estates)—to elect new municipalities. The following year the Crown authorized all communities in Dauphiné to elect deputies for the assembly of the three orders that was to meet in Romans in September 1788, while counterelections also took place for the unauthorized provincial estates in response to the call by the assembly of Vizille. The Auvergnat author likely read the royal edicts on the land tax and on liberty of commerce, as well as the remonstrance of the Paris parlement protesting

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the May edicts, and the procès-verbaux of provincial assemblies. The peasants in Crévoux, according to the pamphlet in their name, knew from official edicts of the Crown’s projected land tax and stamp tax, the extension of two vingtièmes taxes, government economies, and judicial reforms. The author claimed that the peasants even played one official communiqué against another, proudly demonstrating their “good sense” in uncovering inconsistencies of policy in royal edicts and in a letter from the intendant; this afforded the community the occasion, stated the writer, to press the government to clarify its intention and to accede to the requests that the peasants ostensibly made. The intendant’s letter also informed them of the riots in Grenoble on 7 June about which, in the words of the pamphlet, they were “already perfectly instructed”; so too did they know that the May edicts were imposed “militarily,” but the pamphlet does not indicate how the peasants learned about either event. According to the pamphlet, the peasants pleaded innocent to the intendant’s charge that they were being seduced by dangerous writings. His warning against “bad principles” elicited a challenge in the form of a “modest proposal” that would open wide to country people the world of print and of political disputation: the intendant should print “an edition of dangerous writings, along with solid reasons for combating them.” Both the intendant and the governor in Dauphiné were feverishly warning the ministry of pamphlet writings that were circulating in the countryside and arousing the peasantry. Some pamphlets even explicitly addressed a rustic audience: Lettre d’un campagnard dauphinois, à M. son subdélégué, Entretien entre un paysan et un voyageur en Bretagne, Essai d’instructions élémentaires pour les habitants des campagnes, de l’ordre du peuple . . . , and Déclaration de la noblesse de Bourgogne au peuple des villes et de campagnes. Pamphlets offering more sophisticated or technical arguments were the literary fare of the writer in Auvergne who read with a keen eye, and spared no criticism or plaudits. Among his readings were the memoir on government finances by former controller general Calonne and the reply of one of his critics; Linguet’s essay in favor of the dîme royale (a tax in kind); and a pamphlet famous for its parlementary views (La conférence entre un conseiller du parlement et un ministre). In addition, he cited more voluminous earlier writings, such as Necker’s Administration des finances, Mercier’s Tableau de Paris, even Montesquieu’s Esprit des loix. Private letters were another vehicle for disseminating news and opinion. Residents of cities, towns, and villages received letters from family members

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or friends who lived elsewhere, informing them of what was taking place; they themselves sometimes traveled and wrote home about events they saw or heard of along their routes.6 Letters as news organs was a practice deeply rooted in the ancien régime; manuscript newsletters appeared in epistolary form and some of the first newspapers of the Revolution grew out of correspondence that deputies sent to their constituencies.7 Routine daily experiences were occasions for the convergence of written and oral sources of information. In thousands of cabarets throughout France urban workers and rural peasants drank, talked, and listened to the reading of papers and pamphlets and the words of travelers, and exchanged views—all reasons for the government to fear the influence of drinking places. The movement of peasants, those prosperous and those poor, beyond their villages brought them within larger orbits of talk and news. Peasants with crops or livestock to sell went to market towns. In the poor and mountainous community of Crévoux, which lacked the social space of a cabaret, peasants often traveled 15 kilometers to Embrun to buy grain in times of scarcity, to shoe their animals and repair their farm tools, to fetch a doctor for the sick, and to seek legal aid before courts of law; every year 100 of the 500 inhabitants left for at least four to five months to work in neighboring parishes as domestic help or in manufactories.8 On 7 June 1788, peasants from nearby villages who came to the market in Grenoble joined the riots on the Day of Tiles to prevent the departure of the parlementary magistrates.9 Travelers, especially merchants engaged in their business activities, passed through the countryside and cities carrying with them information or opinion about what was taking place elsewhere. The diary of a clergyman, a professor in a seminary in Lyon, is replete with bits and pieces of knowledge he gathered from such traveling merchants.10 The network relaying news of the riot in Grenoble in June reached the city of Gap, 56 kilometers west of Crévoux, with the arrival of a woman, a resident of Gap, on her return from the provincial capital. The following day several letters and bulletins arrived in Gap giving further details of the Day of Tiles, which made a “great sensation.”11 Within two weeks of the event, the Crévoux peasants knew about the riot in Grenoble. Technical deficiencies and government censorship might retard or reduce but did not stop the flow of news and opinion. The suppression of sovereign courts in May 1788, and the cessation of activity in lower courts in support of the higher tribunals, were not events remote from the interests of ordinary people, even of rural peasants. Royal

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and parlementary propagandists depicted with derision or pathos the inhabitants of cities who lost business or employment because of the closing of the courts. In an act of solidarity with the parlement, the consular court (a commercial tribunal) in Paris stopped operating, arousing fear among creditors that their loans would not be repaid and playing havoc with the normal process of financial affairs. The cases listed in the Feuilles hebdomadaires of Auvergne give us a sense of the range of ordinary people whose economic activities came within the jurisdiction of a seneschal court and could be disrupted by its closing: day laborers, peasant proprietors, millers, wine growers, coalmen, merchants, weavers, carpenters, masons, widows, bakers, and cutlers could not buy or sell the pieces of land, the government annuities (rentes), or other objects whose exchange was otherwise normal.12 Some of the cahiers of rural communities in Auvergne expressed strong interest in the workings of the courts. Judges, lawyers, and legal procedures were not matters far away and above them, but touched them directly in the lands they held, the fees they paid, and the obligations to which they were subject.13 What loomed as a menace of the Crown’s bankruptcy— partial payment of government rentes and salaries in treasury notes instead of specie—evoked an outcry of laments reported in some newspapers; in Dauphiné, the intendant noted, news of the change in payment “heated opinion.”14 Wealthy financiers were not alone affected; ordinary “fathers of families,” small artisans, tradesmen, and domestic servants, according to historian Daniel Roche, owned government annuities and feared their loss of value.15 Peasants in late eighteenth-century France did not live in a closed universe, cut off by geography from contacts with those in the wider world.16 News could arrive, despite mountain ranges and remote locations. But could it be understood? Were there other, cultural barriers, which isolated them, namely the use of patois and illiteracy?

Patois Patois, historian Eugen Weber argues, isolated peasants from the mainstream of French political life until the end of the nineteenth century.17 Knowledge of the use of patois in the late eighteenth century comes largely from the inquiry that the abbé Grégoire conducted in 1790.18 Its results delineate the cartography of patois, which was limited largely to the periphery of France. Patois was the main language of communication in Alsace and

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Lorraine in the east, and counterclockwise in the Flemish provinces in the north, the western half of Brittany, Gascon-speaking areas in the southwest, the Basque region, Languedoc, Provence, the southern Massif Central, and the island of Corsica; the largest concentrated area was in the Midi. In a report on the language problem for the Committee of Public Safety in 1793, Bertrand Barère further distinguished between those areas in which “a foreign idiom”—that is, Breton, German, Italian, and Basque—was used “exclusively,” and those in which “more or less coarse idioms” did not exclude knowledge of the national language.19 Underlying political objectives and methodological limits flaw the results of Grégoire’s inquiry. Both Grégoire and his respondents had a political agenda—to assure the victory of the Revolution—which could best be attained if citizens could comprehend the new laws directly and give their allegiance immediately; patois, they believed, obstructed the achievement of that political goal. Moreover, the questions Grégoire posed were aimed at determining the use of patois rather than the concurrent use or knowledge of French, which the answers overlooked. The questionnaire framed the perspective of his respondents, making their reports rich in information on the use of patois but deficient in evidence about comprehension of the national language. The answers he received nonetheless offer some indirect testimony of a dual linguistic relationship, more exactly of a dependence of patois on French. Time and again his respondents indicated the absence of dictionaries, grammars, and written literature in the patois. With vocabularies rich in concrete imagery and expressing strong emotions, patois tended to be limited to the everyday world of agriculture, nature, and human sentiments; general ideas related to the political and social world and their formulation in reasoned arguments likely did not originate in patois, but were derived from French. The reports to Grégoire, in short, are not a dependable guide for understanding the degree to which messages in French penetrated through patois and could be understood directly or through translations and translators. Patois-speaking areas, as Weber acknowledges, were often bilingual. By the end of the eighteenth century educated nobles, bourgeois, and professionals were fluent in both French and patois. In urban areas even artisans and tradesmen understood and might also speak French. Patois-speakers (with the possible exception of those in Alsace and in parts of Lorraine) were obliged to use French in writing, especially for legal and official purposes, when necessary, turning for help to those who had the knowledge.20

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Even earlier, during the peasant revolts in southwestern France in the seventeenth century, political manifestos in Gascon-speaking areas were written in French.21 In rural areas peasants might not speak French but they might understand some spoken French, and if not they could turn to someone at hand to serve as translator. Arthur Young, traveling in 1789 in the Vivarais (Languedoc), was interrogated by members of the bourgeois militia who spoke patois among themselves but French to him. At a patriotic fête in the city of Nîmes in November 1788 to celebrate the return of the parlement and the convening of the estates-general, a play presented a silk-worker and his wife who spoke only patois, yet they and the French-speaking characters understood each other despite their different tongues; the political purpose of this play, to propagate the image of unity among diverse groups in a common political effort, need not negate its value as testimony of bilingual exchange.22 The practice of bilingualism was dependent on the assistance of cultural intermediaries. Educated neighbors who knew French, the priest or the notary as common examples, could write but especially could read aloud translations from French into patois. Even during the Revolution, when the government promoted a policy of translation of laws into patois, oral translations predominated; before 1789 the priest read laws to his parishioners, after 1789 members of local assemblies and political clubs offered their translations.23 Translators provided information, but their translations could also screen news and knowledge, offering a selective, even a limited or deceptive view. In early 1789 a lawyer, who translated from French into patois the speech of another lawyer at the “General Council of fathers of families of Sisteron” (Provence) for the benefit of many peasants in attendance, truncated and altered the message. What was originally a scathing attack against the fiscal privileges of the nobles and clergy of Provence and their political dominance in the provincial estates, became largely a homage to Mirabeau, the king, and Necker.24 The role of the translator was two-sided, as the Sisteron example demonstrates. His linguistic control over the flow of knowledge gave him the power to inform as well as to influence or distort the minds of those dependent on his aid. Lower Auvergne and Dauphiné, adjoining patois-speaking regions, were intermediate areas of dual or interchangeable linguistic usage. A contemporary local historian of the diocese of Embrun in the southeastern mountains of Dauphiné, which included the community of Crévoux, described in 1783 a society fragmented linguistically yet sharing a common tongue.25

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Abbé Albert’s knowledge was intimate; he was a priest in the diocese and drew material from reports sent to him by other parish priests. Each valley had its own “language,” reputedly different mixtures of Latin, Celtic, Greek, Italian, and Spanish, the result of geography and the legacy of the “different peoples that inhabited the region in the past.” At the same time everyone who had some education or was “above the vulgar” spoke French; even “the low class of people” (“le bas peuple”), he added with emphasis, understood French if they did not speak it. He attributed this fact especially to their religious formation: from an early age, instruction in the catechism and other religious teaching was in French (not always the practice in predominantly patois-speaking areas). The situation was very different in the Limagne of Auvergne, he noted, where he had traveled some years earlier; he was not understood by nor did he understand peasants whom he had met. Whether this was due to their ignorance of French, or to the habitual reticence of peasants before a stranger, he did not indicate. Other contemporary evidence modifies this image of Auvergne. Le Grand d’Aussy, who wrote about his extensive travels in Auvergne in two editions published in 1788 and in 1794–1795, distinguished two linguistic areas: in the valley and plains of Lower Auvergne French was understood and used; in mountainous Upper Auvergne the inhabitants understood “a little” French but, despite preaching in French by priests, they could speak only Auvergnat.26 The Society of the Friends of the Constitution in a small town in Lower Auvergne, responding to Grégoire, described the prevalence of patois for the entire area of Limagne, even in the cities. Yet, they added, never in anyone’s memory was patois used in church, and it was almost exclusively an oral language; there were few writings in patois except for some hymn books. Since the patois of each village differed, and even peasants did not understand each other short distances from their homes, French, they seemed to indicate, served as a lingua franca: “in general, . . . in habitual social relations, . . . everyone understands French.” Nonetheless, because it retarded knowledge and perpetuated old (meaning superstitious) habits of mind, so the Society of Friends believed, patois had a pernicious influence and should be eliminated through instruction.27 Their view was part moral judgment and part political strategy. From their experiences in the Revolution, the Auvergnat Jacobins and the other respondents to the question naire, as well as Grégoire, looked upon language as a tool to create a civic spirit and strengthen allegiance to the new regime. Knowledge of French, they believed, would enable the inhabitants to know immediately

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and directly the new laws and the new constitution written in French, and to become attached to them. Translations from patois into French through intermediaries were no longer viewed as an aid but as a hindrance. Patois was a porous screen. Bilingualism varied, ranging from mastery of French in reading, writing, and speaking to understanding of spoken French without the ability to read, write, or speak it. As linguistic capacity varied, so too was it socially and geographically differentiated. Knowledge of French was more widespread among the upper classes and in urban rather than in rural areas, although even urban artisans and shopkeepers knew French in patois-speaking regions, as did notables in the countryside. Grégoire’s respondents, echoing each other, referred repeatedly to “the last 20 years,”“since mid-century,” and “the last 50 years” as the period in which French became more widely used. The expansion of the network of roads in the last half of the eighteenth century accelerated the diffusion of the national language. The key to the peasants’ knowledge of French lay with the church. Where catechistic and other religious instruction was in French— as in Dauphiné and Lower Auvergne—even peasants gained an acquaintance with the national language. And patois-speakers in the countryside could turn to translators to make French understood. Varying degrees and modes of bilingualism provided links to the French-speaking world. At the outset of the Revolution, in 1787–1788, extraordinary events also mobilized patois as a medium of instruction: songs, verses, and pamphlets in Breton and Occitan, and in the patois of Auvergne and of Dauphiné, recounted events that took place and arguments expressed in the larger world beyond rural villages.28 Patois did not, even in the Midi, diminish political engagement and conflict.

Literacy Peasants who spoke French, even more those limited to patois which had few literary works (German and Flemish apart), often still had the additional handicap of illiteracy. Although the percentage of the total population in France able to read, judged by the ability of brides and grooms to sign their marriage contracts, rose over the course of the eighteenth century, this general improvement masked variations in geographical area, social category, and sex.29 North of the famous Saint Malo-Geneva line, from Normandy to Franche-Comté (excluding Alsace), rates of literacy were highest (30–40 percent and above); south of that line, in about two-thirds of France

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which included many patois-speaking areas (excluding the Germanspeaking parts of Lorraine), literacy rates generally tended to be on the lower half of the scale.30 For patois speakers, especially in the Celtic and Occitan regions (Brittany and the south, respectively), the acquisition of reading skills was more difficult, according to historian Yves Castan, because they faced a greater hurdle—they lacked familiarity with the written language to be mastered.31 Poverty, of the family or of the community, was a determinant of literacy in an age when the village collectively or the individual family paid for schooling; village communities with little reserves of funds or the poorest peasant families could not meet the costs of regular schooling. In addition, children of the poor, put to work at an age at which today they would enter kindergarten, had little free time to attend school. Among the lower classes professional status introduced cultural distinctions; literacy was becoming almost a prerequisite for skilled craftsmen and some domestic servants,32 setting them apart from unskilled day workers. Geography and class together fashioned literacy rates. Literacy was more widespread among urban dwellers who had easier access to the more numerous neighborhood schools. In rural areas, where secondary and even elementary schools were fewer and farm work occupied children’s time for many months of the year, literacy was considerably lower. Within rural society distinctions became more marked; prosperous peasants were increasingly becoming literate during the eighteenth century while the poorest peasant cultivators and day workers had not yet crossed the threshold. What was true of French men was writ even larger for French women. Female literacy increased the most over the eighteenth century, but largely for women in urban areas among families of nobles and notables, bourgeois and petty bourgeois. Peasant women still remained the most culturally deprived, even in areas where male literacy was respectable.33 The two peasant communities in Auvergne and Dauphiné represent the two extremes on the scale of literacy. In the future administrative department of Puy-de-Dôme (introduced during the Revolution) in Auvergne, both men and women had low rates of literacy which remained stationary from the late seventeenth century to the eve of the French Revolution: between 20 and 29 percent of the men could read and write as measured by signatures on marriage contracts, and only 10 to 19 percent of the women; in rural parishes few of the newly married could sign their names even in 1780.34 The future department of the Hautes-Alpes (Dauphiné), which included Crévoux, although located in the southern part of France, was a

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region of exceptionally high literacy: 74 percent of men at the end of the eighteenth century were literate; female literacy, however, was low, fixed at 27 percent from the late seventeenth century to the late eighteenth century.35 The abbé Albert, inhabitant and historian of the area, confirmed the extensive male literacy but claimed that women too “are rather well instructed. There are few who do not know how to read and write.”36 The peasants of Crévoux described themselves as “for the most part unlettered,” in eighteenth-century usage meaning uncultivated or uneducated rather than illiterate.37 If they knew how to read, perhaps to write, their instruction was the work of itinerant schoolmasters spawned in this mountainous region of southeastern Dauphiné and who, according to the abbé Albert, taught “everywhere . . . at least during six months of winter.”38 The community assembly of Crévoux paid for three schoolmasters and “often,” according to the inhabitants, when community funds were depleted, families taxed themselves.39 In Auvergne, schooling of rural people was deficient. The Auvergnat writer lamented the absence of schools in the countryside; rustics looked upon cities as an “earthly paradise” in which one could have “the hope of being instructed.” “Put schools in the countryside” to remedy the injustice, he stated tersely. Not just the number of schools but the form of instruction was inadequate. Secondary education prepared “the children of bourgeois” for “the church, for the law, finance, administration, commerce” but did not offer instruction for peasants.40 The paucity of schools and of teachers in the Auvergnat countryside left primary education as an occasional and additional task for overburdened parish priests, whose instruction was rudimentary and insufficient.41 The Society of the Friends of the Constitution in Puy-de-Dôme responded to five of Gregoire’s questions with one stark answer: “Among twenty villages, only one possesses a teacher who barely can spell, and the priest makes his parishioners repeat parrot-like the words of the catechism.”42 In stark contrast, Dauphinois peasants, many of them, could read; Auvergnat peasants, many of them, could not read. Nevertheless, literacy is not a mirror of knowledge. In an age of partial literacy and pockets of illiteracy, reading was but one of several means available to acquire knowledge (as radio, television, cinema, and the Internet are alternative means today). Songs and poems transmitted by word of mouth and imprinted by memory, visual images, and especially reading aloud to others spread information and ideas.43 Illiteracy impeded knowledge but did not signify ignorance. Experiences taught individuals and groups about

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many of the problems that became the objects of public debate and government policy. Even illiterate peasants knew about the financial burdens that weighed upon them year after year. The Auvergnat author wrote about the peasants of his “rustic society”: “Illiterate, yes, but believe me, on agriculture and the equitable assessment [i.e., of taxes], they have the experience.”44 Lower Auvergne with low literacy and mountainous southeastern Dauphiné with high literacy were both in regions involved in the Great Fear during the summer of 1789.45 In France as a whole, historian John Markoff concluded, greater literacy did not promote, nor greater illiteracy preclude, participation in acts of revolt in 1789.46

Cultural Intermediaries To overcome the problems of geographical remoteness, use of patois, and illiteracy required the assistance of a cultural intermediary who connected rural inhabitants to the distant world beyond their village.47 Such a person, who had contact with peasants, had to be able to translate messages from French into the various patois, read news to those unable to read, and explain complex ideas in ways that related to the experience of ordinary people. The role was fulfilled by the travelers—merchants, peddlers, or residents—who brought with them reports or rumors; the lawyers or notaries who drafted petitions or legal briefs that peasants presented to courts or to officials;48 the village notables—prosperous peasants or their sons— who, like the father of Restif de la Bretonne, knew how to read;49 and especially the parish priests (curés). Curés not only had charge of their souls but read to them government edicts and official pronouncements, even newspapers and books; they taught peasants the catechism, sometimes also reading and some writing; they informed them of new crops to plant and better ways of cultivation; and they provided peasants with elementary medications.50 Parish priests did not make occasional appearances in the countryside, as did merchants and lawyers. They lived among peasants, succored to their daily needs, and knew their problems intimately. Curés were obliged by their bishops to provide exact information about their parish, not only the material needs of the church and the spiritual needs of the community but also the social and economic needs of the village. The bishop of Autun, in preparation for a pastoral visit, inquired of the priests of his diocese how many sick people could be cared for in their parishes and what were “the most common industrial and natural fruits.”51 Country priests were the

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cultural oxygen of rural communities, their close relations with their parishioners known to contemporaries. The Assembly of Notables in December 1788 proposed to give to all beneficed priests the right to vote in the elections for the estates-general because they above all had the best knowledge of the needs of their rural parishioners. Cultural intermediaries in their several forms would aid many village communities in 1789 to write their petitions of grievances to the king.52 Parish clergy in Dauphiné and Auvergne, in origin of higher social class than peasants, coming from families of the middle or lower bourgeoisie, nonetheless had similar geographic horizons and even economic status as the villagers among whom they lived. Ninety-nine percent of the parish clergy in the diocese of Embrun, which included Crévoux, originated from within the diocese and had lived in the same region all their lives. In Lower Auvergne most of the curés were Auvergnats, and in Auvergne priests tended to reside for long years in the same parish. Parish priests—60 to 90 percent of them in Dauphiné, two-thirds of them in the diocese of Clermont—were not tithe-owners, hence did not own property. They received a salary, as did the author of the Auvergnat pamphlet who identified himself as “un curé de campagne à portion congrue.” Before 1786, that salary was 500 livres annually—the poverty line for a family in the ancien régime—which was then raised to 700 livres. Though not as penurious as their parishioners, they too experienced financial straits and resented their low clerical income coupled with the heavy tax they had to pay to the church. In the depths of their rural residences, a number of the Dauphinois and Auvergnat clerics were receptive to the new ideas of their age, from the Enlightenment to revived Richerism, which converted them into partisans of reforms aimed at changing the financial and power structures of the church and improving the living conditions of the peasantry. Their own lives and their contacts with their parishioners gave to the curés in Dauphiné and in Auvergne a keen understanding of and deep sympathy for the plight of the peasants. “The cause of parish priests is necessarily the cause of the poor,” affirmed the priests of the diocese of Clermont in support of their demand for representation of parish clergy in the estates of Auvergne and in the estates-general. Rural cahiers of Auvergne in 1789 testify that country people appreciated and reciprocated their curés’ concerns and sentiments.53 The two pamphlets from Auvergne and Crévoux present the words of a cultural intermediary through whom the views of the peasants were ostensibly

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expressed; each illuminates different facets of the relationship between cultural intermediary and peasantry. The Délibération de la communauté de Crévoux en Embrunois of June 1788, in the form of an official declaration of the peasant community, was a free-ranging and audacious expression of political views that is attributed to a lawyer from the nearby city of Embrun, who may later have served as a deputy in the National Convention.54 A dialogue is implicit between a group humble in status and a writer from the learned elite who puts into writing the complaints they utter, as occurred regularly when men of law drafted legal briefs for peasants and artisans and when, in 1789, they drafted their cahiers de doléances.55 Délibérations of several peasant communities were secretly published in the summer of 1788, at the same time that pamphlets were circulating and political activists—local men of law, public officers or clerics, or lawyers and legal clerks from Grenoble—were campaigning in the countryside of Dauphiné, the intendant and military commander reported.56 The Crévoux Délibération was both an official declaration and a political pamphlet in which two discourses interlace—the knowledgeable and sophisticated arguments of the lawyer-writer, and the “simple ideas” of the peasant community. It represents both the popular voice of the lowly and the propagandist rhetoric of a notable. Yet the author had a symbiotic relationship with the peasants in whose name he wrote. He had to take great care that his words incorporated the views of the peasants, either to obtain their votes in support of the written deliberation of the assembly, or to persuade the rural audience of the rightness of his political argument. If the peasant community of Crévoux did not actually write its own text, the final text embodied arguments that it willingly accepted.57 A few months later the Crévoux peasants showed renewed political interest when they elected two deputies, and their parish priest was also a deputy, to the provincial estates of Dauphiné that met in September 1788.58 The Auvergnat text did not emanate from a peasant community. Though expressed in the name of a “société rustique”—the title is Requête d’une société rustique à toutes les assemblées générales, provinciales du royaume—its author identified himself as a “country priest” who claimed to voice the thoughts of his peasants. The priest does not identify himself nor the village of his parish, though he says that he served in several rural parishes of the Limagne for twelve years. Through other sources the identity of priest and village may be surmised: Raymond, curé of Chanonat, a village 10 kilometers south of Clermont-Ferrand, who was himself a native of the Limagne.

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Living throughout his life in that same area he had personal knowledge of local conditions, and from at least 1788 and continuing through the years of the Revolution and after he had strongly held views that he expressed through engagement in public affairs.59 Disorder in the numbering of some pages indicates the pamphlet was printed hastily, if not also cheaply. His single-minded purpose was to present the “facts,” “truths,” and “details,” of the peasants’ impoverished life and of the problems they faced, which only he and other curés who lived among them could know. He depicted the lives of the peasants in words palpitating with emotion in this pamphlet and in a letter to the royal minister, Necker: Priests, . . . enlightened interpreters of the needs of poor people. Who can better see them, feel them and paint them? They know destitution in all its hideous forms. The rags that cover it, the horrible shacks that shelter it, the disgusting foods that kill it, the bitter tears that flood it, their eyes see everything and everything is painted in their hearts in forceful and harrowing tones.60

The curé’s laments and criticisms foreshadowed those expressed in the writings of other contemporary Auvergnats, in the cahiers of peasant communities of the area, and confirmed in the historical works of Abel Poitrineau.61 In Requête d’une société rustique, the literary creation of an individual, the collective group receded to the background and the cultural intermediary took the foreground. He assumed the direct role of spokesman, impassioned advocate, and instructor for the peasant community, propagating his own views as much as voicing the views of the peasantry. He brought to this task his homegrown ideology, constructed of intellectual bric-à-brac. He was a rural populist, defender of a peasantry that was oppressed yet was the embodiment of religion and morality, and a partisan of the agrarian life that was the foundation of true wealth as opposed to the cities that sucked men and money into luxury industries, as well as luxurious debauchery and irreligion. One should not hastily conclude that he was a disciple of Rousseau or of the physiocrats, for his numerous citations of his readings do not include the one or the other. He alluded to the philosophes and criticized their criticisms of religion. Although he read The Spirit of the Laws, his guiding sources were not from the intellectual heights of eighteenthcentury culture. The author whose writings nurtured his knowledge of economics and his economic philosophy, especially his populist sympathy and

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devotion to the people, was Antoine-Léonard Thomas, known in the eighteenth century for his poems and essays that earned for him a place in the Académie Française. In Thomas’ writings the curé found his models of a good ruler in the persons of the Dauphin, father of Louis XVI, but especially of Sully, Henry IV’s minister, the subjects of two famous éloges by Thomas that the priest repeatedly cited. Perhaps he was attracted to Thomas because both were natives of Auvergne. Was the author of the Requête d’une société rustique the same “country priest” who printed Thomas’ poem, Epitre au peuple, at his own expense, read it before his congregation, and distributed copies to the parishioners, as a biographical entry for Thomas recounts?62 It does seems likely that the curé-author imbibed his agrarian populism from his fellow Auvergnat whose quotations fill his footnotes, and that he propagated his own views as much as he voiced the views of the peasantry. A common social ethic rooted in a shared life experience linked priest and peasants. These two pamphlets of the summer of 1788 identified with peasant communities, though appearing in different literary forms and responding to two different events, bear a common feature: they were political writings. That of Crévoux, the official deliberation of the peasant community dated 24 June 1788, responded to a letter from the provincial intendant with an attack against government policy. The intendant reported that several deliberations of cities, towns, and villages were secretly published either in answer to his letter or to the call from the municipality of Grenoble for an assembly of all Dauphinois municipalities following the parlement’s suppression and the riot in the provincial capital.63 The pamphlet from Auvergne was completed, the country priest remarked with evident excitement in the postscriptum, just as he learned of the convening of the estatesgeneral. He had read of the edict of 5 July in “ouvrages périodiques,” perhaps the issue of 9 July of the Journal de Paris that would have arrived in Clermont and vicinity within five to six days,64 before the news appeared on 26 July in the Feuilles hebdomadaires pour la province d’Auvergne. By 22 July the curé’s pamphlet was already circulating in Toulouse, its sale even suspended by royal authorities.65 It is a wide-ranging essay whose author gave to it a scope broader than the specific event that led to its writing. Although the Dauphinois and Auvergnat texts are only a few weeks apart, the circumstances of their composition differed. The village assembly of Crévoux met to hear a letter from the intendant reassuring them that no new taxes or higher taxes would be raised. Their answer was to condemn the gov-

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ernment’s fiscal policy; they further denounced royal ministers, criticized the new provincial assembly, and defended the recently suppressed parlement in Grenoble. This unexpected outcome of the intendant’s attempt at calming opinion occurred repeatedly in numerous meetings in Dauphiné, to his consternation.66 The meeting of new municipal assemblies, of which the Auvergnat priest became a member, and of provincial assemblies led the group of Auvergnat peasants to express their observations through the rhetoric of the curé, as the latter explained the occasion for the pamphlet.67 Whether the reason was the suppression of the parlement in Dauphiné or the meeting of municipal and provincial assemblies in Auvergne, in both Crévoux and in Auvergne political events gave rise to both publications, one in the name of a collective and institutionalized body of peasants, the other by a cultural intermediary as spokesmen for the local peasantry. Peasants evidently demonstrated interest in political developments; and their interest in politics was translated into terms meaningful to their experience and adapted to situations with which they were familiar. Political demands that arose on one level of discourse could be appropriated for or by peasants and applied to needs and aspirations within their own lives. In the case of the Dauphinois peasants, their discourse converged with those expressed by others in the province at that time; in the example from Auvergne, the discourse expressed in the name of the peasants already had unique components which diverged from the general line of argument that prevailed in the nation at large in the summer of 1788, yet it paralleled complaints voiced by other Auvergnats, both peasants and nonpeasants.68

Dauphiné: The Crévoux Délibération In mid-1788 the suppression of the parlementary courts, the burden of taxes, and the role of new provincial assemblies were issues of general concern. That peasants were interested in taxes is no surprise since they paid the greatest proportion; that they were also interested in the courts and the assemblies may surprise some, but these three matters were inextricably linked. How was a discourse crafted that brought these national problems into the perspective, and within the confines, of the peasants’ life experiences? What were the tools used, that is, the language and the arguments, to express their distinct viewpoint? Contemporary accounts depict peasants among the demonstrators in Grenoble and in Pau, possibly also in Rennes, who supported the judges

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against the royal officials and troops sent to disperse them in 1788, or who celebrated the return of the magistrates in the autumn.69 Their number and their role may be exaggerated; Jean Sgard showed that the peasants who rioted in Grenoble on the Day of Tiles in June did not suddenly descend from far-off villages in an act of insurrection—as described in some contemporary pamphlets—but were already in the city, having come from nearby villages for the traditional market day when news broke of the magistrates’ imminent departure.70 Peasant support of the parlements in Grenoble and Pau was not forced, the result of manipulation by their lords. The peasants of Crévoux were far from Grenoble and did not march there, yet meeting in their assembly they showed they favored the magistrates against the Crown. Their discourse on the parlement and on taxes intermingled arguments voiced throughout France with the thoughts and words of both the cultural intermediary and the Crévoux peasantry. The denunciation of the May edicts could have been written by any lawyer, clergyman, or judge anywhere in France, and could be read in the many anonymous pamphlets that proliferated. At times the language of the cultural intermediary is obvious in the long and flowing sentences, at other times a language that unselfconsciously, even purposely, evokes or echoes the direct and unvarnished thoughts of the peasants—their “simple” ideas in the words of the Délibération. As the French looked upon the king as “the father of the people,” so the peasants of Crévoux looked upon the Parlement of Dauphiné as “the father of the people” who cared for them, above all, through the act of consenting to taxes. The magistrates protected them against an “immeasurable” fiscal burden, and in return the inhabitants of Dauphiné had the obligation to do everything they could to preserve the court. Theirs was not a naive adulation based on unthinking habit or political indoctrination, but was grounded on an immediate sense of their interest. The cultural intermediary might have supplied them with the facts and figures, but they themselves, using ordinary common sense, could conclude that the continuation of a second vingtième, whose termination was so often promised and that substituted for the enormous yield of a land tax and a stamp tax, constituted a new tax. Peasant wariness, translated into the enlightened language of “probabilities resulting from experience and certain facts,” made them suspicious of official disclaimers that taxes would not be raised and skeptical of the intendant’s word, which contradicted the words and purpose of the government’s tax edicts. Common sense—son gros bons sens—also made them distrust the new provincial assembly. It was too “devoted” to the

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government, this vague charge reechoing the criticism widespread in Dauphiné of the unrepresentative nature of an assembly that was not elected. Concrete evidence against the provincial assembly was its approval, “against all justice,” of a substitute tax for the corvée levied “in its totality on the Third Estate,” thus demonstrating its “unfavorable disposition to the Third Estate.” This assembly was no substitute for the parlement as an agent to consent to taxes and to serve as their protector. Better were the “assemblies called estates,” which were not under the influence of government agents but were independent and would be, so they implied, more certain defenders of the Dauphinois against the government’s fiscal exactions. Complaints against taxes similar to those of the Crévoux peasants resounded elsewhere in Dauphiné, as well as in France, in 1788. In nearby Mount Dauphin peasants were also becoming engaged in the dispute between the parlement and the Crown. And in the west of Dauphiné the peasants were becoming politically outspoken; the subdelegate of Crest reported to the intendant in July: it is surprising to hear the peasants, in appearance the most coarse, say openly that if it is just to pay taxes for the needs of the state, it is no less just that the sovereign renders an account to his people of the use he makes of these taxes; the general cry at the oven, the mill, in the market, in the taverns, on the public squares is that the estates-general must be assembled immediately to re-establish good order in government affairs.71

What was the source for these ideas? “Instigators” and “seditious pamphlets” was the response of royal officials; historians today would tend to say “cultural intermediaries,” which may be different ways of saying the same thing. The Crévoux peasants offered another answer: their “fathers,” their “ancestors,” along with their “common sense.” What may this say to us? The message of instigators or of cultural intermediaries could not be extraneous to their lives; political propaganda had to meet the needs and suit the norms of peasants for them to give their adherence. The appeal of lower taxes is obvious. The parlement and autonomous, elected provincial estates were the means to that end, panaceas perhaps, but not without reason. In the sixteenth century the Dauphinois turned against their parlement and estates that then supported fiscal privilege.72 Since the mid-eighteenth century, the parlement in Dauphiné and those elsewhere in France had opposed the Crown’s repeated requests for higher taxes, the vingtièmes in particular, which privileged and nonprivileged paid, and in 1788 the

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Dauphinois parlement, as the Crévoux Délibération alluded, opposed a substitute tax for the corvée levied solely on the Third Estate.73 This most recent experience, which directly impinged on their lives, may have induced the peasants to look with favor upon the magistrates, especially when they were engaged in battle against a taxing royal government, and to accept more willingly political propaganda that reinforced what experience taught. Contemporary events informed common sense, while their fathers and ancestors instructed them about the past. That lesson was simple and clear: the inhabitants of Dauphiné had the right to consent to taxes through the parlement as in the present, or through an estates as in the past. With neither subtlety nor erudition, with words unadorned and lacking pretense, the Crévoux peasants, through the medium of the lawyer’s prose, grounded their request in historical tradition: “the ancestors of the deliberants had learned from their fathers that the inhabitants of Dauphiné could not be taxed without the consent of the parlement” (p. 4); and, “the deliberants have also learned from their ancestors that in the past there were assemblies called estates” (p. 5). As a society newly accustomed to literacy and the culture of print, their memory, refreshed by the recollections of passing generations, may have continued to serve as a storehouse of knowledge, retaining a notion of an estates that last had met in the early seventeenth century. Ancient practice, even if once forgotten, had the appeal of authenticity that lent force to its renewal.74 The Crévoux peasants expressed their belief in the authority of age in concrete personal terms; other French men and women turned to abstract or erudite legal and historical models. The nobles and notables of Dauphiné who met in Vizille in July invoked a royal edict of 1628 to legitimize their assembly and their demand for a provincial estates.75 Writers and readers by the score in the last months of 1788 pored over history books and collections of laws to find similar justifications for their hopes and ambitions. Whether in villages or cities, chateaux or judicial tribunals, the French sought in history the precedents to which legal practice gave the force of law. Outright trust in the magistrates and in an elected provincial estates, “who alone can speak in the name of the province,” was the reverse of the outright scorn the Crévoux Délibération expressed for “ministers and . . . junior ministers”—royal officials in general who would reduce the inhabitants to “slavery” and “misery.” These were by 1788 commonplace, even stereotyped notions, but with different political effects. The provincial sentiment of the peasants was an attachment to what they viewed as a protective barrier. The

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provincial allegiance of the elite, which resulted in the assembly at Vizille and the estates at Romans, expressed an aspiration for active involvement in the exercise of public authority.76 In 1788 the peasants’ desire to distance royal authority and reduce its weight on them, especially its tax weight, by the intercession of provincial organs and the elite’s desire to enter into government could converge under the banner of local rule. In the name of the peasant community, the Crévoux Délibération dared, like Job before God, to enter into debate, “to reason” with the ministers and intendant. Even more daringly, it expressed doubts about the royal officals’ good intentions. It urged upon them, even demanded, a change in policy— the retraction of the May edicts; and it concluded with an admonition and challenge to the principal minister: “that he may learn what the people think of him, and what he must expect of them.” The sentiments expressed in the Délibération toward the king were ambivalent. Belief in the king’s “beneficence” and “virtues” was a conventional formula and the ground on which rested the hope that he would withdraw the May edicts. Yet they did not hesitate to characterize royal finances as “in disorder”; to criticize budget cuts as “economies for show”; to accuse the government of inconsistency or deception; and to assert unequivocally that the king’s will, as embodied in royal edicts, aimed to increase taxes. The age-old distinction between the acts of ministers and the personal intentions of the king underlay this ambivalence, and permitted the French to challenge specific deeds short of attacking the overall structure.77 This distinction also signaled another feature of greater importance in the political culture of the Crévoux peasants, as of the French in general, in these years: the demarcation of a realm of politics that was public policy. Disputes over policy became central, superseding the combat of personalities. Policy arguments increasingly brought within their purview royal authority and the person of the king, who supported or opposed one or another policy, slowly but ineluctably tarnishing the image of a neutral and benevolent monarch above the fray, but not yet bringing into question the foundation of government, which was monarchical rule.

Auvergne: Priest and “Rustic Society” The Auvergnat curé addressed his thoughts to the new municipal and provincial assemblies, to which he quickly appended the estates-general— that is, to institutions political in character. He drew up a detailed list of

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complaints and of reforms that he urged upon the assemblies. Since he was skeptical of their willingness to carry out the measures he proposed, earlier than other Frenchman he audaciously recommended changes in representation in the assemblies, the better to assure acceptance of the reforms. Peasants should have distinct representation; the model of Solon’s constitution for Athens was the example that came to the mind of this former collégien and student of classical antiquity. Furthermore, he insinuated, peasants should be admitted “in preponderant numbers.”78 This first dim outline of the quest for participation in public power and decision making on behalf of the peuple was decidedly political, and merely the beginning: reform of the system of representation was in the service of still other reforms. The curé provided a number of detailed laments and concrete reforms that were largely financial and social. This does not mean they were any less political. Alexis de Tocqueville distinguished between abstract and particular demands in the cahiers: the former included claims expressed in the language of the rights of man, the latter included requests for relief from heavy financial burdens.79 This distinction should not be drawn too sharply, for in practice the two types of demands at times overlapped. Peasants did not complain only of the depredations of pigeons and rabbits on their crops and the like. Moreover, a political discourse is not exclusively composed of theoretical abstractions. Did the espousal of the principle of national sovereignty, found in bourgeois and aristocratic cahiers, have greater political effect than their call for tax reforms implemented by elected provincial and national assemblies, the latter found also in peasant cahiers? Specific policy goals nurtured philosophical principles, and had the advantage of making practical sense of public issues to ordinary people. The financial and social grievances that the priest voiced, intended to express the interests and outlook of a distinct social group, the peasantry, were political. They were articulated publicly—brought into the public sphere where claims and disputes contended;80 they were demands for action by public authorities; and they sought changes in the relations with government or with other social groups, replacing those judged unjust with those believed to be just.81 The Auvergnat peasants’ complaints, in the searing language of the priest, were more numerous and more bitter than those of the peasants of Crévoux. Differences in law, in their relation with the monarchy, and especially in the village economy distinguished the two peasant groups. The fiscal burden in Dauphiné was less heavy and less subject to change than in

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Auvergne, meaning to contemporaries that taxes were less arbitrary. Legal and institutional features of Dauphiné gave it this advantage. The province was a pays de taille réelle, in which all roture or non-noble lands, even if owned by nobles, paid the tax; and its possession of a parlement gave it the means to negotiate an abonnement that fixed the amount the province paid for the vingtième tax.82 In Auvergne the taille was personnelle, exempting nobles and privileged persons and thus increasing the burden on all others. Not having its own provincial parlement, Auvergne did not pay the vingtième tax as a fixed sum; though it was supposed to be levied as a proportion of income from the land, thus changing from year to year, it became in effect an addition to the taille, further increasing the inequities weighing on the peasantry.83 The peasants in Lower Auvergne and those in Crévoux were both poor, but within different geographical and economic systems. Answers to the questionnaire that the provincial estates of Dauphiné requested and that substituted for a cahier provide graphic information about Crévoux. The four hamlets that composed the village of 500 persons were located in an area of mountains, ravines, and torrents. An inhospitable terrain, long and severe winter weather, and primitive husbandry resulted in low agricultural output of crops limited to rye, barley, and oats. Though poor and with backward agriculture, subsisting largely on its own resources and labor, the Crévoux peasants were not cut off from market relations. Money to pay for taxes came from the sale of draft animals, sheep, and cheese. Grasslands in communally-owned mountains were leased to shepherds, yielding an income that paid the fees of three schoolmasters, the cost of repairs to the church, and the expenses for the village’s legal affairs. Some 100 men in the village regularly emigrated each year to seek work and income in nearby parishes, yet the villagers largely lived on and ate the products of their soil. Their diet was composed mainly of bread made with the village’s grains and eaten with a soup of dried meat or pasta. They built, repaired, and warmed their homes using the wood from the communal woodlands and forests. Although the men wove and the women spun, and they engaged in other supplementary activities during the long winter months, no significant proto-industry developed in the immediate area to supplement the meager income of the peasants.84 Impoverished as they were, the Crévoux peasants did not represent themselves as victims of seigneuralism or of commercialism; nature and royal taxes captured their attention as the causes of their misery. The inhabitants of Crévoux voiced no criticism of their seigneur, the

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archbishop of Embrun, either because his châtelain was a member of the assembly or because seigneurial fees were light in their immediate mountainous area.85 They complained about high taxes, but their sharpest comments were directed against a neighboring village with which they had a dispute over water rights. In Lower Auvergne, and specifically in the area of Chanonat, poor peasants lived on a rich land.86 Though the peasants of Lower Auvergne lived in a more favorable geographical environment than those in mountainous Upper Auvergne, contemporaries and historians agree that their social conditions were worse, as historian Pointrineau amply documented. They worked harder, earned less, ate more poorly, and were physically weaker. In this largest valley of a mountainous province whose soil was fertile from the volcanic ash, vines and grains were cultivated, but harsh climate and primitive husbandry, despite the absence of fallow in some parts, diminished output. Geography and fiscal laws—the surrounding mountains and tolls on goods passing northward into the customs area of the Five Great Farms— hindered access to markets. The majority of peasant plots in Chanonat and the neighboring area were miniscule. Of 205 households numbering 820 persons in Chanonat in 1788, 200 were families of day laborers ( journaliers), which included 50 households of 200 persons on the verge of mendicity and about 10 households, or 40–60 persons, of professional beggars. Demographic pressure further intensified poverty by causing excessive division of farmlands. Delayed marriage, evidenced by the words of peasants in the curé-author’s “rustic society,” was the practice of peasants in Lower Auvergne to relieve pressure on resources, as seasonal migration was the response of peasants in Upper Auvergne.87 Royal taxes weighed especially heavily on the peasants, as did seigneurial fees in some parts of the countryside where most peasants (censitaires) held customary tenures. Contemporaries perceived taxes and fees as the greatest burdens and the major cause of peasant poverty.88 The country priest enlarged on a broad scope of social problems that his rural society faced, yet he was also selective. Or perhaps his perspective was limited by a frame of reference that favored social criticism over economic analysis, and an economic outlook rooted in the past, demonstrating that contemporaries do not always have a full understanding of the difficulties that beset them. He uttered no criticism of the effects of sharecropping, the increasing division of farm units, or rising rents; in short, the economic consequences of greater competition among nobles and townspeople for

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farmland that, as Poitrineau showed, intensified in the last decades of the eighteenth century. Yet the curé was aware of the changing social reality in the form of the greater presence and rapacity of bourgeois in the countryside. He did not indicate any peasant complaint about the dîme paid to the church, debts to landlords, or vexatious tolls on roads and rivers. Perhaps because villages in Lower Auvergne had a small amount of common lands, the problems of enclosures, common rights of usage, and lack of pasture— which contemporary historians from Georges Lefebvre to Hilton Root have emphasized—received no mention. The curé focused almost exclusively on two issues—taxes and seigneurialism. The onerous burden of royal taxes and of seigneurial fees of many kinds deprived the peasants of money they could otherwise invest in the land, which would then yield more crops and relieve their abysmal poverty. His outcries were not unique. They echo those found in other pamphlets from Auvergne–Mabru (1787), Gaultier de Biauzat (1788), the catéchisme of the curés (1789)—as well as in the cahiers of innumerable villages in the province.89 Still, there are certain distinctive or significant features to his argument. The evil of the tax system was not fiscal exemption, that the privileged did not pay taxes, it was that the privileged did not pay enough, “in the just proportion of the people”. Peasants, he claimed, paid over 80 percent of their net income in taxes; the privileged paid only 1 percent and the bourgeois and artisans 10 percent. The privileged included not only the high clergy and nobles, but also those whom he called “privileged in the civil state” (“Privilégiés dans l’État civil”).90 From fiscal criticism the curé launched into an analysis of social structure and of the historical developments accompanying social change. His ideas were as yet untouched by later polemics. Composed in early July 1788, the Requête d’une société rustique preceded (even while it foreshadowed) the disputes that erupted several months later over representation in the estates-general that set the Third Estate against the aristocracy. Consensus still prevailed among aristocrats and commoners in much of France at the time the curé wrote. This pamphlet offers a unique rural vision of ancien régime society before politics overturned earlier social attitudes; it anticipates in some ways revisionist arguments. French society in an earlier period was divided into “three classes,” the curé argued, but in his own day there were in effect “four classes; the clergy, the nobility, the civil state and the rustic state” (“quatre classes; le Clergé, la Noblesse, l’État-civil, & l’État-rustique” [original italics]).91 The État-rustique

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consisted of “proprietary peasants, sharecroppers, and day-laborers, those . . . who work in order to live, who pay taxes” and pay as well seigneurial fees (“les cents [sic], rentes, corvées, taille seigneuriale, lods & ventes”). The “men of law, collectors of seigneurial fees, feudists, agents, courtiers” compose “what my rustic society calls the civil-state.” Commoners became “divided into two classes” as a result of increased royal authority which, since the time of Cardinal Richelieu, succeeded in destroying the power that nobles and bishops wielded before the Crown and over the people. Alternatively, the curé also defined the “civil state” as the “privileged pretending to noble status for themselves or their children, and venal officers, collectors of seigneurial fees, or those protected by the first two estates.” This definition revealed an additional social realignment. At the same time that the “civil state” separated from the peasantry, it became more closely linked to the other two classes: “the interests of the clergy, the nobility and the civil state remained united . . . , and were only divided from those of the fourth estate.” Judicial officers, seigneurial agents, and new nobles remained “attached” to the seigneurs: “This cohort based on interest replaced the vassals that honor and bravura attached to seigneurs.” Together they exacted fees and taxes from the peasants. As the evils of the fiscal system led him to envision a different social hierarchy, so his perception of new social relations shaped his understanding of the evils of the seigneurial system. The culprits were not the seigneurs alone; with even greater venom he denounced the “business agents of the ecclesiastical or lay seigneurs” who “vex, overcharge, evict, ruin, etc., etc.” the “tenant farmers, customary peasants and leaseholders.” Auvergne was not a region of the heaviest seigneurial fees combined with improving agriculture, as was Burgundy, where rising rents drove peasants from the land and seigneurial prerogatives permitted enclosure of common lands and infringement on the rights of village communities.92 Nonetheless historical evidence provides an underpinning for the priest’s sense of outrage. During the second half of the eighteenth century, Poitrineau demonstrates, bourgeois and townspeople purchased or leased more rural land, and members of the legal profession in particular also became more active as collectors of seigneurial fees, thus increasing the hold of these three groups on “an important part of village lands” in the neighborhood of Chanonat itself.93 Experience in Lower Auvergne imprinted a new image of social reality in the mind of the curé. One year before there appeared the famous print of the Third Estate carrying on its body the weight of the clergy and nobility,

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the Auvergnat priest drew in words an altered social image of the “rustic state . . . [crushed] by the three others.”94 The curé was ambivalent about the seigneurs. He doubted their good will yet he continued to hope and to plead for their support of reforms.95 He tried to engage their self-interest by arguing that the seigneurs lose more money in maintaining seigneurialism, the result of the costs of litigation and payments to excessive numbers of seigneurial agents and judges, than they would lose by relinquishing seigneurial fees and rights in exchange for reimbursements.96 And he expressed sympathy for their economic problems—the decline in the market for land, the lower rate of profit from agriculture than from finance, and the heavier weight of taxes on landed property than on mobile forms of wealth.97 Seigneurs and peasants, he suggested, shared similar interests in the land. Agricultural prosperity would benefit both. Lower taxes and fees on peasants would translate into higher rents and improved cultivation that would enrich seigneurs. In turn he urged property owners—nobles, heads of monasteries, even bourgeois—to reside on their lands where the money they spend would enrich the inhabitants. The vague outline of an alliance of agricultural or country interests against the legal bourgeoisie, even against the cities, similar to that voiced by some members of the second Assembly of Notables at the end of 1788, may be detected: “it is more necessary now . . . to have a fertile countryside than beautiful cities.”98 The priest’s reforms blended social radicalism with economic archaism in a program of rural populism offered to the provincial assemblies and the estates-general on behalf of the peasants: “let these scourges on the cultivator cease with remedies that he, by borrowing my pen, really indicates.”99 His aim was to promote agricultural prosperity by alleviating peasant poverty. As befitted one whose economic mentor was Sully, Henry IV’s finance minister almost 200 years earlier, he bemoaned the advance of manufactures to the detriment of agriculture. Peasants better employed on the land were compelled, by the effects of rural misery, to go to cities where they swelled the ranks of domestics or labored to make unnecessary and expensive luxuries that consumed resources, namely wood, that was becoming rare and expensive in the countryside.100 Neither in urban manufactures nor in rural proto-industry did the priest see possibilities for supplementary employment and income for needy peasants, or for alternative sources of work for the growing country population, opportunities that were bringing some prosperity to the nearby city of Thiers and its hinterland.101 He

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bemoaned not excessive population but depopulation in the countryside. Peasants, not “venal officers, . . . bourgeois, collectors of seigneurial fees, country tradesmen,” should receive fiscal incentives to marry early and raise large families; breeding children should merit government favor as much as breeding bees and horses (p. 48). His strictures reveal his ignorance or oversight of the fact of population increase that was common among his contemporaries, although his “peasant society” had informed him otherwise.102 The social measures the curé proposed included the conventional as well as those that foreshadowed future radical ideas. Tax reforms should remove the disproportionate levies on the rich and the poor, on country people and city residents; these included a tax on domestics, on bachelors, and on the sources of financial wealth, as well as a fixed tax on peasants never to exceed the lowest tax on a city resident. In addition, certain practices should be improved to ease the peasants’ lives: hospitals and charitable institutions should be opened to them, the expense paid from the income of rural monasteries which should be preserved for that purpose; and conscription into the militia should be carried out in local parishes, not in distant cities, to spare the peasants the extra expense and lost time for travel. The core of his proposals was more radical. The Auvergnat curé saw hope for the peasants above all in changes in the fiscal and seigneurial systems. A truly equal and proportional tax should rest not on a new land tax in addition to the remaining direct and indirect taxes, as the government had proposed one year earlier. A single new tax should replace all existing taxes, this a modified echo of the physiocratic goal. Seigneurial fees and rights should be abolished in return for reimbursement, and the seigneurs’s monopoly of village ovens and grain mills as well as the multiplicity of seigneurial judges should be ended. The curé’s proposals, especially his attack on seigneurialism, were audacious and the tone of his rhetoric was acerbic.103 And yet his ultimate vision of rural society was conservative rather than radical. Seigneurs would remain, their property, honors, and prestige intact; they would also continue to receive mutation fees on the transfer of property as well as rents. Their lands would be more productive, worked with greater determination by peasants less burdened financially. The greater number of peasants would cultivate the land as small-scale subsistence farmers paying some small rent and transfer charge. For the sharecroppers and agricultural day laborers who abounded in Lower Auvergne this would be an improvement; for the many customary peasants, full proprietary rights in their land

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that the National Assembly granted one year later was better. In these new times one radical proposal was quickly superseded by another even more radical. Inconsistencies and contradictions in the curé’s homegrown and eclectic economic plan might carry it beyond, or undercut, what he had in mind. What would be the effect on peasants of higher rents, the fruit of agricultural prosperity and the result of increased demand for land by a larger peasant population? And how would they react? Where would the land come from to provide holdings for growing numbers of peasants? From ever-greater division of plots, hence risking renewed poverty? The expropriation or breakup of large landholdings—the loi agraire so dreaded during the Revolution—is not at all suggested. These problems left unanswered would plague French agriculture and its peasantry in the future. Despite the ambiguities in the curé’s argument, his was one of the few contemporary pamphlets that confronted the problem of seigneurialism and sought to reform it out of existence. Pierre d’Olivier, another country priest, who in 1792 would denounce private property, in 1788 wrote only about electoral procedures. The Auvergnat curé and a handful of other writers reveal for us the deep undercurrents of thought and aspirations that peasants in 1789 would themselves express in their cahiers (as in Auvergne) and act upon in the jacqueries.104

Two pamphlets, two peasant communities, cannot pretend to represent the entire French peasantry. These examples can only suggest the possibility that some peasants in some parts of France, before the Revolution intruded into their lives with dramatic force, knew about and responded to political developments and were able to relate particular problems of village life to broader national currents. They had a certain political consciousness. Peasants were undoubtedly dependent on cultural intermediaries for informing, instructing, and engaging them, but they were not clay to be shaped at will. The political message they received had to correspond in some way to their particular needs and interests, their values and outlooks, to gain their support.105 Peasant grievances in 1788 replicated those traditional to rural communities in the past: the burdens and injustices of royal taxes, seigneurial fees and rights, and the power of the central state. Never before in France had the peasantry effected major or permanent changes. Peasant riots and revolts had been disparate and localized outbursts of hostility whose impact was weakened by the geographic fragmentation of rural communities,

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the absence of unified action, and the lack of positive goals.106 Beginning in 1787 and 1788 individual and local problems, of peasants and also of others, became grafted onto provincial and also national goals focused on altering the system of royal authority. Similar fiscal and political objectives that numerous local entities expressed within a condensed period of time were channeled into and reinforced a broad and common movement. Dissent between 1787 and 1789 gained unparalleled force, first against the Crown and then against the aristocracy. These two examples of Crévoux in Dauphiné and (perhaps) Chanonat in Lower Auvergne also suggest two other possibilities that historians tend to overlook. First, a contest for peasant support, indeed for the peasant vote took place, even if on the margins of the main disputes. Opponents and allies of the Crown competed in 1787–1788 for peasant sympathies, either in favor of the parlements and the demand for provincial estates and an estates-general, or in favor of royal policy and royal authority. Once the estates-general loomed on the horizon, in mid-1788, this became a contest between Patriots and Aristocrats seeking support for one or another political system: an estates-general with doubling of the Third Estate and vote by head, or one with three orders of equal numbers, each voting separately. The contest for the peasant vote was set in course when electoral procedures of January 1789 permitted large numbers of peasants to vote—“all inhabitants . . . twenty-five years of age, domiciled and included in the tax rolls.”107 Since each order would conduct its own election, a further complication was introduced. First, some aristocrats hoped to have nobles included as candidates in rural districts; Patriots, fearing the prestige of nobles among the rural folk, sought to exclude them by limiting candidates to members of the Third Estate. Pamphlets and cultural intermediaries (or “instigators,” as royal officials said) carrying the different political messages waged the contest for the support of the peasantry. Second, three possible alliances with the peasantry might have taken place: an alliance with the Crown, with the aristocracy, and with the Patriots/Third Estate. The Crown’s gamble was to try to reforge the historic alliance with the people against the privileged, but in the context of 1788 newer sentiments against royal absolutism and bureaucracy prevailed, or one may also say old allegiances to provincial autonomy reemerged. The pamphlet from Auvergne indicated the potential for an alliance of peasants with aristocrats in defense of those agrarian interests they shared; that from Crévoux showed the reality of an alliance of peasants with nobles and notables in the quest for

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provincial self-government. Neither alliance, on a national scale, endured. Both broke up under the force of contrasting interests and goals: the political issues of representation and voting in the estates-general; and the socioeconomic issues of seigneurial fees and rights. But failures need not be ignored; they provide the elements of expectation and tragedy in human history. An alliance between the peasantry and the Third Estate made history in 1789, but in the following years it too was shaken by peasant resistance that was, in different times and places, radical or traditional, expressed in attacks against the vestiges of seigneurialism, attachment to the old church and non-juring clergy, and opposition to high taxes and conscription by an intrusive government.

13 The Grass Roots Local Judges and Community Assemblies Speak Out

From the Assembly of Notables through the media, the trajectory of this volume now arrives at its final destination, the communities throughout France—the grass roots—that gathered in the summer, autumn, and winter of 1788. In many localities—cities, towns, bourgs, and villages beyond the capital—more and more of the French became engaged in public affairs. Their thoughts in 1788 are revealed in the many speeches, declarations, and especially deliberations made in these local communities. The inhabitants of Crévoux in Dauphiné were not alone in voicing their sentiments about public issues; many others did similarly in many places throughout the kingdom of France. In over eleven-hundred localities the French, gathered in institutions, groups, or as private individuals, gave voice to their thoughts on the increasingly contentious issues that came to absorb their attention. These numbers, based on an examination primarily of about half the documentation in the series Ba (preparation for the estates-general) in the Archives Nationales, plus other documentation and pamphlets (in the Bibliothèque Nationale and other libraries in France and elsewhere), give only a partial impression of the political ferment spreading at the grassroots level.1 Undoubtedly more extended research in the entire documentation of the Archives Nationales would raise these numbers. In every province or administrative district (généralité) in France (totals vary between twenty-nine and thirty-two), people met in the second half of 1788 to set down in writing their opinions. The intensity of such activity varied: in Alsace a statement to the ministry from only one institution is found, while in Languedoc letters or deliberations were sent from over 580 localities. The loss of documents due to the vagaries of time and the assidu324

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ousness of officials in the provinces and localities in transmitting documentation to government offices in Versailles may explain these disparities. So too may demographics: Languedoc, encompassing the two généralités of Montpellier and Toulouse and with a third, Montauban, within its provincial jurisdiction, was both the most populous and the most vocal, having the greatest number of localities that sent statements of opinion to ministers in Versailles. Of the other nine most populous provinces, six—Brittany, Normandy, Guienne, the généralité of Tours (consisting of three provinces, Touraine, Anjou, and Maine), Burgundy, and Champagne—were among the top ten for the number of localities voicing their views. Provence, eleventh in population, was nonetheless the third most vocal province, while the Île-de-France, sixth in population, was only twelfth among the number of localities that expressed their opinion. Franche-Comté demonstrates that demography alone was not the main factor; while it was fifteenth in population it was second in the number of localities that voiced their opinion. Not surprisingly, some least populous areas had the fewest localities expressing views (Roussillon, the Three Bishoprics, AunisSaintonge, Berry, and Hainaut). Geography, if not providing an explanation, offers an image in a “tour de France”: a rim of provinces from Brittany and Normandy on the north; Franche-Comté, Burgundy, and Dauphiné on the east; Provence and Languedoc in the south; and Guienne in the southwest had the highest number of localities expressing their views, joined by only four regions in the interior—Champagne, the généralité of Tours, Îlede-France, and Auvergne—where more than ten localities issued statements of opinion. In other provinces on the borders (Picardy, Flanders, Hainaut, the Three Bishoprics, Alsace, Roussillon, Aunis-Saintonge, and Poitou) and in other interior regions (Orléanais, Lyonnais, and the généralités of Limoges and Soissons) fewer than ten localities set their views in writing.2 These figures demonstrate varying degrees of political arousal from place to place. These same figures testify to an impressive wave of political interest engaging the public throughout the kingdom from May 1788 to January/February 1789. Within these localities, more than 800 institutions and almost 500 groups expressed opinions that received the support of their members (who numbered from a handful to scores and even more than a hundred). In addition, eighty-nine local individuals privately put their thoughts on paper. Grass roots (la France des provinces may be the equivalent in French) refers to local places, and also to local people—ordinary people. It is often

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contrasted to an elite. But let us not be detoured by questions of what—or who—constitutes an elite, and let not preformulated categories direct our enquiry. Instead, our sources will guide us into the social body of the grass roots to inform us of who—what groups—in the public felt compelled to raise their voices in a manner that was unprecedented in eighteenthcentury France. These were local voices, uttered outside of the capital by those below the highest ranks in the monarchical state and in the hierarchical society, even if among the grass roots we find a local elite considered notable in the late ancien régime. Two events or developments sparked this outburst of local public opinion: the May edicts of 1788, which above all drastically reduced the functions and thus the authority of the parlementary courts; and the convening of the estates-general first announced in July 1788, together with demands for provincial estates.

