It was on these grounds, and supported by this sentiment, that the Jacobin party rose. The root of the Jacobin theory was that all power and right resided in the people, and that when the people acted, law and government must give way before them. The people were sovereign and could not do wrong. Consequently, it was the business of the people to watch their rulers very closely, to supervise their conduct jealously, to remind them that they were only agents and puppets of a sovereign always suspicious and alert. If the sovereign chose to come forward, no Ministers or rulers must interfere to thwart it. They must obey, whatever it might command. Obviously, according to this theory, popular movements, whatever their character might be, were merely the highest expression of the law. Even if attended by violence and murder, they were still the action of the sovereign. Those who obstructed them were traitors and usurpers. Those who punished them were guilty of a crime. It is possible to understand how this theory, which is no travesty of the Jacobin creed, planted deeply in mediocre minds, where the baldest logic took the place of reason, might lead those who believed in it to anarchy, while they believed they were on the road to freedom. Another direct result of the doctrine was the dogmatism and self-assertion which it bred. The people having become the sovereign, every man in his own estimation, however ignorant of politics before, became a responsible ruler too. The Jacobin was filled with a sense of vast responsibility, puffed up with pride in his new importance. The Government, the Law, the Church, the public functionaries, had suddenly become his nominees, and he must personally see that they did their duty. A curious inflation accordingly appeared in his tone. His language became that of a dictator. His belief in himself mounted to an extraordinary level of conceit. The self-confidence which goes with youth perhaps helped to throw him off his balance, for it is interesting to notice how largely the doctrine found recruits among the young. Not only individuals, but public bodies, seemed to catch the spirit of self-assertion. Even small municipalities began to insist on acting as independent sovereigns, refused to listen to any superiors, and placed their own laws above the laws of the Assembly. An extreme instance was afforded by the little town of Issy l'Evêque, where the priest, an enterprising politician, acting apparently as leader of the parish, assumed a brief but magnificent dictatorship, issued a complete code for the government and administration of the town, imposed taxes, imprisoned his opponents, seized upon grain, confiscated and partitioned the land in the neighbourhood, and exercised undisputed the prerogatives of a sovereign prince. When the people were admittedly sovereign, it followed, in the view of the enthusiast, that any proportion of the people could be sovereigns too, and, provided that he