{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_46333/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_46333","id":"gutenberg_46333","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46333","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Politics","Economics","Political science -- Early works to 1800","Social contract"],"text":"Note: Images of the original pages are available through\n      the the Google Books Library Project. See\n      http://www.google.com/books?id=exNPAAAAMAAJ\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOCIAL CONTRACT & DISCOURSES\n\nby\n\nJEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon & Toronto\nPublished by J. M. Dent & Sons\nIn New York by E. P. Dutton & Co\n\n\n\n\nEveryman's Library\n\nEdited by Ernest Rhys\n\nPhilosophy and Theology\n\nROUSSEAU'S SOCIAL CONTRACT, ETC.\n\nTranslated with Introduction by G.D.H. Cole,\n\nFellow of Magdalen College, Oxford\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nFor the study of the great writers and thinkers of the past, historical\nimagination is the first necessity. Without mentally referring to the\nenvironment in which they lived, we cannot hope to penetrate below the\ninessential and temporary to the absolute and permanent value of their\nthought. Theory, no less than action, is subject to these necessities;\nthe form in which men cast their speculations, no less than the ways\nin which they behave, are the result of the habits of thought and\naction which they find around them. Great men make, indeed, individual\ncontributions to the knowledge of their times; but they can never\ntranscend the age in which they live. The questions they try to answer\nwill always be those their contemporaries are asking; their statement\nof fundamental problems will always be relative to the traditional\nstatements that have been handed down to them. When they are stating\nwhat is most startlingly new, they will be most likely to put it in an\nold-fashioned form, and to use the inadequate ideas and formulae of\ntradition to express the deeper truths towards which they are feeling\ntheir way. They will be most the children of their age, when they are\nrising most above it.\n\nRousseau has suffered as much as any one from critics without a sense\nof history. He has been cried up and cried down by democrats and\noppressors with an equal lack of understanding and imagination. His\nname, a hundred and fifty years after the publication of the _Social\nContract_, is still a controversial watchword and a party cry. He is\naccepted as one of the greatest writers France has produced; but even\nnow men are inclined, as political bias prompts them, to accept or\nreject his political doctrines as a whole, without sifting them or\nattempting to understand and discriminate. He is still revered or hated\nas the author who, above all others, inspired the French Revolution.\n\nAt the present day, his works possess a double significance. They are\nimportant historically, alike as giving us an insight into the mind\nof the eighteenth century, and for the actual influence they have had\non the course of events in Europe. Certainly no other writer of the\ntime has exercised such an influence as his. He may fairly be called\nthe parent of the romantic movement in art, letters and life; he\naffected profoundly the German romantics and Goethe himself; he set the\nfashion of a new introspection which has permeated nineteenth century\nliterature; he began modern educational theory; and, above all, in\npolitical thought he represents the passage from a traditional theory\nrooted in the Middle Ages to the modern philosophy of the State. His\ninfluence on Kant's moral philosophy and on Hegel's philosophy of Right\nare two sides of the same fundamental contribution to modern thought.\nHe is, in fact, the great forerunner of German and English Idealism.\n\nIt would not be possible, in the course of a short introduction, to\ndeal both with the positive content of Rousseau's thought and with\nthe actual influence he has had on practical affairs. The statesmen\nof the French Revolution, from Robespierre downwards, were throughout\nprofoundly affected by the study of his works. Though they seem often\nto have misunderstood him, they had on the whole studied him with\nthe attention he demands. In the nineteenth century, men continued\nto appeal to Rousseau, without, as a rule, knowing him well or\npenetrating deeply into his meaning. \"The _Social Contract_,\" says\nM. Dreyfus-Brisac, \"is the book of all books that is most talked of\nand least read.\" But with the great revival of interest in political\nphilosophy there has come a desire for the better understanding of\nRousseau's work. He is again being studied more as a thinker and less\nas an ally or an opponent; there is more eagerness to sift the true\nfrom the false, and to seek in the _Social Contract_ the \"principles of\npolitical right,\" rather than the great revolutionary's _ipse dixit_\nin favour of some view about circumstances which he could never have\ncontemplated.\n\nThe _Social Contract_, then, may be regarded either as a document\nof the French Revolution, or as one of the greatest books dealing\nwith political philosophy. It is in the second capacity, as a work\nof permanent value containing truth, that it finds a place among the\nworld's great books. It is in that capacity also that it will be\ntreated in this introduction. Taking it in this aspect, we have no less\nneed of historical insight than if we came to it as historians pure and\nsimple. To understand its value we must grasp its limitations; when\nthe questions it answers seem unnaturally put, we must not conclude\nthat they are meaningless; we must see if the answer still holds when\nthe question is put in a more up-to-date form.\n\nFirst, then, we must always remember that Rousseau is writing in the\neighteenth century, and for the most part in France. Neither the French\nmonarchy nor the Genevese aristocracy loved outspoken criticism,\nand Rousseau had always to be very careful what he said. This may\nseem a curious statement to make about a man who suffered continual\npersecution on account of his subversive doctrines; but, although\nRousseau was one of the most daring writers of his time, he was forced\ncontinually to moderate his language and, as a rule, to confine himself\nto generalisation instead of attacking particular abuses. Rousseau's\ntheory has often been decried as too abstract and metaphysical. This is\nin many ways its great strength; but where it is excessively so, the\naccident of time is to blame. In the eighteenth century it was, broadly\nspeaking, safe to generalise and unsafe to particularise. Scepticism\nand discontent were the prevailing temper of the intellectual classes,\nand a short-sighted despotism held that, as long as they were confined\nto these, they would do little harm. Subversive doctrines were only\nregarded as dangerous when they were so put as to appeal to the\nmasses; philosophy was regarded as impotent. The intellectuals of the\neighteenth century therefore generalised to their hearts' content, and\nas a rule suffered little for their _l\u00e8se-majest\u00e9_: Voltaire is the\ntypical example of such generalisation. The spirit of the age favoured\nsuch methods, and it was therefore natural for Rousseau to pursue\nthem. But his general remarks had such a way of bearing very obvious\nparticular applications, and were so obviously inspired by a particular\nattitude towards the government of his day, that even philosophy became\nin his hands unsafe, and he was attacked for what men read between\nthe lines of his works. It is owing to this faculty of giving his\ngeneralisations content and actuality that Rousseau has become the\nfather of modern political philosophy. He uses the method of his time\nonly to transcend it; out of the abstract and general he creates the\nconcrete and universal.\n\nSecondly, we must not forget that Rousseau's theories are to be studied\nin a wider historical environment. If he is the first of modern\npolitical theorists, he is also the last of a long line of Renaissance\ntheorists, who in turn inherit and transform the concepts of medi\u00e6val\nthought. So many critics have spent so much wasted time in proving\nthat Rousseau was not original only because they began by identifying\noriginality with isolation: they studied first the _Social Contract_ by\nitself, out of relation to earlier works, and then, having discovered\nthat these earlier works resembled it, decided that everything it had\nto say was borrowed. Had they begun their study in a truly historical\nspirit, they would have seen that Rousseau's importance lies just in\nthe new use he makes of old ideas, in the transition he makes from old\nto new in the general conception of politics. No mere innovator could\nhave exercised such an influence or hit on so much truth. Theory makes\nno great leaps; it proceeds to new concepts by the adjustment and\nrenovation of old ones. Just as theological writers on politics, from\nHooker to Bossuet, make use of Biblical terminology and ideas; just as\nmore modern writers, from Hegel to Herbert Spencer, make use of the\nconcept of evolution, Rousseau uses the ideas and terms of the Social\nContract theory. We should feel, throughout his work, his struggle to\nfree himself from what is lifeless and outworn in that theory, while\nhe develops out of it fruitful conceptions that go beyond its scope. A\ntoo rigid literalism in the interpretation of Rousseau's thought may\neasily reduce it to the possession of a merely \"historical interest\":\nif we approach it in a truly historical spirit, we shall be able to\nappreciate at once its temporary and its lasting value, to see how it\nserved his contemporaries, and at the same time to disentangle from it\nwhat may be serviceable to us and for all time.\n\nRousseau's _Emile_, the greatest of all works on education, has already\nbeen issued in this series. In this volume are contained the most\nimportant of his political works. Of these the _Social Contract_, by\nfar the most significant, is the latest in date. It represents the\nmaturity of his thought, while the other works only illustrate his\ndevelopment. Born in 1712, he issued no work of importance till 1750;\nbut he tells us, in the _Confessions,_ that in 1743, when he was\nattached to the Embassy at Venice, he had already conceived the idea of\na great work on _Political Institutions_, \"which was to put the seal on\nhis reputation.\" He seems, however, to have made little progress with\nthis work, until in 1749 he happened to light on the announcement of a\nprize offered by the Academy of Dijon for an answer to the question,\n\"Has the progress of the arts and sciences tended to the purification\nor to the corruption of morality?\" His old ideas came thronging back,\nand sick at heart of the life he had been leading among the Paris\n_lumi\u00e8res_, he composed a violent and rhetorical diatribe against\ncivilisation generally. In the following year, this work, having been\nawarded the prize by the Academy, was published by its author. His\nsuccess was instantaneous; he became at once a famous man, the \"lion\"\nof Parisian literary circles. Refutations of his work were issued by\nprofessors, scribblers, outraged theologians and even by the King of\nPoland. Rousseau endeavoured to answer them all, and in the course of\nargument his thought developed. From 1750 to the publication of the\n_Social Contract_ and _Emile_ in 1762 he gradually evolved his views:\nin those twelve years he made his unique contribution to political\nthought.\n\nThe _Discourse on the Arts and Sciences_, the earliest of the works\nreproduced in this volume, is not in itself of very great importance.\nRousseau has given his opinion of it in the _Confessions_. \"Full of\nwarmth and force, it is wholly without logic or order; of all my\nworks it is the weakest in argument and the least harmonious. But\nwhatever gifts a man may be born with, he cannot learn the art of\nwriting in a moment.\" This criticism is just. The first Discourse\nneither is, nor attempts to be, a reasoned or a balanced production.\nIt is the speech of an advocate, wholly one-sided and arbitrary, but\nso obviously and naively one-sided, that it is difficult for us to\nbelieve in its entire seriousness. At the most, it is only a rather\nbrilliant but flimsy rhetorical effort, a sophistical improvisation,\nbut not a serious contribution to thought. Yet it is certain that this\ndeclamation made Rousseau's name, and established his position as a\ngreat writer in Parisian circles. D'Alembert even devoted the preface\nof the _Encyclop\u00e6dia_ to a refutation. The plan of the first Discourse\nis essentially simple: it sets out from the badness, immorality and\nmisery of modern nations, traces all these ills to the departure from a\n\"natural\" state, and then credits the progress of the arts and sciences\nwith being the cause of that departure. In it, Rousseau is already in\npossession of his idea of \"nature\" as an ideal; but he has at present\nmade no attempt to discriminate, in what is unnatural, between good\nand bad. He is merely using a single idea, putting it as strongly as\nhe can, and neglecting all its limitations. The first Discourse is\nimportant not for any positive doctrine it contains, but as a key to\nthe development of Rousseau's mind. Here we see him at the beginning\nof the long journey which was to lead on at last to the theory of the\n_Social Contract_.\n\nIn 1755 appeared the _Discourse on the Origin and Foundation of\nInequality among Men_, which is the second of the works given in this\nvolume. With this essay, Rousseau had unsuccessfully competed in 1753\nfor a second prize offered by the Academy of Dijon, and he now issued\nit prefaced by a long Dedication to the Republic of Geneva. In this\nwork, which Voltaire, in thanking him for a presentation copy, termed\nhis \"second book against the human race,\" his style and his ideas\nhave made a great advance; he is no longer content merely to push a\nsingle idea to extremes: while preserving the broad opposition between\nthe state of nature and the state of society, which runs through all\nhis work, he is concerned to present a rational justification of\nhis views and to admit that a little at any rate may be said on the\nother side. Moreover, the idea of \"nature\" has already undergone a\ngreat development; it is no longer an empty opposition to the evils\nof society; it possesses a positive content. Thus half the _Discourse\non Inequality_ is occupied by an imaginary description of the state\nof nature, in which man is shown with ideas limited within the\nnarrowest range, with little need of his fellows, and little care\nbeyond provision for the necessities of the moment. Rousseau declares\nexplicitly that he does not suppose the \"state of nature\" ever to have\nexisted: it is a pure \"idea of reason,\" a working concept reached by\nabstraction from the \"state of society.\" The \"natural man,\" as opposed\nto \"man's man,\" is man stripped of all that society confers upon him, a\ncreature formed by a process of abstraction, and never intended for a\nhistorical portrait. The conclusion of the Discourse favours not this\npurely abstract being, but a state of savagery intermediate between the\n\"natural\" and the \"social\" conditions, in which men may preserve the\nsimplicity and the advantages of nature and at the same time secure the\nrude comforts and assurances of early society. In one of the long notes\nappended to the Discourse, Rousseau further explains his position.\nHe does not wish, he says, that modern corrupt society should return\nto a state of nature: corruption has gone too far for that; he only\ndesires now that men should palliate, by wiser use of the fatal arts,\nthe mistake of their introduction. He recognises society as inevitable\nand is already feeling his way towards a justification of it. The\nsecond Discourse represents a second stage in his political thought:\nthe opposition between the state of nature and the state of society is\nstill presented in naked contrast; but the picture of the former has\nalready filled out, and it only remains for Rousseau to take a nearer\nview of the fundamental implications of the state of society for his\nthought to reach maturity.\n\nRousseau is often blamed, by modern critics, for pursuing in the\nDiscourses a method apparently that of history, but in reality wholly\nunhistorical. But it must be remembered that he himself lays no\nstress on the historical aspect of his work; he gives himself out\nas constructing a purely ideal picture, and not as depicting any\nactual stages in human history. The use of false historical concepts\nis characteristic of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and\nRousseau is more to be congratulated on having escaped from giving them\ntoo much importance than criticised for employing them at all.\n\nIt is doubtful whether the _Discourse on Political Economy,_ first\nprinted in the great _Encyclop\u00e6dia_ in 1755, was composed before or\nafter the _Discourse on Inequality_. At first sight the former seems to\nbe far more in the manner of the _Social Contract_ and to contain views\nbelonging essentially to Rousseau's constructive period. It would not,\nhowever, be safe to conclude from this that its date is really later.\nThe _Discourse on Inequality_ still has about it much of the rhetorical\nlooseness of the prize essay; it aims not so much at close reasoning\nas at effective and popular presentation of a case. But, by reading\nbetween the lines, an attentive student can detect in it a great\ndeal of the positive doctrine afterwards incorporated in the _Social\nContract_. Especially in the closing section, which lays down the plan\nof a general treatment of the fundamental questions of politics, we\nare already to some extent in the atmosphere of the later works. It\nis indeed almost certain that Rousseau never attempted to put into\neither of the first two Discourses any of the positive content of his\npolitical theory. They were intended, not as final expositions of his\npoint of view, but as partial and preliminary studies, in which his aim\nwas far more destructive than constructive. It is clear that in first\nconceiving the plan of a work on _Political Institutions_, Rousseau\ncannot have meant to regard all society as in essence bad. It is indeed\nevident that he meant, from the first, to study human society and\ninstitutions in their rational aspect, and that he was rather diverted\nfrom his main purpose by the Academy of Dijon's competition than first\ninduced by it to think about political questions. It need, therefore,\ncause no surprise that a work probably written before the _Discourse on\nInequality_ should contain the germs of the theory given in full in the\n_Social Contract_. The _Discourse on Political Economy_ is important as\ngiving the first sketch of the theory of the \"General Will.\" It will\nreadily be seen that Rousseau does not mean by \"political economy\"\nexactly what we mean nowadays. He begins with a discussion of the\nfundamental nature of the State, and the possibility of reconciling its\nexistence with human liberty, and goes on with an admirable short study\nof the principles of taxation. He is thinking throughout of \"political\"\nin the sense of \"public\" economy, of the State as the public financier,\nand not of the conditions governing industry. He conceives the State\nas a body aiming at the well-being of all its members and subordinates\nall his views of taxation to that end. He who has only necessaries\nshould not be taxed at all; superfluities should be supertaxed; there\nshould be heavy imposts on every sort of luxury. The first part of\nthe article is still more interesting. Rousseau begins by demolishing\nthe exaggerated parallel so often drawn between the State and the\nfamily; he shows that the State is not, and cannot be, patriarchal in\nnature, and goes on to lay down his view that its real being consists\nin the General Will of its members. The essential features of the\n_Social Contract_ are present in this Discourse almost as if they were\ncommonplaces, certainly not as if they were new discoveries on which\nthe author had just hit by some happy inspiration. There is every\ntemptation, after reading the _Political Economy_, to suppose that\nRousseau's political ideas really reached maturity far earlier than has\ngenerally been allowed.\n\nThe _Social Contract_ finally appeared, along with _Emile_, in 1762.\nThis year, therefore, represents in every respect the culmination of\nRousseau's career. Henceforth, he was to write only controversial\nand confessional works; his theories were now developed, and,\nsimultaneously, he gave to the world his views on the fundamental\nproblems of politics and education. It is now time to ask what\nRousseau's system, in its maturity, finally amounted to. The _Social\nContract_ contains practically the whole of his constructive political\ntheory; it requires to be read, for full understanding, in connection\nwith his other works, especially _Emile_ and the _Letters on the Mount_\n(1764), but in the main it is self-contained and complete. The title\nsufficiently defines its scope. It is called _The Social Contract\nor Principles of Political Right_, and the second title explains\nthe first. Rousseau's object is not to deal, in a general way, like\nMontesquieu, with the actual institutions of existing States, but to\nlay down the essential principles which must form the basis of every\nlegitimate society. Rousseau himself, in the fifth book of the _Emile_,\nhas stated the difference clearly. \"Montesquieu,\" he says, \"did not\nintend to treat of the principles of political right; he was content\nto treat of the positive right (or law) of established governments;\nand no two studies could be more different than these.\" Rousseau then\nconceives his object as being something very different from that of\nthe _Spirit of the Laws_, and it is a wilful error to misconstrue\nhis purpose. When he remarks that \"the facts,\" the actual history of\npolitical societies, \"do not concern him,\" he is not contemptuous of\nfacts; he is merely asserting the sure principle that a fact can in\nno case give rise to a right. His desire is to establish society on a\nbasis of pure right, so as at once to disprove his attack on society\ngenerally and to reinforce his criticism of existing societies.\n\nRound this point centres the whole dispute about the methods proper\nto political theory. There are, broadly speaking, two schools of\npolitical theorists, if we set aside the psychologists. One school, by\ncollecting facts, aims at reaching broad generalisations about what\nactually happens in human societies! the other tries to penetrate to\nthe universal principles at the root of all human combination. For the\nlatter purpose facts may be useful, but in themselves they can prove\nnothing. The question is not one of fact, but one of right.\n\nRousseau belongs essentially to this philosophical school. He is not,\nas his less philosophic critics seem to suppose, a purely abstract\nthinker generalising from imaginary historical instances; he is a\nconcrete thinker trying to get beyond they inessential and changing to\nthe permanent and invariable basis of human society. Like Green, he is\nin search of the principle of political obligation, and beside this\nquest all others fall into their place as secondary and derivative.\nIt is required to find a form of association able to defend and\nprotect with the whole common force the person and goods of every\nassociate, and of such a nature, that each, uniting himself with all,\nmay still obey only himself, and remain as free as before. This is\nthe fundamental problem of which the _Social Contract_ provides the\nsolution. The problem of political obligation is seen as including\nall other political problems, which fall into place in a system based\nupon it. How, Rousseau asks, can the will of the State help being for\nme a merely external will, imposing itself upon my own? How can the\nexistence of the State be reconciled with human freedom? How can man,\nwho is born free, rightly come to be everywhere in chains?\n\nNo-one could help understanding the central problem of the _Social\nContract_ immediately, were it not that its doctrines often seem\nto be strangely formulated. We have seen that this strangeness is\ndue to Rousseau's historical position, to his use of the political\nconcepts current in his own age, and to his natural tendency to build\non the foundations laid by his predecessors. There are a great many\npeople whose idea of Rousseau consists solely of the first words of\nthe opening chapter of the _Social Contract_, \"Man is born free, and\neverywhere he is in chains.\" But, they tell you, man is not born free,\neven if he is everywhere in chains. Thus at the very outset we are\nfaced with the great difficulty in appreciating Rousseau. When we\nshould naturally say \"man ought to be free,\" or perhaps \"man is born\nfor freedom,\" he prefers to say \"man is born free,\" by which he means\nexactly the same thing. There is doubtless, in his way of putting it,\nan appeal to a \"golden age\"; but this golden age is admittedly as\nimaginary as the freedom to which men are born is bound, for most of\nthem, to be. Elsewhere Rousseau puts the point much as we might put\nit ourselves. \"Nothing is more certain than that every man born in\nslavery is born for slavery.... But if there are slaves by nature, it\nis because there have been slaves against nature\" (_Social Contract_,\nBook I, chap. ii).\n\nWe have seen that the contrast between the \"state of nature\" and the\n\"state of society\" runs through all Rousseau's work. The _Emile_\nis a plea for \"natural\" education; the Discourses are a plea for a\n\"naturalisation\" of society; the _New H\u00e9lo\u00efse_ is the romantic's\nappeal for more \"nature\" in human relationships. What then is the\nposition of this contrast in Rousseau's mature political thought? It\nis clear that the position is not merely that of the Discourses. In\nthem, he envisaged only the faults of actual societies; now, he is\nconcerned with the possibility of a rational society. His aim is to\njustify the change from \"nature\" to \"society,\" although it has left\nmen in chains. He is in search of the true society, which leaves men\n\"as free as before.\" Altogether, the space occupied by the idea of\nnature in the _Social Contract_ is very small. It is used of necessity\nin the controversial chapters, in which Rousseau is refuting false\ntheories of social obligation; but when once he has brushed aside\nthe false prophets, he lets the idea of nature go with them, and\nconcerns himself solely with giving society the rational sanction he\nhas promised. It becomes clear that, in political matters at any rate,\nthe \"state of nature\" is for him only a term of controversy. He has\nin effect abandoned, in so far as he ever held it, the theory of a\nhuman golden age; and where, as in the _Emile_, he makes use of the\nidea of nature, it is broadened and deepened out of all recognition.\nDespite many passages in which the old terminology cleaves to him, he\nmeans by \"nature\" in this period not the original state of a thing,\nnor even its reduction to the simplest terms: he is passing over to\nthe conception of \"nature\" as identical with the full development of\ncapacity, with the higher! idea of human freedom. This view may be seen\nin germ even in the _Discourse on Inequality_, where, distinguishing\nself-respect (_amour de soi_) from egoism (_amour-propre_), Rousseau\nmakes the former, the property of the \"natural\" man, consist not in\nthe desire for self-aggrandisement, but in the seeking of satisfaction\nfor reasonable desire accompanied by benevolence; whereas egoism is\nthe preference of our own interests to those of others, self-respect\nmerely puts us on an equal footing with our fellows. It is true that\nin the Discourse Rousseau is pleading against the development of many\nhuman faculties; but he is equally advocating the fullest development\nof those he regards as \"natural,\" by which he means merely \"good.\"\nThe \"state of society,\" as envisaged in the _Social Contract_, is no\nlonger in contradiction to the \"state of nature\" upheld in the _Emile_,\nwhere indeed the social environment is of the greatest importance, and,\nthough the pupil is screened from it, he is none the less being trained\nfor it. Indeed the views given in the _Social Contract_ are summarised\nin the fifth book of the _Emile_, and by this summary the essential\nunity of Rousseau's system is emphasised.\n\nRousseau's object, then, in the first words of the _Social Contract_,\n\"is to inquire if, in the civil order, there can be any sure and\ncertain, rule of administration, taking men as they are and laws as\nthey might be.\" Montesquieu took laws as they were, and saw what sort\nof men they made: Rousseau, founding his whole system on human freedom,\ntakes man as the basis, and regards him as giving himself what laws he\npleases. He takes his stand on the nature of human freedom: on this he\nbases his whole system, making the will of the members the sole basis\nof every society.\n\nIn working out his theory, Rousseau makes use throughout of three\ngeneral and, to some extent, alternative conceptions. These are the\nSocial Contract, Sovereignty and the General Will. We shall now have to\nexamine each of these in turn.\n\nThe Social Contract theory is as old as the sophists of Greece (see\nPlato, _Republic_, Book II and the _Gorgias_), and as I elusive.\nIt has been adapted to the most opposite points of view, and used,\nin different forms, on both sides of every question to which it\ncould conceivably be applied. It is frequent in medi\u00e6val writers,\na commonplace with the theorists of the Renaissance, and in the\neighteenth century already nearing its fall before a wider conception.\nIt would be a long, as well as a thankless, task to trace its history\nover again: it may be followed best in D. G. Ritchie's admirable essay\non it in _Darwin and Hegel and Other Studies_. For us, it is important\nonly to regard it in its most general aspect, before studying the\nspecial use made of it by Rousseau. Obviously, in one form or another,\nit is a theory very easily arrived at. Wherever any form of government\napart from the merest tyranny exists, reflection on the basis of the\nState cannot but lead to the notion that, in one sense or another,\nit is based on the consent, tacit or expressed, past or present, of\nits members. In this alone, the greater part of the Social Contract\ntheory is already latent. Add the desire to find actual justification\nfor a theory in facts, and, especially in an age possessed only of the\nhaziest historical sense, this doctrine of consent will inevitably\nbe given a historical setting. If in addition there is a tendency\nto regard society as something unnatural to humanity, the tendency\nwill become irresistible. By writers of almost all schools, the\nState will be represented as having arisen, in some remote age, out\nof a compact or, in more legal phrase, contract between two or more\nparties. The only class that will be able to resist the doctrine is\nthat which maintains the divine right of kings, and holds that all\nexisting governments were were imposed on the people by the direct\ninterposition of God. All who are not prepared to maintain that will be\npartisans of some form or other of the Social Contract theory.\n\nIt is, therefore, not surprising that we find among its advocates\nwriters of the most opposite points of view. Barely stated, it is a\nmere formula, which may be filled in with any content from absolutism\nto pure republicanism. And, in the hands of some at least of its\nsupporters, it turns out to be a weapon that cuts both ways. We shall\nbe in a better position to judge of its usefulness when we have seen\nits chief varieties at work.\n\nAll Social Contract theories that are at all definite fall under one\nor other of two heads. They represent society as based on an original\ncontract either between the people and the government, or between all\nthe individuals composing the State. Historically, modern theory passes\nfrom the first to the second of these forms.\n\nThe doctrine that society is founded on a contract between the people\nand the government is of medi\u00e6val origin. It was often supported by\nreferences to the Old Testament, which contains a similar view in\nan unreflective form. It is found in most of the great political\nwriters of the sixteenth century; in Buchanan, and in the writings\nof James I: it persists into the seventeenth in the works of Grotius\nand Puffendorf. Grotius is sometimes held to have stated the theory\nso as to admit both forms of contract; but it is clear that he is\nonly thinking of the first form as admitting democratic as well as\nmonarchical government. We find it put very clearly by the Convention\nParliament of 1688, which accuses James II of having \"endeavoured\nto subvert the constitution of the kingdom by breaking the original\ncontract between king and people.\" While Hobbes, on the side of the\nroyalists, is maintaining the contract theory in its second form, the\nParliamentarian Algernon Sidney adheres to the idea of a contract\nbetween the people and the government.\n\nIn this form, the theory clearly admits of opposite interpretations. It\nmay be held that the people, having given itself up once for all to its\nrulers, has nothing more to ask of them, and is bound to submit to any\nusage they may choose to inflict. This, however, is not the implication\nmost usually drawn from it. The theory, in this form, originated with\ntheologians who were also lawyers. Their view of a contract implied\nmutual obligations; they regarded the ruler as bound, by its terms,\nto govern constitutionally. The old idea that a king must not violate\nthe sacred customs of the realm passes easily into the doctrine that he\nmust not violate the terms of the original contract between himself and\nhis people. Just as in the days of the Norman kings, every appeal on\nthe part of the people for more liberties was couched in the form of a\ndemand that the customs of the \"good old times\" of Edward the Confessor\nshould be respected, so in the seventeenth century every act of popular\nassertion or resistance was stated as an appeal to the king not to\nviolate the contract. The demand was a good popular cry, and it seemed\nto have the theorists behind it. Rousseau gives his refutation of this\nview, which he had, in the _Discourse on Inequality_, maintained in\npassing, in the sixteenth chapter of the third book of the _Social\nContract._ (See also Book I, chap, iv, init.) His attack is really\nconcerned also with the theory of Hobbes, which in some respects\nresembles, as we shall see, this first view; but, in form at least,\nit is directed against this form of contract. It will be possible to\nexamine it more closely, when the second view has been considered.\n\nThe second view, which may be called the Social Contract theory proper,\nregards society as originating in, or based on, an agreement between\nthe individuals composing it. It seems to be found first, rather\nvaguely, in Richard Hooker's _Ecclesiastical Polity_, from which Locke\nlargely borrowed: and it reappears, in varying forms, in Milton's\n_Tenure of Kings and Magistrates_, in Hobbes's _Leviathan_, in Locke's\n_Treatises on Civil Government_, and in Rousseau. The best-known\ninstance of its actual use is by the Pilgrim Fathers on the _Mayflower_\nin 1620, in whose declaration occurs the phrase, \"We do solemnly and\nmutually, in the presence of God and of one another, covenant and\ncombine ourselves together into a civil body politic.\" The natural\nimplication of this view would seem to be the corollary of complete\npopular Sovereignty which Rousseau draws. But before Rousseau's time\nit had been used to support views as diverse as those which rested on\nthe first form. We saw that, in Grotius's great work, _De Jure Belli et\nPacis_, it was already possible to doubt which of the two theories was\nbeing advocated. The first theory was, historically, a means of popular\nprotest against royal aggression. As soon as popular government was\ntaken into account, the act of contract between people and government\nbecame in effect merely a contract between the individuals composing\nthe society, and readily passed over into the second form.\n\nThe second theory, in its ordinary form, expresses only the view\nthat the people is everywhere Sovereign, and that, in the phrase\nof Milton's treatise, \"the power of kings and magistrates is only\nderivative.\" Before, however, this view had been worked up into a\nphilosophical theory, it had already been used by Hobbes to support\nprecisely opposite principles. Hobbes agrees that the original contract\nis one between all the individuals composing the State, and that the\ngovernment is no party to it; but he regards the people as agreeing,\nnot merely to form a State, but to invest a certain person or certain\npersons with the government of it. He agrees that the people is\nnaturally supreme, but regards it as alienating its Sovereignty by\nthe contract itself, and delegating its power, wholly and for ever,\nto the government. As soon, therefore, as the State is set up, the\ngovernment becomes for Hobbes the Sovereign; there is no more question\nof popular Sovereignty, but only of passive obedience: the people is\nbound, by the contract, to obey its ruler, no matter whether he governs\nwell or ill. It has alienated all its rights to the Sovereign, who is,\ntherefore, absolute master. Hobbes, living in a time of civil wars,\nregards the worst government as better than anarchy, and is, therefore,\nat pains to find arguments in support of any form of absolutism. It is\neasy to pick holes in this system, and to see into what difficulties\na conscientious Hobbist might be led by a revolution. For as soon as\nthe revolutionaries get the upper hand, he will have to sacrifice one\nof his principles: he will have to side against either the actual or\nthe legitimate Sovereign. It is easy also to see that alienation of\nliberty, even if possible for an individual, which Rousseau denies,\ncannot bind his posterity. But, with all its faults, the view of Hobbes\nis on the whole admirably, if ruthlessly, logical, and to it Rousseau\nowes a great deal.\n\nThe special shape given to the second Social Contract theory by Hobbes\nlooks, at first sight, much like a combination, into a single act,\nof both the contracts. This, however, is not the view he adopts. The\ntheory of a contract between government and people had, as we have\nseen, been used mainly as a support for popular liberties, a means of\nassertion against the government. Hobbes, whose whole aim is to make\nhis government Sovereign, can only do this by leaving the government\noutside the contract: he thus avoids the necessity of submitting it to\nany obligation whatsoever, and leaves it absolute and irresponsible. He\nsecures, in fact, not merely a State which has unbounded rights against\nthe individual, but a determinate authority with the right to enforce\nthose rights. His theory is not merely Statism (_\u00e9tatisme_); it is pure\ndespotism.\n\nIt is clear that, if such a theory is to be upheld, it can stand only\nby the view, which Hobbes shares with Grotius, that a man can alienate\nnot merely his own liberty, but also that of his descendants, and\nthat, consequently, a people as a whole can do the same. This is the\npoint at which both Locke and Rousseau attack it. Locke, whose aim is\nlargely to justify the Revolution of 1688, makes government depend,\nnot merely at its institution, but always, on the consent of the\ngoverned, and regards all rulers as liable to be displaced if they\ngovern tyrannically. He omits, however, to provide any machinery short\nof revolution for the expression of popular opinion, and, on the whole,\nseems to regard the popular consent as something essentially tacit and\nassumed. He regards the State as existing mainly to protect life and\nproperty, and is, in all his assertions of popular rights, so cautious\nas to reduce them almost to nothing. It is not till we come to Rousseau\nthat the second form of the contract theory is stated in its purest and\nmost logical form.\n\nRousseau sees clearly the necessity, if popular consent in government\nis to be more than a name, of giving it some constitutional means of\nexpression. For Locke's theory of tacit consent, he substitutes an\nactive agreement periodically renewed. He looks back with admiration\nto the city-states of ancient Greece and, in his own day, reserves\nhis admiration for the Swiss free cities, Berne and, above all,\nGeneva, his native place. Seeing in the Europe of his day no case in\nwhich representative government was working at all democratically,\nhe was unable to conceive that means might be found of giving effect\nto this active agreement in a nation-state; he therefore held that\nself-government was impossible except for a city. He wished to break up\nthe nation-states of Europe, and create instead federative leagues of\nindependent city-states.\n\nIt matters, however, comparatively little, for the appreciation of\nRousseau's political theory in general, that he failed to become the\ntheorist of the modern State. By taking the State, which must have,\nin essentials, everywhere the same basis, at its simplest, he was\nable, far better than his predecessors, to bring out the real nature\nof the \"social tie,\" an alternative name which he often uses for\nthe Social Contract. His doctrine I of the underlying principle of\npolitical obligation is that of all great modern writers, from Kant to\nMr. Bosanquet. This fundamental unity has been obscured only because\ncritics have failed to put the Social Contract theory in its proper\nplace in Rousseau's system.\n\nThis theory was, we have seen, a commonplace. The amount of historical\nauthenticity assigned to the contract almost universally presupposed\nvaried enormously. Generally, the weaker a writer's rational basis,\nthe more he appealed to history--and invented it. It was, therefore,\nalmost inevitable that Rousseau should cast his theory into the\ncontractual form. There were, indeed, writers of his time who laughed\nat the contract, but they were not writers who constructed a general\nsystem of political philosophy. From Cromwell to Montesquieu and\nBentham, it was the practically minded man, impatient of unactual\nhypotheses, who refused to accept the idea of contract. The theorists\nwere as unanimous in its favour as the Victorians were in favour of\nthe \"organic\" theory. But we, criticising them in the light of later\nevents, are in a better position for estimating the position the\nSocial Contract really took in their political system. We see that\nLocke's doctrine of tacit consent made popular control so unreal that\nhe was forced, if the State was to have any hold, to make his contract\nhistorical and actual, binding posterity for all time, and that he was\nalso led to admit a quasi-contract between people and government, as a\nsecond vindication of popular liberties. Rousseau, on the other hand,\nbases no vital argument on the historical nature of the contract, in\nwhich, indeed, he clearly does not believe. \"How,\" he asks, \"did this\nchange [from nature to society] come about?\" And he answers that he\ndoes not know. Moreover, his aim is to find \"a sure and legitimate rule\nof administration, taking men as they are and laws as they might be\";\nthat is to say, his Social Contract is something which will be found\nat work in every legitimate society, but which will be in abeyance in\nall forms of despotism. He clearly means by it no more and no less than\nthe fundamental principle of political association, the basis of the\nunity which enables us, in the State, to realise political liberty by\ngiving up lawlessness and license. The presentation of this doctrine\nin the quasi-historical form of the Social Contract theory is due to\nthe accident of the time and place in which Rousseau wrote. At the same\ntime, the importance of the conception is best to be seen in the hard\ndeath it dies. Though no-one, for a hundred years or so, has thought\nof regarding it as historical, it has been found so hard to secure\nany other phrase explaining as well or better the basis of political\nunion that, to this day, the phraseology of the contract theory largely\npersists. A conception so vital cannot have been barren.\n\nIt is indeed, in Rousseau's own thought, only one of the three\ndifferent ways in which the basis of political union is stated,\naccording to the preoccupation of his mind. When he is thinking\nquasi-historically, he describes his doctrine as that of the Social\nContract. Modern anthropology, in its attempts to explain the complex\nby means of the simple, often strays further from the straight paths\nof history and reason. In a semi-legal aspect, using the terminology,\nif not the standpoint, of jurisprudence, he restates the same doctrine\nin the form of popular Sovereignty. This use tends continually to pass\nover into the more philosophical form which comes third. \"Sovereignty\nis the exercise of the general will.\" Philosophically, Rousseau's\ndoctrine finds its expression in the view that the State is based\nnot on any original convention, not on, any determinate power, but\non the living and sustaining rational will of its members. We have\nnow to examine first Sovereignty and then the General Will, which is\nultimately Rousseau's guiding conception.\n\nSovereignty is, first and foremost, a legal term, and it has often been\nheld that its use in political philosophy merely leads to confusion. In\njurisprudence, we are told, it has the perfectly plain meaning given\nto it in Austin's famous definition. The Sovereign is \"a _determinate_\nhuman superior, _not_ in a habit of obedience to a like superior, but\nreceiving _habitual_ obedience from the _bulk_ of a given society.\"\nWhere Sovereignty is placed is, on this view, a question purely of\nfact, and never of right. We have only to seek out the determinate\nhuman superior in a given society, and we shall have the Sovereign. In\nanswer to this theory, it is not enough, though it is a valuable point,\nto show that such a determinate superior is rarely to be found. Where,\nfor instance, is the Sovereign of England or of the British Empire? Is\nit the King, who is called the Sovereign? Or is it the Parliament,\nwhich is the legislature (for Austin's Sovereign is regarded as the\nsource of law)? Or is it the electorate, or the whole mass of the\npopulation, with or without the right of voting? Clearly all these\nexercise a certain influence in the making of laws. Or finally, is it\nnow the Cabinet? For Austin, one of these bodies would be ruled out as\nindeterminate (the mass of the population) and another as responsible\n(the Cabinet). But are we to regard the House of Commons or those who\nelect it as forming part of the Sovereign? The search for a determinate\nSovereign may be a valuable legal conception; but it has evidently\nnothing to do with political theory.\n\nIt is, therefore, essential to distinguish between the legal Sovereign\nof jurisprudence, and the political Sovereign of political science\nand philosophy. Even so, it does not at once become clear what this\npolitical Sovereign may be. Is it the body or bodies of persons in whom\npolitical power in a State actually resides? Is it merely the complex\nof actual institutions regarded as embodying the will of the society?\nThis would leave us still in the realm of mere fact, outside both right\nand philosophy. The Sovereign, in the philosophical sense, is neither\nthe nominal Sovereign, nor the legal Sovereign, nor the political\nSovereign of fact and common sense: it is the consequence of the\nfundamental bond of union, the restatement of the doctrine of Social\nContract, the foreshadowing of that of General Will. The Sovereign\nis that body in the State in which political _power ought_ always to\nreside, and in which the _right_ to such power _does_ always reside.\n\nThe idea at the back of the philosophical conception of Sovereignty\nis, therefore, essentially the same as that we found to underlie the\nSocial Contract theory. It is the view that the people, whether it\ncan alienate its right or not, is the ultimate director of its own\ndestinies, the final power from which there is no appeal. In a sense,\nthis is recognised even by Hobbes, who makes the power of his absolute\nSovereign, the predecessor of Austin's \"determinate human superior,\"\nissue first of all from the Social Contract, which is essentially a\npopular act. The difference between Hobbes and Rousseau on this point\nis solely that Rousseau regards as inalienable a supreme power which\nHobbes makes the people alienate in its first corporate action. That\nis to say, Hobbes in fact accepts the theory of popular supremacy in\nname only to destroy it in fact; Rousseau asserts the theory in its\nonly logical form, and is under no temptation to evade it by means of\nfalse historical assumptions. In Locke, a distinction is already drawn\nbetween the legal and the actual Sovereign, which Locke calls \"supreme\npower\"; Rousseau unites the absolute Sovereignty of Hobbes and the\n\"popular consent\" of Locke into the philosophic doctrine of popular\nSovereignty, which has since been the established form of the theory.\nHis final view represents a return from the perversions of Hobbes to\na doctrine already familiar to medi\u00e6val and Renaissance writers; but\nit is not merely a return. In its passage the view has fallen into its\nplace in a complete system of political philosophy.\n\nIn a second important respect Rousseau differentiates himself from\nHobbes. For Hobbes, the Sovereign is identical with the government.\nHe is so hot for absolutism largely because he regards revolution,\nthe overthrow of the existing government, as at the same time the\ndissolution of the body politic, and a return to complete anarchy or to\nthe \"state of nature.\" Rousseau and, to some extent, Locke meet this\nview by sharp division between the supreme power and the government.\nFor Rousseau, they are so clearly distinct that even a completely\ndemocratic government is not at the same time the Sovereign; its\nmembers are sovereign only in a different capacity and as a different\ncorporate body, just as two different societies may exist for different\npurposes with exactly the same members. Pure democracy, however, the\ngovernment of the State by all the people in every detail, is not,\nas Rousseau says, a possible human institution. All governments are\nreally _mixed_ in character; and what we call a democracy is only a\nmore or less democratic government. Government, therefore, will always\nbe to some extent in the hands of selected persons. Sovereignty, on\nthe other hand, is in his view absolute, inalienable, indivisible, and\nindestructible. It cannot be limited, abandoned, shared or destroyed.\nIt is an essential part of all social life that the right to control\nthe destinies of the State belongs in the last resort to the whole\npeople. There clearly must in the end be somewhere in the society an\nultimate court of appeal, whether determinate or not; but, unless\nSovereignty is distinguished from government, the government, passing\nunder the name of Sovereign, will inevitably be regarded as absolute.\nThe only way to avoid the conclusions of Hobbes is, therefore, to\nestablish a clear separation between them.\n\nRousseau tries to do this by an adaptation of the doctrine of the\n\"three powers.\" But instead of three independent powers sharing the\nsupreme authority, he gives only two, and makes one of these wholly\ndependent on the other. He substitutes for the co-ordination of the\nlegislative, the executive, and the judicial authorities, a system\nin which the legislative power, or Sovereign, is always supreme, the\nexecutive, or government, always secondary and derivative, and the\njudicial power merely a function of government. This division he makes,\nnaturally, one of _will_ and _power_. The government is merely to carry\nout the decrees, or acts of will, of the Sovereign people. Just as\nthe human will transfers a command to its members for execution, so\nthe body politic may give its decisions force by setting up authority\nwhich, like the brain, may command its members. In delegating the power\nnecessary for the execution of its will, it is abandoning none of its\nsupreme authority. It remains Sovereign, and can at any moment recall\nthe grants it has made. Government, therefore, exists only at the\nSovereign's pleasure, and is always revocable by the sovereign will.\n\nIt will be seen, when we come to discuss the nature of the General\nWill, that this doctrine really contains the most valuable part of\nRousseau's theory. Here, we are concerned rather with its limitations.\nThe distinction between legislative and executive functions is\nin practice very hard to draw. In Rousseau's case, it is further\ncomplicated by the presence of a second distinction. The legislative\npower, the Sovereign, is concerned only with what is general, the\nexecutive only with what is particular. This distinction, the full\nforce of which can only be seen in connection with the General Will,\nmeans roughly that a matter is general when it concerns the whole\ncommunity equally, and makes no mention of any particular class; as\nsoon as it refers to any class or person, it becomes particular, and\ncan no longer form the subject matter of an act of Sovereignty. However\njust this distinction may seem in the abstract, it is clear that its\neffect is to place all the power in the hands of the executive: modern\nlegislation is almost always concerned with particular classes and\ninterests. It is not, therefore, a long step from the view of Rousseau\nto the modern theory of democratic government, in which the people has\nlittle power beyond that of removing its rulers if they displease it.\nAs long, however, as we confine our view to the city-state of which\nRousseau is thinking, his distinction is capable of preserving for the\npeople a greater actual exercise of will. A city can often generalise\nwhere a nation must particularise.\n\nIt is in the third book of the _Social Contract_, where Rousseau is\ndiscussing the problem of government, that it is most essential to\nremember that his discussion has in view mainly the city-state and\nnot the nation. Broadly put, his principle of government is that\ndemocracy is possible only in small States, aristocracy in those of\nmedium extent, and monarchy in great States (Book III, chap. iii).\nIn considering this view, we have to take into account two things.\nFirst, he rejects representative government; will being, in his\ntheory, inalienable, representative Sovereignty is impossible. But, as\nhe regards all general acts as functions of Sovereignty, this means\nthat no general act can be within the competence of a representative\nassembly. In judging this theory, we must take into account all the\ncircumstances of Rousseau's time. France, Geneva and England were the\nthree States he took most into account. In France, representative\ngovernment was practically non-existent; in Geneva, it was only\npartially necessary; in England, it was a mockery, used to support a\ncorrupt oligarchy against a debased monarchy. Rousseau may well be\npardoned for not taking the ordinary modern view of it. Nor indeed is\nit, even in the modern world, so satisfactory an instrument of the\npopular will that we can afford wholly to discard his criticism. It is\none of the problems of the day to find some means of securing effective\npopular control over a weakened Parliament and a despotic Cabinet.\n\nThe second factor is the immense development of local government.\nIt seemed to Rousseau that, in the nation-state, all authority must\nnecessarily pass, as it had in France, to the central power. Devolution\nwas hardly dreamed of; and Rousseau saw the only means of securing\neffective popular government in a federal system, starting from\nthe small unit as Sovereign. The nineteenth century has proved the\nfalsehood of much of his theory of government; but there are still\nmany wise comments and fruitful suggestions to be found in the third\nbook of the _Social Contract_ and in the treatise on the _Government\nof Poland_, as well as in his adaptation and criticism of the\n_Polysynodie_ of the Abb\u00e9 de Saint-Pierre, a scheme of local government\nfor France, born out of its due time.\n\nThe point in Rousseau's theory of Sovereignty that offers most\ndifficulty is his view (Book II, chap, vii) that, for every State,\na _Legislator_ is necessary. We shall understand the section only\nby realising that the legislator is, in fact, in Rousseau's system,\nthe spirit of institutions personified; his place, in a developed\nsociety, is taken by the whole complex of social custom, organisation\nand tradition that has grown up with the State. This is made clearer\nby the fact that the legislator is not to exercise legislative power;\nhe is merely to submit his suggestions for popular approval. Thus\nRousseau recognises that, in the case of institutions and traditions as\nelsewhere, will, and not force, is the basis of the State.\n\nThis may be seen in his treatment of law as a whole (Book II, chap,\nvi), which deserves very careful attention. He defines laws as \"acts\nof the general will,\" and, agreeing with Montesquieu in making law the\n\"condition of civil association,\" goes beyond him only in tracing it\nmore definitely to its origin in an act of will. The Social Contract\nrenders law necessary, and at the same time makes it quite clear that\nlaws can proceed only from the body of citizens who have constituted\nthe State. \"Doubtless,\" says Rousseau, \"there is a universal justice\nemanating from reason alone; but this justice, to be admitted among us,\nmust be mutual. Humbly speaking, in default of natural sanctions, the\nlaws of justice are ineffective among men.\" Of the law which set up\namong men this reign of mutual justice the General Will is the source.\n\nWe thus come at last to the General Will, the most disputed, and\ncertainly the most fundamental, of all Rousseau's political concepts.\nNo critic of the _Social Contract_ has found it easy to say either\nwhat precisely its author meant by it, or what is its final value for\npolitical philosophy. The difficulty is increased because Rousseau\nhimself sometimes halts in the sense which he assigns to it, and even\nseems to suggest by it two different ideas. Of its broad meaning,\nhowever, there can be no doubt. The effect of the Social Contract is\nthe creation of a new individual. When it has taken place, \"at once,\nin place of the individual personality of each contracting party, the\nact of association creates a moral and collective body, composed of as\nmany members as the assembly contains voters, and receiving from the\nact its unity, its common identity (_moi commun_), its life and its\nwill\" (Book I, chap. vi). The same doctrine had been stated earlier,\nin the _Political Economy_, without the historical setting. \"The body\npolitic is also a moral being, possessed of a will, and this general\nwill, which tends always to the preservation and welfare of the whole\nand of every part, and is the source of the laws, constitutes for all\nthe members of the State, in their relations to one another and to it,\nthe rule of what is just or unjust.\" It will be seen at once that the\nsecond statement, which could easily be fortified by others from the\n_Social Contract_, says more than the first. It is not apparent that\nthe common will, created by the institution of society, need \"tend\nalways to the welfare of the whole.\" Is not the common will at least as\nfallible as the will of a single individual? May it not equally be led\naway from its true interests to the pursuit of pleasure or of something\nwhich is really harmful to it? And, if the whole society may vote what\nconduces to the momentary pleasure of all the members and at the same\ntime to the lasting damage of the State as a whole, is it not still\nmore likely that some of the members will try to secure their private\ninterests in opposition to those of the whole and of others? All these\nquestions, and others like them, have been asked by critics of the\nconception of the General Will.\n\nTwo main points are involved, to one of which Rousseau gives a clear\nand definite answer. \"There is often,\" he says, \"a great deal of\ndifference between the _will of all_ and the _general will_; the latter\ntakes account only of the common interest, while the former takes\nprivate interest into account, and is no more than a sum of particular\nwills.\" \"The agreement of all interests is formed by opposition to that\nof each\" (Book II, chap. iii). It is indeed possible for a citizen,\nwhen an issue is presented to him, to vote not for the good of the\nState, but for his own good; but, in such a case, his vote, from the\npoint of view of the General Will, is merely negligible. But \"does it\nfollow that the general will is exterminated or corrupted? Not at all:\nit is always constant, unalterable, and pure; but it is subordinated\nto other wills which encroach upon its sphere.... The fault [each\nman] commits [in detaching his interest from the common interest] is\nthat of changing the state of the question, and answering something\ndifferent from what he is asked. Instead of saying by his vote 'It is\nto the advantage of the State,' he says, 'It is to the advantage of\nthis or that man or party that this or that view should prevail.' Thus\nthe law of public order in assemblies is not so much to maintain in\nthem the general will as to secure that the question be always put\nto it, and the answer always given by it\" (Book IV, chap. i). These\npassages, with many others that may be found in the text, make it quite\nclear that by the General Will Rousseau means something quite distinct\nfrom the Will of All, with which it should never have been confused.\nThe only excuse for such confusion lies in his view that when, _in a\ncity-state_, all particular associations are avoided, votes guided\nby individual self-interest will always cancel one another, so that\nmajority voting will always result in the General Will. This is clearly\nnot the case, and in this respect we may charge him with pushing the\ndemocratic argument too far. The point, however, can be better dealt\nwith at a later stage. Rousseau makes no pretence that the mere voice\nof a majority is infallible; he only says, at the most, that, given his\nideal conditions, it would be so.\n\nThe second main point raised by critics of the General Will is\nwhether in defining it as a will directed solely to the common\ninterest, Rousseau means to exclude acts of public immorality and\nshort-sightedness. He answers the questions in different ways. First,\nan act of public immorality would be merely an unanimous instance\nof selfishness, different in no particular, from similar acts less\nunanimous, and therefore forming no part of a General Will. Secondly,\na mere ignorance of our own and the State's good, entirely unprompted\nby selfish desires, does not make our will anti-social or individual.\n\"The general will is always right and tends to the public advantage;\nbut it does not follow that the deliberations of the people are always\nequally correct. Our will is always for our own good, but we do not\nalways see what that is: the people is never corrupted, but it is often\ndeceived, and on such occasions only does it seem to will what is bad\"\n(Book II, chap. iii). It is impossible to acquit Rousseau in some of\nthe passages in which he treats of the General Will, of something worse\nthan obscurity--positive contradiction. It is probable, indeed, that\nhe never quite succeeded in getting his view clear in his own mind;\nthere is nearly always, in his treatment of it, a certain amount of\nmuddle and fluctuation. These difficulties the student must be left to\nworry out for himself; it is only possible to present, in outline, what\nRousseau meant to convey.\n\nThe treatment of the General Will in the _Political Economy_ is brief\nand lucid, and furnishes the best guide to his meaning. The definition\nof it in this work, which has already been quoted, is followed by\na short account of the nature of _general wills_ as a whole. \"Every\npolitical society is composed of other smaller societies of various\nkinds, each of which has its interest and rules of conduct; but those\nsocieties which everybody perceives, because they have an external\nor authorised form, are not the only ones that actually exist in the\nState: all individuals who are united by a common interest compose as\nmany others, either temporary or permanent, whose influence is none the\nless real because it is less apparent.... The influence of all these\ntacit or formal associations causes by the influence of their will as\nmany modifications of the public will. The will of these particular\nsocieties has always two relations; for the members of the association,\nit is a general will; for the great society, it is a particular will;\nand it is often right with regard to the first object and wrong as to\nthe second. The most general will is always the most just, and the\nvoice of the people is, in fact, the voice of God.\"\n\nThe General Will, Rousseau continues in substance, is always for the\ncommon good; but it is sometimes divided into smaller general wills,\nwhich are wrong in relation to it. The supremacy of the great General\nWill is \"the first principle of public economy and the fundamental\nrule of government.\" In this passage, which differs only in clearness\nand simplicity from others in the _Social Contract_ itself, it is easy\nto see how far Rousseau had in his mind a perfectly definite idea.\nEvery association of several persons creates a new common will; every\nassociation of a permanent character has already a \"personality\" of\nits own, and in consequence a \"general\" will; the State, the highest\nknown form of association, is a fully developed moral and collective\nbeing with a common will which is, in the highest sense yet known to\nus, general. All such wills are general only for the members of the\nassociations Which exercise them; for outsiders, or rather for other\nassociations, they are purely particular wills. This applies even to\nthe State; \"for, in relation to what is outside it, the State becomes\na simple being, an individual\" (_Social Contract_, Book I. chap. vii).\nIn certain passages in the _Social Contract_, in his criticism of\nthe Abb\u00e9 de Saint-Pierre's _Project of Perpetual Peace_, and in the\nsecond chapter of the original draft of the _Social Contract_, Rousseau\ntakes into account the possibility of a still higher individual, \"the\nfederation of the world.\" In the _Political Economy_, thinking of the\nnation-state, he affirms what in the _Social Contract_ (Book II, chap,\niii) he denies of the city, and recognises that the life of a nation\nis made up of the whole complex of its institutions, and that the\nexistence of lesser general wills is not necessarily a menace to the\nGeneral Will of the State. In the _Social Contract_, he only treats\nof these lesser wills in relation to the government, which, he shows,\nhas a will of its own, general for its members, but particular for\nthe State as a whole (Book III, chap. ii). This governmental will he\nthere prefers to call _corporate will_, and by this name it will be\nconvenient to distinguish the lesser general wills from the General\nWill of the State that is over them all.\n\nSo far, there is no great difficulty; but in discussing the\ninfallibility of the General Will we are on more dangerous ground.\nRousseau's treatment here clearly oscillates between regarding it\nas a purely ideal conception, to which human institutions can only\napproximate, and holding it to be realised actually in every republican\nState, _i.e._ wherever the people is the Sovereign in fact as well as\nin right. Book IV, chap, ii is the most startling passage expressing\nthe latter view. \"When in the popular assembly a law is proposed, what\nthe people is asked is not exactly whether it accepts or rejects the\nproposal, but whether it is in conformity with the general will, which\nis its will.... When, therefore, the opinion that is contrary to my own\nprevails, this proves neither more nor less than that I was mistaken,\nand that what I thought to be the general will was not so.\" On his own\nprinciples laid down elsewhere, Rousseau would have to admit that it\nproves nothing of the sort, except in so far as the other voters have\nbeen guided by the general interest. Though he sometimes affirms the\nopposite, there is no security on his principles that the will of the\nmajority will be the General Will. At the most it can only be said that\nthere is a greater chance of its being general than of the will of any\nselected class of persons not being led away by corporate interests.\nThe justification of democracy is not that it is always right, even in\nintention, but that it is more general than any other kind of supreme\npower.\n\nFundamentally, however, the doctrine of the General Will is independent\nof these contradictions. Apart from Kant's narrow and rigid logic,\nit is essentially one with his doctrine of the autonomy of the will.\nKant takes Rousseau's political theory, and applies it to ethics as a\nwhole. The germ of mis application is already found in Rousseau's own\nwork; for he protests more than once against attempts to treat moral\nand political philosophy apart, as distinct studies, and asserts their\nabsolute unity. This is brought out clearly in the _Social Contract_\n(Book I, chap, viii), where he is speaking of the change brought\nabout by the establishment of society. \"The passage from the state of\nnature to the civil state produces a very remarkable change in man,\nby substituting justice for instinct in his conduct, and giving his\nactions the morality they had hitherto lacked.... What man loses by\nthe social contract is his natural liberty and an unlimited right to\neverything he tries to get and succeeds in getting; what he gains is\ncivil liberty ... which is limited by the general will.... We might,\nover and above all this, add to what man acquires in the civil state\n_moral liberty, which alone makes him truly master of himself; for the\nmere impulse of appetite is slavery, while obedience to a law which we\nprescribe to ourselves is liberty._\"\n\nThis one chapter contains the gist of the Kantian moral philosophy,\nand makes it quite clear that Rousseau perceived its application to\nethics as well as to politics. The morality of our acts consists in\ntheir being directed in accordance with universal law; acts in which\nwe are guided merely by our passions are not moral. Further, man can\nonly possess freedom when his whole being is unified in the pursuit of\na single end; and, as his whole being can be unified only in pursuit of\na rational end, which alone excludes contradiction, only moral acts,\nonly men directing their lives by universal law, are free. In Kantian\nlanguage, the will is autonomous (_i.e._ prescribes to itself its own\nlaw) only when it is directed to a universal end; when it is guided\nby selfish passions, or particular considerations, it is heteronomous\n(_i.e._ receives its law from something external to itself), and in\nbondage. Rousseau, as he says (Book I, chap, viii), was not directly\nconcerned with the ethical sense of the word \"liberty,\" and Kant was,\ntherefore, left to develop the doctrine into a system; but the phrases\nof this chapter prove false the view that the doctrine of a Real Will\narises first in connection with politics, and is only transferred\nthence to moral philosophy. Rousseau bases his political doctrine\nthroughout on his view of human freedom; it is because man is a free\nagent capable of being determined by a universal law prescribed by\nhimself that the State is in like manner capable of realising the\nGeneral Will, that is, of prescribing to itself and its members a\nsimilar universal law.\n\nThe General Will, then, is the application of human freedom to\npolitical institutions. Before the value of this conception can be\ndetermined, there is a criticism to be met. The freedom which is\nrealised in the General Will, we are told, is the freedom of the State\n_as a whole_; but the State exists to secure _individual_ freedom for\nits members. A free State may be tyrannical; a despot may allow his\nsubjects every freedom. What guarantee is there that the State, in\nfreeing itself, will not enslave its members? This criticism has been\nmade with such regularity that it has to be answered in some detail.\n\n\"The problem is to find a form of association which will defend and\nprotect with the whole common force the person and goods of each\nassociate, and in which each, while uniting himself with all, may still\nobey himself alone, and remain as free as before.\" \"The clauses of the\ncontract ... are everywhere the same and everywhere tacitly admitted\nand recognised.... These clauses, properly understood, may be reduced\nto one--the total alienation of each associate, together with all his\nrights, to the whole community...; for, if the individuals retained\ncertain rights, as there would be no common superior to decide between\nthem and the public, each, being on one point his own judge, would ask\nto be so on all, and the state of nature would continue\" (Book I, chap.\nvi). Rousseau sees clearly that it is impossible to place any limits\nupon the power of the State; when the people combine into a State, they\nmust in the end submit to be guided in all things by the will of the\neffective majority. Limited Sovereignty is a contradiction in terms;\nthe Sovereign has a right to all that reason allows it, and as soon as\nreason demands that the State shall interfere, no appeal to individual\nrights can be made. What is best for the State must be suffered by the\nindividual. This, however, is very far from meaning that the ruling\npower ought, or has the moral right, to interfere in every particular\ncase. Rousseau has been subjected to much foolish criticism because,\nafter upholding the State's absolute supremacy, he goes on (Book II,\nchap, iv) to speak of \"the limits of the sovereign power.\" There is no\ncontradiction whatsoever. Wherever State intervention is for the best,\nthe State has a right to intervene; but it has no moral right, though\nit must have a legal right, to intervene where it is not for the best.\nThe General Will, being always in the right, will intervene only when\nintervention is proper. \"The Sovereign,\" therefore, \"cannot impose upon\nits subjects any fetters that are useless to the community, nor can\nit even wish to do so.\" As, however, the infallibility of the General\nWill is not enough to make the State infallible, there still remains\nan objection. Since the General Will cannot always be arrived at, who\nis to judge whether an act of intervention is justified? Rousseau's\nanswer fails to satisfy many of his critics. \"Each man alienates, I\nadmit, by the social compact, only such part of his powers, goods and\nliberty as it is important for the community to control; but it must\nalso be granted that the Sovereign is sole judge of what is important.\"\nThis, we are told, is mere State tyranny over again. But how is it\npossible to avoid such a conclusion? Rousseau has already given his\nreasons for objecting to a limited Sovereignty (Book I, chap, vi): it\nfollows absolutely that we must take the best machinery we can find for\nthe execution of the State's functions. No doubt the machinery will\nbe imperfect; but we can only try to get as near the General Will as\npossible, without hoping to realise it fully.\n\nThe answer, therefore, to the critics who hold that, in securing civil\nliberty Rousseau has sacrificed the individual may be put after this\nfashion. Liberty is not a merely negative conception; it does not\nconsist solely in the absence of restraint. The purest individualist,\nHerbert Spencer for example, would grant that a certain amount of\nState interference is necessary to _secure_ liberty; but as soon as\nthis idea of securing liberty is admitted in the smallest degree, the\nwhole idea has undergone profound modification. It can no longer be\nclaimed that every interference on the part of the State lessens the\nliberty of the individual; the \"liberty-fund\" theory is as untenable\nas that of the \"wages-fund\": the members of a State may be more free\nwhen all are restrained from doing one another mutual damage than when\nany one is left \"free\" to enslave another or be himself enslaved. This\nprinciple once admitted, the precise amount of State interference that\nis necessary to secure freedom will be always a matter for particular\ndiscussion; every case must be decided on its own merits, and, in\nright, the Sovereign will be omnipotent, or subject only to the law of\nreason.\n\nIt has often been held that Rousseau cannot really have inspired the\nFrench Revolution because this view is totally inconsistent with the\n\"rights of man,\" which the revolutionaries so fervently proclaimed.\nIf every right is alienated in the Social Contract, what sense can\nthere be in talking of \"natural rights\" afterwards? This, however, is\nto misrepresent Rousseau's position. The rights of man as they are\npreached by the modern individualist, are not the rights of which\nRousseau and the revolutionaries were thinking. We have seen that the\ntheory of the _Social Contract_ is founded on human freedom: this\nfreedom carries with it, in Rousseau's view, the guarantee of its own\npermanence; it is inalienable and indestructible. When, therefore,\ngovernment becomes despotic, it has no more right over its subjects\nthan the master has over his slave (Book I, chap, iv); the question is\nthen purely one of might. In such cases, appeal may be made either to\nthe terms of the Social Contract, or, putting the same idea another\nway, to the \"natural right\" of human freedom. This natural right is\nin no sense inconsistent with the complete alienation supposed in the\nContract; for the Contract itself reposes on it and guarantees its\nmaintenance. The Sovereign must, therefore, treat all its members\nalike; but, so long as it does this, it remains omnipotent. If it\nleaves the general for the particular, and treats one man better than\nanother, it ceases to be Sovereign; but equality is already presupposed\nin the terms of the Contract.\n\nIt is more profitable to attack Rousseau for his facile identification\nof the interests of each of the citizens with those of all; but here,\ntoo, most of the critics have abused their opportunity. He does not\nmaintain that there can be no opposition between a man's particular\ninterests and the General Will as present in him; on the contrary, he\nexplicitly and consistently affirms the presence of such opposition\n(Book I, chap. vii). What he asserts is, first, that the Sovereign, as\nsuch, cannot have any interest contrary to the interest of the citizens\nas a whole--that is obvious; and, secondly, that it cannot have an\ninterest contrary to that of any individual. The second point Rousseau\nproves by showing that the omnipotence of the Sovereign is essential\nto the preservation of society, which in turn is necessary for the\nindividual. His argument, however, really rests on the fundamental\ncharacter of the General Will. He would admit that, in any actual\nState, the apparent interest of the many might often conflict with that\nof the few; but he would contend that the _real_ interest of State and\nindividual alike, being subject to universal law could not be such as\nto conflict with any other _real_ interest. The interest of the State,\nin so far as it is directed by the General Will, must be the interest\nof every individual, in so far as he is guided by his _real_ will, that\nis, in so far as he is acting universally, rationally and autonomously.\n\nThus the justification of Rousseau's theory of liberty returns to the\npoint from which it set out--the omnipotence of the _real will_ in\nState and individual. It is in this sense that he speaks of man in the\nState as \"forced to be free\" by the General Will, much as Kant might\nspeak of a man's lower nature as forced to be free by the universal\nmandate of his higher, more real and more rational will. It is in this\nrecognition of the State as a moral being, with powers of determination\nsimilar to the powers of the individual mind, that the significance\nof the General Will ultimately lies. Even, however, among those who\nhave recognised its meaning, there are some who deny its value as a\nconception of political philosophy. If, they say, the General Will is\nnot the Will of All, if it cannot be arrived at by a majority vote\nor by any system of voting whatsoever, then it is nothing; it is a\nmere abstraction, neither general, nor a I will. This is, of course,\nprecisely the criticism to which Kant's \"real will\" is often subjected.\nClearly, it must be granted at once that the General Will does not\nform the whole actual content of the will of every citizen. Regarded\nas actual, it must always be qualified by \"in so far as\" or its\nequivalent. This, however, is so far from destroying the value of the\nconception that therein lies its whole value. In seeking the universal\nbasis of society, we are not seeking anything that is wholly actualised\nin any State, though we must be seeking something which exists, more or\nless perfectly, in every State.\n\nThe point of the Social Contract theory, as Rousseau states it, is that\nlegitimate society exists by the consent of the people, and acts by\npopular will. Active will, and not force or even mere consent, is the\nbasis of the \"republican\" State, which can only possess this character\nbecause individual wills are not really self-sufficient and separate,\nbut complementary and inter-dependent. The answer to the question \"Why\nought I to obey the General Will?\" is that the General Will exists in\nme and not outside me. I am \"obeying only myself,\" as Rousseau says.\nThe State is not a mere accident of human history, a mere device for\nthe protection of life and property; it responds to a fundamental need\nof human nature, and is rooted in the character of the individuals\nwho compose it. The whole complex of human institutions is not a mere\nartificial structure; it is the expression of the mutual dependence\nand fellowship of men. If it means anything, the theory of the General\nWill means that the State is natural, and the \"state of nature\" an\nabstraction. Without this basis of will and natural need, no society\ncould for a moment subsist; the State exists and claims our obedience\nbecause it is a natural extension of our personality.\n\nThe problem, however, still remains of making the General Will, in\nany particular State, active and conscious. It is clear that there\nare States in which visible and recognised institutions hardly answer\nin any respect to its requirements. Even in such States, however,\nthere is a limit to tyranny; deep down, in immemorial customs with\nwhich the despot dare not interfere, the General Will is still active\nand important. It does not reside merely in the outward and visible\norganisation of social institutions, in that complex of formal\nassociations which we may call the State; its roots go deeper and its\nbranches spread further. It is realised, in greater or less degree, in\nthe whole life of the community, in the entire complex of private and\npublic relations which, in the widest sense, may be called Society. We\nmay recognise it not only in a Parliament, a Church, a University or a\nTrade Union, but also in the most intimate human relationships, and the\nmost trivial, as well as the most vital, social customs.\n\nBut, if all these things go to the making of the General Will in every\ncommunity, the General Will has, for politics, primarily a narrower\nsense. The problem here is to secure its supremacy in the official\ninstitutions and public councils of the nation. This is the question to\nwhich Rousseau chiefly addressed himself. Here, too, we shall find the\nGeneral Will the best possible conception for the guidance of political\nendeavour For the General Will is realised not when that is done\nwhich is best for the community, but when, in addition, the community\nas a whole has willed the doing of it. The General Will demands not\nonly good government, but also self-government--not only rational\nconduct, but good-will. This is what some of Rousseau's admirers are\napt to forget when they use his argument, as he himself was sometimes\ninclined to use it, in support of pure aristocracy. Rousseau said that\naristocracy was the best of all governments, but he said also that it\nwas the worst of all usurpers of Sovereignty. Nor must it be forgotten\nthat he expressly specified elective aristocracy. _There is no General\nWill unless the people wills the good_. General Will may be embodied in\none man willing universally; but it can only be embodied in the State\nwhen the mass of the citizens so wills. The will must be \"general\" in\ntwo senses: in the sense in which Rousseau used the word, it must be\ngeneral in its object, _i.e._ universal; but it must also be generally\nheld, _i.e._ common to all or to the majority.[1]\n\nThe General Will is, then, above all a universal and, in the Kantian\nsense, a \"rational\" will. It would be possible to find in Rousseau\nmany more anticipations of the views of Kant; but it is better here\nto confine comment to an important difference between them. It is\nsurprising to find in Kant, the originator of modern \"intellectualism,\"\nand in Rousseau, the great apostle of \"sentiment,\" an essentially\nsimilar view on the nature and function of the will. Their views,\nhowever, present a difference; for, whereas the moving force of Kant's\nmoral imperative is purely \"rational,\" Rousseau finds the sanction of\nhis General Will in human feeling itself. As we can see from a passage\nin the original draft of the _Social Contract,_ the General Will\nremains purely rational. \"No-one will dispute that the General Will is\nin each individual a pure act of the understanding, which reasons while\nthe passions are silent on what a man may demand of his neighbour and\non what his neighbour has a right to demand of him.\" The will remains\npurely rational, but Rousseau feels that it needs an external motive\npower. \"If natural law,\" he writes, \"were written only on the tablets\nof human reason it would be incapable of guiding the greater part of\nour actions; but it is also graven on the heart of man in characters\nthat cannot be effaced, and it is there it speaks to him more strongly\nthan all the precepts of the philosophers\" (from an unfinished essay on\n_The State of War_). The nature of this guiding sentiment is explained\nin the _Discourse on Inequality_ (p. 197, note 2), where egoism\n(_amour-propre_) is contrasted with self-respect (_amour de soi_).\nNaturally, Rousseau holds, man does not want everything for himself,\nand nothing for others. \"Egoism\" and \"altruism\" are both one-sided\nqualities arising out of the perversion of man's, \"natural goodness.\"\n\"Man is born good,\" that is, man's nature really makes him desire only\nto be treated as one among others, to share equally. This natural love\nof equality (_amour de soi_) includes love of others as well as love\nof self, and egoism, loving one's self at the expense of others, is\nan unnatural and perverted condition. The \"rational\" precepts of the\nGeneral Will, therefore, find an echo in the heart of the \"natural\"\nman, and, if we can only secure the human being against perversion by\nexisting societies, the General Will can be made actual.\n\nThis is the meeting-point of Rousseau's educational with his political\ntheory. His view as a whole can be studied only by taking together the\n_Social Contract_ and the _Emile_ as explained by the _Letters on the\nMount_ and other works. The fundamental dogma of the natural goodness\nof man finds no place directly in the _Social Contract_; but it lurks\nbehind the whole of his political theory, and is indeed, throughout,\nhis master-conception. His educational, his religious, his political\nand his ethical ideas are all inspired by a single consistent attitude.\nHere we have been attending only to his political theory; in the volume\nwhich is to follow, containing the _Letters on the Mount_ and other\nworks, some attempt will be made to draw the various threads together\nand estimate his work as a whole. The political works, however, can be\nread separately, and the _Social Contract_ itself is still by far the\nbest of all text-books of political philosophy. Rousseau's political\ninfluence, so far from being dead, is every day increasing; and as new\ngenerations and new classes of men come to the study of his work, his\nconceptions, often hazy and undeveloped, but nearly always of lasting\nvalue, will assuredly form the basis of a new political philosophy, in\nwhich they will be taken up and transformed. This new philosophy is\nthe work of the future; but, rooted upon the conception of Rousseau,\nit will stretch far back into the past. Of our time, it will be for\nall time; its solutions will be at once relatively permanent and\nceaselessly progressive.\n\nG. D. H. COLE.\n\n\n[1] The term \"general\" will means, in Rousseau, not so much \"will held\nby several persons,\" as will having a general (universal) object. This\nis often misunderstood; but the mistake matters the less, because the\nGeneral Will must, in fact, be both.