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For one thing, the spread of Theravada Buddhism and its corollary, Thai cultural influence diminished the importance of priestly families close to the king who had crowded around the throne looking for preferment. In Angkorean times, these families had controlled much of the land and manpower around Angkor through their connections with royally sponsored religious foundations. As these foundations were replaced by wats Theravada Buddhist temples , the forms of social mobilization that had been in effect at Angkor broke down, and so did the massive and complicated irrigation system that had allowed Angkorean populations to harvest two or sometimes three crops of rice per year.

The elite grew less numerous as a result of these changes and out-migration, while its interests became more commercial. Unfortunately for us, these transformations occurred in a very poorly documented era. Through documents, we can examine Cambodian society before and after the transformations, but not while they were taking place. We have no clear idea, for example, why so many people changed religions when they did or how the process played out. Although there were clearly some economic incentives involved, it is hard to say why and when a landholding Angkorean elite transformed itself into, or was replaced by, an elite more interested in trade.

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Cambodia became a victim of its location. The region, in other words, lay along a cultural fault line. By the end of the eighteenth century, Cambodia had been devastated by civil wars and invasions from both sides; it was even without a monarch for several years. The early s, discussed in Chapters 6 and 7, formed perhaps the darkest portion of the post-Angkorean era.

By the mid-nineteenth century, Cambodia was almost a failed state. After a brief taste of independence under King Duang r. The economic, social, and cultural changes of the colonial period in Cambodia resembled those that occurred elsewhere in Southeast Asia, but they were less intense than those that affected Java, Burma, and the Philippines under systematic colonial rule. As in these other colonies, however, the changes that swept through Cambodia helped to put together the framework for the Cambodian nation-state that emerged very briefly in and again in Rice and corn, grown for the first time in large quantities for export, and rubber, grown for the first time altogether, now linked Cambodia with the world outside Southeast Asia.

Its economy, never especially strong, became partially dependent on this outside world. Perhaps the most visible difference between colonial and precolonial Cambodia, however, had to do with communications. By the s, one could travel across Cambodia by car in a couple of days—a journey that had taken months just fifty years before. Cambodians began moving around the country by road and rail and found markets for their products opening up.

The social changes that accompanied this new freedom of movement were obviously important, but they are hard to document precisely. Finally, for every Cambodian who had greeted the French if the image is appropriate in , there were four to say good-bye. By keeping the kingdom at peace and by introducing some improvements in hygiene, the French presided over a demographic revolution that, when it intensified in the s, soon put serious pressures on Cambodian resources.

Since the s these pressures have become even more severe, and Cambodia now has thirteen million people. With hindsight, however, it is clear that the summer of , when Japan granted Cambodia its independence, had a profound effect on many Cambodian young people. In the late s after the French returned, a new political ideology based on resistance rather than cooperation and on independence rather than subordination also took hold among many rural Cambodians, as well as in sectors of the Buddhist clergy and the educated elite.

Some of these people opted for a revolutionary alternative to the status quo, occasionally with disastrous effects. These developments in the s and early s, discussed in Chapter 10, continued as an undertone to Cambodian political ideology ever since. Cambodia gained its independence in , but its economy remained much as it had been under the French. Under the relatively benign dictatorship of the former king, now titled Prince Norodom Sihanouk, which lasted from to , education expanded, the economy flourished, and the country enjoyed a period now regarded by most Cambodians over fifty as a kind of golden age.

Soon afterward the new, pro-American government declared that Cambodia had become a republic. This move, which ended over a thousand years of Cambodian kingship, which was restored in , occurred in the context of a Vietnamese Communist invasion, U. The latter were soon controlled by the CPK, and a brutal civil war lasted until April , when the Communists, known popularly in the West as the Khmer Rouge, were victorious. The new regime abolished money, markets, formal schooling, Buddhist practices, and private property. In a headlong rush toward a socialist Utopia, nearly two million Cambodians, or one in four, died of overwork, malnutrition, and misdiagnosed diseases or were executed.

The regime of Democratic Kampuchea DK effectively destroyed itself when its leaders decided in , with Chinese encouragement, to wage war on the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. These men and women were said to have Cambodian bodies and Vietnamese minds. Such actions hastened the collapse of DK and paved the way for a Vietnamese invasion. For several years, the regime submitted to Vietnamese guidance and control, particularly in the realms of defense, internal security, and foreign relations.

Resistance forces, claiming loyalty to Sihanouk, the CPK, and an amorphous middle-class grouping, found sanctuary in Thailand and received political support from the United Nations that was spearheaded by the United States and China. Aside from recent and sizable discoveries of oil offshore, as discussed in the final chapter, these have been remarkably consistent over the two millennia to be examined in the book. Developments in the manufacturing sector have also been significant since the early s.

In early times, as discussed in Chapter 2, the cultivation of grain, probably wet rice for the most part, supported the people of the Mekong Delta in the region known to the Chinese as Funan. The extensive hydraulic works at Angkor, discussed in Chapter 3, amplified this earlier technology. The relationships among the seasons, water, rice, and subsistence agriculture have remained crucial throughout Cambodian history. Supplements to the diet, however, may have changed somewhat.

The amount of wild game has undoubtedly decreased, and in recent times imported and processed items have become available. The mainstay supplements, however—fish, roots, locally grown spices—appear to have changed very little from one century to the next. The economy of Angkor, now receiving detailed scholarly attention, is somewhat peculiar because, unlike most neighboring states, the empire never used money of any kind.

Pots, sickles, oxcarts, unglazed pottery, and cotton cloth, to name only five, appear to have changed little between the twelfth century, when they appeared on bas-reliefs at Angkor, and the present day. A third consistency in the Cambodian economy lies in the field of exports. These included rhinoceros horns, hides, ivory, cardamom, lacquer, and perfumed wood. Because these exports paid for the luxuries imported by the Cambodian elite, it is important to note the symbiosis that existed between woodland populations responsible for gathering these products and the people who had settled in the agricultural plains.

This relationship is examined in a nineteenth-century context in Chapter 6. Like many other countries of Southeast Asia, Cambodia has two distinct seasons rather than four. The rainy season, dominated by the southeasterly monsoon, lasts from May to November. The rest of the year is dry. Over the years, rice farmers and administrators have calibrated their activities to the ebb and flow of these conditions.

In the wet season much of Cambodia is under water. As a result, in precolonial times at least, military campaigns almost never began in wet weather; at the same time, because there was little for farmers to do in the fields once the rains had started, these months came to be favored by young men who wanted to spend short periods on the move or in monasteries as Buddhist monks. Unlike the other countries of mainland Southeast Asia, Cambodia has no mountain ranges running north to south that might provide barriers to military penetration. These have never posed serious problems for invaders, either from Champa in Angkorean times or more recently from Vietnam.

Conversely, in its periods of greatness, Cambodia expanded easily into the plains of eastern and central Thailand and extended its authority into the Mekong Delta, not yet occupied to any great extent by ethnic Vietnamese. On the one hand, because Cambodia had no deep-water port of its own until the s, most overseas commerce reached the Cambodian capital by coming upriver from the China Sea. On the other hand, foreign influences like foreign armies tended to come overland. The conversion of the kingdom to Theravada Buddhism discussed in Chapter 4 is an example of this process of infiltration and osmosis.

In the twenty-first century, Cambodia is a country that has been scarred by its recent past and identifies itself closely with more distant periods. It is the only country in the world that boasts a ruin on its national flag.


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It may still be too soon, and it is certainly very difficult, to speak with assurance about the prospects for Cambodian society in its partially globalized, postrevolutionary phase. But the times that DK spokespersons were accustomed to call two thousand years of history still remain relevant to recent events and to Cambodians today. For these reasons, they deserve the sustained attention that the following pages hope to provide. Carbon 14 dates from a cave at Laang Spean in northwestern Cambodia, however, suggest that people who knew how to make pots lived in the cave as early as BCE.

Another cave, near the ocean, was inhabited about a thousand years later. Presumably the first Cambodians arrived long before either of these dates; evidence of a more primitive, pebble-working culture has been found in the eastern parts of the country. Skulls and human bones found at Samrong Sen, inhabited since around BCE suggest that these prehistoric Cambodians physically resembled Cambodians today. In any case, it is likely that by the beginning of the Christian era the inhabitants of what is now Cambodia spoke languages related to present-day Cambodian, or Khmer.

Languages belonging to the Mon-Khmer family are found widely scattered over mainland Southeast Asia as well as in some of the islands and in parts of India. Modern Vietnamese, although heavily influenced by Chinese, is a distant cousin. It is impossible to say when these languages split off from one another; some linguists believe that the split took place several thousand years ago. Khmer, then, unlike the other national languages of mainland Southeast Asia—aside from Vietnamese—is not a newcomer to the area.

What is interesting about the cave at Laang Spean is not merely that it was inhabited, on and off, for so long—the most recent carbon 14 date from the cave is from the ninth century CE—but that the methods used to make pottery found at the earliest level, and the patterns incised on them, have remained unchanged for perhaps six thousand years.

Both points of view ignore a great deal of evidence; arguably, the revolution of the s was the fifth major one that Cambodia has undergone since prehistoric times. But prerevolutionary Cambodians were less contemptuous of tradition than Pol Pot was. Choose the path your ancestors have trod. We know very little about the daily lives of Cambodians in prehistoric times. We do know that their diet, like that of Cambodians today, included a good deal of fish.

