The sense of freedom provided by the temporary lifting of the Russian protectorate was not always well used. Garrulity ruled in the debates, as individuals showered the assembly with pet projects and the Sejm and its sub-committees tried vainly to cover all aspects of government activity. So matters might have gone on, had not the opposition to Stanislaw August split: between those who wanted genuine reform, even enlightened social policies, and those who merely wanted a return to the status quo of Augustus Ill’s reign. It was the former who mended their fences to the king; and it was in collaboration with him that, on 3 May 1791, in a legitimist coup d'etat, they sprang a new constitution on Poland: a curious
hybrid of royal hopes for a more vigorous monarchy and a more effective parliament, with checks and balances to curb any despotic tendencies. The two sacred cows of the Rzeczpospolita’s history were slaughtered: the liberum veto was abolished and, even more remarkably, elective monarchy was rejected. This last issue gave rise to the most heated and prolonged debates, in and outside parliament. Only the most resolutely obstinate were prepared to defend the veto. On the other hand, ‘free’ royal elections had, for two centuries, been mythologized into the most effective mechanism for the restraining of kingly pretensions. In practice, they had proved a disaster. Almost every royal election had been the occasion for internecine strife and an opening for foreign interference. Gradually, the sheer volume of polemic in favour of hereditary kingship let a reluctant nobility be coaxed into some appreciation of this. A dynastic throne was offered to Augustus Ill’s grandson, Frederick Augustus III of Saxony. The English principles of ministerial accountability and monarchic irresponsibility were adopted. New central commissions, reflecting an obsession with a Montesquieu-inspired conception of the separation of legislative, executive and judicial branches, were introduced.
Townsmen were given limited rights of participation in the Sejm in matters directly affecting commerce. Poland's politically active ‘bourgeoisie’ was still very weak and largely confined to Warsaw. More thoughtful souls among the szlachta were keen to play up its potential role for the future. Townsmen settled gratefully for what they were given. The Sejm never got around to proper consideration of the place of Poland’s many Jews, despite their prominent commercial role. They had a vibrant culture of their own, but they continued to remain outside the political framework. Peasants were given little, beyond a vague commitment to the state’s legal protection - but even this was a major turning-point after almost three centuries of letting noble landowners have their way over their serfs. On the other hand, peasants migrating to Poland were assured of their personal freedom. The conservative nature of the so-called ‘Statute of Government’ of 3 May was reflected in the treatment of religion, which had for so long dogged the Polish-Lithuanian enterprise. Catholicism was declared the ruling faith; freedom of worship ‘according to the laws of the land’ was promised, but ‘apostasy’ from Catholicism was prohibited. It was only very grudgingly that subsequent legislation allowed the Uniate metropolitan a seat in the Senate. The changes promised far more than was delivered - but they were radical enough to alarm both Russia and Prussia: only struggling Austria welcomed the Third of May Constitution, for its policy-makers hoped that a revived Poland might be turned into an ally against Prussia.
The new constitution was feted throughout Europe: in Paris, because it carried the promise of even backward Poland joining the revolutionary bandwagon; in London, because it was not French and the Polish minister produced a nicely honed translation which made it appear almost English. Of course, the constitution sealed Poland’s fate. The Saxon Elector did not dare take up the offer of the throne. Russia could not tolerate such a show of defiance in its vassal. As soon as the Turkish war was over, in May 1792, over
90,000 troops poured across the frontier, overwhelming the untried Polish army. The Prussians refused to honour their defensive alliance on the grounds that they had not been consulted over the new constitution. In St Petersburg, half a dozen Polish malcontents proclaimed that they had set up a confederacy in the border village of Targowica, in defence of Polish liberty. It was true - ‘Targowica’ (a political insult which has lost none of its venom even in the twenty-first century) was the last gasp of the ‘Liberty’ that the Third of May Constitution tried to redefine. Yet the many for whom the Third of May was a step too far could not but despise the diehards who invoked the empress’s protection.