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Letter IX
Letter IX of 24. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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sur le gouvernement.
Ce mélange dans le gouvernement d’Angleterre, ce concertentre les communes, les lords, et le roi, n’a pas toujours subsisté,L’Angleterre a été longtemps esclave; elle l’a été des Romains,des Saxons, des Danois, des Français. Guillaume le Conquérantla gouverna surtout avec un sceptre de fer: il disposait desbiens, de la vie de ses nouveaux sujets comme un monarquede l’Orient; il défendit, sous peine de mort, qu’aucun Anglaisosât avoir du feu et de la lumière chez lui passé huit heures dusoir, soit qu’il prétendît par là prévenir leurs assemblées nocturnes,soit qu’il voulût essayer, par une défense si bizarre,jusqu’où peut aller le pouvoir des hommes sur d’autres hommes.
Il est vrai qu’avant et après Guillaume le Conquérant lesAnglais ont eu des parlements: ils s’en vantent comme si cesassemblées, appelées alors parlements, composées de tyransecclésiastiques, et de pillards nommés barons, avaient été lesgardiens de la liberté et de la félicité publique.
Les barbares qui des bords de la mer Baltique fondirent dans le reste de l’Europe, apportèrent avec eux l’usage des étatsou parlements dont on fait tant de bruit, et qu’on connaît si peu.Les rois alors n’étaient point despotiques, cela est vrai: et c’estprécisément par cette raison que les peuples gémissaient dansune servitude misérable. Les chefs de ces sauvages qui avaientravagé la France, l’Italie, l’Espagne, et l’Angleterre, se firentmonarques; leurs capitaines partagèrent entre eux les terres desvaincus: de là ces margraves, ces lairds, ces barons, ces sous-tyrans,qui disputaient souvent avec des rois mal affermis lesdépouilles des peuples. C’étaient des oiseaux de proie combattantcontre un aigle pour sucer le sang des colombes: chaque peupleavait cent tyrans au lieu d’un bon maître. Des prêtres se mirentbientôt de la partie. De tout temps le sort des Gaulois, des Germains,des insulaires d’Angleterre, avait été d’être gouvernés parleurs druides et par les chefs de leurs villages, ancienne espècede barons, mais moins tyrans que leurs successeurs. Ces druidesse disaient médiateurs entre la Divinité et les hommes; ils faisaientdes lois, ils excommuniaient, ils condamnaient à mort. Lesévêques succédèrent peu à peu à leur autorité temporelle dans legouvernement goth et vandale. Les papes se mirent à leur tête;et, avec des brefs, des bulles, et des moines, ils firent tremblerles rois, les déposèrent, les firent assassiner, et tirèrent à eux toutl’argent qu’ils purent de l’Europe. L’imbécile Inas, l’un destyrans de l’heptarchie d’Angleterre, fut le premier qui dans unpèlerinage à Rome se soumit à payer le denier de saint Pierre(ce qui était environ un écu de notre monnaie) pour chaque maisonde son territoire. Toute l’île suivit bientôt cet exemple: l’Angleterredevint petit à petit une province du pape, le saint-pèrey envoyait de temps en temps ses légats pour y lever des impôtsexorbitants. Jean sans Terre fit enfin une cession en bonne formede son royaume à Sa Sainteté, qui l’avait excommunié; et lesbarons, qui n’y trouvèrent pas leur compte, chassèrent ce misérableroi et mirent à sa place Louis VIII, père de saint Louis,roi de France; mais ils se dégoûtèrent bientôt de ce nouveauvenu, et lui firent repasser la mer.
Tandis que les barons, les évêques, les papes, déchiraienttous ainsi l’Angleterre, où tous voulaient commander, le peuple,la plus nombreuse, la plus utile, et même la plus vertueuse partiedes hommes, composée de ceux qui étudient les lois et lessciences, des négociants, des artisans, des laboureurs enfin, quiexercent la première et la plus méprisée des professions; le peuple,dis-je, était regardé par eux comme des animaux au-dessous del’homme. Il s’en fallait bien que les communes eussent alors partau gouvernement: c’étaient des vilains; leur travail, leur sang,appartenaient à leurs maîtres, qui s’appelaient nobles. Le plusgrand nombre des hommes était en Europe ce qu’ils sont encoreen plusieurs endroits du monde, serfs d’un seigneur, espèce debétail qu’on vend et qu’on achète avec la terre. Il a fallu dessiècles pour rendre justice à l’humanité, pour sentir qu’il étaithorrible que le grand nombre semât et que le petit recueillît;et n’est-ce pas un bonheur pour les Français que l’autorité deces petits brigands ait été éteinte en France par la puissance légitimedes rois, comme elle l’a été en Angleterre par celle du roiet de la nation?
