Reflections On The Revolution In France

“The wild gas, the fixed air, is plainly broke loose: but we ought to suspend our judgement until the first effervescence is a little subsided, until the liquor is cleared, and until we see something deeper than the agitation of a troubled and frothy surface.” 

Natural gas is an unpredictable entity; once let loose, it can become flammable. This draws an analogy between gas and radical ideas, which have the same flammable quality when fanned by a group of people. Burke urges prudence; he says to wait until something more substantial than the unpredictable gas emerges. In much the same way, a thinker of any influence (like Price or members of the Revolutionary Society) must consider their idea and its ramifications carefully before preaching it to an open, amenable audience.

“In viewing this monstrous tragicomic scene, the most opposite passions necessarily succeed, and sometime mix with each other in the mind, alternate contempt and indignation, alternate laughter and tears, alternate scorn and horror.” 

This particular quote sets the tone for Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution on France. Throughout the text, Burke mixes a serious drive to prevent a revolution in England with a sarcastic tone towards his dual enemies of abstraction and radicalism. He finds much to admire in England’s history and lasting institutions and, alternatively, much to amuse himself with France’s failed starts at erecting a new government.

“At some time or other, to be sure, all the beginners of dynasties, were chosen by those that called them to govern.” 

To endorse the monarchy, Burke points out that governments/councils in various countries elected a leader at some point, who, in turn, elects a successor after their rule ended. This speaks to Burke’s theme that there is a dual theme to an institution like the monarchy: wisdom of the ages and natural order. It further highlights an underlying scheme in Burke’s ideology: some single themselves out to others as leaders, by traits of virtue, wisdom, and honor.

“But King James was a bad king with a good title and not a usurper.” 

Here, Burke uses the issue of England’s James II to educate readers on England’s law of a hereditary monarchy. Burke takes pains to point out the office of king, vilified by the Assembly and many radicals as a symbol of oppression, remains a founding principle through each subsequent revision of the British constitution. While he acknowledges some kings, namely James II, in this case, abuse their power and are thus replaced with better kings, he wishes to point out that James II lawfully inherited his title by the rules of succession; that is, he did not usurp the throne. His replacements, William and Mary, were not the rightful heirs—that would have always been James II—however; after England found James a threat to their state religion, the country replaced him. Thus, Burke reinforces the value of the king’s role by pointing out one of new king’s first acts (ratified by the legislature) was to re-establish an inheritable monarchy

“This idea of a liberal descent inspires us with a sense of habitual native dignity, which prevents that upstart insolence almost inevitably adhering to and disgracing those who are the first acquirers of any distinction. By this means, our liberty becomes a noble freedom. It carries an imposing and majestic aspect. It has a pedigree and illustrating ancestors.”

Radicalism and individualism exemplify the French Revolution; as such, the Assembly wiped away memories of the past, including those of their history, which they consider rife with tyranny and oppression. In this new world order, Burke reminds his countrymen of the value in men and women of the past; Englishmen can look back among the great galleries of distinguished gentlemen before, like the French, cashiering their past for an unchartered future.

″Our political system is placed in a just correspondence and symmetry with the order of the world, and with the mode of existence decreed to a permanent body composed of transitory parts; wherein, by the disposition of a stupendous wisdom, moulding together the great mysterious incorporation of the human race, the whole, at one time, is never old, or middle-aged, or young, but in a condition of unchangeable constancy, moves on through the varied tenour of perpetual decay, fall, renovation, and progression. Thus, by preserving the method of nature in the conduct of the state, in what we improve we are never wholly new; in what we retain we are never wholly obsolete.″

By trusting in the wisdom of the past, Burke believes the present generation is always informed, thereby the future generation is always informed. As such wisdom is passed down, inherited like land and rights in England. This is in contrast to the ever-changing seats and insecurity of the Assembly.

“A spirit of innovation is generally a result of a selfish temper and confined views. People will not look forward to posterity who never look backward to their ancestors.”

Seemingly a paradox, Burke suggests that a narrowness and unwillingness to take advice spurs change: the French Revolution will fail, Burke believes, because it insists on destroying the past and building a new future, wholly independent on the wisdom of past politicians and historical precedent.