\n\n\n\n\nA NOTE ON BOOKS\n\n\nThere are few good books in English on Rousseau's politics. By far the\nbest treatment is to be found in Mr. Bernard Bosanquet's _Philosophical\nTheory of the State_. Viscount Morley's _Rousseau_ is a good life,\nbut is not of much use as a criticism of views; Mr. W. Boyd's _The\nEducational Theory of Rousseau_ contains some fairly good chapters\non the political views. D. G. Ritchie's _Darwin and Hegel_ includes\nan admirable essay on _The Social Contract Theory_ and another on\n_Sovereignty._ The English translation of Professor Gran's _Rousseau_\nis an interesting biography.\n\nIn French, there is a good cheap edition of Rousseau's complete works\npublished by Hachette in thirteen volumes. M. Dreyfus-Brisac's great\nedition of the _Contrat Social_ is indispensable, and there is a good\nsmall edition with notes by M. Georges Beaulavon. M. Faguet's study\nof Rousseau in his _Dix-huiti\u00e8me si\u00e8cle--\u00e9tudes litt\u00e9raires_ and his\n_Politique compar\u00e9e de Montesquieu, Voltaire et Rousseau_ are useful,\nthough I am seldom in agreement with them. M. Henri Rodet's _Le Contrat\nSocial et les id\u00e9es politiques de J. J. Rousseau_ is useful, if not\ninspired, and there are interesting works by MM. Chuquet, Fabre and\nLema\u00eetre. The French translation of Professor H\u00f6ffding's little volume\non _Rousseau: sa vie et sa philosophie_ is admirable.\n\nMiss Foxley's translation of the _Emile_, especially of Book V, should\nbe studied in connection with the _Social Contract_. A companion\nvolume, containing the _Letters on the Mount_ and other works, will be\nissued shortly.\n\nG.D.H.C.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nPRINCIPAL WORKS: Article in the _Mercure_ in answer to one entitled\nSi le monde que nous habitons est une sph\u00e8re ou une sph\u00e9ro\u00efde, 1738;\nLe Verger de Mme. de Warens, 1739; Sur la musique moderne, 1743; Si\nle r\u00e9tablissement des Sciences et des Arts a contribu\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00e9purer les\nM\u0153urs, prize essay, 1750, translated by R. Wynne, 1752, by anonymous\nauthor, 1760, by H. Smithers, 1818; Devin du Village (opera), 1753,\ntranslated by C. Burney, 1766; Narcisse, ou Amant de lui-m\u00eame, 1753;\nLettre sur la musique Francaise, 1753; Sur l'origine de l'in\u00e9galit\u00e9\nparmi les hommes, 1755; Discours sur deux principes avanc\u00e9s par Rameau,\n1755; Sur l'\u00e9conomie politique, 1758; Letter to d'Alembert on his\narticle Gen\u00e8ve in the Encyclop\u00e9die, 1758, translated 17595 Lettres \u00e0\nVoltaire, 1759; Julie, ou la nouvelle H\u00e9lo\u00efse, first published under\nthe title of Lettres de deux amants, habitants d'une petite ville\nau pied des Alpes, etc, 1761; Contrat Social, or Principes du droit\npolitique, 1762; Emile, ou De l'Education, 1762; Lettre \u00e0 Christophe\nde Beaumont, Archev\u00eaque de Paris, 1763; All\u00e9e de Silvie (poem), 1763;\nLettres \u00e9crites de la Montagne, 1764; De l'imitation th\u00e9\u00e2trale, 1764;\nDictionnaire de musique, 1767, translated by W. Waring, 1779; Lettres\nsur son exil du Canton de Berne, 1770.\n\nPOSTHUMOUS WORKS: Emile et Sophie, 1780; Les consolations des mis\u00e8res\nde ma vie, 1781; Consid\u00e9rations sur le gouvernement de Pologne, 1782;\nLes Confessions, and R\u00eaveries du Promeneur Solitaire, 4 vols., 1782-9;\nNouveau D\u00e9dale, 1801; La Botanique de J. J. Rousseau, 1805; translated,\nwith additional letters, by T. Martyn, 1785, 7th edition, 1807;\nTestament de J. J. Rousseau, 1820.\n\nTRANSLATIONS: H\u00e9lo\u00efse (Eloisa), 1761, with a sequel found after the\nauthor's death, 1784, 1795, 1810; Emile, by Nugent, 1763; anonymous\ntranslator the same year; abridged and annotated by W. H. Payne, 1893;\nEmile et Sophie, by Nugent, 1765 (?), by the translator of Eloisa,\n1767; Contrat Social, 1764, 1791, in vol. iii. of Political Classics,\n1795; 1840 (?), by R. M. Harrington, with Introduction by E. L.\nWalter, 1893; by H. J. Tozer 1895, 1902, 1905; Confessions, 2 vols.,\n1783; 1796-90, 1861, 1891 (Masterpieces of Foreign Authors), abridged\nfrom 1896 edition, with preface by G. J. Holyoake, 1857; complete\ntranslation (privately printed), 2 vols., 1896; with Introduction\nby Hesketh Milis (Sisley Books), 1907; the second part, with a new\ncollection of letters, 3 vols., 1791.\n\nWORKS: 1764 (6 vols.); 1769 (11 vols.); 1774 (London, 9 vols.); 1782,\netc. (17 vols.); 1790 (33 vols.); 1790 (30 vols., or 35); 1788-93 (39\nvols.); 1793-1800 (Didot, 18 vols.), and later editions from this same\nfirm; Musset-Pathay, 1823-6.\n\nMISCELLANEOUS WORKS: 5 vols., 1767.\n\nPOSTHUMOUS WORKS: 1782, 1783; \u0152uvres in\u00e9dites (Musset-Pathay), 1825,\n1833; Fragments in\u00e9dits, etc., by A. de Bougy, 1853; \u0152uvres et\nCorrespondence in\u00e9dites (Streckeisen-Moultou), 1861; Fragments in\u00e9dits;\nRecherches biographiques et litt\u00e9raires, A. Jansen, 1882.\n\nWorks translated from the French, 10 vols., 1773-74.\n\nLETTERS: Sur diff\u00e9rents Sujets, 5 vols., 1740-53; Lettres nouvelles sur\nle motif de sa retraite \u00e0 la Campagne, adress\u00e9es \u00e0 M. de Malesherbes,\n1780; Nouvelles lettres, 1789; Lettres au citoyen Lenieps, etc,\n1793 (?); Correspondance originate et incite avec Mme. Latour de\nTranqueville et M. du Peyrou, 2 vols., 1803; Lettres in\u00e9dites \u00e0 Mme.\nd'Epinay (see Memoirs of Mme. d'Epinay), 1818; Lettres de Voltaire et\nde Rousseau \u00e0 C. J. Panckoucke, 1828; Lettres in\u00e9dites \u00e0 M. M. Rey,\n1858; Lettres \u00e0 Mme. Dupin (in Le Portefeuille de Mme. Dupin), 1884;\nLettres in\u00e9dites (correspondence with Mme. Roy de Latour), published\nby H. de Rothschild, with preface by L. Claretie, 1892; Lettres\n(between Rousseau and \"Henriette\"), published by H. Buffenoir, 1902;\nCorrespondance avec L\u00e9onard Usteri, 1910.\n\nTRANSLATIONS: Original letters to M. de Malesherbes, d'Alembert,\nMme. la M. de Luxembourg, etc., 1799, 1820; Eighteen letters to Mme.\nd'Houdetot, October 1757-March 1758, 1905.\n\nLIFE, etc.: J. H. Fuessli, Remarks on the Writings and Conduct of Jean\nJacques Rousseau, 1767; Sta\u00ebl-Holstein (Baroness de Rocco), Letters\non the Work and Character of Jean Jacques Rousseau (translation),\n1789, 1814; J. Morley, Rousseau, 1873, 1886; H. G. Graham, Rousseau\n(Foreign Classics for English Readers), 1882; T. Davidson, Rousseau and\nEducation according to Nature (Great Educators), vol. ix., 1898; J.\nTexte, Jean Jacques Rousseau and the Cosmopolitan Spirit in Literature,\netc. (translation), 1899; H. H. Hudson, Rousseau and Naturalism in Life\nand Thought (World's Epoch Makers), 1903; F. Macdonald, Jean Jacques\nRousseau, a new criticism, 1906; J. C. Collins, Voltaire, Montesquieu,\nand Rousseau in England, 1908.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nTHE SOCIAL CONTRACT\n\nBOOK I\n\nFOREWORD\n\n_In which it is inquired why man passes from the state\nof nature to the state of society and what are the essential\nconditions of the compact._\n\n       I   The Subject of the first Book\n      II   The first Societies\n     III   The Right of the Strongest\n      IV   Slavery\n       V   That we must always go back to a first Convention\n      VI   The Social Compact\n     VII   The Sovereign\n    VIII   The Civil State\n      IX   Real Property\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n_Which treats of legislation._\n\n       I   That Sovereignty is inalienable\n      II   That Sovereignty is indivisible\n     III   Whether the general Will is fallible\n      IV   The Limits of the Sovereign Power\n       V   The Right of Life and Death\n      VI   Law\n     VII   The Legislator\n    VIII   The People\n      IX   The People (_continued_)\n       X   The People (_continued_)\n      XI   The various Systems of Legislation\n     XII   The Division of the Laws\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n_Which treats of political laws, that is to say, of the form of\ngovernment._\n\n       I   Government in General\n      II   The constituent Principle in the various Forms of Government\n     III   The Division of Governments\n      IV   Democracy\n       V   Aristocracy\n      VI   Monarchy\n     VII   Mixed Governments\n    VIII   That all Forms of Government do not suit all Countries\n      IX   The Marks of a good Government\n       X   The Abuse of Government and its Tendency to Degenerate\n      XI   The Death of the Body Politic\n     XII   How the Sovereign Authority maintains itself\n    XIII   How the Sovereign Authority maintains itself _(continued_)\n     XIV   How the Sovereign Authority maintains itself _(continued_)\n      XV   Deputies or Representatives\n     XVI   That the Institution of Government is not a Contract\n    XVII   The Institution of Government\n   XVIII   How to check the Usurpations of Government\n\nBOOK IV\n\n_Which treats further of political laws and sets forth the\nmeans of strengthening the Constitution of the State_.\n\n       I   That the general Will is indestructible\n      II   Voting\n     III   Elections\n      IV   The Roman Comitia\n       V   The Tribunate\n      VI   The Dictatorship\n     VII   The Censorship\n    VIII   Civil Religion\n      IX   Conclusion\n\n\nA DISCOURSE ON THE ARTS AND SCIENCES\nA DISCOURSE ON THE ORIGIN OF INEQUALITY -- Appendix\nA DISCOURSE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOCIAL CONTRACT\n\nOR\n\nPRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL\n\nRIGHT\n\nF\u0153deris \u00e6quas\n\nDicamus leges. (Vergil, _\u00c6neid_ XI.)\n\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\nThis little treatise is part of a longer work which I began years ago\nwithout realising my limitations, and long since abandoned. Of the\nvarious fragments that might have been extracted from what I wrote,\nthis is the most considerable, and, I think, the least unworthy of\nbeing offered to the public. The rest no longer exists.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\n\nI mean to inquire if, in the civil order, there can be any sure and\nlegitimate rule of administration, men being taken as they are and laws\nas they might be. In this inquiry I shall endeavour always to unite\nwhat right sanctions with what is prescribed by interest, in order that\njustice and utility may in no case be divided.\n\nI enter upon my task without proving the importance of the subject. I\nshall be asked if I am a prince or a legislator, to write on politics.\nI answer that I am neither, and that is why I do so. If I were a prince\nor a legislator, I should not waste time in saying what wants doing; I\nshould do it, or hold my peace.\n\nAs I was born a citizen of a free State, and a member of the Sovereign,\nI feel that, however feeble the influence my voice can have on public\naffairs, the right of voting on them makes it my duty to study them:\nand I am happy, when I reflect upon governments, to find my inquiries\nalways furnish me with new reasons for loving that of my own country.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nSUBJECT OF THE FIRST BOOK\n\n\nMan is born free; and everywhere he is in chains. One thinks himself\nthe master of others, and still remains a greater slave than they. How\ndid this change come about? I do not know. What can make it legitimate?\nThat question I think I can answer.\n\nIf I took into account only force, and the effects derived from it, I\nshould say: \"As long as a people is compelled to obey, and obeys, it\ndoes well; as soon as it can shake off the yoke, and shakes it off,\nit does still better; for, regaining its liberty by the same right\nas took it away, either it is justified in resuming it, or there was\nno justification for those who took it away.\" But the social order is\na sacred right which is the basis of all other rights. Nevertheless,\nthis right does not come from nature, and must therefore be founded on\nconventions. Before coming to that, I have to prove what I have just\nasserted.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE FIRST SOCIETIES\n\n\nThe most ancient of all societies, and the only one that is natural\nis the family: and even so the children remain attached to the father\nonly so long as they need him for their preservation. As soon as this\nneed ceases, the natural bond is dissolved. The children, released from\nthe obedience they owed to the father, and the father, released from\nthe care he owed his children, return equally to independence. If they\nremain united, they continue so no longer naturally, but voluntarily;\nand the family itself is then maintained only by convention.\n\nThis common liberty results from the nature of man. His first law is\nto provide for his own preservation, his first cares are those which\nhe owes to himself; and, as soon as he reaches years of discretion,\nhe is the sole judge of the proper means of preserving himself, and\nconsequently becomes his own master.\n\nThe family then may be called the first model of political societies:\nthe ruler corresponds to the father, and the people to the children;\nand all, being born free and equal, alienate their liberty only for\ntheir own advantage. The whole difference is that, in the family, the\nlove of the father for his children repays him for the care he takes of\nthem, while, in the State, the pleasure of commanding takes the place\nof the love which the chief cannot have for the peoples under him.\n\nGrotius denies that all human power is established in favour of the\ngoverned, and quotes slavery as an example. His usual method of\nreasoning is constantly to establish right by fact.[1] It would be\npossible to employ a more logical method, but none could be more\nfavourable to tyrants.\n\nIt is then, according to Grotius, doubtful whether the human race\nbelongs to a hundred men, or that hundred men to the human race: and,\nthroughout his book, he seems to incline to the former alternative,\nwhich is also the view of Hobbes. On this showing, the human species is\ndivided into so many herds of cattle, each with its ruler, who keeps\nguard over them for the purpose of devouring them.\n\nAs a shepherd is of a nature superior to that of his flock, the\nshepherds of men, _i.e._ their rulers, are of a nature superior to\nthat of the peoples under them. Thus, Philo tells us, the Emperor\nCaligula reasoned, concluding equally well either that kings were gods,\nor that men were beasts.\n\nThe reasoning of Caligula agrees with that of Hobbes and Grotius.\nAristotle, before any of them, had said that men are by no means equal\nnaturally, but that some are born for slavery, and others for dominion.\n\nAristotle was right; but he took the effect for the cause. Nothing\ncan be more certain than that every man born in slavery is born for\nslavery. Slaves lose everything in their chains, even the desire of\nescaping from them: they love their servitude, as the comrades of\nUlysses loved their brutish condition.[2] If then there are slaves by\nnature, it is because there have been slaves against nature. Force made\nthe first slaves, and their cowardice perpetuated the condition.\n\nI have said nothing of King Adam, or Emperor Noah, father of the three\ngreat monarchs who shared out the universe, like the children of\nSaturn, whom some scholars have recognised in them. I trust to getting\ndue thanks for my moderation; for, being a direct descendant of one\nof these princes, perhaps of the eldest branch, how do I know that a\nverification of titles might not leave me the legitimate king of the\nhuman race? In any case, there can be no doubt that Adam was sovereign\nof the world, as Robinson Crusoe was of his island, as long as he\nwas its only inhabitant; and this empire had the advantage that the\nmonarch, safe on his throne, had no rebellions, wars, or conspirators\nto fear.\n\n\n[1] \"Learned inquiries into public right are often only the history of\npast abuses; and troubling to study them too deeply is a profitless\ninfatuation\" (_Essay on the Interests of France in Relation to its\nNeighbours_, by the Marquis d'Argenson). This is exactly what Grotius\nhas done.\n\n[2] See a short treatise of Plutarch's entitled \"That Animals Reason.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE RIGHT OF THE STRONGEST\n\n\nThe strongest is never strong enough to be always the master, unless\nhe transforms strength into right, and obedience into duty. Hence the\nright of the strongest, which, though to all seeming meant ironically,\nis really laid down as a fundamental principle. But are we never to\nhave an explanation of this phrase? Force is a physical power, and I\nfail to see what moral effect it can have. To yield to force is an act\nof necessity, not of will--at the most, an act of prudence. In what\nsense can it be a duty?\n\nSuppose for a moment that this so-called \"right\" exists. I maintain\nthat the sole result is a mass of inexplicable nonsense. For, if force\ncreates right, the effect changes with the cause: every force that\nis greater than the first succeeds to its right. As soon as it is\npossible to disobey with impunity, disobedience is legitimate; and, the\nstrongest being always in the right, the only thing that matters is\nto act so as to become the strongest. But what kind of right is that\nwhich perishes when force fails? If we must obey perforce, there is no\nneed to obey because we ought; and if we are not forced to obey, we are\nunder no obligation to do so. Clearly, the word \"right\" adds nothing to\nforce: in this connection, it means absolutely nothing.\n\nObey the powers that be. If this means yield to force, it is a good\nprecept, but superfluous: I can answer for its never being violated.\nAll power comes from God, I admit; but so does all sickness: does that\nmean that we are forbidden to call in the doctor? A brigand surprises\nme at the edge of a wood: must I not merely surrender my purse on\ncompulsion; but, even if I could withhold it, am I in conscience bound\nto give it up? For certainly the pistol he holds is also a power.\n\nLet us then admit that force does not create right, and that we are\nobliged to obey only legitimate powers. In that case, my original\nquestion recurs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nSLAVERY\n\n\nSince no man has a natural authority over his fellow, and force creates\nno right, we must conclude that conventions form the basis of all\nlegitimate authority among men.\n\nIf an individual, says Grotius, can alienate his liberty and make\nhimself the slave of a master, why could not a whole people do the same\nand make itself subject to a king? There are in this passage plenty\nof ambiguous words which would need explaining; but let us confine\nourselves to the word _alienate_. To alienate is to give or to sell.\nNow, a man who becomes the slave of another does not give himself; he\nsells himself, at the least for his subsistence: but for what does a\npeople sell itself? A king is so far from furnishing his subjects with\ntheir subsistence that he gets his own only from them; and, according\nto Rabelais, kings do not live on nothing. Do subjects then give their\npersons on condition that the king takes their goods also? I fail to\nsee what they have left to preserve.\n\nIt will be said that the despot assures his subjects civil\ntranquillity. Granted; but what do they gain, if the wars his\nambition brings down upon them, his insatiable avidity, and the\nvexatious conduct of his ministers press harder on them than their\nown dissensions would have done? What do they gain, if the very\ntranquillity they enjoy is one of their miseries? Tranquillity is found\nalso in dungeons; but is that enough to make them desirable places to\nlive in? The Greeks imprisoned in the cave of the Cyclops lived there\nvery tranquilly, while they were awaiting their turn to be devoured.\n\nTo say that a man gives himself gratuitously, is to say what is absurd\nand inconceivable; such an act is null and illegitimate, from the mere\nfact that he who does it is out of his mind. To say the same of a whole\npeople is to suppose a people of madmen; and madness creates no right.\n\nEven if each man could alienate himself, he could not alienate his\nchildren: they are born men and free; their liberty belongs to them,\nand no one but they has the right to dispose of it. Before they come to\nyears of discretion, the father can, in their name, lay down conditions\nfor their preservation and well-being, but he cannot give them,\nirrevocably and without conditions: such a gift is contrary to the ends\nof nature, and exceeds the rights of paternity. It would therefore be\nnecessary, in order to legitimise an arbitrary government, that in\nevery generation the people should be in a position to accept or reject\nit; but, were this so, the government would be no longer arbitrary.\n\nTo renounce liberty is to renounce being a man, to surrender the rights\nof humanity and even its duties. For him who renounces everything no\nindemnity is possible. Such a renunciation is incompatible with man's\nnature; to remove all liberty from his will is to remove all morality\nfrom his acts. Finally, it is an empty and contradictory convention\nthat sets up, on the one side, absolute authority, and, on the other,\nunlimited obedience. Is it not clear that we can be under no obligation\nto a person from whom we have the right to exact everything? Does not\nthis condition alone, in the absence of equivalence or exchange, in\nitself involve the nullity of the act? For what right can my slave have\nagainst me, when all that he has belongs to me, and, his right being\nmine, this right of mine against myself is a phrase devoid of meaning?\n\nGrotius and the rest find in war another origin for the so-called right\nof slavery. The victor having, as they hold, the right of killing\nthe vanquished, the latter can buy back his life at the price of his\nliberty; and this convention is the more legitimate because it is to\nthe advantage of both parties.\n\nBut it is clear that this supposed right to kill the conquered is by no\nmeans deducible from the state of war. Men, from the mere fact that,\nwhile they are living in their primitive independence, they have no\nmutual relations stable enough to constitute either the state of peace\nor the state of war, cannot be naturally enemies. War is constituted by\na relation between things, and not between persons; and, as the state\nof war cannot arise out of simple personal relations, but only out of\nreal relations, private war, or war of man with man, can exist neither\nin the state of nature, where there is no constant property, nor in the\nsocial state, where everything is under the authority of the laws.\n\nIndividual combats, duels and encounters, are acts which cannot\nconstitute a state; while the private wars, authorised by the\nEstablishments of Louis IX, King of France, and suspended by the Peace\nof God, are abuses of feudalism, in itself an absurd system if ever\nthere was one, and contrary to the principles of natural right and to\nall good polity.\n\nWar then is a relation, not between man and man, but between State and\nState, and individuals are enemies only accidentally, not as men, nor\neven as citizens,[1] but as soldiers; not as members of their country,\nbut as its defenders. Finally, each State can have for enemies only\nother States, and not men; for between things disparate in nature there\ncan be no real relation.\n\nFurthermore, this principle is in conformity with the established\nrules of all times and the constant practice of all civilised peoples.\nDeclarations of war are intimations less to powers than to their\nsubjects. The foreigner, whether king, individual, or people, who robs,\nkills or detains the subjects, without declaring war on the prince,\nis not an enemy, but a brigand. Even in real war, a just prince,\nwhile laying hands, in the enemy's country, on all that belongs to\nthe public, respects the lives and goods of individuals: he respects\nrights on which his own are founded. The object of the war being the\ndestruction of the hostile State, the other side has a right to kill\nits defenders, while they are bearing arms; but as soon as they lay\nthem down and surrender, they cease to be enemies or instruments of the\nenemy, and become once more merely men, whose life no one has any right\nto take. Sometimes it is possible to kill the State without killing\na single one of its members; and war gives no right which is not\nnecessary to the gaining of its object. These principles are not those\nof Grotius: they are not based on the authority of poets, but derived\nfrom the nature of reality and based on reason.\n\nThe right of conquest has no foundation other than the right of the\nstrongest. If war does not give the conqueror the right to massacre the\nconquered peoples, the right to enslave them cannot be based upon a\nright which does not exist No one has a right to kill an enemy except\nwhen he cannot make him a slave, and the right to enslave him cannot\ntherefore be derived from the right to kill him. It is accordingly an\nunfair exchange to make him buy at the price of his liberty his life,\nover which the victor holds no right. Is it not clear that there is a\nvicious circle in founding the right of life and death on the right of\nslavery, and the right of slavery on the right of life and death?\n\nEven if we assume this terrible right to kill everybody, I maintain\nthat a slave made in war, or a conquered people, is under no obligation\nto a master, except to obey him as far as he is compelled to do so.\nBy taking an equivalent for his life, the victor has not done him\na favour; instead of killing him without profit, he has killed him\nusefully. So far then is he from acquiring over him any authority in\naddition to that of force, that the state of war continues to subsist\nbetween them: their mutual relation is the effect of it, and the usage\nof the right of war does not imply a treaty of peace. A convention has\nindeed been made; but this convention, so far from destroying the state\nof war, presupposes its continuance.\n\nSo, from whatever aspect we regard the question, the right of slavery\nis null and void, not only as being illegitimate, but also because it\nis absurd and meaningless. The words _slave_ and _right_ contradict\neach other, and are mutually exclusive. It will always be equally\nfoolish for a man to say to a man or to a people: \"I make with you a\nconvention wholly at your expense and wholly to my advantage; I shall\nkeep it as long as I like, and you will keep it as long as I like.\"\n\n\n[1] The Romans, who understood and respected the right of war more\nthan any other nation on earth, carried their scruples on this head\nso far that a citizen was not allowed to serve as a volunteer without\nengaging himself expressly against the enemy, and against such and\nsuch an enemy by name. A legion in which the younger Cato was seeing\nhis first service under Popilius having been reconstructed, the elder\nCato wrote to Popilius that, if he wished his son to continue serving\nunder him, he must administer to him a new military oath, because, the\nfirst having been annulled, he was no longer able to bear arms against\nthe enemy. The same Cato wrote to his son telling him to take great\ncare not to go into battle before taking this new oath. I know that the\nsiege of Clusium and other isolated events can be quoted against me;\nbut I am citing laws and customs. The Romans are the people that least\noften transgressed its laws; and no other people has had such good ones.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHAT WE MUST ALWAYS GO BACK TO A FIRST CONVENTION\n\n\nEven if I granted all that I have been refuting, the friends of\ndespotism would be no better off. There will always be a great\ndifference between subduing a multitude and ruling a society. Even if\nscattered individuals were successively enslaved by one man, however\nnumerous they might be, I still see no more than a master and his\nslaves, and certainly not a people and its ruler; I see what may be\ntermed an aggregation, but not an association; there is as yet neither\npublic good nor body politic. The man in question, even if he has\nenslaved half the world, is still only an individual; his interest,\napart from that of others, is still a purely private interest. If this\nsame man comes to die, his empire, after him, remains scattered and\nwithout unity, as an oak falls and dissolves into a heap of ashes when\nthe fire has consumed it.\n\nA people, says Grotius, can give itself to a king. Then, according\nto Grotius, a people is a people before it gives itself. The gift\nis itself a civil act, and implies public deliberation. It would be\nbetter, before examining the act by which a people gives itself to a\nking, to examine that by which it has become a people; for this act,\nbeing necessarily prior to the other, is the true foundation of society.\n\nIndeed, if there were no prior convention, where, unless the election\nwere unanimous, would be the obligation on the minority to submit\nto the choice of the majority? How have a hundred men who wish for\na master the right to vote on behalf of ten who do not? The law of\nmajority voting is itself something established by convention, and\npresupposes unanimity, on one occasion at least.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE SOCIAL COMPACT\n\n\nI suppose men to have reached the point at which the obstacles in the\nway of their preservation in the state of nature show their power of\nresistance to be greater than the resources at the disposal of each\nindividual for his maintenance in that state. That primitive condition\ncan then subsist no longer; and the human race would perish unless it\nchanged its manner of existence.\n\nBut, as men cannot engender new forces, but only unite and direct\nexisting ones, they have no other means of preserving themselves than\nthe formation, by aggregation, of a sum of forces great enough to\novercome the resistance. These they have to bring into play by means of\na single motive power, and cause to act in concert.\n\nThis sum of forces can arise only where several persons come together:\nbut, as the force and liberty of each man are the chief instruments of\nhis self-preservation, how can he pledge them without harming his own\ninterests, and neglecting the care he owes to himself? This difficulty,\nin its bearing on my present subject, may be stated in the following\nterms--\n\n\"The problem is to find a form of association which will defend and\nprotect with the whole common force the person and goods of each\nassociate, and in which each, while uniting himself with all, may\nstill obey himself alone, and remain as free as before.\" This is\nthe fundamental problem of which the _Social Contract_ provides the\nsolution.\n\nThe clauses of this contract are so determined by the nature of the act\nthat the slightest modification would make them vain and ineffective;\nso that, although they have perhaps never been formally set forth,\nthey are everywhere the same and everywhere tacitly admitted and\nrecognised, until, on the violation of the social compact, each regains\nhis original rights and resumes his natural liberty, while losing the\nconventional liberty in favour of which he renounced it.\n\nThese clauses, properly understood, may be reduced to one--the total\nalienation of each associate, together with all his rights, to the\nwhole community for, in the first place, as each gives himself\nabsolutely, the conditions are the same for all; and, this being so, no\none has any interest in making them burdensome to others.\n\nMoreover, the alienation being without reserve, the union is as perfect\nas it can be, and no associate has anything more to demand: for, if\nthe individuals retained certain rights, as there would be no common\nsuperior to decide between them and the public, each, being on one\npoint his own judge, would ask to be so on all; the state of nature\nwould thus continue, and the association would necessarily become\ninoperative or tyrannical.\n\nFinally, each man, in giving himself to all, gives himself to nobody;\nand as there is no associate over whom he does not acquire the same\nright as he yields others over himself, he gains an equivalent for\neverything he loses, and an increase of force for the preservation of\nwhat he has.\n\nIf then we discard from the social compact what is not of its essence,\nwe shall find that it reduces itself to the following terms--\n\n_\"Each of us puts his person and all his power in common under the\nsupreme direction of the general will, and, in our corporate capacity,\nwe receive each member as an indivisible part of the whole._\"\n\nAt once, in place of the individual personality of each contracting\nparty, this act of association creates a moral and collective body,\ncomposed of as many members as the assembly contains votes, and\nreceiving from this act its unity, its common identity, its life and\nits will. This public person, so formed by the union of all other\npersons, formerly took the name of _city_,[1] and now takes that of\n_Republic_ or _body politic_; it is called by its members _State_ when\npassive, _Sovereign_ when active, and _Power_ when compared with others\nlike itself. Those who are associated in it take collectively the name\nof _people_, and severally are called _citizens_, as sharing in the\nsovereign power, and _subjects_, as being under the laws of the State.\nBut these terms are often confused and taken one for another: it is\nenough to know how to distinguish them when they are being used with\nprecision.\n\n\n[1] The real meaning of this word has been almost wholly lost in\nmodern times; most people mistake a town for a city, and a townsman\nfor a citizen. They do not know that houses make a town, but citizens\na city. The same mistake long ago cost the Carthaginians dear. I\nhave never read of the title of citizens being given to the subjects\nof any prince, not even the ancient Macedonians or the English of\nto-day, though they are nearer liberty than any one else. The French\nalone everywhere familiarly adopt the name of citizens, because,\nas can be seen from their dictionaries, they have no idea of its\nmeaning; otherwise they would be guilty in usurping it, of the crime\nof _l\u00e8se-majest\u00e9_: among them, the name expresses a virtue, and not\na right. When Bodin spoke of our citizens and townsmen, he fell into\na bad blunder in taking the one class for the other. M. d'Alembert\nhas avoided the error, and, in his article on Geneva, has clearly\ndistinguished the four orders of men (or even five, counting mere\nforeigners) who dwell in our town, of which two only compose the\nRepublic. No other French writer, to my knowledge, has understood the\nreal meaning of the word citizen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE SOVEREIGN\n\n\nThis formula shows us that the act of association comprises a mutual\nundertaking between the public and the individuals, and that each\nindividual, in making a contract, as we may say, with himself, is bound\nin a double capacity; as a member of the Sovereign he is bound to the\nindividuals, and as a member of the State to the Sovereign. But the\nmaxim of civil right, that no one is bound by undertakings made to\nhimself, does not apply in this case; for there is a great difference\nbetween incurring an obligation to yourself and incurring one to a\nwhole of which you form a part.\n\nAttention must further be called to the fact that public deliberation,\nwhile competent to bind all the subjects to the Sovereign, because of\nthe two different capacities in which each of them may be regarded,\ncannot, for the opposite reason, bind the Sovereign to itself; and\nthat it is consequently against the nature of the body politic for the\nSovereign to impose on itself a law which it cannot infringe. Being\nable to regard itself in only one capacity, it is in the position of an\nindividual who makes a contract with himself; and this makes it clear\nthat there neither is nor can be any kind of fundamental law binding\non the body of the people--not even the social contract itself. This\ndoes not mean that the body politic cannot enter into undertakings with\nothers, provided the contract is not infringed by them; for in relation\nto what is external to it, it becomes a simple being, an individual.\n\nBut the body politic or the Sovereign, drawing its being wholly from\nthe sanctity of the contract, can never bind itself, even to an\noutsider, to do anything derogatory to the original act, for instance,\nto alienate any part of itself, or to submit to another Sovereign.\nViolation of the act by which it exists would be self-annihilation; and\nthat which is itself nothing can create nothing.\n\nAs soon as this multitude is so united in one body, it is impossible to\noffend against one of the members without attacking the body, and still\nmore to offend against the body without the members resenting it. Duty\nand interest therefore equally oblige the two contracting parties to\ngive each other help; and the same men should seek to combine, in their\ndouble capacity, all the advantages dependent upon that capacity.\n\nAgain, the Sovereign, being formed wholly of the individuals who\ncompose it, neither has nor can have any interest contrary to theirs;\nand consequently the sovereign power need give no guarantee to its\nsubjects, because it is impossible for the body to wish to hurt all\nits members. We shall also see later on that It cannot hurt any in\nparticular. The Sovereign, merely by virtue of what it is, is is always\nwhat it should be.\n\nThis, however, is not the case with the relation of the subjects to the\nSovereign, which, despite the common interest, would have no security\nthat they would fulfil their undertakings, unless it found means to\nassure itself of their fidelity.\n\nIn fact, each individual, as a man, may have a particular will\ncontrary or dissimilar to the general will which he has as a citizen.\nHis particular interest may speak to him quite differently from the\ncommon interest: his absolute and naturally independent existence may\nmake him look upon what he owes to the common cause as a gratuitous\ncontribution, the loss of which will do less harm to others than the\npayment of it is burdensome to himself; and, regarding the moral person\nwhich constitutes the State as a persona ficta, because not a man, he\nmay wish to enjoy the rights of citizenship without being ready to\nfulfil the duties of a subject. The continuance of such an injustice\ncould not but prove the undoing of the body politic.\n\nIn order then that the social compact may not be an empty formula, it\ntacitly includes the undertaking, which alone can give force to the\nrest, that whoever refuses to obey the general will shall be compelled\nto do so by the whole body. This means nothing less than that he will\nbe forced to be free; for this is the condition which, by giving each\ncitizen to his country, secures him against all personal dependence. In\nthis lies the key to the working of the political machine; this alone\nlegitimizes civil undertakings, which, without it, would be absurd,\ntyrannical, and liable to the most frightful abuses.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE CIVIL STATE\n\n\nThe passage from the state of nature to the civil state produces a very\nremarkable change in man, by substituting justice, for instinct in his\nconduct, and giving his actions the morality they had formerly lacked.\nThen only, when the voice of duty takes the place of physical impulses\nand right of appetite, does _man_, who so far had considered only\nhimself, find that he is forced to act on different principles, and\nto consult his reason before listening to his inclinations. Although,\nin this state, he deprives himself of some advantages which he got\nfrom nature, he gains in return others so great, his faculties are\nso stimulated and developed, his ideas so extended, his feelings so\nennobled, and his whole soul so uplifted, that, did not the abuses of\nthis new condition often degrade him below that which he left, he would\nbe bound to bless continually the happy moment which took him from it\nfor ever, and, instead of a stupid and unimaginative animal, made him\nan intelligent being and a man.\n\nLet us draw up the whole account in terms easily commensurable.\nWhat man loses by the social contract in his natural liberty and\nan unlimited right to everything he tries to get and succeeds in\ngetting; what he gains is civil liberty and the proprietorship of all\nhe possesses. If we are to avoid mistake in weighing one against the\nother, we must clearly distinguish natural liberty, which is bounded\nonly by the strength of the individual, from civil liberty, which is\nlimited by the general will; and possession, which is merely the effect\nof force or the right of the first occupier, from property, which can\nbe founded only on a positive title.\n\nWe might, over and above all this, add, to what man acquires in the\ncivil state, moral liberty, which alone makes him truly master of\nhimself; for the mere impulse of appetite is slavery, while obedience\nto a law which we prescribe to ourselves is liberty. But I have already\nsaid too much on this head, and the philosophical meaning of the word\nliberty does not now concern us.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nREAL PROPERTY\n\n\nEach member of the community gives himself to it, at the moment of\nits foundation, just as he is, with all the resources at his command,\nincluding the goods he possesses. This act does not make possession, in\nchanging hands, change its nature, and becomes property in the hands\nof the Sovereign; but, as the forces of the city are incomparably\ngreater than those of an individual, public possession is also, in\nfact, stronger and more irrevocable, without being any more legitimate,\nat any rate from the point of view of foreigners. For the State, in\nrelation to its members, is master of all their goods by the social\ncontract, which, within the State, is the basis of all rights; but,\nin relation to other powers, it is so only by the right of the first\noccupier, which it holds from its members.\n\nThe right of the first occupier, though more real than the right of the\nstrongest, becomes a real right only when the right of property has\nalready been established. Every man has naturally a right to everything\nhe needs; but the positive act which makes him proprietor of one thing\nexcludes him from everything else. Having his share, he ought to keep\nto it, and can have no further right against the community. This is why\nthe right of the first occupier, which in the state of nature is so\nweak, claims the respect of every man in civil society. In this right\nwe are respecting not so much what belongs to another as what does not\nbelong to ourselves.\n\nIn general, to establish the right of the first occupier over a plot of\nground, the following conditions are necessary: first, the land must\nnot yet be inhabited; secondly, a man must occupy only the amount he\nneeds for his subsistence; and, in the third place, possession must be\ntaken, not by an empty ceremony, but by labour and cultivation, the\nonly sign of proprietorship that should be respected by others, in\ndefault of a legal title.\n\nIn granting the right of first occupancy to necessity and labour,\nare we not really stretching it as far as it can go? Is it possible\nto leave such a right unlimited? Is it to be enough to set foot on a\nplot of common ground, in order to be able to call yourself at once\nthe master of it? Is it to be enough that a man has the strength to\nexpel others for a moment, in order to establish his right to prevent\nthem from ever returning? How can a man or a people seize an immense\nterritory and keep it from the rest of the world except by a punishable\nusurpation, since all others are being robbed, by such an act, of\nthe place of habitation and the means of subsistence which nature\ngave them in common? When Nu\u00f1ez Balbao, standing on the sea-shore,\ntook possession of the South Seas and the whole of South America in\nthe name of the crown of Castille, was that enough to dispossess all\ntheir actual inhabitants, and to shut out from them all the princes of\nthe world? On such a showing, these ceremonies are idly multiplied,\nand the Catholic King need only take possession all at once, from\nhis apartment, of the whole universe, merely making a subsequent\nreservation about what was already in the possession of other princes.\n\nWe can imagine how the lands of individuals, where they were contiguous\nand came to be united, became the public territory, and how the right\nof Sovereignty, extending from the subjects over the lands they held,\nbecame at once real and personal. The possessors were thus made more\ndependent, and the forces at their command used to guarantee their\nfidelity. The advantage of this does not seem to have been felt\nby ancient monarchs, who called themselves King of the Persians,\nScythians, or Macedonians, and seemed to regard themselves more as\nrulers of men than as masters of a country. Those of the present\nday more cleverly call themselves Kings of France, Spain, England,\netc.: thus holding the land, they are quite confident of holding the\ninhabitants.\n\nThe peculiar fact about this alienation is that, in taking over the\ngoods of individuals, the community, so far from despoiling them, only\nassures them legitimate possession, and changes usurpation into a true\nright and enjoyment into proprietorship. Thus the possessors, being\nregarded as depositaries of the public good, and having their rights,\nrespected by all the members of the State and maintained against\nforeign aggression by all its forces, have, by a cession which benefits\nboth the public and still more themselves, acquired, so to speak,\nall that they gave up. This paradox may easily be explained by the\ndistinction between the rights which the Sovereign and the proprietor\nhave over the same estate, as we shall see later on. It may also happen\nthat men begin to unite one with another before they possess anything,\nand that, subsequently occupying a tract of country which is enough for\nall, they enjoy it in common, or share it out among themselves, either\nequally or according to a scale fixed by they Sovereign. However the\nacquisition be made, the right which each individual has to his own\nestate is always subordinate to the right which the community has over\nall: without this, there would be neither stability in the social tie,\nnor real force in the exercise of Sovereignty.\n\nI shall end this chapter and this book by remarking on a fact on\nwhich the whole social system should rest: _i.e._ that, instead of\ndestroying natural inequality, the fundamental compact substitutes,\nfor such physical inequality as nature may have set up between men, an\nequality that is moral and legitimate, and that men, who may be unequal\nin strength or intelligence, become every one equal by convention and\nlegal right.[1]\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHAT SOVEREIGNTY IS INALIENABLE\n\n\nThe first and most important deduction from the principles we have\nso far laid down is that the general will alone can direct the State\naccording to the object for which it was instituted, _i.e._ the\ncommon good: for if the clashing of particular interests made the\nestablishment of societies necessary, the agreement of these very\ninterests made it possible. The common element in these different\ninterests is what forms the social tie; and, were there no point of\nagreement between them all, no society could exist. It is solely on the\nbasis of this common interest that every society should be governed.\n\nI hold then that Sovereignty, being nothing less than the exercise of\nthe general will, can never be alienated, and that the Sovereign, who\nis no less than a collective being, cannot be represented except by\nhimself: the power indeed may be transmitted, but not the will.\n\nIn reality, if it is not impossible for a particular will to agree on\nsome point with the general will, it is at least impossible for the\nagreement to be lasting and constant; for the particular will tends,\nby its very nature, to partiality, while the general will tends to\nequality. It is even more impossible to have any guarantee of this\nagreement; for even if it should always exist, it would be the effect\nnot of art, but of chance. The Sovereign may indeed say: \"I now will\nactually what this man wills, or at least what he says he wills\"; but\nit cannot say: \"What he wills tomorrow, I too shall will\" because it is\nabsurd for the will to bind itself for the future, nor is it incumbent\non any will to consent to anything that is not for the good of the\nbeing who wills. If then the people promises simply to obey, by that\nvery act it dissolves itself and loses what makes it a people; the\nmoment a master exists, there is no longer a Sovereign, and from that\nmoment the body politic has ceased to exist.\n\nThis does not mean that the commands of the rulers cannot pass for\ngeneral wills, so long as the Sovereign, being free to oppose them,\noffers no opposition. In such a case, universal silence is taken to\nimply the consent of the people. This will be explained later on.\n\n\n[1] Under bad governments, this equality is only apparent and illusory:\nit serves only to keep the pauper in his poverty and the rich man in\nthe position he has usurped. In fact, laws are always of use to those\nwho possess and harmful to those who have nothing: from which it\nfollows that the social state is advantageous to men only when all have\nsomething and none too much.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHAT SOVEREIGNTY IS INDIVISIBLE\n\n\nSovereignty, for the same reason as makes it inalienable, is\nindivisible; for will either is, or is not, general;[1] it is the\nwill either of the body of the people, or only of a part of it. In\nthe first case, the will, when declared, is an act of Sovereignty and\nconstitutes law: in the second, it is merely a particular will, or act\nof magistracy--at the most a decree.\n\nBut our political theorists, unable to divide Sovereignty in\nprinciple, divide it according to its object: into force and will;\ninto legislative power and executive power; into rights of taxation,\njustice and war; into internal administration and power of foreign\ntreaty. Sometimes they confuse all these sections, and sometimes they\ndistinguish them; they turn the Sovereign into a fantastic being\ncomposed of several connected pieces: it is as if they were making man\nof several bodies, one with eyes, one with arms, another with feet,\nand each with nothing besides. We are told that the jugglers of Japan\ndismember a child before the eyes of the spectators; then they throw\nall the members into the air one after another, and the child falls\ndown alive and whole. The conjuring tricks of our political theorists\nare very like that; they first dismember the body politic by an\nillusion worthy of a fair, and then join it together again we know not\nhow.\n\nThis error is due to a lack of exact notions concerning the Sovereign\nauthority, and to taking for parts of it what are only emanations from\nit. Thus, for example, the acts of declaring war and making peace have\nbeen regarded as acts of Sovereignty; but this is not the case, as\nthese acts do not constitute law, but merely the application of a law,\na particular act which decides how the law applies, as we shall see\nclearly when the idea attached to the word _law_ has been defined.\n\nIf we examined the other divisions in the same manner, we should find\nthat, whenever Sovereignty seems to be divided, there is an illusion:\nthe rights which are taken as being part of Sovereignty are really all\nsubordinate, and always imply supreme wills of which they only sanction\nthe execution.\n\nIt would be impossible to estimate the obscurity this lack of exactness\nhas thrown over the decisions of writers who have dealt with political\nright, when they have used the principles laid down by them to pass\njudgment on the respective rights of kings and peoples. Every one can\nsee, in Chapters III and IV of the First Book of Grotius, how the\nlearned man and his translator, Barbeyrac, entangle and tie themselves\nup in their own sophistries, for fear of saying too little or too\nmuch of what they think, and so offending the interests they have to\nconciliate. Grotius, a refugee in France, ill-content with his own\ncountry, and desirous of paying his court to Louis XIII, to whom his\nbook is dedicated, spares no pains to rob the peoples of all their\nrights and invest kings with them by every conceivable artifice. This\nwould also have been much to the taste of Barbeyrac, who dedicated his\ntranslation to George I of England. But unfortunately the expulsion\nof James II, which he called his \"abdication,\" compelled him to use\nall reserve, to shuffle and to tergiversate, in order to avoid making\nWilliam out a usurper. If these two writers had adopted the true\nprinciples, all difficulties would have been removed, and they would\nhave been always consistent; but it would have been a sad truth for\nthem to tell, and would have paid court for them to no-one save the\npeople. Moreover, truth is no road to fortune, and the people dispenses\nneither ambassadorships, nor professorships, nor pensions.\n\n\n[1] To be general, a will need not always be unanimous; but every\nvote--must be counted: any exclusion is a breach of generality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nWHETHER THE GENERAL WILL IS FALLIBLE\n\n\nIt follows from what has gone before that the general will is always\nright and tends to the public advantage; but it does not follow that\nthe deliberations of the people are always equally correct. Our will\nis always for our own good, but we do not always see what that is;\nthe people is never corrupted, but it is often deceived, and on such\noccasions only does it seem to will what is bad.\n\nThere is often a great deal of difference between the will of all and\nthe general will; the latter considers only the common interest, while\nthe former takes private interest into account, and is no more than a\nsum of particular wills: but take away from these same wills the pluses\nand minuses that cancel one another,[1] and the general will remains as\nthe sum of the differences.\n\nIf, when the people, being furnished with adequate information, held\nits deliberations, the citizens had no communication one with another,\nthe grand total of the small differences would always give the general\nwill, and the decision would always be good. But when factions arise,\nand partial associations are formed at the expense of the great\nassociation, the will of each of these associations becomes general\nin relation to its members, while it remains particular in relation\nto the State: it may then be said that there are no longer as many\nvotes as there are men, but only as many as there are associations.\nThe differences become less numerous and give a less general result.\nLastly, when one of these associations is so great as to prevail over\nall the rest, the result is no longer a sum of small differences, but a\nsingle difference; in this case there is no longer a general will, and\nthe opinion which prevails is purely particular.\n\nIt is therefore essential, if the general will is to be able to express\nitself, that there should be no partial society within the State,\nand that each citizen should think only his own thoughts:[2] which\nwas indeed the sublime and unique system established by the great\nLycurgus. But if there are partial societies, it is best to have as\nmany as possible and to prevent them from being unequal, as was done by\nSolon, Numa and Servius. These precautions are the only ones that can\nguarantee that the general will shall be always enlightened, and that\nthe people shall in no way deceive itself.\n\n\n[1] \"Every interest,\" says the Marquis d'Argenson, \"has different\nprinciples. The agreement of two particular interests is formed by\nopposition to a third.\" He might have added that the agreement of all\ninterests is formed by opposition to that of each. If there were no\ndifferent interests, the common interest would be barely felt, as it\nwould encounter no obstacle; all would go on of its own accord, and\npolitics would cease to be an art.\n\n[2] \"In fact,\" says Macchiavelli, \"there are some divisions that are\nharmful to a Republic and some that are advantageous. Those which\nstir up sects and parties are harmful; those attended by neither are\nadvantageous. Since, then, the founder of a Republic cannot help\nenmities arising, he ought at least to prevent them from growing into\nsects\" (_History of Florence,_ Book vii). Rousseau quotes the Italian.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE LIMITS OF THE SOVEREIGN POWER\n\n\nIf the State is a moral person whose life is in the union of its\nmembers, and if the most important of its cares is the care for its\nown preservation, it must have a universal and compelling force, in\norder to move and dispose each part as may be most advantageous to the\nwhole. As nature gives each man absolute power over all his members,\nthe social compact gives the body politic absolute power over all its\nmembers also; and it is this power which, under the direction of the\ngeneral will, bears, as I have said, the name of Sovereignty.\n\nBut, besides the public person, we have to consider the private persons\ncomposing it, whose life and liberty are naturally independent of it.\nWe are bound then to distinguish clearly between the respective rights\nof the citizens and the Sovereign,[1] and between the duties the former\nhave to fulfil as subjects, and the natural rights they should enjoy as\nmen.\n\nEach man alienates, I admit, by the social compact, only such part of\nhis powers, goods and liberty as it is important for the community to\ncontrol; but it must also be granted that the Sovereign is sole judge\nof what is important.\n\nEvery service a citizen can render the State he ought to render as soon\nas the Sovereign demands it; but the Sovereign, for its part, cannot\nimpose upon its subjects any fetters that are useless to the community,\nnor can it even wish to do so; for no more by the law of reason than by\nthe law of nature can anything occur without a cause.\n\nThe undertakings which bind us to the social body are obligatory only\nbecause they are mutual; and their nature is such that in fulfilling\nthem we cannot work for others without working for ourselves. Why is it\nthat the general will is always in the right, and that all continually\nwill the happiness of each one, unless it is because there is not a\nman who does not think of \"each\" as meaning him, and consider himself\nin voting for all? This proves that equality of rights and the idea\nof justice which such equality creates originate in the preference\neach man gives to himself, and accordingly in the very nature of man.\nIt proves that the general will, to be really such, must be general\nin its object as well as its essence; that it must both come from all\nand apply to all; and that it loses its natural rectitude when it is\ndirected to some particular and determinate object, because in such\na case we are judging of something foreign to us, and have no true\nprinciple of equity to guide us.\n\nIndeed, as soon as a question of particular fact or right arises on\na point not previously regulated by a general convention, the matter\nbecomes contentious. It is a case in which the individuals concerned\nare one party, and the public the other, but in which I can see neither\nthe law that ought to be followed nor the judge who ought to give the\ndecision. In such a case, it would be absurd to propose to refer the\nquestion to an express decision of the general will, which can be\nonly the conclusion reached by one of the parties and in consequence\nwill be, for the other party, merely an external and particular will,\ninclined on this occasion to injustice and subject to error. Thus, just\nas a particular will cannot stand for the general will, the general\nwill, in turn, changes its nature, when its object is particular, and,\nas general, cannot pronounce on a man or a fact. When, for instance,\nthe people of Athens nominated or displaced its rulers, decreed\nhonours to one, and imposed penalties on another, and, by a multitude\nof particular decrees, exercised all the functions of government\nindiscriminately, it had in such cases no longer a general will in the\nstrict sense; it was acting no longer as Sovereign, but as magistrate.\nThis will seem contrary to current views; but I must be given time to\nexpound my own.\n\nIt should be seen from the foregoing that what makes the will general\nis less the number of voters than the common interest uniting them;\nfor under this system, each necessarily submits to the conditions he\nimposes on others; and this admirable agreement between interest and\njustice gives to the common deliberations an equitable character which\nat once vanishes when any particular question is discussed, in the\nabsence of a common interest to unite and identify the ruling of the\njudge with that of the party.\n\nFrom whatever side we approach our principle, we reach the same\nconclusion, that the social compact sets up among the citizens an\nequality of such a kind, that they all bind themselves to observe the\nsame conditions and should therefore all enjoy the same rights. Thus,\nfrom the very nature of the compact, every \"act of Sovereignty\", _i.e._\nevery authentic act of the general will, binds or favours all the\ncitizens equally; so that the Sovereign recognises only the body of the\nnation, and draws no distinctions between those of whom it is made up.\nWhat, then, strictly speaking is an act of Sovereignty? It is not a\nconvention between a superior and an inferior, but a convention between\nthe body and each of its members. It is legitimate, because based on\nthe social contract, and, equitable, because common to all; useful,\nbecause it can have no other object than the general good, and stable,\nbecause guaranteed by the public force and the supreme power. So long\nas the subjects have to submit only to conventions of this sort, they\nobey no-one but their own will; and to ask how far the respective\nrights of the Sovereign and the citizens extend, is to ask up to what\npoint the latter can enter into undertakings with themselves, each with\nall, and all with each.\n\nWe can see from this that the sovereign power, absolute, sacred and\ninviolable as it is, does not and cannot exceed the limits of general\nconventions, and that every man may dispose at will of such goods and\nliberty as these conventions leave him; so that the Sovereign never has\na right to lay more charges on one subject than on another, because, in\nthat case, the question becomes particular, and ceases to be within its\ncompetency.\n\nWhen these distinctions have once been admitted, it is seen to be so\nuntrue that there is, in the social contract, any real renunciation\non the part of the individuals, that the position in which they find\nthemselves as a result of the contract is really preferable to that in\nwhich they were before. Instead of a renunciation, they have made an\nadvantageous exchange: instead of an uncertain and precarious way of\nliving they have got one that is better and more secure; instead of\nnatural independence they have got liberty, instead of the power to\nharm others security for themselves, and instead of their strength,\nwhich others might overcome, a right which social union makes\ninvincible. Their very life, which they have devoted to the State,\nis by it constantly protected; and when they risk it in the State's\ndefence, what more are they doing than giving back what they have\nreceived from it? What are they doing that they would not do more often\nand with greater danger in the state of nature, in which they would\ninevitably have to fight battles at the peril of their lives in defence\nof that which is the means of their preservation? All have indeed to\nfight when their country needs them; but then no one has ever to fight\nfor himself. Do we not gain something by running, on behalf of what\ngives us our security, only some of the risks we should have to run for\nourselves, as soon as we lost it?\n\n\n[1] Attentive readers, do not, I pray, be in a hurry to charge me with\ncontradicting myself. The terminology made it unavoidable, considering\nthe poverty of the language; but wait and see.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE RIGHT OF LIFE AND DEATH\n\n\nThe question is often asked how individuals, having no right to dispose\nof their own lives, can transfer to the Sovereign a right which they\ndo not possess. The difficulty of answering this question seems to me\nto lie in its being wrongly stated. Every man has a right to risk his\nown life in order to preserve it. Has it ever, been said that a man\nwho throws himself out of the window to escape from a fire is guilty\nof suicide? Has such a crime ever been laid to the charge of him who\nperishes in a storm because, when he went on board, he knew of the\ndanger?\n\nThe social treaty has for its end the preservation of the contracting\nparties. He who wills the end wills the means also, and the means must\ninvolve some risks, and even some losses. He who wishes to preserve\nhis life at others expense should also, when it is necessary, be\nready to give it up for their sake. Furthermore, the citizen is no\nlonger the judge of the dangers to which the law desires him to expose\nhimself; and when the prince says to him: \"It is expedient for the\nState that you should die,\" he ought to die, because it is only on that\ncondition that he has been living in security up to the present, and\nbecause his life is no longer a mere bounty of nature, but a gift made\nconditionally by the State.\n\nThe death-penalty inflicted upon criminals may be looked on in much the\nsame light: it is in order that we may not fall victims to an assassin\nthat we consent to die if we ourselves turn assassins. In this treaty,\nso far from disposing of our own lives, we think only of securing\nthem, and it is not to be assumed that any of the parties then expects\nto get hanged.\n\nAgain, every malefactor, by attacking social rights, becomes on forfeit\na rebel and a traitor to his country; by violating its laws he ceases\nto be a member of it; he even makes war upon it. In such a case the\npreservation of the State is inconsistent with his own, and one or the\nother must perish; in putting the guilty to death, we slay not so much\nthe citizen as an enemy. The trial and the judgment are the proofs\nthat he has broken the social treaty, and is in consequence no longer\na member of the State. Since, then, he has recognised himself to be\nsuch by living there, he must be removed by exile as a violator of the\ncompact, or by death as a public enemy; for such an enemy is not a\nmoral person, but merely a man; and in such a case the right of war is\nto kill the vanquished.\n\nBut, it will be said, the condemnation of a criminal is a particular\nact. I admit it: but such condemnation is not a function of the\nSovereign; it is a right the Sovereign can confer without being able\nitself to exert it. All my ideas are consistent, but I cannot expound\nthem all at once.\n\nWe may add that frequent punishments are always a sign of weakness\nor remissness on the part of the government. There is not a single\nill-doer who could not be turned to some good. The State has no right\nto put to death, even for the sake of making an example, any one whom\nit can leave alive without danger.\n\nThe right of pardoning or exempting the guilty from a penalty imposed\nby the law and pronounced by the judge belongs only to the authority\nwhich is superior to both judge and law, _i.e._ the Sovereign;\neven its right in this matter is far from clear, and the cases for\nexercising it are extremely rare. In a well-governed State, there\nare few punishments, not because there are many pardons, but because\ncriminals are rare; it is when a State is in decay that the multitude\nof crimes is a guarantee of impunity. Under the Roman Republic, neither\nthe Senate nor the Consuls ever attempted to pardon; even the people\nnever did so, though it sometimes revoked its own decision. Frequent\npardons mean that crime will soon need them no longer, and no-one can\nhelp seeing whither that leads. But I feel my heart protesting and\nrestraining my pen; let us leave these questions to the just man who\nhas never offended, and would himself stand in no need of pardon.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nLAW\n\n\nBy the social compact we have given the body politic existence and\nlife: we have now by legislation to give it movement and will. For the\noriginal act by which the body is formed and united still in no respect\ndetermines what it ought to do for its preservation.\n\nWhat is well and in conformity with order is so by the nature of\nthings and independently of human conventions. All justice comes from\nGod, who is its sole source; but if we knew how to receive so high an\ninspiration, we should need neither government nor laws. Doubtless,\nthere is a universal justice emanating from reason alone; but this\njustice, to be admitted among us, must be mutual. Humanly speaking, in\ndefault of natural sanctions, the laws of justice are ineffective among\nmen: they merely make for the good of the wicked and the undoing of\nthe just, when the just man observes them towards everybody and nobody\nobserves them towards him. Conventions and laws are therefore needed to\njoin rights to duties and refer justice to its object. In the state of\nnature, where everything is common, I owe nothing to him whom I nave\npromised nothing; I recognise as belonging to others only what is of no\nuse to me. In the state of society all rights are fixed by law, and the\ncase becomes different.\n\nBut what, after all, is a law? As long as we remain satisfied with\nattaching purely metaphysical ideas to the word, we shall go on arguing\nwithout arriving at an understanding; and when we have defined a law of\nnature, we shall be no nearer the definition of a law of the State.\n\nI have already said that there can be no general will directed to a\nparticular object. Such an object must be either within or outside the\nState. If outside, a will which is alien to it cannot be, in relation\nto it, general; if within, it is part of the State, and in that case\nthere arises a relation between whole and part which makes them two\nseparate beings, of which the part is one, and the whole minus the part\nthe other. But the whole minus a part cannot be the whole; and while\nthis relation persists, there can be no whole, but only two unequal\nparts; and it follows that the will of one is no longer in any respect\ngeneral in relation to the other.\n\nBut when the whole people decrees for the whole people, it is\nconsidering only itself; and if a relation is then formed, it is\nbetween two aspects of the entire object, without there being any\ndivision of the whole. In that case the matter about which the decree\nis made is, like the decreeing will general. This act is what I call a\nlaw.\n\nWhen I say that the object of laws is always general, I mean that\nlaw considers subjects _en masse_ and actions in the abstract, and\nnever a particular person or action. Thus the law may indeed decree\nthat there shall be privileges, but cannot confer them on anybody by\nname. It may set up several classes of citizens, and even lay down\nthe qualifications for membership of these classes, but it cannot\nnominate such and such persons as belonging to them; it may establish a\nmonarchical government and hereditary succession, but it cannot choose\na king, or nominate a royal family. In a word, no function which has a\nparticular object belongs to the legislative power.\n\nOn this view, we at once see that it can no longer be asked whose\nbusiness it is to make laws, since they are acts of the general will:\nnor whether the prince is above the law, since he is a member of the\nState; nor whether the law can be unjust, since no one is unjust to\nhimself; nor how we can be both free and subject to the laws since they\nare but registers of our wills.\n\nWe see further that, as the law unites universality of will with\nuniversality of object, what a man, whoever he be, commands of his\nown motion cannot be a law; and even what the Sovereign commands with\nregard to a particular matter is no nearer being a law, but is a\ndecree, an act, not of sovereignty, but of magistracy.\n\nI therefore give the name 'Republic' to every State that is governed by\nlaws, no matter what the form of its administration may be: for only\nin such a case does the public interest govern, and the _res publica_\nrank as a _reality_. Every legitimate government is republican;[1] what\ngovernment is I will explain later on.\n\nLaws are, properly speaking, only the conditions of civil association.\nThe people, being subject to the laws, ought to be their author:\nthe conditions of the society ought to be regulated solely by those\nwho come together to form it. But how are they to regulate them? Is\nit to be by common agreement, by a sudden inspiration? Has the body\npolitic an organ to declare its will? Who can give it the foresight to\nformulate and announce its acts in advance? Or how is it to announce\nthem in the hour of need? How can a blind multitude, which often does\nnot know what it wills, because it rarely knows what is good for it,\ncarry out for itself so great and difficult an enterprise as a system\nof legislation? Of itself the people wills always the good, but of\nitself it by no means always sees it. The general will is always in\nthe right, but the judgment which guides it is not always enlightened.\nIt must be got to see objects as they are, and sometimes as they ought\nto appear to it; it must be shown the good road it is in search of,\nsecured from the seductive influences of individual wills, taught to\nsee times and spaces as a series, and made to weigh the attractions\nof present and sensible advantages against the danger of distant and\nhidden evils. The individuals see the good they reject; the public\nwills the good it does not see. All stand equally in need of guidance.\nThe former must be compelled to bring their wills into conformity with\ntheir reason; the latter must be taught to know what it wills. If that\nis done, public enlightenment leads to the union of understanding and\nwill in the social body: the parts are made to work exactly together,\nand the whole is raised to its highest power. This makes a legislator\nnecessary.\n\n\n[1] I understand by this word, not merely an aristocracy or a\ndemocracy, but generally any government directed by the general will,\nwhich is the law. To be legitimate, the government must be, not one\nwith the Sovereign, but its minister. In such a case even a monarchy is\na Republic. This will be made clearer in the following book.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE LEGISLATOR\n\n\nIn order to discover the rules of society best suited to nations,\na superior intelligence beholding all the passions of men without\nexperiencing any of them would be needed. This intelligence would have\nto be wholly unrelated to our nature, while knowing it through and\nthrough; its happiness would have to be independent of us, and yet\nready to occupy itself with ours; and lastly, it would have, in the\nmarch of time, to look forward to a distant glory, and, working in one\ncentury, to be able to enjoy in the next.[1] It would take gods to give\nmen laws.\n\nWhat Caligula argued from the facts, Plato, in the dialogue called the\n_Politicus_, argued in defining the civil or kingly man, on the basis\nof right. But if great princes are rare, how much more so are great\nlegislators? The former have only to follow the pattern which the\nlatter have to lay down. The legislator is the engineer who invents\nthe machine, the prince merely the mechanic who sets it up and makes\nit go. \"At the birth of societies,\" says Montesquieu, \"the rulers of\nRepublics establish institutions, and afterwards the institutions mould\nthe rulers.\"[2]\n\nHe who dares to undertake the making of a people's institutions ought\nto feel himself capable, so to speak, of changing human nature, of\ntransforming each individual, who is by himself a complete and solitary\nwhole, into part of a greater whole from which he in a manner receives\nhis life and being; of altering man's constitution for the purpose of\nstrengthening it; and of substituting a partial and moral existence\nfor the physical and independent existence nature has conferred on\nus all. He must, in a word, take away from man his own resources and\ngive him instead new ones alien to him, and incapable of being made\nuse of without the help of other men. The more completely these\nnatural resources are annihilated, the greater and the more lasting\nare those which he acquires, and the more stable and perfect the new\ninstitutions; so that if each citizen is nothing and can do nothing\nwithout the rest, and the resources acquired by the whole are equal\nor superior to the aggregate of the resources of all the individuals,\nit may be said that legislation is at the highest possible point of\nperfection.\n\nThe legislator occupies in every respect an extraordinary position\nin the State. If he should do so by reason of his genius, he does so\nno less by reason of his office, which is neither magistracy, nor\nSovereignty. This office, which sets up the Republic, nowhere enters\ninto its constitution; it is an individual and superior function, which\nhas nothing in common with human empire; for if he who holds command\nover men ought not to have command over the laws, he who has command\nover the laws ought not any more to have it over men; or else his laws\nwould be the ministers of his passions and would often merely serve to\nperpetuate his injustices: his private aims would inevitably mar the\nsanctity of his work.\n\nWhen Lycurgus gave laws to his country, he began by resigning\nthe throne. It was the custom of most Greek towns to entrust the\nestablishment of their laws to foreigners. The Republics of modern\nItaly in many cases followed this example; Geneva did the same and\nprofited by it.[3] Rome, when it was most prosperous, suffered a\nrevival of all the crimes of tyranny, and was brought to the verge of\ndestruction, because it put the legislative authority and the sovereign\npower into the same hands.\n\nNevertheless, the decemvirs themselves never claimed the right to pass\nany law merely on their own authority. \"Nothing we propose to you,\"\nthey said to the people, \"can pass into law without your consent.\nRomans, be yourselves the authors of the laws which are to make you\nhappy.\"\n\nHe, therefore, who draws up the laws has, or should have, no right of\nlegislation, and the people cannot, even if it wishes, deprive itself\nof this incommunicable right, because, according to the fundamental\ncompact, only the general will can bind the individuals, and there\ncan be no assurance that a particular will is in conformity with the\ngeneral will, until it has been put to the free vote of the people.\nThis I have said already; but it is worth while to repeat it.\n\nThus in the task of legislation we find together two things which\nappear to be incompatible: an enterprise too difficult for human\npowers, and, for its execution, an authority that is no authority.\n\nThere is a further difficulty that deserves attention. Wise men, if\nthey try to speak their language to the common herd instead of its\nown, cannot possibly make themselves understood. There are a thousand\nkinds of ideas which it is impossible to translate into popular\nlanguage. Conceptions that are too general and objects that are too\nremote are equally out of its range: each individual, having no taste\nfor any other plan of government than that which suits his particular\ninterest, finds it difficult to realise the advantages he might hope\nto draw from the continual privations good laws impose. For a young\npeople to be able to relish sound principles of political theory and\nfollow the fundamental rules of statecraft, the effect would have to\nbecome the cause; the social spirit, which should be created by these\ninstitutions, would have to preside over their very foundation; and men\nwould have to be before law what they should become by means of law.\nThe legislator therefore, being unable to appeal to either force or\nreason, must have recourse to an authority of a different order capable\nof constraining without violence and persuading without convincing.\n\nThis is what has, in all ages, compelled the fathers of nations to\nhave recourse to divine intervention and credit the gods with their\nown wisdom, in order that the peoples, submitting to the laws of the\nState as to those of nature, and recognising the same power in the\nformation of the city as in that of man, might obey freely, and bear\nwith docility the yoke of the public happiness.\n\nThis sublime reason, far above the range of the common herd, is that\nwhose decisions the legislator puts into the mouth of the immortals,\nin order to constrain by divine authority those whom human prudence\ncould not move.[4] But it is not anybody who can make the gods speak,\nor get himself believed when he proclaims himself their interpreter.\nThe great soul of the legislator is the only miracle that can prove\nhis mission. Any man may grave tablets of stone, or buy an oracle; or\nfeign secret intercourse with some divinity, or train a bird to whisper\nin his ear, or find other vulgar ways of imposing on the people. He\nwhose knowledge goes no further may perhaps gather round him a band of\nfools; but he will never found an empire, and his extravagances will\nquickly perish with him. Idle tricks form a passing tie; only wisdom\ncan make it lasting. The Judaic law, which still subsists, and that\nof the child of Ishmael, which, for ten centuries, has ruled half the\nworld, still proclaim the great men who laid them down; and, while the\npride of philosophy or the blind spirit of faction sees in them no more\nthan lucky impostures, the true political theorist admires, in the\ninstitutions they set up, the great and powerful genius which presides\nover things made to endure.\n\nWe should not, with Warburton, conclude from this that politics and\nreligion have among us a common object, but that, in the first periods\nof nations, the one is used as an instrument for the other.\n\n\n[1] A people becomes famous only when its legislation begins to\ndecline. We do not know for how many centuries the system of Lycurgus\nmade the Spartans happy before the rest of Greece took any notice of it.\n\n[2] Montesquieu, _The Greatness and Decadence of the Romans_, ch. i.\n\n[3] Those who know Calvin only as a theologian much underestimate the\nextent of his genius. The codification of our wise edicts, in which\nhe played a large part, does him no less honour than his _Institute_.\nWhatever revolution time may bring in our religion, so long as the\nspirit of patriotism and liberty still lives among us, the memory of\nthis great man will be for ever blessed.\n\n[4] \"In truth,\" says Macchiavelli, \"there has never been, in any\ncountry, an extraordinary legislator who has not had recourse to God;\nfor otherwise his laws would not have been accepted: there are, in\nfact, many useful truths of which a wise man may have knowledge without\ntheir having in themselves such clear reasons for their being so as\nto be able to convince others\" (_Discourses on Livy_, Bk. v, ch. xi).\n(Rousseau quotes the Italian.)\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE PEOPLE\n\n\nAs, before putting up a large building, the architect surveys and\nsounds the site to see if it will bear the weight, the wise legislator\ndoes not begin by laying down laws good in themselves, but by\ninvestigating the fitness of the people, for which they are destined,\nto receive them. Plato refused to legislate for the Arcadians and the\nCyren\u00e6ans, because he knew that both peoples were rich and could not\nput up with equality; and good laws and bad men were found together\nin Crete, because Minos had inflicted discipline on a people already\nburdened with vice.\n\nA thousand nations have achieved earthly greatness, that could never\nhave endured good laws; even such as could have endured them could\nhave done so only for a very brief period of their long history. Most\npeoples, like most men, are docile only in youth; as they grow old they\nbecome incorrigible. When once customs have become established and\nprejudices inveterate, it is dangerous and useless to attempt their\nreformation; the people, like the foolish and cowardly patients who\nrave at sight of the doctor, can no longer bear that any one should lay\nhands on its faults to remedy them.\n\nThere are indeed times in the history of States when, just as some\nkinds of illness turn men's heads and make them forget the past,\nperiods of violence and revolutions do to peoples what these crises do\nto individuals: horror of the past takes the place of forgetfulness,\nand the State, set on fire by civil wars, is born again, so to speak,\nfrom its ashes, and takes on anew, fresh from the jaws of death, the\nvigour of youth. Such were Sparta at the time of Lycurgus, Rome after\nthe Tarquins, and, in modern times, Holland and Switzerland after the\nexpulsion of the tyrants.\n\nBut such events are rare; they are exceptions, the cause of which\nis always to be found in the particular constitution of the State\nconcerned. They cannot even happen twice to the same people, for it\ncan make itself free as long as it remains barbarous, but not when the\ncivic impulse has lost its vigour. Then disturbances may destroy it,\nbut revolutions cannot mend it: it needs a master, and not a liberator.\nFree peoples, be mindful of maxim; \"Liberty may be gained, but can\nnever be recovered.\"\n\nYouth is not infancy. There is for nations, as for men, a period of\nyouth, or, shall we say, maturity, before which they should not be\nmade subject to laws; but the maturity of a people is not always\neasily recognisable, and, if it is anticipated, the work is spoilt.\nOne people is amenable to discipline from the beginning; another, not\nafter ten centuries. Russia will never be really civilised, because\nit was civilised too soon. Peter had a genius for imitation; but he\nlacked true genius, which is creative and makes all from nothing. He\ndid some good things, but most of what he did was out of place. He\nsaw that his people was barbarous, but did not see that it was not\nripe for civilisation: he wanted to civilise it when it needed only\nhardening. His first wish was to make Germans or Englishmen, when he\nought to have been making Russians; and he prevented his subjects from\never becoming what they might have been by persuading them that they\nwere what they are not. In this fashion too a French teacher turns out\nhis pupil to be an infant prodigy, and for the rest of his life to be\nnothing whatsoever. The empire of Russia will aspire to conquer Europe,\nand will itself be conquered. The Tartars, its subjects or neighbours,\nwill become its masters and ours, by a revolution which I regard as\ninevitable. Indeed, all the kings of Europe are working in concert to\nhasten its coming.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE PEOPLE (_continued_)\n\n\nAs nature has set bounds to the stature of a well-made man, and,\noutside those limits, makes nothing but giants or dwarfs, similarly,\nfor the constitution of a State to be at its best, it is possible to\nfix limits that will make it neither too large for good government,\nnor too small for self-maintenance. In every body politic there is\na _maximum_ strength which it cannot exceed and which it only loses\nby increasing in size. Every extension of the social tie means its\nrelaxation; and, generally speaking, a small State is stronger in\nproportion than a great one.\n\nA thousand arguments could be advanced in favour of this principle.\nFirst, long distances make administration more difficult, just as a\nweight becomes heavier at the end of a longer lever. Administration\ntherefore becomes more and more burdensome as the distance grows\ngreater; for, in the first place, each city has its own, which is\npaid for by the people: each district its own, still paid for by the\npeople: then comes each province, and then the great governments,\nsatrapies, and vice-royalties, always costing more the higher you go,\nand always at the expense of the unfortunate people. Last of all comes\nthe supreme administration, which eclipses all the rest. All these\novercharges are a continual drain upon the subjects; so far from being\nbetter governed by all these different orders, they are worse governed\nthan if there were only a single authority over them. In the meantime,\nthere scarce remain resources enough to meet emergencies; and, when\nrecourse must be had to these, the State is always on the eve of\ndestruction.