Philip Mansel looks at French history solely through its capital and largely through the eyes of relatively small national and cosmopolitan elites. The vast mass of the Parisian population barely gets a look in except when they are rioting. The bulk of France may as well not exist.
Nevertheless, it is well worth reading because much of history is in fact about the machinations of elites if only because they tend to be the ones who can record their own doings. The book becomes as much an insight to the moral vaccuum of elite behaviour as it is of its ostensible subject matter.
The period covered is as tightly drawn as the geographical focus. The book is strongest on the period following Napoleon I's first defeat through to the 1830s. The tale becomes a bit more cursory as we move towards the revolution of 1848 and more so still as we reach the coup of Napoleon III.
This does not entirely matter. One does not really want a 430-page book to become a 600-page book just to maintain the momentum nor to see less on the period from 1814 to 1840 just to preserve balance - it is how the French political elite behaves in the detail that matters.
And, I should note, Mansel still tells a good story around Napoleon III's coup and adds some background on the disaster of 1870 which seems to have been written into the script of the 1840s just as much as our Afghan imbroglio was written in retrospect into the script of the 1990s.
I read this following a reading of Schama's 'Citizens', clearly the better book but trying to do something different. What we see in both, however, is a clash of interest and ideologies creating a ferment of ambition within a surprisingly small and yet overlapping network of people.
More so than in the 1780s, each faction of the day owes its origin to some previous struggle. Individuals move between factions with alarming cynicism as they seek advantage or patronage or, more charitably, change their positions as the facts change.
French elites were far from unique in this. It is just that the French Revolution and subsequent events provided so many options (the English revolutionary process until the final settlement of the Hanoverians did much the same) that new careers could be made on adroit shifts of 'perspective'.
There are, to start with, the Bourbon legitimists who could be divided into moderates prepared to accept constitutionalism and Ultras wanting a reversion to an ancien regime that was probably as much imagined as real. The latter were as ideologically 'nutty' as the radicals.
Louis XVIII comes across as a decent sort of chap coping with a family traumatised by its senior members having been murdered in public by revolutionaries but his brother Charles X, with his Ultra advisers, ended up being James II to Louis' Charles II.
The French intellectual elite of the 1810s through to the 1830s was largely European-minded, happy to seek office from foreign as much as Bourbon potentates. The book is, in good part, the story of the struggle between eighteenth century cosmopolitanism and nineteenth century nationalism.
The nationalist tendency had originated with the Jacobinical revolution. There were always a few hard-line radical populist republicans surviving but nationalism was to be expressed as either Bonapartism or a liberal Republicanism that could not shake off its national-militarist aspects.
With the failure of the Bourbons, monarchism (or rather British-style constitutional monarchy) gets another chance with the Orleanism of Louis-Philippe whose strategy appears to have been to secure a broadly cosmopolitan French culture by letting the bourgeoisie get rich.
Naturally this would create class tensions and a basic political laziness and ineptitude would allow both Bonapartism (with its persistent links with the Army) and liberal republicanism to undermine the Orleanist settlement, throw it over and then fight for the spoils.
The 1830 Revolution was supposed to be France's 1688 (consciously so to many moderate liberals) but, instead, its version of 'old corruption' under the Orleanists had led inexorably to yet another face-off over the former's corpse between those still fighting old wars.
The radical republicans (represented by Thiers in opposition to Guizot on the 'fat cat' side) lost (even though they would ultimately win in 1870/71 and preside over the final slaughter of the 'real Paris' beneath the froth of the posh) by playing a game they could not win - national 'gloire'.
Looking back over the forty years of turmoil and the rejection of the British constitutional model as radical Whigs might have imagined it to be, French history of the period now seems to be a struggle over quite a simple set of propositions centred on an interpretation of sovereignty.
France might be a sensible part of the concert of Europe and avoid the expense of war (after all, it was support for the American Revolution that helped bankrupt the Bourbons and set in train the revolutionary process) under a monarch or seek 'to punch above its weight' as an abstract France.
If legitimism was the thesis and national republicanism the antithesis, then the synthesis was imperial nationalism, Bonapartism seems to have simply taken the structure of 'ultra' monarchical rule and applied to the fulfilment of a Jacobinical notion of national destiny.
Oh, Lord preserve us from idealists! While pragmatic monarchists tried to collaborate with other pragmatists in Europe to avoid war, 'idealists' either sought war for the sake of 'gloire' (the Bonapartists) or to spread liberal views against decaying empires such as the Ottoman.
There is a gender aspect to this. Women welcomed the fall of Napoleon and the entry of the Tsar and Wellington into Paris because it meant no more dead young men. As time went by, male 'idealists' (and a few women) actually sought wars.
I was raised to think of the process from 1815 (evil monarchical legitimism) to 1871 (constitutional liberalism albeit with the stain of the massacres of the communards) as some sort of natural progress - a French Whiggery, if you like. Now I am far from sure.
Schama has shown us that the French Revolution itself was very much a split in the ruling order. Those splits subsequently look far from progressive as they unfold over the half century to come - the elites just got to record the narratives that we have taken for granted.