“Respecting your forefathers, you would have been taught to respect yourselves. You would have chosen to consider the French as a people of yesterday, as a nature of low-born servile wretches until the emancipating year of 1789.”

Burke believes that a nation cannot abandon its character and retain the respect of the world. Furthermore, Burke argues the past of the French contains a rich tapestry; at the advent of the French Revolution, by starting anew and keeping nothing from the past, the Assembly essentially announces to the world that France has nothing of value to offer the world. 

“The fresh ruins of France, which shock our feelings wherever we can turn our eyes, are not the devastation of civil war; they are the sad but instructive monuments of rash and ignorant counsel in time of profound peace.” 

This speaks to Burke’s conservative nature; on one side, radical action would condone acts against the suppression of man’s rights (in an abstract sense). Radicals would view this attack with as much seriousness as an actual physical violence (in the form of war Burke alludes to here). Burke, however, expresses shock that such great change and decimation might occur in the absence of an actual physical threat. He chides the French Revolution for creating conflict at a time when French citizens might otherwise enjoy peace.

“Believe me, Sir, those that attempt to level, never equalize.” 

Although the Assembly claims to have the power to start a new government based on the rights of man, creating a society of true equality, Burke agues such a society is not possible. He states that a society can create a level playing field, but aspects of inequality will always crop up on the horizon. This is because society is created by, and populated by humans, who, despite the best intentions, create some aspect of contention.

“It is said that twenty-four million ought to prevail over two-hundred thousand. True; if the constitution of a kingdom be a problem of arithmetic. This sort of discourse does well enough with the lamp-post for its second, to men who may reason calmly, it is ridiculous. The will of the many, and their interest, must very often differ; and great will be the difference when they make an evil choice.” 

One premise of the French Revolution is that it is unfair for a minority to have ruling authority over the majority; when it comes to pure numbers, that is correct. However, when it comes to actual people, the logic does not quite compute. Burke argues that there is a greater chance that the many will have varied interests that prove troublesome; however, the most dangerous flaw in this logic would be if any part of the majority shares an evil opinion and acts on that choice, given the free will do so.

“Government is a contrivance of human wisdom to provide for human wants.” 

In contrast to the abstract rights of man or any government based on similar abstractions, Burke suggests the need for a political system for people is practical, a human invention meant to provide for practical human needs.

“They see no merit in the good, and no fault in the vicious management of public affairs; they rather rejoice in the latter as more propitious to revolution. They see no merit or demerit or any man, or any action, or any political principle, any further as they may ford or retard their design of change […].” 

Radicalism stands in direct opposition to Burke’s philosophy of political conservatism. Here, Burke derides the pain and upheaval a radical is willing to perpetrate for the sake of change: the ravages of the French Revolution on the people exists as a secondary concern to the radical.

“Regicide, and parricide, and sacrilege, are but fictions of superstition, corrupting jurisprudence by destroying its simplicity. The murder of a king, or a queen, or a bishop, or a father, are only common homicide; and if the people are by any chance, or in any way gainers by it, a sort of homicide much the most pardonable, and into which we ought not to make too severe a scrutiny.” 

Once a king is deposed, a cleric’s land confiscated, and a noble’s title taken away, society proceeds down a slippery slope. Titles that once held great meaning become meaningless; therefore, the death of a king is just the same as the death of any common man, maybe better, if the death of said king brings about some profit in a society driven by individual greed. Words should have meaning, Burke maintains, lest society create voids in their place, and those voids fill with man’s eviler intentions.

“Because half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make a field ring with their importunate chink, whilst thousands of great cattle, reposed beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and are silent, pray do not imagine, that those that make the noise are the only in habitants of that field; that of course, they are many in number; or that, after all, they are other than the little shriveled, meagre, hopping, though loud and troublesome insects.” 

This calls to mind an image of a small nuisance, an insect making noise, which Burke personifies as the radical philosopher. Burke believes these dissenters make a lot of noise, but their sound seems to him nonsense, especially in contrast to the solid figure of the cow in the same field here,under the sturdy oak, chewing, serving its purpose, remaining strong and unabashedly comfortable among the chatter of the insects. Burke creates this image for his conservative reader; they can see the greater dignity in satisfaction over revolt.