May Edicts: Lower-Court Judges and the Law The May edicts of 1788 were a series of measures aimed at altering the judicial structure as well as legal practice in France.3 Its two main and most controversial provisions were the establishment of a plenary court to register all laws for the entire nation, thus depriving each of the sixteen parlements of that historic attribute, and the creation of grands bailliages courts that took over much of the judicial authority of these same parlements. With no right to register and thus to remonstrate, and with limited civil, criminal, and appellate jurisdiction, the parlementary courts, as the ministers intended, would be seriously weakened in power and in their political role. The execution of the May edicts, with the closing of the parlementary courts by military force and the exile of the magistrates, administered a shock to many of the French. Such harsh political acts, decried as arbitrary, cast opprobrium on the judicial reforms, sapping support for provisions the public had long sought, such as closer proximity to courts resulting in less time and money spent in litigation.4 Instead of broad acceptance, demonstrations and riots erupted in several provinces, notably Brittany, Dauphiné, Béarn, and Provence.5 In this analysis, the focus shifts from the controversy over the plenary court and the few violent demonstrations to the less tumultuous but more widespread drama played out in the lower tribunals. Regular legal procedure required that the parlements register all laws to confer full legal sanction and assure their execution. In turn, the

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procureurs généraux of the parlements forwarded the laws to lower courts whose responsibility was to register and execute these laws in their areas of local jurisdiction. Some lower courts—bailliages and sénéchaussées or présidial courts—were also designated by the May edicts to be transformed into grands bailliages courts and to assume many of the functions the parlements hitherto exercised. Thus, in addition to registering the May edicts, some lower courts had to consent to their enlarged authority. All the parlementary courts save three refused to register and publicly remonstrated against the May edicts.6 Would lower courts obey royal authority and register the edicts, some of them also agreeing to become grands bailliages? Or would they support the parlements and refuse registration as well as promotion to the status of grands bailliages? Another problem also arose: would lawyers (avocats and procureurs) agree to plead in the new courts, defying the parlements, or would they oppose royal policy? In the national limelight in 1788, and also occupying the attention of historians, were the decisions and actions of the parlementary magistrates, and the public support for them that was visible in riots and the outpouring of pamphlets. In local areas judges in bailliages, sénéchaussées, and présidiaux, as well as the lawyers who pleaded in those courts, were put to the test. If they continued to exercise their judicial and legal functions in the new judicial system the government could circumvent parlementary opposition. The grands bailliages were pivotal to the success of royal strategy. They were the instrument by which the Crown sought to eviscerate the judicial capacity of the parlementary courts by shifting to the grands bailliages most criminal, civil, and appellate jurisdiction: all criminal jurisdiction over commoners and most civil jurisdiction; that is, all cases involving sums below 20,000 livres. To that end the government attempted to fabricate approval for its actions by inflating the number of lower courts it claimed had registered the edicts and had also accepted the new role as a grand bailliage. Newspapers followed with confusing accounts of which courts did or did not register, first reporting that a particular court had registered only to retract that news some days later. Jean Egret argued that what he called the “coup d’état” of May 1788 was more rather than less effective and successful, adhering to the judgment Marcel Marion had expressed decades earlier.7 Were that the case one wonders why the policy collapsed within three to four months, when the new courts and jurisdictions were abolished and all the old courts with all their former authority were restored by September 1788. The Crown’s

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near-bankruptcy was a cause of that reversal, but fear of empty royal coffers was heightened by threatened and actual tax strikes that followed the May edicts. Both Marion and Egret also attributed cynical motives to the judges who opposed royal policy. Either they acted out of fear of the revenants— the parlementary magistrates, their superiors—who, were they to return, would mete out revenge to those who had not sided with the sovereign courts; or jealousy and frustrated ambition turned the judges against the edicts because their courts were not elevated to the more prestigious rank of grands bailliages. Such motives are difficult for historians to detect unless expressed by the actors. Those contemporaries whose words Egret offered as proof of such cynicism (among them the journalist-pamphleteer Linguet) defended royal policy and had reason to attribute base intentions to opponents. Only an approximate estimation of the number of lower courts supporting or opposing the May edicts is possible, and not only because of government exaggeration and newspaper retractions. In the largest jurisdictional area in France, that of the Paris parlement which included about twenty different lesser judicial circumscriptions, more than 80 of the 148 secondary royal courts did not inform the procureur général of the parlement whether they did or did not register the edicts.8 This “silent majority” undoubtedly desired not to commit themselves to one side or the other, to borrow Egret’s argument, so as to avoid retribution from Crown or magistracy. Such silence precludes any complete and exact calculation of opponents and supporters of the May edicts among the lower courts. A tentative calculation of the courts within the jurisdiction of the Paris parlement and those under provincial parlements yields sixty-nine courts that registered the edicts and a minimum of eighty-eight courts that refused registration; another thirtytwo courts submitted only to forced registration.9 Greater if not exact clarity comes in examining those courts that were designated as grands bailliages, numbering forty-seven. Eighteen lower courts registered the edicts and accepted to become grands bailliages. Slightly more, twenty, refused both to register the edicts and to accept promotion as grands bailliages. Registration, whether voluntary or forced, did not always result in activation of the new courts. At least two grands bailliages did not function because not enough judges were willing to serve, as in Orléans; in Alençon and Tours lawyers refused to appear in the new courts and so prevented judicial activity.10 Another five courts were forced to register the edicts and thus become grands bailliages, but those in Amiens and in Carcassonne ei-

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ther renounced or suspended their functions. Looking back at this tumultuous period from the perspective of the new year, the Courrier d’Avignon reported on 3 January 1789 that only thirteen grands bailliages courts had actually been established, but even those did not function and in effect “justice was suspended throughout the kingdom.” A slight exaggeration, as Marion contended, because at least the grand bailliage in Poitiers did operate. The absence of recourse to courts had repercussions beyond the judges and lawyers immediately engaged. Cases begun before May were in abeyance, contracts could not be concluded or enforced, property could not be protected, and criminals could not be judged, causing frustration among individuals involved in business transactions and fear among ordinary people.11 A situation not at all “welcomed,” as Egret contended. Judges in présidiaux, bailliages, and sénéchaussées courts who did register the May edicts were nonetheless torn between a sense of loyalty to or fear of the Crown, and equally the parlements. In Sens (Champagne), judges agreed to register while at the same time they expressed sympathy for the ousted magistrates; those in Montdidier (Picardy) and in Poitiers (Poitou) added to their words of sympathy the request that these same edicts be withdrawn and the parlements and all suppressed courts be restored.12 Letters written by Félix Faulcon, a judge in the sénéchaussée and présidial court in Poitiers, and by his friends and a relative who were also lower-court judges or lawyers, conveyed to each other and to posterity their private thoughts. Faulcon admitted that he and his colleagues were in part moved to register by the examples of other courts, and they also feared that opposition would deprive them of their status as a grand bailliage. One friend surmised that other courts suspended their activities because of uncertainty about the outcome of the reform, remembering that in 1774 the Crown withdrew the new courts introduced in the Maupeou revolution and restored the parlements. Yet Faulcon was firm in disavowing personal motives and forthright in exposing his views. He was ambivalent about the plenary court; while favoring single registration of laws to assure legal uniformity throughout the kingdom, he also hoped that in the future members of the plenary court would be more independent of the influence of ministers. In contrast, he unequivocally believed that the grands bailliages and the enlarged authority of présidiaux benefited the French by eliminating long and costly travel to distant courts, in particular to the far-away parlement in Paris. For long, he wrote, the French had desired that the courts be brought closer to them, and even prior to the May edicts Faulcon shared with a

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friend such a hope. Although he initially opposed registration, he altered his view during deliberation in his court, undoubtedly under the impulse of strong feelings about the parlements. Faulcon, differing from his friends and relative, felt no sympathy for the parlementary magistrates; as if echoing Voltaire’s diatribes, he excoriated them for obstructing laws that impinged on their privileges, approving taxes that exempted them but which weighed on the people, and meting out justice harshly. What impresses the reader centuries later about that epistolary dialogue was the seriousness and thoughtfulness of these several local judges and lawyers as they contemplated the critical issues of their day and formulated their ideas and responses—some in support of the government’s action, others in opposition.13 Courts that refused to register the May edicts, those compelled to register, and those that agreed to become grands bailliages but did not function outnumbered the courts that willingly registered. In sum, a majority of lower-court judges one way or another did not support the Crown’s May edicts. Despite orders from the ministry in Versailles or the arrival in person of the intendant or his subordinate, the subdelegate, over eighty courts (in the limited count of this study) persisted in their refusal to register the May edicts. A smaller number, over thirty, succumbed to repeated invocations of the royal will and registered under force, making known the act of compulsion by appending the words “by express command of the king.” Whether submitting or refusing to register the May edicts, some of the courts resorted to various maneuvers while others responded with arguments that showed them to be apt disciples of either Beaumarchais or parlementary magistrates. Legal technicalities, even legal chicanery, were devices and a first recourse in the strategy of opposition. Copies of the edicts received from the intendant, they claimed, lacked authentic form— they were not on the appropriate stamped paper, responded the bailliage and présidial court in Meaux (Champagne), and they differed from the copies sent by the procureur général of the Paris parlement, said these same judges as well as those in the bailliage and châtelet of Melun (Paris généralité). The latter also objected that the parlement had not received the laws to be registered prior to the lit de justice, nor could it remonstrate afterward since it was suppressed. Among the several criticisms that judges in Chaumont en Bassigny (Champagne) launched against the edicts was the absence of the king’s signature and the sole signature of a minister who was not the “chief of justice.” The intendant in Touraine characterized as “frivo-

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lous” the first excuse of the bailliage in Montrichard (Touraine) that there was a printing problem involving the edicts, which, he added, was already corrected; the judges further objected that the parlement, already suppressed, had not sent copies of the edicts to the court as legal procedure required. Events in the bailliage in Chinon (Touraine) appear as if in an opera buffa for their unique intermixture of policy, personal animosity, and scandal. The avocat du roi, the king’s representative on the local court, stated that he arrived at the court with the edicts but no judges were present; he arrived late, those judges responded, after they had concluded the session. The avocat du roi then charged that the court later held no sessions, to avoid action undoubtedly, to which the judges stated that they took a regular vacation for the holiday of Pentecost, and furthermore the avocat’s accusations were calumnious acts of vengeance for its opposition to him. The denouement saw the avocat du roi flee from France in the face of public contempt and hate; or rather, it later turned out, this was an adulterous flight with the wife of his relative and good friend. The bailliage of Chinon, as well as other courts whose reasoning the documentation reveals, offered more serious justifications for refusing registration or submitting to forced registration.14 The argument of legal technicalities was a metaphor for subjection to legal procedure and above all obeisance to the rule of law. Particular details that these judges voiced responded to their specific circumstances and also sprang from undercurrents of principles imbibed from their legal formation and judicial practice. Different courts offered variations on similar and familiar themes. Whether they refused to register or were forced to register, they invariably asserted their obligation to be faithful to their oath of office and to parlementary regulations; hence, forced registration, imposed on the parlement or on their own court without discussion of the laws prior to registration and remonstrance afterwards, was devoid of legal sanction. The bailliages in Blois and in Lyon attempted to square the circle by invoking their duty to obey the king’s orders as well as their responsibility to provide justice to the public as motives for continuing to operate as grands bailliages despite forced registration. Private and public interests were neatly coupled by the bailliage in La Marche, which criticized the lack of indemnification of the suppressed venal judicial offices while asserting that registration of the May edicts would endanger the rights of citizens. Above all, these judges drew a link between their duty to respect the law and the necessity for free consent to the law, an assertion that transcended juridical discourse and suggested a broader outlook.

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Distinct political demands were few, and expressed by just a few courts. They echoed what sovereign court magistrates, pamphleteers, and many in the public were urging: the Crown should withdraw the May edicts (Melun), recall the parlements (Chinon and Orléans), permit the courts to propose reforms in the judicial system (Melun), and convene the estatesgeneral soon (Orléans). The court in Lyon added fiscal pressure to political pressure. Reiterating the Paris parlement’s assertion that no court could authorize tax collection and only the estates-general could consent to taxes, the judges in Lyon indirectly threatened a tax strike, a menace also bruited in neighboring Dauphiné and elsewhere. Along with the legal arguments and these few political demands, constitutional claims emerged in some lower courts, the argument of one court demonstrating remarkable cogency and force. Judges in Chinon, Lyon, Melun, and Laval invoked constitutional principles or fundamental laws of the monarchy to uphold their opposition to forced registration, their observance of legal formalities, and their defense of freedom of consent. The court in Melun claimed it was defending the monarchy itself—the constitutional principles upon which it rested—from attack by the May edicts, whose effect would change the powers of the king and of the magistracy. The implied danger was the excessive accretion of power to the monarchy and the weakening of the sovereign courts, which would permit unbridled royal authority and action, conjuring up a vision of despotism—a word still unspoken in the lower courts but reverberating in the public. The court in Laval appealled to a written charter dating from 1481, at the time of the accession of Laval to France, as the guarantor of its proclaimed right to appeal directly to the Paris parlement rather than to a grand bailliage. That claim to be subject to the ultimate jurisdiction of a parlement, founded on a written guarantee embodied in public law and tantamount to a constitution, was uttered in many provinces that had parlementary tribunals, first and foremost by the magistrates themselves. Among the lower courts, the bailliage in Orbec, a small city in the province of Normandy, staunchly defended the constitutions of Normandy and of the French monarchy against attack by the May edicts. The edicts, it argued, constituted a “revolution”—the introduction of arbitrariness, the annihilation of the laws, disorder in families and danger to property—by overturning existing order.15 Brimming with rhetorical boldness, the judges of Orbec invoked the “constititutional pact” of Normandy, the fifteenthcentury Charte aux Normands that was equivalent to a “social contract of

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the Normans,” which obliged all officials, including all kings, to uphold. The parlement of Normandy, and by implication their own bailliage, had the duty to obey all laws and to guard the rights of all three orders of Normandy, even against the will of the king, because they were “slaves of the law.” Those rights included the right to be judged by a court in Normandy according to the laws of the province, and the right to consent to taxes—in effect a call to re-establish the provincial estates, since the Norman parlement had relinquished its exercise of consent to taxes to an estates. The Orbec judges proclaimed their federalist sentiment, affirming that a large kingdom such as France required diverse laws, each province having its own laws that only the province could consent to change. The king of France was equally required to obey the laws. Indeed he should “glory” in his “happy impotence” (“l’heureuse impuissance”), his inability to alter on his own institutions that affected the honor and property of his subjects, thereby assuring stability for the French people. If the notion of l’heureuse impuissance hitherto connoted voluntary restraint by the king in changing fundamental laws, the judges of Orbec added an additional meaning: the king could make laws only in union with the consent of the people. In this way they audaciously made the transition from free registration by courts of law to free consent of law by the people, and from the re-establishment of the parlementary courts to the summoning of the estates-general. Together with the king, the estates would consider and consent to changes in the law, and to reforms in the judicial system and financial administration. Here in microcosm, from local judges in a modest bailliage court in Normandy, was a prescription for another revolution, that of 1789. The judges in the bailliages, sénéchaussées, and présidiaux in many cities of France, sometimes supported by local lawyers, lesser tribunals, and municipal officers, were formidable obstacles to the success of the transformation of the judicial system that the Crown attempted in mid-1788. Their opposition increased the pressure that ultimately compelled the monarchy not only to restore the former judicial system but also to hasten the convening of the estates-general. Their actions and arguments, although sources do not permit measurement, brought closer to home the issues that the May edicts raised, undoubtedly making local people, among whom they lived and operated, more aware of the brewing conflict not only between parlementary magistrates and the Crown, but between the Crown and large numbers of the public. Neither similar obstacles nor a similar diffusion of arguments in local areas occurred in the previous decade, when the Crown

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had attempted to restructure the court system and new tribunals lasted from 1771 to 1774; in those four years of the Maupeou revolution some parlements and local courts continued to function, and the refusal of avocats in Paris to plead in the new courts had no effect and ended.16 The arguments that local judges voiced and disseminated in 1788 were not original. Many in France voiced the same ideas—parlements, other sovereign courts, the assembly of clergy, groups of nobles, demonstrators in Rennes and Pau, and the municipalities in Dauphiné which gathered in an assembly in Vizille. Many French men and women read similar ideas in myriad pamphlets, nouvelles à la main, and sometimes in newspapers. Local judges echoed and amplified that principle of the rule of law. From them, and in closer proximity to them, the French became more acquainted with the claim that their king was subject to the law, had to abide by accepted legal procedures, and had to acknowledge the freedom of the judiciary and, of great political and constitutional significance, the free consent of his subjects. Royalist sympathizers and advocates, attempting to sow skepticism about the motives of local judges, contended that the judges acted out of fear of their judicial superiors and followed the magistrates’ lead in opposing the Crown. The words of these judges show otherwise, though words may deceive. Events shortly to follow would show that local judges, if indeed fearful in the past of disagreeing with parlementary magistrates, were able and willing to oppose their superiors on matters of great importance to them. Their opposition to the Crown in the summer of 1788 was but a prelude to their participation in a much broader and stronger opposition to magistrates and nobles in the autumn and winter of 1788. At this point, the focus must shift to the political scene in which local publics agitated about issues of representation and voting in a national estates-general and in provincial estates, and became mobilized to assert their political claims.

Community Assemblies: Structure and Strategies Between November and December 1788 voices were heard in France that had been little heard before: individuals writing letters and memoirs at their desks addressed to ministers and the king; as well as entire communities deliberating together and communicating their thoughts to ministers, to the king, and to other communities in their province and elsewhere in the kingdom. Egret rightly characterized this movement as the “awakening of the

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Third Estate”—literally as well as figuratively true. Those in the Third Estate opened not only their eyes, but also their ears, their minds, and their mouths. A medical doctor in the city of Joinville in Champagne wrote to a minister on 18 November 1788: “For forty years I groaned in silence. You have ordered me to break [that silence].” A spokesman for the artisans of Toulouse and the rural inhabitants in the surrounding countryside extolled “the happy time has arrived of being able to speak.” And a surgeon in Limousin who published his reform proposals openly stated that he had long meditated on the matter and would never have offered them to the public but for the “happy revolution” that was taking place. An anonymous author in Angoumois apologized for his lack of eloquence and depth of analysis, stating that he could offer only “simple ideas on principal points,” leaving to more informed writers the task of developing these ideas and presenting “learned citations.”17 In over one thousand localities—more still uncounted, and not including in this count multiple documents from any single location—the French met formally and informally, in authorized or non-authorized assemblies, and there expressed their views on the main issues of controversy at the end of 1788: for all, representation and voting in the estates-general; and for some, representation and voting in provincial estates that existed or that they requested. By November-December the Third Estate was acting on its own and in its own name; previously, they were neither completely silent nor indifferent—witness the writers of pamphlets, the riots in the summer, and the festivities in the autumn on the return of the parlements. The absence of autonomous political action did not signify indifference but rather tacit accord with the positions articulated by others who took the lead, the first Assembly of Notables and then the parlementary magistrates. Only when that mutual accord with members of the élite ceased did it become necessary for the Third Estate to express its divergent and dissenting views. Is it conceivable that a single national party, operating from Paris, even if it dispatched agents to provincial areas, could direct all those cities, towns, bourgs, and communities of varied kinds in a nationwide political campaign, as it is sometimes purported, in a time when there were no telephones, telegraphs, faxes, and e-mails? Even more unsustainable is the theory of Augustin Cochin of a political “machine” at work in Brittany and Burgundy stirring up rebellion18—unless that machine is understood to be nascent democratic political action. These many public meetings, published deliberations, and letters to ministers were neither secretive nor conspiratorial, nor

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were they set in motion from a single, external political source. Necker, newly returned to the ministry, sent to the second Assembly of Notables meeting in November and December a summary of the proposals hundreds of communities had forwarded to the government. In addition to their important demands on representation and voting, there remains other rich material in these deliberations of communities: the identification of particular participants in some of these meetings, the arguments used to justify their demands, and hints of their strategies for mobilization and the influences impelling them to action. Assemblies, or councils as they were called, were widespread throughout France in local areas, from large cities to small village communities.19 In ordinary times their tasks concerned local administrative and financial matters. In small bourgs and villages, the meetings usually were held following Sunday mass; notices were posted outside the church where they could be read, and inhabitants could also hear village criers announce these meetings by voice and with the sound of a trumpet or drum. In extraordinary times regular assemblies composed of municipal officials—mayors, procureurs, consuls, and échevins—could be enlarged into general assemblies. In small localities these general assemblies might include all or almost all of the male inhabitants who were heads of households. In large cities general assemblies might include deputies of local corps and guilds who expressed the views of their members; those corps and guilds might have assembled prior to the municipal general assembly to state their views, or might assemble after the general assembly to vote on the final declaration of the municipality. Thus the number of meetings in a city multiplied. In addition, ad hoc assemblies met in some cities: in Aix-en-Provence, Rouen, and D’Arnay-le-Duc in Burgundy to initiate the call for a general assembly; in Limoges to draw up a set of demands that the municipality then accepted; and in Bordeaux (where 1,200 individuals met), Lyon, Nantes, and Toulouse to pressure municipal officials unwilling to convene larger general assemblies in which their authority might be diluted.20 So too representatives of several municipalities, even of several communities in the countryside, met in assemblies to coordinate their actions. Whether overcoming obstacles or meeting with ease, general assemblies and assemblies in general were cropping up throughout France from November 1788 on. In these meetings Frenchmen from all walks of life heard, discussed, deliberated, and voted on issues beyond the routine local affairs of their communities, issues that touched on the most vital matters of concern to their provinces and to the entire nation. Grassroots democracy was at work.

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These many meetings offer a moving picture of French society at that time. Traditional ancien régime cities had assemblies composed largely of professionals and officials, mainly from legal backgrounds. Commercial or manufacturing cities gathered a large number of businessmen, traders, and manufacturers in their assemblies. Rural villages had predominantly peasant assemblies; a number of those peasants, evidently unskilled and uneasy with a quill pen, wrote child-like in quivering or large penmanship or declared themselves unable to sign their own name. Other assemblies in the countryside or in small towns included a great number of artisans of many types, and some appear as communities of peasants who were also engaged in manufacture.21 These passing images underscore the diversity and breadth of the social groups that came together to express their political views and ideas. The cities of Riom (Auvergne) and Limoges (Limousin) were located in the center of France, an area usually more quiescent but which nonetheless responded to the political controversies swirling in France at the end of 1788. Riom offered a traditional image of ancien régime society in the “extraordinary assembly” that met on 8 December 1788; composed of “municipal officers, notables, bourgeois and other inhabitants of the city” totaling forty-three persons; the largest number were public officers and men of law (seventeen and fourteen, respectively), along with seven tradesmen and artisans, four bourgeois, and one peasant.22 Limoges, a modest city of about 2,000 inhabitants, with at most 10,000 including its suburbs, also presented an assemblage of traditional social groups, yet more varied than in Riom. A special meeting took place on 24 December 1788 of “different deputies and members of corps, communities and corporations of the Third Estate” in which there were more individuals involved in economic activities. Of the seventy-two attending, twenty-two were large-scale traders (négociants) and representatives of commerce, with only sixteen men of law and judicial and financial officers, plus two representatives of the medical profession; the greatest number, twenty-seven, consisted of deputies of various trades and crafts, from the more “aristocratic” apothecaries, silversmiths, and watchmakers to the more ordinary butchers, bakers, wigmakers, shoemakers, tailors, and others. Four peasants from the surrounding suburbs were also present.23 Tournus in Burgundy, with a population of between four and five thousand persons, had more variegated groups assembled on 22 January 1789. Among the 169 persons who attended, artisans were the single largest group numbering seventy-four, followed by twenty local tradesmen; seventeen

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public officials, thirteen bourgeois, and ten men of law also attended, along with seven nobles, three clergy, and three military people, and also twelve peasants (vignerons) and four workers. Nîmes, in Languedoc in the south, a larger city of about 50,000, was the scene on 3 November of a different kind of heterogeneous gathering of municipal officers and the general council of the city. An impressive number of 1,100 participants underscored the city’s character as a center of economic activities. The largest components were 312 craftsmen followed by 191 large-scale merchants, 148 large-scale merchants also engaged in manufacturing, and 155 engaged in commerce; next came non-working bourgeois (sixty-seven), the legal profession (forty-two), those engaged in artistic and intellectual professions (thirty-one), followed by sixteen workers mainly in silk manufacture, fourteen peasants, public officers and agents who numbered only twelve, and there was one agricultural worker.24 Larger cities, such as Lyon, a manufacturing center, and Bordeaux, a commercial port city, each had a population exceeding 100,000;25 their greater number necessitated a more indirect form of representation than occurred at the meeting in Nîmes. In Lyon only ninety-five gathered for a meeting on 24 December, and in Bordeaux 165 attended an assembly on 30 December. But these fewer participants, with only one exception, were themselves deputies representing the larger groups to which they belonged: in both cities these groups included artisans, tradesmen, legal professions, artists, and those in intellectual professions, and in Bordeaux also deputies representing both large-scale merchants in commerce and in agriculture, and bourgeois. The city of Pont-Audemer in Normandy, in its deliberations of 6 and 16 December, provided evidence of the importance numerically and politically of these several communautés and corporations. Twelve municipal officers signed the official deliberation of the city on 16 December, but supporting them were many more adherents. Municipal officers had asked professional groups, tradesmen, and artisans of the city to inform them of their views on representation and voting in the estates-general. In the following days, seventeen groups and guilds assembled, deliberated, and formulated their responses: doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, and druggists; the procureurs and court ushers of two lower courts; mercers; leisured bourgeois; tanners; textile merchants; different types of metalworkers; barbers, wigmakers, and associated crafts; grocers, confectioners, and candle and candlestick makers; café owners, tavern keepers, other sellers of drinks, pastry makers, caterers, and restaurant owners; tinsmiths, glaziers, and ceramic makers; tailors and deal-

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ers in new and second-hand clothing; bakers and millers; milliners and dyers; shoemakers; various groups of woodworkers; and last, architects, builders of houses, masons, and roofers. Those who signed the deliberations of their varied groups and guilds numbered more than 240 individuals, including one widow, and three additional persons who could not write placed their “marks” on the deliberation of the shoemakers. In Chartres too, from late November to the first week of December, a number of corps took action. Lawyers, notaries, and procureurs, doctors of medicine and master surgeons, and those engaged in commerce, together numbering 155 individuals, met in their corporate bodies to express their views and request that the municipal officers convene a general assembly. Joining together in support of the final deliberation, in addition to the municipal officers, two clergy, and one former military officer, were deputies of the guilds of wigmakers, upholsterers, wheelwrights and harness-makers, ironsmiths, butchers, innkeepers and café owners, joiners and coopers, carpenters, pastry makers, and sellers of cooked food. Through the deliberations of Pont-Audemer and Chartres a procession of guild members pass before our eyes, not in pageantry but in political activity. The deliberations of a number of localities, large and small, reveal the names and/or social identities of participants, offering a treasure trove of social history and testimony to the engagement in political life in late 1788 of diverse individuals from varied groups. Not all deliberations offer such information, particularly those of the smallest localities and rural communities, which indicate only that municipal officers, local notables, proprietors, and inhabitants participated in the assembly, without more detail. Some deliberations provide evidence of the presence in community assemblies of peasants and other “popular” groups, who were concerned about the most controversial political issues of the day—the composition and functioning of the estates-general and of the estates in their provinces. It is possible to discern the popular character of six local assemblies, four in Languedoc, and one each in Provence and Burgundy. Aramon and Vauvert in Languedoc each had 613 and 854 households (3,065 and 4,270 population), respectively. Assemblies met in these two localities on 23 November, and in two others, Aimargues and Caila, on 1 December and 14 December. In all four assemblies peasants constituted the single largest group. In Caila they were one-half of the eighty-two participants, almost one-half in Vauvert (seventy-two of 174 in attendance), and in Aramon twenty-six of sixty-five participants, plus a number of illiterates

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who did not sign and may have included peasants. Further underscoring the popular character of these assemblies was the presence in three of them—Aramon, Caila, and Vauvart—of artisans as the second largest social group in attendance. The same pattern was seen in Cuceron, a large market bourg in Provence where, on 9 January 1789, peasants were again the largest group attending the assembly (thirty), followed closely by artisans (twentyseven); a municipal official there engaged in a degree of rhetorical exaggeration in describing the inhabitants as “we poor agriculturists” since nonworking bourgeois and large-scale traders were the two next largest groups (thirteen and twelve, respectively) participating in that assembly. A small assembly of only thirty-three persons met in the village of Massigny in Burgundy on 5 February to deliberate on the formation of the provincial estates. All but six of the persons present were peasants, most of them, including the three municipal officials, cultivators of vineyards.26 We may safely conclude from the above examples that the local assemblies that met in the autumn and winter of 1788–1789 were composed overwhelmingly of members of the Third Estate, with a few scatterings of clergy and nobles. Among the Third Estate, the larger number of participants were those engaged in economic activities, both large businessmen operating in wide markets and small-scale tradesmen and craftsmen working in local markets, along with professional people engaged in law and medicine, or occupying a public post (whether venal or appointed). In the terminology of our own day, they might be called middle-class and upper-class bourgeois; also present were leisured, well-off individuals living on their capital and called bourgeois in the language of eighteenth-century France. “Popular” groups, not only local retail traders and artisans but peasants as well, were also participants in these assemblies, especially in small urban centers and in rural communities; in addition, some workers and day laborers also attended. The Third Estate in its many permutations had indeed awakened. Community assemblies, in cities and in smaller localities both urban and rural, did not enter into political activity spontaneously. If there was no central locus of direction emanating from Paris, there was a form, or rather several forms, of direction and mobilization of local populations that was singly or in an overlapping manner local, regional, provincial, and at times national. Mayors or other municipal officers, especially outside large or major cities, were pivotal figures. They convened assemblies, set the agenda, delivered the speeches, initiated the proposals, acted as pedagogues informing in-

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habitants of events and developments elsewhere in the kingdom, uttered disquisitions on recent or past history of France, and imparted their thoughts on public law, constitutional law, and political theory. They were more than cultural intermediaries. They were political intermediaries who sought a direct and immediate influence on their audience, to awaken their communities to act and setting out the line of action. Most of these mayors were from among the learned members of the Third Estate in the community, the greater number of them lawyers, along with some doctors of medicine and even a few designated gentilhommes or nobles. In the eyes of royal officials and of many parlementary magistrates, nobles, and prelates, the municipal officers were the instigators fomenting opposition among local people against the Crown, the magistracy, and the nobility. Meetings of municipal councils or extraordinary general assemblies began with the mayors or their substitutes from among the municipal officers informing participants of the purpose of the meeting. Rarely did they cite the declaration of the Paris parlement of 25 September, which proposed that the upcoming estates-general meet in the same form as the last estatesgeneral of 1614, an argument that historians since at least Egret have assumed precipitated the “awakening of the Third”; nor did they refer to other parlementary statements. Almost uniformly and universally mayors referred to the Royal Council’s decree (Order in Council) of 5 July 1788 requesting that the French people inform the king of their views on voting and representation in the estates-general. Tocqueville believed that Order in Council significant. He mocked the Crown for viewing the issue of the estates-general as if it were an innocent essay question proposed in one of the provincial academies, whereas its effect on the Third Estate, he argued, was immediately and radically subversive.27 Other historians did not see innocence in the Crown’s move but rather an attempt to sow dissension among the orders and weaken its opponents. Mayors had their own interpretation. The Order in Council of 5 July was an invitation, they explained at the meetings, indeed a veritable royal command to the inhabitants, to express their views and thus demonstrate their obedience and loyalty to their sovereign; such was their tactic to overcome the timidity of humble Frenchmen at the prospect of the unprecedented act of tendering advice to their king. Action was not taken, in most cases, until several months later in the autumn, after a second Order in Council of 5 October reconvened the Assembly of Notables to advise on the upcoming estates-general. With the meeting of

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the Notables, and the imminent meeting of the estates-general, the questions of how that national assembly would be organized, and the manner of voting and representation, came to the forefront of national debate. To the mayors and community assemblies, the Orders in Council of 5 July and 5 October were crucial as a medium of information, pushing them to crystallize their thoughts and mobilize their communities. Still, it was not until November that most communities began to formulate their responses to the Crown’s request. The announcement of a second Assembly of Notables at first raised hopes that the Notables would again fulfill the public’s desires as they had done the previous year. Necker’s speech at the opening session on 6 November laid the groundwork, positing the many questions on representation and voting in the estates-general on which the Notables were to deliberate, issues now brought directly to the attention of mayors and which they in turn transmitted for deliberation to the assemblies. Hope in the Notables’ decision soon gave way to suspicion, then disappointment—fear and alarm were the sentiments some assemblies expressed—as news of their deliberations filtered to the public. That shift in sentiment ended in harsh criticism after the Assembly concluded its sessions on 12 December. Radicalization at the grass roots did not follow directly from the Order in Council of 5 July, as Tocqueville contended, but in response to the expressions of views on the upcoming estatesgeneral that emanated from the Notables and more broadly from what was coming to be called the Aristocratic party. Few if any of these assemblies operated in vacuo. The mayors often referred to the actions of neighboring communities, other cities in their provinces, the capital city of the province, and even cities further afield in the kingdom, and they read from those deliberations to the community assemblies. They encouraged their listeners to emulate and join with the others, to engage in networks of communities within the provinces. Such associations may appear as harbingers of the fédéré movement during the Revolution; however, they were not original acts but natural and normal efforts made at critical moments and inscribed in their histories, as the example of Dauphiné demonstrates.28 Let us weave together some of those networks. Dijon in Burgundy is an example of a provincial capital that exerted broad influence over other communities in the province. Its deliberations, especially of the Third Estate and of the lawyers of Dijon, were referred or adhered to by at least twenty-six localities. Franche-Comté and Guienne offer examples of local communities acting in concert. Five communities forming a single parish in the bailliage of Vesoul in Franche-Comté joined

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together in early November to protest the form of their provincial estates; some irregular signatures on their declarations suggest the presence of individuals with tentative literacy, peasants or artisans undoubtedly. In turn these communities and sixteen others, using the exact same words, approved deliberations against the provincial estates, the penmanship and spelling in some of these deliberations again revealing weaknesses with the French language among those with limited literacy. In expressing thanks for the Result of the Royal Council of 27 December that granted to the Third Estate representation in the estates-general equal to the number of clerical and noble deputies combined, twelve communities sent the same letter to the king and his minister. In one of these letters the latter’s name was spelled “Neker,” a common error of orthography, and in another it was uniquely misspelled as “Nequaire”; some of those present for the signing of the letter declared their inability to write their names. A priest in the city of Faucogney was one of twenty-eight persons to sign a deliberation on 23 January 1789 thanking the king and Necker for the Result of the Royal Council. Two days later, in a nearby rural hamlet, the same priest delivered a speech during the church service to stir his parishioners into sending a similar letter, and at the assembly following the service his vicar delivered with verve a lesson informing the inhabitants of the king’s decision favorable to the Third Estate. Deputies of thirty-one communities surrounding the city of Gy—their combined populations totalling 20,000—joined with it in criticizing the provincial estates; their perspective also extended beyond their own province as they cited the provincial assemblies newly established in the kingdom and the estates of Dauphiné as examples to follow for the provincial estates in Franche-Comté. Agenois, within the jurisdiction of the province of Guienne, also offered examples of the formation of local networks. The city of Sainte Foix mobilized twelve other communities in the area in support of its demands for the estates-general. The first consul of the city of Pujols d’Agenois gained the support of his community for the proposals of the city of Agen on the composition of both the estates-general and the provincial estates; that same person also held a municipal office in the community of Tombebout and gained its adherence to similar demands for both the provincial and national estates. Dauphiné was again the model for the provincial estates that the deliberations of both Pujols and Tombebout invoked for Guienne. The influence of Dauphiné extended widely across France to more than half the provinces (17), where the example of its provincial estates is

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mentioned in the deliberations of at least ninety-seven communities. Its greatest influence was regional, among localities in neighboring provinces— Languedoc (21), Provence (12), and Burgundy (12)—but similar influence was felt also in more distant Normandy (12) and Guienne (10). Other provinces or cities also exerted influence, though to a lesser extent. The city of Sully in the province of Orléanais responded to the influences of nearby Orléans and of more distant Dauphiné, and also to the demands made in Nantes in Brittany, Nîmes in Languedoc, and those from the province of Franche-Comté. Brittany, Languedoc, and Normandy offer examples of communities forging networks of association and influence that were provincial yet extended from one part of the kingdom to another. The city of Auray in Brittany began to act after receiving the deliberation of the neighboring city of Vannes; it received as well the deliberations of Nantes and Rennes, and the assembly lauded the example of the estates of Dauphiné as a model for Brittany. In nearby Normandy, members of the Third Estate of Rouen meeting in assembly invoked the examples of nearby Nantes and of far-off Dauphiné, while the municipal officers cited Provence in addition to Dauphiné as models for an estates of Normandy. Rouen’s influence radiated to at least seventeen localities in Normandy. These included Pont-Audemer as well as seven of the seventeen corporations that deliberated there; the city of Eu, which also acknowledged the influence of three cities outside the province—Nantes, Nîmes, and Grandville in Picardy; and Gournay, which received in addition to the deliberation of Rouen those of Dieppe and Pont-l’Evêque in Normandy, and also of Aixen-Provence. As an act of reciprocity, Gournay sent its own deliberations to those same cities. Rouen and Nantes were the cities most often cited by communities within their respective provinces (Normandy and Brittany), joined by Nîmes as those most frequently cited in other provinces. The largest documentation of community deliberations is from Languedoc. Though not all individual communities seem, through this evidence, to have collaborated with others, a good number of them reached out to extend or to receive influence. A rich tapestry of associations of communities appeared. Languedoc also had the institution of diocesan assemblies, which facilitated community networking. A hierarchy of assemblies emerged. At the base were municipal councils in localities ranging from large cities to villages in the countryside and in mountainous areas. Within the municipal framework Third Estate residents in Montpellier, Nîmes, and Toulouse met in informal assemblies to urge action upon the authorized municipal offi-

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cers, and in Montpellier and Nîmes record numbers of people attended the general assemblies: 2,100 in Nîmes, and 1,500 in Montpellier of whom 300 signed the deliberation. Communities within the same jurisdictional area joined together in broader assemblies of the dioceses, mobilizing larger bodies of people. Usually the capital of the diocese organized these assemblies, but in two instances smaller cities in the diocese took the initiative that led to the convening of diocesan assemblies. Eleven such assemblies met, five of which included representatives from a total of 255 communities. Attending the assembly of the diocese of Alais as the representative of Durfort in the Cevennes was the future member of the National Assembly, Rabaut Saint-Etienne. Vivarais in northern Languedoc also had a meeting of the three orders, which represented at least twenty-five cities and communities, all of whom supported the deliberation. Additional communities not in attendance joined in support. Two distinguished deputies were present: the currently popular and future counter-revolutionary “De Launay, comte d’Entraigues” and the future revolutionary “De Boissy d’Anglas, of the academies of Nimes, Lyon, La Rochelle, etc.” Meetings intermediary between municipalities and dioceses also took place among communities in the Cevennes region and the assembly of the viguerie in Anduze; all the communities involved then sent deputies to represent them in the larger diocesan assembly that met in Alais. Intercommunity influence and collaboration also occurred through the circulation of municipal deliberations. Many communities throughout France sent their deliberations not only to the king and ministers in Versailles, and to royal officials in their province—intendants and military commanders—but also to cities within their province and sometimes beyond. Within Languedoc there were multiple exchanges. The deliberations of twenty-one cities circulated in the province, in the lead Uzès (sent to eleven communities) and Nîmes (sent to eight communities), that of Nîmes circulating also beyond Languedoc. A large number of communities received and some adhered to those deliberations. The city of Béziers received the deliberations of at least three other cities, while five communities received a deliberation of the three orders of the city and the diocese of Béziers, two of them adhering to that deliberation. Another form of influence among communities was the duplication of deliberations and also of the speeches of municipal officials that circulated among localities. Twelve communities in Languedoc heard the same speech and approved the same proposals and deliberations between 14 December and 29 December; the

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community that first issued the demands soon to be replicated was appropriately named La Tour de France. The presence of not more than eighteen persons in two of the five assemblies where the number of participants is known, and the description of the participants in three of them as peasants, suggest that these were communities of poor peasants unable or unwilling to express their own thoughts in their own words—and which more easily borrowed those of others as their own. Deliberations to which communities adhered; deliberations and speeches copied word for word: these were acts that presaged the practice of model cahiers a few months later in 1789. How authentic were the actions that echoed those of others?29 A skeptic might wonder if behind the scenes pressure or ignorance was at work, particularly among poor, uneducated, and partially literate individuals. One Languedoc community showed evidence of some wielding of authority over inhabitants. The mayor of Gabian was brief and peremptory in asking for a response to the king’s request for advice on the estates-general, the written deliberation concluding: “and the mayor interposed his authority and we signed.”30 Yet there were also signs of autonomy among communities as they modified the models they chose to follow. Two small communities in Languedoc testify to the enthusiasm of local people. Upon hearing of the purpose of the deliberations, inhabitants who were not members of the municipal assemblies insisted on being included in the vote or among the signatories on a matter that mutually interested them, said the inhabitants of Le Vigan.31 Emulation need not signal passivity nor succumbing to others; rather, it may signify shared sympathies and views held in common. A nation-wide network of “virtual deliberations” permitted individual communities to express their grievances and aspirations, and to transmit and exchange directly one to another their own, their mutual, and their collective views. These were not invisible communities but actual ones whose force could be realized with the help of the printing press and the royal post.

Community Assemblies: Representation and the Vote Community deliberations in France in late 1788-early 1789 offer a glimpse into the birthing of political thought among ordinary Frenchmen. More exactly, these deliberations reveal the crystallization of a political culture into practical goals and programs. This rare experience of deliberating on national political issues was a rehearsal for drafting the cahiers de doléances in

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the spring of 1789. The texts of the latter, so richly studied, were produced at the conclusion of deliberations. The community deliberations in the preceding autumn and winter—the more detailed ones among them—reveal, however partially, the lines of reasoning, the motives of those who deliberated, and the process of arriving at conclusions. Mayors, other municipal officers and sometimes lawyers or doctors who participated set the path by their speeches and proposals that the assemblies deliberated, voted on, and accepted. The words of these local leaders make a number of them appear, to readers centuries later, as “provincial Sieyès,” not as followers but as precursors since most of their rhetorical activity preceded the publication of What Is the Third Estate? in January 1789. Necker provided to the second Assembly of Notables resumés of community deliberations, enumerating how many supported one form of representation or another; overwhelmingly, support was for the doubling of the Third Estate. The lengthier community deliberations offered not only more proposals relating to representation and voting, but also the arguments to justify those demands. The rhetorical and political strategy of many of the mayors and other speakers, who cited royal Orders in Council, was to envelop their arguments with the cloak of sovereign authority, presenting the king as the progenitor of the ideas they proposed and themselves as virtual spokesmen for the king. The king wanted his subjects to advise him; the king wanted to eliminate abuses in representation; the king wanted balance among the representatives of the three orders; the king wanted all his subjects—including, averred the mayor of Vauvert in Languedoc, the “peaceful inhabitants of the countryside,” the cultivators—to participate in voting and to elect representatives also from among “bourgeois proprietors living in rural areas.”32 The questions that Necker presented to the Assembly of Notables set the agenda of the community assemblies. Proposals for the composition and form of voting in the estates-general also sparked similar demands for the provincial estates that many assemblies requested. The same or comparable requests resounded from all these assemblies, some more numerous and detailed, others brief and simple. Deliberations that included extensive justifications accompanying demands showed provincial Frenchmen to have an insightful grasp of the basic concepts of representation. Indeed representative government was never in question—it was the familiar and traditional mode in local administrations, abuses of which sparked calls for improvements; and it was the obvious mode for national government in so large a kingdom.

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Uniformly the assemblies demanded the number of representatives for the Third Estate to equal the number of representatives of the clergy and nobility combined; equality of representation, not double representation, was the term they used, in accord with the language and principles current in their day.33 Virtually all the assemblies also urged that voting be by head, decisions to be made by a plurality of the votes of individual representatives, rather than the collective vote of each of the three orders. As early as 6 September 1788, before other communities and most pamphleteers expressed their views on the subject, and before the declaration of the Paris parlement on 25 September in favor of the form of the estates-general of 1614, the municipal officers of Faucogney in Franche-Comté transmitted to the minister of justice their response to the Order in Council of 5 July. Simply stated but with full import, they favored for the estates-general the form of the newly established provincial assemblies in which the Third Estate had half the representatives and all voted by head, a form they described as “too natural and too beautiful for the people of this province to desire to be represented otherwise.” The same form should be applied to the provincial estates that the Crown, by the Order in Council of 8 August, promised to re-establish. The number of representatives of the people, they argued, should be increased because it is the people “that is fundamentally the nation and that supports all the burdens of the state.”34 Precociously, the city of Faucogney introduced three lines of argument—precedent and history, demographics, utility—that a multitude of communities would echo, elaborate, and expand in the coming months. The form of the provincial estates of Dauphiné that the assembly in Vizille approved in July was the main precedent cited, along with the provincial assemblies. Both structures also acquired another significance: the king had consented to the forms of the Dauphinois estates and the provincial assemblies. That signaled to many community assemblies that the king had demonstrated his approval of representation of the Third Estate equal to that of the two other estates combined, and vote by head. Their requests were in accord with the king’s will. Recent precedents—Dauphiné and the provincial assemblies—and precedents further in the past nourished the thoughts of provincial Frenchmen. The recourse to history by the assemblies was double-sided, as it was in many pamphlets. Municipal officers did what the Order in Council of 5 July prescribed: they investigated documents in their archives, and some individuals researched historical works. Those members of the Third Estate did not shun

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history; they examined the history of France and the history of their provinces in order to learn lessons to apply in their own day. History showed that there was never any regular nor legally authorized form for the estates-general, but rather diversity in their composition and organization; the 1614 estates had no greater legitimacy than other estates-general. They found a few positive precedents, but they found many that they believed must be avoided in the new estates-general. Above all, the 1614 estatesgeneral taught the lesson of inequality and failure. The lessons that municipal officers and other individuals learned they imparted to the assemblies, briefly or in veritable colloquies. The lawyer-mayor of St. Maximin (Provence) delivered a lecture on French history since 1614 to participants in the viguerie assembly, while the speaker at the Third Estate assembly in the city of Chaussin (Burgundy) gave a decidedly royalist interpretation of earlier history and of recent events, critical of magistrates and nobles for their opposition to royal policy. Speakers at the general assembly of the three orders in Montpellier (Languedoc) and at the municipal council in Mées (Provence) used history to highlight abuses in their respective provincial estates, the first consul of Mées informing his audience of practices in provincial estates in the past that were more equitable to the Third Estate than those in the current estates.35 Their excursions into history produced a shocked awakening upon learning that the clerical and noble representatives in the estates of 1614 outnumbered those of the Third Estate, their preponderance causing the interests of the Third Estate to be outvoted and ignored. Other estatesgeneral in the past offered better models to follow, in which the Third Estate had the same number of representatives as the first two orders combined. They embraced those precedents that gave to the Third Estate a role justified by the principles of equality and balance among the orders. The Assembly of Notables also invoked the principles of equality and balance, but in a different set of relationships: each order equal to each of the other two, and a balance among the three. For the spokesmen in the community assemblies, equality required that the Third Estate be equal to the first two orders combined, with a balance between the Third on one side and the first and second orders on the other side. Only in that way could the Third Estate prevent the nobles and clergy from again wielding dominance in the estates-general against the interests of commoners. Equality of representation for the Third Estate required as well that voting be by head with deliberation in common, lest vote by order negate

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the benefit the Third Estate would gain from having half the representatives in the estates-general. While most speakers in community assemblies employed the argument of equality, the lawyers of the parlement in Rouen, whose memoir influenced the deliberations of other corps in the city and the municipal administration, also underscored additional lessons learned from history to justify the demand for vote by head. Separate voting by the three orders would destroy the emergence of common interests, as each order deliberating separately would defend its own interests. In addition, any single order could in effect exercise a veto (always underlined in the original), which would reinforce the divisive tendency to defend only the interests of a single order and, by blocking all activity, negate any benefit from the estates-general: “By the effect of the veto in past estates, either they annulled themselves, or they furnished the authority with the means to annul them when they so desired.”36 A number of assemblies, as well as a number of contemporary pamphlets, looked far back to the reign of Charlemagne, invoking the image of the entire nation meeting all together with their king in the Champ de Mai and the Champ de Mars, and not in separate bodies. Those assemblies that found a model for their day in the distant time of Charlemagne conflated history and the present; yet provincial speakers also demonstrated a keen sense of change in history, of the differences between their time and the Middle Ages, their time and 1614. Repeatedly they highlighted the changes in mores and in thought between the past and the present. The French people were no longer unfree, uneducated serfs as in the feudal period; the Third Estate was more numerous, more wealthy, more cultured, and above all, more important in agriculture, commerce, manufacture, the judiciary, the military, and the arts than in 1614. Indeed by its population and its contribution to society, the Third Estate was by itself the veritable nation, an idea by then commonplace and resounding in deliberations (and pamphlets) too many to count. Demographics and utility warranted greater representation for the Third Estate, at least half the representatives—if not more, boldly asserted some assemblies—and balanced representation through vote by head. Although speakers and deliberations cited precedent after precedent—Dauphiné, provincial assemblies, the Languedoc estates—to demonstrate the legitimacy of their demands, the notion of numbers as the basis for representation was a shocking novelty to Tocqueville and especially to Edmund Burke; to many eighteenthcentury French nobles, representation based on numbers conjured the specter of overwhelming predominance of the Third Estate over the clergy

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and nobility. Historians more than two centuries later may not be shocked but still acknowledge the radical nature of population displacing quality as the underlying principle of representation. That new and striking claim obscured to contemporaries the other claim to precedent as justification for doubling representation of the Third Estate. To demographics and utility may be added fairness, or in the words of many deliberations, “justice.” The Third Estate, which was the most populous and most productive, also paid most of the taxes, while the nobility and clergy were exempt from most taxes. That difference meant that the interests of the first and second estates were similar, and were different from those of the Third. History—precedents of fiscal privileges granted to the first two orders—hovered over community deliberations. Justice demanded that the nobles and clergy not have more votes than the Third Estate, to end their power to continue placing a greater tax burden on the peuple. Justice demanded that the Third Estate have representatives in proportion to their number and their tax payments, or at least half the representatives and votes in a single assembly—a more modest proposal designed to gain the support of the first two orders. Deeply concerned about the relation of Third Estate representation to that of the first and second estates, the assemblies were also acutely alert to the nature of their own representation. The 1614 estates-general revealed that many Third Estate representatives were either magistrates, or venal or appointed officers, whom the Third did not elect and who neither shared nor represented their interests. No proprietors were in the earlier estatesgeneral, whereas they were a large group within the Third Estate in their own day. If magistrates—nobles by the late eighteenth century—and unelected venal officers were again to be representatives of the Third Estate in 1789, the Third would be not only underrepresented but not represented at all. The disappointing outcome of the second Assembly of Notables, argued the mayor of Alet (Languedoc), was the consequence of the absence of Third Estate representatives in that body.37 Thus, along with equal representation and vote by head, assembly after assembly also demanded the guarantee of free election of representatives. No public officer should become a representative by right of office; all must be chosen through election. And no one not a member of the Third Estate should vote for or be elected a representative of the Third. Confidence and common interests were the principles underlying these demands. Even in the absence of an electoral system in government, these provincial Frenchmen were conscious

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that confidence was the tie that bound electors to those they elected, and representatives to their constituents. Confidence rested on the free choice of voters and on the similarity of interests between voters and those they elected, which guaranteed that representatives would not betray the interests of their voters. Issues and ideas on voting and representation in the estates-general intertwined with similar deliberations on the provincial estates. The timing varied. In Provence contention over the newly re-established provincial estates began in late 1787; in other provinces disputing claims began to be expressed in the summer and autumn of 1788, once the estates of Dauphiné became the model, and dissension continued to the eve of elections in 1789. Municipal, diocesan, and community assemblies, corporations, lower courts, lawyers, meetings of the Third Estate or of the three orders sent over five hundred deliberations, memoirs, and letters to the government requesting the establishment of estates in provinces where they did not exist; their re-establishment in provinces where they had earlier existed; or their reform in provinces where they already existed. From Auvergne, Champagne, Guienne, Lorraine, Lyonnais, Orléanais, Poitou, and seven others came requests for provincial estates to replace the newly created provincial assemblies; a letter probably from the intendant in Poitou informed the ministry that the request from Fontenay le Comte was the desire as well of “all the cities in the province.” History was the claim of an “extraordinary assembly” in Riom, Auvergne having had an estates from the remote past until the end of the seventeenth century. The provincial assembly in Lyon argued for its own replacement; initially provincial assemblies (some of whose members the Crown appointed and others the assemblies co-opted) had a great advantage, but in a short time people had acquired a better understanding that only an elected body could represent them, a sentiment that a lower court in Clermont-Ferrand echoed. So too would provincial estates have broader administrative authority, added a departmental assembly in Lyonnais.38 Some regions within provinces, eleven of them, sought to obtain their own separate provincial estates. An elected estates for the pays de Lannes, rather than membership in the estates of Guienne, argued lawyers in the city of Dax would inspire greater confidence and happiness among inhabitants, for elected representatives would be more attentive to the needs of local people and would eliminate inequities.39 Tocqueville believed that the estates of Languedoc was a model of decentralized administration.40 People in Languedoc contested that belief in late

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1788. So too inhabitants in other provinces contested their provincial estates, either those already existing (in Brittany, Burgundy, Artois, and Languedoc) or those recently or soon-to-be established (in Provence, and Franche-Comté). The stridency and animosity expressed in deliberations and other writings are palpable across the centuries, and the greatest number come from those provinces: 28 from Brittany, 33 from Provence, 86 each from Franche-Comté and from Burgundy, and 174 from Languedoc. Intimacy did not promote contentment. Bretons, Burgundians, Artésiens, and Languedocians having direct knowledge of the workings of their estates and of their inequities, denounced them as abusive, as “aristocratic” and “despotic.” Their actual baneful experience aroused many peasant communities in Languedoc to join the campaign to reform the estates, and nobles and commoners even fought each other on the streets of Rennes. In Provence and Franche-Comté memories of the estates in the past alienated provincials at the end of the eighteenth century. Many of the same accusations echoed from one province to another. The estates were unrepresentative since the people did not elect any of the members; nobles and prelates together dominated Third Estate deputies, controlled the workings of the estates, and in consequence imposed heavy taxes on the Third. Being unrepresentative, the estates could not legitimately impose taxes. The Languedoc estates, famous for its public works projects, was excoriated for its lavish, wasteful, and unuseful expenditures that benefited the privileged rich and financially burdened the others. Another serious and imminent problem made inhabitants of these provinces fearful. If the unelected provincial estates were authorized to elect representatives to the estatesgeneral, as in Dauphiné (and on this they did not follow the Dauphinois model), then commoners in these provinces would be deprived of representation in the national assembly and there would be no hope of ending fiscal privileges and other abuses. In those disputes over provincial estates additional actors appeared who became allies of the Third: lower clergy, new nobles, or nobles who possessed no fiefs, all of whom were also excluded from the provincial estates. Together with the Third Estate they formed a new political bloc of “outsiders” against the “insiders” in the pays d’états, the nobles and prelates who dominated the estates. The remedy for these several problems of provincial estates was the same as for the estates-general: at least half the representatives and votes for the Third Estate; vote by head; free choice of representatives through elections; and Third Estate representatives elected by and chosen exclusively from among members of the Third

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Estate. Rather than unreformed provincial estates electing deputies to the estates-general, there was virtually unanimous support for elections through a series of local electoral assemblies. In addition, a number of community assemblies urged representation in provincial estates of the lower clergy and of new and unfiefed nobles.41 Frenchmen deliberating in community assemblies expressed a consciousness of their collective identity as members of the Third Estate. Historians have debated for much of the twentieth century whether there was class consciousness and ensuing class conflict that underlay the French Revolution. Setting aside terminology and categories of a later day, the deliberations reveal interesting and not surprising bonds and fissures in French society of that day. The sense of commonness among these provincial French was as commoners together in a single estate. Membership in that estate assumed political significance in late 1788 in the expectation of the meeting of the estates-general, since it was as members of the Third Estate that commoners would be represented, and represented in relation to the first and second estates. While speakers and deliberations vaunted the numbers and the economic and cultural achievements of the Third Estate, they were well aware of their political insignificance in the past and its possible recurrence in the present. That challenge sparked a political consciousness that led to demands to ensure the “political existence” of commoners in the national assembly that was necessary, so history taught them, to bring about effective reforms that so many desired.42 In the face of refusals by many nobles in many provinces to accede to their demands, anti-aristocratic sentiment intensified. In addition to reiterated calls for fiscal equality that echoed over the centuries, some of these Third Estate deliberations raised complaints about obstacles that commoners faced in obtaining high positions in the courts and in the military. A nascent political struggle heightened a sense of social grievance. These problems and these laments bound the Third Estate together, including the artisans and peasants present in the assemblies who signed the deliberations; however, differences, indeed fissures also appeared within the Third Estate. Forty-five groups representing commerce in France requested that the king grant distinctive representation to commerce within the Third Estate in the estates-general. Memoirs of chambers of commerce and of commercial tribunals harnessed history and utility to their cause with great detail and rhetorical force, and highlighted the importance of commerce to France and its impressive growth since 1614. Manufacture and agriculture

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depended on the prosperity of commerce, whose activity enabled those goods to be sold throughout France and in more and more parts of the world. Since these were pleas to the king, some memoirs employed the strategy of linking the interests of the king to commerce. They claimed that not only France’s prosperity but its greater power was due to commerce, for its wealth yielded more revenue to the Crown and its expanding network of trade encouraged the growth of the royal navy and enhanced France’s stature in the world. Further, they argued, only those directly engaged in business possessed both the theoretical and the practical knowledge to enlighten the king and the estates-general about policies to overcome obstacles to trade and promote continued economic growth. These arguments on first reading seem to manifest an exalted form of consciousness of economic interests; might this be a class consciousness? Only nine local assemblies gave their support to these demands and thirty-four others were mute. Businessmen in two cities spoke out against these requests, in Grenoble (in the words of Mounier) and in Marseille. Those with experience in commerce, Marseille proposed, would be among Third Estate representatives by the king’s recommendation, or as Grenoble underscored, they would be chosen through free elections.43 Similar injunctions from the two groups— “no profession,” Grenoble adding “no corps” should have its own deputies representing its particular interests—suggest that to businessmen in these two cities, those who called for distinctive representation of commerce in the estates-general were expressing not class consciousness but more limited corporate consciousness.44 The other several fissures that the deliberations revealed, still marginal in late 1788, prefigured more significant divisions that arose during the drafting of the cahiers and the elections to the estates-general, and which intensified during the years of Revolution. Artisans in the cities of Arles (Provence) and peasants and artisans in the suburbs of Toulouse (Languedoc) protested their exclusion from municipal administrations which might cause their exclusion from elections to the estates-general. Peasants in Condeau in Normandy criticized city people for disdaining peasants and sought assurance for representation of the countryside in the estates-general; and from Côtes du Cape Frehel in Brittany came a letter to the minister asking that peasants have representatives in the estates-general “separately from cities.” In the Velay (Languedoc), small cities feared that excessive representation of the larger city, Puy, would leave them with no representation. The municipality in Boulogne (Picardy) feared that deputies from rural areas would be in

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greater number than those of their city, adding that peasants were uninformed whereas city bourgeois were knowledgeable about problems to be debated in the estates-general. Rouen feared both peasants and guild members would dominate the elections, the latter lacking both instruction and patriotic zeal. Lyon also feared their deputies would be outnumbered by those from the countryside, and varied groups in the city disputed higher or lower tax requirements that would exclude an educated “middle-class” or include artisans and tradesmen.45 And in many cities residents feared municipal officers would control the elections as in 1614. Social groups, geographical areas, various sets of interests contested each other over their participation in or exclusion from representation, revealing the fragility of Third Estate cohesion at the moment of greatest consensus and collective consciousness.46

Community Assemblies: Old and New Strands in Political Culture Common themes along with divergent notes may be gleaned from these deliberations which illumine the political culture of the French as they “entered into revolution.” Their beliefs, values, aspirations, and apprehensions were more conscious and concrete than they had been two years earlier, and combined simplicity with sophistication. It is not surprising that repeatedly they identified the Third Estate (sometimes the peuple) with the nation—as virtually, entirely, essentially, or solely the nation—these claims dating from September 1788 and made with greater intensity in the following months into January 1789 (when Sieyès’s pamplet was published). Metaphors equated the Third Estate with the “nerve,” the “body,” even the “soul and force” of the state. Without the Third others in the kingdom could not subsist, not even the king “on his throne,” boldly proclaimed members of the Third Estate in Quingey (Franche-Comté). It greatly exceeded the clergy and nobility in population, tax payments, and also economic achievements in agriculture, commerce, and manufacture. The Third as well had a “zeal for public affairs,” stated the mayor of Villeneuve-de-Berg (Languedoc). It shared with the other two orders “the sentiment of liberty” and knowledge of “the rights and duties of man and the citizen,” in the words of bailliage lawyers in Auge (Normandy). Indeed, almost all enlightenment came from the Third Estate, which guaranteed that their deputies would be wise, asserted and assured the mayor of Calvisson (Languedoc). For all these rea-

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sons the Third Estate needed to be represented in the estates-general. A handful of communities even laid claim to many more representatives than the nobility and clergy combined; it should always have “the greatest preponderance,” three-fifths or two-thirds of the membership and votes in the estates-general. Most communities were satisfied with half the seats and votes, and sought to assure nobles and clergy they would accept less than the proportion their number and tax payments warranted. All they sought was equality, balance, to assure their “political existence,” in return for which they would respect the dignities, honors, and property of the nobility and clergy, but not their tax exemption.47 The king appeared frequently in community deliberations, addressed with sincere admiration interlaced with political deftness ranging from affirmations of the king’s authority to proposed constraints on that same authority.48 The assembly in Auray (Brittany) might rival bishop Bossuet in its exaltation of royal authority: a monarch . . . a single individual managing, governing, commanding all. . . . France being an hereditary monarchy, the sovereign alone united all the powers. He is . . . the guardian of properties, the chief of the armies, the head of justice, the supreme legislator . . . , “What the king wishes, so the law wishes.” (original emphasis)

Some communities sought to align the interests of the Crown with those of the peuple. Dominance of the two privileged orders in the estates-general would establish an “aristocratic yoke” endangering not only the liberty of the Third Estate but also the monarchical constitution. A number of communities paid homage to Louis XVI’s beneficence, evidenced to contemporaries in his desire to restore the rights and liberties of the French by convening the estates-general, an act surpassing even the model Henry IV set. Royal beneficence was proof of the king’s sovereignty, his power to make such decisions. Yet Louis XVI’s expressions or acts of beneficence became challenges to future royal decisions. The king expressed his desire for fiscal equality; he authorized representation of the Third Estate in Dauphiné equal to that of the clergy and nobility combined, and vote by head. The king therefore should grant the wishes of the Third Estate; indeed they had confidence that he would do so. By calling an estates-general he demonstrated his intention “to associate [the nation] with confidence in the work of government and legislation.” That reciprocal confidence between the king and the nation signified to some communities that henceforth the

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king’s decisions and laws would “conform to the expressed wish of the greatest number/plurality of citizens.” Two cities in the généralité of Soissons sketched a new social contract. Louis XVI and his successors, in the words of the municipality and inhabitants of Noyon, would conserve their “supreme power,” but the assembled nation “would impose some inconvenience”: the monarchs “would be reduced to the happy necessity of being only benefactors,” thus assuring the “happiness” of the nation. Left unspoken was the possibility that the king and the people might be in disaccord; then, whose wishes would prevail? For the assembly in Auray, in November 1788, there was no question that subjects could not judge and could not impose their views on their king. The spokesmen of the three orders of the diocese of Agde in January 1789 differed, giving a foretaste of the outcome. While voicing appreciation for Louis XVI’s decision to grant equal (i.e., double) representation to the Third Estate in the estates-general, they did not shrink from expressing chagrin that the king had not authorized vote by head. A stark contrast lay ahead: royal decisions favorable to the people would yield expressions of love and fidelity; unfavorable decisions would provoke criticism and opposition. “Roi citoyen” was the title that a group in Lyon bestowed on Louis XVI. Others in Lyon, and in many other cities (as in many pamphlets and speeches of sovereign court magistrates), instead spoke of and addressed the king as père—father of the French family, father of his people. Its widespread resonance up and down the social scale rested on the resemblance it evoked of the familiar relationship of every father to his family. The father’s absolute authority over his children and wife underpinned the king’s absolute authority over his children in the nation. But Louis XVI, by assembling his subjects first in the Assembly of Notables and then, by the Orders in Council of 5 July and 8 August, in an estates-general, was seen to express his love of his children by gathering them around him to seek their counsel. Deliberations of some communities (as in some pamphlets) took this concept one step further. The children in the king’s family were all the same; in Sisteron (Provence) this was voiced in patois followed by enthusiastic shouts of “yes, yes, yes.” As the father in a family, so the king sought to bring happiness to each of his children equally. And all his children were equally dear to the king. The French, as children of the king, were brothers and equal to each other. The city of Barfleur (Normandy), applying the family metaphor also to the provinces in the kingdom and the orders in society, stated simply and powerfully in an address to the king:

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Provençaux, Bretons, Béarnois, Dauphinois . . . Normands, we are one same family and you, Sire, you are the king, and the common father of this family. The order of the clergy, the order of the nobility, and that of the Third Estate, we are all equally your subjects, and your children.