It seems likely that their houses, from an early date, were raised above the ground and made accessible by means of ladders. Clothing was not especially important; early Chinese accounts refer to the Cambodians as naked. After about BCE perhaps, they lived in fortified villages, often circular in form, similar to those inhabited nowadays by some tribal peoples in Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam. Sites of such villages have been excavated in eastern Cambodia. These early people probably passed on many of their customs and beliefs to later inhabitants of the region, although we cannot be sure of this, and there are dangers of reading back into prehistoric and early Cambodia what we can see among so-called primitive tribes or twenty-first-century peasants.

We cannot be sure that these modern customs have not changed over time. Hairstyles, for example, changed dramatically in Cambodia as recently as the early eighteenth century, and in the s they were changed again by the revolutionary regime. All the same, it is unlikely that certain elements of Cambodian life and thinking, especially in the countryside, have changed a great deal since Angkorean times from the ninth to the mid-fifteenth centuries or even over the last few thousand years.

All-inclusive theories about it advanced by French and Dutch scholars usually put too little emphasis on the element of local choice; a few writers, on the other hand, may have tended to exaggerate the importance of local elements. The process by which a culture changes is complex. When and why did Indian cultural elements come to be preferred to local ones? Which ones were absorbed, revised, or rejected? In discussing Indianization, we encounter the categories that some anthropologists have called the Great and others, the Little traditions, the first connected with India, Sanskrit, the courts, and Hinduism, and the other with Cambodia, Khmer, villages, and folk religion.

In the Cambodian case, these categories are not especially useful. We cannot play down the Great Tradition in Cambodian village life. Where does monastic Buddhism fit in, for example, or Little Tradition activities, like ancestor worship and folk stories, at the court? Village wisdom always penetrated the court, and princely values enshrined in Hindu epics and Buddhist legends, or jataka tales, penetrated village life. Nowadays, urban and rural cultural traditions interact in Cambodia in a similar fashion. Nevertheless, the process of Indianization made Cambodia an Indian- seeming place.

In the nineteenth century, for example, Cambodian peasants still wore recognizably Indian costumes, and in many ways they behaved more like Indians than like their closest neighbors, the Vietnamese. Cambodians ate with spoons and fingers, for example, and carried goods on their heads; they wore turbans rather than straw hats and skirts rather than trousers. Musical instruments, jewelry, the alphabet, and manuscripts were also Indian in style. It is possible also that Indians had introduced cattle raising in Cambodia at a relatively early date; it is unknown, to a great extent, in the rest of mainland Southeast Asia.

Trade between prehistoric India and Cambodia probably began long before India itself was Sanskritized. Sacrifices to the stones, it was thought, ensured the fertility of the soil. Similarly, a Cambodian visiting India, or hearing about it, would see some of his own cults in those that honored the Indian god. During the first five hundred years or so of the current era, India provided Cambodia with a writing system, a pantheon, meters for poetry, a language Sanskrit to write it in, a vocabulary of social hierarchies not the same as a caste system , Buddhism, the idea of universal kingship, and new ways of looking at politics, sociology, architecture, iconography, astronomy, and aesthetics.

Without India, Angkor would never have been built; yet, Angkor was never an Indian city any more than medieval Paris was a Roman one. Indian influence in Cambodia was not imposed by colonization or by force. Indian troops never invaded Cambodia, and if individual Indians enjoyed high status, as they often did, it was partly by convincing local people that they deserved it. When Indians came, at first as adventurers, perhaps, or as traders, they were absorbed into the local population.

Perhaps just as often, news from India came via Cambodian traders who had visited the subcontinent. Indianization never produced the identity crisis among Cambodians that Chinese colonization and cultural imperialism produced among the Vietnamese. Cambodia never resisted India, which was not, in any case, a unified state. Moreover, unlike Vietnam vis-a-vis Han China, Cambodia never looked to India—after the fourteenth century or so—for ideas, approval, or advice.

Indianization gave a format and a language to elite Cambodian life, but it was not narrowly political. Moreover, the hierarchical arrangements that came to characterize the language and behavior of the Cambodian elite, although owing something to Indian models, never sprang from a recognizable caste system affecting Cambodian society as a whole. At the village level, caste considerations never took root; what resembled a caste system at the medieval Cambodian court, moreover, probably was little more than a set of ritual procedures that showed respect for Indian traditions.

Instead, national identity, until recent times, was seen as the sum of social arrangements in effect inside Cambodia. Indianization and elements of life that may be traceable to India were merely components of the sum. The fact that they came from India just as our polysyllables so often come from Greece and Rome was not considered a reason for alarm. Like many Southeast Asian countries, Cambodia has a legend that originates with the marriage of a foreigner and a dragon princess, or nagi, whose father was the king of a waterlogged country.

According to one version of the myth, a brahman named Kaundinya, armed with a magical bow, appeared one day off the shore of Cambodia. The dragon-princess paddled out to meet him. Kaundinya shot an arrow into her boat, frightening the princess into marrying him. But if it is useless as a fact, it offers us an interesting starting point for Cambodian history. In the myth, Cambodians see themselves as the offspring of a marriage between culture and nature. In the myth, the local people i.

To be a legitimate king, it seems, one had to be Cambodian and Indian at the same time. FUNAN Chinese officials recorded the Kaundinya myth; indeed, for the first few centuries of the Christian era, written sources for Cambodian history are almost entirely Chinese. These are supplemented by archaeological findings, especially from the remains of an ancient trading city located near the modern Vietnamese village of Oc-Eo in the Mekong Delta, excavated during World War II by an archaeological team supervised by Louis Malleret.

Malleret believed that the port declined in importance in the fourth century. No contemporary records about it have survived, however, and we do not know what it was called by its inhabitants. These included gold, elephants, ivory, rhinoceros horn, kingfisher feathers, wild spices like cardamom, and forest products such as lacquer, hides, and aromatic wood.

Plantation exports like rubber and pepper were developed in the colonial era; rice exports, which made up the bulk of twentieth-century Cambodian foreign trade, were also of little use in early times, when nearly everyone in the region produced enough to feed themselves.

The point to make about these high-value, low-bulk goods is that they were cultivated or caught by forest people rather than by the inhabitants of towns. Many of them probably traveled considerable distances before they reached Oc-Eo, and so did the goods or coins that traders used to pay for them. Until very recently, many scholars believed that Oc-Eo was the seaport for an important kingdom identified by Chinese sources as Funan and located by George Coedes using linguistic evidence rather than archaeological findings near the small hillock known as Ba Phnom, in southeastern Cambodia, east of the Mekong.

According to Coedes, the word Funan derives from the old Khmer word for mountain , bnarn , and he located the ritual center of the kingdom at Ba Phnom. A cult to Siva as a mountain deity existed in Cambodia as early as the fifth century CE and may well have been enacted on Ba Phnom.

This deity regularly descends on Mt. Mo-Tam so that the climate is constantly mild and herbs and trees do not wither. The evidence that either mountain was a cult site is stronger than the evidence that Funan was a major, unified kingdom or that its political center was associated with either hill. What made the place important to the Chinese was that a principality dubbed Funan by the Chinese offered tribute to the Chinese emperor, on an irregular basis, between and Stone inscriptions in Sanskrit and Khmer from a century later are available for study; they do not provide evidence for a major kingdom.

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It is also possible that Funan was thought to be a major kingdom because the Chinese wanted it to be one and, later, because French scholars were eager to find a predecessor for the more centralized kingdom of Angkor, which developed in northwestern Cambodia in the ninth century. Despite their usefulness in many ways, Chinese sources for this period present peculiar problems for the historian, as many of them uncritically repeat data from previous compilations as if they were still true.

Palisades take the place of walls in fortified places. The houses are covered with leaves of a plant which grows on the edge of the sea. These leaves are six to seven feet long, and take the form of a fish. The king rides mounted on an elephant. His subjects are ugly and black; their hair is frizzy; they wear neither clothing nor shoes. For living, they cultivate the soil; they sow one year, and reap for three.

These barbarians are not without their own history books; they even have archives for their texts. We have seen in the Kaundinya myth that drainage was attributed to the good offices of a dragon king, but the most important passage related to this innovation, and to Indianization, is Chinese, one which appears at first to be a garbled version of the original myth: Then a Brahman named Kaundinya ruled the kingdom. A spirit announced to him that he would be called upon to govern Funan, so he traveled there.

He changed the institutions to follow Indian models. He wanted his subjects to stop digging wells, and to dig reservoirs in the future; several dozen families could then unite and use one of these in common. Indeed, Isanapura probably consisted of villages grouped around a common ritual center, whose stone buildings have survived. Even after the introduction of wet-rice technology, perhaps in the fourth or fifth century, the area under irrigation, which is to say, under the control of supravillage organizations, was never very great. Moreover, it seems likely that most villagers in the hinterland continued to grow dry rice and to cultivate roots, supplementing their diet by hunting and gathering, long after irrigation and wet-rice cultivation had taken hold in comparatively Hinduized communities.

People, rather than land per se, are needed to cultivate wet rice. Keeping in mind this fact, as well as the low density of the population in the entire area always excepting Java, Bali, and the Red River delta in Vietnam , it is easy to see why, throughout Southeast Asian history, overlordship and power were so often thought of and pursued in terms of controlling people rather than land.

Population pressure, of course, probably impelled some Cambodian rulers, perhaps including Jayavarman II, to take control over new territory where the population could be deployed to grow rice. Nonetheless, control over territory per se mere forest in most cases was rarely as important as controlling people. Indeed, the notion of alienable ownership of land, as distinct from land use, does not seem to have developed in pre-Angkorean Cambodia.

Land left fallow for three years reverted to state control. The king, theoretically at least, was the lord of all the land in the kingdom, which meant that he could reward people with the right to use it. Many of the Cambodian- language inscriptions from the Angkorean period, as we shall see, dealt with complicated disputes about access to land and labor resources. The record of inscriptions and, by inference, of architectural remains from the first eight centuries of the Christian era fails to provide evidence of large- scale unified kingdoms on Cambodian soil and aside from Angkor Borei very little evidence of the development of urban centers.