Heureusement, dans les secousses que les querelles des roiset des grands donnaient aux empires, les fers des nations se sontplus ou moins relâchés; la liberté est née en Angleterre des querellesdes tyrans; les barons forcèrent Jean sans Terre et Henri IIIà accorder cette fameuse charte dont le principal but était à lavérité de mettre les rois dans la dépendance des lords, mais danslaquelle le reste de la nation fut un peu favorisé, afin que dansl’occasion elle se rangeât du parti de ses prétendus protecteurs.Cette grande charte, qui est regardée comme l’origine sacrée deslibertés anglaises, fait bien voir elle-même combien peu la libertéétait connue. Le titre seul prouve que le roi se croyait absolu dedroit, et que les barons et le clergé même ne le forçaient à serelâcher de ce droit prétendu que parce qu’ils étaient les plusforts.
Voici comme commence la grande charte: « Nous accordons de notre libre volonté les priviléges suivants aux archevêques, évêques, abbés, prieurs, et barons de notre royaume, etc. »
Dans les articles de cette charte il n’est pas dit un mot de la chambre des communes, preuve qu’elle n’existait pas encore, ou qu’elle existait sans pouvoir. On y spécifie les hommes libres d’Angleterre: triste démonstration qu’il y en avait qui ne l’étaient pas. On voit par l’article 32 que les hommes prétendus libres devaient le service à leur seigneur. Une telle liberté tenait encore beaucoup de l’esclavage.
Par l’article 21, le roi ordonne que ses officiers ne pourront dorénavant prendre de force les chevaux et les charrettes des hommes libres qu’en payant. Ce règlement parut au peuple une vraie liberté, parce qu’il ôtait une plus grande tyrannie,
Henri VII, conquérant et politique heureux, qui faisait semblant d’aimer les barons, mais qui les haïssait et les craignait, s’avisa de procurer l’aliénation de leurs terres. Par là les vilains, qui, dans la suite, acquirent du bien par leurs travaux, achetèrent les châteaux des illustres pairs qui s’étaient ruinés par leurs folies. Peu à peu toutes les terres changèrent de maîtres.
La chambre des communes devint de jour en jour plus puissante, les familles des anciens pairs s’éteignirent avec le temps; et, comme il n’y a proprement que les pairs qui soient nobles en Angleterre dans la rigueur de la loi, il n’y aurait presque plus de noblesse en ce pays-là si les rois n’avaient pas créé de nouveaux barons de temps en temps, et conservé le corps des pairs, qu’ils avaient tant craint autrefois, pour l’opposer à celui des communes, devenu trop redoutable.
Tous ces nouveaux pairs, qui composent la chambre haute, reçoivent du roi leur titre, et rien de plus, puisque aucun d’eux n’a la terre dont il porte le nom: l’un est duc de Dorset, et n’a pas un pouce de terre en Dorsetshire; l’autre est comte d’un village, qui sait à peine où ce village est situé; ils ont du pouvoir dans le parlement, non ailleurs.
Vous n’entendez point ici parler de haute, moyenne, et basse justice, ni du droit de chasser sur les terres d’un citoyen, lequel n’a pas la liberté de tirer un coup de fusil sur son propre champ.
Un homme, parce qu’il est noble ou parce qu’il est prêtre, n’est point ici exempt de payer certaines taxes; tous les impôts sont réglés par la Chambre des Communes, qui, n’étant que la seconde par son rang, est la première par son crédit.
Les seigneurs et les évêques peuvent bien rejeter le bill des Communes lorsqu’il s’agit de lever de l’argent, mais il ne leur est pas permis d’y rien changer; il faut ou qu’ils le reçoivent ou qu’ils le rejettent sans restriction. Quand le bill est confirmé par les lords et approuvé par le roi, alors tout le monde paye; chacun donne, non selon sa qualité (ce qui serait absurde), mais selon son revenu; il n’y a point de taille ni de capitation arbitraire, mais une taxe réelle sur les terres; elles ont été évaluées toutes sous le fameux roi Guillaume III, et mises au-dessous de leur prix.