In place of the traditional maxim “one king, one law, one faith,” the French had come to believe in one father, one family, one nation, the members of both the family and nation being equal to each other in their relation to their common father. The belief in the king as father—the family metaphor—if it did not spawn most certainly nurtured and reinforced the principle of equality that the French people embraced.49 Equality had a concrete, specific meaning to the French people gathered in their community assemblies: equality in the payment of taxes, that all taxes should be levied equally on all the French people; and equality in political representation, that Third Estate representation should be equal in number to those of both the nobility and clergy. Grappling with these issues sharpened old wounds and opened new possibilities as the problems of taxation brought into focus concepts of representation. The heavy tax burden that the French perceived led the public to demand consent to taxes. Fiscal privilege that caused most taxes to fall on commoners led to Third Estate demands for tax equality and equal representation. A decade after the beginning of the American Revolution, the French too saw the convergence of taxation and representation. They did not employ the slogan “no taxation without representation” but they thought in similar ways, with the addition of the claim to equal taxation and equal representation. The community of La Penne les Aubagne (Provence) went further, boldly proposing on 20 December that if the clergy and nobility refused equal representation for the Third Estate, the king should convene only commoners and together they would exercise legislative authority and “crush the nobility”; theirs was a unique call before Sieyès voiced a similar thought. The desire for representation extended beyond the estates-general and the provincial estates; some who were excluded from governing organs raised claims to equal representation in local bodies, in particular municipal administrations. Artisans in Arles (Provence) wrote of their “awakening” to their own importance, interests, and rights, while two residents in Ornans (Franche-Comté) praised rural communities as models of representation and accountability that “small cities” should emulate. The municipality of Pontevez (Languedoc) understood that “good” representation in the estates-general could not be

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achieved if it did not rest upon free and equal representation in provincial and local assemblies. Free and equal representation was the common refrain; yet for some, equal representation applied only to the Third Estate collectively in relation to the two privileged orders, and not to individuals within the Third. On the qualifications for representation and voting, communities diverged. At one pole were communities that favored and specified financial requirements for voters and even higher ones for deputies (ranging from 50 to 150 livres), sometimes further limited to the payment of taxes on landed property. Representation linked to property ownership rested on the fact that elected assemblies would consent to taxes and those who voted to tax should themselves be taxpayers. Bourgeois in Lyon, invoking the “stake in society” theory, argued that commercial property should also qualify, for its owners were attached to the interests of their city “as much as landed proprietors are attached to the interests of the area in which their property is situated”; businessmen should not be deprived of their rights as citizens nor should elected assemblies be deprived of the knowledge businessmen bring. The assembly in Alais, with businessmen, merchants, and silk merchants predominating, went beyond specifying tax qualifications to accept avocat Soustelle’s proposal to distribute political rights within a hierarchical classification of social groups: the educated and knowledgeable members of the Third Estate—magistrates, doctors, lawyers, bourgeois, landowners, businessmen, manufacturers—could vote and be elected as representatives; the laboring classes—peasants, artists, artisans, and all the “inferior classes” traditionally represented by the chiefs of their guilds—could vote for but not be elected as deputies. At the opposite pole were a few communities that advocated a democratic suffrage. Bailliage lawyers in Pont-l’Evêque (Normandy) urged the vote for all taxpayers. Other bailliage lawyers in SaintClaude (Franche-Comté) believed that all heads of families should be voters, the citizens of Sommières (Languedoc) adding that the heads of families should also pay the capitation tax; both justified their views by asserting that only the votes of all individuals can determine the general will (for the former) or the national will (for the latter). An even broader suffrage for all those of majority age was the proposal of the mayor of Maureilhan (Languedoc) that the small community of only eighty households unanimously accepted, affirming that only a national assembly elected by all could truly represent the nation and have the right to make laws for it. Their seigneur, agreeing to the community’s request, wrote letters to the

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king and the ministers declaring their proposed suffrage “good,” and that it was the opinion of the community itself and not influenced by writings or “metaphysics”; a royal official appended a marginal note: “Maureilhan . . . proposes a completely new form of naming deputies for the estates-general by assembling all citizens in their parishes.” Bold in suggesting the exclusion of the nobility and clergy from the national body, the community of La Penne les Aubagne (Provence) was equally bold in proclaiming that sovereignty resided in “popular assemblies” of heads of families in each community. That proto–sans culotte belief drew conviction from their proto-federalist views. Elected representatives of their province, they declared, should be “ambassadors of Provence” and should not kneel before the king “in a servile ceremony not appropriate for the ministers of a free and independent people of the French monarchy.”50 While united in their demands for representation and voting of the Third Estate in the estates-general, the French already had divergent views on voting and representation within the Third Estate, ranging from a suffrage and choice of representatives limited by financial qualifications to a broad democratic suffrage. Even more serious for the future were the ambiguities in the relationship they anticipated between the king and the people. The feisty inhabitants of La Penne les Aubagne already knew whom they wanted as their representatives: “Mr. l’abbé Raynal, Mrs. Portalis and Bouche of Aix.” Familiarity with the writings of those three within the community, or by the person who composed the deliberation, may explain those choices: Raynal, one of the last of the generation of philosophes; Portalis and Bouche lawyers in Aix, the former famous for writings against the May edicts and the latter for his opposition to the estates of Provence. What influences may we discern operating on the community of La Penne les Aubagne and on the other French people assembled in their communities? Clearly not any single influence but varied mixtures are revealed in the deliberations, and, equally true, rarely is one discourse employed exclusively. What other writings, in addition to those of Raynal, Portalis, and Bouche, were indicated? Books on the history of France, government pronouncements whether read or heard that informed about recent events, remonstrances of parlements and other sovereign courts, declarations of the Assembly of Notables, provincial estates and assemblies, communications of groups—princes of the blood, the peers, nobles and clergy, judges, lawyers and guilds in the Third Estate—“public papers” meaning newspapers, and pamphlets generically termed “patriotic works.” Other than Raynal

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and one quotation from Montesquieu against courtiers, the name of no other philosophe appeared, though writers of the past were sometimes cited—the jurist Loyseau, the magistrate and historian Hénault, and the theorist Bodin— and of more recent vintage Necker’s work on government finance. Marsillargues (Languedoc) was ecumenical, attributing the “great” and “happy revolution” that was beginning to the king, all orders, and the parlementary courts. Deliberations also referred to other influences: “unexpected circumstances and events,” “our own experience and those of others,” and “nothing is more instructive than our own experience.” Those writings, and events and experiences, had a symbiotic relationship; contemporary writings gave birth to events and responded to them, and historical writings illumined, guided, or confirmed reactions to events. Writings too offered knowledge—facts and sometimes myths—and language to understand events and justify responses. In deliberation after deliberation, as in so many pamphlets, arguments from history and citations of historical precedents were coupled with invocations of theoretical principles: reason, justice, equality, natural law, and imprescriptible, inalienable, or universal rights to liberty founded in nature. Those principles yielded variations on a common theme. Reason informs that justice, and nature and natural law, prescribe that “all men are equal”; these rights can never be lost and are the foundation for claims to participation in and consent to the making of laws, and to equal duties and roles for all in society. The deliberations of the general assembly of Montpellier, and of the inhabitants of Bédarrieux (both in Languedoc) quoting from it, sound almost protoBurkeian in their justification of the rights of public liberty as “the heritage of peoples that generations transmit . . . which cannot be altered or terminated.” Sometimes arguments from reason employed as well the language of justice, or of will, interest, or utility. These several discourses were inextricably linked in the lives and thought of the French people; to dissociate them saps the vigor they conferred on those engaged in the unfolding history. None of these ideas were explored in depth; they were accepted principles and beliefs employed as political instruments to promote a cause, whether opposition to royal ministers and their policies, to excessive and arbitrary royal authority, or to magistrates and nobles seeking to establish political hegemony. Tying these abstract ideas together—though to Frenchmen in the late eighteenth century these ideas had concrete substance and application—was the Enlightenment.51 References to the Enlightenment appeared in many forms: “light (lumières), “an enlightened century,” “century of light,” “a reign of light,”

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“patriotic lights/enlightenment,”“the most enlightened of centuries,”“philosophy,” and “the spirit of philosophy that animates our century.” These several modes of expression, often repeated, reveal the impact of the Enlightenment on the late eighteenth-century French public and their consciousness of that influence. But what effect did it have on those deliberating in local assemblies? No citation of the argument of any philosophe, no reverence expressed for any one of them, no title of any work were indicated. The closest connection to the ideas of a philosophe was to Montesquieu, with the acceptance of his concept of separation of powers in government, but also with an admonition against another of his theories, namely of an intermediary body between the sovereign and the nation, understood as a preponderant nobility. Instead, basic and simple ideas were associated with and drawn from the Enlightenment—the theoretical principles. Justice, reason, natural law, and rights were also concepts derived from the tradition of French jurisprudence that lawyers were taught and litigious French learned from legal processes.52 Ideas clearly may have more than one source, so the roots of discourses in 1787–1788 were likely to have been multiple. What did the communities ascribe to the Enlightenment? The evidence from these deliberations is revealed only partially to those looking back from a later age. The very notion of the Enlightenment was instrumental and tautological, used to justify the several claims of the Third Estate in particular to equal representation and free elections. Enlightenment was invoked as a pedagogic tool to prevent the recurrence of errors and prejudices of the past; a guide for passing “wise and humane legislation” and promoting public well-being; the inspiration for love of “patrie, king and liberty”; and instruction in choosing representatives on the basis of merit. The Enlightenment was also contrasted with “the barbarous times when ecclesiastics and nobles kept the people in despotic servitude,” but having become enlightened the people were capable of knowing their interests and exercising liberty so that public opinion could hold sway. Through enlightenment people’s attention was also drawn to concrete issues: problems of administration; guarantees of individual liberty and the right of property; changes in the constitution of the monarchy, including reform of the law, elimination of fiscal privileges, and the “wall of separation” between the nobility and the Third Estate; and removal of obstacles to economic activity. “All humans are brothers,” was how the municipality of Nerac (Guienne) summed up the “mild philosophy.” In one year “patriotic enlightenment” had made swift and immediate progress, teaching the nation the advantage of having

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elected representatives. In contrast to the French of two hundred years ago, the lawyers of Chartres were astonished as they viewed the changes “time and circumstances” made “in mores, in opinions, [and] in administrative and political principles,” producing “a totally new people.” Enlightenment ways of thinking evidently had influence but in a diffuse manner, and they were clearly a conscious force among contemporaries, yet no particular body of thought associated with one or more philosophes predominated. The French certainly had acquired a new sense of their relationship to each other, their place in government authority, and the ways they would put that government authority to work which events sharpened and energized. As diverse strands of thought were woven together, so too the new patterns of thought were inextricably linked to unfolding events that gave to them concrete substance and the opportunity to be realized.53 A clerical deputy attending the assembly of the three orders of the diocese of Uzès in December 1788 expressed thoughts about Dauphiné that many in France had come to embrace over the course of 1787–1788 for themselves, their provinces and their nation: “[H]appy are the people who, governed by laws that they impose on themselves, enjoy the sweetness of internal peace and unite all the advantages that can make a society flourish.”54

Conclusion

How the French “entered in revolution” was the purpose of this work, begun years before Jacques Revel voiced those simple but appropriate words. Years of research and writing on this period marked by a groundswell of events have yielded certain convictions about that transition from ancien régime to Revolution. First, with due gratitude to Jean Egret for calling our attention to the “pre-Revolution,” the term itself belittles what took place in those two years, 1787–1788. The Revolution did not begin with the fall of the Bastille in July 1789, nor with the opening of the estates-general in May, nor even with the drafting of cahiers de doléances and the election of representatives in March–April 1789. The Revolution was under way already in the two preceding years1 when a wide body of the French nation, not limited to an elite of magistrates and nobles, began to adopt, articulate, and act on ideas and aspirations for fundamental change in their monarchical government: the end of absolute monarchy and the introduction of limited monarchy, with claims for consent to taxation and participation in government at both the national and provincial levels. A national consensus emerged led by aristocrats, and so long as they sought policies that attracted the support of many in the nation that consensus endured, gravely weakening the absolute and centralized structure of the royal government, but not the monarchy itself. The summer of 1788 was the moment of highest national accord in opposition to the Crown’s policies, but by autumn the dissolution of that general consensus and the inauguration of a “war,” as the journalist Mallet du Pan characterized it, between the first and second estates and the Third Estate had begun. Opposition to absolutism receded and conflicts over representation and the mode of voting of aristocrats and commoners surged. 365

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Late 1788 and early 1789 witnessed the highest degree of solidarity within the Third Estate, a virtual insurgency in many localities across the kingdom, with associations of neighboring communities in common protests, foreshadowing future “federations.” With the change of the calendar year the French had become well schooled for what lay ahead; and with the opening of the estates-general the two lines of battle, over aristocracy and absolutism, were joined.2 Second, it follows from the nature of this study that politics—policies the government promoted, public responses to those policies and their articulation of counterviews, and responses to choices and actions of different groups within the public—had primacy. And that politics had multiple facets. Financial problems—mounting deficit and debt, and near bankruptcy of the monarchy—precipitated events and focused political opposition. The goals set were consent to taxation and, more broadly, public participation in government affairs at local, provincial, and national levels, culminating in the final crisis of the ancien régime. A “revolution of rising expectations” that to Tocqueville was a social phenomenon was equally, if not more in those years, political. Debates remained rooted in the demand for participation, while emphases shifted over the two years as different political problems and issues attracted public attention. Criticism of government financial practices and policies, denunciations of ministerial arbitrariness and malfeasance, lettres de cachet, exile and imprisonment of magistrates, the use of military force against civilians, and finally disputes over the form of representation each in turn had center stage. The succession of different issues impinged on political allegiances, and shifting emphases at times produced shifting alliances. In the autumn of 1788, when questions of representation prevailed over demands to limit monarchical authority, an alliance of magistrates, nobles, and the Third Estate against the Crown dissolved, replaced by conflict between Aristocrats and Patriots (also called the National party); Aristocrats and Patriots alternately allied with the Crown, and royalists in turn joined with the one or the other. Supporters and opponents were not fixed into positions, nor did ideas in themselves predetermine future developments and outcomes. The political issues, responses to shifting issues, the voicing of divergent options, and reactions to the decisions of institutions and groups—that is, politics—require analyses sensitive to these several changing and complex features. Relations between the elite and the people/public also requires nuanced treatment. Hostility was not a uniform feature. That relationship had

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multiple features and was at times ambivalent, depending on the issues dominant at any time. Demands for lower taxes, participation in government, and consent to taxes and policies brought cohesion between the noble elite and the broad public in a vertical linkage, with the former as leaders and the latter as supporters and followers. Other issues at other moments— divergent views on representation and privilege—caused division and disunion. In a similar manner, the relationship between an elite of notables within the Third Estate and the peuple alternated between cooperation, in demands for greater representation of the Third Estate collectively, and differences, over representation of particular groups within the Third Estate. The onset of political opposition to the Crown initiated a vertical transmission of political messages from an elite, the Assembly of Notables and sovereign court magistrates, to a large public ranging from nobles and pamphleteers to educated bourgeois and ordinary commoners who were receptive to the criticisms and claims they read and heard. That aristocratic elite unleashed a force they could not contain, and some of whose aims they could not accept. Vertical linkage then gave way to a horizontal dissemination of political messages within an increasingly autonomous Third Estate, and from one local community to another across the kingdom. An intricate web of vertical and horizontal linkages altering over time promoted both shared and contrary aims. The shift from consensus between the nobility and the public to hostility between the aristocracy and the Third Estate provides answers to a problem that has puzzled historians. Revisionism, with its view of similar economic interests and growing social cohesion between nobles and bourgeois, has dethroned the social interpretation with its emphasis on social and economic conflict between the two. In that “revised” social universe how do historians explain the Revolution, as Lynn Hunt once asked, perhaps ironically. Colin Lucas has suggested that status should replace class as the force for division, and Colin Jones has sought to reinvigorate a class interpretation.3 My response is that we should view the beginning of the Revolution from the perspective of politics, but politics neither as theory, nor personal mudslinging, nor doctrinaire ideology.4 Politics in its concrete temporal and social context: political conflict between the nobility and the Third Estate— bourgeoisie and other commoners included—that began with their clash over representation and voting for and in the estates-general. The nobility used their privilege of separate representation to secure their political role,

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and the Third Estate attacked that privilege to rearrange the power balance in the estates-general to their advantage. Separate estates and vote by order would assure maximum representation and distinctive leadership for the nobility, and with veto power the nobility’s control over decisions of the estates-general would be secure. Doubling of the Third Estate (or equal representation) along with vote by head would give to commoners an equal number of votes in relation to the first two estates, and the possibility of gaining majority votes in their favor with the defection of individual nobles or lower clergy. The outcome of this clash between two divergent systems of representation and voting was crucial in determining who would wield greater political influence in lawmaking. Issues of representation and voting explain not only the onset of conflict between the aristocracy and commoners but also its outcome. Doubling of the Third that the Crown authorized on 27 December 1788 signaled a decisive gain for the Third Estate and opened the way to a further bourgeois political victory achieved with vote by head when, on 17 June 1789, the Third Estate transformed its separate chamber into the National Assembly. Political contestation became increasingly ideological over those two years as ideas that earlier were unformed became sharpened and were held more assertively in response to passing events and under the influence of collective memory or myth. Ideas acquired force as they fused in people’s minds with lessons learned from life experiences, that moment and process of fusion being critical in understanding political culture. Political contestation also became increasingly vehement as opposing groups engaged in denunciation and vitriol, criminalizing, demonizing, or ostracizing adversaries: against supporters of the Crown, against supporters of the parlements, members of the Third Estate against aristocrats, and aristocrats against the Third Estate. What historian and political scientist Pierre Rosanvallon termed “Jacobin monism”5 antedated both the appearance of the Jacobins and the years since 1789. Charges of political blasphemy or heresy against opponents alluded to a source of such verbal violence: the belief in a single truth exclusive to one party and rejection of any dissent or deviance, imbibed from the pervading Christian religious culture. To that intellectual formation was added the traumatic experience of civil wars, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that left their imprint on the minds of the French; political disagreements conjured fears of deep division and conflict, epitomized in the dread of a recurrent St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre. The desire to exorcise a past evil nurtured a predisposition to politi-

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cal uniformity. Not ideas alone, but ideas in the minds of people operating in such a political culture bore the potential for political intolerance. Third, politics operated and political messages flowed through the various institutions of civil society. In theory, politics was the monopoly of the absolute monarchy; in practice, the French absolute monarchy operated alongside a dynamic civil society consisting of practices and associations in the public sphere that were not emanations of the central government and that evaded its control; “intermediate institutions” as Montesquieu termed them, but more varied and numerous than he had conceived.6 These included certain principles—the rule of law and the notion of fundamental law—that made the French cognizant of limits on royal government authority. Immediately significant in setting the French on a path to revolution were the multiple means of expression and exchange of ideas through printed and manuscript newspapers and pamphlets, and the gatherings in reading clubs and literary societies, which rested upon expanding literacy in society. The remnants of oral culture—reading aloud, songs, poems, and rumors—as well as festive activities extended political messages to those partly literate or illiterate. Government authority in certain ways also contributed to the vigor of civil society: remonstrances of sovereign courts bred familiarity with the concept of the rule of law; and community assemblies provided the sites for local people to become politically engaged and active. Civil society also had its infrastructure, both public and private: a transportation nexus of roads and canals plus a postal system, both created and maintained by the royal government, permitted the dissemination of writings; and printing presses in many print shops multiplied the political messages the postal system transmitted through the kingdom via roads and canals. These many institutions of civil society helped to forge a political community of shared ideas. Fourth, the year ending in 1788 was pregnant with issues and discussions portending conflicts in the immediate future. Differences over representation and voting would continue to flare up between the first two estates and the Third Estate, but also within the Third Estate. In the early months of 1789 aristocrats and commoners verbally battled on vote by head (all the representatives making decisions by majority vote in a common assembly) or vote by order (each estate casting independent and separate votes). On a lesser scale of gravity, commoners who held no public office contested the claims to a right of representation by officeholders. Gestating for conflict at a later day were the claims of suffrage by the lower classes in the Third

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Estate, and the fears of such democracy among the upper classes, nobles as well as some commoners. Royal sovereignty, not only as a form of centralized governance but in its essence as the exclusive repository of legislative authority, was beginning to be contested by claims for the nation to a shared role, even an exclusive role, in making law and deciding policies. Disappointment with many of the king’s decisions nurtured dissent not alone of the particular policy but of the underlying authority. A daring new vision of royal authority diminished in its lawmaking capacity, even devoid of the power to make law, was being adumbrated, not just in the pages of political theorists but in the minds of a growing number of the French public. Fees that peasants paid to the seigneurial owners of the lands they cultivated were becoming another subject of criticism, still infrequent in the national debate but intermittent among local audiences. Voiced by individuals on behalf of peasants, occasionally by peasants, these laments foreshadowed the greater outcry against seigneurial fees in cahiers from peasant parishes and the outburst of peasant jacqueries in the winter, spring, and summer of 1789. These verbal forewarnings underscore the strong antipathy among ancien régime peasants to the burdens of seigneurialism and the presence of a force that soon was to explode. At the other pole, the fierce opposition by nobles to the reform of seigneurial fees, expressed in provincial estates, signaled an oncoming counterrevolution. Finally, from the Assembly of Notables in 1787 to the local assemblies in 1788, the words “the eighteenth century” and “the end of the eighteenth century” were heard. These words alluded to two experiences that framed the consciousness of many in the French public: the Enlightenment and peace. In the broadest sense, the Enlightenment gave to French men and women a desire to know and a sense of confidence in their ability to know and to act on their knowledge and thoughts, which nurtured a desire to be more autonomous in society and in relation to government. That was the deep undercurrent of sentiment and thought that stimulated attachment to particular principles of liberty and equality and the quest for involvement in public affairs. Individuals might have had preferences for the ideas of one philosophe or another, but beyond Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Voltaire was a newly gained assurance that stirred them to political maturity and to seek ways of self-government. External conditions were also conducive to promoting this new outlook. For the French, the eighteenth century as it drew to a close was a time of unprecedented peace. Each previous century

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for at least five hundred years had witnessed warfare, foreign or civil, close to home. The French government and its armies and navies were still involved in wars in the eighteenth century; but, since 1714, no wars had been fought on French territory. And with the end of the American Revolution in 1783, and France’s involvement in it, there was actual peace. A sense of security reinforced the confidence that philosophy had bequeathed. In the absence of danger from war a peace dividend accrued, a belief that in those altered conditions the French could govern themselves, that they no longer needed an absolute monarch to protect them from enemies and danger no longer imminent. In July 1788 the maréchal de Vaux, undoubtedly reflecting on the tumult in Dauphiné where he was sent as military commander, wrote these prescient words to the minister, the comte de Brienne: Two hundred years ago . . . the French people had military energy because of continual wars and their poverty; today they know the advantage of repose and of tranquility, in the work of agriculture they employ themselves without fear of interior vexations; if you deign, Monsieur le Comte, to reflect on this discourse.7

appendix a

Chronology

1787 22 February

Opening session of the first Assembly of Notables.

23 February

Controller-general Calonne presented the Crown’s reform proposals, the principal reforms being the establishment of provincial assemblies and a new land tax on all persons and land. Calonne revealed the existence of a deficit in the government’s finances.

2 March

Special meeting of Calonne with deputies of the seven bureaux; Calonne stated the deficit was higher than first announced.

31 March–1 April

Publication and dissemination of the Crown’s reform proposals and of the Avertissement implying the Notables’ approval of the land tax reform.

9 April

Dismissal of Calonne.

1 May

Loménie de Brienne appointed minister and in charge of the government’s finances.

9 May

Loménie de Brienne acceded to the Notables’ demand and modified the land tax reform, fixing its amount and duration.

25 May

Closing session of the first Assembly of Notables.

June

Establishment of new provincial assemblies in provinces that had no provincial estates; doubling of the Third Estate to equal the number of nobles and clergy combined and voting by head. Two other reforms introduced: freedom of the grain trade and conversion of the labor service (corvée) into a money payment.

26 July

Remonstrance of the Parlement of Paris rejecting the proposed stamp tax and the reformed land tax; publicly 373

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Appendix A demanded the calling of an estates-general that alone could consent to taxes.

15 August

Exile of the Paris parlement to the city of Troyes.

20 September Return of the Paris parlement to the capital. Instead of the stamp tax and the land tax, the parlement accepted the continuation of the two vingtième taxes, the second vingtième prolonged until 1792. 19 November Royal session in the Paris parlement. Louis XVI abruptly concluded the vote in the parlement against a government loan and declared the loan legally sanctioned. Exile of duc d’Orléans and arrest of two magistrates for their opposition to the king’s act. Criticism of lettres de cachet and government arbitrariness.

1788 29 January

Civil status granted to Protestants

8 May

May edicts: jurisdiction of the parlementary courts drastically limited; Plenary Court to replace parlements in registering laws; grands bailliages courts assumed much of the jurisdiction of the parlements in smaller geographical areas; final elimination of torture; right of counsel guaranteed; right of appeal against death sentences; jurisdiction of administrative bodies vested in regular courts. Closing of sovereign courts by the military and exile of magistrates undermined benefits of reforms: legal unity, courts less distant from litigants, and end of torture. Wide-scale opposition to the edicts; the Assembly of the Clergy drastically reduced its “free gift” to the Crown.

7 June

Day of Tiles in Grenoble, to prevent departure of the parlement.

5 July

Government arrêt asked the French to explore documents on estates-general in the past and to advise on formation of a reconvened estates-general.

21 July

Assembly of Vizille met in Dauphiné; call for a provincial estates with doubling of the Third Estate and vote by head. Calls in a number of provinces for reform of existing provincial estates and re-establishment of former provincial estates on the same model as that of Dauphiné.

8 August

Government arrêt convening estates-general for 1 May 1789.

Appendix A

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16 August

Salaries of government functionaries and interest payments to government creditors to be paid partly in treasury notes (i.e., paper money) instead of specie. Opposition caused the government to rescind this measure. Government finances seriously depleted; fear of bankruptcy.

25 August

Dismissal of Loménie de Brienne as minister; reappointment of Jacques Necker as minister and in charge of finances.

14 September

Dismissal of Lamoignon as keeper of the seals (i.e., minister of justice).

23 September

Revocation of the May edicts; grands bailliages courts and Plenary Court terminated. All the sovereign courts re-established with full jurisdiction. Paris parlement reopened.

25 September

Parlement registered edict convening estates-general for 1 May 1789; magistrates stated that the estatesgeneral should be organized on the model of the last estates-general in 1614. Flood of books and pamphlets on the estates-general; Aristocratic party favored equal number of representatives for each order and separate voting of the three orders; Patriot or National party favored Third Estate representation equal in number to those of the clergy and nobility combined, and vote by head.

5 October

Reconvening of the second Assembly of Notables.

October–November

Festivities in the provinces to celebrate the return of parlements.

6 November–12 December

Second Assembly of Notables in session; only one bureau voted in favor of doubling of the Third Estate and vote by head; five of the six bureaux supported an equal number of representatives in each order and separate voting of each estate.

5 December

Paris parlement withdrew its support for the model of the 1614 estates-general.

December

The peers of the realm expressed support for fiscal equality. The Mémoire of the royal princes (excluding the comte de Provence and the duc d’Orléans)

376

Appendix A excoriated the Third Estate. The Paris parlement and some provincial parlements prohibited the signing of petitions supporting the demands of the Third Estate.

27 December The Result of the Royal Council granted doubling of the Third Estate; no decision on whether voting in the estates-general to be by order or by head. Promise of provincial estates throughout France.

appendix b

Contemporary Accounts of Fêtes, 1787–1788

Auvergne [Jean] Tiolier, [avocat conseiller], “Notes par moy tenues sur les événements de la ville de Clermont depuis 1772 jusques en 1789.” BM, Clermont-Ferrand, ms. 701 (A.117a).

Béarn Récit de ce qui s’est passé à Pau, le 13 juillet 1788, à l’arrivée de Monsieur le duc de Guiche: et harangue du Peuple Béarnois en lui présentant le berceau d’Henri IV. BNF, Lb39 611. Détail de ce qui s’est passé à Pau depuis le départ de M. le duc de Guiche et de M. le comte de Gramont son frère, jusqu’à la nouvelle de la réintégration prochaine du Parlement, appelé à Versailles par ordre de Sa Majesté, avec tout ce qui a suivi jusqu’au 16 septembre 1788 (1788). BL, R 252, no. 33. Détail de ce qui s’est passé à Pau, à la rentrée du Parlement. 14 octobre 1788. BNF, Lb39 656. Discours prononcé le 2 septembre 1788, par le peuple de Pau, à Monsieur le marquis de Lons, maréchal des camps et armeés du Roi, lieutenant pour Sa Majesté en Navarre et Béarn (1788). BNF, Lb39 654. Récit de ce qui s’est passé à Pau en Béarn, le 19, 20 et 21 juin 1788. In Réclamations de la noblesse de Navarre, et arrêt du Parlement, du 19 juin 1788. Suivi du récit de ce qui s’est passé à Pau le 21 juin (Pau, 1788). CUSC, 1788F, F845. Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Pau depuis le 16 septembre, terme de notre précédent récit, jusqu’au retour du Parlement, ce devant appellé à Versailles, et actuellement rentré dans ses fonctions par ordre de Sa Majesté, avec tous ce qui a suivi jusqu’au 6 novembre 1788 (Pau [1788]). BL, R 252, no 34. 377

378

Appendix B

Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Pau, à l’arrivée de M. le duc de Guiche et M. le comte de Gramont, son frère. En juillet 1788, including Discours à Monsieur le Guiche par le peuple (July 1788). BL, R 252, no. 30. Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Pau depuis le 19 juin 1788, jusqu’au 2 juillet suivant, “Imprimerie P. Daumon, Forcé” (Pau, [1788]). BL, R 252, no. 26.

Brittany [Amand du Coüedic], Précis historique de ce qui s’est passé à Rennes depuis l’arrivée de M. le comte de Thiard, commandant en Bretagne (1788), and idem, Suite du Précis historique de ce qui s’est passé à Rennes depuis l’arrivée de M. le comte de Thiard, commandant en Bretagne (1788). Détail de ce qui s’est passé en Bretagne lors de la rentrée du Parlement [1788]. BNF, Y Th20971 (7). AN, K 160, no. 7 (1), “Extait d’une Lettre écrite de Dinan, le première juillet 1788.” Le Gouvernement de Normandie au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle, ed. Célestin Hippeau, 9 vols., vol. 4: Paris et Versailles Journal anecdotique de 1762 à 1789 (Paris, 1869), “Nouvelles à la main” to the duc d’Harcourt, 13 Sept. 1788, 365. [Mettra], Corresondancee littéraire secrète, 8 Nov. 1788, 46: 365, and 4 Dec. 1788, 50: 397.

Burgundy Détail de ce qui s’est passé à la rentrée du Parlement de Dijon le 15 octobre 1788. BNF, Lb39 658. Fête publique qui sera donné à Dijon les 14, 15 et 16 octobre 1788, au sujet de la rentrée du Parlement et des autres cours de cette ville. BNF, Lb39 657. Relation des fêtes publiques données à Dijon, à l’occasion de la rentrée des cours, avec la description du char de triomphe (Dijon, 1788). BNF, Lb39 6604. Le Gouvernement de Normandie au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle, vol. 4: Paris et Versailles Journal anecdotique de 1762 à 1789, “Nouvelles à la main” to the duc d’Harcourt, 18 Sept. 1788, 367.

Champagne Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Meridionale, 17 Oct. 1787, pp. 168–170. Récit de ce qui s’est passé à Troyes, depuis la nouvelle du rétablissement du Parlement 29 septembre 1788. BNF, Lb39 644. Relation de ce que s’est passé dans la ville de Troyes, capitale de la Champagne, au sujet du rétablissement des tribunaux [1788]. BNF, Lb39 645.

Appendix B

379

Dauphiné Affiches de Dauphiné, 25: 221–222, 17 Oct. 1788; 26: 225–227, 24 Oct. 1788; 27: 232–233, 31 Oct. 1788; 28: 237–239, 7 Nov. 1788, 4 and 9 Nov. 1788, p. 244, 21 Nov. 1788, p. 251, 28 Nov. 1788, p. 256, 5 Dec. 1788, p. 262. Récit de ce qui s’est passé à Grenoble, lors de la rentrée du Parlement [12–22 Oct. 1788]. BNF, Lb39 6596. Récit des fêtes données à Grenoble les 12 et 20 octobre, au retour du Parlement. BNF, Lb39 6594. [Relation des troubles de Grenoble, à l’occasion de l’exile du Parlement de Dauphiné] Ce jourd’hui 7 juin 1788 . . . . BNF, Lb39 588. Recueil de divers discours et compliments adressés au Parlement de Dauphiné, à l’occasion de son heureux retour, les trois premiers jours de la reprise de ses séances; savoir les 20, 21 et 22 octobre 1788; ensembles les réponses de cette cour à tous les discours et à tous les compliments qui lui furent adressées ces jours-là [1788]. BNF, Lb39 6994. Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Grenoble le 18 septembre 1788. BNF, Lb39 6549. AN, Ba 44-Dauphiné, 16 Oct. 1788.

Guyenne Le Gouvernement de Normandie au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle, vol. 4: Paris et Versailles Journal anecdotique de 1762 à 1789, “Nouvelles à la main” to the duc d’Harcourt, 18 Sept. 1788, p. 367. Récit de ce que s’est passé à Bordeaux lors de la reprise des fonctions du Parlement et de la Cour des Aides. Des 20, 21, 22 et 23 octobre 1788. BNF, Lb39 660. Relation de ce qui s’est passé dans la ville de Nérac, le 4 novembre 1788, à l’occasion des publication et enregistrement de la déclaration du Roi du 6 octobre dernier (1788). BNF, Lb39 6610.

Languedoc Affiches, Annonces et Avis Divers de Toulouse de du Haut-Languedoc, 22: 86–87, 30 May 1787; 41: 167–168, 8 Oct. 1788; 44: 179, 29 Oct. 1788. Description d’une fête patriotique donnée à Nisme le 29 novembre 1788 par le Tiers État de cette ville. Nismes, 1788. BL, F 1585, no. 6. “L’Heureux Retour,” divertissement en un Acte, mêlé de Vaudeville et d’Ariettes, au sujet de la rentrée du Parlement de Toulouse, par M. Pellet-Desbarreaux; Représenté, pour la premiére fois, sur le Théâtre de cette Ville, le 20 Octobre 1788. BNF, Lb39 6599.

380

Appendix B

Journal de ce qui s’est passé à Toulouse, à l’occasion de la Rentrée du Parlement [1788]. BNF, Lb39 6599. Lettre d’une dévôte de Gascogne à Madame Necker; Suivie de la naissance, la vie et la mort du Grand Bailliage de Toulouse, Poême, auquel on a joint la Relation de ce qui s’est passée à Toulouse à la rentréé du Parlement; avec le Billet d’invitation pour le convoi & funérailles dudit Grand Bailliage. De l’Imprimerie et de l’Imprimeur du dernier Archevêque de Toulouse. [1788]. AN, K 160, no. 6 (36). Lettre d’un habitant de Rodez, à Monsieur ***, Observateur Toulousain. BL, R 2257, no. 10. Relation de la mort tragique du Grand Bailliage de Toulouse, arrivée le 16 octobre 1788, sur la place du Salin de cette ville. BL, R 257, no. 19. AN, K 160, no. 6 (36), nouvelle à la main, 29 June 1788. [Mettra], Correspondance littéraire secrète, 52: 416, 19 Dec. 1788.

Lorraine Affiches des Evêchés et Lorraine, 44: 346–347, 30 Oct. 1788; 45: 354–356, 6 Nov. 1788.

Lyon [Grand bailliage]. Récit de ce qui s’est passé au grand bailliage de Lyon lors de sa rentrée en sénéchaussée et siège présidial, le 3 octobre 1788 (1788). BM Lyon, Fonds Coste, ms. 35054.

Paris [Joseph] Charon, Lettre ou Mémoire historique sur les troubles populaires de Paris. En Août et Septembre 1788 (Londres, 1788). BNF, Lb39 648. Journal pour servir à l’histoire du Dix-Huitième Siècle. 3 vols. (Paris, 1788), 1: 438–439. Relation exacte et detaillée de ce qui s’est passé à Paris, à l’occasion de la retraite de M. de Lamoignon, et des excès auxquels s’est livré la populace, depuis le 14 septembre, jusqu’au mercredi 17, au soir. BNF, Lb39 6547. Le Gouvenement de Normandie au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle, vol. 4: Paris et Versailles Journal anecdotique de 1762 à 1789, nouvelles à la main to the duc d’Harcourt, 5 Sept. 1788, 361–62. AN, K 160, no. 6 (60), “Arrêt des Communes de Paris du 26 août 1788” and AN, K 160, no. 6 (61). BNF, Salle des manuscrits, Joly de Fleury 2114, f. 244.

Appendix B

381

Provence Récit de ce qui s’est passé à Aix à l’occasion de l’arrivée de M. le comte de Caraman, commandant en chef en Provence [1788]. BNF, Lb39 6446. Jean Louis L[aplane], citoyen de Marseille. Mémorial de Marseille ou Recueil de plusieurs événements remarquables arrivés en cette ville. Second cahier qui comprend les années 1787 & 1788, ainsi qu’une partie de 1789, principalement pour l’élection de nos députés aux états-généraux de Royaume (Marseille, 1789). AD, Bouche-du-Rhône, 8 F 2. AN, K 160, no. 6 (35), [nouvelles à la main] “D’Aix le 11 juin” [1788]; AN, K 160, no. 6 (36), nouvelle à la main, 20 June 1788.

Touraine BNF, Salle des manuscrits, ms. fr., 6687, Siméon-Prosper Hardy, “Mes Loisirs, ou Journal d’événemens tels qu’ils parviennent à ma connaissance,” vol. 7, fs. 128–129, 30 Oct. 1788.

Trois Evêchés Affiches des Evêchés et Lorraine, 42: 329, 16 Oct. 1788; 43: 338–339, 23 Oct. 1788.

Notes

Abbreviations Libraries and Archives AAE, Mém. et Doc. AD AD, M-et-M AM, Lyon A de P AN, AP BA BHVP BL BM BM, Lyon BNF BNF, F. fr. BNF, ms. fr. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. BSE CUSC EMHL

Archives des Affaires Etrangères, Mémoires et Documents Archives Départementales Archives Départementales, Meurthe-et-Moselle Archives Municipales, Lyon Archives de Paris Archives Nationales, Archives Privées Bibliotheque de l’Arsenal Bibliothèque Historique de la Ville de Paris British Library Bibliothèque Mazarine Bibliothèque Municipale, Lyon Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Fonds français Manuscrits français Nouvelles acquisitions françaises Bibliothèque de la Société Eduenne Columbia University, Seligman Collection Eleutherian Mills Historical Library, Greenville, Delaware Periodicals

AHR AHRF Annales: ESC BHSA

American Historical Review Annales: Historique de la Révolution Française Annales: Economies, Sociétés, Civilisations Bulletin historique et scientifique de l’Auvergne 383

384

Notes to Pages 1–5 DHS FHS FH JMH P and P RA RH RHRF RHMC

Dix-Huitième Siècle French Historical Studies French History Journal of Modern History Past and Present Revue d’Auvergne Revue Historique Revue Historique de la Révolution Française Revue d’Histoire Moderne et Contemporaine Nouvelles à la Main

CLS Corr. sec.

Correspondance littéraire secrète Correspondance secrète inédite sur Louis XVI, MarieAntoinette, la cour et la ville de 1777 à 1792

Introduction 1. Jean Egret, La Pré-Révolution française (1787–1788) (Paris, 1962), and Alexis de Tocqueville, L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution, vol. 2, Fragments et notes inédites sur la Révolution, ed. André Jardin (Paris, 1953). 2. Albert Mathiez, The French Revolution ([Paris, 1922], New York, 1964), 16–29; Georges Lefebvre, The Coming of the French Revolution ([Paris, 1939], New York, 1958), part I, 7–34; and Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, passim, and in particular 290–305. 3. The most accessible synthesis of the varied interpretations of the origins of the French Revolution may be found in William Doyle, Origins of the French Revolution (Oxford, 1999). 4. Lawrence Stone, “The Revival of Narrative: Reflections on a New Old History,” Past and Present, 85 (Nov. 1979), pp. 14–15, stated: “The traditional history of ideas is . . . being directed into a study of the changing audience and means of communication . . . the diffusion of ideas and the transformation of values.” 5. Keith Michael Baker, Inventing the French Revolution (Cambridge, 1990); Lynn Hunt, Politics, Culture, and Class in the French Revolution (Berkeley, Calif., 1984); Sarah Maza, Private Lives and Public Affairs: The Causes Célèbres of Prerevolutionary France (Berkeley, Calif., 1993); Robert Darnton, The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France (New York, 1995); François Furet, Penser la Révolution française (Paris, 1978), 212–259; and François Furet and Ran Halévi, “L’Année 1789,” Annales: ESC (Jan.–Feb. 1989), no. 1, pp. 3–24. 6. Historians owe Pierre Rétat and Jean Sgard a debt of gratitude for initiating and inspiring the study of many forms of the periodical press as well as manuscript

Notes to Pages 5–11

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

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newsletters through the several colloquia they sponsored and books they published. See text at ch. 4, notes 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 11, and 42; ch. 5, note 1; ch. 7, notes 11 and 42; ch. 8, note 27; and ch. 9, note 6. Stone, “The Revival,” p. 17: “the concern for what was going on inside people’s heads . . . [is] characteristic of a fresh way of looking at history. The method is . . . a pointilliste way of writing history.” Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society, trans. Thomas Burger and Frederic Lawrence ([1962], Cambridge, Mass., 1999), pp. xvii–xviii, 27–43, 67–69; and Baker, Inventing the French Revolution. I refer the reader to: Jeremy Popkin, News and Politics in the Age of Revolution: Jean Luzac’s “Gazette de Leyde” (Ithaca, 1989); William Sewell, A Rhetoric of Bourgeois Revolution: The Abbé Sieyès and “What Is the Third Estate?” (Durham, 1994); Dale K. Van Kley, The Religious Origins of the French Revolution from Calvin to the Civil Constitution, 1560–1791 (New Haven, 1996); and idem, “The Jansenist Constitutional Legacy in the French Prerevolution,” in The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, vol. 1, 441–467. Darnton presents his argument on pre-Revolutionary pornographic writings and personal diatribes most extensively in The Forbidden Best-Sellers of PreRevolutionary France. Alexis de Tocqueville gave priority to the principle of equality as the motive and aim of the French before 1789 and during the Revolution in the first volume of L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution, in Oeuvres complètes, ed. J.-P. Mayer (Paris, 1952), as well as in the second volume of uncompleted notes (see n. 1 above).

1. Paths to Political Consciousness This chapter originated as a paper presented to the Fifth International Congress of the Enlightenment (August–September 1979) and to the Columbia University Seminar in the History of Political and Legal Thought. An expanded version, “Paths to Political Consciousness: The Assembly of Notables of 1787 and the ‘Pre-Revolution’ in France” appeared in French Historical Studies 13 (Spring 1984) 3:323–355, copyright 1984 by the Society for French Historical Studies, reprinted with permission of Duke University Press, Durham, N.C. The questions of William Doyle and John Rogister spurred me to further thought; Elizabeth Eisenstein, Roger Hahn, and Carlo Poni read and commented on different versions of the article. I want to thank them all. 1. AN, C 1 (2), fs. 40–136; AN, C 5 (16) no. 1, fs. 1–3 and no. 2, fs. 1–2; and AN, K 677, no. 123, “Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables tenue par S. Mte Louis 16 le

386

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Notes to Pages 11–12 jeudi 22 février 1787.” The membership of the seven bureaux is listed in AN, C 5 (15), no. 1, f. 3. For the operations of the general assemblies and the bureaux, see AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier contenant la copie des instructions et des réponses du Roi,” fs. 3–6. See also section Prior to the Meeting in Chapter 1. Evidence in the manuscripts indicates a varying number (8 to 14) of assemblies of Notables in the past. See: BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, “Mémoires historiques sur les Assemblées des Notables de 1557, 1596, 1617 et 1626 par M. de Villiers du Terrage, premier commis de finances, mars 1787,” and Loménie de Brienne, “Analyse des assemblées des notables de 1525, 1526, 1527, 1529, . . . 1596, . . . 1617, . . . 1626,” fs. 153–297, and AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1400, fs. 342–362. For a historical account of earlier assemblies of Notables, see J. Russell Major, Representative Government in Early Modern France (New Haven, 1980), passim. For the selection of members to this Assembly of Notables, see: AN, C 1, t. 2, fs. 2–31 and 35; C 5 (16), f. 1; K 164, no. 4, fs. 16–18, 23, and 33; K 677, nos. 6–9, 20, 102, 116; and the Calonne papers, AN, 297 AP 3 (263 Mi 3), nos. 7–10, 13–16, 20, 28–29. Lafayette, because he held a court sinecure, was initially excluded; his strong objections and persistent solicitations won him a place as a Notable. The category of noblesse designated military officers, twenty-eight of whom were also gouverneurs, commandants en chef, or lieutenants généraux in provinces, and six were also peers. Among the deputies of provincial estates the clergy, nobility, and Third Estate each had four representatives. In the Assembly of Notables of 1626 there were twelve ecclesiastics, five chevaliers de l’ordre, five councilors of state, twenty-seven sovereign court judges, and one municipal representative, the prévôt des marchands of Paris. See AN, 297 AP 3 (263 Mi 3), no. 14, “Assemblée des Notables tenue en 1626 aux Thuileries,” f. 4. This calculation is based on a genealogical study of the Notables drawn largely from manuscript sources found at the BNF, Salle des manuscrits, Cabinet des titres: Pièces originales, Dossiers bleus, Carrés d’Hozier, Nouveau d’Hozier, Clairambault, Manuscrits français, and Nouvelles acquisitions françaises; and also from some printed genealogies and biographical dictionairies. One Notable, the procureur général of the parlement in Rennes, was the son of La Chalotais, the Crown’s chief adversary in Brittany in the 1760s; Calonne was on the royal commission that brought about the imprisonment of both father and son. For contemporaries’ comments on Calonne see: AD, M-et-M, Nancy, W 1101 (6), “Journal particulier du Président de Coeurderoy ou Mémoire sur l’Assemblée des Notables qui a eu lieu à Versailles depuis le 22 février 1787 jusqu’au 24 may jour de la clôture de la ditte assemblée,” fs. 1–12; Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables de 1787 par le comte de Brienne et Etienne Charles de Loménie de Brienne, ed. Pierre Chevallier (Paris, 1960), 118–119, 125–133, 136–138; and abbé J.-P. Papon, Histoire du gouvernement français, depuis

Notes to Pages 13–16

7.

8.

9. 10. 11.

12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17.

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l’Assemblée des Notables tenue le 22 février 1787 jusqu’à la fin de décembre de la même année (London, 1789), 3–4, 16–17. Daniel Wick, A Conspiracy of Well-Intentioned Men: The Society of Thirty and the French Revolution (New York, 1987), 126–145, argues that members of the high nobility, including Lafayette, were alienated from the royal court because of their loss of power and patronage. The contributions of some of those court nobles in the debates of the Notables (see ch. 2) indicate motives other than personal resentment behind their opposition to the Crown’s policies. 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (2), f. 526; AN, C 1 (3), f. 33; AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 78, 91, 94; the correspondence of Gérard, prêteur-royal of Strasbourg, ibid., fs. 177–193, 196–206, 209–213, 222–224, 234–235, 240–241, 251–252, 257–262, 286–291; and Tolozan de Montfort, mayor of Lyon, AM, Lyon, fonds AA 63, fs. 102–104; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3976, fs. 158, 161–162, and 915–918; and Coeurderoy, AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), fs. lff.; 3: AN, C 2 (6), fs. 1–5 and compte rendu (report) of the conference of 2 March by Vidaud de la Tour, fs. 3–5; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), f. 2; and 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), f. 29; and “Lettres de Claude Huez, maire de Troyes, deputé à l’Assemblée des Notables,” in La Révolution dans l’Aube, ed. Octave Beuve (Troyes, 1908–1912), 2: 50–52, 56–59. “Lettres de Claude Huez,” 52. AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), f. 11. For the genealogy of the Loménie de Brienne family see: BNF, Salle des manuscrits, Cabinet des titres, Chérin 123; François Alexandre Aubert de La Chesnaye-Desbois, Dictionnaire de la noblesse (Paris, 1863–1876); and M. Michaud, Biographie universelle ancienne et moderne (rev. ed., Paris, 1843). BNF, Chérin 123, fs. 7, 14, 28–29; for Loménie’s income as archbishop see Almanach Royal, 1788, and for his other church holdings see abbé G. Cormary, Loménie de Brienne à Toulouse (1763–1788) (Albi, 1935), 3. Cormary, Loménie de Brienne, passim. BNF, F. fr. 8129, “Mémoire sur la mendicité,” fs. 244–287, as well as “Projets et opérations depuis 1764 jusqu’à 1776,” f. 119, attributed to Loménie. I owe a debt of gratitude to Professor Thomas M. Adams, who generously provided me with copies of his transcriptions of these documents. He discusses the social policy contained in this memorandum in “Turgot, Mendicité et réforme hospitalière: l’Apport d’un mémoire inédit,” Actes du 99e Congrès National des Sociétés Savantes (Besançon, 1974), Section d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, vol. 2 (Paris, 1976), 343–357; and idem, Bureaucrats and Beggars: French Social Policy in the Age of the Enlightenment (New York, 1990), 136–142. BNF, F. fr. 8129, f. 119, and “Note sur ce recueil: Extrait des lois sur la mendicité,” ibid., f. 3. BNF, F. fr., 8129, f. 247. Ibid., fs. 256, 274–279, 281.

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Notes to Pages 16–21

18. Thomas M. Adams, “Mendicity and Moral Alchemy: Work as Rehabilitation,” Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, vol. 151 (1976), 55–58. 19. BNF, F. fr. 8129, fs. 257, 272ff., 276, 280, 284, 286. 20. For Loménie de Brienne see BNF, nouv. acq. fr. 23615, which includes his analysis of the history of earlier assemblies of notables (fs. 153–297); for the comte de Brienne see AN, 4 AP 188, passim, especially the historical essay nos. 13–14 and 38. The journals the two brothers kept for part of the duration of the Assembly are in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, which also includes two of Loménie’s memoirs plus memoirs by several other Notables. 21. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, in particular fs. 188–189, 280, 292–294, 296–297; included is the manuscript by Villiers du Terrage. 22. For the genealogy of the Boisgelin family, and the archbishop’s career and wealth, see: BNF, Chérin 30 (f. 48, “partage des biens, 15 novembre 1776, Perron, notaire Paris Chatelet”); Almanach Royal, 1788; J. Balteau, M. Barroux, M. Prevost, Dictionnaire de biographie française (Paris, 1933); François Bluche, Les Honneurs de la cour (Paris, 1957); La Chesnaye-Desbois, Dictionnaire de la noblesse; Michaud, Biographie universelle; J. Robinet, A. Robert, J. Le Chaplain, eds., Dictionnaire historique et biographique de la Révolution et de l’Empire, 1789–1815 (Paris, 1899); F. Saulnier, Le Parlement de Bretagne, 1554–1790, répertoire alphabétique et biographique de tous les membres de la cour accompagnée de listes chronologiques, 2 vols. (Rennes, 1909), 1: 100ff.; and abbé E. Lavaquery, Le Cardinal de Boiseglin, 1732–1804 (Angers, 1920), 183–187 for Boisgelin’s wealth. 23. AN, M 788, the correspondence of Boisgelin with the comtesse de Gramont: nos. 177 and 12, letters dated 4 and 5 Jan., 1787, and nos. 22, 93 “art. secret,” 94, 4, 100, and 57. A. Cans published some of these letters in “Lettres de M. de Boisgelin à la comtesse de Gramont,” Revue historique 79 (1902), 316–323 and 80 (1902), 65–77, 301–317. 24. AN, M 788, nos. 28, 210, letter dated “à Aix, 29 janvier 1783,” nos. 211 and 213. See Bibliothèque Sainte-Genevieve, Salle de la réserve, ms. 2520 for the correspondence Boisgelin received as archbishop of Aix. (My thanks to John Rogister for informing me of this collection.) See also Francois-Xavier Emmanuelli, Pouvoir royal et vie régional en Provence au déclin de la monarchie, 2 vols. (Lille, 1974), 1: 100–103. 25. Lavaquery, 297–304; according to Lavaquery, the manuscript may have been completed in 1785 (p. 297, n. 4). See Elizabeth Eisenstein, “Some Conjectures About the Impact of Printing on Western Society and Thought: A Preliminary Report,” Journal of Modern History 40 (March 1968), 53, for interesting insights on “interior dialogues”; see also Roger Chartier’s comments on “silent reading” in “L’Ancien régime typographique: Reflexions sur quelques travaux récents,” Annales: ESC 36 (March–April 1981), 2: 207–208.

Notes to Pages 21–29

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26. For Boisgelin’s financial proposals see “Mémoire sur la suppression des caisses intermédiaires” in AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des deliberations,” fs. 91–106. 27. Lavaquery, 301. A similar change in attitude took place among the lower clergy; see Timothy Tackett, Priest and Parish in Eighteenth-Century France: A Social and Political Study of the Curés in a Diocese of Dauphiné, 1750–1791 (Princeton, 1977), 168–169 and ch. 9. 28. Lavaquery, 303. 29. See A. de Mahuet, Biographie de la cour souveraine de Lorraine et Barrois et du parlement de Nancy (1614–1790) (Nancy, 1911), 57–58, and AD, M-et-M, Nancy, W 1101 (1), “Journal du président de Coeurderoy (18e siècle).” Michel Antoine kindly made known to me the existence of this journal. 30. AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), fols. 11 and 18. 31. AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (1), especially fs. 128, 192, and 19ff., and AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), fs. 57–59 and 62. See also Coeurderoy’s financial memoir for the second bureau drafted in early May in AN, C 3 (8), no. 14 (a copy of which is also in the Eleutherian Mills Historical Library in Greenville, Del., W 2–4712). 32. For the Joly de Fleury genealogy see: BNF, Pièces originales, 1585 and Dossiers bleus, 369; François Bluche, L’Origine des magistrats du Parlement de Paris au XVIII e siècle (1715–1771): Dictionnaire généalogique (Paris, 1956). See also Paul Bisson de Barthélémy, L’Activité d’un procureur-général au Parlement de Paris à la fin de l’ancien régime: les Joly de Fleury (Paris, 1964). 33. BNF, fonds Joly de Fleury, mss. 1038–1043, especially mss. 1040 and 1041. 34. Ibid., ms. 1040, fs. 227–228. 35. Ibid., ms. 1040, fs. 295–299, 323–331; ms. 1041, fs. 10–12. 36. Ibid., ms. 1040, fs. 237–249, 251–253, 271–286, 291–293, 311. 37. Ibid., ms. 1038, f. 20; ms. 1040, fs. 255–258, 263–268; ms. 1041, fs. 10–12. 38. At least fifteen Notables, at most seventeen to twenty-two, can be identified as supporters of the Crown. 39. La Gazette de Leyde, entry dated June 5 (no. 48, June 15, 1787). 40. AN, M 788, no. 57, fols. 1–2 (original italics). 41. AN, C 1–5 are the manuscript procès-verbal (minutes) of the bureaux, in summarized form. The published editions entitled “Observations presentées au roi par les Bureaux de l’Assemblée de Notables . . .” include the final responses of the bureaux to the government’s proposals, whereas the publications entitled “Procès-verbal de l’Assemblée de Notables . . .” include the speeches delivered at the general sessions and the projects for reform that Calonne presented. Other sources for the bureaux include the following: 1st. Bur.—the notes of the comte de Brienne (nn. 9 and 23 above) and of Joly de Fleury (n. 36 above), and the journal of Gérard, prêteur-royal of Strasbourg (AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fols. 3–99); 2nd. Bur.—detailed minutes of the bureau (BA, mss. 3975–3976 and 3978, the latter including the minutes of the conference of

390

42. 43. 44. 45.

46.

47.

Notes to Pages 29–31 2 March published by Pierre Renouvin, ed., L’Assemblée des Notables de 1787: La Conférence du 2 mars [Paris, 1920]), the journal and memoranda of Loménie de Brienne and the diary of Coeurderoy (nn. 9 and 23 above), the journal of the duc de Laval (BA, ms. 4546), the letters of Lafayette to George Washington (Mémoires, correspondance et manuscrits du General Lafayette, publiés par sa famille, vol. 1 [Brussels and Paris, 1837], in English translation in The Letters of Lafayette to Washington, 1777–1799, ed. Louis Gottschalk [New York, 1944], 317–347), and two memoranda of the duc de Guines (AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1403, fols. 229–234 and Chevallier, ed., Journal, 111–115); 3rd Bur.—Boisgelin’s letters and memoranda (n. 25 above and Chevallier, ed., Journal, 66–69); 4th Bur.—letters of the comte d’Estaing in ibid., 115–117) and letters of the mayor of Troyes, Huez (n. 10 above); 6th Bur.—notes of the duc de Montmorency-Luxembourg (“Mémoires du duc de MontmorencyLuxembourg, archives du chateau de Chatillon-Coligny,” in Paul Filleul, Le Duc de Montmorency-Luxembourg, premier baron chrétien de France fondateur du Grand Orient: Sa Vie et ses archives [Paris, 1939], 263–293) and a memoir by the mayor of Tours, de la Grandière (BM, 2406, “Pièces relatives à la réforme administrative rédigés par les Notables”); 7th Bur.—the journal of the duc de Mouchy (AN, C 4 (13), “Journal des séances du 7e bureau”), and some memoranda of the duc de Croy (AN, C 3 (7) fols. 209–218, AN, C 5 (15), no. 16, and BM, 2406, “Pièces relatives”). There are also some anonymous memoranda by Notables expressing their reactions to the government’s proposals (AN, K 677, nos. 21, 61, 62, and 137; AN, K 678, no. 115; AN, 4 AP 188, nos. 26–28 and 30; AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1403, fols. 27–28, 210–211, and 235–237; and BM, 2406, “Pièces relatives”). AN, C 3 (7), fol. 3 and AN, M 788, no. 4. The sixth bureau had seven provincial magistrates and the fewest nobles (four). Harry C. Payne, The Philosophes and the People (New Haven, 1976). See, for example, Correspondance secrète inédite sur Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, la cour et la ville de 1777 à 1792, ed. M. de Lescure, 2 vols. (Paris, 1866), 2: 95–97 and 107, and Mémoires secrets pour servir à l’histoire de la république des lettres en France, depuis MDCCLXII jusqu’à nos jours, vol. 34 (1787), 201–204 See, as examples: Mémoirs secrets, vols. 34 and 35; [Mallet du Pan], Journal historique et politique des principaux événements de temps présent ou esprit des gazettes et journaux politiques de toute l’Europe, 1787; Bulletin à la main, 1787 (BN, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225); Correspondance secrète, vol. 2; and BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Siméon-Prosper Hardy, “Mes Loisirs, ou Journal d’événements tels qu’ils parviennent à ma connaissance,” vol. 7. For instructions to the bureaux on maintaining secrecy in their debates see AN, C 1 (2), fols. 204–205. AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), fol. 13.

