The government of the towns was peculiar. The old gilds, now including only a small number of the wealthiest burghers, elected a Town Council, which managed the property of the town, appointed tax-collectors, saw that the town hall was kept in repair, and supervised the collection of customs duties on goods brought into the town. It is easy to perceive how the Town Council and the intendant would have overlapping powers, and how considerable confusion might arise, especially since in different towns the nature and the powers of the Town Council differed widely. Matters were complicated still further by the fact that the mayors of the towns were not elected by the council, but appointed by the crown.
In rural districts there was a trace of the same conflict between the system of intendants and the survivals of local self-government. Summoned by the clanging church bell, all the men of the village met on the village green. And the simple villagers, thus gathered together as a town meeting or communal assembly, might elect collectors of the taille, or might perhaps petition the intendant to repair the parsonage or the bridge.
[Sidenote: Confusion in Administration]
Possibly the reader may now begin to realize that confusion was a prime attribute of the French administrative system. The common people were naturally bewildered by the overlapping functions of Royal Council, Parlement, provincial estates, governors, bailiffs, intendants, subintendants, mayors, town councils, and village assemblies. The system, or lack of system, gave rise to corruption and complication without insuring liberty. The most trivial affairs were regulated by overbearing and exacting royal officials. Everything depended upon the honesty and industry or upon the meanness and caprice of these officials. Each petty officer transmitted long reports to his superior; but the general public was kept in the dark about official matters, and was left to guess, as best it could, the reasons for the seemingly unreasonable acts of the government. If an intendant increased the taxes on a village, the ignorant inhabitants blamed it upon official "graft" or favoritism. Or, if hard times prevailed, or if a shaky bridge broke down, the villagers were prone in any case to find fault with the government, for the more mysterious and powerful the government was, the more likely was it to bear the blame for all ills.
Confusion in administrative offices was not the only confusion in eighteenth-century France. There was no uniformity or simplicity in standards of weight and measure, in coinage, in tolls, in internal customs-duties. But worst of all were the laws and the courts of justice.
[Sidenote: Confusion in Laws]
What was lawful in one town was often illegal in a place not five miles distant. Almost four hundred sets or bodies of law were in force in different parts of France. In some districts the old Roman laws were still retained; elsewhere laws derived from early German tribes were enforceable. Many laws were not even in writing; and such as were written were more often in Latin than in French. The result was that only unusually learned men knew the law, and common people stumbled along in the dark. The laws, moreover, were full of injustice and cruelty. An offender might have his hand or ear cut off, or his tongue torn out; he might be burned with red-hot irons or have molten lead poured into his flesh. Hanging was an easy death compared to the lingering torture of having one's bones broken on a wheel.
[Sidenote: Confusion in Law Courts]
The courts were nearly as bad as the laws. There were royal courts, feudal courts, church courts, courts of finance, and military courts; and it was a wise offender who knew before which court he might be tried. Extremely important cases might be carried on appeal to the highest courts of the realm—the Parlements—of which there were thirteen, headed in honor by that of Paris.
[Sidenote: Prevalence of Injustice]