La taxe subsiste toujours la même, quoique les revenus des terres aient augmenté; ainsi personne n’est foulé, et personne ne se plaint. Le paysan n’a point les pieds meurtris par des sabots, il mange du pain blanc, il est bien vêtu, il ne craint point d’augmenter le nombre de ses bestiaux ni de couvrir son toit de tuiles, de peur que l’on ne hausse ses impôts l’année d’après. On y voit beaucoup de paysans qui ont environ cinq ou six cent livres sterling de revenu, et qui ne dédaignent pas de continuer à cultiver la terre qui les a enrichis, et dans laquelle ils vivent libres.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
On Government
This mixture in the government of England, this harmony among the Commons, the lords, and the king, has not always existed. England was long enslaved; it was enslaved by the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, the French. William the Conqueror in particular ruled it with an iron scepter: he disposed of the property and lives of his new subjects like an Eastern monarch; he forbade any Englishman, on pain of death, to keep a fire or a light in his home after eight o'clock in the evening, whether he intended thereby to prevent their nighttime gatherings or wished to test, by so strange a prohibition, how far the power of men over other men could go.
It is true that before and after William the Conqueror the English had parliaments: they boast of them as though these assemblies, then called parliaments, composed of clerical tyrants and plunderers called barons, had been the guardians of liberty and public happiness.
The barbarians who swept from the shores of the Baltic Sea into the rest of Europe brought with them the custom of estates or parliaments, about which so much noise is made and so little is known. The kings of that time were not despots, it is true: and for that very reason the peoples groaned in miserable servitude. The chiefs of these savages who had ravaged France, Italy, Spain, and England became monarchs; their captains divided the lands of the conquered among themselves: hence those margraves, lairds, barons, those lesser tyrants who often contested the spoils of the peoples with kings whose hold on power was uncertain. They were birds of prey fighting an eagle for the blood of doves: each people had a hundred tyrants instead of one good master. Priests soon entered the contest. The fate of the Gauls, the Germans, and the inhabitants of England had always been to be governed by their druids and by the chiefs of their villages, an ancient kind of baron, but less tyrannical than their successors. These druids called themselves mediators between the Divinity and men; they made laws, they excommunicated, they sentenced people to death. The bishops gradually succeeded to their temporal authority in the Gothic and Vandal government. The popes set themselves at their head; and with briefs, bulls, and monks they made kings tremble, deposed them, had them assassinated, and drew from Europe all the money they could. The imbecile Inas, one of the tyrants of England's heptarchy, was the first, on a pilgrimage to Rome, to submit to paying Peter's Pence (which amounted to about one écu of our currency) for every house in his territory. The whole island soon followed his example: little by little England became a province of the pope, and the Holy Father sent his legates there from time to time to levy exorbitant taxes. John Lackland finally made a formal surrender of his kingdom to His Holiness, who had excommunicated him; and the barons, finding no profit in this, drove out that wretched king and put in his place Louis VIII, father of Saint Louis, king of France; but they soon tired of this newcomer and made him cross the sea again.
While the barons, the bishops, and the popes were thus all tearing England apart, where all wanted to rule, the people—the most numerous, the most useful, and even the most virtuous part of humanity, consisting of those who study laws and sciences, of merchants, artisans, and, finally, farmers, who practice the foremost and most despised of occupations—the people, I say, were regarded by them as animals beneath human beings. The Commons were far from having a share in government then: they were villeins; their labor and their blood belonged to their masters, who were called nobles. Most people in Europe were what they still are in many parts of the world, serfs of a lord, a kind of livestock bought and sold with the land. It took centuries to do justice to humanity, to recognize the horror of having the many sow and the few reap; and is it not a blessing for the French that the authority of these petty brigands was extinguished in France by the legitimate power of kings, as it was in England by the power of the king and the nation?
Fortunately, amid the shocks that the quarrels of kings and magnates dealt to empires, the nations' chains loosened to some degree; liberty in England was born of the quarrels of tyrants. The barons forced John Lackland and Henry III to grant that famous charter whose principal purpose was, to be sure, to make kings dependent on the lords, but in which the rest of the nation was given some advantage, so that on occasion it would take the side of its supposed protectors. This great charter, regarded as the sacred origin of English liberties, itself shows how little liberty was understood. Its very title proves that the king believed himself absolute by right, and that the barons and even the clergy forced him to yield that supposed right only because they were stronger.
