第417章

-- There remains a minority， a very small one，[1] innovating and restless. This consisted， on the one hand， of people who were discontented with their calling or profession， because they were of secondary or subaltern rank in it.[2] Some were debutantes not fully employed and others aspirants for careers not yet entered upon. Then， on the other hand， there were the men of unstable character and all those who were uprooted by the immense upheaval of things： in the Church， through the suppression of convents and through schism； in the judiciary， in the administration， in the financial departments， in the army， and in various private and public careers， through the reorganization of institutions， through the novelty of fresh resources and occupations， and through the disturbance caused by the changed relationships of patrons and clients. Many who， in ordinary times， would otherwise remain quiet， become in this way nomadic and extravagant in politics. Among the foremost of these are found those who， through a classical education， can take in an abstract proposition and deduce its consequences， but who， for lack of special preparation for it， and confined to the narrow circle of local affairs， are incapable of forming accurate conceptions of a vast， complex social organization， and of the conditions which enable it to subsist. Their talent lies in making a speech， in dashing off an editorial， in composing a pamphlet， and in drawing up reports in more or less pompous and dogmatic style； the genre admitted， a few of them who are gifted become eloquent， but that is all. Among those are the lawyers， notaries， bailiffs and former petty provincial judges and attorneys who furnish the leading actors and two-thirds of the members of the Legislative Assembly and of the Convention： There are surgeons and doctors in small towns， like Bo， Levasseur， and Baudot， second and third-rate literary characters， like Barrère， Louvet， Garat， Manuel， and Ronsin， college professors like Louchet and Romme， schoolmasters like Leonard Bourdon， journalists like Brissot， Desmoulins and Freron， actors like Collot d'Herbois， artists like Sergent， Oratoriens[3] like Fouché， capuchins like Chabot， more or less secularized priests like Lebon， Chasles， Lakanal， and Grégoire， students scarcely out of school like St. Just， Monet of Strasbourg， Rousseline of St. Albin， and Julien of the Dr？me -- in short， the poorly sown and badly cultivated minds， and on which the theory had only to fall to smother the good grain and thrive like a nettle. Add to these charlatans and others who live by their wits， the visionary and morbid of all sorts， from Fanchet and Klootz to Chalier or Marat， the whole of that needy， chattering， irresponsible crowd， ever swarming about large cities ventilating its shallow conceits and abortive pretensions. Farther in the background appear those whose scanty education qualifies them to half understand an abstract principle and imperfectly deduce its consequences， but whose roughly-polished instinct atones for the feebleness of a coarse argumentation. Through cupidity， envy and rancor， they divine a rich pasture-ground behind the theory， and Jacobin dogmas become dearer to them， because the imagination sees untold treasures beyond the mists in which they are shrouded. They can listen to a club harangue without falling asleep， applaud its tirades in the rights place， offer a resolution in a public garden， shout in the tribunes， pen affidavits for arrests， compose orders-of-the-day for the national guard， and lend their lungs， arms， and sabers to whoever bids for them. But here their capacity ends. In this group merchants' and notaries' clerks abound， like Hébert and Henriot， Vincent and Chaumette， butchers like Legendre， postmasters like Drouet， boss-joiners like Duplay， school-teachers like that Buchot who becomes a minister， and many others of the same sort， accustomed to jotting down ideas， with vague notions of orthography and who are apt in speech-making，[4] foremen， sub-officers， former begging friars， peddlers， tavern-keepers， retailers， market-porters， and city-journeymen from Gouchon， the orator of the faubourg St. Antoine， down to Simon， the cobbler of the Temple， from Trinchard， the juryman of the Revolutionary Tribunal， down to grocers， tailors， shoemakers， tapster， waiters， barbers， and other shopkeepers or artisans who do their work at home， and who are yet to do the work of the September massacres. Add to these the foul remnants of every popular insurrection and dictatorship， beasts of prey like Jourdain of Avignon， and Fournier the American， women like Théroigne， Rose Lacombe， and the tricoteuses of the Convention who have unsexed themselves， the amnestied bandits and other gallows birds who， for lack of a police， have a wide range， street-rollers and vagabonds， rebels against labor and discipline， the whole of that class in the center of civilization which preserves the instincts of savages， and asserts the sovereignty of the people to glut a natural appetite for license， laziness， and ferocity. -- Thus is the party recruited through an enlisting process that gleans its subjects from every station in life， but which reaps them down in great swaths， and gathers them together in the two groups to which dogmatism and presumption naturally belong. Here， education has brought man to the threshold， even to the heart of general ideas； consequently， he feels hampered within the narrow bounds of his profession or occupation， and aspires to something beyond. But as his education has remained superficial or rudimentary， consequently， outside of his narrow circle he feels out of his place. He has a perception or obtains a glimpse of political ideas and， therefore， assumes that he has capacity. But his perception is confided to a formula， and he sees them dimly through a cloud； hence his incapacity， and the reason why his mental lacunae as well as his attainments both contribute to make him a Jacobin.