Notes to Pages 31–34

391

48. See A. Goodwin, “Calonne, the Assembly of French Notables of 1787 and the Origins of the ‘Révolte Nobiliaire,’ ” English Historical Review 261 (Sept. 1946), 354–363, and Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 41–46, for the disputes surrounding Calonne’s speech of 12 March and the Avertissement of 31 March–1 April. For the Notables’ response to the Avertissement see Vivian R. Gruder,“Les Notables à la fin de l’Ancien Régime: L’Avertissement de 1787,” DHS 14 (1982), 45–56. 49. For models of social and political attitudes among the nobility see Furet, Penser la Révolution française, 150, and for models of intellectual outlooks see Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, 109–127. 50. Coeurderoy in AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), fols. 71–72; Gérard in AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fol. 91; BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, fol. 10, entry dated 5 March; and La Gazette de Leyde, news report dated 15 March (supplement to no. 24, 23 March 1787). 51. See n. 2 above for the history of assemblies of Notables, and in addition J. Russell Major, Bellièvre, Sully and the Assembly of Notables of 1596, Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, new series, vol. 64, part 2 (Philadelphia, 1974), as well as his other works on the estates-general. For a contrast with the expressly corporatist demands made during the Fronde see Roland Mousnier, Les Institutions de la France sous la monarchie absolue (1598–1789), vol. 1, Société et état (Paris, 1974), 160–162; R. Mousnier, J.-P. Labatut, Y. Durand, Problèmes de stratification sociale: deux cahiers de la noblesse pour les États généraux de 1649–1651 (Paris, 1965); and A. Lloyd Moote, The Revolt of the Judges: The Parlement of Paris and the Fronde, 1643–1652 (Princeton, 1971). 52. See, for example, Ély Carcassonne, Montesquieu et le problème de la constitution française au XVIII siècle (Paris, 1927); Jean Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire, 1715–1774 (Paris, 1970); Daniel Mornet, Les Origines intellectuelles de la Révolution française, 1715–1787 ([Paris, 1933], Paris, 1967); Denis Richet, “Autour des origines lointaines de la Révolution française: Élite et despotisme,” Annales: ESC, 24 (Jan.–Feb. 1969), 1:1–23; Lionel Rothkrug, Opposition to Louis XIV: The Political and Social Origins of the French Enlightenment (Princeton, 1965); and Bailey S. Stone, The Parlement of Paris, 1774–1789 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1981), 80–88, 94–96, 129–130, 141–142.

2. Privilege, Property, and Participation This chapter first appeared in an abbreviated article, “ ‘No Taxation Without Representation’: The Assembly of Notables of 1787 and the ‘Pre-Revolution’ in France,” Legislative Studies Quarterly 7:2 (May 1982), and in an extended version, “A Mutation in Elite Political Culture: The French Notables and the Defense of Property and Participation, 1787,” Journal of Modern History 56 (December 1984), pp. 598–634, copyright 1984 by The University of Chicago. All rights

392

Notes to Pages 34–37

reserved. My thanks to Keith Michael Baker for his valuable comments on the latter publication. 1. Documentary sources: AN, K 164, no. 42A, fs. 18–19, 23–26, and AN, K 677, no. 138 (both published in Hans Glagau, Reformversuche und Sturz des absolutismus in Frankreich [1774–1788] [Munich, 1908], 352–375). 2. 2 AN, K 164, no. 42A, fs. 22–23. 3. For the king’s supervision of Calonne’s selection of members to the Assembly of Notables, see AN, 297 AP 3 (263 Mi 3), nos. 23 and 29. 4. For the list of reform projects, see AN, C I (2), fs. 201–204, and AN, K 677, no. 135. 5. Each of the seven bureaux was headed by a prince of the blood and had members drawn from each of the categories represented among the Notables. 6. Goodwin, “Calonne, the Assembly of French Notables,” 202–234, 329–377; and Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 5–61. 7. For the land tax proposal, see AN, C I (2), fs. 161–176. In the meeting on 2 March with deputies from the seven bureaux, Calonne presented a table with calculations of the disproportionate provincial tax levies that Necker had published in 1784. See AAE, Mém. et Doc., Fr., 1402, f. 117 and also f. 17v; L’Assemblée des Notables de 1787: La conférence du 2 mars, ed. Pierre Renouvin (Paris, 1920), 42; Jacques Necker, L’Administration des finances de la France, 3 vols. (Paris, 1784), 1: 166–167. Taxes ranged from 12 livres per capita (Brittany and Lorraine) to 30 livres (the généralité of Lyon), the median being 19 livres (Provence, Burgundy, the Three Bishoprics), while in the généralité of Paris it was 64 livres per capita. Most pays d’élections were in the higher category and most pays d’états or provinces recently incorporated in the kingdom were in the lower category. The most outspoken defenders of provincial privilege among the Notables were from provinces in the lower half of this scale. 8. 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 6ff. and fs. 107–109, 169V, and AN, 4 AP 188, no. 66; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3976, fs. 314–317, 376–377, 683–685, 1023ff. and BA, ms. 3978, fs. 187ff., AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1403, no. 171, and EMHL, W2–4712; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), beginning with the session of 28 Feb. and “Cahier des délibérations,” f. 45 and fs. 80ff.; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), f. 9 and fs. 86–94, AN, C 4 (11), beginning with the session of 27 Feb. and fs. 24–34 and 69; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), beginning with the session of 28 Feb. and fs. 129–137 and 169–170; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), beginning with the session of 28 Feb. and fs. 23–43 and 52–53; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), beginning with the session of 28 Feb. and fs. 94ff. and 153–156. See the bureaux’ final statements on 23 May. 9. See Calonne’s explanation of different taxes on different qualities of land in la conférence du 2 mars, 50–52. For contemporary support of taxes proportioned to wealth see “Impôt” in Encyclopédie Méthodique: Finances (Paris, 1785), 2: 535.

Notes to Page 37

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10. These included: no tax exemptions through ennobling offices (third and seventh bureaux); payment by all proprietors of the money tax to replace the corvée (second, third, and fourth bureaux); and no exemption of nobles, clergy, and magistrates from the proposed new capitation tax (first, second, and sixth bureaux). See 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 10–11, 24–25, 62, 63, 65, 107v, 156, 166–170, BA, ms. 3978, f. 730, and the journal of comte de Brienne in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 28; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3975, fs. 683, 690, 698 ff., BA, ms. 3976, fs. 77–80, 136–165, 301ff., 332–334, 337, 839–840, 1001ff., 1016–1019, 1021–1023, 1025ff., 1035–1036, 1059, 1069, BA ms. 3978, fs. 242, 620, 624–625, 650, 657, 659, 684–685, 689–690, 738, 743, 754; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6) “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 4–6, 8, 10–11, 45–49, 66, 84–86, 88, BA, ms. 3978, f. 754; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), fs. 9, 86–94, 115, AN, C 4 (11), fs. 25ff., 62, 98–101, BA, ms. 3978, f. 724; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 28, 32–33, 35, 54, 57–58, 87–89, 172–174, 179–180, AN, C 3 (10), no. 19, fs. 6–18; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 6–8, 34ff., 51–57, 60–61, 65, BA, ms. 3978, fs. 745, 747; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 27, 42ff., 51ff., 55, 101–112, 134, 135–138, 144–154, BA, ms. 3978, fs. 743, 745, 747. 11. Four out of seven bureaux tacitly accepted the Crown’s proposals to exempt clergy, nobles, and magistrates from the new capitation tax and the money tax to replace the corvée. The Notables also did not question the financing of poor relief from the taille, from which they were legally exempt. The arguments of three Notables in defense of fiscal privilege are documented: Le Blanc de Castillon (procureur général of the Parlement of Aix), Angran d’Alleray (lieutenant civil of the Paris Châtelet) of the second bureau (BA, ms. 3976, fs. 419–423, 428–429), and Joly de Fleury (procureur général of the Paris parlement) in the first bureau (BN, fonds Joly de Fleury, ms. 1040, fs. 251ff., 271–286, 293). 12. Betty Behrens, “Nobles, Privileges and Taxes in France at the End of the Ancien Régime,” Economic History Review, 2nd ser. (Nov. 1963), 15: 451–475; G. J. Cavanaugh, “Nobles, Privileges and Taxes in France: A Revision Reviewed,” French Historical Studies (Fall 1974), 681–692; and Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, “Pour un modèle de l’économie rurale française au XVIIIe siècle,” Mélanges de l’Ecole Française de Rome: Moyen Age, Temps Modernes 85 (1973–1), 1: 11–12. Peter Mathias and Patrick O’Brien, “Taxes in Britain and France, 1715–1810: A Comparison of the Social and Economic Incidence of Taxation Collected for the Central Governments,” Journal of European Economic History 5, no. 3 (Winter 1976), 601–650. Marcel Marion, Les Impôts directs sous l’Ancien Régime principalement au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1910), 120, calculated that direct taxes in France in 1789 were 40 percent of the total tax receipts. Michael Kwass, Privilege and the Politics of Taxation in Eighteenth-Century France: Liberté, Egalité, Fiscalité (Cambridge, 2000), examined with great detail and clarity the nature of taxation in eighteenth-century France.

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Notes to Pages 38–39

13. See the outcry against the heavy tax weight in the 1780s by the author of the article “Imposition” in the Encyclopédie Méthodique: Finances (1785), 2: 529. The article “Impôt” supports the view that the French paid heavy taxes, especially land taxes, taking into account lower per capita income, than did the English (2: 541, esp. n. 1). 14. Mathias and O’Brien, 612; for land distribution in France, see Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, Carnival in Romans (New York, 1979), 29. Peasants who paid the taille as well as the vingtième, or the substitute land tax, bore a heavier burden. 15. For the nobles’ defense of fiscal privilege in the late sixteenth century and the mid-seventeenth century, see Le Roy Ladurie, Carnival in Romans, and R. Mousnier, J-P. Labatut, and Y. Durand, Problèmes de stratification sociale: deux cahiers de la noblesse 1649–1651. 16. Pierre Goubert, “Société traditionelle et société nouvelle. II. Les groupes dominants: les rentiers du sol,” in Histoire Economique et Sociale de la France, 1660–1789, ed. F. Braudel and E. Labrousse (Paris, 1970), 2: 578–589; and Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, “De la crise ultime à la vrai croissance, 1690–1789,” Histoire de la France Rurale, vol., 2, L’Age Classique des Paysans, 1340–1789 (Paris, 1975), 359–599. 17. All but eight of the Notables bore or had patronyms identifying them as landowners. Archbishops and bishops in the Assembly derived their income from the land, and most were descended from landed noble families. 18. AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, f. 38v; Loménie de Brienne in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 3–12. For criticisms of a tax in kind in the Constitutent Assembly, see René Stourm, Les Finances de l’Ancien Régime et de la Révolution, 2 vols. (Paris, 1885), 1: 114–121. Among historians, see Jean Meuvret, “Comment les Français du XVIIIe siècle voyaient l’impôt,” Etudes d’Histoire Economique (Paris, 1971), 306; and Gabriel Ardant, Théorie sociologique de l’impôt, 2 vols. (Paris, 1965), 1: 212–214, 407–412; and idem, “Financial Policy and Economic Infrastructure of Modern States and Nations,” The Formation of National States in Western Europe, ed. Charles Tilly (Princeton, 1975), 182–183. 19. Mémoirs secrets, 34: 236. 20. In the 1760s and 1770s the Parlement of Dijon opposed a cadastre; see Pierre de Saint-Jacob, Les Paysans de la Bourgogne du nord au dernier siècle de l’ancien régime (Dijon, 1960), 335 and n. 3. For Italian examples and a historical overview of cadastres see Renato Zangheri, Catasti e storia della proprietà terriera (Turin, 1980). 21. Jacques Necker, Compte rendu au roi (1781), 63, referred to his order, when in charge of royal finances, that once land estimates were completed, assessments for the vingtième should remain unchanged for twenty years. 22. EMHL, Winterthur manuscripts, series A, W2–279, fs. 46–47.

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23. La conférence du 2 mars, passim; BA ms. 3978, fs. 724–732; 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 6, 12, 19v, 24–25v, 30v–31, 160–172; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3975, 13 March and ff., fs. 405–486, 513–514, 519ff., 532ff., 544, 556ff., 598–600, 604–606, 616ff., 633ff., 638–639, 643ff., 650–651, 678, 681ff., 690, 693ff., 706–707, and 21 and 23 March, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 915–918, 1023ff.; BA, ms. 3978, fs. 187ff., 478ff., 609ff., 643–649, 683–685, 688; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 7, 18–19, 23–26, 68–69, 88; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), fs. 9, 11–12, 18, 26ff., 33–36, 115 and AN, C 4 (11), fs. 16ff., 25, 62, 71–72, 100; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 17–28, 34, 53ff.; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 2, 7, 11–12, 51; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 16–17, 26, 42–45, 145–146, 158–161, and AN, C 4 (13), fs. 14, 45, 81, 113–121. 24. La conférence du 2 mars, 45, 53, 55. 25. The vingtième, designed as a variable tax, had become a fixed tax in the face of opposition (Marcel Marion, L’Impôt sur le revenu au dix-huitième siècle principalement en Guyenne [Toulouse, 1901], 201–202, 208). Since the 1770s the government was aware of the growing discrepancy between its revenue and rising prices and landed income, and sought ways to gain more revenue from the greater wealth of the land (ibid., 308, 310, 365). 26. The physiocrat marquis de Mirabeau some years earlier criticized “a fluctuating tax scale” (Lavaquery, Le Cardinal de Boisgelin, 124). Arguments similar to those of the Notables were also expressed by the Parlement of Bordeaux in the 1760s (William Doyle, The Parlement of Bordeaux at the End of the Ancien Régime, 1771–1790 [New York, 1974], 222–224), and in “Impôt,” Encyclopédie Méthodique: Finances (1785), 2: 535, 537. The English ambassador, reporting to his government on the proposed tax reform, commented that Calonne was “laying down as a principle (however extraordinary it may appear) that it is not from economy that resources are to be expected but from an augmentation of the revenues” (Despatches from Paris, 1784–1790, ed. Oscar Browning, 2 vols. [London, 1909], 1: 176). The Notables expressed ideas current in their day. 27. 5th Bur. —AN, C 3 (7), f. 168; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 79–81; Loménie de Brienne in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 7–8, 10. An unspecified minority in the second bureau did favor a taxe de quotité (BA, ms. 3976, f. 993). For contemporary views and policies similar to the above, see: Turgot-Dupont de Nemours, “Mémoire sur les municipalités, Septembre 1775, au Roi,” in Carl Friedrichs von Baden Briefleicher Verkehr mit Mirabeau und Du Pont, ed. Carl Knies (Heidelberg, 1892), 1: 257, 259, 277, 282; Ardant, “Financial Policy and Economic Infrastructure,” 210–211 and idem, Théorie sociologique de l’impôt, 1: 200–204, 218–232, 463, 473–475, 477–480; Georges Freche, “Compoix, propriété foncière, fiscalité et demographie historique en pays de taille réelle (XVIe–XVIIIe siècles),” RHMC 18 (July–Sept. 1971), 321–353, especially 337; Marion, Les Impôts directs, 44, 45 n. l, 108–109,

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28. 29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

Notes to Pages 42–43 160, 169, 327–334, 370–371; Jean Villain, Le Recouvrement des impôts directs sous l’ancien régime (Paris, 1952), 279–282; Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations, ed. Edwin Cannan (London, 1961), 2: 350–351. AN, M 788, no. 92, f. 1. For the Notables’ debates on financial reforms: 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 107109, 115–118, 151, 164 f.; AN, 4 AP 188, no. 66; Gérard, AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 66 and 73; comte de Brienne, AN, 4 AP 188, nos. 13–14, 38, 21, 46, 47, 48, 64–65, and in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 27; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3976, fs. 320ff., 448ff., 455ff., 472ff.; BA, ms. 4546, fs. 74–75; AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1403, f. 171; Loménie de Brienne, BN, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, fs. 177ff., 185–186, 195 and Public Record Office (PRO), (London), PC 1/125, X, 1/7470, fs. 276ff.; Coeurderoy, AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), “Journal particulier,” fs. 46ff.; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 50–56, and archbishop of Aix, “Mémoire sur la suppression des caisses intermédiaires,” fs. 91–106; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), fs. 98, 100–103, AN, C 4 (11), fs. 39–41, 47–51, 54–55; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 129–137, 148ff., 150–154, 160–162, 181; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 32–47, 63, 67–68; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 94–95, 101–109, 120–121, 129–130. Necker’s L’Administration des finances de la France is filled with recommendations for government economies. 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3976, fs. 294–295; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 152–153; 7th Bur.—duc de Croy, AN, C 5 (15), no. 16, f. 2. The author of the article “Impôt” in the Encyclopédie Méthodique: Finances (1785), 2:546, favored loans instead of new taxes. Coeurderoy, AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (6), “Journal particulier,” fs. 57–59, 62 and AN, C 3 (8), no. 14. The Notables were not unique in wanting to eliminate the debt; in 1788 the government in Tuscany would begin to liquidate its public debt (Furio Diaz, Francesco Maria Gianni, dalla Burocrazia alla Politica sotto Pietro Leopoldo di Toscana [Milan, 1966], 218ff.). AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” f. 19. See also: 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), f. 169; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3976, fs. 314–317, 376–377, 1023–1025ff.; 3rd Bur.— AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 80ff., 87; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), f. 9, AN, C 4 (11), f. 69; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 169–170; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 52–53; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 153–156. 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 38ff., 56; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3975, fs. 745ff.; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 18–22; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 84, 87–89; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 51–55; BM, 2406, “Gabelle, mémoire.” The Crown’s project on the gabelle is in AN, C 1 (2), fs. 309–338. For similar criticisms in England of holders of the public debt, see J. G. A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, 1975), ch. 13. (Jonathan Dewald kindly brought this to my attention.)

Notes to Pages 44–47

397

35. For the activities of some of these Notables, see ch. 1 above, nn. 12, 22, 24, and 32. In addition: Paul Le Cacheux, “Le chartrier de Belbeuf et les archives des procureurs généraux du Parlement de Normandie à la fin du XVIIIe siècle,” Bulletin de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie 53 (1955–56), 10–15; and Jean Yver, “Une administration municipale ‘orageuse’ à Caen à la fin de l’ancien régime: La mairie de M. de Vendoeuvre,” Mémoires de l’Académie Nationale des Sciences, Arts et Belles-Lettres de Caen, n.s., vol. 6 (1931). 36. The archbishop of Aix in AN, M 788, nos. 28, 210, unnumbered dated “a Aix, 29 janvier 1783,” nos. 211, 213; procureur général of the Parlement of Grenoble in Jean Egret, Le Parlement de Dauphiné et les affaires publiques dans la deuxième moitié du XVIIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Grenoble, 1942), 2: 146–147; the comte de Stainville, military commander in Lorraine, as reported by Coeurderoy, AD, M-et-M, W 1101 (1), “Journal du Président de Coeurderoy (18e siècle),” f. 187. 37. La conférence du 2 mars, 3–10; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 242–243 and BA, ms. 3976, fs. 430–431, 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 166–168; conference of 9 May, AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des pièces relatives au procès-verbal,” fs. 19–23, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 383 ff.; Loménie de Brienne in AN, C 1 (3), fs. 121v–125 and BM, 2406, “Vues générales sur l’impôt territorial.” 38. 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 79–81. 39. Dupont de Nemours to the baron Edelsheim, 11 July 1787, in Politische Correspondenz Karl Friedrichs Von Baden, 1782–1806, ed. Bernhard Erdmannsdörffer (Heidelberg, 1888), 1: 273–274 (original italics). 40. See n. 29 above, especially the memoir of the archbishop of Aix, AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 91–106. 41. Bureaucratic practices were introduced into the French financial administration after the Assembly of Notables; see John Bosher, French Finances, 1770–1795: From Business to Bureaucracy (Cambridge, 1970), ch. 11. Some parlements in the 1760s urged a few of these changes; see Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire, 123–125. Calonne had indicated his intention to establish a single treasury, but was dismissed before he presented to the Notables his projected financial reforms (AN, C 1 [2], f. 203; AN, 297 AP 3 [263 Mi 3], no. 91, f. 3v; AN, 297 AP 3 [263 Mi 4], no. 97). For financial reforms in Great Britain at this time see J.E.D. Binney, British Public Finance and Administration, 1774–1792 (Oxford, 1958), 3–19, 49–61, 246–255. 42. BA, ms. 3976, f. 436. Lafayette repeated this demand for publicity (ibid., fols. 457, 459, 460). A finance committee of individuals not in the royal administration differed from the financial council composed of administrators introduced in 1787; on financial councils in the eighteenth century, see Michel Antoine, Le Conseil du Roi sous le règne de Louis XV (Paris, 1970), bk. 2, ch. 3.

398

Notes to Pages 48–51

43. BA, ms. 3978, fs. 187ff. and BA, ms. 3976, fs. 225 and 419ff.; AN, C 2 (6), “Cahiers des pièces relatives au procès-verbal,” compte-rendu, meeting of 2 March, f. 8 and La conférence du 2 mars, 69. 44. For criticisms in the second bureau of the controller general’s involvement in exchanges of royal lands with speculators, see BA, ms. 3975, fs. 888–893, BA, ms. 4546, fs. 48–49; and Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 39–42, 118–119 (and also 126–133). 45. “Mémoire de M. L’Ar. de T. 1787 concernant les finances,” found among the Calonne papers, PRO (London), PC 1/125, X, 1/7470, fs. 276ff. This memoir, with certain changes in wording and the deletion of personal names, was published by Jean-Louis Carra (Un petit mot de réponse à M. de Calonne, sur sa requête au roi [Amsterdam, 1787], 53–67), who claimed that he wrote and presented it to the Notables in February 1787. In a renewed attack on Calonne (idem, M. de Calonne Tout Entier, tels qu’il est comporté dans l’administration des finances, dans son commissariat en Bretagne, etc. [Brussels, April 1788]), Carra states that Calonne attributed this memoir to the archbishop of Toulouse (p. 3). The arguments in this memoir, in particular the demands for financial order, an end to excessive spending, and the establishment of a financial council to control expenditures, are in accord with the known views of Loménie de Brienne and foreshadow the reforms he introduced when he became principal minister later in 1787. 46. AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des deliberations,” f. 82. For similar hostility to “clerks, . . . administrators, . . . men in place, . . . ministers of the second or third order” among the lower classes, see Jean-Louis Vissière, “La culture populaire à la veille de la Révolution d’après le ‘Tableau de Paris’ de Mercier,” in Images du peuple au dix-huitième siècle, Centre Aixois d’Etudes et de Recherches sur le DixHuitième Siècle, Colloque d’Aix-en-Provence, 25 and 26 October 1969 (Paris, 1973), 127. 47. BA, ms. 3975, fs. 1031–1032, 1103–1104, 1145. 48. 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 11 and 156; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 685–686, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 1004–1016, Loménie de Brienne in BN, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, fs. 341–378, 381ff.; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 7–9, 66; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), f. 17; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 28, 31; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 5–6; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), f. 24, AN, C 4 (13), f. 31. The Venetian ambassador summed up the Notables’ decision in a report to his government: “As to the clerical debt the ecclesiastical lands must be subjected to the operations of the provincial assemblies [i.e., evaluation of the land and tax assessments], as the lands of other citizens. They reserve for the next assembly of the clergy the liberty to demand the conservation of their form [collection of taxes], and against the violation of property which would be the result of a forced sale of its lands.” Archivio di Stato, Venezia, Dispacci degli Ambasciatori in Francia, Senato III (Secreta), no. 262, f. 178. Clerical assemblies in the eighteenth century

Notes to Pages 51–53

49.

50. 51. 52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

63. 64.

399

defended the right of don gratuit but along with clerical exemption from regular taxes (Michel C. Peronnet, Les Evêques de 1’ancienne France, 2 vols. [Lille, 1977], vol. 2, bk. 3, ch. 1). BA, ms. 3978, f. 650 and Loménie de Brienne’s statement, fs. 457–459; AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 4–5. See also: BA, ms. 3978, fs. 684–685, EMHL, W2–4712; AN, C 3 (7), fs. 28–29, 172–174; La conférence du 2 mars, 48. See n. 7 above. 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” f. 83. Abonnements became more frequent after the ouster of controller general Machault in 1754. BA, ms. 3975, fols. 545–546. On the provincial assemblies, see: 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 5, 11–13, 16v–17, 24v–25v, 34v–35, 37v, 42v, 55v–56, 157, 162, Gérard, AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 123–136; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3975, fs. 544–546, 960, 1031–1032, 1041–1053, 1150, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 1016–1019, 1030, 1046–1047, 1069, BA, ms. 3978, fs. 30–31, 42, 58, 60, 160, 166–167, 624–625, 641–642, 682, and BA, ms. 4546, fs. 2–3, 73; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations” fs. 3–4, 9, 11, 24–26, 45f., 59, 87, 101, 103, “Cahier des pièces relatives au procès-verbal,” f. 24; 4th Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), fs. 6, 10, 17–19, and AN, C 4 (11), fs. 97–102; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 11–12, 33, 35–36, 38, 70, 90–91, 176, 178; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (2), fs. 6, 14; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 27, 45, 50–51, 55, 79, 85, 135, 156–167, meeting of 17 April, and AN, C 4 (13), f. 38. AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations” f. 101. 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 42–43, 60 and 978ff.; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6),“Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 3–4, 22, 59, 65; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 5–6 and 50–51. All the bureaux. First bureau. Seventh bureau. The third, fourth, and seventh bureaux, which also proposed consulting the assemblies for future changes in tariffs. The second and seventh bureaux. The third and seventh bureaux. These included the land tax, the new money tax to replace the corvée, the money tax the Notables proposed to replace the gabelle, the reformed taille, excise taxes, and the new stamp tax. The second, third, fifth, and seventh bureaux. 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 75–76. On the provincial assemblies see Pierre Renouvin, Les Assemblées provinciales de 1787: origines, développement, résultats (Paris, 1921). A few sovereign courts (the parlements of Rouen, Grenoble, and Bordeaux, and the cour des aides of Paris) earlier had urged the establishment of provincial estates (Doyle, The Parlement of Bordeaux, 227–228).

400

Notes to Pages 53–55

65. AN, C 4 (13), fs. 248v–249. 66. Moote, The Revolt of the Judges; and Roland Mousnier, “Pourquoi ÉtatsGénéraux et États provinciaux ont-ils joué un si faible rôle pendant la Fronde?” Parliaments, Estates and Representation, vol. 1, pt. 2 (Dec. 1981), 139–145; and Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire. 67. See Chapter 3. 68. AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” f. 82. 69. See Denis Richet, La France moderne: l’esprit des institutions (Paris, 1973), and Yves-Marie Bercé, Croquants et Nu-Pieds: les soulèvements paysans en France du XVIe au XIXe siècles (Paris, 1974). Georges Lefebvre pointed out the local inhabitants’ appreciation of financial autonomy in Flanders (Les Paysans du Nord pendant la Révolution française [Bari, 1959], 172). 70. BA, ms. 3978, f. 650. See also AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des pièces relatives au procèsverbal,” compte-rendu, meeting of 2 March, fs. 7–9, and La conférence du 2 mars. 71. See n. 66 above and Major, Representative Government in Early Modern France, part I, ch. 1, n. 2; Myriam Yardeni, La Conscience nationale en France pendant les guerres de religion (1559–1598) (Louvain, 1971); Roland Mousnier, La Plume, la faucille et le marteau, institutions et société en France du Moyen Age à la Révolution (Paris, 1970), 57–92; Carcassonne, Montesquieu et le problème de la constitution française au XVIIIe siècle, 406–436, 448–467; François Furet and Mona Ozouf, “Deux légitimations historiques de la société française au XVIIIe siècle: Mably et Boulainvilliers,” Annales: ESC (May-June 1979), 3: 438–450; Dale Van Kley, The Damiens Affair: The Unravelling of the Ancien Régime, 1750–1770 (Princeton, 1984), ch. 4; and Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, 203–223. 72. BA, ms. 3978, fs. 82–83, 94–95. 73. See C. B. A. Behrens, The Ancien Régime (London, 1967), 168. 74. On similar demands by parlementary courts for financial information see Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire, 99ff. 75. All the Notables from Alsace, Lorraine, and the Three Bishoprics joined forces (aided by a lobbying effort from their provinces) in objecting that the customs union moving tariffs to the national frontiers would harm their region’s close economic ties with countries to their east; AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 144–146v, 268ff., 295ff. 76. BA, ms. 4546, fs. 31–32 and BA, ms. 3975, fs. 368–369, 394. 77. 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 187ff., BA, ms. 3976, fs. 225, 419ff.; 4th Bur.—AN, C 4 (11), fs. 22–23, 26, 27, 46; AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des pièces relatives au procès-verbal,” compte-rendu, meeting of 2 March, f. 8; La conférence du 2 mars, 69. 78. BA, ms. 3967, fs. 1094–1102. The first bureau rejected the duc de la Rochefoucauld’s similar proposals (Gérard, AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, f. 98).

Notes to Pages 55–57

401

79. Among these initiatives were a money tax to replace the gabelle, a citizens’ committee to audit government expenditures, and reforms in the financial administration: 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 34v–42v, 51v–56, 107v–109, 115–118, 151v, 164v–165; AN, 4 AP 188, no. 66; Gérard, AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 66v, 73v; comte de Brienne, AN, 4 AP 188, nos. 13–14, 38, 21, 46–47–48, 64–65, and in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 27; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 91–106; Loménie de Brienne in BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, fs. 177ff., 185–186, 195, and PRO (London), PC 1/125, X, 1/7470, fs. 276ff. 80. AN, C 3 (7), fs. 123–124, 11 May; see also f. 96, 2 May. 81. 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 242–243, 430–431, BA, ms. 3975, fs. 842, 915, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 847, 855–858, 944–945, 960–961, 1043, BA, ms. 4546, fs. 56, 73; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” f. 63; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), f. 71. 82. On national representation see: 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 71, 163v–164; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 242–243, 430–431, BA, ms. 3975, fs. 842, 916, 999–1000, 1008, 1035–1036, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 847, 856, 959–960, and Loménie de Brienne, BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, fs. 188–189, 197; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), “Cahier des délibérations,” fs. 83–87; 4th Bur.—AN, C 4 (11), fs. 28, 38–39; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 108, 169; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 48, 51; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 71, 96, 123–124. Sovereign courts had invoked the authority of the estates-general in the 1770s (Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire, 126–127, 190). The most recent calls for an estates-general came in 1782 and 1783 from the Parlement of Besançon (Marion, L’Impôt sur le revenu, 230–231), and in January 1785 from the Parlement of Bordeaux (Doyle, The Parlement of Bordeaux, 211–213). 83. AN, 4 AP 188, nos. 64–65, f. 6 (also fs. 1, 4–5, 8); see also Journal de 1’ Assemblée des Notables, 27. 84. Despatches from Paris, 1: 181, and Journal historique et politique des principaux événements du temps présent ou esprit des gazettes et journaux politiques de toute l’Europe (1787), 1: 561. 85. BA, ms. 3976, fs. 959–960. The wording differs in the Mémoires, correspondance, et manuscrits du General Lafayette (Brussels, 1837), 1: 213, giving to the published version more “éclat” and “force” (which the editor attributed to them). 86. R. R. Palmer, The Age of the Democratic Revolution: A Political History of Europe and America, 1760–1800, vol. 1, The Challenge (Princeton, 1959); Leonard Leeb, The Ideological Origins of the Batavian Revolution: History and Politics in the Dutch Republic, 1747–1800 (The Hague, 1973); Simon Schama, Patriots and Liberators: Revolution in the Netherlands, 1780–1813 (New York, 1977); Pauline Maier, From Resistance to Revolution: Colonial Radicals and the Development of American Opposition to Britain, 1765–1776 (New York, 1972); and Gordon S.

402

87. 88. 89. 90. 91.

92.

Notes to Pages 58–61 Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 1776–1787 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1969). For the longue durée of this political culture, see Conrad S. R. Russell, “Monarchies, Wars and Estates in England, France and Spain, c. 1580–c. 1640,” Legislative Studies Quarterly 7, no. 2 (May 1982), pp. 205–220; Teofilo Ruiz, “Oligarchy and Royal Power: The Castilian Cortes and the Castilian Crisis, 1248–1350,” and H. G. Koenigsberger, “Why Did the States-General of the Netherlands Become Revolutionary in the Sixteenth Century?” Parlements, Estates and Representation 2, no. 2 (Dec. 1982), 95–101 and 103–111, respectively; and Yves-Marie Bercé, Révoltes et révolutions dans l’Europe moderne (Paris, 1980). On the changed character of the nobility see Guy Chaussinand-Nogaret, La noblesse au XVIIIe siècle, de la Féodalité aux Lumières (Paris, 1976). See in particular Necker’s L’Administration des finances de la France. Furio Diaz, Filosofia e politica nel settecento francese (Turin, 1962), connects the philosophes’ political arguments to the events and disputes of their day. The term comes from Barrington Moore, Jr., Injustice, the Social Bases of Obedience and Revolt (New York, 1978). Marcel Mauss, “Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l’échange dans les sociétés archaiques,” Sociologie et Anthropologie, intro. by Claude Lévi-Strauss (Paris, 1950), 145–279. Mousnier, La Plume, la faucille et le marteau, 248–253.

3. The Society of Orders at Its Demise This chapter was originally published with the same title in French History (October 1987), vol. 1, no. 2, pp. 210–237, republished with permission of Oxford University Press. For their comments and criticisms, especially their probing questions, my gratitude to Thomas Kaiser, Carlo Poni, and Marina Valensise. 1. Georges Duby, The Three Orders: Feudal Society Imagined, transl. Arthur Goldhammer (Chicago, 1982). Ottavia Niccoli, I Sacerdoti, i guerrieri, i contadini, storia di un’immagine della società (Turin, 1979), studied this social model using iconographic sources. 2. For the standard description of the society of orders see Roland Mousnier, “Introduction,” in R. Mousnier, J.-P. Labatut, Y. Durand, Problèmes de stratification sociale: deux cahiers de la noblesse 1649–1651. Since the pioneer work of Alfred Cobban, The Social Interpretation of the French Revolution (Cambridge, Eng., 1964), much has been written on the relationship between orders and classes in the late eighteenth century. For an overview of the controversy provoked by Cobban’s work and bibliographical information, see Doyle, Origins of the French Revolution.

Notes to Pages 62–67

403

3. See, for example, André Devyver, Le Sang épuré: Les Preuves de race chez les gentilshommes français de l’ancien régime (1560–1720) (Brussels, 1974). 4. J.G.A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment: Florentine Political Thought in the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, 1975). See also the suggestive comments of Georges Dumézil, L’Idéologie tripartie des Indo-Européens (Bruxelles, 1958), 32–33. 5. See: Antoine François Delandine, Des Etats généraux ou histoire des assemblées nationales en France, des personnes qui les ont composées, de leur forme, de leur influence, et des objets qui y ont été particulièrement traités (Paris, 1788); Guy-JeanBaptiste Target, Les états généraux convoqués par Louis XVI [1788]; and [Guillaume-Joseph Saige], Code national, ou Manuel français, à l’usage de trois ordres, et principalement des deputés aux prochains états généraux; par l’auteur de “Catechisme du citoyen,” et pour servir de suite à cet ouvrage (en France, 1789). 6. See the several works of Jean Egret: La Révolution des notables: Mounier et les monarchiens, 1789 (Paris, 1950), introduction; “La Révolution aristocratique en Franche-Comté et son échec,” RHMC (1954), 245–271; “La Pré-Révolution en Provence,” AHRF (1954), 97–126; “Les Origines de la Révolution en Bretagne (1788–1789),” RH 213 (1956), 189–215; as well as La Pré-Révolution française. See also Monique Cubells, Les Horizons de la liberté: Naissance de la révolution en Provence (1787–1789) (Aix-en-Provence, 1987). 7. For the former view see Albert Soboul, “Trois notes pour l’histoire de l’aristocratie (Ancien Régime-Révolution),” in Noblesse française, noblesse hongroise (XVIe–XIXe siècles), ed. E. Kopeszi and E. Balazs (Paris, 1981), 77–92; and for the latter view see Chaussinand-Nogaret, La Noblesse aux XVIIIe. ChaussinandNogaret argues, based on the views expressed in the cahiers of the nobility, that almost half of the second estate was sympathetic to or would have accepted some form of vote by head (pp. 190–191). Nonetheless, opposition of still many in the nobility in late 1788 and in the spring and summer of 1789 tarnished the collective image of the second estate for public opinion. 8. Daniel Roche, Le Siècle des lumières en province: Académies et académiciens provinciaux, 1680–1789, 2 vols. (Paris, 1978), 1: passim, and Ran Halevi, Les Loges maçonniques dans la France d’ancien régime: Aux origines de la sociabilité démocratique (Paris, 1984). The Journal de Paris (1787 and 1788) reported in several articles on meetings of the comice d’agriculture. 9. Lucas, “Nobles, Bourgeois and the Origins of the French Revolution,” P and P (August 1973), 122–123. 10. Maurice Bordes, L’Administration provinciale et municipale en France au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1972), 163–165. 11. See Chapter 2, n. 17 above. See also George Taylor, “Noncapitalist Wealth and the Origins of the French Revolution,” AHR 72 (Jan. 1967), 469–496. 12. Roman Jakobson, Essais de linguistique générale (Paris, 1963), 145–146.

404

Notes to Pages 67–70

13. The late Enzo Melandri, professor of philosophy in the University of Bologna, graciously provided his insights on the process of binary thinking. 14. For the debates of the first Assembly of Notables on the orders and voting in the provincial assemblies see: BA, ms. 3978, “Mémoire sur l’établissement des assemblées provinciales,” fs. 16–19; AN, C 2 (6), “Cahiers des pièces relatives au procès-verbal,” fs. 25–26; AN, C 1 (2), fs. 478–495 and AN, K 678, no. 105, p. 15, “Discours prononcés à l’Assemblée des Notables, vendredi, 25 mai 1787”; 1st Bur.—AN, C 1 (3), fs. 3–5, 14v–16v, 23–26, AN, 4 AP 188, no. 2, AAE, Mém. et Doc., France, 1402, fs. 6 and 94v; 2nd Bur.—BA, ms. 3978, fs. 38–57, 62–64, 82–83, 89–90, 96–103, 107–111, 116–131, 134–153, 155–157, 161, 164ff., 629–642, 657, 677–682, BA, ms. 3976, fs. 1108–1114, and Loménie de Brienne in Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables, 13–19; 3rd Bur.—AN, C 2 (6), f. 5 and AN, C 4 (11), fs. 4–9, 11–18, 20; 5th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 4–5, 7–11, 38, 173 and “Lettres de Claude Huez, maire de Troyes, deputé de 1’Assemblée des Notables (1787),” in La Révolution dans l’Aube, 52; 6th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), f. 1; 7th Bur.—AN, C 3 (7), fs. 4–5 and AN, C 4 (13), fs. 6–7; AN, K 677, no. 61; and BM, no. 2406, “Administrations provincialles, sont-elles bonnes et désirables?” 15. Yves Durand, Les Fermiers généraux au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1971), bk. 1, pt. 2, ch. 2. 16. Paul Bois, Paysans de l’Ouest: des structures économiques et sociales aux options politiques depuis l’epoque révolutionnaire dans la Sarthe (Paris, 1971), 149–151. See also Abel Poitrineau, La vie rurale en basse-Auvergne au XVIIIe siècle (1726–1789), 2 vols. (Paris, 1965), 1: 151–152, and Pierre de Saint-Jacob, Les Paysans de la Bourgogne du Nord au dernier siècle de l’ancien régime (Dijon, 1960), 320, 527–529, 539. 17. In order to limit the influence of bourgeois forains (outsiders), the law of June 1787 establishing provincial assemblies required that members of municipal assemblies be domiciled in the parish for at least one year; Renouvin, Les Assemblées provinciales de 1787, 102. 18. For an eloquent description of the social structure in peasant villages see SaintJacob, Les Paysans de la Bourgogne du Nord, pt. 3, ch. 5. See also Jean-Pierre Gutton, La Société et les pauvres en Europe (XVIe–XVIIe siècles) (Paris, 1974), ch. 2; Olwen H. Hufton, The Poor of Eighteenth-Century France, 1750–1789 (Oxford, 1974); and Images du peuple au dix-huitième siècle, Centre Aixois d’Etudes et de Recherches sur le Dix-Huitième Siècle, Colloque d’Aix-en-Provence, 25–26 Octobre 1969 (Paris, 1973). 19. For historical confirmation see: François Furet and Wladimir Sachs, “La Croissance de l’alphabétisation en France (XVIIIe–XIXe siècles),” Annales: ESC (May–July 1974), 714–737; Michel Vovelle, “Y-a-t-il eu une révolution culturelle au XVIIIe siècle? L’education populaire en Provence,” RHMC 22 (Jan.–March 1975), 89–141; and Jean Queniart, “Les Apprentissages scolaires

Notes to Pages 71–76

20. 21. 22.

23.

24. 25.

26.

27. 28. 29.

30. 31.

405

élémentaires au XVIIIe siècle: faut-il réformer Maggioli?,” RHMC 24 (Jan.–March 1977), 15–27. For studies of eighteenth-century views about the poor see: H. C. Payne, The Philosophes and the People (New Haven, Conn., 1976), and Harvey Chisick, The Limits of Reform in the Enlightenment: Attitudes toward the Education of the Lower Classes in Eighteenth-Century France (Princeton, 1981). See, for example, Loménie de Brienne’s memoir on the provincial assemblies in BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, fs. 329–337. Alexis de Tocqueville, The Old Regime and the French Revolution, trans. Stuart Gilbert (New York, 1955), 87–88, 100. Loménie de Brienne, “Discours prononcé à l’Assemblée des Notables, vendredi, 25 mai 1787,” AN, C 1 (2), fs. 478–495 and also AN, K 678, no. 105, p. 15. The provincial assemblies set up in June 1787 did have the distinction of orders. Even Calonne, before his dismissal in April, had advised Louis XVI to grant the Notables’ demand: AN, 297 AP 3 (263 Mi 3), no. 91, “Prospectus de ce qui reste à faire et de la marche à suivre pour terminer l’opération,” f. 10. For more analysis of the Notables’ reaction to the publication of the memoirs and the Avertissement, see Gruder, “Les Notables à la fin de l’ancien régime: l’Avertissement de 1787,” 45–56. The king’s brother, the comte d’Artois, alone demurred. He identified the enlightened (éclairés) specifically with the rich, the more rich the more enlightened. On the second Assembly of Notables see Jean Egret, “La Seconde Assemblée des Notables, 6 novembre-12 décembre 1788,” AHRF (1949), 193–228, and Mitchell B. Garrett, The Estates-General of 1789: The Problems of Composition and Organization (New York, 1935), ch. 7. AN, C 7 (4), fs. 435–501 for summaries of the petitions the government presented to the Assembly; see also AD, M-et-M, Coeurderoy, Président, Parlement de Nancy, “Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables qui a eu lieu à Versailles le 6 novembre 1788 jusqu’au 12 décembre suivant,” fs. 13–14, and BSE, “Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables (6ème bureau),” no. 3, session of 17 November and 25 November 1788. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 82–83, 87–88, 122–124, 186v, 188v–190, 221v, 274–276, 336v, 343v. Carcassonne, Montesquieu et le problème de la constitution française, passim. AN, O1 354, no. 107: letter from the keeper of the seals Lamoignon to the minister Breteuil, 6 July 1788; Armand Brette, Recueil de documents relatifs à la convocation des états généraux de 1789, 1 (Paris, 1894), 19–23. AN, C 9 (21), “Arrêt du Conseil d’Etat du Roi, pour la convocation d’une Assemblée des Notables au 3 novembre prochain. Du 5 octobre 1788,” 3. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 78ff. and AN, C 9 (23), nos. 1–3, 4, 6–7, 13–15, 17, 21, 24. The memoirs Necker sent to the Assembly on the composition and forms of convening

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32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52.

Notes to Pages 76–81 estates-general in the past are in AN, C 6 (3), fs. 31ff. and 299ff. See also AN, C 9 (24), no. 24. AN, C 6 (1), f. 235. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 113–114, 121, 123, 166–167, 178, 235, 241, 261, 263, 342–343. Maréchal de Beauvau, a member of the Assembly, quoted in Egret, La PréRévolution française, 342. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 85v, 168–173, 178–186, 189, 207, 221, 240–242, 270–276, 307–309, 338, 342–344. John Adams used similar arguments in 1787–1788 against a unicameral legislature and in favor of separate sessions of the aristocracy and the people; see Palmer, The Age of the Democratic Revolution, 1: 271–275, and Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 574–578. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 98v, 138v, 144, 201v, 227, 306v, 355v–356v. The logic of this proposition did not lead the Notables to support the exclusion of non-property-owning nobles. The distinction between representation of numbers and representation of property had also been the argument of John Adams in favor of a bicameral legislature, which was incorporated in the 1780 constitution for the state of Massachusetts; see J. R. Pole, Political Representation in England and the Origins of the American Republic (Berkeley, Calif., 1971), 172–226. For what follows see AN, C 6 (1), fs. 179–186. See also the fifth bureau, ibid., f. 296. Ibid., fs. 98v 146, 187v, 255, 310, 313–314, 333, 337, 341–342. On James Madison and the Federalists’ arguments in favor of bicameralism see Wood, The Creation of the American Republic, 553–564, 596–597, and 602–606. Delolme’s book was favorably reviewed in the Mercure de France on 17 January 1789; on Delolme see Palmer, The Age of the Democratic Revolution, 1: 145–148. Duval d’Eprémesnil, Réflexions d’un magistrat sur la question du nombre, et celle de l’opinion par ordre ou par tête (7 Dec. 1788), 4–5. AN, C 6 (1), fs. 114, 241v–242r. Ibid., fs. 240v–241r, 276. Ibid., fs. 118, 210v, 221, 269–272, 334–335. Ibid., fs. 33v, 358. Ibid., f. 271r; see also f. 120r. Ibid., fs. 174v–175v. See, for example, BSE, “Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables (6ème bureau),” no. 3, session of 4 December 1788. So argued the minority in the first bureau in voting against doubling of the Third Estate; AN, C 6 (1), fs. 86, 168, 310, 335, 342–343. In the debate of the first Assembly see, for example, BA, ms. 3978, f. 677. AN, C 7 (11), sixth bureau (original italics).

Notes to Pages 81–83

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53. AN, C6 (1), fs. 21r–24, 91r, 132–133, 193v–194v, 222r–224v, 289v–290r, 294–296v, 348v–350. 54. All but one of the six bureaux required noblesse acquisse et transmissible to vote in the second order: the privileges of nobility could not be limited to the individual noble but had to be hereditary, capable of being passed on to his heirs. Those ennobled by virtue of nobility of the second degree—the majority of the anoblis—needed three generations of nobility to qualify; the few ennobled by nobility of the first degree qualified if they possessed nobility for at least twenty years. (Only a minority in the third bureau recommended a requirement limited to transmissible nobility” of less than three generations.) The arguments of the bureaux, in particular their insistence that old and new nobles be treated equally and the proposal of four bureaux that voting not be limited to fief-holders, point to the Notables’ willingness to include within the second order those ennobled so long as their nobility had become hereditary. In addition, one bureau introduced a minimum tax requirement, three bureaux set an age requirement, and two made residency or property ownership in the bailliage a requirement for voting in the second estate. See AN, C 6 (1), fs. 25v–26, 94, 127v, 137v–140, 196v–200, 251, 286–291, 301–302, 345–346, 351v–352. 55. See the pamphlet Doléance d’un anobli. See also David Bien, “La réaction aristocratique avant 1789: l’exemple de l’armée,” Annales: ESC 29 (1974), 23–48 and 505–534, especially pp. 43–48 and 505–515 for his analysis of ennoblement through public office. 56. The words of the fifth bureau expressed this foreboding; see AN, C 6 (1), f. 264r: “These difficult times, remarkable in the history of empires for the fermentation that announces great storms; by a deep restlessness about the nature and limits of all powers; by the uncertainty of opinions between ancient forms and new ideas; by a violent shock between authority accustomed to command and those who are subordinate and try to escape from the yoke.” The introduction to the Mémoire des princes presenté au Roi expressed a similar presentiment. This Mémoire was written in the names of the comte d’Artois, the prince de Condé, the duc de Bourbon, the duc d’Enghien, and the prince de Conti, but was composed by Jean Baptiste Robert Auget de Montyon, a royal councilor and councilor to Artois who was also a member of the second Assembly of Notables. 57. AN, C 6 (1), ibid., fs. 165, 186v, 218v–219r, 258v, 279, 378 and AN, C 6 (3), f. 290. The offer of fiscal sacrifice in the Mémoire of the princes included a similar couched threat. 58. AN, C 6 (1), ibid., fs. 95, 98, 100, 113r, 119v, 141, 201v–204, 225v–226, 302v–303, 353v–354. 59. Brette, Recueil de documents, 1, 64–87. More stringent electoral requirements were introduced in Paris; see François Furet, “Les Elections de 1789 à Paris, le

408

60.

61.

62. 63.

64. 65.

66. 67.

Notes to Pages 84–86 tiers état et la naissance d’une classe dirigeante,” in De l’ancien régime à la Révolution française, recherches et perspectives, ed. E. Hinrichs, E. Schmitt, R. Vierhaus (Göttingen, 1978), 189–190. For a detailed comparison of proposed electoral requirements in the debates of the second Assembly of Notables and in those of the Constituent Assembly, see Roberto Martucci, “Proprietari o contribuenti? Diritti politici, elettorato attivo ed eleggibilità nel dibattito istituzionale francese da Necker a Mounier—ottobre 1788/settembre 1789” in Storia del diritto e teoria politica, 2 (Milan, 1989), 679–842. Thirty livres in taxes was the proposal of the sixth bureau; the fourth bureau proposed 10 livres in land taxes for deputies of rural electoral assemblies, 15 livres in general taxes for deputies of urban electoral assemblies, and 50 livres in taxes for deputies to the estates general; AN, C 6 (1), fs. 95, 141, 201v–202, 225–226, 302–303, 353–354. Four of the bureaux recommended indirect representation for women: female property-holders in the first two orders (the first bureau specified fief-holders) could send procurators to the electoral assemblies. This was less a recognition of the rights of women than of parity for property-owners, the land not the person conferring representation. Women were in fact equated with children, for the same right was granted to minors in the noble order who owned property or fiefs. Ibid., fs. 105v–106, 158, 231v, 362–363v. Ibid., fs. 187v and 337. Ibid., fs. 83v, 85v, 123, 240–241, 277r–278v, 343. The sixth bureau thought in terms of a veto for the Third Estate limited to fiscal legislation; BSE, “Journal de l’Assemblée des Notables (6ème bureau),” no. 3, session of 17 November 1788. Ibid., f. 84v. [Jean-Joseph Mounier], Lettre écrite au Roi par les trois ordres de la province de Dauphiné sur les Etats-Généraux (à Romans, le 8 novembre 1788); Target, Les états généraux, idem, the first and second Suite de l’écrit intitulé: Les états généraux convoqués par Louis XVI [1788]; and Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, Qu’est-ce que le tiers état?, édition critique avec une introduction et des notes par Roberto Zapperi (Geneva, 1970), 151–152, 154, 165–166, 198–200 (see also “Introducton,” 66–76). BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 23615, “Analyse des Assemblées des Notables de 1525, 1526, 1527, et 1529,” f. 186. Elizabeth Eisenstein, “Who Intervened in 1788? A Commentary on The Coming of the French Revolution,” AHR 71 (1965), 77–103, in particular pp. 88–89 and 96. Representation, a novelty for eighteenth-century Frenchmen, was largely conceived in terms of orders as may be seen in the articles “représentants” in the Encyclopédie ou Dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des metiers (Neufchastel, 1765), 14: 145–146, and in the Encyclopédie methodique, ou par ordre de matières (Paris, 1788), 4: 50; along with the clergy and nobility (traditional orders), new

Notes to Pages 87–88

409

professional groups were cited as meriting representation—the magistracy, commerce, and cultivators (that is, landowners). 68. Brette, Recueil de documents, 1: 77–78. 69. The value of three days’ work, in the electoral requirements of the constitution of 1791, was between one and one-half to three livres; see John Hall Stewart, A Documentary Survey of the French Revolution (New York, 1964), 236–237. See Bois, Paysans de l’Ouest, 100–110. Marc Bouloiseau provides further confirmation in “Une enquête de Calonne: taillables et privilégiés en Haute Normandie (1787),” FHS 7 (Fall 1972), 522–525. For further comments on the voting provisions in the 1791 constitution see: Jacques Godechot, Les Institutions de la France sous la Révolution et l’Empire (Paris, 1968), 75–77; Palmer, The Age of the Democratic Revolution, 1: 522–528; and J. Sentou, “Impôts et citoyens actifs à Toulouse au début de la Révolution,” Annales du Midi 61 (1948), 159–179. Pierre Rosenvallon, Le Sacre du citoyen: Histoire du suffrage universel en France (Paris, 1992), 83–86, offers a rather sanguine assessment of the higher financial requirement in the 1791 constitution that limited the choice of electors and, especially, those (originally) eligible to be elected as representatives. According to Denis Woronoff, La Republique bourgeoise de Thermidor à Brumaire 1794–1799 (Paris, 1972), 41, during the period of the Directory (1795–1799) the franchise was broad but the requirement for being elected was high: 200 days of work (or about 150 livres in taxes). Variations on these schemes of representation included the practice of indirect election. This was the pattern introduced by the “model” estates of Dauphiné which, while doubling representation of the Third Estate, required high financial qualifications for voting and prescribed that deputies to the estates-general be selected in an enlarged provincial estates rather than by the general electorate gathered in primary and bailliage assemblies. The constitution of 1791 also established electoral assemblies composed of persons paying taxes higher than those of ordinary voters—equal to ten days of work or approximately 7 livres 5 sous—to designate members of departmental assemblies and deputies to the Legislative Assembly. 70. With the exception of the 1793 constitution that permitted universal male suffrage, the several constitutions after 1789 limited voting for, and membership in, national government and departmental administrations, but these provisions did not apply to municipal governments. This explains the anomaly of greater democratization in municipalities after 1793 that Lynn Hunt revealed in Politics, Culture and Class in the French Revolution (Berkeley, Calif., 1984), 149–179.

410

Notes to Pages 91–93

4. Political News as Coded Messages This chapter was originally published as “Political News as Coded Messages; the Parisian and Provincial Press in the Pre-Revolution, 1787–1788” in French History (1998), vol. 12, no. 1, pp. 1–24, republished with permission of Oxford University Press. I am grateful to the critical comments of Colin Jones, which led me to reflect more deeply on certain ideas expressed in this article. 1. Since only three newspapers in France in the late eighteenth century were dailies but all were published at regular intervals, hence characterized by periodicity, the terms “newspapers,” “journals,” or “periodicals” may be—and are— used interchangeably. 2. For the role of the provincial press in diffusing Enlightened attitudes, see Jean Sgard, “La Presse provinciale et les Lumières,” in La Presse provinciale au XVIIIe siècle, ed. Jean Sgard (Grenoble, 1983), 49–64. And for its role in disseminating a commercial mentality, see Colin Jones, “The Great Chain of Buying: Medical Advertisement, the Bourgeois Public Sphere, and the Origins of the French Revolution,” AHR 101 (February 1996), 13–40. 3. Pierre Rétat, “ ‘Politique’ et ‘administration,’ ” Les Gazettes européennes et l’information politique de l’ancien régime, Colloque International, Lyon, 5–7 June 1997. 4. The two most famous of these were Simon-Nicolas Linguet’s Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle, and the Courrier de l’Europe, published in London; see below, Chapter 6, and also Dictionnaire des Journaux, 1600–1789, ed. Jean Sgard, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1991), 1: 134–138 and 282–293. 5. The argument presented here on the domestic (in particular, provincial) press differs from that which Colin Jones offers in “The Great Chain of Buying.” Jones focuses on commercial advertisements in the affiches that reveal the development of a commercial consciousness formed, he contends, by the press (reflected in the press, I would suggest). Since most of the provincial press originated as affiches (advertisers), they had great latitude in conveying commercial material that they did not have for political news, in particular public reactions to government affairs. I question whether petites annonces (advertisements) had the significance Jones attributes to them in bringing on the Revolution. 6. See Gilles Feyel, “La presse provincial française dans la seconde moitié du dixhuitième siècle: géographie d’une nouvelle fonction urbaine,” in La Ville et l’Innovation en Europe 14e–19e siècles, ed. B. Lepetit and J. Hoock (1987), 89–111. A total of 121 French-language periodicals were available; 82 offered general news (46 were weeklies and 3 dailies), and 24 were published outside of France. The 39 remaining were specialized publications on poetry or theatre, science

Notes to Pages 94–95

7.

8.

9.

10.

411

and medicine, meetings of academies or maritime affairs, music, or fashion; among those were the Nouvelles Ecclésiastiques, ou Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de la constitution Unigenitus, the Jansenist clandestine newspaper which in 1787 and 1788 was silent on political events of the day. The Gazette de France is not included in this count or in the following analysis. By the end of 1789 there were 23 dailies published in Paris; see Pierre Rétat, “La diffusion du journal en France en 1789,” in La Diffusion et la lecture des journaux de langue française sous l’ancien régime, ed. Hans Bots, Actes du Colloque International, Nimègue, 3–5 June 1987 (Amsterdam, 1987), 120, n. 16. Information on the total corpus of periodicals comes from: Dictionnaire des Journaux, 1600–1789 and La Presse provinciale au XVIIIe siècle, especially Gilles Feyel, “La Presse provinciale sous l’ancien régime,” 3–47. See also Gilles Feyel, “Réimpressions et diffusion de la ‘Gazette’ dans les provinces: 1631–1752’ in Le Journalisme d’ancien régime, Questions et propositions, ed. Pierre Rétat (Lyon, 1982), 69–86. Feyel, “La Presse provinciale sous l’ancien régime,” 43–46, and Daniel Roche, “Censorship and the Publishing Industry,” in Revolution in Print: The Press in France 1775–1800, ed. Robert Darnton and Daniel Roche (Berkeley, Calif., 1989), 3–26. The analysis that follows is based on 19 local newspapers and journals from among a total of 58 such publications in France. These are: Annonces, affiches, nouvelles et avis divers, pour la province d’Artois, le Boulonnois et le Calaisis; Affiches ou Journal et Avis divers de la Basse Normandie; Affiches du Beauvaisis; Affiches, annonces et avis divers de Dauphiné; Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine; Affiches de Paris ou Journal général de la France; Affiches du Poitou; Affiches de Rennes, Feuille hebdomadaire pour la Bretagne; Affiches, Annonces et Avis divers de Toulouse et du Haut-Languedoc; Feuille hebdomadaire pour la province d’Auvergne; Feuille hebdomadaire de la Généralité de Limoges; Journal du Hainaut et du Cambrésis; Journal de Languedoc; Journal de Lyon et des provinces de la Généralité; Journal de Normandie; Journal de l’Orléanois; Journal du Paris; Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Méridionale; Mercure de France. I want to express my gratitude to Gilles Feyel for kindly providing me with a resumé of the contents of the Affiches de Rennes for the years 1787 and 1788. I concur with the analysis of Christian and Sylviane Albertan, “Les silences de la presse provinciale en 1788,” La Révolution du Journal 1788–1794, ed. Pierre Rétat (Paris, 1989), 25–36. For a historical overview of the affiches and other periodicals in the second half of the eighteenth century, see Jack R. Censer, The French Press in the Age of Enlightenment (London, 1994). Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiastical and Civil (Oxford, 1952 [London, 1651]), part 2, ch. 21, p. 168.

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Notes to Pages 95–105

11. For the market pressures on publishers and printers determining what they printed and sold, see Robert Darnton, Edition et Sédition: L’univers de la littérature clandestine au XVIIIe siècle ([Paris], 1991), passim. 12. Lits de justice were sessions in the parlements and other high courts of justice in which the king personally appeared, or where his representatives appeared in his stead (in the provinces), to require the registration of laws that was necessary for legal sanction. 13. AD, M-et-M, Nancy, W 1101 (1), “Journal du président de Coeurderoy (18e siècle),” f. 214, and Requête d’une société rustique à toutes les assemblées générales, provinciales du royaume, par un curé de campagne, à portion congrue (1788), 69. 14. See, for example, Mercure de France, Journal Politique de Bruxelles, entries of 23 and 30 Aug. 1788 and Journal de Paris, entry of 19 Sept. 1788. For the approximate length of time for news to travel from Paris, see Guy Arbellot, Bernard Lepetit, Jacques Bertrand, Atlas de la Révolution française, vol. 1, Routes et communications (1987), 41, 49. 15. For example, Journal de Normandie, 3 Oct. 1787. 16. See Kenneth Margerison, “History, Representative Institutions, and Political Rights in the French Pre-Revolution (1787–89), FHS 15 (Spring 1987), 68–98. 17. Ten of the nineteen newspapers studied here carried such announcements or reviews, four of them having more than one such reference. 18. Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, 1 and 8 Feb. 1787. 19. Affiches de Dauphiné, 22 Aug. 1787; this review, drawn from the Affiches de Paris, appeared in at least three other newspapers. 20. Journal de Paris, 29 Aug. 1787 and 14 July 1788; Journal de Troyes, 1 Aug. 1787. 21. Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, 17 Apr. 1788; Journal de Paris, 24 Mar. 1788; and Mercure de France, 14 Apr. and 23 June 1787. 22. Notices are in the Affiches du Poitou, Journal de Normandie, Journal Général d’Orléanois, and Journal de Troyes, in addition to lengthy excerpts in the Mercure de France (10 May, 14 and 21 June 1788) and a review in the Journal de Paris (7 May 1788). 23. Notices are in the Affiches de Dauphiné and Journal de Lyon, in addition to a brief review and excerpts in the Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine (10 Apr. 1788), a summary in the Mercure de France (5 Apr. 1788), and a review in the Journal de Paris (10 Apr. 1788). 24. Notices are in the Affiches de Dauphiné, Affiches de Rennes, Journal de Hainaut, Journal Général d’Orléanois, and Journal de Troyes in addition to a review and excerpts in the Journal de Paris (20 Sept. 1788). 25. Journal de Lyon, 9 July 1788. 26. Journal de Normandie, 30 Jan., 6, 9, 13, and 16 Feb. 1788. 27. Affiches du Beauvaisis, 14 Oct. 1787, and Journal de Troyes, 2 Apr. 1788.