There seems to have been some continuity among members of the elite, traceable in part to their tendency to marry among themselves, as we learn from surviving inscriptions. Presumably, these chiefdoms traded among themselves and raided each other, particularly for slaves. It also seems likely that each king, when undisturbed or when disturbing others , thought of himself as a universal monarch, benefiting from Indian teachings, as well as a local chieftain, performing identifiable Cambodian tasks. Leadership was measured to a large extent by prowess, which was measured by success in battle, by the ability to attract a large following, and by demonstrated skill at performing religious rituals and providing protection.

Derrett has pointed out, protection, along with rainfall, is the sine qua non of peasant society: protection from enemies, from rival overlords, from the forces of nature. The overlords themselves thought that they could not live without supernatural protection, and most of them sought this, in part, through their devotion to Siva. Here they were assisted, for a time at least, by a group of Indian brahmans, the so-called pasuputa , who enjoyed a vogue in India and elsewhere in Southeast Asia around the fifth and sixth centuries.

As late as , human sacrifices to a consort of Siva were conducted at Ba Phnom at the beginning of the agricultural year. Like those described in fifth-century Chinese sources, these had the objective of transmitting fertility to the region and, like the Chinese rituals, they were sponsored by local officials. In both schemes of thought, power and ability were seen—especially by those who did not have them—as rewards for virtuous behavior in previous lives.

The loss, diminution, or absence of power, moreover, revealed to people that a previous existence had been in some way flawed. To improve personal status, then, one could accumulate merit by performing virtuous acts, like subsidizing a temple or being generous to monks, donating a gilded image of a god, or sponsoring religious festivals. Acts like these were thought to redeem the person performing them. As we shall see, the great temples at Angkor were also thought of as redemptive gestures of this kind, as bargains struck by kings with their immediate ancestors and, through them, with the gods.

No one at the time or later could see if the bargains were a success, but the thought of neglecting to make them, especially when the afterlife meant a return to earth, occurred seldom if at all. The notions of patron, client , and entourage become important during later stages of Cambodian history—they are certainly useful keys to nineteenth-century Cambodian society, and to some extent Cambodian political life today—but it would be dangerous to assume that precisely similar arrangements were in effect in Cambodia in the sixth and seventh centuries.

We seldom know how overlords came to power, for example, or how they recruited followers. We do not know what made followers linger in their service, or often what the services entailed. The evidence suggests that we can describe pre-Angkorean society in Cambodia as an aggregation of leaders and followers, occupying spaces of territory and spaces in society that were thought about in terms of centers and peripheries, corresponding to the Indian concept of mandalas although the term itself was not used in a political sense in Cambodia at the time.

Things were not quite as simple, however. Localized religious cults, like the ones Eveline Poree-Maspero and others examined in Cambodia in the s and s, 22 generally stressed the welfare of the community rather than that of the individual, for without communities to perform the work, irrigated rice cannot be grown. Rural life requires alliances. The human sacrifices at Ba Phnom were one example of this communal orientation.

Others included the complex of rituals still ushering in the agricultural year today—the sacred furrow, the towers of sand, and so forth; the royal cults that in effect negotiate with the dead for the welfare of the kingdom; and the boat races that take place in flooded rivers at the end of planting. Although these cults at first appear to be antagonistic to each other the Great and Little traditions once again , in fact they are complementary. Because genealogies were not maintained in Cambodia, except among the elite, the nak ta, or ancestor people, had no family names.

They thus became the symbolic ancestors of people in a particular place, or by dying in a place they came to patronize its soil. Nak ta in inhabited sites could be spoken to and tamed; those in the forest or in abandoned places were thought to be more powerful and more malignant. As a place was inhabited, ancestral traditions over the years gathered around it, although seldom to the same extent as in China or Vietnam.

The tendency to syncretize, in fact, was noted by early Chinese visitors. Motan, for example, also mentions a bodhisattva, or Buddha-to-be, that was held in reverence at the time.

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Occasionally, two Indian gods were blended with each other, as Siva did with Vishnu to form Harihara, a composite deity much favored by Angkorean kings. Hindu temples also were often built near sites favored by pre-Indian celebrations; there are Neolithic remains underneath the palace at Angkor. If ancestors became Indian gods in times of centralization and prosperity, the gods became ancestors again when the rationale for Hinduism and its priestly supporters diminished or disappeared.

Thus, at Angkor, and in Cham sites in Vietnam studied in the s by Paul Mus, Indian images and temples were worshiped in quite recent times not as emanations from India but as mysterious products of the nak ta. The most enduring cult, as Paul Mus has shown, was the cult of the lingam, or stone phallus. Because of the territorial aspect of the cult a lingam could be moved from place to place, ceremoniously, but was only potent in one place at a time and the notion that the lingam was a patron of a community, it was closely supervised by local overlords and by the king in the Angkorean era.

During this period, trade between India and China was intense, and one of the principal components of this trade was Buddhist religious objects. Local religious practices emphasized devotion to Siva, Vishnu, and the Buddha as well as to minor and local Hindu deities, particularly female ones, known as kpon? We hear no Cambodian voices, as we do from the seventh century onward in the form of stone inscriptions. After the waning of Funan, in fact, our sources become richer and harder to use.

According to the inscriptions, Cambodian society was divided, informally at least, into those who understood Sanskrit and those who understood only Khmer. For several hundred years, Sanskrit was used in inscriptions that supposedly addressed the gods. Khmer, on the other hand, was the predominant language of Cambodian men and women, those who were protected by the gods and descended, as gods did not, from their ancestors and the highly localized nak ta. Sanskrit inscriptions, in verse, praise the actions of kings and the elite, such as building Hindu temples, sponsoring Buddhist monasteries, winning wars, and offering gifts to monks and brahmans.

Some of the speakers trace or doctor their genealogies, as if to cash in on or invent ancestral merit; many praise brahmans at the expense of other segments of the society; and all are fulsome in praise of those in power, who have, after all, allowed the temples to be built and the stone inscriptions to be incised. Much of the verse, according to Indianists, is highly polished, subtly worded, and well composed, comparing favorably with Sanskrit poetry composed in India at the time.

Khmer inscriptions, on the other hand, are all in prose. They record the founding of temples and the details of temple administration, such as the numbers and names of people attached to a particular foundation. Many of them outline the duties of slaves and set the amount of taxes, payable in labor or in kind, levied to support the temple priests. Many of them close with a curse—always in Khmer—threatening people who neglect, rob, or disrupt the temple in question with punishment over many generations.

A little too neatly, perhaps, the line between Sanskrit and Khmer separates the so-called Great and Little traditions. On the one hand, there are wealth, poetry, intricacy, wordplay, priests, and access to the gods, i. On the other, there are poverty, prose, straightforward catalogs, slaves, and the world of ordinary people, i. Both sets of inscriptions used the same sort of alphabet derived from India and, as a rule, were carved by the same masons.

Presumably poets and priests, if they wanted to do so, could read them both. But were they intended to be read? In general, they were accessible enough, carved on temple door posts or on freestanding steles; probably the texts were also kept on perishable material in archives somewhere else. The reason they were carved at all may have been that writing on stone, the medium of the gods, served a special purpose.

Stone was not used in secular sites; these, including palaces and ordinary dwellings, were built of wood, bamboo, and other perishable materials. Sanskrit, moreover, was said by the elite to be the language favored by the gods; stone was associated with permanence, which is to say, the dead. In incising the stones, Cambodians were speaking, collectively, to their ancestors; the inscriptions themselves, if in Sanskrit, spoke the language of the gods. A curse, or an oath of allegiance, inscribed on stone was thought to be stronger.

Moreover, the juridical aspect of the inscriptions should not be overlooked. By recording land grants on stone, for example, it was thought that beneficiaries would be recognized and protected; similarly, curses in Khmer might serve as burglar alarms and preserve the sites from depredations. The division between Sanskrit and Khmer was also the division between those who grew rice and those who did not. Most of those were placed, in Angkorean times, into various varna , or caste groupings, which made up perhaps a tenth of the society as a whole.

These people included clerks, artisans, concubines, artists, high officials, and priests, as well as royal servants, relatives, and soldiers. Because they seldom served as slaves, and only a few of them were important enough to patronize a temple, these people appear rarely in Cambodian inscriptions. This omission means, among other things, that we never know the names of the people who designed and carved the magnificent statuary and temples of Angkor. By the seventh century, in fact, the city of Isanapura was already the most extensive complex of stone buildings in all Southeast Asia, built a century ahead of similar constructions in Java.

The connotations of Western-oriented social terms like these bedevil us when we look to other Cambodian social groups. For one thing, as Judith Jacob has shown, knjom was only one of some fourteen categories of slaves in pre-Angkorean CambodiaF 0 They had many levels of social status, different origins, and many kinds of duties.

Those toiling in the fields resembled black slaves in the antebellum American South. Others, especially those attached to temples, may have seen themselves as enjoying quasi-clerical status. And yet, as all of these groups of people apparently could be bought, sold, and given away and had no freedom to escape, they were not servants either.

Many of them were probably bondsmen working off debts contracted by themselves or by their parents. Were they serfs? The question should make us wary of the interchangeability of terms, and Communist statements in the s that early Cambodia was feudal are inaccurate even when it is clear that the society was exploitative and divided sharply between haves and havenots. The evidence that connects slaves to places is incomplete, although some of them appear to have been attached to certain places for several generations. This suggests hereditary servitude, or a liability to be called on, and being attached to a place rather than to a particular lord.