\n\nThis is not all; not only has the government less vigour and\npromptitude for securing the observance of the laws, preventing\nnuisances, correcting abuses, and guarding against seditious\nundertakings begun in distant places; the people has less affection for\nits rulers, whom it never sees, for its country, which, to its eyes,\nseems like the world, and for its fellow-citizens, most of whom are\nunknown to it. The same laws cannot suit so many diverse provinces with\ndifferent customs, situated in the most various climates, and incapable\nof enduring a uniform government. Different laws lead only to trouble\nand confusion among peoples which, living under the same rulers and in\nconstant communication one with another, intermingle and intermarry,\nand, coming under the sway of new customs, never know if they can call\ntheir very patrimony their own. Talent is buried, virtue unknown and\nvice unpunished, among such a multitude of men who do not know one\nanother, gathered together in one place at the seat of the central\nadministration. The leaders, overwhelmed with business, see nothing\nfor themselves; the State is governed by clerks. Finally, the measures\nwhich have to be taken to, maintain the general authority, which all\nthese distant officials wish to escape or to impose upon, absorb all\nthe energy of the public, so that there is none left for the happiness\nof the people. There is hardly enough to defend it when need arises,\nand thus a body which is too big for its constitution gives way and\nfalls crushed under its own weight.\n\nAgain, the State must assure itself a safe foundation, if it is to\nhave stability, and to be able to resist the shocks it cannot help\nexperiencing, as well as the efforts it will be forced to make for\nits maintenance; for all peoples have a kind of centrifugal force\nthat makes them continually act one against another, and tend to\naggrandise themselves at their neighbours' expense, like the vortices\nof Descartes. Thus the weak run the risk of being soon swallowed up;\nand it is almost impossible for any one to preserve itself except by\nputting itself in a state of equilibrium with all, so that the pressure\nis on all sides practically equal.\n\nIt may therefore be seen that there are reasons for expansion and\nreasons for contraction; and it is no small part of the statesman's\nskill to hit between them the mean that is most favourable to the\npreservation of the State. It may be said that the reason for\nexpansion, being merely external and relative, ought to be subordinate\nto the reasons for contraction, which are internal and absolute. A\nstrong and healthy constitution is the first thing to look for; and it\nis better to count on the vigour which comes of good government than on\nthe resources a great territory furnishes.\n\nIt may be added that there have been known States so constituted that\nthe necessity of making conquests entered into their very constitution,\nand that, in order to maintain themselves, they were forced to expand\nceaselessly. It may be that they congratulated themselves greatly on\nthis fortunate necessity, which none the less indicated to them, along\nwith the limits of their greatness, the inevitable moment of their fall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE PEOPLE (_continued_)\n\n\nA body politic may be measured in two ways--either by the extent of its\nterritory, or by the number of its people; and there is, between these\ntwo measurements, a right relation which makes the State really great.\nThe men make the State, and the territory sustains the men; the right\nrelation therefore is that the land should suffice for the maintenance\nof the inhabitants, and that there should be as many inhabitants as\nthe land can maintain. In this proportion lies the _maximum_ strength\nof a given number of people; for if there is too much land, it is\ntroublesome to guard and inadequately cultivated, produces more than is\nneeded, and soon gives rise to wars of defence; if there is not enough,\nthe State depends on its neighbours for what it needs over and above,\nand this soon gives rise to wars of offence. Every people, to which\nits situation gives no choice save that between commerce and war, is\nweak in itself: it depends on its neighbours, and on circumstances;\nits existence can never be more than short and uncertain. It either\nconquers others, and changes its situation, or it is conquered and\nbecomes nothing. Only insignificance or greatness can keep it free.\n\nNo fixed relation can be stated between the extent of the territory\nand the population that are adequate one to the other, both because\nof the differences in the quality of land, in its fertility, in the\nnature of its products, and in the influence of climate, and because of\nthe different tempers of those who inhabit it; for some in a fertile\ncountry consume little, and others on an ungrateful soil much. The\ngreater or less fecundity of women, the conditions that are more or\nless favourable in each country to the growth of population, and the\ninfluence the legislator can hope to exercise by his institutions, must\nalso be taken into account. The legislator therefore should not go\nby what he sees, but by what he foresees; he should stop not so much\nat the state in which he actually finds the population, as at that\nto which it ought naturally to attain. Lastly, there are countless\ncases in which the particular local circumstances demand or allow\nthe acquisition of a greater territory than seems necessary. Thus,\nexpansion will be great in a mountainous country, where the natural\nproducts, _i.e._ woods and pastures, need less labour, where we know\nfrom experience that women are more fertile than in the plains, and\nwhere a great expanse of slope affords only a small level tract that\ncan be counted on for vegetation. On the other hand, contraction is\npossible on the coast, even in lands of rocks and nearly barren sands,\nbecause there fishing makes up to a great extent for the lack of\nland-produce, because the inhabitants have to congregate together more\nin order to repel pirates, and further because it is easier to unburden\nthe country of its superfluous inhabitants by means of colonies.\n\nTo these conditions of law-giving must be added one other which,\nthough it cannot take the place of the rest, renders them all useless\nwhen it is absent. This is the enjoyment of peace and plenty; for the\nmoment at which a State sets its house in order is, like the moment\nwhen a battalion is forming up, that when its body is least capable of\noffering resistance and easiest to destroy. A better resistance could\nbe made at a time of absolute disorganisation than at a moment of\nfermentation, when each is occupied with his own position and not with\nthe danger. If war, famine, or sedition arises at this time of crisis,\nthe State will inevitably be overthrown.\n\nNot that many governments have not been set up during such storms; but\nin such cases these governments are themselves the State's destroyers.\nUsurpers always bring about or select troublous times to get passed,\nunder cover of the public terror, destructive laws, which the people\nwould never adopt in cold blood. The moment chosen is one of the surest\nmeans of distinguishing the work of the legislator from that of the\ntyrant.\n\nWhat people, then, is a fit subject for legislation? One which,\nalready bound by some unity of origin, interest, or convention, has\nnever yet felt the real yoke of law; one that has neither customs nor\nsuperstitions deeply ingrained, one which stands in no fear of being\noverwhelmed by sudden invasion; one which, without entering into its\nneighbours' quarrels, can resist each of them single-handed, or get the\nhelp of one to repel another; one in which every member may be known by\nevery other, and there is no need to lay on any man burdens too heavy\nfor a man to bear; one which can do without other peoples, and without\nwhich all others can do;[1] one which is neither rich nor poor, but\nself-sufficient; and, lastly, one which unites the consistency of an\nancient people with the docility of a new one. Legislation is made\ndifficult less by what it is necessary to build up than by what has to\nbe destroyed; and what makes success so rare is the impossibility of\nfinding natural simplicity together with social requirements. All these\nconditions are indeed rarely found united, and therefore few States\nhave good constitutions.\n\nThere is still in Europe one country capable of being given\nlaws--Corsica. The valour and persistency with which that brave people\nhas regained and defended its liberty well deserves that some wise man\nshould teach it how to preserve what it has won. I have a feeling that\nsome day that little island will astonish Europe.\n\n\n[1] If there were two neighbouring peoples, one of which could not\ndo without the other, it would be very hard on the former, and very\ndangerous for the latter. Every wise nation, in such a case, would make\nhaste to free the other from dependence. The Republic of Thlascala,\nenclosed by the Mexican Empire, preferred doing without salt to\nbuying from the Mexicans, or even getting it from them as a gift\nThe Thlascalans were wise enough to see the snare hidden under such\nliberality. They kept their freedom, and that little State, shut up in\nthat great Empire, was finally the instrument of its ruin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE VARIOUS SYSTEMS OF LEGISLATION\n\n\nIf we ask in what precisely consists the greatest good of all, which\nshould be the end of every system of legislation, we shall find it\nreduce itself to two main objects, liberty and equality--liberty,\nbecause all particular dependence means so much force taken from the\nbody of the State, and equality, because liberty cannot exist without\nit.\n\nI have already defined civil liberty; by equality, we should\nunderstand, not that the degrees of power and riches are to be\nabsolutely identical for everybody; but that power shall never be\ngreat enough for violence, and shall always be exercised by virtue of\nrank and law; and that, in respect of riches, no citizen shall ever be\nwealthy enough to buy another, and none poor enough to be forced to\nsell himself:[1] which implies, on the part of the great, moderation\nin goods and position, and, on the side of the common sort, moderation\nin avarice and covetousness.\n\nSuch equality, we are told, is an unpractical ideal that cannot\nactually exist. But if its abuse is inevitable, does it follow that we\nshould not at least make regulations concerning it? It is precisely\nbecause the force of circumstances tends continually to destroy\nequality that the force of legislation should always tend to its\nmaintenance.\n\nBut these general objects of every good legislative system need\nmodifying in every country in accordance with the local situation\nand the temper of the inhabitants; and these circumstances should\ndetermine, in each case, the particular system of institutions which\nis best, not perhaps in itself, but for the State for which it is\ndestined. If, for instance, the soil is barren and unproductive, or\nthe land too crowded for its inhabitants, the people should turn\nto industry and the crafts, and exchange what they produce for the\ncommodities they lack. If, on the other hand, a people dwells in rich\nplains and fertile slopes, or, in a good land, lacks inhabitants, it\nshould give all its attention to agriculture, which causes men to\nmultiply, and should drive out the crafts, which would only result in\ndepopulation, by grouping in a few localities the few inhabitants there\nare.[2] If a nation dwells on an extensive and convenient coast-line,\nlet it cover the sea with ships and foster commerce and navigation. It\nwill have a life that will be short and glorious. If, on its coasts,\nthe sea washes nothing but almost inaccessible rocks, let it remain\nbarbarous and ichthyophagous: it will have a quieter, perhaps a better,\nand certainly a happier life. In a word, besides the principles that\nare common to all, every nation has in itself something that gives them\na particular application, and makes its legislation peculiarly its own.\nThus, among the Jews long ago and more recently among the Arabs, the\nchief object was religion, among the Athenians letters, at Carthage and\nTyre commerce, at Rhodes shipping, at Sparta war, at Rome virtue. The\nauthor of _The Spirit of the Laws_ has shown with many examples by\nwhat art the legislator directs the constitution towards each of these\nobjects.\n\nWhat makes the constitution of a State really solid and lasting is\nthe due observance of what is proper, so that the natural relations\nare always in agreement with the laws on every point, and law only\nserves, so to speak, to assure, accompany and rectify them. But if\nthe legislator mistakes his object and adopts a principle other than\ncircumstances naturally direct; if his principle makes for servitude\nwhile they make for liberty, or if it makes for riches, while they\nmake for populousness, or if it makes for peace, while they make\nfor conquest--the laws will insensibly lose their influence, the\nconstitution will alter, and the State will have no rest from trouble\ntill it is either destroyed or changed, and nature has resumed her\ninvincible sway.\n\n\n[1] If the object is to give the State consistency, bring the two\nextremes as near to each other as possible; allow neither rich men\nnor beggars. These two estates, which are naturally inseparable, are\nequally fatal to the common good; from the one come the friends of\ntyranny, and from the other tyrants. It is always between them that\npublic liberty is put up to auction; the one buys, and the other sells.\n\n[2] \"Any branch of foreign commerce,\" says M. d'Argenson, \"creates on\nthe whole only apparent advantage for the kingdom in general; it may\nenrich some individuals, or even some towns; but the nation as a whole\ngains nothing by it, and the people is no better off.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE DIVISION OF THE LAWS\n\n\nIf the whole is to be set in order, and the commonwealth put into the\nbest possible shape, there are various relations to be considered.\nFirst, there is the action of the complete body upon itself, the\nrelation of the whole to the whole, of the Sovereign to the State; and\nthis relation, as we shall see, is made up of the relations of the\nintermediate terms.\n\nThe laws which regulate this relation bear the name of political laws,\nand are also called fundamental laws, not without reason if they are\nwise. For, if there is, in each State, only one good system, the\npeople that is in possession of it should hold fast to this; but if\nthe established order is bad, why should laws that prevent men from\nbeing good be regarded as fundamental? Besides, in any case, a people\nis always in a position to change its laws, however good; for, if it\nchoose to do itself harm, who can have a right to stop it?\n\nThe second relation is that of the members one to another, or to the\nbody as a whole; and this relation should be in the first respect as\nunimportant, and in the second as important, as possible. Each citizen\nwould then be perfectly independent of all the rest, and at the same\ntime very dependent on the city; which is brought about always by the\nsame means, as the strength of the State can alone secure the liberty\nof its members. From this second relation arise civil laws.\n\nWe may consider also a third kind of relation between the individual\nand the law, a relation of disobedience to its penalty. This gives\nrise to the setting up of criminal laws, which, at bottom, are less a\nparticular class of law than the sanction behind all the rest.\n\nAlong with these three kinds of law goes a fourth, most important of\nall, which is not graven on tablets of marble or brass, but on the\nhearts of the citizens. This forms the real constitution of the State,\ntakes on every day new powers, when other laws decay or die out,\nrestores them or takes their place, keeps a people in the ways in which\nit was meant to go, and insensibly replaces authority by the force\nof habit. I am speaking of morality, of custom, above all of public\nopinion; a power unknown to political thinkers, on which none the less\nsuccess in everything else depends. With this the great legislator\nconcerns himself in secret, though he seems to confine himself to\nparticular regulations; for these are only the arc of the arch, while\nmanners and morals, slower to arise, form in the end its immovable\nkeystone.\n\nAmong the different classes of laws, the political, which determine the\nform of the government, are alone relevant to my subject.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n\nBefore speaking of the different forms of government, let us try to\nfix the exact sense of the word, which has not yet been very clearly\nexplained.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nGOVERNMENT IN GENERAL\n\n\nI warn the reader that this chapter requires careful reading, and that\nI am unable to make myself clear to those who refuse to be attentive.\n\nEvery free action is produced by the concurrence of two causes; one\nmoral, _i.e._ the will which determines the act; the other physical,\n_i.e._ the power which executes it. When I walk towards an object, it\nis necessary first that I should will to go there, and, in the second\nplace, that my feet should carry me. If a paralytic wills to run and\nan active man wills not to, they will both stay where they are. The\nbody politic has the same motive powers; here too force and will are\ndistinguished, will under the name of legislative power and force under\nthat of executive power. Without their concurrence, nothing is, or\nshould be, done.\n\nWe have seen that the legislative power belongs to the people, and can\nbelong to it alone. It may, on the other hand, readily be seen, from\nthe principles laid down above, that the executive power cannot belong\nto the generality as legislature or Sovereign, because it consists\nwholly of particular acts which fall outside the competency of the law,\nand consequently of the Sovereign, whose acts must always be laws.\n\nThe public force therefore needs an agent of its own to bind it\ntogether and set it to work under the direction of the general will, to\nserve as a means of communication between the State and the Sovereign,\nand to do for the collective person more or less what the union of soul\nand body does for man. Here we have what is, in the State, the basis of\ngovernment, often wrongly confused with the Sovereign, whose minister\nit is.\n\nWhat then is government? An intermediate body set up between the\nsubjects and the Sovereign, to secure their mutual correspondence,\ncharged with the execution of the laws and the maintenance of liberty,\nboth civil and political.\n\nThe members of this body are called magistrates or _kings_, that is to\nsay _governors_, and the whole body bears the name _prince_.[1] Thus\nthose who hold that the act, by which a people puts itself under a\nprince, is not a contract, are certainly right. It is simply and solely\na commission, an employment, in which the rulers, mere officials of the\nSovereign, exercise in their own name the power of which it makes them\ndepositaries. This power it can limit, modify or recover at pleasure;\nfor the alienation of such a right is incompatible with the nature of\nthe social body, and contrary to the end of association.\n\nI call then _government_, or supreme administration, the legitimate\nexercise of the executive power, and prince or magistrate the man or\nthe body entrusted with that administration.\n\nIn government reside the intermediate forces whose relations make up\nthat of the whole to the whole, or of the Sovereign to the State. This\nlast relation may be represented as that between the extreme terms of a\ncontinuous proportion, which has government as its mean proportional.\nThe government gets from the Sovereign the orders it gives the people,\nand, for the State to be properly balanced, there must, when everything\nis reckoned in, be equality between the product or power of the\ngovernment taken in itself, and the product or power of the citizens,\nwho are on the one hand sovereign and on the other subject.\n\nFurthermore, none of these three terms can be altered without the\nequality being instantly destroyed. If the Sovereign desires to govern,\nor the magistrate to give laws, or if the subjects refuse to obey,\ndisorder takes the place of regularity, force and will no longer act\ntogether, and the State is dissolved and falls into despotism or\nanarchy. Lastly, as there is only one mean proportional between each\nrelation, there is also only one good government possible for a State.\nBut, as countless events may change the relations of a people, not only\nmay different governments be good for different peoples, but also for\nthe same people at different times.\n\nIn attempting to give some idea of the various relations that may hold\nbetween these two extreme terms, I shall take as an example the number\nof a people, which is the most easily expressible.\n\nSuppose the State is composed of ten thousand citizens. The Sovereign\ncan only be considered collectively and as a body; but each member, as\nbeing a subject, is regarded as an individual: thus the Sovereign is\nto the subject as ten thousand to one, _i.e._ each member of the State\nhas as his share only a ten-thousandth part of the sovereign authority,\nalthough he is wholly under its control. If the people numbers a\nhundred thousand, the condition of the subject undergoes no change,\nand each equally is under the whole authority of the laws, while his\nvote, being reduced to one hundred thousandth part, has ten times less\ninfluence in drawing them up. The subject therefore remaining always\na unit, the relation between him and the Sovereign increases with the\nnumber of the citizens. From this it follows that, the larger the\nState, the less the liberty.\n\nWhen I say the relation increases, I mean that it grows more unequal.\nThus the greater it is in the geometrical sense, the less relation\nthere is in the ordinary sense of the word. In the former sense,\nthe relation, considered according to quantity, is expressed by the\nquotient; in the latter, considered according to identity, it is\nreckoned by similarity.\n\nNow, the less relation the particular wills have to the general will,\nthat is, morals and manners to laws, the more should the repressive\nforce be increased. The government, then, to be good, should be\nproportionately stronger as the people is more numerous.\n\nOn the other hand, as the growth of the State gives the depositaries\nof the public authority more temptations and chances of abusing their\npower, the greater the force with which the government ought to be\nendowed for keeping the people in hand, the greater too should be the\nforce at the disposal of the Sovereign for keeping the government in\nhand. I am speaking, not of absolute force, but of the relative force\nof the different parts of the State.\n\nIt follows from this double relation that the continuous proportion\nbetween the Sovereign, the prince and the people, is by no means an\narbitrary idea, but a necessary consequence of the nature of the body\npolitic. It follows further that, one of the extreme terms, viz. the\npeople, as subject, being fixed and represented by unity, whenever the\nduplicate ratio increases or diminishes, the simple ratio does the\nsame, and is changed accordingly. From this we see that there is not a\nsingle unique and absolute form of government, but as many governments\ndiffering in nature as there are States differing in size.\n\nIf, ridiculing this system, any one were to say that, in order to find\nthe mean proportional and give form to the body of the government,\nit is only necessary, according to me, to find the square root of\nthe number of the people, I should answer that I am here taking this\nnumber only as an instance; that the relations of which I am speaking\nare not measured by the number of men alone, but generally by the\namount of action, which is a combination of a multitude of causes; and\nthat, further, if, to save words, I borrow for a moment the terms of\ngeometry, I am none the less well aware that moral quantities do not\nallow of geometrical accuracy.\n\nThe government is on a small scale what the body politic which includes\nit is on a great one. It is a moral person endowed with certain\nfaculties, active like the Sovereign and passive like the State,\nand capable of being resolved into other similar relations. This\naccordingly gives rise to a new proportion, within which there is yet\nanother, according to the arrangement of the magistracies, till an\nindivisible middle term is reached, _i.e._ a single ruler or supreme\nmagistrate, who may be represented, in the midst of this progression,\nas the unity between the fractional and the ordinal series.\n\nWithout encumbering ourselves with this multiplication of terms, let us\nrest content with regarding government as a new body within the State,\ndistinct from the people and the Sovereign, and intermediate between\nthem.\n\nThere is between these two bodies this essential difference, that\nthe State exists by itself, and the government only through the\nSovereign. Thus the dominant will of the prince is, or should be,\nnothing but the general will or the law; his force is only the public\nforce concentrated in his hands, and, as soon as he tries to base\nany absolute and independent act on his own authority, the tie that\nbinds the whole together begins to be loosened. If finally the prince\nshould come to have a particular will more active than the will of the\nSovereign, and should employ the public force in his hands in obedience\nto this particular will, there would be, so to speak, two Sovereigns,\none rightful and the other actual, the social union would evaporate\ninstantly, and the body politic would be dissolved.\n\nHowever, in order that the government may have a true existence\nand a real life distinguishing it from the body of the State, and\nin order that all its members may be able to act in concert and\nfulfil the end for which it was set up, it must have a particular\npersonality, a sensibility common to its members, and a force and will\nof its own making for its preservation. This particular existence\nimplies assemblies, councils, power of deliberation and decision,\nrights, titles, and privileges belonging exclusively to the prince\nand making the office of magistrate more honourable in proportion\nas it is more troublesome. The difficulties lie in the manner of so\nordering this subordinate whole within the whole, that it in no way\nalters the general constitution by affirmation of its own, and always\ndistinguishes the particular force it possesses, which is destined\nto aid in its preservation, from the public force, which is destined\nto the preservation of the State; and, in a word, is always ready to\nsacrifice the government to the people, and never to sacrifice the\npeople to the government.\n\nFurthermore, although the artificial body of the government is the work\nof another artificial body, and has, we may say, only a borrowed and\nsubordinate life, this does not prevent it from being able to act with\nmore or less vigour or promptitude, or from being, so to speak, in more\nor less robust health. Finally, without departing directly from the\nend for which it was instituted, it may deviate more or less from it,\naccording to the manner of its constitution.\n\nFrom all these differences arise the various relations which the\ngovernment ought to bear to the body of the State, according to the\naccidental and particular relations by which the State itself is\nmodified, for often the government that is best in itself will become\nthe most pernicious, if the relations in which it stands have altered\naccording to the defects of the body politic to which it belongs.\n\n\n[1] Thus at Venice the College, even in the absence of the Doge, is\ncalled \"Most Serene Prince.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE CONSTITUENT PRINCIPLE IN THE VARIOUS FORMS OF GOVERNMENT\n\n\nTo set forth the general cause of the above differences, we must here\ndistinguish between government and its principle, as we did before\nbetween the State and the Sovereign.\n\nThe body of the magistrate may be composed of a greater or a less\nnumber of members. We said that the relation of the Sovereign to the\nsubjects was greater in proportion as the people was more numerous,\nand, by a clear analogy, we may say the same of the relation of the\ngovernment to the magistrates.\n\nBut the total force of the government, being always that of the State,\nis invariable; so that, the more of this force it expends on its own\nmembers, the less it has left to employ on the whole people.\n\nThe more numerous the magistrates, therefore, the weaker the\ngovernment. This principle being fundamental, we must do our best to\nmake it clear.\n\nIn the person of the magistrate we can distinguish three essentially\ndifferent wills: first, the private will of the individual, tending\nonly to his personal advantage; secondly, the common will of the\nmagistrates, which is relative solely to the advantage of the prince,\nand may be called corporate will, being general in relation to the\ngovernment, and particular in relation to the State, of which the\ngovernment forms part; and, in the third place, the will of the people\nor the sovereign will, which is general both in relation to the State\nregarded as the whole, and to the government regarded as a part of the\nwhole.\n\nIn a perfect act of legislation, the individual or particular will\nshould be at zero; the corporate will belonging to the government\nshould occupy a very subordinate position; and, consequently, the\ngeneral or sovereign will should always predominate and should be the\nsole guide of all the rest.\n\nAccording to the natural order, on the other hand, these different\nwills become more active in proportion as they are concentrated. Thus,\nthe general will is always the weakest, the corporate will second, and\nthe individual will strongest of all: so that, in the government, each\nmember is first of all himself, then a magistrate, and then a citizen\n--in an order exactly the reverse of what the social system requires.\n\nThis granted, if the whole government is in the hands of one man, the\nparticular and the corporate will are wholly united, and consequently\nthe latter is at its highest possible degree of intensity. But, as the\nuse to which the force is put depends on the degree reached by the\nwill, and as the absolute force of the government is invariable, it\nfollows that the most active government is that of one man.\n\nSuppose, on the other hand, we unite the government with the\nlegislative authority, and make the Sovereign prince also, and all the\ncitizens so many magistrates: then the corporate will, being confounded\nwith the general will, can possess no greater activity than that will,\nand must leave the particular will as strong as it can possibly be.\nThus, the government, having always the same absolute force, will be at\nthe lowest point of its relative force or activity.\n\nThese relations are incontestable, and there are other considerations\nwhich still further confirm them. We can see, for instance, that\neach magistrate is more active in the body to which he belongs than\neach citizen in that to which he belongs, and that consequently the\nparticular will has much more influence on the acts of the government\nthan on those of the Sovereign; for each magistrate is almost always\ncharged with some governmental function, while each citizen, taken\nsingly, exercises no function of Sovereignty. Furthermore, the bigger\nthe State grows, the more its real force increases, though not in\ndirect proportion to its growth; but, the State remaining the same,\nthe number of magistrates may increase to any extent, without the\ngovernment gaining any greater real force; for its force is that of the\nState, the dimension of which remains equal. Thus the relative force or\nactivity of the government decreases, while its absolute or real force\ncannot increase.\n\nMoreover, it is a certainty that promptitude in execution diminishes\nas more people are put in charge of it: where prudence is made too\nmuch of, not enough is made of fortune; opportunity is let slip, and\ndeliberation results in the loss of its object.\n\nI have just proved that the government grows remiss in proportion as\nthe number of the magistrates increases; and I previously proved that,\nthe more numerous the people, the greater should be the repressive\nforce. From this it follows that the relation of the magistrates to the\ngovernment should vary inversely to the relation of the subjects to the\nSovereign; that is to say, the larger the State, the more should the\ngovernment be tightened, so that the number of the rulers diminish in\nproportion to the increase of that of the people.\n\nIt should be added that I am here speaking of the relative strength of\nthe government, and not of its rectitude: for, on the other hand, the\nmore numerous the magistracy, the nearer the corporate will comes to\nthe general will; while, under a single magistrate, the corporate will\nis, as I said, merely a particular will. Thus, what may be gained on\none side is lost on the other, and the art of the legislator is to know\nhow to fix the point at which the force and the will of the government,\nwhich are always in inverse proportion, meet in the relation that is\nmost to the advantage of the State.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE DIVISION OF GOVERNMENTS\n\n\nWe saw in the last chapter what causes the various kinds or forms of\ngovernment to be distinguished according to the number of the members\ncomposing them: it remains in this to discover how the division is made.\n\nIn the first place, the Sovereign may commit the charge of the\ngovernment to the whole people or to the majority of the people, so\nthat more citizens are magistrates than are mere private individuals.\nThis form of government is called _democracy_.\n\nOr it may restrict the government to a small number; so that there are\nmore private citizens than magistrates; and this is named _aristocracy_.\n\nLastly, it may concentrate the whole government in the hands of a\nsingle magistrate from whom all others hold their power. This third\nform is the most usual, and is called _monarchy_, or royal government.\n\nIt should be remarked that all these forms, or at least the first two,\nadmit of degree, and even of very wide differences; for democracy may\ninclude the whole people, or may be restricted to half. Aristocracy, in\nits turn, may be restricted indefinitely from half the people down to\nthe smallest possible number. Even royalty is susceptible of a measure\nof distribution. Sparta always had two kings, as its constitution\nprovided; and the Roman Empire saw as many as eight emperors at once,\nwithout it being possible to say that the Empire was split up. Thus\nthere is a point at which each form of government passes into the next,\nand it becomes clear that, under three comprehensive denominations,\ngovernment is really susceptible of as many diverse forms as the State\nhas citizens.\n\nThere are even more: for, as the government may also, in certain\naspects, be subdivided into other parts, one administered in one\nfashion and one in another, the combination of the three forms\nmay result in a multitude of mixed forms, each of which admits of\nmultiplication by all the simple forms.\n\nThere has been at all times much dispute concerning the best form of\ngovernment, without consideration of the fact that each is in some\ncases the best, and in others the worst.\n\nIf, in the different States, the number of supreme magistrates should\nbe in inverse ratio to the number of citizens, it follows that,\ngenerally, democratic government suits small States, aristocratic\ngovernment those of middle size, and monarchy great ones. This rule\nis immediately deducible from the principle laid down. But it is\nimpossible to count the innumerable circumstances which may furnish\nexceptions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nDEMOCRACY\n\n\nHe who makes the law knows better than any one else how it should be\nexecuted and interpreted. It seems then impossible to have a better\nconstitution than that in which the executive and legislative powers\nare united; but this very fact renders the government in certain\nrespects inadequate, because things which should be distinguished are\nconfounded, and the prince and the Sovereign, being the same person,\nform, so to speak, no more than a government without government.\n\nIt is not good for him who makes the laws to execute them, or for the\nbody of the people to turn its attention away from a general standpoint\nand devote it to particular objects. Nothing is more dangerous than\nthe influence of private interests in public affairs, and the abuse of\nthe laws by the government is a less evil than the corruption of the\nlegislator, which is the inevitable sequel to a particular standpoint.\nIn such a case, the State being altered in substance, all reformation\nbecomes impossible. A people that would never misuse governmental\npowers would never misuse independence; a people that would always\ngovern well would not need to be governed.\n\nIf we take the term in the strict sense, there never has been a real\ndemocracy, and there never will be. It is against the natural order for\nthe many to govern and the few to be governed. It is unimaginable that\nthe people should remain continually assembled to devote their time to\npublic affairs, and it is clear that they cannot set up commissions for\nthat purpose without the form of administration being changed.\n\nIn fact, I can confidently lay down as a principle that, when the\nfunctions of government are shared by several tribunals, the less\nnumerous sooner or later acquire the greatest authority, if only\nbecause they are in a position to expedite affairs, and power thus\nnaturally comes into their hands.\n\nBesides, how many conditions that are difficult to unite does such a\ngovernment presuppose! First, a very small State, where the people can\nreadily be got together and where each citizen can with ease know all\nthe rest; secondly, great simplicity of manners, to prevent business\nfrom multiplying and raising thorny problems; next, a large measure\nof equality in rank and fortune, without which equality of rights and\nauthority cannot long subsist; lastly, little or no luxury--for luxury\neither comes of riches or makes them necessary; it corrupts at once\nrich and poor, the rich by possession and the poor by covetousness; it\nsells the country to softness and vanity, and takes away from the State\nall its citizens, to make them slaves one to another, and one and all\nto public opinion.\n\nThis is why a famous writer has made virtue the fundamental principle\nof Republics; for all these conditions could not exist without virtue.\nBut, for want of the necessary distinctions, that great thinker was\noften inexact, and sometimes obscure, and did not see that, the\nsovereign authority being everywhere the same, the same principle\nshould be found in every well-constituted State, in a greater or less\ndegree, it is true, according to the form of the government.\n\nIt may be added that there is no government so subject to civil wars\nand intestine agitations as democratic or popular government, because\nthere is none which has so strong and continual a tendency to change\nto another form, or which demands more vigilance and courage for its\nmaintenance as it is. Under such a constitution above all, the citizen\nshould arm himself with strength and constancy, and say, every day of\nhis life, what a virtuous Count Palatine[1] said in the Diet of Poland:\nMalo periculosam libertatem quam quietum servitium.\n\nWere there a people of gods, their government would be democratic. So\nperfect a government is not for men.\n\n\n[1] The Palatine of Posen, father of the King of Poland, Duke of\nLorraine. I prefer liberty with danger to peace with slavery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nARISTOCRACY\n\n\nWe have here two quite distinct moral persons, the government and\nthe Sovereign, and in consequence two general wills, one general in\nrelation to all the citizens, the other only for the members of the\nadministration. Thus, although the government may regulate its internal\npolicy as it pleases, it can never speak to the people save in the\nname of the Sovereign, that is, of the people itself, a fact which must\nnot be forgotten.\n\nThe first societies governed themselves aristocratically. The heads\nof families took counsel together on public affairs. The young bowed\nwithout question to the authority of experience. Hence such names\nas _priests, elders, senate_, and _gerontes_. The savages of North\nAmerica govern themselves in this way even now, and their government is\nadmirable.\n\nBut, in proportion as artificial inequality produced by institutions\nbecame predominant over natural inequality, riches or power[1] were put\nbefore age, and aristocracy became elective. Finally, the transmission\nof the father's power along with his goods to his children, by creating\npatrician families, made government hereditary, and there came to be\nsenators of twenty.\n\nThere are then three sorts of aristocracy--natural, elective and\nhereditary. The first is only for simple peoples; the third is the\nworst of all governments; the second is the best, and is aristocracy\nproperly so called.\n\nBesides the advantage that lies in the distinction between the two\npowers, it presents that of its members being chosen; for, in popular\ngovernment, all the citizens are born magistrates; but here magistracy\nis confined to a few, who become such only by election.[2] By this\nmeans uprightness, understanding, experience and all other claims to\npre-eminence and public esteem become so many further guarantees of\nwise government.\n\nMoreover, assemblies are more easily held, affairs better discussed and\ncarried out with more order and diligence, and the credit of the State\nis better sustained abroad by venerable senators than by a multitude\nthat is unknown or despised.\n\nIn a word, it is the best and most natural arrangement that the wisest\nshould govern the many, when it is assured that they will govern\nfor its profit, and not for their own. There is no need to multiply\ninstruments, or get twenty thousand men to do what a hundred picked men\ncan do even better, but it must not be forgotten that corporate interest\nhere begins to direct the public power less under the regulation of the\ngeneral will, and that a further inevitable propensity takes away from\nthe laws part of the executive power.\n\nIf we are to speak of what is individually desirable, neither should\nthe State be so small, nor a people so simple and upright, that the\nexecution of the laws follows immediately from the public will, as\nit does in a good democracy. Nor should the nation be so great that\nthe rulers have to scatter in order to govern it and are able to play\nthe Sovereign each in his own department, and, beginning by making\nthemselves independent, end by becoming masters.\n\nBut if aristocracy does not demand all the virtues needed by popular\ngovernment, it demands others which are peculiar to itself; for\ninstance, moderation on the side of the rich and contentment on that\nof the poor; for it seems that thorough-going equality would be out of\nplace, as it was not found even at Sparta.\n\nFurthermore, if this form of government carries with it a certain\ninequality of fortune, this is justifiable in order that as a rule the\nadministration of public affairs may be entrusted to those who are most\nable to give them their whole time, but not, as Aristotle maintains, in\norder that the rich may always be put first. On the contrary, it is of\nimportance that an opposite choice should occasionally teach the people\nthat the deserts of men offer claims to pre-eminence more important\nthan those of riches.\n\n\n[1] It is clear that the word _optimates_ meant, among the ancients,\nnot the best, but the most powerful.\n\n[2] It is of great importance that the form of the election of\nmagistrates should be regulated by law; for if it is left at the\ndiscretion of the prince, it is impossible to avoid falling into\nhereditary aristocracy, as the Republics of Venice and Berne actually\ndid. The first of these has therefore long been a State dissolved; the\nsecond, however, is maintained by the extreme wisdom of the senate, and\nforms an honourable and highly dangerous exception.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nMONARCHY\n\n\nSo far, we have considered the prince as a moral and collective person,\nunified by the force of the laws, and the depositary in the State of\nthe executive power. We have now to consider this power when it is\ngathered together into the hands of a natural person, a real man, who\nalone has the right to dispose of it in accordance with the laws. Such\na person is called a monarch or king.\n\nIn contrast with other forms of administration, in which a collective\nbeing stands for an individual, in this form an individual stands for a\ncollective being; so that the moral unity that constituted the prince\nis at the same time a physical unity, and all the qualities, which in\nthe other case are only with difficulty brought together by the law,\nare found naturally united.\n\nThus the will of the people, the will of the prince, the public force\nof the State, and the particular force of the government, all answer to\na single motive power; all the springs of the machine are in the same\nhands, the whole moves towards the same end; there are no conflicting\nmovements to cancel one another, and no kind of constitution can be\nimagined in which a less amount of effort produces a more considerable\namount of action. Archimedes, seated quietly on the bank and easily\ndrawing a great vessel afloat, stands to my mind for a skilful monarch,\ngoverning vast states from his study, and moving everything while he\nseems himself unmoved.\n\nBut if no government is more vigorous than this, there is also none\nin which the particular will holds more sway and rules the rest more\neasily. Everything moves towards the same end indeed, but this end is\nby no means that of the public happiness, and even the force of the\nadministration constantly shows itself prejudicial to the State.\n\nKings desire to be absolute, and men are always crying out to them\nfrom afar that the best means of being so is to get themselves loved\nby their people. This precept is all very well, and even in some\nrespects very true. Unfortunately, it will always be derided at court.\nThe power which comes of a people's love is no doubt the greatest; but\nit is precarious and conditional, and princes will never rest content\nwith it. The best kings desire to be in a position to be wicked, if\nthey please, without forfeiting their mastery: political sermonisers\nmay tell them to their hearts' content that, the people's strength\nbeing their own, their first interest is that the people should be\nprosperous, numerous and formidable; they are well aware that this\nis Untrue. Their first personal interest is that the people should\nbe weak, wretched, and unable to resist them. I admit that, provided\nthe subjects remained always in submission, the prince's interest\nwould indeed be that it should be powerful, in order that its power,\nbeing his own, might make him formidable to his neighbours; but, this\ninterest being merely secondary and subordinate, and strength being\nincompatible with submission, princes naturally give the preference\nalways to the principle that is more to their immediate advantage. This\nis what Samuel put strongly before the Hebrews, and what Macchiavelli\nhas clearly shown. He professed to teach kings; but it was the people\nhe really taught. His _Prince_ is the book of Republicans.[1]\n\nWe found, on general grounds, that monarchy is suitable only for\ngreat States, and this is confirmed when we examine it in itself.\nThe more numerous the public administration, the smaller becomes the\nrelation between the prince and the subjects, and the nearer it comes\nto equality, so that in democracy the ratio is unity, or absolute\nequality. Again, as the government is restricted in numbers the ratio\nincreases and reaches its _maximum_ when the government is in the hands\nof a single person. There is then too great a distance between prince\nand people and the State lacks a bond of union. To form such a bond,\nthere must be intermediate orders, and princes, personages and nobility\nto compose them. But no such things suit a small State, to which all\nclass differences mean ruin.\n\nIf, however, it is hard for a great State to be well governed, it is\nmuch harder for it to be so by a single man; and every one knows what\nhappens when kings substitute others for themselves.\n\nAn essential and inevitable defect, which will always rank monarchical\nbelow republican government, is that in a republic the public voice\nhardly ever raises to the highest positions men who are not enlightened\nand capable, and such as to fill them with honour; while in monarchies\nthese who rise to the top are most often merely petty blunderers petty\nswindlers, and petty intriguers, whose petty talents cause them to\nget into the highest positions at Court, but, as soon as they have\ngot there, serve only to make their ineptitude clear to the public.\nThe people is far less often mistaken in its choice than the prince;\nand a man of real worth among the king's ministers is almost as rare\nas a fool at the head of a republican government. Thus, when, by\nsome fortunate chance, one of these born governors takes the helm of\nState in some monarchy that has been nearly overwhelmed by swarms of\n'gentlemanly' administrators, there is nothing but amazement at the\nresources he discovers, and his coming marks an era in his country's\nhistory.\n\nFor a monarchical State to have a chance of being well governed, its\npopulation and extent must be proportionate to the abilities of its\ngovernor. If is easier to conquer than to rule. With a long enough\nlever, the world could be moved with a single finger; to sustain it\nneeds the shoulders of Hercules. However small a State may be, the\nprince is hardly ever big enough for it. When, on the other hand,\nit happens that the State is too small for its ruler, in these rare\ncases too it is ill governed, because the ruler, constantly pursuing\nhis great designs, forgets the interests of the people, and makes\nit no less wretched by misusing the talents he has, than a ruler of\nless capacity would make it for want of those he had not. A kingdom\nshould, so to speak, expand or contract with each reign, according to\nthe prince's capabilities; but, the abilities of a senate being more\nconstant in quantity, the State can then have permanent frontiers\nwithout the administration suffering.\n\nThe disadvantage that is most felt in monarchical government is the\nwant of the continuous succession which, in both the other forms,\nprovides an unbroken bond of union. When one king dies, another is\nneeded; elections leave dangerous intervals and are full of storms; and\nunless the citizens are disinterested and upright to a degree which\nvery seldom goes with this kind of government, intrigue and corruption\nabound. He to whom the State has sold itself can hardly help selling\nit in his turn and repaying himself, at the expense of the weak, the\nmoney the powerful have wrung from him. Under such an administration,\nvenality sooner or later spreads through every part, and peace so\nenjoyed under a king is worse than the disorders of an interregnum.\n\nWhat has been done to prevent these evils? Crowns have been made\nhereditary in certain families, and an order of succession has been\nset up, to prevent disputes from arising on the death of kings. That\nis to say, the disadvantages of regency have been put in place of\nthose of election, apparent tranquillity has been preferred to wise\nadministration, and men have chosen rather to risk having children,\nmonstrosities, or imbeciles as rulers to having disputes over the\nchoice of good kings. It has not been taken into account that, in\nso exposing ourselves to the risks this possibility entails, we are\nsetting almost all the chances against us. There was sound sense in\nwhat the younger Dionysius said to his father, who reproached him for\ndoing some shameful deed by asking, \"Did I set you the example?\" \"No,\"\nanswered his son, \"but your father was not king.\"\n\nEverything conspires to take away from a man who is set in authority\nover others the sense of justice and reason. Much trouble, we are\ntold, is taken to teach young princes the art of reigning; but their\neducation seems to do them no good. It would be better to begin by\nteaching them the art of obeying. The greatest kings whose praises\nhistory tells were not brought up to reign: reigning is a science we\nare never so far from possessing as when we have learnt too much of\nit, and one we acquire better by obeying than by commanding. \"Nam\nutilissimus idem ac brevissimus bonarum malarumque rerum delectus\ncogitare quid aut nolueris sub alio principe, aut volueris.\"[2]\n\nOne result of this lack of coherence is the inconstancy of royal\ngovernment, which, regulated now on one scheme and now on another,\naccording to the character of the reigning prince or those who\nreign for him, cannot for long have a fixed object or a consistent\npolicy--and this variability, not found in the other forms of\ngovernment, where the prince is always the same, causes the State to\nbe always shifting from principle to principle and from project to\nproject. Thus we may say that generally, if a court is more subtle\nin intrigue, there is more wisdom in a senate, and Republics advance\ntowards their ends by more consistent and better considered policies;\nwhile every revolution in a royal ministry creates a revolution in\nthe State; for the principle common to all ministers and nearly all\nkings is to do in every respect the reverse of what was done by their\npredecessors.\n\nThis incoherence further clears up a sophism that is very familiar to\nroyalist political writers; not only is civil government likened to\ndomestic government, and the prince to the father of a family--this\nerror has already been refuted--but the prince is also freely credited\nwith all the virtues he ought to possess, and is supposed to be always\nwhat he should be. This supposition once made, royal government is\nclearly preferable to all others, because it is incontestably the\nstrongest, and, to be the best also, wants only a corporate will more\nin conformity with the general will.\n\nBut if, according to Plato,[3] the \"king by nature\" is such a rarity,\nhow often will nature and fortune conspire to give him a crown? And, if\nroyal education necessarily corrupts those who receive it, what is to\nbe hoped from a series of men brought up to reign? It is, then, wanton\nself-deception to confuse royal government with government by a good\nking. To see such government as it is in itself, we must consider it as\nit is under princes who are incompetent or wicked: for either they will\ncome to the throne wicked or incompetent, or the throne will make them\nso.\n\nThese difficulties have not escaped our writers, who, all the same,\nare not troubled by them. The remedy, they say, is to obey without a\nmurmur: God sends bad kings in His wrath, and they must be borne as\nthe scourges of Heaven. Such talk is doubtless edifying; but it would\nbe more in place in a pulpit than in a political book. What are we to\nthink of a doctor who promises miracles, and whose whole art is to\nexhort the sufferer to patience? We know for ourselves that we must put\nup with a bad government when it is there; the question is how to find\na good one.\n\n\n[1] Macchiavelli was a proper man and a good citizen; but, being\nattached to the court of the Medici, he could not help veiling his love\nof liberty in the midst of his country's oppression. The choice of his\ndetestable hero, C\u00e6sar Borgia, clearly enough shows his hidden aim;\nand the contradiction between the teaching of the _Prince_ and that of\nthe _Discourses on Livy_ and the _History of Florence_ shows that this\nprofound political thinker has so far been studied only by superficial\nor corrupt readers. The Court of Rome sternly prohibited his book. I\ncan well believe it; for it is that Court it most clearly portrays.\n\n\n[2] Tacitus, _Histories_, i. 16. \"For the best, and also the shortest\nway of finding out what is good and what is bad is to consider what you\nwould have wished to happen or not to happen, had another than you been\nEmperor.\"\n\n[3] In the _Politicus_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nMIXED GOVERNMENTS\n\n\nStrictly speaking, there is no such thing as a simple government. An\nisolated ruler must have subordinate magistrates; a popular government\nmust have a head. There is therefore, in the distribution of the\nexecutive power, always a gradation from the greater to the lesser\nnumber, with the difference that sometimes the greater number is\ndependent on the smaller, and sometimes the smaller on the greater.\n\nSometimes the distribution is equal, when either the constituent parts\nare in mutual dependence, as in the government of England, or the\nauthority of each section is independent, but imperfect, as in Poland.\nThis last form is bad; for it secures no unity in the government, and\nthe State is left without a bond of union.\n\nIs a simple or a mixed government the better? Political writers are\nalways debating the question, which must be answered as we have already\nanswered a question about all forms of government.\n\nSimple government is better in itself, just because it is simple.\nBut when the executive power is not sufficiently dependent upon the\nlegislative power, _i.e._ when the prince is more closely related to\nthe Sovereign than the people to the prince, this lack of proportion\nmust be cured by the division of the government; for all the parts have\nthen no less authority over the subjects, while their division makes\nthem all together less strong against the Sovereign.\n\nThe same disadvantage is also prevented by the appointment of\nintermediate magistrates, who leave the government entire, and have\nthe effect only of balancing the two powers and maintaining their\nrespective rights. Government is then not mixed, but moderated.\n\nThe opposite disadvantages may be similarly cured, and, when the\ngovernment is too lax, tribunals may be set up to concentrate it.\nThis is done in all democracies. In the first case, the government is\ndivided to make it weak; in the second, to make it strong: for the\n_maxima_ of both strength and weakness are found in simple governments,\nwhile the mixed forms result in a mean strength.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHAT ALL FORMS OF GOVERNMENT DO NOT SUIT ALL COUNTRIES\n\n\nLiberty not being a fruit of all climates, is not within the reach of\nall peoples. The more this principle, laid down by Montesquieu, is\nconsidered, the more its truth is felt; the more it is combated, the\nmore chance is given to confirm it by new proofs.\n\nIn all the governments that there are, the public person consumes\nwithout producing. Whence then does it get what it consumes? From the\nlabour of its members. The necessities of the public are supplied out\nof the superfluities of individuals. It follows that the civil State\ncan subsist only so long as men's labour brings them a return greater\nthan their needs.\n\nThe amount of this excess is not the same in all countries. In some\nit is considerable, in others middling, in yet others nil, in some\neven negative. The relation of product to subsistence depends on the\nfertility of the climate, on the sort of labour the land demands, on\nthe nature of its products, on the strength of its inhabitants, on the\ngreater or less consumption they find necessary, and on several further\nconsiderations of which the whole relation is made up.\n\nOn the other side, all governments are not of the same nature: some are\nless voracious than others, and the differences between them are based\non this second principle, that the further from their source the public\ncontributions are removed, the more burdensome they become.\n\nThe charge should be measured not by the amount of the impositions, but\nby the path they have to travel in order to get back to those from whom\nthey came. When the circulation is prompt and well-established, it does\nnot matter whether much or little is paid; the people is always rich\nand, financially speaking, all is well. On the contrary, however little\nthe people gives, if that little does not return to it, it is soon\nexhausted by giving continually: the State is then never rich, and the\npeople is always a people of beggars.\n\nIt follows that, the more the distance between people and government\nincreases, the more burdensome tribute becomes: thus, in a democracy,\nthe people bears the least charge; in an aristocracy, a greater charge;\nand, in monarchy, the weight becomes heaviest. Monarchy therefore suits\nonly wealthy nations; aristocracy, States of middling size and wealth;\nand democracy, States that are small and poor.\n\nIn fact, the more we reflect, the more we find the difference between\nfree and monarchical States to be this: in the former, everything is\nused for the public advantage; in the latter, the public forces and\nthose of individuals are affected by each other, and either increases\nas the other grows weak; finally, instead of governing subjects to make\nthem happy, despotism makes them wretched in order to govern them.\n\nWe find then, in every climate, natural causes according to which the\nform of government which it requires can be assigned, and we can even\nsay what sort of inhabitants it should have.\n\nUnfriendly and barren lands, where the product does; not repay the\nlabour, should remain desert and uncultivated, or peopled only by\nsavages; lands where men's labour brings in no more than the exact\n_minimum_ necessary to subsistence should be inhabited by barbarous\npeoples: in such places all polity is impossible. Lands where the\nsurplus of product over labour is only middling are suitable for free\npeoples; those in which the soil is abundant and fertile and gives a\ngreat product for a little labour call for monarchical government,\nin order that the surplus of superfluities among the subjects may be\nconsumed by the luxury of the prince: for it is better for this excess\nto be absorbed by the government than dissipated among the individuals.\nI am aware that there are exceptions; but these exceptions themselves\nconfirm the rule, in that sooner or later they produce revolutions\nwhich restore things to the natural order.\n\nGeneral laws should always be distinguished from individual causes that\nmay modify their effects. If all the South were covered with Republics\nand all the North with despotic States, it would be none the less true\nthat, in point of climate, despotism is suitable to hot countries,\nbarbarism to cold countries, and good polity to temperate regions. I\nsee also that, the principle being granted, there may be disputes on\nits application; it may be said that there are cold countries that are\nvery fertile, and tropical countries that are very unproductive. But\nthis difficulty exists only for those who do not consider the question\nin all its aspects. We must, as I have already said, take labour,\nstrength, consumption, etc., into account.\n\nTake two tracts of equal extent, one of which brings in five and the\nother ten. If the inhabitants of the first consume four and those of\nthe second nine, the surplus of the first product will be a fifth and\nthat of the second a tenth. The ratio of these two surpluses will then\nbe inverse to that of the products, and the tract which produces only\nfive will give a surplus double that of the tract which produces ten.\n\nBut there is no question of a double product, and I think no one would\nput the fertility of cold countries, as a general rule, on an equality\nwith that of hot ones. Let us, however, suppose this equality to exist:\nlet us, if you will, regard England as on the same level as Sicily, and\nPoland as Egypt--further south, we shall have Africa and the Indies;\nfurther north, nothing at all. To get this equality of product, what\na difference there must be in tillage: in Sicily, there is only need\nto scratch the ground; in England, how men must toil! But, where\nmore hands are needed to get the same product, the superfluity must\nnecessarily be less.\n\nConsider, besides, that the same number of men consume much less in\nhot countries. The climate requires sobriety for the sake of health;\nand Europeans who try to live there as they would at home all perish\nof dysentery and indigestion. \"We are,\" says Chardin, \"carnivorous\nanimals, wolves, in comparison with the Asiatics. Some attribute\nthe sobriety of the Persians to the fact that their country is less\ncultivated; but it is my belief that their country abounds less in\ncommodities because the inhabitants need less. If their frugality,\" he\ngoes on, \"were the effect of the nakedness of the land, only the poor\nwould eat little; but everybody does so. Again, less or more would be\neaten in various provinces, according to the land's fertility; but the\nsame sobriety is found throughout the kingdom. They are very proud of\ntheir manner of life, saying that you have only to look at their hue\nto recognise how far it excels that of the Christians. In fact, the\nPersians are of an even hue; their skins are fair, fine and smooth;\nwhile the hue of their subjects, the Armenians, who live after the\nEuropean fashion, is rough and blotchy, and their bodies are gross and\nunwieldy.\"\n\nThe nearer you get to the equator, the less people live on. Meat\nthey hardly touch; rice, maize, curcur, millet and cassava are\ntheir ordinary food. There are in the Indies millions of men whose\nsubsistence does not cost a halfpenny a day. Even in Europe we find\nconsiderable differences of appetite between Northern and Southern\npeoples. A Spaniard will live for a week on a German's dinner. In the\ncountries in which men are more voracious, luxury therefore turns\nin the direction of consumption. In England, luxury appears in a\nwell-filled table; in Italy, you feast on sugar and flowers.\n\nLuxury in clothes shows similar differences. In climates in which the\nchanges of season are prompt and violent, men have better and simpler\nclothes; where they clothe themselves only for adornment, what is\nstriking is more thought of than what is useful; clothes themselves are\nthen a luxury. At Naples, you may see daily walking in the Pausilippeum\nmen in gold-embroidered upper garments and nothing else. It is the same\nwith buildings; magnificence is the sole consideration where there is\nnothing to fear from the air. In Paris and London, you desire to be\nlodged warmly and comfortably; in Madrid, you have superb salons, but\nnot a window that closes, and you go to bed in a mere hole.\n\nIn hot countries foods are much more substantial and succulent; and\nthe third difference cannot but have an influence on the second. Why\nare so many vegetables eaten in Italy? Because there they are good,\nnutritious and excellent in taste. In France, where they are nourished\nonly on water, they are far from nutritious and are thought nothing of\nat table. They take up all the same no less ground, and cost at least\nas much pains to cultivate. It is a proved fact that the wheat of\nBarbary, in other respects inferior to that of France, yields much more\nflour, and that the wheat of France in turn yields more than that of\nnorthern countries; from which it may be inferred that a like gradation\nin the same direction, from equator to pole, is found generally. But\nis it not an obvious disadvantage for an equal product to contain less\nnourishment?\n\nTo all these points may be added another, which at once depends on\nand strengthens them. Hot countries need inhabitants less than cold\ncountries, and can support more of them. There is thus a double\nsurplus, which is all to the advantage of despotism. The greater the\nterritory occupied by a fixed number of inhabitants, the more difficult\nrevolt becomes, because rapid or secret concerted action is impossible,\nand the government can easily unmask projects and cut communications;\nbut the more a numerous people is gathered together, the less can\nthe government usurp the Sovereign's place: the people's leaders can\ndeliberate as safely in their houses as the prince in council, and\nthe crowd gathers as rapidly in the squares as the prince's troops in\ntheir quarters. The advantage of tyrannical government therefore lies\nin acting at great distances. With the help of the rallying-points\nit establishes, its strength, like that of the lever,[1] grows with\ndistance. The strength of the people, on the other hand, acts only when\nconcentrated: when spread abroad, it evaporates and is lost, like\npowder scattered on the ground, which catches fire only grain by grain.\nThe least populous countries are thus the fittest for tyranny: fierce\nanimals reign only in deserts.\n\n\n[1] This does not contradict what I said before (Book ii, ch. ix) about\nthe disadvantages of great States; for we were then dealing with the\nauthority of the government over the members, while here we are dealing\nwith its force against the subjects. Its scattered members serve it as\nrallying-points for action against the people at a distance, but it has\nno rallying-point for direct action on its members themselves. Thus the\nlength of the lever is its weakness in the one case, and its strength\nin the other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE MARKS OF A GOOD GOVERNMENT\n\n\nThe question \"What absolutely is the best government?\" is unanswerable\nas well as indeterminate; or rather, there are as many good answers as\nthere are possible combinations in the absolute and relative situations\nof all nations.\n\nBut if it is asked by what sign we may know that a given people is well\nor ill governed, that is another matter, and the question, being one of\nfact, admits of an answer.\n\nIt is not, however, answered, because every-one wants to answer it in\nhis own way. Subjects extol public tranquillity, citizens individual\nliberty; the one class prefers security of possessions, the other that\nof person; the one regards as the best government that which is most\nsevere, the other maintains that the mildest is the best; the one wants\ncrimes punished, the other wants them prevented; the one wants the\nState to be feared by its neighbours, the other prefers that it should\nbe ignored; the one is content if money circulates, the other demands\nthat the people shall have bread. Even if an agreement were come to\non these and similar points, should we have got any further? As moral\nqualities do not admit of exact measurement, agreement about the mark\ndoes not mean agreement about the valuation.\n\nFor my part, I am continually astonished that a mark so simple is not\nrecognised, or that men are of so bad faith as not to admit it. What\nis the end of political association? The preservation and prosperity\nof its members. And what is the surest mark of their preservation and\nprosperity? Their numbers and population. Seek then nowhere else this\nmark that is in dispute. The rest being equal, the government under\nwhich, without external aids, without naturalisation or colonies, the\ncitizens increase and multiply most, is beyond question the best.\nThe government under which a people wanes and diminishes is worst.\nCalculators, it is left for you to count, to measure, to compare.[1]\n\n\n[1] On the same principle it should be judged what centuries deserve\nthe preference for human prosperity. Those in which letters and arts\nhave flourished have been too much admired, because the hidden object\nof their culture has not been fathomed, and their fatal effects not\ntaken into account. \"Idque apud imperitos humanitas vocabatur, cum\npars servitutis esset.\" [\"Fools called 'humanity' what was a part of\nslavery,\" Tacitus, _Agricola_, 31.] Shall we never see in the maxims\nbooks lay down the vulgar interest that makes their writers speak?\nNo, whatever they may say, when, despite its renown, a country is\ndepopulated, it is not true that all is well, and it is not enough that\na poet should have an income of 100,000 francs to make his age the\nbest of all. Less attention should be paid to the apparent repose and\ntranquillity of the rulers than to the well-being of their nations as\nwholes, and above all of the most numerous States. A hail-storm lays\nseveral cantons waste, but it rarely makes a famine. Outbreaks and\ncivil wars give rulers rude shocks, but they are not the real ills of\npeoples, who may even get a respite, while there is a dispute as to who\nshall tyrannise over them. Their true prosperity and calamities come\nfrom their permanent condition: it is when the whole remains crushed\nbeneath the yoke, that decay sets in, and that the rulers destroy\nthem at will, and \"ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant\" [\"Where\nthey create solitude, they call it peace,\" Tacitus, _Agricola_, 31.]\nWhen the bickerings of the great disturbed the kingdom of France, and\nthe Coadjutor of Paris took a dagger in his pocket to the Parliament,\nthese things did not prevent the people of France from prospering and\nmultiplying in dignity, ease and freedom. Long ago Greece flourished\nin the midst of the most savage wars; blood ran in torrents, and yet\nthe whole country was covered with inhabitants. It appeared, says\nMacchiavelli, that in the midst of murder, proscription and civil war,\nour republic only throve: the virtue, morality and independence of the\ncitizens did more to strengthen it than all their dissensions had done\nto enfeeble it A little disturbance gives the soul elasticity; what\nmakes the race truly prosperous is not so much peace as liberty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE ABUSE OF GOVERNMENT AND ITS TENDENCY TO DEGENERATE\n\n\nAs the particular will acts constantly in opposition to the general\nwill, the government continually exerts itself against the Sovereignty.\nThe greater this exertion becomes, the more the constitution changes;\nand, as there is in this case no other corporate will to create an\nequilibrium by resisting the will of the prince, sooner or later the\nprince must inevitably suppress the Sovereign and break the social\ntreaty. This is the unavoidable and inherent defect which, from the\nvery birth of the body politic, tends ceaselessly to destroy it, as age\nand death end by destroying the human body.\n\nThere are two general courses by which government degenerates: _i.e._\nwhen it undergoes contraction, or when the State is dissolved.\n\nGovernment undergoes contraction when it passes from the many to the\nfew, that is, from democracy to aristocracy, and from aristocracy to\nroyalty. To do so is its natural propensity.[1] If it took the backward\ncourse from the few to the many, it could be said that it was relaxed;\nby this inverse sequence is impossible.\n\nIndeed, governments never change their form except when their energy\nis exhausted and leaves them too weak to keep what they have. If a\ngovernment at once extended its sphere and relaxed its stringency, its\nforce would become absolutely nil, and it would persist still less. It\nis therefore necessary to wind up the spring and tighten the hold as it\ngives way: or else the State it sustains will come to grief.\n\nThe dissolution of the State may come about in either of two ways.\n\nFirst, when the prince ceases to administer the State in accordance\nwith the laws, and usurps the Sovereign power. A remarkable change then\noccurs: not the government, but the State, undergoes contraction; I\nmean that the great State is dissolved, and another is formed within\nit, composed solely of the members of the government, which becomes for\nthe rest of the people merely master and tyrant. So that the moment the\ngovernment usurps the Sovereignty, the social compact is broken and\nall private citizens recover by right their natural liberty, and are\nforced, but not bound, to obey.\n\nThe same thing happens when the members of the government severally\nusurp the power they should exercise only as a body; this is as great\nan infraction of the laws, and results in even greater disorders. There\nare then, so to speak, as many princes as there are magistrates, and\nthe State, no less divided than the government, either perishes or\nchanges its form.\n\nWhen the State is dissolved, the abuse of government, whatever it\nis, bears the common name of _anarchy_. To distinguish, democracy\ndegenerates into _ochlocracy_ and aristocracy into _oligarchy_ and I\nwould add that royalty degenerates into _tyranny_; but this last word\nis ambiguous and needs explanation.\n\nIn vulgar usage, a tyrant is a king who governs violently and without\nregard for justice and law. In the exact sense, a tyrant is an\nindividual who arrogates to himself the royal authority without having\na right to it. This is how the Greeks understood the word \"tyrant\":\nthey applied it indifferently to good and bad princes whose authority\nwas not legitimate.[2] _Tyrant_ and _usurper_ are thus perfectly\nsynonymous terms.\n\nIn order that I may give different things different names, I call\nhim who usurps the royal authority _tyrant_, and him who usurps the\nsovereign power a _despot_. The tyrant is he who thrusts himself in\ncontrary to the laws to govern in accordance with the laws; the despot\nis he who sets himself above the laws themselves. Thus the tyrant\ncannot be a despot, but the despot is always a tyrant.\n\n\n[1] The slow formation and the progress of the Republic of Venice in\nits lagoons are a notable instance of this sequence; and it is most\nastonishing that, after more than twelve hundred years' existence, the\nVenetians seem to be still at the second stage, which they reached with\nthe _Serrar di Consiglio_ in 1198. As for the ancient Dukes who are\nbrought up against them, it is proved, whatever the _Squittinio della\nlibert\u00e0 veneta_ may say of them, that they were in no sense Sovereigns.\n\nA case certain to be cited against my view is that of the Roman\nRepublic, which, it will be said, followed exactly the opposite course,\nand passed from monarchy to aristocracy and from aristocracy to\ndemocracy. I by no means take this view of it.\n\nWhat Romulus first set up was a mixed government, which soon\ndeteriorated into despotism. From special causes, the State died an\nuntimely death, as new-born children sometimes perish without reaching\nmanhood. The expulsion of the Tarquins was the real period of the birth\nof the Republic. But at first it took on no constant form, because,\nby not abolishing the patriciate, it left half its work undone. For,\nby this means, hereditary aristocracy, the worst of all legitimate\nforms of administration, remained in conflict with democracy, and the\nform of the government, as Macchiavelli has proved, was only fixed\non the establishment of the tribunate: only then was there a true\ngovernment and a veritable democracy. In fact, the people was then not\nonly Sovereign, but also magistrate and judge; the senate was only a\nsubordinate tribunal, to temper and concentrate the government, and the\nconsuls themselves, though they were patricians, first magistrates, and\nabsolute generals in war, were in Rome itself no more than presidents\nof the people.\n\nFrom that point, the government followed its natural tendency,\nand inclined strongly to aristocracy. The patriciate, we may say,\nabolished itself, and the aristocracy was found no longer in the body\nof patricians as at Venice and Genoa, but in the body of the senate,\nwhich was composed of patricians and plebeians, and even in the body\nof tribunes when they began to usurp an active function: for names do\nnot affect facts, and, when the people has rulers who govern for it,\nwhatever name they bear, the government is an aristocracy.\n\nThe abuse of aristocracy led to the civil wars and the triumvirate.\nSulla, Julius C\u00e6sar and Augustus became in fact real monarchs; and\nfinally, under the despotism of Tiberius, the State was dissolved.\nRoman history then confirms, instead of invalidating, the principle I\nhave laid down.\n\n[2] Omnes enim et habentur et dicuntur tyranni, qui potestate utuntur\nperpetua in ea civitate qu\u00e6 libertate usa est (Cornelius Nepos, _Life\nof Miltiades_). [For all those are called and considered tyrants,\nwho hold perpetual power in a State that has known liberty.] It is\ntrue that Aristotle (_Nicomachean Ethics_, Book viii, chapter x)\ndistinguishes the tyrant from the king by the fact that the former\ngoverns in his own interest, and the latter only for the good of his\nsubjects; but not only did all Greek authors in general use the word\n_tyrant_ in a different sense, as appears most clearly in Xenophon's\n_Hiero_, but also it would follow from Aristotle's distinction that,\nfrom the very beginning of the world, there has not yet been a single\nking.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE DEATH OF THE BODY POLITIC\n\n\nSuch is the natural and inevitable tendency of the best constituted\ngovernments. If Sparta and Rome perished, what State can hope to endure\nfor ever? If we would set up a long-lived form of government, let us\nnot even dream of making it eternal. If we are to succeed, we must not\nattempt the impossible, or flatter ourselves that we are endowing the\nwork of man with a stability of which human conditions do not permit.\n\nThe body politic, as well as the human body, begins to die as soon as\nit is born, and carries in itself the causes of its destruction. But\nboth may have a constitution that is more or less robust and suited to\npreserve them a longer or a shorter time. The constitution of man is\nthe work of nature; that of the State the work of art. It is not in\nmen's power to prolong their own lives; but it is for them to prolong\nas much as possible the life of the State, by giving it the best\npossible constitution. The best constituted State will have an end;\nbut it will end later than any other, unless some unforeseen accident\nbrings about its untimely destruction.\n\nThe life-principle of the body politic lies in the sovereign authority.\nThe legislative power is the heart of the State; the executive power\nis its brain, which causes the movement of all the parts. The brain\nmay become paralysed and the individual still live. A man may remain\nan imbecile and live; but as soon as the heart ceases to perform its\nfunctions, the animal is dead.\n\nThe State subsists by means not of the laws, but of the legislative\npower. Yesterday's law is not binding to-day; but silence is taken for\ntacit consent, and the Sovereign is held to confirm incessantly the\nlaws it does not abrogate as it might. All that it has once declared\nitself to will it wills always, unless it revokes its declaration.\n\nWhy then is so much respect paid to old laws? For this very reason. We\nmust believe that nothing but the excellence of old acts of will can\nhave preserved them so long: if the Sovereign had not recognised them\nas throughout salutary, it would have revoked them a thousand times.\nThis is why, so far from growing weak, the laws continually gain new\nstrength in any well constituted State; the precedent of antiquity\nmakes them daily more venerable: while wherever the laws grow weak as\nthey become old, this proves that there is no longer a legislative\npower, and that the State is dead.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nHOW THE SOVEREIGN AUTHORITY MAINTAINS ITSELF\n\n\nThe Sovereign, having no force other than the legislative power, acts\nonly by means of the laws; and the laws being solely the authentic acts\nof the general will, the Sovereign cannot act save when the people is\nassembled. The people in assembly, I shall be told, is a mere chimera.\nIt is so to-day, but two thousand years ago it was not so. Has man's\nnature changed?\n\nThe bounds of possibility, in moral matters, are less narrow than\nwe imagine: it is our weaknesses, our vices and our prejudices that\nconfine them. Base souls have no belief in great men; vile slaves smile\nin mockery at the name of liberty.\n\nLet us judge of what can be done by what has been done. I shall say\nnothing of the Republics of ancient Greece; but the Roman Republic was,\nto my mind, a great State, and the town of Rome a great town. The last\ncensus showed that there were in Rome four hundred thousand citizens\ncapable of bearing arms, and the last computation of the population\nof the Empire showed over four million citizens, excluding subjects,\nforeigners, women, children and slaves.\n\nWhat difficulties might not be supposed to stand in the way of the\nfrequent assemblage of the vast population of this capital and its\nneighbourhood. Yet few weeks passed without the Roman people being in\nassembly, and even being so several times. It exercised not only the\nrights of Sovereignty, but also a part of those of government. It dealt\nwith certain matters, and judged certain cases, and this whole people\nwas found in the public meeting-place hardly less often as magistrates\nthan as citizens.\n\nIf we went back to the earliest history of nations, we should find that\nmost ancient governments, even those of monarchical form, such as the\nMacedonian and the Frankish, had similar councils. In any case, the one\nincontestable fact I have given is an answer to all difficulties; it is\ngood logic to reason from the actual to the possible.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE SAME (_continued_)\n\n\nIt is not enough for the assembled people to have once fixed the\nconstitution of the State by giving its sanction to a body of law;\nit is not enough for it to have set up a perpetual government, or\nprovided once for all for the election of magistrates. Besides the\nextraordinary assemblies unforeseen circumstances may demand, there\nmust be fixed periodical assemblies which cannot be abrogated or\nprorogued, so that on the proper day the people is legitimately called\ntogether by law, without need of any formal summoning.\n\nBut, apart from these assemblies authorised by their date alone, every\nassembly of the people not summoned by the magistrates appointed for\nthat purpose, and in accordance with the prescribed forms, should be\nregarded as unlawful, and all its acts as null and void, because the\ncommand to assemble should itself proceed from the law.\n\nThe greater or less frequency with which lawful assemblies should occur\ndepends on so many considerations that no exact rules about them can be\ngiven. It can only be said generally that the stronger the government\nthe more often should the Sovereign show itself.\n\nThis, I shall be told, may do for a single town; but what is to be\ndone when the State includes several? Is the sovereign authority to be\ndivided? Or is it to be concentrated in a single town to which all the\nrest are made subject?\n\nNeither the one nor the other, I reply. First, the sovereign authority\nis one and simple, and cannot be divided without being destroyed. In th\nsecond place, one town cannot, any more than one nation, legitimately\nbe made subject to another, because the essence of the body politic\nlies in the reconciliation of obedience and liberty, and the words\nsubject and Sovereign are identical correlatives the idea of which\nmeets in the single word \"citizen.\"\n\nI answer further that the union of several towns in a single city is\nalways bad, and that, if we wish to make such a union, we should not\nexpect to avoid its natural disadvantages. It is useless to bring up\nabuses that belong to great States against one who desires to see only\nsmall ones; but how can small States be given the strength to resist\ngreat ones, as formerly the Greek towns resisted the Great King, and\nmore recently Holland and Switzerland have resisted the House of\nAustria?\n\nNevertheless, if the State cannot be reduced to the right limits, there\nremains still one resource; this is, to allow no capital, to make the\nseat of government move from town to town, and to assemble by turn in\neach the Provincial Estates of the country.\n\nPeople the territory evenly, extend everywhere the same rights, bear\nto every place in it abundance and life: by these means will the State\nbecome at once as strong and as well governed as possible. Remember\nthat the walls of towns are built of the ruins of the houses of the\ncountryside. For every palace I see raised in the capital, my mind's\neye sees a whole country made desolate.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE SAME (continued)\n\n\nThe moment the people is legitimately assembled as a sovereign body,\nthe jurisdiction of the government wholly lapses, the executive power\nis suspended, and the person of the meanest citizen is as sacred and\ninviolable as that of the first magistrate; for in the presence of\nthe person represented, representatives no longer exist. Most of the\ntumults that arose in the comitia at Rome were due to ignorance or\nneglect of this rule. The consuls were in them merely the presidents of\nthe people; the tribunes were mere speakers;[1] the senate was nothing\nat all.\n\nThese intervals of suspension, during which the prince recognises or\nought to recognise an actual superior, have always been viewed by him\nwith alarm; and these assemblies of the people, which are the aegis\nof the body politic and the curb on the government, have at all times\nbeen the horror of rulers: who therefore never spare pains, objections,\ndifficulties, and promises, to stop the citizens from having them. When\nthe citizens are greedy, cowardly, and pusillanimous, and love ease\nmore than liberty, they do not long hold out against the redoubled\nefforts of the government; and thus, as the resisting force incessantly\ngrows, the sovereign authority ends by disappearing, and most cities\nfall and perish before their time.