Notes to Pages 106–111

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28. Journal de Normandie, 26 Jan. 1788, and Journal de Paris, 15 Dec. 1788. The bishop of Châlons also proposed that the Academy of Châlons-sur-Marne provide “research, memoirs, and projects” to the provincial assembly of Champagne; see the Journal Politique de Bruxelles in the Mercure, 2 Jan. 1788. 29. Journal de Normandie, 2 Feb., 28 May, and 8 Oct. 1788; Affiches des Evêchés et Lorraine, 27 Mar. 1788; and Journal de Troyes, 16 Apr. 1788. 30. Affiches du Beauvaisis, 27 July 1788, Affiches du Poitou, 9 Oct. 1788, and Journal de Paris, 18 July 1788. 31. Affiches du Beauvaisis, 18 Nov. 1787 and 8 June 1788, Journal de Paris, 8 Nov. 1787, and Mercure de France, 29 Mar. and 24 May 1788. 32. Reprints of an article from the Journal de Normandie in Affiches de Dauphiné, 30 May 1788, and Journal de Troyes, 11 June 1788. The Norman textile industry in particular was hard-hit by the influx of British textiles following the ratification of the Eden Treaty lowering tariffs in 1787. 33. Journal de Lyon, 16 July 1788, and Affiches du Beauvaisis, 8 June 1788. 34. Only twice did the Mercure de France report or express a view on political events in the making (supplement Journal Politique de Bruxelles, 13 Dec. 1788). 35. Affiches de Dauphiné, Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, and Journal de Normandie. 36. Affiches de Dauphiné, Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, and Affiches de Toulouse. 37. Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 109–122, 212–219, 310–311; and Renouvin, Les assemblées provinciales de 1787, 235–238, 316–321, 326–349. 38. Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, 28 Oct. 1788, and the Journal de Normandie, 18 Oct. 1788. 39. Feuille hebdomadaire d’Auvergne, 8 and 15 Nov. 1788, review of M. Bergier, Recherches historiques sur les États Généraux et plus particulièrement, sur l’origine, l’organisation et la durée des anciens États Provinciaux d’Auvergne, la forme de leur convocation et de leurs délibérations, et l’ordre observé pour l’élection des deputés envoyés aux différents États Généraux du Royaume, depuis le XIVe siècle. 40. Affiches de Dauphiné, 21 Nov. 1788, and Journal de l’Orléanois, 5 Dec. 1788. 41. Affiches du Beauvaisis, 23 Nov. 1788; Journal du Hainaut (1788), 406–407; and Journal de Paris, 25 Dec. 1788. 42. Not all Revolutionary newspapers were ideological and polemical, yet those features represent the starkest contrast between periodicals before and during the Revolution. On the transformation of the press in 1789, see: Pierre Rétat, “Forme et discours d’un journal Révolutionnaire: les Révolutions de Paris en 1789,” in Claude Labrosse et al., L’Instrument périodique: La fonction de la presse au XVIIIe siècle (Lyon, 1985), 139–166; Claude Labrosse and Pierre Rétat, Naissance du journal révolutionnaire: 1789 (Lyon, 1989), 9–85, 149–298; and Pierre Rétat, “The Revolutionary Word in the Newspaper in 1789,” in Media and Revolution: Comparative Perspectives, ed. Jeremy D. Popkin (Lexington, Ky., 1995),

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Notes to Pages 112–125 90–97. For the greater polemical character of the Revolutionary press, see also Antoine de Baecque, “La dénonciation publique dans la presse et le pamphlet (1789–1791),” and Roselyne Koren, “Violence verbale et argumentation dans la presse révolutionnaire et contre-révolutionnaire,” in The Press in the French Revolution, ed. Harvey Chisick, Ilana Zinguer, Ouzi Elyada, Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, 287 (1991), 261–279 and 319–334, respectively.

5. Gazettes 1. See René Moulinas, L’Imprimerie, la librairie, et la presse à Avignon au XVIIIe siècle (Grenoble, 1974), 376–379 386–391, 401, and Popkin, News and Politics in the Age of Revolution, 35–45, 67, 72–73. A general study of these gazettes is found in Les Gazettes Européennes de langue française (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles), ed. Henri Duranton, Claude Labrosse, Pierre Rétat (Saint-Étienne, 1992). My thanke to Robert M. Isherwood, who first suggested that I explore the Courrier d’Avignon. 2. The Mémoires secrets reported that the Parisian correspondant of the Gazette de Leyde, Boyer, accepted a report from Calonne in which the forthcoming Assembly of Notables was characterized as a meeting designed to counsel the king on reforms to promote “general happiness,” rather than to obtain money; see Mémoires secrets, 13 Jan. 1787, 34: 36–37. 3. Moulinas, L’Imprimerie . . . à Avignon, 388–391, 401. 4. On the nouvelles à la main, see Chapter 7. 5. Since Popkin’s focus is on the Gazette de Leyde, he attributes I believe undue influence to views expressed in its pages that were widely current at the time in France, transmitted through other media and especially in pamphlets. See Popkin, News and Politics in the Age of Revolution, 193–201 as well as idem, “The Gazette de Leyde and French Politics Under Louis XVI,” in Press and Politics in Pre-Revolutionary France, ed. Jack R. Censer and Jeremy D. Popkin (Berkeley, 1987), 102, 107, 113–114, 131. 6. [Joseph-Ignace Guillotin], Pétition des citoyens domiciliés à Paris: résultat du conseil d’état du Roi, et très humble adresse de remerciements presentée au Roi, par les six corps de la Ville de Paris [Paris, Dec. 1788].

6. Journals of Opinion 1. Jochen Schlobach, “Conditions politiques et matérielles de l’imprimerie et des gazettes à Deux-Ponts,” in Les Gazettes Européennes de langue française, 273. 2. Paul Robiquet, Théveneau de Morande, Études sur le XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1882); and Darline Gay Levy, The Ideas and Career of Simon-Nicolas-Henri Linguet: A Study in Eighteenth-Century French Politics (Chicago, 1980). On

Notes to Pages 126–133

3. 4.

5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

11.

12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

17.

18.

415

Linguet, see also: Myriam Yardeni, “Pardoxes politiques et persuasion dans les Annales de Linguet” in The Press in the French Revolution, 211–219, and Jeremy D. Popkin, “The Prerevolutionary Origins of Political Journalism,” in The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, 1: 216–220. Gunnar von Proschwitz, “Courrier de l’Europe,” in Dictionnaire des Journaux, 1600–1789, 1: 282–293. Le Courrier de l’Europe, 23: 334–335, 343–344, 349–351, 358–360, 374–376, 383–384, 398–399, 406–408, 415–416; and 24: 6–8, 23–24, 39–40, 70–72, 94–95; these are double-columned in-quarto pages. Ibid., 22: 102, 167–168, 221–224; 23: 6–7, 108. The political disorder in Britain, however much Morande otherwise admired that country, was its corrupt elections. Ibid., 21: 38, 40, 86–87; 23: 68–72. Ibid., 22: 167; 24: 39. Ibid., 23: 35. Popkin, “The Prerevolutionary Origins of Political Journalism,” and Levy, The Ideas and Career of Simon-Nicolas-Henri Linguet, respectively On the preeminent place of opinionated journalistic writing in France in the first half of the nineteenth century, see William Reddy, “Condottieri of the Pen: Journalists and the Public Sphere in Postrevolutionary France (1815–1850),” AHR 99 (Dec. 1994), 4: 1546–1570. Linguet was proud to assert his consistent belief in the need for strong royal authority, albeit “enlightened” and dedicated to “the love of the public good,” which all subjects must obey lest there arise “trouble” and “disorder”; see Simon-Nicolas-Henri Linguet, Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dixhuitième siècle (London, 1788), 14: 371. See Marc Meurisse, “Annales Politiques (1777–1792),” in Dictionnaire des journaux, 1600–1789, 1: 134–138. Correspondance secrète inédite sur Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, la cour et la ville de 1777 à 1792, ed. M. de Lescure, 2 vols. (Paris, 1866), 4 Oct. 1788, 2: 291. [Metra or Mettra], Correspondance littéraire secrete [CLS], 16 Feb. 1788, no. 8, p. 67. Linguet, Annales, 14: 370–372 and 15: 373–388. See Chapter 12; also Maza, Private Lives and Public Affairs, 263–311, and “Le Tribunal de la nation: Les mémoires judiciaires et l’opinion publique à la fin de l’ancien régime,” Annales: ESC 42 (1987): 73–90. See Vivian R. Gruder, “The Bourbon Monarchy: Reforms and Propaganda at the End of the Ancien Régime,” in The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, 1: 359–372. Linguet, Annales, 15: 224–226, 234–235.

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Notes to Pages 133–139

19. Ibid., 15: 199, 200, 211, 229, 232–233, 234–235, 245, 247, 343. 20. Ibid., 15: 53, 62–63, 95–97, 169, 171–172, 180–182, 282–286, 296–313, 315, 327, 333, 431–435.

7. Manuscript Newsletters 1. François Moureau, “La plume et le plomb,” in De bonne main. La communication manuscrite au XVIIIe siècle, ed. François Moureau (Paris, 1993), 15. 2. A letter to the duc d’Harcourt of 3 July 1788 includes the words “mon ami”; and one of 28 April 1788 states: “According to what is said by my ‘nouvellistes.’ ” See Le Gouvernement de Normandie au XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles. Documents inédite tirés des archives du Chateau d’Harcourt, ed. Celestin Hippeau, 9 vols. (Caen, 1864), vol. 4, 2nd part I, 346 and 338, respectively. 3. What follows is based upon Frantz Funck-Brentano, Figaro et ses devanciers, avec la collaboration de M. Paul d’Estrée (Paris, 1909); idem, Les Nouvellistes, avec la collaboration de M. Paul d’Estrée (Paris, 1905); Moureau, “La plume et le plomb,” 5–16; and idem, “Les nouvelles à la main dans le système d’information de l’Ancien Régime,” in De bonne main, 117–134. 4. Mémoires secrets, 28 Aug. 1787, 35: 453–454. For clubs in the Polair-Royal and elsewhere, see Chapter 9. 5. For clandestine distribution see BNF, ms. fr. 10364, fol. 175. Hardy reports that published volumes of the Mémoires secrets were tacitly approved and sold in bookstores in 1787, while the Correspondance littéraire secrète had the protection of foreign minister Vergennes (BNF, ms. fr. 6685, vol. 6, 14 July 1784, fol. 144 and 6 Dec. 1786, fol. 464, and BNF, ms. fr. 6686, vol. 7, 3 June 1787. 6. Ibid., 30 Apr. 1788, Hardy reported the arrest of a nouvelliste. 7. Moureau, “Les nouvelles à la main dans le système d’information de l’Ancien Régime,” 126. 8. Vivian R. Gruder, “The Question of Marie-Antoinette: The Queen and Public Opinion before the Revolution,” FH 16 (2002), 3: 269–298. 9. For the argument on the influence of pornography and clandestine writings in bringing on the French Revolution, see Darnton, The Forbidden Best-Sellers, and idem, The Corpus of Clandestine Literature in France 1769–1789 (New York, 1995). Darnton lists the Memoires secrets in the category “Chroniques Scandaleuses,” as well as the work entitled La Chronique scandaleuse of Imbert de Bourdeaux, which is a compilation from the Correspondance littéraire secrète. For a contrasting view see n. 8 above. 10. The nouvelles à la main that form the base for this study are the following: printed—Mémoires secrets pour servir à l’histoire de la république des lettres en France, depuis MDCCLXII jusqu’à nos jours, 36 vols. (London, 1777–1789), vols. 34–36; [Mettra], Correspondance littéraire secrète [CLS], 1787–1788;

Notes to Pages 139–140

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Correspondance secrète inédite sur Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, la cour et la ville de 1777 à 1792 [Corr. sec.], ed. M. de Lescure, 2 vols. (Paris, 1866), vol. 2 (according to Funck-Brentano, Figaro et ses devanciers, 298–299, and Moureau,“Les nouvelles à la main dans le système d’information de l’Ancien Régime,” 131, n. 85, the Lescure edition is part of the “séries Mettra”); manuscript—BNF, Salle des manuscrits, ms. fr., 6685–6686, Siméon-Prosper Hardy, “Mes Loisirs, ou Journal d’événemens tels qu’ils parviennent à ma connaissance,” vols. 6–8, 1787–1789; AN, 138 AP 211, dossier 2—“Nouvelles du 1er aoust 1788 au 15 septembre 1789” addressed to “M. le chevalier de Mopinot, lieutenant colonel au regiment Dauphin cavalerie. Hôtel de Perigord, rue de l’Université, Fb. St. Germain”; BNF, Salle des manuscrits, ms. fr. 10364, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de la fin du XVIIIe siècle, which concludes in the autumn of 1787 (according to Dale Van Kley, The Religious Origins of the French Revolution, 319, n. 43, this was written by the Parisian lawyer Lefebvre de Beauvray); BNF, Salle des manuscrits, Nouv. acq. fr. 17275,“Nouvelles à la main, 16 octobre 1788–9 décembre 1789”; BNF, Salle des manuscrits, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277–13278, 14 June 1786–3 January 1789 (according to Moureau, “Les nouvelles à la main dans le système d’information de l’Ancien Régime,” 131, n. 85, this is part of the “séries Mettra”); BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225, “Gazette paroissant deux fois par semaine,” 6 Jan. 1787–31 Dec. 1789, addressed to “Anne-Léon II de Montmorency (1731–99), en son hôtel de Paris, rue Saint-Marc”; BHVP, ms. 713, “Nouvelles à la main,” addressed to “L’abbé de Chalut, Hôtel de Mr de Chalut, fermier général, Place Vendôme,” 22 Feb. 1787–20 Apr. 1789; BHVP, ms. 1204, 6 May to 2 Dec. 1788, missing numbers in October, sent to “Monsieur Belloc, cadet, lieutenant de la Grand Louverterie de France en son hôtel à Clairac”; AD, Calvados, AD/78.2041, “Nouvelles à la main adressées au vicomte d’Hautefeuille,” 23 Jan. 1787–20 Feb. 1788; AD, Puy-de-Dôme, 1G 1803, “nouvelles à la main” addressed to “monsieur l’abbé Gaultier à Beau-Regard,” Aug. 1787–Apr. 1788. On the Correspondance littéraire secrète and the Mémoires secrets see Dictionnaire des journaux (1600–1789), 1: 255–262, 2: 829–835. 11. For brief biographies of Mettra, Moufle d’Angerville, and Pidansat de Mairobert, see Dictionnaire des journalistes (1600–1789), ed. Jean Sgard, Michel Gilot, Françoise Weil (Grenoble, 1976), 250–253, 275–276, 287–288, respectively. For an analysis of Pidansat’s political views in the 1770s, see Popkin, “The Prerevolutionary Origins of Political Journalism,” 215. A study of different aspects of the Mémoires secrets may be found in The ‘Mémoires secrets’ and the Culture of Publicity in Eighteenth-Century France, ed. Jeremy D. Popkin and Bernadette Fort (Oxford, 1998). 12. CLS, 16 May 1787, penultimate page and 7 Mar. 1788, no. 11, p. 92, and 26 July 1788, no. 31, p. 246. 13. Louis Sebastien Mercier, Tableau de Paris, nouv. éd. 12 vols. (Amsterdam, 1783), 5: 63, in which he describes the borrowing of books by the hour. The

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14. 15. 16. 17.

18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32.

33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

Notes to Pages 140–149 nouvelles à la main found in BNF, ms. fr. 10364 appear to be the product of an individual; on this, see n. 10 above. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 13 Sept. 1788. BNF, ms. fr. 10364, fol. 175. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 3 June 1787. Only the nouvelles à la main collected in BHVP, ms. 1204, even though these cover the highly critical and controversial period from 6 May to 2 December 1788, eschew any expression of political opinion or preference, providing just straightforward and detailed news reports. See testimony in BM, Orléans, ms. 1422, “Mémoires de Jean-Charles-Pierre Le Noir, lieutenant général de police de la ville de Paris (1732–1807),” fols. 304rv305r. BNF, ms. fr. 10364 and AN, 138 AP 211 (entry of 8 Jan. 1789), respectively. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277. Mémoires secrets, 3 July 1787, 35: 297. Ibid., 30 July 1787, 35: 364. Ibid., 20 October 1787, 36: 123–124. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 22 Nov. 1787. Ibid., vol. 7, 8 and 23 Aug., 7 and 8 Oct., 1787. Ibid., vol. 7, 26 June 1787 and vol. 8, 1 Feb. 1789. Ibid., vol. 7, 30 July, 23 Sept., 6 and 21 Oct., and 27 Nov. 1787, and “Réflexions sur la fin de l’année 1787.” Ibid., vol. 7, 23 Aug. 1787. Ibid., vol. 7, 30 May 1788. Ibid., vol. 7, 9 and 27 June 1787. These include: BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225 and Nouv. acq. fr. 17275; AN, 138 AP 211; CLS; and Hardy’s journal. The Mémoires secrets, or rather its editor Pidansat de Mairobert during the years of the Maupeou revolution, 1771–1774, had favored a more national form of representation than that offered by the parlementary courts; see Popkin, “The Prerevolutionary Origins of Political Journalism,” 212–215. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 8, 15 and 19 Nov., 18 and 24 Dec. 1788. BNF, 4°Lc2 2225, 24 July 1787. Ibid., 24 June, 12 July, 24, 25, 28 Oct., 4 Nov., and 23 Dec. 1788. AN, 138 AP 211, 8 and 12 Oct., 2 and 19 Nov., 22 and 25 Dec. 1788. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277, 13 and 20 May 1787, and the same in Corr. sec., 2: 140 and 142–143; CLS, 7 Mar. 1788, no. 11, p. 89. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277, 12 Aug. 1787, and the same in Corr. sec., 2: 170; CLS, 8 June 1788, no. 24, pp. 194–196. CLS, letter to the editor, 17 Aug. 1788, no. 34, p. 276, and the nouvelliste’s comment, 21 Sept. 1788, no. 39, p. 312.

Notes to Pages 149–155

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40. Ibid., 17 Oct. 1788, no. 43, p. 346, and Corr. sec., 9 and 20 Nov., 11 Dec. 1788, 2: 302, 304, 310. The collection of newsletters in BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 17275, also expressed hope that the Crown would decide in favor of the Third Estate despite the opposition of the Assembly of Notables to doubling; BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 17275, fol. 31 (after 17 Dec. and before 24 Dec. 1788). 41. BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277, 3 Jan. 1789, and CLS, 5 Feb. 1789, no. 7, p. 49. 42. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 8, 17 Sept. 1788, and CLS, no. 37, 7 Sept. 1788, p. 193. For a study of the tenuousness of news reports on the Day of Tiles in Grenoble in June 1788 see Jean Sgard, Les trente récits de la Journée des Tuiles (Grenoble, 1988). 43. Only two exceptions present themselves: the newsletters to the nobleman Montmorency in BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225 maintained its belief, in December 1788, that the three orders would willingly make sacrifices to preserve harmony; and the newsletters in BNF, ms. fr. 10364 are replete with scandalous rumors almost all of which are not found elsewhere, and these ironically written by the one most sympathetic to the king and queen, and to the royal government. 44. AN, 138 AP 211, 1 Jan. 1789, BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 17275, 3 and 31 Dec. 1788, and BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225, dated perhaps 12 Dec. 1788. 45. This was the fate of the two pamphlets most obnoxious to the public in these two years, Observations d’un avocat sur l’arrété du parlement de Paris, du 13 août 1787 (written by the royalist, abbé Maury, Hardy wrote on 17 August) and the Mémoire des princes of December 1788. 46. CLS, no. 43, 14 Oct. 1787, p. 349. See Chapter 10, section “The Festive and Riotous,” and n. 85 for further examination of the tricolore. 47. For an extended analysis of fêtes in Paris and in the provinces in 1787–1788, see Chapter 10. 48. The first such report, dated 8 Nov. 1788 in BHVP, ms. 1204, precedes the first issue of Volney’s Sentinelle du peuple, dated 10 Nov., in which he called upon the Third Estate to cease all work; see [Volney; Constantin François de Chasseboeuf, le comte de], Affaires de Bretagne. La Sentinelle du peuple, aux gens de toutes professions, sciences, arts, commerce et métiers, composant le Tiers État de la province de Bretagne. Par un propriétaire en ladite province, 10 Nov. 1788, p. 7. On Volney, see Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, “Le publiciste comme démagogue: La Sentinelle du peuple de Volney,” in La Révolution du Journal 1788–1794, 189–195. 49. Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History (New York, 1984), 83–99, offers insights on this ancient culture of cat baiting. 50. The Corr. sec. reported in Oct. 1788 that the military expressed discontent over the new ordinances. 51. Ibid., 16 Apr. 1788, 2: 247; BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13277, 16 Apr. 1788; BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 16 Apr. 1788.

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Notes to Pages 156–166

52. The writings by Calonne and Necker were: Jacques Necker, Mémoire publié par M. Necker au mois d’avril 1787, en réponse au discours prononcé par M. de Calonne devant l’Assemblée des notables, and idem, Sur le compte rendu au roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements (Paris, 1788); Charles Alexandre de Calonne, Requête au roi, adressée à Sa Majesté (London, 1787) and idem, Réponse de M. de Calonne à l’écrit de M. Necker publié en avril 1787, contenant l’examen des comptes de la situation des finances, rendus en 1774, 1776, 1781, 1783 et 1787; avec des observations sur les résultats de l’assemblée des notables (London, 1788). One can follow the pro and con responses to these writings— more critical for Calonne, more favorable for Necker—in the CLS of 1787 and 1788; the Mémoires sécrets, vols. 34, 35, and 36; and in BNF, ms. 6686, Hardy, vols. 7 and 8. 53. Mémoires secrets, 12 Aug. 1787, 35: 401; CLS, 7 Oct. 1787, no. 42, p. 345. 54. BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225, 17 Nov. 1787. 55. CLS, 14 Oct. 1787, no. 43, p. 349 56. Corr. sec., 28 Mar. 1788, 2: 243. 57. CLS, no. 35, 24 Aug. 1788, p. 279. 58. Ibid., no. 20, 9 May 1788, p. 157. 59. At the time that Elizabeth Eisenstein wrote “Who Intervened in 1788? A Commentary on The Coming of the French Revolution,” AHR 71 (Oct. 1965), 77–103, at the beginning of the revisionist critique of the social interpretation of the origins of the French Revolution, she had good reason to emphasize the participation and leadership of nobles in the Patriot movement. That fact now accepted, it is also appropriate to underscore that although nobles participated in the movement for doubling and vote by head, they were not the sole leaders and commoners did not await signals from the nobility to espouse their own demands and goals; commoners acted—and some were leaders—along with nobles, and sometimes they acted on their own initiative. 60. Corr. sec., 27 Dec. 1788, 2: 315. 61. Ibid., 16 Dec. 1788, 2: 312. 62. Ibid., 20 Dec. 1788, 2: 314; also BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 13278, 20 and 27 Dec. 1788. 63. CLS, no. 29, 12 July 1788, pp. 235–236 and no. 50, 4 Dec. 1788, p. 402. 64. BNF, 4°Lc2 2225, 3 Jan. 1789 and AN, 138 AP 211, 5 and 22 Jan. 1789. 65. CLS, no. 3, 9 Jan. 1789, p. 1. 66. Elisabeth Wahl and François Moureau, “Les Nouvelles à la main en 1788–1789: idéologie et contrastes des gazettes manuscrites,” in La Révolution du Journal 1788–1794, 139–147. 67. Mémoires secrets, 17 June 1787, 35: 204–205. 68. Mémoires secrets, loc. cit. 69. The exceptions were short-lived periodical publications such as those of Volney and Mangourit that self-consciously called themselves “heralds,”“tribunes,” and

Notes to Pages 166–167

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“sentinals”; see Chapter 11, below, and also Eisenstein, “Le publiciste comme démagogue,” 189–193. 70. For the characterization of the Revolutionary press, see Jeremy D. Popkin, “Media and Revolutionary Crisis,” and Pierre Rétat, “The Revolutionary Word in the Newspaper in 1789,” in Media and Revolution: Comparative Perspectives (Lexington, Ky., 1995), 12–30 and 90–97, respectively. And for the different roles that the media may play in political events and crises, see the overview by Jeremy D. Popkin and Jack R. Censer, “Lessons from a Symposium,” in ibid., 1–11. 71. In contrast, Popkin argues, newspapers exerted greater influence than did pamphlets from 1789 on; see Popkin, “Media and Revolutionary Crisis,” 21–27.

8. Pamphlets and Other Writings A shorter version of this chapter was originally published as “Les Pamphlets ‘PréRévolutionnaires’ Réseau d’éducation politique et précurseurs des polemiques révolutionnaires” in La Révolution du Journal 1788–1794, ed. Pierre Rétat (Paris, 1989), 13–24, copyright CNRS Editions, Paris, 1989. My thanks to Carla Hesse for suggesting that I examine the Anisson-Duperron collection of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 1. Le Babiole, ou le colporteur chez son libraire (1789), 4–5. 2. For a similar calculation see Antoine de Baecque, “Pamphlets: Libel and Political Mythology,” in Revolution in Print, 165–176. Additional pamphlets may be found under other serial listings and in other libraries. Ralph W. Greenlaw, Jr., The French Nobility on the Eve of the Revolution: A Study of Its Aims and Attitudes, 1787–89 (thesis, Princeton University, 1952; University Microfilms, Ann Arbor, Mich.), 67, 124–125, 131–132, 179–180, 220–221, calculates a total of 1,494 pamphlets published between 1 Jan. 1787 and 31 Dec. 1788. Jeremy D. Popkin and Dale Van Kley, “The Pre-Revolutionary Debate,” section 5, The French Revolution Research Collection, ed-in-chief Colin Lucas (Oxford, 1990), cite a later figure than Greenlaw provided—2, 179 pamphlets between January 1787 and January 1789—without indicating the basis for this calculation. Raymond Birn, “The Pamphlet Press and the Estates General of 1789,” The Press in the French Revolution, 60, calculated multiple copies of published pamphlets and arrived at a figure of “four million pieces of commentary” for the period May 1788–May 1789. 3. Catalogue de l’histoire de France, vol. 2, Lb38 series, 1771–1774, pp. 1071–1337 and Durand Echevarria, The Maupeou Revolution, A Study in the History of Libertarianism: France, 1770–1774 (Baton Rouge, 1985), especially 23 and 125. 4. Mercier, Tableau de Paris, 2: 132–133.

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Notes to Pages 168–173

5. See the copy of Avis aux provinces in CUSC, 1788F L564 and 1788F Av56. 6. Furio Diaz, Filosofia e politica nel settecento francese (Turin, 1962), and Peter Gay, Voltaire’s Politics: The Poet as Realist (New York, 1965), pay particular attention to the contemporary issues that impinged on the writings of philosophes. 7. The royalist pamphlet Observations d’un avocat, in August 1787, and the Mémoire des princes, in December 1788, elicited a number of critical responses from other writers. These were the most prominent but not the sole examples of dialogues conducted among pamphlets. 8. Journal pour servir à l’histoire du dix-huitième siècle, 5 vols. (Paris, 1788–89), passim; Catalogue de l’histoire de France, vol. 2, Lb39 series, 470–496 and the Supplement, Lb39, 528–544. Many of these letters were also printed in contemporary newspapers; see for example the Courrier d’Avignon for Nov.–Dec. 1788. 9. AN, Ba 13 (3), letters of the intendant, 22 Dec. 1788 and 15 Jan. 1789. 10. BNF, ms, fr. 6686–6687, Hardy, vols. 7 and 8, entries for May and June 1788. 11. Greenlaw, The French Nobility on the Eve of the Revolution, 67, 124–125, 131–132, 179–180, 220–221, enumerates 429 pamphlets written by corporate groups; another 779 he attributes to individuals, both known and unknown. The pamphlets attributed to Condorcet were: [Jean Antoine Nicolas de Caritat, marquis de Condorcet], Mr. le M** de C***, Lettres d’un citoyen des États-Unis, à un français, sur les affaires présentes (Philadelphie, 1788), and idem, Sentiments d’un républicain, sur les assemblées provinciales et les états généraux, suite des Lettres d’un citoyen des États-Unis à un français, sur les affaires présentes (Philadelphie, 1788). 12. Journal pour servir à l’histoire du dix-huitième siècle, 1: 8 and 2: 38 and 42 (my translation). 13. On the parlements during the reign of Louis XVI: William Doyle, The Parlement of Bordeaux and the End of the Old Regime, 1771–1790 (London, 1974); idem, “The Parlements of France and the Breakdown of the Old Regime, 1771–1788,” FHS 6 (1970), 415–458; idem, “The Parlement” in The Political Culture of the Old Regime, 1: 157–167; Bailey Stone, The Parlement of Paris, 1771–1789 (Chapel Hill, N.C., 1981); Remontrances du parlement de Paris au XVIIIe siècle, ed. J. Flammermont, 3 vols. (Paris, 1888–98); and on the political thought of parlementary magistrates, Roger Bickart, Les Parlements et la notion de souveraineté nationale au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1932). 14. Among the more forceful Patriot writings were: [P. J. Agier,], Le Jurisconsulte national, ou principes sur la necessité du consentement de la nation pour établir ou proroger les impôts, 3 vols. [1787]; Louis-Adrien Le Paige, Réflexions d’un citoyen sur les lit de justice (1756; republished 1787); [Guillaume-Joseph Saige], Catéchisme du citoyen, ou Éléments du droit public français, suivis de fragments politiques (1788, earlier editions, 1775, and Geneva, 1787); and the series Conférence entre un ministre d’état et un conseiller au Parlement [1787], Suite de la

Notes to Pages 174–175

15.

16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21.

22.

23.

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Conférence du ministre avec le conseiller [1787–1788], and Seconde Suite de la Conférence du ministre avec le conseiller. The term patriot initially applied to supporters of the parlements and of parlementary constitutionalism; the word was recycled and applied in late 1788 to supporters of demands for doubling of Third Estate representation and vote by head in the estates-general. Tocqueville, The Old Régime and the French Revolution, pt. 3, ch. 1, 139. Tocqueville, Oeuvres complètes, L’Ancien régime et la Révolution, 2: 139–152, 155–170. A similar although somewhat attenuated bifurcation is presented in Carcassonne, Montesquieu et le problème de la constitution française, 583–624. See, for example, [Agier], Le Jurisconsulte national. [Pierre-Paul-François-Joachim-Henri Le Mercier de la Rivière], Les Voeux d’un français, ou considérations sur les principaux objets dont le Roi et la nation vont s’occuper (Paris, 1788), 58–103, and [Saige], chs. 2–5, 130–147, including “Réflexions sur le droit des états généraux à la concession des subsides,” 157ff. Sieyès, Qu’est-ce que le tiers état? and, as another example, Pierre Louis Lacretelle, De la convocation des prochains états généraux en France, nouv. éd. corrigée (1788). Necker, Mémoire . . . en réponse, and idem, Sur le compte rendu . . . nouveaux éclaircissements; Calonne, Requête au roi, and idem, Réponse de M. de Calonne; [le Cte de Kersalaun], Observations sur le discours prononcé par M. de Calonne dans l’assemblée des notables, le 27 fevrier 1787 (sic) (Paris, 1787); [Serpaud], Lettre à M. le duc de *** ou réflexions sur les écrits de M. Necker concernant nos finances, et sur la partie du discours de M. de Calonne, du 22 fevrier 1787, ou il fait remonter à des siècles un déficit dans nos finances (London, 1787), idem, État de la situation de nos finances, au mois d’avril 1787, d’après les bases publiées par M. de Calonne, ministre, et par M. Necker (Dec. 1787), and idem, Observations sur la réponse de M. de Calonne à M. Necker (1788); and [C.-J. Mathon de la Cour], Collection des comptes-rendus, pièces authentiques, états et tableaux, concernant les finances de France, depuis 1758 jusqu’en 1787 (Lausanne, 1788). The works of Serpaud and Mathon de la Cour were frequently reviewed in contemporary newspapers. Lettre à M. le comte de ***, ancien capitaine au régiment D***, sur l’obéissance que les militaires doivent aux commandements du Prince [1774 and 1788]; Lettre à un officier aux gardes-françaises, sur les devoirs du militaire français (1788); Lettre à M. le Baron de P***, Officier aux Gardes Françoises, sur les devoirs du Militaire François (1788); 50 Lettres d’un lieutenant général à Mr. le C* de L*** [1788]; La Nation, aux Militaires François [1788]; [Barnave], Profession de foi d’un militaire [1788]; Réponse aux questions d’un citoyen par un militaire [1788]; [Mallard], Réflexions d’un Militaire, sur le paragraphe ci-après du Discours de M. de Rollin, avocat général au Parlement de Grenoble, suivies d’un

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24.

25.

26. 27.

28.

Notes to Pages 175–177 Mémoire à présenter aux États Généraux, pour rendre les Soldats Citoyens, et en faire les vrais défenseurs de la Nation [1789]; and “Des bornes de l’obéissance due par les militaires au Roi,” ch. 19 in Code national, dédiée aux états généraux (Geneva, 1788) (BNF, Lb39 741, also CUSC, 1788 Swi B65). Antoine-Alexandre Barbier, Dictionnaire des ouvrages anonymes (Paris, 1872–1879), attributes this last work to Bosquillon, who, according to J. M. Quérard, Les Supercheries littéraires dévoilées (Paris, 1882), was a lawyer in the Paris parlement. The same exact text, in another edition, bears on the title page: Code national, ou Manuel français, à l’usage de trois ordres, et principalement des députés aux prochains états généraux; par l’auteur du Catéchisme du citoyen, et pour servir de suite à cet ouvrage (En France, 1789); thus it is attributed to Guillaume-Joseph Saige (BNF, Lb39 6911). Hardy mentions the Code national on 28 Nov. 1788, reporting that the government tried to suppress it. That reference also disproves the authorship of Saige, since the edition attributed to him is dated 1789. A few such examples are: Jugement du champ de mars, rendu le peuple assemblé, les laboureurs y séant (1788); Protestation d’un serf du Mont Jura contre l’Assemblée des Notables, le Mémoire des princes du sang, le clergé, la noblesse et le tiers état. Au Roi (1789); Réclamation du tiers état et supplique au roi (Nov. 1788); and Voeu sur la dernière classe du peuple à l’Assemblée des Notables (1787). George Taylor, in “Revolutionary and Nonrevolutionary Content in the Cahiers of 1789: An Interim Report,” FHS 7 (1972), 479–502, argued that the cahiers were essentially moderate statements of opinion, in contrast to the radicalism of the reforms introduced following the riots in the summer of 1789. His article underscores the radicalism of the revolutionary process itself. Yet public opinion, prior to the summer of 1789, was found not only in the cahiers but also in the pamphlets; the emphasis on the moderateness of public opinion needs to be attenuated in light of radical yet concrete ideas of social reform found, if not in the cahiers, in some pamphlets. See Chapter 11 for an extended analysis of popular political pamphlets. See Rétat, “Formes et discours d’un journal Révolutionnaire,” 139–166. Even the size and layout of several newspapers entitled Révolutions . . . were similar to those of pamphlets (see the reproductions found in ibid., between p. 166 and p. 167). See also Labrosse and Rétat, Naissance du journal révolutionnaire 1789, 87–174. [Jean-Louis] Carra, Un petit mot de réponse à M. de Calonne, sur sa Requête au Roi (Amsterdam, 1787); and idem, M. de Calonne tout entier, tels qu’il est comporté dans l’administration des finances, dans son commissariat en Bretagne, etc. etc., avec une Analyse de sa requête au Roi, et de sa Réponse à l’écrit de M. Necker; Ouvrage critique, politique et moral (Bruxelles, April 1788) (according to the Courrier d’Avignon, 4 Mar. 1787, there were 6,000 copies of Carra’s M. de Calonne tout entier). See also: Procès de M. de Calonne ou Replique à son libelle,

Notes to Pages 177–178

29.

30. 31. 32.

33.

34.

35.

425

par un citoyen [1787]; Le Sr. Calonne denoncé à la nation française et à la Posterité, et pris à partie par l’ombre de feu M. de la Chalotais, procureur général du Parlement de Bretagne [n.l., n.d.]; Sixième développement de la requête qu’a fait imprimer M. de Calonne, ex-ministre, réfugié en Angleterre; ou le Sr. Calonne, ex-procureur général de Douay, maître des requêtes et procureur général de la Commission extraordinaire érigée en 1765 et 1766, à Rennes et à St. Malo: denoncé à la Nation Française et à la posterité; et pris à partie par l’ombre de feu M. de la Chalotais, procureur général du Parlement de Bretagne (London, 1787); Mémoire de M. de la Chalotais [n.l., n.d.]; Les Etrennes de M. de Calonne à la Nation Française, ou Lettre contenant un léger détail des bienfaits que M. de Calonne a rendus à la France (1788); and also La Confession de M. de Calonne (1789). For the carnavalesque trials of the ministers, see below, Chapter 10. Récit d’un de MM., au sujet de C. [Calonne], Du 10 août 1787; and Récit portant dénonciation fait par M. Bodkin de Fitzgerald, conseiller au Parlement de Paris, en la troisième chambre des enquêtes, toutes les chambres assemblées, les pairs y séans, le jeudi 25 septembre 1788, à Monsieur le premier président, au sujet de M. Loménie de Brienne, archevêque de Sens, ancien principal ministre et de M. de Lamoignon, ancien garde des sceaux. [Jacques-Antoine Dulaure], Réclamation d’un citoyen contre la nouvelle enceinte de Paris élevée par les fermiers généraux [1787]. Darnton, The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France. At the time of the Paris Parlement’s exile in 1787, some similar arguments appeared in Je ne sais qu’en dire, voilà mon avis. Lettres à un ami sur les événements de 1787 [n.l., n.d]. Les Amours de Charlot et Toinette [1779], attributed to Beaumarchais, was bought up by the royal government and placed in the Bastille, hence did not circulate until after the taking of the Bastille on 14 July 1789; see Gruder, “The Question of Marie-Antoinette,” 276. For the tale of the sick old lady see: [Volney], Affaires de Bretagne. La Sentinelle du peuple, entry of 20 Nov. 1788, 3–7, and La Lanterne magique de la France. Nouveau spectacle de la foire Saint-Germain, chez le marchand de Dragées de M. de Calonne. Par M*** C.L.S.D.R.D.G.F.D.R. L’an de grace 1789; a similar tale is also recounted in CLS, 26 Dec. 1788, 3–5. One pamphlet, Bien-né (Paris, 1788), respectfully criticized the king for his excessive drinking (on this, see Correspondance secrète, 1: 279), and more critical images of an inebriated king also circulated. Only pornographic writings in pamphlet form are examined here. See below, Chapter 11, for an examination of the verses, songs, and other nonpamphlet criticisms circulating in 1787–1788. For a more extensive analysis of the attacks against Marie-Antoinette before the Revolution, see Gruder, “The Question of Marie-Antoinette,” 269–298.

426

Notes to Pages 178–180

36. BM, Lyon, ms. 805, l’abbé Duret, Nouvelles générales et en particulier de Lyon, t. 2, f. 240v. 37. Histoire du collier, Mémoire justificatif de la comtesse de La Motte (London, 1788), and La Reine dévoilée, ou supplément aux mémoires de la comtesse de Valois de Lamotte (London, 1789). Evidence for the ghostwriter comes from his own pen; see [Alphonse (Antoine) Joseph de Serres de la Tour] Appel au bon sens, dans lequel M. de la Tour soumet à ce juge infaillible, les détails de sa conduite relativement à une affaire qui fait quelque bruit dans le monde (London, 1788), 18 and 31. One favorable writing that is posterior to the diamond necklace affair is Le Vrai caractère de Marie Antoinette. 38. Au Peuple sur ses vrais intérêts [1788]. 39. [Michel-Ange-Bernard de Mangourit], Le Pour et le contre, entretien patriotique de deux gentilshommes bretons [1788]. 40. Lettre de M. le marquis de *** à un français retiré à Londres (Amsterdam, 1788), 45–47, for one example. There are scattered references in Hardy (BNF, ms. fr. 6686–6687) for 1787 and 1788. 41. À Messieurs du Châtelet sur leur premier arrêt [1788]; [Antoine-JosephJoachim Cerutti], Mémoire pour le peuple français [late 1788–early 1789]; Jacques-Antoine Dulaure, Crimes et forfaits de la noblesse, et du clergé, depuis le commencement de la monarchie jusqu’à nos jours (Paris, [1788]), and idem, Les Principes du gouvernement simplifiés et réduits à sept unités naturelles. Conditions d’une bonne constitution politique [1788–1789]; [Pierre-JamesHippolyte Le Tellier], Jugement du champ de mars, rendu le peuple assemblé, les laboureurs y séant. Du 26 décembre 1788; Lettre aux chartreux (6 Oct. 1788); Catéchisme des parlements, 1789 [December 1788] (the attribution of this work to Linguet is disputed by Darline Levy); Linguet, La France plus qu’Anglois, ou comparaison entre le procédure entamé à Paris le 25 septembre 1788 contre les ministres du Roi de France, et le procès à Londres en 1640, au comte de Strafford, principal ministre de Charles premier, roi d’Angleterre avec des Réflexions sur le danger imminent dont les entreprises de la robe menacent la Nation, et les particuliers 2nd ed. [Brussels, 1788], idem, Observations sur le nouvel arrêté du Parlement de Paris, en date du 5 decembre 1788 (Brussels, 1789), idem, Protestations de M. Linguet contre les arrêts du Parlement de Paris des 25 et 27 septembre 1788 (Brussels, 7 Nov, l788), idem, Quelle est l’origine des états généraux? (1788), and idem, Réflexions sur la resistance opposée à l’execution des ordonnances promulguées le 8 mai 1788, suivies de la difference entre la révolution passagère de 1771, et la réforme de 1788, dans l’ordre judiciaire en France (Brussels, 1788); [Mignonneau], Considérations intéressantes sur les affaires présentes 2nd ed. (London, 1788); Réclamation du tiers état au roi [1788]; [Honoré-Gabriel de Riqueti, comte de Mirabeau], Réponse aux alarmes des bons citoyens [1788]; Réflexions de Jean-Baptiste, porteur d’eau, et qui plus est

Notes to Pages 180–185

42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49.

50. 51. 52.

53.

54.

427

citoyen: avec une apologie des sentiments de la cour, et des prétensions du tiers état [late 1788–early 1789]; [Antoine-Joseph-Michel Servan], Glose et remarques sur l’arrêté du Parlement de Paris, du 5 decembre 1788 (London, 1789); La Vision qui n’en sera pas une [1788]. See Gruder, “The Bourbon Monarchy: Reforms and Propaganda at the End of the Old Regime,” in The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, 1: 359–372, for an extended examination of royalist writings. BNF, ms. fr., 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 27 June 1787. Linguet, Annales, 15: 282, n. 2, and 14: 499–500, respectively. Necker’s bestseller was Sur le compte rendu au Roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements (1788); see below, Chapter 11. CLS, 22 Jan. 1789. Melodramatic tales include the Kornmann-Bergasse series, the personal dramas of Latude’s imprisonment for thirty-nine years (three citations), and the comte de Sanois’ family problems and incarceration (two references). For these stories see below, Chapter 11, and more extensively Maza, Private Lives and Public Affairs, 263–311. These included n. 44 above, as well as those by Carra and Mirabeau that denounced policies and personal abuses of ministers and other officials. See the untitled, undated (but probably from the 1780s), and anonymous memorandum in the papers of the Direction de la Librairie, BNF, F. fr. 21833, Bureau de la librairie, État Général des Imprimeurs du Royaume, fs. 117r–121v, in particular f. 121r. A somewhat different but parallel insight led the French ambassador to England to advise the royal government in 1783 to no longer purchase slanderous manuscripts so as to eliminate what were virtual government subsidies for pornographic writers; as a result, the number of such London publications of French smut-writers diminished; see Gruder, “The Question of Marie-Antoinette,” 276. CLS, 29 June and 5 July 1788. The Mémoire of the princes appeared shortly after the conclusion of the second Assembly of Notables. AN, Ba 43 (2), 9 June 1788, 20 June 1788; AN, Ba43 (2) (45), 27 June 1788; AN, Ba 44, 17 and 29 July 1788, 3 and 10 Aug. 1788; and AN, Ba 74, 18 Sept. 1788 and 4 Nov. 1788. Those two were: L’Ami des loix (1775), according to Barbier, Dictionnaire . . . anonymes, written by Martin de Marivaux, avocat in the Paris parlement; and Saige, Catéchisme du citoyen. Esprit des édits, enregistrés militairement au Parlement de Grenoble, le 10 mai 1788, La Profession de foi militaire, and Lettre d’un campagnard à M. son subdélégué, all attributed to Joseph Barnave (the last according to Edmond Maignien, Bibliographie historique du Dauphiné pendant la Révolution française, du

428

55.

56. 57.

58.

59.

60.

61.

62.

Notes to Pages 186–187 1787 au 11 nivôse an XIV, 31 décembre 1805, 3 vols. [Grenoble, 1899], 1: 36); Avis aux provinces; Commentaire sur l’arrêt du conseil d’état du Roi portant suppression des délibérations et protestations des cours et autres corps et communautés, faites depuis la publication des loix, portés au lit de justice, de 8 mai dernier. Du 2 juin 1788; and Lettre d’un avocat à un milord sur les loix d’enregistrement et les privilèges de la province. [Clavière/Mirabeau], Dénonciation de l’Agiotage au Roi et à l’Assemblée des Notables, and a letter of Mirabeau to Lacretelle as well as a letter of Lacretelle. Jean-Louis Carra, L’An 1787, Précis de l’Administration de la Bibliothèque du Roi sous M. le Noir. Gabriel Bonnot de Mably, Observations sur l’histoire de France; Calonne, Mémoire justificatif (1787); and [P.J. Agier], Le Jurisconsulte national (1787). [Nicolas Bergasse], Mémoire pour un Sr. Guillaume Kornmann, ancien banquier, contre sa femme, un Sr. Daudet de Jossan, le Sr. de Beaumarchais, et M. le Noir, ancien lieutenant général de police (1787), and idem, Observations du sieur Bergasse, sur l’écrit du sieur de Beaumarchais, ayant pour titre: ‘Court mémoire, en attendant l’autre, dans la cause du sieur Kornmann,’ reprinted in a small, more polemical version as Réflexions sur les nouveaux édits (1788). Other writings of “great interest” whose suppression the government sought included: Emmanuel Louis Henry de Launay, le comte d’Antraigues, Mémoire sur la formation et la composition des États Généraux; [Kersalaun], Ni Emprunt Ni Impôt; La Supplique du peuple au Roi (1787); and [l’abbé Gabriel Brizard], Première Lettre à un ami, sur l’Assemblée des Notables (1787). It remains a puzzle why the government prevented the publication of [Le Tellier], Le Voyage de Louis XVI dans sa province de Normandie, which described the public acclaim the king received during his first visit to a province in 1786; however, this writing did appear in the catalogue of the cabinet de lecture of the Parisian bookseller Le Jay in 1793 (BNF, M 2700, no. 39). BNF, ms. fr. 22182, Malesherbes, “Sur la liberté de la Presse”; this was evidently written after July 1788 when the Crown called for a national discussion on the estates-general. For an examination of this memoir see Pierre Grosclaude, Malesherbes témoin et interprète de son temps (Paris, 1961), 665–668. This is the count from one, though the most plentiful listing, BNF, F. fr., 21987, “Feuilles des Permissions Tacites.” These compare with the 219 titles listed for 1787 and 821 for 1788 in the Lb39 series of the Catalogue de l’Histoire de France. BNF, ms. fr. 22182, Collection Anisson-Duperron, “Sur la liberté de la Presse par un Ministre d’État (M. de Malesherbes),” p. 39. For an overview of ancien régime censorship, see Roche, “Censorship and the Publishing Industry,” in Revolution in Print, 3–26. CLS, 22 June 1788, 22: 205, and BNF, ms. fr. 6685, Hardy, vol. 6, 12 Oct. 1787.

Notes to Pages 188–191

429

63. Documentary verification may be found in BA, Bastille 10305, “État des livres . . . mis en ordre par le sieur Poinçot, le 14 juillet 1790.” Jane McLeod, “Provincial Book Trade Inspectors in Eighteenth-Century France,” FH 12 (1998), 127–148, argues that control of the book trade became more rigorous in the second-half of the eighteenth century with the introduction of provincial book trade inspectors; whether effective or not before 1787, it remains true that the inspectors were unable to contain the eruption of printed opposition in 1787–1788. 64. BNF, ms. fr. 22182, pp. 7–10, 17–18; the quotation is on pp. 9–10. 65. This conclusion is drawn from an examination of the documents in BNF, F. fr., 21867, 21869, 21934, 22070, and BNF, mss. fr. 22102 and 22127, as well as [Louis-Pierre Manuel], La Bastille Dévoilée, 3 vols. (Paris, 1789), 2: bk. 3, p. 121, pp. 139ff., and M. Frantz Funck-Brentano, Les Lettres de Cachet à Paris. Étude suivie d’une liste des prisonniers de la Bastille (1659–1789) (Paris, 1903), 419. 66. [Manuel], La Bastille Dévoilée, 2: bk. 3, pp. 139ff. 67. BNF, ms. fr., 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 13 Sept. 1787. 68. BNF, F. fr. 21935, 21937, 21987, 22040, 22041, 22073, and 22075; BNF, ms. fr. 22080; and BA, Archives de la Bastille, mss. 12,578, 12,727, and 15,199. 69. BNF, F. fr. 21869, fol. 134v. 70. BNF, F. fr. 21934, fol. 78 (Les Fastes), and BNF, F. fr. 21934, fol. 134 (first president of the Parlement of Rouen). 71. The remainder of the publications caught in the government’s censorial net were: four periodicals, one declaration from a group of provincial nobles, and nineteen writings of a general character. 72. BNF, F. fr. 21934, fol. 84. The title listed is Idées et mémoires d’un patriot sur les états-généraux, which may be the pamphlet from Dauphiné, Idées sur les états généraux. Articles à placer dans les cahiers d’instruction donnés aux députés par les provinces respectives, denounced by the intendant and military commander (AN, Ba 74). 73. BNF, F. fr. 22070, no. 65, arrêt du Conseil, 15 Feb. 1787. One of the three printing establishments, L’Imprimerie Polytipe owned by Hoffmann and son, was permanently suppressed on 1 Nov. 1787 because it had printed libels without approval. 74. Arrêt du Conseil, 4 Sept. 1787, permitting control of royal houses and of those of Provence, Artois, and Orléans, in Journal de Paris, 14 Oct. 1787, p. 1242. 75. BNF, F. fr. 22070, nos. 72 and 73, arrêt du Conseil, 26 Sept. 1788. 76. BNF, F. fr. 21867, fols. 65v, 125, 152, 160v, 164v, 176v; BNF, F. fr. 21869, fol. 52, 57v; BNF, F. fr. 22041, fol. 104. 77. BNF, F. fr. 21867, fols. 23v and 27. Cortot was in correspondence with his cousin in Paris, the lawyer Godard, and in June and July was sending to him copies of declarations of many tribunals in Burgundy and of the lawyers of Dijon; AD, Côte d’Or, E. 642, no. 3, 8 June 1788, no. 35, 2 July 1788, and no. 36, 4 July 1788.

430

Notes to Pages 191–195

78. BNF, F. fr. 21867, fols. 176v and 177, and BNF, F. fr. 21869, fols. 149v and 150. 79. The following is drawn from the source material in AN, Ba 43 (2) Dauphiné, Grenoble; Ba 44 (1), Dauphiné, dossier 6 and dossier 7; Ba 74 (1), dossier 2 and dossier 4; and Ba 75b, dossier 1. 80. AN, Ba 43 (2) dossier 5, no. 11, letter from Caze de la Bove, intendant, to Loménie de Brienne, 4 July 1788; and AN, Ba 44 (1) dossier 6, no. 55, letter from the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre to the Comte de Brienne, minister of war, 29 July 1788. 81. BNF, ms. fr. 22182, Malesherbes, “Sur la liberté de la presse,” p. 8.

9. Readers and Reading Sites My gratitude to Paul Benhamou for his generosity in providing me with copies of his several writings indicated below in the notes. 1. Censer, The French Press in the Age of Enlightenment, 184–191, presents evidence for six newspapers, none of them French provincial papers; these data indicate a predominance of the elite from the nobility and commoners among the readers. 2. The sale of individual copies of newspapers may have been a current practice at least in Paris, as indicated later in this chapter. 3. Le Courrier de l’Europe, 17 April 1787, p. 262. 4. Requête d’une société rustique, 69. 5. Moulinas, L’Imprimerie . . . à Avignon, 360 and 363. 6. The figures for the Journal de Paris and the Mercure de France come from the Dictionnaire des Journaux, 2: 616 and 857. For the provincial press the figures come from Jean Sgard, “Bilan du colloque,” in La Diffusion et la lecture des journaux de langue française, 281; for an example of one such provincial newspaper, the Journal de Provence, see the figures in René Gérard, Un Journal de province sous la Révolution: Le ‘Journal de Marseille’ de Ferréol Beaugeard (1781–1797) (Paris, 1964), 64, 69–70. If we take the numbers for the two Paris newspapers, plus the 8,550 subscriptions for the Journal Historique et Politique of Pancoucke and Mallet du Pan also published in Paris (Dictionnaire des Journaux, 2: 691), to which we add a low “survival” figure of 300 for 54 provincial papers (16,200), the minimum total subscriptions come to 40,750. Jean Sgard, “La Presse provinciale et les Lumières,” in La Presse provinciale au XVIIIe siècle, 63, states that newspaper runs ranged from 200 to 750 copies, which may suggest an even higher total for subscriptions. There were, in addition, 6,250 subscribers to the Gazette de France (Dictionnaire des Journaux, 1: 447). 7. Journal de Paris, 16 Oct. 1788. 8. Luc-Vincent Thiery, Le Voyageur à Paris, extrait du Guide des Amateurs et des Etrangers Voyageurs à Paris, 2 vols. (Paris, 1789), 2: 3.

Notes to Pages 195–197

431

9. Moulinas, L’Imprimerie . . . à Avignon, 363, and [Nicolas Restif de la Bretonne], Le Plus forts des pamphlets. L’Ordre des paysans aux états généraux (Paris, 26 Feb. 1789), 74. 10. [Mettra], CLS, 7 Oct. 1787, no. 42, p. 345 (original italics). 11. Jones,“The Great Chain of Buying,” 18, suggests figures for the provincial press of 50,000 to 200,000, not including the Parisian press. Gilles Feyel proposes a cumulative figure of 240,000 to 360,000 readers for both the domestic and foreign French-language press; see Gilles Feyel, “La diffusion des gazettes étrangères en France et la révolution postale des années 1750,” in Les Gazettes Européenes de langue française, 98. Just as one subscription may have involved four to six readers, it is also possible that a single reader may have had subscriptions to more than one journal. 12. Nicolas Ruault, the editor of Voltaire and Beaumarchais, hence not an unknowledgeable or uncultured man, as late as 24 March 1789 was unfamiliar with Sieyès’ Qu’est-ce que le Tiers État?; see Nicolas Ruault, Gazette d’un Parisien sous la Révolution, Lettres à son frère, 1783–1796, ed. Anne Vassal (Paris, 1976), 127. The 20,000 copies sold of Necker’s writing comes from the Courrier d’Avignon, 20 Sept. 1788; the second bestseller may have been Bergasse’s Observations du sieur Bergasse, of which 10–12,000 copies were printed, so Hardy reported (BNF, ms. fr. 6687, vol. 8, 13 and 21 Aug. 1788). 13. Roberto Zapperi, “Introduction,” in Emmanuel Sieyès, Qu’est-ce que le Tiers Etat?, 92. 14. These are all indicated in the Dictionnaire des Journaux, 2 vols., passim. 15. Of the forty-five general periodicals published in France in 1787–1788 for which subscription prices are known (of a total of fifty-eight), thirty-two of them cost from 2 to 10 livres per year. 16. Less expensive were the weekly Affiches de Maine at 3–6 livres annually, the bimonthly Affiches d’Auxerre at 4 livres 10 sous, and the Affiches de Montargis at 5 livres. 17. The Journal de Normandie (12 livres annually) and the Affiches de Bourges (6 livres annually) may also have sold at about 3 sous per copy. For the price of wine in taverns see Thomas Brennan, Public Drinking and Popular Culture in Eighteenth-Century Paris (Princeton, 1988), 82, n. 11 (one pinte was slightly less than one liter or about one quart, p. 120). Six sous was about one-fifth of the daily wage of the poorest paid building worker in Paris; on the wages of building workers see Haim Burstin, “Conflitti sul lavoro e protesta annonaria a Parigi alla fine dell’ Ancien Régime,” Studi Storici 19: 4 (Oct.–Dec. 1978), 751, 755. 18. Foreign gazettes not included in this study fell within this same price range, only four of them offering cheaper subscription rates (ranging from a low of 6 livres to 24 livres). The livre tournois was a money of account equal to the livre and later to the franc introduced during the Revolution (1795).

432

Notes to Pages 198–199

19. For the number of drinking places in eighteenth-century Paris see Brennan, Public Drinking and Popular Culture, 76; Jean Nicolas, “Le Tavernier, le juge et le curé, L’Histoire 25 (July–Aug. 1980), 20 and 28, gives the figure of 80,000 taverns during Louis XIV’s reign, and states that wine cost 3 sous in the guingettes of the Paris suburbs. Even in the government-run ateliers de charité a male worker received, in 1790, 24–30 sous a day, a wage set below what regular workers earned; see Angela Groppi, La Classe la plus nombreuse, la plus utile et la plus précieuse: Organizzazione del lavoro e conflitti nella Parigi rivoluzionaria, EUI Working Paper no. 88/325, European University Institute (Florence, 1987), 39. On the Parisian glazier, see Jacques-Louis Ménétra, Journal of My Life, introd. Daniel Roche, transl. Arthur Goldhammer, foreward Robert Darnton (New York, 1986). 20. Jones, “The Great Chain of Buying,” 20, 25, 26, 35, 39. The “linkages, overlaps of interests, and languages of mutual reinforcement” that Jones acknowledges (p. 24) in this commercial culture between the “capitalist bourgeoisie” and “other groups within the bourgeoisie” extended, I believe, also to the nobility. The affiches may be seen as akin to the urban fairs and boulevard theaters in eighteenth-century France where a heterogeneous public gathered; see Robert M. Isherwood, Farce and Fantasy, Popular Entertainment in Eighteenth-Century Paris (New York, 1986). 21. Paul Benhamou’s articles provide rich information on both chambres and cabinets de lecture. See his “Inventaire des instruments de lecture publique des gazettes” in Les Gazettes Européenes de langue française, 121–129 and idem, “La Lecture publique des journaux,” Dix-Huitième Siècle, 24 (1992), 283–295 (the reference here on p. 293). For the chambres de lectures in Nantes, see Gaston Martin, “Les ‘chambres littéraires’ de Nantes et la préparation de la Révolution,” Annales de Bretagne, 37 (1926), 347–365; and for that in Rennes see Jean Quéniart, Culture et société dans la France de l’Ouest au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1978), 434. 22. Paul Benhamou, the Affiches de Troyes (1784) in “Inventaire des instruments de lecture publique des gazettes,” 126, and the Affiches de Dijon (1787) in idem, “La Lecture publique des journaux,” 294. In “Inventaire des instruments,” 127, Benhamou lists fifteen of the thirty-five to thirty-eight chambres for which he found information; to these may be added the additional chambres whose existence is indicated and which were located in: Coutances, Colmar, Agen, Quimper, Saint-Malo, Dinan, Vierzon, Alençon, Moulins, Saint-Brieuc, Lorient, Clermont, Machecoul, Nice, Le Havre, Bourges, and at least four others in Nantes. I want to express my deep appreciation to Professor Benhamou for providing me with some of the data not included in his published articles. 23. Benhamou, “La Lecture publique des journaux,” 293, and Martin, “Les ‘chambres littéraires’ de Nantes,” passim, who also indicates (p. 361) the existence of

Notes to Pages 200–201

24.

25. 26.

27. 28. 29.

30. 31.

433

additional chambres in Paimboeuf, Pornic, and Blain. Quéniart, Culture et société, 434–435, also writes of chambres in Quimper, Dinan, and Saint-Malo. Paul Benhamou, “The Reading Trade in Lyons: Cellier’s cabinet de lecture,” Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, 308 (1993), 305–321, and idem, “La Lecture publique des journaux,” 285 and 289. Gérard, Un Journal de province sous la Révolution, 73. Benhamou, “Inventaire des instruments de lecture publique des gazettes,” 123–124, 127; of the nine Parisian cabinets, seven are known through their advertisements in newspapers to have provided periodicals, as was equally the case with twenty-five of the forty-four provincial cabinets, so Professor Benhamou kindly informed me. Since most of the known cabinets did offer periodicals to subscribers, we may assume that all the others did as well—otherwise, why would one pay to become a member? Jean-Louis Pailhès, “En marge des bibliothèques: l’apparition des cabinets de lecture,” Histoire des bibliothèques françaises, vol. 2, Les bibliothèques sous l’ancien régime, ed. Claude Jolly (Paris, 1988), 415–421, indicates more cabinets in Paris—thirteen—between 1759 and 1789, but fewer in the provinces—thirty-six—although he immediately states they must have been “more numerous” since they had become “familiar” institutions (p. 416). Thus Pailhès indicates two more cabinets in Paris and three in the provinces— Besançon, Nancy, and Provence—not included in Benhamou’s count, whereas Benhamou indicates five provincial cabinets not listed by Pailhès: Bordeaux, Grenoble, Lyon, Metz, Montargis. To these last may be added the others that Benhamou found and that were not included in his published list, which he kindly provided to me: Dijon, Lunéville, Clermont, Arras, Auxerre, Bar-le-Duc, Montpellier, Pau, Nîmes, Chartres, Lorient, Blois, Versailles, and Strasbourg. Quéniart, Culture et société, 434–435, cites a library opened in a bookstore in Angers in 1780. There also existed a cabinet littéraire in Valence; see AN, Ba 43 (2) no. 43, 23 June 1788, letter from the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre to the comte de Brienne. Les imprimés limousins: 1788–1799, ed. Michel Cassan and Jean Boutier (Limoges, 1994), 71. Ibid., 287–290. Thiery, Le Voyageur à Paris, 2: 82; for the reference to women, see Luc-Vincent Thiery, Guides des Amateurs et des Étrangers Voyageurs à Paris, ou description raisonné de cette ville, de sa banlieue, et de tout ce qu’elles contiennent de remarquables, 2 vols. (Paris, 1787), 1: 233–235. Mercier, Tableau de Paris (Amsterdam, 1788), 10: 223–234, 227–228; 11: 330 f. Thiery, Le Voyageur à Paris, 1: 182–183 and 2: 21, 81–82, 211–212. Wallace Kirsop, in “Some Documents on the History of the French Book Trade in the Eighteenth Century,” Australian Journal of French Studies 24: 3 (1987), 265–288, reproduces the list of books offered at the Lycée as well as the fee schedule for the library.