Some villagers were free to grow their own rice but were not free to move, others appear to have been owned by temples, still others by members of the elite. Practice and theory seem to have varied from time to time and from place to place; generalizations about Cambodian society in this period are difficult to make. Evidence from inscriptions suggests that slaves of various kinds may well have made up the majority of the Cambodian population at any given time.

Free peasants were liable to calls on their time and energy to perform public works, favors for an overlord, or service to a temple or to serve in wars. Many of them, in fact, were either prisoners of war or their descendants. The slaves themselves pass in and out of Cambodian history as mere names. These are a melange of Sanskrit and Khmer words. From one inscription to another, they range from respectful references some knjom are referred to by the equivalent of Mr.

Many of their names would be recognizable in Cambodia today; the names of flowers, for instance, are still widely used for girls. Another difference between pre-Angkorean slaves and those of the antebellum United States is that the villages they lived in, the food they ate, and the beliefs they shared were not very different from those found in times of freedom whatever the term meant to a rice farmer at this time or from those of the masters whom they served. If the knjom had been uprooted, they usually came from fairly similar cultures; the gap between the city and the countryside was not yet meaningful or wide.

As servants of temples, moreover, many knjom participated in rituals that punctuated the year, such as the times when gilded images were washed, clothed, and paraded around a temple, or when the eyes of a Buddha-image were ceremonially opened. They crowded around royal processions and made decorations for palanquins as these passed through.

The knjom lived in the vicinity of grandeur. Among themselves, they probably explained grandeur, in turn, in terms of merit and merit in terms of protection. They saw themselves as engaged, like others in the society, in plotting their own redemption. What better way to do this than to serve the priests who served the temple gods? A ninth-century statue buried in the forest near Kompong Cham.

We can come to these tentative conclusions by reading back from recent Cambodian life or by studying bas-reliefs, statues, artifacts, and inscriptions. What would they have said? It is difficult to imagine without asking a second question: To whom would they be talking? Among themselves, of course, most Cambodian peasants are frank and egalitarian, but they take few risks in the presence of outsiders. But Cambodian history is filled with rebellions and civil wars, and events since should make us wary of writers who insist on a natural passivity among Cambodian peasants.

The absence of peasant voices makes it almost as hard, all the same, to make a case for persistent tumult as for harmony. Most of the time there was plenty of cause for both. JNinth-century statues abandoned in the forest near rvompong Cham. P Yet, pre-Angkorean Cambodia, and perhaps even Angkor itself, was not an integrated despotic state. Instead, it was a collection and a sequence of principalities sharing a somewhat despotic language of politics and control.

Because the rulers of these principalities, some of whom were women, saw themselves as absolute, they were rivals of each other and thus independent. And yet throughout the eighth century a period about which Chinese sources are silent, for no tribute from Cambodia had arrived Cambodia was becoming more politically coherent in a process masterfully described, using Khmer-language inscriptions, by Michael Vickery. Integration involved increased population, increased wet-rice technology, alterations in patterns of local authority and apparently random inputs, like victories in war or protracted periods of peace.

The distribution of pre-Angkorean inscriptions indicates that the more populated sections of Cambodia—as in the twentieth century, but not in the Angkorean era—were along the banks of the Mekong and lower Tonle Sap, particularly to the south of present-day Phnom Penh, with other settlements along the upper Mekong near present-day Kratie. Until quite recently, scholars sought to consolidate this assortment of small kingdoms under the name Chenla, which was given to one of them by the Chinese and preserved in nineteenth-century Vietnamese as a name for Cambodia.

The Chinese were not averse to exaggerating the importance of the so-called barbarian states from which they received tribute. It seems that some princes managed, sometimes, to take the leadership of a more or less large collection of realms; but this situation was to all appearances only temporary. It is clear nonetheless that by the seventh and eighth centuries, coastal trading states in Cambodia like Funan and others like it elsewhere in Southeast Asia had faded or changed into polities farther inland, known in the Cambodian case by the collective term Chenla.

The wealth of these new kingdoms derived primarily from extensive wet-rice agriculture and the mobilization of manpower rather than from subsistence agriculture and trade. Ideologies from India, which survive today in architecture, sculpture, and inscriptions, seem to have played a prominent role in molding and directing these societies, perhaps because ideas of this hierarchical kind were useful in legitimizing the extraction of surpluses more or less by force.

Rituals may have become associated with wealth as time went on, and wealth may have become tied to supernatural skills, in a process of state formation ably discussed by Vickery and Jonathan Friedman among othersA It is impossible, however, to recapture the process from the documents that have survived.

What is important in terms of the sweep of Cambodian history is that the geographical and economic shifts of the seventh and eighth centuries reversed themselves in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and that, just as the first set of changes can be associated with the formation of Angkor in the ninth and tenth centuries, the second set can be associated with the establishment of a less monumental, less ambitious, and somewhat more outward-looking state centered in the area of present-day Phnom Penh.

In fact, these years mark neither a beginning nor an end. Moreover, although much of the city was abandoned in the fifteenth century, it remained an inhabited site and was restored as a royal city briefly in the s. More important, one of its major temples, Angkor Wat i. At various times in these six hundred years, Cambodia—known in its own inscriptions as Kambuja-desa—was the mightiest kingdom in Southeast Asia, drawing visitors and tribute from as far away as present-day Burma and Malaysia as well as from what were later to be Thai kingdoms to the west.

We know too little about social conditions at this time, moreover, to classify all Cambodian kings as despots. Some of them, as far as we can tell, accomplished little or nothing; others left scores of inscriptions, temples, statues, and public works. Some kings ruled over a centralized, multileveled administration; others seem to have controlled only a few hundred followers. One fact that emerges from studying the kings in order—as L.

Briggs, George Coedes and Claude Jacques have done—is that they were able to command a variety of people. Seen in terms of artistic styles, media, and motifs—including the facility of Cambodian poets in Sanskrit —it is possible to talk about progress, development, and decline without being able to say why some periods were supposedly progressive and others decadent. Seen from the bottom, it is easy to generalize again about continuity between that era and much more recent times, but we are still handicapped by the poverty of our sources.

Sources, indeed, pose major problems. Those connected with inscriptions written in Sanskrit or in Khmer have been discussed in Chapter 2, but it is important to see how the biases of these documents produce a skewed picture of Cambodian society at Angkor. The Sanskrit poems proclaim the grandeur of kings; the Khmer inscriptions exhibit the precision with which jurisdictional squabbles were prosecuted and slaves registered.

Here and there, we can use inscriptions to cross-reference official careers; here and there—especially when they provide inventories of temple treasures and personnel—they give us a glimpse of material culture. But it is as if U. These kinds of documents, of course, are meticulously dated.

With some exceptions, therefore, the chronological framework of Angkor, particularly for the monarchs who reigned there, has been reconstructed after having been forgotten by the Cambodians themselves. The job of chronological reconstruction was never easy; it occupied much of the career of perhaps the greatest scholar associated with early Southeast Asian history, the French savant George Coedes Coedes was unwilling to speculate about matters not dealt with by inscriptions, and he left his successors with a variety of tasks concerning the corpus of Cambodian inscriptions he established.

J The inscriptions themselves, being dated, are rooted in time. Being parts of permanent buildings, some of which have all but disappeared, they are rooted in the landscape too. The history they give us is comparable, in a way, to the lighting and extinction of hundreds of torches, here and there, now and then, over the landscape of mainland Southeast Asia. As each is lighted, we can look around and discern a few details of historical fact: Temple X was dedicated to such and such an Indian god, by so and so, on such and such a date. It had a particular number of slaves attached to it, identified by name and sex, and with children identified in terms of whether they could walk or not.

The temple lands stretched east to a stream, south to a small hill, west and north to other landmarks, and then the light goes out. We know little about the way this temple fitted into the context of its time, whether its patrons enjoyed official status, or whether the temple remained in use for months or centuries. In some inscriptions, descendants return to the site to restore it in honor of their ancestors; other temples seem to have lasted only as long as individual patrons did. The other sources we have for the study of Cambodian history are the temples themselves, and the statues and bas-reliefs they contain, as well as artifacts dating from Angkorean times that have been unearthed throughout Cambodia.

These tell us a good deal about the sequence and priorities of Cambodian elite religion, about the popularity of certain Indian myths, and about ways in which they reflect the preoccupations of the elite. They also tell us about fashions in hemlines, hairstyles, and jewelry; these have been used to arrange a chronology of artistic styles.

The bas-reliefs are informative about weapons, armor, and battle tactics; those from the thirteenth-century temple-mountain, the Bayon, are a rich source for details about everyday Cambodian life. A Cambodian inscription, ninth century CE.

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Photo by Claude Jacques. So in addition to deeds, obituary notices, and orations, we can work with tableaux showing the people of Angkor for the most part disguised as mythical figures and with bas-reliefs showing them going about their daily business. What is missing from our sources are documents that stand above the others, giving an overall view of the society, or those that in a sense come from underneath it, providing details about taxes, land ownership, life stories, and folk beliefs.

The Sdok Kak Thom inscription, incised in in what is now southeastern Thailand, has been for many years a major source for Cambodian chronology and religious history, but some of its assertions have recently been called into question by several scholars. The Sdok Kak Thom inscription is primarily concerned with the sacerdotal family that, for more than two hundred years, officiated at the devaraja celebrations.