\n\nBut between the sovereign authority and arbitrary government there\nsometimes intervenes a mean power of which something must be said.\n\n\n[1] In nearly the same sense as this word has in the English\nParliament. The similarity of these functions would have brought the\nconsuls and the tribunes into conflict, even had all jurisdiction been\nsuspended.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nDEPUTIES OR REPRESENTATIVES\n\n\nAs soon as public service ceases to be the chief business of the\ncitizens, and they would rather serve with their money than with their\npersons, the State is not far from its fall. When it is necessary\nto march out to war, they pay troops and stay at home: when it is\nnecessary to meet in council, they name deputies and stay at home. By\nreason of idleness and money, they end by having soldiers to enslave\ntheir country and representatives to sell it.\n\nIt is through the hustle of commerce and the arts, through the greedy\nself-interest of profit, and through softness and love of amenities\nthat personal services are replaced by money payments. Men surrender\na part of their profits in order to have time to increase them at\nleisure. Make gifts of money, and you will not be long without chains.\nThe word _finance_ is a slavish word, unknown in the city-state. In a\ncountry that is truly free, the citizens do everything with their own\narms and nothing by means of money; so far from paying to be exempted\nfrom their duties, they would even pay for the privilege of fulfilling\nthem themselves. I am far from taking the common view: I hold enforced\nlabour to be less opposed to liberty than taxes.\n\nThe better the constitution of a State is, the more do public affairs\nencroach on private in the minds of the citizens. Private affairs are\neven of much less importance, because the aggregate of the common\nhappiness furnishes a greater proportion of that of each individual,\nso that there is less for him to seek in particular cares. In a\nwell-ordered city every man flies to the assemblies: under a bad\ngovernment no one cares to stir a step to get to them, because no one\nis interested in what happens there, because it is foreseen that the\ngeneral will will not prevail, and lastly because domestic cares are\nall-absorbing. Good laws lead to the making of better ones; bad ones\nbring about worse. As soon as any man says of the affairs of the State\n_What does it matter to me?_ the State may be given up for lost.\n\nThe lukewarmness of patriotism, the activity of private interest, the\nvastness of States, conquest and the abuse of government suggested\nthe method of having deputies or representatives of the people in\nthe national assemblies. These are what, in some countries, men have\npresumed to call the Third Estate. Thus the individual interest of two\norders is put first and second; the public interest occupies only the\nthird place.\n\nSovereignty, for the same reason as makes it inalienable, cannot be\nrepresented; it lies essentially in the general will, and will does not\nadmit of representation: it is either the same, or other; there is no\nintermediate possibility. The deputies of the people, therefore, are\nnot and cannot be its representatives: they are merely its stewards,\nand can carry through no definitive acts. Every law the people has not\nratified in person is null and void--is, in fact, not a law. The people\nof England regards itself as free; but it is grossly mistaken; it is\nfree only during the election of members of parliament. As soon as they\nare elected, slavery overtakes it, and it is nothing. The use it makes\nof the short moments of liberty it enjoys shows indeed that it deserves\nto lose them.\n\nThe idea of representation is modern; it comes to us from feudal\ngovernment, from that iniquitous and absurd system which degrades\nhumanity and dishonours the name of man. In ancient republics and even\nin monarchies, the people never had representatives; the word itself\nwas unknown. It is very singular that in Rome, where the tribunes\nwere so sacrosanct, it was never even imagined that they could usurp\nthe functions of the people, and that in the midst of so great a\nmultitude they never attempted to pass on their own authority a single\nplebiscitum. We can, however, form an idea of the difficulties caused\nsometimes by the people being so numerous, from what happened in the\ntime of the Gracchi, when some of the citizens had to cast their votes\nfrom the roofs of buildings.\n\nWhere right and liberty are everything, disadvantages count for\nnothing. Among this wise people everything was given its just value,\nits lictors were allowed to do what its tribunes would never have dared\nto attempt; for it had no fear that its lictors would try to represent\nit.\n\nTo explain, however, in what way the tribunes did sometimes represent\nit, it is enough to conceive how the government represents the\nSovereign. Law being purely the declaration of the general will, it is\nclear that, in the exercise of the legislative power, the people cannot\nbe represented; but in that of the executive power, which is only the\nforce that is applied to give the law effect, it both can and should be\nrepresented. We thus see that if we looked closely into the matter we\nshould find that very few nations have any laws. However that may be,\nit is certain that the tribunes, possessing no executive power, could\nnever represent the Roman people by right of the powers entrusted to\nthem, but only by usurping those of the senate.\n\nIn Greece, all that the people had to do, it did for itself; it was\nconstantly assembled in the public square. The Greeks lived in a mild\nclimate; they had no natural greed; slaves did their work for them;\ntheir great concern was with liberty. Lacking the same advantages, how\ncan you preserve the same rights? Your severer climates add to your\nneeds;[1] for half the year your public squares are uninhabitable; the\nflatness of your languages unfits them for being heard in the open air;\nyou sacrifice more for profit than for liberty, and fear slavery less\nthan poverty.\n\nWhat then? Is liberty maintained only by the help of slavery? It may be\nso. Extremes meet. Everything that is not in the course of nature has\nits disadvantages, civil society most of all. There are some unhappy\ncircumstances in which we can only keep our liberty at others' expense,\nand where the citizen can be perfectly free only when the slave is most\na slave. Such was the case with Sparta. As for you, modern peoples,\nyou have no slaves, but you are slaves yourselves; you pay for their\nliberty with your own. It is in vain that you boast of this preference;\nI find in it more cowardice than humanity.\n\nI do not mean by all this that it is necessary to have slaves, or that\nthe right of slavery is legitimate: I am merely giving the reasons why\nmodern peoples, believing themselves to be free, have representatives,\nwhile ancient peoples had none. In any case, the moment a people allows\nitself to be represented, it is no longer free: it no longer exists.\n\nAll things considered, I do not see that it is possible henceforth for\nthe Sovereign to preserve among us the exercise of its rights, unless\nthe city is very small. But if it is very small, it will be conquered?\nNo. I will show later on how the external strength of a great people[2]\nmay be combined with the convenient polity and good order of a small\nState.\n\n\n[1] To adopt in cold countries the luxury and effeminacy of the East is\nto desire to submit to its chains; it is indeed to bow to them far more\ninevitably in our case than in theirs.\n\n[2] I had intended to do this in the sequel to this work, when\nin dealing with external relations I came to the subject of\nconfederations. The subject is quite new, and its principles have still\nto be laid down.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHAT THE INSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT IS NOT A CONTRACT\n\n\nThe legislative power once well established, the next thing is to\nestablish similarly the executive power; for this latter, which\noperates only by particular acts, not being of the essence of the\nformer, is naturally separate from it. Were it possible for the\nSovereign, as such, to possess the executive power, right and fact\nwould be so confounded that no one could tell what was law and what was\nnot; and the body politic, thus disfigured, would soon fall a prey to\nthe violence it was instituted to prevent.\n\nAs the citizens, by the social contract, are all equal, all can\nprescribe what all should do, but no one has a right to demand that\nanother shall do what he does not do himself. It is strictly this\nright, which is indispensable for giving the body politic life and\nmovement, that the Sovereign, in instituting the government, confers\nupon the prince.\n\nIt has been held that this act of establishment was a contract between\nthe people and the rulers it sets over itself.--a contract in which\nconditions were laid down between the two parties binding the one to\ncommand and the other to obey. It will be admitted, I am sure, that\nthis is an odd kind of contract to enter into. But let us see if this\nview can be upheld.\n\nFirst, the supreme authority can no more be modified than it can be\nalienated; to limit it is to destroy it. It is absurd and contradictory\nfor the Sovereign to set a superior over itself; to bind itself to obey\na master would be to return to absolute liberty.\n\nMoreover, it is clear that this contract between the people and such\nand such persons would be a particular act; and from this it follows\nthat it can be neither a law nor an act of Sovereignty, and that\nconsequently it would be illegitimate.\n\nIt is plain too that the contracting parties in relation to each other\nwould be under the law of nature alone and wholly without guarantees\nof their mutual undertakings, a position wholly at variance with the\ncivil state. He who has force at his command being always in a position\nto control execution, it would come to the same thing if the name\n\"contract\" were given to the act of one man who said to another; \"I\ngive you all my goods, on condition that you give me back as much of\nthem as you please.\"\n\nThere is only one contract in the State, and that is the act of\nassociation, which in itself excludes the existence of a second. It\nis impossible to conceive of any public contract that would not be a\nviolation of the first.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE INSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT\n\n\nUnder what general idea then should the act by which government is\ninstituted be conceived as falling? I will begin by stating that the\nact is complex, as being composed of two others--the establishment' of\nthe law and its execution.\n\nBy the former, the Sovereign decrees that there shall be a governing\nbody established in this or that form; this act is clearly a law.\n\nBy the latter, the people nominates the rulers who are to be entrusted\nwith the government that has been established. This nomination, being a\nparticular act, is clearly not a second law, but merely a consequence\nof the first and a function of government.\n\nThe difficulty is to understand how there can be a governmental act\nbefore government exists, and how the people, which is only Sovereign\nor subject, can, under certain circumstances, become a prince or\nmagistrate.\n\nIt is at this point that there is revealed one of the astonishing\nproperties of the body politic, by means of which it reconciles\napparently contradictory operations; for this is accomplished by a\nsudden conversion of Sovereignty into democracy, so that, without\nsensible change, and merely by virtue of a new relation of all to all,\nthe citizens become magistrates and pass from general to particular\nacts, from legislation to the execution of the law.\n\nThis changed relation is no speculative subtlety without instances\nin practice: it happens every day in the English Parliament, where,\non certain occasions, the Lower House resolves itself into Grand\nCommittee, for the better discussion of affairs, and thus, from being\nat one moment a sovereign court, becomes at the next a mere commission;\nso that subsequently it reports to itself, as House of Commons, the\nresult of its proceedings in Grand Committee, and debates over again\nunder one name what it has already settled under another.\n\nIt is, indeed, the peculiar advantage of democratic government that it\ncan be established in actuality by a simple act of the general will.\nSubsequently, this provisional government remains in power, if this\nform is adopted, or else establishes in the name of the Sovereign the\ngovernment that is prescribed by law; and thus the whole proceeding\nis regular. It is impossible to set up government in any other manner\nlegitimately and in accordance with the principles so far laid down.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nHOW TO CHECK THE USURPATIONS OF GOVERNMENT\n\n\nWhat we have just said confirms Chapter XVI, and makes it clear that\nthe institution of government is not a contract, but a law; that the\ndepositaries of the executive power are not the people's masters, but\nits officers; that it can set them up and pull them down when it likes;\nthat for them there is no question of contract, but of obedience; and\nthat in taking charge of the functions the State imposes on them they\nare doing no more than fulfilling their duty as citizens, without\nhaving the remotest right to argue about the conditions.\n\nWhen therefore the people sets up an hereditary government, whether\nit be monarchical and confined to one family, or aristocratic and\nconfined to a class, what it enters into is not an undertaking; the\nadministration is given a provisional form, until the people chooses to\norder it otherwise.\n\nIt is true that such changes are always dangerous, and that the\nestablished government should never be touched except when it comes\nto be incompatible with the public good; but the circumspection this\ninvolves is a maxim of policy and not a rule of right, and the State is\nno more bound to leave civil authority in the hands of its rulers than\nmilitary authority in the hands of its generals.\n\nIt is also true that it is impossible to be too careful to observe,\nin such cases, all the formalities necessary to distinguish a regular\nand legitimate act from a seditious tumult, and the will of a whole\npeople from the clamour of a faction. Here above all no further\nconcession should be made to the untoward possibility than cannot, in\nthe strictest logic, be refused it. From this obligation the prince\nderives a great advantage in preserving his power despite the people,\nwithout it being possible to say he has usurped it; for, seeming to\navail himself only of his rights, he finds it very easy to extend them,\nand to prevent, under the pretext of keeping the peace, assemblies that\nare destined to the re-establishment of order; with the result that he\ntakes advantage of a silence he does not allow to be broken, or of\nirregularities he causes to be committed, to assume that he has the\nsupport of those whom fear prevents from speaking, and to punish those\nwho dare to speak. Thus it was that the decemvirs, first elected for\none year and then kept on in office for a second, tried to perpetuate\ntheir power by forbidding the comitia to assemble; and by this easy\nmethod every government in the world, once clothed with the public\npower, sooner or later usurps the sovereign authority.\n\nThe periodical assemblies of which I have already spoken are designed\nto prevent or postpone this calamity, above all when they need no\nformal summoning; for in that case, the prince cannot stop them without\nopenly declaring himself a law-breaker and an enemy of the State.\n\nThe opening of these assemblies, whose sole object is the maintenance\nof the social treaty, should always take the form of putting two\npropositions that may not be suppressed, which should be voted on\nseparately.\n\nThe first is: \"Does it please the Sovereign to preserve the present\nform of government?\"\n\nThe second is: \"Does it please the people to leave its administration\nin the hands of those who are actually in charge of it?\"\n\nI am here assuming what I think I have shown; that there is in the\nState no fundamental law that cannot be revoked, not excluding the\nsocial compact itself; for if all the citizens assembled of one accord\nto break the compact, it is impossible to doubt that it would be very\nlegitimately broken. Grotius even thinks that each man can renounce his\nmembership of his own State, and recover his natural liberty and his\ngoods on leaving the country.[1] It would be indeed absurd if all the\ncitizens in assembly could not do what each can do by himself.\n\n\n[1] Provided, of course, he does not leave to escape his obligations\nand avoid having to serve his country in the hour of need. Flight\nin such a case would be criminal and punishable, and would be, not\nwithdrawal, but desertion.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHAT THE GENERAL WILL IS INDESTRUCTIBLE\n\n\nAs long as several men in assembly regard themselves as a single body,\nthey have only a single will which is concerned with their common\npreservation and general well-being. In this case, all the springs of\nthe State are vigorous and simple and its rules clear and luminous;\nthere are no embroilments or conflicts of interests; the common good is\neverywhere clearly apparent, and only good sense is needed to perceive\nit. Peace, unity and equality are the enemies of political subtleties.\nMen who are upright and simple are difficult to deceive because of\ntheir simplicity; lures and ingenious pretexts fail to impose upon\nthem, and they are not even subtle enough to be dupes. When, among the\nhappiest people in the world, bands of peasants are seen regulating\naffairs of State under an oak, and always acting wisely, can we help\nscorning the ingenious methods of other nations, which make themselves\nillustrious and wretched with so much art and mystery?\n\nA State so governed needs very few laws; and, as it becomes necessary\nto issue new ones, the necessity is universally seen. The first man to\npropose them merely says what all have already felt, and there is no\nquestion of factions or intrigues or eloquence in order to secure the\npassage into law of what every one has already decided to do, as soon\nas he is sure that the rest will act with him.\n\nTheorists are led into error because, seeing only States that have\nbeen from the beginning wrongly constituted, they are struck by the\nimpossibility of applying such a policy to them. They make great game\nof all the absurdities a clever rascal or an insinuating speaker might\nget the people of Paris or London to believe. They do not know that\nCromwell would have been put to \"the bells\" by the people of Berne, and\nthe Due de Beaufort on the treadmill by the Genevese.\n\nBut when the social bond begins to be relaxed and the State to grow\nweak, when particular interests begin to make themselves felt and the\nsmaller societies to exercise an influence over the larger, the common\ninterest changes and finds opponents: opinion is no longer unanimous;\nthe general will ceases to be the will of all; contradictory views and\ndebates arise; and the best advice is not taken without question.\n\nFinally, when the State, on the eve of ruin, maintains only a vain,\nillusory and formal existence, when in every heart the social bond\nis broken, and the meanest interest brazenly lays hold of the sacred\nname of \"public good,\" the general will becomes mute: all men, guided\nby secret motives, no more give their views as citizens than if the\nState had never been; and iniquitous decrees directed solely to private\ninterest get passed under the name of laws.\n\nDoes it follow from this that the general will is exterminated or\ncorrupted? Not at all: it is always constant, unalterable and pure; but\nit is subordinated to other wills which encroach upon its sphere. Each\nman, in detaching, his interest from the common interest, sees clearly\nthat he cannot entirely separate them; but his share in the public\nmishaps seems to him negligible beside the exclusive good he aims at\nmaking his own. Apart from this particular good, he wills the general\ngood in his own interest, as strongly as any one else. Even in selling\nhis vote for money, he does not extinguish in himself the general\nwill, but only eludes it. The fault he commits is that of changing the\nstate of the question, and answering something different from what he\nis asked. Instead of saying, by his vote, \"It is to the advantage of\nthe State,\" he says, \"It is of advantage to this or that man or party\nthat this or that view should prevail.\" Thus the law of public order\nin assemblies is not so much to maintain in them the general will as\nto secure that the question be always put to it, and the answer always\ngiven by it.\n\nI could here set down many reflections on the simple right of voting\nin every act of Sovereignty--a right which no-one can take from the\ncitizens--and also on the right of stating views, making proposals,\ndividing and discussing, which the government is always most careful\nto leave solely to its members; but this important subject would need a\ntreatise to itself, and it is impossible to say everything in a single\nwork.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nVOTING\n\n\nIt may be seen, from the last chapter, that the way in which general\nbusiness is managed may give a clear enough indication of the actual\nstate of morals and the health of the body politic. The more concert\nreigns in the assemblies, that is, the nearer opinion approaches\nunanimity, the greater is the dominance of the general will. On\nthe other hand, long debates, dissensions and tumult proclaim the\nascendancy of particular interests and the decline of the State.\n\nThis seems less clear when two or more orders enter into the\nconstitution, as patricians and plebeians did at Rome; for quarrels\nbetween these two orders often disturbed the comitia, even in the best\ndays of the Republic. But the exception is rather apparent than real;\nfor then, through the defect that is inherent in the body politic,\nthere were, so to speak, two States in one, and what is not true of\nthe two together is true of either separately. Indeed, even in the\nmost stormy times, the plebiscita of the people, when the Senate did\nnot interfere with them, always went through quietly and by large\nmajorities. The citizens having but one interest, the people had but a\nsingle will.\n\nAt the other extremity of the circle, unanimity recurs; this is the\ncase when the citizens, having fallen into servitude, have lost both\nliberty and will. Fear and flattery then change votes into acclamation;\ndeliberation ceases, and only worship or malediction is left. Such\nwas the vile manner in which the senate expressed its views under the\nEmperors. It did so sometimes with absurd precautions. Tacitus observes\nthat, under Otho, the senators, while they heaped curses on Vitellius,\ncontrived at the same time to make a deafening noise, in order that,\nshould he ever become their master, he might not know what each of them\nhad said.\n\nOn these various considerations depend the rules by which the methods\nof counting votes and comparing opinions should be regulated, according\nas the general will is more or less easy to discover, and the State\nmore or less in its decline.\n\nThere is but one law which, from its nature, needs unanimous consent.\nThis is the social compact; for civil association is the most voluntary\nof all acts. Every man being born free and his own master, no-one,\nunder any pretext whatsoever, can make any man subject without his\nconsent. To decide that the son of a slave is born a slave is to decide\nthat he is not born a man.\n\nIf then there are opponents when the social compact is made, their\nopposition does not invalidate the contract, but merely prevents them\nfrom being included in it. They are foreigners among citizens. When the\nState is instituted, residence constitutes consent; to dwell within its\nterritory is to submit to the Sovereign.[1]\n\nApart from this primitive contract, the vote of the majority always\nbinds all the rest. This follows from the contract itself. But it is\nasked how a man can be both free and forced to conform to wills that\nare not his own. How are the opponents at once free and subject to laws\nthey have not agreed to?\n\nI retort that the question is wrongly put. The citizen gives his\nconsent to all the laws, including those which are passed in spite of\nhis opposition, and even those which punish him when he dares to break\nany of them. The constant will of all the members of the State is the\ngeneral will; by virtue of it they are citizens and free.[2] When in\nthe popular assembly a law is proposed, what the people is asked is not\nexactly whether it approves or rejects the proposal, but whether it is\nin conformity with the general will, which is their will. Each man, in\ngiving his vote, states his opinion on that point; and the general will\nis found by counting votes. When therefore the opinion that is contrary\nto my own prevails, this proves neither more nor less than that I was\nmistaken, and that what I thought to be the general will was not so. If\nmy particular opinion had carried the day I should have achieved the\nopposite of what was my will and it is in that case that I should not\nhave been free.\n\nThis presupposes, indeed, that all the qualities of the general will\nstill reside in the majority: when they cease to do so, whatever side a\nman may take, liberty is no longer possible.\n\nIn my earlier demonstration of how particular wills are substituted\nfor the general will in public deliberation, I have adequately pointed\nout the practicable methods of avoiding this abuse; and I shall have\nmore to say of them later on. I have also given the principles for\ndetermining the proportional number of votes for declaring that will.\nA difference of one vote destroys equality; a single opponent destroys\nunanimity; but between equality and unanimity, there are several grades\nof unequal division, at each of which this proportion may be fixed in\naccordance with the condition and the needs of the body politic.\n\nThere are two general rules that may serve to regulate this relation.\nFirst, the more grave and important the questions discussed, the nearer\nshould the opinion that is to prevail approach unanimity. Secondly, the\nmore the matter in hand calls for speed, the smaller the prescribed\ndifference in the numbers of votes may be allowed to become: where an\ninstant decision has to be reached, a majority of one vote should be\nenough. The first of these two rules seems more in harmony with the\nlaws, and the second with practical affairs. In any case, it is the\ncombination of them that gives the best proportions for determining the\nmajority necessary.\n\n\n[1] This should of course be understood as applying to a free State;\nfor elsewhere family, goods, lack of a refuge, necessity, or violence\nmay detain a man in a country against his will; and then his dwelling\nthere no longer by itself implies his consent to the contract or to its\nviolation.\n\n[2] At Genoa, the word _Liberty_ may be read over the front of the\nprisons and on the chains of the galley-slaves. This application of the\ndevice is good and just. It is indeed only malefactors of all estates\nwho prevent the citizen from being free. In the country in which\nall such men were in the galleys, the most perfect liberty would be\nenjoyed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nELECTIONS\n\n\nIn the elections of the prince and the magistrates, which are, as I\nhave said, complex acts, there are two possible methods of procedure,\nchoice and lot. Both have been employed in various republics, and a\nhighly complicated mixture of the two still survives in the election of\nthe Doge at Venice.\n\n\"Election by lot,\" says Montesquieu, \"is democratic in nature.\" I agree\nthat it is so; but in what sense? \"The lot,\" he goes on, \"is a way\nof making choice that is unfair to nobody; it leaves each citizen a\nreasonable hope of serving his country.\" These are not reasons.\n\nIf we bear in mind that the election of rulers is a function of\ngovernment, and not of Sovereignty, we shall see why the lot is the\nmethod more natural to democracy, in which the administration is better\nin proportion as the number of its acts is small.\n\nIn every real democracy, magistracy is not an advantage, but a\nburdensome charge which cannot justly be imposed on one individual\nrather than another. The law alone can lay the charge on him on whom\nthe lot falls. For, the conditions being then the same for all, and\nthe choice not depending on any human will, there is no particular\napplication to alter the universality of the law.\n\nIn an aristocracy, the prince chooses the prince, the government is\npreserved by itself, and voting is rightly ordered.\n\nThe instance of the election of the Doge of Venice confirms, instead\nof destroying, this distinction; the mixed form suits a mixed\ngovernment. For it is an error to take the government of Venice for a\nreal aristocracy. If the people has no share in the government, the\nnobility is itself the people. A host of poor Barnabotes never gets\nnear any magistracy, and its nobility consists merely in the empty\ntitle of Excellency, and in the right to sit in the Great Council. As\nthis Great Council is as numerous as our General Council at Geneva, its\nillustrious members have no more privileges than our plain citizens.\nIt is indisputable that, apart from the extreme disparity between the\ntwo republics, the _bourgeoisie_ of Geneva is exactly equivalent to the\n_patriciate_ of Venice; our _natives_ and _inhabitants_ correspond to\nthe _townsmen_ and the _people_ of Venice; our _peasants_ correspond\nto the _subjects_ on the mainland; and, however that republic be\nregarded, if its size be left out of account, its government is no more\naristocratic than our own. The whole difference is that, having no\nlife-ruler, we do not, like Venice, need to use the lot.\n\nElection by lot would have few disadvantages in a real democracy, in\nwhich, as equality would everywhere exist in morals and talents as\nwell as in principles and fortunes, it would become almost a matter\nof indifference who was chosen. But I have already said that a real\ndemocracy is only an ideal.\n\nWhen choice and lot are combined, positions that require special\ntalents, such as military posts, should be filled by the former; the\nlatter does for cases, such as judicial offices, in which good sense,\njustice, and integrity are enough, because in a State that is well\nconstituted, these qualities are common to all the citizens.\n\nNeither lot nor vote has any place in monarchical government. The\nmonarch being by right sole prince and only magistrate, the choice of\nhis lieutenants belongs to none but him. When the Abb\u00e9 de Saint-Pierre\nproposed that the Councils of the King of France should be multiplied,\nand their members elected by ballot, he did not see that he was\nproposing to change the form of government.\n\nI should now speak of the methods of giving and counting opinions in\nthe assembly of the people; but perhaps an account of this aspect of\nthe Roman constitution will more forcibly illustrate all the rules I\ncould lay down. It is worth the while of a judicious reader to follow\nin some detail the working of public and private affairs in a Council\nconsisting of two hundred thousand men.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE ROMAN COMITIA\n\n\nWe are without well-certified records of the first period of Rome's\nexistence; it even appears very probable that most of the stories told\nabout it are fables; indeed, generally speaking, the most instructive\npart of the history of peoples, that which deals with their foundation,\nis what we have least of. Experience teaches us every day what causes\nlead to the revolutions of empires; but, as no new peoples are now\nformed, we have almost nothing beyond conjecture to go upon in\nexplaining how they were created.\n\nThe customs we find established show at least that these customs had\nan origin. The traditions that go back to those origins, that have\nthe greatest authorities behind them, and that are confirmed by the\nstrongest proofs, should pass for the most certain. These are the rules\nI have tried to follow in inquiring how the freest and most powerful\npeople on earth exercised its supreme power.\n\nAfter the foundation of Rome, the new-born republic, that is, the\narmy of its founder, composed of Albans, Sabines and foreigners, was\ndivided into three classes, which, from this division, took the name\nof _tribes_. Each of these tribes was subdivided into ten _curi\u00e6_, and\neach _curia_ into _decuri\u00e6_, headed by leaders called _curiones_ and\n_decuriones_.\n\nBesides this, out of each tribe was taken a body of one hundred\n_Equites_ or Knights, called a _century_, which shows that these\ndivisions, being unnecessary in a town, were at first merely military.\nBut an instinct for greatness seems to have led the little township of\nRome to provide itself in advance with a political system suitable for\nthe capital of the world.\n\nOut of this original division an awkward situation soon arose. The\ntribes of the Albans (Ramnenses) and the Sabines (Tatienses) remained\nalways in the same condition, while that of the foreigners (Luceres)\ncontinually grew as more and more foreigners came to live at Rome,\nso that it soon surpassed the others in strength. Servius remedied\nthis dangerous fault by changing the principle of cleavage, and\nsubstituting for the racial division, which he abolished, a new one\nbased on the quarter of the town inhabited by each tribe. Instead of\nthree tribes he created four, each occupying and named after one of the\nhills of Rome. Thus, while redressing the inequality of the moment, he\nalso provided for the future; and in order that the division might be\none of persons as well as localities, he forbade the inhabitants of one\nquarter to migrate to another, and so prevented the mingling of the\nraces.\n\nHe also doubled the three old centuries of Knights and added twelve\nmore, still keeping the old names, and by this simple and prudent\nmethod, succeeded in making a distinction between the body of Knights\nand the people, without a murmur from the latter.\n\nTo the four urban tribes Servius added fifteen others called rural\ntribes, because they consisted of those who lived in the country,\ndivided into fifteen cantons. Subsequently, fifteen more were created,\nand the Roman people finally found itself divided into thirty-five\ntribes, as it remained down to the end of the Republic.\n\nThe distinction between urban and rural tribes had one effect which\nis worth mention, both because it is without parallel elsewhere, and\nbecause to it Rome owed the preservation of her morality and the\nenlargement of her empire. We should have expected that the urban\ntribes would soon monopolise power and honours, and lose no time in\nbringing the rural tribes into disrepute; but what happened was exactly\nthe reverse. The taste of the early Romans for country life is well\nknown. This taste they owed to their wise founder, who made rural and\nmilitary labours go along with liberty, and, so to speak, relegated to\nthe town arts, crafts, intrigue, fortune and slavery.\n\nSince therefore all Rome's most illustrious citizens lived in the\nfields and tilled the earth, men grew used to seeking there alone the\nmainstays of the republic. This condition, being that of the best\npatricians, was honoured by all men; the simple and laborious life\nof the villager was preferred to the slothful and idle life of the\n_bourgeoisie_ of Rome; and he who, in the town, would have been but a\nwretched proletarian, became, as a labourer in the fields, a respected\ncitizen. Not without reason, says Varro, did our great-souled ancestors\nestablish in the village the nursery of the sturdy and valiant men\nwho defended them in time of war and provided for their Sustenance in\ntime of peace. Pliny states positively that the country tribes were\nhonoured because of the men of whom they were composed; while cowards\nmen wished to dishonour were transferred, as a public disgrace, to the\ntown tribes. The Sabine Appius Claudius, when he had come to settle\nin Rome, was loaded with honours and enrolled in a rural tribe, which\nsubsequently took his family name. Lastly, freedmen always entered the\nurban, and never the rural, tribes: nor is there a single example,\nthroughout the Republic, of a freedman, though he had become a citizen,\nreaching any magistracy.\n\nThis was an excellent rule; but it was carried so far that in the end\nit led to a change and certainly to an abuse in the political system.\n\nFirst the censors, after having for a long time claimed the right of\ntransferring citizens arbitrarily from one tribe to another, allowed\nmost persons to enrol themselves in whatever tribe they pleased. This\npermission certainly did no good, and further robbed the censorship\nof one of its greatest resources. Moreover, as the great and powerful\nall got themselves enrolled in the country tribes, while the freedmen\nwho had become citizens remained with the populace in the town tribes,\nboth soon ceased to have any local or territorial meaning, and all were\nso confused that the members of one could not be told from those of\nanother except by the registers; so that the idea of the word _tribe_\nbecame personal instead of real, or rather came to be little more than\na chimera.\n\nIt happened in addition that the town tribes, being more on the spot,\nwere often the stronger in the comitia and sold the State to those who\nstooped to buy the votes of the rabble composing them.\n\nAs the founder had set up ten _curi\u00e6_ in each tribe, the whole Roman\npeople, which was then contained within the walls, consisted of thirty\n_curia_, each with its temples, its gods, its officers, its priests and\nits festivals, which were called _compitalia_ and corresponded to the\n_paganalia,_ held in later times by the rural tribes.\n\nWhen Servius made his new division, as the thirty _curi\u00e6_ could not be\nshared equally between his four tribes, and as he was unwilling to\ninterfere with them, they became a further division of the inhabitants\nof Rome, quite independent of the tribes: but in the case of the rural\ntribes and their members there was no question of _curi\u00e6_ as the\ntribes had then become a purely civil institution, and, a new system\nof levying troops having been introduced, the military divisions of\nRomulus were superfluous. Thus, although every citizen was enrolled in\na tribe, there were very many who were not members of a _curia_.\n\nServius made yet a third division, quite distinct from the two we have\nmentioned, which became, in its effects, the most important of all.\nHe distributed the whole Roman people into six classes, distinguished\nneither by place nor by person, but by wealth; the first classes\nincluded the rich, the last the poor, and those between persons of\nmoderate means. These six classes were subdivided into one hundred and\nninety-three other bodies, called centuries, which were so divided that\nthe first class alone comprised more than half of them, while the last\ncomprised only one. Thus the class that had the smallest number of\nmembers had the largest number of centuries, and the whole of the last\nclass only counted as a single subdivision, although it alone included\nmore than half the inhabitants of Rome.\n\nIn order that the people might have the less insight into the results\nof this arrangement, Servius tried to give it a military tone: in\nthe second class he inserted two centuries of armourers, and in the\nfourth two of makers of instruments of war: in each class, except the\nlast, he distinguished young and old, that is, those who were under an\nobligation to bear arms and those whose age gave them legal exemption.\nIt was this distinction, rather than that of wealth, which required\nfrequent repetition of the census or counting. Lastly, he ordered that\nthe assembly should be held in the Campus Martius, and that all who\nwere of age to serve should come there armed.\n\nThe reason for his not making in the last class also the division of\nyoung and old was that the populace, of whom it was composed, was not\ngiven the right to bear arms for its country: a man had to possess a\nhearth to acquire the right to defend it, and of all the troops of\nbeggars who to-day lend lustre to the armies of kings, there is perhaps\nnot one who would not have been driven with scorn out of a Roman\ncohort, at a time when soldiers were the defenders of liberty.\n\nIn this last class, however, _proletarians_ were distinguished from\n_capite censi._ The former, not quite reduced to nothing, at least gave\nthe State citizens, and sometimes, when the need was pressing, even\nsoldiers. Those who had nothing at all, and could be numbered only by\ncounting heads, were regarded as of absolutely no account, and Marius\nwas the first who stooped to enrol them.\n\nWithout deciding now whether this third arrangement was good or bad in\nitself, I think I may assert that it could have been made practicable\nonly by the simple morals, the disinterestedness, the liking for\nagriculture and the scorn for commerce and for love of gain which\ncharacterised the early Romans. Where is the modern people among whom\nconsuming greed, unrest, intrigue, continual removals, and perpetual\nchanges of fortune, could let such a system last for twenty years\nwithout turning the State upside down? We must indeed observe that\nmorality and the censorship, being stronger than this institution,\ncorrected its defects at Rome, and that the rich man found himself\ndegraded to the class of the poor for making too much display of his\nriches.\n\nFrom all this it is easy to understand why only five classes are\nalmost always mentioned, though there were really six. The sixth, as\nit furnished neither soldiers to the army nor votes in the Campus\nMartius,[1] and was almost without function in the State, was seldom\nregarded as of any account.\n\nThese were the various ways in which the Roman people was divided. Let\nus now see the effect on the assemblies. When lawfully summoned, these\nwere called _comitia_: they were usually held in the public square\nat Rome or in the Campus Martius, and were distinguished as _Comitia\nCuriata, Comitia Centuriata_, and _Comitia Tributa_, according to\nthe form under which they were convoked. The _Comitia Curiata_ were\nfounded by Romulus; the _Centuriata_ by Servius; and the _Tributa_\nby the tribunes of the people. No law received its sanction and no\nmagistrate was elected, save in the comitia; and as every citizen\nwas enrolled in a _curia_, a century, or a tribe, it follows that no\ncitizen was excluded from the right of voting, and that the Roman\npeople was truly sovereign both _de jure_ and _de facto_.\n\nFor the comitia to be lawfully assembled, and for their acts to have\nthe force of law, three conditions were necessary. First, the body\nor magistrate convoking them had to possess the necessary authority;\nsecondly, the assembly had to be held on a day allowed by law; and\nthirdly, the auguries had to be favourable.\n\nThe reason for the first regulation needs no explanation; the second is\na matter of policy. Thus, the comitia might not be held on festivals\nor market-days, when the country-folk, coming to Rome on business, had\nnot time to spend the day in the public square. By means of the third,\nthe senate held in check the proud and restive people, and meetly\nrestrained the ardour of seditious tribunes, who, however, found more\nthan one way of escaping this hindrance.\n\nLaws and the election of rulers were not the only questions submitted\nto the judgment of the comitia: as the Roman people had taken on itself\nthe most important functions of government, it may be said that the lot\nof Europe was regulated in its assemblies. The variety of their objects\ngave rise to the various forms these took, according to the matters on\nwhich they had to pronounce.\n\nIn order to judge of these various forms, it is enough to compare\nthem. Romulus, when he set up _curi\u00e6_, had in view the checking of\nthe senate by the people, and of the people by the senate, while\nmaintaining his ascendancy over both alike. He therefore gave the\npeople, by means of this assembly, all the authority of numbers to\nbalance that of power and riches, which he left to the patricians.\nBut, after the spirit of monarchy, he left all the same a greater\nadvantage to the patricians in the influence of their clients on the\nmajority of votes. This excellent institution of patron and client\nwas a masterpiece of statesmanship and humanity without which the\npatriciate, being flagrantly in contradiction to the republican\nspirit, could not have survived. Rome alone has the honour of having\ngiven to the world this great example, which never led to any abuse,\nand yet has never been followed.\n\nAs the assemblies by _curi\u00e6_ persisted under the kings till the time\nof Servius, and the reign of the later Tarquin was not regarded as\nlegitimate, royal laws were called generally _leges curiat\u00e6_.\n\nUnder the Republic, the _curi\u00e6_ still confined to the four urban\ntribes, and including only the populace of Rome, suited neither the\nsenate, which led the patricians, nor the tribunes, who, though\nplebeians, were at the head of the well-to-do citizens. They therefore\nfell into disrepute, and their degradation was such, that thirty\nlictors used to assemble and do what the _Comitia Curiata_ should have\ndone.\n\nThe division by centuries was so favourable to the aristocracy that it\nis hard to see at first how the senate ever failed to carry the day in\nthe comitia bearing their name, by which the consuls, the censors and\nthe other curule magistrates were elected. Indeed, of the hundred and\nninety-three centuries into which the six classes of the whole Roman\npeople were divided, the first class contained ninety-eight; and, as\nvoting went solely by centuries, this class alone had a majority over\nall the rest. When all these centuries were in agreement, the rest of\nthe votes were not even taken; the decision of the smallest number\npassed for that of the multitude, and it may be said that, in the\n_Comitia Centuriata_, decisions were regulated far more by depth of\npurses than by the number of votes.\n\nBut this extreme authority was modified in two ways. First, the\ntribunes as a rule, and always a great number of plebeians, belonged\nto the class of the rich, and so counterbalanced the influence of the\npatricians in the first class.\n\nThe second way was this. Instead of causing the centuries to vote\nthroughout in order, which would have meant beginning always with the\nfirst, the Romans always chose one by lot which proceeded alone to\nthe election; after this all the centuries were summoned another day\naccording to their rank, and the same election was repeated, and as a\nrule confirmed. Thus the authority of example was taken away from rank,\nand given to the lot on a democratic principle.\n\nFrom this custom resulted a further advantage. The citizens from the\ncountry had time, between the two elections, to inform themselves of\nthe merits of the candidate who had been provisionally nominated,\nand did not have to vote without knowledge of the case. But, under\nthe pretext of hastening matters, the abolition of this custom was\nachieved, and both elections were held on the same day.\n\nThe _Comitia Tributa_ were properly the council of the Roman people.\nThey were convoked by the tribunes alone; at them the tribunes were\nelected and passed their plebiscita. The senate not only had no\nstanding in them, but even no right to be present; and the senators,\nbeing forced to obey laws on which they could not vote, were in this\nrespect less free than the meanest citizens. This injustice was\naltogether ill-conceived, and was alone enough to invalidate the\ndecrees of a body to which all its members were not admitted. Had all\nthe patricians attended the comitia by virtue of the right they had as\ncitizens, they would not, as mere private individuals, have had any\nconsiderable influence on a vote reckoned by counting heads, where the\nmeanest proletarian was as good as the _princeps senatus_.\n\nIt may be seen, therefore, that besides the order which was achieved\nby these various ways of distributing so great a people and taking its\nvotes, the various methods were not reducible to forms indifferent in\nthemselves, but the results of each were relative to the objects which\ncaused it to be preferred.\n\nWithout going here into further details, we may gather from what has\nbeen said above that the _Comitia Tributa_ were the most favourable to\npopular government, and the _Comitia Centuriata_ to aristocracy. The\n_Comitia Curiata,_ in which the populace of Rome formed the majority,\nbeing fitted only to further tyranny and evil designs, naturally fell\ninto disrepute, and even seditious persons abstained from using a\nmethod which too clearly revealed their projects. It is indisputable\nthat the whole majesty of the Roman people lay solely in the _Comitia\nCenturiata_, which alone included all; for the _Comitia Curiata_\nexcluded the rural tribes, and the _Comitia Tributa_ the senate and the\npatricians.\n\nAs for the method of taking the vote, it was among the ancient Romans\nas simple as their morals, although not so simple as at Sparta. Each\nman declared his vote aloud, and a clerk duly wrote it down; the\nmajority in each tribe determined the vote of the tribe, the majority\nof the tribes that of the people, and so with _curi\u00e6_ and centuries.\nThis custom was good as long as honesty was triumphant among the\ncitizens, and each man was ashamed to vote publicly in favour of an\nunjust proposal or an unworthy subject; but, when the people grew\ncorrupt and votes were bought, it was fitting that voting should be\nsecret in order that purchasers might be restrained by mistrust, and\nrogues be given the means of not being traitors.\n\nI know that Cicero attacks this change, and attributes partly to it the\nruin of the Republic. But though I feel the weight Cicero's authority\nmust carry on such a point, I cannot agree with him; I hold, on the\ncontrary, that, for want of enough such changes, the destruction of the\nState must be hastened. Just as the regimen of health does not suit\nthe sick, we should not wish to govern a people that has been corrupted\nby the laws that a good people requires. There is no better proof of\nthis rule than the long life of the Republic of Venice, of which the\nshadow still exists, solely because its laws are suitable only for men\nwho are wicked.\n\nThe citizens were provided, therefore, with tablets by means of which\neach man could vote without any one knowing how he voted: new methods\nwere also introduced for collecting the tablets, for counting voices,\nfor comparing numbers, etc.; but all these precautions did not prevent\nthe good faith of the officers charged with these functions[2] from\nbeing often suspect. Finally, to prevent intrigues and trafficking in\nvotes, edicts were issued; but their very number proves how useless\nthey were.\n\nTowards the close of the Republic, it was often necessary to have\nrecourse to extraordinary expedients in order to supplement the\ninadequacy of the laws. Sometimes miracles were supposed; but this\nmethod, while it might impose on the people, could not impose on those\nwho governed. Sometimes an assembly was hastily called together,\nbefore the candidates had time to form their factions: sometimes a\nwhole sitting was occupied with talk, when it was seen that the people\nhad been won over and was on the point of taking up a wrong position.\nBut in the end ambition eluded all attempts to check it; and the most\nincredible fact of all is that, in the midst of all these abuses,\nthe vast people, thanks to its ancient regulations, never ceased to\nelect magistrates, to pass laws, to judge cases, and to carry through\nbusiness both public and private, almost as easily as the senate itself\ncould have done.\n\n\n[1] I say \"in the Campus Martius\" because it was there that the comitia\nassembled by centuries; in its two other forms the people assembled\nin the _forum_ or elsewhere; and then the _capite censi_ had as much\ninfluence and authority as the foremost citizens.\n\n[2] Custodes, diribitores, rogatores suffragiorum.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE TRIBUNATE\n\n\nWhen an exact proportion cannot be established between the constituent\nparts of the State, or when causes that cannot be removed continually\nalter the relation of one part to another, recourse is had to the\ninstitution of a peculiar magistracy that enters into no corporate\nunity with the rest. This restores to each term its right relation to\nthe others, and provides a link or middle term between either prince\nand people, or prince and Sovereign, or, if necessary, both at once.\n\nThis body, which I shall call the _tribunate_, is the preserver of the\nlaws and of the legislative power. It serves sometimes to protect the\nSovereign against the government, as the tribunes of the people did\nat Rome; sometimes to uphold the government against the people, as\nthe Council of Ten now does at Venice; and sometimes to maintain the\nbalance between the two, as the Ephors did at Sparta.\n\nThe tribunate is not a constituent part of the city, and should have\nno share in either legislative or executive power; but this very fact\nmakes its own power the greater: for, while it can do nothing, it can\nprevent anything from being done. It is more sacred and more revered,\nas the defender of the laws, than the prince who executes them, or than\nthe Sovereign which ordains them. This was seen very clearly at Rome,\nwhen the proud patricians, for all their scorn of the people, were\nforced to bow before one of its officers, who had neither auspices nor\njurisdiction.\n\nThe tribunate, wisely tempered, is the strongest support a good\nconstitution can have; but if its strength is ever so little excessive,\nit upsets the whole State. Weakness, on the other hand, is not natural\nto it: provided it is something, it is never less than it should be.\n\nIt degenerates into tyranny when it usurps the executive power, which\nit should confine itself to restraining, and when it tries to dispense\nwith the laws, which it should confine itself to protecting. The\nimmense power of the Ephors, harmless as long as Sparta preserved its\nmorality, hastened corruption when once it had begun. The blood of\nAgis, slaughtered by these tyrants, was avenged by his successor; the\ncrime and the punishment of the Ephors alike hastened the destruction\nof the republic, and after Cleomenes Sparta ceased to be of any\naccount. Rome perished in the same way: the excessive power of the\ntribunes, which they had usurped by degrees, finally served, with the\nhelp of laws made to secure liberty, as a safeguard for the emperors\nwho destroyed it. As for the Venetian Council of Ten, it is a tribunal\nof blood, an object of horror to patricians and people alike; and, so\nfar from giving a lofty protection to the laws, it does nothing, now\nthey have become degraded, but strike in the darkness blows of which no\none dare take note.\n\nThe tribunate, like the government, grows weak as the number of its\nmembers increases. When the tribunes of the Roman people, who first\nnumbered only two, and then five, wished to double that number, the\nsenate let them do so, in the confidence that it could use one to check\nanother, as indeed it afterwards freely did.\n\nThe best method of preventing usurpations by so formidable a body,\nthough no government has yet made use of it, would be not to make it\npermanent, but to regulate the periods during which it should remain\nin abeyance. These intervals, which should not be long enough to give\nabuses time to grow strong, may be so fixed by law that they can easily\nbe shortened at need by extraordinary commissions.\n\nThis method seems to me to have no disadvantages, because, as I have\nsaid, the tribunate, which forms no part of the constitution, can be\nremoved without the constitution being affected. It seems to be also\nefficacious, because a newly restored magistrate starts not with the\npower his predecessor exercised, but with that which the law allows him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE DICTATORSHIP\n\n\nThe inflexibility of the laws, which prevents them from adapting\nthemselves to circumstances, may, in certain cases, render them\ndisastrous, and make them bring about, at a time of crisis, the ruin\nof the State. The order and slowness of the forms they enjoin require\na space of time which circumstances sometimes withhold. A thousand\ncases against which the legislator has made no provision may present\nthemselves, and it is a highly necessary part of foresight to be\nconscious that everything cannot be foreseen.\n\nIt is wrong therefore to wish to make political institutions so strong\nas to render it impossible to suspend their operation. Even Sparta\nallowed its laws to lapse.\n\nHowever, none but the greatest dangers can counter-balance that of\nchanging the public order, and the sacred power of the laws should\nnever be arrested save when the existence of the country is at stake.\nIn these rare and obvious cases, provision is made for the public\nsecurity by a particular act entrusting it to him who is most worthy.\nThis commitment may be carried out in either of two ways, according to\nthe nature of the danger.\n\nIf increasing the activity of the government is a sufficient remedy,\npower is concentrated in the hands of one or two of its members: in\nthis case the change is not in the authority of the laws, but only in\nthe form of administering them. If, on the other hand, the peril is\nof such a kind that the paraphernalia of the laws are an obstacle to\ntheir preservation, the method is to nominate a supreme ruler, who\nshall silence all the laws and suspend for a moment the sovereign\nauthority. In such a case, there is no doubt about the general will,\nand it is clear that the people's first intention is that the State\nshall not perish. Thus the suspension of the legislative authority is\nin no sense its abolition; the magistrate who silences it cannot make\nit speak; he dominates it, but cannot represent it. He can do anything,\nexcept make laws.\n\nThe first method was used by the Roman senate when, in a consecrated\nformula, it charged the consuls to provide for the safety of the\nRepublic. The second was employed when one of the two consuls nominated\na dictator:[1] a custom Rome borrowed from Alba.\n\nDuring the first period of the Republic, recourse was very often had to\nthe dictatorship, because the State had not yet a firm enough basis to\nbe able to maintain itself by the strength of its constitution alone.\nAs the state of morality then made superfluous many of the precautions\nwhich would have been necessary at other times, there was no fear that\na dictator would abuse his authority, or try to keep it beyond his term\nof office. On the contrary, so much power appeared to be burdensome\nto him who was clothed with it, and he made all speed to lay it down,\nas if taking the place of the laws had been too troublesome and too\nperilous a position to retain.\n\nIt is therefore the danger not of its abuse, but of its cheapening,\nthat makes me attack the indiscreet use of this supreme magistracy in\nthe earliest times. For as long as it was freely employed at elections,\ndedications and purely formal functions, there was danger of its\nbecoming less formidable in time of need, and of men growing accustomed\nto regarding as empty a title that was used only on occasions of empty\nceremonial.\n\nTowards the end of the Republic, the Romans, having grown more\ncircumspect, were as unreasonably sparing in the use of the\ndictatorship as they had formerly been lavish. It is easy to see\nthat their fears were without foundation, that the weakness of the\ncapital secured it against the magistrates who were in its midst; that\na dictator might, in certain cases, defend the public liberty, but\ncould never endanger it; and that the chains of Rome would be forged,\nnot in Rome itself, but in her armies. The weak resistance offered by\nMarius to Sulla, and by Pompey to C\u00e6sar, clearly showed what was to be\nexpected from authority at home against force from abroad.\n\nThis misconception led the Romans to make great mistakes; such, for\nexample, as the failure to nominate a dictator in the Catilinarian\nconspiracy. For, as only the city itself, with at most some province\nin Italy, was concerned, the unlimited authority the laws gave to the\ndictator would have enabled him to make short work of the conspiracy,\nwhich was, in fact, stifled only by a combination of lucky chances\nhuman prudence had no right to expect.\n\nInstead, the senate contented itself with entrusting its whole power\nto the consuls, so that Cicero, in order to take effective action, was\ncompelled on a capital point to exceed his powers; and if, in the first\ntransports of joy, his conduct was approved, he was justly called,\nlater on, to account for the blood of citizens spilt in violation of\nthe laws. Such a reproach could never have been levelled at a dictator.\nBut the consul's eloquence carried the day; and he himself, Roman\nthough he was, loved his own glory better than his country, and sought,\nnot so much the most lawful and secure means of saving the State, as to\nget for himself the whole honour of having done so.[2] He was therefore\njustly honoured as the liberator of Rome, and also justly punished\nas a law-breaker. However brilliant his recall may have been, it was\nundoubtedly an act of pardon.\n\nHowever this important trust be conferred, it is important that its\nduration should be fixed at a very brief period, incapable of being\never prolonged. In the crises which lead to its adoption, the State\nis either soon lost, or soon saved; and, the present need passed,\nthe dictatorship becomes either tyrannical or idle. At Rome, where\ndictators held office for six months only, most of them abdicated\nbefore their time was up. If their term had been longer, they might\nwell have tried to prolong it still further, as the decemvirs did when\nchosen for a year. The dictator had only time to provide against the\nneed that had caused him to be chosen; he had none to think of further\nprojects.\n\n\n[1] The nomination was made secretly by night, as if there were\nsomething shameful in setting a man above the laws.\n\n[2] That is what he could not be sure of, if he proposed a dictator;\nfor he dared not nominate himself, and could not be certain that his\ncolleague would nominate him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE CENSORSHIP\n\n\nAs the law is the declaration of the general will, the censorship is\nthe declaration of the public judgment: public opinion is the form of\nlaw which the censor administers, and, like the prince, only applies to\nparticular cases.\n\nThe censorial tribunal, so far from being the arbiter of the people's\nopinion, only declares it, and, as soon as the two part company, its\ndecisions are null and void.\n\nIt is useless to distinguish the morality of a nation from the objects\nof its esteem; both depend on the same principle and are necessarily\nindistinguishable. There is no people on earth the choice of whose\npleasures is not decided by opinion rather than nature. Right men's\nopinions, and their morality will purge itself. Men always love what is\ngood or what they find good; it is in judging what is good that they\ngo wrong. This judgment, therefore, is what must be regulated. He who\njudges of morality judges of honour; and he who judges of honour finds\nhis law in opinion.\n\nThe opinions of a people are derived from its constitution; although\nthe law does not regulate morality, it is legislation that gives it\nbirth. When legislation grows weak, morality degenerates; but in such\ncases the judgment of the censors will not do what the force of the\nlaws has failed to effect.\n\nFrom this it follows that the censorship may be useful for the\npreservation of morality, but can never be so for its restoration. Set\nup censors while the laws are vigorous; as soon as they have lost their\nvigour, all hope is gone; no legitimate power can retain force when\nthe laws have lost it.\n\nThe censorship upholds morality by preventing opinion from growing\ncorrupt, by preserving its rectitude by means of wise applications, and\nsometimes even by fixing it when it is still uncertain. The employment\nof seconds in duels, which had been carried to wild extremes in the\nkingdom of France, was done away with merely by these words in a royal\nedict: \"As for those who are cowards enough to call upon seconds.\" This\njudgment, in anticipating that of the public, suddenly decided it. But\nwhen edicts from the same source tried to pronounce duelling itself an\nact of cowardice, as indeed it is, then, since common opinion does not\nregard it as such, the public took no notice of a decision on a point\non which its mind was already made up.\n\nI have stated elsewhere[1] that as public opinion is not subject to\nany constraint, there need be no trace of it in the tribunal set up to\nrepresent it. It is impossible to admire too much the art with which\nthis resource, which we moderns have wholly lost, was employed by the\nRomans, and still more by the Laced\u00e6monians.\n\nA man of bad morals having made a good proposal in the Spartan Council,\nthe Ephors neglected it, and caused the same proposal to be made by a\nvirtuous citizen. What an honour for the one, and what a disgrace for\nthe other, without praise or blame of either! Certain drunkards from\nSamos[2] polluted the tribunal of the Ephors: the next day, a public\nedict gave Samians permission to be filthy. An actual punishment would\nnot have been so severe as such an impunity. When Sparta has pronounced\non what is or is not right, Greece makes no appeal from her judgments.\n\n\n[1] I merely call attention in this chapter to a subject with which I\nhave dealt at greater length in my _Letter to M. d'Alembert_.\n\n[2] They were from another island, which the delicacy of our language\nforbids me to name on this occasion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nCIVIL RELIGION\n\n\nAt first men had no kings save the gods, and no government save\ntheocracy. They reasoned like Caligula, and, at that period, reasoned\naright. It takes a long time for feeling so to change that men can make\nup their minds to take their equals as masters, in the hope that they\nwill profit by doing so.\n\nFrom the mere fact that God was set over every political society, it\nfollowed that there were as many gods as peoples. Two peoples that were\nstrangers the one to the other, and almost always enemies, could not\nlong recognise the same master: two armies giving battle could not obey\nthe same leader. National divisions thus led to polytheism, and this in\nturn gave rise to theological and civil intolerance, which, as we shall\nsee hereafter, are by nature the same.\n\nThe fancy the Greeks had for rediscovering their gods among the\nbarbarians arose from the way they had of regarding themselves as the\nnatural Sovereigns of such peoples. But there is nothing so absurd\nas the erudition which in our days identifies and confuses gods of\ndifferent nations. As if Moloch, Saturn and Chronos could be the same\ngod! As if the Ph\u0153nician Baal, the Greek Zeus, and the Latin Jupiter\ncould be the same! As if there could still be anything common to\nimaginary beings with different names!\n\nIf it is asked how in pagan times, where each State had its cult\nand its gods, there were no wars of religion, I answer that it was\nprecisely because each State, having its own cult as well as its\nown government, made no distinction between its gods and its laws.\nPolitical war was also theological; the provinces of the gods were, so\nto speak, fixed by the boundaries of nations. The god of one people had\nno right over another. The gods of the pagans were not jealous gods;\nthey shared among themselves the empire of the world: even Moses and\nthe Hebrews sometimes lent themselves to this view by speaking of the\nGod of Israel. It is true, they regarded as powerless the gods of\nthe Canaanites, a proscribed people condemned to destruction, whose\nplace they were to take; but remember how they spoke of the divisions\nof the neighbouring peoples they were forbidden to attack! \"Is not\nthe possession of what belongs to your god Chamos lawfully your due?\"\nsaid Jephthah to the Ammonites. \"We have the same title to the lands\nour conquering God has made his own.\"[1] Here, I think, there is a\nrecognition that the rights of Chamos and those of the God of Israel\nare of the same nature.\n\nBut when the Jews, being subject to the kings of Babylon, and,\nsubsequently, to those of Syria, still obstinately refused to recognise\nany god save their own, their refusal was regarded as rebellion against\ntheir conqueror, and drew down on them the persecutions we read of\nin their history, which are without parallel till the coming of\nChristianity.[2]\n\nEvery religion, therefore, being attached solely to the laws of the\nState which prescribed it, there was no way of converting a people\nexcept by enslaving it, and there could be no missionaries save\nconquerors. The obligation to change cults being the law to which the\nvanquished yielded, it was necessary to be victorious before suggesting\nsuch a change. So far from men fighting for the gods, the gods, as in\nHomer, fought for men; each asked his god for victory, and repayed him\nwith new altars. The Romans, before taking a city, summoned its gods\nto quit it; and, in leaving the Tarentines their outraged gods, they\nregarded them as subject to their own and compelled to do them homage.\nThey left the vanquished their gods as they left them their laws. A\nwreath to the Jupiter of the Capitol was often the only tribute they\nimposed.\n\nFinally, when, along with their empire, the Romans had spread their\ncult and their gods, and had themselves often adopted those of the\nvanquished, by granting to both alike the rights of the city, the\npeoples of that vast empire insensibly found themselves with multitudes\nof gods and cults, everywhere almost the same; and thus paganism\nthroughout the known world finally came to be one and the same religion.\n\nIt was in these circumstances that Jesus came to set up on earth a\nspiritual kingdom, which, by separating the theological from the\npolitical system, made the State no longer one, and brought about\nthe internal divisions which have never ceased to trouble Christian\npeoples. As the new idea of a kingdom of the other world could never\nhave occurred to pagans, they always looked on the Christians as really\nrebels, who, while feigning to submit, were only waiting for the chance\nto make themselves independent and their masters, and to usurp by guile\nthe authority they pretended in their weakness to respect. This was the\ncause of the persecutions.\n\nWhat the pagans had feared took place. Then everything changed its\naspect: the humble Christians changed their language, and soon this\nso-called kingdom of the other world turned, under a visible leader,\ninto the most violent of earthly despotisms.\n\nHowever, as there have always been a prince and civil laws, this double\npower and conflict of jurisdiction have made all good polity impossible\nin Christian States; and men have never succeeded in finding out\nwhether they were bound to obey the master or the priest.\n\nSeveral peoples, however, even in Europe and its neighbourhood, have\ndesired without success to preserve or restore the old system: but\nthe spirit of Christianity has everywhere prevailed. The sacred cult\nhas always remained or again become independent of the Sovereign, and\nthere has been no necessary link between it and the body of the State.\nMahomet held very sane views, and linked his political system well\ntogether; and, as long as the form of his government continued under\nthe caliphs who succeeded him, that government was indeed one, and so\nfar good. But the Arabs, having grown prosperous, lettered, civilised,\nslack and cowardly, were conquered by barbarians: the division between\nthe two powers began again; and, although it is less apparent among\nthe Mahometans than among the Christians, it none the less exists,\nespecially in the sect of Ali, and there are States, such as Persia,\nwhere it is continually making itself felt.\n\nAmong us, the Kings of England have made themselves heads of the\nChurch, and the Czars have done the same: but this title has made them\nless its masters than its ministers; they have gained not so much the\nright to change it, as the power to maintain it: they are not its\nlegislators, but only its princes. Wherever the clergy is a corporate\nbody,[3] it is master and legislator in its own country. There are\nthus two powers, two Sovereigns, in England and in Russia, as well as\nelsewhere.\n\nOf all Christian writers, the philosopher Hobbes alone has seen the\nevil and how to remedy it, and has dared to propose the reunion of the\ntwo heads of the eagle, and the restoration throughout of political\nunity, without which no State or government will ever be rightly\nconstituted. But he should have seen that the masterful spirit of\nChristianity is incompatible with his system, and that the priestly\ninterest would always be stronger than that of the State. It is not so\nmuch what is false and terrible in his political theory, as what is\njust and true, that has drawn down hatred on it.[4]\n\nI believe that if the study of history were developed from this point\nof view, it would be easy to refute the contrary opinions of Bayle and\nWarburton, one of whom holds that religion can be of no use to the body\npolitic, while the other, on the contrary, maintains that Christianity\nis its strongest support. We should demonstrate to the former that\nno State has ever been founded without a religious basis, and to the\nlatter, that the law of Christianity at bottom does more harm by\nweakening than good by strengthening the constitution of the State. To\nmake myself understood, I have only to make a little more exact the too\nvague ideas of religion as relating to this subject.\n\nReligion, considered in relation to society, which is either general\nor particular, may also be divided into two kinds: the religion of\nman, and that of the citizen. The first, which has neither temples,\nnor altars, nor rites, and is confined to the purely internal cult\nof the supreme God and the eternal obligations of morality, is the\nreligion of the Gospel pure and simple, the true theism, what may be\ncalled natural divine right or law. The other, which is codified in a\nsingle country, gives it its gods, its own tutelary patrons; it has its\ndogmas, its rites, and its external cult prescribed by law; outside the\nsingle nation that follows it, all the world is in its sight infidel,\nforeign and barbarous; the duties and rights of man extend for it only\nas far as its own altars. Of this kind were all the religions of early\npeoples, which we may define as civil or positive divine right or law.\n\nThere is a third sort of religion of a more singular kind, which gives\nmen two codes of legislation, two rulers, and two countries, renders\nthem subject to contradictory duties, and makes it impossible for\nthem to be faithful both to religion and to citizenship. Such are\nthe religions of the Lamas and of the Japanese, and such is Roman\nChristianity, which may be called the religion of the priest. It leads\nto a sort of mixed and anti-social code which has no name.\n\nIn their political aspect, all these three kinds of religion have their\ndefects. The third is so clearly bad, that it is waste of time to stop\nto prove it such. All that destroys social unity is worthless; all\ninstitutions that set man in contradiction to himself are worthless.\n\nThe second is good in that it unites the divine cult with love of\nthe laws, and, making country the object of the citizens' adoration,\nteaches them that service done to the State is service done to its\ntutelary god. It is a form of theocracy, in which there can be no\npontiff save the prince, and no priests save the magistrates. To die\nfor one's country then becomes martyrdom; violation of its laws,\nimpiety; and to subject one who is guilty to public execration is to\ncondemn him to the anger of the gods: _Sacer estod_.\n\nOn the other hand, it is bad in that, being founded on lies and error,\nit deceives men, makes them credulous and superstitious, and drowns the\ntrue cult of the Divinity in empty ceremonial. It is bad, again, when\nit becomes tyrannous and exclusive, and makes a people bloodthirsty and\nintolerant, so that it breathes fire and slaughter, and regards as a\nsacred act the killing of every one who does not believe in its gods.\nThe result is to place such a people in a natural state of war with all\nothers, so that its security is deeply endangered.\n\nThere remains therefore the religion of man or Christianity--not the\nChristianity of to-day, but that of the Gospel, which is entirely\ndifferent. By means of this holy, sublime, and real religion all men,\nbeing children of one God, recognise one another as brothers, and the\nsociety that unites them is not dissolved even at death.\n\nBut this religion, having no particular relation to the body politic,\nleaves the laws in possession of the force they have in themselves\nwithout making any addition to it; and thus one of the great bonds that\nunite society considered in severalty fails to operate. Nay, more, so\nfar from binding the hearts of the citizens to the State, it has the\neffect of taking them away from all earthly things. I know of nothing\nmore contrary to the social spirit.\n\nWe are told that a people of true Christians would form the most\nperfect society imaginable. I see in this supposition only one great\ndifficulty: that a society of true Christians would not be a society of\nmen.\n\nI say further that such a society, with all its perfection, would be\nneither the strongest nor the most lasting: the very fact that it was\nperfect would rob it of its bond of union; the flaw that would destroy\nit would lie in its very perfection.\n\nEvery one would do his duty; the people would be law-abiding, the\nrulers just and temperate; the magistrates upright and incorruptible;\nthe soldiers would scorn death; there would be neither vanity nor\nluxury. So far, so good; but let us hear more.\n\nChristianity as a religion is entirely spiritual, occupied solely with\nheavenly things; the country of the Christian is not of this world. He\ndoes his duty, indeed, but does it with profound indifference to the\ngood or ill success of his cares. Provided he has nothing to reproach\nhimself with, it matters little to him whether things go well or ill\nhere on earth. If the State is prosperous, he hardly dares to share\nin the public happiness, for fear he may grow proud of his country's\nglory; if the State is languishing, he blesses the hand of God that is\nhard upon His people.\n\nFor the State to be peaceable and for harmony to be maintained, all the\ncitizens without exception would have to be good Christians; if by ill\nhap there should be a single self-seeker or hypocrite, a Catiline or a\nCromwell, for instance, he would certainly get the better of his pious\ncompatriots. Christian charity does not readily allow a man to think\nhardly of his neighbours. As soon as, by some trick, he has discovered\nthe art of imposing on them and getting hold of a share in the public\nauthority, you have a man established in dignity; it is the will of\nGod that he be respected: very soon you have a power; it is God's will\nthat it be obeyed: and if the power is abused by him who wields it,\nit is the scourge wherewith God punishes His children. There would be\nscruples about driving out the usurper: public tranquillity would have\nto be disturbed, violence would have to be employed, and blood spilt;\nall this accords ill with Christian meekness; and after all, in this\nvale of sorrows, what does it matter whether we are free men or serfs?\nThe essential thing is to get to heaven, and resignation is only an\nadditional means of doing so.\n\nIf war breaks out with another State, the citizens march readily out\nto battle; not one of them thinks of flight; they do their duty, but\nthey have no passion for victory; they know better how to die than\nhow to conquer. What does it matter whether they win or lose? Does\nnot Providence know better than they what is meet for them? Only\nthink to what account a proud, impetuous and passionate enemy could\nturn their stoicism! Set over against them those generous peoples who\nwere devoured by ardent love of glory and of their country, imagine\nyour Christian republic face to face with Sparta or Rome: the pious\nChristians will be beaten, crushed and destroyed, before they know\nwhere they are, or will owe their safety only to the contempt their\nenemy will conceive for them. It was to my mind a fine oath that was\ntaken by the soldiers of Fabius, who swore, not to conquer or die, but\nto come back victorious--and kept their oath. Christians, would never\nhave taken such an oath; they would have looked on it as tempting God.\n\nBut I am mistaken in speaking of a Christian republic; the terms\nare mutually exclusive. Christianity preaches only servitude and\ndependence. Its spirit is so favourable to tyranny that it always\nprofits by such a _r\u00e9gime_. True Christians are made to be slaves,\nand they know it and do not much mind: this short life counts for too\nlittle in their eyes.\n\nI shall be told that Christian troops are excellent. I deny it. Show\nme an instance. For my part, I know of no Christian troops. I shall be\ntold of the Crusades. Without disputing the valour of the Crusaders,\nI answer that, so far from being Christians, they were the priests'\nsoldiery, citizens of the Church. They fought for their spiritual\ncountry, which the Church had, somehow or other, made temporal. Well\nunderstood, this goes back to paganism: as the Gospel sets up no\nnational religion, a holy war is impossible among Christians.\n\nUnder the pagan emperors, the Christian soldiers were brave; every\nChristian writer affirms it, and I believe it: it was a case of\nhonourable emulation of the pagan troops. As soon as the emperors were\nChristian, this emulation no longer existed, and, when the Cross had\ndriven out the eagle, Roman valour wholly disappeared.\n\nBut, setting aside political considerations, let us come back to what\nis right, and settle our principles on this important point. The right\nwhich the social compact gives the Sovereign over the subjects does\nnot, we have seen, exceed the limits of public expediency.[5] The\nsubjects then owe the Sovereign an account of their opinions only to\nsuch an extent as they matter to the community. Now, it matters very\nmuch to the community that each citizen should have a religion. That\nwill make him love his duty; but the dogmas of that religion concern\nthe State and its members only so far as they have reference to\nmorality and to the duties which he who professes them is bound to do\nto others. Each man may have, over and above, what opinions he pleases,\nwithout it being the Sovereign's business to take cognisance of them;\nfor, as the Sovereign has no authority in the other world, whatever\nthe lot of its subjects may be in the life to come, that is not its\nbusiness, provided they are good citizens in this life.\n\nThere is therefore a purely civil profession of faith of which the\nSovereign should fix the articles, not exactly as religious dogmas, but\nas social sentiments without which a man cannot be a good citizen or\na faithful subject.[6] While it can compel no one to believe them, it\ncan banish from the State whoever does not believe them--it can banish\nhim, not for impiety, but as an anti-social being, incapable of truly\nloving the laws and justice, and of sacrificing, at need, his life to\nhis duty. If any one, after publicly recognising these dogmas, behaves\nas if he does not believe them, let him be punished by death: he has\ncommitted the worst of all crimes, that of lying before the law.\n\nThe dogmas of civil religion ought to be few, simple, and exactly\nworded, without explanation or commentary. The existence of a mighty,\nintelligent and beneficent Divinity, possessed of foresight and\nprovidence, the life to come, the happiness of the just, the punishment\nof the wicked, the sanctity of the social contract and the laws:\nthese are its positive dogmas. Its negative dogmas I confine to one,\nintolerance, which is a part of the cults we have rejected.\n\nThose who distinguish civil from theological intolerance are, to my\nmind, mistaken. The two forms are inseparable. It is impossible to\nlive at peace with those we regard as damned; to love them would be\nto hate God who punishes them: we positively must either reclaim or\ntorment them. Wherever theological intolerance is admitted, it must\ninevitably have some civil effect;[7] and as soon as it has such an\neffect, the Sovereign is no longer Sovereign even in the temporal\nsphere: thenceforth priests are the real masters, and kings only their\nministers.\n\nNow that there is and can be no longer an exclusive national religion,\ntolerance should be given to all religions that tolerate others,\nso long as their dogmas contain nothing contrary to the duties of\ncitizenship. But whoever dares to say: _Outside the Church is no\nsalvation,_ ought to be driven from the State, unless the State is the\nChurch, and the prince the pontiff. Such a dogma is good only in a\ntheocratic government; in any other, it is fatal. The reason for which\nHenry IV is said to have embraced the Roman religion ought to make\nevery honest man leave it, and still more any prince who knows how to\nreason.\n\n\n[1] Nonne ea qu\u00e6 possidet Chamos deus tuus, tibi jure debentur?\n(Judges xi. 24). Such is the text in the Vulgate. Father de Carri\u00e8res\ntranslates: \"Do you not regard yourselves as having a right to what\nyour god possesses?\" I do not know the force of the Hebrew text: but\nI perceive that, in the Vulgate, Jephthah positively recognises the\nright of the god Chamos, and that the French translator weakened this\nadmission by inserting an \"according to you,\" which is not in the Latin.\n\n[2] It is quite clear that the Phocian war, which was called \"the\nSacred War,\" was not a war of religion. Its object was the punishment\nof acts of sacrilege, and not the conquest of unbelievers.\n\n[3] It should be noted that the clergy find their bond of union not so\nmuch in formal assemblies, as in the communion of Churches. Communion\nand ex-communication are the social compact of the clergy, a compact\nwhich will always make them masters of peoples and kings. All priests\nwho communicate together are fellow-citizens, even if they come\nfrom opposite ends of the earth. This invention is a masterpiece of\nstatesmanship: there is nothing like it among pagan priests; who have\ntherefore never formed a clerical corporate body.\n\n[4] See, for instance, in a letter from Grotius to his brother (April\n11, 1643), what that learned man found to praise and to blame in the\n_De Cive._ It is true that, with a bent for indulgence, he seems to\npardon the writer the good for the sake of the bad; but all men are not\nso forgiving.\n\n[5] \"In the republic,\" says the Marquis d'Argenson, \"each man is\nperfectly free in what does not harm others.\" This is the invariable\nlimitation, which it is impossible to define more exactly. I have not\nbeen able to deny myself the pleasure of occasionally quoting from this\nmanuscript, though it is unknown to the public, in order to do honour\nto the memory of a good and illustrious man, who had kept even in the\nMinistry the heart of a good citizen, and views on the government of\nhis country that were sane and right.\n\n[6] C\u00e6sar, pleading for Catiline, tried to establish the dogma that the\nsoul is mortal: Cato and Cicero, in refutation, did not waste time in\nphilosophising. They were content to show that C\u00e6sar spoke like a bad\ncitizen, and brought forward a doctrine that would have a bad effect on\nthe State. This, in fact, and not a problem of theology, was what the\nRoman senate had to judge.