434

Notes to Pages 201–203

32. Gazette de Leyde, 70: 31 Aug. 1787, letter from Paris, 24 Aug. The Mémoires secrets (35: 453–454) indicated that the Lycée, “as a place of instruction and . . . under the protection of Monsieur [the comte de Provence]” was alone not closed (28 Aug. 1787), and again on 1 Oct. 1787 (36: 58–59) reported the same order, including the text of the letter of the lieutenant général de police. 33. Mornet, Les Origines intellectuelles, de la Révolution française, 307–313. These ten societies were located in: Agen, Bordeaux, Castres, Dole, Havre, Laval, Mans, Moulin, Mulhouse, and Saint-Antonin. For societies in Castres and Saint-Antonin, see Jean Donat, “Une Société politique et littéraire à SaintAntonin au XVIIIe siècle,” Bulletin archéologique, historique et artistique de la Société archéologique de Tarn-et-Garonne, 38 (1910), 273–274. For women in the Rennes society, Martin, “Les ‘chambres littéraires’ de Nantes,” 358, quotes from Félix Rocquain, L’Esprit révolutionnaire avant la Révolution (Paris, 1878), 475. Quéniart, Culture et société, 434, refers to the suppression of the club in Le Mans, and cites two other clubs there and in Nantes and cities in Touraine. For the order of the military commander of Brittany, 1 June 1788, see Amand du Coüedic, Suite des Précis historique de ce qui s’est passé à Rennes depuis l’arrivée de M. le comte de Thiard, commandant en Bretagne (1788), 187–188, n. 2. 34. Les imprimés limousins: 1788–1799, 72, referring to Raymond Grandcoing and Marcel Laucornet, “Inventaire de la bibliothèque du comte des Cars, dressé au chateau de Rochefort en 1793,” Bulletin de la Société archéologique et historique du Limousin, 106 (1979), 152–156; Louis Desgraves, “Vers la bibliothèque publique,” Histoire des bibliothèques françaises, vol. 2, Les bibliothèques sous l’ancien régime, 396–400; and Quéniart, Culture et société, 430. 35. Thiery, Le Voyageur à Paris, 2: 3. 36. BNF, F. fr. 21854, fs. 11–14 for the regulations on the Parisian colporteurs, 13 Sept. 1722. Evidence of colporteurs and unauthorized persons selling books in 1787–1788 is scattered in the documentation of the Librairie: BNF, F. fr. 21867, fs. 3v, 11v, 20, 29v, 56v, 88v, 142; BNF, F. fr. 21869, fs. 18v–19; and BNF, F. fr. 22041, fs. 5, 104, 111, 142, 205v (quotation). On the book market and readership in the countryside, see Anne Sauvy, “Le livre aux champs,” Histoire de l’édition française, 4 vols., ed. Henri-Jean Martin and Roger Chartier, Le livre triomphant, 2: 430–443 (quotation, 443). Laurence Fontaine, Histoire du colportage en Europe (XVe–XIXe siècles) (Paris, 1993), 90, 232, 238, 244–245, 247, provides vivid evidence that colporteurs engaged in selling a number of printed materials, not only books but also illustrations and occasionnels relating “extraordinary events” of the day; so too did some of them sing songs then current that also recounted events or expressed laments.

Notes to Pages 203–207

435

37. John Brewer, “Reading and Readers in 18th Century Britain,” Cultura, revista de história e teoria das ideias, 9 (1997), 159–185, examines the three main institutions for reading in Great Britain: circulating libraries associated with bookstores, subscription libraries, and book clubs. In addition, there were libraries attached to Anglican and Nonconformist churches, taverns, and coffee houses, and private collections from which books could be borrowed. There were more circulating and subscription libraries in Great Britain than cabinets and chambres de lectures in France—nearly a thousand provincial circulating libraries and over one hundred in London by 1800. Other calculations in James Raven, “From Promotion to Proscription: Arrangements for Reading and Eighteenth-Century Libraries,” in The Practice and Representation of Reading in England, ed. James Raven, Naomi Tadmore, Helena Small (New York, 1996), 175–176, 181–182. 38. The last four are included in Darnton, The Corpus of Clandestine Literature, 17, 22, 26, and 73. 39. BNF, M 2700 (29, 37–39). 40. BNF, F. fr. 22070, nos. 72–73 for the quotation, and also BNF, F. fr. 21867, f. 160v. 41. BNF, F. fr. 21867, f. 21v; BNF, F. fr. 22040, f. 119, 28 Oct. 1787 for the quotation; and Journal de Paris, “Supplement,” 18 Jan. 1788, p. 131. 42. BNF, F. fr. 21867, fs. 56v, 57v, 90, 142v, BNF, F. fr. 21869, fs. 11v, 18v, 63v, and BNF, F. fr. 22040, fs. 78, 85, 111, 167v, 171, 179v, 185. 43. [Jean-Pierre-Louis de la Roche du Maine, marquis de Luchet], Histoire de Messieurs de Paris. Ouvrage dans lequel on montre comment un Royaume peut passer dans l’espace de cinq années de l’état le plus déplorable à l’état le plus florissant (1776), v. On the concept of a “reading revolution,” see Roger Chartier’s commentary in Les Origines culturelles de la Révolution française (Paris, 1990), 113–115. 44. La Babiole; Journal de Paris, 9 Oct. 1788, p. 1210; Mercier, Tableau de Paris, 5: 63, 297, 299, 305–306, 9: 334, 12: 151, 153–155; Ruault, Gazette d’un Parisien sous la Révolution, 82, 86–88, 90; and Olympe de Gouges, Le Bonheur primitif de l’homme, ou les rêveries patriotiques (Amsterdam, 1789), 22. 45. Marquis de Bombelles, Journal, ed. Jean Grassion and Frans Durif (Geneva, 1982), 2: 205. 46. Michel Lhéritier, Les débuts de la Révolution à Bordeaux d’après les Tablettes manuscrites de Pierre Bernadau, thèse complémentaire pour le doctorat ès lettres (Paris, 1919); BM, Lyon, ms. 805–806, vols. 2 and 3, l’abbé Duret, “Nouvelles générales et en particulier de Lyon”; Correspondance de Félix Faulcon, vol. 1, 1770–1789, ed. G. Debien (Poitiers, 1939); and AD, Côte d’Or, E. 642, lettres de Godard, avocat à Parlement [Paris] à J. Cortot, 1787–1788. My gratitude to Ted Margadant for recalling to me Faulcon’s fascinating correspondence.

436

Notes to Pages 208–210

10. The Verbal, the Visual, and the Festive 1. Henri Davenson [pseud.; H. Marrou], Le Livre des chansons (Neuchâtel, 1944), 51, n. 53 gives the original definition of vaudeville and then explains that it came to be used for “new verses, often on current events, composed with a familiar melody” (p. 42). In Chants de la Révolution française, ed. François Moureau and Elisabeth Wahl (Paris, 1989), 13, Moureau explains that by the eighteenth century those tunes were commonly used in the theaters of the fair, from which came the term “comédie à vaudevilles,” which was further reduced to “vaudeville.” 2. “Que ce refrain de bouche en bouche / Vole, & soit chanté mille fois,” from “Pot-Pourri sur la Révolution arrivée en 1788,” BNF, ms. fr. 12891 (my translation). 3. In contemporary Haiti the practice that is called “from the eye to the mouth” remains a medium for the spread of news and rumor—what people see around them they report and spread by word of mouth. For the concept of semi-orality see the interesting thoughts of Hans-Jürgen Lüsebrink, “L’espace public semioral dans les ‘Mémoires secrets,’” in The Mémoires Secrets and the Culture of Publicity in Eighteenth-Century France, 81–92. 4. [Caraccioli], Lettres d’un indien à Paris, à son ami Glazir, sur les moeurs françaises, et sur les bizarries du tems. Par l’auteur des Lettres récréatives et morales, 2 vols. (Amsterdam, 1789), 2: 48. 5. Le Gouvernement de Normandie, vol. 4, 2nd part, I, 288, “Nouvelles de Paris et de Versailles,” 15 Jan. 1787. 6. BNF, ms fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 3 Feb. 1788. 7. “Courons la capitale, / Et chantons des airs gais; / Commençons par la halle / Finissons par les quais,” in Robert Brécy, La Révolution en chantant, introd. Michel Vovelle (Paris, 1988), 15 (translated with the kind help of Dr. Gershon Hepner). See also Daniel Fabre, “Proverbes, contes et chansons,” in Les Lieux de mémoires, vol. 2: Traditions, ed. Pierre Nora (Paris, 1992), 629. 8. BNF, Moreau 329, f. 109 for the clergyman; BNF, ms. fr. 12860, Chansons et satires historiques, 2, 1715–1786 and BNF, ms. fr. 12861, Chansons et satires historiques, 3, 1787–1814 for the collection whose place of origin seems to have been Dijon. That verse and song for the expression of political views was a common and widespread practice not only in France but in other European countries in the late eighteenth century may be seen in the collection of such poems that were published in the English press; see Michael Scrivener, Poetry and Reform: Periodical Verse from the English Democratic Press, 1792–1824 (Detroit, 1992). 9. BNF, Vm7 7094, no. 2, “Le retour de Mr. Necker dédié à la nation,” BNF, Vm7 7094, no. 3, “Couplets en l’honneur de Monseiru NECKER, Revenu à Versailles,”

Notes to Pages 210–213

10.

11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

16.

17.

437

BNF, Vm7 7094, no. 5, “Motion des Harengères de la Halle,” and BNF, VM7, 7094 no. 8, “Le Tiers état adressé à Mr. le Docteur G[uillotin].” Annette Keilhauer, “Le pinson de riche, le moineau du pauvre: itinéraires de la chanson française au XVIIIe siècle,” in Être riche au siècle de Voltaire, ed. Jacques Berchtold and Michel Porret (Geneva, 1996), 369 and 379. The collection Coirault of the Department of Music of the BNF contains many such cahiers de colportage. Satyr, ou choix des meilleures pièces de vers qui ont précédé et suivi la Révolution (Paris, “L’an premier de la Liberté” [1790]), 9. P. Barbier and Fr. Vernillat, Histoire de France par les chansons, vol. 4: La Révolution, 8 vols. (Paris, 1957), 29, note. For the poems in Marseille see AD, Bouche du Rhone, 8 F 2, Jean Louis L[aplane], citoyen de Marseille, Mémorial de Marseille ou Recueil de plusieurs événements remarquables arrivés en cette ville. Second cahier qui comprend les années 1787 & 1788, ainsi qu’une partie de 1789, principalement pour l’élection de nos députés aux états-généraux du Royaume (Marseille, 1789), fs. 25 and 30. For the poems of the schoolboys and the cutler’s son see, respectively, Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Meridionale, 20 June 1787, p. 100, and BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury, 1099, Mémoires secrets, Pour servir à l’Histoire de ce qui s’est passé au Bailliage de Chaumont-en-Bassigny, et dans les autres Jurisdictions extraordinaires, lors et depuis la publication des Loix du 8 May 1788. Première Partie. ‘Ad perpetuam rei memoriam’ (1788), p. 61, f. 255 and pp. 63–64, fs. 256r–v. For Hardy see BNF, ms. fr. 6686, vol. 7, 28 Sept. 1787. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 17 May 1788; translated with the help of Dr. Gershon Hepner. For the Paris theater see John Lough, Paris Theatre Audiences in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries (London, 1957), 206–226, and Jeffrey S. Ravel, The Contested Parterre: Public Theater and French Political Culture, 1680–1791 (Ithaca, 1999), 15 and 229–237 for more precise descriptions of the social composition of the audience. On the audience in Bordeaux theaters, its behavior and social composition, see Henri Lagrave, “Le dix-huitième siècle (1715–1789)” in Henri Lagrave, Charles Mazouer, Marc Regaldo, La Vie théâtral à Bordeaux des origines à nos jours, livre II (Paris, 1985), 261–262 and 265–275. For Toulouse see “L’Heureux Retour,” divertissement en un Acte, mêlé de Vaudeville et d’Ariettes, au sujet de la rentrée du Parlement de Toulouse, par M. Pellet-Desbarreaux; Représenté, pour la première fois, sur le Théâtre de cette Ville, le 20 octobre 1788 (BL, R 257, no. 19). Another example from Toulouse in September 1788, Affiches, Annonces et Avis Divers de Toulouse et du Haut-Languedoc, no. 41, 8 Oct. 1788, p. 168. See Martine de Rougemont, La Vie théâtrales en France au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1988), 231–232; the author affirms: “What makes the theater subversive is its public” (“Ce qui rend le théâtre subversif, c’est son public”) (p. 232).

438

Notes to Pages 214–216

18. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 30 Sept. 1787. 19. On the history of the melody see Michel Delon, “Marlbrough s’en va-t-en guerre: les avatars d’une chanson,” in La Chanson française et son histoire, ed. Dietmar Rieger (Tübingen, 1988), 59–87; and for the musical notation see Barbier and Vernillat, Histoire de France par les chansons, vol. 4, La Révolution, 23. The practice of applying new words to well-known tunes adapted to new circumstances that have powerful political effect continues to occur; see Henrik Villadsen and Whit Mason, “Find Out Just What Macedonia’s People Think of Each Other,” in the International Herald Tribune, 8 June 2001. 20. See James H. Johnson, Listening in Paris: A Cultural History (Berkeley, 1995). 21. Fritz Nies, “Chanson-et-vaudevilles d’un siècle devenu ‘classique,’ ” in La Chanson française et son histoire, 53–56. 22. BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury, 1099, Mémoires secrets, Pour servir à l’Histoire de ce qui s’est passé au Bailliage de Chaumont-en-Bassigny, 231–234; one of the verses was sung to the “Air de Malboroug” (p. 14, f. 231v) and another to the “Air de vaudeville de Figaro” (p. 19, f. 234r). 23. See Gruder, “The Question of Marie-Antoinette.” 24. The nouvelles à la main in BNF, ms. fr. 10364, “Mémoires pour servir de l’histoire de la fin du XVIIIe siècle” (fs. 166v, 174r, 211r, 282r, 288v, 289r, 294v–295r, 299v, 305v–306r, 321r–v), and the letters of Nicolas Ruault to his brother (Ruault, Gazette d’un Parisien sous la Révolution, 16, 21–22, 32, 49, 59–60, 70–71, 80–82, 86–90, 97, 100–101, 125–126) offer examples of the gossip circulating at least in Paris in the 1780s. Ruault refers only on 24 Feb. 1789 to the circulation of the defamatory pamphlet against the queen by Mme. de Lamotte of the diamond necklace affair. For recent writings on Marie-Antoinette: Lynn Hunt, “The Political Psychology of Revolutionary Caricatures” in French Caricature and the French Revolution, 1789–1799 (Los Angeles, 1988), 33–40; idem, “The Many Bodies of Marie Antoinette: Political Pornography and the Problem of the Feminine in the French Revolution,” in Eroticism and the Body Politic, ed. Lynn Hunt (Baltimore, Md., 1991), 108–130; idem, The Family Romance of the French Revolution (Berkeley, Calif., 1992); and idem, “Pornography and the French Revolution,” in The Invention of Pornography: Obscenity and the Origins of Modernity, 1500–1800, ed. Lynn Hunt (New York, 1993), 301–340. In addition: Annie Duprat, MarieAntoinette Une reine brisée (Paris, 2006); Chantal Thomas, La Reine sclélérate: Marie-Antoinette dans les pamphlets (Paris, 1989) and idem, “L’Héroïne du crime: Marie-Antoinette dans les pamphlets,” in La Carmagnole des muses: L’Homme de lettres et l’artiste dans la Révolution, ed. Jean-Claude Bonnet (Paris, 1988), 245–260; as well as two excellent articles by Jacques Revel, “Marie-Antoinette,” in Dictionnaire critique de la Révolution Française, ed. François Furet and Mona Ozouf (Paris, 1988), 186–198; and idem, “Marie-

Notes to Pages 217–221

25. 26. 27. 28.

29.

30.

31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

439

Antoinette in Her Fictions: The Staging of Hatred,” in Fictions of the French Revolution, ed. Bernadette Fort (Evanston, Ill., 1991), 111–129. Recent popular biographies include: Simone Bertière, Marie-Antoinette l’insoumise (Paris, 2002), Antonia Fraser, Marie-Antoinette, the Journey (London, 2001), and Caroline Weber, Queen of Fashion: What Marie-Antoinette Wore to the Revolution (New York, 2006). Evelyn Lever has several books on Marie-Antoinette, but of greater interest to historians is Evelyn Lever, Marie-Antoinette: Correspondance (1770–1793) (Paris, 2005). Antoine de Baecque focused on the king in Le Corps de l’histoire: métaphores et politique (1770–1800) (Paris, 1993), 57–70. BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 27 Nov. 1787 and 3 Feb. 1788. Gérard Walter, “La chanson des rues sous la Révolution française,” Miroir de l’Histoire 27 (April 1952), 77. Mercier, Tableau de Paris, 9: 140–141, and Arlette Farge, Dire et mal dire, l’opinion publique au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1992). For the verses of 1776: Emile Raunié, Chansonnier historique du XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1884), 9: 76–82; of 1781: the Dijon collection, BNF, ms. fr. 12860, fs. 377–380, and BNF, Enfer 764, Satyrs, 22–29. The single verse of 1786, BNF, Enter 764, Satyrs, 20. Axel Fersen to Gustavus III of Sweden, 9 Sept. 1785, in Alma Söderhjelm, Fersen et Marie-Antoinette: Correspondance et journal intime inédits du comte Axel de Fersen (Paris, 1930), 107. For the years before 1780: Marie-Antoinette: Correspondance secrète entre Marie-Thérèse et le comte de Mercy-Argenteau avec les lettres de Marie-Thérèse et de Marie-Antoinette, ed. le chevalier Alfred d’Arneth and M. A. Geffroy, 3 vols. (Paris, 1874), 1: 97; 2: 97, 214, 231–234, 307 n. 1, 312–313, 317–322, 334, 344 n. 2, 387, 410, 416–417, 420, 480–481, 488; 3:18, 25, 27, 31–32, 35, 101, 119–120, 123, 141, 145, 155–156, 215–216, 237, 295–296, 321, 351, 388, 409, 411–412, 426, 429, 440; the letters of Marie Antoinette, ibid., 404 and 414–416. For the years from 1780 on: Correspondance secrète du comte de Mercy-Argenteau avec l’Empereur Joseph II et le prince de Kaunitz, ed. Alfred d’Arneth and Jules Flammermont, 2 vols. (Paris, 1889 and 1891), 2: 113, 122–123, 165, 189–196. Fersen to Gustavus III, 27 Dec. 1787, in Söderhjelm, Fersen et Marie-Antoinette, 113. Darnton, The Forbiddeen Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France, 216. Pierre Casselle, Le Commerce des estampes à Paris dans la seconde moitié du dixhuitième siècle, thèse, Ecole Nationale des Chartes (1976), 199 and 261. Antoine de Baecque, La Caricature révolutionnaire (Paris, 1988), 14. Journal de la Librairie ou Catalogue Hebdomadaire, 25: 1787 and 26: 1788; and Magasin des Modes Nouvelles, françaises et anglaises, 1787. A de P, D5 B6 1990, “Livre de vente commencé le 1er janvier 1787. Vallée, Porte royal de Louvre à Paris.”

440

Notes to Pages 221–226

37. The figure of 156 or 157 include nineteen images of Voltaire and Rousseau that Vallée sold; though such images undoubtedly sold in earlier years, their sales in 1787–1788 may well have carried political significance. Information on these prints from Journal de la Librairie, Magasin des Modes Nouvelles, the nouvelles à la main, and Vallée’s sales book. 38. This fact is confirmed for the entire eighteenth century; see D. LambalaisVuianovith, Études quantitatives des thèmes traités dans l’image volante française au XVIIIe siècle, thèse de 3e cycle, Université de Paris IV (1979). 39. The twenty-three representational illustrations in the Journal de la Librairie include seven maps. 40. Six prints described in Vallée’s sales book that appear to be reportorial in composition are merely listed by title, so it is impossible to determine whether they were simple illustrations of events or whether they carried a distinct political message through their imagery; these included five prints of the Assembly of Notables in February and March 1787, and one of the Paris parlement’s return on 24 September 1788. See A de P, D5 B6 1990, “Livre de vente . . . Vallée.” 41. Annie Duprat, Le Roi décapité: Essai sur les imaginaires politiques, preface, Claude Langlois (Paris, 1992), 30–31, rightly argues for a historical methodolgy in the reading of political caricatures that studies the “cultural context of the moment” in order to date precisely the image and to understand the iconographic language as well as the impact of caricatures on the public. This may apply as well to all political imagery. 42. On prints of Bergasse, A de P, D5 B6 1990, “Livre de vente . . . Vallée,” Oct. 1788. 43. See BNF, Cabinet des Estampes: B 226328; C52077; Hennin, t. 117, G 161504 and also Qb1 85C 170166; and de Vinck, t. 8, P 19558, P 19564, P 19615 and P 19655. 44. A de P, D5 B6 1990 “Livre de vente . . . Vallée,” 22 Mar. 1788, 27 May 1788, 11 Sept. 1788, and 4 Nov. 1788. 45. Mémoires secrets, 35: 452–453, 27 Aug. 1787 and Corr. sec., 2: 174, 22 Aug. 1787 and 2: 178, 1 Sept. 1787. 46. These may be found, respectively, in Mémoires secrets, 34: 296, 26 Mar. 1787; BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, B 4854; Corr. sec., 2: 217, 9 Jan. 1788; and BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Qb1 85A 58044. 47. See, respectively, Corr. sec., 2: 183, 15 Sept. 1787 and BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 14377, 15 Sept. 1788; Corr. sec., 2: 180, 5 Sept. 1787 and BNF, Nouv. acq. fr. 113297, 5 Sept. 1787; and Mémoires secrets, 35: 452–453, 27 Aug. 1787, Corr. sec., 2: 178, 1 Sept. 1787, and BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 7, 3 Sept. 1787. 48. Respectively, BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, B 2921 and Mémoires secrets, 34: 257, 6 Mar. 1787. 49. Le Gouvernement de Normandie, vol. 4, 2nd part, I, 322, a report in “Nouvelles de Paris et de Versailles” probably from April 1787.

Notes to Pages 226–230

441

50. On “animalism” see André Blum, “L’Estampe satirique et la caricature en France au XVIIIe siècle,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 52 (1910), 1: 380 ff, 2: 243–248, 451–452, 454–455. Another print of 1788 depicts the nouvellistes, including Linguet, as different animals; see BNF, Cabinet des estampes, de Vinck 1391 and Un siècle d’histoire de France par l’estampe, 1770–1871. Collection de Vinck. Inventaire analytique, vol. 1, Ancien régime, ed. Louis Bruel (Paris, [1909] 1970), 669–670. On “animalism” in the caricatures of the Revolution see Duprat, Le Roi décapité, 75–77. 51. Respectively, CLS, no. 44, 24 Oct. 1788, p. 353; La Chronique scandaleuse ou Mémoires pour servir à l’Histoire de la génération présente (Paris, 1789), 3: 15–16 (the latter consists of excerpts from the former); and CLS, no. 46, 8 Nov. 1788, p. 365. 52. The allegorical print of President d’Ormesson may well be the one catalogued in BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Qb1 85 C 170176, 1788. 53. Casselle, Commerce des estampes, 261; according to Claude Langlois, “Images de la Révolution ou révolution des images,” Iconographie et image de la Révolution française, ed. Claudette Hould and James Leith (Montreal, 1990), twelve engravings required three months of work. 54. See A. de P., D5 B6 1990 “Livre de vente . . . Vallée,” and Journal de la librairie, vol. 26 for the months Sept.–Dec. 1788. For the same months: BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Hennin, t. 117, de Vinck, t. 8, Qb1 as well as B 26328, B 54349, B 68461, C 52077, and C52078. 55. Casselle, Commerce des estampes, 122 and 168. 56. See Figure 2; as the re-entry of the Paris parlement, see BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Hennin, t. 117, G 161483. 57. BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Hennin, t. 117, B 68461 and C 52078. At least one of these two prints was by a female engraver; see Jules Renouvier, Histoire de l’art pendant la Révolution, considéré principalement dans les estampes (Paris, 1863), 347–348. 58. Such manuals included the oldest and most famous, Cesare Ripa, Nova iconologia (Padova, 1618), and among French publications Pierre-Claude-François Menestrier, L’Art des emblèmes (Lyon, 1662) and Honoré La Combe de Prezel, Dictionnaire iconologique, ou Introduction à la connaissance des peintures, sculptures, estampes, médailles, pierres gravées, emblèmes, devises, etc. avec des descriptions tirées des poètes anciens & modernes, 2 vols. (Paris, 1779). 59. For the iconographic history of female representations see Jean Lecuir, “Dans la médaille française d’Ancien Régime: les figures féminines de la France,” in Histoires sociale, sensibilités collectives et mentalités. Mélanges Robert Mandrou (Paris, 1985), 109–117, especially 115–116. 60. For these several prints of female symbols of France consult BNF, Cabinet des Estampes: B 130; Hennin, t. 117, G161504 (the same in Qb1 85 C 170166), G

442

61. 62. 63.

64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69. 70. 71.

72.

73.

74.

75. 76.

Notes to Pages 230–238 161505 and G 161506; de Vinck, t. 8, P 19566, P 19585, and P 19615; and Qb1 85 C 170163, and Qb1 85 C 170164. See the explanatory note on the portrait of Necker, BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Collection de Vinck, t. 8, P 19655. See Chapter 11. “Oui son profond génie a la double science / D’enricher un état sans fouler le sujet” (my translation). See the poem at the base of this print, “La Vertu, tôt ou tard rentre dans tous ses droits” in BNF, Cabinet des estampes, Collection de Vinck, t. 8, P 19594. BNF, Cabinet des estampes, Qb1 85 C 170164; along with the queen’s image the verse in particular honors her for Necker’s recall. BNF, Cabinet des estampes, Hennin, t. 116, G 161430 and the same in Qb1 85 C 170174. Un siècle d’histoire de France par l’estampe, 686. BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, B 54349 and C 2543 for the two prints in a popular style celebrating the parlement’s return, and B 26498 and B 130 for the two prints that decried the parlements. Robert Philippe, Affiches et caricatures dans l’histoire (Paris, 1981), 20. A de P, D5 B6 1990, “Livre de vente . . . Vallée,” the first purchased on 27 May 1788 and the last two on 5 November 1788. Casselle, Commerce des estampes, 167. C. F. [Charles François] Joullain, Réflexions sur la peinture et la gravure, accompagnées d’une courte dissertation sur le commerce de la curiosité, et les ventes en général; ouvrage utile aux Amateurs, aux Artistes et aux Marchands (Metz and Paris, 1786), 31 (my translation). A bibliography of contemporary accounts of fêtes is found in Appendix 3. On fêtes in France especially during the Revolution see: Mona Ozouf, Festivals and the French Revolution, transl. Alan Sheridan (Cambridge, Mass. 1988), and Michel Vovelle et al., Les Métamorphoses de la fête en Provence de 1750 à 1820 (Paris, 1976). AN, Ba 47 (B-1), liasse, 109, dossier 2, no. 10: “Ordonnance de la ville,” 11 Jan. 1789, an example of municipal officials who ordered a fête to celebrate the Result of the Royal Council of 27 Dec. 1788 that doubled Third Estate representation. Vovelle et al., Les Métamorphoses de la fête en Provence, and Robert A. Schneider, The Ceremonial City: Toulouse Observed 1738–1780 (Princeton, N.J., 1995). See also Michèle Fogel, Les cérémonies de l’information dans la France du XVIe au milieu du XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1989). AD, Bouches-de-Rhône, 8 F 2. L[aplane], Mémorial de Marseille, 19 Oct. 1788, f. 21. Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Méridionale, 17 Oct. 1787, pp. 168–170.

Notes to Pages 239–245

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77. On the carnavelesque tradition see Mikhail Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, transl. Helene Iswolsky (Cambridge, Mass., 1968); on popular violence see Natalie Zemon Davis, “The Rites of Violence,” Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Stanford, Calif., 1975), 152–187; and on revolutionary violence see the provocative thoughts of Hunt, The Family Romance of the French Revolution, 1–16. 78. Colin Lucas, “The Crowd and Politics between Ancien Régime and Revolution in France” JMH 60 (1988) 3: 421–457, examines the traditional forms of collective action of crowds and in particular the attributes of justice ascribed to mock trials. 79. The riot in Rennes, and the more famous Day of Tiles in Grenoble, both in June 1788, were independent of fêtes. 80. BNF, Réserve, 4°Lc2 2225, report of 6 Oct. 1787. 81. BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1103, “Les Procès Verbaux d’emprisonnement . . . le 27 août 1788,” fs. 83r–122v; BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1103, “État des différentes personnes qui ont été arrêtés et envoyées en prison à l’occasion des émeutes, attroupements, et insultes faites à la garde depuis le 27 août 1788 jusques et compris le 29 septembre suivant. Comme aussi des personnes qui ont été tuées ou blessées dans ces différents événements” (procès-verbaux sent by the lieutenant général de Crosne to the procureur général, 4 Oct. 1788); AN, Y 9491, “Sentence de police qui condanne vingt-un particuliers, en 200 livres d’amende chacun, pour des fusées et pétards tirés de leurs maisons dans la rue,” 3 Oct. 1788; AN, Y 9989, Chambre Criminelle, “Plaintes, Procès-Verbaux et Informations au Petit Criminel,” 28 Sept., 3 and 13 Oct. 1788; AN, Y 10634, “Registre des Rapports du Guet et des Inspecteurs de Police,” Aug.–Sept. 1787, May–Sept. 1788; AN, Y 11206, “Archives des Commissaires au Châtelet; office de Boin,” Sept. 1788; AN, Y 13014, “Archives des Commissaires au Châtelet,” Sept. 1787; and George Rudé, The Crowd in the French Revolution (London, 1959), 178–190. 82. [Joseph] Charon, Lettre ou Mémoire historique sur les troubles populaires de Paris, en Août & Septembre 1788 (Londres, 1788), 7–8 and notes. 83. Ibid., 40–50. 84. Détail de ce qui s’est passé à Pau depuis le départ de M. le duc de Guiche et de M. le comte de Gramont son frère, jusqu’à la nouvelle de la réintégration prochaine du Parlement, appelé à Versailles par ordre de Sa Majesté, avec tout ce qui a suivi jusqu’au 16 septembre 1788, 15; and Rélation des fêtes publiques données à Dijon, à l’occasion de la Rentrée des Cours, avec la description du Char de Triomphe (Dijon, 1788), 2. 85. [Mettra], CLS, no. 43, 14 Oct. 1787, p. 349. On the tricolor see: Michel Pastoureau, Dictionnaire des couleurs de notre temps: Symboliques et société (Paris, 1992), 33–35; Nicole Pellegrin, Les Vêtements de la liberté: Abécédaire des pratiques vestimentaires françaises de 1780 à 1800 (Aix-en-Provence, 1989), 179;

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Notes to Pages 249–254

and Léon Ménard, Histoire civile, ecclésiastique et littéraire de la ville de Nîmes (Nîmes, 1989), 4: 370, LVIII. My thanks to Barbara Gaehtgens for first bringing to my attention that the tricolor served as the colors of the royal household; and my deep gratitude to Annie Duprat for our many discussions on the symbolism of red, white, and blue. 86. Charon, Lettres ou Mémoires historiques, 16–19. 87. For the judge in Lyon, Récit de ce qui s’est passé au grand bailliage de Lyon lors de sa rentrée en senéchaussée et siège présidial, le 3 octobre 1788 (1788), 8 and 10; and for the magistrate in Toulouse, Journal de ce qui s’est passé à Toulouse, à l’occasion de la Rentrée du Parlement [1788], 11.

11. “Popular” Pamphlets This chapter originally appeared in slightly altered form as “Un message politique adressé au public: les pamphlets ‘populaires’ à la veille de la Révolution,” Revue d’histoire moderne et contempraine, 39–2, April-June 1992, 161–197; reprinted with permission of the Revue d’histoire moderne et contempraine. My gratitude to Daniel Roche for his help in the publication. Lise Andries graciously offered guidance on the popular almanacs. 1. Olympe de Gouges, Le Bonheur primitif de l’homme, ou les rêveries patriotiques (Amsterdam, 1789), 22; Tout ce qui me passe par la tête, Journal nouveau, ou Salmigondi d’un spectateur des folies humaines, qui s’afflige des uns, s’amuse des autres, se réjouit de tout ce qui arrive d’heureux à ses semblables; qui fait registre de tout ce qu’il entend, de tout ce qu’il voit, de tout ce qu’il pense (1789), 8; and “Journal de Target, 1787,” in Un Avocat du XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1893), 50. For testimony on politicization among all groups of Parisians see Charon, Lettre ou mémoire historique, 16–19. 2. On popular literature and the practices of popular reading, see Roger Chartier, Lectures et lecteurs dans la France d’Ancien Régime (Paris, 1982) [The Cultural Uses of Print in Early Modern France, transl. Lydia Cochrane (Princeton, 1987)]. 3. Mikhail Bakhtin, “Discourse in the Novel,” The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, ed. Michael Holquist (Austin, Tex., 1981), 259–422. See also the rich collection of articles in “Littératures populaires,” DHS 18 (1986), 5–187. 4. Geneviève Bollème, Les Almanachs populaires aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles. Essai d’histoire sociale (Paris, 1969). 5. See, for example, Christian Jouhaud, Mazarinades: la Fronde des mots (Paris, 1985). 6. Pierre Frantz, “Travestis poissards,” Revue des sciences humaines 190, no. 2 (1983). My gratitude to Lise Andries for bringing this article to my attention.

Notes to Pages 255–257

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7. Marc Bloch, Les Rois thaumaturges. Études sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royal particulièrement en France et en Angleterre (Strasbourg, 1924), 346–347, in English translation The Royal Touch: Sacred Monarchy and Scrofula in England and France, transl. J. E. Anderson (London, 1973), 196–197: “It is probably a mistake for the historian to have constant recourse to . . . great [first-class] thinkers. He would probably do better to go to the second-rank authors . . . writings of this kind, by their very mediocrity and even sometimes coarseness, have the advantage of keeping very close to common ideas. And if they are sometimes to be suspected of having been composed by paid pamphleteers, more interested in earning their money than in following out an unprejudiced line of thought, so much the better . . . for our primary aim is to grasp public opinion in its reality. Clearly, the arguments these professional propagandists choose to develop are the ones they expect to have most influence upon their readers.” 8. Bakhtin’s definition of discourse is pertinent here: “The specific nature of discourse as a topic of speech, one that requires the transmission and re-processing of another’s word”; Bakhtin, “Discourse in the Novel,” The Dialogic Imagination, 355 (see also pp. 349–350). 9. Keith M. Baker, “Introduction,” The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, 1: xi–xiii; Michel Vovelle, “Idéologies et mentalités: Une clarification nécessaire,” Centre de Recherche sur les idéologies, les mentalités et la civilisation au siècle des lumières, Université de Dijon, Faculté de langues et civilisations étrangères, cahier no. 32 (12 December 1980), 1–15; Yves-Marie Bercé, Fête et révolte: des mentalités populaires du XVIe au XVIIIe siècles (Paris, 1976); Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, transl. Richard Nice (Cambridge, 1984), 434, 454, 460–462. Exemplary studies in political culture are Bloch, n. 7 above and E. P. Thompson, “The Moral Economy of the English Crowd in the Eighteenth Century,” P and P 50 (1971), 76–136. 10. For the learned arguments see: Carcassonne, Montesquieu et le problème de la constitution française, 583–658; Dale Van Kley, “The Jansenist Constitutional Legacy in the French Prerevolution” and Marina Valensise, “La Constitution française,” in The French Revolution and the Creation of Modern Political Culture, 1: 182–201 and 441–467, respectively. 11. Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, and Chapter 8 above. 12. Quoted in J. P. Belin, Le Mouvement philosophique de 1748 à 1789 (Paris, 1913), 358. 13. The writer of [Mettra], CLS, 27 Jan. 1789, had words of praise for short pamphlets, contrasting their effect with those of longer works: “One of them tells us what we must do in 20 pages; the other tells it in 10. This method is good; it does not tire our minds, and one converses usefully with it on public affairs. It is in the midst of this daily mass of pamphlets that the marquis of Condorcet

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14.

15. 16.

17.

18. 19. 20.

Notes to Pages 257–258 and M. Gadin have thrown at our heads the first, two volumes on the ‘Functions of the Estates General’ and the second, three large octavo volumes with the title ‘Essay on the assemblies of Rome, the Estates-General of France and the Parliaments of England’; these are two good works. Their authors have served the nation well. Their sole error, in this moment, is that they wanted to say everything” [my translation]. [Rondonneau de la Motte], Précis historique des états généraux, Extrait de la Table générale des matières des XXX vols. in-12° et XV vols. in-4° de l’Histoire de France de MM. Velly, Villaret et Garnier, que est actuellement sous presse, et formera les tomes 31, 32 et 33 de l’Edition in-12° et le 16 de l’édition in-4° (Paris, 1787). La Babiole, ou le colporteur chez son libraire, 21. Charon, Lettre ou mémoire historique, 16–19 and AN, Y 9491, dossier octobre 1788, “Sentence de police qui condamne vingt-un Particuliers, en cent livres d’amende chacun pour des Fusées et Pétards tirés de leurs Maisons dans la rue” (Sentence of the police which condemns twenty-one individuals to a fine of 100 livres each for throwing flares and firecrackers from their homes onto the street); Colin Lucas draws from Charon in “The Crowd and Politics between Ancien Régime and Revolution in France,” 428, 432, 440–441. Twenty-five to 30 sous was one day’s wage for the lowest paid adult male workers in Reveillon’s factory and for males in ateliers de charité in 1790 (Groppi, “La Classe la plus nombreuse, la plus utile et la plus precieuse.” 38–39), while building workers received wages ranging from 20–42 sous per day (Burstin, “Conflitti sul lavoro e protesta annonaria a Parigi,” 751 and 755). In contrast, the higher price for the Encyclopédie exceeded the purchasing power of workers and artisans and those in other modest social categories; see Robert Darnton, The Business of the Enlightenment: A Publishing History of the ‘Encyclopédie’ 1775–1800 (Cambridge, Mass., 1979), 273–278. The price of wine was 8 sous in Paris for one pinte, slightly less than one liter or about one quart; see Brennan, Public Drinking and Popular Culture, 82, n. 11 and 120. For the price of public entertainments in Paris see Isherwood, Farce and Fantasy, 234. The Parisian bookseller Hardy reported that two booksellers distributed for free the Précis historique des états généraux which otherwise cost 30 sous; see BNF, ms. fr. 6687, Hardys, vol. 8, entry of 23 Oct. 1788; throughout vols. 7 and 8 may be found the prices of a number of contemporary writings. Isherwood, Farce and Fantasy, ch. 8. Traduction de la Déclaration bretonne de l’ordre de la noblesse, envoyée aux paroisses qui ne parlent pas la langue française [Jan. 1789], BNF, Lb39 977. François Furet and Jacques Ozouf, Lire et écrire. L’Alphabétisation des français de Calvin à Jules Ferry (Paris, 1977); Chartier, Lectures et lecteurs dans la France d’Ancien Régime, chs. 3 and 5 [The Cultural Uses of Print, chs. 5 and 6] and idem, “La Circulation de l’écrit,” Histoire de la France urbaine, vol. 3, La Ville classique,

Notes to Pages 258–268

21. 22.

23.

24. 25.

26. 27.

28. 29.

30.

31.

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ed. Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie (Paris, 1981), 266–282; J.-L Marais, “Littérature et culture populaire aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles: Réponses et questions,” Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest (1980), 65–105; Daniel Roche, Le Peuple de Paris. Essai sur la culture populaire au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1981), chs. 7 and 8, and idem, “Culture et politiques populaires: l’exemple de Jacques Ménétra, vitrier parisien, au XVIIIe siècle,” L’Età dei lumi, Studi Storici sul settecento Europeo in onore de Franco Venturi, 2 vols. (Naples, 1985), 1: 373–393; Willem Frijhoff and Dominique Julia, École et société dans la France d’Ancien régime (Paris, 1975); and Bernard Grosperrin, Les Petites écoles sous l’Ancien régime (Rennes, 1984). See Jouhaud’s comments on a similar problem in reading seventeenth-century pamphlets in Mazarinades, 155–183. Lettres à M. le marquis de *** à un français retiré à Londres (Amsterdam, 1788), 45–47, original italics. On the social role of cafés, taverns, and guingettes in eighteenth-century Paris and France, see Nicolas, “Le Tavernier, le juge et le curé,” 20–28; for Paris alone, see Brennan, Public Drinking and Popular Culture. Mandement de Monseigneur l’archevêque de Paris, pour le saint temps de Carême (Paris, 1787), BNF, E 2400 Paris 487; and BNF, ms. fr. 6686, Hardy, vol. 6, entry of 18 Feb. 1787. Mandement de Monseigneur l’evêque de Lescar à Pau (Pau, 1788), BNF, E 2400 Lescar 4. Roche, Le Peuple de Paris, 79–84; for examples of small denominations of rentes, see Journal pour servir à l’histoire du dix-huitième siècle, 2: 42–45. See Chapter 7, “Public Opinion in the nouvelles à la main,” above. For a discussion of patois as an impediment to understanding among peasants, see Chapter 12 below. Essai d’instructions élémentaires pour les habitants des campagnes, de l’ordre du peuple, relativement à la convocation des états généraux. Par un membre de commune de la province de Haute-Guyenne [1788–89], 43, n. 1, and Catéchisme patriotique à l’usage des mères de famille (1789), 2–34. See Kenneth Margerison, “History, Representative Institutions, and Political Rights in the French Pre-Revolution (1787–89),” FHS 15 (Spring 1987), 68–98. Pierre F. J. H. Le Mercier de la Rivière, Les Voeux d’un français, ou Considérations sur les principaux objets dont le Roi et la Nation vont s’occuper (Paris, 1788), is an example for a physiocrat, and Saige, Catéchisme du citoyen, is a Rousseauian example. Dernière lettre du peuple au Roi, avec Je N’-Dis qu’-a, On Y-a-Gros, c’est à dire: avec une lettre particulière du facetieux Barago, en manière d’admiration, sur les deux traits historiques rappelées à S.M. par la nation française (11 Sept. [1787]). Dénonciation de l’édit intitulé: “Observations d’un avocat, sur l’arrêté du Parlement, du 13 août 1787” [1787], 18; on this same theme see the remonstrance of the Paris parlement, 11 April 1788, in Le Courrier d’Avignon, 29 April 1788.

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Notes to Pages 268–276

32. Comte du Bacon, Esprit et précis historique des Assemblées des Notables, convoquées en different temps, par les rois (Paris [1787]); Essai historique et politique sur les assemblées nationales du royaume de France, depuis la fondation de la monarchie jusqu’à nos jours (London, 1787); Instructions sur les assemblées nationales, tant générales que particulières, depuis le commencement de la monarchie, jusqu’à nos jours; avec le détail du cérémonial observé dans celle d’aujourd’hui (Paris, 1787); Liste des Notables qui ont assisté aux assemblées tenue en 1596, 1626 et 1627, précédés du Tableau chronologique de toutes les assemblées nationales convoquées depuis l’an 422 jusqu’à l’année 1627 (Paris, 1787); [Rondonneau de la Motte], Motifs et résultats des toutes les assemblées nationales tenues depuis Pharamond jusqu’à Louis XIII; avec un précis des harangues prononcées dans les états généraux et les assemblées des notables, par ordre de date. Extrait des meilleurs auteurs (Paris, 1787). 33. BNF, Salle des manuscrits, F. fr. 22070, Collection Anisson-Duperron, no. 65, “Arrêt du Conseil d’État du Roi, qui prohibe et confisque les exemplaires de trois ouvrages concernant l’Assemblée des Notables, et interdit les sieurs Hoffman, imprimeur, Royer et Petit, libraires, qui les ont publiés. Du 15 février 1787” (Decree of the Council of State of the King, which prohibits and confiscates the copies of three works concerning the Assembly of Notables, and interdicts Misters Hoffman, printer, Royer and Petit, booksellers, who published them. 15 February 1787). 34. Instructions sur les assemblées nationales, page preceding the title, “avertissement,” and ch. 18. 35. [Rondonneau de la Motte], Motifs et résultats, 4–5. 36. Instructions sur les assemblées nationales, ch. 1 and Liste des Notables, 1. 37. Jerome Pétion, Avis aux français sur le salut de la patrie (1788), 6, was a fine observer—as well as critic—of the psychological roots of this predilection for historical justification among his contemporaries: “Man, by a sentiment of weakness, imitates rather than creates and he does not feel firm in his opinion until he can support it by the opinion of another. The example of what happened is a redoubtable prejudice and characterizes not only humble men but also the citizens of the highest classes.” 38. Geneviève Bollème, Les almanachs populaires aux XVIIe et XVIIIe, siècles, 112–113, 115–124; Lise Andries, “Almanachs et littérature révolutionnaire,” Robespierre & Co., Atti della ricerca sulla Letteratura Francese della Rivoluzione, diretta da Ruggero Campagnoli (Bologna, 1987), and idem, “Almanacs: Revolutionizing a Traditional Genre,” Revolution in Print, 203–222. 39. Moulinas, L’Imprimerie . . . à Avignon au XVIIIe siècle, 376–379, 388–389. 40. BNF, ms. fr. 6687, Hardy, vol. 8, 13 Aug. and 21 Aug. 1788. Earlier writings by Bergasse in the Kornmann affair included: Mémoire sur une question d’adultère, de séduction et de diffamation pour le sieur Kornmann (1787) and Mémoire pour

Notes to Pages 276–278

41.

42.

43.

44.

45. 46.

47.

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le sieur Bergasse dans la cause du sieur Kornmann, contre le sieur de Beaumarchais, et contre le prince de Nassau (June 1788). Pierre Louis Lacretelle, Mémoire pour le comte de Sanois, ancien aide-major des gardes-françaises, sortant de Charenton, ou il a été détenu pendant neuf mois; contre ses accusateurs (Paris, 1786); Seconde mémoire du comte de Sanois, en réponse aux mémoires de Madame de Sanois et du comte de Courcy (Paris, 1787); Réponse particulière du défenseur du Cte. de Sanois, aux inculpations personelles qui lui sont faites dans la RÉPONSE de M. le comte de COURCY, dans la LETTRE prétendue d’un AVOCAT, et dans le mémoire de madame la comtesse de Sanois [1787]. Sarah Maza explores these three stories in Private Lives and Public Affairs, 263–311. One book on rhetoric commonly used was [Jean-Pierre Papon], L’Art du poëte et de l’orateur, nouvelle rhetorique à l’usage des collèges, précédée d’un Essai d’éducation (Lyon, 1766). Also see n. 20 above. I would in part disagree with Maza, Private Lives and Public Affairs. The villains in this story are not alone the wife and daughter but include two males— the son-in-law and the brother. Thus, it seems to me, it is not simply the authority of the male that is defended against rebellious females, but the authority of the family head against all subordinate family members, including other males. Le Donjon de Vincennes, la Bastille et Bicêtre; ou Mémoire de M. Masers de Latude, gentilhomme Languedocien, détenu dans les prisons d’État pendant 39 ans; avec la lettre du marquis de Beaupoil à M. de Bergasse, sur l’Histoire de M. de Latude et sur les Ordres arbitraires (1787). The more famous edition appeared with the title Histoire d’une détention de 39 ans dans les prisons d’état, par le prisonnier lui-même, ou Mémoire de sieur Henri Masers de La Tude . . . (1787). The validity of this story has been questioned by several writers: J. M. Quérard, Les Supercheries littéraires dévoilées, 2: 677; Frantz Funck-Brentano, Légendes et archives de la Bastille, 9th ed. (Paris, 1914), 155–236; and Claude Quétel, Les Évasions de Latude (Paris, 1986). Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World. This tale is recounted in La Lanterne magique de la France. Nouveau spectacle de la Foire Saint-Germain, chez le marchand de Dragées de M. de Calonne, Par M***C.L.S.D.R.D.G.F.D.R. L’an de grace 1789; in [Volney (Constantin François, comte de Chasseboeuf )], Affaires de Bretagne. La Sentinelle du peuple, no. 2, 20 Nov. 1788, pp. 3–7; and in CLS, 26 Dec. 1788, pp. 3–5. [Honoré M. N. Duveyrier], La Cour plénière, héroi-tragi-comédie en trois actes et en prose. Jouée par une Société d’Amateurs, dans le Château, aux environs de Versailles. Par l’abbé de Vermont, lecteur de la Reine. À Bâville et se trouve à Paris, chez la Veuve Liberté, à l’Enseigne de la Révolution (1788); Supplement à la Cour plénière, en un acte avec des notes intéressantes. . . . À Bâville (1788); [H.M.N.

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48.

49.

50. 51. 52.

53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

Notes to Pages 278–284 Duveyrier or Antoine-Joseph Gorsas], Le Lever de Bâville, drame héroïque en trois actes (Rome [1788]); Premières variantes de la Cour plénière héroi-tragicomédie [n.l., n.d.]; Le Dernier édition de la Cour plénière (1788). Arrêté des officiers du Grand Bailliage de Toulouse, du 3 juin 1788; M. Billemaz, greffier, Le Grand Bailliage de Lyon; comédie en un acte et en prose, représentée par MM. les officiers, audit siège, le samedi 27 septembre 1788 (Lyon [1788]); Copie d’un acte respectueux, adressé au grand bailliage de Toulouse, par la compagnie des conseillers à la pierre [1788]; Extrait du codicile du sieur Desbrunières, art. Grand Bailliage de Langres [1788]; Formation du Grand Bailliage de Toulouse [1788]; Le Grand Bailliage de Rennes [1788]; Le Grand Ballliage, Comédie Historique. En trois actes et en prose; troupe de Baladins, qui a été sifflé par tous les bons Citoyens. À Harcourt, et se trouve à Rouen. Chez Liberté à la Justice Triomphante (1788). Extrait du codicile du sieur Desbrunières. A printed invitation to a burlesque funeral and burning of the mannequins of Loménie de Brienne and Lamoignon, the two recently dismissed ministers, dated 16 September 1788 and in the name of the grand bailliage of Rennes, was displayed at an exhibition of posters at the Conciergerie in Paris, February 1984. Arrêtés de la très utile communauté de Mtres savetiers de la bonne ville de Paris [1788]. Pierre Rétat, “Forme et discours d’un journal Révolutionnaire: les Révolutions de Paris en 1789,” in La fonction de la presse aux XVIIIe siècle, 139–178. [Volney], Affaires de Bretagne. La Sentinelle du Peuple, aux gens de toutes professions, sciences, arts, commerce et métiers, composant le Tiers État de la province, dated 10 Nov. 1788, p. 10. Another version of this social contract also written by the Sentinelle may be found in Avis aux gens de toutes professions, arts, commerce et métiers, composant l’ordre du Tiers Etat de la province de Bretagne, par un Propriétaire en ladite province, dated 20 Dec. 1788; the similarity of the title, the intended audience, the self-named author, as well as the tone and content point to Volney as the author, or demonstrates the popularity of the Sentinelle that was closely imitated. [Pierre J. H. Le Tellier], Jugement du champ de mars, rendu le peuple assemblée, les laboureurs y séant, du 26 décembre 1788 [s.l.n.d.] J. M. Quérard, La France littéraire, ou Dictionnaire bibliographique, 5: 491–493, and BNF, F. fr. 21867, Collection Anisson-Duperron, f. 14v . Les Gracches français, p. 15; Le Hérault de la Nation, p. 13; and Michaud, Biographie universelle ancienne et moderne, 26: 347. See n. 6 above. Dernière lettre du peuple au Roi, avec Je N’-Dis qu’a, on Y-a-Gros; and Considérations politiques des Notables de la Halle au Pain sur les affaires du temps [1788].

Notes to Pages 284–287

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58. The pamphlets referred to, in addition to the ones already cited, include: Parlementarian—Lettre de Michel Blanchard, magister du village de Moivieux, à Monseigneur Georges Le Franc de Pompignan, archevêque de Vienne [1788]. Royalist—Bill des habitants des Bagnolet, Charonne, Belleville, Près-St. Gervais, Pantin, et autres lieux, pour servir de suite à la petition des six corps [1788/89]; [Le Tellier], Jugement du champ de mars, rendu le peuple assemblé, les laboureurs y séant; [Nicolas Restif de la Bretonne], Le Plus fort de pamphlets. L’Ordre des paysans aux états généraux [1788–89]; Réflexions de Jean Baptiste, porteur d’eau, et qui plus est citoyen, avec une apologie des sentiments de la Cour et des prétentions du Tiers Etat [1788]. Third Estate—Le Dernier mot du tiers état à la noblesse de France (1788); Mémoire du tiers état à présenter au Roi [1788/89]; Réclamation du tiers état et supplique au Roi (November 1788). 59. BNF, ms. fr. 6687, Hardy, vol. 8 refers to this work on 11 Sept. 1788; the Courrier d’Avignon reported its appearance on 20 Sept., followed on 23 Sept. by the Gazette de Leyde. The figure of 20,000 copies comes from Necker’s introduction (in the Lyon in-4° edition, “chez G. Regnault,” CUSC, 1788 F N28). Other bestsellers of the day, in addition to Observations du sieur Bergasse and La Cour plénière, included: Jean-Louis Carra, M. de Calonne tout entier, tels qu’il est comporté dans l’administration des finances, dans son commissariat en Bretagne, etc. etc., avec une analyse de sa Requête au Roi, et de sa Réponse à l’écrit de M. Necker; ouvrage critique, politique et moral, an attack against the former controller general that had a printing of 6,000 in April 1788 (Courrier d’Avignon, 4 March 1788) but was priced high at 4 livres broché (unbound); and Rabaut Saint Etienne, Considérations sur les intérêts du tiers état, adressées au peuple des provinces, par un propriétaire foncier. This last work was a forceful argument in support of the Third Estate that identified it with the nation and with the general interest; it came out in three editions in one week when it first appeared in Languedoc in the autumn of 1788, and was reprinted a fourth time in Paris (according to the “Avis du libraire” in the Paris edition, BHVP, 968754). 60. For a survey of Necker and public opinion through his career and several writings, see Léonard Burnand, Necker et l’opinion publique (Paris, 2004). On the influence of Rousseau on contemporary reading tastes as well as the reaction of readers to Jean-Jacques’s writings see Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre, ch. 6. 61. I owe the words “entered into Revolution” to historian Jacques Revel. Roger Chartier, “Culture as Appropriation: Popular Cultural Uses in Early Modern France,” Understanding Popular Culture: Europe from the Middle Ages to the Nineteenth Century, ed. Steven L. Kaplan (Berlin, 1984), 229–253; Bakhtin, “The Discourse of the Novel,” The Dialogic Imagination, passim. Umberto Eco explores these three modes of interpretation in The Limits of Interpretation (Bloomington, Ind., 1990), 44–63. A contemporary letter writer, in commenting on the wide extent of reading “in all the classes of society,” also noted the

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62.

63.

64.

65.

66.

67. 68. 69.

70.

Notes to Pages 287–291 deformation that may occur in the reader’s interpretation of the author’s text (Journal de Paris, 9 Oct. 1788, pp. 1210–1211). Chartier, Lectures et lecteurs, ch. 6, and Michel Vernus, “A Provincial Perspective,” Revolution in Print, 124–138, on the reading public, including peasants, in Franche-Comté. Hardy, in describing the reading of brochures from Brittany in the garden of the Palais-Royal in Paris, indicates the geographic spread of pamphlets; BNF, ms. fr. 6687, Hardy, vol. 8, 2 July 1788. I want to express my gratitude to Jacques Guilhaumou for providing me with a copy of the earliest pamphlet in which père Duchêne appeared (Voyage du père Duchêne à Versailles, Paris [1788], BNF, 8° Lc 2 2273). For further elaboration of the father figure and the king see: Jean-Louis Flandrin, Families in Former Times: Kinship, Household and Sexuality, transl. Richard Southern (Cambridge, 1979), 118–173; Philippe Ariès, Centuries of Childhood: A Social History of Family Life, transl. Robert Baldick (New York, 1965), 398–406; Jean-Claude Bonnet, “De la famille à la patrie,” in Histoire des pères et de la paternité, ed. Jean Delumeau and Daniel Roche (Paris, 1990), 235–358; and, extending to the Revolution, Hunt, The Family Romance of the French Revolution. The metaphor of the king as father also was voiced in the community assemblies; see below, Chapter 13 and n. 49. Some examples of contemporary use of this image include: the speech of the duc de Charost to the Société Royale d’Agriculture in the Journal de Paris, entry of 5 July 1787, pp. 815–816; a sermon preached before the king as reported in the Journal Ecclésiastique, ou Bibliothèque raisonnée des sciences ecclésiastiques, March 1787, pp. 63–66; the poem “Discours en vers, à l’occasion de l’Assemblée des Notables en 1787” and the review of it in the Mercure de France, entry of 3 Feb. 1787; and the sermon of a clergyman reported in the Affiches de Paris, 27 Feb. 1787. See also Chapter 13, below. Ruault, Gazette d’un Parisian sous la Révolution, 83, 87–88. Pétion, Avis aux français sur le salut de la patrie, 36, described critically the almost blind faith his contemporaries had in the king. See also Jeffry Kaplow, The Name of Kings: The Parisian Laboring Poor in the Eighteenth Century (New York, 1972), 165, and Yves-Marie Bercé, Revolt and Revolution in Early Modern Europe: An Essay on the History of Political Violence (New York, 1987), 28–33. AN 138 AP 211, dossier 2, “Nouvelles du 1er août 1788 au 15 7bre 1789,” entry of 2 Nov. 1788. Les Droits du peuple [1788], 10. [de la Croix], Lettres d’un vieillard à un jeune homme qui entre dans le monde (La Haye, 1788) addressed the nascent ambition for participation in the new provincial bodies. Jean-Marie Constant, “Les Idées politiques paysannes: étude comparée des cahiers de doléances (1576–1789),” Annales: ECS 37 (July–August 1982), 717–728.

Notes to Pages 292–294

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12. Can We Hear the Voices of Peasants? This chapter is reprinted from History of European Ideas, vol 17, no. 2/3, “Can We Hear the Voices of Peasants? France, 1788,” pp. 167–190, copyright 1993 with permission from Elsevier. 1. Georges Lefebvre, La grande peur de 1789, nouvelle éd. (Paris, 1970); idem, Les paysans du Nord pendant la Révolution française (Bari, 1959); idem, “La Révolution française et les paysans,” in Études sur la Révolution française (Paris, 1954); and George Taylor, “Revolutionary and Nonrevolutionary Content in the Cahiers of 1789: An Interim Report,” FHS 7 (1972), 479–502, but especially, idem, “Peasant Attitudes in the Cahiers de Doléances of 1789,” paper delivered at the International Congress on the History of the French Revolution, Washington, D.C., 3–6 May 1989. Also see John Markoff ’s several studies of the role of the peasantry at the onset of the Revolution: “The Social Geography of Rural Revolt at the Beginning of the French Revolution,” American Sociological Review 50 (Dec. 1985), 761–781; idem, “Peasants Protest: The Claims of Lord, Church and State in the Cahiers de Doléances,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32 (1990), 413–454; and idem, The Abolition of Feudalism: Peasants, Lords and Legislators in the French Revolution (University Park, Pa., 1996), especially 203–269. For indications of peasant political engagement, see: P. M. Jones, Politics and Rural Society: The Southern Massif Central c. 1750–1880 (Cambridge, 1985), 178–185, 195, 216–217, 312–315, 324–327; and idem, The Peasantry in the French Revolution (Cambridge, 1988), chs. 2 and 3, and 167–175; Roger Dupuy, De la Révolution à la chouannerie. Paysans en Bretagne 1788–1794 (Paris, 1988), ch. 1; and Melvin Edelstein, “La place de la Révolution Française dans la politisation des paysans,” AHRF 9, no. 280 (April–June 1990), 135–144. 2. On improvements in the road system in eighteenth-century France, although mainly between principal cities, see Guy Arbellot, Bernard Lepetit, and Jacques Bertrand, Atlas de la Révolution française 1 Routes et communications (Paris, 1987) and Guy Arbellot, “Les routes de France au XVIIIe siècle,” Annales: ESC 28, no. 3 (May–June 1973), 765–791. For improvements in local transportation in Auvergne and in the Embrunois, see: Pierre Jean-Baptiste Le Grand d’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788 dans le ci-devant haute et basse Auvergne, 3 vols. (Paris, l’an III [1794]), 3: 194; Poitrineau, La vie rurale en Basse-Auvergne, 2: 111 and 114; and [L’abbé Antoine Albert, curé de Seyne], Histoire géographique, naturelle, ecclésiastique et civile du diocèse d’Embrun, 2 vols. (1783), 1: 134–135. 3. Le Grand D’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788, 3: 194. 4. [Albert], Histoire du diocèse d’Embrun, 1: 134–135. 5. BNF, mss. 6686–6687, Hardy, vols. 7–8, passim, for references to Paris, and BNF, F. fr. 21867 and 21869, Archives de la Chambre Syndicale, Registre, passim, for references to Rouen, Nancy, Toulouse, Pau, and Rennes.