And yet the biographical details that the inscription provides are very useful. Jayavarman II apparently resided in five parts of Cambodia at different times in his career. He appears to have moved from the southeast, near Ba Phnom, to the upper Mekong Basin, near Sambor, before moving west to occupy Aninditapura, to the north and east of the Tonle Sap, where he may have presided over a city and the construction of several small brick temples. What was Jayavarman doing in these places? Even with all the facts we know about him—they are more extensive than for many later kings— there is still something mysterious about him.

Who was he? Where did he come from? In a persuasive essay, Claude Jacques has argued that he arrived or returned from a place called Java perhaps the island of that name, perhaps a kingdom in Sumatra, or even someplace else around when he was about twenty years old. Coedes has pointed out that although the ceremony clearly preceded the one performed on Mt.

Kulen, it could easily have been one of several, in many parts of the kingdom, as Jayavarman moved through them over the next thirty years. The references are tantalizing and incomplete. Was the ceremony performed at Ba Phnom imported from Java? Or was it one that linked Jayavarman II with ancestral spirits at Funan? The ceremony was important enough to be noted in an inscription concerned primarily with other things two centuries later. No inscriptions have survived from this period, and temples appear to have been small or made of perishable materials.

These undocumented years are crucial all the same, for at this time the related notions of nationhood and kingship, remolded to fit the Cambodian scene, appear to have been gathering force. Both terms should be used with caution. Perhaps both these ideas came in from Java, but they were probably already known from the Indian literature of statecraft, familiar to brahmans known to have been in Cambodia at this time. Moreover, you will understand that this prospect is still distant but that the management of the journal would put a great deal of opportunity on my side.

Therefore, instead of producing two sophisms, selected from those that are popular and anecdotal, in the next issue, I sense an opportunity to develop my ideas, and I am going to devote tomorrow to rewriting two or [69] three of the most important. This is why I cannot write to you at length as I would like and am forced to speak about myself instead of replying to your affectionate letters. What is more, it is an expression of confidence that touches me. Hippolyte Comte, the son of Charles, will also be letting me go through the notes of our favorite author, who is totally unknown right here.

But I do not want to fail in what I owe to the men who are showering me with proofs of their friendship. I really need your advice, and above all for you to tell me what my poor aunt thinks. Although I scarcely answer your letters, I nevertheless must tell you that the work of Simon is very rare and extremely expensive. There are only four copies, of which two are in the public libraries. Bossuet had the entire edition destroyed. Knowing how much you are interested in our cause and in the role that chance has given me, I will tell you everything that happens, especially since I have no time to take notes and, this being so, my letters will be useful later in reminding me of my memories so that I can give you more details face to face.

After I settled in at the hotel at ten shillings a day , I started to write six letters to Cobden, Bright, Fox, Thompson, Wilson, and the secretary who sends me the League. Then I wrote six dedications in six of my books and went to bed. Someone told me that Cobden was leaving the same day for Manchester and that probably I would find him in the throes of making his preparations preparations for an Englishman consist in swallowing a steak and stuffing two shirts into a bag.

He understands French well and speaks it a little and anyway I understand his English. I described to him the state of opinion in France, the effect I expect this book to have, etc. He told me how sorry he was to be leaving [70] London and I saw that he was on the point of canceling his trip. Here is a house that we have rented to receive our friends during the Bazaar. It is now empty, so you must move in. Bright, Moore, and other members of the League spend their evenings there and you must always be in their midst.

He then took me to the Reform Club, a magnificent establishment, and left me in the library while he took a bath. After this, he wrote two letters to Bright and Moore and I accompanied him to the station. In the evening, I went to see Bright, still at the same hotel, although these people do not live there; his welcome was not quite as cordial. In addition, he appeared surprised that I had translated nothing by M.

His own contribution in the book is small, although he deserves greater recognition as he has the gift of an attractive eloquence. However, all this was sorted out during the conversation. As I was obliged to speak slowly to make myself understood and was discussing subjects with which I was familiar with men of exactly the same mind, I was certainly in the most favorable of circumstances.

He took me to Parliament, where I have remained up to now, since they were discussing a question which included education and religion. Tomorrow I have an appointment with him, and the day after tomorrow I am going to see Manchester and meet my friend Cobden again. He is to arrange my accommodation and leave me in the hands of Mr. Ashworth, the rich manufacturer who put across such a good argument to demonstrate to farmers that the export of manufactured objects implied the export of the things included in them and that, consequently, restrictions on trade would hit them in the face.

This brusque departure, I fear, will prevent me from seeing Fox and Thompson before my return, as well as Mill and Senior, for whom I have letters. This is a short account of my first day. I will thus enter Manchester and Liverpool in circumstances which few Frenchmen could hope to enjoy. I will be there on a Sunday. Cobden will take me to the Quakers and the Wesleyans.

Walking and the Aesthetics of Modernity

We will at last know something, and as for factories, nothing will be hidden from me. What is more, all the operations of the League will [71] be unveiled to me. There was a vague suggestion of a second edition of my book on a wider scale. We will see. Let us not forget Paris. There are two or three courses of lectures given in Geneva, London, and Paris, all of which doubtless supplied material for the Treatise on Legislation, but what a gold mine to open up!

Farewell, I must leave you. I still have three letters to write to Paris and it is already tomorrow, since it is past midnight. At last I have the pleasure of presenting you with a copy of the translation about which I have spoken to you on several occasions. In carrying out this work, I was convinced that I was rendering a genuine service to my country, both by popularizing sane economic doctrines and unmasking the guilty men who concentrate on maintaining disastrous national restrictions.

I was not mistaken in my expectations. I distributed about a hundred copies in Paris and they have had the best possible reception. Men who, through their position and the subject of their study, ought to know what is happening in your country were surprised on reading it. They could not believe their eyes. The truth is that everyone in France is unaware of the importance of the campaign in your country, and people still suspect that a few manufacturers are seeking to propagate ideas of freedom abroad through pure British Machiavellianism. If I had confronted this prejudice directly, I would not have vanquished it.

By leaving the free traders to act and allowing them to speak, in a word, by translating you, I hope that I have dealt it a blow from which it will not recover, provided that the book is read. That is the question. I hope, sir, that you will be good enough to grant me the honor of having a short discussion with you and expressing my gratitude, fellow feeling, and profound admiration to you personally. My dear sir, as I told you, I am sending you four copies of my translation which I ask you to forward to the editors of the Times, the Morning Chronicle, etc.

I would consider myself happy if the English press gave a favorable welcome to a work I consider useful. This would compensate me for the indifference with which it has been received in France. All those to whom I have given it continue to show surprise at the serious facts revealed in it, but no one is buying it, and this is not surprising since no one knows the subject with which it deals. Our newspapers, moreover, appear to have decided to bury the question under a veil of silence. As he wrote it before having read the book, he did not have to give his opinion on it.

He also avoided quoting its title Cobden and the League. If that is through diplomacy, the latter must be a deep-seated habit of your prime minister for him to use it on such an insignificant occasion. This is a copy of his note. Sir Robert Peel presents his compliments to M.

Bastiat, and is most obliged to M. Sir Robert hopes to be enabled to profit by it, when he shall have leisure from the present severe pressure of parliamentary business. This letter is unsigned. I found other letters, including two of not inconsiderable importance. One was from M. Passy, 94 a peer of France and an ex-minister of trade. He gives his unalloyed approval of the principles contained alike in the introduction and in your work.

The other letter is from M. He tells me that he has read the book with enthusiasm [73] and learned for the first time what is happening in England. At the moment, there is a meeting in Karlsruhe of officers from all of the Zollverein 95 who are determined to plug the tiniest loophole through which foreign trade might come to infiltrate the great national market. What he tells me about this supports Mr. Could not England, which has had the Bible translated into three or four hundred languages, also have this excellent course of practical political economy translated at least into German and Spanish?

If, later, the League is able to acquire a few copies of my translation without difficulty, I think this is the most useful purpose to which it might be put. This would be to take the same number of towns in order of their commercial importance and send a copy to each, addressed to the literary circle or chamber of commerce. I will not attempt, sir, to convey to you all my gratitude for the fraternal welcome I received in your midst.

I want only to have the opportunity of demonstrating it by my acts, and it would make me happy to meet members of the League in France. I have already paid two visits to Mr. Taylor without being able to meet him. I forgot to tell you that, since the letter from M. I assure you, my dear sir, of my sincere friendship. Please remember me to all our comrades in work and hope. Whatever the charm, my dear sir, that your letters have just brought to me in my solitude, I would not allow myself to provoke them by such frequent obtrusiveness. However, an unforeseen circumstance has made it a duty for me to write to you.

I have met a young man in Paris circles who seemed to me to be full of heart and talent, whose name is Fonteyraud, the editor of La Revue britannique. He has written to me to offer to continue my work by inserting a follow-up of the operations of the League in the collection he is editing. However, in a second letter, he tells me that he has yet another aim which, according to him, would require effective, in other words, financial support from the League.

I have been swift to tell M. Fonteyraud that I could not speak to you about a project about which I knew very little. I made it clear to him, moreover, that, according to me, any action carried out on public opinion in France that appeared to be directed and financed by England would be counterproductive since it would strengthen the deep-rooted prejudices that many adroit men have vested interests in exploiting. If therefore M. Fonteyraud makes his journey, would you, together with Messrs. Bright and Wilson, assess his projects for yourselves and consider me to be totally outside the undertaking he is considering?

I hasten to leave this subject to reply to your affectionate letter of 23 September. I am sorry to hear that your health is suffering from your immense workload, both private and public. Certainly, it could not be undermined for a finer cause; each of your pains will remind you of noble actions, but that would be small consolation and I would not dare to voice it to other than you, since to understand it one would need to have your self-sacrifice and devotion to the public good.