\n\n[7] Marriage, for instance, being a civil contract, has civil effects\nwithout which society cannot even subsist. Suppose a body of clergy\nshould claim the sole right of permitting this act, a right which every\nintolerant religion must of necessity claim, is it not clear that in\nestablishing the authority of the Church in this respect, it will be\ndestroying that of the prince, who will have thenceforth only as many\nsubjects as the clergy choose to allow him? Being in a position to\nmarry or not to marry people, according to their acceptance of such\nand such a doctrine, their admission or rejection of such and such a\nformula, their greater or less piety, the Church alone, by the exercise\nof prudence and firmness, will dispose of all inheritances, offices\nand citizens, and even of the State itself, which could not subsist\nif it were composed entirely of bastards? But, I shall be told, there\nwill be appeals on the ground of abuse, summonses and decrees; the\ntemporalities will be seized. How sad! The clergy, however little, I\nwill not say courage, but sense it has, will take no notice and go its\nway: it will quietly allow appeals, summonses, decrees and seizures,\nand, in the end, will remain the master. It is not, I think, a great\nsacrifice to give up a part, when one is sure of securing all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nCONCLUSION\n\nNow that I have laid down the true principles of political right, and\ntried to give the State a basis of its own to rest on, I ought next\nto strengthen it by its external relations, which would include the\nlaw of nations, commerce, the right of war and conquest, public right,\nleagues, negotiations, treaties, etc. But all this forms a new subject\nthat is far too vast for my narrow scope. I ought throughout to have\nkept to a more limited sphere.\n\n\n\n\nA DISCOURSE\n\nWHICH WON THE PRIZE AT THE ACADEMY OF DIJON IN 1750, ON THIS QUESTION\nPROPOSED BY THE ACADEMY:\n\nHAS THE RESTORATION OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES HAD A PURIFYING EFFECT\nUPON MORALS?\n\nBarbaras his ego sum, qui non intelligor illis.--OVID.[1]\n\n[1] Here I am, a barbarian, because men understand me not.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe following pages contain a discussion of one of the most sublime\nand interesting of all moral questions. It is not concerned, however,\nwith those metaphysical subtleties, which of late have found their way\ninto every department of literature, and from which even our academic\ncurricula are not always free. We have now to do with one of those\ntruths on which the happiness of mankind depends.\n\nI foresee that I shall not readily be forgiven for having taken up the\nposition I have adopted. Setting myself up against all that is nowadays\nmost admired, I can expect no less than a universal outcry against me:\nnor is the approbation of a few sensible men enough to make me count\non that of the public. But I have taken my stand, and I shall be at no\npains to please either intellectuals or men of the world. There are in\nall ages men born to be in bondage to the opinions of the society in\nwhich they live. There are not a few, who to-day play the free-thinker\nand the philosopher, who would, if they had lived in the time of the\nLeague, have been no more than fanatics. No author, who has a mind to\noutlive his own age, should write for such readers.\n\nA word more and I have done. As I did not expect the honour conferred\non me, I had, since sending in my Discourse, so altered and enlarged\nit as almost to make it a new work; but in the circumstances I have\nfelt bound to publish it just as it was when it received the prize. I\nhave only added a few notes, and left two alterations which are easily\nrecognisable, of which the Academy possibly might not have approved.\nThe respect, gratitude and even justice I owe to that body seemed to me\nto demand this acknowledgment.\n\n\n\n\nMORAL EFFECTS\n\nOF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES\n\n_Decipimur specie recti_.--HORACE.\n\n\nThe question before me is, \"Whether the Restoration of the arts and\nsciences has had the effect of purifying or corrupting morals.\" Which\nside am I to take? That, gentlemen, which becomes an honest man, who is\nsensible of his own ignorance, and thinks himself none the worse for it.\n\nI feel the difficulty of treating this subject fittingly, before the\ntribunal which is to judge of what I advance. How can I presume to\nbelittle the sciences before one of the most learned assemblies in\nEurope, to commend ignorance in a famous Academy, and reconcile my\ncontempt for study with the respect due to the truly learned?\n\nI was aware of these inconsistencies, but not discouraged by them. It\nis not science, I said to myself, that I am attacking; it is virtue\nthat I am defending, and that before virtuous men--and goodness is even\ndearer to the good than learning to the learned.\n\nWhat then have I to fear? The sagacity of the assembly before which\nI am pleading? That, I acknowledge, is to be feared; but rather on\naccount of faults of construction than of the views I hold. Just\nsovereigns have never hesitated to decide against themselves in\ndoubtful cases; and indeed the most advantageous situation in which a\njust claim can be, is that of being laid before a just and enlightened\narbitrator, who is judge in his own case.\n\nTo this motive, which encouraged me, I may add another which finally\ndecided me. And this is, that as I have upheld the cause of truth to\nthe best of my natural abilities, whatever my apparent success, there\nis one reward which cannot fail me. That reward I shall find in the\nbottom of my heart.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST PART\n\n\nIt is a noble and beautiful spectacle to see man raising himself, so\nto speak, from nothing by his own exertions; dissipating, by the light\nof reason, all the thick clouds in which he was by nature enveloped;\nmounting above himself; soaring in thought even to the celestial\nregions; like the sun, encompassing with giant strides the vast extent\nof the universe; and, what is still grander and more wonderful, going\nback into himself, there to study man and get to know his own nature,\nhis duties and his end. All these miracles we have seen renewed within\nthe last few generations.\n\nEurope had relapsed into the barbarism of the earliest ages; the\ninhabitants of this part of the world, which is at present so highly\nenlightened, were plunged, some centuries ago, in a state still-worse\nthan ignorance. A scientific jargon, more despicable than mere\nignorance, had usurped the name of knowledge, and opposed an almost\ninvincible obstacle to its restoration.\n\nThings had come to such a pass, that it required a complete revolution\nto bring men back to common sense. This came at last from the quarter\nfrom which it was least to be expected. It was the stupid Mussulman,\nthe eternal scourge of letters, who was the immediate cause of their\nrevival among us. The fall of the throne of Constantine brought to\nItaly the relics of ancient Greece; and with these precious spoils\nFrance in turn was enriched. The sciences soon followed literature,\nand the art of thinking joined that of writing: an order which may\nseem strange, but is perhaps only too natural. The world now began to\nperceive the principal advantage of an intercourse with the Muses, that\nof rendering mankind more sociable by inspiring them with the desire to\nplease one another with performances worthy of their mutual approbation.\n\nThe mind, as well as the body, has its needs: those of the body are the\nbasis of society, those of the mind its ornaments.\n\nSo long as government and law provide for the security and well-being\nof men in their common life, the arts, literature and the sciences,\nless despotic though perhaps more powerful, fling garlands of flowers\nover the chains which weigh them down. They stifle in men's breasts\nthat sense of original liberty, for which they seem to have been born;\ncause them to love their own slavery, and so make of them what is\ncalled a civilised people.\n\nNecessity raised up thrones; the arts and sciences have made them\nstrong. Powers of the earth, cherish all talents and protect those who\ncultivate them.[1] Civilised peoples, cultivate such pursuits: to them,\nhappy slaves, you owe that delicacy and exquisiteness of taste, which\nis so much your boast, that sweetness of disposition and urbanity of\nmanners which make intercourse so easy and agreeable among you--in a\nword, the appearance of all the virtues, without being in possession of\none of them.\n\nIt was for this sort of accomplishment, which is by so much the more\ncaptivating as it seems less affected, that Athens and Rome were\nso much distinguished in the boasted times of their splendour and\nmagnificence: and it is doubtless in the same respect that our own age\nand nation will excel all periods and peoples. An air of philosophy\nwithout pedantry; an address at once natural and engaging, distant\nequally from Teutonic clumsiness and Italian pantomime; these are\nthe effects of a taste acquired by liberal studies and improved by\nconversation with the world. What happiness would it be for those who\nlive among us, if our external appearance were always a true mirror of\nour hearts; if decorum were but virtue; if the maxims we professed were\nthe rules of our conduct; and if real philosophy were inseparable from\nthe title of a philosopher! But so many good qualities too seldom go\ntogether; virtue rarely appears in so much pomp and state.\n\nRichness of apparel may proclaim the man of fortune, and elegance the\nman of taste; but true health and manliness are known by different\nsigns. It is under the home-spun of the labourer, and not beneath the\ngilt and tinsel of the courtier, that we should look for strength and\nvigour of body.\n\nExternal ornaments are no less foreign to virtue, which is the strength\nand activity of the mind. The honest man is an athlete, who loves to\nwrestle stark naked; he scorns all those vile trappings, which prevent\nthe exertion of his strength, and were, for the most part, invented\nonly to conceal some deformity.\n\nBefore art had moulded our behaviour, and taught our passions to speak\nan artificial language, our morals were rude but natural; and the\ndifferent ways in which we behaved proclaimed at the first glance the\ndifference of our dispositions. Human nature was not at bottom better\nthen than now; but men found their security in the ease with which\nthey could see through one another, and this advantage, of which we no\nlonger feel the value, prevented their having many vices.\n\nIn our day, now that more subtle study and a more refined taste have\nreduced the art of pleasing to a system, there prevails in modern\nmanners a servile and deceptive conformity; so that one would think\nevery mind had been cast in the same mould. Politeness requires this\nthing; decorum that; ceremony has its forms, and fashion its laws, and\nthese we must always follow, never the promptings of our own nature.\n\nWe no longer dare seem what we really are, but lie under a perpetual\nrestraint; in the meantime the herd of men, which we call society, all\nact under the same circumstances exactly alike, unless very particular\nand powerful motives prevent them. Thus we never know with whom we have\nto deal; and even to know our friends we must wait for some critical\nand pressing occasion; that is, till it is too late; for it is on those\nvery occasions that such knowledge is of use to us.\n\nWhat a train of vices must attend this uncertainty! Sincere\nfriendship, real esteem, and perfect confidence are banished from\namong men. Jealousy, suspicion, fear, coldness, reserve, hate and\nfraud lie constantly concealed under that uniform and deceitful veil\nof politeness; that boasted candour and urbanity, for which we are\nindebted to the light and leading of this age. We shall no longer take\nin vain by our oaths the name of our Creator; but we shall insult Him\nwith our blasphemies, and our scrupulous ears will take no offence.\nWe have grown too modest to brag of our own deserts; but we do not\nscruple to decry those of others. We do not grossly outrage even our\nenemies, but artfully calumniate them. Our hatred of other nations\ndiminishes, but patriotism dies with it. Ignorance is held in contempt;\nbut a dangerous scepticism has succeeded it. Some vices indeed are\ncondemned and others grown dishonourable; but we have still many that\nare honoured with the names of virtues, and it is become necessary\nthat we should either have, or at least pretend to have them. Let who\nwill extol the moderation of our modern sages, I see nothing in it but\na refinement of intemperance as unworthy of my commendation as their\nartificial simplicity.[2]\n\nSuch is the purity to which our morals have attained; this is the\nvirtue we have made our own. Let the arts and sciences claim the share\nthey have had in this salutary work. I shall add but one reflection\nmore; suppose an inhabitant of some distant country should endeavour\nto form an idea of European morals from the state of the sciences, the\nperfection of the arts, the propriety of our public entertainments,\nthe politeness of our behaviour, the affability of our conversation,\nour constant professions of benevolence, and from those tumultuous\nassemblies of people of all ranks, who seem, from morning till night,\nto have no other care than to oblige one another. Such a stranger, I\nmaintain, would arrive at a totally false view of our morality.\n\nWhere there is no effect, it is idle to look for a cause: but here\nthe effect is certain and the depravity actual; our minds have been\ncorrupted in proportion as the arts and sciences have improved. Will\nit be said, that this is a misfortune peculiar to the present age? No,\ngentlemen, the evils resulting from our vain curiosity are as old as\nthe world. The daily ebb and flow of the tides are not more regularly\ninfluenced by the moon, than the morals of a people by the progress\nof the arts and sciences. As their light has risen above our horizon,\nvirtue has taken flight, and the same phenomenon has been constantly\nobserved in all times and places.\n\nTake Egypt, the first school of mankind, that ancient country, famous\nfor its fertility under a brazen sky; the spot from which Sesostris\nonce set out to conquer the world. Egypt became the mother of\nphilosophy and the fine arts; soon she was conquered by Cambyses, and\nthen successively by the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs, and finally the\nTurks.\n\nTake Greece, once peopled by heroes, who twice vanquished Asia.\nLetters, as yet in their infancy, had not corrupted the disposition\nof its inhabitants; but the progress of the sciences soon produced a\ndissoluteness of manners, and the imposition of the Macedonian yoke:\nfrom which time Greece, always learned, always voluptuous and always a\nslave, has experienced amid all its revolutions no more than a change\nof masters. Not all the eloquence of Demosthenes could breathe life\ninto a body which luxury and the arts had once enervated.\n\nIt was not till the days of Ennius and Terence that Rome, founded by\na shepherd, and made illustrious by I peasants, began to degenerate.\nBut after the appearance of an Ovid, a Catullus, a Martial, and the\nrest of those numerous obscene authors, whose very names are enough to\nput modesty to the blush, Rome, once the shrine of virtue, became the\ntheatre of vice, a scorn among the nations, and an object of derision\neven to barbarians. Thus the capital of the world at length submitted\nto the yoke of slavery it had imposed on others, and the very day\nof its fall was the eve of that on which it conferred on one of its\ncitizens the title of Arbiter of Good Taste.\n\nWhat shall I say of that metropolis of the Eastern Empire, which, by\nits situation, seemed destined to be the capital of the world; that\nrefuge of the arts and sciences, when they were banished from the rest\nof Europe, more perhaps by wisdom than barbarism? The most profligate\ndebaucheries, the most abandoned villainies, the most atrocious crimes,\nplots, murders and assassinations form the warp and woof of the\nhistory of Constantinople. Such is the pure source from which have\nflowed to us the floods of knowledge on which the present age so prides\nitself.\n\nBut wherefore should we seek, in past ages, for proofs of a truth, of\nwhich the present affords us ample evidence? There is in Asia a vast\nempire, where learning is held in honour, and leads to the highest\ndignities in the state. If the sciences improved our morals, if they\ninspired us with courage and taught us to lay down our lives for the\ngood of our country, the Chinese should be wise, free and invincible.\nBut, if there be no vice they do not practise, no crime with which they\nare not familiar; if the sagacity of their ministers, the supposed\nwisdom of their laws, and the multitude of inhabitants who people that\nvast empire, have alike failed to preserve them from the yoke of the\nrude and ignorant Tartars, of what use were their men of science and\nliterature? What advantage has that country reaped from the honours\nbestowed on its learned men? Can it be that of being peopled by a race\nof scoundrels and slaves?\n\nContrast with these instances the morals of those few nations which,\nbeing preserved from the contagion of useless knowledge, have by\ntheir virtues become happy in themselves and afforded an example to\nthe rest of the world. Such were the first inhabitants of Persia,\na nation so singular that virtue was taught among them in the same\nmanner as the sciences are with us. They very easily subdued Asia,\nand possess the exclusive glory of having had the history of their\npolitical institutions regarded as a philosophical romance. Such were\nthe Scythians, of whom such wonderful eulogies have come down to us.\nSuch were the Germans, whose simplicity, innocence and virtue, afforded\na most delightful contrast to the pen of an historian, weary of\ndescribing the baseness and villainies of an enlightened, opulent and\nvoluptuous nation. Such had been even Rome in the days of its poverty\nand ignorance. And such has shown itself to be, even in our own times,\nthat rustic nation, whose justly renowned courage not even adversity\ncould conquer, and whose fidelity no example could corrupt.[3]\n\nIt is not through stupidity that the people have preferred other\nactivities to those of the mind. They were not ignorant that in other\ncountries there were men who spent their time in disputing idly about\nthe sovereign good, and about vice and virtue. They knew that these\nuseless thinkers were lavish in their own praises, and stigmatised\nother nations contemptuously as barbarians. But they noted the morals\nof these people, and so learnt what to think of their learning.[4]\n\nCan it be forgotten that, in the very heart of Greece, there arose\na city as famous for the happy ignorance of its inhabitants, as for\nthe wisdom of its laws; a republic of demi-gods rather than of men,\nso greatly superior their virtues seemed to those of mere humanity?\nSparta, eternal proof of the vanity of science, while the vices, under\nthe conduct of the fine arts, were being introduced into Athens, even\nwhile its tyrant was carefully collecting together the works of the\nprince of poets, was driving from her walls artists and the arts, the\nlearned and their learning!\n\nThe difference was seen in the outcome. Athens became the seat of\npoliteness and taste, the country of orators and philosophers. The\nelegance of its buildings equalled that of its language; on every side\nmight be seen marble and canvas, animated by the hands of the most\nskilful artists. From Athens we derive those astonishing performances,\nwhich will serve as models to every corrupt age. The picture of\nLaced\u00e6mon is not so highly coloured. There, the neighbouring nations\nused to say, \"men were born virtuous, their native air seeming to\ninspire them with virtue.\" But its inhabitants have left us nothing but\nthe memory of their heroic actions: monuments that should not count for\nless in our eyes than the most curious relics of Athenian marble.\n\nIt is true that, among the Athenians, there were some few wise men who\nwithstood the general torrent, and preserved their integrity even in\nthe company of the muses. But hear the judgment which the principal,\nand most unhappy of them, passed on the artists and learned men of his\nday.\n\n\"I have considered the poets,\" says he, \"and I look upon them as people\nwhose talents impose both on themselves and on others; they give\nthemselves out for wise men, and are taken for such; but in reality\nthey are anything sooner than that.\"\n\n\"From the poets,\" continues Socrates, \"I turned to the artists. Nobody\nwas more ignorant of the arts than myself; nobody was more fully\npersuaded that the artists were possessed of amazing knowledge. I soon\ndiscovered, however, that they were in as bad a way as the poets, and\nthat both had fallen into the same misconception. Because the most\nskilful of them excel others in their particular jobs, they think\nthemselves wiser than all the rest of mankind. This arrogance spoilt\nall their skill in my eyes, so that, putting myself in the place of\nthe oracle, and asking myself whether I would rather be what I am or\nwhat they are, know what they know, or know that I know nothing, I very\nreadily answered, for myself and the god, that I had rather remain as I\nam.\n\n\"None of us, neither the sophists, nor the poets, nor the orators, nor\nthe artists, nor I, know what is the nature of the _true_, the _good_,\nor the _beautiful_. But there is this difference between us; that,\nthough none of these people know anything, they all think they know\nsomething; whereas for my part, if I know nothing, I am at least in no\ndoubt of my ignorance. So the superiority of wisdom, imputed to me by\nthe oracle, is reduced merely to my being fully convinced that I am\nignorant of what I do not know.\"\n\nThus we find Socrates, the wisest of men in the judgment of the god,\nand the most learned of all the Athenians in the opinion of all Greece,\nspeaking in praise of ignorance. Were he alive now, there is little\nreason to think that our modern scholars and artists would induce him\nto change his mind. No, gentlemen, that honest man would still persist\nin despising our vain sciences. He would lend no aid to swell the flood\nof books that flows from every quarter: he would leave to us, as he did\nto his disciples, only the example and memory of his virtues; that is\nthe noblest method of instructing mankind.\n\nSocrates had begun at Athens, and the elder Cato proceeded at Rome, to\ninveigh against those seductive and subtle Greeks, who corrupted the\nvirtue and destroyed the courage of their fellow-citizens: culture,\nhowever, prevailed. Rome was filled with philosophers and orators,\nmilitary discipline was neglected, agriculture was held in contempt,\nmen formed sects, and forgot their country. To the sacred names of\nliberty, disinterestedness and obedience to law, succeeded those of\nEpicurus, Zeno and Arcesilaus. It was even a saying among their own\nphilosophers that since learned men appeared among them, honest men had\nbeen in eclipse. Before that time the Romans were satisfied with the\npractice of virtue; they were undone when they began to study it.\n\nWhat would the great soul of Fabricius have felt, if it had been\nhis misfortune to be called back to life, when he saw the pomp and\nmagnificence of that Rome, which his arm had saved from ruin, and\nhis honourable name made more illustrious than all its conquests.\n\"Ye gods!\" he would have said, \"what has become of those thatched\nroofs and rustic hearths, which were formerly the habitations of\ntemperance and virtue? What fatal splendour has succeeded the ancient\nRoman simplicity? What is this foreign language, this effeminacy of\nmanners? What is the meaning of these statues, paintings and buildings?\nFools, what have you done? You, the lords of the earth, have made\nyourselves the slaves of the frivolous nations you have subdued.\nYou are governed by rhetoricians, and it has been only to enrich\narchitects, painters, sculptors and stage-players that you have watered\nGreece and Asia with your blood. Even the spoils of Carthage are the\nprize of a flute-player. Romans! Romans! make haste to demolish those\namphitheatres, break to pieces those statues, burn those paintings;\ndrive from among you those slaves who keep you in subjection, and whose\nfatal arts are corrupting your morals. Let other hands make themselves\nillustrious by such vain talents; the only talent worthy of Rome is\nthat of conquering the world and making virtue its ruler. When Cyneas\ntook the Roman senate for an assembly of kings, he was not struck by\neither useless pomp or studied elegance. He heard there none of that\nfutile eloquence, which is now the study and the charm of frivolous\norators. What then was the majesty that Cyneas beheld? Fellow citizens,\nhe saw the noblest sight that ever existed under heaven, a sight which\nnot all your riches or your arts can show; an assembly of two hundred\nvirtuous men, worthy to command in Rome, and to govern the world.\"\n\nBut let pass the distance of time and place, and let us see what has\nhappened in our own time and country; or rather let us banish odious\ndescriptions that might offend our delicacy, and spare ourselves the\npains of repeating the same tilings under different names. It was not\nfor nothing that I invoked the Manes of Fabricius; for what have I\nput into his mouth, that might not have come with as much propriety\nfrom Louis the Twelfth or Henry the Fourth? It is true that in France\nSocrates would not have drunk the hemlock, but he would have drunk of\na potion infinitely more bitter, of insult, mockery and contempt a\nhundred times worse than death.\n\nThus it is that luxury, profligacy and slavery, have been, in all ages,\nthe scourge of the efforts of our pride to emerge from that happy\nstate of ignorance, in which the wisdom of providence had placed us.\nThat thick veil with which it has covered all its operations seems to\nbe a sufficient proof that it never designed us for such fruitless\nresearches. But is there, indeed, one lesson it has taught us, by which\nwe have rightly profited, or which we have neglected with impunity? Let\nmen learn for once that nature would have preserved them from science,\nas a mother snatches a dangerous weapon from the hands of her child.\nLet them know that all the secrets she hides are so many evils from\nwhich she protects them, and that the very difficulty they find in\nacquiring knowledge is not the least of her bounty towards them. Men\nare perverse; but they would have been far worse, if they had had the\nmisfortune to be born learned.\n\nHow humiliating are these reflections to humanity, and how mortified\nby them our pride should be! What! it will be asked, is uprightness\nthe child of ignorance? Is virtue inconsistent with learning? What\nconsequences might not be drawn from such suppositions? But to\nreconcile these apparent contradictions, we need only examine closely\nthe emptiness and vanity of those pompous titles, which are so\nliberally bestowed on human knowledge, and which so blind our judgment.\nLet us consider, therefore, the arts and sciences in themselves. Let us\nsee what must result from their advancement, and let us not hesitate\nto admit the truth of all those points on which our arguments coincide\nwith the inductions we can make from history.\n\n\n[1] Sovereigns always see with, pleasure a taste for the arts of\namusement and superfluity, which do not result in the exportation of\nbullion, increase among their subjects. They very well know that,\nbesides nourishing that littleness of mind which is proper to slavery,\nthe increase of artificial wants only binds so many more chains upon\nthe people. Alexander, wishing to keep the Ichthyophages in a state\nof dependence, compelled them to give up fishing, and subsist on the\ncustomary food of civilised nations. The American savages, who go\nnaked, and live entirely on the products of the chase, have been always\nimpossible to subdue. What yoke, indeed, can be imposed on men who\nstand in need of nothing?\n\n[2] \"I love,\" said Montaigne, \"to converse and hold an argument; but\nonly with very few people, and that for my own gratification. For to do\nso, by way of affording amusement for the great, or of making a parade\nof one's talents, is, in my opinion, a trade very ill-becoming a man of\nhonour.\" It is the trade of all our intellectuals, save one.\n\n[3] I dare not speak of those happy nations, who did not even know the\nname of many vices, which we find it difficult to suppress; the savages\nof America, whose simple and natural mode of government Montaigne\npreferred, without hesitation, not only to the laws of Plato, but to\nthe most perfect visions of government philosophy can ever suggest He\ncites many examples, striking for those who are capable of appreciating\nthem. But, what of all that, says he, they can't run to a pair of\nbreeches!\n\n[4] What are we to think was the real opinion of the Athenians\nthemselves about eloquence, when they were so very careful to banish\ndeclamation from that upright tribunal, against whose decision even\ntheir gods made no appeal? What did the Romans think of physicians,\nwhen they expelled medicine from the republic? And when the relics of\nhumanity left among the Spaniards induced them to forbid their lawyers\nto set foot in America, what must they have thought of jurisprudence?\nMay it not be said that they thought, by this single expedient, to make\nreparation for all the outrages they had committed against the unhappy\nIndians?\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND PART\n\n\nAn ancient tradition passed out of Egypt into Greece, that some god,\nwho was an enemy to the repose of mankind, was the inventor of the\nsciences.[1] What must the Egyptians, among whom the sciences first\narose, have thought of them? And they beheld, near at hand, the sources\nfrom which they sprang. In fact, whether we turn to the annals of the\nworld, or eke out with philosophical investigations the uncertain\nchronicles of history, we shall not find for human knowledge an origin\nanswering to the idea we are pleased to entertain of it at present.\nAstronomy was born of superstition, eloquence of ambition, hatred,\nfalsehood and flattery; geometry of avarice; physics of an idle\ncuriosity; and even moral philosophy of human pride. Thus the arts and\nsciences owe their birth to our vices; we should be less doubtful of\ntheir advantages, if they had sprung from our virtues.\n\nTheir evil origin is, indeed, but too plainly reproduced in their\nobjects. What would become of the arts, were they not cherished by\nluxury? If men were not unjust, of what use were jurisprudence?\nWhat would become of history, if there were no tyrants, wars,\nor conspiracies? In a word, who would pass his life in barren\nspeculations, if everybody, attentive only to the obligations of\nhumanity and the necessities of nature, spent his whole life in serving\nhis country, obliging his friends, and relieving the unhappy? Are we\nthen made to live and die on the brink of that well at the bottom of\nwhich Truth lies hid? This reflection alone is, in my opinion, enough\nto discourage at first setting out every man who seriously endeavours\nto instruct himself by the study of philosophy.\n\nWhat a variety of dangers surrounds us! What a number of wrong paths\npresent themselves in the investigation of the sciences! Through how\nmany errors, more perilous than truth itself is useful, must we not\npass to arrive at it? The disadvantages we lie under are evident; for\nfalsehood is capable of an infinite variety of combinations; but the\ntruth has only one manner of being. Besides, where is the man who\nsincerely desires to find it? Or even admitting his good will, by\nwhat characteristic marks is he sure of knowing it? Amid the infinite\ndiversity of opinions where is the criterion[2] by which we may\ncertainly judge of it? Again, what is still more difficult, should we\neven be fortunate enough to discover it, who among us will know how to\nmake right use of it?\n\nIf our sciences are futile in the objects they propose, they are\nno less dangerous in the effects they produce. Being the effect of\nidleness, they generate idleness in their turn; and an irreparable\nloss of time is the first prejudice which they must necessarily cause\nto society. To live without doing some good is a great evil as well in\nthe political as in the moral world; and hence every useless citizen\nshould be regarded as a pernicious person. Tell me then, illustrious\nphilosophers, of whom we learn the ratios in which attraction acts in\nvacuo; and in the revolution of the planets, the relations of spaces\ntraversed in equal times; by whom we are taught what curves have\nconjugate points, points of inflexion, and cusps; how the soul and body\ncorrespond, like two clocks, without actual communication; what planets\nmay be inhabited; and what insects reproduce in an extraordinary\nmanner. Answer me, I say, you from whom we receive all this sublime\ninformation, whether we should have been less numerous, worse governed,\nless formidable, less flourishing, or more perverse, supposing you had\ntaught us none of all these fine things.\n\nReconsider therefore the importance of your productions; and, since\nthe labours of the most enlightened of our learned men and the best of\nour citizens are of so little utility, tell us what we ought to think\nof that numerous herd of obscure writers and useless litterateurs, who\ndevour without any return the substance of the State.\n\nUseless, do I say? Would God they were! Society would be more peaceful,\nand morals less corrupt. But these vain and futile declaimers go forth\non all sides, armed with their fatal paradoxes, to sap the foundations\nof our faith, and nullify virtue. They smile contemptuously at such\nold names as patriotism and religion, and consecrate their talents and\nphilosophy to the destruction; and defamation of all that men hold\nsacred. Not that they bear any real hatred to virtue or dogma; they are\nthe enemies of public opinion alone; to bring them to the foot of the\naltar, it would be enough to banish them to a land of atheists. What\nextravagancies will not the rage of singularity induce men to commit!\n\nThe waste of time is certainly a great evil; but still greater evils\nattend upon literature and the arts. One is luxury, produced like\nthem by indolence and vanity. Luxury is seldom unattended by the arts\nand sciences; and they are always attended by luxury. I know that our\nphilosophy, fertile in paradoxes, pretends, in contradiction to the\nexperience of all ages, that luxury contributes to the splendour of\nStates. But, without insisting on the necessity of sumptuary laws, can\nit be denied that rectitude of morals is essential to the duration of\nempires, and that luxury is diametrically opposed to such rectitude?\nLet it be admitted that luxury is a certain indication of wealth; that\nit even serves, if you will, to increase such wealth: what conclusion\nis to be drawn from this paradox, so worthy of the times? And what\nwill become of virtue if riches are to be acquired at any cost? The\npoliticians of the ancient world were always talking of morals and\nvirtue; ours speak of nothing but commerce and money. One of them will\ntell you that in such a country a man is worth just as much as he will\nsell for at Algiers: another, pursuing the same mode of calculation,\nfinds that in some countries a man is worth nothing, and in others\nstill less than nothing; they value men as they do droves of oxen.\nAccording to them, a man is worth no more to the State, than the\namount he consumes; and thus a Sybarite would be worth at least thirty\nLaced\u00e6monians. Let these writers tell me, however, which of the two\nrepublics, Sybaris or Sparta, was subdued by a handful of peasants, and\nwhich became the terror of Asia.\n\nThe monarchy of Cyrus was conquered by thirty thousand men, led by a\nprince poorer than the meanest of Persian Satraps: in like manner the\nScythians, the poorest of all nations, were able to resist the most\npowerful monarchs of the universe. When two famous republics contended\nfor the empire of the world, the one rich and the other poor, the\nformer was subdued by the latter. The Roman empire in its turn, after\nhaving engulfed all the riches of the universe, fell a prey to peoples\nwho knew not even what riches were. The Franks conquered the Gauls, and\nthe Saxons England, without any other treasures than their bravery and\ntheir poverty. A band of poor mountaineers, whose whole cupidity was\nconfined to the possession of a few sheep-skins, having first given a\ncheck to the arrogance of Austria, went on to crush the opulent and\nformidable house of Burgundy, which at that time made the potentates\nof Europe tremble. In short, all the power and wisdom of the heir of\nCharles the Fifth, backed by all the treasures of the Indies, broke\nbefore a few herring-fishers. Let our politicians condescend to lay\naside their calculations for a moment, to reflect on these examples;\nlet them learn for once that money, though it buys everything else,\ncannot buy morals and citizens. What then is the precise point in\ndispute about luxury? It is to know which is most advantageous to\nempires, that their existence should be brilliant and momentary,\nor virtuous and lasting? I say brilliant, but with what lustre! A\ntaste for ostentation never prevails in the same minds as a taste\nfor honesty. No, it is impossible that understandings, degraded by a\nmultitude of futile cares, should ever rise to what is truly great and\nnoble; even if they had the strength, they would want the courage.\n\nEvery artist loves applause. The praise of his contemporaries is the\nmost valuable part of his recompense. What then will he do to obtain\nit, if he have the misfortune to be born among a people, and at a\ntime, when learning is in vogue, and the superficiality of youth is\nin a position to lead the fashion; when men have sacrificed their\ntaste to those who tyrannise over their liberty, and one sex dare not\napprove anything but what is proportionate to the pusillanimity of\nthe other;[3] when the greatest masterpieces of dramatic poetry are\ncondemned, and the noblest of musical productions neglected? This is\nwhat he will do. He will lower his genius to the level of the age, and\nwill rather submit to compose mediocre works, that will be admired\nduring his life-time, than labour at sublime achievements which will\nnot be admired till long after he is dead. Let the famous Voltaire tell\nus how many nervous and masculine beauties he has sacrificed to our\nfalse delicacy, and how much that is great and noble, that spirit of\ngallantry, which delights in what is frivolous and petty, has cost him.\n\nIt is thus that the dissolution of morals, the necessary consequence of\nluxury, brings with it in its turn the corruption of taste. Further, if\nby chance there be found among men of average ability, an individual\nwith enough strength of mind to refuse to comply with the spirit of\nthe age, and to debase himself by puerile productions, his lot will\nbe hard. He will die in indigence and oblivion. This is not so much a\nprediction, as a fact already confirmed by experience! Yes, Carle and\nPierre Vanloo, the time is already come when your pencils, destined to\nincrease the majesty of our temples by sublime and holy images, must\nfall from your hands, or else be prostituted to adorn the panels of a\ncoach with lascivious paintings. And you, inimitable Pigal, rival of\nPhidias and Praxiteles, whose chisel the ancients would have employed\nto carve them gods, whose images almost excuse their idolatry in our\neyes; even your hand must condescend to fashion the belly of an ape, or\nelse remain idle.\n\nWe cannot reflect on the morality of mankind without contemplating with\npleasure the picture of the simplicity which prevailed in the earliest\ntimes. This image may be justly compared to a beautiful coast, adorned\nonly by the hands of nature; towards which our eyes are constantly\nturned, and which we see receding with regret. While men were innocent\nand virtuous and loved to have the gods for witnesses of their actions,\nthey dwelt together in the same huts; but when they became vicious,\nthey grew tired of such inconvenient onlookers, and banished them to\nmagnificent temples. Finally, they expelled their deities even from\nthese, in order to dwell there themselves; or at least the temples\nof the gods were no longer more magnificent than the palaces of the\ncitizens. This was the height of degeneracy; nor could vice ever be\ncarried to greater lengths than when it was seen, supported, as it\nwere, at the doors of the great, on columns of marble, and graven on\nCorinthian capitals.\n\nAs the conveniences of life increase, as the arts are brought to\nperfection, and luxury spreads, true courage flags, the virtues\ndisappear; and all this is the effect of the sciences and of those\narts which are exercised in the privacy of men's dwellings. When the\nGoths ravaged Greece, the libraries only escaped the flames owing to an\nopinion that was set on foot among them, that it was best to leave the\nenemy with a possession so calculated to divert their attention from\nmilitary exercises, and keep them engaged in indolent and sedentary\noccupations.\n\nCharles the Eighth found himself master of Tuscany and the kingdom of\nNaples, almost without drawing sword; and all his court attributed\nthis unexpected success to the fact that the princes and nobles of\nItaly applied themselves with greater earnestness to the cultivation\nof their understandings than to active and martial pursuits. In fact,\nsays the sensible person who records these characteristics, experience\nplainly tells us, that in military matters and all that resemble them\napplication to the sciences tends rather to make men effeminate and\ncowardly than resolute and vigorous.\n\nThe Romans confessed that military virtue was extinguished among them,\nin proportion as they became connoisseurs in the arts of the painter,\nthe engraver and the goldsmith, and began to cultivate the fine arts.\nIndeed, as if this famous country was to be for ever an example to\nother nations, the rise of the Medici and the revival of letters has\nonce more destroyed, this time perhaps for ever, the martial reputation\nwhich Italy seemed a few centuries ago to have recovered.\n\nThe ancient republics of Greece, with that wisdom which was so\nconspicuous in most of their institutions, forbade their citizens\nto pursue all those inactive and sedentary occupations, which by\nenervating and corrupting the body diminish also the vigour of the\nmind. With what courage, in fact, can it be thought that hunger and\nthirst, fatigues, dangers and death, can be faced by men whom the\nsmallest want overwhelms and the slightest difficulty repels? With what\nresolution can soldiers support the excessive toils of war, when they\nare entirely unaccustomed to them? With what spirits can they make\nforced marches under officers who have not even the strength to travel\non horseback? It is no answer to cite the reputed valour of all the\nmodern warriors who are so scientifically trained. I hear much of their\nbravery in a day's battle; but I am told nothing of how they support\nexcessive fatigue, how they stand the severity of the seasons and the\ninclemency of the weather. A little sunshine or snow, or the want\nof a few superfluities, is enough to cripple and destroy one of our\nfinest armies in a few days. Intrepid warriors I permit me for once to\ntell you the truth, which you seldom hear. Of your bravery I am fully\nsatisfied. I have no doubt that you would have triumphed with Hannibal\nat Cann\u00e6, and at Trasimene: that you would have passed the Rubicon\nwith C\u00e6sar, and enabled him to enslave his country; but you never would\nhave been able to cross the Alps with the former, or with the latter to\nsubdue your own ancestors, the Gauls.\n\nA war does not always depend on the events of battle: there is in\ngeneralship an art superior to that of gaining victories. A man may\nbehave with great intrepidity under fire, and yet be a very had\nofficer. Even in the common soldier, a little more Strength and vigour\nwould perhaps be more useful than so much courage, which after all is\nno protection from death. And what does it matter to the State whether\nits troops perish by cold and fever, or by the sword of the enemy?\n\nIf the cultivation of the sciences is prejudicial to military\nqualities, it is still more so to moral qualities. Even from our\ninfancy an absurd system of education serves to adorn our wit and\ncorrupt our judgment. We see, on every side, huge institutions, where\nour youth are educated at great expense, and instructed in everything\nbut their duty. Your children will be ignorant of their own language,\nwhen they can talk others which are not spoken anywhere. They will be\nable to compose verses which they can hardly understand; and, without\nbeing capable of distinguishing truth from error, they will possess\nthe art of making them unrecognisable by specious arguments. But\nmagnanimity, equity, temperance, humanity and courage will be words of\nwhich they know not the meaning. The dear name of country will never\nstrike on their ears; and if they ever hear speak of God,[4] it will\nbe less to fear, than to be frightened of Him. I would as soon, said a\nwise man, that my pupil had spent his time in the tennis court as in\nthis manner; for there his body at least would have got exercise.\n\nI well know that children ought to be kept employed, and that idleness\nis for them the danger most to be feared. But what should they be\ntaught? This is undoubtedly an important question. Let them be taught\nwhat they are to practise when they come to be men;[5] not what they\nought to forget.\n\nOur gardens are adorned with statues and our galleries with pictures.\nWhat would you imagine these masterpieces of art, thus exhibited to\npublic admiration, represent? The great men, who have defended their\ncountry, or the still greater men who have enriched it by their\nvirtues? Far from it. They are the images of every perversion of heart\nand mind, carefully selected from ancient mythology, and presented\nto the early curiosity of our children, doubtless that they may have\nbefore their eyes the representations of vicious actions, even before\nthey are able to read.\n\nWhence arise all those abuses, unless it be from that fatal inequality\nintroduced among men by the difference of talents and the cheapening\nof virtue? This is the most evident effect of all our studies, and the\nmost dangerous of all their consequences. The question is no longer\nwhether a man is honest, but whether he is clever. We do not ask\nwhether a book is useful, but whether it is well-written. Rewards are\nlavished on wit and ingenuity, while virtue is left unhonoured. There\nare a thousand prizes for fine discourses, and none for good actions.\nI should be glad, however, to know whether the honour attaching to the\nbest discourse that ever wins the prize in this Academy is comparable\nwith the merit of having founded the prize.\n\nA wise man does not go in chase of fortune; but he is by no means\ninsensible to glory, and when he sees it so ill distributed, his\nvirtue, which might have been animated by a little emulation, and\nturned to the advantage of society, droops and dies away in obscurity\nand indigence. It is for this reason that the agreeable arts must in\ntime everywhere be preferred to the useful; and this truth has been but\ntoo much confirmed since the revival of the arts and sciences. We have\nphysicists, geometricians, chemists, astronomers, poets, musicians, and\npainters in plenty; but we have no longer a citizen among us; or if\nthere be found a few scattered over our abandoned countryside, they are\nleft to perish there unnoticed and neglected. Such is the condition to\nwhich we are reduced, and such are our feelings towards those who give\nus our daily bread, and our children milk.\n\nI confess, however, that the evil is not so great as it might\nhave become. The eternal providence, in placing salutary simples\nbeside noxious plants, and making poisonous animals contain their\nown antidote, has taught the sovereigns of the earth, who are its\nministers, to imitate its wisdom. It is by following this example that\nthe truly great monarch, to whose glory every age will add new lustre,\ndrew from the very bosom of the arts and sciences, the very fountains\nof a thousand lapses from rectitude, those famous societies, which,\nwhile they are depositaries of the dangerous trust of human knowledge,\nare yet the sacred guardians of morals, by the attention they pay to\ntheir maintenance among themselves in all their purity, and by the\ndemands which they make on every member whom they admit.\n\nThese wise institutions, confirmed by his august successor and\nimitated by all the kings of Europe, will serve at least to restrain\nmen of letters, who, all aspiring to the honour of being admitted\ninto these Academies, will keep watch over themselves, and endeavour\nto make themselves worthy of such honour by useful performances and\nirreproachable morals. Those Academies also, which, in proposing prizes\nfor literary merit, make choice of such subjects as are calculated to\narouse the love of virtue in the hearts of citizens, prove that it\nprevails in themselves, and must give men the rare and real pleasure of\nfinding learned societies devoting themselves to the enlightenment of\nmankind, not only by agreeable exercises of the intellect, but also by\nuseful instructions.\n\nAn objection which may be made is, in fact, only an additional proof of\nmy argument. So much precaution proves but too evidently the need for\nit. We never seek remedies for evils that do not exist. Why, indeed,\nmust these bear all the marks of ordinary remedies, on account of their\ninefficacy? The numerous establishments in favour of the learned are\nonly adapted to make men mistake the objects of the sciences, and turn\nmen's attention to the cultivation of them. One would be inclined to\nthink, from the precautions everywhere taken, that we are overstocked\nwith husbandmen, and are afraid of a shortage of philosophers. I\nwill not venture here to enter into a comparison between agriculture\nand philosophy, as they would not bear it. I shall only ask What is\nphilosophy? What is contained in the writings of the most celebrated\nphilosophers? What are the lessons of these friends of wisdom. To hear\nthem, should we not take them for so many mountebanks, exhibiting\nthemselves in public, and crying out, _Here, Here, come to me, I am\nthe only true doctor_? One of them teaches that there is no such thing\nas matter, but that everything exists only in representation. Another\ndeclares that there is no other substance than matter, and no other\nGod than the world itself. A third tells you that there are no such\nthings as virtue and vice, and that moral good and evil are chimeras;\nwhile a fourth informs you that men are only beasts of prey, and may\nconscientiously devour one another. Why, my great philosophers, do you\nnot reserve these wise and profitable lessons for your friends and\nchildren? You would soon reap the benefit of them, nor should we be\nunder any apprehension of our own becoming your disciples.\n\nSuch are the wonderful men, whom their contemporaries held in the\nhighest esteem during their lives, and to whom immortality has been\nattributed since their decease. Such are the wise maxims we have\nreceived from them, and which are transmitted, from age to age, to our\ndescendants. Paganism, though given over to all the extravagances of\nhuman reason, has left nothing to compare with the shameful monuments\nwhich have been prepared by the art of printing, during the reign of\nthe gospel. The impious writings of Leucippus and Diagoras perished\nwith their authors. The world, in their days, was ignorant of the art\nof immortalising the errors and extravagancies of the human mind.\nBut thanks to the art of printing[6] and the use we make of it, the\npernicious reflections of Hobbes and Spinoza will last for ever.\nGo, famous writings, of which the ignorance and rusticity of our\nforefathers would have been incapable. Go to our descendants, along\nwith those still more pernicious works which reek of the corrupted\nmanners of the present age! Let them together convey to posterity\na faithful history of the progress and advantages of our arts and\nsciences. If they are read, they will leave not a doubt about the\nquestion we are now discussing, and unless mankind should then be still\nmore foolish than we, they will lift up their hands to Heaven and\nexclaim in bitterness of heart: \"Almighty God! thou who holdest in Thy\nhand the minds of men, deliver us from the fatal arts and sciences of\nour forefathers; give us back ignorance, innocence and poverty, which\nalone can make us happy and are precious in Thy sight.\"\n\nBut if the progress of the arts and sciences has added nothing to our\nreal happiness; if it has corrupted our morals, and if that corruption\nhas vitiated our taste, what are we to think of the herd of text-book\nauthors, who have removed those impediments which nature purposely laid\nin the way to the Temple of the Muses, in order to guard its approach\nand try the powers of those who might be tempted to seek knowledge?\nWhat are we to think of those compilers who have indiscreetly broken\nopen the door of the sciences, and introduced into their sanctuary a\npopulace unworthy to approach it, when it was greatly to be wished that\nall who should be found incapable of making a considerable progress in\nthe career of learning should have been repulsed at the entrance, and\nthereby cast upon those arts which are useful to society. A man who\nwill be all his life a bad versifier, or a third-rate geometrician,\nmight have made nevertheless an excellent clothier. Those whom nature\nintended for her disciples have not needed masters. Bacon, Descartes\nand Newton, those teachers of mankind, had themselves no teachers.\nWhat guide indeed could have taken them so far as their sublime\ngenius directed them? Ordinary masters would only have cramped their\nintelligence, by confining it within the narrow limits of their own\ncapacity. It was from the obstacles they met with at first, that they\nlearned to exert themselves, and bestirred themselves to traverse the\nvast field which they covered. If it be proper to allow some men to\napply themselves to the study of the arts and sciences, it is only\nthose who feel themselves able to walk alone in their footsteps and to\noutstrip them. It belongs only to these few to raise monuments to the\nglory of the human understanding. But if we are desirous that nothing\nshould be above their genius, nothing should be beyond their hopes.\nThis is the only encouragement they require. The soul insensibly adapts\nitself to the objects on which it is employed, and thus it is that\ngreat occasions produce great men. The greatest orator in the world\nwas Consul of Rome, and perhaps the greatest of philosophers Lord\nChancellor of England. Can it be conceived that, if the former had\nonly been a professor at some University, and the latter a pensioner\nof some Academy, their works would not have suffered from their\nsituation. Let not princes disdain to admit into their councils those\nwho are most capable of giving them good advice. Let them renounce the\nold prejudice, which was invented by the pride of the great, that the\nart of governing mankind is more difficult than that of instructing\nthem; as if it was easier to induce men to do good voluntarily, than\nto compel them to it by force. Let the learned of the first rank find\nan honourable refuge in their courts; let them there enjoy the only\nrecompense worthy of them, that of promoting by their influence the\nhappiness of the peoples they have enlightened by their wisdom. It is\nby this means only that we are likely to see what virtue, science and\nauthority can do, when animated by the noblest emulation, and working\nunanimously for the happiness of mankind.\n\nBut so long as power alone is on one side, and knowledge and\nUnderstanding alone on the other, the learned will seldom make great\nobjects their study, princes will still more rarely do great actions,\nand the peoples will continue to be, as they are, mean, corrupt and\nmiserable.\n\nAs for us, ordinary men, on whom Heaven has not been pleased to bestow\nsuch great talents; as we are not destined to reap such glory, let\nus remain in our obscurity. Let us not covet a reputation we should\nnever attain, and which, in the present state of things, would never\nmake up to us for the trouble it would have cost us, even if we were\nfully qualified to obtain it. Why should we build our happiness on the\nopinions of others, when we can find it in our own hearts? Let us leave\nto others the task of instructing mankind in their duty, and confine\nourselves to the discharge of our own. We have no occasion for greater\nknowledge than this.\n\nVirtue! sublime science of simple minds, are such industry and\npreparation needed if we are to know you? Are not your principles\ngraven on every heart? Need we do more, to learn your laws, than\nexamine ourselves, and listen to the voice of conscience, when the\npassions are silent?\n\nThis is the true philosophy, with which we must learn to be content,\nwithout envying the fame of those celebrated men, whose names are\nimmortal in the republic of letters. Let us, instead of envying them,\nendeavour to make, between them and us, that honourable distinction\nwhich was formerly seen to exist between two great peoples, that the\none knew how to speak, and the other how to act, aright.\n\n\n[1] It is easy to see the allegory in the fable of Prometheus: and it\ndoes not appear that the Greeks, who chained him to the Caucasus, had a\nbetter opinion of him than the Egyptians had of their god Theutus. The\nSatyr, says an ancient fable, the first time he saw a fire, was going\nto kiss and embrace it; but Prometheus cried out to him to forbear, or\nhis beard would rue it. It burns, says he, everything that touches it.\n\n[2] The less we know, the more we think we know. The peripatetics\ndoubted of nothing. Did not Descartes construct the universe with cubes\nand vortices? And is there in all Europe one single physicist who does\nnot boldly explain the inexplicable mysteries of electricity, which\nwill, perhaps, be for ever the despair of real philosophers?\n\n[3] I am far from thinking that the ascendancy which women have\nobtained over men is an evil in itself. It is a present which nature\nhas made them for the good of mankind. If better directed, it might\nbe productive of as much good, as it is now of evil. We are not\nsufficiently sensible of what advantage it would be to society to\ngive a better education to that half of our species which governs the\nother. Men will always be what women choose to make them. If you wish\nthen that they should be noble and virtuous, let women be taught what\ngreatness of soul and virtue are. The reflections which this subject\narouses, and which Plato formerly made, deserve to be more fully\ndeveloped by a pen worthy of following so great a master, and defending\nso great a cause.\n\n[4] Pens\u00e9es philosophiques (Diderot).\n\n[5] Such was the education of the Spartans with regard to one of the\ngreatest of their-kings. It is well worthy of notice, says Montaigne,\nthat the excellent institutions of Lycurgus, which were in truth\nmiraculously perfect, paid as much attention to the bringing up of\nyouth as if this were their principal object, and yet, at the very seat\nof the Muses, they make so little mention of learning that it seems as\nif their generous-spirited youth disdained every other restraint, and\nrequired, instead of masters of the sciences, instructors in valour,\nprudence and justice alone.\n\nLet us hear next what the same writer says of the ancient Persians.\nPlato, says he, relates that the heir to the throne was thus brought\nup. At his birth he was committed, not to the care of women, but to\neunuchs in the highest authority and near the person of the king, on\naccount of their virtue. These undertook to render his body beautiful\nand healthy. At seven years of age they taught him to ride and go\nhunting. At fourteen he was placed in the hands of four, the wisest,\nthe most just, the most temperate and the bravest persons in the\nkingdom. The first instructed him in religion, the second taught him to\nadhere inviolably to truth, the third to conquer his passions, and the\nfourth to be afraid of nothing. All, I may add, taught him to be a good\nman; but not one taught him to be learned.\n\nAstyages, in Xenophon, desires Cyrus to give him an account of his\nlast lesson. It was this, answered Cyrus, one of the big boys, of the\nschool having a small coat, gave it to a little boy and took away from\nhim his coat, which was larger. Our master having appointed me arbiter\nin the dispute, I ordered that matters should stand as they were, as\neach boy seemed to be better suited than before. The master, however,\nremonstrated with me, saying that I considered only convenience,\nwhereas justice ought to have been the first concern, and justice\nteaches that no one should suffer forcible interference with what\nbelongs to him. He added that he was punished for his wrong decision,\njust as boys are punished in our country schools when they forget the\nfirst aorist of _\u03c4\u03cd\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9_. My tutor must make me a fine harangue, _in\ngenere demonstrative_, before he will persuade me that his school is as\ngood as this.\n\n[6] If we consider the frightful disorders which printing has already\ncaused in Europe, and judge of the future by the progress of its evils\nfrom day to day, it is easy to foresee that sovereigns will hereafter\ntake as much pains to banish this dreadful art from their dominions,\nas they ever took to encourage it The Sultan Achmet, yielding to the\nimportunities of certain pretenders to taste, consented to have a press\nerected at Constantinople; but it was hardly set to work before they\nwere obliged to destroy it, and throw the plant into a well.\n\nIt is related that the Caliph Omar, being asked what should be done\nwith the library at Alexandria, answered in these words. \"If the books\nin the library contain anything contrary to the Alcoran, they are evil\nand ought to be burnt; if they contain only what the Alcoran teaches,\nthey are superfluous.\" This reasoning has been cited by oar men of\nletters as the height of absurdity; but if Gregory the Great had been\nin the place of Omar, and the Gospel in the place of the Alcoran, the\nlibrary would still have been burnt, and it would have been perhaps the\nfinest action of his life.\n\n\n\n\nA DISCOURSE\n\nON A SUBJECT PROPOSED BY THE ACADEMY OF DIJON:\n\nWHAT IS THE ORIGIN OF INEQUALITY AMONG MEN, AND IS IT AUTHORISED BY\nNATURAL LAW?\n\n_Non in depravatis, sed in his qua bene secundum naturam se habent,\nconsiderandum est quid sit naturale._\n\nAristotle, Politics, Bk. i, ch. 2.\n\n[We should consider what is natural not in things which are depraved\nbut in those which are rightly ordered according to nature.]\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATION\n\nTO THE\n\nREPUBLIC OF GENEVA\n\n\nMOST HONOURABLE, MAGNIFICENT AND SOVEREIGN LORDS, convinced that\nonly a virtuous citizen can confer on his country honours which it\ncan accept, I have been for thirty years past working to make myself\nworthy to offer you some public homage; and, this fortunate opportunity\nsupplementing in some degree the insufficiency of my efforts, I have\nthought myself entitled to follow in embracing it the dictates of the\nzeal which inspires me, rather than the right which should have been my\nauthorisation. Having had the happiness to be born among you, how could\nI reflect on the equality which nature has ordained between men, and\nthe inequality which they have introduced, without reflecting on the\nprofound wisdom by which both are in this State happily combined and\nmade to coincide, in the manner that is most in conformity with natural\nlaw, and most favourable to society, to the maintenance of public order\nand to the happiness of individuals? In my researches after the best\nrules common sense can lay down for the constitution of a government,\nI have been so struck at finding them all in actuality in your own,\nthat even had I not been born within your walls I should have thought\nit indispensable for me to offer this picture of human society to that\npeople, which of all others seems to be possessed of its greatest\nadvantages, and to have best guarded against its abuses.\n\nIf I had had to make choice of the place of my birth, I should have\npreferred a society which had an extent proportionate to the limits\nof the human faculties; that is, to the possibility of being well\ngoverned: in which every person being equal to his occupation, no one\nshould be obliged to commit to others the functions with which he was\nentrusted: a State, in which all the individuals being well known to\none another, neither the secret machinations of vice, nor the modesty\nof virtue should be able to escape the notice and judgment of the\npublic; and in which the pleasant custom of seeing and knowing one\nanother should make the love of country rather a love of the citizens\nthan of its soil.\n\nI should have wished to be born in a country in which the interest of\nthe Sovereign and that of the people must be single and identical; to\nthe end that all the movements of the machine might tend always to\nthe general happiness. And as this could not be the case, unless the\nSovereign and the people were one and the same person, it follows that\nI should have wished to be born under a democratic government, wisely\ntempered.\n\nI should have wished to live and die free: that is, so far subject to\nthe laws that neither I, nor anybody else, should be able to cast off\ntheir honourable yoke: the easy and salutary yoke which the haughtiest\nnecks bear with the greater docility, as they are made to bear no other.\n\nI should have wished then that no one within the State should be able\nto say he was above the law; and that no one without should be able to\ndictate so that the State should be obliged to recognise his authority.\nFor, be the constitution of a government what it may, if there be\nwithin its jurisdiction a single man who is not subject to the law, all\nthe rest are necessarily at his discretion. And if there be a national\nruler within, and a foreign ruler without, however they may divide\ntheir authority, it is impossible that both should be duly obeyed, or\nthat the State should be well governed.\n\nI should not have chosen to live in a republic of recent institution,\nhowever excellent its laws; for fear the government, being perhaps\notherwise framed than the circumstances of the moment might require,\nmight disagree with the new citizens, or they with it, and the State\nrun the risk of overthrow and destruction almost as soon as it came\ninto being. For it is with liberty as it is with those solid and\nsucculent foods, or with those generous wines which are well adapted\nto nourish and fortify robust constitutions that are used to them,\nbut ruin and intoxicate weak and delicate constitutions to which they\nare not suited. Peoples once accustomed to masters are not in a\ncondition to do without them. If they attempt to shake off the yoke,\nthey still more estrange themselves from freedom, as, by mistaking for\nit an unbridled license to which it is diametrically opposed, they\nnearly always manage, by their revolutions, to hand themselves over to\nseducers, who only make their chains heavier than before. The Roman\npeople itself, a model for all free peoples, was wholly incapable of\ngoverning itself when it escaped from the oppression of the Tarquins.\nDebased by slavery, and the ignominious tasks which had been imposed\nupon it, it was at first no better than a stupid mob, which it was\nnecessary to control and govern with the greatest wisdom; in order\nthat, being accustomed by degrees to breathe the health-giving air of\nliberty, minds which had been enervated or rather brutalised under\ntyranny, might gradually acquire that severity of morals and spirit\nof fortitude which made it at length the people of all most worthy of\nrespect. I should, then, have sought out for my country some peaceful\nand happy Republic, of an antiquity that lost itself, as it were, in\nthe night of time: which had experienced only such shocks as served to\nmanifest and strengthen the courage and patriotism of its subjects; and\nwhose citizens, long accustomed to a wise independence, were not only\nfree, but worthy to be so.\n\nI should have wished to choose myself a country, diverted, by a\nfortunate impotence, from the brutal love of conquest, and secured, by\na still more fortunate situation, from the fear of becoming itself the\nconquest of other States: a free city situated between several nations,\nnone of which should have any interest in attacking it, while each\nhad an interest in preventing it from being attacked by the others;\nin short, a Republic which should have nothing to tempt the ambition\nof its neighbours, but might reasonably depend on their assistance in\ncase of need. It follows that a republican State so happily situated\ncould have nothing to fear but from itself; and that, if its members\ntrained themselves to the use of arms, it would be rather to keep alive\nthat military ardour and courageous spirit which are so proper among\nfree-men, and tend to keep up their taste for liberty, than from the\nnecessity of providing for their defence.\n\nI should have sought a country, in which the right of legislation\nwas vested in all the citizens; for who can judge better than they of\nthe conditions under which they had best dwell together in the same\nsociety? Not that I should have approved of Plebiscita, like those\namong the Romans; in which the rulers in the State, and those most\ninterested in its preservation, were excluded from the deliberations on\nwhich in many cases its security depended; and in which, by the most\nabsurd inconsistency, the magistrates were deprived of rights which the\nmeanest citizens enjoyed.\n\nOn the contrary, I should have desired that, in order to prevent\nself-interested and ill-conceived projects, and all such dangerous\ninnovations as finally ruined the Athenians, each man should not be at\nliberty to propose new laws at pleasure; but that this right should\nbelong exclusively to the magistrates; and that even they should use it\nwith so much caution, the people, on its side, be so reserved in giving\nits consent to such laws, and the promulgation of them be attended\nwith so much solemnity, that before the constitution could be upset by\nthem, there might be time enough for all to be convinced, that it is\nabove all the great antiquity of the laws which makes them sacred and\nvenerable, that men soon learn to despise laws which they see daily\naltered, and that States, by accustoming themselves to neglect their\nancient customs under the pretext of improvement, often introduce\ngreater evils than those they endeavour to remove.\n\nI should have particularly avoided, as necessarily ill-governed, a\nRepublic in which the people, imagining themselves in a position\nto do without magistrates, or at least to leave them with only a\nprecarious authority, should imprudently have kept for themselves the\nadministration of civil affairs and the execution of their own laws.\nSuch must have been the rude constitution of primitive governments,\ndirectly emerging from a state of nature; and this was another of the\nvices that contributed to the downfall of the Republic of Athens.\n\nBut I should have chosen a community in which the individuals,\ncontent with sanctioning their laws, and deciding the most important\npublic affairs in general assembly and on the motion of the rulers,\nhad established honoured tribunals, carefully distinguished the\nseveral departments, and elected year by year some of the most\ncapable and upright of their fellow-citizens to administer justice\nand govern the State; a community, in short, in which the virtue of\nthe magistrates thus bearing witness to the wisdom of the people,\neach class reciprocally did the other honour. If in such a case any\nfatal misunderstandings arose to disturb the public peace, even these\nintervals of blindness and error would bear the marks of moderation,\nmutual esteem, and a common respect for the laws; which are sure signs\nand pledges of a reconciliation as lasting as sincere. Such are the\nadvantages, most honourable, magnificent and sovereign lords, which I\nshould have sought in the country in which I should have chosen to be\nborn. And if providence had added to all these a delightful situation,\na temperate climate, a fertile soil, and the most beautiful countryside\nunder Heaven, I should have desired only, to complete my felicity, the\npeaceful enjoyment of all these blessings, in the bosom of this happy\ncountry; to live at peace in the sweet society of my fellow-citizens,\nand practising towards them, from their own example, the duties of\nfriendship, humanity, and every other virtue, to leave behind me the\nhonourable memory of a good man, and an upright and virtuous patriot.\n\nBut, if less fortunate or too late grown wise, I had seen myself\nreduced to end an infirm and languishing life in other climates, vainly\nregretting that peaceful repose which I had forfeited in the imprudence\nof youth, I should at least have entertained the same feelings in my\nheart, though denied the opportunity of making use of them in my native\ncountry. Filled with a tender and disinterested love for my distant\nfellow-citizens, I should have addressed them from my heart, much in\nthe following terms.\n\n\"My dear fellow-citizens, or rather my brothers, since the ties of\nblood, as well as the laws, unite almost all of us, it gives me\npleasure that I cannot think of you, without thinking, at the same\ntime, of all the blessings you enjoy, and of which none of you,\nperhaps, more deeply feels the value than I who have lost them. The\nmore I reflect on your civil and political condition, the less can I\nconceive that the nature of human affairs could admit of a better.\nIn all other governments, when there is a question of ensuring the\ngreatest good of the State, nothing gets beyond projects and ideas, or\nat best bare possibilities. But as for you, your happiness is complete,\nand you have nothing to do but enjoy it; you require nothing more to be\nmade perfectly happy, than to know how to be satisfied with being so.\nYour sovereignty, acquired or recovered by the sword, and maintained\nfor two centuries past by your valour and wisdom, is at length fully\nand universally acknowledged. Your boundaries are fixed, your rights\nconfirmed and your repose secured by honourable treaties. Your\nconstitution is excellent, being not only dictated by the profoundest\nwisdom, but guaranteed by great and friendly powers. Your State enjoys\nperfect tranquillity; you have neither wars nor conquerors to fear; you\nhave no other master than the wise laws you have yourselves made; and\nthese are administered by upright magistrates of your own choosing. You\nare neither so wealthy as to be enervated by effeminacy, and thence\nto lose, in the pursuit of frivolous pleasures, the taste for real\nhappiness and solid virtue; nor poor enough to require more assistance\nfrom abroad than your own industry is sufficient to procure you. In the\nmeantime the precious privilege of liberty, which in great nations is\nmaintained only by submission to the most exorbitant impositions, costs\nyou hardly anything for its preservation.\n\nMay a Republic, so wisely and happily constituted, last for ever, for\nan example to other nations, and for the felicity of its own citizens!\nThis is the only prayer you have left to make, the only precaution\nthat remains to be taken. It depends, for the future, on yourselves\nalone (not to make you happy, for your ancestors have saved you that\ntrouble), but to render that happiness lasting, by your wisdom in\nits enjoyment. It is on your constant union, your obedience to the\nlaws, and your respect for their ministers, that your preservation\ndepends. If there remains among you the smallest trace of bitterness\nor distrust, hasten to destroy it, as an accursed leaven which sooner\nor later must bring misfortune and ruin on the State. I conjure you\nall to look into your hearts, and to hearken to the secret voice\nof conscience. Is there any among you who can find, throughout the\nuniverse, a more upright, more enlightened and more honourable body\nthan your magistracy? Do not all its members set you an example of\nmoderation, of simplicity of manners, of respect for the laws, and of\nthe most sincere harmony? Place, therefore, without reserve, in such\nwise superiors, that salutary confidence which reason ever owes to\nvirtue. Consider that they are your own choice, that they justify that\nchoice, and that the honours due to those whom you have dignified are\nnecessarily yours by reflexion. Not one of you is so ignorant as not to\nknow that, when the laws lose their force and those who defend them\ntheir authority, security and liberty are universally impossible. Why,\ntherefore, should you hesitate to do that cheerfully and with just\nconfidence which you would all along have been bound to do by your true\ninterest, your duty and reason itself?\n\nLet not a culpable and pernicious indifference to the maintenance\nof the constitution ever induce you to neglect, in case of need,\nthe prudent advice of the most enlightened and zealous of your\nfellow-citizens; but let equity, moderation and firmness of resolution\ncontinue to regulate all your proceedings, and to exhibit you to the\nwhole universe as the example of a valiant and modest people, jealous\nequally of their honour and of their liberty. Beware particularly, as\nthe last piece of advice I shall give you, of sinister constructions\nand venomous rumours, the secret motives of which are often more\ndangerous than the actions at which they are levelled. A whole house\nwill be awake and take the first alarm given by a good and trusty\nwatch-dog, who barks only at the approach of thieves; but we hate the\nimportunity of those noisy curs, which are perpetually disturbing the\npublic repose, and whose continual ill-timed warnings prevent our\nattending to them, when they may perhaps be necessary.\"\n\nAnd you, most honourable and magnificent lords, the worthy and revered\nmagistrates of a free people, permit me to offer you in particular\nmy duty and homage. If there is in the world a station capable of\nconferring honour on those who fill it, it is undoubtedly that\nwhich virtue and talents combine to bestow, that of which you have\nmade yourselves worthy, and to which you have been promoted by your\nfellow-citizens. Their worth adds a new lustre to your own; while, as\nyou have been chosen, by men capable of governing others, to govern\nthemselves, I cannot but hold you as much superior to all other\nmagistrates, as a free people, and particularly that over which you\nhave the honour to preside, is by its wisdom and its reason superior to\nthe populace of other States.\n\nBe it permitted me to cite an example of which there ought to have\nexisted better records, and one which will be ever near to my heart.\nI cannot recall to mind, without the sweetest emotions, the memory of\nthat virtuous citizen, to whom I owe my being, and by whom I was often\ninstructed, in my infancy, in the respect which is due to you. I see\nhim still, living by the work of his hands, and feeding his soul on the\nsublimest truths. I see the works of Tacitus, Plutarch and Grotius,\nlying before him in the midst of the tools of his trade. At his side\nstands his dear son, receiving, alas with too little profit, the tender\ninstructions of the best of fathers. But, if the follies of youth made\nme for a while forget his wise lessons, I have at length the happiness\nto be conscious that, whatever propensity one may have to vice, it is\nnot easy for an education, with which love has mingled, to be entirely\nthrown away.\n\nSuch, my most honourable and magnificent lords, are the citizens, and\neven the common inhabitants of the State which you govern; such are\nthose intelligent and sensible men, of whom, under the name of workmen\nand the people, it is usual, in other nations, to have a low and false\nopinion. My father, I own with pleasure, was in no way distinguished\namong his fellow-citizens. He was only such as they all are; and yet,\nsuch as he was, there is no country, in which his acquaintance would\nnot have been coveted, and cultivated even with advantage by men of the\nhighest character. It would not become me, nor is it, thank Heaven, at\nall necessary for me to remind you of the regard which such men have a\nright to expect of their magistrates, to whom they are equal both by\neducation and by the rights of nature and birth, and inferior only, by\ntheir own will, by that preference which they owe to your merit, and,\nfor giving you, can claim some sort of acknowledgment on your side. It\nis with a lively satisfaction I understand that the greatest candour\nand condescension attend, in all your behaviour towards them, on that\ngravity which becomes the ministers of the law; and that you so well\nrepay them, by your esteem and attention, the respect and obedience\nwhich they owe to you. This conduct is not only just but prudent; as it\nhappily tends to obliterate the memory of many unhappy events, which\nought to be buried in eternal oblivion. It is also so much the more\njudicious, as it tends to make this generous and equitable people find\na pleasure in their duty; to make them naturally love to do you honour,\nand to cause those who are the most zealous in the maintenance of their\nown rights to be at the same time the most disposed to respect yours.\n\nIt ought not to be thought surprising that the rulers of a civil\nsociety should have the welfare and glory of their communities at\nheart: but it is uncommonly fortunate for the peace of men, when those\npersons who look upon themselves as the magistrates, or rather the\nmasters of a more holy and sublime country, show some love for the\nearthly country which maintains them. I am happy in having it in my\npower to make so singular an exception in our favour, and to be able to\nrank, among its best citizens, those zealous depositaries of the sacred\narticles of faith established by the laws, those venerable shepherds of\nsouls whose powerful and captivating eloquence are so much the better\ncalculated to bear to men's hearts the maxims of the gospel, as they\nare themselves the first to put them into practice. All the world knows\nof the great success with which the art of the pulpit is cultivated at\nGeneva; but men are so used to hearing divines preach one thing and\npractise another, that few have a chance of knowing how far the spirit\nof Christianity, holiness of manners, severity towards themselves and\nindulgence towards their neighbours, prevail throughout the whole body\nof our ministers. It is, perhaps, given to the city of Geneva alone,\nto produce the edifying example of so perfect a union between its\nclergy and men of letters. It is in great measure on their wisdom,\ntheir known moderation, and their zeal for the prosperity of the State\nthat I build my hopes of its perpetual tranquillity. At the same time,\nI notice, with a pleasure mingled with surprise and veneration, how\nmuch they detest the frightful maxims of those accursed and barbarous\nmen, of whom history furnishes us with more than one example; who, in\norder to support the pretended rights of God, that is to say their own\ninterests, have been so much the less greedy of human blood, as they\nwere more hopeful their own in particular would be always respected.\n\nI must not forget that precious half of the Republic, which makes the\nhappiness of the other; and whose sweetness and prudence preserve its\ntranquillity and virtue. Amiable and virtuous daughters of Geneva,\nit will be always the lot of your sex to govern ours. Happy are we,\nso long as your chaste influence, solely exercised within the limits\nof conjugal union, is exerted only for the glory of the State and\nthe happiness of the public. It was thus the female sex commanded at\nSparta; and thus you deserve to command at Geneva. What man can be such\na barbarian as to resist the voice of honour and reason, coming from\nthe lips of an affectionate wife? Who would not despise; the vanities\nof luxury, on beholding the simple and modest attire which, from the\nlustre it derives from you, seems the most favourable to beauty? It\nis your task to perpetuate, by your insinuating influence and your\ninnocent and amiable rule, a respect for the laws of the State, and\nharmony among the citizens. It is yours to reunite divided families by\nhappy marriages; and, above all things, to correct, by the persuasive\nsweetness of your lessons and the modest graces of your conversation,\nthose extravagancies which our young people pick up in other countries,\nwhence, instead of many useful things by which they might profit, they\nbring home hardly anything, besides a puerile air and a ridiculous\nmanner, acquired among loose women, but an admiration for I know not\nwhat so-called grandeur, and paltry recompenses for being slaves, which\ncan never come near the real greatness of liberty. Continue, therefore,\nalways to be what you are, the chaste guardians of our morals, and the\nsweet security for our peace, exerting on every occasion the privileges\nof the heart and of nature, in the interests of duty and virtue.\n\nI flatter myself that I shall never be proved to have been mistaken, in\nbuilding on such a foundation my hopes of the general happiness of the\ncitizens and the glory of the Republic. It must be confessed, however,\nthat with all these advantages, it will not shine with that lustre, by\nwhich the eyes of most men are dazzled; a puerile and fatal taste for\nwhich is the most mortal enemy of happiness and liberty.\n\nLet our dissolute youth seek elsewhere light pleasures and long\nrepentances. Let our pretenders to taste admire elsewhere the\ngrandeur of palaces, the beauty of equipages, sumptuous furniture,\nthe pomp of public entertainments, and all the refinements of luxury\nand effeminacy. Geneva boasts nothing but men; such a sight has\nnevertheless a value of its own, and those who have a taste for it are\nwell worth the admirers of all the rest.\n\nDeign, most honourable, magnificent and sovereign lords, to receive,\nand with equal goodness, this respectful testimony of the interest I\ntake in your common prosperity. And, if I have been so unhappy as to\nbe guilty of any indiscreet transport in this glowing effusion of my\nheart, I beseech you to pardon me, and to attribute it to the tender\naffection of a true patriot, and to the ardent and legitimate zeal of\na man, who can imagine for himself no greater felicity than to see you\nhappy.\n\nMost honourable, magnificent and sovereign lords, I am, with the most\nprofound respect,\n\nYour most humble and obedient servant and fellow-citizen.\n\n\n                                        J. J. ROUSSEAU.\n_Chamb\u00e9ry,_\n_June 12, 1754._\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nOf all human sciences the most useful and most imperfect appears\nto me to be that of mankind: and I will venture to say, the single\ninscription on the Temple of Delphi contained a precept more difficult\nand more important than is to be found in all the huge volumes that\nmoralists have ever written. I consider the subject of the following\ndiscourse as one of the most interesting questions philosophy\ncan propose, and unhappily for us, one of, the most thorny that\nphilosophers can have to solve. For how shall we know the source of\ninequality between men, if we do not begin by knowing mankind? And\nhow shall man hope to see himself as nature made him, across all the\nchanges which the succession of place and time must have produced in\nhis original constitution? How can he distinguish what is fundamental\nin his nature from the changes and additions which his circumstances\nand the advances he has made have introduced to modify his primitive\ncondition? Like the statue of Glaucus, which was so disfigured by time,\nseas and tempests, that it looked more like a wild beast than a god,\nthe human soul, altered in society by a thousand causes perpetually\nrecurring, by the acquisition of a multitude of truths and errors,\nby the changes happening to the constitution of the body, and by\nthe continual jarring of the passions, has, so to speak, changed in\nappearance, so as to be hardly recognisable. Instead of a being,\nacting constantly from fixed and invariable principles, instead of\nthat celestial and majestic simplicity, impressed on it by its divine\nAuthor, we find in it only the frightful contrast of passion mistaking\nitself for reason, and of understanding grown delirious.\n\nIt is still more cruel that, as every advance made by the human species\nremoves it still farther from its primitive state, the more discoveries\nwe make, the more we deprive ourselves of the means of making the most\nimportant of all. Thus it is, in one sense, by our very study of man,\nthat the knowledge of him is put out of our power.\n\nIt is easy to perceive that it is in these successive changes in\nthe constitution of man that we must look for the origin of those\ndifferences which now distinguish men, who, it is allowed, are as equal\namong themselves as were the animals of every kind, before physical\ncauses had introduced those varieties which are now observable among\nsome of them.