This is how the great charter begins: “Of our own free will we grant the following privileges to the archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and barons of our kingdom, etc.”
In the articles of this charter not a word is said of the House of Commons, proof that it did not yet exist, or that it existed without power. It specifies the free men of England: a sad indication that there were men who were not free. Article 32 shows that the supposedly free men owed service to their lord. Such liberty still had much of slavery about it.
By article 21, the king orders that henceforth his officers may not take the horses and carts of free men by force without paying for them. This regulation seemed genuine liberty to the people because it removed a greater tyranny.
Henry VII, a conqueror and a successful statesman, who pretended to love the barons but hated and feared them, conceived the idea of encouraging the sale of their lands. Thus the villeins, who subsequently acquired property through their work, bought the castles of illustrious peers who had ruined themselves through their follies. Little by little all the land changed hands.
The House of Commons grew more powerful day by day, while the families of the old peers died out with time; and since, strictly speaking, only peers are noble in England under the letter of the law, there would be scarcely any nobility left in that country if the kings had not created new barons from time to time and preserved the body of peers, which they once feared so much, as a counterweight to the Commons, which had grown too formidable.
All these new peers who make up the upper house receive their title from the king and nothing more, since none of them owns the land whose name he bears: one is Duke of Dorset and does not own an inch of land in Dorsetshire; another is earl of a village whose location he scarcely knows. They have power in Parliament, nowhere else.
You hear nothing here of high, middle, and low jurisdiction, or of the right to hunt on a citizen's land when that citizen is not free to fire a gun in his own field.
A man is not exempt here from paying certain taxes because he is a noble or a priest; all taxation is regulated by the House of Commons, which, though second in rank, is first in influence.
The lords and bishops may reject a Commons bill to raise money, but they are not permitted to change anything in it; they must accept it or reject it without qualification. When the bill is confirmed by the lords and approved by the king, everyone pays; each gives not according to his rank (which would be absurd), but according to his income; there is neither an arbitrary direct tax nor an arbitrary poll tax, but a fixed tax on land; all land was assessed under the famous King William III, and valued below its worth.
The tax remains unchanged, although income from land has increased; thus no one is oppressed and no one complains. The peasant's feet are not bruised by wooden clogs, he eats white bread, he is well dressed, and he is not afraid to increase the number of his livestock or to tile his roof for fear that his taxes will be raised the following year. One sees many peasants there with an income of about five or six hundred pounds sterling, who do not disdain to continue cultivating the land that has enriched them, and on which they live free.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource).
On Government
This mixture in England's government, this cooperation among the Commons, the lords, and the king, has not always existed. England was enslaved for a long time: by the Romans, the Saxons, the Danes, and the French. William the Conqueror in particular ruled it with an iron scepter. He controlled the property and lives of his new subjects like an Eastern monarch. He forbade any English person, on pain of death, to have a fire or a light at home after eight in the evening. Perhaps he meant to stop them meeting at night. Or perhaps this strange ban was a way to test how far one person's power over other people could go.
It is true that the English had parliaments before and after William the Conqueror. They boast about them as though those assemblies, then called parliaments and made up of tyrannical churchmen and robbers called barons, had protected freedom and the public's welfare.
The barbarians who swept into the rest of Europe from the shores of the Baltic Sea brought with them the practice of holding estates or parliaments. People make a great fuss about these assemblies but know very little about them. Kings were not despots then, it is true. And that was precisely why the people suffered under miserable servitude. The chiefs of these tribes who had ravaged France, Italy, Spain, and England made themselves kings. Their captains divided up the conquered people's land among themselves. That is how there came to be margraves, lairds, barons, and lesser tyrants, who often fought insecure kings over what they could steal from the people. They were birds of prey fighting an eagle for the chance to drink the blood of doves. Every people had a hundred tyrants instead of one good ruler. Priests soon joined in. From the earliest times, the Gauls, the Germanic peoples, and the islanders of England had been ruled by their druids and their village chiefs. These chiefs were an early kind of baron, but less tyrannical than their successors. The druids said they mediated between God and humanity. They made laws, expelled people from their religious community, and sentenced them to death. Under the Goths and Vandals, bishops gradually took over the druids' secular authority in government. The popes placed themselves at the bishops' head. With their formal letters, decrees, and monks, they made kings tremble, removed them from power, had them murdered, and drew as much money as they could from Europe. The foolish Inas, one of the rulers in England's seven kingdoms, was the first to agree, on a pilgrimage to Rome, to pay Peter's Pence for every house in his territory. This came to about one écu in our money per house. The whole island soon followed his example. England gradually became a province of the pope. The Holy Father sent his representatives there from time to time to collect exorbitant taxes. At last John Lackland formally surrendered his kingdom to His Holiness, who had expelled him from the Church. The barons, who saw nothing to gain from this, drove out the wretched king and replaced him with Louis VIII, king of France and father of Saint Louis. But they soon tired of the newcomer and sent him back across the sea.