But at last your work is reaching its target, you do not lack workers around you, and I hope that you will at last seek strength in repose. Since my last letter, a movement of which I had given up hope has started in the French press. All the Paris newspapers and very many provincial newspapers have reported on the demonstration against the Corn Laws, to mark my book.

It is true that they have not understood its full implications, but at last public opinion has been woken up. This was the essential point, the one I was hoping for with my whole heart and it is a question now of not allowing it to fall back into indifference, and if there is anything I can do about it, that will not happen. Your letter arrived the day after we had an election. It was a courtier who was elected. The electors are imbued with the idea that their votes are a precious gift, an important and personal service.

This being so, they expect their vote to be personally solicited. They do not wish to understand that a parliamentary mandate is their own affair, that they will suffer the consequences of trust that is well or badly placed and consequently it is up to them to give it with discernment, without waiting for it to be solicited or wrested from them. For my part, I had taken the decision to stay in my corner and, as I expected, I was left there. Probably, in a year, we will have general elections in France. I doubt whether in the intervening period the electors will have come round to more appropriate ideas.

However, a considerable number of them appear to have decided to support me. My efforts in favor of our wine-producing industry will give me an effective name of which I can make use. For this reason, I am pleased to see that you were willing to second the views I set out in the letter that the League has quoted.

In fact, in my circumstances, being a deputy is a heavy charge, but the hope of contributing to the formation of a nucleus of free traders within our parliament comes before all personal considerations. When I think that, in our two chambers, there is not a single man who dares to acknowledge the principle of free trade, who understands its full significance, or who is capable of supporting it against the sophisms of monopoly, I must admit that, in the depths of my heart, I want to win the empty seat I see in our legislative body, although I do not want to do anything that would increasingly distort the dominant ideas relating to elections.

Let us try to be worthy of their confidence and not to gain it by surprise. Thank you for the judicious advice you have given me by indicating the [76] procedure for disseminating economic doctrines you think would be best suited to the situation in our country. Yes, you are right, I can see that here light has to be diffused from top to bottom.

Instructing the masses is an impossible task, because they have neither the civic right, the habit, nor the liking for grand rallies and public discussion. This is one more reason for me to aim to gain contact with the most enlightened and influential classes through becoming a deputy. I am very pleased to hear that you have good news from the United States.

America is lucky to speak the same language as the League. It will not be possible for its monopolists to withhold your arguments and work from the knowledge of the general public. I would like you to tell me, when you have the opportunity to write to me, which American journal is the most faithful representative of the economist school. To save time, would you please take out a one-year subscription for me and ask M. Fonteyraud to reimburse you? It would be easier for me to reimburse him than to send it to you. I accept with great pleasure your offer to exchange one of your letters for two of mine.

I consider that you are sacrificing here again the fallacy of reciprocity, since I will certainly be the winner and you will not receive equal value. In view of how busy you are, I would have been ready to undertake to write to you three times. If ever I become a deputy, we will renew the bases of our contract.

The most kind letter that you have been good enough to write to me has revived in me old projects and hopes, which cost me a great deal to abandon. Long before I knew of the existence of the English League, I had conceived [77] the idea of forming an association against protectionism, this absurd system which, apart from the direct harm it causes, causes so many ancillary calamities, national hatreds, wars, standing armies, navies, taxes, restrictions, plunderings, etc.

As I needed a fulcrum to set up my lever, I thought of our wine-producing population, which seemed to me to be the most likely to embrace the cause of free trade. I tried to form it into an organization, as you will see from the brochure which it is my pleasure to enclose with this letter. My mistake was to address this call to a single class only, and the class that is probably the least political, the most dispersed, and the most difficult to organize.

I ought to have called together all the consumers and in addition all the producers who felt they were sufficiently strong and honest to reject all forms of protection and taxes, for however you look at them, protectionist duties are none other than the taxes we raise from one another. This frustrated idea was just dormant in my mind, and you can doubtless guess with what joy and enthusiasm I welcomed the arrival of the English League, which pursues the same aim with an energy, a spirit of togetherness, a line of conduct and the talents, resources, and opportunities that I lacked.

I have now been happy to learn from your letter of the existence in Paris of elements which, when they are properly put into operation, may serve as the basis for a similar association to the League. At the heart of enlightened opinion, close to one another, and in a position to exert an influence on the press, on our political representatives, and on public opinion; more disposed than most to make well-judged sacrifices and more able to supervise the use made of them, they certainly have to offer quite different resources from the wine-producing population. Besides, these people would have only to glimpse this center of action to join it in full sympathy.

I believe that we will soon also obtain the support of men in the government, as they receive fixed salaries that bear the weight of the protectionist regime without any possible compensation. I would say the same thing about bankers, traders, merchants, lawyers, doctors, and all the countless sectors of artisans whose work by its very nature is not likely to be protected by customs duties. If you consider, sir, that it is possible to find the seed of an energetic league in this institution, and if you think that my efforts and devotion can help in this great work, please write to me and you will find me ready to join you and your colleagues.

I have already sounded out a few key figures, for in France they are necessary if one is to succeed in anything, and I know some who would be only too ready to welcome the honor of the initiative. For my part, I will join the combat at whatever level I am placed, for apart from the fact that I put our noble cause a thousand times higher than our little individual ideas, I have learned from Mr. Cobden, the one man in the world in whom I have the fullest confidence, that individual self-sacrifice is the soul and cement of any voluntary association.

As for a demonstration to the League, I do not see where this would lead. We do have an ambassador, but it is not possible to deal with things like this officially, and this you will readily understand. When I was in London and enjoying quite close relations with officers in the Board of Trade and members of the League, I sought to convince them that they would be acting shrewdly by encouraging the introduction of our wine into their country.

The spirit of my lectures on this subject is set out in the brochures I am enclosing, and I had the pleasure of receiving letters from Cobden and other members of Parliament telling me that they were working hard to make my ideas succeed; what I said to them with regard to wine might equally apply to Parisian goods. England feels that if she opened her market to Parisian goods without France lowering her duties, Parisians would have trouble effecting purchases from England in return, and this [79] would soon open their eyes to the inconsistency of our policy and foment in us the spirit of free trade.

I do not doubt that she is aiming her reforms in this direction. For my part, sir and I hope that you will not find this confidence out of place , I must say that I deeply regret that my financial situation does not allow me to spend time in London at this time. Something tells me that I could do some good there. Allow me, sir, in ending this overlong letter, to thank you for your kind words both in your own name and that of your sons and colleagues.

I was delaying writing to you to have news of M. I needed to know in what terms I should thank you for your welcoming him on my recommendation. I had total peace of mind in this, as I had heard indirectly that he was delighted with his trip and enthusiastic about the members of the League. I am pleased to learn that the members of the League were no less pleased with him. Although I did not know him very well, I considered that he had it in him to be his own recommendation.

Doubtless, he has not had the opportunity to write to me yet. On this subject, you have returned to my visit to you and the excuses you express to me leave me quite embarrassed. Except for the first two days when, for unforeseen reasons, I found myself alone in Manchester and when my morale was undoubtedly afflicted by the sad influence of your strange weather an influence whose expression I allowed to emerge in the unfortunate note to which you refer , with the exception of these two days, as I have said, I was overwhelmed by the care and kindnesses expressed by you and your friends, Messrs.

John and Thomas Bright, Paulton, Wilson, [80] Smith, Ashworth, Evans, and many more, and I would be truly ungrateful if, because there was an election in Cambridge during these two days, I remembered only this moment of spleen and forgot those which you imbued with goodwill and charm.

You can be sure, my dear sir, that our dinner in Chorley and your eminently instructive meeting with Mr. Dyer at Mr. You want me to make another visit. That is not entirely impossible and this is how it might be arranged. It is probable that the big question will be settled this summer, and, like a valiant fighter, you will need to take a little rest and bind your wounds.

Since words have been your principal arms, their means of expression in you will have suffered the most, and you have made reference to your state of health in your last letter. It so happens that in the Pyrenees over here there are marvelous springs to cure exhausted chests and larynxes. So come and spend a season as part of the family in the Pyrenees. I promise you either to come to collect you or to accompany you back, at your choice. This trip will not be detrimental to the cause. You will see our wine-producing population and will gain an idea of the spirit that animates it or rather that does not animate it.

When we pass through Paris, I will introduce you to all our comrades in political economy and rational philanthropy. I like to think that this trip would leave its beneficial traces in your health and memories, and also in shifting French attitudes about freeing up trade. Bordeaux is also a town which it would interest you to see. Thank you, my dear sir, for the offer you made me regarding my translation.

Permit me, however, not to accept it. It is a personal sacrifice which you wish to add to so many others and I must not agree to it. I feel that the title of my book does not allow you to claim any influence on the part of the League. This being so, let us allow my poor volume to live or die by itself. However, I cannot be sorry that, in France, I attached your name to the history of this great movement.

In doing this, I may have upset your worthy colleagues a little and this involuntary injustice gives me some cause for remorse. But truly, to arouse and catch attention here, it is necessary for a doctrine to be incarnated in an individual personality and for a great movement to be represented and summarized in an individual [81] name. And look what has happened. The French press now uses your name to designate the orthodox principle in political economy. It is an ellipsis, a shorthand method of speaking. It is true that this principle is still the subject of much dispute, and even sarcasm.

But it will grow and commensurately your name will grow with it. The human mind is made like this. It needs flags, banners, incarnations, and individual names, and in France more than elsewhere. Who knows whether your destiny will not arouse in our country the emulation of some man of genius? I have no need to tell you with what interest and anxiety I follow the development of your campaign.