\n\nIt is, in fact, not to be conceived that these primary changes, however\nthey may have arisen, could have altered, all at once and in the same\nmanner, every individual of the species. It is natural to think that,\nwhile the condition of some of them grew better or worse, and they\nwere acquiring various good or bad qualities not inherent in their\nnature, there were others who continued a longer time in their original\ncondition. Such was doubtless the first source of the inequality of\nmankind, which it is much easier to point out thus in general terms,\nthan to assign with precision to its actual causes.\n\nLet not my readers therefore imagine that I flatter myself with having\nseen what it appears to me so difficult to discover. I have here\nentered upon certain arguments, and risked some conjectures, less in\nthe hope of solving the difficulty, than with a view to throwing some\nlight upon it, and reducing the question to its proper form. Others may\neasily proceed farther on the same road, and yet no one find it very\neasy to get to the end. For it is by no means a light undertaking to\ndistinguish properly between what is original and what is artificial\nin the actual nature of man, or to form a true idea of a state which\nno longer exists, perhaps never did exist, and probably never will\nexist; and of which, it is, nevertheless, necessary to have true\nideas, in order to form a proper judgment of our present state. It\nrequires, indeed, more philosophy than can be imagined to enable any\none to determine exactly what precautions he ought to take, in order\nto make solid observations on this subject; and it appears to me that\na good solution of the following problem would be not unworthy of the\nAristotles and Plinys of the present age. _What experiments would have\nto be made, to discover the natural man? And how are those experiments\nto be made in a state of society_?\n\nSo far am I from undertaking to solve this problem, that I think I have\nsufficiently, considered the subject, to venture to declare beforehand\nthat our greatest philosophers would not be too good to direct such\nexperiments, and our most powerful sovereigns to make them. Such a\ncombination we have very little reason to expect, especially attended\nwith the perseverance, or rather succession of intelligence and\ngood-will necessary on both sides to success.\n\nThese investigations, which are so difficult to make, and have been\nhitherto so little thought of, are, nevertheless, the only means that\nremain of obviating a multitude of difficulties which deprive us of\nthe knowledge of the real foundations of human society. It is this\nignorance of the nature of man, which casts so much uncertainty and\nobscurity on the true definition of natural right: for, the idea of\nright, says Burlamaqui, and more particularly that of natural right,\nare ideas manifestly relative to the nature of man. It is then from\nthis very nature itself, he goes on, from the constitution and state of\nman, that we must deduce the first principles of this science.\n\nWe cannot see without surprise and disgust how little agreement there\nis between the different authors who have treated this great subject.\nAmong the more important writers there are scarcely two of the same\nmind about it. Not to speak of the ancient philosophers, who seem\nto have done their best purposely to contradict one another on the\nmost fundamental principles, the Roman jurists subjected man and the\nother animals indiscriminately to the same natural law, because they\nconsidered, under that name, rather the law which nature imposes on\nherself than that which she prescribes to others; or rather because\nof the particular acceptation of the term law among those jurists;\nwho seem on this occasion to have understood nothing more by it than\nthe general relations established by nature between all animated\nbeings, for their common preservation. The moderns, understanding,\nby the term law, merely a rule prescribed to a moral being, that is\nto say intelligent, free and considered in his relations to other\nbeings, consequently confine the jurisdiction of natural law to man,\nan the only animal endowed with reason. But, defining this law, each\nafter his own fashion, they have established it on such metaphysical\nprinciples, that there are very few persons among us capable of\ncomprehending them, much less of discovering them for themselves. So\nthat the definitions of these learned men, all differing in everything\nelse, agree only in this, that it is impossible to comprehend the law\nof nature, and consequently to obey it, without being a very subtle\ncasuist and a profound metaphysician. All which is as much as to say\nthat mankind must have employed, in the establishment of society, a\ncapacity which is acquired only with great difficulty, and by very few\npersons, even in a state of society.\n\nKnowing so little of nature, and agreeing so ill about the meaning\nof the word _law_, it would be difficult for us to fix on a good\ndefinition of natural law. Thus all the definitions we meet with in\nbooks, setting: aside their defect in point of uniformity, have yet\nanother fault, in that they are derived from many kinds of knowledge,\nwhich men do not possess naturally, and from advantages of which they\ncan have no idea until they have already departed from that state.\nModern writers begin by inquiring what rules it would be expedient\nfor men to agree on for their common interest, and then give the name\nof natural law to a collection of these rules, without any other\nproof than the good that would result from their being universally\npractised. This is undoubtedly a simple way of making definitions, and\nof explaining the nature of things by almost arbitrary conveniences.\n\nBut as long as we are ignorant of the natural man, it is in vain for us\nto attempt to determine either the law originally prescribed to him, or\nthat which is best adapted to his constitution. All we can know with\nany certainty respecting this law is that, if it is to be a law, not\nonly the wills of those it obliges must be sensible of their submission\nto it; but also, to be natural, it must come directly from the voice of\nnature.\n\nThrowing aside, therefore, all those scientific books, which teach us\nonly to see men such as they have made themselves, and contemplating\nthe first and most simple operations of the human soul, I think I can\nperceive in it two principles prior to reason, one of them deeply\ninteresting us in our own welfare and preservation, and the other\nexciting a natural repugnance at seeing any other sensible being, and\nparticularly any of our own species, suffer pain or death. It is from\nthe agreement and combination which the understanding is in a position\nto establish between these two principles, without its being necessary\nto introduce that of sociability, that all the rules of natural right\nappear to me to be derived--rules which our reason is afterwards\nobliged to establish on other foundations, when by its successive\ndevelopments it has been led to suppress nature itself.\n\nIn proceeding thus, we shall not be obliged to make man a philosopher\nbefore he is a man. His duties toward others are not dictated to him\nonly by the later lessons of wisdom and, so long as he does not resist\nthe internal impulse of compassion, he will never hurt any other man,\nnor even any sentient being; except on those lawful occasions on which\nhis own preservation is concerned and he is obliged to give himself\nthe preference. By this method also we put an end to the time-honoured\ndisputes concerning the participation of animals in natural law: for it\nis clear that, being destitute of intelligence and liberty, they cannot\nrecognise that law; as they partake, however, in some measure of our\nnature, in consequence of the sensibility with which they are endowed,\nthey ought to partake of natural rights so that mankind is subjected\nto a kind of obligation even toward the brutes. It appears, in fact,\nthat if I am bound to do no injury to my fellow-creatures, this is less\nbecause they are rational than because they are sentient beings: and\nthis quality, being common both to men and beasts, ought to entitle the\nlatter at least to the privilege of not being wantonly ill-treated by\nthe former.\n\nThe very study of the original man, of his real wants, and the\nfundamental principles of his duty, is besides the only proper method\nwe can adopt to obviate all the difficulties which the origin of moral\ninequality presents, on the true foundations of the body politic, on\nthe reciprocal rights of its members, and on many other similar topics\nequally important and obscure.\n\nIf we look at human society with a calm and disinterested eye, it\nseems, at first, to show us only the violence of the powerful and\nthe oppression of the weak. The mind is shocked at the cruelty of\nthe one, or is induced to lament the blindness of the other; and as\nnothing is less permanent in life than those external relations, which\nare more frequently produced by accident than wisdom, and which are\ncalled weakness or power, riches or poverty, all human institutions\nseem at first glance to be founded merely on banks of shifting sand. It\nis only by taking a closer look, and removing the dust and sand that\nsurround the edifice, that we perceive the immovable basis on which it\nis raised, and learn to respect its foundations. Now, without a serious\nstudy of man, his natural faculties and their successive development,\nwe shall never be able to make these necessary distinctions, or to\nseparate, in the actual constitution of things, that which is the\neffect of the divine will, from the innovations attempted by human\nart. The political and moral investigations, therefore, to which the\nimportant question before us leads, are in every respect useful; while\nthe hypothetical history of governments affords a lesson equally\ninstructive to mankind.\n\nIn considering what we should have become, had we been left to\nourselves, we should learn to bless Him, whose gracious hand,\ncorrecting our institutions, and giving them an immovable basis, has\nprevented those disorders which would otherwise have arisen from them,\nand caused our happiness to come from those very sources which seemed\nlikely to involve us in misery.\n\n\n    _Quem te deus esse_\n    _Jussit, et human\u00e2 qu\u00e2 parte locatus es in re,_\n    _Disce._\n                        Persius, Satire iii, 71.\n\n\n\n\n\nA DISSERTATION\n\nON THE ORIGIN AND FOUNDATION OF THE INEQUALITY OF MANKIND\n\n\nIt is of man that I have to speak; and the question I am investigating\nshows me that it is to men that I must address myself: for questions\nof this sort are not asked by those who are afraid to honour truth. I\nshall then confidently uphold the cause of humanity before the wise\nmen who invite me to do so, and shall not be dissatisfied if I acquit\nmyself in a manner worthy of my subject and of my judges.\n\nI conceive that there are two kinds of inequality among the human\nspecies; one, which I call natural or physical, because it is\nestablished by nature, and consists in a difference of age, health,\nbodily strength, and the qualities of the mind or of the soul: and\nanother, which may be called moral or political inequality, because\nit depends on a kind of convention, and is established, or at least\nauthorised by the consent of men. This latter consists of the different\nprivileges, which some men enjoy to the prejudice of others; such as\nthat of being more rich, more honoured, more powerful or even in a\nposition to exact obedience.\n\nIt is useless to ask what is the source of natural inequality, because\nthat question is answered by the simple definition of the word. Again,\nit is still more useless to inquire whether there is any essential\nconnection between the two inequalities; for this would be only asking,\nin other words, whether those who command are necessarily better than\nthose who obey, and if strength of body or of mind, wisdom or virtue\nare always found in particular individuals, in proportion to their\npower or wealth: a question fit perhaps to be discussed by slaves in\nthe hearing of their masters, but highly unbecoming to reasonable and\nfree men in search of the truth.\n\nThe subject of the present discourse, therefore, is more precisely\nthis. To mark, in the progress of things, the moment at which right\ntook the place of violence and nature became subject to law, and to\nexplain by what sequence of miracles the strong came to submit to serve\nthe weak, and the people to purchase imaginary repose at the expense of\nreal felicity.\n\nThe philosophers, who have inquired into the foundations of society,\nhave all felt the necessity of going back to a state of nature; but not\none of them has got there. Some of them have not hesitated to ascribe\nto man, in such a state, the idea of just and unjust, without troubling\nthemselves to show that he must be possessed of such an idea, or that\nit could be of any use to him. Others have spoken of the natural right\nof every man to keep what belongs to him, without explaining what\nthey meant by _belongs_. Others again, beginning by giving the strong\nauthority over the weak, proceeded directly to the birth of government,\nwithout regard to the time that must have elapsed before the meaning\nof the words authority and government could have existed among men.\nEvery one of them, in short, constantly dwelling on wants, avidity,\noppression, desires and pride, has transferred to the state of nature\nideas which were acquired in society; so that, in speaking of the\nsavage, they described the social man. It has not even entered into\nthe heads of most of our writers to doubt whether the state of nature\never existed; but it is clear from the Holy Scriptures that the first\nman, having received his understanding and commandments immediately\nfrom God, was not himself in such a state; and that, if we give such\ncredit to the writings of Moses as every Christian philosopher ought\nto give, we must deny that, even before the deluge, men were ever in\nthe pure state of nature; unless, indeed, they fell back into it from\nsome very extraordinary circumstance; a paradox which it would be very\nembarrassing to defend, and quite impossible to prove.\n\nLet us begin then by laying facts aside, as they do not affect the\nquestion. The investigations we may enter into, in treating this\nsubject, must not be considered as historical truths, but only as\nmere conditional and hypothetical reasonings, rather calculated to\nexplain the nature of things, than to ascertain their actual origin;\njust like the hypotheses which our physicists daily form respecting\nthe formation of the world. Religion commands us to believe that, God\nHimself having taken men out of a state of nature immediately after\nthe creation, they are unequal only because it is His will they should\nbe so: but it does not forbid us to form conjectures based solely on\nthe nature of man, and the beings around him, concerning what might\nhave become of the human race, if it had been left to itself. This\nthen is the question asked me, and that which I propose to discuss in\nthe following discourse. As my subject interests mankind in general,\nI shall endeavour to make use of a style adapted to all nations, or\nrather, forgetting time and place, to attend only to men to whom I am\nspeaking. I shall suppose myself in the Lyceum of Athens, repeating the\nlessons of my masters, with Plato and Xenocrates for judges, and the\nwhole human race for audience.\n\nO man, of whatever country you are, and whatever your opinions may be,\nbehold your history, such as I have thought to read it, not in books\nwritten by your fellow-creatures, who are liars, but in nature, which\nnever lies. All that comes from her will be true; nor will you meet\nwith anything false, unless I have involuntarily put in something of my\nown. The times of which I am going to speak are very remote: how much\nare you changed from what you once were! It is so to speak, the life of\nyour species which I am going to write, after the qualities which you\nhave received, which your education and habits may have depraved, but\ncannot have entirely destroyed. There is, I feel, an age at which the\nindividual man would wish to stop; you are about to inquire about the\nage at which you would have liked your whole species to stand still.\nDiscontented with your present state, for reasons which threaten your\nunfortunate descendants with still greater discontent, you will perhaps\nwish it were in your power to go back; and this feeling should be a\npanegyric on your first ancestors, a criticism of your contemporaries,\nand a terror to the unfortunates who will come after you.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST PART\n\n\nImportant as it may be, in order to judge rightly of the natural state\nof man, to consider him from his origin, and to examine him, as it\nwere, in the embryo of his species; I shall not follow his organisation\nthrough its successive developments, nor shall I stay to inquire what\nhis animal system must have been at the beginning, in order to become\nat length what it actually is. I shall not ask whether his long nails\nwere at first, as Aristotle supposes, only crooked talons; whether\nhis whole body, like that of a bear, was not covered with hair; or\nwhether the fact that he walked upon all fours, with his looks directed\ntoward the earth, confined to a horizon of a few paces, did not at\nonce point out the nature and limits of his ideas. On this subject. I\ncould form none but vague and almost imaginary conjectures. Comparative\nanatomy has as yet made too little progress, and the observations of\nnaturalists are too uncertain, to afford an adequate basis for any\nsolid reasoning. So that, without having recourse to the supernatural\ninformation given us on this head, or paying any regard to the changes\nwhich must have taken place in the internal, as well as the external,\nconformation of man, as he applied his limbs to new uses, and fed\nhimself on new kinds of food, I shall suppose his conformation to have\nbeen at all times what it appears to us at this day; that he always\nwalked on two legs, made use of his hands as we do, directed his looks\nover all nature, and measured with his eyes the vast expanse of Heaven.\n\nIf we strip this being, thus constituted, of all the supernatural gifts\nhe may have received, and all the artificial faculties he can have\nacquired only by a long process; if we consider him, in a word, just as\nhe must have come from the hands of nature, we behold in him an animal\nweaker than some, and less agile than others; but, taking him all\nround, the most advantageously organised of any. I see him satisfying\nhis hunger at the first oak, and slaking his thirst at the first brook;\nfinding his bed at the foot of the tree which afforded him a repast;\nand, with that, all his wants supplied.\n\nWhile the earth was left to its natural fertility and covered with\nimmense forests, whose trees were never mutilated by the axe, it would\npresent on every side both sustenance and shelter for every species of\nanimal. Men dispersed up and down among the rest, would observe and\nimitate their industry, and thus attain even to the instinct of the\nbeasts, with the advantage that, whereas every species of brutes was\nconfined to one particular instinct, man, who perhaps has not any one\npeculiar to himself, would appropriate them all, and live upon most of\nthose different foods, which other animals shared among themselves; and\nthus would find his subsistence much more easily than any of the rest.\n\nAccustomed from their infancy to the inclemencies of the weather and\nthe rigour of the seasons, inured to fatigue, and forced, naked and\nunarmed, to defend themselves and their prey from other ferocious\nanimals, or to escape them by flight, men would acquire a robust and\nalmost unalterable constitution. The children, bringing with them into\nthe world the excellent constitution of their parents, and fortifying\nit by the very exercises which first produced it, would thus acquire\nall the vigour of which the human frame is capable. Nature in this case\ntreats them exactly as Sparta treated the children of her citizens:\nthose who come well formed into the world she renders strong and\nrobust, and all the rest she destroys; differing in this respect from\nour modern communities, in which the State, by making children a burden\nto their parents, kills them indiscriminately before they are born.\n\nThe body of a savage man being the only instrument he understands, he\nuses it for various purposes, of which ours, for want of practice, are\nincapable: for our industry deprives us of that force and agility,\nwhich necessity obliges him to acquire. If he had had an axe, would he\nhave been able with his naked arm to break so large a branch from a\ntree? If he had had a sling, would he have been able to throw a stone\nwith so great velocity? If he had had a ladder, would he have been so\nnimble in climbing a tree? If he had had a horse, would he have been\nhimself so swift of foot? Give civilised man time to gather all his\nmachines about him, and he will no doubt easily beat the savage; but if\nyou would see a still more unequal contest, set them together naked\nand unarmed, and you will soon see the advantage of having all our\nforces constantly at our disposal, of being always prepared for every\nevent, and of carrying one's self, as it were, perpetually whole and\nentire about one.\n\nHobbes contends that man is naturally intrepid, and is intent only\nupon attacking and fighting. Another illustrious philosopher holds\nthe opposite, and Cumberland and Puffendorf also affirm that nothing\nis more timid and fearful than man in the state of nature; that he\nis always in a tremble, and ready to fly at the least noise or the\nslightest movement. This may be true of things he does not know; and I\ndo not doubt his being terrified by every novelty that presents itself,\nwhen he neither knows the physical good or evil he may expect from it,\nnor can make a comparison between his own strength and the dangers he\nis about to encounter. Such circumstances, however, rarely occur in a\nstate of nature, in which all things proceed in a uniform manner, and\nthe face of the earth is not subject to those sudden and continual\nchanges which arise from the passions and caprices of bodies of men\nliving together. But savage man, living dispersed among other animals\nand finding himself betimes in a situation to measure his strength\nwith theirs, soon comes to compare himself with them; and, perceiving\nthat he surpasses them more in adroitness than they surpass him in\nstrength, learns to be no longer afraid of them. Set a bear, or a wolf,\nagainst a robust, agile, and resolute savage, as they all are, armed\nwith stones and a good cudgel, and you will see that the danger will\nbe at least on both sides, and that, after a few trials of this kind,\nwild beasts, which are not fond of attacking each other, will not be at\nall ready to attack man, whom they will have found to be as wild and\nferocious as themselves. With regard to such animals as have really\nmore strength than man has adroitness, he is in the same situation as\nall weaker animals, which notwithstanding are still able to subsist;\nexcept indeed that he has the advantage that, being equally swift of\nfoot, and finding an almost certain place of refuge in every tree, he\nis at liberty to take or leave it at every encounter, and thus to fight\nor fly, as he chooses. Add to this that it does not appear that any\nanimal naturally makes war on man, except in case of self-defence or\nexcessive hunger, or betrays any of those violent antipathies, which\nseem to indicate that one species is intended by nature for the food of\nanother.\n\nThis is doubtless why negroes and savages are so little afraid of\nthe wild beasts they may meet in the woods. The Caraibs of Venezuela\namong others live in this respect in absolute security and without the\nsmallest inconvenience. Though they are almost naked, Francis Correal\ntells us, they expose themselves freely in the woods, armed only\nwith bows and arrows; but no one has ever heard of one of them being\ndevoured by wild beasts.\n\nBut man has other enemies more formidable, against which he is not\nprovided with such means of defence: these are the natural infirmities\nof infancy, old age, and illness of every kind, melancholy proofs of\nour weakness, of which the two first are common to all animals, and\nthe last belongs chiefly to man in a state of society. With regard to\ninfancy, it is observable that the mother, carrying her child always\nwith her, can nurse it with much greater ease than the females of many\nother animals, which are forced to be perpetually going and coming,\nwith great fatigue, one way to find subsistence, and another to suckle\nor feed their young. It is true that if the woman happens to perish,\nthe infant is in great danger of perishing with her; but this risk is\ncommon to many other species of animals, whose young take a long time\nbefore they are able to provide for themselves. And if our infancy is\nlonger than theirs, our lives are longer in proportion; so that all\nthings are in this respect fairly equal; though there are other rules\nto be considered regarding the duration of the first period of life,\nand the number of young, which do not affect the present subject. In\nold age, when men are less active and perspire little, the need for\nfood diminishes with the ability to provide it. As the savage state\nalso protects them from gout and rheumatism, and old age is, of all\nills, that which human aid can least alleviate, they cease to be,\nwithout others perceiving that they are no more, and almost without\nperceiving it themselves.\n\nWith respect to sickness, I shall not repeat the vain and false\ndeclamations which most healthy people pronounce against medicine;\nbut I shall ask if any solid observations have been made from which\nit may be justly concluded that, in the countries where the art of\nmedicine is most neglected, the mean duration of man's life is less\nthan in those where it is most cultivated. How indeed can this be\nthe case, if we bring on ourselves more diseases than medicine can\nfurnish remedies? The great inequality in manner of living, the extreme\nidleness of some, and the excessive labour of others, the easiness\nof exciting and gratifying our sensual appetites, the too exquisite\nfoods of the wealthy which overheat and fill them with indigestion,\nand, on the other hand, the unwholesome food of the poor, often, bad\nas it is, insufficient for their needs, which induces them, when\nopportunity offers, to eat voraciously and overcharge their stomachs;\nall these, together with sitting up late, and excesses of every kind,\nimmoderate transports of every passion, fatigue, mental exhaustion, the\ninnumerable pains and anxieties inseparable from every condition of\nlife, by which the mind of man is incessantly tormented; these are too\nfatal proofs that the greater part of our ills are of our own making,\nand that we might have avoided them nearly all by adhering to that\nsimple, uniform and solitary manner of life which nature prescribed.\nIf she destined man to be healthy, I venture to declare that a state\nof reflection is a state contrary to, nature, and that a thinking man\nis a depraved animal. When we think of the good constitution of the\nsavages, at least of those whom we have not ruined with our spirituous\nliquors, and reflect that they are troubled with hardly any disorders,\nsave wounds and old age, we are tempted to believe that, in following\nthe history of civil society, we shall be telling also that of human\nsickness. Such, at least, was the opinion of Plato, who inferred from\ncertain remedies prescribed, or approved, by Podalirius and Machaon\nat the siege of Troy, that several sicknesses which these remedies\ngave rise to in his time, were not then known to mankind: and Celsus\ntells us that diet, which is now so necessary, was first invented by\nHippocrates.\n\nBeing subject therefore to so few causes of sickness, man, in the state\nof nature, can have no need of remedies, and still less of physicians:\nnor is the human race in this respect worse off than other animals,\nand it is easy to learn from hunters whether they meet with many infirm\nanimals in the course of the chase. It is certain they frequently meet\nwith such as carry the marks of having been considerably wounded, with\nmany that have had bones or even limbs broken, yet have been healed\nwithout any Other surgical assistance than that of time, or any other\nregimen than that of their ordinary life. At the same time their cures\nseem not to have been less perfect, for their not having been tortured\nby incisions, poisoned with drugs, or wasted by fasting. In short,\nhowever useful medicine, properly administered, may be among us, it is\ncertain that, if the savage, when he is sick and left to himself, has\nnothing to hope but from nature, he has, on the other hand, nothing to\nfear but from his disease; which renders his situation often preferable\nto our own.\n\nWe should beware, therefore, of confounding the savage man with the\nmen we have daily before our eyes. Nature treats all the animals left\nto her care with a predilection that seems to show how jealous she\nis of that right. The horse, the cat, the bull, and even the ass are\ngenerally of greater stature, and always more robust, and have more\nvigour, strength and courage, when they run wild in the forests than\nwhen bred in the stall. By becoming domesticated, they lose half these\nadvantages; and it seems as if all our care to feed and treat them well\nserves only to deprave them. It is thus with man also: as he becomes\nsociable and a slave, he grows weak, timid and servile; his effeminate\nway of life totally enervates his strength and courage. To this it may\nbe added that there is still a greater difference between savage and\ncivilised man, than between wild and tame beasts: for men and brutes\nhaving been treated alike by nature, the several conveniences in which\nmen indulge themselves still more than they do their beasts, are so\nmany additional causes of their deeper degeneracy.\n\nIt is not therefore so great a misfortune to these primitive men, nor\nso great an obstacle to their preservation, that they go naked, have no\ndwellings and lack all the superfluities which we think so necessary.\nIf their skins are not covered with hair, they have no need of such\ncovering in warm climates; and, in cold countries, they soon learn\nto appropriate the skins of the beasts they have overcome. If they\nhave but two legs to run with, they have two arms to defend themselves\nwith, and provide for their wants. Their children are slowly and with\ndifficulty taught to walk; but their mothers are able to carry them\nwith ease; advantage which other animals lack, as the mother, if\npursued, is forced either to abandon her young, or to regulate her\npace by theirs. Unless, in short, we suppose a singular and fortuitous\nconcurrence of circumstances of which I shall speak later, and\nwhich would be unlikely to exist, it is plain in every state of the\ncase, that the man who first made himself clothes or a dwelling was\nfurnishing himself with things not at all necessary; for he had till\nthen done without them, and there is no reason why he should not have\nbeen able to put up in manhood with the same kind of life as had been\nhis in infancy.\n\nSolitary, indolent, and perpetually accompanied by danger, the savage\ncannot but be fond of sleep; his sleep too must be light, like that of\nthe animals, which think but little and may be said to slumber all the\ntime they do not think. Self-preservation being his chief and almost\nsole concern, he must exercise most those faculties which are most\nconcerned with attack or defence, either for overcoming his prey, or\nfor preventing him from becoming the prey of other animals. On the\nother hand, those organs which are perfected only by softness and\nsensuality will remain in a gross and imperfect state, incompatible\nwith any sort of delicacy; so that, his senses being divided on this\nhead, his touch and taste will be extremely coarse, his sight, hearing\nand smell exceedingly fine and subtle. Such in general is the animal\ncondition, and such, according to the narratives of travellers, is that\nof most savage nations. It is therefore no matter for surprise that\nthe Hottentots of the Cape of Good Hope distinguish ships at sea, with\nthe naked eye, at as great a distance as the Dutch can do with their\ntelescopes; or that the savages of America should trace the Spaniards,\nby their smell, as well as the best dogs could have done; or that\nthese barbarous peoples feel no pain in going naked, or that they use\nlarge quantities of piemento with their food, and drink the strongest\nEuropean liquors like water.\n\nHitherto I have considered merely the physical man; let us now take a\nview of him on his metaphysical and moral side.\n\nI see nothing in any animal but an ingenious machine, to which nature\nhath given senses to wind itself up, and to guard itself, to a certain\ndegree, against anything that might tend to disorder or destroy it.\nI perceive exactly the same things in the human machine, with this\ndifference, that in the operations of the brute, nature is the sole\nagent, whereas man has some share in his own operations, in his\ncharacter as a free agent. The one chooses and refuses by instinct, the\nother from an act of free-will: hence the brute cannot deviate from the\nrule prescribed to it, even when it would be advantageous for it to do\nso; and, on the contrary, man frequently deviates from such rules to\nhis own prejudice. Thus a pigeon would be starved to death by the side\nof a dish of the choicest meats, and a cat on a heap of fruit or grain;\nthough it is certain that either might find nourishment in the foods\nwhich it thus rejects with disdain, did it think of trying them. Hence\nit is that dissolute men run into excesses which bring on fevers and\ndeath; because the mind depraves the senses, and the will continues to\nspeak when nature is silent.\n\nEvery animal has ideas, since it has senses; it even combines those\nideas in a certain degree; and it is only in degree that man differs,\nin this respect, from the brute. Some philosophers have even maintained\nthat there is a greater difference between one man and another than\nbetween some men and some beasts. It is not, therefore, so much the\nunderstanding that constitutes the specific difference between the man\nand the brute, as the human quality of free-agency. Nature lays her\ncommands on every animal, and the brute obeys her voice. Man receives\nthe same impulsion, but at the same time knows himself at liberty\nto acquiesce or resist: and it is particularly in his consciousness\nof this liberty that the spirituality of his soul is displayed. For\nphysics may explain, in some measure, the mechanism of the senses\nand the formation of ideas; but in the power of willing or rather of\nchoosing, and in the feeling of this power, nothing is to be found but\nacts which are purely spiritual and wholly inexplicable by the laws of\nmechanism.\n\nHowever, even if the difficulties attending all these questions\nshould still leave room for difference in this respect between men and\nbrutes, there is another very specific quality which distinguishes\nthem, and which will admit of no dispute. This is the faculty of\nself-improvement, which, by the help of circumstances, gradually\ndevelops all the rest of our faculties, and is inherent in the species\nas in the individual: whereas a brute is, at the end of a few months,\nall he will ever be during his whole life, and his species, at the\nend of a thousand years, exactly what it was the first year of that\nthousand. Why is man alone liable to grow into a dotard? Is it not\nbecause he returns, in this, to his primitive state; and that, while\nthe brute, which has acquired nothing and has therefore nothing to\nlose, still retains the force of instinct, man, who loses, by age\nor accident, all that his _perfectibility_ had enabled him to gain,\nfalls by this means lower than the brutes themselves? It would be\nmelancholy, were we forced to admit that this distinctive and almost\nunlimited faculty is the source of all human misfortunes; that it is\nthis which, in time, draws man out of his original state, in which\nhe would have spent his days insensibly in peace and innocence; that\nit is this faculty, which, successively producing in different ages\nhis discoveries and his errors, his vices and his virtues, makes him\nat length a tyrant both over himself and over nature.[1] It would be\nshocking to be obliged to regard as a benefactor the man who first\nsuggested to the Oroonoko Indians the use of the boards they apply to\nthe temples of their children, which secure to them some part at least\nof their imbecility and original happiness.\n\nSavage man, left by nature solely to the direction of instinct, or\nrather indemnified for what he may lack by faculties capable at first\nof supplying its place, and afterwards of raising him much above it,\nmust accordingly begin with purely animal functions: thus seeing and\nfeeling must be his first condition, which would be common to him and\nall other animals. To will, and not to will, to desire and to fear,\nmust be the first, and almost the only operations of his soul, till new\ncircumstances occasion new developments of his faculties.\n\nWhatever moralists may hold, the human understanding is greatly\nindebted to the passions, which, it is universally allowed, are also\nmuch indebted to the understanding. It is by the activity of the\npassions that pur reason is improved; for we desire knowledge only\nbecause we wish to enjoy; and it is impossible to conceive any reason\nwhy a person who has neither fears nor desires should give himself the\ntrouble of reasoning. The passions, again, originate in our wants,\nand their progress depends on that of our knowledge; for we cannot\ndesire or fear anything, except from the idea we have of it, or from\nthe simple impulse of nature. Now savage man, being destitute of every\nspecies of intelligence, can have no passions save those of the latter\nkind: his desires never go beyond his physical wants. The only goods\nhe recognises in the universe are food, a female, and sleep: the only\nevils he fears are pain and hunger. I say pain, and not death: for\nno animal can know what it is to die; the knowledge of death and its\nterrors being one of the first acquisitions made by man in departing\nfrom an animal state.\n\nIt would be easy, were it necessary, to support this opinion by facts,\nand to show that, in all the nations of the world, the progress\nof the understanding has been exactly proportionate to the wants\nwhich the peoples had received from nature, or been subjected to by\ncircumstances, and in consequence to the passions that induced them to\nprovide for those necessities. I might instance the arts, rising up in\nEgypt and expanding with the inundation of the Nile. I might follow\ntheir progress into Greece, where they took root afresh, grew up and\ntowered to the skies, among the rocks and sands of Attica, without\nbeing able to germinate on the fertile banks of the Eurotas: I might\nobserve that in general, the people of the North are more industrious\nthan those of the South, because they cannot get on so well without\nbeing so: as if nature wanted to equalise matters by giving their\nunderstandings the fertility she had refused to their soil.\n\nBut who does not see, without recurring to the uncertain testimony\nof history, that everything seems to remove from savage man both the\ntemptation and the means of changing his condition? His imagination\npaints no pictures; his heart makes no demands on him. His few wants\nare so readily supplied, and he is so far from having the knowledge\nwhich is needful to make him want more, that he can have neither\nforesight nor curiosity. The face of nature becomes indifferent to\nhim as it grows familiar. He sees in it always the same order, the\nsame successions: he has not understanding enough to wonder at the\ngreatest miracles; nor is it in his mind that we can expect to find\nthat philosophy man needs, if he is to know how to notice for once what\nhe sees every day. His soul, which nothing disturbs, is wholly wrapped\nup in the feeling of its present existence, without any idea of the\nfuture, however near at hand; while his projects, as limited as his\nviews, hardly extend to the close of day. Such, even at present, is the\nextent of the native Caribean's foresight: he will improvidently sell\nyou his cotton-bed in the morning, and come crying in the evening to\nbuy it again, not having foreseen he would want it again the next night.\n\nThe more we reflect on this subject, the greater appears the distance\nbetween pure sensation and the most simple knowledge: it is impossible\nindeed to conceive how a man, by his own powers alone, without the aid\nof communication and the spur of necessity, could have bridged so great\na gap. How many ages may have elapsed before mankind were in a position\nto behold any other Are than that of the heavens. What a multiplicity\nof chances must have happened to teach them the commonest uses of that\nelement! How often must they have let it out before they acquired the\nart of reproducing it? and how often may not such a secret have died\nwith him who had discovered it? What shall we say of agriculture, an\nart which requires so much labour and foresight, which is so dependent\non others that it is plain it could only be practised in a society\nwhich had at least begun, and which does not serve so much to draw\nthe means of subsistence from the earth--for these it would produce\nof itself--but to compel it to produce what is most to our taste? But\nlet us suppose that men had so multiplied that the natural produce of\nthe earth was no longer sufficient for their support; a supposition,\nby the way, which would prove such a life to be very advantageous for\nthe human race; let us suppose that, without forges or workshops, the\ninstruments of husbandry had dropped from the sky into the hands of\nsavages; that they had overcome their natural aversion to continual\nlabour; that they had learnt so much foresight for their needs; that\nthey had divined how to cultivate the earth, to sow grain and plant\ntrees; that they had discovered the arts of grinding corn, and of\nsetting the grape to ferment--all being things that must have been\ntaught them by the gods, since it is not to be conceived how they\ncould discover them for themselves--yet after all this, what man among\nthem would be so absurd as to take the trouble of cultivating a field,\nwhich might be stripped of its crop by the first comer, man or beast,\nthat might take a liking to it; and how should each of them resolve to\npass his life in wearisome labour, when, the more necessary to him the\nreward of his labour might be, the surer he would be of not getting\nit? In a word, how could such a situation induce men to cultivate the\nearth, till it was regularly parcelled out among them; that is to say,\ntill the state of nature had been abolished?\n\nWere we to suppose savage man as trained in the art of thinking as\nphilosophers make him; were we, like them, to suppose him a very\nphilosopher capable of investigating the sublimest truths, and of\nforming, by highly abstract chains of reasoning, maxims of reason and\njustice, deduced from the love of order in general, or the known will\nof his Creator; in a word, were we to suppose him as intelligent and\nenlightened, as he must have been, and is in fact found to have been,\ndull and stupid, what advantage Would accrue to the species, from all\nsuch metaphysics, which could not be communicated by one to another,\nbut must end with him who made them? What progress could be made by\nmankind, while dispersed in the woods among other animals? and how far\ncould men improve or mutually enlighten one another, when, having no\nfixed habitation, and no need of one another's assistance, the same\npersons hardly met twice in their lives, and perhaps then, without\nknowing one another or speaking together?\n\nLet it be considered how many ideas we owe to the use of speech; how\nfar grammar exercises the understanding and facilitates its operations.\nLet us reflect on the inconceivable pains and the infinite space of\ntime that the first invention of languages must have cost. To these\nreflections add what preceded, and then judge how many thousand ages\nmust have elapsed in the successive development in the human mind of\nthose operations of which it is capable.\n\nI shall here take the liberty for a moment, of considering the\ndifficulties of the origin of languages, on which subject I might\ncontent myself with a simple repetition of the Abb\u00e9 Condillac's\ninvestigations, as they fully confirm my system, and perhaps even\nfirst suggested it. But it is plain, from the manner in which this\nphilosopher solves the difficulties he himself raises, concerning the\norigin of arbitrary signs, that he assumes what I question, viz. that\na kind of society, must already have existed among the first inventors\nof language. While I refer, therefore, to his observations on this\nhead, I think it right to give my own, in order to exhibit the same\ndifficulties in a light adapted to my subject. The first which presents\nitself is to conceive how language can have become necessary; for\nas there was no communication among men and no need for any, we can\nneither conceive the necessity of this invention, nor the possibility\nof it, if it was not somehow indispensable. I might affirm, with many\nothers, that languages arose in the domestic intercourse between\nparents and their children. But this expedient would not obviate the\ndifficulty, and would besides involve the blunder made by those who, in\nreasoning on the state of nature, always import into it ideas gathered\nin a state of society. Thus they constantly consider families as living\ntogether under one roof, and the individuals of each as observing among\nthemselves a union as intimate and permanent as that which exists\namong us, where so many common interests unite them: whereas, in this\nprimitive state, men had neither houses, nor huts, nor any kind of\nproperty whatever; every one lived where he could, seldom for more\nthan a single night; the sexes united without design, as accident,\nopportunity or inclination brought them together, nor had they any\ngreat need of words to communicate their designs to each other; and\nthey parted with the same indifference. The mother gave suck to her\nchildren at first for her own sake; and afterwards, when habit had\nmade them dear, for theirs: but as soon as they were strong enough to\ngo in search of their own food, they forsook her of their own accord;\nand, as they had hardly any other method of not losing one another\nthan that of remaining continually within sight, they soon became quite\nincapable of recognising one another when they happened to meet again.\nIt is farther to be observed that the child, having all his wants to\nexplain, and of course more to say to his mother than the mother could\nhave to say to him, must have borne the brunt of the task of invention,\nand the language he used would be of his own device, so that the number\nof languages would be equal to that of the individuals speaking them,\nand the variety would be increased by the vagabond and roving life they\nled, which would not give time for any idiom to become constant. For to\nsay that the mother dictated to her child the words he was to use in\nasking her for one thing or another, is an explanation of how languages\nalready formed are taught, but by no means explains how languages were\noriginally formed.\n\nWe will suppose, however, that this first difficulty is obviated. Let\nus for a moment then take ourselves as being on this side of the vast\nspace which must lie between a pure state of nature and that in which\nlanguages had become necessary, and, admitting their necessity, let\nus inquire how they could first be established. Here we have a new\nand worse difficulty to grapple with; for if men need speech to learn\nto think, they must have stood in much greater need of the art of\nthinking, to be able to invent that of speaking. And though we might\nconceive how the articulate sounds of the voice came to be taken as\nthe conventional interpreters of our ideas, it would still remain for\nus to inquire what could have been the interpreters of this convention\nfor those ideas, which, answering to no sensible objects, could not be\nindicated either by gesture or voice; so that we can hardly form any\ntolerable conjectures about the origin of this art of communicating our\nthoughts and establishing a correspondence between minds: an art so\nsublime, that far distant as it is from its origin, philosophers still\nbehold it at such an immeasurable distance from perfection, that there\nis none rash enough to affirm it will ever reach it, even though the\nrevolutions time necessarily produces were suspended in its favour,\nthough prejudice should be banished from our academies or condemned\nto silence, and those learned societies should devote themselves\nuninterruptedly for whole ages to this thorny question.\n\nThe first language of mankind, the most universal and vivid, in a\nword the only language man needed, before he had occasion to exert\nhis eloquence to persuade assembled multitudes, was the simple cry of\nnature. But as this was excited only by a sort of instinct on urgent\noccasions, to implore assistance in case of danger, or relief in case\nof suffering, it could be of little use in the ordinary course of life,\nin which more moderate feelings prevail. When the ideas of men began to\nexpand and multiply, and closer communication took place among them,\nthey strove to invent more numerous signs and a more copious language.\nThey multiplied the inflections of the voice, and added gestures,\nwhich are in their own nature more expressive, and depend less for\ntheir meaning on a prior determination. Visible and movable objects\nwere therefore expressed by gestures, and audible ones by imitative\nsounds: but, as hardly anything can be indicated by gestures, except\nobjects actually present or easily described, and visible actions; as\nthey are not universally useful--for darkness or the interposition\nof a material object destroys their efficacy--and as besides they\nrather request than secure our attention; men at length bethought\nthemselves of substituting for them the articulate sounds of the voice,\nwhich, without bearing the same relation to any particular ideas, are\nbetter calculated to express them all, as conventional signs. Such an\ninstitution could only be made by common consent, and must have been\neffected in a manner not very easy for men whose gross organs had not\nbeen accustomed to any such exercise. It is also in itself still more\ndifficult to conceive, since such a common agreement must have had\nmotives, and speech seems to have been highly necessary to establish\nthe use of it.\n\nIt is reasonable to suppose that the words first made use of by mankind\nhad a much more extensive signification than those used in languages\nalready formed, and that ignorant as they were of the division of\ndiscourse into its constituent parts, they at first gave every single\nword the sense of a whole proposition. When they began to distinguish\nsubject and attribute, and noun and verb, which was itself no common\neffort of genius, substantives were at first only so many proper\nnames; the present infinitive was the only tense of verbs; and the very\nidea of adjectives must have been developed with great difficulty; for\nevery adjective is an abstract idea, and abstractions are painful and\nunnatural operations.\n\nEvery object at first received a particular name without regard to\ngenus or species, which these primitive originators were not in a\nposition to distinguish; every individual presented itself to their\nminds in isolation, as they are in the picture of nature. If one oak\nwas called A, another was called B; for the primitive idea of two\nthings is that they are not the same, and it often takes a long time\nfor what they have in common to be seen: so that, the narrower the\nlimits of their knowledge of things, the more copious their dictionary\nmust have been. The difficulty of using such a vocabulary could not\nbe easily removed; for, to arrange beings under common and generic\ndenominations, it became necessary to know their distinguishing\nproperties: the need arose for observation and definition, that is to\nsay, for natural history and metaphysics of a far more developed kind\nthan men can at that time have possessed.\n\nAdd to this, that general ideas cannot be introduced into the mind\nwithout the assistance of words, nor can the understanding seize\nthem except by means of propositions. This is one of the reasons why\nanimals cannot form such ideas, or ever acquire that capacity for\nself-improvement which depends on them. When a monkey goes from one nut\nto another, are we to conceive that he entertains any general idea of\nthat kind of fruit, and compares its archetype with the two individual\nnuts? Assuredly he does not; but the sight of one of these nuts recalls\nto his memory the sensations which he received from the other, and his\neyes, being modified after a certain manner, give information to the\npalate of the modification it is about to receive. Every general idea\nis purely intellectual; if the imagination meddles with it ever so\nlittle, the idea immediately becomes particular. If you endeavour to\ntrace in your mind the image of a tree in general, you never attain to\nyour end. In spite of all you can do, you will have to see it as great\nor little, bare or leafy, light or dark, and were you capable of seeing\nnothing in it but what is common to all trees, it would no longer be\nlike a tree at all. Purely abstract beings are perceivable in the same\nmanner, or are only conceivable by the help of language. The definition\nof a triangle alone gives you a true idea of it: the moment you imagine\na triangle in your mind, it is some particular triangle and not\nanother, and you cannot avoid giving it sensible lines and a coloured\narea. We must then make use of propositions and of language in order to\nform general ideas. For no sooner does the imagination cease to operate\nthan the understanding proceeds only by the help of words. If then the\nfirst inventors of speech could give names only to ideas they already\nhad, it follows that the first substantives could be nothing more than\nproper names.\n\nBut when our new grammarians, by means of which I have no conception,\nbegan to extend their ideas and generalise their terms, the ignorance\nof the inventors must have confined this method within very narrow\nlimits; and, as they had at first gone too far in multiplying the names\nof individuals, from ignorance of their genus and species, they made\nafterwards too few of these, from not having considered beings in all\ntheir specific differences. It would indeed have needed more knowledge\nand experience than they could have, and more pains and inquiry than\nthey would have bestowed, to carry these distinctions to their proper\nlength. If, even to-day, we are continually discovering new species,\nwhich have hitherto escaped observation, let us reflect how many of\nthem must have escaped men who judged things merely from their first\nappearance! It is superfluous to add that the primitive classes and\nthe most general notions must necessarily have escaped their notice\nalso. How, for instance, could they have understood or thought of the\nwords matter, spirit, substance, mode, figure, motion, when even our\nphilosophers, who have so long been making use of them, have themselves\nthe greatest difficulty in understanding them; and when, the ideas\nattached to them being purely metaphysical, there are no models of them\nto be found in nature?\n\nBut I stop at this point, and ask my judges to suspend their reading\na while, to consider, after the invention of physical substantives,\nwhich is the easiest part of language to invent, that there is still a\ngreat way to go, before the thoughts of men will have found perfect\nexpression and constant form, such as would answer the purposes of\npublic speaking, and produce their effect on society. I beg of them to\nconsider how much time must have been spent, and how much knowledge\nneeded, to find out numbers, abstract terms, aorists and all the tenses\nof verbs, particles, syntax, the method of connecting propositions,\nthe forms of reasoning, and all the logic of speech. For myself, I am\nso aghast at the increasing difficulties which present themselves,\nand so well convinced of the almost demonstrable impossibility that\nlanguages should owe their original institution to merely human means,\nthat I leave, to any one who will undertake it, the discussion of\nthe difficult problem, which was most necessary, the existence of\nsociety to the invention of language, or the invention of language\nto the establishment of society. But be the origin of language and\nsociety what they may, it may be at least inferred, from the little\ncare which nature has taken to unite mankind by mutual wants, and to\nfacilitate the use of speech, that she has contributed little to make\nthem sociable, and has put little of her own into all they have done\nto create such bonds of union. It is in fact impossible to conceive\nwhy, in a state of nature, one man should stand more in need of the\nassistance of another, than a monkey or a wolf of the assistance of\nanother of its kind: or, granting that he did, what motives could\ninduce that other to assist him; or, even then, by what means they\ncould agree about the conditions. I know it is incessantly repeated\nthat man would in such a state have been the most miserable of\ncreatures; and indeed, if it be true, as I think I have proved, that\nhe must have lived many ages, before he could have either desire or\nan opportunity of emerging from it, this would only be an accusation\nagainst nature, and not against the being which she had thus unhappily\nconstituted. But as I understand the word _miserable_, it either has\nno meaning at all, or else signifies only a painful privation of\nsomething, or a state of suffering either in body or soul. I should be\nglad to have explained to me, what kind of misery a free being, whose\nheart is at ease and whose body is in health, can possibly suffer. I\nwould ask also, whether a social or a natural life is most likely to\nbecome insupportable to those who enjoy it. We see around us hardly a\ncreature in civil society, who does not lament his existence: we even\nsee many deprive themselves of as much of it as they can, and laws\nhuman and divine together can hardly put a stop to the disorder. I\nask, if it was ever known that a savage took it into his head, when\nat liberty, to complain of life or to make away with himself. Let us\ntherefore judge, with less vanity, on which side the real misery is\nfound. On the other hand, nothing could be more unhappy than savage\nman, dazzled by science, tormented by his passions, and reasoning about\na state different from his own. It appears that Providence most wisely\ndetermined that the faculties, which he potentially possessed, should\ndevelop themselves only as occasion offered to exercise them, in order\nthat they might not be superfluous or perplexing to him, by appearing\nbefore their time, nor slow and useless when the need for them arose.\nIn instinct alone, he had all he required for living in the state of\nnature; and with a developed understanding he has only just enough to\nsupport life in society.\n\nIt appears, at first view, that men in a state of nature, having no\nmoral relations or determinate obligations one with another, could\nnot be either good nor bad, virtuous or vicious; unless we take these\nterms in a physical sense, and call, in an individual, those qualities\nvices which may be injurious to his preservation, and those virtues\nwhich contribute to it; in which case, he would have to be accounted\nmost virtuous, who put least check on the pure impulses of nature.\nBut without deviating from the ordinary sense of the words, it will\nbe proper to suspend the judgment we might be led to form on such a\nstate, and be on our guard against our prejudices, till we have weighed\nthe matter in the scales of impartiality, and seen whether virtues\nor vices preponderate among civilised men; and whether their virtues\ndo them more good than their vices do harm; till we have discovered,\nwhether the progress of the sciences sufficiently indemnifies them for\nthe mischiefs they do one another, in proportion as they are better\ninformed of the good they ought to do; or whether they would not be,\non the whole, in a much happier condition if they had nothing to fear\nor to hope from any one, than as they are, subjected to universal\ndependence, and obliged to take everything from those who engage to\ngive them nothing in return.\n\nAbove all, let us not conclude, with Hobbes, that because man has no\nidea of goodness, he must be naturally wicked; that he is vicious\nbecause he does not know virtue; that he always refuses to do his\nfellow-creatures services which he does not think they have a\nright to demand; or that by virtue of the right he truly claims to\neverything he needs, he foolishly imagines himself the sole proprietor\nof the whole universe. Hobbes had seen clearly the defects of all\nthe modern definitions of natural right: but the consequences which\nhe deduces from his own show that he understands it in an equally\nfalse sense. In reasoning on the principles he lays down, he ought\nto have said that the state of nature, being that in which the care\nfor our own preservation is the least prejudicial to that of others,\nwas consequently the best calculated to promote peace, and the most\nsuitable for mankind. He does say the exact opposite, in consequence\nof having improperly admitted, as a part of savage man's care for\nself-preservation, the gratification of a multitude of passions which\nare the work of society, and have made laws necessary. A bad man, he\nsays, is a robust child. But it remains to be proved whether man in\na state of nature is this robust child: and, should we grant that he\nis, what would he infer? Why truly, that if this man, when robust and\nstrong, were dependent on others as he is when feeble, there is no\nextravagance he would not be guilty of; that he would beat his mother\nwhen she was too slow in giving him her breast; that he would strangle\none of his younger brothers, if he should be troublesome to him, or\nbite the arm of another, if he put him to any inconvenience. But that\nman in the state of nature is both strong and dependent involves two\ncontrary suppositions. Man is weak when he is dependent, and is his\nown master before he comes to be strong. Hobbes did not reflect that\nthe same cause, which prevents a savage from making use of his reason,\nas our jurists hold, prevents him also from abusing his faculties, as\nHobbes himself allows: so that it may be justly said that savages are\nnot bad merely because they do not know what it is to be good: for it\nis neither the development of the understanding nor the restraint\nof law that hinders them from doing ill; but the peacefulness of\ntheir passions, and their ignorance of vice: _tanto plus in illis\nproficit vitiorum ignoratio, quam in his cognitio virtutis_.[2] There\nis another principle which has escaped Hobbes; which, having been\nbestowed on mankind, to moderate, on certain occasions, the impetuosity\nof egoism, or, before its birth, the desire of self-preservation,\ntempers the ardour with which he pursues his own welfare, by an innate\nrepugnance at seeing a fellow-creature suffer.[3] I think I need not\nfear contradiction in holding man to be possessed of the only natural\nvirtue, which could not be denied him by the most violent detractor\nof human virtue. I am speaking of compassion which is a disposition\nsuitable to creatures so weak and subject to so many evils as we\ncertainly are: by so much the more universal and useful to mankind,\nas it comes before any kind of reflection; and at the same time so\nnatural, that the very brutes themselves sometimes give evident proofs\nof it. Not to mention the tenderness of mothers for their offspring and\nthe perils they encounter to save them from danger, it is well known\nthat horses show a reluctance to trample on living bodies. One animal\nnever passes by the dead body of another of its species: there are even\nsome which give their fellows a sort of burial; while the mournful\nlowings of the cattle when they enter the slaughter-house show the\nimpressions made on them by the horrible spectacle which meets them.\nWe find, with pleasure, the author of the Fable of the Bees obliged to\nown that man is a compassionate and sensible being, and laying aside\nhis cold subtlety of style, in the example he gives, to present us with\nthe pathetic description of a man who, from a place of confinement,\nis compelled to behold a wild beast tear a child from the arms of its\nmother, grinding its tender limbs with its murderous teeth, and tearing\nits palpitating entrails with its claws. What horrid agitation must\nnot the eye-witness of such a scene experience, although he would not\nbe personally concerned! What anxiety would he not suffer at not being\nable to give any assistance to the fainting mother and the dying infant!\n\nSuch is the pure emotion of nature, prior to all kinds of reflection!\nSuch is the force of natural compassion, which the greatest depravity\nof morals has as yet hardly been able to destroy! for we daily find\nat our theatres men affected, nay shedding tears at the sufferings of\na wretch who, were he in the tyrant's place, would probably even add\nto the torments of his enemies; like the bloodthirsty Sulla, who was\nso sensitive to ills he had not caused, or that Alexander of Pheros\nwho did not dare to go and see any tragedy acted, for fear of being\nseen weeping with Andromache and Priam, though he could listen without\nemotion to the cries of all the citizens who were daily strangled at\nhis command.\n\n\n                   _Mollissima corda_\n    _Humano generi dare se natura fatetur,_\n    _Qua lacrimas dedit._\n                     Juvenal, Satire xv, 151.[4]\n\n\n\nMandeville well knew that, in spite of all their morality, men would\nhave never been better than monsters, had not nature bestowed on them\na sense of compassion, to aid their reason: but he did not see that\nfrom this quality alone flow all those social virtues, of which he\ndenied man the possession. But what is generosity, clemency or humanity\nbut compassion applied to the weak, to the guilty, or to mankind in\ngeneral? Even benevolence and friendship are, if we judge rightly, only\nthe effects of compassion, constantly set upon a particular object: for\nhow is it different to wish that another person may not suffer pain\nand uneasiness and to wish him happy? Were it even true that pity is\nno more than a feeling, which puts us in the place of the sufferer,\na feeling, obscure yet lively in a savage, developed yet feeble in\ncivilised man; this truth would have no other consequence than to\nconfirm my argument. Compassion must, in fact, be the stronger, the\nmore the animal beholding any kind of distress identifies himself with\nthe animal that suffers. Now, it is plain that such identification\nmust have been much more perfect in a state of nature than it is in\na state of reason. It is reason that engenders self-respect, and\nreflection that confirms it: it is reason which turns man's mind back\nupon itself, and divides him from everything that could disturb or\nafflict him. It is philosophy that isolates him, and bids him say, at\nsight of the misfortunes of others: \"Perish if you will, I am secure.\"\nNothing but such general evils as threaten the whole community can\ndisturb the tranquil sleep of the philosopher, or tear him from his\nbed. A murder may with impunity be committed under his window; he has\nonly to put his hands to his ears and argue a little with himself, to\nprevent nature, which is shocked within him, from identifying itself\nwith the unfortunate sufferer. Uncivilised man has not this admirable\ntalent; and for want of reason and wisdom, is always foolishly ready to\nobey the first promptings of humanity. It is the populace that flocks\ntogether at riots and street-brawls, while the wise man prudently makes\noff. It is the mob and the market-women, who part the combatants, and\nhinder gentle-folks from cutting one another's throats.\n\nIt is then certain that compassion is a natural feeling which, by\nmoderating the violence of love of self in each individual, contributes\nto the preservation of the whole species. It is this compassion that\nhurries us without reflection to the relief of those who are in\ndistress: it is this which in a state of nature supplies the place of\nlaws, morals and virtues, with the advantage that none are tempted to\ndisobey its gentle voice: it is this which will always prevent a sturdy\nsavage from robbing a weak child or a feeble old man of the sustenance\nthey may have with pain and difficulty acquired, if he sees a\npossibility of providing for himself by other means: it is this which,\ninstead of inculcating that sublime maxim of rational justice, _Do to\nothers as you would have them do unto you,_ inspires all men with that\nother maxim of natural goodness, much less perfect indeed, but perhaps\nmore useful; _Do good to yourself with as little evil as possible to\nothers._ In a word, it is rather in this natural feeling than in any\nsubtle arguments that we must look for the cause of that repugnance,\nwhich every man would experience in doing evil, even independently of\nthe maxims of education. Although it might belong to Socrates and other\nminds of the like craft to acquire virtue by reason, the human race\nwould long since have ceased to be, had its preservation depended only\non the reasonings of the individuals composing it.\n\nWith passions so little active, and so good a curb, men, being rather\nwild than wicked, and more intent to guard themselves against the\nmischief that might be done them, than to do mischief to others, were\nby no means subject to very perilous dissensions. They maintained no\nkind of intercourse with one another, and were consequently strangers\nto vanity, deference, esteem and contempt; they had not the least\nidea of _meum_ and _tuum_, and no true conception of justice; they\nlooked upon every violence to which they were subjected, rather as an\ninjury that might easily be repaired than as a crime that ought to be\npunished; and they never thought of taking revenge, unless perhaps\nmechanically and on the spot, as a dog will sometimes bite the stone\nwhich is thrown at him. Their quarrels therefore would seldom have\nvery bloody consequences; for the subject of them would be merely the\nquestion of subsistence. But I am aware of one greater danger, which\nremains to be noticed.\n\nOf the passions that stir the heart of man, there is one which\nmakes the sexes necessary to each other, and is extremely ardent\nand impetuous; a terrible passion that braves danger, surmounts all\nobstacles, and in its transports seems calculated to bring destruction\non the human race which it is really destined to preserve. What must\nbecome of men who are left to this brutal and boundless rage, without\nmodesty, without shame, and daily upholding their amours at the price\nof their blood?\n\nIt must, in the first place, be allowed that, the more violent the\npassions are, the more are laws necessary to keep them under restraint.\nBut, setting aside the inadequacy of laws to effect this purpose, which\nis evident from the crimes and disorders to which these passions daily\ngive rise among us, we should do well to inquire if these evils did not\nspring up with the laws themselves; for in this case, even if the laws\nwere capable of repressing such evils, it is the least that could be\nexpected from them, that they should check a mischief which would not\nhave arisen without them.\n\nLet us begin by distinguishing between the physical and moral\ningredients in the feeling of love. The physical part of love is that\ngeneral desire which urges the sexes to union with each other. The\nmoral part is that which determines and fixes this desire exclusively\nupon one particular object; or at least gives it a greater degree of\nenergy toward the object thus preferred. It is easy to see that the\nmoral part of love is a factitious feeling, born of social usage, and\nenhanced by the women with much care and cleverness, to establish their\nempire, and put in power the sex which ought to obey. This feeling,\nbeing founded on certain ideas of beauty and merit which a savage is\nnot in a position to acquire, and on comparisons which he is incapable\nof making, must be for him almost non-existent; for, as his mind\ncannot form abstract ideas of proportion and regularity, so his heart\nis not susceptible of the feelings of love and admiration, which are\neven insensibly produced by the application of these ideas. He follows\nsolely the character nature has implanted in him, and not tastes which\nhe could never have acquired; so that every woman equally answers his\npurpose.\n\nMen in a state of nature being confined merely to what is physical in\nlove, and fortunate enough to be ignorant of those excellences, which\nwhet the appetite while they increase the difficulty of gratifying\nit, must be subject to fewer and less violent fits of passion,\nand consequently fall into fewer and less violent disputes. The\nimagination, which causes such ravages among us, never speaks to the\nheart of savages, who quietly await the impulses of nature, yield to\nthem involuntarily, with more pleasure than ardour, and, their wants\nonce satisfied, lose the desire. It is therefore incontestable that\nlove, as well as all other passions, must have acquired in society\nthat glowing impetuosity, which makes it so often fatal to mankind.\nAnd it is the more absurd to represent savages as continually cutting\none another's throats to indulge their brutality, because this opinion\nis directly contrary to experience; the Caribeans, who have as yet\nleast of all deviated from the state of nature, being in fact the most\npeaceable of people in their amours, and the least subject to jealousy,\nthough they live in a hot climate which seems always to inflame the\npassions.\n\nWith regard to the inferences that might be drawn, in the case of\nseveral species of animals, the males of which fill our poultry-yards\nwith blood and slaughter, or in spring make the forests resound with\ntheir quarrels over their females; we must begin by excluding all those\nspecies, in which nature has plainly established, in the comparative\npower of the sexes, relations different from those which exist among\nus: thus we can base no conclusion about men on the habits of fighting\ncocks. In those species where the proportion is better observed, these\nbattles must be entirely due to the scarcity of females in comparison\nwith males; or, what amounts to the same thing, to the intervals during\nwhich the female constantly refuses the advances of the male: for if\neach female admits the male but during two months in the year, it\nis the same as if the number of females were five-sixths less. Now,\nneither of these two cases is applicable to the human species, in\nwhich the number of females usually exceeds that of males, and among\nwhom it has never been observed, even among savages, that the females\nhave, like those of other animals, their stated times of passion and\nindifference. Moreover, in several of these species, the individuals\nall take fire at once, and there comes a fearful moment of universal\npassion, tumult and disorder among them; a scene which is never beheld\nin the human species, whose love is not thus seasonal. We must not\nthen conclude from the combats of such animals for the enjoyment of\nthe females, that the case would be the same with mankind in a state\nof nature: and, even if we drew such a conclusion, we see that such\ncontests do not exterminate other kinds of animals, and we have no\nreason to think they would be more fatal to ours. It is indeed clear\nthat they would do still less mischief than is the case in a state of\nsociety; especially in those countries in which, morals being still\nheld in some repute, the jealousy of lovers and the vengeance of\nhusbands are the daily cause of duels, murders, and even worse crimes;\nwhere the obligation of eternal fidelity only occasions adultery, and\nthe very laws of honour and continence necessarily increase debauchery\nand lead to the multiplication of abortions.\n\nLet us conclude then that man in a state of nature, wandering up\nand down the forests, without industry, without speech, and without\nhome, an equal stranger to war and to all ties, neither standing in\nneed of his fellow-creatures nor having any desire to hurt them, and\nperhaps even not distinguishing them one from another; let us conclude\nthat, being self-sufficient and subject to so few passions, he could\nhave no feelings or knowledge but such as befitted his situation;\nthat he felt only his actual necessities, and disregarded everything\nhe did not think himself immediately concerned to notice, and that\nhis understanding made no greater progress than his vanity. If by\naccident he made any discovery, he was the less able to communicate\nit to others, as he did not know even his own children. Every art\nwould necessarily perish with its inventor, where there was no kind of\neducation among men, and generations succeeded generations without the\nleast advance; when, all setting out from the same point, centuries\nmust have elapsed in the barbarism of the first ages; when the race was\nalready old, and man remained a child.\n\nIf I have expatiated at such length on this supposed primitive state,\nit is because I had so many ancient errors and inveterate prejudices\nto eradicate, and therefore thought it incumbent on me to dig down to\ntheir very root, and show, by means of a true picture of the state\nof nature, how far even the natural inequalities of mankind are from\nhaving that reality and influence which modern writers suppose.\n\nIt is in fact easy to see that many of the differences which\ndistinguish men are merely the effect of habit and the different\nmethods of life men adopt in society. Thus a robust or delicate\nconstitution, and the strength or weakness attaching to it, are more\nfrequently the effects of a hardy or effeminate method of education\nthan of the original endowment of the body. It is the same with the\npowers of the mind; for education not only makes a difference between\nsuch as are cultured and such as are not, but even increases the\ndifferences which exist among the former, in proportion to their\nrespective degrees of culture: as the distance between a giant and\na dwarf on the same road increases with every step they take. If we\ncompare the prodigious diversity, which obtains in the education and\nmanner of life of the various orders of men in the state of society,\nwith the uniformity and simplicity of animal and savage life, in\nwhich every one lives on the same kind of food and in exactly the\nsame manner, and does exactly the same things, it is easy to conceive\nhow much less the difference between man and man must be in a state\nof nature than in a state of society, and how greatly the natural\ninequality of mankind must be increased by the inequalities of social\ninstitutions.\n\nBut even if nature really affected, in the distribution of her gifts,\nthat partiality which is imputed to her, what advantage would the\ngreatest of her favourites derive from it, to the detriment of others,\nin a state that admits of hardly any kind of relation between them?\nWhere there is no love, of what advantage is beauty? Of what use is wit\nto those who do not converse, or cunning to those who have no business\nwith others? I hear it constantly repeated that, in such a state, the\nstrong would oppress the weak; but what is here meant by oppression?\nSome, it is said, would violently domineer over others, who would\ngroan under a servile submission to their caprices. This indeed is\nexactly what I observe to be the case among us; but I do not see how\nit can be inferred of men in a state of nature, who could not easily\nbe brought to conceive what we mean by dominion and servitude. One\nman, it is true, might seize the fruits which another had gathered,\nthe game he had killed, or the cave he had chosen for shelter; but how\nwould he ever be able to exact obedience, and what ties of dependence\ncould there be among men without possessions? If, for instance, I am\ndriven from one tree, I can go to the next; if I am disturbed in one\nplace, what hinders me from going to another? Again, should I happen to\nmeet with a man so much stronger than myself, and at the same time so\ndepraved, so indolent, and so barbarous, as to compel me to provide for\nhis sustenance while he himself remains idle; he must take care not to\nhave his eyes off me for a single moment; he must bind me fast before\nhe goes to sleep, or I shall certainly either knock him on the head\nor make my escape. That is to say, he must in such a case voluntarily\nexpose himself to much greater trouble than he seeks to avoid, or can\ngive me. After all this, let him be off his guard ever so little;\nlet him but turn his head aside at any sudden noise, and I shall be\ninstantly twenty paces off, lost in the forest, and, my fetters burst\nasunder, he would never see me again.\n\nWithout my expatiating thus uselessly on these details, every one\nmust see that as the bonds of servitude are formed merely by the\nmutual dependence of men on one another and the reciprocal needs that\nunite them, it is impossible to make any man a slave, unless he be\nfirst reduced to a situation in which he cannot do without the help\nof others: and, since such a situation does not exist in a state of\nnature, every one is there his own master, and the law of the strongest\nis of no effect.\n\nHaving proved that the inequality of mankind is hardly felt, and that\nits influence is next to nothing in a state of nature, I must next\nshow its origin and trace its progress in the successive developments\nof the human mind. Having shown that human _perfectibility_, the\nsocial virtues, and the other faculties which natural man potentially\npossessed, could never develop of themselves, but must require the\nfortuitous concurrence of many foreign causes that might never arise,\nand without which he would have remained for ever in his primitive\ncondition, I must now collect and consider the different accidents\nwhich may have improved the human understanding while depraving the\nspecies, and made man wicked while making him sociable; so as to bring\nhim and the world from that distant period to the point at which we now\nbehold them.\n\nI confess that, as the events I am going to describe might have\nhappened in various ways, I have nothing to determine my choice but\nconjectures: but such conjectures become reasons, when they are the\nmost probable that can be drawn from the nature of things, and the only\nmeans of discovering the truth. The consequences, however, which I mean\nto deduce will not be barely conjectural; as, on the principles just\nlaid down, it would be impossible to form any other theory that would\nnot furnish the same results, and from which I could not draw the same\nconclusions.\n\nThis will be a sufficient apology for my not dwelling on the manner in\nwhich the lapse of time compensates for the little probability in the\nevents; on the surprising power of trivial causes, when their action is\nconstant; on the impossibility, on the one hand, of destroying certain\nhypotheses, though on the other we cannot give them the certainty of\nknown matters of fact; on its being within the province of history,\nwhen two facts are given as real, and have to be connected by a series\nof intermediate facts, which are unknown or supposed to be so, to\nsupply such facts as may connect them; and on its being in the province\nof philosophy when history is silent, to determine similar facts to\nserve the same end; and lastly, on the influence of similarity, which,\nin the case of events, reduces the facts to a much smaller number of\ndifferent classes than is commonly imagined. It is enough for me to\noffer these hints to the consideration of my judges, and to have so\narranged that the general reader has no need to consider them at all.\n\n\n[1] See Appendix.\n\n[2] Justin. Hist, ii, 2. So much more does the ignorance of vice profit\nthe one sort than the knowledge of virtue the other.\n\n[3] Egoism must not be confused with self-respect: for they differ both\nin themselves and in their effects. Self-respect is a natural feeling\nwhich leads every animal to look to its own preservation, and which,\nguided in man by reason and modified by compassion, creates humanity\nand virtue. Egoism is a purely relative and factitious feeling, which\narises in the state of society, leads each individual to make more of\nhimself than of any other, causes all the mutual damage men inflict one\non another, and is the real source of the \"sense of honour.\" This being\nunderstood, I maintain that, in our primitive condition, in the true\nstate of nature, egoism did not exist; for as each man regarded himself\nas the only observer of his actions, the only being in the universe who\ntook any interest in him, and the sole judge of his deserts, no feeling\narising from comparisons he could not be led to make could take root\nin his soul; and for the same reason, he could know neither hatred nor\nthe desire for revenge, since these passions can spring only from a\nsense of injury: and as it is the contempt or the intention to hurt,\nand not the harm done, which constitutes the injury, men who neither\nvalued nor compared themselves could do one another much violence, when\nit suited them, without feeling any sense of injury. In a word, each\nman, regarding his fellows almost as he regarded animals of different\nspecies, might seize the prey of a weaker or yield up his own to a\nstronger, and yet consider these acts of violence as mere natural\noccurrences, without the slightest emotion of insolence or despite, or\nany other feeling than the joy or grief of success or failure.\n\n[4] Nature avows she gave the human race the softest hearts, who gave <\nthem tears.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND PART\n\n\nThe first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself\nof saying _This is mine_, and found people simple enough to believe\nhim, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, wars\nand murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes might not any one\nhave saved mankind, by pulling up the stakes, or filling up the ditch,\nand crying to his fellows, \"Beware of listening to this impostor; you\nare undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth, belong to\nus all, and the earth itself to nobody.\" But there is great probability\nthat things had then already come to such a pitch, that they could no\nlonger continue as they were; for the idea of property depends on many\nprior ideas, which could only be acquired successively, and cannot have\nbeen formed all at once in the human mind.\n\nMankind must have made very considerable progress, and acquired\nconsiderable knowledge and industry which they must also have\ntransmitted and increased from age to age, before they arrived at this\nlast point of the state of nature. Let us then go farther back and\nendeavour to unify under a single point of view that slow succession of\nevents and discoveries in the most natural order.\n\nMan's first feeling was that of his own existence, and his first care\nthat of self-preservation. The produce of the earth furnished him\nwith all he needed, and instinct told him how to use it. Hunger and\nother appetites made him at various times experience various modes of\nexistence; and among these was one which urged him to propagate his\nspecies--a blind propensity that, having nothing to do with the heart,\nproduced a merely animal act. The want once gratified, the two sexes\nknew each other no more; and even the offspring was nothing to its\nmother, as soon as it could do without her.\n\nSuch was the condition of infant man; the life of an animal limited\nat first to mere sensations, and hardly profiting by the gifts nature\nbestowed on him, much less capable of entertaining a thought of forcing\nanything from her. But difficulties soon presented themselves, and\nit became necessary to learn how to surmount them: the height of the\ntrees, which prevented him from gathering their fruits, the competition\nof other animals desirous of the same fruits, and the ferocity of those\nwho needed them for their own preservation, all obliged him to apply\nhimself to bodily exercises. He had to be active, swift of foot, and\nvigorous in light. Natural weapons, stones and sticks, were easily\nfound: he learnt to surmount the obstacles of nature, to contend in\ncase of necessity with other animals, and to dispute for the means of\nsubsistence even with other men, or to indemnify himself for what he\nwas forced to give up to a stronger.