As I have noted, the Legitimist Right rather than the Bonapartist Right or Radical Left tended to want peace and, in the Orleanist iteration, to support the sort of 'bourgeois' values that led to economic progress (although unfortunately this was to decline into 'enrichissez-vous').
What is perhaps more interesting is that, outside the artisanal and working class revolutionaries in the tradition of Blanqui and the Communards, it was the Catholic Church and concerned nobles who seem to have been most concerned with the condition of the people.
It was the Church that drove legislation to limit drastically the use of child labour while the 'liberals' did everything they could to control the masses when they were not exploiting them and treating them as potential cannon fodder.
One interesting tit-bit is that the authorities were later able to exploit social divisions within the mass of the population by hiring younger generation discontented workers as military to crush the risings of older artisanal insurgents. History is always more complicated than we think it may be.
Similarly the country outside Paris (as well perhaps as those who wanted bread before politics) was getting fed up with the behaviour of the Parisians, voted in conservatives when they got the expanded vote and largely welcomed the coup of Napoleon III.
The liberals were as imperialist in intent as the Bonapartists but in different directions. Whereas the Bonapartists would have been perfectly happy to invade Austria and replay Wagram and Austerlitz, the 'liberals' were excited by the colonial war that acquired Algeria.
Perhaps the two came together on the 'liberation' of Italy from the Austrian Empire (which actually meant the end of local states as in Germany under a centralised quasi-constitutional monarchy) but Napoleon III also blundered in helping to create the new German state.
The French obsession with Austria was thoroughly Ancien Regime and the French elite failed to see that, instead of France reaching out to acquire its natural frontier at the Rhine, the new Germany would secure itself by taking Alsace and Lorraine in 1871. Unintended consequences!
I cannot help but compare this liberal blindness to reality with a modern day equivalent - Blairo-Toryism - with its disregard of the working class, concentration on the well-being of the urban middle classes and commitment to ideologically motivated 'forever wars' that backfire.
Although not a particularly sophisticated history, Mansel's 'Paris Between the Empires' is filled with useful detail and not a few amusing anecdotes about one of the most interesting periods in European history that is too often neglected except as a couple of isolated revolutions.
All the usual characters are here in letters, tracts and gossip - Mme de Stael, Talleyrand, the fascinating Russian-Corsican and rival of Bonaparte Pozzo di Borgo, Chateaubriand, Lamartine and so many others. although one suspects the tale is biaised by its sources at times.
Mansel himself appears to have his own, perhaps rather conservative, preference for courts, courtiers and kings but the facts seem to speak for themselves. The 'baddies' turn out not to be quite as bad as the 'goodies' seem to be although no one in this story truly inspires.
Another theme needs mentioning although it merely adds evidence to a proposition that will be evident to anyone who has studied eighteenth century England or Britain in the dark days of 'liberal-conservative' rule from 1997 to 2019 - the moral vacuum of elites by their very nature.
These are witty and interesting people (the petit-bourgeois Blairites being a sad exception to the generality of cynical but entertaining elites). Some do have a basic integrity but most of them are on the take, eminently bribable, shifting masters or associates at the drop of hat.
What will be most remarkable to the modern eye is the way that apparent French patriots (late seventeenth century Britons were no better) could go in and out of foreign service against their own country as it suited their bank balance or position or desperate search for office.
Perhaps things are not so different today when prominent politicians can become millionaires by supporting dodgy financial operations or foreign oligarchs but it is true that even the worst of our current bunch do not actually seek to serve foreign governments directly.
In Britain, this aspect of corruption changes over the eighteenth century as patriotism develops into a reality in men's minds as an idea with consequences. Mansel's book shows the same process of ideological change taking place between the 1830s and 1840s but was this actually an improvement?
To the po-faced liberal, of course it was ... politics was no longer to be a game between ambitious aristocrats but a matter of right conduct and right belief ... but, once again, I am not so sure when I look at the war-mongering and pompous prigs who start to emerge as a result.
There is also much here on the power of the popular French media who were as dangerous to good order as the excitable broadcasters of today. As today, the most dangerous class in society is still made up of hysterical 'intellectuals' engaged in posturing self-expression.
These excitable people scribbled away and fomented violence (and had done since the Ancien Regime) in France, demanding absolute freedom to disrupt society and promote policies to match ideas rather than have ideas that improved policy.
The low point of Western liberalism is probably not the current Afghan crisis but the British Liberal Government sentencing 100,000s of its own young people to die because of a 'matter of honour' in 1914. In fact, that decision was based on a Treaty designed to contain Jacobin designs on Belgium.
This is European liberalism described simply - the control of the narrative by people prepared to die to the last of their own subjects. If I cannot have a peace-loving democratic socialism of true internationalists, I think I might have prefered a Bourbon or a Stuart if they had not been so dim.
All in all, this is a good read about the world of political Paris between two bouts of Bonapartism, first time as megadeath tragedy, second time as flummery and near-comedy (leading, of course, to yet more tragedy). Not a great work of history but a solid one. With reluctance, I say 'vive les rois'.