I regret that Sir Robert Peel has let himself be overtaken. His personal superiority and position make him able to provide services to the cause that are more immediately achievable, perhaps, than those it can expect from Russell, and I fear that the arrival of a Whig government will result in the reassembly of a formidable aristocratic opposition which will prepare new conflicts for you.

You are good enough to ask me what I do in my solitude. Alas, dear sir, I am embarrassed to have to reply with this shameful word, Nothing. The pen tires me and speech even more so, to the extent that if a few useful thoughts ferment in my head I have no longer any means of revealing them externally. Is it the consciousness of a genuine truth? Is it fatuous pride? Farewell, my dear sir; permit me to shake your hand most affectionately across the distance that separates us.

I have frequent contact with Madrid and it would be easy for me to send a copy of my translation there. My dear M. Fonteyraud, I will not reply today to your letter, a letter that is so charming, so honest and interesting in terms of the subjects it discusses with me and the way it deals with them. This is just a simple acknowledgment, [82] which I am entrusting to a person who is leaving in a few hours for Paris. I received news of you through the journal of the League, from M.

Guillaumin and Mr. Cobden, who speaks of you in terms that I will not repeat to you for fear of wounding your modesty. However, I am changing my mind. Cobden will one day be sufficiently famous for you to be very happy to know the opinion he has uttered of you.

Moreover, this judgment includes a piece of advice, and I have no right to stop it on its way, especially since you persist in giving me the title of Master. I will fulfill the functions of this role once, if not by giving you advice, at least by passing on to you that emanating from an authority regarded as very impressive by the disciples of free trade. Fonteyraud, who excited our admiration not only by his superior talents, but by the warmth of his zeal in the cause of free trade. I have rarely met a young man of his age possessing so much knowledge and so mature a judgment both as respects men and things.

It is sweet and consoling to go through life supported by such a testimonial. There is really something deep in our heart which tells us of our own merit, but when we see the blindness of all men to this, how can we ever have the certainty that the awareness of our strengths is its true measure?

In your case, you have been judged and consecrated; you have been dedicated to the cause of humanity. Learn and disseminate should be your motto; such is your destiny. How my heart beat when I read your description of the great meeting in Manchester! Like you, I felt enthusiasm penetrate my every pore.

Has anything like this, whatever Solomon said, been seen under the sun? We have seen major gatherings of men grow passionate for a conquest, a victory, an interest, or the triumph of brute force, but has anyone ever seen ten thousand [83] men unite to ensure the triumph of a major principle of universal justice by peaceful means, through speech and sacrifice? Even if free trade were an error or an illusion, the League would be no less glorious, for it has given the world the most powerful and moral of all instruments of civilization.

How can we not see that this concerns not merely the liberation of trade but in turn all the reforms and acts of justice and reparation that humanity might carry out by means of these massive and vibrant organizations! For this reason, with what happiness, I might almost say, with what outbursts of joy did I welcome the news you gave me at the end of your letter! France also will have her League! France will grow out of her eternal adolescence, blush at the shameful puerility in which she is vegetating, and become an adult! Let this day come and I will salute it as the finest in my life.

Will we never cease to attribute glory to the development of physical force, to wish to settle all matters by the sword and glorify only that courage shown on the battlefield, whatever its motives and works? Will we finally understand that, since public opinion is the monarch of the world, it is public opinion that we have to work on and to which we have to communicate the enlightenment which shows it the right direction together with the energy to take it? But after enthusiasm comes reflection. I tremble lest some disastrous germ infiltrate the beginnings of our League, for example a spirit of compromise, gradualness, procrastination, or caution.

Everything will be lost if the League does not espouse or stick closely to an absolute principle. How could members of the League themselves agree if the League tolerated variable principles in varying degrees? And if they did not agree among themselves, what influence could they have outside? Even if we should be only twenty, ten, or five, let that twenty, ten, or five have the same goal, the same determination, and the same faith. You have witnessed the campaign in England, I have myself studied it closely, and I know and this I ask you to convey clearly to our friends that if the League had made the slightest concession at any time in its existence, the aristocracy would have made short work of it a long time ago.

Therefore, let an association be formed in France. Let it undertake to free trade and industry from any monopoly. Let it devote itself to ensuring the triumph of the principle and you may count on my support. By word, pen, and purse, I will be its man. If it means legal proceedings, suffering persecution, or braving ridicule, I will be its man.

Whatever role I am given, whatever rank I am allocated, on the hustings or in cabinet, I will be its man. In [84] enterprises of this kind, in France more than elsewhere, what is to be feared are rivalries based on amour propre; amour propre is the first sacrifice that we have to make on the altar of public good. I am mistaken; perhaps indifference and apathy are greater dangers.

Since this project has been set up do not let it fail. Why am I not with you? I was going to end my letter without thanking you in advance for what you will be saying about my publication in La Revue britannique. A simple translation cannot be worth such fulsome praise.

Be that as it may, praise and criticism are welcome when they are sincere. My dear sir, what gratitude do I not owe you for having been good enough to think of me in the midst of such pressing occupations, ones so conducive to absorbing your interest so compellingly? You wrote to me on the 23rd, the very day of that astonishing meeting in Manchester, which certainly has no precedent in history. May the people of Lancashire be honored!

It is not only free trade that the world will owe them, but also the enlightened, moral, and devoted art of campaigning. Humanity will at last recognize the instrument of all reform. At the same time I received your letter, the issue of the Manchester Guardian with an article on this session arrived. I am now annoyed that I did not do so, since I see that this major event has not produced an impression commensurate with its importance here.

How I congratulate you a thousandfold, my dear sir, for having refused an official position in the Whig cabinet. It is not even that you could not render considerable service. But in the century in which we are, we are so imbued with the idea that whoever appears to devote himself to the public good is in fact working for his own benefit. I would have liked to embrace you, my dear sir, when you taught me, through this conduct, that your heart is equal to your intelligence. Your noble actions will not go unrewarded; you are in a country in which public probity is not discouraged through ridicule.

Since we are talking about devotion, this will lead me on to the other part of your good letter. You advise me to go to Paris. I, myself, feel that at this decisive moment I should be at my post. My own interest as well as that of the cause requires this. For the last two months, our newspapers have been serving up a pile of nonsense on the League, which they would not be able to do if I were in Paris, as I would not let one of these escape without battling with it. On the other hand, since I am better informed than many others on the influence of your movement, I would acquire a certain authority in the eyes of the public.

I think I have mentioned this in one of my letters. I have an honorable and uneventful, although modest situation here. I therefore have to live and die in my corner, like Prometheus on his rock. Perhaps you will have some idea of the mental suffering I am experiencing when I tell you that we tried to organize a League in Paris. This attempt has failed and was bound to fail. The proposal was put forward during a dinner with twenty people at which two ex-ministers were present. You can imagine how much success that was likely to have! Just try to make a united and fervent association out of that!

If I had been in Paris, a mistake like that would never have been made. I have made too close a study of what constitutes the strength and success of your organization. A vital League cannot spring up from a group of men gathered together randomly. As I wrote to M. Fonteyraud, let us be ten, five, or even two if necessary, but let us raise the flag of absolute freedom and absolute principle, and let us wait for those with the same faith to join us. If chance had caused me to be born with a more consistent fortune, with an income of ten to twelve thousand francs, there would have been a League in France right now, doubtless more than somewhat weak but bearing within it the two mightiest principles of truth and dedication.

On your recommendation, I have offered my services to M. If he [86] had made me responsible for an article to be included in La Revue des deux mondes, I would have continued the absorbing story of the League up to the end of the ministerial crisis. But he did not even send me a reply. The Chamber of Commerce of Bordeaux has just raised the banner of free trade. Unfortunately, it has taken a text, Customs Union between France and Belgium, that is in my view too restricted.

I will send them a letter in which I will endeavor to show them that they would have much more power if they espoused the cause of the principle and not that of a special application to this or that treaty. It is the fallacy of reciprocity which paralyzes the efforts of this chamber. Treaties smile on it because it sees the possible stipulation of reciprocal benefits, reciprocal concessions, and even reciprocal sacrifices. Under this liberal veneer, the disastrous thought still lies hidden that imports are an evil in themselves and should be tolerated only when foreigners have been persuaded to tolerate our exports in their turn.

As a model to be followed, I would enclose with my letter a copy of the famous deliberation of the Chamber of Commerce of Manchester on 13th and 20th December As I know how extensive your commitments are, I scarcely dare to ask you to write to me. Nevertheless, please remember from time to time that your letters are the most effective balm for soothing the boredom of my solitude and the torments arising from my feeling of uselessness.

My dear sir, when you receive this letter you will be in the line of fire of the discussion. I hope, however, that you will find a moment for our country, France, for in spite of the interesting things you tell me about the state of [87] affairs in your country, I will not discuss them. I would have nothing to say about them and would waste precious time in expressing feelings of admiration and happiness of which you have no doubt. Let us therefore discuss France. But before we do, I want to put an end to the English question. This is certainly a major fault in terms of political economy and public policy.

A final vestige of the policy of reciprocal treaties is to be found in this omission, as well as that in the case of timber. They will see in them the secret and Machiavellian ideas of perfidious Albion. Please, put forward an amendment. However great the absolutism of Sir Robert Peel, he could not resist your arguments. I have now returned to France from which I have scarcely departed. The more I reflect, the more I have reason to congratulate myself on one thing that at first caused me some anxiety.

It is having included your name in the title of my book. Your name has now become popular in my country, and with your name, so has your cause. I am snowed under with letters. I am not blind enough to attribute this success to myself; I owe it to the relevance of the case and to the fact that the right time has come, and I appreciate it, not for my own sake but as a means of being useful.