\n\nIn proportion as the human race grew more numerous, men's cares\nincreased. The difference of soils, climates and seasons, must have\nintroduced some differences into their manner of living. Barren years,\nlong and sharp winters, scorching summers which parched the fruits of\nthe earth, must have demanded a new industry. On the sea-shore and the\nbanks of rivers, they invented the hook and line, and became fishermen\nand eaters of fish. In the forests they made bows and arrows, and\nbecame huntsmen and warriors. In cold countries they clothed themselves\nwith the skins of the beasts they had slain. The lightning, a volcano,\nor some lucky chance acquainted them with fire, a new resource against\nthe rigours of winter: they next learned how to preserve this element,\nthen how to reproduce it, and finally how to prepare with it the flesh\nof animals which before they had eaten raw.\n\nThis repeated relevance of various beings to himself, and one to\nanother, would naturally give rise in the human mind to the perceptions\nof certain relations between them. Thus the relations which we denote\nby the terms, great, small, strong, weak, swift, slow, fearful, bold,\nand the like, almost insensibly compared at need, must have at length\nproduced in him a kind of reflection, or rather a mechanical prudence,\nwhich would indicate to him the precautions most necessary to his\nsecurity.\n\nThe new intelligence which resulted from this development increased his\nsuperiority over other animals, by making him sensible of it. He would\nnow endeavour, therefore, to ensnare them, would play them a thousand\ntricks, and though many of them might surpass him in swiftness or in\nstrength, would in time become the master of some and the scourge of\nothers. Thus, the first time he looked into himself, he felt the first\nemotion of pride; and, at a time when he scarce knew how to distinguish\nthe different orders of beings, by looking upon his species as of the\nhighest order, he prepared the way for assuming pre-eminence as an\nindividual.\n\nOther men, it is true, were not then to him what they now are to us,\nand he had no greater intercourse with them than with other animals;\nyet they were not neglected in his observations. The conformities,\nwhich he would in time discover between them, and between himself and\nhis female, led him to judge of others which were not then perceptible;\nand finding that they all behaved as he himself would have done in like\ncircumstances, he naturally inferred that their manner of thinking\nand acting was altogether in conformity with his own. This important\ntruth, once deeply impressed on his mind, must have induced him, from\nan intuitive feeling more certain and much more rapid than any kind of\nreasoning, to pursue the rules of conduct, which he had best observe\ntowards them, for his own security and advantage.\n\nTaught by experience that the love of well-being is the sole motive of\nhuman actions, he found himself in a position to distinguish the few\ncases, in which mutual interest might justify him in relying upon the\nassistance of his fellows; and also the still fewer cases in which a\nconflict of interests might give cause to suspect them. In the former\ncase, he joined in the same herd with them, or at most in some kind of\nloose association, that laid no restraint on its members, and lasted no\nlonger than the transitory occasion that formed it. In the latter case,\nevery one sought his own private advantage, either by open force, if he\nthought himself strong enough, or by address and cunning, if he felt\nhimself the weaker.\n\nIn this manner, men may have insensibly acquired some gross ideas of\nmutual undertakings, and of the advantages of fulfilling them: that\nis, just so far as their present and apparent interest was concerned:\nfor they were perfect strangers to foresight, and were so far from\ntroubling themselves about the distant future, that they hardly thought\nof the morrow. If a deer was to be taken, every one saw that, in\norder to succeed, he must abide faithfully by his post: but if a hare\nhappened to come within the reach of any one of them, it is not to be\ndoubted that he pursued it without scruple, and, having seized his\nprey, cared very little, if by so doing he caused his companions to\nmiss theirs.\n\nIt is easy to understand that such intercourse would not require a\nlanguage much more refined than that of rooks or monkeys, who associate\ntogether for much the same, purpose. Inarticulate cries, plenty of\ngestures and some imitative sounds, must have been for a long time the\nuniversal language; and by the addition, in every country, of some\nconventional articulate sounds (of which, as I have already intimated,\nthe first institution is not too easy to explain) particular languages\nwere produced; but these were rude and imperfect, and nearly such as\nnow to be found among some savage nations.\n\nHurried on by the rapidity of time, by the abundance of things I have\nto say, and by the almost insensible progress of things in their\nbeginnings, I pass over in an instant a multitude of ages; for the\nslower the events were in their succession, the more rapidly may they\nbe described.\n\nThese first advances enabled men to make others with greater rapidity.\nIn proportion as they grew enlightened, they grew industrious. They\nceased to fall asleep under the first tree, or in the first cave that\nafforded them shelter; they invented several kinds of implements of\nhard and sharp stones, which they used to dig up the earth, and to\ncut wood; they then made huts out of branches, and afterwards learnt\nto plaster them over with mud and clay. This was the epoch of a\nfirst revolution, which established and distinguished families, and\nintroduced a kind of property, in itself the source of a thousand\nquarrels and conflicts. As, however, the strongest were probably the\nfirst to build themselves huts which they felt themselves able to\ndefend, it may be concluded that the weak found it much easier and\nsafer to imitate, than to attempt to dislodge them: and of those\nwho were once provided with huts, none could have any inducement to\nappropriate that of his neighbour; not indeed so much because it did\nnot belong to him, as because it could be of no use, and he could not\nmake himself master of it without exposing himself to a desperate\nbattle with the family which occupied it.\n\nThe first expansions of the human heart were the effects of a novel\nsituation, which united husbands and wives, fathers and children, under\none roof. The habit of living together soon gave rise to the finest\nfeelings known to humanity, conjugal love and paternal affection. Every\nfamily became a little society, the more united because liberty--and\nreciprocal attachment were the only bonds of its union. The sexes,\nwhose manner of life had been hitherto the same, began now to adopt\ndifferent ways of living. The women became more sedentary, and\naccustomed themselves to mind the hut and their children, while the\nmen went abroad in search of their common subsistence. From living a\nsofter life, both sexes also began to lose something of their strength\nand ferocity: but, if individuals became to some extent less able to\nencounter wild beasts separately, they found it, on the other hand,\neasier to assemble and resist in common.\n\nThe simplicity and solitude of man's life in this new condition, the\npaucity of his wants, and the implements he had invented to satisfy\nthem, left him a great deal of leisure, which he employed to furnish\nhimself with many conveniences unknown to his fathers: and this was the\nfirst yoke he inadvertently imposed on himself, and the first source\nof the evils he prepared for his descendants. For, besides continuing\nthus to enervate both body and mind, these conveniences lost with use\nalmost all their power to please, and even degenerated into real needs,\ntill the want of them became far more disagreeable than the possession\nof them had been pleasant. Men would have been unhappy at the loss of\nthem, though the possession did not make them happy.\n\nWe can here see a little better how the use of speech became\nestablished, and insensibly improved in each family, and we may form\na conjecture also concerning the manner in which various causes may\nhave extended and accelerated the progress of language, by making it\nmore and more necessary. Floods or earthquakes surrounded inhabited\ndistricts with precipices or waters: revolutions of the globe tore off\nportions from the continent, and made them islands. It is readily seen\nthat among men thus collected and compelled to live together, a common\nidiom must have arisen much more easily than among those who still\nwandered through the forests of the continent. Thus it is very possible\nthat after their first essays in navigation the islanders brought over\nthe use of speech to the continent: and it is at least very probable\nthat communities and languages were first established in islands, and\neven came to perfection there before they were known on the mainland.\n\nEverything now begins to change its aspect. Men, who have up to now\nbeen roving in the woods, by taking to a more settled manner of life,\ncome gradually together, form separate bodies, and at length in every\ncountry arises a distinct nation, united in character and manners,\nnot by regulations or laws, but by uniformity of life and food, and\nthe common influence of climate. Permanent neighbourhood could not\nfail to produce, in time, some connection between different families.\nAmong young people of opposite sexes, living in neighbouring huts,\nthe transient commerce required by nature soon led, through mutual\nintercourse, to another kind not less agreeable, and more permanent.\nMen began now to take the difference between objects into account,\nand to make comparisons; they acquired imperceptibly the ideas of\nbeauty and merit, which soon gave rise to feelings of preference. In\nconsequence of seeing each other often, they could not do without\nseeing each other constantly. A tender and pleasant feeling insinuated\nitself into their souls, and the least opposition turned it into an\nimpetuous fury: with love arose jealousy; discord triumphed, and human\nblood was sacrificed to the gentlest of all passions.\n\nAs ideas and feelings succeeded one another, and heart and head\nwere brought into play, men continued to lay aside their original\nwildness; their private connections became every day more intimate\nas their limits extended. They accustomed themselves to assemble\nbefore their huts round a large tree; singing and dancing, the true\noffspring of love and leisure, became the amusement, or rather the\noccupation, of men and women thus assembled together with nothing\nelse to do. Each one began to consider the rest, and to wish to be\nconsidered in turn; and thus a--value came to be attached to public\nesteem. Whoever sang or danced best, whoever was the handsomest, the\nstrongest, the most dexterous, or the most eloquent, came to be of\nmost consideration; and this was the first step towards inequality,\nand at the same time towards vice. From these first distinctions arose\non the one side vanity and contempt and on the other shame and envy:\nand the fermentation caused by these new leavens ended by producing\ncombinations fatal to innocence and happiness.\n\nAs soon as men began to value one another, and the idea of\nconsideration had got a footing in the mind, every one put in his claim\nto it, and it became impossible to refuse it to any with impunity.\nHence arose the first obligations of civility even among savages; and\nevery intended injury became an affront; because, besides the hurt\nwhich might result from it, the party injured was certain to find in it\na contempt for his person, which was often more insupportable than the\nhurt itself.\n\nThus, as every man punished the contempt shown him by others, in\nproportion to his opinion of himself, revenge became terrible, and men\nbloody and cruel. This is precisely the state reached by most of the\nsavage nations known to us: and it is for want of having made a proper\ndistinction in our ideas, and seen how very far they already are from\nthe state of nature, that so many writers have hastily concluded that\nman is naturally cruel, and requires civil institutions to make him\nmore mild; whereas nothing is more gentle than man in his primitive\nstate, as he is placed by nature at an equal distance from the\nstupidity of brutes, and the fatal ingenuity of civilised man. Equally\nconfined by instinct and reason to the sole care of guarding himself\nagainst the mischiefs which threaten him, he is restrained by natural\ncompassion from doing any injury to others, and is not led to do such a\nthing even in return for injuries received. For, according to the axiom\nof the wise Locke, _There can be no injury, where there is no property_.\n\nBut it must be remarked that the society thus formed, and the relations\nthus established among men, required of them qualities different from\nthose which they possessed from their primitive constitution. Morality\nbegan to appear in human actions, and every one, before the institution\nof law, was the only judge and avenger of the injuries done him, so\nthat the goodness which was suitable in the pure state of nature was\nno longer proper in the new-born state of society. Punishments had\nto be made more severe, as opportunities of offending became more\nfrequent, and the dread of vengeance had to take the place of the\nrigour of the law. Thus, though men had become less patient, and their\nnatural compassion had already suffered some diminution, this period\nof expansion of the human faculties, keeping a just mean between the\nindolence of the primitive state and the petulant activity of our\negoism, must have been the happiest and most stable of epochs. The\nmore we reflect on it, the more we shall find that this state was the\nleast subject to revolutions, and altogether the very best man could\nexperience; so that he can have departed from it only through some\nfatal accident, which, for the public good, should never have happened.\nThe example of savages, most of whom have been found in this state,\nseems to prove that men were meant to remain in it, that it is the\nreal youth of the world, and that all subsequent advances have been\napparently so many steps towards the perfection of the individual, but\nin reality towards the decrepitude of the species.\n\nSo long as men remained content with their rustic huts, so long as\nthey were satisfied with clothes made of the skins of animals and sewn\ntogether with thorns and fish-bones, adorned themselves only with\nfeathers and shells, and continued to paint their bodies different\ncolours, to improve and beautify their bows and arrows and to make\nwith sharp-edged stones fishing boats or clumsy musical instruments;\nin a word, so long as they undertook only what a single person could\naccomplish, and confined themselves to such arts as did not require the\njoint labour of several hands, they lived free, healthy, honest and\nhappy lives, so long as their nature allowed, and as they continued to\nenjoy the pleasures of mutual and independent intercourse. But from\nthe moment one man began to stand in need of the help of another; from\nthe moment it appeared advantageous to any one man to have enough\nprovisions for two, equality disappeared, property was introduced, work\nbecame indispensable, and vast forests became smiling fields, which man\nhad to water with the sweat of his brow, and where slavery and misery\nwere soon seen to germinate and grow up with the crops.\n\nMetallurgy and agriculture were the two arts which produced this great\nrevolution. The poets tell us it was gold and silver, but, for the\nphilosophers, it was iron and corn, which first civilised men, and\nruined humanity. Thus both were unknown to the savages of America, who\nfor that reason are still savage; the other nations also seem to have\ncontinued in a state of barbarism while they practised only one of\nthese arts. One of the best reasons, perhaps, why Europe has been, if\nnot longer, at least more constantly and highly civilised than the rest\nof the world, is that it is at once the most abundant in iron and the\nmost fertile in corn.\n\nIt is difficult to conjecture how men first came to know and use iron;\nfor it is impossible to suppose they would of themselves think of\ndigging the ore out of the mine, and preparing it for smelting, before\nthey knew what would be the result. On the other hand, we have the less\nreason to suppose this discovery the effect of any accidental fire, as\nmines are only formed in barren places, bare of trees and plants; so\nthat it looks as if nature had taken pains to keep the fatal secret\nfrom us. There remains, therefore, only the extraordinary accident\nof some volcano which, by ejecting metallic substances already in\nfusion, suggested to the spectators the idea of imitating the natural\noperation. And we must further conceive them as possessed of uncommon\ncourage and foresight, to undertake so laborious a work, with so\ndistant a prospect of drawing advantage from it; yet these qualities\nare united only in minds more advanced than we can suppose those of\nthese first discoverers to have been.\n\nWith regard to agriculture, the principles of it were known long before\nthey were put in practice; and it is indeed hardly possible that men,\nconstantly employed in drawing their subsistence from plants and trees,\nshould not readily acquire a knowledge of the means made use of by\nnature for the propagation of vegetables. It was in all probability\nvery fang, however, before their industry took that turn, either\nbecause trees, which together with hunting and fishing afforded them\nfood, did not require their attention; or because they were ignorant of\nthe use of corn, or without instruments to cultivate it; or because\nthey lacked foresight to future needs; or lastly, because they were\nwithout means of preventing others from robbing them of the fruit of\ntheir labour.\n\nWhen they grew more industrious, it is natural to believe that they\nbegan, with the help of sharp stones and pointed sticks, to cultivate\na few vegetables or roots around their huts; though it was long before\nthey knew how to prepare corn, or were provided with the implements\nnecessary for raising it in any large quantity; not to mention how\nessential it is, for husbandry, to consent to immediate loss, in order\nto reap a future gain--a precaution very foreign to the turn of a\nsavage's mind; for, as I have said, he hardly foresees in the morning\nwhat he will need at night.\n\nThe invention of the other arts must therefore have been necessary\nto compel mankind to apply themselves to agriculture. No sooner were\nartificers wanted to smelt and forge iron, than others were required\nto maintain them; the more hands that were employed in manufactures,\nthe fewer were left to provide for the common subsistence, though\nthe number of mouths to be furnished with food remained the same:\nand as some required commodities in exchange for their iron, the\nrest at length discovered the method of making iron serve for the\nmultiplication of commodities. By this means the arts of husbandry and\nagriculture were established on the one hand, and the art of working\nmetals and multiplying their uses on the other.\n\nThe cultivation of the earth necessarily brought about its\ndistribution; and property, once recognised, gave rise to the first\nrules of justice; for, to secure each man his own, it had to be\npossible for each to have something. Besides, as men began to look\nforward to the future, and all had something to lose, every one\nhad reason to apprehend that reprisals would follow any injury he\nmight do to another. This origin is so much the more natural, as it\nis impossible to conceive how property can come from anything but\nmanual labour: for what else can a man add to things which he does\nnot originally create, so as to make them his own property? It is the\nhusbandman's labour alone that, giving him a title to the produce of\nthe ground he has tilled, gives him a claim also to the land itself,\nat least till harvest; and so, from year to year, a constant possession\nwhich is easily transformed into property. When the ancients, says\nGrotius, gave to Ceres the title of Legislatrix, and to a festival\ncelebrated in her honour the name of Thesmophoria, they meant by that\nthat the distribution of lands had produced a new kind of right: that\nis to say, the right of property, which is different from the right\ndeducible from the law of nature.\n\nIn this state of affairs, equality might have been sustained, had the\ntalents of individuals been equal, and had, for example, the use of\niron and the consumption of commodities always exactly balanced each\nother; but, as there was nothing to preserve this balance, it was\nsoon disturbed; the strongest did most work; the most skilful turned\nhis labour to best account; the most ingenious devised methods of\ndiminishing his labour: the husbandman wanted more iron, or the smith\nmore corn, and, while both laboured equally, the one gained a great\ndeal by his work, while the other could hardly support himself. Thus\nnatural inequality unfolds itself insensibly with that of combination,\nand the difference between men, developed by their different\ncircumstances, becomes more sensible and permanent in its effects, and\nbegins to have an influence, in the same proportion, over the lot of\nindividuals.\n\nMatters once at this pitch, it is easy to imagine the rest. I shall not\ndetain the reader with a description of the successive invention of\nother arts, the development of language, the trial and utilisation of\ntalents, the inequality of fortunes, the use and abuse of riches, and\nall the details connected with them which the reader can easily supply\nfor himself. I shall confine myself to a glance at mankind in this new\nsituation.\n\nBehold then all human faculties developed, memory and imagination in\nfull play, egoism interested, reason active, and the mind almost at the\nhighest point of its perfection. Behold all the natural qualities in\naction, the rank and condition of every man assigned him; not merely\nhis share of property and his power to serve or injure others, but\nalso his wit, beauty, strength or skill, merit or talents: and these\nbeing the only qualities capable of commanding respect, it soon became\nnecessary to possess or to affect them.\n\nIt now became the interest of men to appear what they really were\nnot. To be and to seem became two totally different things; and from\nthis distinction sprang insolent pomp and cheating trickery, with all\nthe numerous vices that go in their train. On the other hand, free\nand independent as men were before, they were now, in consequence of\na multiplicity of new wants, brought into subjection, as it were,\nto all nature, and particularly to one another; and each became in\nsome degree a slave even in becoming the master of other men: if\nrich, they stood in need of the services of others; if poor, of their\nassistance; and even a middle condition did not enable them to do\nwithout one another. Man must now, therefore, have been perpetually\nemployed in getting others to interest themselves in his lot, and in\nmaking them, apparently at least, if not really, find their advantage\nin promoting his own. Thus he must have been sly and artful in his\nbehaviour to some, and imperious and cruel to others; being under a\nkind of necessity to ill-use all the persons of whom he stood in need,\nwhen he could not frighten them into compliance, and did not judge it\nhis interest to be useful to them. Insatiable ambition, the thirst of\nraising their respective fortunes, not so much from real want as from\nthe desire to surpass others, inspired all men with a vile propensity\nto injure one another, and with a secret jealousy, which is the more\ndangerous, as it puts on the mask of benevolence, to carry its point\nwith greater security. In a word, there arose rivalry and competition\non the one hand, and conflicting interests on the other, together with\na secret desire on both of profiting at the expense of others. All\nthese evils were the first effects of property, and the inseparable\nattendants of growing inequality.\n\nBefore the invention of signs to represent riches, wealth could hardly\nconsist in anything but lands and cattle, the only real possessions\nmen can have. But, when inheritances so increased in number and extent\nas to occupy the whole of the land, and to border on one another, one\nman could aggrandise himself only at the expense of another; at the\nsame time the supernumeraries, who had been too weak or too indolent to\nmake such acquisitions, and had grown poor without sustaining any loss,\nbecause, while they saw everything change around them, they remained\nstill the same, were obliged to receive their subsistence, or steal\nit, from the rich; and this soon bred, according to their different\ncharacters, dominion and slavery, or violence and rapine. The wealthy,\non their part, had no sooner begun to taste the pleasure of command,\nthan they disdained all others, and, using their old slaves to acquire\nnew, thought of nothing but subduing and enslaving their neighbours;\nlike ravenous wolves, which, having once tasted human flesh, despise\nevery other food and thenceforth seek only men to devour.\n\nThus, as the most powerful or the most miserable considered their might\nor misery as a kind of right to the possessions of others, equivalent,\nin their opinion, to that of property, the destruction of equality\nwas attended by the most terrible disorders. Usurpations by the rich,\nrobbery by the poor, and the unbridled passions of both, suppressed\nthe cries of natural compassion and the still feeble voice of justice,\nand filled men with avarice, ambition and vice. Between the title of\nthe strongest and that of the first occupier, there arose perpetual\nconflicts, which never ended but in battles and bloodshed. The new-born\nstate of society thus gave rise to a horrible state of war; men thus\nharassed and depraved were no longer capable of retracing their steps\nor renouncing the fatal acquisitions they had made, but, labouring by\nthe abuse of the faculties which do them honour, merely to their own\nconfusion, brought themselves to the brink of ruin.\n\n_Attonitus novitate mali, divesque miserque,_\n_Effugere optat opes; et qu\u00e6 mod\u00f4 voverat odit._[5]\n\nIt is impossible that men should not at length have reflected on so\nwretched a situation, and on the calamities that overwhelmed them.\nThe rich, in particular, must have felt how much they suffered by a\nconstant state of war, of which they bore all the expense; and in\nwhich, though all risked their lives, they alone risked their property.\nBesides, however speciously they might disguise their usurpations,\nthey knew that they were founded on precarious and false titles; so\nthat, if others took from them by force what they themselves had\ngained by force, they would have no reason to complain. Even those\nwho had been enriched by their own industry, could hardly base their\nproprietorship on better claims. It was in vain to repeat, \"I built\nthis well; I gained this spot by my industry.\" Who gave you your\nstanding, it might be answered, and what right have you to demand\npayment of us for doing what we never asked you to do? Do you not\nknow that numbers of your fellow-creatures are starving, for want\nof what you have too much of? You ought to have had the express and\nuniversal consent of mankind, before appropriating more of the common\nsubsistence than you needed for your own maintenance. Destitute of\nvalid reasons to justify and sufficient strength to defend himself,\nable to crush individuals with ease, but easily crushed himself by a\ntroop of bandits, one against all, and incapable, on account of mutual\njealousy, of joining with his equals against numerous enemies united\nby the common hope of plunder, the rich man, thus urged by necessity,\nconceived at length the profoundest plan that ever entered the mind of\nman: this was to employ in his favour the forces of those who attacked\nhim, to make allies of his adversaries, to inspire them with different\nmaxims, and to give them other institutions as favourable to himself as\nthe law of nature was unfavourable.\n\nWith this view, after having represented to his neighbours the horror\nof a situation which armed every man against the rest, and made their\npossessions as burdensome to them as their wants, and in which no\nsafety could be expected either in riches or in poverty, he readily\ndevised plausible arguments to make them close with his design. \"Let\nus join,\" said he, \"to guard the weak from oppression, to restrain the\nambitious, and secure to every man the possession of what belongs to\nhim: let us institute rules of justice and peace, to which all without\nexception may be obliged to conform; rules that may in some measure\nmake amends for the caprices of fortune, by subjecting equally the\npowerful and the weak to the observance of reciprocal obligations.\nLet us, in a word, instead of turning our forces against ourselves,\ncollect them in a supreme power which may govern us by wise laws,\nprotect and defend all the members of the association, repulse their\ncommon enemies, and maintain eternal harmony among us.\"\n\nFar fewer words to this purpose would have been enough to impose on\nmen so barbarous and easily seduced; especially as they had too many\ndisputes among themselves to do without arbitrators, and too much\nambition and avarice to go long without masters. All ran headlong to\ntheir chains, in hopes of securing their liberty; for they had just wit\nenough to perceive the advantages of political institutions, without\nexperience enough to enable them to foresee the dangers. The most\ncapable of fore-seeing the dangers were the very persons who expected\nto benefit by them; and even the most prudent judged it not inexpedient\nto sacrifice one part of their freedom to ensure the rest; as a wounded\nman has his arm cut off to save the rest of his body.\n\nSuch was, or may well have been, the origin of society and law, which\nbound new fetters on the poor, and gave new powers to the rich; which\nirretrievably destroyed natural liberty, eternally fixed the law of\nproperty and inequality, converted clever usurpation into unalterable\nright, and, for the advantage of a few ambitious individuals, subjected\nall mankind to perpetual labour, slavery and wretchedness. It is easy\nto see how the establishment of one community made that of all the\nrest necessary, and how, in order to make head against united forces,\nthe rest of mankind had to unite in turn. Societies soon multiplied\nand spread over the face of the earth, till hardly a corner of the\nworld was left in which a man could escape the yoke, and withdraw\nhis head from beneath the sword which he saw perpetually hanging\nover him by a thread. Civil right having thus become the common rule\namong the members of each community, the law of nature maintained its\nplace only between different communities, where, under the name of\nthe right of nations, it was qualified by certain tacit conventions,\nin order to make commerce practicable, and serve as a substitute for\nnatural compassion, which lost, when applied to societies, almost\nall the influence it had over individuals, and survived no longer\nexcept in some great cosmopolitan spirits, who, breaking down the\nimaginary barriers that separate different peoples, follow the example\nof our Sovereign Creator, and include the whole human race in their\nbenevolence.\n\nBut bodies politic, remaining thus in a state of nature among\nthemselves, presently experienced the inconveniences which had obliged\nindividuals to forsake it; for this state became still more fatal\nto these great bodies than it had been to the individuals of whom\nthey were composed. Hence arose national wars, battles, murders, and\nreprisals, which shock nature and outrage reason; together with all\nthose horrible prejudices which class among the virtues the honour\nof shedding human blood. The most distinguished men hence learned to\nconsider cutting each other's throats a duty; at length men massacred\ntheir fellow-creatures by thousands without so much as knowing why, and\ncommitted more murders in a single day's fighting, and more violent\noutrages in the sack of a single town, than were committed in the state\nof nature during whole ages over the whole earth. Such were the first\neffects which we can see to have followed the division of mankind into\ndifferent communities. But let us return to their institutions.\n\nI know that some writers have given other explanations of the origin\nof political societies, such as the conquest of the powerful, or the\nassociation of the weak. It is, indeed, indifferent to my argument\nwhich of these causes we choose. That which I have just laid down,\nhowever, appears to me the most natural for the following reasons.\nFirst: because, in the first case, the right of conquest, being no\nright, in itself, could not serve as a foundation on which to build any\nother; the victor and the vanquished people still remained with respect\nto each other in the state of war, unless the vanquished, restored to\nthe full possession of their liberty, voluntarily made choice of the\nvictor for their chief. For till then, whatever capitulation may have\nbeen made being founded on violence, and therefore _ipso facto_ void,\nthere could not have been on this hypothesis either a real society or\nbody politic, or any law other than that of the strongest. Secondly:\nbecause the words _strong_ and _weak_ are, in the second case,\nambiguous; for during the interval between the establishment of a right\nof property, or prior occupancy, and that of political government,\nthe meaning of these words is better expressed by the terms _rich_ and\n_poor_: because, in fact, before the institution of laws, men had no\nother way of reducing their equals to submission, than by attacking\ntheir goods, or making some of their own over to them. Thirdly:\nbecause, as the poor had nothing but their freedom to lose, it would\nhave been in the highest degree absurd for them to resign voluntarily\nthe only good they still enjoyed, without getting anything in exchange:\nwhereas the rich having feelings, if I may so express myself, in\nevery part of their possessions, it was much easier to harm them, and\ntherefore more necessary for them to take precautions against it; and,\nin short, because it is more reasonable to suppose a thing to have been\ninvented by those to whom it would be of service, than by those whom it\nmust have harmed.\n\nGovernment had, in its infancy, no regular and constant form. The want\nof experience and philosophy prevented men from seeing any but present\ninconveniences, and they thought of providing against others only as\nthey presented themselves. In spite of the endeavours of the wisest\nlegislators, the political state remained imperfect, because it was\nlittle more than the work of chance; and, as it had begun ill, though\ntime revealed its defects and suggested remedies, the original faults\nwere never repaired. It was continually being patched up, when the\nfirst task should have been to get the site cleared and all the old\nmaterials removed, as was done by Lycurgus at Sparta, if a stable and\nlasting edifice was to be erected. Society consisted at first merely of\na few general conventions, which every member bound himself to observe;\nand for the performance of covenants the whole body went security to\neach individual. Experience only could show the weakness of such a\nconstitution, and how easily it might be infringed with impunity, from\nthe difficulty of convicting men of faults, where the public alone\nwas to be witness and judge: the laws could not but be eluded in many\nways; disorders and inconveniences could not but multiply continually,\ntill it became necessary to commit the dangerous trust of public\nauthority to private persons, and the care of enforcing obedience to\nthe deliberations of the people to the magistrate. For to say that\nchiefs were chosen before the confederacy was formed, and that the\nadministrators of the laws were there before the laws themselves, is\ntoo absurd a supposition to consider seriously.\n\nIt would be as unreasonable to suppose that men at first threw\nthemselves irretrievably and unconditionally into the arms of an\nabsolute master, and that the first expedient which proud and\nunsubdued men hit upon for their common security was to run headlong\ninto slavery. For what reason, in fact, did they take to themselves\nsuperiors, if it was not in order that they might be defended from\noppression, and have protection for their lives, liberties and\nproperties, which are, so to speak, the constituent elements of their\nbeing? Now, in the relations between man and man, the worst that can\nhappen is for one to find himself at the mercy of another, and it would\nhave been inconsistent with common-sense to begin by bestowing on a\nchief the only things they wanted his help to preserve. What equivalent\ncould he offer them for so great a right? And if he had presumed to\nexact it under pretext of defending them, would he not have received\nthe answer recorded in the fable: \"What more can the enemy do to us?\"\nIt is therefore beyond dispute, and indeed the fundamental maxim of\nall political right, that people have set up chiefs to protect their\nliberty, and not to enslave them. _If we have a prince_, said Pliny to\nTrajan, _it is to save ourselves from having a master_.\n\nPoliticians indulge in the same sophistry about the love of liberty\nas philosophers about the state of nature. They judge, by what they\nsee, of very different things, which they have not seen; and attribute\nto man a natural propensity to servitude, because the slaves within\ntheir observation are seen to bear the yoke with patience; they fail\nto reflect that it is with liberty as with innocence and virtue; the\nvalue is known only to those who possess them, and the taste for them\nis forfeited when they are forfeited themselves. \"I know the charms of\nyour country,\" said Brasidas to a Satrap, who was comparing the life at\nSparta with that at Persepolis, \"but you cannot know the pleasures of\nmine.\"\n\nAn unbroken horse erects his mane, paws the ground and starts back\nimpetuously at the sight of the bridle; while one which is properly\ntrained suffers patiently even whip and spur: so savage man will not\nbend his neck to the yoke to which civilised man submits without a\nmurmur, but prefers the most turbulent state of liberty to the most\npeaceful slavery. We cannot therefore, from the servility of nations\nalready enslaved, judge of the natural disposition of mankind for\nor against slavery; we should go by the prodigious efforts of every\nfree people to save itself from oppression. I know that the former\nare for ever holding forth in praise of the tranquillity they enjoy\nin their chains, and that they call a state of wretched servitude a\nstate of peace: _miserrimam servitutem pacem appellant_.[6] But when\nI observe the latter sacrificing pleasure, peace, wealth, power and\nlife itself to the preservation of that one treasure, which is so\ndisdained by those who have lost it; when I see free-born animals\ndash their brains out against the bars of their cage, from an innate\nimpatience of captivity; when I behold numbers of naked savages, that\ndespise European pleasures, braving hunger, fire, the sword and death,\nto preserve nothing but their independence, I feel that it is not for\nslaves to argue about liberty.\n\nWith regard to paternal authority, from which some writers have derived\nabsolute government and all society, it is enough, without going back\nto the contrary arguments of Locke and Sidney, to remark that nothing\non earth can be further from the ferocious spirit of despotism than the\nmildness of that authority which looks more to the advantage of him who\nobeys than to that of him who commands; that, by the law of nature, the\nfather is the child's master no longer than his help is necessary; that\nfrom that time they are both equal, the son being perfectly independent\nof the father, and owing him only respect and not obedience. For\ngratitude is a duty which ought to be paid, but not a right to be\nexacted: instead of saying that civil society is derived from paternal\nauthority, we ought to say rather that the latter derives its principal\nforce from the former. No individual was ever acknowledged as the\nfather of many, till his sons and daughters remained settled around\nhim. The goods of the father, of which he is really the master, are\nthe ties which keep his children in dependence, and he may bestow on\nthem, if he pleases, no share of his property, unless they merit it by\nconstant deference to his will. But the subjects of an arbitrary despot\nare so far from having the like favour to expect from their chief,\nthat they themselves and everything they possess are his property, or\nat least are considered by him as such; so that they are forced to\nreceive, as a favour, the little of their own he is pleased to leave\nthem. When he despoils them, he does but justice, and mercy in that he\npermits them to live.\n\nBy proceeding thus to test fact by right, we should discover as little\nreason as truth in the voluntary establishment of tyranny. It would\nalso be no easy matter to prove the validity of a contract binding on\nonly one of the parties, where all the risk is on one side, and none on\nthe other; so that no one could suffer but he who bound himself. This\nhateful system is indeed, even in modern times, very far from being\nthat of wise and good monarchs, and especially of the kings of France;\nas may be seen from several passages in their edicts; particularly from\nthe following passage in a celebrated edict published in 1667 in the\nname and by order of Louis XIV.\n\n\"Let it not, therefore, be said that the Sovereign is not subject\nto the laws of his State; since the contrary is a true proposition\nof the right of nations, which flattery has sometimes attacked but\ngood princes have always defended as the tutelary divinity of their\ndominions. How much more legitimate is it to say with the wise Plato,\nthat the perfect felicity of a kingdom consists in the obedience of\nsubjects to their prince, and of the prince to the laws, and in the\nlaws being just and constantly directed to the public good!\"[7]\n\nI shall not stay here to inquire whether, as liberty is the noblest\nfaculty of man, it is not degrading our very nature, reducing ourselves\nto the level of the brutes, which are mere slaves of instinct, and even\nan affront to the Author of our being, to renounce without reserve\nthe most precious of all His gifts, and to bow to the necessity\nof committing all the crimes He has forbidden, merely to gratify a\nmad or a cruel master; or if this sublime craftsman ought not to be\nless angered at seeing His workmanship entirely destroyed than thus\ndishonoured. I will waive (if my opponents please) the authority of\nBarbeyrac, who, following Locke, roundly declares that no man can so\nfar sell his liberty as to submit to an arbitrary power which may\nuse him as it likes. _For_, he adds, _this would be to sell his own\nlife, of which he is not master_. I shall ask only what right those\nwho were not afraid thus to debase themselves could have to subject\ntheir posterity to the same ignominy, and to renounce for them those\nblessings which they do not owe to the liberality of their progenitors,\nand without which life itself must be a burden to all who are worthy of\nit.\n\nPuffendorf says that we may divest ourselves of our liberty in favour\nof other men, just as we transfer our property from one to another by\ncontracts and agreements. But this seems a very weak argument. For in\nthe first place, the property I alienate becomes quite foreign to me,\nnor can I suffer from the abuse of it; but it very nearly concerns me\nthat my liberty should not be abused, and I cannot without incurring\nthe guilt of the crimes I may be compelled to commit, expose myself\nto become an instrument of crime. Besides, the right of property\nbeing only a convention of human institution, men may dispose of\nwhat they possess as they please: but this is not the case with the\nessential gifts of nature, such as life and liberty, which every man is\npermitted to enjoy, and of which it is at least doubtful whether any\nhave a right to divest themselves. By giving up the one, we degrade\nour being; by giving up the other, we do our best to annul it; and,\nas no temporal good can indemnify us for the loss of either, it would\nbe an offence against both reason and nature to renounce them at any\nprice whatsoever. But, even if we could transfer our liberty, as we\ndo our property, there would be a great difference with regard to the\nchildren, who enjoy the father's substance only by the transmission of\nhis right; whereas, liberty being a gift which they hold from nature\nas being men, their parents have no right whatever to deprive them of\nit. As then, to establish slavery, it was necessary to do violence to\nnature, so, in order to perpetuate such a right, nature would have to\nbe changed. Jurists, who have gravely determined that the child of a\nslave comes into the world a slave, have decided, in other words, that\na man shall come into the world not a man.\n\nI regard it then as certain, that government did not begin with\narbitrary power, but that this is the depravation, the extreme term,\nof government, and brings it back, finally, to just the law of the\nstrongest, which it was originally designed to remedy. Supposing,\nhowever, it had begun in this manner, such power, being in itself\nillegitimate, could not have served as a basis for the laws of society,\nnor, consequently, for the inequality they instituted.\n\nWithout entering at present upon the investigations which still remain\nto be made into the nature of the fundamental compact underlying\nall government, I content myself with adopting the common opinion\nconcerning it, and regard the establishment of the political body as\na real contract between the people and the chiefs chosen by them: a\ncontract by which both parties bind themselves to observe the laws\ntherein expressed, which form the ties of their union. The people\nhaving in respect of their social relations concentrated all their\nwills in one, the several articles, concerning which this will is\nexplained, become so many fundamental laws, obligatory on all the\nmembers of the State without exception, and one of these articles\nregulates the choice and power of the magistrates appointed to watch\nover the execution of the rest. This power extends to everything which\nmay maintain the constitution, without going so far as to alter it.\nIt is accompanied by honours, in order to bring the laws and their\nadministrators into respect. The ministers are also distinguished by\npersonal prerogatives, in order to recompense them for the cares and\nlabour which good administration involves. The magistrate, on his side,\nbinds himself to use the power he is entrusted with only in conformity\nwith the intention of his constituents, to maintain them all in the\npeaceable possession of what belongs to them, and to prefer on every\noccasion the public interest to his own.\n\nBefore experience had shown, or knowledge of the human heart enabled\nmen to foresee, the unavoidable abuses of such a constitution, it must\nhave appeared so much the more excellent, as those who were charged\nwith the care of its preservation had themselves most interest in it;\nfor magistracy and the rights attaching to it being based solely on\nthe fundamental laws, the magistrates would cease to be legitimate as\nsoon as these ceased to exist; the people would no longer owe them\nobedience; and as not the magistrates, but the laws, are essential to\nthe being of a State, the members of it would regain the right to their\nnatural liberty.\n\nIf we reflect with ever so little attention on this subject, we shall\nfind new arguments to confirm this truth, and be convinced from the\nvery nature of the contract that it cannot be irrevocable: for, if\nthere were no superior power capable of ensuring the fidelity of the\ncontracting parties, or compelling them to perform their reciprocal\nengagements, the parties would be sole judges in their own cause, and\neach would always have a right to renounce the contract, as soon as he\nfound that the other had violated its terms, or that they no longer\nsuited his convenience. It is upon this principle that the right of\nabdication may possibly be founded. Now, if, as here, we consider\nonly what is human in this institution, it is certain that, if the\nmagistrate, who has all the power in his own hands, and appropriates\nto himself all the advantages of the contract, has none the less a\nright to renounce his authority, the people, who suffer for all the\nfaults of their chief, must have a much better right to renounce their\ndependence. But the terrible and innumerable quarrels and disorders\nthat would necessarily arise from so dangerous a privilege, show,\nmore than anything else, how much human governments stood in need of\na more solid basis than mere reason, and how expedient it was for the\npublic tranquillity that the divine will should interpose to invest the\nsovereign authority with a sacred and inviolable character, which might\ndeprive subjects of the fatal right of disposing of it. If the world\nhad received no other advantages from religion, this would be enough to\nimpose on men the duty of adopting and cultivating it, abuses and all,\nsince it has been the means of saving more blood than fanaticism has\never spilt. But let us follow the thread of our hypothesis.\n\nThe different forms of government owe their origin to the differing\ndegrees of inequality which existed between individuals at the time\nof their institution. If there happened to be any one man among them\npre-eminent in power, virtue, riches or personal influence, he became\nsole magistrate, and the State assumed the form of monarchy. If\nseveral, nearly equal in point of eminence, stood above the rest, they\nwere elected jointly, and formed an aristocracy. Again, among a people\nwho had deviated less from a state of nature, and between whose fortune\nor talents there was less disproportion, the supreme administration was\nretained in common, and a democracy was formed. It was discovered in\nprocess of time which of these forms suited men the best. Some peoples\nremained altogether subject to the laws; others soon came to obey their\nmagistrates. The citizens laboured to preserve their liberty; the\nsubjects, irritated at seeing others enjoying a blessing they had lost,\nthought only of making slaves of their neighbours. In a word, on the\none side arose riches and conquests, and on the other happiness and I\nvirtue.\n\nIn these different governments, all the offices were at first elective;\nand when the influence of wealth was out of the question, the\npreference was given to merit, which gives a natural ascendancy, and\nto age, which is experienced in business and deliberate in council.\nThe Elders of the Hebrews, the Gerontes at Sparta, the Senate at Rome,\nand the very etymology of our word Seigneur, show how old age was once\nheld in veneration. But the more often the choice fell upon old men,\nthe more often elections had to be repeated, and the more they became\na nuisance; intrigues set in, factions were formed, party feeling\ngrew--bitter, civil wars broke out; the lives of individuals were\nsacrificed to the pretended happiness of the State; and at length men\nwere on the point of relapsing into their primitive anarchy. Ambitious\nchiefs profited by these circumstances to perpetuate their offices\nin their own families: at the same time the people, already used to\ndependence, ease, and the conveniences of life, and already incapable\nof breaking its fetters, agreed to an increase of its slavery, in order\nto secure its tranquillity. Thus magistrates, having become hereditary,\ncontracted the habit of considering their offices as a family estate,\nand themselves as proprietors of the communities of which they were at\nfirst only the officers, of regarding their fellow-citizens as their\nslaves, and numbering them, like cattle, among their belongings, and of\ncalling themselves the equals of the gods and longs of kings.\n\nIf we follow the progress of inequality in these various revolutions,\nwe shall find that the establishment of laws and of the right of\nproperty was its first term, the institution of magistracy the second,\nand the conversion of legitimate into arbitrary power the third and\nlast; so that the condition of rich and poor was authorised by the\nfirst period; that of powerful and weak by the second; and only by the\nthird that of master and slave, which is the last degree of inequality,\nand the term at which all the rest remain, when they have got so far,\ntill the government is either entirely dissolved by new revolutions, or\nbrought back again to legitimacy.\n\nTo understand this progress as necessary we must consider not so much\nthe motives for the establishment of the body politic, as the forms\nit assumes in actuality, and the faults that necessarily attend it:\nfor the flaws which make social institutions necessary are the same\nas make the abuse of them unavoidable. If we except Sparta, where\nthe laws were mainly concerned with the education of children, and\nwhere Lycurgus established such morality as practically made laws\nneedless--for laws as a rule, being weaker than the passions, restrain\nmen without altering them--it would not be difficult to prove that\nevery government, which scrupulously complied with the ends for which\nit was instituted, and guarded carefully against change and corruption,\nwas set up unnecessarily. For a country, in which no one either evaded\nthe laws or made a bad use of magisterial power, could require neither\nlaws nor magistrates.\n\nPolitical distinctions necessarily produce civil distinctions. The\ngrowing equality between the chiefs and the people is soon felt by\nindividuals, and modified in a thousand ways according to passions,\ntalents and circumstances. The magistrate could not usurp any\nillegitimate power, without giving distinction to the creatures with\nwhom he must share it. Besides, individuals only allow themselves\nto be oppressed so far as they are hurried on by blind ambition,\nand, looking rather below than above them, come to love authority\nmore than independence, and submit to slavery, that they may in turn\nenslave others. It is no easy matter to reduce to obedience a man\nwho has no ambition to command; nor would the most adroit politician\nfind it possible to enslave a people whose only desire was to be\nindependent. But inequality easily makes its way among cowardly and\nambitious minds, which are ever ready to run the risks of fortune, and\nalmost indifferent whether they command or obey, as it is favourable\nor adverse. Thus, there must have been; a time, when the eyes of the\npeople were so fascinated, that their rulers had only to say to the\nleast of men, \"Be great, you and all your posterity,\" to make him\nimmediately appear great in the eyes of every one as well as in his\nown. His descendants took still more upon them, in proportion to their\ndistance from him; the more obscure; and uncertain the cause, the\ngreater the effect: the greater--the number of idlers one could count\nin a family, the more illustrious it was held to be.\n\nIf this were the place to go into details, I could readily explain\nhow, even without the intervention of government, inequality of\ncredit and authority became unavoidable among private persons, as\nsoon as their union in a single society made them compare themselves\none with another, and take into account the differences which they\nfound out from the continual intercourse every man had to have with\nhis neighbours.[8] These differences are of several kinds; but\nriches, nobility or rank, power and personal merit being the principal\ndistinctions by which men form an estimate of each other in society,\nI could prove that the harmony or conflict of these different forces\nis the surest indication of the good or bad constitution of a State.\nI could show that among these four kinds of inequality, personal\nqualities being the origin of all the others, wealth is the one to\nwhich they are all reduced in the end; for, as riches tend most\nimmediately to the prosperity of individuals, and are easiest to\ncommunicate, they are used to purchase every other distinction. By this\nobservation we are enabled to judge pretty exactly how far a people\nhas departed from its primitive constitution, and of its progress\ntowards the extreme term of corruption. I could explain how much\nthis universal desire for reputation, honours and advancement, which\ninflames us all, exercises and holds up to comparison our faculties and\npowers; how it excites and multiplies our passions, and, by creating\nuniversal competition and rivalry, or rather enmity, among men,\noccasions numberless failures, successes and disturbances of all kinds\nby making so many aspirants run the same course. I could show that it\nis to this desire of being talked about, and this unremitting rage of\ndistinguishing ourselves, that we owe the best and the worst things we\npossess, both our virtues and our vices, our science and our errors,\nour conquerors and our philosophers; that is to say, a great many bad\nthings, and a very few good ones. In a word, I could prove that, if\nwe have a few rich and powerful men on the pinnacle of fortune and\ngrandeur, while the crowd grovels in want and obscurity, it is because\nthe former prize what they enjoy only in so far as others are destitute\nof it; and because, without changing their condition, they would cease\nto be happy the moment the people ceased to be wretched.\n\nThese details alone, however, would furnish matter for a considerable\nwork, in which the advantages and disadvantages of every kind of\ngovernment might be weighed, as they are related to man in the state\nof nature, and at the same time all the different aspects, under which\ninequality has up to the present appeared, or may appear in ages yet\nto come, according to the nature of the several governments, and the\nalterations which time must unavoidably occasion in them, might be\ndemonstrated. We should then see the multitude oppressed from within,\nin consequence of the very precautions it had taken to guard against\nforeign tyranny. We should see oppression continually gain ground\nwithout it being possible for the oppressed to know where it would\nstop, or what legitimate means was left them of checking its progress.\nWe should see the rights of citizens, and the freedom of nations\nslowly extinguished, and the complaints, protests and appeals of the\nweak treated as seditious murmurings. We should see the honour of\ndefending the common cause confined by statecraft to a mercenary part\nof the people. We should see taxes made necessary by such means, and\nthe disheartened husbandman deserting his fields even in the midst of\npeace, and leaving the plough to gird on the sword. We should see fatal\nand capricious codes of honour established; and the champions of their\ncountry sooner or later becoming its enemies, and for ever holding\ntheir daggers to the breasts of their fellow-citizens. The time would\ncome when they would be heard saying to the oppressor of their country--\n\n    _Pectore si fratris gladium juguloque parentis_\n    _Condere me jubeas, gravid\u00e6que in viscera partu_\n    _Conjugis, invit\u00e2 peragam tamen omnia dextr\u00e2._\n                                       Lucan. i, 376.\n\nFrom great inequality of fortunes and conditions, from the vast variety\nof passions and of talents, of useless and pernicious arts, of vain\nsciences, would arise a multitude of prejudices equally contrary to\nreason, happiness and virtue. We should see the magistrates fomenting\neverything that might weaken men united in society, by promoting\ndissension among them; everything that might sow in it the seeds of\nactual division, while it gave society the air of harmony; everything\nthat might inspire the different ranks of people with mutual hatred and\ndistrust, by setting the rights and interests of one against those of\nanother, and so strengthen the power which comprehended them all.\n\nIt is from the midst of this disorder and these revolutions, that\ndespotism, gradually raising up its hideous head and devouring\neverything that remained sound and untainted in any part of the State,\nwould at length trample on both the laws and the people, and establish\nitself on the ruins of the republic. The times which immediately\npreceded this last change would be times of trouble and calamity; but\nat length the monster would swallow up everything, and the people would\nno longer have either chiefs or laws, but only tyrants. From this\nmoment there would be no question of virtue or morality; for despotism\n_cui ex honesto nulla est spes_, wherever it prevails, admits no other\nmaster; it no sooner speaks than probity and duty lose their weight and\nblind obedience is the only virtue which slaves can still practise.\n\nThis is the last term of inequality, the extreme points that closes\nthe circle, and meets that from which we set out. Here all private\npersons return to their first equality, because they are nothing; and,\nsubjects having no law but the will of their master, and their master\nno restraint but his passions, all notions of good and all principles\nof equity again vanish. There is here a complete return to the law of\nthe strongest, and so to a new state of nature, differing from that we\nset out from; for the one was a state of nature in its first purity,\nwhile this is the consequence of excessive corruption. There is so\nlittle difference between the two states in other respects, and the\ncontract of government is so completely dissolved by despotism, that\nthe despot is master only so long as he remains the strongest; as soon\nas he can be expelled, he has no right to complain of violence. The\npopular insurrection that ends in the death or deposition of a Sultan\nis as lawful an act as those by which he disposed, the day before, of\nthe lives and fortunes of his subjects. As he was maintained by force\nalone, it is force alone that overthrows him. Thus everything takes\nplace according to the natural order; and, whatever may be the result\nof such frequent and precipitate revolutions, no one man has reason to\ncomplain of the injustice of another, but only of his own ill-fortune\nor indiscretion.\n\nIf the reader thus discovers and retraces the lost and forgotten road,\nby which man must have passed from the state of nature to the state\nof society; if he carefully restores, along with the intermediate\nsituations which I have just described, those which want of time has\ncompelled me to suppress, or my imagination has failed to suggest,\nhe cannot fail to be struck by the vast distance which separates the\ntwo states. It is in tracing this slow succession that he will find\nthe solution of a number of problems of politics and morals, which\nphilosophers cannot settle. He will feel that, men being different in\ndifferent ages, the reason why Diogenes could not find a man was that\nhe sought among his contemporaries a man of an earlier period. He will\nsee that Cato died with Rome and liberty, because he did not fit the\nage in which he lived; the greatest of men served only to astonish a\nworld which he would certainly have ruled, had he lived five hundred\nyears sooner. In a word, he will explain how the soul and the passions\nof men insensibly change their very nature; why our wants and pleasures\nin the end seek new objects; and why, the original man having vanished\nby degrees, society offers to us only an assembly of artificial men and\nfactitious passions, which are the work of all these new relations, and\nwithout any real foundation in nature. We are taught nothing on this\nsubject, by reflection, that is not entirely confirmed by observation.\nThe savage and the civilised man differ so much in the bottom of\ntheir hearts and in their inclinations, that what constitutes the\nsupreme happiness of one would reduce the other to despair. The former\nbreathes only peace and liberty; he desires only to live and be free\nfrom labour; even the _ataraxia_ of the Stoic falls far short of his\nprofound indifference to every other object. Civilised man, on the\nother hand, is always moving, sweating, toiling and racking his brains\nto find still more laborious occupations: he goes on in drudgery to his\nlast moment, and even seeks death to put himself in a position to live,\nor renounces life to acquire immortality. He pays his court to men in\npower, whom he hates, and to the wealthy, whom he despises; he stops at\nnothing to have the honour of serving them; he is not ashamed to value\nhimself on his own meanness and their protection; and, proud of his\nslavery, he speaks with disdain of those, who have not the honour of\nsharing it. What a sight would the perplexing and envied labours of a\nEuropean minister of State present to the eyes of a Caribean! How many\ncruel deaths would not this indolent savage prefer to the horrors of\nsuch a life, which is seldom even sweetened by the pleasure of doing\ngood! But, for him to see into the motives of all this solicitude, the\nwords _power_ and _reputation_, would have to bear some meaning in his\nmind; he would have to know that there are men who set a value on the\nopinion of the rest of the world; who can be made happy and satisfied\nwith themselves rather on the testimony of other people than on their\nown. In reality, the source, of all these differences is, that the\nsavage lives within himself, while social man lives constantly outside\nhimself, and only knows how to live in the opinion of others, so that\nhe seems to receive the consciousness of his own existence merely\nfrom the judgment of others concerning him. It is not to my present\npurpose to insist on the indifference to good and evil which arises\nfrom this disposition, in spite of our many fine works on morality,\nor to show how, everything being reduced to appearances, there is but\nart and mummery in even honour, friendship, virtue, and often vice\nitself, of which we at length learn the secret of boasting; to show,\nin short, how, always asking others what, we are, and never daring\nto ask ourselves, in the midst of so much philosophy, humanity and\ncivilisation, and of such sublime codes of morality, we have nothing\nto show for ourselves but a frivolous and deceitful appearance, honour\nwithout virtue, reason without wisdom, and pleasure without happiness.\nIt is sufficient that I have proved that this is not by any means the\noriginal state of man, but that it is merely the spirit of society, and\nthe inequality which society produces, that thus transform and alter\nall our natural inclinations.\n\nI have endeavoured to trace the origin and progress of inequality, and\nthe institution and abuse of political societies, as far as these are\ncapable of being deduced from the nature of man merely by the light\nof reason, and independently of those sacred dogmas which give the\nsanction of divine right to sovereign authority. It follows from this\nsurvey that, as there is hardly any inequality in the state of nature,\nall the inequality which now prevails owes its strength and growth to\nthe development of our faculties and the advance of the human mind,\nand becomes at last permanent and legitimate by the establishment\nof property and laws. Secondly, it follows that moral inequality\nauthorised by positive right alone, clashes with natural right,\nwhenever it is not proportionate to physical inequality; a distinction\nwhich sufficiently determines what we ought to think of that species\nof inequality which prevails in all civilised countries; since it is\nplainly contrary to the law of nature, however defined, that children\nshould command old men, fools wise men, and that the privileged\nfew should gorge themselves with superfluities, while the starving\nmultitude are in want of the bare necessities of life.\n\n\n[5] Ovid, Metamorphoses xi, 127.\n\nBoth rich and poor, shocked at their new-found ills, Would fly from\nwealth, and lose what they had sought.\n\n\n[6] Tacitus, Hist. iv, 17. The most wretched slavery they call peace.\n\n[7] Of the Rights of the Most Christian Queen over various States of\nthe Monarchy of Spain, 1667.\n\n[8] Distributive justice would oppose this rigorous equality of the\nstate of nature, even were it practicable in civil society; as all\nthe members of the State owe it their services in proportion to their\ntalents and abilities, they ought, on their side, to be distinguished\nand favoured in proportion to the services they have actually rendered.\nIt is in this sense we must understand that passage of Isocrates, in\nwhich he extols the primitive Athenians, for having determined which\nof the two kinds of equality was the most useful, viz. that which\nconsists in dividing the same advantages indiscriminately among all the\ncitizens, or that which consists in distributing them to each according\nto his deserts. These able politicians, adds the orator, banishing\nthat unjust inequality which makes no distinction between good and bad\nmen, adhered inviolably to that which rewards and punishes every man\naccording to his deserts.\n\nBut in the first place, there never existed a society, however corrupt\nsome may have become, where no difference was made between the good\nand the bad; and with regard to morality, where no measures can be\nprescribed by law exact enough to serve as a practical rule for a\nmagistrate, it is with great prudence that, in order not to leave the\nfortune or quality of the citizens to his discretion, it prohibits him\nfrom passing judgment on persons and confines his judgment to actions.\nOnly morals such as those of the ancient Romans can bear censors, and\nsuch a tribunal among us would throw everything into confusion. The\ndifference between good and bad men is determined by public esteem; the\nmagistrate being strictly a judge of right alone; whereas the public is\nthe truest judge of morals, and is of such integrity and penetration on\nthis head, that although it may be sometimes deceived, it can never be\ncorrupted. The rank of citizens ought, therefore, to be regulated, not\naccording to their personal merit--for this would put it in the power\nof the magistrate to apply the law almost arbitrarily--but according to\nthe actual services done to the State, which are capable of being more\nexactly estimated.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX[1]\n\n\nA famous author, reckoning up the good and evil of human life, and\ncomparing the aggregates, finds that our pains greatly exceed our\npleasures: so that, all things considered, human life is not at all a\nvaluable gift. This conclusion does not surprise me; for the writer\ndrew all his arguments from man in civilisation. Had he gone back to\nthe state of nature, his inquiries would clearly have had a different\nresult, and man would have been seen to be subject to very few evils\nnot of his own creation. It has indeed cost us not a little trouble\nto make ourselves as wretched as we are. When we consider, on the one\nhand, the immense labours of mankind, the many sciences brought to\nperfection, the arts invented, the powers employed, the deeps filled\nup, the mountains levelled, the rocks shattered, the rivers made\nnavigable, the tracts of land cleared, the lakes emptied, the marshes\ndrained, the enormous structures erected on land, and the teeming\nvessels that cover the sea; and, on the other hand, estimate with ever\nso little thought, the real advantages that have accrued from all these\nworks to mankind, we cannot help being amazed at the vast disproportion\nthere is between these things, and deploring the infatuation of man,\nwhich, to gratify his silly pride and vain self-admiration, induces him\neagerly to pursue all the miseries he is capable of feeling, though\nbeneficent nature had kindly placed them out of his way.\n\nThat men are actually wicked, a sad and continual experience of them\nproves beyond doubt: but all the same, I think I've shown that man is\nnaturally good. What then can have depraved him to such an extent,\nexcept the changes that have happened in his constitution, the advances\nhe has made, and the knowledge he has acquired? We may admire human\nsociety as much as we please; it will be none the less true that it\nnecessarily leads men to hate each other in proportion as their\ninterests clash, and to do one another apparent services, while they\nare really doing every imaginable mischief. What can be thought of a\nrelation, in which the interest of every individual dictates rules\ndirectly opposite to those the public reason dictates to the community\nin general--in which every man finds his profit in the misfortunes of\nhis neighbour? There is not perhaps any man in a comfortable position\nwho has not greedy heirs, and perhaps even children, secretly wishing\nfor his death; not a ship at sea, of which the loss would not be good\nnews to some merchant or other; not a house, which some debtor of bad\nfaith would not be glad to see reduced to ashes with all the papers\nit contains; not a nation which does not rejoice at the disasters\nthat befall its neighbours. Thus it is that we find our advantage in\nthe misfortunes of our fellow-creatures, and that the loss of one man\nalmost always constitutes the prosperity of another. But it is still\nmore pernicious that public calamities are the objects of the hopes and\nexpectations of innumerable individuals. Some desire sickness, some\nmortality, some war, and some famine. I have seen men wicked enough to\nweep for sorrow at the prospect of a plentiful season; and the great\nand fatal fire of London, which cost so many unhappy persons their\nlives or their fortunes, made the fortunes of perhaps ten thousand\nothers. I know that Montaigne; censures Demades the Athenian for having\ncaused to be I punished a workman who, by selling his coffins very\ndear, was a great gainer by the deaths of his fellow-citizens; but, the\nreason alleged by Montaigne being that everybody ought to be punished,\nmy point is clearly confirmed by it. Let us penetrate, therefore, the\nsuperficial appearances of benevolence, and survey what passes in the\ninmost recesses of the heart. Let us reflect what must be the state of\nthings, when men are forced to caress and destroy one another at the\nsame time; when they are born enemies by duty, and knaves by interest.\nIt will perhaps be said that society is so formed that every man gains\nby serving the rest. That would be all very well, if he did not gain\nstill more by injuring them. There is no legitimate profit so great,\nthat it cannot be greatly exceeded by what may be made illegitimately;\nwe always gain more by hurting our neighbours than by doing them good.\nNothing is required but to know how to act with impunity; and to this\nend the powerful employ all their strength, and the weak all their\ncunning.\n\nSavage man, when he has dined, is at peace with all nature, and the\nfriend of all his fellow-creatures. If a dispute arises about a meal,\nhe rarely comes to blows, without having first compared the difficulty\nof conquering his antagonist with the trouble of finding subsistence\nelsewhere: and, as pride does not come in, it all ends in a few blows;\nthe victor eats, and the vanquished seeks provision somewhere else,\nand all is at peace. The case is quite different with man in the\nstate of society, for whom first necessaries have to be provided, and\nthen superfluities; delicacies follow next, then immense wealth, then\nsubjects, and then slaves. He enjoys not a moments relaxation; and what\nis yet stranger, the less natural and pressing his wants, the more\nheadstrong are his passions, and, still worse, the more he has it in\nhis power to gratify them; so that after a long course of prosperity,\nafter having swallowed up treasures and ruined multitudes, the hero\nends up by cutting every throat till he finds himself, at last, sole\nmaster of the world. Such is in miniature the moral picture, if not\nof human life, at least of the secret pretensions of the heart of\ncivilised man.\n\nCompare without partiality the state of the citizen with that of the\nsavage, and trace out, if you can, how many inlets the former has\nopened to pain and death, besides those of his vices, his wants and his\nmisfortunes. If you reflect on the mental afflictions that prey on us,\nthe violent passions that waste and exhaust us, the excessive labour\nwith which the poor are burdened, the still more dangerous indolence\nto which the wealthy give themselves up, so that the poor perish of\nwant, and the rich of surfeit; if you reflect but a moment on the\nheterogeneous mixtures and pernicious seasonings of foods; the corrupt\nstate in which they are frequently eaten; on the adulteration of\nmedicines, the wiles of those who sell them, the mistakes of those who\nadminister them, and the poisonous vessels in which they are prepared;\non the epidemics bred by foul air in consequence of great numbers of\nmen being crowded together, or those which are caused by our delicate\nway of living, by our passing from our houses into the open air and\nback again, by the putting on or throwing off our clothes with too\nlittle care, and by all the precautions which sensuality has converted\ninto necessary habits, and the neglect of which sometimes costs us\nour life or health; if you take into account the conflagrations and\nearthquakes, which, devouring or overwhelming whole cities, destroy\nthe inhabitants by thousands; in a word, if you add together all the\ndangers with which these causes are always threatening us, you will\nsee how dearly nature makes us pay for the contempt with which we have\ntreated her lessons.\n\nI shall not here repeat, what I have elsewhere said of the calamities\nof war; but wish that those, who have sufficient knowledge, were\nwilling or bold enough to make public the details of the villainies\ncommitted in armies by the contractors for commissariat, and hospitals:\nwe should see plainly that their monstrous frauds, already none too\nwell concealed, which cripple the finest armies in less than no time,\noccasion greater destruction among the soldiers than the swords of the\nenemy.\n\nThe number of people who perish annually at sea, by famine, the scurvy,\npirates, fire and shipwrecks, affords matter for another shocking\ncalculation. We must also place to the credit of the establishment\nof property, and consequently to the institution of society,\nassassinations, poisonings, highway robberies, and even the punishments\ninflicted on the wretches guilty of these crimes; which, though\nexpedient to prevent greater evils, yet by making the murder of one man\ncost the lives of two or more, double the loss to the human race.\n\nWhat shameful methods are sometimes practised to prevent the birth of\nmen, and cheat nature; either by brutal and depraved appetites which\ninsult her most beautiful work--appetites unknown to savages or mere\nanimals, which can spring only from the corrupt imagination of mankind\nin civilised countries; or by secret abortions, the fitting effects\nof debauchery and vitiated notions of honour; or by the exposure or\nmurder of multitudes of infants, who fall victims to the poverty of\ntheir parents, or the cruel shame of their mothers; or, finally, by\nthe mutilation of unhappy wretches, part of whose life, with their\nhope of posterity, is given up to vain singing, or, still worse, the\nbrutal jealousy of other men: a mutilation which, in the last case,\nbecomes a double outrage against nature from the treatment of those\nwho suffer it, and from the use to which they are destined. But is\nit not a thousand times more common and more dangerous for paternal\nrights openly to offend against humanity? How many talents have not\nbeen thrown away, and inclinations forced, by the unwise constraint of\nfathers? How many men, who would have distinguished themselves in a\nfitting estate, have died dishonoured and wretched in another for which\nthey had no taste! How many happy, but unequal, marriages have been\nbroken or disturbed, and how many chaste wives have been dishonoured,\nby an order of things continually in contradiction with that of nature!\nHow many good and virtuous husbands and wives are reciprocally punished\nfor having been ill-assorted! How many young and unhappy victims of\ntheir parents' avarice plunge into vice, or pass their melancholy\ndays in tears, groaning in the indissoluble bonds which their hearts\nrepudiate and gold alone has formed! Fortunate sometimes are those\nwhose courage and virtue remove them from life before inhuman violence\nmakes them spend it in crime or in despair. Forgive me, father and\nmother, whom I shall ever regret: my complaint embitters your griefs;\nbut would they might be an eternal and terrible example to every one\nwho dares, in the name of nature, to violate her most sacred right.\n\nIf I have spoken only of those ill-starred unions which are the\nresult of our system, is it to be thought that those over which love\nand sympathy preside are free from disadvantages? What if I should\nundertake to show humanity attacked in its very source, and even in\nthe most sacred of all ties, in which fortune is consulted before\nnature, and, the disorders of society confounding all virtue and vice,\ncontinence becomes a criminal precaution, and a refusal to give life\nto a fellow-creature, an act of humanity? But, without drawing aside\nthe veil which hides all these horrors, let us content ourselves with\npointing out the evil which others will have to remedy.\n\nTo all this add the multiplicity of unhealthy trades, which shorten\nmen's lives or destroy their bodies, such as working in the mines,\nand the preparing of metals and minerals, particularly lead, copper,\nmercury, cobalt, and arsenic: add those other dangerous trades which\nare daily fatal to many tilers, carpenters, masons and miners: put all\nthese together and we can see, in the establishment and perfection of\nsocieties, the reasons for that diminution of our species, which has\nbeen noticed by many philosophers.\n\nLuxury, which cannot be prevented among men who are tenacious of their\nown convenience and of the respect paid them by others, soon completes\nthe evil society had begun, and, under the pretence of giving bread to\nthe poor, whom it should never have made such, impoverishes all the\nrest, and sooner or later depopulates the State. Luxury is a remedy\nmuch worse than the disease it sets up to cure; or rather it is in\nitself the greatest of all evils, for every State, great or small:\nfor, in order to maintain all the servants and vagabonds it creates,\nit brings oppression and ruin on the citizen and the labourer; it is\nlike those scorching winds, which, covering the trees and plants with\ndevouring insects, deprive useful animals of their subsistence and\nspread famine and death wherever they blow.\n\nFrom society and the luxury to which it gives birth arise the liberal\nand mechanical arts, commerce, letters, and all those superfluities\nwhich make industry flourish, and enrich and ruin nations. The reason\nfor such destruction is plain. It is easy to see, from the very nature\nof agriculture, that it must be the least lucrative of all the arts;\nfor, its produce being the most universally necessary, the price must\nbe proportionate to the abilities of the very poorest of mankind.\n\nFrom the same principle may be deduced this rule, that the arts in\ngeneral are more lucrative in proportion as they are less useful; and\nthat, in the end, the most useful becomes the most neglected. From this\nwe may learn what to think of the real advantages of industry and the\nactual effects of its progress.\n\nSuch are the sensible causes of all the miseries, into which opulence\nat length plunges the most celebrated nations. In proportion as arts\nand industry flourish, the despised husbandman, burdened with the\ntaxes necessary for the support of luxury, and condemned to pass his\ndays between labour and hunger, forsakes his native field, to seek in\ntowns the bread he ought to carry thither. The more our capital cities\nstrike the vulgar eye with admiration, the greater reason is there to\nlament the sight of the abandoned countryside, the large tracts of land\nthat lie uncultivated, the roads crowded with unfortunate citizens\nturned beggars or highwaymen, and doomed to end their wretched lives\neither on a dunghill or on the gallows. Thus the State grows rich on\nthe one hand, and feeble and depopulated on the other; the mightiest\nmonarchies, after having taken immense pains to enrich and depopulate\nthemselves, fall at last a prey to some poor nation, which has yielded\nto the fatal temptation of invading them, and then, growing opulent and\nweak in its turn, is itself invaded and ruined by some other.\n\nLet any one inform us what produced the swarms of barbarians, who\noverran Europe, Asia and Africa for so many ages. Was their prodigious\nincrease due to their industry and arts, to the wisdom of their laws,\nor to the excellence of their political system? Let the learned tell us\nwhy, instead of multiplying to such a degree, these fierce and brutal\nmen, without sense or science, without education, without restraint,\ndid not destroy each other hourly in quarrelling over the productions\nof their fields and woods. Let them tell us how these wretches could\nhave the presumption to oppose such clever people as we were, so well\ntrained in military discipline, and possessed of such excellent laws\nand institutions: and why, since society has been brought to perfection\nin northern countries, and so much pains taken to instruct their\ninhabitants in their social duties and in the art of living happily\nand peaceably together, we see them no longer produce such numberless\nhosts as they used once to send forth to be the plague and terror of\nother nations. I fear some one may at last answer me by saying, that\nall these fine things, arts, sciences and laws, were wisely invented by\nmen, as a salutary plague, to prevent the too great multiplication of\nmankind, lest the world, which was given us for a habitation, should in\ntime be too small for its inhabitants.\n\nWhat, then, is to be done? Must societies be totally abolished? Must\n_meum_ and _tuum_ be annihilated, and must we return again to the\nforests to live among beasts? This is a deduction in the manner of\nmy adversaries, which I would as soon anticipate as let them have the\nshame of drawing. O you, who have never heard the voice of heaven,\nwho think man destined only to live this little life and die in\npeace; you, who can resign in the midst of populous cities your fatal\nacquisitions, your restless spirits, your corrupt hearts and endless\ndesires; resume, since it depends entirely on yourselves, your ancient\nand primitive innocence: retire to the woods, there to lose the sight\nand remembrance of the crimes of your contemporaries; and be not\napprehensive of degrading your species, by renouncing its advances in\norder to renounce its vices. As for men like me whose passions have\ndestroyed their original simplicity, who can no longer subsist on\nplants or acorns, or live without laws and magistrates those who were\nhonoured in their first father with supernatural instructions; those\nwho discover, in the design of giving human actions at the start a\nmorality which they must otherwise have been so long in acquiring, the\nreason for a precept in itself indifferent and inexplicable on every\nother system; those, in short, who are persuaded that the Divine Being\nhas called all mankind to be partakers in the happiness and perfection\nof celestial intelligences, all these will endeavour to merit the\neternal prize they are to expect from the practice of those virtues,\nwhich they make themselves follow in learning to know them. They will\nrespect the sacred bonds of their respective communities; they will\nlove theft fellow-citizens, and serve them with all their might: they\nwill scrupulously obey the laws, and all those who make or administer\nthem; they will particularly honour those wise and good princes, who\nfind means of preventing, curing or even palliating all these evils and\nabuses, by which we are constantly threatened; they will animate the\nzeal of their deserving rulers, by showing them, without flattery or\nfear, the importance of their office and the severity of their duty.\nBut they will not therefore have less contempt for a constitution that\ncannot support itself without the aid of so many splendid characters,\nmuch oftener wished for than found; and from which, notwithstanding all\ntheir pains and solicitude, there always arise more real calamities\nthan even apparent advantages.\n\n\n[1] See \"the faculty of self-improvement\".\n\n\n\n\nA DISCOURSE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY\n\n\n\nThe word Economy, or \u0152conomy, is derived from _\u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03cc\u03c2, a house_,\nand _\u03bd\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, law_, and meant originally only the wise and legitimate\ngovernment of the house for the common good of the whole family. The\nmeaning of the term was then extended to the government of that great\nfamily, the State. To distinguish these two senses of the word, the\nlatter is called _general_ or _political_ economy, and the former\ndomestic or particular economy. The first only is discussed in the\npresent discourse.