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Revolution and the Republic

Page 37

by Jeremy Jennings


  Royer-Collard argued, as conceived by the Charte the Chamber of Deputies

  constituted a ‘power’ and not a form of representation. It was therefore ‘false in

  principle and impossible in fact that the opinion of the Chamber should always and

  necessarily be the opinion of the nation’. ‘Interests’, he proclaimed, ‘are a far surer

  gauge of opinion than opinion can be of interests.’116

  What purpose, then, did an elected assembly serve?117 Royer-Collard immediately

  dismissed three arguments supposedly in its favour. Elections were not necessary

  to secure the existence of a second chamber. Elections were no better guarantee of

  independence than the hereditary principle. Elections were not the only means

  of ensuring that a chamber was peopled by honest and capable men. ‘There is’, he

  told his fellow deputies,

  an elected Chamber in the interests of the nation, in order that its views and needs

  should be known and its rights respected and so that political liberty can come to the

  aid of civil liberty, of which it is the sole effective guarantee. There is an elected

  Chamber in the interests of the government, in order that confidence, which is the

  principle of elections, extends to it and encourages a more ready and voluntary

  obedience. Finally, there is an elected Chamber in the interests of both nation and

  government, in order that serious errors and grave injustices, which are the motors of

  civil discord and revolutions, do not accumulate within the social body, and so that

  society as a whole, with all its known or unknown tribulations, should constantly

  resound within government and constantly secure its attention, thus ensuring that

  government, forewarned of the dangers, should be vigilant, prudent, and provident.118

  As such, an elected chamber served as the best means of both protecting the

  hereditary monarchy and of averting revolution.

  What was completely missing in this argument was any reference to either the

  sovereignty of the people or the equality of political rights. On this account, the elected

  deputy was no more a representative of the people than was a peer of the realm. The

  deputy had a function to perform, that of deliberating freely and without the restraints

  of party upon the interests of the country, and it was for this reason that Royer-Collard

  had no difficulty reconciling himself to the limited franchise endorsed by the Charte.

  ‘According to the principles of our government’, he announced, ‘a higher [financial]

  contribution does not in itself confer any personal pre-eminence or privilege but it is

  116 Ibid. 229.

  117 Ibid. 274–86.

  118 Ibid. 278–9.

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  Commerce, Usurpation, and Democracy

  required for certain functions as a necessary guarantee of independence and enlight-

  enment.’119 ‘Aptitude’ and ‘capacity’ were associated with ‘personal wealth’ and

  therefore all those able to make the financial contribution required for eligibility to

  vote were deemed to be ‘equally capable’. Similarly, Royer-Collard did not see an

  elected chamber as an especially appropriate vehicle to secure the protection of what

  he termed ‘national liberties’. Such a role, he contended, resided in the government

  as a whole and among all its constituent parts: the monarchy, the hereditary chamber,

  and the elected chamber. Indeed, on this view, any strengthening of the political

  importance of the elected chamber would weaken these protections, as France’s recent

  experience had revealed. ‘The Revolution’, Royer-Collard declared, was ‘nothing else

  but the doctrine of representation in action’.120

  These views were expressed by Royer-Collard in the early years of the Restoration,

  and were put under severe strain by a succession of ultra-conservative governments

  that seemed to wish to operate in opposition to the perceived interests of society and

  in violation of the principles laid down by the Charte. Nevertheless, if Royer-Collard’s

  rhetoric was to change over time, the basic philosophy remained intact. This was the

  manner in which Royer-Collard sought to defend a parliamentary chamber composed

  of the hereditary peerage after the revolution of 1830. Against the sovereignty of the

  people, he counterpoised ‘the sovereignty of reason, the sole legitimate legislator

  of humanity’. He further argued that society should not be seen as ‘the numerical

  assemblage of individuals and of wills’ but as being composed of ‘legitimate interests’.

  To that extent, the peerage was a proper part of the system of representative

  government, because it was an expression of ‘a social fact: namely, the social inequality

  resulting from different kinds of superiority: glory, services rendered to the State,

  property or wealth’. Royer-Collard then added that this amounted not to a represen-

  tation of inequality for its own sake but rather to a mechanism that served ‘the

  protection of society as a whole’. If this institutional device were taken away, France

  would be left with nothing but a form of democracy resting upon the sovereignty of

  the people and, as history had shown, this would lead to ‘anarchy, tyranny, misery,

  bankruptcy, and finally despotism’. The stark conclusion was that democracy could

  not produce ‘prudent’ government, and therefore that ‘political equality’ was not ‘the

  just and necessary consequence of civil equality’.121

  The message, repeated time after time by Royer-Collard in his solemn speeches

  before the parliamentary chamber, was that the Revolution would only be brought

  to an end if politics could leave passion behind and enter a new age of reason. This,

  he believed, entailed the institutionalization of stable, constitutional government,

  resting upon the incorporation of those who represented the general interests of

  society. On pragmatic grounds alone, a limited franchise appeared to be the

  best means of avoiding tyranny and disorder. From this, however, we get little

  clue as to whom the Doctrinaires believed were best placed to represent the general

  119 See Prosper de Barante, La Vie politique de M. Royer-Collard: Ses Discours et ses Ecrits, 2 vols.

  (1861). This text contains a commentary by Barante plus extensive selections from the speeches and

  writings of Royer-Collard, 410.