You will be surprised that all of this has not persuaded me to take up residence in Paris. This is the reason. Bordeaux is preparing a major demonstration, too large in my opinion, as it will include a great many people who think they are free traders and who are no more free traders than Mr. I consider that my role at this time is to put to good use my knowledge of the methods of the League, and to ensure that our association is based on solid foundations.

This is what I am afraid of. In demanding a wise freedom and moderate protection, we are sure to gain a great deal of sympathy in Bordeaux and that will please the founders. But where will all this lead? To the Tower of Babel. It is the actual principle of protection that I wish to breach. Until this business is settled, I will not go to Paris. I have been told that a meeting of forty to fifty traders will be taking place in Bordeaux.

It is there that the bases for a league will be established, on which I have been invited to give my opinion. Do you remember that we have searched in vain for your rule in the Anti-Bread Tax Circular? How I regret now that we were not able to find it! If Mr. Paulton could spend an hour looking for it, the time would not be wasted, for I fear that our League might adopt shaky founding principles.

After this session, there will be a grand meeting at the Exchange to raise a League fund.

The mayor of Bordeaux has taken up his position at the head of the movement. I hope it is worthy of you and our cause! I beg your pardon for talking at such length about France, but you will understand that the weak cries it utters are almost as interesting to me as the virile accents of Sir Robert. Once the business in Bordeaux is settled, I will go to Paris. The hope that you will visit has made my decision for me. I will draw up a plan for the distribution of fifty copies of my translation.

My dear sir, you will doubtless be interested to learn that a demonstration is taking place in Bordeaux in favor of free trade. The association has now been constituted. The mayor of Bordeaux has been appointed its president. Before long, the subscription list will be opened and we hope that this will produce about a hundred thousand francs. This is a fine result. I dare not hold out a great deal of hope and fear that our somewhat timid beginnings may raise obstacles for us later. We did not dare set out the principle boldly.

We limit ourselves to saying that the association demands the abolition of [89] protectionist dues as quickly as possible. In this way, the question of gradual progress has been retained and your total and immediate could not be passed. When this matter has been settled, I am determined to go to Paris. I thought that my duty lay in setting aside any personal reasons I had for staying in my corner.

I assure you that I am making a sacrifice to the cause whose merit lies in its lack of visibility.

In the last month, my book has had an extraordinary success in Bordeaux. The prophetic tone with which I announced the reform has given me a reputation that I scarcely merit, since all I have had to do is be the echo of the League. I am taking advantage of it nevertheless, for advertising purposes.

When I am in Paris, I will take advice to see whether it would not be appropriate to produce a second edition in a low-cost format. I am sure that the association in Bordeaux will come to my aid if need be. You would spare me a great deal of work if you would suggest two speeches by MM Bright, Villiers, and others after consulting them. This would avoid my having to reread the three volumes of the League. I need these men to indicate the speeches in which they dealt with the question from the highest and most general point of view, and where they refuted the most universally held fallacies, especially reciprocity.

I will add comments, statistical information, and portraits. Lastly, I also need you to indicate a few parliamentary sessions, especially the stormiest ones, in which free traders were attacked the most relentlessly. A work like this, sold for three francs, will do more than ten treatises on economics. You cannot imagine the good that the first edition did in Bordeaux. I cannot help deploring the fact that your prime minister let slip the opportunity of arousing astonishment in Europe.

We will give up Oregon and even perhaps Canada. Our disputes with the United States will disappear and I am proposing that we reduce our army and navy. Europe would have been converted within a year and England would have won on three fronts. I will not list them as I am overcome by tiredness. I have been so interrupted by visits, meetings, and other annoying incidents that the time for postal collections always arrives before I have been able to honor my promise; what is more, there is not much to tell you.

Things are happening very slowly. We floundered about a great deal while settling the first stages of a constitution. Finally a makeshift version emerged from the discussion, and today it is being offered for the approval of seventy to eighty founding members. The final board will be installed with the mayor at its head as president, and in two or three days a grand meeting will take place to open the subscription list.

It is thought that Bordeaux will raise one hundred thousand francs. You understand that it is only from today, when the board has been installed, that attention can be paid to a plan, since it is the board that should take this initiative. What will the plan be like?

Full text issues

I do not know. As for my personal contribution, it is limited to being present at the sessions, writing a few articles for newspapers, paying and receiving visits, and dealing with economic objections of all kinds. It has been made very clear to me that the level of education in this matter is not sufficient to keep the institution going and I would be leaving with no hope if I did not count on the institution itself to enlighten its own members. Here I found my poor Cobden all the fashion. Some suppose that I am a first-rate scholar, and others that I have spent my life in England studying its institutions and history.

In short, I am very embarrassed at my position, since I know full well the difference between what is true and what is exaggerated in this current view. It has almost been decided that, when this organization is fully on its feet, I will go to Paris to try to rally Parisian industry, which I know is well disposed toward us. If this is successful, I foresee one difficulty, and that is to persuade the people in Bordeaux to send their money to Paris.

It is certain, however, that Paris is the center from which everything must radiate, since, on the basis of the same expenditure, the Paris press has ten times more influence than the provincial press. When you write to me as soon as possible, please tell me about your personal situation. My good, long-standing friend, your letter warmed my heart, and reading it, it seemed to me that there were twenty-five years fewer hanging around my neck. I was drawn back to those happy days when our being arm in arm reflected our cordial relationship.

Twenty-five years! The weight of them has quickly made itself felt again. I think that in itself, my appointment as a corresponding member of the Institute is of little importance, and I greatly fear that many mediocre people have been able to adorn themselves with this title. However, the particular circumstances leading to my nomination do not allow me to refuse your friendly congratulations. I had published only one book, and in this [92] book only the preface was my work. Once I had returned to my solitude, this preface worked in my favor, unknown to me, since the same letter, which informed me of my appointment, announced my candidature.

Never in my life had I thought of this honor. This book is entitled Cobden and the League. I am sending it to you with this letter, which spares me from having to tell you about it. In and , I endeavored to attract attention to the subject it covers.

They were refused. I saw that my cause had been utterly destroyed by a conspiracy of silence and I had no other solution but to produce a book. This is how I came to be an author without knowing it. Now I have embarked on a career and I sincerely regret it; although I have always liked political economy, it is at a cost to myself to give it all my attention, which I like to allow to roam freely over all the subjects of human knowledge.

What is more, in this economic science, just one question sweeps me along and will be absorbing me: the freedom of international relations; for perhaps you have seen that I have been assigned a role in the association that has just been formed in Bordeaux. Such is our century; you cannot become involved without being strangled in the bonds of specialization.

I forgot to tell you about the elections. The electors in my region are thinking about me but we are snubbing one another. I claim that their choice is their affair and not mine, and that consequently I have nothing to ask them for. They absolutely insist that I should go and canvas their votes, doubtless in order to gain some right over my time and services, with personal aims.

You can see that we do not agree and therefore I will not be nominated.

My dear sir, I have waited a few days to reply to your fine and instructive letter. It is not because I did not have a great deal to tell you, but I had no time; even today, I am writing only to let you know that I am arriving in Paris. If I had had any hesitation in coming, the hope you give me of seeing you there soon would have been enough to persuade me. Bordeaux is really in a state of uproar. It has been fashionable to be associated [93] with this work and I have found it impossible to follow my plan, which was to limit the association to the converted.

I was overwhelmed by the furia francese. I can see that this will be a significant obstacle in the future, since already, when we wanted to petition the chambers to establish our claims, deep divisions came to the fore. In spite of this, we read and study, and that is a great deal. I am counting on the uproar itself to enlighten those who are creating it. Their aim is to educate others, and they will end by educating themselves. As I arrived yesterday evening, I cannot give you any news in this letter. I would prefer a thousandfold to form a core of deeply persuaded men than generate a noisy demonstration like that in Bordeaux.

I know that people are already talking about moderation, gradual reforms, and experiments. If I can, I will advise those people to form an association among themselves on these lines and leave us to form another in the domain of the abstract and absolute principle of no protection, as I am deeply convinced that ours will absorb theirs. God willing, an arrangement has been found: I scarcely hope for it and want it desperately. It is extremely lively and provides excellent and vivid arguments.

On Monday, I will read it to the assembly, which will be quite numerous. When I am slightly better settled, I will tell you the name of the newspaper in Paris to which you should send it; at that stage, however, you should, as far as possible, refrain from mentioning wine. I have just mentioned that we were having an assembly on Monday. Its aim is to set up the board of the association.

However, Dunoyer does not much like being in the spotlight, and I will be proposing in his place [94] M. Anisson-Duperron, a peer of France, whom I found compelling in that he is firm on the basic idea. Finally, a secretary, who obviously will be called upon to bear the brunt of the work, will join the management.

No doubt you can foresee that these functions will fall on my shoulders. As always, I am hesitating. It will be hard work binding myself to such an arduous and assiduous task. On the other hand, I think I can be useful by devoting myself entirely to this business. Between now and Monday I must make an irrevocable decision. Besides, I hope that we will not lack subscribers. Peers, deputies, bankers, and men of letters will flock to us in sufficient numbers, and even a few major manufacturers. It seems clear that there has been a significant change in public opinion and success is perhaps not as far off as we first supposed.

Here, people very much want me to be nominated as a deputy; you cannot imagine how much credit I received for the quasi-prophecy contained in my introduction. And, incidentally, this would perhaps be a further reason for keeping me at a distance. Dear old Chalosse does not appear to understand the importance of the enterprise to which I have devoted my efforts; if this were not the case, it is probable that it would want to join in by increasing my influence in its own interest.

I do not bear it any grudge; I love it and will serve it to the end, however indifferent it is. Today, I made my entry into the Institut, where they discussed the question of education.