While barons, bishops, and popes were all tearing England apart because they all wanted to rule it, the people were treated by them as less than human animals. The people were the largest, most useful, and even most virtuous part of humanity. They included those who studied law and science, merchants, craftspeople, and, finally, farmers, who practice the most important and most despised occupation. The common people were nowhere near having a share in government then. They were peasants, and their labor and blood belonged to masters who called themselves nobles. Across Europe most people were what they still are in several parts of the world: a lord's serfs, a kind of livestock bought and sold with the land. It took centuries to do humanity justice and recognize how terrible it was for the many to sow and the few to reap. And is it not fortunate for the French that the legitimate power of their kings put an end to the power of these petty thieves in France, just as the power of the king and nation did in England?
Fortunately, as disputes between kings and great lords shook their kingdoms, the bonds holding their peoples loosened to some degree. In England, freedom was born from quarrels among tyrants. The barons forced John Lackland and Henry III to grant that famous charter. Its main purpose, admittedly, was to make kings dependent on the lords. But it also gave the rest of the nation a little protection, so that people would side with their supposed protectors when the need arose. This great charter is seen as the sacred origin of English liberties, but it shows how little freedom people knew. Its very title proves that the king believed he had an absolute right to rule. The barons and even the clergy forced him to give up some of this supposed right only because they were stronger.
This is how the great charter begins: “Of our own free will we grant the following privileges to the archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and barons of our kingdom, etc.”
The charter's articles say not a word about the House of Commons. That proves it either did not exist yet or existed without power. The charter specifically mentions the free men of England, sad proof that some men were not free. Article 32 shows that those supposedly free men owed service to their lord. This kind of freedom was still very close to slavery.
In article 21 the king orders that from then on his officers may take the horses and carts of free men by force only if they pay for them. The people saw this rule as real freedom because it removed a worse form of tyranny.
Henry VII was a conqueror and a successful political operator. He pretended to love the barons but hated and feared them. He devised a way to get their lands sold off. As a result, peasants who later acquired wealth by their work bought the castles of distinguished peers who had ruined themselves by their foolish behavior. Little by little, all the land changed hands.
The House of Commons grew more powerful every day. The families of the old peers died out over time. Since, strictly speaking, only peers count as nobles under English law, there would now be almost no nobility in that country if kings had not created new barons from time to time. They kept the body of peers, which they had once feared so much, to set it against the Commons, which had become too powerful.
All these new peers who make up the upper house receive their titles from the king, and nothing more. None of them owns the land he is named after. One is Duke of Dorset and does not own an inch of land in Dorsetshire. Another is earl of a village and barely knows where the village is. They have power in Parliament, but nowhere else.
Here you hear nothing about high, middle, and low courts of justice, or about the right to hunt on a citizen's land when that citizen is not even free to fire a gun on his own field.
Being a noble or a priest does not exempt a man here from paying certain taxes. All taxes are set by the House of Commons, which ranks second but has the most influence.
The lords and bishops can reject a bill from the Commons when it concerns raising money, but they are not allowed to change any part of it. They must accept or reject it without conditions. When a bill is confirmed by the lords and approved by the king, everyone pays. Each person pays according to income, not social rank, which would be absurd. There is no arbitrary land tax or head tax, but a fixed tax on land. Every piece of land was assessed under the famous King William III, and assessed below its value.
The tax remains the same, even though income from the land has risen. So no one is crushed by taxes, and no one complains. Farmers do not have their feet bruised by wooden clogs. They eat white bread and dress well. They are not afraid to add to their livestock or put tiles on their roofs for fear of having their taxes raised the following year. You see many farmers there with incomes of about five or six hundred pounds sterling who are happy to go on farming the land that made them wealthy and on which they live in freedom.