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Notes to Pages 296–297

6. The Correspondance de Félix Faulcon, vol. 1, 1770–1789 is one such example for this period, as is the “Lettres de Godard, avocat à Parlement [Paris] à J. Cortot, 1787–1788” in AD, Côte d’Or, E 642. 7. Edna H. Lemay, “Écouter et renseigner. Le journalisme du deputé-constituant 1789–1791,” in La Révolution du journal 1788–1794, 161–168. 8. Recueil des réponses faites par les communautés de l’élection de Gap au questionnaire envoyé par la commission intermédiaire des états du Dauphiné, ed. l’abbé Paul Guillaume, Collection de documents inédits sur l’histoire économique de la Révolution française (Paris, 1908), 152–153. 9. Sgard, Les trente récits de la Journée des Tuiles, 46. 10. BM, Lyon, ms. 805–806, l’abbé Duret, Nouvelles générales et en particulier de Lyon, vols. 2–3. 11. [Jean-Charles Roman d’Amat], Histoire de la ville de Gap ([Gap,] 1966), 230. 12. Feuille hebdomadaire pour la province d’Auvergne, 21 and 28 June 1788, pp. 95–96. 13. Francisque Mège, Les cahiers des paroisses d’Auvergne en 1789 (ClermontFerrand, 1899), 164–165, 168, 190, 224, 227, 233, 242–244, 247, 250, 254, 264–265, 282, 316, 318, 392. In one area in Upper Auvergne, problems relating to the judicial system were the second most frequently cited, the first being fiscal matters; see Abel Poitrineau, “Les assemblées primaires du bailliage de Salers en 1789,” RHMC 25 (July–September, 1978), 427–429. 14. AN, Ba 44, Dauphiné, 26 Aug. 1788, Caze de la Bove, intendant, to comte de Brienne, minister. 15. Roche, Le Peuple de Paris, 80–84. 16. Robert Redfield, Peasant Society and Culture: An Anthropological Approach to Civilization (Chicago, 1956), argues that even traditional peasant societies have links of some kind to the world beyond their village. 17. Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 1870–1914 (Stanford, Calif., 1976), ch. 6. 18. Lettres à Grégoire sur les patois de France 1790–1794, ed. A. Gazier (Geneva, 1969 [Paris, 1880]); Michel de Certeau, Dominique Julia, and Jacques Revel, Une politique de la langue. La Révolution française et les patois (Paris, 1975) and idem, “Une ethnographie de la langue: l’enquête de Grégoire sur les patois,” Annales: ESC 30–1 (Jan.–Feb., 1975), 3–41. For a comprehensive overview of the place of patois in the south of France at the end of the eighteenth century see the several studies published in Lengas Revue de Sociolinguistique, “La question linguistique au sud au moment de la Révolution française,” Actes du Colloque de Montpellier (8–10 Nov. 1984), ed. Henri Boyer and Philippe Gardy, nos. 17–18 (1985); as well as Henri Boyer, Georges Fournier, Philippe Gady, Philippe Martel, René Merle, and François Pic, Le Texte occitan de la période révolutionnaire: 1788–1800: inventaire, approaches, lectures (Montpellier, 1989).

Notes to Pages 298–302

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19. de Certeau, Julia, and Revel, Une politique de la langue, 11, n. 2. 20. Yves Castan, Honnêté et relations sociales en Languedoc (1715–1780) (Paris, 1974), 118–119, and Georges Fournier, “La langue des assemblées locales en Languedoc pendant la Révolution,” in Lengas, 157–159. 21. Yves-Marie Bercé, History of Peasant Revolts: The Social Origins of Rebellion in Early Modern France, transl. Amanda Whitmore (Ithaca, N.Y., 1990), 336; in the revolts in the southwest, Basque was the only language other than French that was used. 22. Arthur Young, Travels during the Years 1787, 1788, and 1789; undertaken more particularly with a view of ascertaining the cultivation, wealth, resources, and national prosperity of the Kingdom of France, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (London, 1794), 1: 181, and “La fête patriotique. Intermède mêlé de chant et de danse,” in Description d’une fête patriotique donnée à Nisme le 29 novembre 1788 par le Tiers État de cette ville (Nîmes, 1788), 23ff. 23. Brigette Schlieben Lange, “La politique des traductions,” in Lengas, 97–126. 24. Délibération du conseil général des Pères de famille de Sisteron. See also Philippe Martel, “Parler au peuple: Sisteron 1789” in Lengas, 287–296. 25. [Albert], Histoire . . . du diocèse d’Embrun, 1: 92–93. 26. Le Grand d’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788, 3: 354–355. 27. Lettres à Grégoire sur les patois, 161–165. 28. Francisque Mège, Chansons politiques et satiriques en Auvergne pendant la période révolutionnaire (Clermont-Ferrand, 1888); Traduction de la Déclaration bretonne de l’ordre de la noblesse, envoyée aux paroisses qui ne parlent pas la langue française (BNF, Lb39 977); René Merle, “Le texte occitan et francoprovençal du grand Sud-Est,” in Le Texte occitan, 247–365. Still the total number of patois publications during the years of Revolution was small, the single largest being approximately 200 Occitan texts in the south. 29. Michel Fleury and Pierre Valmary, “Les progrès de l’instruction élémentaire de Louis XIV à Napoléon III d’après l’enquête de Louis Maggiolo (1877–1879),” Population 12, no. 1 (1957), 71–92; and Furet and Ozouf, Lire et écrire. 30. Ibid., 1: 60. 31. Castan, Honnêté et relations sociales en Languedoc, 118. 32. Roche, Le Peuple de Paris, ch. 7. The provincial press in the late eighteenth century—the Affiches, Annonces, and/or Avis—carried numerous advertisements requesting servants who could “read, write, and count.” 33. Furet and Ozouf, Lire et écrire, passim; Willem Frijhoff and Dominique Julia, École et société dans la France d’ancien régime. Quatre exemples—Auch, Avallon, Condom et Gisors (Paris, 1975); Bernard Grosperrin, Les petites écoles sous l’ancien régime (Rennes, 1984); Roger Chartier and Daniel Roche, “Les practiques urbaines de l’imprimé,” in Histoire de l’édition française, vol. 2: Le livre triomphant, 1660–1830, 585–560 [The Cultural Uses of Print, ch. 6]; and Roger

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34. 35. 36.

37.

38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46. 47.

48.

49.

Notes to Pages 302–304 Chartier, Cultural History Between Practices and Representation, transl. Lydia Cochrane (Ithaca, N.Y., 1988), 151–171. Fleury and Valmary, “Les progrès de l’instruction élémentaire,” 85–86; and Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 116. Fleury and Valmary, “Les progrès de l’instruction élémentaire,” 84; and Furet and Ozouf, Lire et écrire, 1: 41. [L’abbé Albert], Histoire . . . du diocèse d’Embrun, 1: 82; despite their instruction, he added, the people remained “coarse and ignorant,” believing in superstitions and in the efficacy of ritual acts to ward off dangers. Délibération de la communauté de Crévoux en Embrunois; et Lettre circulaire de M. l’Intendant de Grenoble, à toutes les communautés de la province [June 1788] (BNF, Lb39 6477), 3; and Trésor de la langue française (Paris, 1981), 9: 1127–1128. [Albert], Histoire . . . du diocèse d’Embrun, 1: 82. Recueil des réponses faites par les communautés de l’élection de Gap, 159. Requête d’une société rustique, 35–36. Poitrineau, “Profil du diocèse de Clermont à l’époque moderne. Pastorale et spiritualité,” in Le Diocèse de Clermont, ed. Abel Poitrineau (Paris, 1979), 168. Lettres à Grégoire sur les patois, 164. Mercier, Tableau de Paris, “Loueur de livres”, 5: 63 and “Liseurs de Gazettes,” 5: 297–306; idem, Les entretiens du jardin des Thuileries de Paris (Paris, 1788), 3–9; Chartier, “Culture as Appropriation: Popular Cultural Uses in Early Modern France,” 236–253, and “Représentations et pratiques: lectures paysannes au XVIIIe siècle,” 223–224, in Lectures et lecteurs dans la France d’ancien régime; and Vernus, “A Provincial Perspective,” 124–138. Contemporary prints represent scenes of collective reading; one dated 1780 bears the inscription: “Trois hommes assis sur un banc, d’autres debout, écoutant la lecture de la ‘Gazette’ ” (“Three men seated on a bench, the others standing, listening to the reading of the ‘Gazette’ ” in BNF, Cabinet des Estampes, Collection Hennin, G161078). Requête d’une société rustique, 24. Lefebvre, La grande peur, 199. John Markoff, “Literacy and Revolt: Some Empirical Notes on 1789 in France,” American Journal of Sociology, 92, no. 2 (September 1986), 323–349. On the role of cultural intermediaries see Les intermédiaires culturels. Actes du Colloque du Centre Meridional d’Histoire Sociale, des Mentalités et des Cultures. 1978 (Paris, 1981). See Hilton L. Root, Peasants and King in Burgundy: Agrarian Foundations of French Absolutism (Berkeley, 1987), 183–193, and Anne Zink, Azereix. La vie d’une communauté rurale à la fin du XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1969), 220. Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, “Les paysans français au XVIIIe siècle, dans la perspective de la Révolution française,” in De l’ancien régime à la Révolution française, recherches et perspectives (Göttingen, 1978), 273.

Notes to Pages 304–306

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50. The peasants of Crévoux requested that their curé be provided each year with “a box containing different remedies” (Recueil des réponses faites par les communautés de l’élection de Gap, 152); Francisque Mège, “Les populations de l’Auvergne au début de 1789,” BHSA (1905); Chotard, “L’Agriculture en Auvergne au XVIIIe siècle. D’après l’inventaire de l’intendant établie par MM. Cohendy et Rouchon, archivistes du Puy-de-Dôme,” RA, 10 (1893), 259; Albert Gaume, “Misères et remèdes populaires en Auvergne au dix-huitième siècle,” RA, 60 (1946), 11; Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 652–653; and Tackett, Priest and Parish in Eighteenth-Century France, 160–164. 51. René Suaudeau, L’Évêque inspecteur adminisratif sous la monarchie absolue d’après les archives du Centre de la France, 2 vols. (Paris, 1940), 2: 47–50. 52. For further light on cultural intermediaries: Alphonse Dupront, “Formes de la culture de masses: de la doléance politique au pèlerinage panique (XVIIe–XXe siècle),” in Niveaux de culture et groupes sociaux, Actes de colloque réunis du 7 au 9 mai 1966 à l’École Normale Supérieure (Paris, 1967), 158–159; Chartier, “Cultures, lumières, doléances: les cahiers de 1789,” RHMC 28 (Jan.–March 1981), 69–79 [The Cultural Uses of Print, ch. 4]; Poitrineau, “Les assemblées primaires . . . en 1789,” RHMC 24 (July–Sept. 1978), 436–441; M. Lapied, “Le rôle d’intermédiaire des curés au début de la Révolution de 1789 à travers la rédaction des cahiers de doléances comtadins,” in Les intermédiaires culturels, 71–81; Michael Sonenscher, The Hatters of Eighteenth-Century France (Berkeley, Calif., 1987), and idem, “Journeymen, the Courts and the French Trades 1781–1791,” P and P 114 (February 1987), 77–109; and Carlo Poni, “Norms and Disputes: The Shoemakers’ Guild in Eighteenth-Century Bologna,” P and P 123 (May 1989), 80–108. Particular examples of cultural intermediaries include the lawyer de Sèze and the doctor Guillotin who wrote the petitions in the names of the six corporations and the residents of Paris, respectively, and the lawyer Robespierre who wrote the cahier for the cobblers of Arras. 53. Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 646–655, and idem, “Profil du diocèse de Clermont,” 159–189; Mège, Les cahiers des paroisses d’Auvergne, passim; AN, Ba 33–1, dossier 7 (4); Tackett, Priest and Parish in Eighteenth-Century France, chs. 2, 5–6, 9–10. 54. Edmond Maignien, Bibliographie historique du Dauphiné pendant la Révolution française, du 1787 au 11 nivôse an XIV, 31 décembre 1805, 3 vols. (Grenoble, 1891), 1: 40, n. 134, and also Dictionnaire des ouvrages anonymes et pseudonymes du Dauphiné (Grenoble, 1892), 88. Maignien offers the name “Ozoard, fils, d’Embrun,” but among those signing the “Délibération” of Embrun of 24 June 1788 criticizing royal policy, thus taking an active part in political affairs in the summer of 1788, is an “Izoard, . . . avocat” (AN, Ba 43 (2) Dauphiné, Grenoble, dossier 4), who may well have been the Jean-François-Auguste Izoard elected to the Convention in 1792; see A. Kuscinski, Dictionnaire des Conventionnels (Paris, 1973), 340–341.

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Notes to Pages 306–308

55. Root, Peasants and King in Burgundy, 183–193 and nn. 48 and 52, above. 56. AN, Ba 43 (2), Dauphiné, letters of 25 and 27 June 1788 from the intendant and military commander to the minister of war; AN, Ba 44, Dauphiné, letters of 22 July and 24 July 1788 to the military commander and from the minister, and letters of 10 and 28 Aug. 1788 from the intendant and military commander to the minister. 57. Gilbert Shapiro and John Markoff, Revolutionary Demands: A Content Analysis of the Cahiers de Doléances of 1789 (Stanford, Calif., 1998), 125–165, examined and validated the authenticity of cahiers de doléances also written with the help of lawyers. 58. Procès-verbal de l’assemblée générale des trois ordres de la province de Dauphiné, tenue en la ville de Romans, par permission du Roi (Grenoble, 1788), 6, 55, 69–70; an avocat and a notary represented Crévoux as well as nineteen other communities at the meeting in Romans. 59. AN, Ba 33 (1), dossier 11, “Instructions pour les députés de l’ordre du clergé de la sénéchaussée de Clermont en Auvergne aux États généraux”; Francisque Mège, Éphémérides du département du Puy-de-Dôme ci-devant basse-Auvergne (Paris, 1861), 74–75; and Prosper Marc, “Un bourg d’Auvergne au début de la Révolution française, Chanonat,” BHSA, 70 (1950), 163–167. Curé Raymond became secretary of the clerical assembly of the sénéchaussée of ClermontFerrand that elected deputies to the estates-general in 1789, and in 1790 he was elected mayor of Chanonat, later turning against the Civil Constitution of the Clergy and against the Revolution. 60. AN, Ba 33 (1), dossier 7, letter of Raymond, 27 Jan. 1789 (my translation). 61. AD, Puy-de-Dôme, Fonds de l’Intendance, série C, nos. 927–934, inquiry addressed to the clergy, 1775 (cited in Mège,“Les populations de l’Auvergne,” BHSA [1905], 188); [Claude-Alexis Mabru], Essais sur la nature et la répartition de l’impôt en Auvergne. Par un habitant de la province. (1787); Jean-François Gaultier de Biauzat, Doléances sur les surcharges que les gens du peuple supportent en toute espèce d’impôt; avec des observations historiques et politiques sur l’origine et les accroissements de la taille; sur l’assujetissement du Tiers Etat au paiement de la totalité de ce tribut, et sur les moyens légitimes de soulager les taillables, et de rétablir les finances, sans recourir à de nouveaux impôts (1788); Mège, Les cahiers des paroisses d’Auvergne, passim, and idem, Les élections de 1789 (Clermont-Ferrand, 1904), 74–80 for a resumé of the Catéchisme des curés auvergnat amis de leur patrie, de leur roi et de leurs frères (1789); and Poitrineau, La vie rurale, passim. 62. Michaud, Biographie universelle, 41: 402. On Thomas’s “Épître au peuple,” see Edouard Guitton, “Populisme et poésie: de ‘l’Épître au peuple’ (1760) au poème des ‘Fastes’ (1779),” in Images du peuple au dix-huitième siècle, 318–321. 63. For a view of peasant communautés in Dauphiné see Bernard Bonnin, “Le Dauphiné à la veille de la Révolution: formes de l’économie et structures so-

Notes to Pages 308–314

64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69. 70. 71.

72. 73. 74.

75. 76. 77. 78.

459

ciales,” in Les débuts de la Révolution française en Dauphiné, 1788–1791, ed. Vital Chomel (Grenoble, 1988), 12–13; and for the assemblies in Dauphiné at the time they drafted their so-called cahiers, that is their responses to the questionnaire of the provincial estates, see Recueil des réponses faites par les communautés de l’élection de Gap, xiii. Daniel Hickey, The Coming of French Absolutism: The Struggle for Tax Reform in the Province of Dauphiné, 1540–1640 (Toronto, 1986), especially ch. 2, details the political activities of rural communities in the sixteenth century. Arbellot, Lepetit, and Bertrand, Atlas de la Révolution française, 1 Routes et communications, 49. BNF, F. fr. 21869, f. 150. Letter of Caze de la Bove, 30 June 1788, in Chroniques dauphinoises, 1: 420–421. On the political engagement of some rural parishes in Auvergne, see Francisque Mège, Un arrondissement de la Basse-Auvergne en 1788 et 1789. L’arrondissement de Courpière (Clermont-Ferrand, 1892), 10–15. See n. 61 above. For Pau and Grenoble see Appendix B, Béarn, and Dauphiné. Sgard, Les trente récits de la Journée des Tuiles, 46. AN, Ba 44, Dauphiné, letter of 29 July 1788, the duc de Clermont-Tonnerre to the comte de Brienne, and letter of 13 July 1788, the subdelegate of Crest to the intendant, Caze de la Bove. Le Roy Ladurie, Carnival in Romans, and Hickey, The Coming of French Absolutism, passim. Arrêt, Parlement of Dauphiné, 20 May 1788 in Chroniques dauphinoises, 1: 347–348. Jack Goody, “Introduction,” and Jack Goody and Ian Watt, “The Consequenes of Literacy,” in Literacy in Traditional Societies, ed. Jack Goody (Cambridge, 1968), 1–68; J. G. A. Pocock, The Ancient Constitution and the Feudal Law (Cambridge, 1957). According to Gerard Viallet, “La journée des Tuiles, accident de l’histoire ou première manifestation politique populaire à la veille de 1789” in Les débuts de la Révolution française en Dauphiné, 85, the “milieux populaires,” including the peasantry, supported provincial autonomy; Bercé, Revolt and Revolution in Early Modern Europe, 140–141, shows that popular support for provincial autonomy was a deeply rooted historical tradition in Dauphiné. AN, Ba 44, Dauphiné, letter of 12 July 1788 from Caze de la Bove to the comte de Brienne. Egret, La Révolution des Notables. 7–30, and idem, Le Parlement de Dauphiné, 2: chs. 5–6. Bercé, History of Peasant Revolts, 248–251. Requête d’une société rustique, 22 and 59.

460

Notes to Pages 314–316

79. Tocqueville, L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution, vol. 2, Fragments et notes inédits, 126. 80. Keith M. Baker, “Politics and Public Opinion under the Old Regime: Some Reflections,” in Press and Politics in Pre-Revolutionary France, ch. 6; Chartier, Les origines culturelles de la Révolution française, ch. 2; Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, especially 1–102. 81. Barrington Moore, Jr., Injustice: The Social Bases of Obedience and Revolt (New York, 1966), passim. 82. Arrêt, Parlement of Dauphiné, 20 May 1788 in Chroniques dauphinoises, 1: 347–339. 83. Le Grand d’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788, 3: 225 and especially Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 355–372. 84. Pierre-Joseph-Marie Delafont, subdélégué de Gap, “Mémoire sur l’état de la subdélégation de Gap en 1784 adressé à l’Intendant du Dauphiné,” ed. J. Roman, Bulletin de la Société d’Etudes des Hautes-Alpes 18 (1899–1900), 177; [Albert], Histoire . . . du diocèse d’Embrun, 1: 89 and 98–99; Recueil des réponses faites par les communautés de l’élection de Gap, 151–160; and Pierre Léon, La Naissance de la grande industrie en Dauphiné (fin du XVIIe siècle-1869), 2 vols. (Gap, 1954), 1: 17. 85. In contrast to other areas of Dauphiné, especially in the plains where antiseigneurial riots erupted in 1789. See Jean Nicolas, “Le paysan et son seigneur en Dauphiné à la veille de la Révolution,” in La France d’Ancien Régime. Études réunis en l’honneur de Pierre Goubert, 2 vols. (Paris, 1984), 2: 497–507 and idem, La Révolution dans les Alpes, Dauphiné et Savoie, 1789–1799 (Toulouse, 1989), 1: 18–19; and Jean Sauvageon, “Les cadres de la société rurale dans la Drôme à la fin de l’ancien régime . . . survivances communautaires, survivances féodales et régime seigneurial,” in Aux Origines provinciales de la Révolution, ed. Robert Chagny (Grenoble, 1990), 35–44. 86. Le Grand d’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788, and Poitrineau, La vie rurale. For reflections on Poitrineau’s work and on the situation of the Auvergnat peasantry see Le Roy Ladurie, “Pour un modèle de l’économie rurale française au XVIIIe siècle,” 7–29. 87. Requête d’une société rustique, 46. The curé recounts the response he received when some years earlier he asked the peasants why they did not marry their sons in order to avoid militia service: “Ah! If they married at 17 or 18 years old they would already have 7 or 8 children by age 25; how could they raise them?” (“Eh! Messieurs, peut-on les marier à 17 & 18 ans. Ils auroient déjà 7 à 8 enfans à leur majorité [age 25]; comment pourroient-ils les élever?”). Despite delayed marriage, the natural increase in population in Chanonat in 1788 totaled 61, or 7 percent (AN, Ba 33 (1), Auvergne, dossier 12, “Relevé des baptêmes”); even if about half of those survived, that would still be an increase of over 3

Notes to Pages 316–319

88.

89.

90.

91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96.

97. 98. 99.

461

percent. Poitrineau provides evidence of a high incidence of teenage marriage in some parts of Lower Auvergne (La vie rurale, 2: 31–32). See La vie rurale, 2: 134, for a map indicating the area in Auvergne in which seasonal migration took place. See n. 61 above. On husbandry, transportation, property structure, peasant poverty, and taxation in Lower Auvergne and, in particular, in the area adjoining Chanonat (St. Amand la Cheyre or St. Amand-Tallende, and Le Crest) see Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 154, 157, 160–161, 163–164, 166–167, 214, 254 n.151, 311, 458, 585–586, 608, and 2: 61–62, 70–71, 83, 111, and 127. Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 341–381, provides evidence to sustain these criticisms of both taxes and seigneurial fees. For the rural cahiers of Auvergne, see Mège, Les cahiers des paroisses d’Auvergne en 1789. This paragraph is based on Requête d’une société rustique, 11–12, 14, 20; for the two quotations, pp. 9 and 13, respectively. Although the curé’s figures cannot be verified, some of the data Poitrineau presents show glaring variations among communities, ranging from 45 percent to over 100 percent of gross agricultural product paid in taxes, clerical dîme, and seigneurial charges; Poitrineau is quick to add that these figures may be based on underestimates of agricultural product (see Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 378–381). For this quotation, and the following material and quotations in this paragraph, see Requête d’une société rustique, 40, n. 11 (original italics). Saint-Jacob, Les paysans de la Bourgogne du nord, and Root, Peasants and King in Burgundy. For a comparison of the two provinces see Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie, “Révoltes et contestations rurales en France de 1675 à 1788,” Annales: ESC 29, no. 1 (Jan.–Feb. 1974), 6–22. Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 151–152, 608, 635, 643. Bois, Les paysans de l’Ouest, 146–155, points out a similar phenomenon in the Sarthe, in western France. For the illustration, see de Baecque, La Caricature révolutionnaire, 76–95; for the priest’s words, see Requête d’une société rustique, 22. Requête d’une société rustique, 62, 67–68. This argument is similar to Paul-François Boncerf [M. Francaleu], Les Inconvénients des droits féodaux. Nouvelle édition, augmenté de Fragmens sur l’origine des droits féodaux, et de l’Examen de la règle, nulle terre sans seigneur (London, 1776), although the curé does not list this work among his readings. Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 1: 514, attests to the mediocre income from land even for owners of seigneuries in the locality near Chanonat. Requête d’une société rustique, 63; for the arguments of some Notables, see Chapter 3 above. Requête d’une société rustique, 55. To the priest’s economic archaism may be added religious conservatism or traditionalism, for if he was Raymond of Chanonat, he became a fervid opponent of the Civil Constitution of the Clergy;

462

100. 101.

102.

103. 104.

105.

106.

107.

Notes to Pages 319–322 see [Raymond, curé de Chanonat], Réponse d’un curé de campagne à la lettre soi-disant pastorale du R. P. Perier (Paris, 1791), and Marc, “Un bourg d’Auvergne,” 163–167. On the shortage of wood in the Auvergant countryside see Le Grand d’Aussy, Voyage fait en 1787 et 1788, 3: 192–195. Le Grand D’Aussy describes in admiring terms the bustle of work that he saw in the city of Thiers; ibid., 1: 443–473. The area of proto-industry in Auvergne was to the east of Chanonat; see Poitrineau, La vie rurale, 2: 135. Requête d’une société rustique, 46 and 48. Gaultier de Biauzat, Doléances sur les surcharges, 188–189, n. 1, also expressed his belief that population in France had been declining since the sixteenth century. The curé’s proposed reforms of seigneurialism are reminiscent of those in Boncerf (see n. 96 above). For criticisms of seigneurialism see J. Q. C. Mackrell, The Attack on “Feudalism” in Eighteenth-Century France (London, 1973), 126–127, 131, 133–150, 160–162, 168–173. On Pierre d’Olivier, see: Pierre d’Olivier, La Voix d’un citoyen sur la manière de former les états généraux (1788); D. M. G. Sutherland, France 1789–1815: Revolution and Counterrevolution (New York, 1986), 140; and H.-A. Resende, “Jean-Jacques Rousseau, l’abbé Dolivier, Hegel sur la théorie des droits naturels,” AHRF 51 (1979), 221. Eugen Weber, “Comment la Politique Vint aux Paysans: A Second Look at Peasant Politicization,” AHR 87 (1982), 358–359, offers an apt definition: “Politicization is . . . an awareness that alternatives exist, that choices are possible, that ‘political’ activities are not about irrelevant abstractions but are closely related to social and economic concerns that are local, personal, and immediate . . . national politics initially were grafted onto local issues. . . . Narrow interests could open the way to broader perspectives, but only in the service of individual or locality.” Roland Mousnier, Peasant Uprisings in Seventeenth-Century France, Russia, and China, transl. Brian Pearce (New York, 1970), 335, concludes starkly: “The rebels could not see further than their own district, and so the government was able to put them down.” Bercé, History of Peasant Revolts, in particular 250–251, 256, 263, 265, 277, 287–288, 332, 339–341, provides rich evidence on the structural features of peasant opposition that persisted into the period of the French Revolution; he concurs with Mousnier on the narrow geographic scope of peasant movements in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Electoral regulations of 24 January 1789 in A Documentary Survey of the French Revolution, ed. John Hall Stewart (New York, 1964), 37, and in Recueil de documents relatifs à la convocation des États Généraux de 1789, ed. Armand Brette, 4 vols. (Paris, 1894), 1: 76–77.

Notes to Pages 324–328

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13. The Grass Roots 1. This figure does not include pamphlets with no clear indication of author or provenance; only pamphlets whose author is known and which came from a particular locality are included in this chapter. Each locality, institution, and group is counted only once even though it had multiple communications with the government, 2. I refer to the généralité when more than one province is included in the administrative area, whereas the provinces of Normandy and Languedoc included more than one généralité. 3. See Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 246–305 for a summary of the events subsequent to the edicts of 8 May 1788, and Gruder, “The Bourbon Monarchy: Reforms and Propaganda,” 350–351. 4. Marcel Marion, Le Garde des sceaux Lamoignon et la réforme judiciaire de 1788 (Paris, 1905). Marion bemoans the lack of support for reforms he considered largely beneficial, without giving sufficient weight to the manner in which the government acted that alienated many. 5. On Brittany, Barthélemy Pocquet, Les Origines de la Révolution en Bretagne (Paris, 1885); on Dauphiné, Egret, La Révolution des Notables and Sgard, Les trente récits de la Journée des Tuiles; on Provence Egret, “La pré-Révolution en Provence-1787–1789,” AHRF (1954), and Monique Cubells, Les Horizons de la liberté: Naissance de la Révolution en Provence 1787–1789 (Aix-en-Provence, 1987). 6. See Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 254. The parlementary courts were: Paris, Toulouse, Grenoble, Bordeaux, Dijon, Rouen, Aix, Arras (conseil provincial), Rennes, Pau, Metz, Colmar (conseil supérieur), Perpignan (conseil supérieur), Besançon, Douai, and Nancy. For this list (excluding Nancy) see Franklin Ford, Robe and Sword: The Regrouping of the French Aristocracy after Louis XIV (Cambridge, Mass., 1953), 38. 7. Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 305, and Marion, Le Garde des sceaux Lamoignon, 202–203. 8. BNF, Joly de Fleury, ms. 1099, fs. 38–42. 9. On the reaction of lower courts to the May edicts: AN, Ba series, BNF, Joly de Fleury, mss. 1098–1100, and varied pamphlets in the BNF and also in the British Library; the main secondary sources are Egret, La Pré-Révolution française, 286–289, and Marion, Le Garde des sceaux Lamoignon. 10. Orléans, BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, fs. 147–159v; Amiens, AN, K160 (no. 53); AN, Ba 29 (B) 1, liasse 50, dossier 6, no. 4, f. 9; Alençon, AN, Ba 11 (3), liasse 5, dossier 12, no. 19; Tours, BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, f. 233, AN, Ba 83 (1), liasse 202, dossier 2, no. 8 and dossier 8, no. 6.

464

Notes to Pages 329–337

11. AN, Ba 43 (2), dossier 4, no. 62; the small community of Lalbenc in Dauphiné, in June, expressed concern about their property and fear that the harvest might be stolen because of the cessation of judicial activity. 12. Sens, BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, fs. 221–223; Montdidier, ibid., fs. 104–105; and Poitiers, ibid., fs. 172–173, AN, K160, no. 637. 13. Correspondance de Félix Faulcon, 1: 312–338. 14. Arguments of the lower courts on the May edicts are: Blois (Orléanais), BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury, 1099, f. 152; Chaumont-en-Bassigny (Champagne), AN, K160, no. 7 (13), BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1099, fs. 200–258v; Chinon (Touraine), ibid., fs.266–289; Feurs (Forez-Lyonnais), BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, fs. 2–8; La Marche (Moulins), ibid., fs. 22–25; Laval (Maine), ibid., fs. 44–45; Lyon, ibid., fs. 46–54, BNF, Lb39 564, BNF, LB39 12192 (11), and BM Lyon, ms. 362701; Meaux (Champagne), BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, fs. 76–83; Melun (Paris généralité), ibid., fs. 35–90; Montrichard (Touraine), ibid., fs. 116–120; Orbec (Normandy), BNF, Lb39 600; and Orléans, BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1100, fs. 147–159v. All but Orbec were within the jurisdictional area of the Paris parlement. 15. For the meanings given to the word “revolution” in eighteenth-century France see Baker, Inventing the French Revolution, 203–223. 16. Egret, Louis XV et l’opposition parlementaire, 189, 221–222, 227, 231. 17. AN, Ba 7 (2), dossier V Z, no. 5, f. 8; AN, Ba 81 (2), liasse 199, dossier 6, no. 1; AN, Ba 47(a), liasse, 107, no. 31, f. 3; AN, Ba 2 (2), B, no. 177, f. 1r. 18. Augustin Cochin and Ch. Charpentier, La Campagne électoral de 1789 en Bourgogne (Paris, 1904), and Augustin Cochin, Les Sociétés de pensée et la Révolution en Bretagne (1788–1789) 2 vols. (Paris, 1925). 19. Maurice Bordes, L’administration provinciale et municipale en France au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1972). 20. Bourgogne: d’Arnay-le-Duc, AN, Ba 37 (1), liasse 74, dossier 6, no. 3; Brittany: Nantes, Anne-Claire Dere, “Les prémices de la Révolution à Nantes à travers les délibérations municipales (1787–1789),” in Aux Origines provinciales de la Révolution, 95–105; Guienne: Bordeaux, AN, Ba 22 (1), liasse 35, dossier 1, nos. 3–5 and dossier 3, no. 13, Lhéritier, Les débuts de la Révolution à Bordeaux, 34ff.; Languedoc: Toulouse, AN, Ba 81 (2), liasse 199, nos. 5, 6, 31 and dossier 6, nos. 1 and 3, and Philippe Nelidoff, “La Crise des structures municipales: L’exemple du capitoulat toulousain (1788–1790),” in Aux Origines provinciales de la Révolution, 127–131; Limousin: Limoges, AN, Ba 47, liasse 108, dossier 5, no. 3; Lyon: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 3, no. 2. 21. On silk manufacturing in the countryside of lower Languedoc and its relation to the manufacture in Nîmes, see Line Teisseyre-Sallmann, L’Industrie de la soie en bas-Languedoc XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles (Paris, 1995). On the general subject of peasant manufacturing in the European countryside, see: Peter Kriedte, Hans Medick, and Jürgen Schlumbohm, Industrialization before Industrialization:

Notes to Pages 337–349

22. 23.

24. 25.

26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

34. 35.

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Rural Industry in the Genesis of Capitalism (Cambridge, 1981), and Franklin Mendel, “Proto-industrialization: The First Phase of the Industrialization Process,” Journal of Economic History 32 (1972), 241–261. AN, Ba 72 (1), dossier 1, no. 11. AN, Ba 47, liasse 108, dossier 5, no. 3 and no. 16 bis; the population is given in numbers of households (feux) which demographers usually multiplied by five (that is, five persons to a household) to arrive at the total population. AN, Ba 57 (2), liasse 141, dossier 1, no. 3 and also BNF, Lb39 684. The population of Bordeaux is given as 120,000 in 1789 in AN, Ba 22 (1), liasse 35, dossier 2, no, 11; Melvin Edelstein, “ ‘Laying the Foundations for the Regeneration of the Empire’: The First Municipal Elections in the Biggest Cities of France during the Revolution,” FH 17, no. 3 (Sept. 2003), 254, provides a figure of 109,639 for the population of Bordeaux in 1790 and 123,160 for Lyon in the same year. Languedoc: Aimargues, AN, Ba 55 (1), liasse 131, dossier 14, no. 2, Aramon, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 131, dossier 22, nos. 2 and 5, Caila, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 8, no. 1, Vauvert, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 17, no. 3; Provence: Cuceron, BNF, Lk2 3712, Délibération du Bourg de Cuceron, contenant sa profession de foi civile; son voeu en faveur de la constitution Delphinale; son adhésion à la Délibération de la ville d’Aix, du 29 Décembre dernier, à l’effet de demander à S.M. la convocation d’une Assemblée générale des trois Ordres, pour la confection d’une nouvelle Constitution. . . . . Conseil Général, tenu le 9 Janvier 1789 (Aix, 1789); and Bourgogne: Massigny, AN, Ba 37 (1), liasse 74, dossier 7, no. 11. Tocqueville, L’Ancien régime et la Révolution, 2: 104–116. René Favier, “Les relations interurbaines en Dauphiné à la veille de la Révolution,” in Aux Origines provinciales de la Révolution, 69–81. On the question of authenticity, see Shapiro and Markoff, Revolutionary Demands, 125–165. AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 37. Languedoc: Saint-Gilles, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 10, no. 2; Le Vigan, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 19, no. 2. Vauvert (Languedoc): AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 17, no. 3. I have come across only one use of the term “double” in the deliberation of the municipal assembly of Aligre (Normandy) in January 1789 (AN, Ba 21 (1), 12, no. 2), referring to the number of Third Estate deputies in comparison to the first two orders together in the estates-general of 1356, 1576, and 1614. Faucogney (Franche-Comté): AN, Ba 42 (2), liasse 90, dossier 13, nos. 1 and 2. Burgundy: Chaussin, AN, Ba 37 (D), liasse 74, dossier 6, no. 26; Languedoc: Montpellier, AN, Ba 55 (1), liasse 131, dossier 8; Provence: Mées, AN, Ba 70 (D), dossier 1, no. 8, and St. Maximin, AN Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, nos. 49 and 51.

466

Notes to Pages 350–355

36. BNF, Lb39 6614, Mémoire présenté au Roi par les avocats au Parlement de Normandie, sur les États Généraux, and AN, Ba 76 (1), liasse, 176 bis, dossier 2, nos. 4 and 5 which date the memoir to before 4 December 1788. According to Marc Bouloiseau, “Introduction Générale,” Cahiers de Doléances du Tiers État du bailliage de Rouen pour les États généraux de 1789 (Paris, 1957), Le Couteulx de Canteleu and J.-G. Thouret probably drafted the memoir of the avocats of the parlement (p. cxxviii, n. 11). The argument that separate voting of the three orders in the estates-general would prevent the emergence of common interests was also the argument in [Jean-Joseph Mounier] Lettre écrite au Roi par les trois Ordres de la Province de Dauphiné, sur les États-Généraux that the provincial estates of Dauphiné addressed to the king in November. 37. Alet (Languedoc), AN, Ba 47 (B-D), liasse 109, dossier 6, no. 5. 38. Poitou: AN, Ba 69 (1), liasse 162, dossier 5, no. 3; Auvergne: Riom, AN, Ba 72 (1), dossier 1, no. 4 and dossier 2, no. 17, and Clermont-Ferrand, BNF, ms. Joly de Fleury 1099, f. 330v, p. 14; Lyonnais: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 1, no. 15 and also BM Lyon, Fonds Coste 11260, and AD, Rhône, série E 779, fascicule 6. 39. These twelve were: Agenois, Bar, la Beauce, Commenge, Dombes, Forez, Gascogne, Lannes, Rouergue and Quercy, Velay, and Vivarais. Dax: BNF, Lb39 6763, Rapport des commissaries nommés par la compagnie des avocats de Dax, sur l’importance d’avoir, dans le pays de Lannes, des états particuliers, indépendans de ceux de la basse Guienne. Lu en asssemblée, le 31 décembre 1788. 40. Tocqueville, L’Ancien régime et la Révolution, 1: 253–261. 41. On problems related to two of the provincial estates see: Cubells, Les Horizons de la liberté; and Marie-Laure Legay, Robespierre et le pouvoir provincial, Dénonciation et émancipation politique (Arras, 2002). The latter includes Robespierre’s pamphlet À la Nation artésienne, sur la nécessité de réformer les États provinciaux, whose criticisms are similar to those voiced in other provinces. Marie-Laure Legay, in a paper entitled “L’Étouffement politique du tiers dans les assemblées d’états (France, XVIIIe siècle)” delivered at the Congress of the International Commission for the Study of the History of Representative and Parliamentary Institutions (Barcelona, September 2003), and René Grevet, “L’Absolutisme en province: l’échec de l’intendant Caumartin en Artois (1759–1773),” RHMC 44–2 (April–June 1997), 213–227, both argue that the royal government ceded greater authority to the provincial estates in the pays d’états beginning in the 1750s, meaning in effect greater authority for the local nobles and prelates, which explains the heightened animosity against them in 1787–1788. 42. Normandy: Auge, AN, Ba 27 (2), liasse 45, dossier 18, no. 1 and Pont-l’Evêque, AN, Ba 76 (2), liasse 177, dossier 10, no. 4. 43. Grenoble: [Mounier], Réponse des négociants de la ville de Grenoble à MM. les juges-consuls de Montauban, Clermont-Ferrand, Châlons, Orléans, Tours, Besançon, Dunkerque, et Saint-Quentin, et à la chambre de commerce de Picardie,

Notes to Pages 355–357

44.

45.

46.

47.

48.

467

de St. Malo et de Lille en Flandre [1788]; Marseille: AN, Ba 50 (2), liasse 119, dossier 7, no. 1. Deprived of direct representatives to the estates-general, “le grande commerce” instead sent “extraordinary deputies” from a number of cities, in effect lobbyists, to influence the making of economic laws; see J. Letaconnoux, “Les sources de l’histoire du Comité des députés extraordinaires des manufactures et du commerce de France (1789–1791),” RHMC (1912), 369–403. Only two individuals from Lyon (AN, Ba 48 (D), dossier 5, no. 21) and from Orbec (AN, Ba 3 (3), D, nos. 115–118) used the terms “classe moyenne” and “moyenne classe,” even “état moyen.” The one from Lyon designated in a favorable light the group between the bourgeoisie and the peuple who had knowledge of and could discuss political matters, whereas the one from Orbec criticized those between the nobility and the peuple who foisted the weight of taxes on artisans and traders. Brrittany: Côtes du Cape Frehel, AN, Ba 26 (2), liasse 170 bis, dossier 6, no. 14; Languedoc: Arles, AN, Ba 14 (2), liasse 12, dossier 5, no. 1, Toulouse, AN, Ba 81 (2), liasse 199, dossier 6, nos. 1 and 3, Velay, AN, Ba 70 (2), dossier 6, nos. 4, 11, 16–17, 21; Lyon: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 4, no. 13; Normandy: Condeau, AN, Ba 21 (1), 13, no. 3; Picardy: Boulogne, AN, Ba 23 (1), liasse 36, dossier 2, no. 10. Franche-Comté: Gy, AN, Ba 42 (2), liasse 90, dossier 13, no. 1, Poligny, AN, K 688, 25 October 1788, Quingey, AN, Ba 38 (1), dossier 6 (3), no. 3; Guienne: Tonneins Dessous (Agenois), AN, Ba 44 (2), liasse 96, dossier 4, no. 15; Languedoc: Agde, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 105, Ansignan, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 4, nos. 1 and 3, Aurignan, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 4, Calvisson, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 7, Florensac, AN, Ba 21 (2), 33–8, no. 3, Marsillargues, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 12, no. 4, St. Andéol, AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 6, no. 2, St. Arnac, AN, Ba 47 (B-D), liasse 109, dossier 6, no. 8, St. Geniez, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 9, no. 9, Vallon (Vivarais), AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 6, no. 12, Villeneuve-de-Berg, AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 1, no. 21, Viviers, AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 6, no. 14; Lyon, AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 3, no. 12; Normandy: Alençon, AN, Ba 11 (3), liasse 5, dossier 12, no. 10, Auge, AN, Ba 27 (2), liasse 45, dossier 18, no. 1, Caen, AN, Ba 27 (1), liasse 45, dossier 1, nos. 13, 14, Pont-l’Evêque, AN, Ba 76 (2), liasse 177, dossier 10, no. 4; Provence: Moustiers, AN, Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, no. 23, St. Maximin, AN Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, nos. 49 and 51, Tarascon, AN, Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, nos. 101–102, Valensole, AN Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, no. 109; Soissonais: Laon, AN, Ba 46 A (1), liasse 103, dossier 1, no. 10. For the following discussion of views on the king expressed in community assemblies, see: Brittany: Auray, AN, Ba 26 (2), liasse 201 bis, dossier 1, no. 4; Languedoc: Agde, AN, Ba 29 (B) 1, liasse 50, dossier 7, no. 10, Vallon (Vivarais), AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 6, no. 12; Normandy: Honfleur, AN, Ba 76 (2),

468

49.

50.

51.

52.

Notes to Pages 359–363 liasse 177, dossier 6, no. 3, Rouen, AN, Ba 76 (1), liasse 176 bis, dossier 1, no. 2; Provence: La Ciotat, AN 50 (2), liasse 119, dossier 11, no. 3; Soissonais: Noyon, AN, Ba 46 A (2), liasse 104, dossier 16, nos. 2, 6, 8, Laon, AN, Ba 46 A (1), liasse 103, dossier 1, no. 10. Lyon: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 4, no. 3 and BM, Lyon, Fonds Coste 350796; Guienne: Fumel (Agenois), AN, Ba 9 (2), 7, no. 3, Libourne, AN, Ba 46 B (1), liasse 105, dossier 1, Délibération de la ville et communauté de Libourne, en Guienne, 17 Dec. 1788; Languedoc: Rieux, AN, Ba 82 (2), liasse 201, dossier 4, no. 36; Normandy: Barfleur, AN, Ba 27 (2), liasse, 45, dossier 18, no. 2 (original underlining); Caen, AN, Ba 27 (1), liasse 45, dossier 1, no. 13; Provence: Sisteron, BNF, Lk2 3712, Délibération du Conseil général de tous les chefs de famille de la ville de Sisteron. 19 Feb. 1789 (Aix, 1789) in Recueil de pièces concernant la Provence. For an overview of the traditional concept of the king as père see Jeffrey Merrick, “Fathers and Kings: Patriarchalism and Absolutism in EighteenthCentury French Politics,” Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century 308 (1993), 281–303; see also above, Chapter 11, and nn. 64 and 65. Franche-Comté: Ornans, AN, Ba 38 (1), dossier 6 (2), St. Claude, AN, H (1) 723, no. 111; Languedoc: Alais, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 131, dossier 17, no. 7, Pontevez, AN, Ba 69 (2), liasse 163, dossier 8, no. 50, Sommières, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 14, no. 2; Lyon: AN Ba 48 (1), dossier 3, no. 12, also BNF, Lb39 905 and BM Lyon, Fonds Coste, 305793, Requête aux Roi par les Habitans de la ville de Lyon. Décembre 1788; Normandy: Pont l’Evêque, AN, Ba 76 (2), liasse 177, dossier 10, no. 4; Provence: Arles, AN, Ba 14 (2), liasse 12, dossier 5, no. 1, La Penne les Aubagne, AN, Ba 70 (1), dossier 1, no. 28, Maureilhan, AN, Ba 21 (2), 33–8, no. 17, pp. 6–7, and nos. 22–24, and AN, Ba 21 (2), 33–3, no, 5. For the above see: Burgundy: Chaussin, AN, Ba 37 (1), liasse 74, dossier 6, no. 26; Franche-Comté: Ornans, AN, Ba 38 (1), dossier 6 (2), Quingey, AN, Ba 38 (1), dossier 6 (3), no 3; Guienne: Cadillac, AN, Ba 22 (2), liasse 35, dossier 20, no. 3, Fumel (Agenois), AN, Ba 9 (2), 7, no. 3, Nérac, AN, Ba 57 (1), liasse 140, dossier 1, no. 2, Tonneins Dessous (Agenois), AN, Ba 44 (2), liasse 96, dossier 4, no. 15; Languedoc: Alais, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 131, dossier 17, no. 7, Bédarrieux, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 6, Castel-Sarrazin, AN, Ba 82 (2), liasse 201, dossier 4, no. 3; L’Isle Albigeois, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 131, dossier 21, no. 6, Lunel, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 75, Marsillargues, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 12, no. 4, Montpellier, AN, Ba 55 (1), liasse 131, dossier 8, no. 5, Villeneuve-de-Berg, AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 1, no. 21; Lyon AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 5, no. 21; Provence: Lorgues, AN, Ba 69 (2), liasse 163, dossier 8, no. 108, St. Julien, AN, Ba 69 (2), liasse 163, dossier 8, no. 91. The intendant and a committee of lawyers commented, in April 1788, about the litigiousness of communities in Dauphiné, including peasants: “the most savage peasants of the Alps undertake processes for the communities using legal

Notes to Pages 364–366

469

terms that must be unknown to them, but which result from the practice of teachers in the mountainous areas who teach children to read from old court cases of their families” (AN, Ba 74 (1), dossier 4, no. 8). Also litigious were the peasants in Burgundy according to Root, Peasants and King in Burgundy. 53. For the above paragraph see: Brittany: Auray, AN, Ba 26 (2), liasse 201 bis, dossier 1, no. 4; Franche-Comté: Poligny, AN, K 688, 25 Oct. 1788; Guienne: Tonneins Dessous (Agenois), AN, Ba 44 (2), liasse 96, dossier 4, no. 15; Lyon: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 4, no. 9; généralité of Moulins (Nivernois): St. Pierre-leMoustier, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 143, dossier 1, no. 7; Languedoc: Bédarrieux, AN, K 679 (1), no. 36 bis, also AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 11, Calvisson, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 7, no. 1, La Tour de France, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 11, no. 7, Lodève, AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 66, also AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 1, no. 71, Marsillargues, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 12, no. 4, Nîmes, AN, Ba 57 (2), liasse 141, dossier 1, no. 20, Sommières, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 14, no. 2, St. Andéol (Vivarais), AN, Ba 85 (2), liasse 217, dossier 6, no. 2, Vendres les Beziers, AN, Ba 21 (2), 33–1, no. 16 and AN, Ba 21 (2), 33–8, no. 59, Vezenobre, AN, Ba 58 (1), liasse 142, dossier 18, no. 1; Lyonnais: AN, Ba 48 (1), dossier 1, no. 15; Normandy: Auge, AN, Ba 27 (2), liasse 45, dossier 18, no. 1, Caen, AN, Ba 27 (1), liasse 45, dossier 1, no. 13, Pont-l’Evêque, AN, Ba 76 (2), liasse 177, dossier 10, no. 4, Rouen, AN, Ba 76 (1), liasse 176 bis, dossier 1, nos. 15 and 16; Orléanais: Chartres, AN, Ba 31 (2), liasse 59, dossier 1, no. 6; Soissonais: Laon, AN, Ba 46 A (1), liasse 103, dossier 1, no. 10. 54. Uzès (Languedoc), AN, Ba 55 (2), liasse 132, dossier 3, no. 13.

Conclusion 1. François Furet in Penser la Révolution française, 66–69, suggested dating the beginning of the Revolution to 1788. The renowned publisher of his day, Charles-Joseph Panckoucke, asserted in 1791 that the Revolution had begun with “the first Assembly of Notables”; cited in Edna Hindie Lemay, “Assembléé Nationale Constituante: le passé est-il suspect face à la Révolution française?” in L’Encyclopédie méthodique (1782–1832) des Lumières au Positivisme, ed. Claude Blanckaert et al. (Geneva, 2006), 408 and n. 2. 2. Charles Tilly, From Mobilization to Revolution (New York, 1978), 216, would characterize the two years 1787–1788 as a “revolutionary situation”: “three proximate causes of revolutionary situations: (1) the appearance of contenders, or coalitions of contenders, advancing . . . alternative claims to the control over the government . . . ; (2) commitment to these claims by a significant segment of the . . . population; (3) incapacity or unwillingness of the agents of the government to suppress the alternative coalition and/or the commitment to its

470

3.

4.

5.

6. 7.

Notes to Pages 367–371 claims.” I might add to the third feature the unwillingness of the government to accommodate to the new claims. I still argue in favor of 1787–1788 as the beginning of the French Revolution. If an actual transfer of sovereignty (which Tilly defines as the Revolution) did not take place afterward, then the preceding events might be termed a revolutionary situation. Colin Lucas, “Nobles, Bourgeois, and the Origins of the French Revolution,” P and P 60 (Aug. 1973), 84–126; and Colin Jones, “Bourgeois Revolution Revivified: 1789 and Social Change,” in Rewriting the French Revolution, ed. Colin Lucas (Oxford, 1991), 69–118, and idem, “The Great Chain of Buying,” 13–40. François Furet’s interest in Augustin Cochin resurrected the theory of doctrinaire ideology at the origin of the Revolution; see Furet, Penser la Révolution française (Paris, 1978), 212–259. Andrew Jainchill and Samuel Moyn, “French Democracy between Totalitarianism and Solidarity: Pierre Rosanvallon and Revisionist Historiography,” JMH 76 (March 2004), 1–28. See Melvin Richter, “Montesquieu and the Concept of Civil Society,” The European Legacy 3 (1998), 33–41. AN, Ba 43 (2), dossier 4, no. 37, letter from the maréchal de Vaux to the comte de Brienne, 22 July 1788.

Index

Abonnements, 51, 315 Absolutism, 45, 60, 144, 164, 365. See also Government; King/Crown Académie Française, 152, 298 Accountability, of ministers. See Ministerial accountability Ad hoc assemblies. See Community assemblies Les Adieux du duc de Bourgogne et de l’abbé de Fénélon . . . , 98–99 De l’Administration Provinciale et de la réforme de l’Impôt (Le Trosne), 106 Affiches, Annonces et avis divers de Dauphiné, 95, 102, 106–107, 108–109, 110, 293 Affiches d’ Artois. See Annonces, affiches . . . d’Artois Affiches de Beauvaisis, 98, 101, 105, 106, 110 Affiches de Paris, 96, 99–100, 107, 194–195, 197 Affiches de Rennes, 95–96 Affiches des Évêchés et Lorraine, 96, 102, 106–107, 108, 109, 110 Agriculture, 38, 40, 354–355 Albert, abbé, 300, 303 Allegorical prints. See Iconography/illustrations/imagery Almanach Historique nommé Le Messager Boiteux, 273 Almanacs, 254, 273–275 Almanachs des muses, 210 Alsace, 297, 324

American Revolution. See War Ancien régime, 2 character of elite in late stages of, 64–65 final crisis of, 2, 169, 365–366 ideology of aristocrats at end of, 86–88 periodical press in, 91–95 political culture of, 14, 21, 29, 32, 36, 58, 74 role of journalism in, 164–166 and taxation, 37, 40 L’Ancien Régime et la Révolution (Tocqueville), 71 Angoumois, 335 Angran d’Alleray, 48 Anjou, 171, 325 Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle, 112, 125, 130–135, 166, 168, 195, 197, 199. See also Linguet, Simon-Nicolas-Henri Annonces, affiches . . . d’Artois, 95, 109, 110 Anobli. See Ennobled/anobli “Antigone” (play), 212 Antonin, Citoyen, au milieu des Peuples de son Empire . . . , 99–100 Antraigues, de Launay, comte d’, 147, 184, 186, 197, 345 Aristocratic party, 3–4, 61, 82, 150, 322, 342, 366 Aristocratic reaction and revolution, 1–2 Aristocrats and aristocracy, 3, 4, 6. See also Nobles/nobility/second estate and commoners, 65, 369

471

472

Index

Aristocrats and aristocracy (continued) historical interpretations, 1–2, 4, 64, 75, 157, 174, 367 pamphlets on, 184 political culture of, 4, 62, 67, 86–88, 181 public opinion on, 3, 4, 6, 64, 163–164, 180, 185, 367 Arrêté des officiers du grand bailliage de Toulouse, 280 Arrêté du grenier à sel de Paris, du 9 juin 1788, 280 Art. See Iconography/illustrations/imagery Art market, 221, 227–229, 233–234 Artois (province): and provincial estates, 64, 123, 124, 353 Artois, comte d’, 29, 39, 42, 71, 82, 138, 162, 185 Assembly of Notables first Assembly (See First Assembly of Notables) second Assembly (See Second Assembly of Notables) Aunis-Saintonge, and community assemblies, 325 Auvergne Chanonat. See Chanonat Clermont-Ferrand, 294, 352 dissemination of news to remote areas, 292–297 languages spoken in, 299–300 literacy rates in, 302–303 pamphlet of, expressing peasants’ views, 305–309, 313–321 parish clergy in, 305 Riom, 352 taxes in, 314–315 Avertissement (Calonne), 31, 72 Avis au peuple, 260 Avis aux Parisiens. . . . (Linguet), 281 Avis aux provinces, 168, 171 Avocats. See Lawyers Bachaumont, Louis Petit de, 139. See also Mémoires secrets Bacon, comte de, 269 Bailliages. See Lower courts Baker, Keith M., 6 Bakhtin, Mikhail, 254 Balance/equilibrium, 63

and Assembly of Notables 67, 70, 75, 349 and community assemblies, 347, 349, 357 and England, 102 political, 62, 79 social, 77–81 and the Third Estate, 368 Banks, rush on, 159 Barère, Bertrand, 298 Barnave, Joseph, 171, 185 Bazoches, 154 Béarn, 236 and May edicts, 94, 326 and Pau, 153, 168, 171, 309–310, 334 and peasants, nobility, and parlement, 248 and provincial estates, 236 and “social contract,” 288 Beaumarchais, Pierre-Augustin Caron de, 94, 126, 183, 204, 212, 214, 275 Beaupoil, marquis de, 277 Behrens, Betty, 37 Benhamou, Paul, 199, 200 Bergasse, Nicolas, 183, 186, 190, 204, 224, 231–232, 257, 275–276 Bernadau, Pierre, 206 Berry and community assemblies, 325 and provincial assembly, 66, 71, 105, 110 Bestsellers, 254, 285–287, 451n59 Bilingualism, 298–299, 301 Binary reasoning, of Notables, 67 Bodin, Jean, 133, 362 Bois, Paul, 87 Boisgelin de Cucé, Jean-de-Dieu-Raimond de (archbishop of Aix), 19–22, 28, 52 and Calonne, 19, 20 family history, 19–20 pre-Assembly experience and reflections, 20–22 Boissy d’Anglas, François-Antoine, comte de, 345 Bollème, Geneviève, 273 Bombelles, marquis de, 206 Book clubs. See Reading sites Book reviews and announcements, 97–107, 110–111, 138–149 Book trade and booksellers, 194, 200, 203, 204

Index government policy, 182, 189–191 Bordeaux. See Guienne/Guyenne Bouche, Charles-François, 361 Bourbon, duc de, 29 Bourgeois/bourgeoisie. See also Commerce; Commoners; Third Estate cultural characteristics, 199, 201–203, 213, 233–234, 298–299, 302–303 French Revolution, 1–2, 367–368 and land ownership, 38, 69, 318 pamphlets and periodicals, 197–198, 257, 266 Bretonne, Restif de la, 283, 304 Brienne, Loménie de. See Loménie de Brienne (archbishop of Toulouse) Brissot de Warville, Jacques-Pierre, 174, 184 Brittany, 51, 94, 123 community assemblies, 325, 344, 355, 357 and contract with French king, 267 May edicts, 121, 153, 326 the military, 248 Nantes, 190, 199, 336, 344 news reports on, 153, 154, 158, 192, 309 nobility in, 124, 160, 258, 281 pamphlets and periodicals, 171–172, 175, 180, 258, 259, 279, 281, 282 public response,153, 159, 213, 247 provincial estates, 64, 124, 134, 154, 161, 353 Rennes, 211, 344, 353 Third Estate, influence of, 161 Budgets government’s publication of, 185 publications on, 103–104 “Buffet de la Cour” (caricature), 226 Buffon, Georges-Louis Leclerc, comte de, 164 Burgundy, 51 community assemblies, 325, 336, 339, 340, 349 Dijon, 236, 342 May edicts, 121, 153 literary policing, 191 magistrates and nobles on representation, 123 pamphlet, 258 provincial estates, 124, 353 Tournus, 337–338

473

Burke, Edmund, 75, 76, 350 Cabarets, cafés, taverns, 137, 152, 195, 197, 198, 202, 209, 211, 260, 296 Cabinets de lecture (reading rooms), 200– 201, 203–205, 294, 433n26 Cadastre (land survey), for tax assessment, 39 Cahiers de doléances, 175, 291, 314, 317, 346–347, 365, 424n25 Auvergne, 297, 305, 307 in the past, 18, 109 and peasants, 321, 370 Caila, community assemblies in, 339–340 Calonne, Joseph Alexandre de and Boisgelin, 19, 20 Carra’s attack on, 168 and deficit, 47, 104, 118 diatribes in pamphlets against, 176–177 dismissal of, 46, 48, 102, 231 fêtes condemning, 238, 239, 242 and first Assembly of Notables, 11–12, 19, 20, 28, 31, 35, 59 gazettes reporting on, 118 illustrations and imagery of, 226 and land sales, 48 Morande in Courrier on, 126 and Necker, 104, 118, 285, 286 pamphlets on or by, 182–183, 184, 186, 196, 197, 202 public opposition to, 152, 153, 156, 184 reform program of, 34–36, 37, 39–40, 45, 66, 67, 72, 87, 132 songs, verse and talk on, 211, 215, 219 Capitalistes. See Financiers (capitalistes) Carcassonne, Ély, 75 Caricatures, 54, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225-226, 228, 232, 440n41 Carra, Jean-Louis, 168, 186, 197 Castan, Yves, 302 Catéchisme des parlements, 263 Catéchisme du citoyen (Saige), 256 Catechisme du tiers état, à l’usage de toutes les provinces de France . . . , 262–263 Catéchisme patriotique, par une bonne citoyenne, 263 Catéchisme patriotique à l’usage des mères de famille, 262–263, 266, 267 catechisms, political, 254, 262–263

474

Index

Caze de la Bove, 185, 191, 192, 292, 295, 297, 308–309, 310, 311, 313 Censorship evasion of, 190–193, 206, 215 and gazettes, 115–116 loosening of press censorship, 106–108, 115–116, 138 and manuscript newsletters, 142 and newspapers, 94–95, 106–108 of pamphlets, 182, 187–193 royal, 171, 182, 187–193, 203 Cerutti, Joseph-Antoine-Joachim, 184, 266 Chambers of commerce. See Commerce Chambres de lecture (reading societies/book clubs), 198–202, 432nn22,23,26. See also Reading sites Chambres des comptes, 24, 55. See also Sovereign courts Champ de Mai, 272, 350 Champ de Mars, 269, 350 Champagne community assemblies, 325 May edicts, 215, 329, 330 provincial assembly, 105 provincial estates, 352 Troyes, 13, 110, 153, 211, 212, 238 Champcenetz, Louis René Quentin de Richebourg de, 211 Chanonat (Lower Auvergne), 292–293, 295, 306. See also Auvergne; Patois; Peasants; Raymond communication of news, 293–294, 295 economic and social conditions, 316–319 education, experience, and literacy, 302–303 peasants and politics, 308–309 priest, and peasants, 305, 306–308 taxes and seigneurial fees, 314–315, 317, 319. “Le Chansonnier des rues” (song), 209 Charlemagne, 269, 272, 350 Charon, Joseph, 240–241, 248–249 Chartier, Roger, 217, 254, 258 Chartres. See Orléanais Chastellux, Henri Georges César, 70 Chenier, Marie Joseph, 211 Chronology of events, 373–376 La Chute des trois corps, 179 Circularity of ideas, 243–244, 256–257, 266–268, 288, 295, 366–367

Civil society, 369 Clergy/first estate community assemblies, participation in, 340 as cultural intermediaries, for peasants, 304–305 don gratuit / ”free gift,” 21, 78 and first Assembly of Notables, 28, 31, 50–51, 398n48 lower clergy, 4, 81, 198, 294, 305, 353, 354, 368 pamphlets attacking, 179–180, 262 and privilege, 50–51, 118 upper clergy, 27, 64, 73, 86, 341, 353 Clermont-Tonnerre, Jules Charles Henri, duc de, 95, 185–186, 191, 192–193, 295, 306 Clubs, 137, 152–153, 198, 199, 201–202, 369. See also Reading sites Cocardes (tricolor), 153, 245 Cochin, Augustin, 335 Code Nationale, 184, 187 Coeurderoy, Michel Joseph de, 13, 22–25, 28, 32 on clergy, 31 family history, 23 pre-Assembly experiences and reflections, 23–25 Collection of Memoirs on the Celebrated Diamond Necklace Affair, 204 Collective reading, 263 Colloque entre un rentier de l’état et un citoyen, déjeunant ensemble au Café de Foy, 263 Colporteurs (peddlers), 137, 138, 151, 188– 189, 190, 202–203, 257, 294, 434n36 Comic writings, 254. See also Satires Commerce and Assembly of Notables, 43, 77, 78, 79 chambers of commerce and the estatesgeneral, 155, 171, 354–355 Six Corps of Merchants, 159 and Third Estate, 350, 356 (See also Bourgeois/bourgeoisie) Commis (government administrators), 25, 49 Commoners. See also Bourgeois/bourgeoisie; Peasants; Third Estate