  120 Ibid. 231.

  121 Opinion de M. Royer-Collard sur l’hérédité de la Pairie, 4 Octobre 1831 (1831).

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  interests of society. To find out the answer, there is no surer guide than the writings

  of one of the towering figures of French politics in the first half of the nineteenth

  century: François Guizot.

  The ideas of Guizot were briefly examined in the last chapter. There we saw that,

  in opposition to the contract theories of Rousseau, he had sought to establish that

  reason, rather than the will of the individual citizen, was the true source of

  legitimate power. For over five decades, this was the theme that informed his

  writings and his extensive political career: Guizot was Minister of Education

  between 1832 and 1837, Foreign Minister between 1840 and 1847, and Premier

  in 1848. Arguably, however, it was the short period between the restoration of the

  monarchy and the early
years of the 1820s that was most decisive for his intellectual

  development. Responding to events as they unfolded, it was in these years that he

  published Du gouvernement représentatif en France, en 1816, Du gouvernement de la

  France, depuis la Restauration et du ministère actuel, and Des moyens de gouvernement

  et d’opposition dans l’état actuel de la France. Between 1820 and 1822 he also

  delivered the series of lectures that, three decades later, were published in two

  volumes as Histoire des origines du gouvernement représentatif en Europe.

  Guizot was born in Nîmes to a prosperous Protestant family.122 His father had

  been executed during the Terror. After a period of exile in Switzerland, Guizot

  arrived in Paris in 1805, and there began a brilliant academic career, matched by a

  rapid entry into liberal circles. In 1814 he participated in the formulation of the

  Charte and then, unlike Benjamin Constant, again went into exile with the return

  of Napoleon Bonaparte. For the next five years he operated on the margins

  of government, seeking like his friend Royer-Collard to secure a liberal reading of

  the Charte. With the assassination of the Duc de Berri he was effectively forced

  into opposition. Faced with this turn of events and with the threat of counter-

  revolution, he determined upon outlining the principles of a form of government

  he thought appropriate to modern society.

  The starting point was an analysis and interpretation of the Revolution of 1789.

  The Revolution, Guizot argued controversially, ‘was a war, a real war, such as the

  world had previously known between foreign peoples’.123 For more than thirteen

  centuries, he argued, France had been divided between ‘a defeated people’ and a

  ‘victorious people’. Her history had been the history of this struggle. The result

  of the Revolution, he asserted, was beyond doubt that the former defeated people

  had become the victorious people. To that extent, the Revolution was a form of

  retribution, an act of revenge by a majority which had been for so long oppressed by

  a dominant minority. It was, however, precisely the numerical superiority of the

  victors that had led the ‘theoreticians of the revolution’ to imagine, incorrectly, that

  this thereby presaged the establishment of the sovereignty of the people as the new

  principle of government. This was not so, Guizot replied, for the good reason that

  122 See Gabriel de Broglie, Guizot (1990) and Laurent Theis, François Guizot (2008).

  123 François Guizot, Du gouvernement de la France depuis la Restauration et du ministère actuel

  (1820), 1.

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  Commerce, Usurpation, and Democracy

  what had occurred was the straightforward victory of ‘one portion of the people

  over another’. It was precisely this victory that the Charte had acknowledged.

  The political dilemma that now faced France, Guizot argued in 1820, was

  whether she was to be governed in concert with these ‘new interests’ and to their

  ‘profit’ or whether she was to be ruled ‘under the influence’ of the old interests

  associated with the aristocracy and the clergy. In broad outline, Guizot believed

  that, before 1820, the governments of the Restoration had taken ‘the new France as

  their ally’ and that, after the arrival in power of the Villèle ministry, they had sided

  with the anachronistic and dangerous forces of counter-revolution. Consequently,

  Guizot spent the 1820s arguing against the foolishness of this strategy, believing

  that it would only serve to continue France’s political instability. At the same time,

  he identified the need for a ‘national party’ that could rally and organize the forces

  of the ‘new France’ in the parliamentary chamber. In so doing, he sketched out

  what he saw as a ‘new means of government’ resting upon ‘constitutional equality

  and legal liberty’.124

  Guizot did this principally in Des moyens de gouvernement et d’opposition dans

  l’état actuel de la France.125 He there questioned the principle of the sovereignty of