\n\nEven if there were as close an analogy as many authors maintain between\nthe State and the family, it would not follow that the rules of conduct\nproper for one of these societies would be also proper for the other.\nThey differ too much in extent to be regulated in the same manner; and\nthere will always be a great difference between domestic government, in\nwhich a father can see everything for himself, and civil government,\nwhere the chief sees hardly anything save through the eyes of others.\nTo put both on an equality in this respect, the talents, strength, and\nall the faculties of the father would have to increase in proportion to\nthe size of his family, and the soul of a powerful monarch would have\nto be, to that of an ordinary man, as the extent of his empire is to\nthat of a private person's estate.\n\nBut how could the government of the State be like that of the family,\nwhen the basis on which they rest is so different? The father being\nphysically stronger than his children, his paternal authority, as long\nas they need his protection, may be reasonably said to be established\nby nature. But in the great family, all the members of which are\nnaturally equal, the political authority, being purely arbitrary as far\nas its institution is concerned, can be founded only on conventions,\nand the Magistrate can have no authority over the rest, except by\nvirtue of the laws. The duties of a father are dictated to him by\nnatural feelings, and in a manner that seldom allows him to neglect\nthem. For rulers there is no such principle, and they are really\nobliged to the people only by what they themselves have promised to\ndo, and the people have therefore a right to require of them. Another\nmore important difference is that since the children have nothing but\nwhat they receive from their father, it is plain that all the rights\nof property belong to him, or emanate from him; but quite the opposite\nis the case in the great family, where the general administration is\nestablished only to secure individual property, which is antecedent to\nit. The principal object of the work of the whole house is to preserve\nand increase the patrimony of the father, in order that he may be able\nsome day to distribute it among his children without impoverishing\nthem; whereas the wealth of the exchequer is only a means, often ill\nunderstood, of keeping the individuals in peace and plenty. In a word,\nthe little family is destined to be extinguished, and to resolve itself\nsome day into several families of a similar nature; but the great\nfamily, being constituted to endure for ever in the same condition,\nneed not, like the small one, increase for the purpose of multiplying,\nbut need only maintain itself; and it can easily be proved that any\nincrease does it more harm than good.\n\nIn the family, it is clear, for several reasons which lie in its very\nnature, that the father ought to command. In the first place, the\nauthority ought not to be equally divided between father and mother;\nthe government must be single, and in every division of opinion there\nmust be one preponderant voice to decide. Secondly, however lightly\nwe may regard the disadvantages peculiar to women, yet, as they\nnecessarily occasion intervals of inaction, this is a sufficient reason\nfor excluding them from this supreme authority: for when the balance\nis perfectly even, a straw is enough to turn the scale. Besides, the\nhusband ought to be able to superintend his wife's conduct, because\nit is of importance for him to be assured that the children, whom he\nis obliged to acknowledge and maintain, belong to no-one but himself.\nThirdly, children should be obedient to their father, at first of\nnecessity, and afterwards from gratitude: after having had their\nwants satisfied by him during one half of their lives, they ought to\nconsecrate the other half to providing for his. Fourthly, servants owe\nhim their services in exchange for the provision he makes for them,\nthough they may break off the bargain as soon as it ceases to suit\nthem. I say nothing here of slavery, because it is contrary to nature,\nand cannot be authorised by any right or law.\n\nThere is nothing of all this in political society, in which the chief\nis so far from having any natural interest in the happiness of the\nindividuals, that it is not uncommon for him to seek his own in their\nmisery. If the magistracy is hereditary, a community of men is often\ngoverned by a child. If it be elective, innumerable inconveniences\narise from such election; while in both cases all the advantages of\npaternity are lost. If you have but a single ruler, you lie at the\ndiscretion of a master who has no reason to love you: and if you have\nseveral, you must bear at once their tyranny and their divisions. In\na word, abuses are inevitable and their consequences fatal in every\nsociety where the public interest and the laws have no natural force,\nand are perpetually attacked by personal interest and the passions of\nthe ruler and the members.\n\nAlthough the functions of the father of a family and those of the\nchief magistrate ought to make for the same object, they must do so\nin such different ways, and their duty and rights are so essentially\ndistinct, that we cannot confound them without forming very false ideas\nabout the fundamental laws of society, and falling into errors which\nare fatal to mankind. In fact, if the voice of nature is the best\ncounsellor to which a father can listen in the discharge of his duty,\nfor the Magistrate it is a false guide, which continually prevents him\nfrom performing his, and leads him on sooner or later to the ruin of\nhimself and of the State, if he is not restrained by the most sublime\nvirtue. The only precaution necessary for the father of a family is to\nguard himself against depravity, and prevent his natural inclinations\nfrom being corrupted; whereas it is these themselves which corrupt the\nMagistrate. In order to act aright, the first has only to consult his\nheart; the other becomes a traitor the moment he listens to his. Even\nhis own reason should be suspect to him, nor should he follow any rule\nother than the public reason, which is the law. Thus nature has made\na multitude of good fathers of families; but it is doubtful whether,\nfrom the very beginning of the world, human wisdom has made ten men\ncapable of governing their peers.\n\nFrom all that has just been said, it follows that _public_ economy,\nwhich is my subject, has been rightly distinguished from _private_\neconomy, and that, the State having nothing in common with the family\nexcept the obligations which their heads lie under of making both\nof them happy, the same rules of conduct cannot apply to both. I\nhave considered these few lines enough to overthrow the detestable\nsystem which Sir Robert Filmer has endeavoured to establish in his\n_Patriarcha_; a work to which two celebrated writers have done too much\nhonour in writing books to refute it. Moreover, this error is of very\nlong standing; for Aristotle himself thought proper to combat it with\narguments which may be found in the first book of his _Politics_.\n\nI must here ask my readers to distinguish also between _public\neconomy_, which is my subject and which I call _government_, and the\nsupreme authority, which I call _Sovereignty_; a distinction which\nconsists in the fact that the latter has the right of legislation, and\nin certain cases binds the body of the nation itself, while the former\nhas only the right of execution, and is binding only on individuals.\n\nI shall take the liberty of making use of a very common, and in some\nrespects inaccurate, comparison, which will serve to illustrate my\nmeaning.\n\nThe body politic, taken individually, may be considered as an\norganised, living body, resembling that of man. The sovereign power\nrepresents the head; the laws and customs are the brain, the source\nof the nerves and seat of the understanding, will and senses, of\nwhich the Judges and Magistrates are the organs: commerce, industry,\nand agriculture are the mouth and stomach which prepare the common\nsubsistence; the public income is the blood, which a prudent _economy_,\nin performing the functions of the heart, causes to distribute through\nthe whole body nutriment and life: the citizens are the body and the\nmembers, which make the machine live, move and work; and no part of\nthis machine can be damaged without the painful impression being at\nonce conveyed to the brain, if the animal is in a state of health.\n\nThe life of both bodies is the self common to the whole, the reciprocal\nsensibility and internal correspondence of all the parts. Where this\ncommunication ceases, where the formal unity disappears, and the\ncontiguous parts belong to one another only by juxtaposition, the man\nis dead, or the State is dissolved.\n\nThe body politic, therefore, is also a moral being possessed of a will;\nand this general will, which tends always to the preservation and\nwelfare of the whole and of every part, and is the source of the laws,\nconstitutes for all the members of the State, in their relations to one\nanother and to it, the rule of what is just or unjust: a truth which\nshows, by the way, how idly some writers have treated as theft the\nsubtlety prescribed to children at Sparta for obtaining their frugal\nrepasts, as if everything ordained by the law were not lawful.\n\nIt is important to observe that this rule of justice, though certain\nwith regard to all citizens, may be defective with regard to\nforeigners. The reason is clear. The will of the State, though general\nin relation to its own members, is no longer so in relation to other\nStates and their members, but becomes, for them, a particular and\nindividual will, which has its rule of justice in the law of nature.\nThis, however, enters equally into the principle here laid down;\nfor in such a case, the great city of the world becomes the body\npolitic, whose general will is always the law of nature, and of which\nthe different States and peoples are individual members. From these\ndistinctions, applied to each political society and its members, are\nderived the most certain and universal rules, by which we can judge\nwhether a government is good or bad, and in general of the morality of\nall human actions.\n\nEvery political society is composed of other smaller societies of\ndifferent kinds, each of which has its interests and its rules of\nconduct: but those societies which everybody perceives, because they\nhave an external and authorised form, are not the only ones that\nactually exist in the State: all individuals who are united by a common\ninterest compose as many others, either transitory or permanent, whose\ninfluence is none the less real because it is less apparent, and the\nproper observation of whose various relations is the true knowledge of\npublic morals and manners. The influence of all these tacit or formal\nassociations causes, by the influence of their will, as many different\nmodifications of the public will. The will of these particular\nsocieties has always two relations; for the members of the association,\nit is a general will; for the great society, it is a particular will;\nand it is often right with regard to the first object, and wrong as to\nthe second. An individual may be a devout priest, a brave soldier, or a\nzealous senator, and yet a bad citizen. A particular resolution may be\nadvantageous to the smaller community, but pernicious to the greater.\nIt is true that particular societies being always subordinate to the\ngeneral society in preference to others, the duty of a citizen takes\nprecedence of that of a senator, and a man's duty of that of a citizen:\nbut unhappily personal interest is always found in inverse ratio to\nduty, and increases in proportion as the association grows narrower,\nand the engagement less sacred; which irrefragably proves that the most\ngeneral will is always the must just also, and that the voice of the\npeople is in fact the voice of God.\n\nIt does not follow that the public decisions are always equitable;\nthey may possibly, for reasons which I have given, not be so when they\nhave to do with foreigners. Thus it is not impossible that a Republic,\nthough in itself well governed, should enter upon an unjust war. Nor\nis it less possible for the Council of a Democracy to pass unjust\ndecrees, and condemn the innocent; but this never happens unless the\npeople is seduced by private interests, which the credit or eloquence\nof some clever persons substitutes for those of the State; in which\ncase the general will will be one thing, and the result of the public\ndeliberation another. This is not contradicted by the case of the\nAthenian Democracy; for Athens was in fact not a Democracy, but a\nvery tyrannical Aristocracy, governed by philosophers and orators.\nCarefully determine what happens in every public deliberation, and it\nwill be seen that the general will is always for the common good; but\nvery often there is a secret division, a tacit confederacy, which, for\nparticular ends, causes the natural disposition of the assembly to be\nset at nought. In such a case the body of society is really divided\ninto other bodies, the members of which acquire a general will, which\nis good and just with respect to these new bodies, but unjust and bad\nwith regard to the whole, from which each is thus dismembered.\n\nWe see then how easy it is, by the help of these principles, to explain\nthose apparent contradictions, which are noticed in the conduct of\nmany persons who are scrupulously honest in some respects, and cheats\nand scoundrels in others, who trample under foot the most sacred\nduties, and yet are faithful to the death to engagements that are often\nillegitimate. Thus the most depraved of men always pay some sort of\nhomage to public faith; and even robbers, who are the enemies of virtue\nin the great society, pay some respect to the shadow of it in their\nsecret caves.\n\nIn establishing the general will as the first principle of public\n_economy_, and the fundamental rule of government, I have not thought\nit necessary to inquire seriously whether the Magistrates belong to the\npeople, or the people to the Magistrates; or whether in public affairs\nthe good of the State should be taken into account, or only that of\nits rulers. That question indeed has long been decided one way in\ntheory, and another in practice; and in general it would be ridiculous\nto expect that those who are in fact masters will prefer any other\ninterest to their own. It would not be improper, therefore, further to\ndistinguish public _economy_ as popular or tyrannical. The former is\nthat of every State, in which there reigns between the people and the\nrulers unity of interest and will: the latter will necessarily exist\nwherever the government and the people have different interests, and,\nconsequently, opposing wills. The rules of the latter are written at\nlength in the archives of history, and in the satires of Macchiavelli.\nThe rules of the former are found only in the writings of those\nphilosophers who venture to proclaim the rights of humanity.\n\nI. The first and most important rule of legitimate or popular\ngovernment, that is to say, of government whose object is the good of\nthe people, is therefore, as I have observed, to follow in everything\nthe general will. But to follow this will it is necessary to know it,\nand above all to distinguish it from the particular will, beginning\nwith one's self: this distinction is always very difficult to make,\nand only the most sublime virtue can afford sufficient illumination\nfor it. As, in order to will, it is necessary to be free, a difficulty\nno less great than the former arises--that of preserving at once the\npublic liberty and the authority of government. Look into the motives\nwhich have induced men, once united by their common needs in a general\nsociety, to unite themselves still more intimately by means of civil\nsocieties: you will find no other motive than that of assuring the\nproperty, life and liberty of each member by the protection of all.\nBut can men be forced to defend the liberty of any one among them,\nwithout trespassing on that of others? And how can they provide for\nthe public needs, without alienating the individual property of those\nwho are forced to contribute to them? With whatever sophistry all this\nmay be covered over, it is certain that if any constraint can be laid\non my will, I am no longer free, and that I am no longer master of my\nown property, if any one else can lay a hand on it. This difficulty,\nwhich would have seemed insurmountable, has been removed, like the\nfirst, by the most sublime of all human institutions, or rather by a\ndivine inspiration, which teaches mankind to imitate here below the\nunchangeable decrees of the Deity. By what inconceivable art has a\nmeans been found of making men free by making them subject; of using in\nthe service of the State the properties, the persons and even the lives\nof all its members, without constraining and without consulting them;\nof confining their will by their own admission; of overcoming their\nrefusal by that consent, and forcing them to punish themselves, when\nthey act against their own will? How can it be that all should obey,\nyet nobody take upon him to command, and that all should serve, and\nyet have no masters, but be the more free, as, in apparent subjection,\neach loses no part of his liberty but what might be hurtful; to that of\nanother? These wonders are the work of law. It is to law alone that men\nowe justice and liberty. It is this salutary organ of the will of all\nwhich establishes, in civil right, the natural equality between men.\nIt is this celestial voice which dictates to each citizen the precepts\nof public reason, and teaches him to act according to the rules of his\nown judgment, and not to behave inconsistently with himself. It is with\nthis voice alone that political rulers should speak when they command;\nfor no sooner does one man, setting aside the law, claim to subject\nanother to his private will, than he departs from the state of civil\nsociety, and confronts him face to face in the pure state of nature, in\nwhich obedience is prescribed solely by necessity.\n\nThe most pressing interest of the ruler, and even his most\nindispensable duty, therefore, is to watch over the observation of the\nlaws of which he is the minister, and on which his whole authority is\nfounded. At the same time, if he exacts the observance of them from\nothers, he is the more strongly bound to observe them himself, since he\nenjoys all their favour. For his example is of such force, that even if\nthe people were willing to permit him to release himself from the yoke\nof the law, he ought to be cautious in availing himself of so dangerous\na prerogative, which others might soon claim to usurp in their turn,\nand often use to his prejudice. At bottom, as all social engagements\nare mutual in nature, it is impossible for any one to set himself above\nthe law, without renouncing its advantages; for nobody is bound by any\nobligation to one who claims that he is under no obligations to others.\nFor this reason no exemption from the law will ever be granted, on any\nground whatsoever, in a well-regulated government. Those citizens who\nhave deserved well of their country ought to be rewarded with honours,\nbut never with privileges: for the Republic is at the eve of its fall,\nwhen any one can think it fine not to obey the laws. If the nobility or\nthe soldiery should ever adopt such a maxim, all would be lost beyond\nredemption.\n\nThe power of the laws depends still more on their own wisdom than on\nthe severity of their administrators, and the public will derives its\ngreatest weight from the reason which has dictated it. Hence Plato\nlooked upon it as a very necessary precaution to place at the head of\nall edicts a preamble, setting forth their justice and utility. In\nfact, the first of all laws is to respect the laws: the severity of\npenalties is only a vain resource, invented by little minds in order\nto substitute terror for that respect which they have no means of\nobtaining. It has constantly been observed that in those countries\nwhere legal punishments are most severe, they are also most frequent;\nso that the cruelty of such punishments is a proof only of the\nmultitude of criminals, and, punishing everything with equal severity,\ninduces those who are guilty to commit crimes, in order to escape being\npunished for their faults.\n\nBut though the government be not master of the law, it is much to be\nits guarantor, and to possess a thousand means of inspiring the love\nof it. In this alone the talent of reigning consists. With force in\none's hands, there is no art required to make the whole world tremble,\nnor indeed much to gain men's hearts; for experience has long since\ntaught the people to give its rulers great credit for all the evil they\nabstain from doing it, and to adore them if they do not absolutely hate\nit. A fool, if he be obeyed, may punish crimes as well as another: but\nthe true statesman is he who knows how to prevent them: it is over the\nwills, even more than the actions, of his subjects that his honourable\nrule is extended. If he could secure that every one should act aright,\nhe would no longer have anything to do; and the masterpiece of his\nlabours would be to be able to remain unemployed. It is certain, at\nleast, that the greatest talent a ruler can possess is to disguise his\npower, in order to render it less odious, and to conduct the State so\npeaceably as to make it seem to have no need of conductors.\n\nI conclude, therefore, that, as the first duty of the legislator is to\nmake the laws conformable to the general will, the first rule of public\n_economy_ is that the administration of justice should be conformable\nto the laws. It will even be enough to prevent the State from being ill\ngoverned, that the Legislator shall have provided, as he should, for\nevery need of place, climate, soil, custom, neighbourhood, and all the\nrest of the relations peculiar to the people he had to institute. Not\nbut what there still remains an infinity of details of administration\nand economy, which are left to the wisdom of the government: but there\nare two infallible rules for its good conduct on these occasions; one\nis, that the spirit of the law ought to decide in every particular\ncase that could not be foreseen; the other is that the general will,\nthe source and supplement of all laws, should be consulted wherever\nthey fail. But how, I shall be asked, can the general will be known\nin cases in which it has not expressed itself? Must the whole nation\nbe assembled together at every unforeseen event? Certainly not. It\nought the less to be assembled, because it is by no means certain that\nits decision would be the expression of the general will; besides, the\nmethod would be impracticable in a great people, and is hardly ever\nnecessary where the government is well-intentioned: for the rulers\nwell know that the general will is always on the side which is most\nfavourable to the public interest, that is to say, most equitable; so\nthat it is needful only to act justly, to be certain of following the\ngeneral will. When this is flouted too openly, it makes itself felt, in\nspite of the formidable restraint of the public authority. I shall cite\nthe nearest possible examples that may be followed in such cases.\n\nIn China, it is the constant maxim of the Prince to decide against his\nofficers, in every dispute that arises between them and the people.\nIf bread be too dear in any province, the Intendant of that province\nis thrown into prison. If there be an insurrection in another, the\nGovernor is dismissed, and every Mandarin answers with his head for all\nthe mischief that happens in his department. Not that these affairs do\nnot subsequently undergo a regular examination; but long experience\nhas caused the judgment to be thus anticipated. There is seldom any\ninjustice to be repaired; in the meantime, the Emperor, being satisfied\nthat public outcry does not arise without cause, always discovers,\nthrough the seditious clamours which he punishes, just grievances to\nredress.\n\nIt is a great thing to preserve the rule of peace and order through all\nthe parts of the Republic; it is a great thing that the State should\nbe tranquil, and the law respected: but if nothing more is done, there\nwill be in all this more appearance than reality; for that government\nwhich confines itself to mere obedience will find difficulty in getting\nitself obeyed. If it is good to know how to deal with men as they are,\nit is much better to make them what there is need that they should\nbe. The most absolute authority is that which penetrates into a man's\ninmost being, and concerns itself no less with his will than with\nhis actions. It is certain that all peoples become in the long run\nwhat the government makes them; warriors, citizens, men, when it so\npleases; or merely populace and rabble, when it chooses to make them\nso. Hence every prince who despises his subjects, dishonours himself,\nin confessing that he does not know how to make them worthy of respect.\nMake men, therefore, if you would command men: if you would have them\nobedient to the laws, make them love the laws, and then they will need\nonly to know what is their duty to do it. This was the great art of\nancient governments, in those distant times when philosophers gave laws\nto men, and made use of their authority only to render them wise and\nhappy. Thence arose the numerous sumptuary laws, the many regulations\nof morals, and all the public rules of conduct which were admitted\nor rejected with the greatest care. Even tyrants did not forget this\nimportant part of administration, but took as great pains to corrupt\nthe morals of their slaves, as Magistrates took to correct those of\ntheir fellow-citizens. But our modern governments, which imagine they\nhave done everything when they have raised money, conceive that it is\nunnecessary and even impossible to go a step further.\n\nII. The second essential rule of public economy is no less important\nthan the first. If you would have the general will accomplished, bring\nall the particular wills into conformity with it; in other words, as\nvirtue is nothing more than this conformity of the particular wills\nwith the general will, establish the reign of virtue.\n\nIf our politicians were less blinded by their ambition, they would\nsee how impossible it is for any establishment whatever to act in\nthe spirit of its institution, unless it is guided in accordance\nwith the law of duty; they would feel that the greatest support of\npublic authority lies in the hearts of the citizens, and that nothing\ncan take the place of morality in the maintenance of government. It\nis not only upright men who know how to administer the laws; but at\nbottom only good men know how to obey them. The man who once gets the\nbetter of remorse, will not shrink before punishments which are less\nsevere, and less lasting, and from which there is at least the hope\nof escaping: whatever precautions are taken, those who only require\nimpunity in order to do wrong will not fail to find means of eluding\nthe law, and avoiding its penalties. In this case, as all particular\ninterests unite against the general interest, which is no longer that\nof any individual, public vices have a greater effect in enervating\nthe laws than the laws in the repression of such vices: so that the\ncorruption of the people and of their rulers will at length extend to\nthe government, however wise it may be. The worst of all abuses is\nto pay an apparent obedience to the laws, only in order actually to\nbreak them with security. For in this case the best laws soon become\nthe most pernicious; and it would be a hundred times better that\nthey should not exist. In such a situation, it is vain to add edicts\nto edicts and regulations to regulations. Everything serves only to\nintroduce new abuses, without correcting the old. The more laws are\nmultiplied, the more they are despised, and all the new officials\nappointed to supervise them are only so many more people to break\nthem, and either to share the plunder with their predecessors, or to\nplunder apart on their own. The reward of virtue soon becomes that of\nrobbery; the vilest of men rise to the greatest credit; the greater\nthey are the more despicable they become; their infamy appears even in\ntheir dignities, and their very honours dishonour them. If they buy\nthe influence of the leaders or the protection of women, it is only\nthat they may sell justice, duty, and the State in their turn: in the\nmeantime, the people, feeling that its vices are not the first cause of\nits misfortunes, murmurs and complains that all its misfortunes come\nsolely from those whom it pays to protect it from such things.\n\nIt is under these circumstances that the voice of duty no longer speaks\nin men's hearts, and their rulers are obliged to substitute the cry of\nterror, or the lure of an apparent interest, of which they subsequently\ntrick their creatures. In this situation they are compelled to have\nrecourse to all the petty and despicable shifts which they call _rules\nof State_ and _mysteries of the cabinet_. All the vigour that is left\nin the government is used by its members in ruining and supplanting one\nanother, while the public business is neglected, or is transacted only\nas personal interest requires and directs. In short, the whole art of\nthose great politicians lies in so mesmerising those they stand in need\nof, that each may think he is labouring for his own interest in working\nfor theirs: I say _theirs_ on the false supposition that it is the real\ninterest of rulers to annihilate a people in order to make it subject,\nand to; ruin their own property in order to secure their possession of\nit.\n\nBut when the citizens love their duty, and the guardians of the public\nauthority sincerely apply themselves to the fostering of that love\nby their own example and assiduity, every difficulty vanishes; and\ngovernment becomes so easy that it needs none of that art of darkness,\nwhose blackness is its only mystery. Those enterprising spirits,\nso dangerous and so much admired, all those great ministers, whose\nglory is inseparable from the miseries of the people, are no longer\nregretted: public morality supplies what is wanting in the genius of\nthe rulers; and the more virtue reigns, the less need there is for\ntalent. Even ambition is better served by duty than by usurpation:\nwhen the people is convinced that its rulers are labouring only for\nits happiness, its deference saves them the trouble of labouring to\nstrengthen their power: and history shows us, in a thousand cases,\nthat the authority of one who is beloved over those whom he loves is\na hundred times more absolute than all the tyranny of usurpers. This\ndoes not mean that the government ought to be afraid to make use of its\npower, but that it ought to make use of it only in a lawful manner.\nWe find in history a thousand examples of pusillanimous or ambitious\nrulers, who were ruined by their slackness or their pride; not one who\nsuffered for having been strictly just. But we ought not to confound\nnegligence with moderation, or clemency with weakness. To be just, it\nis necessary to be severe; to permit vice, when one has the right and\nthe power to suppress it, is to be oneself vicious.\n\nIt is not enough to say to the citizens, _be good_; they must be\ntaught to be so; and even example, which is in this respect the first\nlesson, is not the sole means to be employed; patriotism is the most\nefficacious: for, as I have said already, every man is virtuous when\nhis particular will is in all things conformable to the general will,\nand we voluntarily will what is willed by those whom we love. It\nappears that the feeling of humanity evaporates and grows feeble in\nembracing all mankind, and that we cannot be affected by the calamities\nof Tartary or Japan, in the same manner as we are by those of European\nnations. It is necessary in some degree to confine and limit our\ninterest and compassion in order to make it active. Now, as this\nsentiment can be useful only to those with whom we have to live, it is\nproper that our humanity should confine itself to our fellow-citizens,\nand should receive a new force because we are in the habit of seeing\nthem, and by reason of the common interest which unites them. It is\ncertain that the greatest miracles of virtue have been produced by\npatriotism: this fine and lively feeling, which gives to the force of\nself-love all the beauty of virtue, lends it an energy which, without\ndisfiguring it, makes it the most heroic of all passions. This it is\nthat produces so many immortal actions, the glory of which dazzles our\nfeeble eyes; and so many great men, whose old-world virtues pass for\nfables now that patriotism is made mock of. This is not surprising;\nthe transports of susceptible hearts appear altogether fanciful to any\none who has never felt them; and the love of one's country, which is a\nhundred times more lively and delightful than the love of a mistress,\ncannot be conceived except by experiencing it. But it is easy to\nperceive in every heart that is warmed by it, in all the actions it\ninspires, a glowing and sublime ardour which does not attend the purest\nvirtue, when separated from it. Contrast Socrates even with Cato; the\none was the greater philosopher, the other more of the citizen. Athens\nwas already ruined in the time of Socrates, and he had no other country\nthan the world at large. Cato had the cause of his country always at\nheart; he lived for it alone, and could not bear to outlive it. The\nvirtue of Socrates was that of the wisest of men; but, compared with\nC\u00e6sar and Pompey, Cato seems a God among mortals. Socrates instructed\na few individuals, opposed the Sophists, and died for truth: but Cato\ndefended his country, its liberty and its laws, against the conquerors\nof the world, and at length departed from the earth, when he had no\nlonger a country to serve. A worthy pupil of Socrates would be the most\nvirtuous of his contemporaries; but a worthy follower of Cato would be\none of the greatest. The virtue of the former would be his happiness;\nthe latter would seek his happiness in that of all. We should be taught\nby the one, and led by the other; and this alone is enough to determine\nwhich to prefer: for no people has ever been made into a nation of\nphilosophers, but it is not impossible to make a people happy.\n\nDo we wish men to be virtuous? Then let us begin by making them love\ntheir country: but how can they love it, if their country be nothing\nmore to them than to strangers, and afford them nothing but what it\ncan refuse nobody? It would be still worse, if they did not enjoy even\nthe privilege of social security, and if their lives, liberties and\nproperty lay at the mercy of persons in power, without their being\npermitted, or it being possible for them, to get relief from the laws.\nFor in that case, being subjected to the duties of the state of civil\nsociety, without enjoying even the common privileges of the state of\nnature, and without being able to use their strength in their own\ndefence, they would be in the worst, condition in which freemen could\npossibly find themselves, and the word _country_ would mean for them\nsomething merely odious and ridiculous. It must not be imagined that a\nman can break or lose an arm, without the pain being conveyed to his\nhead: nor is it any more credible that the general will should consent\nthat any one member of the State, whoever he might be, should wound or\ndestroy another, than it is that the fingers of a man in his senses\nshould wilfully scratch his eyes out. The security of individuals is so\nintimately connected with the public confederation that, apart from the\nregard that must be paid to human weakness, that convention would in\npoint of right be dissolved, if in the State a single citizen who might\nhave been relieved were allowed to perish, or if one were wrongfully\nconfined in prison, or if in one case an obviously unjust sentence were\ngiven. For the fundamental conventions being broken, it is impossible\nto conceive of any right or interest that could retain the people in\nthe social union; unless they were restrained by force, which alone\ncauses the dissolution of the state of civil society.\n\nIn fact, does not the undertaking entered into by the whole body of the\nnation bind it to provide for the security of the least of its members\nwith as much care as for that of all the rest? Is the welfare of a\nsingle citizen any less the common cause than that of the whole State?\nIt may be said that it is good that one should perish for all. I am\nready to admire such a saying when it comes from the lips of a virtuous\nand worthy patriot, voluntarily and dutifully sacrificing himself for\nthe good of his country: but if we are to understand by it, that it\nis lawful for the government to sacrifice an innocent man for the good\nof the multitude, I look upon it as one of the most execrable rules\ntyranny ever invented, the greatest falsehood that can be advanced, the\nmost dangerous admission that can be made, and a direct contradiction\nof the fundamental laws of society. So little is it the case that any\none person ought to perish for all, that all have pledged their lives\nand properties for the defence of each, in order that the weakness of\nindividuals may always be protected by the strength of the public, and\neach member by the whole State. Suppose we take from the whole people\none individual after another, and then press the advocates of this rule\nto explain more exactly what they mean by the _body of the State_, and\nwe shall see that it will at length be reduced to a small number of\npersons, who are not the people, but the officers of the people, and\nwho, having bound themselves by personal oath to perish for the welfare\nof the people, would thence infer that the people is to perish for\ntheir own.\n\nNeed we look for examples of the protection which the State owes to its\nmembers, and the respect it owes to their persons? It is only among\nthe most illustrious and courageous nations that they are to be found;\nit is only among free peoples that the dignity of man is realised. It\nis well known into what perplexity the whole republic of Sparta was\nthrown, when the question of punishing a guilty citizen arose.\n\nIn Macedon, the life of a man was a matter of such importance, that\nAlexander the Great, at the height of his glory, would not have dared\nto put a Macedonian criminal to death in cold blood, till the accused\nhad appeared to make his defence before his fellow-citizens, and had\nbeen condemned by them. But the Romans distinguished themselves above\nall other peoples by the regard which their government paid to the\nindividual, and by its scrupulous attention to the preservation of\nthe inviolable rights of all the members of the State. Nothing was\nso sacred among them as the life of a citizen; and no less than an\nassembly of the whole people was needed to condemn one. Not even the\nSenate, nor the Consuls, in all their majesty, possessed the right;\nbut the crime and punishment of a citizen were regarded as a public\ncalamity among the most powerful people in the world. So hard indeed\ndid it seem to shed blood for any crime whatsoever, that by the Lex\nPorcia, the penalty of death was commuted into that of banishment for\nall those who were willing to survive the loss of so great a country.\nEverything both at Rome, and in the Roman armies, breathed that love of\nfellow-citizens one for another, and that respect for the Roman name,\nwhich raised the courage and inspired the virtue of every one who had\nthe honour to bear it. The cap of a citizen delivered from slavery,\nthe civic crown of him who had saved the life of another, were looked\nupon with the greatest pleasure amid the pomp of their triumphs; and\nit is remarkable that among the crowns which were bestowed in honour\nof splendid actions in war, the civic crown and that of the triumphant\ngeneral alone were of laurel, all the others being merely of gold. It\nwas thus that Rome was virtuous and became the mistress of the world.\nAmbitious rulers! A herdsman governs his dogs and cattle, and yet is\nonly the meanest of mankind. If it be a fine thing to command, it is\nwhen those who obey us are capable of doing us honour. Show respect,\ntherefore, to your fellow-citizens, and you will render yourselves\nworthy of respect; show respect to liberty, and your power will\nincrease daily. Never exceed your rights, and they will soon become\nunlimited.\n\nLet our country then show itself the common mother of her citizens; let\nthe advantages they enjoy in their country endear it to them; let the\ngovernment leave them enough share in the public administration to make\nthem feel that they are at home; and let the laws be in their eyes only\nthe guarantees of the common liberty. These rights, great as they are,\nbelong to all men: but without seeming to attack them directly, the\nill-will of rulers may in fact easily reduce their effect to nothing.\nThe law, which they thus abuse, serves the powerful at once as a weapon\nof offence, and as a shield against the weak; and the pretext of the\npublic good is always the most dangerous scourge of the people. What\nis most necessary, and perhaps most difficult, in government, is rigid\nintegrity in doing strict justice to all, and above all in protecting\nthe poor against the tyranny of the rich. The greatest evil has\nalready come about, when there are poor men to be defended, and rich\nmen to be restrained. It is on the middle classes alone that the whole\nforce of the law is exerted; they are equally powerless against the\ntreasures of the rich and the penury of the poor. The first mocks them,\nthe second escapes them. The one breaks the meshes, the other passes\nthrough them.\n\nIt is therefore one of the most important functions of government to\nprevent extreme inequality of fortunes; not by taking away wealth from\nits possessors, but by depriving all men of means to accumulate it;\nnot by building hospitals for the poor, but by securing the citizens\nfrom becoming poor. The unequal distribution of inhabitants over the\nterritory, when men are crowded together in one place, while other\nplaces are depopulated; the encouragement of the arts that minister\nto luxury and of purely industrial arts at the expense of useful\nand laborious crafts; the sacrifice of agriculture to commerce; the\nnecessitation of the tax-farmer by the mal-administration of the funds\nof the State; and in short, venality pushed to such an extreme that\neven public esteem is reckoned at a cash value, and virtue rated at\na market price: these are the most obvious causes of opulence and\nof poverty, of public interest, of mutual hatred among citizens, of\nindifference to the common cause, of the corruption of the people, and\nof the weakening of all the springs of government. Such are the evils,\nwhich are with difficulty cured when they make themselves felt, but\nwhich a wise administration ought to prevent, if it is to maintain,\nalong with good morals, respect for the laws, patriotism, and the\ninfluence of the general will.\n\nBut all these precautions will be inadequate, unless rulers go still\nmore to the root of the matter. I conclude this part of public economy\nwhere I ought to have begun it. There can be no patriotism without\nliberty, no liberty without virtue, no virtue without citizens; create\ncitizens, and you have everything you need; without them, you will have\nnothing but debased slaves, from the rulers of the State downwards. To\nform citizens is not the work of a day; and in order to have men it\nis necessary to educate them when they are children. It will be said,\nperhaps, that whoever has men to govern, ought not to seek, beyond\ntheir nature, a perfection of which they are incapable; that he ought\nnot to desire to destroy their passions; and that the execution of such\nan attempt is no more desirable than it is possible. I will agree,\nfurther, that a man without passions would certainly be a bad citizen;\nbut it must be agreed also that, if men are not taught not to love\nsome things, it is impossible to teach them to love one object more\nthan another--to prefer that which is truly beautiful to that which is\ndeformed. If, for example, they were early accustomed to regard their\nindividuality only in its relation to the body of the State, and to be\naware, so to speak, of their own existence merely as a part of that of\nthe State, they might at length come to identify themselves in some\ndegree with this greater whole, to feel themselves members of their\ncountry, and to love it with that exquisite feeling which no isolated\nperson has save for himself; to lift up their spirits perpetually to\nthis great object, and thus to transform into a sublime virtue that\ndangerous disposition which gives rise to all our vices. Not only does\nphilosophy demonstrate the possibility of giving feeling these new\ndirections; history furnishes us with a thousand striking examples.\nIf they are so rare among us moderns, it is because nobody troubles\nhimself whether citizens exist or not, and still less does anybody\nthink of attending to the matter soon enough to make them. It is too\nlate to change our natural inclinations, when they have taken their\ncourse, and egoism is confirmed by habit: it is too late to lead us\nout of ourselves when once the human Ego, concentrated in our hearts,\nhas acquired that contemptible activity which absorbs all virtue and\nconstitutes the life and being of little minds. How can, patriotism\ngerminate in the midst of so many other passions which smother it?\nAnd what can remain, for fellow-citizens, of a heart already divided\nbetween avarice, a mistress, and vanity?\n\nFrom the first moment of life, men ought to begin learning to deserve\nto live; and, as at the instant of birth we partake of the rights of\ncitizenship, that instant ought to be the beginning of the exercise of\nour duty. If there are laws for the age of maturity, there ought to be\nlaws for infancy, teaching obedience to others: and as the reason of\neach man is not left to be the sole arbiter of his duties, government\nought the less indiscriminately to abandon to the intelligence and\nprejudices of fathers the education of their children, as that\neducation is of still greater importance to the State than to the\nfathers: for, according to the course of nature, the death of the\nfather often deprives him of the final fruits of education; but his\ncountry sooner or later perceives its effects. Families dissolve, but\nthe State remains.\n\nShould the public authority, by taking the place of the father, and\ncharging itself with that important function, acquire his rights by\ndischarging his duties, he would have the less cause to complain, as\nhe would only be changing his title, and would have in common, under\nthe name of _citizen_, the same authority over his children, as he was\nexercising separately under the name of _father_, and would not be less\nobeyed when speaking in the name of the law, than when he spoke in that\nof nature. Public education, therefore, under regulations prescribed\nby the government, and under magistrates established by the Sovereign,\nis one of the fundamental rules of popular or legitimate government.\nIf children are brought up in common in the bosom of equality; if they\nare imbued with the laws of the State and the precepts of the general\nwill; if they are taught to respect these above all things; if they\nare surrounded by examples and objects which constantly remind them of\nthe tender mother who nourishes them, of the love she bears them, of\nthe inestimable benefits they receive from her, and of the return they\nowe her, we cannot doubt that they will learn to cherish one another\nmutually as brothers, to will nothing contrary to the will of society,\nto substitute the actions of men and citizens for the futile and vain\nbabbling of sophists, and to become in time defenders and fathers of\nthe country of which they will have been so long the children.\n\nI shall say nothing of the Magistrates destined to preside over such\nan education, which is certainly the most important business of the\nState. It is easy to see that if such marks of public confidence\nwere conferred on slight grounds, if this sublime function were not,\nfor those who have worthily discharged all other offices, the reward\nof labour, the pleasant and honourable repose of old age, and the\ncrown of all honours, the whole enterprise would be useless and the\neducation void of success. For where-ever the lesson is not supported\nby authority, and the precept by example, all instruction is fruitless;\nand virtue itself loses its credit in the mouth of one who does not\npractise it. But let illustrious warriors, bent under the weight of\ntheir laurels, preach courage: let upright Magistrates, grown white\nin the purple and on the bench teach justice. Such teachers as these\nwould thus get themselves virtuous successors, and transmit from age to\nage, to generations to come, the experience and talents of rulers, the\ncourage and virtue of citizens, and common emulation in all to live and\ndie for their country.\n\nI know of but three peoples which once practised public education, the\nCretans, the Laced\u00e6monians, and the ancient Persians: among all these\nit was attended with the greatest success, and indeed it did wonders\namong the two last. Since the world has been divided into nations too\ngreat to admit of being well governed, this method has been no longer\npracticable, and the reader will readily perceive other reasons why\nsuch a thing has never been attempted by any modern people. It is very\nremarkable that the Romans were able to dispense with it; but Rome was\nfor five hundred years one continued miracle which the world cannot\nhope to see again. The virtue of the Romans, engendered by their horror\nof tyranny and the crimes of tyrants, and by an innate patriotism, made\nall their houses so many schools of citizenship; while the unlimited\npower of fathers over their children made the individual authority so\nrigid that the father was more feared than the Magistrate, and was in\nhis family tribunal both censor of morals and avenger of the laws.\n\nThus a careful and well-intentioned government, vigilant incessantly to\nmaintain or restore patriotism and morality among the people, provides\nbeforehand against the evils which sooner or later result from the\nindifference of the citizens to the fate of the Republic, keeping\nwithin narrow bounds that personal interest which so isolates the\nindividual that the State is enfeebled by his power, and has nothing\nto hope from his good-will. Wherever men love their country, respect\nthe laws, and live simply, little remains to be done in order to make\nthem happy; and in public administration, where chance has less\ninfluence than in the lot of individuals, wisdom is so nearly allied to\nhappiness, that the two objects are confounded.\n\nIII. It is not enough to have citizens and to protect them, it is also\nnecessary to consider their subsistence. Provision for the public wants\nis an obvious inference from the general will, and the third essential\nduty of government. This duty is not, we should feel, to fill the\ngranaries of individuals and thereby to grant them a dispensation from\nlabour, but to keep plenty so within their reach that labour is always\nnecessary and never useless for its acquisition. It extends also to\neverything regarding the management of the exchequer, and the expenses\nof public administration. Having thus treated of general economy with\nreference to the government of persons, we must now consider it with\nreference to the administration of property.\n\nThis part presents no fewer difficulties to solve, and contradictions\nto remove, than the preceding. It is certain that the right of property\nis the most sacred of all the rights of citizenship, and even more\nimportant in some respects than liberty itself; either because it more\nnearly affects the preservation of life, or because, property being\nmore easily usurped and more difficult to defend than life, the law\nought to pay a greater attention to what is most easily taken away; or\nfinally, because property is the true foundation of civil society, and\nthe real guarantee of the undertakings of citizens: for if property\nwere not answerable for personal actions, nothing would be easier\nthan to evade duties and laugh at the laws. On the other hand, it is\nno less certain that the maintenance of the State and the government\ninvolves costs and out-goings; and as every one who agrees to the end\nmust acquiesce in the means, it follows that the members of a society\nought to contribute from their property to its support. Besides, it is\ndifficult to secure the property of individuals on one side, without\nattacking it on another; and it is impossible that all the regulations\nwhich govern the order of succession, will, contracts, &c. should not\nlay individuals under some constraint as to the disposition of their\ngoods, and should not consequently restrict the right of property.\n\nBut besides what I have said above of the agreement between the\nauthority of law and the liberty of the citizen, there remains to\nbe made, with respect to the disposition of goods, an important\nobservation which removes many difficulties. As Puffendorf has shown,\nthe right of property, by its very nature, does not extend beyond the\nlife of the proprietor, and the moment a man is dead his goods cease\nto belong to him. Thus, to prescribe the conditions according to which\nhe can dispose of them, is in reality less to alter his right as it\nappears, than to extend it in fact.\n\nIn general, although the institution of the laws which regulate the\npower of individuals in the disposition of their own goods belongs only\nto the Sovereign, the spirit of these laws, which the government ought\nto follow in their application, is that, from father to son, and from\nrelation to relation, the goods of a family should go as little out of\nit and be as little alienated as possible. There is a sensible reason\nfor this in favour of children, to whom the right of property would be\nquite useless, if the father left them nothing, and who besides, having\noften contributed by their labour to the acquisition of their father's\nwealth, are in their own right associates with him in his right of\nproperty. But another reason, more distant, though not less important,\nis that nothing is more fatal to morality and to the Republic than the\ncontinual shifting of rank and fortune among the citizens: such changes\nare both the proof and the source of a thousand disorders, and overturn\nand confound everything; for those who were brought up to one thing\nfind themselves destined for another; and neither those who rise nor\nthose who fall are able to assume the rules of conduct, or to possess\nthemselves of the qualifications requisite for their new condition,\nstill less to discharge the duties it entails. I proceed to the object\nof public finance.\n\nIf the people governed itself and there were no intermediary between\nthe administration of the State and the citizens, they would have no\nmore to do than to assess themselves occasionally, in proportion to\nthe public needs and the abilities of individuals: and as they would\nall keep in sight the recovery and employment of such assessments, no\nfraud or abuse could slip into the management of them; the State would\nnever be involved in debt, or the people over-burdened with taxes;\nor at least the knowledge of how the money would be used would be a\nconsolation For the severity of the tax. But things cannot be carried\nan in this manner: on the contrary, however small any State may be,\ncivil societies are always too populous to be under the immediate\ngovernment of all their members. It is necessary that the public money\nshould go through the hands of the rulers, all of whom have, besides\nthe interests of the State, their own individual interests, which are\nnot the last to be listened to. The people, on its side, perceiving\nrather the cupidity and ridiculous expenditure of its rulers than the\npublic needs, murmurs at seeing itself stripped of necessaries to\nfurnish others with superfluities; and when once these complaints have\nreached a certain degree of bitterness, the most upright administration\nwill find it impossible to restore confidence. In such a case,\nvoluntary contributions bring in nothing, and forced contributions\nare illegitimate. This cruel alternative of letting the State perish,\nor of violating the sacred right of property, which is its support,\nconstitutes the great difficulty of just and prudent economy.\n\nThe first step which the founder of a republic ought to take after\nthe establishment of laws, is to settle a sufficient fund for the\nmaintenance of the Magistrates and other Officials, and for other\npublic expenses. This fund, if it consist of money, is called\n_\u0153rarium_ or _fisc_, and _public demesne_ if it consist of lands.\nThis, for obvious reasons, is much to be preferred. Whoever has\nreflected on this matter must be of the opinion of Bodin, who looks\nupon the public demesne as the most reputable and certain means of\nproviding for the needs of the State. It is remarkable also that\nRomulus, in his division of lands, made it his first care to set apart\na third for the use of the State. I confess it is not impossible for\nthe produce of the demesne, if it be badly managed, to be reduced to\nnothing; but it is not of the essence of public demesnes to be badly\nadministered.\n\nBefore any use is made of this fund, it should be assigned or accepted\nby an assembly of the people, or of the estates of the country, which\nshould determine its future use. After this solemnity, which makes such\nfunds inalienable, their very nature is, in a manner, changed, and\nthe revenues become so sacred, that it is not only the most infamous\ntheft, but actual treason, to misapply them or pervert them from the\npurpose for which they were destined. It reflects great dishonour\non Rome that the integrity of Cato the censor was something so very\nremarkable, and that an Emperor, on rewarding the talents of a singer\nwith a few crowns, thought it necessary to observe that the money came\nfrom his own private purse, and not from that of the State. But if we\nfind few Galbas, where are we to look for a Cato? For when vice is no\nlonger dishonourable, what chiefs will be so scrupulous as to abstain\nfrom touching the public revenues that are left to their discretion,\nand even not in time to impose on themselves, by pretending to confound\ntheir own expensive and scandalous dissipations with the glory of the\nState, and the means of extending their own authority with the means\nof augmenting its power? It is particularly in this delicate part of\nthe administration that virtue is the only effective instrument, and\nthat the integrity of the Magistrate is the only real check upon his\navarice. Books and auditing of accounts, instead of exposing frauds,\nonly conceal them; for prudence is never so ready to conceive new\nprecautions as knavery is to elude them. Never mind, then, about\naccount books and papers; place the management of finance in honest\nhands: that is the only way to get it faithfully conducted.\n\nWhen public funds are once established, the rulers of the State\nbecome of right the administrators of them: for this administration\nconstitutes a part of government which is always essential, though\nnot always equally so. Its influence increases in proportion as that\nof other resources is diminished; and it may justly be said that a\ngovernment has reached the last stage of corruption, when it has ceased\nto have sinews other than money. Now as every government constantly\ntends to become lax, this is enough to show why no State can subsist\nunless its revenues constantly increase.\n\nThe first sense of the necessity of this increase is also the\nfirst sign of the internal disorder of the State; and the prudent\nadministrator, in his endeavours to find means to provide for the\npresent necessity, will neglect nothing to find out the distant cause\nof the new need; just as a mariner when he finds the water gaining\non his vessel, does not neglect, while he is working the pumps, to\ndiscover and stop the leak.\n\nFrom this rule is deduced the most important rule in the administration\nof finance, which is, to take more pains to guard against needs than\nto increase revenues. For, whatever diligence be employed, the relief\nwhich only comes after, and more slowly than, the evil, always leaves\nsome injury behind. While a remedy is being found for one evil, another\nis beginning to make itself felt, and even the remedies themselves\nproduce new difficulties: so that at length the nation is involved in\ndebt and the people oppressed, while the government loses its influence\nand can do very little with a great deal of money. I imagine it was\nowing to the recognition of this rule that such wonders were done by\nancient governments, which did more with their parsimony than ours do\nwith all their treasures; and perhaps from this comes the common use of\nthe word _economy_, which means rather the prudent management of what\none has than ways of getting what one has not.\n\nBut apart from the public demesne, which is of service to the State in\nproportion to the uprightness of those who govern, any one sufficiently\nacquainted with the whole force of the general administration,\nespecially when it confines itself to legitimate methods, would be\nastonished at the resources the rulers can make use of for guarding\nagainst public needs, without trespassing on the goods of individuals.\nAs they are masters of the whole commerce of the State, nothing is\neasier for them than to direct it into such channels as to provide\nfor every need, without appearing to interfere. The distribution of\nprovisions, money, and merchandise in just proportions, according to\ntimes and places, is the true secret of finance and the source of\nwealth, provided those who administer it have foresight enough to\nsuffer a present apparent loss, in order really to obtain immense\nprofits in the future. When we see a government paying bounties,\ninstead of receiving duties, on the exportation of corn in time of\nplenty, and on its importation in time of scarcity, we must have such\nfacts before our eyes if we are to be persuaded of their reality.\nWe should hold such facts to be idle tales, if they had happened in\nancient times. Let us suppose that, in order to prevent a scarcity in\nbad years, a proposal were made to establish public granaries; would\nnot the maintenance of so useful an institution serve in most countries\nas an excuse for new taxes? At Geneva, such granaries, established\nand kept up by a prudent administration, are a public resource in bad\nyears, and the principal revenue of the State at all times. _Alit et\nditat_ is the inscription which stands, rightly and properly, on the\nfront of the building. To set forth in this place the economic system\nof a good government, I have often turned my eyes to that of this\nRepublic, rejoicing to find in my own country an example of that wisdom\nand happiness which I should be glad to see prevail in every other.\n\nIf we ask how the needs of a State grow, we shall find they generally\narise, like the wants of individuals, less from any real necessity\nthan from the increase of useless desires, and that expenses are often\naugmented only to give a pretext for raising receipts: so that the\nState would sometimes gain by not being rich, and apparent wealth is in\nreality more burdensome than poverty itself would be. Rulers may indeed\nhope to keep the peoples in stricter dependence, by thus giving them\nwith one hand what they take from them with the other; and this was in\nfact the policy of Joseph towards the Egyptians: but this political\nsophistry is the more fatal to the State, as the money never returns\ninto the hands it went out of. Such principles only enrich the idle at\nthe expense of the industrious.\n\nA desire for conquest is one of the most evident and dangerous causes\nof this increase. This desire, occasioned often by a different species\nof ambition from that which, it seems to proclaim, is not always\nwhat it appears to be, and has not so much, for its real motive, the\napparent desire to aggrandise the Nation as a secret desire to increase\nthe authority of the rulers at home, by increasing the number of\ntroops, and by the diversion which the objects of war occasion in the\nminds of the citizens.\n\nIt is at least certain, that no peoples are so oppressed and wretched\nas conquering nations, and that their successes only increase their\nmisery. Did not history inform us of the fact, reason would suffice\nto tell us that, the greater a State grows, the heavier and more\nburdensome in proportion its expenses become: for every province has\nto furnish its share to the general expense of government, and besides\nhas to be at the expense of its own administration, which is as great\nas if it were really independent. Add to this that great fortunes are\nalways acquired in one place and spent in another. Production therefore\nsoon ceases to balance consumption, and a whole country is impoverished\nmerely to enrich a single town.\n\nAnother source of the increase of public wants, which depends on the\nforegoing, is this. There may come a time when the citizens, no longer\nlooking upon themselves as interested in the common cause, will cease\nto be the defenders of their country, and the Magistrates will prefer\nthe command of mercenaries to that of free-men; if for no other reason\nthan that, when the time comes, they may use them to reduce free-men to\nsubmission. Such was the state of Rome towards the end of the Republic\nand under the Emperors: for all the victories of the early Romans,\nlike those of Alexander, had been won by brave citizens, who were\nready, at need, to give their blood in the service of their country,\nbut would never sell it. Only at the siege of Veii did the practice\nof paying the Roman infantry begin. Marius, in the Jugurthine war,\ndishonoured the legions by introducing freedmen, vagabonds and other\nmercenaries. Tyrants, the enemies of the very people it was their duty\nto make happy, maintained regular troops, apparently to withstand\nthe foreigner, but really to enslave their countrymen. To form such\ntroops, it was necessary to take men from the land; the lack of their\nlabour then diminished the amount of provisions, and their maintenance\nintroduced those taxes which increased prices. This first disorder\ngave rise to murmurs among the people; in order to suppress them, the\nnumber of troops had to be increased, and consequently the misery\nof the people also got worse; and the growing despair led to still\nfurther increases in the cause in order to guard against its effects.\nOn the other hand, the mercenaries, whose merit we may judge of by the\nprice at which they sold themselves, proud of their own meanness, and\ndespising the laws that protected them, as well as their fellows whose\nbread they ate, imagined themselves more honoured in being C\u00e6sar's\nsatellites than in being defenders of Rome. As they were given over\nto blind obedience, their swords were always at the throats of their\nfellow-citizens, and they were prepared for general butchery at the\nfirst sign. It would not be difficult to show that this was one of the\nprincipal causes of the ruin of the Roman Empire.\n\nThe invention of artillery and fortifications has forced the princes\nof Europe, in modern times, to return to the use of regular troops, in\norder to garrison their towns; but> however lawful their motives, it is\nto be feared the effect may be no less fatal. There is no better reason\nnow than formerly for depopulating the country to form armies and\ngarrisons, nor should the people be oppressed to support, them; in a\nword, these dangerous establishments have increased of late years with\nsuch rapidity in this part of the world, that they evidently threaten\nto depopulate Europe, and sooner or later to ruin its inhabitants.\n\nBe this as it may, it ought to be seen that such institutions\nnecessarily subvert the true economic system, which draws the principal\nrevenue of the State from the public demesne, and leave only the\ntroublesome resource of subsidies and imposts; with which it remains to\ndeal.\n\nIt should be remembered that the foundation of the social compact is\nproperty; and its first condition, that every one should be maintained\nin the peaceful possession of what belongs to him. It is true that,\nby the same treaty, every one binds himself, at least tacitly, to\nbe assessed toward the public wants: but as this undertaking cannot\nprejudice the fundamental law, and presupposes that the need is\nclearly recognised by all who contribute to it, it is plain that such\nassessment, in order to be lawful, must be voluntary; it must depend,\nnot indeed on a particular will, as if it were necessary to have the\nconsent of each individual, and that he should give no more than just\nwhat he pleased, but on a general will, decided by vote of a majority,\nand on the basis of a proportional rating which leaves nothing\narbitrary in the imposition of the tax.\n\nThat taxes cannot be legitimately established except by the consent of\nthe people or its representatives, is a truth generally admitted by all\nphilosophers and jurists of any repute on questions of public right,\nnot even excepting Bodin. If any of them have laid down rules which\nseem to contradict this, their particular motives for doing so may\neasily be seen; and they introduce so many conditions and restrictions\nthat the argument comes at bottom to the same thing: for whether the\npeople has it in its power to refuse, or the Sovereign ought not to\nexact, is a matter of indifference with regard to right; and if the\npoint in question concerns only power, it is useless to inquire whether\nit is legitimate or not. Contributions levied on the people are two\nkinds; real, levied on commodities, and personal, paid by the head.\nBoth are called taxes or subsidies: when the people fixes the sum\nto be paid, it is called subsidy; but when it grants the product of\nan imposition, it is called a tax. We are told in the Spirit of the\nLaws that a capitation tax is most suited to slavery, and a real tax\nmost in accordance with liberty. This would be incontestable, if the\ncircumstances of every person were equal; for otherwise nothing can be\nmore disproportionate than such a tax; and it is in the observations of\nexact proportions that the spirit of liberty consists. But if a tax by\nheads were exactly proportioned to the circumstances of individuals, as\nwhat is called the capitation tax in France might be, is would be the\nmost equitable and consequently the most proper for free-men.\n\nThese proportions appear at first very easy to note, because, being\nrelative to each man's position in the world, their incidence is always\npublic: but proper regard is seldom paid to all the elements that\nshould enter into such a calculation, even apart from deception arising\nfrom avarice, fraud and self-interest. In the first place, we have\nto consider the relation of quantities, according to which, _ceteris\nparibus_, the person who has ten times the property of another man\nought to pay ten times as much to the State. Secondly, the relation of\nthe use made, that is to say, the distinction between necessaries and\nsuperfluities. He who possesses only the common necessaries of life\nshould pay nothing at all, while the tax on him who is in possession\nof superfluities may justly be extended to everything he has over and\nabove mere necessaries. To this he will possibly object that, when\nhis rank is taken into account, what may be superfluous to a man of\ninferior station is necessary for him. But this is false: for a grandee\nhas two legs just like a cow-herd, and, like him again, but one belly.\nBesides, these pretended necessaries are really so little necessary\nto his rank, that if he should renounce them on any worthy occasion,\nhe would only be the more honoured. The populace would be ready to\nadore a Minister who went to Council on foot, because he had sold off\nhis carriages to supply a pressing need of the State. Lastly, to no\nman does the law prescribe magnificence; and propriety is no argument\nagainst right.\n\nA third relation, which is never taken into account, though it ought to\nbe the chief consideration, is the advantage that every person derives\nfrom the social confederacy; for this provides a powerful protection\nfor the immense possessions of the rich, and hardly leaves the poor\nman in quiet possession of the cottage he builds with his own hands.\nAre not all the advantages of society for the rich and powerful?\nAre not all lucrative posts in their hands? Are not all privileges\nand exemptions reserved for them alone? Is not the public authority\nalways on their side? If a man of eminence robs his creditors, or is\nguilty of other knaveries, is he not always assured of impunity? Are\nnot the assaults, acts of violence, assassinations, and even murders\ncommitted by the great, matters that are hushed up in a few months,\nand of which nothing more is thought? But if a great man himself is\nrobbed or insulted, the whole police force is immediately in motion,\nand woe even to innocent persons who chance to be suspected. If he has\nto pass through any dangerous road, the country is up in arms to escort\nhim. If the axle-tree of his chaise breaks, everybody flies to his\nassistance. If there is a noise at his door, he speaks but a word, and\nall is silent. If he is incommoded by the crowd, he waves his hand and\nevery one makes way. If his coach is met on the road by a wagon, his\nservants are ready to beat the driver's brains out, and fifty honest\npedestrians going quietly about their business had better be knocked on\nthe head than an idle jackanapes be delayed in his coach. Yet all this\nrespect costs him not a farthing: it is the rich man's right, and not\nwhat he buys with his wealth. How different the case of the poor man!\nthe more humanity owes him, the more society denies him. Every door is\nshut against him, even when he has a right to its being opened: and\nif ever he obtains justice, it is with much greater difficulty than\nothers obtain favours. If the militia is to be raised or the highway\nto be mended, he is always given the preference; he always bears the\nburden which his richer neighbour has influence enough to get exempted\nfrom. On the least accident that happens to him, everybody avoids him:\nif his cart be overturned in the road, so far is he from receiving\nany assistance, that he is lucky if he does not get horse-whipped by\nthe impudent lackeys of some young Duke; in a word, all gratuitous\nassistance is denied to the poor when they need it, just because they\ncannot pay for it. I look upon any poor man as totally undone, if he\nhas the misfortune to have an honest heart, a fine daughter, and a\npowerful neighbour.\n\nAnother no less important fact is that the losses of the poor are much\nharder to repair than those of the rich, and that the difficulty of\nacquisition is always greater in proportion as there is more need for\nit. \"Nothing comes out of nothing,\" is as true of life as in physics:\nmoney is the seed of money, and the first guinea is sometimes more\ndifficult to acquire than the second million. Add to this that what\nthe poor pay is lost to them for ever, and remains in, or returns to,\nthe hands of the rich: and as, to those who share in the government\nor to their dependents, the whole produce of the taxes must sooner or\nlater pass, although they pay their share, these persons have always a\nsensible interest in increasing them.\n\nThe terms of the social compact between these two estates of men may\nbe summed up in a few words. \"You have need of me, because I am rich\nand you are poor. We will therefore come to an agreement. I will permit\nyou to have the honour of serving me, on condition that you bestow on\nme the little you have left, in return for the pains I shall take to\ncommand you.\"\n\nPutting all these considerations carefully together, we shall find\nthat, in order to levy taxes in a truly equitable and proportionate\nmanner, the imposition ought not to be in simple ratio to the property\nof the contributors, but in compound ratio to the difference of\ntheir conditions and the superfluity of their possessions. This very\nimportant and difficult operation is daily made by numbers of honest\nclerks, who know their arithmetic; but a Plato or a Montesquieu would\nnot venture to undertake it without the greatest diffidence, or\nwithout praying to Heaven for understanding and integrity.\n\nAnother disadvantage of personal taxes is that they may be too much\nfelt or raised with too great severity. This, however, does not prevent\nthem from being frequently evaded; for it is much easier for persons to\nescape a tax than for their possessions.\n\nOf all impositions, that on land, or real taxation, has always been\nregarded as most advantageous in countries where more attention is\npaid to what the tax will produce, and to the certainty of recovering\nthe product, than to securing the least discomfort for the people. It\nhas been even maintained that it is necessary to burden the peasant\nin order to rouse him from indolence, and that he would never work\nif he had no taxes to pay. But in all countries experience confutes\nthis ridiculous notion. In England and Holland the farmer pays very\nlittle, and in China nothing: yet these are the countries in which the\nland is best cultivated. On the other hand, in those countries where\nthe husbandman is taxed in proportion to the produce of his lands, he\nleaves them uncultivated, or reaps just as much from them as suffices\nfor bare subsistence. For to him who loses the fruit of his labour, it\nis some gain to do nothing. To lay a tax on industry is a very singular\nexpedient for banishing idleness.\n\nTaxes on land or corn, especially when they are excessive, lead to two\nresults so fatal in their effect that they cannot but depopulate and\nruin, in the long run, all countries in which they are established.\n\nThe first of these arises from the defective circulation of specie;\nfor industry and commerce draw all the money from the country into the\ncapitals: and as the tax destroys the proportion there might otherwise\nbe between the needs of the husbandman and the price of his corn, money\nis always leaving and never returning. Thus the richer the city the\npoorer the country. The product of the taxes passes from the hands of\nthe Prince or his financial officers into those of artists and traders;\nand the husbandman, who receives, only the smallest part of it, is at\nlength exhausted by paying always the same, and receiving constantly\nless. How could a human body subsist if it had veins and no arteries,\nor if its arteries conveyed the blood only within four inches of the\nheart? Chardin tells us that in Persia the royal dues on commodities\nare paid in kind: this custom, which, Herodotus informs us, prevailed\nlong ago in the same country down to the time of Darius, might prevent\nthe evil of which I have been speaking. But unless Intendants,\nDirectors, Commissioners and Warehousemen in Persia are a different\nkind of people from what they are elsewhere, I can hardly believe\nthat the smallest part of this produce ever reaches the king, or that\nthe corn is not spoilt in every granary, and the greater part of the\nwarehouses not consumed by fire.\n\nThe second evil effect arises from an apparent advantage, which\naggravates the evil before it can be perceived. That is that corn is a\ncommodity whose price is not enhanced by taxes in the country producing\nit, and which, in spite of its absolute necessity, may be diminished\nin quantity without the price being increased. Hence, many people die\nof hunger, although corn remains cheap, and the husbandman bears the\nwhole charge of a tax, for which he cannot indemnify himself by the\nprice of his corn. It must be observed that we ought not to reason\nabout a land-tax in the same manner as about duties laid on various\nkinds of merchandise; for the effect of such duties is to raise the\nprice, and they are paid by the buyers rather than the sellers. For\nthese duties, however heavy, are still voluntary, and are paid by the\nmerchant only in proportion to the quantity he buys; and as he buys\nonly in proportion to his sale, he himself gives the law its particular\napplication; but the farmer who is obliged to pay his rent at stated\ntimes, whether he sells or not, cannot wait till he can get his own\nprice for his commodity: even if he is not forced to sell for mere\nsubsistence, he must sell to pay the taxes; so that it is frequently\nthe heaviness of the tax that keeps the price of corn low.\n\nIt is further to be noticed that the resources of commerce and industry\nare so far from rendering the tax more supportable through abundance\nof money, that they only render it more burdensome. I shall not insist\non what is very evident; _i.e._ that, although a greater or less\nquantity of money in a State may give it the greater or less credit in\nthe eye of the foreigner, it makes not the least difference to the\nreal fortune of the citizens, and does not make their condition any\nmore or less comfortable. But I must make these two important remarks:\nfirst, unless a State possesses superfluous commodities, and abundance\nof money results from foreign trade, only trading cities are sensible\nof the abundance; while the peasant only becomes relatively poorer.\nSecondly, as the price of everything is enhanced by the increase of\nmoney, taxes also must be proportionately increased; so that the farmer\nwill find himself still more burdened without having more resources.\n\nIt ought to be observed that the tax on land is a real duty on the\nproduce. It is universally agreed, however, that nothing is so\ndangerous as a tax on corn paid by the purchaser: but how comes it we\ndo not see that it is a hundred times worse when the duty is paid by\nthe cultivator himself? Is not this an attack on the substance of the\nState at its very source? Is it not the directest possible method of\ndepopulating a country, and therefore in the end ruining it? For the\nworst kind of scarcity a nation can suffer from is lack of inhabitants.\n\nOnly the real statesman can rise, in imposing taxes, above the\nmere financial object: he alone can transform heavy burdens into\nuseful regulations, and make the people even doubtful whether such\nestablishments were not calculated rather for the good of the nation in\ngeneral, than merely for the raising of money.\n\nDuties on the importation of foreign commodities, of which the natives\nare fond, without the country standing in need of them; on the\nexportation of those of the growth of the country which are not too\nplentiful, and which foreigners cannot do without; on the productions\nof frivolous and all too lucrative arts; on the importation of all pure\nluxuries; and in general on all objects of luxury; will answer the\ntwo-fold end in view. It is by such taxes, indeed, by which the poor\nare eased, and the burdens thrown on the rich, that it is possible to\nprevent the continual increase of inequality of fortune; the subjection\nof such a multitude of artisans and useless servants to the rich, the\nmultiplication of idle persons in our cities, and the depopulation of\nthe country-side.\n\nIt is important that the value of any commodity and the duties laid\non it should be so proportioned that the avarice of individuals may\nnot be too strongly tempted to fraud by the greatness of the possible\nprofit. To make smuggling difficult, those commodities should be\nsingled out which are hardest to conceal. All duties should be rather\npaid by the consumer of the commodity taxed than by him who sells it:\nas the quantity of duty he would be obliged to pay would lay him open\nto greater temptations, and afford him more opportunities for fraud.\n\nThis is the constant custom in China, a country where the taxes are\ngreater and yet better paid than in any other part of the world.\nThe merchant himself there pays no duty; the buyer alone, without\nmurmuring or sedition, meets the whole charge; for as the necessaries\nof life, such as rice and corn, are absolutely exempt from taxation,\nthe common people is not oppressed, and the duty falls only on those\nwho are well-to-do. Precautions against smuggling ought not to be\ndictated so much by the fear of it occurring, as by the attention which\nthe government should pay to securing individuals from being seduced\nby illegitimate profits, which first make them bad citizens, and\nafterwards soon turn them into dishonest men.\n\nHeavy taxes should be laid on servants in livery, on equipages, rich\nfurniture, fine clothes, on spacious courts and gardens, on public\nentertainments of all kinds, on useless professions, such as dancers,\nsingers, players, and in a word, on all that multiplicity of objects\nof luxury, amusement and idleness, which strike the eyes of all, and\ncan the less be hidden, as their whole purpose is to be seen, without\nwhich they would be useless. We need be under no apprehension of the\nproduce of these taxes being arbitrary, because they are laid on things\nnot absolutely necessary. They must know but little of mankind who\nimagine that, after they have been once seduced by luxury, they can\never renounce it: they would a hundred times sooner renounce common\nnecessaries, and had much rather die of hunger than of shame. The\nincrease in their expense is only an additional reason for supporting\nthem, when the vanity of appearing wealthy reaps its profit from the\nprice of the thing and the charge of the tax. As long as there are rich\npeople in the world, they will be desirous of distinguishing themselves\nfrom the poor, nor can the State devise a revenue less burdensome or\nmore certain than what arises from this distinction.\n\nFor the same reason, industry would have nothing to suffer from an\neconomic system which increased the revenue, encouraged agriculture by\nrelieving the husbandman, and insensibly tended to bring all fortunes\nnearer to that middle condition which constitutes the genuine strength\nof the State. These taxes might, I admit, bring certain fashionable\narticles of dress and amusement to an untimely end; but it would be\nonly to substitute others, by which the artificer would gain, and the\nexchequer suffer no loss. In a word, suppose the spirit of government\nwas constantly to tax only the superfluities of the rich, one of two\nthings must happen: either the rich would convert their superfluous\nexpenses into useful ones, which would redound to the profit of the\nState, and thus the imposition of taxes would have the effect of the\nbest sumptuary laws, the expenses of the State would necessarily\ndiminish with those of individuals, and the treasury would not receive\nso much less as it would gain by having less to pay; or, if the\nrich did not become less extravagant, the exchequer would have such\nresources in the product of taxes on their expenditure as would provide\nfor the needs of the State. In the first case the treasury would be\nthe richer by what it would save, from having the less to do with its\nmoney; and in the second, it would be enriched by the useless expenses\nof individuals.\n\nWe may add to all this a very important distinction in matters of\npolitical right, to which governments, constantly tenacious of doing\neverything for themselves, ought to pay great attention. It has been\nobserved that personal taxes and duties on the necessaries of life, as\nthey directly trespass on the right of property, and consequently on\nthe true foundation of political society, are always liable to have\ndangerous results, if they are not established with the express consent\nof the people or its representatives. It is not the same with articles\nthe use of which we can deny ourselves; for as the individual is under\nno absolute necessity to pay, his contribution may count as voluntary.\nThe particular consent of each contributor then takes the place of the\ngeneral consent of the whole people: for why should a people oppose the\nimposition of a tax which falls only on those who desire to pay it? It\nappears to me certain that everything, which is not proscribed by law,\nor contrary to morality, and yet may be prohibited by the government,\nmay also be permitted on payment of a certain duty. Thus, for example,\nif the government may prohibit the use of coaches, it may certainly\nimpose a tax on them; and this is a prudent and useful method of\ncensuring their use without absolutely forbidding it. In this case, the\ntax may be regarded as a sort of fine, the product of which compensates\nfor the abuse it punishes.\n\nIt may perhaps be objected that those, whom Bodin calls _impostors_,\n_i.e._ those who impose or contrive the taxes, being in the class of\nthe rich, will be far from sparing themselves to relieve the poor. But\nthis is quite beside the point. If, in every nation, those to whom\nthe Sovereign commits the government of the people, were, from their\nposition, its enemies, it would not be worth while to inquire what they\nought to do to make the people happy.","title":"The social contract & discourses","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":123505}