“As to the new, they are in no sort of fear with regard to the duration of a building run up in haste; because duration is no object to those who think little or nothing has been done before their time, and who place all their hopes in discovery.” c

Burke draws an analogy between building a government and building a solid structure. When building a structure, the foundation must be strong; otherwise, the structure will crumble or require repair. Burke believes the architects of the French government are improvising the construction, adding annexes as it pleases them, regardless of the consequences.

“But the question is not now of the vices of that monarchy, but of its existence, is it then true, that the French government was such as to be incapable or undeserving of reform; so that it was of absolute necessity the whole fabric should be at once pulled down, and the whole area cleared for the erection of a theoretic experimental edifice in its place?” 

This question poses whether or not the French Revolution is really necessary. To Burke, the conditions of revolution are clear: an exorbitant tyranny that promises only a terrible future. In the case of France, he wants to know whether it made more sense to reform the monarchy (conservatism) or revolutionize it (radicalism).

“After destroying all other genealogies and family distinctions, they invent a sort of pedigree of crimes. It is not very just to chastise men for the offenses of their natural ancestors; but to take the fiction of ancestry in a corporate succession, as a ground for punishing men who have no relation to guilty acts, except in names and general descriptions is a sort of refinement in injustice belonging to the philosophy of this enlightened age.” 

By deposing the institution of the nobility along with the monarchy, Burke accuses the French Revolution of tarnishing the names of the landed nobles with accusations against their ancestors. Burke’s tone suggests he finds flaw that some tenet of the Enlightenment is to attach past crimes onto innocent parties not because they share an act but because they share a title.

“Wise men will apply their remedies to vices, not to name, to the causes of the evil which are permanent, not to the occasional organs by which they act, and the transitory modes in which they appear.” 

Burke urges readers to distinguish the difference between an evil person and an evil institution. For example, Burke points out that evil kings do exist, but that does not make the institution of the monarchy evil. Likewise, a man may decry the institution of the monarchy and chant liberty for evil purposes. It takes the wisdom of reflection to discern the difference.

“Rage and phrenzy will pull down more in half an hour, than prudence, deliberation, and foresight can build up in a hundred years.” 

Here, Burke cautions against radicalism; he notes radical thinking may inspire men into a frenzy of action, resulting in the total destruction of a great institution. He impresses upon the reader how it is much easier to tear something down (an existing government) than it is to rebuild a fallen dynasty (France prior to the Revolution, England as it stands).

“To execute laws is a royal office; to execute orders is not to be a king.” 

During the French Revolution, the Assembly reduces the office of king from absolute monarch, to monarch, to a limited executive power, as Burke describes it. Burke’s issue here lies in the degradation of the institution of the monarchy and the innate role of a king. To Burke, a king rules and creates law—to reduce Louis XVI to a position of executing the orders of the Assembly seems undignified. Burke maintains it would be better to remove him from office altogether than install some puppet king. As a puppet of the Assembly, Burke believes Louis XVI becomes a laughingstock to his people, something a traditionalist like Burke cannot accept. 

“In the weakness of one kind of authority, and in the fluctuation of all, the officers of an army will remain for some time mutinous and full of faction, until some popular general, who understands the art of conciliating the soldiery, and who possesses the true spirit of command, shall draw the eyes of all men upon himself.” 

Imbibed with individual rights, each solider will behave seditiously for some time until human nature compels him to follow a popular figure; now, with the nobility deposed, that general has the chance to rapidly climb the ranks of military command. Burke predicts that man will establish a military dictatorship, overtaking the shaky and factious Assembly.

“But what is liberty without wisdom, and without virtue? It is the greatest of all possible evils; but it is folly, vice, and madness, without tuition or restraint.” 

In one of his final plea to English readers, Burke argues one last time for the value of conservatism in this era of political change. He proposes that any government not grounded in the principles of morality and concrete wisdom will turn into chaos. The last thing Burke wants to see happen to his revered England is the destruction he foresees for the French.