  the people, accepting nonetheless that during the Revolution it had served as a ‘cri

  de guerre’ and as the precursor of ‘a great social metamorphosis’. Removed from its

  revolutionary context, he argued, it could properly be understood as a principle that

  defined ‘government in terms of the general interest rather than government in the

  name of this or that private interest’. Thus reconceptualized, it could be allied to a

  recognition of the ‘dominant interests’ and ‘legitimate needs’ of the new society,

  and as such was better understood as ‘the sovereignty of justice, of reason, of

  right’.126 So too he questioned whether the Revolution’s hostility to aristocracy and

  privilege had endured. The ‘new France’, Guizot accepted, had feared nothing

  more than ‘the old French aristocracy’, to the point that the ‘doctrine of equality’

  had become ‘a confused dogma’ leading its proponents ‘to pursue a fantasy’. With

  time, however, and as ‘the inferior classes’ had obtained their goals, the anger had

  subsided and ‘the idea of equality had appeared in a more tranquil and pure form,

  always carrying the same name but no longer challenging all superiorities with the

  same threats, no longer provoking the same furious passions’.127

  The demand for equality, Guizot therefore argued, could be reduced to the

  following terms: ‘citizens should depend upon their own merits and upon their

  own strengths; through their own efforts, everyone should become what they can

  become, meeting no institutional obstacles that prevent them from rising (if they

  are capable of it) nor support that places them permanently in a superior position

  (if they are not able to hold their own)’.128 The love of equality, in summary,

  should have no other principle than ‘the need to rise in society, the most powerful

  of the needs of our nature’. Guizot’s programme, then, was a plea for a civil and

  legal equality that would allow all those with ability and determination to make the

  124 See Craiutu, Liberalism under Siege, 155–84.

  125 Guizot, Des moyens de gouvernement et d’opposition dans l’état actuel de la France (1821).

  126 Ibid. 142–9.

  127 Ibid. 157.

  128 Ibid. 156–7.

  Commerce, Usurpation, and Democracy

  175

  most of their talents, free from external hindrance. What was being envisaged was

  the emergence of a ‘true, natural aristocracy’ appropriate to a ‘new order’ char-

  acterized by social mobility.129 It was a liberal vision precisely because it opposed

  despotism in all its forms, be it popular, Bonapartist, or monarchical.

  Certain important consequences followed from these conclusions. It meant that

  the function of a representative system of government was not to conjure up the

  will of the majority through a complex, but flawed, numerical arithmetic but rather

  to guarantee that ‘power’ passed into the hands of these ‘new superiorities’.130

  Therefore, one of the tasks of government was to seek actively to bring these new

  capacities and new interests into its ranks. This in turn led Guizot to conceptualize

  government as ‘the head of society’ and to envisage that it could rightly concern

  itself
‘with everything that is the object of public interest or that occasions general

  movement’.131 This argument also obliged Guizot to reflect upon the mechanisms

  that would ensure that these new ‘superiorities’ remained worthy of their place in

  government. To that end, he envisaged an elaborate system of public transparency

  built around ‘parliamentary chambers, the disclosure of their debates, elections,

  liberty of the press, and trial by jury’.

  It was in Guizot’s lectures at the Sorbonne that he gave his fullest exposition of

  the electoral and parliamentary systems he thought most appropriate to achieve

  these goals.132 The point of reference was medieval England. Developing his anti-

  Rousseauian argument that government was legitimate if it rested upon the claims

  of ‘eternal reason’ rather than upon the individual wills of its subjects, Guizot

  contended that the function of representative government was to bring together all

  the ‘scattered and incomplete fragments’ of reason dispersed among the individuals

  who composed society. It was in this way that ‘public reason’ would be extracted

  from the ‘bosom of society’.

  Part of the charm of the medieval English system, according to Guizot, was that

  it had evolved almost naturally out of a vibrant pattern of social self-regulation, and

  it was thus ‘the extension and development of existing liberties’. Who, then, were

  its electors and how did they exercise their rights? ‘The true, the sole general

  principle made manifest in the distribution of electoral rights as it then existed

  in England’, Guizot avowed, ‘is this: that right is derived from and belongs to

  capacity.’133 The possessors of these rights, he went on, included ‘all men invested

  with real independence, free to dispose of their person and wealth’. These were

  primarily to be found among freeholders, the clergy, and the burgesses of the larger

  towns. Beyond these classes existed only those ‘labouring on subordinate and

  precarious property’, those reduced to ‘servile dependence and brutal ignorance’,

  all of whom could quite justly be excluded from the franchise on the grounds

  that they lacked the ‘material and moral’ conditions providing the ‘degree of

  129 Ibid. 161.

  130 Ibid. 165.

 

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