Index and aristocracy, 38, 65, 369 and Assembly of Notables, 57, 68, 70, 77, 84 and historical interpretation, 1–2 and internal divisions, 369–370 manuscript newsletters on, 154–155 and news reports, 122, 143, 158 and political engagement, 4, 6, 159, 171, 249, 250, 365, 367–369 Communication network, 1, 5, 197, 293 and circulation of news and views, 5, 91, 232, 234, 242, 250, 292–297, 342, 344, 346, 369 and government institutions in, 294–295, 369 and oral transmission, 208, 303 and private letters, 206–207, 295–296 Community assemblies, 324–326, 334– 364 ad hoc assemblies, 336 diversity and breadth of social groups participating in, 337–340 and Enlightenment, 362–364 and estates-general, 341–342, 347–352, 356–357 general assemblies, 336 and guilds, 336, 338–339, 360, 361 influences on, 361–364 and king/Crown, 357–359 localities expressing opinions, 324–326 mayors, role of, 340–341, 342 networks of communities, 342–346 and Orders in Council, 5 July, 8 August, and 5 October 1788, 341, 342, 348, 358 and political culture, 346–364 and provincial estates and assemblies, 335, 339, 340, 342–343, 344, 347–349, 350, 352, 353–354, 361 and representation and voting, 346–357, 359–361 and second Assembly of Notables, 341– 342, 347, 351 structure and strategies, 334–346 and Third Estate, 334–335, 339–340, 347– 357, 359–361 “Complainte sur l’Assemblée des Notables” (song), 214 Compte Rendu au roi (Necker), 42, 103–104, 285

475

Condorcet, Antoine Caritat, marquis de, 172, 174 Conférence entre un conseiller du Parlement et un ministre, 295 Consent to taxes, 365, 366, 367 Assembly of Notables on, 45–46, 50, 51, 56, 57, 58 community assemblies’ deliberations on, 359, 360 gazettes on, 119–120, 121 Linguet on, 133, 134 lower courts on, 332, 333 manuscript newsletters on, 144, 156, 157 Morande in Courier on, 127, 128 pamphlets on, 174–175, 186, 260, 263, 288, 310, 311, 312 La Constitution de l’Angleterre (Delolme), 79, 102 Constitutions. See also Parlementary constitutionalism; Parlement of Paris; Parlements in provinces English and American Constitutions, 79, 102–103, 152 French, of 1791, 83, 84, 87 Contrôle Général, 25, 49 Controller general of finance. See Calonne Conty, prince de, 29 Corporations. See Guilds Correspondance littéraire secrète, 139, 140– 141, 143–144, 160, 195 ambiguous political message in, 143 government literary repression, 186, 188 letters to the editor in, 143–144 on Paris riots, 240 personal opinion in, 142 price of, 197 scope of coverage of, 141 as Third Estate supporters, 148–149 Correspondance secrète, 140–141, 143, 157 on change in public sentiment, March 1788, 158 on military, 155 scope of coverage of, 141 Correspondance secrète politique et littéraire, 139 Corvée, 36, 57, 58, 110, 274, 311, 312 Coster, Joseph-François, 25 Councils. See Royal Council Le Coup manqué, ou le retour de Troyes, 186

476

Index

Cour des aides (Paris), 399n64. See also Sovereign courts La Cour plenière, 184, 187, 196, 197, 278 Le Courrier d’Avignon, 112–124, 195, 197. See also Gazettes Courrier de l’Europe, 112, 125, 126–130, 134–135, 142, 166, 168, 194, 195, 197. See also Morande, Charles Théveneau de Courtiers, 11, 163–164 Courts lower (See Lower courts) parlements (See Parlements) Crévoux (Dauphiné) dissemination of news and, 292–297 literacy in, 302–303 Délibération de la communauté de Crévoux en Embrunois and peasants’ views, 305–306, 308–313 parish clergy in, 305 Le Cri de la raison, ou entretien entre un Parisien, un provincial et un abbé, 264– 265 Crimes et forfaits de la noblesse, et du clergé, . . . (Dulaure), 271–272 Crown. See King/Crown Cultural intermediaries curés functioning as, 304–305 examples of, 457n52 pamphlets presenting peasants’ views expressed through, 305–321 Curés. See Clergy/first estate: lower clergy Customs union, 52, 57 Darnton, Robert, 177, 220 Dauphiné Crévoux (See Crévoux (Dauphiné)) Grenoble and the Day of Tiles, 95, 108, 295, 296, 310 influence of, 343–344 languages spoken in, 299–300 literacy rates in, 302–303 the military,155, 175, 185, 192 nobility and commoners, 124, 134, 160, 213, 248 pamphlets, 168, 171, 185-186, 263-265, 295, 306 parish clergy in, 305 parlement, 119–120, 121, 171, 236, 243, 247, 309–312

provincial assembly, 310–311 provincial estates, 64, 74, 108–109, 110, 123, 129, 161, 184, 249, 353 public opposition, 94–95, 121, 153, 191– 193, 247, 308–309, 326, 371 Romans, assembly of, 108–109, 294, 313 royal officials and public opposition, 182, 185–186, 191–193 taxes in, 314–315 Vizille assembly of, 95, 108, 152, 158, 247, 294, 312, 313, 334, 348 Day of Tiles. See Dauphiné: Grenoble and the Day of Tiles Decker, Jean Henri, 273 Déclaration de la noblesse de Bourgogne au peuple des villes et de campagnes, 295 Deficit, 366 and Assembly of Notables, 41–43, 47 Calonne, 41–42, 156 and Calonne and Necker, 104, 118 gazettes reporting on, 118–119 Linguet in Annales on, 132 Necker’s writings on, 42, 103–104, 285– 287 and political demands, 119, 290, 366 press and pamphlets on, 4, 115, 118, 127, 145, 163, 175, 183, 265, 267 public interest in, 103–104, 165, 175, 184 Délibération de la communauté de Crévoux en Embrunois. See Crévoux (Dauphiné) Délibérations à prendre par le tiers-état, dans toutes les municipalités du Royaume de France, 260 Delolme, 79, 102 Democracy and community assemblies, 336, 360 first Assembly of Notables on perils of, 67–70, 83–84 D’Eprémesnil. See Duval d’Eprémesnil Dernier lettre du peuple au roi, 267 Le Dernier mot du tiers état à la noblesse de France, 257 Desmoulins, Camille, 211, 217 Despotism first Assembly of Notables on perils of, 67–70 imagery of, 226–227 Linguet on, 130, 131

Index Mettra’s Correspondance on, 143 ministerial, 144, 147, 148, 158, 175 Moufle d’Angerville in Mémoires secrets on, 144 pamphlets on, 177, 186, 224 parlementary, 162 use of lettres de cachet as proof of, 3, 157– 158 Dialogue sur l’établissement et la formation des assemblées provinciales dans la géneralité de Grenoble . . . , 264 Diamond necklace affair, 178, 188, 204, 217, 218 Dijon. See Burgundy “Discours sur l’amour de la patrie” (clergyman), 106 Dissertation sur le droit de convoquer les états généraux (Maultrot), 186–187 Dixième tax, 267–268 Don gratuit / ”free gift.” See Clergy/first estate Doublet, Marie-Anne Legendre, Mme de, 140 Doubling of Third Estate. See Equality: and representation, Patriots/Third Estate; Patriot party: opposition to separation of orders Les Droits du peuple, 177–178 Duby, Georges, 61 Dulaure, Jacques-Antoine, 271–272 Dupont de Nemours, Pierre Samuel, 39, 46, 106, 184 Duret, abbé, 178, 206 Duval d’Eprémesnil, 3, 79, 147, 153, 215, 219, 233 Egret, Jean, 36, 64 Assembly of Notables, 36 awakening of Third Estate, 121, 334–335, 341 on May edicts, 327, 328, 329 and pre-Revolution, 1, 365 Eisenstein, Elizabeth, 86 Elite. See also Aristocrats and aristocracy; Nobility/nobles/second estate clubs/salons/societies, 152, 199, 201 historical interpretation of, 64–65 and political role, 72–73, 74–75, 82–83, 313

477

Elite political writings, characteristics, 253, 287–288 Encyclopédie, 164, 233 Enlightenment, 58, 59, 370. See also Philosophes Assembly of Notables, 58–59, 65, 86 community assemblies influenced by, 362–364 and the press, 92, 100, 103,104 and representation, 63 and social hierarchy, 62 Ennobled/anobli, 43, 61 criticism of ennoblement/new nobles, 127, 317–318 and provincial estates, 353–354 and representation, 82 Entretien entre un paysan et un voyageur en Bretagne, 259, 295 Epitre au peuple (Thomas), 308 Equality, 7, 370 community assemblies’ views on, 358–360, 362 fiscal (See Fiscal equality) legal, 37, 58, and liberty, 7, 77, 148, 291, 370 and representation Notables/aristocracy, 70, 77, 79, 80–82, 83, 86, 122, 124,170, 322, 349 Patriots/Third Estate, 109,158, 161, 164, 348, 349–350, 351, 357, 359– 360, 363, 368 L’Esprit des lois (Montesquieu), 164 Essai d’instructions élémentaires pour les habitants des campagnes . . . relativement à la convocation des états généraux . . . , 265, 266, 295 Essai historique et politique sur les Assemblées nationales du royaume de France . . . , 268, 269 Essai sur la nature et la répartition de l’impôt en Auvergne (Mabru), 317 Estates-general, 3–4, 56 and community assemblies, 341–342, 347–352, 356–357 fêtes celebrating, 243 of 1467, 101 gazettes reporting on, 116, 121–124 historical research requested by Royal Council, 75–76, 101, 270

478

Index

Estates-general (continued) history manuals on, 270–271 illustrations and imagery of, 223 Linguet in Annales on, 133–134 and manuscript newsletters, 146–149 Morande in Courier on, 128–130 pamphlets on, 175, 183, 184, 189 press reports on representation in, 110 public opinion of Third Estate’s representation in, 153–154, 160–163, 350 public’s response to call for, 156–157 representation and voting, 63–64, 85–86 second Assembly of Notables debates on voting and representation (See Second Assembly of Notables) of 1614, 64, 73, 74, 76, 101, 109, 134, 160, 161 Farge, Arlette, 218 Farmers-general, 177 Fashion, as vehicle for political imagery, 221 Les Fastes de Louis XV, 189 Faulcon, Félix, 206–207, 329–330 Federalism, 22, 56, 333, 361 Fédéré movement, 342 “Le Fermier,” 219 Fermiers. See Peasants Fersen, Axel, 218, 219 Festivities, 234–250 character of, 234–238 charitable giving to the poor at, 237– 238 contemporary accounts of, bibliography of, 377–381 as expressions of criticism and hostility, 238–239 food offerings and feasts as part of, 237 and heightened political awareness of populace, 248–249 and Paris riots,154, 155, 239–241, 248– 249 political events as catalysts, 238–240, 242–250 political messages in, 234–235, 243–244 ritual burning of effigies, 238–240 spontaneity of, 234, 235

symbols denoting political themes in, 245–247 as transmission network of news, 234– 235, 241 and unity among the French, 248 Fêtes. See Festivities Feuilles hebdomadaires de la généralité de Limoges, 97, 203 Feuille hebdomadaire pour la province d’Auvergne, 109, 293–294, 297, 308 Filangieri, Gaetano, 102–103 Financiers (capitalistes), 40, 68–69, 297 First Assembly of Notables, 11–60, 66–73 backgrounds and prior reflections of members, 13–27 and bureaucracy, 48–50, 76–78 and bureaux, 28–30 and Calonne’s reform program, 34–36, 37, 39–40, 45, 66, 67, 72, 132 changes in attitudes of members, 27–30, 32–33 and clergy, 22, 28, 31, 50–51, 398n48 and consent to taxes, 45–46, 50, 51, 56, 57, 58 control over government expenditures, 46–48 and estates-general, 56, 119 fifth bureau, 29, 41 financial program of, 41–43 first bureau, 29, 47, 71 fourth bureau, 29 gazettes reporting on, 118–119 illustrations and imagery of, 223, 230, 233 and land tax, 2, 3, 7, 23, 36–46, 50–55, 57–58, 71 and leadership role, 71–73 local participation, 50–54 and magistrates, 28, 29 membership in, 11–12, 392n5 as a national assembly, 27, 55, 100, 118 opposition to Crown, 12–13, 28–32, 44 opposition to tax increases, 31, 40–41, 42–43, 44 political arguments and goals of, 2–3, 13, 32–33, 57–60 on provincial assemblies and estates, 51– 54, 56

Index and the public and public opinion, 30–32, 65, 72–73 public participation in national government, 54–57 and representation in national estatesgeneral, 7 and representation in provincial assemblies, 7, 62, 66–73, 79, 81 second bureau, 29–30, 54–55, 56 separation of orders espoused by, 65, 66–72 seventh bureau, 29, 53, 55 sixth bureau, 29 songs, verse, and talk on, 215, 219 supporters of the Crown, 28 third bureau, 29, 50, 52, 53, 56 First estate. See Clergy/first estate Fiscal equality and first Assembly of Notables, 22, 37–38, 59, 71 gazettes on, 122 Hardy on, 147 Morande on, 128 newsletters on, 134, 147, 148, 162 peers on, 162 and second Assembly of Notables, 82 Flanders, community assemblies, 325 Foreign French language press, 92, 112–135, 168 gazettes (See Gazettes) journals of opinion (See Journals of opinion) readership, 194–196 Franche-Comté community assemblies in, 342–343, 348, 356, 359, 360 and nobles, 123, 161 and provincial estates, 64, 153, 161, 353 Franks and Gauls, 100 Free trade, in grain, 35, 36, 40. See also Customs union French language, peasants’ knowledge and use of, 298–301 French Revolution historical interpretations, 75, 174, 432n20 political culture, 4–6 revisionism, 64, 367 social interpretation, 1-2, 4, 367

479

and political culture, 61–62, 86–88, 180– 181, 193, 368–369 politics and revolutionary process, 366– 368, 369–370 Fréteau de Saint-Just, 120 Frondeurs, 11, 101, 150, 156 Fundamental laws, 264, 268, 332, 333, 369. See also Monarchy Furet, François, 258 Gabelle (salt tax), 36, 43, 58, 274 Gages, 24–25 Gaultier de Biauzat, Jean-François, 317 Gazetiers, 202, 203 Gazette de France, 92, 94, 195 Gazette de Leyde, 32, 112–124, 171, 195, 201, 292. See also Gazettes Gazettes, 112–124. See also Gazette de Leyde; Le Courrier d’Avignon on Calonne and Necker, 118 editorializing in, 115, 116, 168 on estates-general, 123 on first Assembly of Notables, 118–119, 122 on May edicts, 120–121 on news reports and scoops in, 113–114 as organs of information, 117 on Paris parlement, 118–119, 120, 121 prices of, 197 printed forum for government opponents, 113–114 on provincial assemblies and estates, 119– 121 on provincial parlements, 113–114,119–121 public opinion and, 116–117 readership, 195, 197 relations with foreign minister, 112–113 rumors (l’on dit) transmitted by, 114, 115–116 on second Assembly of Notables proceedings, 122 subscriptions to, 195, 197 on Third Estate, 116–117, 123–124 General will, 5, 101, 360 Gentilshommes. See Nobles/nobility/second estate Gérard, Conrad Alexandre, 32, 38, 39 Godard, 206

480

Index

Goodwin, Albert, 36 Gouges, Olympe de, 206, 253 Government. See also Absolutism; King/Crown; Louis XVI; Ministerial accountability; Monarchy; Royal ministers budget (See Budgets) bureaucracy, 47, 49–50 censorship (See Censorship) control over expenditures, proposals for, 46–48 deficit (See Deficit) local participation, 50–54, 58 public participation in national government, 54–58 taxes (See Taxes) and transmission of information, 294 Les Gracches français suite du Tribun au peuple (Mangourit), 282 Gramont, comtesse de, 20, 28 Grand Bailliage de Rennes, 279 Les Grands, 18, 19, 67, 70, 72 Grands bailliages, 326–334 ritual burning of effigies of judges, 238–239 satires and plays against, 279–280 scornful festive acts against, 243 song, verse and talk on, 219 Grégoire, abbé, 297, 298, 300, 301, 303 Guards, French and Paris, 154, 212, 240 Guienne/Guyenne Bordeaux, 121, 153, 157, 162, 171, 213 and community assemblies in, 336, 338 community assemblies in province, 243, 246, 325, 342, 343, 352 estates-general, 343 pamphlets, 206, 281 parlement in, 157 provincial estates in, 343, 344, 352 Guilds, 74, 170 and community assemblies, 336, 339, 360, 361 and festivities/fêtes, 238, 241 and Paris,184 (See also Six Corps of Merchants) Guillotin, Joseph-Ignace, Dr., 110, 124, 147, 162, 184, 220, 257 Hainaut community assemblies, 325 provincial estates, 124

Harcourt, François Henri, duc, d’, 68, 137 Hardy, Siméon-Prosper, 32, 139, 154, 160, 163, 168, 171, 212, 257 bookstore as possible reading room, 200 citing of pamphlets and periodicals, 141, 144–145, 170 as critic of royal government, 145–146 criticism of opposing political views, 181 and estates-general, 147 on the king, 145–146, 290 Mes loisirs ou Journal d’événemens . . . , as manuscript newsletter, 140 on military, 155 on Paris riots, 240 as reporter of poems and songs, 210, 213– 214, 217 scope of coverage, 141 as supporter of parlement, 146, 147 as supporter of Third Estate, 147, 162 transcribing parlementary remonstrances, 172 Hastings, Warren, 102 Haute-Guyenne, provincial assembly of, 66, 105, 110 Helvétius, Claude-Adrien, 203–204 Hénault (historian), 362 Henry IV, 18, 100, 101, 213, 224–225, 245 Le Hérault de la Nation, sous les auspices de la patrie (Mangourit), 282–283 Histoire de France (Velly, Villaret, and Garnier), 257 Histoire naturelle (Buffon), 164 History and historical discourse in Assembly of Notables, 76 community assemblies influenced by, 362 manuals (See History manuals) in newspapers and periodicals, 99–103 in pamphlets, 174 in Patriot writings, 85 research on estates-general requested by Royal Council, 75–76, 101, 270 in royalist writings, 272–273 History manuals, 266–273 digests about earlier assemblies of notables, 267–269 on estates-general, 270–271 reinterpreting history to support political arguments, 266–267 Hunt, Lynn, 367

Index Iconography/illustrations/imagery, 220–234 allegorical prints, 221, 222, 223, 228, 229– 230, 232 animalism, in caricatures, 226 and art market, 221, 227–229, 233–234 and Bergasse, 224, 231–232, 233 buyers of prints, 233–234 caricatures, 221, 222, 223, 228, 232, 440n41 and estates-general, 223 and fashion, 221 female figures as allegorical subjects, 229–230 and first Assembly of Notables, 223, 230, 233 and Henry IV, 224–225, 230 and Louis XVI, 223, 224–225, 227, 230, 231, 233 and Necker, 223–224, 228, 230, 231, 233 notices in manuscript newsletters and periodicals, 221, 222 number of prints, 221–222 and parlementary magistrates, 223–224, 230, 231, 232 portraits, 222, 223, 228, 229, 232 prices of prints, 233 prints of contemporary events, 222–223, 440n40 and public opinion, 224, 231–232 and Queen Marie-Antoinette, 223, 225– 226, 227, 233 representational prints, 221–222, 223, 228, 229, 232 reuse and modification of imagery, 228– 229 and royal ministers, 223, 226–227 as royal propaganda, 228, 231–232 timing of production/reproduction of, 223 and Vallée, Parisian printseller, 221, 222, 224, 231, 232, 233 Idées sur les États Généraux, 185–186 Île-de-France, 153 and community assemblies, 325 Imagery. See Iconography/illustrations/imagery Imperative mandate, 175 Inspectors of book trade and literary policing, 189–191, 429n63

481

Instructions sur les assemblées nationales tant générales que particulières . . . , 268, 269, 270 Jacobins, 368 Jansenism, 6, 244 Joly de Fleury, Guillaume François Louis, 28 family history, 25–26 pre-Assembly experiences and reflections, 26–27 Jones, Colin, 367 Journal de la Librairie, 221, 222, 227, 231– 232 Journal de Languedoc, 198 Journal de l’Orléanois, 98, 109, 110, 197 Journal de Lyon, 104, 106–107, 110 Journal de Marseille, 200 Journal de Normandie, 96, 98, 99, 100, 105, 109 Journal de Paris, 98, 100, 103, 104, 106–107, 110, 194, 197, 205, 285–286, 308 Journal de Troyes et de la Champagne Méridionale, 97, 105 Journal du Hainaut, 110 Journal Général de France. See Affiches de Paris Journal pour servir à l’histoire du dixhuitième siècle, 172 Journals. See also Journals of opinion; Newspapers; Periodical press; specific journals in ancien régime, 91–95 Journals of opinion, 92, 125–135, 168 Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle (See Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dixhuitième siècle) Le Courrier de l’Europe (See Le Courrier de l’Europe) Judges. See Lower courts; Magistrates; Parlement of Paris; Parlements in provinces Le Jurisconsulte national, 186 Justice community assemblies’ deliberations invoking principle of, 362 and Enlightenment, 363 imagery of, 245, 246–247

482

Index

Keralio (-Robert), Louise-Félicité Guinement de, 102 King/Crown. See also Government; Louis XVI; Royal ministers; Royalists belief in deception of, 289–290 belief in “happy powerlessness” of, 290, 333 and community assemblies, 357–359 Dulaure’s polemical history of, 271–272 family metaphor/pére du peuple (father of the people), 289–290, 358–359 festivities and, 244–245, 246 first Assembly of Notables and, 12–13, 28–32, 44 Hardy on, 145–146, 290 history manuals, critical and supportive of, 135, 143, 164, 168, 267, 272–273 illustrations, 223, 224–225, 226, 227, 229, 230, 232, 233 ministers and queen as surrogates for, 179, 244, 290, 313 pamphlets attacking king and queen, 177–179 public opinion and support for Crown, late 1788, 163–164 satires against, 278 songs, verse, and talk on, 213, 215, 216, 218, 219, 220 Kornmann affair, 183, 224, 275–276, 277. See also Bergasse, Nicolas Kwass, Michael, 37 La Reynie de la Bruyère, abbé, Jean Baptiste Marie Louis de, 180, 262 “La Vertu, tôt ou tard rentre dans tous ses droits” (print), 230 Laboureurs. See Peasants Lacretelle, Pierre-Louis, 184, 276–277 Ladurie, Emmanuel Le Roy, 37 Lafayette, Marie Paul Joseph Roch Yves Gilbert du Motier, marquis de, 56, 71, 160 Lamoignon, Chrétien-François de, 282 accountability for acts as minister, 119, 133, 177 dismissal of, 116 festive acts and riots against, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 249 illustrations and imagery of, 226, 227 satires against, 278–279

songs, verse, and talk on, 215, 219 Lamotte, Jeanne de Saint-Rémy de Valois, Mme. (comtesse) de, 178, 217 Land ownership, 38, 69, 394n17 Land survey, for tax assessment, 39 Land tax, 2, 3, 156 and Assembly of Notables, 36–41, 43, 44, 45–46 Calonne’s proposal, 36–37, 132, 392n7 land surveys, for tax assessment, 39 Linguet in Annales on, 132 money payments for, 38–39 net product as base for, 39–40 repartitional tax, 41, 45–46 taxe de quotité (taxation proportioned to output from the land), 40–41, 45–46 Languedoc Carcassonne and May edicts, 328–329 community assemblies and networks in, 299, 335, 336, 338, 339–340, 344-346, 347, 349, 351, 353, 355, 356, 359, 360361, 362, 364 Montpellier, 344-345, 349, 362 Nîmes, 110, 151, 249, 338, 344–345 provincial estates in, 352–353 Toulouse, 153, 336, 344 Latude, Masers de, 187, 197, 277 Launay, de (engraver), 231 Lauraguais, Louis-Léon-Félicité, comte de, 147, 152 Laurent de Villedeuil, Pierre Charles, 56 Laval (city; province, Maine), 258 May edicts, 452, 453 Lavoisier, Antoine-Laurent de, 177 Lawyers as cultural intermediaries, 299, 304 and opposition to May edicts, 154, 170, 327, 328, 330, 333 Le Blanc de Castillon, Jean André, 51, 68 Le Brun, Echouchard, 211 Le Grand d’Aussy, 300 Le Jay (bookstore owner), 203–204 Le Mercier de la Rivière, Pierre-PaulFrançois-Joachim-Henri, 174 Le Trosne, Guillaume-François, 106 Lefebvre, Georges, 1, 292, 293, 317 Lenoir, Jean Charles Pierre, 186 Lescure, Mathurin François Adolphe de, 141

Index Letters to the editor, in manuscript newsletters, 143–144 Lettre à un plebeian au sujet de l’Assemblée des états généraux, 265–266 Lettre de Barago à Louis XVI, 186 La Lettre d’un anglois à Paris, 197 Lettre d’un campagnard dauphinois, à M. son subdélégué, 295 Lettres de cachet, 3, 120, 131–132, 157–158, 275, 276, 277 Lettres d’un vieillard à un jeune-homme qui entre dans le Monde, 106 Lettres philosophiques (Voltaire), 164 Le Lever de Bâville, 278 Liaisons dangereuses (Laclos), 189 Liberty, 7 community assemblies’ deliberations invoking principle of, 356, 362 and Enlightenment, 363 and equality, 370 imagery of, 245, 246 manuscript newsletters on, 158 melodramas linking liberty to abolition of lettres de cachet, 275, 276 military sympathy for, 155 of the press, 187, 193 Librairie, 188, 191 Libraries, 202, 203, 204 Limoges (city; province, Limousin) community assemblies, 336, 337 and mayor in Assembly of Notables, 56 Limoges (généralité), community assemblies, 325 Linguet, Simon-Nicolas-Henri, 112, 125– 126, 130–134, 142, 166, 263. See also Annales politiques, civiles et littéraires du dix-huitième siècle on accountability of ministers, 133 attacks on parlementary abuses, 131–132 changing views on estates-general, 132– 134 criticism of opposing political views, 181 on government debt, 132–133 journalistic style of, 131–132 on land tax, 132 polemical pamphlet supporting doubling of Third Estate, 281–282 as polemicist, 130

483

price of Annales, 197 readership, 195 as royal supporter and advocate, 130–131, 132–133, 180 Literacy. See also Readership of peasants, 301–304 Literary journals. See Journals Lits de justice, 120, 157, 204, 330, 412n12 Loménie, Louis Marie Athanase de, comte de Brienne, 28, 43, 56 family history, 14–15 pre-Assembly experience and reflections, 17–18 Loménie de Brienne, Etienne de (archbishop of Toulouse), 12, 14–19, 28, 48, 50, 86, 97, 116, 126, 132, 153, 282 accountability for acts as minister, 119, 133, 177 criticisms of finance minister and bureaucracy by, 48–49 diatribes in pamphlets against, 177 family history, 14–15 festive acts and riots against, 154, 238, 239–240, 242, 243, 249 illustrations and imagery of, 226–227 policies as minister, and dismissal, 46, 72, 97 pre-Assembly experiences and reflections, 15–19 satires against, 278–279 songs, verse, and talk on, 211, 215, 219 views as member of Assembly of Notables, 43, 68 Lorraine, 109 community assemblies, 352 Nancy, 190 Louis XII, 289 Louis XIV, 2, 60, 186, 267–268, 272, 290 Louis XV, 15, 187, 203, 218 Louis XVI, 76, 101, 102, 133, 187–188, 190, 213, 218. See also King/Crown Lower courts fêtes celebrating return of, 243 grands baillages (See Grands baillages) and May edicts, 170, 192, 326–334 Loyseau, Charles, 362 Lucas, Colin, 367 Lycée français (Musée de Monsieur), 201, 204

484

Index

Lyon, 121, 151, 153, 249 community assembly, 336, 338, 356, 358, 360 and May edicts, 331, 332 Lyonnais, community assemblies, 325, 352 Mably, Gabriel Bonnot de, abbé, 102, 186 Mabru, Claude-Alexis, 317 Madison, James, 79 Magazin des Modes Nouvelles, françaises et anglaises, 221 Magistrates, 2, 3. See also Parlement of Paris; Parlements in provinces domestic and foreign press reports on, 108, 113, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120–124, 143–144, 148 exile of, 3, 119, 120, 157, 159 fêtes and fights condemning exile or celebrating return of, 153, 155, 236, 237, 239, 241, 242, 243 and first Assembly of Notables, 28, 29 illustrations and imagery of, 223–224, 232 pamphlets attacking, 179–180, 184 songs, theatre, and verse bearing on, 211, 212, 214, 215, 220 Malesherbes, Chrétíen-Guillaume de Lamoignon de, 187, 188, 190, 193 “Les Malheurs du temps” (song), 214 Mallet du Pan, Jacques, 102, 163, 365 Mangourit, Michel-Ange-Bernard de, 282– 283 Manuscript newsletters, 92–93, 136–166. See also specific newsletters ambiguous relation to the government, 138, 142 corpus of, 139–142 epistolary forms of, 139–140 and estate-generals, 146–149 formation and movement of public opinion, 156–164 as guide to pamphlet circulation and readership, 181–185 and iconography, 221, 222 intimacy fostered by, 136–137 as journalistic network, 137 letters to the editor in, 143–144 on military men, 155 opposition to government in, 144–146 political messages in, 142–149

political news in, 140–141, 165 price of, 197 production and distribution of, 137–138 public opinion in, 141–142, 149–155 royalist sympathies in, 142–143 rumors (l’on dit) transmitted by, 114 scope of coverage in, 140–141 tabloid style of, 138 as Third Estate supporters, 146–149 verses and songs transcribed in, 210 Maria Theresa, 218 “Le Mariage de Figaro” (Beaumarchais), 94, 214 Marie-Antoinette (queen), 138 critical and favorable views of, 179, 243, 278 and diamond necklace affair, 178, 204 illustrations of, 222, 223, 225–226, 227, 231, 233 as “Mme. le Deficit,” 179, 219 pamphlets on, 178–179, 216 songs, verse, and talk on, 151, 206, 212, 215, 216, 217, 218–219 Marion, Marcel, 327, 328, 329 Markoff, John, 304 “Le Mariage de Figaro” (Beaumarchais), 214 Mathias, Peter, 37 Mathiez, Albert, 1 Mathon de la Cour, Charles-Joseph, 103– 104, 106, 118 Maultrot, Gabriel-Nicolas, 186–187 Maupeou, René Nicolas Charles Augustin, chancellor, 279 Maupeou courts and revolution, 24, 98, 167, 185, 254, 329, 334 May edicts (8 May 1788), 3, 160, 326–334 almanacs on, 274 gazettes reporting on, 120–121 Linguet on, 131, 133, 181 lower courts’ strategies and arguments against, 330–333 Mangourit on, 282 manuscript newsletters on, 142, 155 Morande in Courrier on, 127–128, 129 newspapers on, 94, 294–295 number of local courts supporting or opposing, 328–330 pamphlets on, 176, 310, 313 and satire, 278–280 songs, verse, and talk on, 215

Index Mayors, 13, 56, 100 role in community assemblies, 340–341, 342, 347 Media, 5–7 festivities (See Festivities) gazettes (See Gazettes) iconography (See Iconography/illustrations/imagery) journals (See Journals) manuscript newsletters (See Manuscript newsletters) newspapers (See Newspapers) pamphlets (See Pamphlets) press (See Periodical press) songs, verse, and talk (See Songs, verse, and talk) “Les Meilleurs moyens de faire naître et d’encourager le Patriotisme dans une Monarchie” (Mathon de la Cour), 106 Melodramas, 254, 275–277 Mémoire des princes, 123, 161–162, 185, 262, 407n56, 422n7 Mémoires pour servir de l’histoire de la fin du XVIIIe siècle, 217, 218 Mémoires secrets, 39, 139, 141, 145, 157, 199, 225, 256 on Enlightenment influencing public opinion, 164 on the estates-general, parlements, and provincial assemblies, 144 opposition to royal government, 144 scope of coverage, 140 verses and songs transcribed in, 210 Mercier, Louis Sebastien, 140, 167, 201, 205–206, 217–218 Mercure de France, 98, 101, 102– 103,105,106–107, 109, 194, 197 Mercy-Argenteau, Florimond de, 218–219 Mettra, Louis-François, 139, 140–141, 143. See also Correspondance littéraire secrète; Correspondance secrète Metz. See Three Bishoprics Military. See also Guards, French and Paris efforts to politicize, 192–193 fêtes and, 248 manuscript newsletters depiction of, 155 pamphlets on, 175 Ministerial accountability, 244–245, 290

485

gazettes and, 118–119 Linguet on, 133 pamphlets and, 177 parlements on, 118–119 Ministerial despotism, 144, 147, 148, 158, 175 Mirabeau, Honoré-Gabriel, comte de, 86, 104–105, 118, 186 Monarchy. See also Fundamental laws; Government; King/Crown; Louis XVI absolutism (See Absolutism) demands to limit, 143, 357, 365, 366 despotism (See Despotism) royalism (See Royalists) Montesquieu, Charles de Secondat, baron de, 21, 22, 79, 164, 307, 361–362, 363, 369, 370 Montmorency, Anne Léon de, 142 Morande, Charles Théveneau de, 125–130, 142. See also Le Courrier de l’Europe analysis of French social mores, 127–128 as anti-government pornographer, 126 on estates general, 128–130 on May edicts, 127–128, 129 price of Courrier de l’Europe, 197 on provincial assemblies, 128–129 readership, 194, 195 on representation in estate-general, 129– 130 as royal supporter and advocate, 126–128, 180 Mornet, Daniel, 201 Motifs et résultats des assemblées nationales . . . (Rondonneau de la Motte), 269 Moufle d’Angerville, Barthélémy-François, 139, 144. See also Mémoires secrets Mounier, Jean-Joseph, 85, 110, 171, 174, 197, 355 Moureau, François, 138 Musée de Monsieur (Lycée français), 201 Nancy. See Lorraine Nantes. See Brittany Narbonne, comte de, 192 National assembly aspirations for, 56, 80, 122, 148, 262–263, 270 identified with Assembly of Notables, 27, 55, 100, 118

486

Index

National interest, 32, 59 Assembly of Notables, privilege and, 35–36 Calonne and, 34–35 public participation in national government, 54–57 National market, reform of. See Customs union; Free trade, in grain National Party. See Patriot party Natural law community assemblies’ deliberations invoking principle of, 362 and Enlightenment, 363 pamphlets and, 174 Necker, Jacques, 58, 76, 84–85, 97, 132, 160, 161, 362 and Calonne, 104, 118, 183, 184, 204, 285, 286 Compte Rendu au roi, 42, 103–104, 285 fêtes related to appointment of, 239–240, 242, 244, 246 gazettes on, 115, 116, 117, 118, 124 and government finances and taxation, 40, 159 illustrations, 223–224, 225, 227, 228–231, 233 liberalized policy on book trade, 190 Morande in Courrier on, 126 pamphlets on or by, 183, 184, 196, 197, 202, 263, 283–284 public support of, 153, 156, 163, 183, 184, 206, 299 reappointment of, and loosening of press censorship, 106–108, 164, 190 Result of the Royal Council, 84–85, 124, 163, 343 and Second Assembly of Notables, 73–74, 76, 336, 342, 347 songs, verse, and talk on, 211, 213, 215, 219, 220 Sur le compte rendu au roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements, 103, 196, 285–287 Networks of communities. See Community assemblies Newsletters, manuscript. See Manuscript newsletters Newspapers, 91–111, 164–166, 168. See also Journals; Periodical press; specific newspapers

advertisements and readership, 198 in ancien régime, 91–95 and Assembly of Notables, 100–101 book reviews and announcements, 97– 100, 102–103 constraints on and censorship of, 93–95 contents of, 96–97 on estates-general, doubling and vote by head, 100–102, 110 and financial issues, 103–105 gazettes (See Gazettes) history as cover for contemporary politics, 99–103 as leaders or followers of public opinion, 93, 116–117 loosening of censorship and change in news coverage in, 106–108 provincial assemblies, 105–106 as public registers of government laws and declarations, 96–97 readership, 194–198 re-establishment of the parlements, 108 on representation, provincial and national, 108–110 strategies to purvey news in “the silence of the law,” 95–96 subscriptions to, 194–196 Nicolai, Aimard Charles Marie de, 55 Nîmes. See Provence Nobles/nobility/second estate and aspirations to leadership role, 33, 44, 65, 71, 72, 82, 170, 360 community assemblies, participation in, 340 gentilshommes, 57, 83, 124, 171, 341 and land ownership, 38, 69 and land tax, 2, 37 pamphlets attacking, 179–180 and public opinion, from consensus to contestation, 160–163 Volney’s polemic against, 281 Noblesse, 386n4 Normandy community assemblies and networks in, 151, 338–339, 344, 355, 356, 358 May edicts, 328 and Orbec, 332–333 provincial assembly, 105–106

Index Rouen, 153, 154, 162, 190–191, 279, 336, 350, 356 Notables. See Assembly of Notables Notables (as a social category), 233, 304, 337, 367 “Notables de la Halle au Pain”(poem),283–284 Nouveaux éclaircissements (Necker), 196 Nouvelles à la main. See Manuscript newsletters Nouvelles Ecclèsiastiques, 411n6 Nouvelles Extraordinaires de Divers Endroits. See Gazette de Leyde Nouvellistes, 137, 138, 142, 147, 150, 153, 155, 157, 158, 162, 163, 182, 184, 185. See also Manuscript newsletters; Newspapers; Periodical press O’Brien, Patrick, 37 Observations du sieur Bergasse . . . (Bergasse), 275–276 Observations d’un républicain sur les différents systèmes d’administrations provinciales . . . (Brissot), 275–276 d’Olivier, Pierre, 321 Oral transmission of news and views, 258, 294, 296, 369 Orbec. See Normandy: May edicts Orders balance among (See Balance/equilibrium) and classes: “class conflict,” 64, 354 clergy (See Clergy/first estate) equality of orders (See Equality: and representation) and literacy rates, 302 nobles (See Nobles/nobility/second estate) Raymond on, 317–318 separation of orders espoused by Assembly of Notables, 65, 66–72, 74– 80, 85–86 society of, 43, 61–62 Third Estate (See Third Estate) Orders in Council of 5 July 1788, 75, 341, 342, 348 of 8 August 1788, 163, 348, 358 of 16 August 1788, 97, 159, 263–264 of 5 October 1788, 75, 341–342 Orléanais, 109 and community assemblies and networks in, 325, 339, 344, 352, 364

487

and May edicts, 328, 332 Orléans, duc d’, 3, 29, 120, 152, 157, 162, 219 Ozouf, Jacques, 258 Pacte de famine (hoarding of grain), 179 Palais-Royal, 152, 190, 202, 209, 221 Pamphlets, 92–93, 166, 167–193 aristocratic arguments in, 184 authorship of, 169, 170–172 on Calonne, 182–183 censorship and repression of, 182, 186, 187–193 circulation of, 181–193 clergy as targets of, 179–180 contents, genres, and rhetoric in, 176–181 cultural intermediaries expressing peasants’ views in, 305–321 declarations from institutions and collective groups, 171–173 dialogues among authors and with readers, 170, 255 diatribes and invective in, 176–181 (See also Polemics) dissemination of news to remote areas, 293–295 on estates-general, 85–86, 175, 183, 184 financial writings, 174–175, 183 format of, 171 historical digests, 267–269 manuscript newsletters as guide to circulation and readership of, 181–185 messages in, and their reception, 173– 176, 180, 184–187 multiple lines of argument in, 169, 174 on Necker, 183 nobles as targets of, 179–180 number and appeal of, 167–168 opposition to government policies, 183 on parlementary magistrates, attacks on and defense of, 179-180, 184 peasants’ views as expressed through cultural intermediaries in, 305–321 places of publication, 171–172 popular political (See Popular political pamphlets) pornography and politics in attacks on king and queen, 177–179, 216 prices of, 197 public opinion reflected in, 168–169, 182–185

488

Index

Pamphlets (continued) readership, 196, 197 reports (récits) of events, 176 royal officials in Dauphiné struggle to control circulation of, 182, 185–186, 191 royalist writings, 180, 183–184, 260, 272– 273, 280, 283, 284–285, 288 and Third Estate in, 86, 110, 170, 180, 183, 184, 185, 196, 261–262, 265–266, 281, 284 Paris cafés, clubs, bookstores as reading sites in, 195, 197, 200–201, 202–205 consular court’s response to May edicts, 297 meetings, clubs, and crowds in, 152–153 and Parisians’ response to 16 August 1788 decree, 96–97, 159 plays and audiences in theaters in, 212– 213 readers and reading in, 205–206 riots in 1787 and 1788, 155, 239–241, 248–249 Parlement of Paris. See also Parlements in provinces and accountability of ministers, 118– 119 call for estates-general, 156 denunciation of government arbitrariness, 120, 157 exile of, 3, 119, 120, 157, 159, 219, 238 identify rights and freedom of magistrates with liberty of individuals, 120 renunciation of right to register tax laws, 156 on representation in estates-general, 64, 73, 270, 341 news reports on, 97, 121, 144, 153 public reactions to: 156–158, 159, 160, 162, 212, 219–220, 326 songs, verse, and talk on, 213–214, 215, 219 Parlementary constitutionalism, 3, 6, 147, 173–174, 244, 247 Parlementary patriots, 150, 174, 423n15. See also Patriot party Parlements in provinces, 3. See also Parlement of Paris active in cities, 109, 119, 120, 121, 122,

123, 124, 131, 153, 157, 162, 189, 211, 236, 249, 282, 399n64, 401n82 Crévoux and Dauphiné peasantry respond to, 310–313 denunciation of government arbitrariness, 120, 157 exile of, 120, 155, 157, 160 fêtes related to suppression of, or return of, 239, 241, 242–243, 246, 247–248 identify rights and freedom of magistrates with liberty of individuals, 12 illustrations and imagery of, 223–224, 230, 231, 232 Linguet’s attacks on parlementary abuses, 131–132 messages in parlementary declarations, 172–176 pamphlets on role of, 184 public reactions to, 158, 159, 160, 162, 326 publication and circulation of remonstrances of, 113–114, 121, 141, 152, 158, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 188, 256, 369 renunciation of right to register tax laws, 157 songs, verse, and talk on, 213, 215, 219 La Passion, la mort, et la resurrection du peuple (La Reynie de la Bruyère), 180, 262 Patois, 212, 258, 297–302, 358 Patriot party, 4, 82–83, 85–86, 150, 169, 322, 366, 423n15 opposition to separation of orders, 85–86 Pau. See Béarn Pays d’élections, 294, 392n7 Pays d’états, 51, 353, 392n7 Pays de taille réelle, 315 Peace, 370–371 deficit during time of (See Deficit) effect on perceptions of government’s fiscal needs, 42, 48–49 effect on relations between subjects and ruler, 59–60, 370–371 Peasants, 292–323 Assembly of Notables’ perception of peasants, 69–70 community assemblies, participation in, 339–340

Index contest for support of, 322–323 cultural intermediaries for, 304–309 dissemination of news to remote areas, 292–297 fermiers, 69 laboureurs, 65 and land ownership and land holdings, 38 and literacy, 301–304 pamphlets expressing views of, 305–321 patois and French language, use of, 297– 301 Peers, 13, 82, 162, 186–187, 361 Penthievre, duc de, 29 Père Duchêne, 288 Periodical press commercial and cultural coverage, 91–92 foreign French language press (See Foreign French language press) journals (See Journals) newspapers (See Newspapers) number and increase of periodicals, 93– 94, 410n6 requests for and government rejection of new periodicals, 204, 205 songs and verse, contrast with, 215–216 Pétion, de Villeneuve, Jérome, 174 Petit prosne aux roturiers, en attendant le grand sermon aux français de toutes les classes, 261 Pétition des citoyens domiciliés à Paris ( Dr. Guillotin), 110, 124, 162 Le Peuple instruit par les faits, 260, 267 Philosophes, 6, 32, 58, 174, 203–204, 364. See also Enlightenment Physiocrats, 29, 39 and representation, 63 Picardy community assemblies, 325, 355–356 May edicts, 329 Pidansat de Mairobert, Mathieu-François, 139. See also Mémoires secrets Plenary court in May edicts, 326 public reaction to, 148, 160, 329 Poissard style of writing, 211, 254, 283–284 Poissardes, 151–152, 253 Poitou. See also Faulcon, Félix community assemblies, 325, 352 May edicts, 329

489

Poitrineau, Abel, 307, 316, 317, 318 Polemics, 254, 280–283 against the clergy, magistracy, and nobility, 179–180, 281–282 against the king and queen, 177–179 against royal ministers, 176–177 Polignac, Yolande, duchesse de, 226 Political culture, 4–5, 255–256. See also Peace; War of ancien régime society, 57–58, 368–369 and community assemblies, 356–364 of the Notables, 33, 35–36, 57–60, 65–67, 68, 69–73, 75, 76–77, 84, 86 and popular political pamphlets, 288– 290, 313 similar views of aristocrats and revolutionary leaders, 86–88 Political imagery. See Iconography/illustrations/imagery Pompadour, Antoinette Poisson, marquise de, 187, 277 Popkin, Jeremy, 130 Popular political pamphlets, 253–291. See also Pamphlets almanacs, 254, 273–275 bestsellers, 254, 285–287, 451n59 characteristics of, 253–255 comic writings, 254 comparison with elite writings, 253, 287 contribution to educating public in politics, 287–291 dialogues, political messages in, 254, 263– 265 didactic and religious pamphlets catechisms, 254, 262–263 school manuals, 265–266 sermons, 261 digests, historical, 267–269 history manuals (See History manuals) melodramas, 254, 275–277 new political and constitutional principles in, 288–290 polemics (See Polemics) political culture and, 255–256, 288, 445n7 popular voice in, 283–285 prices of, 257–258 propagandist nature of, 258–259 readership, 257–258

490

Index

Popular political pamphlets (continued) relationship between writer and reader, 255 satires (See Satires) simplification of political arguments in, 256–257 Pornography in words and image, 177–179, 189, 216, 227, 288 Portalis, Jean-Etienne-Marie, 361 “Pot-Pourri sur l’Assemblée des Notables” (Champcenetz), 187, 211, 214, 219 Les Pourquoi d’un homme ignorant . . . pour l’instruction des hommes du tiers état, 265 Précis historique des états généraux, . . . (Rondonneau de la Motte), 270–271 Prelates. See Clergy/first estate: upper clergy Pre-Revolution, 1, 365. See also Egret, Jean Présidiaux. See Lower courts Press. See Periodical press Princes of the blood: 13, 82, 124, 149, 162, 185, 220, 361. See also Mémoire des princes verse and talk, 216 Printers, and government repression, 188 Private letters, and dissemination of news and opinion, 206–207, 295–296 Privilege Assembly of Notables on, 13, 35–36, 37 attacks on, 128, 134, 143, 148-149, 179, 264–265, 284, 317, 330 and clergy, 185 and community assemblies, 299, 351, 353, 357, 359 continuation and erosion of fiscal, 37–38, 43, 58, 311–312, 315 and the nobility, 1, 4, 64 and political goals, 4, 36, 50, 51, 71–72, 73, 82-83, 288, 367–368 and provinces, 51, 247, 288, 392n7 and public reaction, 162 royalist attacks on, 180, 284 Procureurs. See Lawyers La Profession de foi militaire, 185 Protestation d’un serf du Mont Jura . . . , 284 Provence Aix-en-Provence, 336, 344 community assemblies and networks in, 299, 340, 349, 355, 358, 359, 361 Marseille, 195, 211–212, 249, 355

provincial estates, 64 public reaction to May edicts, 326 Provence, comte de, 29, 42, 162, 201 Provincial assemblies Crévoux Délibération on, 310–311 first Assembly of Notables on role of, 51– 54, 66–69 gazettes reporting on, 119–120 as models of representation, 343, 348 Morande in Courrier on, 127–128 newspapers on, 102, 105–106, 108, 109 parlements on, 173 Provincial estates community assemblies on, 299, 335, 343, 352–354 debates on representation in, 63–64 estates of Dauphiné as model, 343–344, 348 fêtes celebrating re-establishment of, 243 gazettes reporting on, 119–120, 122, 123 newspaper reports on, 108–109, 151 public demands for re-establishment and reform of, 151, 153–154, 161 Public, 5. See also Public opinion first Assemby of Notables and, 30–32, 65, 72–73 media and, 6–7 relations between elite and, 366–367 second Assembly of Notables and, 65, 74– 75 Public opinion an autonomous public, 158–160 and content of political imagery, 224, 231–232 demands for an estates-general, 153, 156– 158, 159–160 demands for provincial estates, 153–154 demands for representation of Third Estate, 153–154, 160–161 economic and financial pressures impacting, 158–160 and first Assembly of Notables, 30–32, 156 as followers, 156–158 formation and movement of, 156–164 historians’ studies of, 1, 5–6 influence of, 193, 249 informal meetings and crowd gatherings, 152–153

Index in manuscript newsletters, 141–142, 149– 155, 164–165 and news and views in gazettes, 116–117 and pamphlets, 168–169, 182–185 on parlements, 153, 156–158, 160, 162 and second Assembly of Notables, 74–75, 161 speculation on political matters, 150 from suspicion to support of the Crown, 163–164 and turn against noble leaders, 160–163 Public sphere, 6, 249, 369 Queen. See Marie-Antoinette (queen) Quelle est l’origine des états généraux?, 272 Qu’est-ce que le Tiers Etat? (Sieyès), 84–85, 168–169, 196 Qu’est-ce que les parlements en France, 272 Rabaut Saint-Etienne, Jean-Paul, 174, 345 Raymond (curé of Chanonat), 306–307, 313–321 complaints of peasants voiced by, 313–314 and perception of social structure, 317– 318 on representation for peasants, 314 Requête d’une société rustique à toutes les assemblées générales, 305–309, 313– 321 on seigneuralism, 317, 318, 319, 320–321 social analysis and reforms proposed by, 316–321 on taxes, 317, 320 Raynal, Guillaume, abbé, 203, 361–362 Readership, 194–207 advertisements as indicator of, 198 in the countryside, 203 of gazettes, newspapers and pamphlets, 194–198 identifying who readers were, 196–198 number of readers, 194–196, 430n6, 431n11 of popular political pamphlets, 257–258 prices of periodicals and pamphlets and, 196–198, 431nn15–18 reading sites (See Reading sites) Reading sites, 198–205 clubs (salons or societies), 201–202 libraries, 202, 203, 204

491

periodicals or books available at, 203– 204, 205 reading rooms (cabinets de lecture), 200– 201, 203–205, 294, 433n26 reading societies/book clubs (chambres de lecture), 198–202, 432nn22,23,26 Reading societies and book clubs. See Reading sites Recherches historiques sur la forme des séances royales, 272 Réclamation du tiers état au Roi, 284 Reflexions sur les nouveaux édits . . . (Bergasse), 276 “Réflexions sur l’Esprit des lois” (Boisgelin), 21 Religious pamphlets. See Popular political pamphlets: didactic and religious pamphlets Remonstrances of the clergy, 184–185 of the parlements and sovereign courts, 2–3, 113, 121, 158, 170, 172–174, 369 Rennes. See Brittany Rente payments, 132, 159–160, 297 Rentiers, 40, 43, 263–264 Repartitional tax, 41, 45–46 Réponse à l’arrêté du grenier à sel de Paris, 179 Report of the Royal Council (Necker), 124 Representation, 63–65 of commerce, 155, 354–355 community assemblies’ deliberations on, 346–361 cultural tradition and, 63 doubling of Third Estate (See Equality: and representation, Patriots/Third Estate; Patriot party: opposition to separation of orders) equality of (See Equality: and representation) first Assembly of Notables debate on, 7, 62, 66–73, 79, 81 free elections and, 351–353 issues debated in late 1788, 63–64 Linguet in Annales on, 133–134 models of, 87–88, 343–344, 348, 409n69 Morande in Courrier on, 129–130 newspaper reporting on debate over, 108– 110 parlements and (See Parlement of Paris)

492

Index

Representation (continued) of peasants, 314, 322 physiocrats’ formula for, 63 provincial estates and (See Provincial estates) public opinion on, 153–154, 160–161 second Assembly of Notables debate on (See Second Assembly of Notables) taxation and, 359 Third Estate (See Third Estate) and voting (See Voting) Requête au Roi (Calonne), 196 Requête d’une société rustique à toutes les assemblées générales, provinciales du royaume, 305–309, 313–321. See also Raymond (curé of Chanonat) Restif de la Bretonne, Nicolas, 195, 283 Result of the Royal Council, 84–85, 124, 163, 343 Rétat, Pierre, 176 Revel, Jacques, 365 Rights community assemblies’ arguments on, 356, 357, 359, 360, 362 of the estates-general, 265 first Assembly of Notables’ affirmation of, 39, 51, 65, 76, 82 gazettes’ and newspapers’ references to, 102, 103, 123 influence of Enlightenment and juridical tradition on argument of, 363 lower courts on, 331, 333 magistrates’ arguments on, 120, 173, 247 manuscript newsletters’ arguments on, 144, 148 melodrama and arguments of, 276 of provinces and the nation, 288 of provincial estates, 120, 185, 263 Riom. See Auvergne Riots, and fêtes, 239–241 Road system, 293, 301, 369 Robe (high robe). See Magistrates; Parlements; Sovereign courts Robecq, Anne Louis Alexandre de Montmorency, prince de, 50 Roche, Daniel, 258, 264, 297 Rohan, Louis René Edouard, cardinal de, 204, 217. See also Diamond necklace affair

Romans, assembly of. See Dauphiné Rondonneau de la Motte, 257, 269, 270–271 Root, Hilton, 317 Rosanvallon, Pierre, 368 Roture. See Bourgeois/bourgeoisie; Commoners; Third Estate Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 167, 203, 233, 370 Roussillon: community assemblies, 442 Royal Council decrees/edicts. See Orders in Council Royal ministers Calonne (See Calonne, Joseph Alexandre de) as constitutional surrogates for the king, 244, 290, 313 distrust of, 48, 75–76, 102–103, 144, 145– 146, 163, 312 iconography, 223, 226–227 Lamoignon (See Lamoignon, ChrétienFrançois de) Loménie de Brienne (See Loménie de Brienne (archbishop of Toulouse)) ministerial accountability. See Ministerial accountability ministerial despotism. See Ministerial despotism satires against, 278–279 songs and verse against, 215, 216 Royalists, 143, 150, 359, 366 few supporters of absolute monarchy, 164, 288 Linguet as, 130–131, 132–133, 180 Mangourit’s polemics in support of royal policy, 282–283 and manuscript newsletters, 142–143 Morande as, 126–128, 180 satires by and of, 280 songs and verse by, 215 writings by, 169, 180, 183–184, 260, 272– 273, 283, 284–285, 334 Ruault, Nicolas, 206, 217, 218, 290 Rule of law, 175, 247, 248, 291, 331, 334, 369 Sabatier de Cabre, abbé, 120 Saige, Guillaume-Joseph, 174, 256 Saint-Aubin, 231 Salon des Arts, 201 Salons. See Clubs Salt tax. See Gabelle

Index Sanois, Jean-François-Joseph de La MotteGeffard, comte de, 276–277 Satires against Breton nobles, 281 against grand bailliage, 279–280 against king and queen, 278 against royal ministers, 278–279 “Satyr sur le Grand Mogol” (Desmoulins), 211, 217 La Science de la Législation (Filangieri), 102– 103 Second Assembly of Notables, 4, 61, 73–88 balance of interests argument of, 77–80 community assemblies react to, 341–342 equal representation among orders, 79– 82 equality and freedom as justifying separation of orders, 77, 86 fifth bureau, 82, 83 first bureau, 76, 84, 85, 148 and fiscal equality, 82–83 fourth bureau, 76, 82 gazettes reporting on, 122 historical justification for decisions of, 75–77 natural justice and utility argument, 78 Necker and, 74, 76, 336, 342, 347 opposition to doubling of Third Estate, 74–75, 77, 80–81, 84–85, 161 and the public, views of, 65 and public opinion, 74–75 and representation of the clergy, nobility and Third Estate, 80–82 second bureau, 80, 83 separation and voting by orders espoused by, 64, 65, 74–80, 82, 85–86 sixth bureau, 80 third bureau, 78, 80, 82, 84 Third Estate, requirements for voting and for elected representatives, 83–84 veto, result of separation of and vote by order, 85–86 Second estate. See Nobles/nobility/second estate Seigneurialism, 292, 321, 323, 370 attacks in pamphlets, 175, 204 in Auvergne, 316, 318 (See also Raymond) Sénéchaussées. See Lower courts La Sentinelle du peuple (Volney), 281

493

Separation of orders. See Equality: and representation, Notables/aristocracy; Second Assembly of Notables Sermon genre of political pamphlets, 261 Serpaud, 118 Sgard, Jean, 310 Sieyès, Emmanuel-Joseph, abbé, 6, 84–85, 86, 168–169, 174, 180, 196, 266, 359 Six Corps of Merchants, 155, 159 Slang. See Poissard style of writing Smith, Adam, 40 Social contract, 281, 288, 332–333, 358 Social Contract (Rousseau), 59–60, 264, 281, 288, 332–333, 358 Société de salon, 201 Société Olympique, 201 Société patriotique bretonne, 202 Societies. See Clubs Society of orders, 61–62 Soissons (généralité), community assemblies, 325 Songs, verse, and talk, 91, 208–220, 237, 243, 303, 369 archetypes and current events deployed in, 220 authors and poems, 210–212, 217, 220 diatribes, disparagements and attacks in, 214, 215–220 impact on public, 216–218 melodies used for songs and verse, 213–214 number of, 210, 215 pamphlets and periodical writings, differences in thought and mood of, 214–216 in patois, 301 theater audiences’ reactions to, 212–213 Songsheets and songbooks, 210, 213, 233 Les Soupirs de la France dans l’Esclavage. See Les Voeux d’un patriote Sovereign/sovereignty claim for “popular assemblies,” 361 first Assembly of Notables’ deliberations, 59, 86 limits on, 246, 290, 311, 357–358, 370 pamphlet’s claim for estates-general, 186 public opinion as, 193, 249 Sovereign courts, 113, 170, 361. See also Magistrates; Parlement of Paris; Parlements in provinces

494

Index

The Spirit of the Laws (Montesquieu), 79, 307 Stamp tax, 42-43, 119, 156, 158, 179, 219, 268 Streetsingers, 209, 213, 217 Sully, Maximilien de Béthune, duc de, 18, 133, 213, 230, 308 Sully, Maximilien Gabriel Louis de Béthune, duc de, 155 Supplement à la Cour plenière, 278 Supplique du peuple au Roi, 284 Sur le compte rendu au roi en 1781, nouveaux éclaircissements (Necker), 196, 285–287 Symbols allegorical prints, 229–230 denoting political themes in festivities, 245–247 Taille (tax on nonprivileged), 37, 43, 78, 315 Talk. See Songs, verse, and talk “Tarare” (Beaumarchais), 212, 214 Target, Guy-Jean-Baptiste, 85, 86, 184, 266 Taxe de quotité (taxation proportioned to output from the land), 40–41, 45–46 Taxes abonnements, 51, 315 community assemblies on, 351, 353, 356, 357, 359 consent to (See Consent to taxes) corvée, 36, 57, 58, 110, 274, 311, 312 Crévoux and Dauphiné peasantry/cultural intermediary on, 310–313 dixième, 267–268 gabelle (salt tax), 36, 43, 58, 274 land (See Land tax) proposed by Assembly of Notables, 42–43 Raymond on, 317, 320 stamp tax (See Stamp tax) taille (See Taille) vingtième (See Vingtième tax) Taylor, George, 292 Te Deum, 236, 261, 294 Third Estate, 150 and community assemblies, 334–335, 340, 347–359 consensus and division within, 354–356 doubling of Third Estate. See Equality:

and representation, Patriots/Third Estate; Patriot party: opposition to separation of orders and family metaphor, 358–359 gazettes on representation in estatesgeneral, 123–124 and importance of, 350–351, 354–355 Linguet in Annales on, 134 Linguet’s polemical pamphlet supporting doubling of, 281–282 manuscript newsletters on representation of, 146–149, 153–154 Morande in Courrier on representation in estates-general, 129–130 pamphlets on representation in estatesgeneral, 183, 184, 262, 265–266, 281 political autonomy and engagement of, 152–155, 158–160, 334–335 public opinion on representation of, 153– 154, 155, 158, 160–161 Result of the Royal Council granting doubling of, 163, 343 second Assembly of Notables’ opposition to doubling of, 74–75, 77, 80–81, 84– 85, 161 songs, verse, and talk on doubling of, 219–220 Thomas, Antoine-Léonard, 308 Three Bishoprics community assemblies, 325 Metz, 108, 110 Tilly, Charles, 643n2 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 1, 71, 75, 174, 196, 246, 314, 352, 366 on Order in Council, 5 July 1788, 341, 342 and representation, 350 Toulouse. See Languedoc Tournus. See Burgundy Le Tribun du peuple, au peuple (Mangourit), 282 Tricolor cocardes and ribbons, symbolism of, 245 Tours (généralité), 235 community assemblies, 325 demand for provincial estates, 153 May edicts, 328, 330–331 Tours (city), 191 Troyes. See Champagne

Index Turgot, Anne-Robert-Jacques, baron de l’Aulne, 88, 184 Vallée (printseller), 221, 222, 224, 231–232, 233–234 Vaux, Noël de Jourda, maréchal de, 371 Le Véritable Messager Boiteux de Bâle en Suisse pour l’année, 273, 274–275 Vermond, abbé de, 226 Verse. See Songs, verse, and talk Veto, 85–86, 350, 368 Villeneuve (inspector of the book trade), 191 Vingtième tax, 37, 87, 119, 311, 315, 395n25 Vizille, assembly of. See Dauphiné Voeu sur la dernière classe du peuple à l’Assemblée des Notables, 284 Les Voeux d’un patriote, 186 Volney, Constantin François de Chasseboeuf, comte de, 261, 281, 419n48 Voltaire, François-Marie Arouet de, 164, 203, 370

495

Vote/voting, 7. See also Representation; Third Estate community assemblies and Third Estate qualifications for, 360–361 community assemblies’ deliberations on, 346–359 by head, 3–4, 63–64, 74, 87, 149, 183, 348, 349–351, 353, 368 by order, 3–4, 64–65, 66, 74–80, 81, 82, 85–86, 87, 170, 349–350, 368 of peasants, 322 vote censitaire, 87, 88 Le Voyageur à Paris, 201 War, impact on political outlook of the French, 59–60, 145, 159, 181, 248, 368– 369, 371 Weber, Eugen, 297, 298 What Is the Third Estate? (Sieyès), 347 Women literacy rates of, 302 and readership, 205, 206, 262 Young, Arthur, 195, 198, 199, 299